#Happy chaotic carnage

[ladyzayinwonderland]

#made a blanket fort #watched treasure planet #making do while Brandon’s away for work #also made hot chocolate and chai chocolate chip cookies #the cookies are excellent btw 10/10 recommend making them #last night some friends and I played an MCU oneshot #we all played iterations of spider-man (or venom/carnage) and it was awesome #totally chaotic and all over the place #but so so fun to be joking and laughing and goofing off #idk I just feel kinda mellow right now so I’m holding on to things that make me happy #my life #also the lights reflected off the armoire mirror #and created a nice little starry effect and I love it

[archiveikemen]

Ellis Twilight Main Story: Chapter 1

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

[ Ellis POV ]

— What is happiness?

The moment I burned that image into my eyes, it changed like the colours of the sky at twilight.

Even though it left a deep impression in my heart that would stay forever, I can never get the exact same feeling ever again.

Time, stop.

So that this happiness will never fade.

…

[Kate POV]

(Starting from today, I’ll be under the surveillance of “Crown”, a group of assassins who conquer evil with evil.)

(My job as a “fairytale keeper” is to document their sins— this is my only lifeline.)

I tidied myself up in front of the mirror and gave myself another encouraging pep talk.

(It honestly scares me to think I’ll have to watch them “sin” again, but…)

(So far, I’ve had my fair share of harsh situations; from handling customer complaints at the post office, to making deliveries at extremely chaotic scenes of carnage.)

(Everything will be fine. I get through this, one way or another.)

Kate: Only for one month. You can do this, Kate. You’ve got this. … Alright.

Saying words of encouragement to myself as though I were chanting a scripture, I opened my room door and took an enthusiastic step into the hallway—

…

???: Whoa.

Kate: Kyaa!?

The tip of my nose bumped into the chest of someone who was standing in front of my room.

Kate: I-I’m so sorry…!

Ellis: I’m sorry too. … Are you hurt?

(Ah… this man is—)

– Flashback Start –

Last night, I found out about the Queen’s secret group of assassins “Crown”.

Harrison: … Now that she’s known way too much, what do you intend to do with her, Victor?

Victor: Hmm. Let me think…

Ellis: Do we kill her?

(Wha—?)

Ellis: She doesn't look happy at all, but I’ll do it if it’s for work.

– Flashback End –

(He was the first person to suggest killing me.)

(But, after that…)

– Flashback Start –

Ellis: I’m Ellis.

Kate: Nice to meet you… Ellis.

Ellis: Mm… nice to meet you too. I often go out of town with Jude to attend to some business, but I’ll make you as happy as possible while I’m here.

– Flashback End –

(Why is Ellis standing in front of my bedroom…?)

(Oh, right. My surveillance has started.)

A single wrong move could cost me my life.

Memories of the amount of fear I felt the night before flashed into my mind, causing me to straighten my back sharply.

(I can’t keep my usual attitude.)

(This is a whole different world I’ve stepped into.)

Kate: Ellis, right? I look forward to working with you from today on.

Ellis: Yeah, I’m Ellis Twilight. A pleasure to meet you too… also, there’s no need for you to be so tense.

Ellis gave a small chuckle and peered into my face with a concerned expression.

Ellis: … Your nose is red.

Ellis: Sorry for that. The door flew open right when I was about to knock, so I couldn’t dodge in time.

He leaned against the door with a long, slender arm.

Hidden behind his curly hair was a pair of eyes the colour of twilight — just like his name.

Surprised by the sudden lack of distance between us, I gasped and hastily apologised.

Kate: It's not your fault! It’s mine for getting too motivated and jumping out of my room…

Ellis: Motivated? What for?

Kate: Ehh!? Uhh…

(“I was giving myself a motivational boost because I was afraid of living together with the people here.”)

(I can’t say that to his face…)

Kate: It’s kind of like being transferred to a department I know nothing about… um…

Kate: HURRAH! Something like this…!

Ellis: Hurrah…

Ellis blinked in surprise.

(That sounded too unnatural…)

Ellis: … You’re so cute.

Kate: Uhh… it’s fine, you didn't have to cover for me…

(I should be relieved he could find an excuse for me, but it’s still embarrassing…)

As my gaze wandered around my surroundings, searching for somewhere for me to go, Ellis’ face turned serious again and he whispered to me,

Ellis: I want to assign you your very first task in this “new department”... may I?

…

Kate: — Wow…

(What a beautiful garden.)

Ellis led me outside to the castle’s courtyard…

Before me was a large English garden that looked very carefully maintained.

The seasonal flowers were in full bloom, filling the air with a heavenly smell.

(Last night, this castle towering over me appeared solemn and dangerous, and yet…)

(It also has such a peaceful place in it.)

I followed behind Ellis along the path while admiring the beautiful garden, until we arrived at a gazebo.

Tea and scones were arranged on a table, it seemed like there was a tea party about to begin.

Ellis: Here.

Kate: Uh… t-thank you.

I was puzzled when Ellis pulled out a chair for me, but I took a seat as invited and he went to sit opposite me.

(He mentioned something about giving me a task just now…)

Kate: Is this where my first task will be?

Ellis: Yup. … Your first task is to have breakfast together with me.

(... Huh?)

Ellis: Tell me about yourself while we enjoy the delicious food. I’ll tell you about myself too.

Ellis: If you write them down, it’ll count as a “Fairytale Keeper” report. Right?

Kate: I’d appreciate that, but… wouldn't that be too much of a bother to you?

Ellis: I don’t think so. Why do you ask?

He seemed to genuinely want to help me.

Ellis: I’ll tell you about the other members of Crown too.

Ellis: I know it must be terrifying to live with people who are complete strangers.

Kate: …!

(Could it be that my “first task”...)

Kate: Did you invite me here to soothe my nerves?

Ellis: … You’re partially right.

Kate: “Partially”?

Ellis: The other reason is that I want to chat with you. … So that’s where you’re partially wrong.

His lips lifted into a faint smile.

(Was the impression I formed of Ellis last night all a misunderstanding?)

Last night, I felt uneasy — like something was staring at me from the darkness, giving me the chills.

(I’m not getting that feeling from Ellis in front of me right now.)

(Perhaps last night’s uneasiness was only because I just witnessed a murder scene…)

I pushed those thoughts aside, deciding not to bother with them.

— Thinking back to it later on, I realised that was a mistake.

(Anyway, Ellis made the effort to make all these arrangements for me.)

(I should accept his offer and hear him out.)

Kate: Thank you, Ellis.

Ellis: I didn’t do anything to deserve your thanks.

Ellis: Do you like sweets? Victor baked these scones this morning.

Kate: Oh? Victor can cook…?

Ellis: Yup, it’s a hobby. Al is a good cook too.

Ellis: Al taught me to make clotted cream previously, so I made this myself.

Ellis: I bought this jam because Liam recommended it to me.

Ellis: As a stage actor, Liam always knows what’s popular.

Ellis: This meat pie is from the restaurant Roger took me to for lunch a while back. He treats me to meals often.

Kate: Whoa, slow down a little. I want to write all of that down…!

I took my little notebook out of my pocket and started jotting down the things Ellis told me about the members or Crown.

Kate: Oh, I know about that apricot crumble place too! It’s always busy with lots of customers.

Ellis: I bought it together with Harry. He may not look like it, but Harry has a sweet tooth and has an eye for good dessert places.

Kate: Fufu… the members of Crown seem very close.

(Even though they made me feel as though we were people from two very different worlds…)

(At the end of the day, they’re just human beings living in the same London as I am… and that feels somewhat reassuring to know.)

(This is all thanks to Ellis.)

Ellis: Kate.

Kate: Yes…?

With natural movements, Ellis reached his large palm towards my face—

Ellis: … You got cream in your hair.

Kate: Huh? Oh…

(I really did get cream in my hair. I didn't notice.)

Ellis gently tucked my hair behind my ear.

Kate: Thank you.

Ellis: You’re welcome. … Is the food so delicious that you got too absorbed in enjoying them?

Ellis rested his chin in his hand and gazed at me with a smile.

Kate: … Yes, it’s delicious.

Ellis: Glad to hear that.

(Being able to pull off this sort of thing so effortlessly… Ellis must be very popular with ladies.)

I suddenly became conscious of my heart beating faster and tried to calm my racing heart.

Kate: You put in a lot of effort into setting up this breakfast, and you’ve also been very concerned about my wellbeing so far…

Kate: Why are you being this kind towards me?

(I don’t remember doing anything worth receiving such kindness from Ellis for…)

Ellis: It’s because you’ve been looking unhappy since last night.

Ellis: I only want the people around me to be as happy as they can be.

(That’s all…?)

(But I’m merely a stranger to Ellis…)

Kate: Do you treat everyone the same way? Even complete strangers?

Ellis: Huh…? Hmm… I don’t think so.

He seemed bewildered by my simple question.

(Ellis is indeed a rather strange person.)

(But…)

Kate: … This makes me happy.

(I definitely feel much more at ease now, thanks to Ellis.)

Ellis: I see… I'm glad you don't find it unpleasant.

— My feelings of wariness melted away by the end of our pleasant breakfast together.

Ellis: Are you a fan of theatre?

Kate: Yes. Actually, I volunteered to do an extra shift last night to earn some extra cash for tickets to a play…

Ellis: Fufu… you’re quite a passionate fan.

My conversation with Ellis went smoothly, like we’ve been close friends for a long time.

Just then, I heard another set of footsteps.

Victor: Hi! It’s looking lively out here!

Ellis: Victor.

Kate: …! Good morning.

Victor: Ah, no need to stand for me! I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation.

Victor: Ellis offered to help prepare breakfast this morning… did it make you feel better?

Victor gazed at me searchingly with a smile.

The air of mystery I sensed around him last night vanished, leaving only the feeling of warmth from his eyes resembling gemstones.

(My “first task” from Ellis must’ve really helped soothe my nerves.)

Kate: Yes. It’s all thanks to Ellis and the delicious scones you baked.

Victor: …

Victor looked slightly surprised when I thanked him with a smile, but his expression quickly switched into a bright smile.

Victor: Your relaxed smile is basically saying “I’m so happy to be Crown’s exclusive fairytale keeper”!

Ellis: … She never said that.

Kate: … Fufu.

My shoulders shook a little as I giggled at their exchange. Victor’s eyes narrowed.

Victor: Now, there are two things I ask of you, our fairytale keeper. One is to keep our secret, and the other is to record our sins.

Victor: The first task is very straightforward and I see no problem with it; but I don't wish for you to be confused by the second task, so I’d like to guide you a little.

Victor: May I give you a brief explanation of the task?

Kate: Yes, please.

Victor: It’s not a difficult job, actually. All you have to do is to observe the members and record what you think is a sin.

Victor: I leave it up to you to decide how you’d like to do it.

Victor: You can rotate amongst them and observe multiple members, or you can focus on just one member and accompany him in his activities.

(Observe the members of Crown, and the method is entirely up to me… I see.)

Kate: Understood. … Um, may I also know to what extent I’m being watched?

Victor: Even though we say we’re keeping you under surveillance, we don't wish to restrict your freedom. Except going outside alone, you’re free to do as you wish.

Victor: You may be asked to follow us on missions sometimes, but your free time is yours to spend freely.

I nodded, relieved to know that I wasn’t being watched as strictly as I had expected.

Kate: Understood. Thank you for the clarification.

Victor: … To be honest, I was surprised to see you smile just now. I never expected to see your smile so soon.

Victor: We’re an organisation that commits terrible deeds and we had you witness a horrifying scene last night, so I thought you wouldn't exactly feel “at ease”.

Victor gave me a cheeky wink.

He then squinted his eyes like he was looking at the sun.

Victor: I hope that the darkness you’ll be subjected to against your will from now on, will never steal your smile.

Strangely, because of the tone of his words, I couldn't dismiss them as a lie.

(There’s no denying that the members of Crown are scary people who kill without hesitation and dwell in the shadows.)

However— at the bottom of my heart, I had a feeling that I’d understand them better if I just looked closely enough.

Victor: Well then, I shall take my leave. Being the Queen’s Aide is quite busy.

It seemed that Victor was only there to check on me, and so he left the garden without joining us at the table.

(I have to closely observe the members of Crown if I want to record their sins, right?)

If that’s the case— I think my best option would be to start with getting to know Ellis.

That thought came to me almost naturally.

Kate: Um, Ellis… what are your plans for today?

However, I was interrupted by someone’s voice.

Jude: What are you doing, slacking off when you have work to do? I’ll punch you.

Ellis • Kate: !

The deep voice startled me, making me jump.

(This voice—)

I timidly turned around to see Jude standing there with his arms crossed and looking clearly ticked off.

(H-He’s furious…!)

Ellis: Sorry, I’ll go right away.

Ellis shot Jude a casual glance and responded without even leaving his seat.

(He’s so relaxed about it…)

Jude clicked his tongue and strode out of the garden with a flip of his jacket.

Ellis: … There you have it. My plans for today.

(Jude is the president of the trading company Ellis works at as his assistant… right.)

(I intended to observe Ellis today, but I guess I’d be better off postponing that plan.)

Kate: Thank you for taking time off your work for me. Good luck at work.

Ellis: ...

Ellis stared at me in silence, pondering about something—

Kate: Uhh?

Ellis: If it's okay with you, do you want to come along?

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #otome #cybird otome #ikevil main story #ellis main story #ellis twilight #aikm translation

[sydsaint]

ALL MY SOLO SIKOA STANS COME GET YALLS CONTENT! 📣📣📣📣📣📣

Summary: The reader gets settled in with The Bloodline alongside her brother, Sami. Along the way, she learns that a certain Samoan has had his eyes on her for a while now.

"Come on! Just hit him, already, Sikoa!" You shout at Solo from below the ring apron.

Jimmy and Jey shoot you a glance from either side of you, and Sami tugs at your leg to get you to come down to the floor. You hop down to where your brother is waiting and give him an annoyed look.

"Y/N, come on." Sami scolds you. "You aren't helping." He reminds you.

You roll your eyes, annoyed that Sami even made you come out here with him. "You're the one that said I needed to come out and support the team more, Sami." You remind him in an accusing tone. "So here I am, supporting the team. And we both know that Sikoa could have Butch on the mat and begging for mercy in an instant if we wanted to."

"Just be nice, please." Sami sighs and jumps up to join the twins.

You remain on the floor and Jey tags into the match. Solo slips out of the ring and hops down to the floor to recover before he's needed again. You lean on the ring post with your arms crossed and watch him catch his breath.

"You're staring." Solo catches your eyes on him, that usual scowl plastered on his face.

"Just looking out for my team." You reply dryly and avert your gaze for the time being. "Look's like you need to work on your cardio, Sikoa. All out of breath so soon, big man?" You can't help but tease him.

Sikoa stands back up straight, obviously irked by your words. But he chooses instead to hop back up to the ring apron and rejoin his brothers.

A few minutes later a brawl breaks out in the ring and you try your best to stay out of the way. Much to your dismay, Ridge Holland comes around the corner as you are making your retreat.

"Y/N." Ridge locks eyes with you.

"...Ridge." You swallow and take a small step back. "I don't suppose that we could talk this out, could we?" You ask him with a nervous laugh.

Ridge shakes his head and advances on you. "Fraid not, love." He shrugs and begins closing in on you.

You go to turn tail and run for whoever happens to be closest to you at the moment. When you turn around, Solo is just getting done tossing Butch into the barricade.

"Yo, mister enforcer." You hurry forward and slip behind Solo. "It's time to put some of all that muscle to good use." You put a hand on the back of his shoulder and point at Ridge.

Solo nods and uses a hand to push you back a little bit before he lurches forward and tackles Ridge to the ground. You then proceed to watch Solo pick Holland up and backdrop him into the announce table before he stalks back over to you.

"There, happy?" He asks you with a sour expression.

You glance at Ridge now laid out in the rubble of the commentary table and nod. "Yeah...thanks, Solo." You thank him. "What now?"

Solo surveys the area and decides that it be better if you weren't in the way anymore. "Come on, stay close." He barks an order at you and you nod.

Solo muscles his way through the chaotic carnage of people fighting all around you and stops when you get to the top of the ramp.

"Thanks." You thank Sikoa again once you're at the top of the ramp. "I'll be backstage. Go kick thier asses." You send Sikoa back down the ramp to help Sami and his brothers.

You step through the curtain and find Roman waiting with Paul at his side. Roman beckons you over to his side once you're through the curtain so you hurry over to him.

"Where's everyone else?" He stares down at you with judgment in his eyes.

"I didn't want to keep getting in the way." You reply sheepishly and rub your arm. "Sikoa muscled me up the ramp so he wouldn't have to watch my back the whole time." You explain.

Roman nods but doesn't give you a verbal reply. You cough and take your place waiting at his side silently. While you wait you watch the tv monitor and see Solo on poor Ridge Holland again. You know that Sikoa is a pretty violent dude. But this is a bit much, even for him.

Eventually, The Bloodline all file up the ramp and come through the curtain. Sami walks over to make sure that you're alright.

"I'm fine, Sami." You assure him. "Solo got me out of the way before things got heated." You nod to Solo a few feet away talking to Roman and Jey.

Sami glances at Solo and nods. "Yeah, he's definitely in a mood tonight." He chuckles. "I mean did you catch the way he went at Ridge Holland?"

"Yeah..." You nod. "I think that might be my fault." You rub the back of your neck. "Ridge was sort of intending on bothering me before the fight got intense. I ducked behind Solo and sort of asked him to handle it."

"Oh, well, that explains it then." Sami chuckles like you've just answered a question for him.

You furrow your brows at your brother. "Explains what?" You ask him.

"Why Sikoa went off on Ridge," Sami replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Holland was messing around with Solo's girl. Very bad move on his part." He chuckles.

"His girl?" You reply. "Excuse me? Since when?" You shake your head in disbelief.

Sami chuckles again and ruffles your hair affectionately. "Oh, Y/N. My naive little sister." He teases you. "Sikoa's got quite the crush on you."

"He does?" You glance over at Solo still talking with Roman and Jey. "Since when?"

"No clue." Sami shrugs. "I've known for a while now. Why do you think that Madcap Moss stopped talking to you? And Ricochet as well for that matter?" He asks you. "Sikoa's been scaring them all off so he's got you all to himself."

"Has he now?" You turn and stare at Sikoa. "I liked Madcap." You frown.

Roman and Jey break away from Sikoa to talk with Paul and Jimmy. You take your chance and march over to Sikoa to confront him.

"Hey, Solo!" You catch his attention as you march over to him.

Solo turns to you, his scowl a bit softer than it usually is. "Holland won't be bothering you again anytime soon, that's for sure." He informs you.

"Yeah, him and any other man that dares speak to me." You mumble. "Is it true what Sami just told me? You've been running off guys I'm talking to without my knowledge?" You confront Sikoa.

Solo nods casually. "Yeah, so?" He replies with a shrug. "You ain't need to be talking to any other man but me, girl." He informs you. "And we both know that you're into me. So what's the issue?"

"Excuse me?" You reply in shock. "What's the issue?" You repeat him. "Last time I checked, you've never even asked me out on a date." You remind him.

Solo doesn't reply at first, but you can tell that he's got some kind of idea brewing. After a few seconds of you waiting for a reply, Sikoa shrugs and puts a hand on your shoulder to orient you towards the door.

"What are you doing?" You ask, digging your heels into the floor to stop Sikoa from moving you.

"You want to go on a date so bad?" Sikoa replies casually. "Come on then, get a move on girl." He pushes you towards the door. "Yo, Roman! I'll catch you all later, man. Y/N and me gonna be busy for the rest of the night!"

You try and protest but Sikoa has you out the door and heading for the garage before you can get a word out. You can hear Roman and what sounds like Sami both laugh as you are dragged off.

#solo sikoa #wwe fandom #wwe smackdown #wwe fanfiction #wwe nxt #the bloodline #sami zayn #wwe x reader #wwe x you #wrestling #wwe

[f1-birb]

WHAT a turnaround from Friday

from both boys getting laps deleted in quali and ending up starting Oscar P6 and Lando P10 instead of Oscar P4 and Lando P2

to the dramatic improvement for sprint qualifying with a 1-2 (even though Lando was extremely hard on himself for messing up his final lap by running wide)

to a 1-3 in what was an incredibly chaotic sprint race, Oscar's first P1 finish and Lando made up good ground to get back to the podium after being swamped by soft tyre runners at the start

and then today...

starting P6 and P10, both jumping up 4 places on the first lap alone thanks to some Mercedes carnage, both with fantastic pace, excellent tyre management, playing tennis with fastest lap, some truly beautiful overtakes

Oscar going from 6 to 2 is so so impressive but Lando 10 to 3, from just inside the points to podium?

no discredit to Oscar either but Lando was RAPID, so so quick, and another shoutout to him, despite clearly not being happy about it, playing the team game and following team orders to make sure they brought home the double podium which they did in style by having it one of the closest finishes to Max timing wise since I think Silverstone

Back to back podiums for Oscar (plus a cheeky sprint win) and back to back to back podiums for Lando (with a cheeky bonus sprint podium too)

AND finally, HUGE credit to the pit crews, some mega speedy stops and Lando's crew managing a 1.8s??? INCREDIBLE

I can now say though thank god it's a two week break, I'm exhausted and I bet the boys are too

#qatar gp 2023 #mclaren #lando norris #oscar piastri #my papaya boys #could get used to this #pls mclaren no more discounts though my bank account will cry #birb speaks

[calamari-minecraft-corner]

Ah- thingd are getting chaotic over there.

Where is that troublemaker at..?

Ah. In the room next to the carnage.

-THE END-

(HAPPY APRIL FOOLS! :D)

#this was so silly and fun! #hope u guys enjoyed me being silly #might do more things like this #con au #april fool's day #dsmp #dreamsmp #dream smp #c!dream #self insert #dreblr #my art #dsmp au #dreamsmp au #c!quackity #c!awesam #c!sam #prisontrio #dsmp fanart #dsmp art

[bullet-prooflove]

Ashes to Ashes - Horacio Carrillo

For my wonderful @the-hinky-panda and the discussion regarding our sweet murder Colonel.

Tagging: @616wilsons @mysun-n-stars @xmoonknightlyx @nessamc @crazy4chickennuggets @annetje @mysoulisasunflower @littleone65 @thesandbeneathmytoes @glorieux92 @supersanelyromantic @mirabee1 @kabloswrld @xoxabs88xox @nunita20

Horacio was perched on the hillside where he had scattered your ashes. A cigarette hung from his lips as he sat on the plush grass, savouring the feel of the dense foliage underneath his fingertips. Coming here, plunging his fingers into the soil was the only way he could feel a connection to you.

Your life-force still resonated through the earth, the essence of you. The two of you had a lot of happy memories in this place. Looking out over the stars in the darkest night, trying to remember the names and shapes of the constellations above. It had been the moment he realised that he was in love with you. He’d told you that when he’d made love to you on the picnic blanket, you’d thrown in the back of the Jeep.

He took a drag from his cigarette, allowing the smoke to fill his lungs before he exhaled, watching the swirls of smoke disappearing into the air. He didn’t need his watch to know that it was nearly time, he sensed it, the impending taste of vengeance and it tasted bittersweet on his lips. Because to avenge something, you had to lose it first.

He remembered your smile that day, his sheets wrapped around your bare skin as he leaned over and kissed you goodbye. He hadn’t wanted to leave that morning; your hair was a mess, and your skin was flushed but you were still the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. He told you so as he kissed you into submission, pinning your wrists above your head as he’d climbed back onto the bed.

“Be a good girl for me, mi amor.” He had murmured as his lips brushed over yours. “And I’ll give you anything you desire.”

“Anything?” You questioned, that sinful look in your eyes as you arched your body along the length of his.

“Anything.” He promised you, bucking his hips just slightly so you could feel how hard he was through his military fatigues. “Now behave and let me go do my job.”

His job, his duty, his actions, every single one had led to your death that day. He’d just finished up a raid when he’d gotten the call and when he heard the news it felt like every single hue of colour had drained out of his world. His agony was visceral, his thoughts violent and chaotic as he grasped the phone so tightly, he heard the plastic creak.

He took another drag of his cigarette before the first explosion. He felt the rumble through the air as the smoke bellowed from the compound in the distance, flames licking up through the countryside burning everything in its wake. In three other locations, similar bombs were going off. One for each of the men that had murdered you. He pictured each of the scenes, the carnage in the aftermath, the bloody limbs separated from broken torsos. Their women, their children, their families all destroyed because of what they had done. He wanted them to feel a sliver of the anguish he felt that day, to suffer as he was suffering.

Most of all he wanted them to know it was him.

That the slaughter of their families was Colonel Carrillo wrecking his revenge.

Love Horacio Carrillo? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#maurice compte #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo imagine #horacio carrillo x you #colonel horacio carrillo

[monstersdownthepath]

Monster Spotlight: Grendel

CR 19/MR 7

Chaotic Evil Large Monstrous Humanoid

Bestiary 4, pg. 145

Hideous, terrible, and almost unstoppable, Grendel is described by the book as less of a creature and more of a force of nature, but a quick look at his lore block (especially his 2e one) reveals this not to be the case. If he were a force of nature, he would be an impartial destroyer! Instead, though, he specifically targets locations where joy runs high and celebrations ring out into the wilderness, seeking to crush as much happiness as possible with his every foray into civilization. Despising the sounds of happiness and revelry, Grendel attacks such settings with all the brutality of a tornado and the spiteful fury of a demon... After he sneaks, ever so quietly despite his bulk, into the settlement to murder its greatest warriors while they sleep so that no survivors could ever come close to opposing him. He does not seek a fair fight. He’s not even in it for the thrill of battle; he exists to cause pain, spread misery, and remind humanity that death is the only constant in life. Little else brings him more joy than watching the aftermath of his own carnage from afar, seeing the survivors sob over the broken and shredded bodies of their loved ones.

If you’re wondering just how a lumbering goliath like him can be sneaky, look no further than Mythic Skill Focus (Stealth), which allows Grendel to take 10s and 20s on his Stealth checks even while under duress. Without rolling a single dice, Grendel can have a flat 34 to Stealth no matter what the situation, making him all but invisible to the societies he preys upon as he slips behind houses, between shadows, and even across rooftops with no more noise than the wind. If he’s not in any particular hurry, that’s a 44 to Stealth instead, letting him scout out his prey in advance with little risk of being detected. A civilization may be be visited by this horror for many days before he decides to strike the moment they’re at their weakest, slaughtering as many warriors as he can under the cover of night before roaring in rampage to scatter the rest like roaches caught in the sunlight. Unfortunately for him, he NEEDS to be sneaky, because he has only meager resistances (10 each of Cold, Acid, and Fire), no resistances or immunities to any status ailments, and low saves for his Hit Dice.

Against non-Mythic targets, Grendel can certainly feel like a force of nature. He rolls all Fortitude and Will saves against the abilities of non-Mythic foes twice and picks which result he wishes to use, and he has 7 charges of Mythic Surge to use each day as he sees fit to add +1d10 to any d20 roll he feels like. While saving throws are nice and all, Grendel is built to attack, and his Brutal Surge ability emphasizes that better than any: Whenever he Surges on an attack roll, the 1d10 is added to the damage roll as well. He ALREADY has Mythic Power Attack, allowing him to take a -6 penalty to his attack rolls for +18 to damage, so his Surge has a decent chance of negating the penalty altogether and letting him pile sky-high damage... if he doesn’t just opt to spend a Surge point to eliminate the attack penalty completely for 1 whole minute, letting him tack +18 damage to his Full-Attack without worry.

Grendel’s sole means of offense is his raw, physical power: His gigantic claws and his gnashing jaws. Unusually, his jaws are less dangerous than his claws, dealing only 4d8+6 damage compared to 3d10+13 (these are just base numbers; remember he tends to have 18 extra damage!). Those nails also have a critical range of 19-20, and he’s got Bleeding and Exhausting Critical waiting to ruin a melee fighter’s chance of hurting him at all. His claws also Grab onto anything they manage to strike, and more than just about any monster in any book, staying free of Grendel’s grapple should be your highest possible priority. If you don’t have Freedom of Movement or couldn’t cast it before he dropped in and ambushed your party, the casters need to put it on whoever he’s closest to as swiftly as they possibly can, because anyone who remains in his grip when his turn rolls around again is subject to very literally being torn limb from limb.

There is no saving throw a victim can make to prevent their Gruesome Dismemberment, ONLY breaking out of his grapple or not being grappled in the first place can avoid it. Otherwise, Grendel can spend a Surge point to immediately and unavoidably tear off one of the victim’s arms or legs, potentially robbing them of their weapons or shields if they’re a martial character, their somatic spells if they’re a caster, or their mobility if they’re... anything that doesn’t want to be anywhere near Grendel, which should be everything. The agonizing pain inflicts the sickened condition and the cruel tearing deals 2d6 extra bleed damage, both of which last until magical healing is applied, but of course healing the damage is meaningless if the victim can’t break free of Grendel’s grip, because then he can just do it again.

While your options for reattaching severed limbs are plentiful by the time you can expect to fight something like Grendel, your options for doing it mid-combat are basically next to nothing. Regenerate takes 3 rounds to cast, Trollskin Tourniquets take 24 hours to work, and Rings of Regeneration (alongside the regenerative Ioun Stones) take hours or days to restore lost limbs, so none of those options in particular do much to undo the damage the lumbering sadist does. The party’s frontliners are one failed grapple check away from becoming dead weight, and while Grendel is no genius by any stretch of the imagination, he’s smart and wise enough to recognize two-handed weapons or two-weapon fighters, and cautious enough to scout the party ahead of time for priority targets like casters who need both their arms for somatic components, mobile midliners who he can pluck the legs from, and--again--frontliners whose builds rely on them having all their limbs.

Not that those builds would have done much good, anyway; the legends say that Grendel cannot be slain by any weapon or spell, and they’re right. He’s not only Unstoppable, able to expend Surge points to shrug off an enormous list of status ailments (and can do so even if those ailments would have kept him from acting), but he flat out cannot be killed by weapon attacks! Is this a unique ability or power he has?

Nope!

It’s Regeneration 10. Humble Regen 10, which can only be suppressed if Grendel is attacked by a natural weapon or unarmed attack. Depending on your party composition (mainly whether or not there’s a Monk or Brawler present), you’ll either be howling in frustration as the beast refuses to die and slinks back into the swamplands to heal after tearing your arms off, or you won’t notice he even has Regeneration. While this may seem like a pretty glaring weakness, and you may think to yourself ‘so all we have to do is slap him really hard to suppress his healing?’ you’re falling into a terrible trap. Grendel’s DR 10 can only be bypassed by an Epic-quality weapon, so unless you can throw a punch with the force of a greataxe rolling max damage, this is a job for Monks, Brawlers, Wild Shaped Druids, and Animal Companions. Y’know, provided he hasn’t torn off their limbs.

You can read more about them here.

#Monster Spotlight #CR 16 to 20 #mythic monster #Pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons

[girlwithwolftatoo]

hc of how the moon boys would be with a harley quinn type of s/o. like she is really sweet and kind when she is with them, but is also extremely chaotic and kinda be seen as a morally grey character. she always means well but she just has a very sad and traumatic upbringing.

(Please read the following headcanon listening to Gangsta by Kehlani because -yes)

Jake Lockley:

*You're too naïve for this world if you think he didn't get a hard on the first time he saw you break a guy's skull with the cricket bat of Steven.

*Night missions as the fist of Khonshu had turned funnier since he discovered your dark side. He loves driving through London and near locations to kick asses and take names with you as his perfect partner in crime.

*Jake feels he can be himself without masks for you'll accept him as he is, even in his most unhinged form. It's not that he couldn't reach that trust level with a "more-average" partner, but he knows there's something in him that can be labelled as "monstrous", and to him, the fact that you can embrace chaos is a signal of safe place.

*Dark-romantic is the way we can describe your relationship. You could either dance in the same club were you just did a carnage spree like two teenagers at their prom, or make out right next to the corpse of a criminal head (not literally) while listening to Paul Anka's "Your head on my shoulder".

*You're the perfect match for him, that's how Jake perceives you. He's so comfortable around you he may even do some crazy little things like, dunno, giving you the ring of a mafia boss he threw off a building the last week because "emerald and gold fits you well" or even worse... going for a tattoo of something related to you.

Marc Spector:

*He's lethal and thug because he has to, not by choice nor self indulgence. The fact that you're so sweet and kind gives him both the hope of finally living a normal life and the fear of getting you into troubles...

*Or that's the main worry until he sees how you break some dude's teeth with a single punch before jumping and landing on his right arm with all your strenght. Now he's like "WTF where's my cherry pie (Y/N)?"

*I'm sorry but Marc can't help but make some inner comparisons between you and Layla. The main difference is you act and feel intense. You greet him with a big hug and giving him smooches before telling him the dinner awaits, but when things get hard Marc knows you won't only fight, but enjoy every second of it, which is... slightly disturbing but fascinating.

*Sometimes he's worried you like a little too much the missions. He knows what a real blood-thirsty is like, and the idea of you turning into someone like that is something he cannot tolerate, so usually he's the one who must contain you.

*But by the same reason, Marc knows you're not like that because you like it. And slow but surely he listens to your life story and the kind of stuff you've been through, and he can emphatize with you. Ultimately you are a healing support for each other, and you lick each other's proverbial wounds and feel the world still has place for love and peace.

Steven Grant:

*You've been dating for some weeks now and he's getting used to your attitudes. You pointed acidly at the waiter Steven asked for a chicken free salad? Well, that's kind of you. You yelled at some kids on the street for harrasing a poor dog? Hey, he would do the same. You kicked someone's crotch after some dirty words? That's fair enough.

*Did you break a burglar's nose with your head and then proceeded to hurt his ears with a slap and, while they were on the floor, you finished with a K.O kick? Okay, that's a little... brutal, but he's surprised. Very surprised.

*The first time you meet him in his Mr. Knight suit you're so happy ("Steven, dear, you're a superhero! No, better than that... a super-vigilante!") you join without hesitation. At first he'll do his best to protect you, but dear, you're more than up for some hand throwing.

*Steven cannot choose if he's scared or intrigued by that crazy side of you. Yes, he despises violence, but he also knows you must respond when someone is bothering you. And your response level tends to be... high, very high, and it's worrying but once carnage is over you turn back to be the soft little dove he loves.

*One day, he may directly ask what's the deal with that. Knowing about the things that made you being like this is sad, for Steven is the most emphatetic of the Moon boys. He'll give you the comprehension, patience and words you needed, and you'll know from then he's the one, you wouldn't never drop sweet Steven of the gift shop for anything or anyone in the world.

#moon knight #moon knight series #moon knight headcanon #moon boys #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #oscar isaac #marvel series #mr knight

[valmare]

Happy 300 Mare!! Could you do something with any Val character - your choice - being concerned and protective??

Okay, rad---because I'm completely obsessed with Paul, I just had to take liberties and write him for this challenge. I hope you enjoy this and it hits that little angsty/protector-ish spot you want!

The World I Keep From You

It’s 102 degrees in the shade in New Orleans, the hive of post-apocalyptic energy at the river only adding to the heat of afternoon. A hundred machines, ranging from construction to law enforcement to EMS, paint a chaotic picture parked half-hazardly along the ferryway. Bouncing cherry lights, light bars, and flashers light up the scene in scarlets, blues, soft yellows and ambers. 

Working together, they accentuate the fluster of bodies moving to string a police line. Uniforms of every kind press back a swarm of gawkers, survivors––witnesses, families who haven’t received answers on the whereabouts of their loved ones, spectators and press and TV crews. They grapple like vultures at the vein of the scene, desperate for a glimpse at the ugliness that has, again, ravaged Louisianans. 

The river is swarming, half a dozen marine units circling the area while river-mounted cranes work tirelessly to pull from the river, in the way that machines do. Teams of divers are dispersed carefully along the wreckage, pulling bodies. The whump whump whump of choppers overhead would be nearly deafening, if not for the cacophony of hard noise in the air. 

Fear is in the air, nearly palpable. Adrenaline bounces through the blood, kicked up from heli blades and the scream of machinery. Odd yelps from sirens and megaphones somehow work in rhythm with the current of the river, which laps along the shore lazily, as if there hasn’t been tragedy here. The bridge is jam-packed with the slow vein of traffic, all grappling for passing looks at the scene. 

Your throat constricts a little as moisture bubbles in your eyes behind your aviators, watching the desperation bleeding into the bank of the river. Swinging your rental into what small space you’ve been able to find, even inside the small sedan with New York plates you can hear the grapple of the public—women screaming for their husbands, children crying for their mothers and fathers; mothers and fathers seeking word of grandchildren. 

They ring over the din of professional and first-response noise, crisp and clipped and bone-rattling clear. White-knuckling the wheel of the sedan, you notice your hands begin to tremble with the effort. Releasing the wheel as if it has suddenly become too hot to the touch and the source of pain, you wring your hands together a little, gnawing at the pocket of your cheek nervously. 

The corner of your eye catches the luggage in the backseat of the sedan, four distinct bags that are more than familiar. They’re supposed to be in the Keys, far away from this river, this carnage. But instead they are here, with you, in what can only be described as the perimeter of hell that you’re currently staring into. 

You’d been looking forward to this vacation for six months. Earlier in the year Paul had surprised you with tickets to the Keys over dinner at your favorite restaurant, then an early anniversary present. It wasn’t usually in his wheelhouse for surprises—Paul was a calculated, disciplined man. Working for the FBI sapped him of just about any spontaneity possible in the opposite sex, he liked having a plan. He liked logistics and hard data, he was a man of action and answers. It came with the badge. The FBI was clinical and disciplined in ways you could only imagine, which is what made Paul Pryzwarra, well, Paul Pryzwarra. 

You supposed that’s why you loved him. He was the ying to your yang, the level-headed to your absolute crazy. Paul worked cases and hard data and ran operations, you wrote manuscripts from the small den of your Minneapolis twin-home. His life was files and investigations and forensics, yours were copious amounts of caffeine, character creation, and beat boards. His apartment was spotless, yours was not much different from the catastrophic remains of Katrina—your bedroom floor was a mess of colorfully discarded clothes, dirty laundry, and laundry that hadn’t made it from the vanity chair to the closet yet. 

Paul was perfect. While he  was catching threats to national security, you were taking a page from their book and creating said enemies, a fact that never ceased to amaze him. He read your manuscripts, though—he read them and dissected them, helped you create realistic antagonists. Half of your romantic interests had some of Paul’s soul woven into their existence—at least, half of the leads you’d created after you’d started dating him. 

 In all actuality, you should’ve never met him. 

Not really, anyway. It was a fluke of a first meeting, one only either destined by fate or by the hand of the Almighty, to this day he wasn’t entirely sure which. But you were convinced. Angels had nearly shoved  you into his arms–you’d all but stumbled into him at the Caribou Coffee in Midtown, a stone’s throw from the Minneapolis Institute of Art, when the heel of your shoe had suddenly developed a mind of its own and snapped off as you’d approached the counter. 

Knocking into him with a squeal of panic, he’d caught you by an arm, helped you find your feet, and asked if you were alright. Cheeks lit up with embarrassed heat you’d nodded, trying to collect yourself, when you’d noticed you’d managed to not only knock the coffee out of his hand, but stain the front of his button-down shirt. 

Reddish brown coffee stain glaring back at you as you blinked, the color on your nose had darkened instantaneously. Apologizing an embarrassing amount of times as he’d shuffled you out of the line of consumer traffic, you’d insisted on replacing his coffee. Wouldn’t take no for an answer, actually, even though he’d told you not to worry about it no short of a handful of times. 

“Really, you have to let me do this,” flagging down one of the baristas, you’d leaned over the cold case and asked her to remake whatever he’d had and times it by two, “I’m just headed into a meeting with my editor and I will not be calm knowing I’ve ruined some dude’s morning because I spilled his coffee on top of simultaneously destroying my favorite pair of heels,” insisting the barista keep the change, you’d swung back around to smile crookedly at him, pushing the glasses on your nose up a little with a knuckle. 

Frick he was too cute, way cuter than any of the guys you’d even consider bumping into purposefully on a Friday afternoon in January in Midtown. Blonde, with glasses of his own, and just your kind of build, back then he could've stopped you dead. Definitely would’ve earned a double-take if you hadn't nearly assaulted him. Paul was the exact kind of guy that would make you trip over yourself, like always.

But oddly, conversation with him had been easy. ACtually, you hadn’t been able to shut up. 

 “Besides. It’s the least I could do––” he’d pushed up his own glasses with his left hand, making it glaringly obvious that he wasn’t married, which prompted the tacked on, “––your wife will have a hell of a time getting a coffee stain out of a Calvin Klein,” you’d nodded to his shirt with a chuckle. 

He’d blinked at you a few times, head canted as you’d smiled at him, before his lips twisted into a slow, amused grin of his own. His smoky eyes nearly sparkled despite the lack of sunshine in dead-of-winter Minnesota, and for a second you’d wondered if you’d stumbled on your words, or said something stupid. He’d simply shifted his weight, slipped a hand into his pocket, and smiled coolly at you. 

The barista had approached you with two coffees, and you’d squared up with her, “Well then maybe it’s a good thing I’m not married,” this had triggered your side-eye over to him as you accepted the two coffees, him shrugging a shoulder as his nose wrinkled a little in amusement, “maybe the shirt will cooperate a little better, seeing as Calvin Klein doesn’t apparently play well with the female touch.” 

Snorting, you’d dropped your Coach back into your purse and handed him the refreshed coffee. “I’m not sure if I should congratulate you or offer condolences,”

“For not being married?” Surprise was written across his face as he’d chuckled. 

“For the hell of a time you’re going to have with that stain, honey.” 

The rest was history. He’d laughed and walked you to your car. Of course you’d been flirting, but he kept up the cat-and-mouse, asking if you’d be willing to take a stab at the stain over dinner or drinks on Saturday night. He was passing through town and wouldn’t mind tasteful company for the weekend. Him being just your kind of cute and funny, you’d agreed to see him again, and given him your number.  

He’d stepped back from your car with a nod, introduced himself as Paul Pryzwarra, and had vanished around the corner with tentative plans to meet you around seven. Dinner had went off without a hitch—he was funny, gorgeous, everything you’d never imagined actually bumping into. He told you he worked for the government at a thousand-foot glance, and asked about your meeting with your editor. 

Falling down the rabbit hole of your writing, you’d talked two hours about your book. Realizing you’d dominated the conversation with your chatty-Kathy babblings, you’d finally blushed behind a napkin and apologized for getting lost in your own accomplishments. To his credit, he reassured you it was fine—and he'd been riveted. He asked you more questions, engaged with your imaginations. Even gave you a couple of research points. 

Much later, well into dating, he’d admitted that after the first date he’d picked up the first copy of whatever had your name on it. Devoured it on the plane ride back to his NOLA office. He’d told you, laughing, that he’d wanted to call you and demand answers on your plot twists and cliffhangers, but instead had tracked down the entire series. 

They proudly were displayed in his office at work, next to his pictures of the two of you together, and were the topics of one or more discussions and reading recommendations around the office of the FBI. 

He’d been a closet supporter for weeks, never telling you as he’d called you and your relationship grew long-distance. Paul called you three times a week and weekends, asking you about your day. Your week. What you were working on, inquiring about your family. 

He didn’t discuss work unless you asked, something that you never really clued into until you’d discovered he worked for the FBI and couldn’t share a lot about his job anyway. Paul played his cards close to the vest, which came with the job. You understood that, and were grateful that he kept the ugly side of Uncle Sam out of your relationship. 

But sometimes Paul needed to discuss work, and try as you might, you shut down the bubbly side of your personality and just listened. Very few times had Paul actually cried in front of you, but there were a choice few where he had, and there was really very little to say or offer. He despised crying in front of you, and he hated bringing work home. 

He’d seen the visceral things of the job, things he shielded you from. Early in your relationship he’d told you there would be things he wouldn’t ever share, things he couldn’t discuss with you. And that while it wasn’t what he wanted, it was for the best—he didn’t want to keep secrets. But some things needed just stay nonexistent in your relationship, and he’d left it at that. 

He’d felt the need to bare the weight of the world for you, to take all the wickedness out of it. While you didn’t accept that there were things so horrifying to which you couldn’t offer him any escape, you tried to understand. Oftentimes it was the topic of misunderstanding or arguments—you wanted into his world, as much as he wanted into yours. But, he kept you out. On the outskirts of his hell, where the visceral things couldn’t touch you. Where evil lurked but could not reach. 

Paul preferred it this way, and, while it was difficult to understand, you loved him. You had to understand, otherwise you’d lose him, and that was unacceptable. 

The sun rose and set on your love of him, and no horrors of any job—FBI or not—would rip him from you. You held him in an unyielding fist. Instead of common ground, you offered him the very heart beating behind your ribs, and he’d given you his own. 

His heart beat alive in your hand, and yours in his. He showed you pieces of his life that the government allowed, and you gave him everything—whatever bits of him Paul Pryzwarra could give, you knew he had. A year of skirting the lines of his world, and you wanted in, so desperately that it nearly consumed you. 

Together you danced on the blades of the unknown, and you could live with that. You didn’t have to know the inner workings of Paul’s job to worship him—he wasn’t his work. His work wasn’t him. He was a man of the badge, not the badge itself, something you reminded yourself of often when the world reared its foreboding head and demanded more of him than you wanted to give. 

Selfish, yes—but reality, all the same. It was the job. Iit came with the territory of Paul Pryzwarra, and like an unyielding and face-flint sojourner, you were desperate for all of him. You would span the stars to find whatever parts of him were lost, he would ford rivers and scale mountains to return to you. And he had, without fail. 

For a year he flew in and out of Minneapolis to see you, flew you to him in New Orleans. Rumor from his peers whispered that he was considering a transfer to a less glamorous office on the outskirts of Minneapolis to be closer to you, establish a life with you. 

Swirlings of marriage were in the air, and your jaw had nearly hit the floor when they’d asked you if you’d hinted at engagement. Flustered, spluttering on too-stale, stone-cold coffee, you’d nearly fallen out of your chair when Shanti had pinned you with that notorious FBI-takes-no-bullshit look. 

Admitting that no, neither of you had even discussed the next step of your relationship—he hadn’t even asked to move in!—Shanti had been within inches of blowing a gasket. Nobody, at the time in that specific room, could even believe Paul Pryzwarra was even dreaming about engagement on his own. 

“You mean you haven’t looked at any engagement rings? Hinted at life insurance policies, mentioned buying a house?” 

“You think Paul is going to ask me to marry him?” 

“Think? Girl, if I were any more sure I’d buy a damn Power Ball and go the fuck home!” 

Thinking back, Paul keeping it to himself wasn’t terribly hard to believe. He was, after all, FBI—spooks were good at that kind of thing. And, this weekend marked a year of your going steady together, something that he’d thought noteworthy enough to celebrate with a vacation to the gorgeous, you’ve-only-ever-dreamed-of-seeing Florida Keys. 

You were certain Paul was going to pop the question—until this. 

Falling back against the front seat, your head kicks back to the headrest and you exhale a puff of air, eyes closing for a minute. You’re dragging ass from a four hour layover, on little more than four hours of sleep, and you’re in desperate need of food. It’s hell-levels of hot, and your makeup is smudged. Your feet are killing you as your toes curl and uncurl, trying to work the ache out of your arches. 

Trying to block the muffled cries of the grieving, you cringe when they only seem to exaggerate in the silence of the car. 

You’re smacked in the face with the sharp lines of sulfur, something burning, curling beneath your nose and humidity raising perspiration on the back of your neck. The too-big, all-cotton button down sticks to the sweat of your back, and your jeans are probably soaked through the ass, despite the nearly arctic blast of the A/C coming from the rental. Mopping the beaded perspiration from your upper lip with the back of your hand, you manage a taste of your own lipgloss and deflate a little. 

Grabbing the front of your shirt, you pull on it repeatedly, trying to work a breeze against your chest, which is sweating like a whore in a church. Push up bra positively soaking, you don’t even want to think about how long it’ll be before you can shower and collapse into bed. 

Realizing it’s only making you hotter, you sigh and kill the Camry’s engine, spinning the rental keys on your finger before popping the door latch, groaning when you’re assaulted with an absolute blast of humidity and hard noise. Almost knocked back into the seat, your grip on the door tightens up, eyes scanning over the hive of activity and people milling about the area, hurriedly. 

Batting the door closed, you grab your crossbody purse from the back seat, hand rummaging inside while your eyes digest the scene of what appears to be a beat cop trying to hold back a red-faced, screaming mother. The woman is nearly trembling, on the verge of collapse as the man grabs either of her arms, trying to keep her from lashing out at him as the crowd presses farther against the police line, demanding answers in their grief and torture. 

Your fingers slip over what feels like your Blackberry inside your bag at the exact moment the woman crumbles to her knees, hitting the concrete hard on her knees before the officer. You swallow the breath that’s jumped into the back of your throat, tears within breathing distance. The steel beam of grief drops into your spine, and you have to bite your bottom lip to keep it from trembling as the officer takes a knee and allows the woman to sob uncontrollably into his shoulder. 

This place is gasping for air, for relief, for answers. A thin veil separates the living from the dead, this scene all too familiar for the people of this state—Katrina has still rattled the lives of this place, of these people. They still cling to the vivid memories of destruction and devastation, and the throes of death are still fresh and familiar. They don’t deserve this, but then again—nobody does. 

This is the ugly side. The side Paul has tried to protect you from, the side you have no business seeing. 

But you can’t tear your gaze away, your chest is already ripped open. You’re bleeding over these people’s desolation, and there is no going back. There isn’t an undoing that can erase any of this. It’s a fabric of your existence now, attached to your bones—something you will carry in your soul forever. 

It is no surprise that Paul, and his team, are here. This is what they do. It has never been more clear how important he is, not only to you, but to this place. To these people. To the greater good—a good that is far greater, you realize, than your own happy little, blissfully unaware, universe. 

Muscle memory, from dialing no less than a dozen times this afternoon, prompts the speed dial. You know somewhere in the mess of tragedy a pager is going off, like it always does every time you dial this number, but you can’t bring yourself to even for a moment look away from the grieving woman and the empathetic officer holding her tightly. 

You only realize you’re crying when tears pool within the lenses of your aviators. Slipping them off, you swipe at the tears dripping down your face, probably upsetting what’s left of your mascara, but you don’t care. Taking a steadying breath you attempt to fan your face with your fingers, closing your eyes to stare up into the breathtaking sunlight that feels so incredibly foreign and alive against your face. 

Head falling back, you gnaw at your bottom lip as you fall against the side of the car, letting the Camry take most of your weight. Feet burning, a headache begins to blossom at the base of your neck, reminding you that you’re tired. Hungry. In need of caffeine and more than ready to see your beloved, you ignore the bang of heat that flares in the low of your gut, just thinking about him. 

Massaging the back of your neck, you jump when the Blackberry pings. You don’t even let it ring again before your thumb is on the accept button and the thing is to your ear, you turning to face the river, and its carnage. 

“Paul?” You’re jumpier than you want to be, more rattled than you want him to know as your gaze sweeps over the river, over the corpse of tragedy this bombing has left behind. It’s impossible to find him, you know. He may not even be here. “Paul, it’s—I’m here. In the lot, just like you said.” 

But your heart jackhammers behind your ribs, nearly vibrating all your bones, and you know not checking is not physically possible for you in a realm of belief. Tongue slipping between your lips to swipe at the beaded sweat over your upper lip, you rock onto your toes, waiting for him. 

“Hi baby,” his low tones are beautiful, shattering the wire of tension you’ve, apparently, been walking, “perfect, that’s good—one of the uniforms just told me he waved you in. I’m coming to you, sit tight. It’s a hellscape down here.” It doesn’t take much for you to believe that, “You’re still with the car, right? Stay there, I’ll come to you. And don’t talk to anyone, not yet—” he’s out of breath, slightly, and sounds upset—he’s got that edge in his tone, the one you haven’t quite been able to figure out yet, even after a year. 

It does nothing but twists the knife in your gut a little deeper. Worrying your bottom lip, you chuckle nervously before reaching to run your fingers through your hair, turning on your heel to find the river again. 

This damn river. It’s magnetizing, like an oasis in the desert. It does nothing but demand attention like the screaming toddler it is, throwing fists into the air and demanding retribution. It’s the ugly, red-headed step-child that you can’t stop staring at. 

Looking at your feet, you scuff your shoe against the concrete and nod as if he can actually see you, “I won’t go anywhere, Paul—where the hell is there to go? This place is locked up tighter than Fort Knox,” and that’s true—there’s more security and surveillance here than there could ever be for any presidential motorcade this side of D.C.

“I just—you’re ok? You’re safe? Does anyone even know where this guy is–I mean, have you found him?” Your words begin to bleed together, to rush in and out of one another in that unintelligible way that you hate. You’re a rambler, but when you’re worried or upset, you sound like your IQ drops a hundred and fifty points. 

“Sweetheart, I’m fine—the team is fine. It’s just a mess down here, okay? Just breathe for me,” nodding like an idiot at nothing, you swipe your face with a hand, falling back against the car off of the nervous pace you’ve taken up along the length of it, “Give me two minutes, I’ll find you.” 

“Okay,” you concede with a frustrated huff, “Just get your ass up here, Pryzwarra.” 

Ending the call, you stuff the phone into your back pocket, your purse becoming all too heavy for your shoulders. Slinging it off your shoulder you toss it back into the backseat, slamming the door a little harder than necessary. Bracing a hand against the door, you hang your head to consider the pavement beneath your feet, not at all appreciating the swirl of nausea the scent of sulfur and burning is producing in your gut. 

Sweat drips from the tip of your nose to the concrete, and a glance up at your arm shows that you’re shaking. Pulling your arm to your chest, your other hand grips at your wrist. Eyes pinching shut, you focus on just how much you’re trembling, and attempt to follow Paul’s advice—breathing. In, out. Slowly, rhythmically, feel the way the river air fills your lungs, that slight pinching at the base of your lungs that burns when you’ve fully emptied your chest of air. 

Leveling out your hand after a few moments of breathing exercises, the shaking has subsided a little, but not entirely. You consider your fingers and the fresh manicure you’d booked before leaving home, insistent that if Paul was going to propose to you, your hands would be perfect. In hindsight it was a stupid decision—frivolous, selfish. 

How many women had been booked for manicures today that were dead? How many men had been preparing to ask their sweethearts to marry them? How many were on vacation, or taking their children on an innocent, across-the-river ferry ride? A thousand nameless faces spin through your mind, accompanied by a well of emotion that seems endless and unyielding. 

The news coverage only showed the body bags, no faces or identifications yet being made, but—there were hundreds of bags. Now you can’t remember the number of lives lost, it was in the multiple hundreds, but it doesn’t matter. One life lost to this carnage, to this wicked twist of humanity is enough. 

How did Paul do this? How did he face this world of guttural viciousness and still be the amazing, upbeat, gorgeously optimistic Paul Pryzwarra that was yours? Yours. Who you wanted to marry. Even if he hasn’t asked the question, even if the topic had never been brought to light by Shanti and his unit, you realize—in the very marrow of your bones—that you will cross the world for Paul Pryzwarra. 

You love him, devastatingly. Like people had loved and lost those on that ferry, today.  It’s ravaged your very being. And here, standing in the aftermath of one of this country’s worst loss of life, it’s never become so word-bendingly clear.  

Rocked with the realization, you stumble back a step, fresh tears mounting. Rolling your eyes in disgust, your fingers curl into a fist at your side, your other hand moving to swipe at the tears dripping down your face. The last thing Paul needs is to console a blubbering mess of a girlfriend, and you shake out your hands in an attempt to dispel the emotion. 

Your name called out behind you is clear as a bell, and has you whirling on your heel so quickly that you stumble a little into the Camry. Throat closing, your stomach hits your knees before it springboards up into your chest to ricochet off your ribs, your heart galloping like a racehorse against your breastbone as Paul jogs into view between the mess of parked cars and police tape, clapping a uniform on the shoulder as he gestures to you. 

Squeaking out a sob, you break into a full run across the pavement, weaving between cars, looking for a path to him. Damn this entire frickin’ lot keeping him from you, all this police tape. A hundred yards may as well be a chasm of life and death between you, and eternity passes by as you attempt to skirt the menagerie of vehicles this lot has to offer. 

Vision little more than blurred  as fresh tears swim before your eyes, somehow you manage to him, all but throwing yourself into his outstretched arms. Limbs starfished around him, somehow he’s managed to assume your weight as your face buries into the crook of his neck, the very scent of him producing a strangled sob that racks your chest. 

You’re sure he can feel your heart attempting to leap out between your ribs, but he doesn’t seem to care. His thick arms tighten around you, his huge hand pressing your head against his shoulder as his soft tones attempt to soothe you. Clinging to him, unwilling to let go, he falls back a little against a park truck, allowing it to take some of your weight. 

You can feel his heartbeat against your breastbone, a little elevated from the hustle to get to you—Paul isn’t in the best shape of his life. Neither of you are, but that’s one of the things you love about him. There’s more of him, there’ll never be enough of him—the very thought of not having him produces another ugly sob from you. He smells like the river and sweat, sulfur and whatever that cologne is that you love—and coffee. He’s had coffee, of course. 

Helping you find your feet, he guides you back to look into your face. He’s wearing his glasses, like always, and his hair is messed in that way that tells you he’s been running his fingers through it—a habit of his, when he’s thinking. He does it all the time, it’s one of the things you find immeasurably adorable about him. He’s a little sunkissed, but sweating, and he looks tired—he’d been red-eyed out here an hour after the news had broke, the FBI requiring him on the ground to begin setting up his unit. 

To think the two of you should be in the Keys, settling into your hotel right now is laughable. Of course he’d be here, in the middle of America’s grief—he always is. Always has been. His firm hands take either side of your face between them, thumbs gently skimming across the apples of your cheeks as his gray eyes search yours, looking. 

He’s looking for you, you know he is. Searching for the girl he knows, for the one who understands him and the little of his world he’s allowed you to know. Watching his Adam’s apple bob with a breath, his tongue darts out between his lips to skim his bottom on, and he shifts his weight a little, pushing off the truck to stand absolutely. Solidly. Firmly. 

Every bit the man who will protect you from this, your hands find his arms, and one of his move to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. Floored with his sudden manifestation, your mind spins—so many people need him. He’s busy, his work requires him. The whole of America needs him to do his job, to bring answers to this huge question mark of a situation. Needing him here with you is infinitely selfish, but you can’t release him. Not yet. 

Your eyes fall over the features of his face. He is incredible, even exhausted and sunburned and humidity-plagued. Expression wholly unreadable, his eyes say that Paul is here, in this moment, with you— the world can wait. He isn’t at the river. He isn’t working. 

He’s here, all yours, and is invested in this very moment.

 This man, this man you want to marry, is right here. It would be easy to ask him to leave with you, to take you to the Keys and forget this happened. You wouldn’t bat an eye in asking him to forget the FBI and all its mess and duty and just come with you—to start life with you. But, you realize standing here, between two parked cars and him so readily at your beck and call, that this can never happen. 

“You’re okay? Honey, say something—are you okay?” He is worried, scared even. You can hear it knifing in between his words, stalking the lines of his usually-unshakable confidence. And, not liking it one bit, you nod in understanding before your eyes flutter closed, relief exploding in your chest like a gunshot. 

As much as it hurts, this is your life. This man, any and all parts of him, is your life. A year of the FBI and skirting the lines of what it means to love a man with two beating hearts suddenly becomes alive, like living color—you either let him go, or lose him. It is a simple, double-edged sword. 

And very quickly, so suddenly and from left field, that is alright. You can let him go. You can let him return to the world that needs him, to the grieving mothers and fathers and husbands and children that need what he is able to provide. Pryzwarra is an answer’s man, and America—Louisiana, the people at this river—need him. 

Perhaps in more ways than you do, right now. 

“I’m okay,” you manage, shakily, before stepping forward to wrap your arms around his neck. Raising on toes to brush your lips against his, his arms wrap around you steadily, securely—blocking out the world, allowing for this mini universe of just you, and him—like always. 

It will never be better than this, you realize. And you don’t want it to be. 

Not for anything in the world. 

 “I’m okay, Paul—I’m okay, now.” 

taglist:

@cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @mayhemmanaged @desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @chicomonks @dakotakazansky @books-are-escapes @sarahsmi13s @cassiemitchell @lovinglyeternal @bobby-r2d2-floyd @that-one-random-writer @horseshoegirl @lavenderbradshaw @bradleybeachbabe @roosters-girl @footprintsinthesxnd @chaoticassidy @roosterisdaddy36 @callsignharper @hisredheadedgoddess28 @ohgodnotagainn @moonchild-cupcake @aviatorobsessed @kmc1989 @imp-number-3 @spicydisaster14 @thescreamingpeach @your-local-crzy-lady

#valmare's 300 followers party #300 followers #300 followers celebration #val kilmer #blurb requests #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun fanfiction #call sign meerkat #answered asks #iceman x you #paul pryzwarra x reader #paul pryzwarra #deja vu 2006 #deja vu imagines

[warmtoastedbread]

⌌⊱⇱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰⌍

Solomon x Witch! Reader

•fluff, romantic, soft pining

•Gn reader They/Them pronouns

used.

•Reader practices Paganism

A/N: Solomon feels a little

ooc? Idk tell me what you think.

Requests are open rn.

• Link to my request board

• Master list

⌎⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⇲⊰⌏

Solomon knew you weren't normal. He found it odd that from the beginning you weren't at all weirded out at all by anything going on. Angels, demons? Meh.

Your presence wasn't normal either. It felt refined and familiar.

And one day he stumbled upon your lucky charms and protective talismans you put in your bag. 'Interesting.' They were hidden in a little black pouch you had sewn into the side of your bag. It was well hidden but still easily accessible. This is why no lower level demons got near you.

These charms where also good quality. It was made with the quality of an intermediate witch. He sniffed the bag and a pleasant smell of herbs and incense came from them. How did you get a hold of these items?

Most witches used sigils as a signature of sorts and the markings were definitely not ones he recognised. They certainly weren't gifted to you by any of the demon brothers either as the quality would be significantly higher.

Curiosity filled his brain as he thought about you. He never suspected you were a practicing witch, it was usually obvious.

Wanting to find out he approached the house of Lamentation with two bags of snacks in hand, one as a peace offering to Beelzebub. If he could see the space you lived in he could maybe get some answers without having to ask. Although curiosity would kill him sooner or later. As he was about to open the front door a certain avatar of gluttony towered over him.

"Hmm? Solomon?" Beel immediately noticed the convenience store bags, "Did Asmodeus not tell you he went to Mojolish for the day?"

Solomon smiled lightly at his assumption,"No actually, I'm here to see MC."

Eyes widening he let's out a little oh and steped out the way to let Solomon in. "Do you know where their room is?" Solomon nods, hands Beel a bag and then leaves as to not watch the carnage about to be brought down upon those innocent snacks.

Walking through the house he followed your light presence. To him it felt like a cool softly fragranced breeze. So it was easy to follow it since it starkly contrasts the presence of the brothers. Yours being like dye in water, tendrils of colour branching out to try reach as far as it can.

Finally reaching the end of the hall, he found a door labeled "☆ﾟ･:*MC*:･ﾟ★". He smiled as the smell of sandalwood reached his nose and the protectiveness of your wards loomed over him. 'How cute.' He quietly knocked on you door to try not startle you"Hey MC are you in there?"

He heard some soft curses and the sound of you tripping. "Solomon??" He heard your voice on the other end. You opened the door, a wave of your presence washing over Solomon like soft cold blankes."Hey, what are you doing here?"

He smiled sweetly,"I though I might surprise you with some snacks and company. Is this a bad time?"

You felt happy to spend time with him. "No not really. Lemme just finish what I'm doing and we can hang out." You stepped to the side and pointed to a shoe rack, "Just take your shoes off."

･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ﾟ･:*:･｡,★ﾟ･:*:･

Your room was incredibly welcoming. Not only you but your wards seemed happy for him to be here too. He felt slightly out of place if he was honest though.

The coolness of your room made him feel hot in comparison.

Your room being distinctly you, were decorated with posters and shelves with rocks and dried bouquets.

You had a designated area for everything. It was organised but still somewhat chaotic.

Infront of the door was your messy desk. Hanging plants, pots and little cuttings crowded your desk, along with a little pocket watch you had pulled apart. 'Oh my, that looks old.'

In the far corner was your messy bed, infront was your wardrobe and a folding screen with decorative patters. Then the middle of the room was a TV with a mini fridge stacked with clean dishes to use and a sitting table in the middle of the room. Finally behind the door was a little closed off area, Solomon could feel your soft energy concentrated in that area.

"You can put everything down on the table."

Setting the bag down he began pulling out the contents. "Is that watch not working?"

"Yeah. It's dirty right now so I'm just cleaning it out," you sat down at the chair "I was actually just about to finish putting it together."

You felt him lean over your shoulder, his warmth spreading through you back. Your heart pounded in your ear as you worked to slot the tiny gears into the correct place. Little did you know Solomon's heart was also beating a little faster.

Finally clipping the glass cover into place you wound it up and it started ticking.

You leaned up to look at him."Pretty cool huh?"

He let out a content hum looking down at you with a smile. You quickly felt embarrassed and suggested a movie to watch.

Spending time with Solomon was a ton of fun. You two watched several shows, cracking jokes at the most inappropriate times, and now you two were playing a Devildom version of 21 questions in the dark with some cold drinks in hand.

You giggled at Solomon's story about how managed to get a pact with Mammon.

"Okay my turn." He said sitting himself up. "You're a witch right?"

You looked at him sheepishly, "Is it that obvious?" Solomon nodded. "It's more paganism than it is Devildom style witchcraft that we do in school. They're very similar though."

As you took a sip Solomon spoke up,"I didn't expect that from you to be honest but I guess I also did expect it?" He took a pause to get his thoughts in order. "The quality of your work is very good. Who taught you?"

You chuckled and talked about your grandma and how she taught you. Solomon patiently listened to each word and all the stories you told. Though, each time your eyes would soften at the memories and you would laugh in embarrassment, his heart would soften and he would laugh with you.

You carried on to talk about when she died you inherited her things but your very christian parents did not like that.

Solomons smile widened,"Well, they must not be too happy with you being in the Devildom seducing the seven deadly sins."

You started cackling. "My parents would have a heart attack! And my other grandmother who's Catholic??" You kept giggling.

Solomon's laughter picked up with you, "She'd probably drop dead right on the spot!"

"Speaking of," you interjected. "I'm curious to know about you too."

"Well what do you want to know?" He took a sip of his soda. "Do note I'd have to kill you with certain information so be careful." he added playfully.

You shrugged. "I don't know. Having lived as long as you have, you probably know more about this than I do."

"You mean about Paganism?" You nodded. "Of course I do. I'm older than most modern religions."

"Damn you're ancient." You started laughing.

Solomons smile widened, "Respect your elders child."

"Oh sorry did you need help crossing a road?"

Solomon gasped feigning shock,"You youngsters these days are so disrespectful!"

As your laughter died down your DDD began buzzing. You started searching through the blankets and Solomon had to get up to switch the lights on.

"Hey, Simeon sorry I didn't pick up I couldn't find my phone."

Luke answered on the other side,"It's actually Luke. I don't think Simeon knows how to make calls yet. Um- MC!" The last sentence was set in panic. "Have you seen Solomon? He's not at Purgatory hall and he's not answering his DDD."

You felt surprised. "Yeah he's right here. Do you wanna talk to him?"

You passed the phone to Solomon and for a little bit all you hear is Solomon softly apologizing to Luke. When they finally hung up, Solomon smiled apologetically,"I'm sorry MC. I should go. I don't want Luke to get even more panicked."

"Don't worry about it. This was a ton of fun." You picked up his DDD, it was in-between the couch cushions, and walked him to the door. "Thanks for visiting Solomon. Next time you come make sure Luke knows where your going."

"I'll make sure to do that." And with that Solomon left. His heart filled with happiness as he made his way back to Purgatory hall.

･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆☆ﾟ･:*:･｡,★ﾟ･:*:･

#obey me solomon #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #solomon x you #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me #obey me shall we date #visual novel #anime #x reader #fanfiction

[pomellon]

Dragon!Bad is so amazing plzz can we know more about him ? Like how did he adopt so many hatchlings ?? What's his story ??

Your design is amazing too so fitting!!

Oh yes, of course!

Bad wakes up to a dark, cold world covered in ashes and snow, hazy and missing memories from the past 250 years. He knows he's somehow lived way longer than most dragons usually do, and he has a vague sense that it's thanks to the amulet around his neck. The amulet that also gives him the ability to alter his leviathan size, a blessing in the empty wasteland that doesn't offer much in terms of food or shelter.

He sets out seeking answers, but only finds signs of disasters. Active volcanoes that are still spitting ashes into the dark sky, lands split by earthquakes, and forests flattened by tsunamis. What he doesn't find is any sign of life. The town and cities he comes across are dead and silent, starved and frozen bodies littering the streets.

Bad is a carnage elemental, he's no stranger to death and decay, but the more of it he sees the more the silence grows, and it frightens him. The possibility of somehow being the only one left of his kind is terrifying, and the longer he goes alone the deeper his despair grows, dark whispers reaching for his mind.

Then he finds an egg.

Dragon eggs are very hardy, but Bad is still amazed that there's something warm and alive within the thick glass like shell, and he takes the little life with him without a second's hesitation. Shortly thereafter he finds two little hatchlings in the wild, baby plumes dark with ashes and dirt, but grey eyes bright and fierce as they curl up against each other to growl and spit at him.

Bad notes that they're at least a few years old, and it saddens him deeply that they most likely must have witnessed the death of their flight and previous bright, lush world. He doesn't blame them for being frightened of him, and with a little bit of coaching, and some bribes of carefully saved food, he managed to calm them down enough to where they let him pick them up.

At this point he realises he can't keep travelling, the barren world is freezing and full of dangers for little baby dragons, and he wants to keep them safe. Luckily he's noted down a previous location he's explored, an abandoned half collapse flight den, with tunnels dug deep enough into the earth that they were heated from the magma pockets below. It would be warm enough for the young ones, and maybe enough to grow some plants. With a decision made he takes them all to their new home.

Settling in proves to be a handful as the two little hatchlings become quite a chaotic pair once they’ve been fed and well rested for a few days. Bad takes it in stride though, happy to listen to their bright little voices filling the silence as he tends to the egg. He manage to get a water system running and plants seeds that he hopes will grow and feed them. He uses what items he can find left by the den's old occupants to craft bedding and toys, and does his very best to make the space feel cozy and inviting.

He's always reluctant to leave the young ones alone when he has to travel far to scavenge for food and supplies, but he's happy when does as on one outing he finds and bring home another little baby, even younger and smaller than the first two.

A while thereafter he also comes across Skeppy, a young adult dragon struggling to survive with two hatchlings and an egg that he's recently found. Bad is quick to invite them to his growing home, at first offering to take the little ones in case Skeppy wants to keep travelling on his own. But the young dragon is more than happy to become part of Bad's now growing flight, and just as revealed as Bad to finally have another adult to talk to and lean on for support. 

From there on life continues. Over the first few years George and Punz, the two hatchlings Bad originally found, keep being a chaotic duo but they also keep the den bright and lively. Dream, the third hatchling Bad found, and Sam, one of the hatchlings found by Skeppy, are a little calmer growing up, enjoying reading the books and scrolls, but at times get a little too creative and wild with their magic experiments. Ant, the other hatchling that was found by Skeppy, takes to toddling after the two adult dragons, happily helping with little tasks when needed. Sapnap and Boomer, the two eggs, hatch without issue and are more than content growing up and playing with older hatchlings.

All the hatchlings bond with Bad, all of them looking up to him as a parental figure, and Bad does his best to mentor them through the first ages of their lives.

He still has fuzzy and missing memories from his past, he still has many unanswered questions, odd confusing dreams, and an amulet with unknown origins. But he's no longer alone, he’s happy in a slowly healing world, he has a flight and a purpose.

#badboyhalo #dsmp #thanks for the ask 💖! #I did not mean for this to turn out this long asdfjhg #this is just the very beginning of the au btw #much more to happen in the future! #the flight get separated #someone gets kidnapped #someone goes hungry for magic power and almost dies because of it #a few decide to become forest gremlins for awhile #everyone gets reunited with minimal trauma? #and there's some young adult romance shenanigans #pom talks #dtk+ dragon au

[jerzwriter]

All I Want for Christmas

Book:                   Open Heart (Book 3 timeline) Pairing:                Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey MacTavish) Featuring:           The Roomies and Ethan Rating:                 Teen Category:            Holiday/Fluff Summary:           The friends host a Christmas party where they weigh in on a disagreement between the happy couple.  Then at the end of the night, Casey gives Tobias a gift he wasn’t expecting to receive. Words:                 2150 A/N:                     This is a bit of a follow-up to their first Christmas together found here and here. I'm glad these two idiots finally came around, and it looks like Tobias got his wish this year... but wait until next! @choicesdecember2022 -no Day 31 – You and I

            

“Ow!” Aurora’s pained voice carried out into the hallway, but it barely garnered attention in the chaotic kitchen. “That was my foot!”

Although she was the culprit, Jackie didn’t acknowledge her. According to the clock, they had exactly one hour until guests arrived, leaving no time to spare. So she rushed on to her next task.

A timer went off, and Elijah quickly moved across the room to retrieve his delicacy from the oven. But not without carnage…

“Ouch! That was my foot!” Sienna yelled. 

“Sorry, my bad! But you know what they say about too many cooks?”

“I don’t,” Jackie shrugged, “but I know there are too damn many in this kitchen.”

“Yeah,” Sienna agreed. “Someone needs to leave.”

Casey stood at the counter happily humming a Christmas tune, her hips swaying along in time as she completed the job assigned to her, stirring a bowl of icing. She was about to stick a finger in to steal a taste of the chocolate confection when she felt the weight of eight eyes upon her.

“What?” she asked, feeling guilty, but for what, she didn’t know.

“You need to leave the kitchen,” Sienna demanded.

“But… why?”

“Because there’s no room here,” Aurora replied. “And you’re the worst cook amongst us!”

“Gee, thanks for sugarcoating that!” Casey whined.

“We don’t have time to sugarcoat,” Jackie interjected. “Besides, this is your fault! We could have held our Christmas party at Tobias’s townhome… with all that space. He said we could, but no, you insisted it had to be here.”

“Yeah, what's the point of having a rich boyfriend if you’re not going to utilize the perks!” Elijah laughed.

“Can we please not encourage her?” Aurora said with a roll of her eyes. “He’s sleeping over here tonight. I’m sure we’ll all be treated to hearing her… ‘utilizing the perks.’”

“You’re all a bunch of comedians!” Casey exclaimed. “But Tobias’s townhome is not my place. It was nice of him to offer, but I don’t live there. And I don’t want to send the wrong message.”

A chorus of grumbling filled the tiny space.

“What?” Casey demanded.

“You’re there ninety percent of the time,” Jackie spat. “Just make it official, so I can take your room already!”

“No way! I’m getting that room when she leaves,” Aurora shot back.

“My name is the second one on the lease,” Elijah insisted. “I get it!”

“GUYS!” Casey yelled over them. “None of you are getting my room because I still live here! Right, Si?”

Sienna looked at her with a nervous smile. “Well,” she hesitated, “I do have to give you your mail at work. But, when you leave,” she angrily faced the others, “I found this place. I get her room.”

The cooking and baking were abandoned as the bickering continued, as Casey helplessly watched. When the doorbell rang, no one other than Casey seemed to notice.

Shaking her head, she dusted herself off and tossed her apron aside.   “Don’t worry,” she said sarcastically. “I’ll get it.”

“I’m coming!” she yelled as she raced through the festively decorated apartment. Then a bright smile spread on her face when she saw Tobias standing outside the door.

“You’re early!” She beamed, letting out a squeal of joy while jumping into his arms. Pleased with the greeting, Tobias surrendered with a little laugh as she peppered his neck and face with dozens of little kisses. 

“I missed you,” she breathed between pecks.

“I missed you, too,” he chuckled, “but, baby, it’s only been three hours.”

“Three of the longest hours of my life!” she purred as she kissed his icy nose. “You’re so cold!”   

“Well, then, you better warm me up.”

Lifting her head, she playfully licked his lips, then his teeth, as a grin spread on his face. “Like this?” She teased as they found themselves lost in an impassioned kiss. Until….

“Oh, for the love of God!” Aurora cringed. “Could you two take it to Casey’s room… it’s right down the hall….”

Casey slowly broke away, smirking in her friend’s direction as she placed her head lovingly on her boyfriend’s shoulder. 

“That’s right. My room. You were all so busy fighting over it that I assumed Tobias and I had a few moments alone.”

“Wait?” Tobias asked, “Why are they fighting over your room?”

“They insist I don’t live here anymore,” she pouted. 

Tobias cocked his head to the side. “Well…” he started. “There is a lot I could say about that….”

“I’m sure you could,” Casey deflected. “But we still have a party to prepare for,” taking his hand, she tugged him toward the kitchen. “Let’s go….”

~~~~~

Many hours later, the well-fed friends were spread out in every corner of the living room. Giftwrap from the gift exchange littered the floor under Jackie and Raf’s feet as they danced to Jingle Bell Rock, and those who hadn’t overindulged in Bryce’s “special punch” were relaxing, enjoying the soft lights flashing on the Christmas tree. But they had worked all, and all but a few were expected back tomorrow, and they were tuckered out.

Ethan was forcing his eyes to remain open as Elijah droned on about the new video game he received. Aurora was already snoring softly on the loveseat, insisting she was awake whenever anyone suggested she head to bed. Jackie was on the floor, rubbing her temples despite insisting she hadn’t had too much of Raf’s coquito. And Casey was on the couch, snuggled up against Tobias as she fought to keep her eyes open too. 

“I don’t know about you guys,” Tobias gave in. “But maybe we should hit the hay.”

Ethan’s ears perked at the opportunity to escape, and he quickly seconded the notion. 

“You are all poopers,” Aurora slurred. 

“Says the one who has been sleeping for the last hour!” Jackie chided.

Stretching his arms above his head with a yawn, Bryce sided with the guys. “As much as I don’t want the party to end, I’m just a few hours away from the start of my shift.”

“I supposed we should rap things up,” Sienna stated sadly. “But we have another Christmas in the books!”

“Chrismas is tomorrow, Si.” Jackie quipped.

“Well, tonight was our Christmas!”

“It sure was!” Casey yawned, then kissed Tobias’s cheek. “And now we’ve had our first together!”

Tobias looked at Casey quizzically. “What are you talking about? This isn’t our first Christmas. It’s our second.”

“Well, yeah, we’ve known each other for two, but this is the first as a couple. I wasn’t your girlfriend last year.”

His brows furrowed together, and he twisted his lips. “The hell you weren’t.”

“Tobias! We started dating in March.”

“A technicality,” Bryce said with closed eyes.

Tobias gestured in his friend’s direction. “Thank you!”

“It isn’t a technicality!” Casey insisted. “It’s when we started dating. Ethan, do you agree?”

“Oh, you’re not dragging me into this,” he deadpanned.

“I mean, you went on that romantic little Christmas trip to your hometowns,” Jackie shrugged. “I told Tobias he was in love with you when he came to pick you up… which he denied. But I’ve been proven right.”

“Yes, we went as friends. We had separate rooms! This is our first Christmas together.”

“So wait,” Bryce asked, suddenly waking up. “You guys didn’t do it on that trip?”

“No!” They said in unison.

“Shit,” he shrugged. “I’m a little disappointed in you, T.”

“It’s OK,” Tobias chortled. “We’ve made up for it.”

“But there, you have your answer!” Casey countered. “We didn’t ‘do it.’ We weren’t a couple, just the best of friends.”

She caught Ethan rolling his eyes from across the room.

“It’s our second Christmas, Casey,” Tobias insisted.

“Guys,” she said, “who is right?”

“You are,” Aurora yawned.

“Nope. T is.” Jackie nodded.

“Elijah?” Casey asked. 

“Oh, no! I’m not getting involved in this one!”

“OK, Raf?”

He tilted his head and looked between the two. “I don’t know. Did you love him?”

Casey opened her mouth but failed to produce any words.

Tobias nudged her with a grin. “Well, babe? We’re waiting.”

“I mean, I hadn’t admitted it yet, but….”

“You were awfully eager to kiss me on that carriage ride through Central Park.”

“Wait!” Sienna hollered. “You took a carriage ride in Central Park! And you kissed him! And you didn’t tell me?”

“But it wasn’t like that!”

Bryce stood up and grabbed his coat from the closet. “Was there tongue involved?”

“Oh, for Christ's sake!” Ethan grumbled.

“Was there?” Jackie seconded.

Tobias pulled Casey closer to his side with a pleased grin. “Answer them, princess,” he teased.

Flustered, Casey gave in. “Yes! There was. But we were just friends with kissing benefits….”

“Is that even a thing?” Elijah refuted.

“It’s not a thing,” Tobias responded.

“It was a thing! You were the one who came up with it when we kissed in Cambridge the month before!”

“Wait!” they all hollered.

“You kissed him a month before!” Sienna protested. “Am I even your best friend!?”

Tobias reached up and brushed his hands along Casey’s jawline. His blue eyes locked on hers so intensely that she momentarily forgot about the others in the room.

“Were you in love with me, Casey?” he whispered, and her heart skipped a beat.

“I…” He looked at her earnestly as he awaited her reply, a gentle smirk on his lips as her eyes and smile gave him all the answers he needed. 

“I was in love with you. I loved you so much.”

“Then, Merry Second Christmas together, baby.”

“He’s right,” Aurora yawned as she stood and stumbled off to bed.

Ethan stood up to leave as well. “I disagree,” he said, shooting a look in the happy couple’s direction. “If I thought this was your second Christmas together, I may have made you both work tomorrow.”  

“Wait,” Jackie scowled, “They’re are off?”

“Yep,” Tobias grinned. “My first Christmas off in over a decade… I finally have a reason to be.”

“So, then it is our first Christmas together,” Casey gleaned, taking his hand. “Come on, baby. Let’s go to bed.”

“Now, no making animalistic noises all night!” Jackie yelled after them.

“Nah, I’m too tired,” Casey winked. “I’ll wait until you’re all off to work in the morning.”

Elijah shook his head. “You know, if you can’t even be apart one night, you should move in with him, Case. After all, I want your room by next Christmas!”

Tobias’s hand settled on Casey’s hip as they stood at her bedroom door. “Hey, don’t look at me. I’ve been asking her to move in with me since April. Goodnight, guys.”

Casey turned the small Christmas tree in her room on before she collapsed into her bed where Tobias waited with a grin.   

“You’re going to get all the magic you can out of this holiday. Aren’t you?”

“I think it’s pretty,” she said softly, “but the magic… we make that ourselves.”

“We sure do.”

Casey rubbed the back of his head as his arms wrapped around her waist, his head nuzzled on her chest as he drifted off to sleep. She felt a warmth building inside her. The two of them together… it was just so comfortable, so pure, so right. She knew there was only one reason it wasn’t their second Christmas together, and that was her. Her fears had gotten the better of her, and she couldn’t admit what was right before her eyes. Yet, he didn’t push her. He waited patiently until she came around.

And he was still waiting. They probably spent a total of five nights apart since that fateful day in March. Her friends were right. He was right. The only thing holding her back was her own fears… fears she now saw were completely unfounded. With a tap of his shoulder, she whispered and pulled him from the hands of slumber.

“Tobias?”

“Yes?” He answered without opening his eyes.

“What do you say we spend tomorrow moving the rest of my stuff to your place? Let’s make this thing official.”

His eyes shot open an instant for someone so sleepy, suddenly wide awake.   

“Wait? You mean it?”

“I do. You should be sick of me dragging my feet on the obvious, and I don’t want to waste another moment.”

Without a word, his hand slid up to the back of her head and pulled her into a warm, tender kiss. One kiss led to another and then another. When he pulled away, the grin on his face was undeniable. 

“You know that any gift you give me tomorrow will pale in comparison to this, right? And that goes for my Mom, too.”

“So you’re happy,” she giggled.

“I’m so happy. But you’re going to have your work cut out for you to top this next year.”

“Don’t worry,” she smiled, nuzzling under his arm. “I’ll find a way.”

He kissed the top of her head with a content smile. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

A/N 2: So next Christmas, they're married and expecting a baby - so it's really the FOLLOWING year where Casey will have her work cut out for her. lol

Tagging separately.

#open heart fanfic #choices open heart #tobias carrick #tobias carrick x mc #christmas fic #holiday fic #tobias x casey #OH roomies

[soodoonimin]

Name: Alex

Pronouns: They/them

Pfp by: retronimya on Twitter!! 🥺 she drew it as fan art of my current Johnshi fic!!!

I’ve been on Tumblr longer than anyone should be proud to admit. This is unfortunately my “second” blog bc my other one got lost when I bought a new phone and had to change my number (this happened like six years ago) and I've never been able to access it since but maybe that's for the best lol

As for my fandom stuff: 

I was never really in the fandom space growing up because my best friend at the time showed me what Tumblr was BUT not how to use it. Thankfully I figured it out xD So I watched Venom 2018 and Let there be Carnage both in 2021 and that was the beginning of not only my OBSESSION with Symbrock but also my undying crush on Tom Hardy.

I got into South Park after my brother moved in with me; now he betas all my fics (for better or worse lmao)

I’ve been watching RVB since I was 12 and it was only as of a year or so ago that I learned it had an extensive fandom that I missed 🙃🥲

And more recently my brother has also dragged me into the Mortal Kombat fandom! But I'm pretty happy to be here 🥰

I like sharing my music tastes with people so here are some playlists I made (more will probably be added):

My Eddie and Venom Chaotic Love playlist on Spotify

Symas playlist (working)

I wrote my first fanfic during the initial lock down. My works are here on Ao3:

Dedicated seires:

You and me won’t be alone no more

Eddie/ Venom Soulmate fics (no continuity) , some smut, lots of fluff and of course a big ol heap of ANGST

If I ever were to lose you, I’d surly lose myself

What would happen if Venom and Eddie were in the MUC after the Thanos snap? These fics seek to answer this question and satisfy my need for heartbreak.

Don’t mention it…

An RvB series I wrote basically starting from Season 1 and working to about Season 13. Multiple POVs and most of it is in 2nd person POV. TBH I love this series even though it’s messy as fuck.

Current work:

Silk between my fingers (no hiatus until I recover from my top surgery)

As mentioned my dumb brother got me into Mortal Kombat, despite my best efforts. So I’m writing a fic about one of the ships like. Tomas Vrbada/Syzoth.

They’re both dealing with loss of a family but in different ways and maybe, just maybe they’re letting their baggage get in the way of their feeling for eachother.

Stubborn hearted, blue (on hiatus until I recover from my top surgery)

Johnshi soulmate fic. As the title suggests, one of them (Kenshi) is a bit stubborn about it but at the end of the day, can you blame him?

I have Johnshi brain rot and this is my outlet for it! If you read I hope you enjoy reading it as much I’ve enjoyed writing it! ♥️

My most popular fics:

The world is dead except for the moans of the dead

Soulmate AU, Zombie AU, lil bit of smut lol

Your home is our home

MCU universe, No way Home, Fix it, fluff, and angst.

Tasted Oblivion before you knew your name

Cute short soulmate AU (idk if I also mentioned how much I love soulmate AUs), little bit of angst but also not? Title comes from the poem book Field Guide to the Haunted Forest by Jarod K. Anderson

#symbrock #fanfiction #venom #eddie brock #veddie #venom symbiote #marvel #venom comics #archive of our own #ao3 #my fanfiction #mortal kombat #symas #johnshi

[bwoahtastic]

Lando in Runaways AU taking the triplets to the Australia race 1) so they can keep close and 2) so they can meet all their Australian family!

It is, however, carnage. They’d be about 9/10 months old, so they can’t wander off yet (thank god), but the girls definitely crawl like little racers any time they feel like it! Benjy meanwhile is fussy because everything is new, his ears hurt on the airplane and its so hot in Australia! But he does get to go and see koalas at the zoo which starts his love for them!

Also the three of them sat in Lando’s car? Adorable.

Meanwhile on the other side of the garage Sophie has obtained a tyre gun and is terrorising mechanics with it

kksdkds plls!!

Its an absolute nightmare flight with the girls trying to crawl down the aisle in the plane and Benjy is a little fussy cos its a lot of people he doesnt know and his little ears hurt! Lando is happy he got them first class pod seats so he can tuck them in in hopes of them sleeping a bit too sksk. Max and Dan being on the same flight with Noah and Sophie and the pups, and they just take turns watching all the kids so they can all sleep a bit too. Daniel totallt sleeps covered in pups at some point tho skksk

And pllssss Lando letting all the pups take turn sitting in his car!!! He would be so so proud and just cooe at all of them and also takes them for a round to wave at the fans (the girls are thriving and Benjy shyly dares to wave a bit too and gets so giddy when he gets some koala plushies!!! And pllss poor bub is melting in the heat sfkskf but so excited when they go to the zoo to see more koalas!!

And gkgfj just the absolute chaos in the other garage with Noah giggling and playing tag with Daniel and some of the press team, and Max trying to stop Sophie from terrorizing the mechanics with the wheel gun fksdfk PLS she is more chaotic than the triplets!! And Max having the tiny puppups against his chest!!!!

#asks #runaways: baby boom

[stella-facem-ducens]

Katara's  Betrayal Ch3

Katara has to choose between saving Zuko or betraying the rebellion

Katara can complain about many things, and freeing people is hardly one of those, but today she is not sure. sometimes even the purest actions can lead to horrible consequences. freeing those earthbenders became Katara’s worst nightmares. as soon katara gave them rocks from the coal deposit, instead of freeing themselves they went on a slaughter rampage, killing as many fire soldiers as possible and the fire soldiers were doing the same: a clash between fire and earth, fighting until the very last man. Katara is helpless. she finally understands a simple fact; something she is trying to avoid thinking but it remains an unavoidable truth: the nation she is helping, the nation Jet is a part of, the nation those soldiers are from, the people of the Earth Kingdom are not that innocent. they eager for blood innocent or not.

Katara can’t keep watching, she can’t watch Haru die in front of her, burned by fire. but it was his choice. he chose this, so Katara won’t intervene.

Katara has no reason to stay there. she runs between allies and foes, sometimes wondering who the allies are and who are the foes. She is searching for her only true ally on this platform: the ocean. In this maze she remembers there is a deck nearby for arriving ships. that is the way for freedom. her only obstacle is a massive bulky metal door. Katara is about to open it but she stops. there is a familiar voice behind it:

  “What in Agni are you thinking?!  arresting all the earthbenders, separating families?    

“Do you know this land belongs to the Fire Nation? The nation I am destined to rule . and guess what I find… my future land empty, with rebels spawning like rats.

“Sozin's goal was to bring order and peace to the world. I am sure you remember the history; the Earth Kingdom was a chaotic place after Avatar Kyoshi killed Chin, the ruler who almost conquered the entire Earth Kingdom. the power vacuum left behind by the avatar lead to endless civil wars. wars Kyoshi refused to tackle and so did Roku. it was up to my family to bring a little order to a land plagued with corruption.    

“And what do I see? my future land empty, sacked and impoverished. my father will hear about this.    

“I will not tolerate you harming my future people, hear my command and obey it.    

“I order you to release anyone here who were unfairly arrested and then the soldiers under your command will deal with the famine caused by your reckless behavior . you arrested half this region's workers.”

  The sounds of the massive revolt finally reach the prince´s ears behind that door. the soldiers rush and open the metal door only to find a full revolt on their hands, one they are clearly losing. some of the rebels recognize the crown prince and rush head on towards him. Katara quickly reacts and hides behind a pillar. she doesn’t want to face Zuko, the rebels, or the soldiers. she retreats even further into the shadows where she can’t see. Katara just doesn’t want to see the carnage. her entire world stops, something in her is calling her, calls her to do something.

As she steps out from the shadows, she faces the carnage around her. she also sees and hears a screaming Zuko. She sees something unforgettable: a massive boulder hits Zuko´s side, then another,but this time heading towards his head: a killing blow, too fast to dodge. And Zuko hasn’t seen it, but his uncle does.

Small tears come from Iroh, his face expressing sadness, pain, despair, and then agony.

First Lu Ten and now right in front of him Zuko is going to die. from Iroh´s mouth comes the name of his deceased son and his nephew.

  “Please , Lu Ten, don’t go . please , Zuko , don’t go . ”

  Katara is not that fast. Katara can’t warn Zuko. Katara can’t earthbend, but she can do better. she can command the sea, and the ocean is happy to obey her command.  the personification of the ocean´s wrath is asking for help and the ocean is more than happy to lend  a hand. a massive whip of water rises from the ocean behind the deck and finds its way toward the massive boulder to change its course. while doing it, Katara keeps running. her legs ache, but she must go and be with Zuko. he needs her help. he can’t die. not while she is there to help.

she runs so fast but linear momentum is a bitch and so Katara trips and lands next to Iroh, who at this point is more than confused. it confuses him even more to see the girl (now with glowing hands) is somehow healing Zuko–but clearly not fast enough. the prince coughs blood: blood coming from his lungs. Iroh recognizes this kind of deadly wound. Zuko has punctured lung, and blood is also bursting like a river from Zuko’s side: an exposed rib fracture.

during this whole time the earth rebels are still pushing, trying to find a way to finish the job. the Dragon of the West closes the door with a swift movement, separating them from the rebels, and then he proceeds to burn the handle until its melting point, completely shutting down the door.

  “Please tell me, can you help him?” Iroh doesn’t want to ask or say more because he knows who this girl is. she is helping her enemy.    

  “Is that the avatar’s girl?” a soldier next to Iroh asks.

“Yeah, she is . why is she here? why is she helping us? should we arrest her?’”

“I don’t know, sir, what should we do?”

  Iroh is puzzled and those questions are valid, but there is no way they are going to throw her in jail. Iroh doesn't want to scare this girl. his nephew still needs her, but if she is here that means the avatar is also nearby, Iroh assumes.

  Because Zuko is no longer bleeding, Katara can pay attention to her surroundings. She hears the soldiers talking about her. are they going to kill her? She tries to bury her worries because even now Zuko is still one step from death. Katara’s instincts tell her this big man with a beard is trustworthy.

“Never trust the Fire Nation.” the voice of her father from an old memory comes to her mind.“my dear daughter, why are you helping an ashmaker when you can end what the earth bender started? “Do it, my child. end him.”

  For Katara it doesn’t matter what Iroh is saying or what the memories of her father are suggesting; she had already made her decision. she is going to save Zuko regardless of whether people want it or not. but is not going to be easy. Zuko’s wounds are deep. she cannot fix the open fracture, not here. she also cannot completely heal his lungs, not now.

There is no way out, no other alternative. it is a crossroad she must take; but sometimes not choosing anything is also a choice.

  “I can’t heal Zuko,” she says. “not here. but I have to leave. my friends are waiting for me… unless you take me with you.”

Iroh is not sure what the young lady means. then it became obvious: she feels guilty. she can’t choose. she wants to return to her friends but she also wants to help Zuko and in this critical moment somebody has to choose something.

  “Soldiers,” says Iroh, “take the young lady to our ship. we must depart to….”

  Katara answers him: “The port next to Seilin Village. that is my rendezvous point. I was supposed to help the nearby villages and then meet with my friends there.”    

  “We depart to Seillin.” Iroh owes a debt to this lady. she gave him 3 days, 3 days to heal his nephew. the least they can do for her is  giving her safe passage.    

Carefully, they lift an unconscious Zuko and move him to the ship, to his room where Katara and the on-board doctor can help him.the horn of the ship indicate it is about to depart.

Katara bears the burden of her “not-choice.” she was supposed to help the villages. she was supposed to liberate them with the rebels, but now she is on an enemy ship with zero news about if the rebels succeed or not, or what happened to the villages: if they are free or not. the only thing  she knows is…

She chose Zuko over the insurgence.

  “Excuse me, what is your name?” says Katara, trying to sound as imposing as possible. she plans to make herself a respectable healer, to show those barbaric Fire Nation soldiers the might and power of the child of the South Pole.

  “You can call me Master Iroh . I am Zuko's uncle and his teacher . may I ask your name , young lady ? ”

“You can call me Katara. I need some help. do you have some sleep-inducing herbs? we need to keep your prince unconscious because this is going to hurt . ”

Iroh just looks at the doctor beside Katara and nods. the subordinate quickly understands the indication. it doesn’t take him long to bring back the herbs and brew them into a sleeping potion, which carefully they make Zuko drink. drop by drop, after 20 minutes, the cup is empty and  the fire prince sleeps soundly.    

  What Iroh and the doctor see is beyond the imagination: using the bowl of water next to her, Katara covers her hands and presses them on Zuko broken rib, but unlike before it is not just light. the water is freezing, changing into a block of ice. she pushes it with her bending, pushing gently. soon the exposed fracture is gone, the rib back where it belongs and at the same time around the ice liquid water is healing the wound. the entire procedure takes Katara almost one hour of full concentration.

“Master Iroh, I am finally done,” says katara, trying to find strength because even talk is challenging. she has barely any energy left.

“We have to wait for Zuko to wake up, I can’t do more.    

“sadly I can't  fix his lungs cause his chi. the chi in his chest is depleted.    

“ I think it a good idea if we spend next day making sure Zuko is confortable . ”

  Katara can’t take it anymore, she is just too tired–so tired her aim is compromised. instead of sitting in the chair nearby, she sits next to Zuko on his bed.

Iroh, after everything was done, can finally digest what happened. his dear nephew Zuko almost died just like Lu Ten and this young lady, the avatar´s girl, the girl from a devastated South Pole, helped Zuko.

  “Girl, do you understand what you just did ? ”

  “I don’t understand, Master Iroh. I just healed him. what is wrong with that?”

  “No, Lady Katara, you chose him above the rebels. you chose him above the villagers you were supposed to free.    

“if they ever find out, in their eyes, in the eyes of those rebels … you betrayed them. ”

  Katara tries to defend herself, defend her actions or at least try to find a decent justification, but she can’t find her voice or the energy to keep blocking the memories of the battle, expunge from her head the look of those prisoners eager for royal blood.

  “Lady Katara, it is okay. you can rest, even among your so-called enemies you will find no harm from us,” Iroh says.    

“I will personally arrange your stay and your comfort during your travel. if you wish, I will prepare one of our men’s room, a high-ranking officer´s room, don’t worry.    

“I will let him know he must provide it for you to use.”

  While the Dragon of the West and the child of the South Pole discuss her future arrangements in a Fire Nation officer´s room, Zuko is  waking up, the words “katara, men, and room” make his body come to full awareness by instinct his body will never allow Katara to sleep in another man’s room and like a dragon with his massive claw, Zuko grabs Katara and secures her in with a strong hold. feeling her close to him, feeling she is not leaving his side, Zuko can fall asleep once more. his instincts are satisfied.    

“Lady Katara, if you don’t mind can you stay there for a while?” says Iroh.

“It appears my nephew has no intention of letting you go; I have no idea why. maybe it is because since you healed him his instincts are telling him: don’t let go the girl who can bring him back to a full health.    

“I will retrieve you in an hour or so, please be patient . ”

without further explanation, the general of the Fire Nation retreats, leaving a confused Katara in the arms of the prince, on his bed.

  In Zuko's arms, Katara finds some rest from all the emotions, from the death, from the blood spilled, from Haru the brave boy whose future is an uncertain, is he alive? Katara doesn’t know.

In Zuko's arms, Katara allows herself to rest, changing her position a little, trying not to wake up Zuko. She is face to face with him.

Finally, after everything, she has the luxury of watching the crown prince so close. The prince is always angry, yelling, usually at people who dare to challenge his command, but somehow Katara finds that endearing, because under that yelling, passion hides. certainly, even some angry outburst can´t harm his charm.

Katara can vaguely recollect from her memories a smile from him, but she finds one memory when he smiles. he did it during her fight with Jet, a beautiful smile adorning his face. she also took notice of how manly and perfect his jawline is.

Katara gets a little more curious as she touches Zuko’s ponytail–or wolf's tail, as her brother calls it. Zuko's hair is like silk. Everything about Zuko is noble, regal, and royal.

Katara also notices the prince is buff. not like the typical earthbender; they are “bulky” like a rock. in a funny description many Earth Kingdom soldiers look like  giant square rocks. the prince is more like a mighty flame: strong and buff in the right places. there is no place on earth where she will tell Zuko his enemies look like square rocks.

Katara touches the prince´s scar. it is rough, for her it is clear the burn was not  immediately cured, like if they wanted the wound to scar this badly,  everyone knows the first few minutes are important. if you want to heal a burn properly, you have to take away the dead skin, clean the wound; but it appears that was not done. maybe she can help him.

Katara wonders if she really can. she is sure Zuko will never allow her to help him. he is a narcissistic, self-absorbed, proud jerk who doesn’t need help and won’t ask for it,that is part of his charming personality, yet katara doesn’t seem to mind because that is just a part of Zuko. When Katara saw him that day in the South Pole then in Kyoshi, it was obvious there is more to him., he is not just a jerk; he is so much more, and she must be deliberate if she takes a risk to try to understand him.

Like before Katara’s hands glow blue. the energy around his scar feels twisted, dark, painful. it is clear Katara won’t be able to heal it, but she can make it better.

The rough skin is now smothered. his eye obviously was affected by the fire. It heals a little. katara is certain the wound won’t hurt or itch and he can finally see maybe eighty percent., his wound won’t be a daily burden.

After proudly watching her results and how everything looks healthier, Katara deliberates what kind of monster would allow a wound to be this bad. to allow it to heal so poorly.

The last healing, her last attempt to make this prince, her enemy, a jerk, who Katara wants to know better, be more complete, less twisted by wounds made by a monster.

exhausted from the healing, the last remnants of her energy gone, she finally falls asleep next to Zuko. for a moment Katara could swear the prince holds her tighter, making her feel more secure. finally Katara goes to the land of dreams.

                                                                              A few hours later, Iroh opens the door only to find what at first sight seems to be a couple holding each other after a passionate night. that worries Iroh. they cannot be together and that should not be allowed Katara is the avatar’s girl.

  “Lady Katara, wake up. your room is ready. let me help you. I will release the hold my nephew has on you so you can move a little. I am sure you are not happy with him holding you this close.”

Katara doesn’t reply because it is the opposite. her being here in Zuko’s arms feels almost natural.

  “Thank you, Master Iroh. if you can show me my room I will be more than happy.    

“Please wake me up when your prince is awake. I must give him a quick check-up.”    

  “Certainly. now you must go. sleep well, Katara. let Agni bless your dreams. ”

  A few hours later the prince is finally awake and shouting as usual, but this time he has a valid reason: something feels off, like there is something that should be here with him but it is not.

That is not the only thing that bothers Zuko. he is sure a boulder hit him hard. he saw the exposed fracture. he saw his rib outside his body. he saw the blood. yet nothing is there now; not even a scar. the one he has, the one on his face, it doesn’t itch like usual. Zuko can see better. his skin feels smoother. but that is not possible; nobody on board has those abilities or could be that powerful. only a waterbender can heal and only a prodigy can heal scars to such a degree.    

  Only a strong bender can achieve those things, and Zuko only knows two benders with those characteristics: the avatar himself and the peasant girl.

  The obvious answer hits him hard: this is all Katara´s work. she is here.

Zuko promptly stands and leaves his bed. He is almost naked, only wearing his pants. at that moment he is not quite aware of how naked he is. He has other and more important things in mind Katara.

The yelling alerts the soldiers outside their prince's room. they think their liege could be in trouble. they rush in, and as soon Zuko sees them he demands an explanation: what happened yesterday?

of course his soldiers explain to him the recent events. they explain to him how the waterbender healed his wound on the battlefield. they explain to him how the peasant was able to push his rib and put it back inside his body. the lewd soldier decides to tell the kinky part: how their prince pulled her into his embrace and slept with her, which it was quickly corrected by the other soldier: they only slept and nothing more. they don’t want to push it further and tell their prince the other kind of rumors the waterbender and their prince are the subject of.

“Where is she, soldier ? ” Zuko asks.

“Your highness, he is in deck 2 in Gef´s room…. you know him, Gef comes from an important scribe’s family in your palace.”    

Zuko doesn’t need any more directions. now he knows where he must go. still half naked, Zuko marches toward Katara. Zuko does not expect to find Katara wearing red. instead of her usual clothes she is wearing traditional Fire Nation traveling garments for cold weather. before his arrival a maid has taken Katara’s Water Tribe clothes and sent them to the laundry room. the robes were filthy: covered in blood, dust, and coal certainly not  suitable if she wishes to see the general of the Fire Nation and their crown prince.

  Both of them blush, a blush so red it can rival the Fire Nation banner. Katara looks so good in red. Zuko indulges his lust with a perfect scene of Katara wearing red. before Katara can do the same with the hot prince her instincts kick in.

  “What the hell, Zuko. I told your people they must tell me when woke     .    

“You can’t go running around like you’re well again. I still have to heal the rest of your wound,” says Katara placing her tender hand on Zuko side’s, trying to find any scar–but she did a good job.

Zuko just stands there unable to do anything. what to do? a girl is just touching him so tenderly, worrying about his health. Zuko wonders if the girl fully grasps what she did. she made him more powerful. it will make his job capturing the avatar easier.

Is his health worth more to her than the avatar's chances of getting away from him? Zuko doesn’t want to ask. he doesn’t need to hear the answer. he doesn’t want to be disappointed because it is perfectly clear she is the avatar´s girl. why would she choose him? but it’s not like he cares.

  A soft cough interrupts them. it’s the maid.

“My lord, if I may interrupt you, I am not sure if Lady Katara is comfortable with seeing the prince half naked. I am sure his excellency, now knowing the prisoner is okay, can rest and wear something more decent.”

  A part of Zuko wants to be annoyed. another part knows this maid is right. so he leaves saying not a single word, leaving behind a quite confused Katara alone in her room

The prince has no idea how to interact with people at all.

  “Lady Katara,” the maid says respectfully. “General Iroh requested your presence. he is waiting for you in the imperial dining room for lunch. Please follow me.”

  “Yes,” Katara replies, trying not to sound timid but the word “imperial dining room” sounds not just important but also fancy. Katara follows the maid and she finds Iroh waiting for her, lunch already served.

  “Katara, you have my deepest gratitude, I am not sure about your motives but for me it doesn’t matter. you saved a life deeply important to me, so I have to ask: What is your price? you have to understand Prince Zuko will persist in his hunt, but I am sure I can do something for you in repayment for your service to the Fire Nation.”

  Iroh is accustomed to people’s greed. he is not expecting Katara doing this for free. he is sure Katara is not the exception, but what Katara does and says shocks him.

  “I’m not starving anymore . if you think I did it for money, for a favor or security, you are far from right.    

“I am Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. I do as I please and I wanted to save Zuko. my reasons are my own and that is all you have to know.    

“Now if you ’d excuse me, General, I must leave. I lost my appetite.”

  Iroh stares at the young waterbender. it is extremely rare to find another person driven by her own desires, not by material things.

it reminds him of Zuko. this girl and his nephew are proud people. they are willing to fight for what they believe is correct and never take a no for an answer.

  Katara curses for almost four hours. her stomach keeps growling at her. maybe it was not the best idea leaving without eating before.

before she could get any angrier, three knocks alert her of a new “visit” in “her bedroom.” katara hasn’t forgotten she is on an enemy vessel. this new visitor is none other than that same maid who is in charge of her well-being. the old lady is carrying a small table and diligently place it in the middle of the room. then she brings two chairs and finally some plates. at first look, those are high-quality dishes. Katara tries to ask what on earth is going on but the entire time the maid refuses to answer Katara´s questions.

  “My liege, dinner is ready. may his royal highness enjoy it,” the maid says as her prince walks in.

“Thank you,” says Zuko. “you can leave now.”

“As you wish, my lord,” the maid responds.

  The fire prince looks at Katara with a small smile and starts the conversation:

“I must apologize for my uncle's behavior; he is worried about things he must not interfere with.    

“As I told him, you don’t like those earth peasants. you are not driven by riches, that is obvious.    

“It was rude of him to imply such a thing.    

“As the crown prince, I cannot allow our guests to starve to death. if you allow me why don’t we dine together?”    

  Katara knows there is no room for debate. this is his way of apologizing and not taking a no for an answer. the whole “you are a guest” made it clear.

A good guest always honors the host. He is testing her. he wants to know if she has manners and Katara is not going to back down. she will show the prince she is not a peasant, not a barbarian. she is Katara.

  Katara is amazed. she was not expecting her dish be this good.

“Zuko, I have to say I was expecting spicy fish, not smoked fish, lightly seasoned. ”

  “Well if you want to know, I requested the cook make your dish more suitable for your tastes. I assumed a Water Tribe girl like yourself would not enjoy spicy food.”

“I don't expect for you to enjoy civilized food, but this is close enough.”

  Katara just giggles. this is Zuko attempt to be nice: he called her “almost civilized” and he took his time and personally requested a  dish just for her.

  “Well if I must say,” she puts in, “fish is my favorite dish, and for your information in the south we season our fish too, but not with spices like yours.    

“It is quite a shocking surprise because unlike food in the S outh P ole and in your nation, the food in the E arth K ingdom is…”

  Zuko interrupts her, smiling: “bland. Food here, in this nation, is bland: tasteless, like licking a rock. I am glad you enjoy fish as much as I do.    

“My nation is an island. the ocean for generations has provided us with food. our land is rich in nutrients because of its volcanic soil. it is natural for us to eat spicy fish in all its forms; smoked, grilled and so on.”

  “Well, your highness, I do not totally support how you like your ‘flamy’ dishes, but I do agree with you. the Earth Kingdom food is bland. they prefer high-quality ingredients.    

“The meat, the salads, everything is high-quality but at the end is just meat. it is just a salad nothing more.    

“What can I expect for an unseasoned grilled meat with beans…..for once your nation, the F ire N ation is right about something… food in the Earth Kingdom is bad . ”

  for an outsider, the conversation may sound aggressive or impetuous, but for Zuko and Katara this is their own way of finding common ground at the expense of the Earth Kingdom’s cuisine. what amuses Zuko the most are Katara’s high expectations when it comes to cuisine, how each of them is proud their own culture. maybe Zuko one day will try Southern Water Tribe cuisine.

after the last dish, they are on more favorable terms, considering Katara is not angry anymore.

“waterbender, I haven’t expressed my deepest thanks to you.    

“I am not sure of your reasons, but that doesn’t matter.  in the end, I am alive.    

“I promise you when the time come, I will help you too.”

  A small smile appears on Katara's face. what  makes her even happier is the small smile on Zuko's face, the warm light highlighting it, also making Zuko’s beautiful gold glittering eyes spark.    

  After some more trash-talking Earth Kingdom food and somehow bonding over it, another topic pops up. Katara remembers Zuko is still weak. the problem is that she can’t do much because of Zuko´s chi; the chi in his chest is depleted and is not recovering. Zuko is like wounded animal avoiding using his leg, but in Zuko’s case it is his chest.

if her assumption is right, if fire comes from the breath, the only way to fix him is firebending.

  “You know, Zuko, I think you should practice your firebending now.”

  Zuko mood changes in a instant.

“Are you saying I am not powerful? that I need to be better if I want to take down the avatar?    

“if you want power I can show you what real power look like. ”

Before Zuko could end his rant, Katara raises her hand and stops him. she doesn’t want to break the light nature of the conversation.

  “I know you are powerful. don’t get grumpy. what I meant is your chi, the chi in your chest, is highly depleted. you have to to replenish it.      

“I was thinking since fire comes from breath, maybe firebending can speed things up.    

“I understand if you don’t want to. you know, back in that drill station, I met a guy named Haru. he is super powerful even wounded he could earthbend so well. earth bending is powerful.”

How Zuko´s posture changes from angry to resolute: it tells Katara her strategy worked. nothing works better when it comes to motivating a man than a good rivalry. what Katara doesn’t know is that Zuko took her words differently. for him it sounded more like a personal attack to his bending and element.

  “Are you implying a mere earthbender can compare to me,  the wielder of the element of power?” he says. “I didn’t know girls in the poles are that naïve. if you want to see power, I will show you power��and you will like it.”

The last part Zuko says self-confidently, with some arrogance in the mix.

“This waterbender soon will recognize how mighty fire is and no other men can show her power like I can.” that is what Zuko was thinking during his talk. he can be better than any man Katara will ever encounter.

  “Follow me, girl,” he says.

During their trip towards the upper deck, Zuko hears some of his men talking, whispering about how having the waterbender on board would speed up things. she could heal so many men, tired men all. also all of them heard the rumors about this girl’s power.

  On the upper deck, the prince commands the nearby soldier to practice with him. Zuko’s fire is weak during his first punches, only short bursts of fire come., his kick barely sparks, but at the mere sight of Katara, knowing she is looking at him, something happens. instead of anger powering his fire, there is something else: passion. someone notices that too.

his flames grow in intensity, like a dragon showing off his might. the flames grow hotter and hotter as the chi inside him once more flows towards his chest like a dam breaking apart flooding the valley below.

  “You, soldiers, join the training,” Zuko commands. now he is fighting several soldiers, the air around them heated. some of the soldiers are unable to withstand the high temperatures and have to leave, surrender. they are no match. it is obvious their prince´s fire is stronger.

For anyone on deck, the battlefield is turning into an inferno, ropes catching on fire. everything that can burn is burning.

  When the last man falls to the ground, Zuko looks back but he doesn’t see Katara, which pisses him off. is the girl playing with him? How dare she? the captain, reaching his prince, answers a question that has not been asked: where is Katara?

  “My lord, I sent the girl to the bridge deck. she is watching you from afar. her request was clear: she wanted to have a better look at your fight.”

  Zuko looks up and sees her waving towards him. he could swear he sees delight in the waterbender´s face.

He gets an idea: what if he can convince her to join them as the ship's doctor? she can help them so much. the training can be even more intense because there is someone who can heal them. she can surely make his nation's army stronger.

  But how? Maybe if he impresses her and shows her it is a good idea to join them.

Zuko remembers his days in the imperial fire academy. a vague memory comes to his mind. he remembers a conversation his upper-class classmates had.

how to impress a girl. what zuko forgot is they were exchanging tips on how to flirt with girls.

Zuko struggled to remember what they said. it was something about a candle.

  “Soldier, tell Katara she must go to my room . there is something important I must say to her . ”

“Yes, my liege,” the soldier says, and bows.

  Zuko goes around the ship trying to find wax candles. sooner rather than later some veteran soldiers start spreading a rumor about their prince is going to flirt with the waterbender, like a typical boy would do in the academy.

  Zuko with not one, or two, or even three but four candles in his hand, presents himself to Katara.

The trick to impress the girl, according to Zuko's classmates, is to light the candles with fire breath but control the fire so they won’t melt. only powerful bender can control the flames to the point the candle wax doesn’t melt at all.

  Awkwardly, mumbling words, failing to express what in Agni he is about to do or why, he says, “Waterbender, behold what I can do/”

Zuko lights the four candles at once, a proud cocky smile on his face, proud of his achievement: a perfect control of fire, not a single drop of wax coming from the tip of the candle. what Zuko did not expect was his eagerness; he didn’t calculate how much power he put in his fire breath.

his desires to show off, make her see how amazing he is, how mighty his power is. it made those small bursts of flames incredibly hot and far away papers in front of him caught on fire.

From Katara’s perspective, she sees a bender with fire breath so powerful he is capable of burning papers  on the other side of the room, a fire breath so strong that it is literally burning everything. she sees Zuko with an arrogant but cute smile turning into frenzy trying to put the fire out.      

everything catches on fire. everything is a mess. instead of Katara leaving the room, she giggles. the entire situation brings her happiness.

  A humiliated Zuko, with his hand black from the ashes, turns his head and looks at her reaction. he doesn’t find anger or disappointment; he sees a happy girl enjoying the mess they are both in. maybe the goal of impressing her was a total fiasco, but certainly he is achieving something better: she is happy.

“I certainly wasn’t expecting this, Zuko, but if your goal was to make me laugh, I appreciate it.      

“I  didn’t tell you, but I feel stressed. it is my first time doing everything; it was my first time enjoying fire nation food; it was my first time watching a Fire Nation training session; and it was my first time healing these kinds of wounds.    

“I am afraid I am not able to heal you complete ly. I know we are enemies , but somehow it feels right helping you . it feel s right making you feel proud . ”

Before Katara could continue in her self-loathing speech, Zuko does something surprising: he hugs her, and it was a brief hug.

  “Never underestimate your own power,” he says.    

  The whole thing is too awkward for Zuko. he failed to impress her, now he is hugging her. this is too much for him, so instead of facing whatever it is happening,  he sends Katara away.

  “Katara, go to your room and rest. in three hours come back and you will heal me,” says Zuko using his natural but imposing “royal commanding voice.” he always uses it when he tries to sound serious.    

  As the sun goes down, the moon rises. this night is a full moon night, empowering Katara's bending abilities. the doctor and Iroh are waiting for her in Zuko’s room, supervising the whole thing, while zuko rests on his bed knowing Katara will surprise everyone.

  Like before, Katara commands the water to do her bidding and again her hands glow in light blue. But something is different, Katara feels something is calling her, saying to her “you can do more.” the light turn purple and then finally deep red. she has no idea what she is doing. instead of controlling the water in her hands, she is controlling the water inside Zuko´s core. something deep inside him. like a good waterbender, she follows the flow. she may not know what is going on, but she will trust the flow of the water.

Katara finds the rhythm, the tempo, the pull and push. she is following zuko´s respiration…

in and out, push and pull, in and out, push and pull.

until Zuko’s respiration finally becomes normal. his lungs completely heal. the red light dies. neither Zuko nor Katara saw it, but Iroh and the doctor did. Iroh knows how water healing is; so does the doctor. what this girl did was something nobody has ever done, a display of power never seen.

  Before Katara could request some help, Iroh interrupts, “doctor, send Katara to her room. she must sleep tonight. she will need all her strength for tomorrow.” while the doctor is passing next to the general, the general whispers, “tell to the captain full speed, we must reach port before dawn.”

  Zuko and Katara sleep, both of them finally feeling complete. Katara had shown the world she is not a mere girl following the avatar. she showed her supposed enemies she is a foe to be feared.

Zuko feels he is finally healed: not only his lungs but also his scar. it finally doesn’t bother him, he can see better now, he can breathe better, and all thanks to a single girl, a girl who looks at him not with disappointment but with kindness.

  A more cheerful Zuko, now dressed with his formal regalia, proceeds to walk to the waterbender´s room and greet her. Maybe she could accompany him to breakfast. Maybe they can talk about Fire Nation food, about firebending. Zuko is always proud of his nation's traditions and culture.

  He doesn’t find her in her room. he doesn’t find her anywhere, but why is the ship docked? they are a full day ahead of schedule.

  Iroh gives him the answer.

  “I let her go. I know you were trying to impress her, but she will never say yes.    

“She is the avatar´s girl. she is meant to be his, his to take and be with.    

“I doubt she will ever see you with eyes other than animosity . it is better for her to leave . ”

  Zuko doesn’t reply. she is the avatar’s girl. everyone always made it clear. she is the enemy.

  “Uncle, you seem to believe I care what other people think or say. I am Prince Zuko, I don’t care what other people think. I only care what I think and I think this girl is different.”

  “Different?” asks Iroh.

  “Yeah, Uncle, she is different from any other girl.”

  Zuko didn’t need to explain himself further. he will succeed in showing her his nation's cuisine is not bad, his nation’s bending is something amazing to behold, and now, unlike what everyone thinks, she will see he is not bad.

  Katara, I will make you see who the real crown prince is of the Fire Nation.

#zutara #zutara fanfiction

[creaturefeaster]

(I’m 18 today so hbd to this king)

Are Calamea & Jarna friends? Tbh they seem like a really good disaster duo

WOAH HAPPY BIRTHDAY KING!!!

They get along well, Jarna loves Calamea's feral tendencies, and roots her on often. Calamea becomes ecstatic when Jarna destroys things. Both love carnage. Absolutely a chaotic duo.

#brambleramble