#I mean I guess the cave thing stops kids from wandering in but like... maybe not

[turksichore-ex]

Actually, now that I think about it... people die climbing around a cave or cave diving in specific areas and those areas get sealed off... but mountains? Even if someone died like 3 minutes ago they give you the go ahead.

#/elena #I mean I guess the cave thing stops kids from wandering in but like... maybe not? #like the one guy died in nutty putty and his skeleton is still there and so they blocked it off #but if it was everest the other spelunkers would just use his body as a landmark of where not to go #anyway yet again mountain climbers are stupid #((im coping with elena and my favourite subjects dont @ me))

[pokemoncreepypasta]

HM Slave

[STORY SOURCE]

The Generation I games. Definitely not perfect games by any means, but they were fun to play.

It's a shame my old cartridge’s battery has been long since dead. Makes sense, it was a hand-me-down from an older sibling of mine. Between both of our times playing it, it was bound to die sometime.

I was feeling nostalgic and wanted to play it again after so many years...

The trouble was, I had no intention of learning how to replace the battery, or buying a new cartridge. None of that appealed to me.

So, I just took it upon myself to play it without saving. Any time I wanted to stop, I’d just plug it into my charger, and leave it be.

Everything about this run was just for nostalgia. It was nothing personal to me, so I didn't name Red after myself or something.

I wanted to play through this game without getting attached to anything.

The best way to go through without caring? A starter-only run. I chose Charmander, since it was the cover ‘mon, and also my favorite of the three. Not necessarily because it would make the game easier in the long run.

Of course, there’s no way I’d be able to get through with just Charmander.

My plan was to catch a Pokémon specifically to use as an HM slave, so my Charizard wouldn’t be clogged up by useless moves in the long run.

And what better HM slave than the one who can learn them all, right?

In Generation I, you can’t delete moves in any way, so an HM slave was absolutely necessary.

Not like I hated Mew or anything... I just never performed the Mew glitch as a kid and thought that this would be a fun opportunity to try it.

The darned thing did everything within its power to not get caught, blowing through every single one of my PokéBalls that I’d prepared to catch it with. Hey, it wasn’t like I was going to need them later, so I didn’t complain.

I decided to nickname the little thing. I’d heard the term “HM mule” thrown around in place of HM slave, so I thought it would be funny.

Of course, picking the Fire type had its rocky start, with its disadvantage against the first two gym leaders.

I managed to scrape by with scummy tactics, though.

I’d switched to my Abra that I’d caught to perform the Mew glitch, and let Misty knock it out.

After that, I switched to Mewl for the free turn, and then healed my Charmeleon. Then, after Mewl fainted, I got a free switch into Charmeleon.

When the battle was over, I could proudly claim the Cascade Badge.

This was Mewl’s secondary purpose, to be switch fodder for me to heal my starter.

Things were going fine until Mewl learned Cut.

The first instance where Mewl’s “skills” would come into play.

This was a game where you couldn’t use HMs from the overworld, so I went to the menu to manually select it.

“MEWL ignored orders...”

Now, imagine my surprise when my slave wouldn’t listen to orders. I tried a few more times, with the same result.

I attempted to rationalize it, picking my brain for a reason. I assumed that you could not use HM moves while a Pokémon was fainted, but something about that didn’t seem right.

I healed at the Pokémon Center to be safe though.

That seemed to work, so I assumed that I was right and continued to Surge.

Nothing really unusual happened during the fight, but Mewl was knocked out again for a free heal.

On my way out, I had to cut down the tree blocking Surge’s gym again. I was worried for a moment that I had gotten myself stuck, but Mewl cut it down just fine.

I figured the game would let me use HM moves if I would be trapped otherwise.

I went back to the center to heal up my starter, and my stubborn little mule.

(And Abra too, I guess.)

I caught and released a few throwaway Pokémon to obtain Flash, which I immediately taught to Mewl.

I made my way to Rock Tunnel.

”MEWL won’t obey!”

I was frustratingly met with this. It was fully healed, I couldn't understand why it was disobeying. I wondered if it was some sort of consequence from having an illegitimate Mew...

I kept trying and trying, but no matter what, it wouldn’t light the cave.

I was sure this little bugger didn’t want to wander around in the dark just as much as me, so I really couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

I tried checking its summary, to which its blank, neutral expression had changed to something more... defiant?

I didn't know what kind of sick joke Morimoto was pulling on me by programming Mew to be this way, but I wasn’t having any of it.

It dawned on me that Abra could also learn Flash, so I just let Mewl be prissy and lit up the cave with Abra.

I somewhat regretted my choice to teach Mewl Flash. If I had known it was going to act like this, I would have just taught it Fly instead…

I decided to go ahead and skip getting Fly, since Charizard couldn't learn it anyway.

Thankfully, I made it out of Rock Tunnel just fine.

Charizard made Erika’s gym a total joke, so I didn’t even need Mewl as fodder for this fight.

The whole game was going fine so far up to Fuchsia City, and I had completely forgotten about Mewl���s disobedience by now.

I had obtained its final two moves, so I booted the HMs up and slapped them onto it.

Of course, to use Surf and progress, I had to face off against Koga.

Things were going well up until Charizard couldn’t deal with Koga’s last Pokémon.

I sent in Mewl to heal my Charizard.

”Enemy WEEZING used SLUDGE!”

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!”

Strangely, when Weezing attacked Mewl, it didn’t get knocked out in one hit like it was meant to. Instead, it stayed in the field.

While I wanted to question it at the time, I just used a Hyper Potion on my Charizard to get it back to full.

”Enemy WEEZING used SMOG!” 

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!”

 Sure enough, I wasn’t dreaming. Mewl was somehow surviving all of Koga’s attacks. Normally that would be pretty cool, except for the fact that Mewl was level 7 and therefore effectively worthless in this fight.

I had to wait for it to faint to switch to Charizard, but Mewl kept surviving every hit that was thrown at it.

”Enemy WEEZING used TOXIC!”

“MEWL”s hurt by poison!”

“MEWL fainted!”

Thankfully, it eventually became poisoned and went down, so I could send in Charizard to finish the job.

I made quick work of Koga and his Weezing after that and made my way out of the Gym.

But weirdly, as I was leaving, I couldn’t help but notice the screen flashing as if a Pokémon in my party was still poisoned.

I checked my party again to see what was up.

It seemed like Mew had a custom sprite for being knocked out that I never noticed before. I didn't even know if that was a thing.

But it was definitely knocked out, for sure, so I brushed it off as some sort of bug.

I figured if anything would fix the poison glitch, it’d be healing at the Pokémon Center.

”If you drive your POKéMON too hard, they’ll dislike you.”  

”Please take better care of your POKéMON.” 

 I was confused at this text. Was this dialogue hidden for players like me who let their Pokémon faint over and over? Whatever it is, I have never seen it before.

”We hope to see you again!” 

The nurse went back to her chipper disposition afterwards though, so I figured I should just be on my merry way as well.

I checked up on Mewl to see how it was doing now.

It seemed like the nurse just haphazardly patched it up. Mewl’s expression still looked tense, but I hoped that didn’t mean it wouldn’t use its new HM moves.

I made a quick note to take down Giovanni at Silph Co. and Sabrina. My Charizard was actually getting a bit over-leveled, so I swept through without needing to use Mewl to heal during battles at all.

I decided that on my way to Blaine, I would fall back on my training a bit.

I back-tracked over to Fuchsia City since it was faster than going all the way back to Pallet Town.

I made my way down by the Fuchsia coast and hoped quietly that Mewl would let me Surf to Cinnabar.

Thankfully it seemed like the 1’4 cat was perfectly fine with me riding on its back, with no defiance at all. I felt confident, like I was finally getting enough gym badges to make it obey.

I'd even gotten it to listen when I needed it to use Strength in the Seafoam Islands. Things were really looking up.

I’d finally hit land and was ready to storm the Cinnabar Mansion and claim Blaine’s badge.

I was feeling pretty confident with my Charizard’s HP and level that I wanted to take on the Gym without healing at the Pokémon Center.

I had plenty of Potions and Revives in case of emergency, anyway.

All of the quiz questions were normal, except... This bizarre one. 

“You treat all your POKéMON fairly?”

Though it had been several years since I played this game, something felt off about it, like it wasn’t supposed to be there.

I half-heartedly answered yes, despite knowing it was untrue. My logic was, at the very least, that even though I as a player didn’t care about these Pokémon, maybe Red did.

”Sorry! Bad call!”

The buzzer went off and I was harassed by a trainer. I was appalled... Was the game really criticizing me as a player?

Had I hit some sort of secret flag after making Mewl faint so much? I couldn't understand what was happening.

I didn’t give myself much time to think about it though, so I healed up my Charizard with some Potions and took on Blaine.

Charizard had fainted again, so I left it up to Mewl.

I healed up my Charizard and expected Mewl to hang on like before, but it just went down with no resistance.

With my seventh gym badge in hand, I was pretty happy with my run so far. A couple more hours in and I’d be done, I thought.

I was ready to Surf north towards Pallet Town and claim my eighth and final badge.

“MEWL ignored orders!”

But I received a friendly reminder.

I had forgotten that Mewl didn’t like using HMs without being healed. I really didn’t feel like taking it to the Pokémon Center though, so I just carelessly threw a Revive at it.

Hoping that the Revive would be good enough to satisfy it and let me ride on it again, I mashed through text a few times to see if I could brute-force it to listen.

”MEWL won’t obey!”

”MEWL turned away!”

It kept bombarding me with the same defiant messages over and over, until...

“MEWL hates you.”

I was caught off-guard. This text didn’t have the same energy as the others, lacking an exclamation point. It sounded like flat, cold, genuine hatred.

I pressed A again, and attempted to order another Surf. Not necessarily because I wanted it to Surf now, but more out of a morbid fascination with such intense text.

“MEWL used instead, FLASH!”

Suddenly, like in a battle, the screen lit up totally white.

I was booted out of the party screen afterwards, and immediately noticed a distinct lack of an items menu. Had Mewl taken it from me?

Closing out of the menu, I spoke to the Pokémon now standing next to me, knowing exactly who it was supposed to be.

”Mew!”

Mew’s cry played. I already knew it.

“MEWL hacked away with CUT!”

I flinched, horrified at the thought of Mewl directly attacking my trainer.

”HM01 was destroyed!”

But then I realized, it wasn't that...

”HM03 was destroyed!” 

 Instead, Mewl had stolen my items...

”HM04 was destroyed!” 

 … And was proceeding to destroy each of my HMs, one by one.

��HM05 was destroyed!” 

 After destroying HM05, Mewl’s sprite disappeared; presumably back into its PokéBall.

I was exasperated, but quick on my wits.

I still had Fuchsia City's Pokémon Center as my last saved location, meaning I could use Abra to Teleport back to the mainland.

I was smug, thinking I'd found a loophole around Mewl's attempts to sabotage me.

”ABRA used TELEPORT!”

“ABRA ran away!”

I panicked, to say the least. I frantically scrolled around my party page. How could Abra have disappeared like that? I wasn't going to accept Mewl being my only ride back to Pallet, it was impossible.

I desperately went to the PC inside the Pokémon Center, in some vain hope that maybe Abra had just been sent there somehow.

”MEWL used STRENGTH.”

“The PC was destroyed!”

I couldn't believe it.

Mewl had gone full rogue.

I suddenly had to come to grips with the horrifying realization...

I was trapped in Cinnabar with no way off.

I went through what I can only describe as the five stages of grief.

Stage 1 - Denial

I scoured the internet for any other Pokémon in Cinnabar Mansion that I could use to escape the island.

I quickly remembered that Mewl had already destroyed my HMs and stolen my items, and realized I couldn’t catch anything.

But I did have one more plan.

If I could knock out Charizard and Mewl, I could be sent back to Fuchsia. It would take a bit of work for Charizard to eventually faint, but I was prepared to try anything.

”CHARIZARD ran away!”

But I couldn’t be prepared for my Charizard running away.

I was so shocked that I didn’t even want to send in Mewl, I just said no and fled the battle.

I fell into absolute despair. Mewl had not only ruined my chance of getting off the island, but now, even if I did, what would I do without the only Pokémon I’d been raising?

Stage 2 - Anger

I’d never thought malicious thoughts about this Mew before, just casual indifference and sometimes mild frustration. But I can’t say that I didn’t want some payback towards this Mew for wasting several perfectly good hours of my life.

I sadistically thought about how I would make it faint, and then how I would torture it over, and over, making it repeatedly faint until maybe it would measure up to Charizard’s strength.

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!” 

I couldn't stop myself from shouting "NO."

Despite Mewl’s apparent injuries, it hung on with one HP.

Again, and again, no matter what I did. No matter what Pokémon I faced.

It seemed like nothing could poison it, burn it, kill it.

Then, it dawned on me…

Maybe this was what Mewl wanted all along?

Stage 3 - Bargaining

Mewl’s stubbornness and special ability that made it unable to faint...

It took Mewl a long time to faint its first real opponent, due to its low level, but in the end, it grew.

I checked Mewl’s summary for some sort of sign, anything at all, that this was what I was supposed to be doing. It stared at me with its vacant, unreadable expression...

Perhaps it was shocked I had battled with it? Whatever the case, it wasn’t staring at me with hostility anymore...

So it was silently agreed between us, then. Mewl and I, we did our first ever grinding session.

It took a few hours, but Mewl’s level was growing steadily. Things seemed to be going well, until...

We ran into our first wild Ditto.

I thought it was strange, having not found a Ditto for all this time I'd spent in Cinnabar Mansion, but I didn’t see any trouble with fighting it, so I just let the battle progress.

Stage 4 - Depression

The Ditto transformed into Mewl, who appeared to have a sad expression on its face.

I quickly pulled out of the battle screen and into my party to see if something had changed with Mewl.

I checked to see Mewl, who had that same sad expression as the Ditto. Its status had changed from "OK" to a worrying "...".

I knew something was wrong, so I fled from that battle and every battle afterwards.

Though I had avoided it before on hopes of somehow escaping to Fuchsia City, I gave it all up to heal Mewl, who had risked life and limb to impress me.

After it was healed, I checked its summary again.

Though it had fully healed, it still had that depressed look in its eyes. I couldn’t understand want it wanted. I didn’t know what it needed.

But I realized that it was getting pretty late, and I wanted to get to sleep soon. I would have to leave the game on, and leave Mewl behind.

That was when it hit me.

Could it be possible that Mewl knew I hadn’t saved? Did Mewl somehow understand that no matter if I saved or didn’t save, it would disappear when I turned the game off?

I hadn’t really thought about it until now, but Mewl was more special than any other Pokémon I’d ever played with.

And if I turned the game off, it would disappear forever.

I didn’t know how to feel about that.

I went out of the Pokémon Center to reflect about this with Mewl.

I still wanted to finish the adventure with it, if it would let me.

Stage 5 - Acceptance

“MEWL doesn’t want to go.”

That was okay, I thought.

I realized that even if I went with Mewl to the Pokémon League, and won, then the game would return to the title screen and not save my progress.

Maybe Mewl understood that, too.

So then we were at an impasse, together on Cinnabar Island.

I didn’t know what to do. Even if this Mew was special, even if I genuinely believed it was real, I couldn’t just keep my GameBoy on forever. What would anyone else think?

I decided that for the first time in this entire run, I wanted to save my game. I didn't want to turn it off just yet, but at least save, as some sort of precautionary measure.

I hoped, that in the event the GameBoy turned off for whatever reason, a miracle would occur.

”Would you like to SAVE your MEW?”

It seemed that the game knew exactly what my heart wanted, and I selected yes.

Then, all of a sudden, my game turned off. Not due to low battery or anything, but it just turned off.

I panicked for a moment, and quickly switched the game back on.

It was gone. The save file was gone.

Or, rather, it was never there to begin with.

#Pokemon Creepypasta #Pokepasta #Mew #HM Slave

[yourmidnightlover]

i’ll never be ready

Summary: when you've been taken by the recent unsub, you both come to a shocking realization.

TW: torture, self-hatred (derek, spencer), scars, noah (the sucky date guy), angst, fluff if you squint. let me know if i missed anything*

WC: 3,486

————————————————————————

saying the case was rough was under kill-which, ironically, was opposite of the unsub's mo. everyone had nearly lost count of how long they had been awake. 36, maybe 38 hours of nonstop work? going over case files and reviewing them for something - anything you might've missed. it all seemed a bit pointless because each time you reread a file you felt your eyes dropping down, threatening to betray you and make you succumb to the sleep.

"y/n," hotch spoke. "you've been up the longest. go back to the hotel with derek and get some rest. be back here in 5 hours," he demanded in a soft tone.

"won't argue with that," you chuckled best you could before morgan grabbed the keys, ushering the two of you to the car.

your hotel room was a few doors down from morgan's. he bid you goodnight before he opened his door, allowing you to continue on to your room. you decided to get a bottle of water - the sleep deprivation probably making you feel more dehydrated than you actually were.

after you paid for the bottle, you took a swig of it and trudged on to your room. only, you didn't make it. it felt as though the sleep you yearned for had finally taken over as it was accompanied by a throbbing migraine in the back of your head.

-

"what's taking them so long?" emily asked, looking at hotch for answers.

l"i'm not sure. i told them to only be gone for fi-" he was cut off by morgan slamming into the police station.

"she's gone," he uttered plainly, worriedly as he avoided any eye contact with the rest of the team.

"what do you mean 'she's gone?'" jj argued, feeling the worry bubble up inside of her as morgan continued talking.

"i knocked on her door to let her know that we had to leave. i-i thought she might've just slept through her alarm. but then she never answered," his eyes finally met someone on the team's. "i kicked through the door and the bed -it-it wasn't even slept in. i'm so sorry," he mumbled to that particular team member.

spencer felt his heart drop in his chest. he wasn't angry, per say. he was furious. he was frustrated and confused and wanted to hit something - someone. but not morgan. he wasn't mad at morgan. it wasn't his fault you were gone. at least that's what he thought until Garcia pulled up the footage from 6 hours ago.

the image of derek going inside his room, allowing you to wander past yours and retrieve the water before walking halfway back to yours, only to be hit over the head, was the only thing he could see. and what he did see... well, what he saw was in red.

"you didn't even walk her to her room?!" spencer accused derek.

"kid, we were all tired. i'm sorry, i really am," he pleaded with the young man.

"don't 'kid' me! 'sorry' won't bring her back! we know what this guy does to people and you didn't even make sure she was safe!" spencer walked closer to derek. "i can't believe you. we all had a discussion about how she was the unsub's type. you knew that and you still let her get taken," he poked his finger in his chest.

"i didn't let her do anything. i didn't want this to happen, reid," morgan tried to calm him down, only for them to be interrupted by jj coming into the room, asking for spencer to come with her before promptly leaving derek by himself. "i-i swear, babygirl, i didn't think th-"

"that's the problem, derek," she cut him off. "you didn't think," she said in a calm, sweet tone. "i love you, i truly do, but even when your guards are down when you're tired... you need to think."

"i know... i know. i don't- i don't know what to do now," he wiped the tears from his eyes.

"now you go be the hero i know you are," garcia smiled before signing off, leaving derek staring at a blank, black screen.

-

"look who's up," the unsub sang as you turned your head whilst lying on the cold, steel table. "before you try anything, there's no point in fighting. you're strapped down with reinforcements and the room is sealed with a steel door that can only be unlocked with my key."

"so what? should i just let you do whatever you want to me?" you scoffed as you rolled your eyes, observing the state of the room.

it wasn't very clean. it was dirty and grungy and the smell was absolutely horrid. you nearly gagged upon looking to the corner of the room, seeing an abundance of takeout and old pizza boxes - clearly old and moldy.

"that'll happen regardless, sweetheart," he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, humming as he did so. "such a beautiful girl, truly," his hand travelled further south, grasping your neck tightly with the one hand before he brought a second one up to join it.

you stared him in his hooded eyes as he strangled you gently. you didn't make a show if it - that's where he got off. you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. although you would have to throw him a bone so he wouldn't kill you.

he was a sexual sadist. he got the relief from your pain and struggle. he would keep at it until you gave him what he wanted - your pain.

the profile had revealed that the unsub had a history of hatred for women from his own mother - who was most likely abusive. it was assumed that his father left at an early age and his mother blamed him for his departure.

"damnit!" he slapped your face, relinquishing his grip on your throat to allow you to breathe.

"what? can the big-strong-tough-guy not get off?" you mocked him, another slap hitting your face.

"shut UP!" he shouted at you. "when i get back you better be more cooperative," he spat out before grabbing a duffel bag and leaving.

a sigh of relief left you when the doors shut, hearing the deadbolt latch lock to signal you were stuck. you wriggled your wrists around, noticing they were bound by leather straps, as were your ankles.

-

"alright," hotch began as they gathered in the makeshift conference room, "so he has a 12 hour lead on us with her. we've profiled that the unsub keeps all the women at the same location. it'd be too difficult to move them with all the equipment he uses on them..." he looked towards spencer as he spoke, wanting to make sure he was alright.

"this has to be a power assertion move," emily added.

"you're right," rossi agreed. "taking a fbi agent would make him arrogant."

"so maybe he'll screw up? maybe we could find her?" spencer lit up at the brief sight of hope.

"don't get too excited, we still need him to make that mistake. but, yes, there's hope," hotch agreed.

penelope appeared all too sudden on the laptop screen, looking rather worried before she announced, "i'm gonna send you the video that just appeared on every screen in my bat cave. just... be prepared."

and then you were there.

you were strapped to the table, your shirt cut open to reveal your skin to the screen. the camera seemed to be hovering above the bed, focused on your body and the marks that already adorned it. you had a hand-shaped bruise on your trachea; a bruise on your cheekbone underneath your eye was contrasting your pale skin. the gag in your mouth held it open in what seemed to be an uncomfortable position. you looked tired. reasonably so, you never did get that proper rest you wanted.

and spencer would never get to tell you what he wanted if you couldn't make it out of there alive.

he never thought of you as anything but a friend but now that there was the possibility of you not making it back to him, he couldn't help but feel different about you. his heart was aching and he knew it would never stop until he was able to give it to you. now, he knew he wanted to hold you as more than a friend. he wanted to dance with you romantically rather than a silly platonic friendly thing. he wanted to kiss you, and tell you that he'd never leave you alone again. he just wanted you.

"look at how pretty she is lying there on the table," a voice that was off-screen cheered out. "although she's always quite the hottie, isn't that right... spencer? was that the name you told me, agent?" he grasped your chin, forcing your face to contort as you tried to wrangle yourself free from his grasp. "it was, wasn't it?" he laughed before releasing your face.

your eyes welled with tears upon the realization that the team might not make it to you on time. you had tried to put up a fight - you swore you did. but you could only fight so hard for so long. the light left your eyes in the form of tears streaming down your face, leaving them on display for your own team to mourn with you.

"looks like he won't be saving you, after all," he chuckled as shuffling was heard from over the screen. "let's see if they like the show, huh?" he brought a knife from out of his bag before removing the gag from your mouth.

"turn it off! turn it off!" you begged. "they-they don't need to see this, hudson," you revealed his name.

"hudson was the deputy that went home 13 hours ago. he was the one that gave us the files and intel on people in town. i guess he didn't actually go home," reid reminded the team.

"shut up, BITCH!" hudson wiped the knife down your right arm, a light hiss leaving your mouth from the intrusion.

"how about we get something to eat, yea? order some more jonny's pizza?" you emphasized before the knife went back into your skin, this time on the other arm.

"jonny's pizza is in a neighborhood only 10 miles away from here. hudson might own property near there. garcia?" spencer announced once more.

"on it," penelope declared before working her magic. "it says here that hudson's family owns an old restaurant that was shut down three years ago. it was passed on to him once his mother died. i'm sending the address your way."

"morgan, you're with me and emily-"

"i'm going with you," reid interjected.

"are you sure you're in the right-"

"i have to see her. i have to... i have to make sure she's okay," spencer tried to reason. hotch sighed before nodding his head in agreement.

they brought an ipad with them so they could watch as they traveled to the location. your arms were bleeding, but he had avoided the major arteries that would've killed you. your sobs wracked through the device, shattering spencer's heart more than he thought possible.

when they got to the restaurant, there were wooden boards surrounding every entrance. they left the sirens off in hopes to not scare the unsub into killing you.

"fbi!" morgan did his classic entrance, kicking the door in promptly. "hudson williams! fbi!" he led the team to the back of the room where a large, steel door rested.

spencer and hotch went to the sides of morgan, nodding at him to continue before he kicked the door in. the three, followed by more swat members, flooded inside the room quickly. spencer's eyes locked on yours as you lay on the table, looking sideways to see him. he saw the tears flow from your eyes as the unsub swung his knife up into the air, intent on stabbing you once more, this time fatally. spencer could swear he saw you mouth something to him before a shot rang through the air.

he looked to his side to see morgan had fired the shot that killed hudson, his knife falling beside your body as your body began shaking with sobs.

"let me go! let me go ple-please! get these off!" your arms struggled at the restraints before spencer holstered his gun, running to your side to work at the leather bindings.

"i'm here," he undid your wrists before you wrapped them around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder before sobs overtook you. "you're safe now, you're safe," his hand stroked the back of your head as you cried into his skin. "here," he pulled back momentarily before he shrugged off his vest and cardigan, handing you the cardigan to pull over your body.

"thanks," you sniffled as you pulled it tight over your body, covering your exposed state before embracing spencer once more, pulling him as close as you possibly could.

"i'm never letting you go again, y/n," he whispered before placing a kiss to your hairline. "never."

"good," you responded before he took you in his arms, carrying you to the ambulance that made it's way to the restaurant soon after they did.

you were severely dehydrated. the lacerations on your arm caused you to lose a lot of blood. you had a concussion. but you would be okay. you were alive. by some miracle, you were alive. you were alive and he'd never let you out of his sight again.

the entire time you were gone, you couldn't stop thinking about spencer. i mean, yes, your team entered your mind but not as much as spencer. who did you cry out for when he would hurt you? spencer. where would you go to distract you from what was going on? spencer's arms. spencer was the answer to all of your problems. it was spencer.

"spencer?" you asked as your head was resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as a mild attempt to keep you warm.

"yes?" he turned his head down to face your droopy face.

"i..." you stopped once you realized what you had planned on revealing. "please don't leave?"

"i won't," he gently took your chin in his hand, lifting your face up to see his. "i promise."

you nodded your head contentedly, satisfied with his answer. you couldn't say anything about how you felt now of all times. you needed him, as selfish as that seemed. you needed him to lean on as a crutch right now. telling him how you feel is risky. he could run away and distance himself from you once you open your mouth. so instead, you'd keep it shut.

as the weeks went by, your wounds healed. your heart tried to mend itself as time went on, but the process wasn't as smooth as it was with your external wounds. it was a rollercoaster process. you tried to convince yourself that you didn't love spencer. each night when he would come to your house to check up on you and watch a tv show or movie, you allowed yourself to imagine a life with him. a life where you didn't have to hide your feelings from him.

and spencer thought that telling you right after might've brought on too much stress for you. he thought it would be selfish to tell you such a thing after you nearly died. so, he pushed his feelings down as well.

and then penelope happened.

she had set you up on a date with one of sam's friends from counter-terrorism. you didn't really want to go, but you felt bad enough after skipping all of the girls' nights once you got abducted. so, you had gotten ready.

you wore a long-sleeved blouse and a skirt, the sleeves to avoid a conversation with a stranger you truly weren't ready for. to be honest, you were dreading whatever would happen tonight. you had mentioned the date to spencer, telling him how you didn't even want to go anywhere; you weren't ready to go out in public by yourself yet. he wasn't excited for you, who would be after you confessed your hesitance on going anywhere.

"i'm heading out now, spence," you walked out of your bedroom and into the kitchen where spencer was standing, waiting for you to get ready.

"al-alright," he nodded before turning towards you. "you look... you look beautiful, y/n," he sighed, making you blush lightly.

"thank you," you went to give him a hug, wrapping your arms around his torso. "for everything," you kissed his cheek before pulling away. "i don't think it'll be that long, i hope it's not that long," you chuckled before continuing, "so i'll see you after?"

"uhm, yea," he agreed. "i'll see you later."

you sighed before grabbing your keys and leaving, driving to the restaurant penny had told you to go to. it had only been two months since your abduction. you hadn't been anywhere without someone with you, most of the time it was spencer. you parked the car, grabbing your purse from the passenger seat and placing it in your lap.

you shouldn't have come. you shouldn't have done anything. you should've stayed with spencer. you should've let him know how you felt. you should've...

you felt tears well in your eyes before you pushed those thoughts down. you took a deep breath to compose yourself before you walked into the restaurant. you were led to the table noah miller would be at by the host.

"hi," noah greeted you.

"hi," you tried your best to muster up a smile as you sat down.

"uhm, penelope mentioned how beautiful you were, but i think it was severe underkill," he chuckled,

"oh, wow, thank you," you smiled. "you look pretty great yourself," you motioned. there was a moment of unsettling silence before you continued, "i haven't been out in a while. so, be patient with me tonight."

"sam mentioned that you went through something... an abduction, i believe?" you nodded your head. "that is beyond cool. do you... do you have any scars?" his eyes widened at the thought.

"ex-excuse me?" you furrowed your brows at the question.

"do you have any scars from the abduction?" he asked once more as if he didn't sense what was wrong with it in the first place.

"you... you're seriously asking to see the scars from when i was almost killed?" you scoffed before leaning back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.

"are those your scars?" he awed as he pointed towards your arms, the sleeves had ridden up on your skin.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" you jerked your sleeves down once more before you stood up and grabbed your purse. "i hope you rot in hell you freak."

you ran out to your car before calling spencer, tears already streaming down your face as you locked your car door.

"spencer reid," he answered the phone.

"spence?" you sniffled, wiping your nose.

"y/n? what is it? what happened?" he rose from his spot on his couch, shutting his book worriedly.

"i just... the date it - i need you, spencer," you cried out once more.

"do you need me to pick you up or are you alright to drive to my place?"

"i-i can drive," you replied as you wiped your tears.

"alright," he said. "i'll be waiting. should i stay on the phone with you as you drive? you could put me on speaker?"

"yea-yes, please," you answered before putting the phone on speaker.

you drove there as he read his book to you. his voice calmed you down a bit... only a little bit. not as much as his touch would. so, you sped there as fast you could without getting pulled over.

once you knocked on his door it opened in a matter of milliseconds. spencer's arms went around your waist as yours went around his neck, pulling him even closer to your body. your sobs rang through spencer's skin as he rubbed circles into your back, walking the two of you inside his apartment before he closed the door.

"what happened?" spencer asked as you curled into him whilst sitting on the couch.

"the guy wanted to see the scars," you sniffled. "when i got upset he saw them because my sleeves rolled up and well... the rest is history," you chuckled humorlessly.

"he really...?" spencer leaned back to look you in the eyes.

"yea... i know," you rolled you eyes.

"well whoever that guy is sucks. he doesn't deserve you," he twirled your hair in his fingers before continuing. "would you want to talk about it?"

"mm-mm," you shook your head. "not yet. i'm not ready."

and then it was more than abundantly clear. you might not ever be ready to tell him.

taglist:

@averyhotchner

@greenprisca

@muffin-cup

@spenxerslut

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, please don’t hesitate to message me or leave a comment!

#spencer reid angst #angst #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #doctor reid

[winter-fox-queen]

We All Deserve a Fairy Tale Chapter 5

Warnings:  Here be smut, my loves.  Minors be gone, because it is explicit.  First time writing smut, so I hope it works.

Frankie x female blank slate, use of first person.  I think there is cursing.

Frankie ghosts you, then something happens to change it…

Thanks to @sharkbait77​ and @hnt-escape​  If you want on my tag list, tell me.  :)

I waited a week.  A week and a half.  And I broke down, finally, and texted.

Got the edits back for my next book.  I hate this part.

After a moment, a reply.  You got this.

Hope?  Maybe?  Or was he just being nice?

I responded anyway.  

Maybe we can go out and see that movie tonight?  Have dinner?  A little fun before I chain myself to the computer?

No response.

I waited a day, but my stomach churned the whole time.

I texted again, after getting myself good and wound up.  You don’t owe me any explanations.  But please respect me enough not to ghost me.  You’re not interested in me, that’s fine.  But don’t leave me dangling.  You’re better than that.

I hit send, regretted it immediately.

Your right.  What’s your address?

“Shit.  Shit.  What have I done?”  I whispered as I typed it to him.  

About five away.  K?

Yeah.  Thanks.

I ran back inside the house and straightened myself up.  Military minutes must be shorter than civilian minutes because I heard him pull up sooner than I was ready.

I went outside, to the back yard.  I waved at him, half heartedly.  He shoved his hands in his pockets and came over.

“Hey.”  He gave me a soft smile.  Everything about him was guarded.  OK.  Well, I asked him to come over and officially tell me to take a hike, so, I guess I deserved it.

“Frankie, I…”

“No.  I, uh.”  He looked at the ground between our feet.  It was more dirt than grass.  “Man, you weren’t kidding about this place being a wasteland.”  

I laughed despite the rock in my gut.

He looked up at me, a little sideways.  “Let me say my piece and go, OK?”

I hugged myself, and nodded.

“I like you.”  He said so quietly that I had to lean closer to hear him.  “Like you more than I’ve liked anyone for a long time.  And I mean that.  But wanting you in my life doesn’t mean I get to.  I’ve killed — “

I started to object, say something about the army and of course he did and he did what he had to…

He saw it and said, firmly, “No.”

I closed my mouth and he nodded.  “No.  I’m talking about…less than a year ago.  Some friends and I went on a mission.  We said it was to help stop a major drug dealer but it was just…”  He’s breathing a little heavier, now.  Unable to look at me, rubbing the palms of his hands on his thighs.  

“People died.”  He looks at me, then, the anguish in his eyes, the guilt.  “My own fucking actions lead to one of my best friends getting killed.  If I hadn’t taken that shot.  If I hadn’t wrecked the fucking chopper…”  

He steps forward and takes my hands in his.  They’re clammy, shaking.  “The mail you saw, it was a reminder.  My friend’s widow, she’s angry and looking for answers and she doesn’t want any of us to be happy.  And she’s right.”  

I try to find words.  I feel like I’m in a cave in, trying to scramble over rocks and debris.  

“I don’t deserve to be happy, and I don’t deserve you.”  He touches my cheek for a second, a butterfly landing and running away.  “I’m gonna go now, I’m gonna block your number.”

He kisses me.  His lips are hot.  When he steps back, I say, “So you’re not going to give me a choice?”

“Why would you want one?”  His voice is incredulous.  There’s an echo, under his words, I can see it in his eyes, in the frustrated way he throws his hands out.  Why would you want me?

I shook my head.  “You say you like me, but you want to close yourself off?  Not give me a chance to get to know you, help you if I can?”

“It’s for the best.  You see that, right?”  There’s a desperate edge.  

I shake my head.  Everything that can possibly hurt does.  I’m supposed to be so good at words, and I can’t find the right ones, the ones to reel him back in.  

He adjusts his hat.  “No, you don’t.  I love your books, but they are fairy tales.  You can’t make a good man out of a monster.  It’s not how the world works.”

“You’re not a monster.”  

He’s all twitchiness now, looking at his truck, desperate to get out of this situation.  It makes me mad, how badly he wants to go.  How I know I can’t fix this.  “Don’t bother blocking my number.”  I say, as I turn on my heel.  “I won’t bother you again.”

He whispers my name and it is so pained that I almost turn around.  But I don’t.

***

I don’t block his number.  I can’t.  I focus on work.  My job that lets me eat work.  My book.   My hands shake on the keyboard, sometimes, as I try to make the story mine again.  It’s hard to write a love story, even one with murder and mystery, when your own heart is broken.

It was ridiculous.  I didn’t even know him that long,  but the loss of him hurt.  It made the story feel pointless.  What right did I have to sell these lies?  To make people believe in love and romance and happily ever after when you can meet someone so amazing and wonderful, and have to watch him walk away?

I kept working.  I’d get over it.  I had to.  It’s not like I’d built anything with him.  I was just aching for the possibilities — the things I tortured myself about.  The things I imagined I m might have lost, with Frankie.

And damn it, I missed him.

But life continues.  And sink faucets wear out, making you have to run to the local home improvement store, wandering the isles with an armload of new faucet, fittings, plumbers tape and everything else the YouTube videos I’d consulted said I would need.

The universe has decided that I have not suffered enough, because I can see him, Frankie Morales in the flesh, frowning at the back of a box like its his greatest enemy.  He was in the home security section.  

I could sneak by.  He was way too interested in what he was holding in those lovely, large hands of his.  I dashed by, head down, determined to just get past him, but some lady with a cart pushed past me at the same time, and my arm load of stuff got jostled.  I was able to save the most expensive bit — the faucet in its box, the long flexible connection thingies — but the plumbers tape, in its plastic hard shell donut jumped out, fell onto the floor, and rolled right over to a well worn work boot.  Spun like a top.  Settled right against his toe.  I looked up, too nervous to enjoy the view (much) and right into his eyes.  His lips were parted, like he was a little surprised to see me.  

“Hey.”  I said, and then, because I didn’t  know what else to do, I turned and fled back the way I came.  I knew where the plumbers tape was, I could just go get another…

“Hey.  Wait a second.”  

I stopped, took a breath, smiled like everything was perfectly normal.

He held up the white plastic Judas.  “Um…your faucet break?”  And then he winced.  “I mean, obviously.  Um.”  He placed the tape on top of my pile delicately.  He was holding a box in both hands tight enough to warp the cardboard.

“It’s old.  I thought I would try my hand at replacing it…can’t be that hard.”

“No, but plumbing can be really picky if you’ve never done it…”

“Don’t offer.”  I whisper it desperately, before I can even think about it.  I can tell he’s working himself up to it, and the thought of him in my house is like a punch ion the guts.

“It wouldn’t be a problem.”  His dark eyes study my face.  Sad.  A little desperate.  For a second I think, maybe he misses me, too.

“No.  I got it.”  I say softly, looking at the floor again.

“Do you still have my number?  If you change your mind?”

I nod at the container.  “Go back to your project, Frankie.  I can handle this on my own.”

Did you know, plumbing is an utter bitch?

Throw in some more curse words in the last sentence.  I certainly used every one I could.  

Two hours later, I get a text.  

Frankie:  How did it go?  

I want to sob.  Instead, I put myself together and write a fairly moderate response:

Me:  I have decided that I will now do my dishes in the bathroom sink.  Who needs a sink in the kitchen?  A total waste.  

Frankie:  The offer is still open?

Me:  How did you know?  Did you just look at me and think, she is too inept to be able to do this herself?

Frankie:  No.  I don’t think that at all.

Frankie:  Let me help?  Please?

Me:  Since you said please, I guess I can allow you to come rescue me.  

Frankie:  OMW.  

I looked at the time, and decided to order pizza.  It was only fair.

Twenty minutes later he’s under the sink.  “You did a good job.  I think maybe you just cross threaded it…”

“Oh, no…did I ruin the threads?”

“It’s probably OK.  I’ll just use a lot of tape…”

And he does some magical things with a wrench and the bright pink tape, which he wraps around the threads to make them more water tight.  I try not to admire his long legs or the rest of him, spread out on my kitchen floor, as he half lays in the bottom of the sink.

The doorbell rings, and I go pay for the pizza, and when I come back he’s turned on the water, and he’s kneeing in front of the open sink bottom, using a paper towel to see if he can find any leaks.

“It looks OK?”  I ask tentatively.

“Yep…you really did have it done mostly.  Just that one spot.”

“Thanks,” I say awkwardly.  “I bought us dinner?”

“You are awesome.”  He does a quick but of clean up so he can shut the sink doors and washes his hands in the newly repaired sink.  He tosses his hat onto the end of the island, and I want to run my fingers through his hair.  He does it for me, absentmindedly pushing the hair off his forehead.  

We sit on either side of my kitchen island, sharing pizza.  I don’t know what to say.  

“It’s a nice apartment.”  He said quietly, picking up another slice.

“It’s cheap, not far from my day job.  It works.”  I shove a hunk of crust in my mouth to stop myself from saying anything else.  I knew this would be bad.  Here he is, sitting a few  inches away.  I could touch him, but I’m not allowed.  It’s a rotten feeling, wanting something and not being allowed to have it.  To feel his fingers wrap around mine.  To have that easy, happy camaraderie again.

“What are you thinking?”  I ask, when the silence gets too much.

He shakes his head.  Wads up his napkin.  Puts his plate in the sink.  Locates the trash.  Such a good guest.  

“I shouldn’t have come.  But I wanted to see you.”  He said this quietly, as if he isn’t sure he should admit it.  

“Well, if you hadn’t, I’d still be under the sink wondering why the damned fittings are still leaking.”

He gives me a gentle smile.  “You would have been ok.”  

“Lucky I didn’t block your number, huh?”

He smiles and kneels down, picking up tools and putting them back in the box.  Sorting his from mine.

“It was nice of you to come help me?  I might be a bit snarky, but I really am grateful for the help.”

“I was happy to.  Where do you keep these?”  I took my tools off him, put them and the plumber’s tape in my tool drawer.  

“But why?  Why were you happy to help?  Why did you want to see me?  You couldn’t leave here quickly enough the other day…” I smile to take the sting out.  “Not that I blame you, the yard is a hot mess.”

He touches my face gently.  “Hush.”  I stop my babbling, lean into his touch.  

“You asked me a question, awhile back.”  I muzzle his hand.  “I never got to answer it.”

“What was that?”  

“You asked me if I wanted you.  And I do.  Very much.”

He made a huffing sound, as if he had been gut punched, and then, slowly, slowly, leaned in and kissed me.  “I miss you,”. He whispers between kisses, his hands framing my face like I’m a delicate thing.  “I miss you when I wake up.  I miss you when I lay down to sleep.  I miss you when I’m driving.”  And each sentence he punctuates, gently, with a kiss, to my forehead, to my nose, to my mouth.  “I barely know you, but you are already woven into my thoughts…”

I’m holding him tight, kissing him back.  I bump my nose against his, sweetly, and I saw, “Then why?  Why stay away?”

He pulls back as far as I’ll let him, sits down again.  I see the ghosts in his eyes again, and I remember the lyrics from a song I used to love, “There’s ghosts in your eyes, they cry when you smile…”

“I shouldn’t have come…I’m a train wreck waiting to happen.”

“No, not if you’re just going to push me away again.  That’s cruel.  I never thought you’d be cruel, Francisco Morales.”

He winces like I punched him.  

“If it’s too soon to tell me, that’s fine.  Just push it aside until you trust me.  Or until it matters.  I don’t care about your past, what you’ve done.  I know you well enough to know you did what you had to do at the time.”  I give in to the longing to touch him, I run my fingers lightly through the curls at his temple before letting my hand drop.  He’s watching me like a landmine he’s stepped on.  His fingers ghost over my hips.  Grip them gently.  Pulls me between his thighs.  Now it’s my turn to be wary, as he pulls me close.  His dark, liquid eyes study my face, I can almost hear him weighing and sorting.  Lay your secrets on me, beautiful man.  I want to tell him.  But I wait.  I wait until his large hands encompass me, run over my waist, the softness over my ribs, glide up the sides of my breasts so softly I am not even sure he touched me, to cup my face.

 “I want to be who you think I am,” he says, and I smile gently.

A decision is made, in those fathomless eyes.  And he leans close, and he kisses me again.  The last kisses were loving.  This kiss is passionate.  Deep. So full of longing I could cry.  I let my lips part and his tongue traces, licks inside.  I make a little sound and grab his wrists, pushing them aside so I can wrap my arms around him, if I could meld myself to him, I would have then, melted inside of him like gold, fixing his cracks.

He stands, the stool scraping against the floor.  The sound is jarring, lifts me out of the lust sodden moment.  “If you want me, baby, you have me,” he says in that rough honey voice of him.  “Show me the way.”  

I take one of his hands in both of mine, I kiss each knuckle.  I’d been playing with the idea, and now here I was.  I could still say no.  I could slow things down, I could be sensible.  

But I’d never wanted anything so deeply, so profoundly, as I wanted him.  Every time I touched his skin, I felt like something lost had been returned to me.

I smiled a little at him, and backed away, pulling him with me.  “This way, sweetheart.”

His lips are on mine the second we cross into my bedroom.  Once Frankie Morales makes a decision, he is all in.  His hand cups the back of my head, holding me so he can kiss me, his tounge sliding against mine as his other hand slips under my shirt.  I pull back and tug at his shirt.  “Off.”  I command, and he grins and sheds it.   My shirt and my bra join it on the floor.  I press my breasts to the warm smoothness of his chest.  I run my hands over his ribs, his stomach, as his mouth claims mine again.  His skin is soft and warm, strong muscles flexing under my hands.  I kiss along his jawline, I lick and kiss the constellation of freckles on the side of his neck.  He moans softly in approval as I nip and kiss my way to his shoulder.

His own hands slip up to my breasts, weighing them in his hands, squeezing gently. He runs his thumb over one nipple, then bends to lick the other into his mouth, sucking gently, his tounge flicking at the hard peak.  His freehand is splayed against the small of my back, holding me in place.  Pleasure shoots through me, and all I can do is cling to him.  He lets me go and pushes me gently.  I fall back onto my bed, tearing at the button on my pants, needing to get everything off, needing to feel his skin, his warmth, his strength and softness.

“Condoms?”  He asks, one knee on the bed.  “I didn’t think…”

I shook my head.  “I’m on the pill?”

His eyes darken further, and he asks, “Are you sure?”

I nod and hold out my arms, and he gives me the sweetest smile.  He stands up again and undoes his pants, sliding them off, and he’s naked and beautiful and I just want him wrapped around me.  He slips into my arms and kisses me again, his arms holding him over me.  He gives me a little of his weight, grounding me.  It feels so good, skin sliding against skin, warmth against warmth,

His slips a hand between us, and I clench at the thought of him touching me just as he slides two thick fingers between my folds, rubbing my clit gently, exploring me.  “So wet.”  He whispers, kissing my temple.  “So soft.”  He kisses the tip of my nose.  “So hot.”  And his takes my lips again, his fingers rubbing my clit, making me shake with building pleasure.  “I want to taste you, sweetheart.  I want to make you come on my tounge…can I, baby?”

I nod.  I don’t know who can resist that voice, rough with lust and promise?  He kisses his way down and I spread my legs wider, and he gently licks — a test lick, from my entrance to my clit.  He licks my clit, hard, with short licks before drawing me into his mouth and sucking me.  He is fervent, as he works, and I can’t think about anything but the heat of his mouth.  As the pressure and pleasure builds, I’m making the most needy sounds, unable to control myself.  His slips one finger in, then a second, exploring, touching, then another, stretching and reaching for that spot.  The rippling explosion leaves me shamelessly arching into his mouth, crying out his name like a prayer.  

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, kissing the inside of my thigh, rubbing his beard against the soft skin.  

He comes up to kneel between by thighs.  His eyes meet mine as I struggle to compose myself, and his hand gently comes up to very gently lay across my throat, his thumb tracing my chin.  

“Are you sure?  Where do you want me to come?”

I nod frantically. “Please, baby, I want you.  Inside me, please…”

His hand slips away from my throat to rest on the bed above my shoulder, and I miss the warmth of it as he gently strokes my skin, settling his hand on my thigh.  He takes his cock into his hand, stroking it before rubbing it against my clit, causing me to whimper.  He runs the head of it up and down a few times, his eyes slipped closed, his jaw going slack, that lush lower lip parting.  I wish I had a picture…he was beautiful.  Skin made gold by the fading light, thighs splayed under mine.  I felt the head of his cock in my entrance, and he pressed in, a slow hot stretch until he was sheathed completely.  

“Oh, fuck.”   He whispered.  “You feel so good.  So fucking good.”

He lowered himself back on top of me.  “You feel so huge inside me, baby,” I whisper in his ear.    “You feel like heaven.  Please…fuck me, honey.  Please…” And he started moving, slow at first, the changing the angle and speeding up.  With every thrust he pressed against something that felt so good…I was seeing the proverbial stars as he gasped in my ear, making soft sounds of pleasure every time he slammed home.  I nipped at his shoulder, and he was looking down at me, dark eyes studying me.  

“Frankie, I…I can’t think, I don’t know what to do…”  

“Don’t think.  Just let me take care of you.  It’s all I want to do…”  He captures my mouth in a sloppy kiss.  “Just let go.”

And I do.  I cry out his name as he continues to move, the friction making my high last.  He speeds up, and I cup his face in shaking hands.

“You’re so beautiful.  I want to feel you come, Frankie, honey, come for me.”

He moved to kiss the palm of my hand, then his eyes squeeze shut as he finds his own release.  I can feel it, spilling hot inside of me.  I welcome him as he lowers himself down completely, unable to stay up on his forearms any longer.  He tried to shift off, but I cling to him.  I welcome his weight.  His strength.  

I don’t want to let go.  I never want to let him go.

#frankie morales x reader #Frankie Morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #SMUT #My Fic

[onecanonlife]

In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned. 

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first part) (previous part) (next part)

(word count: 4,598)

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

Part Three: Wilbur

Wilbur oversleeps.

He doesn’t mean to. He never means to. But he does, and when he wakes up and finds the sun halfway to its peak, definitely mid-morning rather than the predawn he was hoping to find, it serves as a shock to his system, and all he can think is, shit. Because sure, he’s been pretty fucking exhausted lately, but that’s no excuse. He’s supposed to be the leader here, and leaders can’t lead when they’re sleeping.

And gods above know what Tommy’s managed to get into this morning, or what Dream’s done, because Dream’s been suspiciously quiet over the past few days and there could be an attack at any moment now, and shit, shit, shit.

He fumbles his way through dressing, tries to neaten his hair, fails utterly, and gives up and pulls his beanie on over it. Not very professional, but it’s fine. This is fine. He can’t hear any screams, so nobody’s dying. Probably.

He steps outside of the hastily-constructed house he claimed for his own, and it’s less of a house, really, than a single room with walls and a roof liable to cave in at any second, but it serves for now, and he never claimed to possess his father’s building prowess. There will be time for infrastructure development after independence is secured. But he steps outside, squinting against the sunlight, and finds—everything in order. Everything looks fine. Nothing is on fire, except for the ever-burning camarvan. The walls still stand.

That should be his next step. The walls.

He climbs his way up, surveying the area. The surrounding lands appear just as they were left last night. No ominous structures set up. No fucking TNT cannons. All is calm, peaceful, and he has learned not to trust peace, these past few weeks, but if everything is alright for now, he’ll accept it gladly. Even if it doesn’t last.

He sighs, bracing his hands against the battlements. All too often, these days, he’s found his mind wandering down paths they never would have before. He can’t help but wonder what Phil would think if he knew the full extent of what he’s up to. His father tried so hard, when he was younger, to shield him from war, from the legacy that he and his best friend laid out behind them. And Wilbur cannot blame him for that protectiveness; his first experience of war has only been a few weeks long, and he’s finding he doesn’t care for it, even if he’s discovered a knack for tactics.

The thing is, though, he’s always wanted a legacy of his own.

Phil always said that it would be through his music. He never told him that he had his doubts about that, that he loves his songs but that something in him always calls for more, something just out of reach, just beyond the crest of the next hill. He’s not sure his father knows how ambitious he really is, in the end.

He should probably write him. He’ll do it after the war is over. After he has a country to invite him to see. After he’s built something that his dad will be proud of. And if he leaves out the struggle it took to get it, nobody has to know but him, because it’s certainly better that Phil doesn’t.

“Hello, Wilbur,” Dream says, right by his ear, and he jerks, pulling his sword from his inventory in an instinctive motion. How he missed the bastard’s approach, he has no idea, but Dream is standing right there, right on the walls next to him, covered head to toe in netherite armor, smiling mask firmly affixed to his face. He holds no weapons yet, but Wilbur knows all too well how quickly that can change.

“You’re trespassing on L’Manberg property,” he snaps, trying to disguise the frantic racing of his heart. His feet shift into a ready stance, a movement that’s old hat by now, both from this war and from Technoblade’s training when he was a kid, even though the sword will never be his weapon of choice. “With armor on, too. You’re not allowed to wear armor within our borders.”

He doesn’t know why he bothers to try. Dream won’t obey. He never does. That’s why they’re at war in the first place.

But then, to his shock, Dream chuckles, inclining his head. And then, piece by piece, the armor disappears, accompanied by the familiar clink of metal landing in an inventory slot.

“Right, right,” Dream says, as if he hasn’t just blown all of Wilbur’s expectations out of the water. “Of course. I guess I really should be trying to get off on the right foot with you, here. Congratulations, by the way. I’m sure you were happy to hear the news.”

What is he—?

What is this? Is he trying psychological warfare now? Is that what this is? Because Wilbur has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. Is he supposed to know what he’s talking about? Dream’s acting like he should know what he’s talking about, and he doesn’t particularly want to give him the upper hand by revealing that he does not, in fact, have any idea what he’s talking about.

“Thank you,” he manages, a beat too late, but Dream doesn’t seem to notice, just continues on blithely.

“I just figured we should set up an official meeting of some kind,” he says. “One country leader to another. Get some peace treaties drawn up, write some trade agreements, draw some official boundaries, all of that stuff. I’ll admit, I’ve never done any of that before, but it can’t be too hard, right?”

“Right, I’m sure,” Wilbur replies, nodding along. Because, what?

“It doesn’t have to be right away,” Dream continues, and he just keeps talking. “I can give you a day or two to settle in, get stuff in order. There’s no real rush, but we should get it done soon. I don’t want to leave anything up in the air. That’s not the kind of thing that promotes stability.”

“Of course,” he says.

Dream goes to say something else, and then stops, tilting his head again. This time, it’s less mocking, more curious. “You do know what I’m talking about, right?” he says, and the game is up. Wilbur feels caught, but he breathes deeply, fights off his rising blush, gathers up all his composure.

“I’ll be entirely honest,” he says. “I’ve got no idea what the shit you’re on about right now.”

He’s not expecting that to make Dream laugh. But he does, tossing his head back and carrying on, loud and long, and then it devolves into a tea kettle wheeze. Genuine amusement, then, though at what, Wilbur isn’t sure. He doesn’t appreciate being laughed at, but he can’t help but feel like there’s something going on here that’s going straight over his head. He doesn’t appreciate that very much, either.

“Oh my god,” Dream manages, as soon as he’s capable of speech, mirth still dancing in his voice, “he didn’t tell you? Still?”

Something icy gets its claws around his heart.

“Who didn’t tell me?” he demands. “Who didn’t tell me what?”

“Tommy,” Dream answers, and those claws squeeze. His heart skips several beats, and suddenly, he’s casting back in his mind to the last time he saw Tommy. It was last night, wasn’t it? Just last night? He sent him to bed, because Tommy often tries to take late watches, claims himself capable, but he’s not even quite sixteen yet. Wilbur may have pulled him into a war, but he’s still a teenager, and Wilbur’s going to do his damnedest to make sure he comes out of this as intact as possible. And that means getting enough sleep.

He looked fine, last night. He was fine. He has to be fine.

He’s moving before he realizes it, his hand fisting in the front of Dream’s hoodie.

“If you’ve done something to Tommy, I’m tossing you off this wall right here and now,” he snarls. “Don’t test me, Dream.”

A year ago, a month ago, he never would have pictured himself making a threat like that. Never would have imagined himself capable of following through. But he is different, now, from the way he started, different already, and there is a part of him, a part of him that whispers to him in crows’ voices, that is scared of what he will be by the time the war is done.

“I haven’t done anything to Tommy!” Dream protests, raising both hands, though he sounds unconcerned. “I swear, I haven’t. He gave us a really good chance to, last night, but we didn’t take it. You should thank us for that. It was pretty stupid, what he did.”

“Explain,” he demands. “Explain right now.”

Tommy’s a resourceful kid. He can picture him getting himself in and out of an altercation easily. But the way Dream says it, it’s like he put himself in the situation in the first place, like he sought it out, and what the hell was Tommy even doing, outside of the walls so late at night? The walls are there for a reason. The walls are there for protection. The walls are there to keep his people safe, because maybe he didn’t exactly set out to start a country, in the very beginning, but he’s going to see it through. By all the gods, he’s going to see it through.

If, that is, this kid doesn’t give him a heart attack first.

Dream shoves at his hand, and he lets him go without an argument. Dream takes a step back, putting a bit more space between them, and then leans against the wall.

“Tommy came to us last night,” he says, “and traded his discs for L’Manberg’s independence.”

It’s a simple sentence. A very simple sentence. But somehow, the words don’t make any sense.

“Congratulations, President Soot,” Dream says, and he knows, he knows the bastard is smiling under that mask. “I look forward to establishing relations between our countries,” and he isn’t, Wilbur knows that he isn’t, but he’s enjoying this because he’s just dropped a bomb on him and he knows it, because—

“Leave,” he rasps. “Get out.”

Dream does a little salute, short and mocking, and then hops over the side of the wall. Wilbur hopes he takes damage, hopes he breaks his fucking legs. The sound of water hitting the ground tells him that he doesn’t. He can’t even be upset about it, because his heart has jumped into his throat, pounding in his ears, and all of the words were fine individually, but all together, they’re too much to process.

Tommy gave up his discs. And now L’Manberg is free. Just like that, the war is over. And Tommy gave up his discs. Tommy walked straight into enemy territory without telling him and handed over his most prized possessions, all for the sake of L’Manberg’s independence. And he succeeded. He got it. He sacrificed something dear to him, something that Wilbur never would have asked him to give up, and he did it for them. For L’Manberg.

Giddiness is the first emotion that fills him, and next is pride. Because this—this is above and beyond. He never would have asked Tommy to trade away something so important to him, but somehow, he found it within himself to do it, and he got what he wanted from it. He got what they all wanted. Somehow, Tommy managed to end their struggles in one fell swoop, and they’re not related, neither by blood nor by adoption or anything like that, but Wilbur thinks that this must be the sort of pride an older brother feels when watching the younger grow up, watching the younger go on and accomplish great things.

They are free, and it is because of Tommy. He feels like he’s on cloud nine. He feels like he could fly.

And then reality crashes back in.

Tommy didn’t tell him that he was planning this. Tommy didn’t tell him, might not have told anyone at all, and that means he strolled straight into the arms of their bitter enemies, people who might have killed him without a second thought. No one has died yet, and he always intended to keep it that way, but the thought of Tommy alone, at night, creeping his way into the belly of the beast, sends a chill down his spine.

Tommy could have died. Tommy could have died, and he wouldn’t have known until he woke up this morning, woke up late, and saw the message on his comm. TommyInnit was slain by Dream.

And then, another thought occurs to him: Tommy hasn’t come to him. Hasn’t come to brag, hasn’t even come to just tell him, to tell him that he’s just single-handedly won their independence. And that is not a Tommy-like thing to do, to let something like that go unremarked upon.

Something is wrong. Dream might have lied. He could have hurt Tommy. Tommy could be injured right now. He doesn’t even know for sure that he made it back.

Tommy gave up his discs for L’Manberg.

It still barely makes any sense to him. But there’s no time to make sense of it. He rushes back down the wall as quickly as he can manage, and then it’s off through their settlement, eyes darting around, hoping for a glimpse of him. He checks Tommy’s house, first, the ramshackle, makeshift thing he’s been sharing with Tubbo until they can get better buildings erected, and he’s not there, and Tubbo isn’t either. The camarvan turns up nothing. He’s considering leaving L’Manberg entirely, going to check by Tommy’s other house, the one built into the hill, when Tubbo comes up beside him.

“Morning, Wilbur,” he says, and then frowns. “You alright, man? You’re kind of pale.”

“Tubbo,” he says, and grabs him by the shoulders. Maybe a bit too emphatically, because he suddenly looks a bit alarmed, but he’ll be concerned with that later. “Tubbo, have you seen Tommy today?”

Tubbo’s frown deepens. “I was coming to see if you knew where he was,” he says. “He was being a bit off last night. Think he had a nightmare or something. But he’s not with you?”

“No, he’s not.” With every word out of Tubbo’s mouth, he feels his own panic grow. It is one thing for Tommy to hatch some sort of plot and not tell him. That is—well, it’s not fine, but Tommy doesn’t tell him everything. But to keep Tubbo out of the loop? To, presumably, visit him before leaving and yet still not tell Tubbo what was going on? It’s unlike him. Very unlike him.

“Okay, well, he’s got to be around here somewhere,” Tubbo reasons, his brows creased. “L’Manberg’s only so big. Should we go look for him together, then?”

“Right,” he says. He breathes, in and out. Tubbo’s a good kid. Very sensible. Very down to earth. And he’s right, of course. Tommy has to be around here somewhere. Any other possibility is out of the question. “Right, of course, let’s go look.”

So they do. They take a systematic approach, first checking all the most likely places and then combing every inch of their land in a grid formation. Tubbo’s suggestion, again. But that turns up nothing, either, and he can feel the panic creeping back in, because what if he actually didn’t make it home? What if he was out there in the dead of night, distraught and alone, and something took advantage of that? What if some mob looked at him and recognized him for an easy kill?

He’s not dead. He can’t be dead. There would have been a notification. But he could be injured somewhere, incapacitated, in pain and all alone, and he can’t let that happen, can’t let Tommy be hurt like that on his watch—

“Oh, wait,” Tubbo says, and pulls on his sleeve. “There he is.”

Wilbur jerks, and stares in the direction he’s pointing. And sure enough, Tommy’s there, right in front of the camarvan, and Eret too, it looks like. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt relief as pure as in this moment.

“Gods,” he breathes, and starts toward them, calling out, “Tommy!” And as he approaches, he gets the sense that something is off.

The first thing he notices is Eret’s expression. Pure, unbridled confusion, mixed with what perhaps might be something like anxiety. And the reason for that is clear enough: Tommy is holding their face very firmly in his hands. Which is bizarre, and Wilbur blinks a few times to make sure he’s seeing this right, because Tommy doesn’t—he doesn’t just do that. That is a gesture reserved only for people he is very, very close to. Tubbo gets that treatment. He’s been on the receiving end a couple of times himself, but not often. And he knows that Tommy and Eret get along just fine, are friends, just like all of them are, but he really didn’t think that the two of them were close enough for this. And judging by the look on Eret’s face, they didn’t think so either.

And Tommy is just standing there. Not speaking, not doing anything else. Just staring Eret in the eyes—or the glasses, rather—with a startling intensity.

“Tommy?” he asks, as soon as he’s close enough that he doesn’t have to shout. “Is everything alright?”

And Tommy startles. Withdraws his hands from Eret’s face as though he’s been burned. Turns to look at him, and Wilbur freezes in place, because just for a second—

There is fear on Tommy’s face.

He doesn’t understand what could have caused it. But it is undoubtedly there, only for a moment before it is smoothed away into something more neutral, if strained. And he hates it, hates it viscerally. He never wants Tommy to look at him with that expression on his face. It makes him feel sick to his stomach.

“Ayup,” Tommy says, and his voice sounds—rough. Like he hasn’t slept at all. “Morning Wil, Tubso.”

It’s casual. Far too casual for what Wilbur has just learned, for the panic he’s felt for the past half hour or so, unable to find this kid, this kid who is basically his brother, for all he pretends to protest against the moniker. Tommy is his family. Tommy is his family, and he risked everything last night, gave up everything for the sake of Wilbur’s everything, his grand ideals, his great vision, and now he’s standing there like nothing at all has changed.

“Ayup, Tommy,” Tubbo says. “You feeling any better this morning?”

At Tommy’s side, Eret shifts uneasily. Their expression is still one of concern, and Wilbur wonders exactly how long Tommy had been standing there like that, or what their interaction even was to get them to that point in the first place. It’s confusing. He’s confused.

“I’m great,” Tommy says, and—no, no, they’re not going to do this.

“Tommy,” he breaks in, and Tommy stiffens. “Tommy, last night, why did you—you just—why wouldn’t you tell me?”

It’s not quite what he should be asking, but it’s what comes out. And his voice is annoyingly desperate, and he hates showing off so many emotions like this, especially in a public space, but he can’t stop himself.

“What about last night?” Tubbo asks.

“Last night?” Eret echoes, and looks to Tommy, who blinks, his gaze darting between the three of them but landing on Wilbur most of all, and it’s like he’s nervous, almost, anxious about how he’s going to react, and—does he think he’s going to be angry about this? Perhaps he is, but only in the sense that he’s angry that Tommy took such a stupid risk. Below that anger, that anger born of fear, his pride burns bright. Surely, Tommy must know that?

“I—look, I knew you’d say no, alright?” he says. “But I knew that I could do it, so I did it. Simple as that.”

Simple as that, he says. As if he didn’t give up his greatest possessions. As if he didn’t win them the war, win them their freedom, win for them the reality of the values that this country was founded upon.

“What’s going on?” Eret asks.

“Yeah, does this have something to do with what you were saying to me the other night?” Tubbo says, and then looks at him. “Wilbur, what are you talking about? What happened last night?”

Tommy sighs, and says nothing. Wilbur swallows, and maintains eye contact with him as he speaks, searching for some kind of reaction.

“Dream came to me this morning,” he says, and does not miss Tommy’s flinch at the name, “not even an hour ago. He said—he said that we were free. That the war was over, that L’Manberg was its own nation, that he wanted to set up a meeting for diplomatic ties and whatnot. He called me the president. And, um, he said that you won it for us, Tommy.” He pauses, just for a moment, trying to get his emotions under control. He mostly fails. “He said that you came to him, last night, and you traded your discs to him for L’Manberg’s freedom.”

“You did what?”

Tubbo’s voice is dismayed and disbelieving all at once. And Tommy flinches, draws into himself a little, and that’s not the reaction Wilbur would have expected, but literally none of this is what he would have expected.

“Yeah,” he says, sounding quiet, a bit defeated. “Yeah, I—I did. I knew he’d take the deal. And I just wanted—I wanted the war to be over, yeah? Before anybody got hurt. And I knew this would work, so I just went and did it.”

“You couldn’t have, though,” he finds himself saying, before he even know what he’s going to say next. “Maybe you could’ve guessed that he’d go for it, but—Tommy, what if they’d killed you? Taken what they wanted and killed you right then and there? I just—” He breaks off running a hand through his hair, remembering too late that he’s got his beanie on. His fingers dislodge it, and he readjusts it with more fervor than is necessary. “I just can’t believe you did that without telling someone. Without telling—” Me, he wants to say, but holds himself back. No matter his feelings regarding Tommy, the deep respect and even deeper love that has grown in him over the course of their friendship, he doesn’t have a monopoly on Tommy’s attention. Perhaps he would have preferred for Tommy to tell him, but he’d have settled for Tommy telling anyone.

“What, are you worried?” Tommy says, and Wilbur only spares a second to wonder why he sounds so disbelieving, because—

“Yes,” he bursts out.  “Gods, Tommy! Dream came to me with this and my first thought was that you’d died! Or that you hadn’t made it back, that you were out there somewhere, alone and needing help, and I didn’t—Tommy. Tommy, please tell me you thought of this. Please tell me, tell me that you were prepared, at least. Tell me that you—” He cuts himself off again, shaking his head hard, and under any other circumstance, he would be kicking himself for the display, for the outburst of emotion, for the lack of eloquence, but he thinks he can be excused for the moment.

Tommy’s mouth works for a second.

“Oh,” he finally says, weakly. “Um, right. Sorry, Wilbur. No, I had it handled, trust me. Sorry, I didn’t, um. Didn’t mean to scare you like that. Sort of just—did it, y’know?”

“It’s okay,” he says, even though it kind of isn’t, because Tommy’s continued to shrink into himself, and he doesn’t want that. “It’s okay, Tommy, I’m just glad you’re okay. And, gods above, what you did—” He steps forward, then, unable to help himself, and takes Tommy by the shoulders. Tommy stares at him with wide eyes. “I never would have asked that of you. I couldn’t believe it when Dream told me. And Tommy, I—I’m so, so sorry. But I am so damn proud of you. You hear me? So damn proud. I know what that must have taken, for you to do that. And I’m so fucking proud of you.” He smiles, then, wide and a bit watery. He’s not going to cry, he’s not, but emotion is rising up in his throat, thick and overpowering. “You did it, Tommy. You won us L’Manberg.”

Tommy returns the smile, if a bit tentatively. “Yeah,” he says, “I guess I did, didn’t I?” And then, the smile widens, and he puffs out his chest, putting his hands on his hips. “I hear that makes me the leader now. You’re speaking to Mister High President King Lord Innit, so show me the respect you owe me, eh?”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” he replies, but he’s laughing. “No, no, enough out of you, go, take Tubbo and go get yourself whatever you want out of our rations, you’ve fucking earned it, Toms.”

Tommy offers him one last grin, and then he ducks out of his grip, grabbing Tubbo’s hand and dragging him in the direction of their storage. He can hear Tubbo’s voice already, high and offended at the fact that Tommy went and did this without telling him, and perhaps all is right with the world after all. Some things do not change, even when everything else does.

He went to sleep last night a rebel, a general. He woke up a president. How about that?

“Do you think he’s alright?” Eret asks, and he starts, almost having forgotten they were there.

“Probably not,” he admits. “Not entirely. Those discs meant a lot to him. But we’ve got time to figure it out.” He turns to them, then, makes eye contact with himself in the reflection of their sunglasses. “What was he doing with you, before we walked up?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” they reply. “He came up to me, sort of yelling a bit? Punched me in the shoulder a few times. Couldn’t figure out what that was about. Then he thanked me for something, and then he hugged me, which was a bit odd, and then he did the, uh, thing, with the holding my face? And then you and Tubbo arrived. I honestly don’t know what any of that was about at all.”

He hums, and looks out after the boys, at their retreating backs. As he watches, Tommy slings an arm around Tubbo’s shoulders, his other hand gesticulating wildly.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he says softly. “It’s Tommy. He makes it his job to be unpredictable.”

“You’re right about that,” Eret says. “I suppose congratulations are in order, President Soot?”

President Soot. It’s got a nice ring to it. He is the leader of a free country now, and it is thanks to the kid he sees as a younger brother, whether he’ll admit as much out loud or not. He is the leader of a free country, and that means there is much work to be done.

But he gives himself a moment longer, and smiles at the way the midday sun shines in Tommy’s hair.

It’s all for them, after all. Land is just land; as long as he can give his loved ones the freedom they deserve, that’s enough for him.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #tubbo #eret #/rp #cw swearing #cw death mention #cw injury mention #both of those are hypothetical #cat writes fic #long post #time travel au #surprise!! bet you weren't expecting a new chapter of this today!!! #:DDD

[amerrierworld]

Supposed To Be

Ocean’s 8 fanfiction

request: the reader finds out what Tammy does at party with the girls and maybe gets angry at Tammy for not telling her and lying to her. Then hets angry at everyone else and they all fell guilty. And maybe tammy says something that’s losses the reader of more. Then the reader walking out. The next morning the reader is ignoring all the texts and calls from Tammy and the girls. Tammy going over to talk to her...

Summary: Tammy is planning something for you with the team, but can’t let you know about it.

Characters: Tammy x fem!reader, the Ocean’s girls, (divorced!Tammy)

Word Count: 2,550

Warnings: Angst angst angst angst angst angst!!!!!! Miscommunication!! Hurt & comfort! Eventual happy ending :)

You first started feeling uneasy when Tammy’s text responses went from excited paragraphs and emojis to one-word answers. It was such a simple thing, but you barely got to see her in person some weeks, and this was the only thing that kept you connected.

After an inevitable divorce, Tammy moved to the city to be closer with the entire group, sharing custody of her children every other week. It had been stressful, but you had been there for her every step of the way, and a fruitful, happy romance had blossomed.

But now, even after all those months, there was a sudden barrier you couldn’t seem to get through. Her phone calls were hasty, her texts short, and no one else in the group seemed concerned like you were. You got no updates on her kids, which usually she couldn’t stop taking about. Frankly, it felt like she had gotten tired of you.

So, you shut your phone off and went out for the rest of the day, window-shopping and wandering around the city to get your fuming mind off of things. 

-

On the other side of the city, in Lou’s spacious loft, Tammy had gathered the other ladies, vigorously typing lists on her phone as she paced back and forth.

“Really, Tam, you’re overthinking this! Why do you feel the need to go through all this?” Lou sighed, swirling her glass of rye. 

“Because it has to be just right,” Tammy snapped back. 

Everyone knew how detail-oriented and perfectionist Tammy was. It was a life-saver for criminal activity and ensured safety for the gang to get through undetected. But sometimes, in ordinary life, it was a bit overkill.

“I really don’t think Y/N needs all this, babe,” Nineball added, lounging in a large, velvety bean bag and a joint between her lips. “Lou’s right, you’re overthinking it.”

“Listen, she’s my girlfriend, and this is my plan. Can you please just be a little bit supportive of this?” Tammy threw her hands up, exasperated. 

“Her birthday isn’t for another month,” Debbie pointed out.

“Exactly, I’m already running behind!”

The remaining seven shared a few bemused glances before Daphne handed Tammy a glass of wine to calm down. Debbie sighed, pulled up a chair and reached for the snack bowl.

“Alright, what’s the plan, TamTam?”

-

You still had one of Lou’s door keys from the last heist, and figured it was the best time to return it. It was starting to get late, and it was a bit of a walk, but you didn’t mind. The fresh air did good for your nerves and bad mood. 

You hadn’t seen Lou in ages either, so you figured a quick catch-up was needed too. Not even thinking, you used the key to let yourself in, washed over by warm light coming from inside, and-

Laughter? Music?

You froze. The first person you saw, of course, was Tammy. Your eyes were drawn to her in any room, always. She was laughing, nursing a drink in her hand, chatting with Lou and Debbie, who looked equally as pleased.

There was popcorn popping in the microwave, and the TV was showing a movie. Your heart sank little by little, as you realized that yes, they really had gotten tired of you. You didn’t register the pile of paper and notes on the coffee table, at all.

Lou saw you first, and went a little pale. She registered the keys in your hands were hers, and it clicked in her brain why you were there. She nudged Debbie, who immediately turned off the music, as if they’d been caught doing something illegal.

Then Tammy turned her head and saw you, her beautiful smile fading away instantly. Her mouth hung open a little, as if she didn’t know what to make of you standing there, in the flesh.

Suddenly your confusion melted into anger, and your heart broke little by little as they stood there, staring at you, not even bothering to say anything.

You tossed the keys to the floor, turned around, and slammed the front door shut. 

-

No one was moving. Tammy’s brain was lagging, still trying to register why you  looked so distraught, so betrayed. The rest of the group eyed her shyly. Constance had a mouth full of popcorn that she was afraid to chew down on because of how loud it would be in the silence.

“You fucking idiot,” Rose was the first to speak up- Tammy was shocked to hear her swear. “What’re you doing jus’ standing there? Get out and go after her!”

“Yeah,” Amita said, “she didn’t look too happy when seeing all of us.”

“Did you tell her where you would be today, Tam?” Debbie questioned her, looking her squarely in the eye. Tammy bit her lip, and shook her head. Cue a collective frustrated groan. 

“Tammy, we love you, but you can be so stupid sometimes,” Lou said, grabbing her glass from her. “Go on!”

Tammy nearly stumbled over her heels as she hurried after you, fearing she wouldn’t be able to find you in the dark.

“Y/N?” she called out, frantically looking out as the door closed behind her. She  spun around, looking left and right. “Y/N!”

“Stop yelling,” you snapped. She turned and saw you leaning against a streetlamp, face washed in eerie light. 

“You’re still here,” she said, relieved.

“No, I’m just waiting for a cab,” you said, not meeting her gaze. “You should go back to your party.”

“Do you want to come inside?” she asked you, wringing her hands.

“No, thanks,” you said, shoving your hands deep in your pockets. “I wasn’t invited, so.”

“Oh, Y/N, I didn’t mean to-,”

“No, no, you clearly did,” you shook your head, interrupting her. “It’s fine, really. But next time you get sick of me, have the fucking courtesy to actually break up with me, please?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re barely answering any of my texts, and every time we talk you’re miles away. And now you’re throwing a party with the whole team, except for me. What gives?”

“It’s not what you think!”

“What the hell am I supposed to think, then? Do you even realize what the past few weeks have been like for me? Jesus, Tammy, I’ve been worried sick.”

Tammy didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to lose you, she knew she couldn’t lose you, but to explain the plans and explain everything she’d prepared would ruin so, so much.

“Y/N, I love you with my entire heart. I can explain, I promise.”

“No, forget it,” a cab pulled up to the sidewalk and you yanked open the door. “Come back when you’ve made up your mind, I guess. Unless it’s something I don’t want to hear. Bye, Tammy.”

With that, the cab sped away, and you left a stunned Tammy standing on the sidewalk.

-

It was nearly two weeks later. You didn’t know how on earth you got this far without talking to Tammy at all, but you figured you made it clear where you stood. If she never talked to you again, you understood the message, and you were through.

A bit overdramatic, maybe, you wondered? If it was, you weren’t prepared to be the first one to cave. You wouldn’t go begging and crawling back to her. You were too stubborn and proud- even with the constant crying over the past few days.

You were sitting at a bar, drinking a sweet and fruity drink while watching some mindless sports game on the monitor when a familiar blonde slid into the seat next to you.

“Go away,” you said, not looking at Lou. She  waved her hand, and the bartender set to work on a drink for her.

“Good evening to you too, sweetheart,” she said. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. This is my bar after all,” she received her drink and took a big gulp, leaning forward on the bar and looking over at you.

“No it isn’t,” you frowned, trying to piece your memory together. “Your club is dozens of blocks from here.”

“Yeah, and then I bought almost every bar and club on this side of the city. You’re looking at one rich-ass owner, Y/N.” Lou grinned, but you couldn’t be bothered to return the smile.

“Well, congrats Lou. No need to rub it in. Some of us are meant to just be broke.”

“Since when did you become such a downer?”

“Uh, since my girlfriend decided her life was better off without me?” you scoffed.

“Is that really what she said to you?” Lou asked, blue eyes piercing. You shifted in your seat.

“Not exactly, but I know when people are tired of me,” you muttered. “Walking in on the whole team who went through hell together having a party without me kinda sends a clear message.”

Lou chewed her lip, and sighed. She pushed the empty glass away from her and took her time to unwrap a stick of gum. 

It was quiet between the two of you as she got up and straightened her jacket, flicking her bleach blonde hair away from her eyes.

“It wasn’t a party, Y/N,” she said. “Talk to Tammy. She’s been absolute shit the past week.”

You bristled, not wanting to think about Tammy again. But Lou left you to it, paying for your drink, and headed out the door. You rubbed your face, tired, and lonely, and cursing yourself for letting it get this far. 

Hesitantly, you took out your phone, reading the ‘six new voicemails’ notification, and lingering your finger over the green listening button. All from Tammy. 

“Hey, Y/N. Giving me a taste of my own medicine, huh?” A weak laugh. “I’m sorry for not responding or talking more with you.. you have every right to be angry.”

You got up and headed home slowly, going through each voicemail carefully, listening at least twice.

“God I don’t even know where to start. It’s been so... empty without you. Please call me soon? There’s so much I want to tell you.”

Turning multiple corners, you put on your sunglasses, hoping it would hide the tears threatening to spill over. 

“I feel terrible. And the girls are mad at me for letting you get away. Not-not like you ran away, but- but not fighting for you, you know? For such a stupid, stupid reason too. I, uh, hm... I miss you.”

I miss you. You stared at your front door, listening as the voicemail ended, frozen. You were mere steps from getting inside, but there was something in the way.

Tammy looked over her shoulder, standing on your doorstep, and you nearly burst into tears all over again. She was startled just like you were, surprised to see you there.

Your arm dropped limply to your side, voicemail forgotten, and you took a shaky breath,

“I miss you too.”

-

You sat across each other awkwardly. You offered her a cup of tea, she politely declined. Tammy was carrying a large tote bag with things inside, and you were intrigued, but didn’t make any effort to start the conversation. You would remain stoic, and not cave. No matter how beautiful she looked, how rosy her cheeks were, how done up her hair was. But there were giant bags under her eyes that you could not ignore, and something pulled at your heartstrings. 

“You look well,” Tammy said, smiling weakly.

“No I don't,” you replied. Her face fell. “Neither do you.” Ouch. 

“Crazy what only two weeks can do to a person, right?” she chuckled hoarsely.

She continued, “I realize that... that I didn’t handle things very well, with how it ended.. on the sidewalk that night.”

“Hmm.”

Her fingers were shaking, and your resolve nearly crumbled. She reached into the bag and grabbed a massive binder, nearly bursting with the amount of pages. Your name was written in thick letters on the front. 

“This is why I wasn’t talking to you,” she muttered, bashfully. “And I realized that keeping this a secret from you isn’t worth the risk of losing you.. like, actually losing you and never getting to have you in my life again.”

Your mouth fell open as you turned to the first page. It was one of those massive wedding planner books that some young girls like to have when dreaming of their future wedding. 

Only it was for your birthday. Lists and lists of your favourite music, your favourite foods, restaurants, colours and clothes. Plans for venues, DJs, special outings and reservations. Plans for each member of the team to take care of little things; drinks, dances, meals, performers...

“Oh my god,” you whispered.

“It was going to be your first birthday with the two of us really together. It was supposed to be a surprise... perfect and special. I guess I went a little over the top..” she rubbed her neck with her hand and blushed.

“Tammy... oh my god,” you kept saying, with every new page, and new intricate lists and ideas. “Oh my god.”

“This is incredible,” you breathed, tears falling freely now. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“No no, I should be the one apologizing,” Tammy replied firmly. “I should have told you.”

“But then it wouldn’t have been a surprise! Oh my god, I should have been more trusting in you,” you cried softly. “Tammy, oh, god. Tammy, I love you so much.”

Every detail was spot-on. She knew you inside and out, like no one else ever  knew you. No one had ever cared so deeply for you, to think so deeply for you. 

Now Tammy was crying too, and you were two blubbering messes, clasping hands across the table and spilling tears on the pages. Thankfully, they were laminated.

“I’ve scrapped it all,” Tammy confessed. 

Your head snapped up, “What?”

“Well, when I say scrapped.. I rescheduled it for next year.. I didn’t think that you would want this anymore. Not after what I did.”

“Debbie thought it a good idea to just move it to next year, in case you still wanted it, and.. well, in case you and I are still...” she cleared her throat, face red, not wanting to finish her sentence for fear of jinxing it.

You pushed your chair back and walked over to her, cupping her face and kissing her sweetly. She melted in your touch.

“Of course I’ll still want it,” you said, brushing her mouth with your lips. “I want you.”

“So-, are- are we o-okay?”  Tammy’s breath hitched with increasing sobs and you kissed her, again and again.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you laughed, kissing her tears away. “I don’t want anything except you.”

“Good,” Tammy giggled, “because I don’t think I had anymore energy to finish these plans.”

“When did you start making this?”

“About a month ago.”

“Oh, Tammy, my God,” you threw your head back, understanding why she had gotten so distanced now. “You can’t possibly think all of that-” gesturing to the thick book, “would be possible to plan in just a few weeks right? Not with your perfectionist habits, at least.”

“Hey,” Tammy warned, but her eyes were twinkling. 

“Plus, I love every single detail you put in there, I swear, but I don’t need anything except you and the people we love on my birthday. Seriously.”

“Good, because that’s exactly what Lou offered after she slapped some sense into me,” Tammy confessed. “A party at her loft or one of her clubs? And then.. cake?”

“Yes!” you clapped your hands. “Our friends, and cake.”

You slid forward to sit in Tammy’s lap and pressed your warm face in her neck, kissing her there and hugging her closely.

“That’s all I need,” you murmured. “That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

Tammy let out another sob, wrapping her arms around you tightly and kissing the side of your head, nuzzling your hair without abandon. 

A/N: A bit longer than usual but I wanted to do the lovely request justice :D Miscommunication is such a bitch... especially when it doesn’t work out, but in this fiction land it does!! We love soft!Tammy~

#tammy #tammy oceans 8 #tammy x you #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x you #sarah paulson character #wlw #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia #ocean's eight #oceans8 #oceans 8 #oceans 8 fanfic #ocean's 8 #cate blanchett #Sandra bullock #fanfiction #merry writes

[degrassi-fanatic]

Window Sill

As Kakashi wanders through the streets of Konoha, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of Icha Icha Tactics, he hears children’s laughter ringing through the alleyways as a familiar brown and blue blur races right past him, towards the direction of the hospital. 

Shaking his head, Kakashi laughs softly at their antics; Konohamaru really is just another Naruto.

 And just like Naruto, he’s about to be beaten half an inch from death.

 As he predicted, in the distance, Kakashi can hear Sakura-chan shout, followed by the loud crack of a chakra enhanced fist and the sounds of Konohamaru and his little gang of delinquents wailing in pain.

 He’s about to sprint off towards the hospital to save the children from Sakura’s rage when he notices Ebisu’s already halfway there, shouting something like “Just because you can fix bones, Sakura-san, doesn’t mean you should break them.”

 A wave of nostalgia washes over him. It only feels like yesterday when Kakashi had to be the one to stop Sakura from giving Naruto permanent brain damage from a grade 3 level concussion.

 Speaking of the little punk, Kakashi senses his familiar chakra pattern not too far away. 

 Shutting his book, he turns around only to bump into the younger man, who seems to have been standing only a hair-breadth away from him. Naruto looks uncharacteristically nervous as he darts his eyes everywhere and anywhere that isn’t Kakashi’s own. 

 “Naruto.” he greets, as he takes a step back to put some space in between them.

 “You were in ANBU, right, Kakashi-sensei?” Naruto asks out of the blue, wringing his hands out in front of him. 

 Dread begins to build up in the pit of his stomach. 

 There’s only one reason why Naruto would be so anxious asking about Kakashi’s time in the ANBU forces.

 In his whole life, Kakashi had never expected for Naruto to figure him out. He had always operated under the assumption that Naruto was simply young enough for those memories to have disappeared as he grew older, or that his ANBU commissioned mask was enough to hide his identity, or that maybe Naruto would simply learn to let the matter go. 

 It goes without saying that he’s a fool for believing in that last one.

 “Yes.” Kakashi answers back, a touch wary.

 “Do you know who Hound is?”

 The question confuses him to no end. 

 Why on Earth would Naruto ask Kakashi who Hound is? Was it some weird tactic to get him to tell the truth? Was it a last chance to own up to everything? Doesn’t Naruto know that Kakashi is…

 That’s just it, Kakashi realizes, Naruto doesn’t know that he is Hound. 

 He doesn’t know that it was Kakashi, who up until Naruto had entered the Academy at the age of eight, had been spending every available night in between his ANBU mission with him. 

 “Hound?” he pretends to ponder as he tilts his head to the side, “Why do you care about him?”

 Suddenly, Naruto drops his chin down to rest at his chest, his hands curling up into fists as his whole spine does ramrod straight. 

 He mutters something under his breath but it’s unintelligible, even to his heightened sense of hearing. 

 “Sorry?” Kakashi asks, as he leans in closer to listen. 

 “He used to take care of me.” Naruto mumbles out. 

 When Naruto was still only a baby, Kakashi remembers standing guard inside of his nursery. Sometimes, when he would wake up in a crying fit, Kakashi would either have to bottle-feed him milk or rock him back to sleep. Other times, the only thing that would soothe him would be the hushed stories Kakashi would whisper to him about his parents and all their feats. 

 Afterwards, when Naruto had begun to totter around, Kakashi remembers having to keep watch from the window. It worked well up until one day, when the boy had flung open his window in the middle of the night, giggling at the sight of a masked man outside of his bedroom. Naruto tugged and tugged at his arm, whining about wanting to play, until Kakashi had no choice but to climb inside. 

 The openness of his actions had made him worry because surely Naruto was old enough to understand that letting in a stranger was dangerous but, his worry was outweighed by the sheer amount of trust that was offered up to him when Naruto continued to open up his window for Kakashi.

 Unfortunately, all of those nights spent playing with Naruto and his toys came to a screeching halt when the boy turned eight. 

 Naruto  enrolled into the Academy, and Kakashi never bothered coming back to his window. 

 “He was the only person who— he was the only one beside the Sandaime, who used to hold me and play with me and… yeah.” Naruto explains, kicking at the ground, “He never talked, which was weird, but I guess that just made him a better listener.”

 It felt like the Earth had stilled beneath Kakashi’s own two feet.

 Kakashi was the only one to hold Naruto?

 “The only one?”

 All Kakashi gets in terms of a response is a shrug of his shoulders. 

 “Y’know, when I was little,” Naruto reminisces with a small grin, “He used to bring me toys from wherever he had his missions.”

 It was Kakashi’s favourite thing in the whole wide world, seeing little Naruto’s reaction to all of the toys he had brought back for him; a physical reminder that no matter where he went or what he was doing, he was always thinking about Naruto. 

 His smile had been Kakashi’s only motivation when it came to staying alive. 

 Every night, Naruto would sit by his window sill, waiting in anticipation for Kakashi to come back from a mission. The two of them had even created their own special password and as soon as Naruto would hear that quick three-two-three knocking pattern, he would throw open the window for him. 

 A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

 “Hound, he, um, he stopped coming by once I got into the Academy.” Naruto continues.

 The phantom smile on Kakashi’s face vanishes as he fights back a flinch at the reminder of his actions.

 “At first, I thought he was just caught up in a mission but then days became weeks, which became months, and soon a year went by and I realized that he was never going to come back.”

 “Do you miss him?’ Kakashi asks quietly.

 “If I’m being honest, I’m pretty pissed at him,” Naruto explains, clenching both his jaw and his fists, “He just left. He didn’t bother explaining why, and eight year old me just had to deal with it, deal with losing one of the only people in the world who cared about him.”

 Blinking back tears, Kakashi cannot bear looking at Naruto right now, so he averts his gaze to the ground. 

 “I’m sure he had a good reason.” he lies. 

 “Yeah, well, no reason is good enough for me,” Naruto spits back, “So, if you can’t tell me who Hound is, can you at least tell him Naruto is still pissed after all these years?”

 “I will.”

  It seems as though Naruto has given up on his mission to find out who Hound is because weeks pass by without incident and without Naruto popping up to have any more startling conversations about the past. 

 Kakashi is really starting to believe that Naruto has finally learnt the art of letting go, only to be proven extremely wrong when he’s shoved up against a tree. 

 Naruto’s arm is pinning his shoulders against the harsh, splinter-y bark of the tree trunk, while his other arm goes to rest beside Kakashi’s head to maintain balance. 

 He’d commend Naruto on his improved sneak attack skills, if it weren’t for the fact that his precious, signed copy of Icha Icha Tactics is page-first in a pile of dirt. He’s a moment away from yelling some sense into that nonsensical head of Naruto’s when he notices the stream of tears dripping off of his jaw.

 “He’s dead, isn’t he?” he asks, his voice cracking, “I’ve been stalking you for two weeks because I desperately wanted to know Hound was, and you haven’t met up with anyone that could be him.”

 It’s in that moment that he comes to the overwhelming realization that he needs to come clean; it’s either that or let Naruto experience more pain than necessary, and Kakashi will always do anything in his power to prevent the latter.

 But, how do you tell one of the most precious people in your life, that you have deceived them? 

 “Naruto…”

 “That’s the reason he stopped visiting,” Naruto says, gritting his teeth, “It’s because he was dead and no one thought to tell me and now I have to mourn someone I never really knew all because—”

 “It’s me, Naruto,” he blurts out, “I’m Hound.”

 For a minute or two, nothing happens as the anguish on Naruto’s face dissipates. He studies Kakashi’s own face, presumably for any signs of deception or lying. 

 Then, as if a whirlwind erupts from within him, Naruto grabs Kakashi by the collar, hauling him off the tree and throwing him onto the ground. Before Kakashi can scramble to get up, Naruto climbs over his body and wrenches his fist back behind him.

 Within a second, he feels a burst of pressure at his jaw, followed by the unsettling clashing of his teeth in his own mouth. Faintly, he tastes metal and with some poking and prodding, he realizes he’s accidentally bit into his own cheek.

 “You jerk!” Naruto cries as he slams his fists down into Kakashi’s chest, “Why didn’t you tell me! Why did you stop coming around! I used to cry myself to sleep because I thought you finally realized I was a demon!”

 His punches grow weaker and weaker by the second until soon Naruto is collapsing atop of Kakashi, hiding his face in Kakashi’s neck like he used to when the other kids were being especially cruel that day. 

 “Hey, hey, shh,” he murmurs as he strokes the back of Naruto’s head, “ You did nothing wrong, okay?”

 “Well, it felt like it.”

 Kakashi’s chest caves in on itself. 

 Before he can say anything else, an explanation, an apology, anything, the warm weight atop of him is gone. He can only vaguely register Naruto mumbling out a shunshin no jutsu.

 Soon, all he’s left with is a puff of smoke.

  Days keep adding up until it’s been more than a week without Naruto giving Kakashi the time of day, and for once, it’s not because of the lack of trying on Kakashi’s part. In fact, he’s attempted all sorts of plans to get the man to even look at him. 

 He bought enough ramen from Ichiraku’s to last him a lifetime, he tried to entice him with promises of teaching him a new jutsu, he bought him a brand new orange jumpsuit, hell, he even swallowed his pride and tried to enlist Sakura’s help only for her to shake her head while softly telling him this was something he needed to do on his own. 

 It’s a complete mess and one he wishes he weren’t so concerned about cleaning up.

 And he wouldn’t be, if it weren’t for the simple fact of the matter that Kakashi misses Naruto and he misses his company and his stupid ramen and his stupid orange jumpsuits. 

 Sulking as he strolls alongside the bank of the river, Kakashi kicks pebbles into the water while he thinks up various ways to get Naruto to talk to him. 

 Konohamaru could maybe help him out but, then again, he’d probably side with his big brother Naruto on the matter at hand. Perhaps, Sai or Gai could help, they seem level headed enough to come up with ideas that could work. Actually, Sai isn’t well versed in emotions and Gai would just say something about the Springtime of Youth. Tenzou, maybe…

 While deep in thought on what to do, Kakashi doesn’t notice a person walking in front of him, until he barrels right into them. Before the person can fall into the river, Kakashi catches them by the wrists and drags them in close. 

 Looking down, he realizes it's Naruto that he's caught. 

 Once he’s made sure that Naruto is safe from losing his balance, Kakashi takes a step backwards. Awkwardly, he shoves both his hands into his pockets as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

 “Thanks.” Naruto mumbles out, his cheeks burning. 

 For longer than he’d like to admit, Kakashi debates with himself on what he should say to the man in front of him. 

 “Y’know, you have to talk to me some time.” 

 Immediately, Kakashi cringes at the words leaving his mouth. 

 “You stopped talking to me for four years and were going to spend the rest of our lives lying about it.” Naruto accuses, the flush on his cheeks now being a result of anger rather than embarrassment.

 His heart aches at the underlying pain he can hear in Naruto’s voice. Without thinking twice, Kakashi reaches out for Naruto’s arm. 

 “I’m sorry, if you’d let me explain—”

 He’s cut off by Naruto knocking his hand away.

 “I don’t need to know why you left,” Naruto says as he begins to walk away, “My brain can fill in the blanks.”

 “Whatever you think my reasoning was,” Kakashi explains as he follows Naruto, “I promise you, it’s not.”

 All of a sudden, Naruto stops in his tracks, only a few short steps away from reaching the dirt path back to the village. He whips around to glare at Kakashi, his eyes lighting up with fury as he raises an accusatory finger in Kakashi’s direction. 

 “Did you even want to be my sensei?” Naruto questions as he takes a step towards him, “Or were you disappointed when you realized the kid you ditched years ago was your student now?”

 “I wanted to be your sensei.” he says earnestly, but it seems as though Naruto isn’t even listening to him. 

 “Why did you bother coming around if you were just going to leave?” Naruto snarks out as he shoves his finger into Kakashi’s chest, “Was it me? Did I drive you off?”

 “No, just let me—”

 Before he can get another word out, he watches as all of the ire and all of the incendiaries building up inside of Naruto fade away, only to be replaced with a bone-deep sense of weariness that should never be worn on the face of someone so young.

 “You want to know something, Kakashi-sensei?” he asks, not looking for a real answer, “For the longest time, I used to wonder if you ever thought about me, if you saw potential in me or if you just saw me as a roadblock for Sasuke and Sakura’s success. I used to wonder if you even liked me.

 “Now, I know my answer.”

 How could Naruto think that? How could Kakashi let him think that? 

 For a second, it looks like Naruto is about to say something else but then he simply turns around and continues walking in the direction of the village. 

 Remaining where he is, Kakashi stands still as he stares at Naruto’s back. 

 “Minato-sensei and Kushina-san had just died.” he says, the name of his parents causing Naruto to halt, “Rin and Obito had died before that. My parents long before that.”

 Twisting his neck to look over his shoulder, Naruto meets Kakashi’s eyes; a puzzled look on his face

 “But, you were still alive.” he continues, “Up until you were eight, I could keep you safe. You weren’t a shinobi. You didn’t have to take orders from higher up. You didn’t have to go on suicide missions. You were okay.

 “Then, you entered the Academy and suddenly, I couldn’t protect you anymore.” Kakashi croaks out as he scrunches his eyes closed, “I couldn’t face the possibility of losing you so, I left. Like a coward.”

 Naruto doesn’t say anything else so Kakashi assumes that he’s already gone and left but then he feels a pair of arms hook around his shoulders and the telltale tickle of Naruto’s hair against the side of his face. 

 Letting out a ragged breath, Kakashi returns the embrace, fighting back the onslaught of tears in his eyes. 

 “Thank you for taking care of me.” Naruto murmurs into his ear.

 “Thank you for not dying.”

#naruto #~fic~ #uzumaki naruto #hatake kakashi #kakanaru #ish #only if you want it to be

[kingexpl0sionmurder]

Earl Grey and Lavender - Shinsou Hitoshi

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder​ Rating: 16+ Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi/F!Reader Words: 2,713 Warnings: Language (Bakugou has a potty mouth), adorableness, Denki is a crack head, I have weird taste in ice cream. AN: Welcome to my contribution to the BNHarem SFW server collab for June! The prompt was summer! I got lucky and nabbed Shinsou and this is just wholesome and adorable. Also yes, Earl Grey and Lavender ice cream is real, you can get it in the Harry Potter park at Universal and it slaps. Check the rest of the collab submissions HERE HERE is my masterlist Buy me a Kofi! ---

There was only one thing that you loved about working at The Ice Creamery during the summer, and that was the free ice cream. 

The hot and shirtless guys walking past the shop on the daily were a nice treat too, of course. But the fact that you could have a free scoop of whatever flavor you wanted once a day was the highlight of your summer, and there was no man that could walk into that shop and distract you from it, no matter how handsome or stacked they were.

That was until you met Shinsou.

There was something about him that had you immediately attracted to him. Maybe it was the color of his hair, or his eyes, or the way he smirked at you and quirked his eyebrow when you made fun of him.

It started on a regular Friday afternoon. The shop was busy as usual, the summer bringing tourists to the beaches in droves. You happened to work at a location that was close to the water, so a lot of people would stop by on their way back to their cars or hotels for a cone or sundae. You were manning the freezer case, taking orders and scooping flavors, when you heard the bell jingle on the front door, signaling the arrival of new customers.

You barely spared them a glance, concentrating on scooping ice cream into the metal cup in your hands, and then spinning around to add milk and shove the cup into the milkshake machine. It wasn’t until minutes later when your co-worker came by, whispering excitedly in your ear about the pro hero Red Riot, that you took a good look.

A group of pro heroes were standing toward the back of the shop and peering at the chalkboard menus behind the counter, talking among themselves as they decided what they wanted. You could immediately recognize Red Riot, his bright red hair held back from his face with a bandanna. To his left was Ground Zero, the ever-present scowl adorning his pretty face as he glared daggers at the menu like it had personally offended him.

On his right was the pro hero Pinky, who was leaning against Cellophane, the two of them arguing over the merits of a waffle cone versus a sundae cup. Chargebolt was beside them, talking to a guy with purple hair that you’d never seen before. His equally purple eyes were trained on the menu above you, his lips twisted in a frown as he read through the flavor choices.

Deciding that you were probably being creepy by just standing there, you cleared your throat. “Can I help who’s next?”

Red Riot flashed you his shark-toothed grin, stepping forward and dragging Ground Zero behind him. “Hi! Can I get two scoops of rocky road on a waffle cone, please?”

“Sure! You want a regular cone or the chocolate-dipped?” Pointing at the different cones you had on display, you held back a laugh when you saw his look of confusion.

“Oh no, I don’t know!” The pleading puppy dog look he gave his grumpy friend was comical. “Bakubro, what should I get?”

“How the fuck should I know?” Clicking his tongue, he folded his arms across his chest and glared. The sour look was short-lived as he caved under the pouting bottom lip of his red-haired friend. “Get him the chocolate-dipped one. And let me have 2 scoops of mango, in a cup.”

“Please and thank you!” Red Riot perked up, grinning at you again. 

You nodded, getting to work on the order, passing it off to your coworker who was working on the toppings, trying not to think about how adorable that entire exchange had been.

“Mina, I don’t know why you were even arguing with me, we all know you’re going to get the same thing you always get and then complain that you can’t eat it all.” Cellophane teased as he walked up to the counter. 

“And then she’ll force me to help her finish it and I’ll feel like shit later because I ate too much,” Chargebolt added, shaking his head.

“Shut up! I just know what I like, okay?” Mina chirped, bounding up to the counter and leaning on the glass. “Can I get a banana split, please? Go hard with the chocolate sauce, I can handle it.”

“You got it. Is that for here or to go?” You grabbed a banana from under the counter and got to work on peeling it open. 

“For here. We need to sit and cool off, it’s so hot out there!” She slumped forward, resting her cheek on her palm. “These boys are running me ragged. I don’t know why I agreed to go on this vacation with them.”

“Because you love us?” Cellophane supplied helpfully from behind her. “You’ve been putting up with us since we were 15, Mina. Did you forget how we are?”

“I think I was trying to repress it.” She deadpanned, winking at you. “But you keep reminding me, Sero.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Enjoying a glimpse into the personal dynamics of these pro heroes was the highlight of your day. Everyone knew them as celebrities who saved the world on the daily, but it was kind of cool to witness them being normal people firsthand.

Once you had the banana situated in the dish, you added the ice cream to the middle and added the whipped cream and copious amounts of chocolate sauce. “How’s that?”

Peering through the glass, she smiled. “Perfect!” 

“I went HAM with the chocolate sauce as requested.” You slid it over to your coworker for the rest of the toppings. “Give her extra cherries.”

“Aw, you’re sweet. I like you!” Mina cheered, shuffling over to give her friend some room.

Sero ordered an orange creamsicle milkshake. “I know it’s lame but…”

Chargebolt patted him on the shoulder. “It’s not lame, bro. It would be lame if you just got plain vanilla.”

“I half expected Bakugou to get vanilla.” The purple-haired man spoke for the first time, his deep voice surprising you.

Snorting, Chargebolt laughed, clutching his stomach as he bent over. “I mean, he does go to bed at like 8 pm. He seems the type, doesn’t he?”

“Shh, Denki, he’ll hear you!” Cellophane pushed his friend, rolling his eyes. “You have a death wish, I swear.”

You glanced over to see their explosive friend was concentrating on his mango ice cream at a table in the back, Red Riot beside him and chattering happily, struggling to keep up with the ice cream dripping down his cone. You were pretty sure he couldn’t hear them, anyway.

“What can I get for you?” You asked the blonde, pouring the milkshake into a cup and finishing off the top with some whipped cream. You handed it to Sero with a smile, turning your attention to the electric hero in front of you.

“I can’t decide between the cotton candy and the bubble gum.” Sighing dramatically, he scrunched his nose. “Life is so hard.”

“Why am I friends with you?” His nameless friend looked exasperated. “Just pick one.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Shinsou. You don’t even know what you want yet.”

Shinsou opened his mouth, but you cut him off. 

“Why don’t you get a scoop of each? Then you don’t have to choose.”

Gesturing to you, the purple-haired man raised his eyebrows. “Look at that, Denki. I know that’s a foreign concept to you, but we call that problem-solving.”

“Shut up!” Denki pouted at his friend. “I know what problem-solving is, you overgrown troll doll.”

“Ha!” Eyes wide, you slapped your hand over your mouth, realizing you’d laughed a little too loudly.

“He looks like a troll doll, tell me I’m wrong! The way his hair defies gravity like that? It’s completely natural, too. He doesn’t even put gel in it or whatever.” Denki giggled, leaning on the counter. 

“I wouldn’t sleep tonight, Kaminari,” Shinsou threatened ominously, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“Great! Well, cutie, since I’m going to die tonight, I think I deserve a scoop of each like you suggested, in a cup.” He winked at you, and you blushed, nodding and moving to replace your gloves before you got his order together.

“I hope this doesn’t give you diabetes.” You said sincerely, handing him his ice cream, frowning at the sour patch kids he’d requested for the top. “My blood sugar is through the roof just looking at that thing.”

“Diabetes is nothing compared to how Shinsou will be murdering me in my sleep!” He said cheerfully. “Gotta go out with a bang, you know?” He saluted you and wandered over to the register to pay for his ice cream.

Finally, it was just you and Shinsou. You were relieved to see he was the last one in line as well, so you would have ample time to check him out and flirt with him shamelessly.

Remembering what Denki had said earlier, you smiled at him. “Did you figure out what you wanted yet? I can give you some suggestions if you’re not sure.”

Amethyst eyes trailed over the menu again. “I don’t know...”

Clearing your throat, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “I have a secret talent, you know.”

He blinked at you. “You….what?”

“I can tell what kind of ice cream is right for you just by looking at you.” You glanced down at your nails, feigning disinterest. “It’s a gift, I guess. I’ve got second sight when it comes to desserts.” You looked back at his face, fluttering your eyelashes.

Shinsou’s chuckle made you shiver. “Okay, you’ve got my attention.” He leaned against the counter, smirking at you. “Go ahead.”

Clapping your hands, you bounced on your toes. “Oh yay! Okay, let me see…” 

You stroked your chin, squinting at him, watching him squirm under your gaze. He was wearing an old and faded band t-shirt over his black swim shorts, and you could see his biceps bulging beneath the short sleeves. 

“Well?” He interrupted your blatant staring. “Have you figured me out?”

“Mmhm!” You turned and grabbed a cup, walking to the end of the freezer, and sliding open the door. You moved over the chocolate chip to reach a hidden tub of ice cream, filling the cup with 3 scoops of the pale purple treat.

“What is it?” Shinsou asked when you placed the cup in front of him and shoved and spoon in it. 

“It’s a secret flavor. It isn’t on the menu, and they really only make it because it’s my favorite and I begged them to keep a tub of it for me. I’m allowed one scoop a day for free and this is what I have.” You pushed it toward him. “I’m trusting you with this secret. No one can know I have this.”

“You make it sound like it’s forbidden. Is there some kind of Ice Cream FBI that’s going to come in here and arrest you or something?” He smacked his palm on the counter, leaning in and speaking lowly. “Is it like the Vegan Police?”

Snorting at his Scott Pilgrim reference, you shook your head. “No, I just don’t want anyone to know because I don’t like to share it. But, I’m making an exception for you.”

“Why me?” He asked, looking surprised.

“I don’t know. It kind of matches your hair, so I feel like you’re worthy.” Shrugging, you crossed your arms. “It’s Earl Grey and Lavender.”

“Like the tea?” He looked down at it, puzzled. “Hmm. That sounds...good.”

“It’s a revelation. You can thank me later.” The bell jingled above the door, signaling that you had to cut your flirting short. “Let me know what you think, okay?”

Long fingers wrapped around the cup as he picked it up. “Thank you…” He squinted at the name tag on your shirt. “Y/N.” Clearing his throat, he smiled at you. “I’m Shinsou, by the way.”

“You’re welcome, Shinsou.” It took everything in you not to watch as he walked over to pay for his ice cream, turning your attention to the new customers walking up to the counter.

You busied yourself with helping them, trying not to glance over at the table in the back where you could hear Denki starting some kind of trouble. You were taking a chance with that ice cream flavor. It wasn’t for everyone.

You didn’t have any kind of sixth sense like you’d said, obviously. You’d just wanted to get him flustered and maybe get his attention. There was just something about him that told you he would like it. You just hoped you were correct.

Telling your coworker that you were taking your break, you got yourself your free scoop and headed into the back to enjoy it in peace. You were about halfway through it when she poked her head in the room.

“Some guy with purple hair is out here asking for you.”

Jumping up, you forgot all about your ice cream, leaving the cup sitting on the desk you had been leaning against. Patting down your hair, you walked out into the shop, noticing it was completely empty, save for the man who was looking for you.

He was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, waiting patiently. You walked around the counter and smiled at him. “Everything okay?”

He stood up straight, letting his arms drop to his sides. “Everything’s great. I just wanted to thank you again.”

Waving your hand in dismissal, you blushed. “Aw, don’t mention it. Did you like it?”

“It was probably the best thing I’ve ever tasted. How did you know I’d like it?”

Smiling at him, you shrugged. “I’m a firm believer that your taste in ice cream flavors says a lot about your personality. You just looked like the type of guy who likes tea and reading books with a cat on your lap while you listen to The Smiths. That’s the kind of person who likes earl gray and lavender ice cream.”

“That’s eerily accurate. Is that the kind of person you are then?” He raised his eyebrow. “Cause if that’s the case, then I’m going to need your phone number.”

Your heart flipped in your chest at his words. “I could be. Give me your phone.”

Grinning, he pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it, pulling up his contacts and handing it to you. “What time are you off work?”

Your hands were shaking with nerves as you typed in your number and handed it back to him. “I’m off at 7.”

“Good. Want to hang out after? My friends want to go to a bar, but we’re not sure what’s good around here.” He took the phone from you and slipped it into his pocket, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I mean if you’re not busy.”

Pretending to think about it, you teased him. “I mean, I guess I can make some room in my nonexistent social life for you and your friends.”

“I’m flattered.” He smirked. “As long as you’re prepared to deal with them, that is. They’re kind of a handful.”

“I think I can handle it.” The bell above the door chimed again as more customers came in. “I’ve got to go back to work though. Text me?” You bit your lip, glancing up at him from under your lashes. 

“You can count on it.” He blushed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “See you later?”

Nodding, you walked backward a bit, not wanting to say goodbye so soon. “Yeah, see you later.”

You walked back behind the counter, watching as he left the store, your heart hammering in your chest. You felt your phone vibrate in your pocket a few minutes later, your face hot as you blushed at the message you received.

Unknown: I think I have a newfound appreciation for ice cream. I wonder why?

You threw yourself back into your work, forgetting about the ice cream you’d left on the desk in the back room. That was the first time you’d let it melt before you’d finished it, and it was all because of Shinsou.

It wouldn’t be the last time, either.

#hitoshi shinsou #shinsou hitoshi #shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinso #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #bnharem collab #shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinso hitoshi x reader #mha #mha x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #kingexpl0sionmurder writes

[sokkascroptop]

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 10

part 1 | part 9 | part 11

A/N: it only took 10 parts but....we have Sokka and Y/N interacting!! If you’ve read the atla comics this is inspired by “The Bridge”. If not, it doesn’t matter! This is just what happens after Aang is injured by Azula and before Season 3 episode 1

Everything about being on the boat made Y/N uncomfortable. She had fought with Katara and Aang in the crystal cave proudly, but now that she was out in the open and more people knew what she had done, she felt like an imposter. She still held the weight of regret high on her shoulders, especially now that she realized that no one was ever going to fully trust her. Nobody was going to trust someone who was willing to change sides in a war. She would always be a traitor whichever side she landed on. 

“I told you Sokka, she helped Aang and I. She’s staying.” Y/N could tell Katara’s patience was waning. Two days aboard the Water Tribe ship and she had told her brother and the earthbender––Toph––what had happened in the catacombs four times, and yet Sokka was still persistent that Y/N needed to leave. The four of them were sitting below deck in the mess hall drinking tea from thick ceramic mugs. It was colder being on the water and Y/N was grateful for the warmth. 

“Look, we can even be nice and give her one of the canoes!” Sokka countered. He gave Y/N a pointed look. “You know, as opposed to throwing you out of sea.”

Y/N nodded. “Yup, I caught that. Thank you.” Y/N really didn’t like that they were talking about her like she wasn’t sitting next to them.

“Snoozles, I think you need to give it a rest,” Toph said. She sipped out of her tea cup and pressed her knee into Y/N’s. The girl had either taken a quick liking to Y/N or she really liked to piss Sokka off, and Y/N guessed it was the latter. 

Sokka ignored her. “We should leave it up to Dad whether we take her as a prisoner or not.”

“He has more important things to worry about, and so do I!” Katara yelled. She stood, nearly spilling her teacup. She pressed it into Sokka’s hands. “And she’s not a prisoner!” She left the room fuming, likely to go check on Aang who was unconscious in the healer’s room. 

Y/N looked around the room awkwardly. “Does this boat even have, like a place to hold prisoners?”

Sokka glared at her. 

“Yeah, so this is fun, but I’m going to go find anything else to do.” Toph moved to leave only to have Sokka pull her back down. 

“I want to hear it again. From her, not Katara.”

Y/N couldn’t help but groan. “Again?”

“Why do you need me here?” Toph sat down again. 

“Tell me if she’s lying.”

“She isn’t interested in lying to the people who are keeping her safe right now. I’m a fugitive,” Y/N said angrily. “I watched someone who I used to call my best friend nearly kill her uncle. I watched her become a person I didn’t recognize anymore because of this mission. Except,” Y/N turned her empty cup over in her hands. “I’m beginning to think she was always that person, and it wasn’t her that changed, it was me.”

“She’s not lying, Sokka.” 

He didn’t look convinced. “Look, all I know is that the Fire Nation is full of evil people. You can’t just expect us to forgive you–”

“I don’t,” Y/N interrupted. “I know you’re mad. I can see the looks the crew gives me. I don’t expect forgiveness from anyone. I don’t even think I forgive myself yet,” she painfully admitted. “I just need redemption.” 

What she had said didn’t look like it had convinced Sokka any and Toph’s expression was the same as it was before. 

“Come on, let’s go for a walk on the deck, Toph.” 

They left, and Y/N was alone. Y/N picked uncomfortably at the hem of the tunic Katara gave her to wear. The green pants were three inches too short when she bent her knees and the actual tunic was almost immodestly tight but it was the kindness that Katara showed her by giving them to Y/N, even if they were just some Earth Kingdom clothes she was given while she was in Ba Sing Se. 

Everything about being on the boat made Y/N uncomfortable. She had fought with Katara and Aang in the crystal cave proudly, but now that she was out in the open and more people knew what she had done, she felt like an imposter. She still held the weight of regret high on her shoulders, especially now that she realized that no one was ever going to fully trust her. Nobody was going to trust someone who was willing to change sides in a war. She would always be a traitor whichever side she landed on. 

Y/N wandered below deck after leaving the mess hall. There wasn’t much to see, the ship wasn’t as large as a Fire Nation ship, just one hallway and a smattering of doors that she probably wasn’t allowed in. Ahead of her though, was a door that was cracked open; the healer’s room. Y/N peeked through the crack at Katara kneeling over Aang. She must have just finished a healing session with him, and she was muttering to herself. 

“–have to get better.”

The boat rocked as it crested a wave and Y/N bumped into the door startling Katara. She lifted the water from the basin she was using and then immediately dropped it when she saw who it was. 

Y/N, caught now, closed the door softly behind her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She pretended not to see Katara blink tears out of her eyes.

“I was finished anyways.”

“How is he?” Y/N asked, unable to come up with anything else to say.

Katara looked back at him and Y/N followed her gaze. He looked like a little kid, not the all powerful Avatar she had seen a day ago.  

“The same as before. Hey,” she pointed at Y/N’s head. “Do you want me to heal that cut some more?” 

Y/N lightly traced the gash on her forehead that she’d received when her and Katara were thrown into the rocks by Zuko and Azula. It reached into her hairline and the only reason she let Katara use her healing powers at all was because it was still bleeding when they’d boarded the ship. She’d only had the energy after healing Aang to close it enough for it to stop bleeding.

“No, don’t worry about me.” Y/N smiled and left without another word, feeling like an intruder. She didn’t need any more hospitality from them. 

---

There weren’t any spare hammocks on the ship for them so the four of them slept on the floor in the crew cabin. They laid out fur pelts underneath their sleeping bags to make it softer; and much like the night before, Y/N was in the middle between Katara and Toph, Sokka at their feet. 

Y/N knew this arrangement was purposeful. They were still suspicious of her, and if she was surrounded by them she would have a harder time getting up and leaving. She wasn’t a prisoner, but she wasn’t free to roam either. 

For the first time in a long time, she dreamt of home; of playing on the beaches and swimming in the warm ocean. She was happy and Y/N realized she hadn’t felt like that in a long time. She didn’t even mind when she was woken up by Toph kicking her in the shin the next morning. 

“Come on, we need to go above deck.”

“Why?” 

“They spotted a Fire Nation ship.”

Y/N had never pulled her boots on faster. She braided her hair on the way as they ran up the steps. It seemed like the whole crew was milling around the deck, muttering in small groups, all eyes turned to the east where a trail of black smoke announced the arrival of enemies. 

Hakoda nodded at her as Y/N and Toph approached. He’d been just as cautious with Y/N as the rest of the crew, but nicer to her than his son. “Do you know what kind of ship that is?” 

Y/N tied off her braid and threw it over her shoulder she squinted and leaned on the rail. “Looks kind of small, maybe a scouting ship?”

Hakoda hummed. “That means we’re going to be outnumbered fast.”

“We won’t be able to fight them, ‘Koda,” Bato warned. “And we can’t run, our sails are torn to shreds from our last fight with them.” 

The two shared a look. Surely, they weren’t thinking of surrendering, were they?

 Katara evidently thought the same. “We have to think about Aang, Dad. We can’t let the Fire Nation have him! We have to protect him.”

“We will! All we have to do is think of a plan.” Sokka seemed unusually happy for their situation.

Beside him, Toph punched his arm. “Alright, idea guy! Lay it on us.” 

“If we can’t beat them, join them!” Sokka beamed.

 Y/N let out a humorless laugh. “You can’t possibly be suggesting that we switch sides.”

“What, are you excited about seeing some of your Fire Nation buddies?” he asked, his voice was light, almost joking, but she could hear the accusation. 

“Sokka!” Katara clenched her jaw. 

He held up his hands. “Okay, okay, sorry!” He did not sound sorry. ���What I meant is that we just switch boats.”

Katara, Bato and Hakoda stared at Sokka like he was insane. Toph gave him another punch on the arm. “That’s your plan?!”

 Y/N on the other hand, nodded her head. “Huh.”

Hakoda looked at her like he was looking at Sokka moments ago. “You think that this could work?”

“Yeah, I do actually,” Everyone seemed surprised that she agreed with Sokka. Especially Sokka. “I mean, scouting ships have soldiers on them but they aren’t the best fighters and they don’t station firebenders on them. Their job low risk; just to scout out enemies and relay messages back to bigger ships. If we could find a way to sneak up on them it is very possible that you have enough warriors to take them out and steal the ship.” 

Nobody had anything to say to that. Hakoda grabbed Sokka’s shoulder. “Alright, what’s the plan, son?”

---

Sink the fleet.

Y/N still couldn’t believe that this was Sokka’s “brilliant” idea. And she really couldn’t believe that Hakoda had let them go through with it.

Y/N looked back from her place at the front of the canoe to the smashed wooden ships behind them. The point was to make it look like the Water Tribe had already been beaten, so Katara and Toph had used their bending to flood and crush the ships. It was sad for her to watch it all happen, she couldn’t imagine what it was like for the warriors who had called the ships ‘home’ for years.

A sharp kick to the bench under her jerked her out of her thoughts. “Keep paddling! You’re making us turn the wrong way.” 

Y/N put her oar back into the water and wondered how good it would feel if she just slipped a little and let her elbow fly back into Sokka’s nose. Just how cute would the Water Tribe boy be with two black eyes and a broken nose? 

Y/N swallowed down her anger. “Oh shut up, I haven’t done this since I was nine.”

---

The Water Tribe had found a treeline to camp in for the night. At dusk the next day, they would attack the Fire Nation ship. 

Y/N lay in the grass a few feet away from the Chief, Katara and Sokka and Toph, staring at the stars. She traced the constellations she knew with her eyes, she was just looking for ‘the dragon’ when the stars were blotted out with a figure standing over her. 

“Come sit with us by the fire. It’s cold out.” Sokka crossed his arms. 

Y/N shook her head and sat up. “Thanks, but I’m good.”

He dug the toe of his boot into the grass. “They won’t let me come back until I bring you.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” Y/N smiled and flopped back onto her back. “Guess you won’t be eating dinner!”

Sokka raised an eyebrow. “Is this punishment for being mean to you?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. She could tell him that, yeah it probably was, but it wouldn’t be fair of her. Y/N was pretty sure he had a right to be mad with her for joining out of the blue. 

“If you can be nice over dinner, I’ll go over there with you.” Y/N nodded towards the fire. Katara turned away quickly when she locked eyes with Y/N. 

“Deal! I’m starving.” Sokka held a hand out to help her up. Whether it was because he was trying to be nice or force of habit, she accepted it and let him pull her to her feet. 

They let go of each other quickly and didn’t look at each other on the walk over. 

Turns out it was easy for Sokka to keep his promise because he ignored her the whole time and spent the entire meal chattering about the plan for tomorrow with his dad. It was fine with her, Y/N was more interested in Katara’s silence than anything. Anytime either of the men tried to talk to her she shut them down or snapped at her father. 

She nudged Katara’s elbow. “Are you okay?”

She looked up from where she was scowling into her bowl of food. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” 

Y/N nodded. Katara was lying but Y/N didn’t want to press. She could have been stressed about Aang who was still unconscious in the tent behind them. And if there was anything going on between her and her dad, it wasn’t Y/N’s place to meddle in, especially when her relationship with the Water Tribe was as precarious as it was. But something gnawed at the thought of leaving it completely alone. “Let me know. If you want to talk, or something.” Y/N shrugged noncommittally.

Katara didn’t say anything the rest of the night to her, not until they had snuggled into their sleeping bags around the dying fire and Sokka had already started snoring. Somehow, Katara knew Y/N was still awake. 

“Thanks, Y/N.” She whispered the words so quietly that they could have been Y/N’s imagination. She figured out it was real when she opened her eyes to find Katara closing hers. Y/N smiled and tucked her head closer to her chest and fell asleep to the buzzing of cicada-bats in the trees. 

---

The next day, Hakoda did something that surprised her. “Here.” He thrust Y/N’s sheathed sword under her nose. She was seated on a rock next to their smoldering fire, just hours before the Tribe planned on leaving to raid the Fire Nation ship. All around her, warriors were sharpening their swords and spears.  

“Um, thank you?” Y/N hesitantly reached out for it, wondering if this was a trick. She had turned it over to him the moment she slid off of the Appa’s back. And to be completely honest, she wasn’t expecting to get it back at all. 

“I want you to come with us.” 

Y/N widened her eyes. No one had explicitly told her, she wasn't going, she just expected to be left behind. “Why?”

“I heard you can fight.” 

Y/N wondered which sibling gave him that information because that could be a good or a bad thing. She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “A little.”

He chuckled. “I also heard of a few of my warriors making a bet on when you would turn on us.” He started to walk away. “Don’t make me lose silver to Bato because I think you’ll stick around.”

---

The only sound around was the soft lapping of water against the metal sides of the ship. Y/N’s heart began race and her muscles tensed in anticipation. She drummed her fingers on the side of the canoe, not able to keep still.

Behind her, Katara was less enthused about being brought along. “I should be with Aang, not here.” She muttered to Toph. 

“Aang is going to be fine. And once we take this ship he’s going to have somewhere safe to recover.” Katara went silent. 

As quiet as possible, the Water Tribe warriors scaled the side of the ship with grappling hooks and rope. Y/N could hear shouts of surprise come from the soldiers on the deck as they jumped over the railing. 

When it was Y/N’s turn, she landed on the metal deck next to Toph and Katara. Some warriors had split off to taken down any soldiers on the bridge as well as look for soldiers sleeping below deck. Katara bent water over the railing to knock down three soldiers that rushed them. Two more came from the right; one of them wielding a spear, the other a dao. Y/N deflected the tip of the spear and sliced down, snapping the wood in half. She kicked him in the chest, and he skidded backwards on the deck. She parried a strike from the other soldier, and sent her elbow flying into his face, bringing him to his knees. 

Y/N watched in awe as Toph ripped a piece of the railing off the boat and bent it around the two of them on the ground, restraining them back to back. Y/N looked around the deck and noticed Sokka kneeling, tying another soldier’s hands behind his back. What he didn’t see what the Fire Nation soldier who was sneaking up behind him.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat and she ran. 

She got there just in time to intercept his sword with her own. But catching him so late in the blow cost Y/N her upward momentum and the tip of her sword scraped the deck. She grabbed his wrist and pushed it away. She brought her left knee up into his side, using their closeness as an advantage. He groaned and bent forward. She swung the flat of her blade against his wrist, forcing him to drop his sword on the deck. For good measure, she grabbed the back of his head and sent her knee into his face. The soldier sprawled back on the deck; dazed, with a bloody nose. 

Snickering behind her drew Y/N’s attention. She watched as Hakoda elbowed Bato in the chest, and Bato, irritated, pushed him away. 

“I told you so!” Hakoda called after him. 

---

Y/N was surprised when Katara said that she could have her own room. 

“Everyone else, has their own. We figured you would want one too.” she shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal and left. Except it was a huge deal. Y/N grinned. They weren’t worried anymore that she was going to wake up in the middle of the night and go on a murder spree. They were giving her an inch of trust and that meant everything to Y/N. She knew that she had a long way to go, but this was something. 

She pulled her hair out of it’s tangled braid and dropped her sword–which Hakoda had allowed her to keep–next to her bed roll before collapsing onto it. She sat back up immediately as someone knocked on her door. 

“Yeah?” she called, crossing her legs. She began to comb the knots out of her hair with her fingers. 

She dropped her hands in surprise when Sokka opened the door. He closed the door behind him and leaned on the wall just inside. 

Suddenly the room felt stiflingly hot. He had traded his blue Water Tribe clothes for a soldier’s uniform and replaced his wolfs-tail with a Fire Nation top knot. 

“What’s up?”

Sokka shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I want you to teach me how to sword-fight.”

“Oh?” Y/N was surprised to hear that come out of his mouth. “Why?”

“I would have died if you hadn’t been there,” Sokka admitted. “I feel like I rely on the others too much in a fight. I’ve never had a Master to teach me anything.” 

“Well, I’m not a Master,” Y/N said apologetically. She could understand where he was coming from. She was born into a family of firebenders as the only nonbender and it made her special in all the wrong ways. She had to be good at something to survive.

“Maybe not in title, but you’re good. Really good. I–actually never mind.” Sokka turned the handle to the door.

“No, wait! I’ll do it!” She shot up and grabbed his arm. It didn’t matter how much he had hated her twenty-four hours ago. This was something they had in common and if she ever wanted to be in their good graces, she needed to do this. 

“Yeah?” He looked hopeful, and little surprised like he figured she would have said no. 

“How about we start tomorrow?” Y/N asked. She realized her hand was still wrapped around his wrist. She pulled back and crossed her arms. 

Sokka nodded. “Tomorrow.”

---

A/N: now I’m just trying to decide how much of a slow-burn this is going to be.... ALSO two things! One: you’ll notice that I keep mentioning her being a non-bender. You’re all like, “yeah, yeah we know.” but it’s important!! If you haven’t read the Imbalance comics, I highly recommend you do. I have taken some of the issues from that and decided to use them in here because they moved me so much. Being a non-bender is part of Y/N just as much as being a waterbender is to Katara. It defines her, even if she doesn’t like it. Two: No Master Piandao here because, why would we when we can get Sokka and Y/N bonding over sparring and sword-fighting lessons? :)

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#atla #sokka x reader #atla sokka #atla fics #sokka x y/n #avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #avatar #avatar resurgence #avatar fic #avatar renaissance #aang #katara #toph beifong #zuko #azula #mai #ty lee #suki #sokka #sokka x you

[votederpycausemufins]

another chapter of the scattered au story I'm writing. tagging @helleborusangel because ❤ and @hermitcraftheadcanons since they made the au with their community.

Now then... where have we seen those names from last time before? hmm, maybe Grian knows.

Grian coughed a bit as the magic keeping him alive faded a bit. Though snow mostly covered his wings, he could still see a few visible patches of formerly red feathers, now a bright purple. For the most part, he was trying to ignore that, instead focusing on the bots. “A-Alright. Wh-who don’t w-we know a-about y-yet?”

“Well Bdubs hasn’t had any death messages yet.” Grum answered while trying to force one of his arms to move since it was stiff from the severe cold. “Also nothing from Jeven, Beef, Keralis, Joe or Hypno.”

“And then Ren and Etho have had deaths, but nothing that tells us where they are. Well, unless you count Etho in the overworld since he got killed by a monster.” Jrum said next. “Oh, and False and Stress are both near water cause they drowned a few times, but it looks like they stopped a while ago.”

Grian gave a shivering nod, trying to warm himself up a bit more by rubbing his arms. “A-anything important that we kn-know other than that?”

The bots looked at each other for a few moments before looking back to Grian. “Well, we’re pretty sure it’s nothing… but…”

“Wh-what is it?” Grian asked, breathing into his hands.

“So out of everyone, Impulse has been dying the most. With just about everyone else, they’re stuck with something they can run from. Like Daddy with the illagers and Cub with the cave spiders.” Grum started before allowing Jrum to continue.

“If you weren’t making things better, you would probably dying lots and lots more from the cold, but then Impulse keeps getting killed by guardians, and if they don’t, he dies anyway to drowning.”

Grian nodded before he again nearly died to the cold, instead his survival instincts getting him to use magic and heal himself up as well as warm him and also the bots. When it stopped again, he was panting. Using so much magic was detrimental to him, especially in this situation. “G-Go o-on…”

“Well, the time between his previous death and a drowning death is getting longer. Only a tiny bit, like half a second or less, but it’s always going up and not just fluctuating.”

Grian nodded. “Th-that’s not completely unusual. R-repeated deaths to th-the same thing c-can make y-you m-more resistant. Y-You’ve probably n-noticed that w-with Scar and him c-crashing into things. It m-might be happening with others, b-but not consistently e-enough for you t-two to n-notice.”

Jrum went to hug Grian but then was stopped by Grum. “Wait, we’re still metal. We’ll just steal his heat.”

“B-but I want to hug him!” Jrum complained. “I-I’m scared! I don’t like this! I want to go back to the shopping district!”

Grum hugged Jrum instead. “I’m sure there’s some sort of explanation for this, and if anyone’s going to figure it out, we probably can. Everyone seems spread out, but you and I stayed with Dad. I’m guessing the magic keeping him alive kept us with him. He’s not really in the best condition to do much other than staying alive, so we’ve got to do it ourselves.”

“But what can we even figure out?”

“W-Well, you t-two already t-told me about th-the other h-hermits. A-and what w-was u-up with Imp-pulse. I’m s-sure y-you can d-do plenty w-with more t-time.”

“Exactly, and we also know that whatever is causing this can be affected by Watcher magic.”

Jrum pouted. “That doesn’t really narrow it down.”

“But it narrows it down a little! Which is better than nothing! And it does remove the possibility that helscraft is responsible.”

Jrum stared at Grum for a few seconds. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Right, no mayoral reservoirs. Um, it’s like hermitcraft, but evil.”

Grian smiled as the two bots talked. Even in a bad situation, he was glad they seemed mostly fine. He, on the other hand, felt horrible. Sure, he was keeping himself from freezing to death, but that was all. Taking all this damage wasn’t something his body really appreciated, nor was using so much magic. It was draining him, and there was nothing to eat up there.

Grian tried to purposely use his magic to summon something, anything, to eat. Even if it were a spider eye or rotten flesh. He wished a zombie would even spawn, but the top was covered in powdered snow and mobs refused to spawn on or in it. Still, if he had the energy, he could force a spawn. The thing was, he didn’t, and even attempting made his hearts deplete more. He was just so hungry.

His magic forcefully kicked in to keep him alive, but it just made things worse. It could heal him, but not keep him fed, so it was just at a stalemate as it healed the damage from starvation. But the more he used the magic, the worse he got, and finally, the amount of damage he was taking was greater than what was being healed. And then, he died.

Grian immediately gasped upon respawning, the magic of the feat leaving him feeling temporarily revitalized. He could still find some aftereffects of using so much magic, namely that even after respawning, his wings were still the wrong colors.

Jrum was on him in an instant, the cold metal frigid against his skin. He could hear Grum complaining, but Grian didn’t care, hugging the bot back. If he got cold again, he would likely just end up using more magic. If anything, right now was the perfect time to use some. Grian pulled back from the hug with that realization and summoned an entire stack of cooked steak. It hurt a bit to use enough magic for that, but it would likely keep him alive much longer. And if he did die, he could do it again.

“A-Alright… If we’re g-going to try anything… i-it’s going to b-be now. I w-want one of y-you to jump o-off the m-mountain.”

“What?!” Jrum exclaimed. “Won’t we just die?!”

“I-I’m h-hoping that y-you being r-robots a-and made of m-metal m-means you c-can take m-more f-fall d-damage.” Grian explained through chattering teeth. “S-sort of l-like i-if I were w-wearing armor. I w-would s-still be c-careful a-and go down a b-bit a-at a time, b-but you should r-respawn. A-and if y-you wouldn’t, I-I’ll b-be able t-to make you r-respawn.”

“Are you sure you can do that Dad?” Grum asked, sounding concerned. “You’re already not doing so well.”

“R-Respawn h-helped. I-if we’re d-doing it at a-all, i-it’s going t-to b-be after th-that.”

The bots still looked worried, but then Grum stood up. “Alright. I’ll do it. Jrum, do your best to watch me for signals when I’m low on health so that way dad can be more prepared if something goes wrong.”

Jrum nodded and followed Grum to the edge of the small area. The older bot was able to get down a few blocks safely, finding that Grian was right about taking less fall damage as one that would have just been enough didn’t do anything. But after that, the mountain was much more sheer. Grum tried to take the best path that didn’t need jumping for more distance, which would just deal more damage, as well as shorter gaps between ledges.

He paused on one cliff, staring down at the cloud layer which was still much further below him. Unless he could find a path with very little or no damage, he wouldn’t be able to make it down there. After a few more minor descents, Grum signalled back up to Jrum, who in turn signalled to Grian. Almost immediately, Grum could sense what felt like a thin veil of magic wrap around him like just before they had moved to this season. It felt a little weaker, but Grum could tell his Dad meant it when the respawn was helping.

The robot climbed down a bit more, trying to be extremely careful every time he felt the magic waiver slightly. He was slowly getting closer to the cloud layer, but he definitely wasn’t getting to it now. All he could really do now was die from fall damage, or hope he jumped and landed in a shallow pool of water. Technically, a large pool would work too, but he was a machine, and wasn’t sure how well he and water would mix just yet. Plus, the current situation made too much water seem like more of a concern.

He tried to look for entities, using his extra mechanics for that, but with the cloud layer, he wasn’t having too much luck. Plus, at that height anything he would see would be small, and any zooming function was currently non-functional, specifically asking for an update that couldn’t currently be done. Grum looked back up and signaled one more time before jumping off the edge.

The first few seconds, all he could think about was looking at whatever was below the clouds. But then he actually got below the clouds. Of course, he was able to quickly turn around, using his robot functions to take pictures of the surrounding area, but after that was a different story. Even after getting pictures, he was still falling, and it was terrifying. Grum has already had people messing with his brain, and that was scary and painful enough. Actually dying seemed like something worse. As a robot, he couldn’t make tears, but he still couldn’t help but cry when he realized his fate.

He completely forgot about the veil of magic around him as he continued his descent. All Grum knew at that time was fear. He looked back up, hoping for some sort of comfort, but all that was there for him were clouds, and then he finally crashed into the ground.

The robot respawned just fine, no need for Grian to mess with anything. As soon as he was back on the mountain, Grian pulled Grum into his arms. The shock from dying had left the bot quiet, but it was quickly fading and he was crying again. “Y-You were s-so brave G-Grum. I-I’m s-so p-proud of y-you.”

“It was so scary.”

“I kn-know. I kn-know it’s s-scary. But y-you did s-so well.” He said, then also pulling Jrum into the hug. He wished they didn’t have to go through this. They were still kids.

As he could feel the cold trying to take him, Grian’s mind wandered. Ever since they had gotten here, he had the feeling that something about all this was somehow familiar. He wanted to figure it out, but everything was so cold, he just couldn’t focus.

.

.

Two and a half weeks ago:

“Since when do you show up to these meetings?” Someone asked, making Grian look over to them.

“Yeah, nice to see you too.” He said with a roll of his eyes.

“Doesn't answer the question.”

Grian sighed. “It’s just something to do. I’ve got a lot on my mind and not many projects left to do since we’re wrapping things up. The meeting just happened to show up when I needed something, so now I’m here.”

“Well, glad to have you. It’s actually a pretty big meeting today!”

Grian rolled his eyes. “Oh is it now. And you think Pin would agree with that?”

“He would indeed.” As a different Watcher sat down. “And he would also agree with saying it’s nice to see you.”

Grian chuckled. “Hi Pin. What have you been up to?”

“Essentially prepping for this meeting. Once Noah, Zem and Yus get here, we’ll be able to start. So I’m glad you’re early since otherwise you would have come in the middle of it all.”

“Can I at least get a hint about what we’re going to talk about? Is someone getting upped to our level? Or have we found someone new to just help take the load off of things?”

“Neither actually.” Goofball spoke up. “We’re doing something else like Evo. no scouting this time though.”

Grian couldn’t help but bounce in his seat a little. That would be the perfect thing to distract himself with. “Nice! Do you need help with towers? And do you have a world prepped or not yet. And there’s a good number of players? If you guys need any help, I’m definitely in.”

“Well, Noah’s pretty sure we need a few more towers. They’re not as grand as you had in Evo, but of course we need a good way to incorporate bedrock into the designs and Yus had been having builders block.”

“I have not!” a new voice spoke up, and Grian turned to see Zem and Yus, the latter lighting up when they saw Grian. “Xellllll! You’re here! Oh it’s been so long! It’s amazing to see you! How have you been? Is Hermitcraft treating you well? Builds have been fine?”

Grian pushed Yus back a little. “Yeah, I’m fine. I mean, technically one thing is up, but I’m trying to ignore that and so I’m here instead.”

“You know Yus isn’t going to let you leave without saying anything.” Zem said gruffly as he sat down. “Plus we can’t start until Noah gets here, so better spit it out.”

Grian shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I… well it’s kind of weird… I may have made sort of another NPC Grian… or two.”

Zem and Goofball both facepalmed while Pin looked nonplussed and Yus was excited. “Oh my gosh! I bet they’re so cute! What are their names?”

Grian sighed. “Grumbot and Jrumbot. Mumbo and I made Grum for an election I set up and then I built Jrum myself. But they’re not exactly like NPC or even Robot Grian. Everything in Hermitcraft is much more vanilla, so we had to build them pretty big to fit all the redstone and what not in. So, taking them to next season isn’t really an option.”

“Says the person who time traveled, and broke the world border, and-” Goofball was saying before Pin shut him up.

“I think what he’s trying to say is that hasn’t stopped you before. I’m sure you can still ship them off to your build world. And even if you can’t, we can take care of that when you leave for next season.”

Yus jumped up at that! “Yes! I can be the best unc- no, wait, aunt! Aunt sounds better! I’ll be their aunt!”

Grian laughed at that, as Noah finally came into the room. “Sounds exciting in here. What am I missing?” Pin and Goofball replied with ‘Grian’ at the same time Zem and Yus answered with ‘Xelqua.’ “Nice to see ya. Well, now that everyone’s here for once, we want to get this show on the road?”

“We should indeed.” Zem stood back up. “Now, as a recap for Xelqua, we are creating the Scattered experiment. A simple version is that it is the space to the Evolution experiment’s time. We’ve set up a world with all the new biomes for the upcoming updates, even the ones that most cannot access. The residents will be spread across dimensions and biomes and their goal is to reunite.”

“Sounds creative.” Grian nodded. “I’ve got a few questions though.”

“Ask away.” Pin spoke up. “More minds to think of anything we might have missed would help. Especially since you’re the one with hands-on experience.”

“Thanks. But I know with Evo, it was easy to know what was going on because everyone was in a close location. Whenever a monument showed up, word was spread easily. Are we just relying on chat for that?”

“No, we’re actually disabling the chat for the residents. Messages can still be sent by others, but that would only really be death and advancement messages.”

Grian lit up a little at that. “Oh! Clever. And if they use specially named weapons and mobs, they could find a way to actually send messages!” Then Grian frowned. “It still doesn’t answer my question though.”

“Right, well we are creating small builds that will appear at every person’s spawn. We’re sure not everyone will be leaving their spawn immediately, so those will assist those who haven’t and act as markers in the future.”

“Oh! And based on the person’s situation, those could give tools that they need!”

Noah jumped up a little. “Pin! Write that down! Write that down!”

“I’m writing, I’m writing! Get off my back!”

“That does sound like a good idea. But here’s also some notes that we’ve taking in other meetings.” Goofball said before yanking some papers away from Pin and handing them to Grian, who looked them over.

“Hmm, so I’m guessing by this one note, there are going to be hybrids or shifters included in the group. Maybe even naturals?” Grian asked, glancing up from the notes. Before he could get an answer, he was asking about something else. “And if you’re planning to have someone in the void, it’s going to be hard to mark their spawn. Also about the void, is this rotator going to be able to appear there too? I’m sure the void will kill them, but will the spawn itself make them resistant or what?”

“All good questions Xelqua.” Zem nodded. “We are going to create a gateway like structure for the one in the void as he will be in a position that leaves him with no sense of his surroundings, so it will give him that.” And after he said that, Pin wrote it down. “Some resistance for the cycler seems like a good idea. And lastly the hybrids, there are currently a few of them, but if you look on the other page, we have mob adaptions listed. Certain people will be spawning in loops that will have them adapting to their surroundings. One in a flower field will be a moobloom, one underground will gain sculk traits, someone on the mountain may be associated with a goat or arctic fox. Not everyone will go through that, as we need some control to test, but we believe that we’ll have a good selection.”

Grian nodded, pushing the papers back. “This sounds good. I mean, as long as you’ve got people who would be a good fit for something like this.”

“Oh! We definitely do!” Yus nodded. “If you want, when your season ends, you can visit us. We have it all set up so it will start when your season ends, so that way you’re not missing out.”

“Well, I’ll see how things go.” Grian replied. “I know I’ve still got some things to finish, but I should be ending soon, so I might see you all then.”

“Well, if not, I’m sure we’ll see you later.” Noah said. “I wouldn’t mind help when we get into recapping things for the records.”

“That sounds good to me.”

From there, the meeting proceeded on nicely. Nothing signalled to Grian what was around the corner for him. He never realized who the experiment was for. And then he went home.

When he got back to hermitcraft, he took what the Watchers said to heart and went looking for Mumbo. He wasn’t leaving the bots- no, he wasn’t leaving his kids behind. Even if he had to break a few rules to make it work. He was a Watcher, and nothing was enough to stop a Watcher. Well, except for another Watcher.

.

.

Grian had been keeping himself alive a bit longer, refusing to eat so he could save it for after he summoned even more. With his periods of blanking out from using Watcher magic, time felt like it was passing faster, so soon the moon was in the sky once more.

Grian tried to ignore it, but the cold of the night made everything worse. He was using more energy after the temperature drop to keep himself alive and sort of warm. It also didn’t help that so much of the magic was used to warm him, leaving the bots to slowly freeze. They may not be able to feel the cold, but ice was still freezing their joints, making it harder and harder for them to move.

Grian looked over to the cliff. He still had lots of time before he died again, but if he reset himself now, he would have more magic. And this time instead of food, he could summon something to let the bots warm up. Or maybe even...

Grian pushed himself up and walked to the ende, letting himself fall. It was still painful, but the energy filling his body when respawning made it so much worth it. Immediately, he summoned a bed before pulling himself into it. Compared to everything else, the sheets were so warm. He let his magic seep into the bed, forcing it to work. And then the sky started moving, time seeming to speed up and then it was morning.

As Grian pulled himself out of bed, he was glad to see the message in chat that told everyone he had been the one to advance the sun and moon. While it might not have been too helpful for most, suddenly having daylight or just being able to know what time it was could be useful. But now that he had used the bed, he moved the bots into the sheets, hoping it would help warm them up.

The avian considered just sitting next to the bed, trying to rest normally, but something suddenly caught his attention. There was… it felt like some sort of magic. It was trying to form nearby, but there wasn’t enough energy. Grian thought maybe it would be some sort of mob. Maybe a skeleton and he could get lucky with a bow, or a zombie and iron. So he used more magic to finish summoning whatever it was.

Grian’s eyes widened at the small monument of sorts that appeared in front of him, made of ice and bedrock. Suddenly, his mind made the connection. That was one he built for the Scattered experiment. And that’s where he was now. For a moment, he was stunned, glad to know that information. Based on what he knew, he and Impulse were getting the worst of it, but that would be getting better soon. In fact, the bots had already noticed it with Impulse.

But then that made him remember something else. The bots. Grum and Jrum were children. The hermits would get through something like this. They were probably some of the best people to use for this experiment. But no, Grian drew the line and kids being involved.

He tried to use more magic, but he was too worn out. For now, he couldn’t do anything, but he was going to raise hell once he got out of here.

#hermitcraft #scattered au #grian #avian!grian #watcher!grian #grumbot #jrumbot #the watchers #evo smp #Toon Noah #Mysterious Goofball #Pin Valentine

[crystalas]

It’s only a matter of time

Okay I’m on here mainly for the fanfics so here goes...hope you like angst and stuff X3 bring a cup of tea its a long one! 

The story: MK and Red Son wake up trapped by Macaque who has plans for them and he isn’t going to take no for an answer. 

Chapter one: the nightmare begins

Monkie Kid woke up with a grown, he felt stiff and cold, his back and neck aches horribly which wasn’t surprising as he found himself waking up on a stone floor.

Wait. Why was he sleeping on a stone floor?

That thought got his brain firing on all cylinders as he sat up quickly, which made the chains on his wrists clank and jangle. He looked down at them adding them to the list of ‘what the heck was going on?’ MK surveyed his surroundings and saw he was in a stone-grey cell with no windows, one jail door, a bucket to which he could guess the reason that was there for…

And an unconscious Red Son who was also chained to the wall.

Oh, he had soooooo many questions.

Red Son shifted with a groan and sat up rubbing his head, as he groggily took in the sparse jail cell he looked down at his chains and then he caught sight of MK.

“NOODLE BOY!!!??” he screamed. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“I was going to ask you the same thing!” MK shouted back. “Is this one of your schemes?”

“Oh yes Noodle Boy my brilliant diabolical plan was to chain myself up in a cell with you, you saw through it so perfectly!” Red Son declared slowly clapping his hands, “All my hard work has come undone by your brilliant wit and clever thinking!”

“Ok sorry you can rein back the sarcasm now!” MK growled, he got to his feet and yanked on the chains testing their strength. They didn’t seem magical or anything special, as far as he could see they were just normal chains.

“Well, whoever did capture us are morons, I can tell you that much” Red Son exclaimed as he got to his feet, MK turned to look at him.

“What makes you say that?” he asked and Red Son just stared him in the eye as his hands erupted into flames, the metal bands on his wrists glowed cherry red then white hot before melting off and hitting the floor with a sizzling thud.

“Because only a fool would try and chain me up without heat proofing my restraints first” he answered and began to walk towards the door to inspect it. MK checked his ear more out of habit and found to his surprise that his staff was right where he left it last, he pulled it out and regarded his chains for a second. He remembered how Monkey King had been able to break Spider Queen’s webs by simply tapping them with the staff so he tried that. He tapped the chains with a little force and with a ringing clang the both chains fell apart the individual links clanking to his feet. He walked over to the cell door where Red Son was kneeling looking at the lock with a keen eye.

“Hey I can try and open it if you want?” MK offered but Red Son just gave it a push and it opened without so much as a creak.

“Wait it wasn’t even locked?” he asked dumfounded.

“I stand by my statement; our kidnappers are morons…” Red Son muttered.

“Yeah, I mean they didn’t even try and take the staff” MK said as they left the cell to find themselves in a dark hallway. Red Son lit a flame in his palm and began walking, MK not wanted to be left in the spooky dark dungeon without a light source followed.

“To be fair even if they had thought to, they would have struggled to do so. What with the whole ‘only those deemed worthy thing’ unless they had MY gauntlet of course!” Red Son declared proudly.

They walk the corridors silently for a while, it unnerved the two how quiet and dark this place was even as they walk by windows there wasn’t even the glimmer of stars or moonlight. There were no city sounds or wildlife noises or anything that could help them figure out if they in an urban or rural area.

“So… um do you remember anything before waking up here?” MK asked desperate to get rid of the unsettling silence.

“I remember being in my work shop, I was tinkering with the truck when I heard my mother call me…then…” Red Son stopped walking as if to try and collect his thoughts. “Something grabbed me from behind. You?”

“I remember being on a delivery run, the address was this little run-down apartment. Then yeah something grabbed me as well when the door opened.” MK answered, the silence returned as they continued to wander. They came to a door that opened up to reveal a large dojo training floor, they looked around as they walked through keeping an eye out for any movement.

“Why do you think they kidnapped us?” MK wondered as he looked at the wooden weapons that were on a stand nearby.

“Besides the obvious? I mean you are the Monkie Kid” Red Son muttered “My guess is that someone thought they could force a marriage out of me” this got a tsk of amusement out of Red Son and a look of bemusement from MK.

“Marriage??!”

“Yes, it is demon custom to capture your intended betrothed as a way of showing your strength and cunning. A stupid tradition that should have died out over a century ago in my opinion but there are still plenty demons out there that like to cling to the old ways.” Red Son explained they left the dojo floor and carried on inspecting the other rooms as they did. There looked to a shrine room, bedrooms, maybe a kitchen but it was as sparce as their cell was. There was nothing that gave them any indication on who took them or why.

“Sounds like you’ve had your experience with that sort of thing…” MK ventured; Red Son scoffed.

“When my father the Demon Bull King was first imprisoned by you-know-who, I was next in line to be head of the family however I was too young so my mother ruled in my stead… the amount of times demons thought they could take me so they could claim the title was beyond annoying. Ever wonder why I know teleporting magic?” Red Son explained looking back at MK.

“So why don’t you use it now?”

“To put it in a way your simple mortal mind could comprehend I need to know the location of my destination and the pathway to it, I can’t just ‘whoosh’ my way out of sealed room I need a window or an air vent or something…” Red Son said as he opened another window and gave an irritated growl as it only opened to empty darkness. “And I’m not leaping into that until I know what’s out there!”

MK gripped his staff tighter and he could feel his instincts tingle, Red Son also seemed to feel something because he could see his fists clench and he began to walk faster to the door. He opened it wide and found…

“What the hell??!” MK cried out.

The entire dojo was in a cave, Red Son lifted the fire ball above his head and made it grow larger the light illuminated the cave as far as they could see which wasn’t very far to begin with. The cave was barely large enough to house the dojo they had been in, MK used his staff to pole vault up to the roof tops making sure to stay in the light, using his golden sight he looked around getting more desperate as claustrophobia began to set in.

“I don’t see any tunnels!” he called from on top of the roof tiles “I don’t see anything that looks like a way out, not even inside the dojo!”

“Then how do we get out of here?” Red Son shouted back.

“Easy, you don’t!” a voice declared and they spun around to see a dark furred monkey being standing there as if he had been there from the start.

“Macaque?!” MK spluttered.

“Uncle Mango?” Red Son squeaked at the same time, they both turned to look at each other.

“You know him?” they both asked in unison.

“It’s cute you remember that name Red” Macaque chuckled “Kinda makes me feel bad about what’s ahead…”

“What do you want this time Macaque?!” MK snarled feeling a little safer from his high vantage point, Macaque looked up at him with a smirk.

“Why to carry on with our training of course. My little student” he grinned.

“I was never your student!” MK growled getting ready for a fight but Red Son seemed to beat him to the punch as he strode up to Macaque his hair angrily aflame.

“I demand you release us from this…place!” he shouted “Where are we?”

“This is my dojo, and only I can travel to and from it unless you know shadow magic of course” he sniggered, Red Son growled and his fists began to burn with fire.

“Release us now or I will make you!” he roared.

MK felt a chill down his spine as this conversation went on, something was wrong, something was very, very wrong here. Macaque was too at ease with Red Son and MK both armed and angry at him, then it hit him like an ice block to the gut.

Only a fool would try and bind Red Son without fire proofing it first.

Only a fool would leave MK with his staff.

Only a fool would leave the cell door unlocked and let their prisoners just wander around on their own.

Macaque was a lot of things but he wasn’t a fool.

“Red Son hold on something isn’t right here!” MK said but Red Son wasn’t listening as he was already pouncing to attack, fire blasting as he leapt forward to land a hit…

MK watched in horror as gold bands on his arms, legs and around his neck began to glow and magic began to pulse over his body; Red Son dropped to the floor screaming in pain clutching his neck as he tried to claw the band off of him. Macaque step over the convulsing demon and looked up at MK who took a step back.

“Aw don’t worry bud; I didn’t leave you out” he smiled and muttered something. MK’s head was suddenly gripped in what felt like a hydraulic press, he clutched at his head in pain and his fingers found something under his bandana something made of metal and it was pressing into his skull with all the weight of an elephant. He staggered around trying to get whatever was on his head off but the pain only seems to getting worse with every passing moment. In his stumbling he lost his footing and fell to the floor with a painful thud but that was nothing compared to whatever was trying to crack his skull open. He screamed and gasped as the agony was knocking the air of out him and he just couldn’t breathe!

The pain was suddenly gone, but all MK could do was lie there shaking from the shock and taking huge gulps of air as he suddenly remembered how his lungs worked. He opened his eyes blearily and saw Macaque standing there waiting politely for the boys to regain some composure. MK grabbed his staff and used to it prop himself up.

“Here’s how things are going to go” he declared as Red Son got to his knees snarling at him with rage. “I am the master you are my students. You will obey my instructions to the letter, I say jump you say how high that kind of thing. If you try to escape, or defy me, or attack me, or basically do anything I don’t like…” Macaque trailed off as he muttered again. The agonising pain returned in a crashing wave that sent both boys to the floor.

“Well…you get the idea”

“How did you get these accused bands?” Red Son demanded.

“Did I say you can ask questions?” Macaque inquire and Red Son gave a staggered groan as the band glowed once more. “No, I didn’t. Now up you get my little students” both boys glared at him defiantly.

“Stubborn, aren’t you?” Macaque laughed “Well this just make it that more fun for me”

MK and Red Son cried out as pain rippled through them again.

“Please. Get up”

MK staggered to his feet and the pain stopped, he glanced at Red Son who was also getting to his feet.

“Good boys” Macaque said calmly and began to walk back into the dojo. “Please. Follow.”

“How dare he bark orders at me!” Red Son muttered under his breath “When my father finds out about this, he’s going to smash that sub human into a pulp!” only for him to drop to the floor again with a strained groan, MK ran to his side to help him back to his feet.

“Until we get these things off of us, we better play along, ok? We’re only hurting ourselves” MK whispered to him.

“I didn’t say you could talk” Macaque demanded looking back on the two, they flinched as they now knew what was coming and was made right as the bands once again activated, causing both of them to fall to their knees.

“Please. Follow” was all Macaque said after that. Every attempt to get away or attack or even just to talk to one another resulted in them lurching to the floor as they received punishment. Macaque would just stop and wait for them to get to their feet before barking the same order at them. They soon stopped trying anything and just followed quietly behind Macaque as they lead the back to the cell, they had started in. Inside the cell was two of Macaque’s shadow clones each holding a folded bundle of clothes.

“Please. Get dressed” Macaque exclaimed, both boys looked at him wanting to say something about what the hell was going on or how they were not getting undressed in front of each other but Macaque just smiled and tilted his head as if to say ‘wanna try it?’

MK sighed and grabbed the first bundle and Red Son with a frustrated growl did the same with the second. MK just let his clothes drop as he took them off Red Son however took great care to fold his up and put them in the corner. They found with a sickening feeling in their stomach that the clothes they had to wear looked similar to what Macaque was wearing but simplified. Red leggings with tawny yellow robes and a brown belt sash.

The shadow clones took their old clothes and held them for a second, as Macaque looked at his students in their new attire.

“Now boys I don’t think those fit your new outfits, hand them over” he demanded, MK felt his hand go to his bandana as Red Son gripped what looked like a beaded necklace with a horned pendant.

“This is my family insignia I am not taking it off!” Red Son growled but saw the look in Macaque’s eyes and flinched before looking sadly at the pendant before taking it off and handing it over. MK took his bandana off as well and threw it at the shadow clone in disgust. As they did their clothes ignited into purple and black flames and vanished into ash, Red Son gave a horrified gasp.

“That pendant was handed down through the generations of the Demon Bull Family!” he screamed “How dare you just destroy it for your little power tr…” he couldn’t even finish his rant as he fell to the floor once more gasping and writhing as magic ripple over his body.

“Red, the sooner you learn to do as I say the less time, you’re gonna spend like this” Macaque sighed as he knelt down to pet Red Son on the head. “I was commissioned specifically to train you two up, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Why?” MK blurted out but winced back as Macaque stood up to look at him sternly. He looked at MK for a moment before giving that horrible smirk again.

“Why indeed?” he said simply “Now I want you boys to get settled in, I’ll be bringing supper shortly.” And with that he and his clones left as Red Son laid there trembling as he recovered. They remained frozen in place until they heard the sound of the hallway door closing, once they heard that click MK rushed over to Red Son who was struggling to move.

“What did he mean he was ‘commissioned’ to do this?” MK asked as he helped Red Son to sit up.

“It means Noodle boy that there is someone else in on this!” he whispered, “Someone powerful or high up because they somehow got a hold on Guanyin’s binds!” he pulled down his collar to show nestled around his neck was a gold band, he also showed MK the same kind of bands on his wrists.

“They also managed to get Monkey King’s Skillet!” Red Son said sadly pointing at his head and for the first time MK actually tried to feel for the cause of his pain, as he felt the metal band dread ran through him as he remembered Monkey King telling him how torturous it was to have on and how he hated every second he wore it.

“How do we get them off?” MK whispered back trying his best not to panic.

“We don’t” Red Son said coldly “Only the one who placed it or something with stronger magic can remove them, so our first priority is to get out of here and find my parents or … ugh Monkey King they would have a good idea how to do it.”

MK started to pace the cell trying to suppress the rising urge to freak out and panic.

“So, what now? We’re trapped?” he asked.

“We need to remain calm” Red Son said quietly.

“How? We’re trapped in a dojo that in this shadow realm cave thing, Macaque has magical shock collars on us, we both have our powers but we are still helpless!” MK babbled “Oh god Pigsy is probably freaking out; he must be worried sick…they all must be worried sick…”

“Which means they will start looking, my mother is a wind master which means she can scry the winds.” Red Son said quietly, MK spun around to demand how the hell the most anger management challenged person he has ever met can be so calm in this situation when he saw that Red Son was clenching his hands so tightly his knuckles were white.

Red Son is freaking out just as badly as I am, MK thought he’s just better at hiding it.

“What…what’s scry mean?” he asked.

“It means anything the wind touches mother can see. I seriously doubt Macaque even with his shadow magic could have taken us without a breeze catching something, not to mention he took me in my own home which has security cameras in my work shop. Someone will notice and will find something that will lead them here!” Red Son stated slowly “It’s only a matter of time, we just need to stick it out. ‘Play along’ as you said.”

MK sat down next to Red Son taking deep breaths as he tried to calm himself down.

“You’re right.”

“I know…”

“What do you think he has planned for us?”

“I don’t know…Uncle Mango was never this…twisted when I was a child.” Red Son muttered, “Or maybe he was just better at hiding it. Or I never noticed…”

“Uncle Mango?”

“Oh, nothing blood related, same way Monkey King is considered my uncle it’s more of a god father thing you humans do”

The cell fell to silence as MK ran out of energy to talk and Red Son didn’t feel like answering more questions. They both just stewed in their own thoughts on their new predicament.

#red son #monkie kid #monkie kid red son

[wizardofahz]

High School Reunion

A/N: Midvale is coincidentally set around the time Alex’s 10-year high school reunion would’ve been, so that’s when this is set.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Alex heads down to the beach.

Spending the night in her childhood bed and the emotional release of her conversation with Kara had been nice, but leftover pent up energy is making her restless. A difficult run in the sand should help.

It does at first. It’s been a while since she’s run on a beach. All her energy is spent on reacquainting herself with the lack of solid footing, the way the sand deforms under her feet, how much harder her muscles have to work to extract her feet and carry them forward.

Not long after she falls into a steady rhythm, Alex spots two women walking ahead of her. They’re going in the same direction as her, but she passes them easily.

The monotony of her physical movements allows her mind to wander. Inevitably her thoughts return to Maggie. Actually, no, not Maggie but the coming out journey she had helped along. Alex’s self-realization may have come in National City, but the signs had started here in Midvale.

Vicki hadn’t been her only crush, she’s sure. Over the past year, other memories have come back to Alex, puzzle pieces falling into place with a startling new clarity. Alex wonders how many she’s forgotten. Her mother hadn’t been surprised when Alex came out to her. Maybe she remembers more.

Eventually Alex decides to head back. At this point, she can run half the way and use the last half as a cool down walk.

The two women from before are still walking in the same direction. Alex glances at them, prepared to give a courtesy nod, but recognition stops that plan in its tracks.

It’s Josie.

And Vicki.

Crap.

After Kenny’s death, the friend bubble that had shattered so quickly around Alex hadn’t lasted much longer for Josie.

Except Vicki.

Vicki had been so unfailingly kind to and well-liked by everyone that she had the unique ability to stand up for anyone regardless of social status. And so she did for Kenny, Josie, and Alex.

Until Alex had screwed that up.

Alex hopes they won’t recognize her. She really doesn’t need this reunion now of all times.

No such luck.

“Alex?” Josie says as Alex nears.

Alex skids to a stop, momentum carrying her past Josie and Vicki, so they all have to turn to see one another.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Josie continues.

Feeling more off-kilter than just her sudden stop can explain, Alex says, “I-- Josie, hi. Come to what?”

“The reunion.”

Josie’s words ring a distant bell though Alex doesn’t know how. She doesn’t really keep in touch with anyone from high school, though she sees the occasional update on social media. Maybe her mom mentioned it on a phone call. Either way, Alex has a vague recollection of hearing that her 10-year high school reunion is being held sometime around now. Apparently exactly now.

That also explains Vicki. From a brief moment of weakness when Alex googled her, she knows Vicki hasn’t lived in Midvale since she left for college either.

Vicki alternates between averting her gaze and shooting Alex odd looks. Once upon a time, Alex would’ve known what those looks meant.

“Oh, that’s this weekend?” Alex says. “Umm, I’m actually not here for that, just coincidence really.”

“Well, even if you hadn’t planned on going, since you're here, why don’t you drop by the reunion anyway?" Josie offers. “I’m sure we’ll be well-stocked with booze if nothing else.”

“I’ll think about it,” Alex says, her version of ‘thanks but no thanks.'

Josie seems to understand. “Either way, I’m glad we ran into each other. I wanted to say thank you and I’m sorry. The whole thing with Mr. Bernard...” She grimaces and shudders. “The more time passes, the grosser it feels. Thanks for ending it.”

“Just glad I could help,” Alex says. Maybe if Vicki wasn’t here, she’d ask how Josie is doing. But Vicki is here, which means Alex would very much like to be anywhere else. “I should finish my run before I cool down. See you around?”

Josie nods, looking a little lighter. “See you.”

Alex takes one last glance at Vicki.

The odd expression now looks like jealousy.

... 

Alex watches the waves crash into the rocks below.

As the water recedes, she hears the shuffle of someone approaching.

There are very few people who know about her hideout. It’s not the sort of place people find by chance. The rocky cliff face is sloped but occasionally steep. Getting to her particular little hole in the wall requires knowing that sometimes the best way across is going down then up.

Her father is MIA. Her mom wouldn’t know to come looking for her now. This area is remote enough that Kara typically flies, which only leaves--

Alex sighs.

“I’m not in the mood to fight,” she says.

“Me neither,” comes Vicki’s voice moments before she appears. “I thought you’d be here.”

“Shouldn’t you be with Josie?” Alex wishes she could sound calmer, neutral at least, but her voice comes out reeking of resentment. “Doing... whatever, walking? Something?”

“I’ll see her tonight,” Vicki says evenly, and Alex’s resentment grows. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Vicki tilts her head towards the empty space beside Alex, asking if she can sit. The cave can probably fit three or four people, but given the giant elephant in the room, the prospect of two seems cramped.

Alex nods anyway.

An uncomfortable silence settles between them until Vicki clears her throat.

“I wish I knew what to say sorry for,” Vicki says.

Confusion proves a preferable alternative to discomfort. “Why would you be sorry?” Alex asks.

“You know, when we were kids, I remember hearing a lot about heartbreak,” Vicki says, and Alex’s own heart convulses in her chest. “No one ever told me you could feel it as deeply with friends.”

Friends. Right.

“I missed you, you know?” Vicki continues. “In college and even now, whenever I learn something interesting but super nerdy, I think, ‘Alex would love this.’”

“Ouch?” Alex says--she's a nerd but is she that nerdy--but she knows what Vicki means. When reading feel-good stories on the internet, she often thinks that Vicki would do something like that.

Vicki smiles, a subtle quirk of the mouth. “Watching you with Josie just now... it seemed so easy. I wish I could remember why we fought. If I said something stupid or insensitive... I remember it was after your dad died and then Kenny.”

“What? No!” Alex says immediately. “At least I don’t think so. To be honest, I also have no idea what we were fighting about.” Then because she feels guilty about Vicki’s guilt, she adds, “I did sort of have an epiphany last year about why though.”

“Last year? That’s random.”

“Not really.” Alex's face is burning now. She wishes the cave was bigger, provided at least a facade of an escape. But then again, maybe with an escape, she wouldn’t be bringing herself to having this conversation. “I, umm, I came out last year. I guess I’m coming out again now. To you. But I-- last year I came out for the first time, and it sort of made me think about things, and I didn’t realize it at the time, but I think I had a crush on you, and I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Vicki looks stunned, and Alex immediately regrets saying anything. All of her coming out experiences until now had been positive, but now Maggie’s story about her and Elisa is rattling around her head. Alex racks her brains, trying to remember if Vicki said anything in high school that even hinted at homophobia.

An even more panicked thought runs through her head. Alex is pretty sure she’s the stronger of the two of them. If someone is getting pushed out of this cave, it’s not her.

“You know what,” Alex says quickly, desperately retreating from that terrible thought. “We can forget I said anything.”

“No, I… Thanks for sharing. I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to,” Vicki says.

Relief floods through Alex’s body. It’s not enough to calm her pounding heart and twisting stomach, but it provides a moment of clarity. She’d been talking a mile a minute and given Vicki less than half a second to respond before she went into panic mode.

“To be honest, I think I’m more surprised that you had a crush on me specifically,” Vicki continues. “You’re such a perfectionist. That you of all people could think that I was worth crushing on... It’s kind of flattering.” She’s quick to clarify, “Not in a weird way!”

Alex laughs, shaky but sincere. “Well if it helps, I don’t have a crush on you anymore.”

Vicki nudges her leg against Alex’s. “My turn to say, ‘Ouch.’”

Silence settles between them again. Alex wishes she could say this one is less awkward than the previous, but they still have ten years of distance between them.

Again, Vicki is the one to break the silence. “So what brings you to Midvale since it’s not the reunion?”

“I’ve been going through--” Alex lets out a weary sigh “--something. I don’t want to talk about it, but Kara thought it’d be a good idea to get away from National City for the weekend.”

Vicki respects Alex’s wishes and pivots. “And how is Kara? Seemed like Supergirl also had it rough for a while.”

Alex thinks she could rival Kara’s super speed with how quickly she turns to Vicki. “What? Why would you--”

“I’ve never said anything to anyone,” Vicki says with her hands up, “but I grew up with you. It’s kind of obvious.”

“No.” Alex sinks her head into her hands. “You can’t know.”

“I think it’s kind of amazing,” Vicki continues, oblivious to the panic once again coursing through Alex’s veins, “you two saving the world together.”

“You don’t understand,” Alex chokes out. “Do you remember Rick Malverne?”

Alex knows she’s breaking confidentiality by saying this, but she needs Vicki to understand the scope of the problem. If Alex missteps, it won’t be a great solution, but J’onn can wipe Vicki too.

Vicki’s brow furrows in thought before saying, “He liked you, right? Used to carry your backpack or something?”

“He also figured out that Kara is Supergirl, so if he knew, and you know, then how many other people in this town know?”

“Okay, uhh, even if other people do, no one is going to--”

“Earlier this year, he kidnapped me.” 

“Oh my God.”

“He wanted his father freed from prison, so he went after me, said that if Kara didn’t break him free, he’d kill me. Nearly did too. But the point is that I can’t do that to Kara again.”

“What about you though? Are you okay?”

Alex looks down at the water below. The tide is rising much like the water in the tank. Alex shakes her head to wash the memories away.

“I’m fine.”

Vicki looks at her skeptically.

“I’m fine enough.”

“Well, if it helps, when I said it’s obvious, I meant to me.”

Alex shakes her head. “He knew because of that day on the beach. You know, when Kara saved that woman and her baby from the car? Our whole class was out there.”

“Yeah, but Rick moved away not long after, right? That’s one of his last memories of Kara, and it left an impression. No, hear me out. Everyone else who was there remembers her as that weird kid they picked on or avoided for years afterward. I’m pretty sure at this point the ‘weird kid Kara’ reputation is not the good kind of weird you’d expect to find in a superhero--no offense to her. It’s obvious to me because I know you, and especially in senior year after everything with Kenny, Sheriff Collins, and Josie, spending time with you meant spending time with Kara. I got to see her for the good kind of special that she is.”

“I don’t know.” Alex rubs her temples. She wishes it was that simple, but she doesn’t think it is.

“You know,” Vicki says playfully, sending off alarm bells in Alex’s head, “one way you can make sure is to come to the reunion tonight.”

Alex rolls her eyes. “I’d rather be kidnapped again.”

“Want me to sleuth around?” Vicki offers. “I may not be a super spy or whatever it is you do, but I’ve got skills.”

“No, we have other ways of dealing with this.” Alex makes a mental note to talk to J’onn. “And I was serious about the ‘you can’t know’ part. At the very least, you’re going to have to sign a lot of confidentiality documents.”

“Fair enough. Do I go to your office or something? Does that mean we’ll get to spend time together again? This has been nice.”

“We have another field office closer to where you live, not that I know where you live,” Alex adds quickly, but to her relief Vicki just laughs. “So, umm, maybe we could do something non-business related sometime?”

“I’d like that.”

#supergirl #alex danvers #moments in the life of superfam #me writing vicky with a 'y' and jodie instead of josie: omg i remember nothing

[oddsnendsfanfics]

The (Mis)Adventures of Kal and Moose - Puppy Love?

Genre: Fan Fiction Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader Warnings: Fluffy Summer Fun Rating: G Length: Drabble Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.  

A/N: Kal and Moose seem to be popular, what can I say? 

Henry Cavill Master List

“Oscar, can you not torment Kal?”

“I'm not tormenting him,” the boy pouted, attempting to push the dog away. “He keeps sitting on me, Uncle Henry.”

“Kal, stop sitting on Oscar.” Henry scolded the big black and white Akita.

Henry swore he could see Kal roll his eyes, but did as he was asked and climbed off of Henry's nephew. Kal yawned and laid on the bed in the corner, like a “good dog”, another eye roll. Please, this was his domain. Nobody moved him from his spot on the couch, except for maybe Moose. Even then, they would compromise and Moose would lie across the humans.

Closing his eyes, Kal sighed, listening to his human and the two tiny humans playing another video game. They had spent a part of the day outside in the garden yesterday. This morning they went for Kal's regulation walkie, and now they were in the house – again. Kal huffed and yawned. He wished Moose was there, they could bounce around the garden chasing squirrels, cats, and scare the tiny humans with their loud but harmless boofings.

Sprawled out on the “dog bed” Kal whimpered in his sleep. Oblivious to the fact he had company. Dancing around Kal with more energy than he knew what to do with, Moose nosed the big dog and yelped at him. Kal sniffled and boofed in his sleep. Henry laughed watching Kal completely ignore his best friend.

“He's pretty wrecked,” Henry explained with a casual shrug.

“Kids do that to ya.” You laugh, calling Moose back to you. “How was last night?”

“Good, they slept well. Aiden was up in the night, he crawled in with me, and went back to sleep. Thankfully.” A soft chuckle, Henry looked over his shoulder at his nephews playing the video game that he had set up. “They're glued to that thing.”

“Ah, like their uncle.” You tease, nudging him in the side. “Why don't we wake sleeping beauty and head for the park? Moose could use a nice, long run. He's been inside all day. I had Alfie this morning, he had an appointment so no dogs allowed.”

Henry snorted. “You're welcome to try and pry them away.”

His brother and sister in law had left the 10 and 6 years old with their uncle for the weekend, it was their anniversary and Henry wasn't doing anything. He had gallantly offered to take his nephews, they arrived Thursday morning and would be leaving around mid day Sunday. How hard could it be? His sister in law had told him not to let them spend the entire weekend in front of a screen.

Easier said than done. He'd had them for 24 hours and the majority of their time, they weren't happy unless they were stuck in front of a game. Henry couldn't blame them, it was an activity the three of them were equally matched at, and they all enjoyed.

“Hey guys,” You call cheerfully, walking into the room. “What's going on?”

You had met Oscar and Aiden before, although you weren't overly familiar with the two boys, you hoped they had remembered you.

At they very least, they would likely remember Moose. He had been the unexpected star of the show, stealing the tray of sausages from the grill allowing himself and Kal to a fine meal. He then proceeded to vomit on the lawn where one of the other nephews managed to step and slip in it. Henry had assured you that it wasn't a big deal. Right, because it wasn't him having to face the shame or clean vomit off of his dog.

“Playing a game,” Aiden answered dropping his controller and turning to you. “Would you like to play? Uncle Henry said it's okay for kids.”

“I'm sure it is, but I don't want to play. Thanks.” You smile, rubbing Moose's back. He stands beside you sniffing the small human.

Kal is awake, stretching and wagging his tail. Moose is here and the fun is never far.

“Okay.” Aiden shrugs turning back to the game.

“Oscar, don't be rude.” Henry scolds from his spot holding up the door frame with his body.

“Oh, hey.” Oscar turns briefly to greet you.

“So, how many more levels to this game?”

“Seven.” Oscar's eyes never leave the screen.

“Ah. Well, I guess you're probably going to play those then. Sorry, Hen, looks like you and Kal are here all day.” You begin to talk, making no sense whatsoever to Henry.

“Wh-I don't.” Henry begins, when you wink at him. Indicating for him to follow the lead. “I guess we are. Too bad.”

Aiden's attention was now piqued. Ah yes, the little ones always caved first. Standing up and walking to his uncle, Aiden hangs onto Henry's hand for a second before whispering to him.

“What were we going to do?” Henry asks out loud. Kal prances and Moose begins to wiggle around as well. Aiden nods.

“I came over to see if your Uncle Henry wanted to go to lunch,  or maybe we could go to the park, then get an ice cream. But since you guys have seven levels left.” You shrug as casually as you can. “Guess Moose and I are on our own.”

“I want ice cream!” Aiden cheers. “Oscar, turn off the game. Turn it off! We can go get ice cream! Oscar!” the small boy pesters his big brother.

A sight all too familiar for Henry. He was often the one pestering his brothers to do cool things, too.

“Go away.” Oscar pushes Aiden to the side, trying to play the game.

“Oscar, don't push your brother.” Henry corrects. His brow knit, he means business. “Why don't we turn off the game and go to the park.”

Scowling, Oscar rolls his eyes, a Cavill trait. You can't help giggle at how much the two boys look like their uncle.

“Why can't she take him and we stay here?” Oscar pauses the game.

“Because we are all going, I said so.” Henry pulls rank over the sulking child. “Now, it is my game and I want it turned off. I will banish you from playing the rest of the weekend.”

Did that sort of thing actually work?

Indeed it did, for Henry at least. He didn't have to ask the second time. Oscar did as he was told, powering down the gaming system, not without a pout though. Dogs and children wrangled, everyone was out of the house in a timely fashion. Another grumble came, when the boys – primarily Oscar – realized that this was an adventure to be taken on foot.

Whatever, he would get over it.

Holding tightly to Moose's leash, Aiden walked proudly along side his uncle. The red Aussie being on his best behaviour, although you made sure to keep a close eye in case he got any ideas to run off with the child. Making it to the park in one piece, no run offs or mishaps, was nearly a miracle. Letting the two dogs off to play, Henry handed Oscar the ball and told him to throw it as far and hard as he could.

Aiden didn't go too far, sitting in the grass, chatting idly with you. He told you about his favourite subject at school. His favourite sport and hobbies. The topic of conversation got real, when he leaned in closer. Whispering that his favourite superhero was Ironman, but he would pretend to like Superman to make his uncle Henry happy.

Overhearing the confession, Henry shot you a wink and a slight nod. He was well aware of his nephew's acting skills.

Throwing the ball with his uncle, until the two dogs returned panting and tired, Oscar ignored you and Aiden. Enjoying the time he had to chat with Henry about various things. Sports mostly. He made the observation that the usually shy Aiden was your new best mate. Sitting on your knee in the grass, Aiden laughed as you tickled him. Your bonding interrupted by Kal wandering over and slobbering against your face.

“Kal!” You squeal and push the big dog away. “Get off.”

“I think he's saying it's time for ice cream.” Henry laughed, retrieving Kal.

“Ice cream!” Aiden cheered rushing to his feet, Moose dancing along beside him.

Settled on the grass under a big shady tree, Aiden had his wish. An ice cream cone in his hand, melted debris on his cheeks and chin. He was a picture of happy. Oscar sat with his back against the tree, watching  flock of birds near by. Henry rested beside him, Kal's leash in his hand. The big dog licking his paws, having finished a small cup of delicious ice cream.

Sitting beside Aiden, you hold your ice cream for Moose to take a lick. He had his own cup as well, although he refused to share with you. Funny how dogs and children were that way. Henry had shared his with you, insisting that you try the passion fruit frozen yogurt. Resting in the shade, you can't help but enjoy the comfortable silence between the four of you. The boys had been perfect all afternoon, you were certain their mother would be thrilled to hear that they had done something other than played video games. In the silence, Oscar shifted around, sitting to face his Uncle.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.” Henry nodded.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Hearing the question, you nearly choke. Sputtering and wiping a hand across your chin.

“No, we're friends.” Henry rolls his eyes. Giving you an apologetic look.

“Friends who like to kiss?”

“No, friends who like to sacrifice small children who ask too many questions.” You speak without any thought on that comment. The sheer look of terror on the child's face is enough to force Henry into hiding his laughter.

“Uncle Henry, she's weird.” Aiden licks his ice cream cone, pushing the melting treat a little too hard. Resulting in it splatting to the ground, bottom lip trembling Aiden is on the verge of tears when Kal and Moose rush to the rescue. Kal hunting down the ice cream on the ground, cleaning up. Moose goes straight for the face, licking the remains off of the little boy's face. “Uncle Henry!” Aiden laughs as the dog's tongue tickles his face, Moose now joined by Kal.

“Boys, off.” You attempt to call off the dogs, while Henry has already gone to get Aiden a second cone. “Kal, Moose. Now.”

“Here we are,” Henry holds a new cone, laughing when he sees the sight. Aiden on the ground, Kal and Moose licking his face like it was their new day job. “Well, at least I won't have to clean him up.”

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[gingersnapwolves]

The Untamed, a brief summary [Part 3/6]

Part One: Sword Wizard School

Part Two:  The Search for the Yin Iron and the World’s Worst Summer Camp

Part Three: The Fall of Lotus Pier and the Sunshot Campaign

Here’s where it starts to get dark, folks. 

Ext, Lotus Pier [Yunmeng]

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng get back, and Wei Wuxian promptly collapses because they were in the cave for a week and then he walked all the way back to Yunmeng. He sleeps for three days. When he wakes up, Jiang Yanli gives him soup. Jiang Fengmian comes in to congratulate him for killing the evil CGI turtle snake. Wei Wuxian tries to say it wasn’t a big deal. Jiang Cheng tells him he only got it done because he was playing the hero, and Jiang Fengmian reprimands him for being a jerk.

Yu Ziyuan comes in and the two get in a big fight over how Jiang Fengmian treats the kids. Yu Ziyuan says people think Wei Wuxian is actually Jiang Fengmian’s son, and Jiang Fengmian gets pissy about it (which is fair since it insults both his friends). The two of them storm off. Jiang Cheng is upset because his father doesn’t even like him. Wei Wuxian tells him not to be so hard on himself and says he’ll beat up anyone who’s mean to Jiang Cheng, that he doesn’t want anyone to think he’s anyone’s son but his parents, and that he’ll always be Jiang Cheng’s right hand man. It’s super sweet honestly.

ENTER A USELESS MESS

Meet Sect Leader Yao. He’s super annoying and shows up occasionally to require exposition and give the characters an excuse to explain things to the audience. His sect just got attacked by the Wens and most of his people are dead.

This obviously ain’t cool so Jiang Fengmian goes to talk to the leader of the Lanling Jin about joining up to fight Wen Ruohan. He brings Jiang Yanli with him for some reason.

While he’s gone, Jiaojiao shows up to demand Wei Wuxian be punished for all the shit he did in Qishan. Yu Ziyuan is enraged at Wei Wuxian for upsetting the Wens, or possibly just at Wei Wuxian existing in general. She whips him with her cool lightning weapon and injures him badly, while Jiang Cheng begs her to stop. Jiaojiao says this isn’t good enough and demands they cut off Wei Wuxian’s hand.

It looks like Yu Ziyuan is going to do it, but then Jiaojiao pisses her off by telling her that once the Wen have taken over Yunmeng, Yu Ziyuan can help out by being their governor or whatever. Yu Ziyuan gets pissed and starts beating the shit out of Jiaojiao. It’s really satisfying.

Wen Zhuliu shows up. He clearly has some history with Yu Ziyuan, because he calls her ‘Violet Spider’ and she calls him ‘Core-Melting Hand’. A rarepair is born.

All hell breaks loose. Jiaojiao signals their troops. Yu Ziyuan takes both Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian and throws them in a boat, and then ties them up with her lightning whip. She tells Wei Wuxian to protect Jiang Cheng with his life, which he would undoubtedly do anyway, blames him for everything that’s happened, and tells him she hates him. Then she starts the boat going down the river.

They’re still struggling to get free when they run into Jiang Fengmian coming back. Rather than release them, he ties Jiang Yanli in with them and goes to the defense of Lotus Pier. He also tells Wei Wuxian to protect Jiang Cheng with his life. They really want to drive this point home.

Int, Lotus Pier [Yunmeng]

Yu Ziyuan has killed like a hundred guys all by herself. It’s awesome. Jiang Fengmian shows up and charges to her rescue and promptly gets killed. Great job, Jiang Fengmian. Yu Ziyuan sees that they’ve lost and kills herself rather than be taken prisoner.

Ext, Lotus Pier [Yunmeng]

Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng have gotten back to find that their parents are dead along with most of their sect members. It sucks. They run away, which is honestly the most sensible thing to do.

Int, an inn [Yunmeng]

Jiang Yanli is sick. Jiang Cheng is shell-shocked. Wei Wuxian goes to get them food and medicine. When he returns, Jiang Cheng is gone. He gives the medicine to Jiang Yanli and tells her to stay there until he can get Jiang Cheng and get back.

Int, Lotus Pier [Yunmeng]

Wei Wuxian is looking for Jiang Cheng. He grabs a random Wen and starts to choke them to steal their uniform, only to realize it’s Wen Ning. He asks Wen Ning if he was involved and Wen Ning says no, he heard that Wei Wuxian was in trouble and decided to commit a little light treason. He offers to get Jiang Cheng out.

Ext, Lotus Pier [Yunmeng]

Wen Ning puts a bunch of drugs in the party punch. Wen Zhuliu sniffs it and clearly detects shenanigans. Wen Chao tells him to stop being a pussy and drink. Wen Zhuliu decides that if his boss wants him to pass out on company time that’s okay by him, so he drinks.

Wei Wuxian is waiting in a boat. Wen Ning comes back with Jiang Cheng, who is badly injured, and the magic lightning whip. He offers to take them to his sister’s house in Yiling so they can lay low.

Ext, Yiling Supervisory House [Yiling]

Wen Qing is understandably a little miffed that her brother decided to commit treason without checking with her first. But in for a penny, in for a pound, she patches Jiang Cheng up and hides them in her living room or something.

Jiang Cheng wakes up the next day and is basically a shell of a person. Wen Zhuliu, it turns out, has the ability to crush someone’s golden core, which is where they keep their spiritual power, so they can’t cultivate any longer. Think of it like cutting off a Jedi’s connection to the force. He’s lost his will to live and lies there like a dead thing for like two full episodes. No judgment.

Wei Wuxian starts reading every book Wen Qing owns in an effort to find a way to cure Jiang Cheng, despite this being said to be impossible. He finds one. She tells him not to do it because of the sacrifice that’s involved. He remains committed.

For some reason, Song Lan shows up. (Batman from earlier.) Xue Yang attacked his temple. He was blinded and has been wandering. Xiao Xingchen took him to see Baoshan Sanren, a famous cultivator in the mountains. She does not run a sect but will occasionally take on students. Xiao Xingchen was one and so was Wei Wuxian’s mother. Song Lan’s eyes are getting better.

Wei Wuxian tells Jiang Cheng that they’re going to go see Baoshan Sanren, who he knows because of her connection to his mother, and that she’ll restore his golden core. They ask Song Lan to take Jiang Yanli to Koi Tower (Lanling) so the Jin sect can keep her safe. He agrees.

 Ext, a random mountain [Yiling]

Jiang Cheng goes up the mountain blindfolded. Wei Wuxian tells him to say his name is Wei Wuxian and ask Baoshan Sanren to restore his golden core.

Ext, a random town [Yiling]

Look, I’m gonna be honest with y’all. What happened between these two scenes is something that I figured out as it was happening, and I was never aware it was supposed to be a ~big reveal~ later. My wife likewise figured it out and treated it as fact. When it’s revealed later it’s a big deal to Jiang Cheng, but it wasn’t a big deal to us. However I’ve seen some people talking about how they didn’t figure it out until then, so I thought maybe I shouldn’t say what happened. But then I thought, this is just a summary, if you cared about spoilers you wouldn’t be reading this, and it’s much easier to explain what happens going forward if you know.

So, on that note, Wei Wuxian cut out his own golden core and gave it to Jiang Cheng. Or actually Wen Qing did the procedure. So now he has no golden core and can’t cultivate. Which sucks because he immediately gets captured by the Wens. He taunts Wen Chao, who decides not to kill him because he might become an angry ghost. Instead, they throw him into the Burial Mounds.

Ext, The Burial Mounds [Yiling]

A big battle happened here and it’s full of dead bodies and restless spirits. Cultivators have tried over the centuries to clean it up, but nobody who goes in ever comes out. Wei Wuxian lands in the middle of this mess and it sucks.

The creepy sword he’s been carrying in a spirit pouch asks if he wants revenge. Turns out he does. It’s super hot.

Ext, everywhere [everywhere]

Everyone is hella pissed that Lotus Pier was sacked. (I guess it was fine when it was Cloud Recesses for some reason.) The four great sects (or what remains of them) band together to fight Wen Ruohan. We see shots of lots of people looking badass. The mission to overthrow Wen Ruohan is dubbed The Sunshot Campaign.

Ext, the Indoctrination Bureau [Qishan]

It’s been three months. A bunch of nobodies are yukking it up that Wen Chao killed Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji comes out of nowhere and forces them all to kneel. It’s super hot. They admit to him and Jiang Cheng that Wei Wuxian was thrown into the Burial Mounds. Obviously this makes him very unhappy.

But on the plus side, they get their swords back. Yay! The disciple offers Wei Wuxian’s sword to Lan Wangji even though Jiang Cheng, who is Wei Wuxian’s brother and sect leader, is literally standing right there, so clearly everyone knows they’re married.

Ext, the Unclean Realm [Qinghe]

Everyone’s coming to Qinghe to discuss the final campaign. Wen Xu is now dead despite having never made another appearance, killed by Nie Mingjue.

Jiang Cheng reunites with Jiang Yanli, who has been in Lanling this whole time. She didn’t even know Wei Wuxian was missing and she’s pretty upset to hear about it.

They have a battle strategy meeting. Lan Wangji asks if he can go kick some ass in Yiling, and Nie Mingjue tells him and Jiang Cheng to go ahead.

Nie Mingjue asks Jin Zixuan how Meng Yao is doing in Lanling, having assumed (for some reason) (actually the reason is from book canon but didn’t translate to the show very well) that Meng Yao would have gone there. Jin Zixuan tells Nie Mingjue that Meng Yao didn’t go to Lanling, and that even if he did, his father would not have welcomed him. Nie Mingjue appears upset, possibly regretting that he exiled Meng Yao over one measly murder.

Ext, Yiling Supervisory House [Yiling]

Wen Chao and Jiaojiao are having a great time until a mysterious man dressed all in black shows up and uses a mysterious flute to drive everyone there insane and kill most of them. Wen Chao only escapes because Wen Zhuliu rescues him.

The next day, Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng show up, view the carnage, and say ‘well that ain’t good’.

Jiang Cheng finds Wen Qing imprisoned in the basement. She doesn’t know where Wen Ning was taken. She thanks him for the rescue and says they’re even now. He gives her the comb he bought for her back in the first arc. Or actually he just sets it on the table because he’s bad at romance. We don’t see whether or not she takes it.

Int, an inn [Yiling]

Wen Chao is totally nuts and freaking the fuck out. Wen Zhuliu is trying to get him to calm down long enough to treat his injuries, while mentally updating his resume again.

A mysterious man in black shows up with a flute and summons a demon or three.

Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng, who have been tracking Wen Chao, show up in time to hop up to the roof and look through a convenient window to see what’s happening. It’s revealed that the mysterious man in black is *drum roll please* Wei Wuxian! He is super hot.

Wei Wuxian is doing absolutely fine with the murdering but Jiang Cheng jumps in anyway, using the lightning whip to kill Wen Zhuliu, which, props to Jiang Cheng. Wen Chao cowers in a corner.

Jiang Cheng asks Wei Wuxian where the hell he’s been, returns his sword, and hugs him, and your tears are ‘what the hell I thought this was a silly show about sword wizards’. Wei Wuxian has clearly forgotten what hugs are. It’s sad.

Lan Wangji ruins the moment by demanding why Wei Wuxian is using seriously evil magic to kill people. Wei Wuxian says ‘you can’t tell me what to do, mom’, which does not help the situation at all. He and Jiang Cheng murder Wen Chao while Lan Wangji stands outside looking messed up about it.

  Ext, the Unclean Realm [Qinghe]

Wei Wuxian is reunited with Jiang Yanli and shit I’m crying again.

Jiang Yanli’s worried about the evil magic. She talks to Lan Wangji, who tells her that it sure is evil and Wei Wuxian shouldn’t be doing it because it will corrupt his mind and temperament.

Everyone wants to know why Wei Wuxian isn’t carrying his sword. He blows them off. (It’s because he can’t use it, since he’s not a cultivator anymore.)

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian manage to use their words for exactly one (1) scene. Lan Wangji says ‘let me help you’ and Wei Wuxian says ‘okay’ and then promptly spends the next ten episodes not letting Lan Wangji help him.

Int, the Unclean Realm [Qinghe]

There’s another battle strategy meeting. They discuss the fact that they need something that can counter Wen Ruohan’s yin iron. Wei Wuxian says ‘I’m working on it’ and then refuses to give them any details and leaves, which is super rude, my dude.

Lan Xichen is getting information from a mole in Wen Ruohan’s troops. Nie Mingjue asks where it’s coming from and Lan Xichen beats around the bush.

Wei Wuxian wanders off to have a PTSD breakdown.

  Ext, somewhere I don’t remember

Jin Zixuan is a jerk to Jiang Yanli. It’s about soup. It’s as stupid as it sounds. Wei Wuxian loses his temper even though it’s stupid and nearly evil magics Jin Zixuan and a bunch of guys to death. Lan Wangji tells him to chill.

Ext, Nightless City [Qishan]

They’ve fought their way to Nightless City! Now all they have to deal with is that Wen Ruohan has like a zillion zombie puppets. It goes as badly as you would expect.

Int, Nightless City [Qishan]

Somewhere along the way, Nie Mingjue had the brilliant plan to sneak in and assassinate Wen Ruohan during the chaos of the battle, despite the fact that Nie Mingjue is akin to a rhinoceros and does not sneak. He is immediately captured along with a bunch of his guys.

Meng Yao is here! He has big ‘look how much better I’ve been doing after the divorce’ energy. He kills a few of Nie Mingjue’s guys and then taunts him about how much he sucks.

Ext, Nightless City [Qishan]

Despite the fact that it took Wei Wuxian three seconds to summon evil spirits over his sister’s hurt feelings, he stands around for like twenty minutes watching every non-main-character get murdered before he’s like “oh, right, the creepy sword I have was yin iron all along” and he’s made it into an amulet which enhances his power. He seizes control of Wen Ruohan’s zombies and makes them all kill each other. He is super hot.

Wen Ruohan stops murdering Nie Mingjue when he realizes this is happening and goes out to see what’s going on. He and Wei Wuxian, who is still super hot, have a brief exchange before Meng Yao fucking stabs Wen Ruohan in the back like a badass motherfucker.

Wei Wuxian passes out which seems reasonable.

Int, Nightless City [Qishan]

Nie Mingjue is pissed. Lan Xichen quickly explains that Meng Yao is the one who was undercover and was passing information back to him the whole time. Nie Mingjue points out that Meng Yao killed his men. Lan Xichen points out that Meng Yao had to, because he didn’t want to blow his cover. Nie Mingjue begrudgingly accepts this explanation.

Turns out that when Lan Xichen was fleeing the Wen sect burning down Cloud Recesses, he ran into Meng Yao, who headed to Gusu after leaving Qinghe because Wen Chao told them that Wen Xu was going to attack it. Meng Yao saved Lan Xichen’s life, and with this paragraph, a hundred fanfics were born.

  ~end part 3~

#the untamed #liveblog

[shirtlesssammy]

3x04: Sin City

Then:

Dean killed Azazel

Now:

A nun wanders an empty church, replacing hymnals. The priest finds her and offers to walk her to her car. They both find a parishioner in the balcony who gets their attention by announcing that “God’s not with us.” He then shoots himself in the head. Ooof. 

While Dean and Bobby work on the Colt, Sam informs them that he’s found sightings of demonic omens. Bobby stays behind to figure out how the Colt works while Dean and Sam take off for Ohio and the new case.

Interviewing the priest, the brothers learn that things changed in the town about two months prior --the same time they opened the devil’s gate. 

The brothers then head to their motel room, where Dean runs into an old hunter friend, Richie. They banter and then they all talk shop. Whatever’s happening, doesn’t make sense. (Sidenote: Dean’s pumped that the room has Magic Fingers. Yay, bby) Dean asks about anyone in town whose whole personality has changed. Richie answers, “There’s Trotter.” He’ll be at his bar in a couple hours. 

The town is anything but a boarded up factory town. It’s got coeds as far as the eye can see, and Dean’s ready to do some research. Trotter’s Bar is the epicenter of debauchery. They find the priest there. 

Sam wonders what the padre is doing there. He goes where the flock is. 

Dean then gets to flirt mildly with the bartender and fun fact: He likes Hurricanes. I feel like this is one part of Dean’s personality not explored in later seasons. Let the boy drink his fruity drinks, 202K! 

Before anyone can react, a man walks in and shoots another man dead. 

Dean tackles the assailant before he can off himself. Sam throws holy water on him, but he’s not possessed. The man admits that the victim slept with his wife. (Sam sees Dana Scully’s dad from across the bar. Man, things are REALLY WEIRD here.) (Natasha: Nooo he’s the general from Stargate!)

The cops later take the man away and tell Sam and Dean that the paper will be there shortly to take their pictures.

That’s the brothers’ cue to leave. Dean wonders where Richie is before they take off. 

Richie is with the bartender. She’s taken him to her parent’s country estate. It’s secluded and has toys. Just when things are getting interesting for poor Richie, the bartender reveals she’s really a demon, and she knows he’s a hunter. WHERPS. He tries attacking, but she snaps his neck in two seconds flat. Richie!

Later at the bar, Dean forgoes eating his burger to track down the missing Richie. Sam decides to follow Trotter. 

Bobby, meanwhile, is getting the Colt back into fighting shape. Ruby shows up and taunts him to test out the Colt. He does. The aim is true but the bullets aren’t right. She offers to help him with the gun. 

The brothers practice seriously dangerous cell phone usage (Seriously Sammy? You didn’t put it on silent? Seriously Dean? You’re driving while not hands free? UGH.) 

Dean’s back at the bar and a prostitute approaches him for a discounted good time. Dean doesn’t pay. (Or is that Sam? IDK, neither of them have to pay. Have you seen them!?) The bartender is back at work and saw the whole thing. It doesn’t deter her that Dean struck out with a prostitute and they head out for fun times elsewhere. 

Sam watches Dana Scully’s dad leave his office and heads in himself to investigate. Dana Scully’s Dad Trotter appears again and there’s a slight tussle before Sam realizes that he’s also not a demon. Sam awkwardly realizes his mistake and makes his exit. Sweet dumb boy. 

Dean, meanwhile, is heading down the same path as his dead buddy Richie. Dean’s no dummy though and sets up a devil’s trap. He pulls out his Latin book to exorcise her back to Hell. He doesn’t have it memorized yet and she starts up a demon wind machine. He loses the pages AND the basement door caves in. Worst Date Ever.

Later, Dean explores his new prison to the amusement of the demon trapped with him. She mocks him openly for not having an exorcism memorized. 

The demon taunts Dean expertly. Dean Bean’s offended at being labeled the dumb one and I am OFFENDED on his behalf! They wait to see whose rescue is going to arrive first - Dean’s or hers. 

Sam frets at the bar over his missing brother, and bribes the bartender for his whereabouts.

Meanwhile, Dean and the demon’s snarkfest marathon continues. She tells him that she didn’t even have to engage in mystical hijinks to send people in town into an evil tailspin. All she had to do was drop a few suggestions about the profit of vice to Trotter and humans took care of the rest. She describes humans as weak and corrupt. 

For Constantly Weak for Dean Winchester and SYMBOLISM Science:

Sam heads inside her (other) house and finds sulfur. The game is afoot!

Meanwhile, Dean and the demon enjoy a little philosophical exchange. “Do you believe in God, Dean?” she asks him while I chew my own arm off. She sets up the apocalyptic battle from the demon perspective. Humans have wrought carnage on their world, so it’s the demons’ turn to “do it right this time.” 

Sam’s back at the bar again, calling Bobby to report that he can’t find Dean. I guess the game is...not so afoot after all. The bartender offers him booze before downing a shot himself and, frustrated with the townsfolk, Sam zeroes in on the priest who’s still hanging out in the bar. 

Demon Casey tells Dean that she’s faithful to Lucifer, light-bringer and the one who will raise demons up. She’s a believer. Dean oh-so-casually asks what Hell is like and the BRAVADO masking the FEAR! Jensen Ackles, your face hurts me sometimes.

For HURTSSSSS MEEE Science:

She sees right through him. “It’s a pit of despair,” she tells him frankly. “Why do you think we want to come here?”

Sam, meanwhile, is involved in a terribly awkward discussion with the priest at the bar. He’s worried about his brother and thinks he might be…..in trouble. The priest offers to bring Sam to Casey. His eyes turn black as he turns away from Sam. 

The demon and Dean have settled into a friendly heart to heart at this point. She tells him that she actually likes him and thinks he did something good when he sold his soul to save Sam. 

Dean tries to laugh off her real talk. He thinks it’s freeing to be damned - he can live his life any way he wants now. He’s totally not scared at all. Not at all!!!

The demon riding the priest interrogates Sam, asking him about his aspirations for the future. Yeah! Why aren’t ya in college, Sam!

Dean and Demon Casey continue to bond, and the scene takes the tone of a couple kids just chilling in the basement talking about life. Which is...actually sort of accurate. 

Casey tells Dean that Yellow Eyes, a.k.a. Azazel, had a plan to bring the minions of Hell to Earth, but Dean killing him put a significant wrench in those plans. She tells him that Sam was supposed to lead the demon army. Uh. Wherps. Instead of Sam, there’s a power vacuum in Hell. Demons everywhere are fighting for the crown. “For the record,” she tells him, “I was ready to follow Sam.” And damn, if I don’t get the feeling that Dean likes her a little better because of that. 

Sam and his demon priest arrive. Dean issues a warning to Sam, but Sammy doesn’t have to worry because Bobby shows up with the Colt! Bobby hands off the gun to Sam, Ruby smirking in the background. The priest breaks into the basement and smashes through the devil’s trap holding Demon Casey in. They kiss while Dean looks on in surprise.

Surprise, Dean! They’ve been lovers for centuries! Casey begs the demon priest for Dean’s life and it gives just enough delay for Sam to shoot the priest with the Colt. The priest flashes out. Dean tries to stop Sam from killing Demon Casey but Sam shoots. She flashes out as well. Remember, kids, there’s no room for love on Supernatural unless it’s DOOMED LOVE. 

The next morning, Dean tries to figure out what they actually won from this hunt. There are two demons dead and one alive - and very bad - human. “Maybe these people wanna destroy themselves. Maybe it is a losing battle,” Dean opines to Bobby. He notes that Sam’s dispatch of both demons was “cold” and brings up Azazel’s words to him: When Sam came back, he might have come back different. They both agree (halfheartedly) that Sam is doing FINE and is definitely not at all concerning.

Sam and Ruby meet up in a hotel room. Sam’s suffering regrets and calls Ruby a “cold bitch.” She takes issue with this assessment, particularly since she’s saved his life a few times. I mean, knowing about Ruby aside, I fully agree here. Fun fact! The word “bitch” was used four times in this episode! Ruby continues to dangle the hope that she might be able to help save Dean from his deal. Sam levels the Colt at her.

Sam threatens to kill her, but it’s just empty words. Ruby warns him that the fight ahead won’t be easy, but she’ll be there by his side. A little “fallen angel” on his shoulder. (Shakes my head at this goddamn show.)

Where Everybody Knows Your Quotes:

Toys trump oils

A demon with a heart. Wow

You don't get it. All you got to do is nudge humans in the right direction

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #bobby singer #ruby #spn 3x04 #sin city #supernatural season 2

[lakemojave]

Land of Falling Sun 7

The wanderer was not confident that he was alone in the town.

By the time he and chipper and his horrible, ugly steed rode in, the fire at the center of town had mostly faded to embers. The bodies lay in the fire charred, dismembered, and unrecognizable. There were a little over a dozen still intact. The smell was repulsive this close.

By all accounts, looking around the dilapidated, dusty old town, it was clear it had been abandoned recently. It showed signs of degradation that must have taken place while it was still populated, and the amount of tracks leaving the town was minuscule compared to what its population would have been. The fire must have been burning for quite a while, maybe a few days, and whoever left must have added their last few dead to the pile before taking off.

“Plague.” The wanderer scanned the town in grim anticipation. “Taken by plague, no doubt. Only a few survivors. We shouldn’t stay long.”

“Why’s that?” Chipper asked? The wanderer shot them a deadpan gaze that communicated the silliness of the question. “Alright, alright. But I wanna look around. Maybe there’s something here we can use?”

“Maybe. Unlikely, but maybe. If we spend more than a day we should camp back the way we came. Least chance of catching anything.”

The wanderer’s eyes looked to a caving-in building, one of the most derelict of the bunch. He could make out the sheriff’s office sign, dangling from its bolts and a bad gust of wind away from falling to the ground. Maybe there’d be a weapon in there he could properly handle, maybe even some cash--if that was a thing people dealt in out here. Chipper drifted along the main avenue, scanning the town and the horizon. It had basic amenities, or at least the rotting corpse of basic amenities: trading post, inn, saloon, post office, mender’s shop, stable. What it seemed to have in abundance were barracks, mess tents, tool sheds, and what must’ve been a rather large infirmary. A working town of some kind, or possibly a military base.

Chipper flew a few lengths above the roofs as the wanderer peeked inside the sheriff’s office and hitched Dog outside. From this altitude, they could see on the south and north edges of town what must’ve been the work sites.

Scaffolds and rigs, enormous and collapsed and scattered across the site. Cranes and cart tracks left in utter ruin. All surrounding deep and tremendous holes in the ground, boring deep into the earth. Their walls were hewn smooth, cylindrical, and narrow enough for a dozen or so people to comfortably stand in, as though dug by great drills which were not there. Chipper’s thoughts went to mining, but that made no sense. If anyone wanted to mine the plateau for resources of any value, they’d dig from its sides and base. That’s what would’ve made sense. No, they were trying to dig deep into the earth, to descend into something or some place beneath their feet.

Before they could ponder why or what, they heard shouting below.

-----

“You! Inside! Get out here!”

The wanderer reached for a rusty sawed off shotgun and crouched behind a fallen desk. The voice outside was sharp and feminine, with a distinct raspy and venomous timbre that was distinctly nonhuman. It reminded him of Dog.

“Hey! I can hear you in there!”

He had barely made a sound, save for shuffling his feet. He needed to get out safely, and couldn’t risk a fight. He didn’t know where Chipper was, the number of fellas outside, or the weapons to their name. He tucked the shotgun in his pants behind his back, flipped his coat down, and stood up with his hands above his head.

“Relax!” he shouted outside. “I’m coming out! Don’t shoot ok?”

The woman outside paused. “We’ll see.” She spat.

The wanderer stepped outside the dilapidated office to meet five armed, insectoid strangers. Centaurs, naturally. The woman at front stood tall on her scorpion-like lower half, gritting her teeth behind vestigial mandibles. The shade of her hat obscured her second pair of eyes, which were as hollow and unforgiving as her first. She held a repeater trained directly on his chest. Between her companions were two pistols, a shotgun, and a wooden staff.

“You armed?”

He flipped his coat to reveal his knife, sheathed and strapped to his belt.

She pointed at the knife. “Drop that. now.”

“Do I gotta?” His eyes darted around. “You got me beat I think.” They unhitched Dog, who was now a few paces down the street to the left. “I mean--” Through his periphery he saw Chipper circling overhead, barely distinguishable from a desert vulture. “--I guess if it makes you feel better.” He reached for his belt with one hand, his other still up.

Damn, he thought, Kid’s smart.

“Hey. Fox,” the lead woman said to the pistol-armed man behind her, “Pat him down.”

The wanderer sighed. “Look man, that ain’t necessary.”

Fox hissed back: “You started it. This is our spot.”

“If ya wanna be technical I think it’s theirs’.” He gestured towards the bonfire as Fox approached. He had two heads on the wanderer as he skittered closer. Wanderer glanced to Dog, then to Chipper, then back to Fox. Fox reached under the wanderer’s coat, his rough hand approaching the stashed shotgun.

The wanderer whistled.

The gang readied their weapons to shoot. Fox flinched, giving the wanderer a window. He grabbed Fox’s hand, yanked him closer, then flipped off his coat over Fox’s head, blinding him. Fox shot off his revolver, which missed and hit a post behind the wanderer, who pulled out of his coat into his shirt and vest. The gang leader took a hasty, reckless shot at the wanderer, which Fox kindly blocked.

While the shotgun guy and pistol gal were readying their shots, they were quickly taken down by surprise. On command, Dog came charging down the street, leaping to shotgun guy and trampling him quickly. Pistol gal yelped in surprise at Dog, failing to notice Chipper divebombing straight for her throat. They descended on her violently and slashed her throat open in her talons, and Dog took a bite out of shotgun guy’s head.

Fox’s body fell dead to the ground, leaving the wanderer without his meat shield. With the staff man occupied with Dog and Chipper, the wanderer was stuck with the leader. He made a dive to the right, grabbing his knife belt and narrowly avoiding another shot. Now behind cover, he reached for the shotgun and prayed. He leapt up and made a shot.

He was incredibly lucky he shot with his right arm, otherwise the explosion might have permanently maimed him. Instead, the gun’s misfire sent a layer of tar splattering the surrounding area, and launching the wanderer to the wall behind him. The leader missed another shot.

Staff man, who we’ll call magic man instead, quickly drew his hand along the length of his staff. As he did this, the upper half of the staff became bathed in wild, arcing lightning. He held the lightning staff in his hand like an ax, and charged forward to strike Chipper down. As he wound back for a swing, Chipper held their wings back, and their outer feathers came alight. He swung the ax, which would have sent a bolt of lightning up into the air, striking Chipper and killing them instantly. Instead, with a flap of their wings, it launched backwards towards magic man, riding up to his hands and electrocuting him dead on the spot.

The leader was enraged. As she continuously missed her shots she approached the wanderer, who lay on his back on the deck of the sheriff’s office. Panicked and without the shotgun, he drew his knife and crawled backwards. Now the leader stood over him, training her rifle on his forehead. The wanderer futilely held out the knife in self defense. She cocked the rifle, and Chipper and Dog snapped to her and hurried to stop her.

“You...You bastard!” She yelled. “Die! You rotten little--”

She took her shot. The wanderer brought the knife to his defense.

What exactly he planned, or what instinct compelled him to try and block her shot with a very regular knife of all things, was completely beyond him. But he did, and as he snapped the knife to his face--with the edge facing his attacker--he felt something. It was not the sensation of a bullet entering his skull and exiting the back of his brain. No, it was the knife. It was not the feeling of the knife in his hand, not the wood grain against his hands or the weight of the blade. No, he felt through the knife, as though it were an extension of himself. He felt it pulse as though blood ran through it, and he felt it glide through the air just the same as wind passing over his arm. When the bullet passed through the knife, splitting in two pieces and embedding into the deck beneath him, the pain was excruciating. Excruciating, but completely unharmed and alive.

He and the gang leader shared a shocked and confused look, neither able to comprehend what hand just took place. The wanderer lowered the knife. The leader raised her gun again.

The wanderer threw the blade, which embedded itself in her heart. She collapsed on her back.

-----

“Are you...are you ok?”

“I uh,” the wanderer said, sitting up where he had just laid, “I think so...I have no idea.”

“You are unharmed,” said Dog, in the wanderer’s mind. “You are shaken to your core by what you have just experienced, but physically you are well.”

“Thanks bud,” said the wanderer, short of breath and sarcastic. “Can always count on you.” He wiped sweat from his brow. “...Actually, thank you. For the assist. You guys saved my ass.”

“Of course we did! We’re a team!” Chipper was alight with pride and adventurous spirit. Behind the wanderer, they saw the split bullet holes in the deck. On the right was a normal dent in the wood. On the left though, Chipper could not explain. They saw, sprouting from the bullet hole, were tiny weeds, green and fresh and full of life.

“Sir,” Dog said, “I hear someone coming.”

#land of falling sun #my writing