#LISTEN LAST SHOW I CRIED TO WAS A WHISKER AWAY

[mitta-likes-moths]

WELL UH GUESS WHO’S CRYING THEIR HEART TO THE ENDING OF EPISODE TWELVE OF PUELLA MAGI MADOKA MAGICA

#reasmey rambles #NOT ME SOBBING BECAUSE OF A MAGICAL GIRL SERIES #WOW CAN’T WAIT FOR THE REBELLION MOVIES #pmmm #madoka magica #puella magi madoka magica #MY FAMILY HAS TO LISTEN TO ME LAUGH-SOB FOR A GOOD TEN MINUTES AT MOST #*HAD* #LISTEN LAST SHOW I CRIED TO WAS A WHISKER AWAY #AND THAT WAS AN AMAZING MOVIE #WELL TIME TO COPE BY MAKING LITTLE CROSSOVERS WITH CUPHEAD CHARACTERS AND MAYBE AN OC OR TWO #THAT’S RIGHT #I’M GOING TO DESTROY THESE FICTIONAL CHARACTERS PHYSICALLY AND MENTALLY

[shemarmooresfedora]

Fine Furry Friends

Summary: How the Reid family grew by a few paws. (This is a stand-alone one-shot of my completed ‘Rebuilding Family’ series)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: pure fluff, brief mention of pet death (doesn’t actually happen)

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: i imagine season 15 spencer but this is the only gif with him and an animal

Masterlist

Spencer was doing dishes when he heard you pull into the driveway. He looked up to see you rushing so much that you almost hit the trash can with your car.

You practically leapt out of the car, grabbing your purse but managing to spill the contents all over the driveway. After a few futile moments of trying to collect the things, you gave up, running inside with only your phone.

“Spencer!” you yelled.

“In here, love,” he called back, wiping his hands on the dish towel.

He heard the quick clicking of your heels as you sped walk into the kitchen. You were on the verge of tears as you unlocked your phone.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked.

You silently showed him a picture of an old black cat with gray streaks of hair as your lip quivered.

“I know I used to ‘mind-read’ for a living but I’m going to need a little more than this,” Spencer spoke.

“They’re going to kill her, Spence,” you cried.

“Who is her? The cat? And who is they?” Spencer patiently questioned his distraught wife.

“This is the last day to adopt Ms. Whiskers or the shelter is going to put her down,” you wept, “She’s perfectly healthy but no one wants her because she’s old.”

“Y/N, we’ve already got 3 young children, do we really need a cat in the mix?” Spencer sighed.

“Cats practically take care of themselves,” you explained through sobs, “Unless you’re saying you don’t want her too because she’s old. What is wrong with you, Spencer? Are you going to throw me to the curb when I’m old with gray hair too?”

“No, no, how could you even think that, love?” Spencer pulled you in for a hug.

He knew you didn’t really mean that but you were just very worked up about this.

“I just saw it on instagram today and I really don’t want this cat to die,” you sobbed into his chest.

“A cat is dying?” Jo stood in the doorway to the kitchen.

You wiped your eyes, pulling away from Spencer’s chest, “At a shelter, yes,” you decided it was better to just tell her the truth.

“But why?” Jo began to form tears in her eyes as well.

“Sometimes there is no longer room at the shelter for all the animals so they have to let a few of them go,” you knelt down to her level.

“But I don’t want the cat to die,” Jo, not even having seen the picture of the cat yet, was already attached.

“It may be out of our control, sweetheart. I don’t know if it’s possible to-” you tried to console your crying child.

“Nope,” Spencer grabbed his keys, “Everyone load up, we’re going to save a cat.”

Jo wiped her tears away, “Really, Daddy? Do we get to keep them?”

“We can keep them until we find a nice owner, how about that?” Spencer offered.

You and Jo nodded enthusiastically with puffy red eyes.

Despite Spencer’s deal, no posters were ever hung, no texts were ever typed, no social media posts were ever made. As soon as you got home, that cat had already found its owners and it was the Reids.

That’s how you ended up with pet number one who had been renamed to Willow after Jo’s favorite Taylor Swift song.

She was later renamed again to simply “Kitty” because Willow was a bit of a mouthful for the twins.

-

“Spencer…” you wrapped your arms around him as he was folding laundry, “You know how you are just the best husband ever and I love you so much.”

“What did you do?” he chuckled, amused.

“I can’t just remind my husband how much I love him?” you pouted.

“You can and you already do but this,” he motioned to your excessive sappiness, “this is weird.”

“Christmas is coming up and I think I know the perfect gift for the kids,” you grinned.

Spencer leaned back against the washing machine with his arms crossed, “I’m listening.”

“A puppy!” you exclaimed.

Spencer turned back around, “I’m no longer listening.”

“You know how much they adore Kitty and as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t know how many more years that cat has left in her. I think they could benefit from another pet,” you explained.

“Puppies are a load of work, it’s essentially another child. They need to be potty-trained, fed, washed, and exercised. I already have to vacuum all of Kitty’s hair and change her litter box,” Spencer replied.

“I’ll make Jo promise to help out more and give her daily pet chores,” you pulled out an index card, “I did my own research and did you know dogs can lead to a lower level of stress, a better immune system including a decreased risk of developing asthma, AND they’re adorable.”

Spencer sighed, knowing he could never say no to his wife even if he tried, “Where would this so-called puppy even come from?

“The Fitzgerald’s 2 doors down have a pregnant golden retriever who has about a month left in her pregnancy.”

“Fine,” Spencer relented.

You jumped up and down in glee.

“I swear to god though, Y/N,” he warned, “I’m not picking up any pee or poop in the house. That’s somebody else’s job, I’ll leave it there.”

“You won’t,” you promised, “I’ll even let you name the puppy for being such a good sport,” you kissed him.

And that was how Spock, named after one of Spencer’s favorite Star Trek characters, became pet number 2 in the Reid household.

-

It was a few days after Christmas and true to your word, you and Jo had taken complete care of the puppy, cleaning its messes, taking it outside, and feeding it.

Spencer had tended to avoid the puppy just because everyone else was all over him so he didn’t feel obligated to give it more affection. After all, it was really just to make his family happy.

Spencer was the first to wake like usual, it was starting to flurry outside in the wintry air. He made his cup of coffee and perused the bookshelf for a good book to reread. He sank himself down on the couch, patting his lap for Kitty to settle herself in.

After about 20 minutes, Spencer heard whining at the front door. He glanced up from his book to see Spock gazing at the doorknob intently.

You and Jo wouldn’t be up for another half an hour or so but it was time for the twins to wake up.

“One sec, Spock,” Spencer stood from the couch, patting his head as he passed by the door.

Spock dutifully followed him up the stairs on his paws that were too big for his little body, tripping occasionally.

Ophelia and Ollie had just begun to stir in the morning light.

“Good morning, my little love bugs,” Spencer bent down to kiss them both, “We are going to go on a little morning walk with doggy before breakfast.”

“I wuv doggy,” Ophelia cooed.

“I know you do, love bug. Sometimes a little too much, remember what we said about gentle pets,” Spencer reminded her.

“Kitty come too?” Ollie babbled.

“Kitty stays inside all the time. But, Doggy likes to be both inside and outside,” Spencer explained.

He picked Ophelia up and set her down on the floor to slowly make her way downstairs on her own. He lifted Ollie onto his hip because although he could walk, he didn’t love to as much as his sister and Spencer was more than happy to carry one of his little love bugs in his arms forever.

Spencer started to work on getting Ollie all bundled up in his jacket, boots, snow pants, and pom-pom hat before doing the same to Ophelia.

Spencer clipped Spock’s leash to his collar and stepped into the cool air with a toddler on his hip and a puppy and another toddler on his heels.

“I hold,” Ophelia pointed to the leash.

“You can hold too but Daddy is going to keep holding so Doggy doesn’t pull you too hard,” he replied.

Ollie, suddenly feeling left out, squirmed to get down and held on to the leash as well.

One of the older ladies on the street was shoveling her steps as they passed by on the sidewalk.

“Well, isn't this just the cutest little scene for a Sunday morning?” she smiled.

“Good morning, Mrs. Peterson,” Spencer greeted, “Do you need any help shoveling?”

“You’re very kind but no thank you, dear. You’ve already got your hands full. Bill should be up later to help me,” she waved as they continued their walk down to the end of the road.

They stopped at the snow bank where the plow had pushed all the snow, creating a massive pile. The twins frolicked happily, creating little snow sculptures and forts.

Spencer, whose attire was flannel pajama pants, a thick cardigan, and fuzzy moccasins, opted to stay on the sidewalk with Spock where the snow was less abundant.

Spock brushed up against his pant leg.

“Your paws getting cold, buddy?” Spencer asked, scooping him up into his arms for the first time.

Spock curled up into his arms just like the twins did when they were newborns. Spencer loved it, just the feeling of someone or something depending on him for affection. Maybe he could get used to this whole dog dad thing.

Eventually, the twins got hungry so they headed back towards the house. Spencer could smell the baking muffins as soon as he opened the front door.

“Blueberry?” he asked hopefully, setting down Spock and unclipping him from the leash.

“Yes, sorry you had to take Spock out this morning. I can set an alarm to take him next time,” you spoke.

“It’s okay, I actually didn’t mind,” Spencer smiled softly.

“Daddy, can you start a fire please?” Jo asked from where she was sitting at the kitchen counter.

“Of course, Princess. Do you want to help?”

Jo nodded, hopping off the stool and starting to stack logs in the fire. Spencer crumpled up some old newspaper into balls, tossing them into the fire as well before striking a match and lighting it.

The oven timer went off for the muffins just in time and you plated them. Everyone took a seat on the couch to enjoy their delicious breakfast in front of the cozy fire.

Spock wandered over, hopping into Spencer’s lap next to Ollie. Next thing you know, Ophelia was throwing a fit because there was no room for her. Kitty looked confused as to why her normal spot was filled.

“We've been taking care of Spock this whole time and you take him on one walk and suddenly he clings to you. Unbelievable,” you smiled

“It’s called the ‘Reid Effect’,” Spencer stated with a grin, “Animals and children love me.”

main taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @ssacalumsg0lden @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly @spencerreid-187 @babymetaldoll @fics4arainyday @ssavanessa22 @all-tings-diego @idonotexiste @beepbooptoop @tvandfanfic @mggsprettygirl @big-galaxy-chaos @navs-bhat @spencerreidsmommy @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @mggs-sidehoe @rexit-mo @hufflepuffhaze @thisismynerdyself @xoxospencerreid @wifeyprentiss @reidsbookclub @spencersrose @pinkdiamond1016 @muffin-cup

one-shot only taglist: @strawberryspence @fbivestreid

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #cm fic #cm fanfic #criminal minds

[viking-raider]

Quarantine: Ink

Summary: Henry wakes up with some ink that you put on him.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 1,737

Warning: M - Language, Fluff, Prank, Smut - Mention of Cock-warming, intercourse, cream-pie, simulation

Inspiration: There’s a company called Ink Box I’ve always wanted to try and I thought it be funny to prank someone with it, and thought I’d write a prank fic with Hen about it.

Author’s Note: This story is for and dedicated to @littlefreya​! You have my deepest love and support, lady.

You ripped open the brown packaging and smiled at the two pieces of film inside. You had ordered them two weeks prior and received them the day before, and had intended on waiting on the best moment to reveal them to Henry, to convince him to use them with you.

But, one thing had led to another and you and Henry had ended up ripping each other's clothing off and making love in the living room, before ordering take away and having a sweet night in together.

Speaking of your beloved boyfriend, he was still upstairs in bed, sprawled out on his stomach and snoring softly. With quarantine in place, Henry got to sleep in most mornings, which was nice, he worked so hard, between his work outs and his filming projects, getting up at four-thirty in the morning, he deserves to sleep in til ten or eleven.

That's when the idea hit you, with a giggle.

Taking the items upstairs to the master bedroom with you, you smiled at your peaceful and oblivious Puppy, still on his stomach, arms folded underneath his pillow and his head resting on top of them. Biting your lip, you carefully pulled down the blankets still covering his stark body, your fingers, light as feathers, touched the base of his neck and traced down the slope of his broad back, lingering in the hollow of his spine, before cupping one of the cheeks of his plentiful tush in your palm; chuckling softly.

“You are beautiful.” You cooed at his sleeping form, a bubble of loving pride in your chest, before you carefully got into bed and straddled his hips, making Henry moan and grunt, shifting and his face pinching as you disturbed him. “Ssshh.” You purred, leaning down, and kissing the space between his wide shoulders.

“Sleep, Puppy. Sleep.” You mumbled, nuzzling his shoulder blade and rubbing the back of his head, until he moaned again, relaxing and dropping back off to sleep.

Henry settled, you relaxed and sat back, sitting on his thighs, and stared at him for a long moment, before nodding to yourself and picking up a single use, primer wipe packet that came with the two items you ordered, and ripping it open. You gently rubbed the wipe in circles on the back of Henry's right shoulder, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you did, waiting and expecting him to wake up and catch you at any moment. But, he only made a couple of noises and shifted a few times, otherwise he was blissfully unaware and out cold.

Rubbing Henry's shoulder with the wipe for thirty seconds, you tossed it on the nightstand and let the spot dry, while you picked out which of the two items you wanted to apply to the spot, before finally settling. Gently peeling off the protective film from the back, you carefully pressed the sticky side down to the clean, dry and exfoliated section of Henry's shoulder, smoothing it out, so there were no wrinkles or creases, hoping Henry didn't move too much while it was there, for the next hour. With that one down, you moved on, starting to giggle again, but slapped a hand over your mouth, so you didn't wake Henry up with it. You opened the second primer wipe and used it on the exposed side of Henry's neck, being even gentler and careful, knowing just how sensitive the skin here was; but you couldn't resist putting this one here on his neck, where he would almost always see it and likely couldn't cover it up.

With both applied to his skin, you slipped off of him, laying down beside him, arm slung over the small his back and cheek pressed to his clear shoulder blade, listening to the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, drifting in and out of sleep yourself, until you heard Henry's alarm go off.

“Wait, wait, wait!” You protested, jumping up out of bed, pressing your hands down on his back. “Don't move yet.”

“Why?” Henry frowned at you, feeling the filmy patch on his neck and tried to reach out and touch it.

“You still have ten minutes.” You told him, catching his arm.

“What have you been doing, Nugget?” Henry sighed, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he laid back down and relaxed.

“You'll see in ten minutes.” You chuckled, peeking to making sure none of his moving wrinkled the film stuck to his skin, and was relieved when they weren't. “Did you sleep well?”

“You know, I always sleep well, when I'm buried cock deep in you.” He chuckled coyly, smirking, and his sleepy blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

You grinned, uncontrollably, and looked away from him, almost shy. “I do know that.” You chuckled back, licking your lips and clearing your throat. “But, you know what I mean, silly bear.”

“I did.” Henry sighed softly, reaching out to gently trace your side with the back of his fingers. “Did you?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded, gently touching his neck. “Okay.” You smiled, gently peeling the applicator film off his neck and shoulder. “All right, you can look now.” You giggled, grinning, impishly at him.

Henry pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes at you, skeptical, but got out of bed and walked into the bathroom, seeing what was on his neck first. “You did not!” He barked, coming back into the bedroom, his eyes huge and mouth hanging open.

“How could you!?” He demanded, but the betrayed amusement was very clear in his voice.

“And it'll only get darker over the next two days.” You grinned, stepping up to him, to touch the faint, blue-ish, World of Warcraft, Horde symbol on the side of his neck, just below his left ear. “You're a traitor to your precious Alliance now, my precious Paladin.” You teased him, tickled with delight.

“Did you see the one on your shoulder?” You asked, lifting a brow at him, more than sure he had not.

“What?” Henry snapped, his voice breaking a teeny bit, and turned to go back into the bathroom.

You followed him into the bathroom, watching him turn his back to the full length mirror and crane his head over his shoulder, struggling to see his back to spot the other temporary tattoo on his shoulder that you had put on him, then looked back at you, shoulders dropping and eyes even wider at the Cat nose and whiskers.

“Seriously?” He huffed at you, shaking his head.

“I was originally going to put that one on the inside of my wrist.” You explained, trying to hold back a burst of laughter. “But, I got carried away.” You told him, finally losing control and busting out into a hoot of laughter, doubling over.

“How long do these last?”

“It'll fade in three weeks, promise.” You told him, wiping away tears, seeing the panicked worry in his face.

“I am so fucked, if I have to do any interviews or PR stuff.” Henry laughed, looking at the Horde logo on his neck; tracing it with his finger. “Why the Horde crest?”

“They didn't have the Alliance Lion.” You replied, hopping up to sit on the counter. “Plus, I thought it would be funny, since I know you're such a die hard Alliance player.” You chuckled, leaning in to kiss the crest, hands resting on Henry's bare sides.

“What sense of humour you have, my love.” Henry cooed, turning his head to capture your lips in his own and stepped between your legs. “You do know, I will get you back for this.” He whispered against your lips, kissing you deeper, his hands grabbing the back of your knees and yanked you closer to him.

“I expect nothing less.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist.

A hum rumbling in his chest, Henry grabbed the back of your head and deepened the kiss, tongue swiping by your lips to flick across your tongue, making both of you moan at the same time. You rocked your hips against his, feeling his cock awaken against your thighs and folds. Henry's teeth pulled at your bottom lip as he pulled his body away from yours enough for you to slip your hand between your humming bodies to grab his hard length, stroking the throbbing organ, your thumb caressing the weeping, uncut head, before guiding it to your entrance.

“Christ, you feel so fucking good.” You moaned into his neck, hugging your legs tighter around his hips as he pushed inside of you.

“You too, baby.” Henry groaned, placing open mouthed kisses on your neck and shoulder, while thrusting into you. “You're so snug around me.” He panted into your ear, planting his hands on the counter, on either side of you, and used the leverage to increase the strength of his thrusts, making the items on the counter rattle and a couple knock over

“Uh, Henry!” You cried out, one hand grasping the top of his shoulder, as you leaned back on your other one. ”God, fuck!” You let go of his shoulder and started rubbing your clit.

Both your and Henry's breathing was as erratic as your movements, lost in the moment of heated passion and pleasure. Henry grabbed you by the waist, slapping your and his hips together as his thrusts became wild and involuntary, starting to reach his plateau. You could feel the increased throb of his cock inside of you, the hot swelling against your walls as his balls tightened with his building orgasm. Henry snapped his hips into you one more time before throwing his head back and going completely rigid, his stiff cock pumping ribbon after ribbon of hot cum into your core, helping you tip over into your own plateau, your hand falling away from your clit.

Henry sluggishly wrapped his arms around your torso and hugged you against him, kissing your lips and temple, before breathily whispering into your hair. “I'm picking out yours.”

You chuckled, pressing your cheek to his chest, feeling his pounding heart slowing down. “I'll show you the website during breakfast.” You promised, turning your head to press a chaste kiss to the Horde logo on his neck.

#Henry Cavill #HenryCavill #viking-raider fics #Quarantine: Ink #Quarantine: Ink *fic* #Quarantine Series #Ink #Ink Box #Henry Cavill/You #Henry Cavill x You #Henry Cavill/Reader #Henry Cavill x Reader #tattoos #littlefreya #smut #fluff #language

[asmo-ds]

May I request Satan reunites MC with their cat who passed away before the exchange programme? (I have a HC that Satan’s domain in hell is the cat heaven)

Forever My Kitty

Satan x gn!mc fluff

Summary: While mourning the loss of their dearest feline friend, MC is summoned to the Devildom, where she meets a fellow cat lover who end up aiding her in the best way possible

A/N: I love this prompt I need my soft angy man and YES HIS DOMAIN IS CAT HEAVEN, also naming the cat whiskers because its the most simple generic cat name I can think of

Mourning the loss of your pet is not the ideal time to be summoned to Hell. Unfortunately, that is exactly what happened to MC, they showed up to the Devildom with tears running down their face, nose red and runny, and glossy, puffy eyes to top it all off. Just minutes before they’d been summoned they’d discovered the frail lifeless body of their beloved feline, Whiskers.

“Seems like bad timing, I’ll try making this quick so you can get to your new home faster,” a man with tanned skin, golden eyes, and blood-red hair spoke, coming closer with a handkerchief, and wiping the salty tears from their cheeks and giving a soft smile.

After Diavolo’s explanation of why MC was in the Devildom and who the hot demon men they’d be staying with were, MC was quick to crawl into their new bed and continue their sobbing session from earlier that day. 

----

After a couple of weeks, MC had grown closer with the Demon Brothers. They eventually began to smile and laugh more, allowing the deceased pet to leave their mind for only moments at a time.

MC loved Satan, they thought he was the kindest and most patient out of all the brothers. They understood how much he loved cats, but every time cats were mentioned they couldn’t help the painful stinging in their chest. 

Whiskers had been their pet since they were ten years old, losing them after all that time should have been easy, so why wasn’t it?

“MC,” Satan said waving his hand in front of their face, bringing them out of their own head and back into Satan’s room where they sat, studying together, “we’re going to fail the Human Culture exam if you don’t pay attention. When did you tune out? We can start from there,” he said softly, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with MC’s attention span.

“Sorry. The last thing I heard was when we were discussing human world pets,” MC sighed, guilty for causing such trouble for the Avatar of Wrath.

“Are you allergic to cats?” Satan suddenly asked.

“Huh? No?” MC answered, confused about his question, suddenly growing a bit sad thinking about Whiskers once more.

“Cats make you sad, do you not like them?”

MC was a bit taken back. They had been so sure it wasn’t obvious. If I tell him and then he tells his brothers, then they will all call me silly for being so sad about the death of an animal, they wouldn’t understand, MC thought.

They snapped out of it when they felt a hand land on their cheek with a soft and careful touch. Satan had reached over to wipe tears off their cheek. They hadn’t even realized they’d began crying, but now that they were aware they’d already started, their walls broke down and they sobbed loudly. 

A panicking Satan pulled them into his chest, letting them cry as he rocked them softly and whispered softly, “I apologize if you don’t like cats I won’t discuss them in your presence anymore-”

“No no no!” MC sat up quickly, worried that Satan was putting too much blame on himself. “If I tell you this... do you mind keeping it quiet and not telling the others? I think they’d find it silly...” MC looked up at him, teary-eyed and hiccupping.

Satan made a motion as if zipping his lips and throwing away the key, making MC smile a bit. 

MC explained everything. “The day I was summoned to the Devildom, I showed up crying- you were there, right?” Satan nodded, "Just minutes before I was brought here, I went downstairs for breakfast. When I got to the bottom of the stairs I realized my cat, Whiskers, had not come to see me yet, which was odd as she showed up almost every morning to trip me. I brushed it off as her being old and tired as I saw her resting on the couch. After grabbing some breakfast I sat next to her and pet her. When I noticed how cold she was I tried not to believe that she'd passed away. I cried for a few minutes, preparing to say my final goodbyes and give her a proper burial," MC took a shaky breath and attempted to stop crying, "But just as I opened my mouth to say some final words to her, Diavolo was in front of me and I was no longer in my world."

Satan held MC tighter, "I am so sorry for your loss, MC," He whispered in their ear, "you can cry now. I'm here for you I promise, I won't let anything make you cry like this ever again, I swear on my life."

Satan picked up MC, bringing them over to his bed and laying down with them. When their breathing slowed down and it was obvious they'd fell asleep, he placed a chaste kiss on their forehead, before tucking them under his covers and heading to the library to find a book he knew would be able to help him make MC happy.

---

MC stirred, slowly peeling open their eyes and reaching their hand up to wipe the crust that'd formed on their waterline. When they tried lifting their hand though, they found a larger one intertwined with their own. They blushed and suddenly took notice of the larger body spooning them from behind, limbs tangled with theirs and warmth radiating onto their skin. They turned slightly, smiling towards the sleeping blond demon with red cheeks. Hesitantly, they removed their hand from his in order to wipe their eyes and see better.

As MC moved to lay back in their previous position and wait for Satan to wake up, they heard a purring sound from the lounge chair that sat a few feet from the bed, causing them to look up and gasp at the sight before them.

"Whiskers?!" MC shot up, accidentally kicking Satan in their struggle to untangle from the blankets. They fell off the bed, onto the book covered floor still tangled up in a sheet as they quickly crawled to the feline in front of them that had by now woken up and was also making their way to meet MC in the middle. 

When MC's hand made contact with the familiar fur and the cat headbutted them with love, they began to cry. This wasn't a dream, Whiskers was here.

"I know the place where cats generally go when they die," a groggy voice came from behind the human. They turned and saw Satan laying on his side, softly smiling at them. "I pulled a few strings to find Whiskers and I brought her here. She's not a normal cat anymore though, she is stronger and has instincts to protect you."

"How so?" Satan reached over, pinching MC's cheeks harshly, to which the feline responded with a hiss and Satan just barely missed its claws. "Whiskers! Be nice to him," MC commanded. Whiskers looked at Satan with disgust, to which he laughed. 

"Rescuing her came with a price though..." Satan said, MC tilting their head in response.

Satan pulled off his shirt, causing the human to turn red and look away out of respect for his privacy, no matter how badly they wanted to see him.

"Whiskers didn't seem to like me very much at first, but I think that we'll manage to get along for your sake," the blond said, walking over to MC. MC looked at him and gasped as they saw his abdomen had been scratched up, presumably by Whiskers. "She ruined one of my shirts AND I'm gonna have to listen to Asmo rant about my skin being ruined until further notice, therefore you owe me."

"Anything! I'll do anything to repay you, Satan!" MC smiled innocently, making Satan chuckle as he gripped their jaw softly with one of his hands, turning their face to him. They blushed as he put a hand on their nape.

"I want you to repay me, by allowing me to call you mine," Satan smirks, slightly blushing. 

"Sounds like you're just doing ME another favor," MC smiled, tilting their head, brushing their lips against Satan’s softly. The man was about to fully kiss MC when suddenly there was a furry head, pushing them away from each other and begging MC for attention. 

"Whiskers! Don't cockblock me!" MC scolded before giggling and wrapping the cat in their arms and crawling over to Satan to hold him as well. They felt complete for the first time in a long time. 

#obey me satan #satan om #om! satan #om! satan fluff #obey me fanfic #obey me fluff #obey me fluff hc #obey me x reader fluff #satan obey me fluff #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me #obey me shall we date

[stevie-wicks]

red, black and blue

She’d taken the photo in some empty parking lot in downtown LA, sunlight two years younger glinting off the hood of the Camaro. Billy’s moustache was still a couple of stray gold whiskers on his upper lip; his hair just past the tips of his unpierced ears. A different Billy to the one Hawkins had seen, but post-California Billy hadn’t had much time for Max’s amateur attempts at photography. Or for Max, in general.

“It’s a good photo.”

Jonathan Byers was not a formal wear kind of guy. He looked stiff and uncomfortable in his ugly suit- or maybe that was just an extension of how he was feeling. How they all were.

Max wrapped her hands around her elbows, suddenly regretting resisting her mother’s attempts to usher her into a jacket. “Thanks. I know he looks- different.”

Jonathan looked for a moment like he might offer her his ugly coat; then he probably remembered the uglier shirt he wore underneath. “He looks happier.”

“He was.” Max dug her nails into her skin. “He hated it here.”

Jonathan shoved his hands into his pockets. “Listen, Max; I know it’s not- it’s not really the same, but when I- when I thought Will was gone, I-” He swallowed. “Will is my best friend. I know that sounds really lame, but I just thought that. Maybe you’d feel better, or, I dunno. I know what it’s like.”

He was trying so hard. Max almost felt bad for him. “I don’t think you do.”

She’d wanted to sit next to Lucas, but her mom hadn’t. Some murmured nonsense about Neil not liking it; some louder nonsense about how they were a family and that now, more than ever, they had to stay together.

El became the compromise.

Not that Neil was gung-ho about El, either; not with the oversized flannel and suspenders she’d refused to change out of. Light blue eyes bore a hole into the side of Max’s head as she shuffled into the pew next to El. They weren’t the same shade of blue as Billy’s; he’d had more green to his, more like Max’s own. Neil’s were like ice chips.

A bony hand reached over, and Max looked up at Joyce Byers’s warm brown instead. “I’m sorry, sweetie,” she whispered.

Stupidly, Max said, “He owed you a plate.”

El stirred. “I owe him my life,” she said quietly.

The last funeral Max had been to had been for some distant Mayfield relative. She’d been six and she’d cried all the way to Glendale because she was missing Jabberjaw. Then Dad bought her an ice cream and she’d forgotten all about Jabberjaw. She fell asleep halfway through the service, and they got home in time for Speed Buggy.

Billy’s service took half as long and felt an eternity longer.

Mom had offered to do a eulogy. She’d brought it up over breakfast, nervous eyes darting between Max and Neil, as if either of them would put up a fight. She tottered to her feet now, shuffling awkwardly to the front, in a dress a few laundry cycles short of being grey. For a fleeting moment, Max wished she had put up a fight. Billy would’ve died-

Max bit her cheek hard enough to taste copper.

Mom cleared her throat. “Billy and I didn’t know each other for very long, but I wish we had. He was a wonderful young man.” She dabbed at her eyes with a ratty handkerchief.

Max sank back into her seat. Maybe it was for the best; she could never lie about Billy the way her mom did. Not when all she could think of was the blood- God, so much blood, his blood- his last scream torn out of his chest by misshapen claws- apologies on a dying breath-

She stood up. Mom paused midway between some crap about Billy’s ‘respect and responsibility’.

“Maxine,” Mom said, mortified.

“I have to go.” She tore outside, knuckling her burning eyes.

The breeze nipped at her skin. She leaned against the wall, rubbing her hands up her arms. It was mid-July, for Pete’s sake.

She should’ve worn the stupid jacket.

She wiped at her face roughly. When her vision cleared, Lucas stood in front of her.

“Your mom’s done talking, if you wanna head back inside.” He kicked at a pebble.

Max kicked it back. It skittered away, just out of Lucas’s reach. “Not really.”

He squared his shoulders. “Mind if I join you, then?”

She shrugged. He hesitated for a moment before sidling up next to her, arms barely brushing.

“Steve’s giving his speech now.”

Max’s eyebrows reached her scalp.

“For the basketball team,” Lucas clarified, then added, a little awkwardly, “None of the other guys showed up.”

It shouldn’t hurt, but. “Yeah, well. Didn’t think Steve would, either. He hated Billy’s guts.” She dug her heels into the gravel. “You all did.”

Lucas fell quiet. “I didn’t hate him.”

Max snorted. “’Cause you’re not supposed to hold grudges over people who are-” She blinked back a fresh wave of tears. God, Maxine; you’re such a goddamn girl, Billy would’ve said. “You should. He was awful to you.”

“I didn’t hate him,” he repeated. “I mean, he scared the shit out of me, sure. But still. He was your brother.”

“That’s not an excuse. And he was my step-”

“He was your brother.” Lucas had turned on his side, fully facing her now. “And I know you lo- cared about him. And I’m trying to tell you that it’s okay to cry.”

Her eyes welled with tears. She hadn’t allowed herself to; not since Starcourt, not since she’d read the twenty-eight other names in the paper, not since she’d come home in an ambulance and her brother in a casket and Neil locked up Billy’s room and tore down everything else that had belonged to his son and threw it all in the trash like he’d been waiting to get rid of it-

Lucas held out an arm. Max buried her face in his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt and turning it translucent with her tears.

She cried long enough for her tear ducts to run dry, and then stood sniffling into the wet shirt. She was probably making it all gross with her snot, but she didn’t let herself get too torn up about it. The Sinclairs could afford a washing machine.

“Maxine.”

Max went rigid. Lucas, unbothered and oblivious, kept his arms around her. “Hey, Mr. Hargrove.”

She turned around slowly, just in time to catch the flicker of revulsion that passed over Neil’s face. “And who are you, boy?”

There was a painful pause. Max’s nails carved crescents into her palms.

“Lucas Sinclair, sir,” Lucas said at last.

Neil’s eyes were glacial. Max barely suppressed a shiver when they trained on her. “Maxine; something you learn when you grow older that there are a certain type of people in this world that you stay away from. And this boy?” Neil cut his gaze to Lucas. “This boy is one of them.”

Max reeled back. “I-”

“You stay away from my daughter, Sinclair; do you hear me?” Neil hadn’t raised his voice once since he’d started speaking. To any passers-by, this would look like a normal conversation. “Stay away.”

He didn’t wait for Lucas to respond, tugging Max away with a harsh grip on her wrist. She didn’t dare to turn around.

“I don’t want you anywhere near that boy, Maxine.” His hold loosened the closer they got to the car- Neil’s car, a respectable Ford sedan. She didn’t dare tug her hand free, either. “I hope you learn your lesson with this. Billy didn’t; not at first. I’m afraid I had to use more- forceful- methods with him. I trust I won’t have to do the same with you.”

Max turned to Neil despite herself. It was the first time he’d said Billy’s name since the Fourth of July.

His eyes gave nothing away. “Do I make myself clear?” His fingers tightened again.

“Yes, Papa.”

“Good.” Neil’s smile was a mirror of Billy’s; shark-like and vicious, moments away from tearing into your throat. “It’s about time you got some new friends, too. Girls your age shouldn’t be hanging around with boys too much.”

“El’s a girl,” Max told her shoes.

Neil scoffed. “Really? Did she show you proof?”

What happened to you, Mad Max? Billy would’ve asked. You’re not going to stand up for your little hick friends?

Or maybe-

I had to use more forceful methods with him - the bruises she’d see on Billy while his own knuckles remained unscathed- Mom whisking her away on impromptu shopping trips whenever Neil and Billy raised their voices- forceful methods -

- maybe he would understand.

★

Billy’s life couldn’t have fit into a garbage bag.

Max hadn’t gone into his room since she’d gone with El, but he had to have more than what Neil had thrown out onto the sidewalk. Outside the four walls of his room, it was like Billy hadn’t even existed.

She slipped out of bed in the quiet.

Billy had taught her how to pick a lock, back in California. “Use a hairpin, or somethin’- you got one of those?”

She unfurled her fingers. The hairpin was damp with sweat. She wiped it on her t-shirt, and slid it into the keyhole.

“Keep your big ears close to the door; you won’t hear squat that far away.”

She held her breath, pressing her ear to the cool wood.

“Wait for the sound- there, you hear that? That’s how you know the tumblers are in place.”

The door swung open with a soft click.

Max half expected to be assaulted by cigarette smoke and hair metal. But it had been almost a week, and all that Billy had left behind were stale air and silence.

She flicked on the flashlight. The blinds were drawn, the bed unmade, half his closet on the floor. Air the room out, and you could pretend he’d walk right in.

His schoolbooks balanced an ashtray; the desk was not for studying. Instead, he’d cluttered it with beer cans and tapes and a tree’s worth of loose-leaf.

She padded over and sat down in his chair, trying to imagine him hunched over the desk, scribbling on page after page in messy letters. Billy’s handwriting was just as angry as he was.

Her eyes flickered over song lyrics- snippets from the racket she’d been forced to sit through every weekday morning and afternoon. Somehow, silent car rides had lost their appeal.

Strange little doodles decorated the margins- band logos and cars and anatomically inaccurate depictions of women. “Gross,” Max said aloud, pushing the papers away with a theatric shudder.

The tabletop had not been exempted from Billy’s artistry; Max shone the flashlight on more band logos and cuss words and names engraved into the wood. Here there was a crude AC/DC logo, the lightning slash extending down to form the ‘t’ in ‘TWAT’. There was a ‘María’ right next to that, the accent mark angled in the wrong direction. Max remembered her; she’d gone out with Billy for all of sophomore year- the longest Max had ever seen him go out with one girl. She’d taught Max how to do makeup.

A few paces away was Tina- the prettiest girl in Hawkins High, everyone agreed- Laurie was a slut, but she’d complimented Max on her hair- and then Karen. Max traced the ‘K’; she didn’t know any Karens who went to Hawkins High- but then again, she barely knew all the kids in the middle school. There could be a pretty blonde cheerleader somewhere, talking to her friends over the phone. “Yeah, I went out with him a couple of times,” Max imagined her saying. She’d twirl a strand of hair around her finger, lips pulled down in a pout. “And now he’s dead. Spooky.”

She knuckled her eyes. The beam of the flashlight caught on the letter S.

She held the flashlight up, frowning at the name that made itself obvious. Stevie- except the ‘i’ was jammed haphazardly between the ‘v’ and the ‘e’, like it had been an afterthought.

She stared at it until the light flickered overhead.

“Shit!”

Max dropped the flashlight, head snapping back to the door. It hung ajar, just as she’d left it. Heart in her throat, she inched towards the doorway.

The hallway light flicked on.

Max held the flashlight close to her chest, knuckles bone-white and stark. She stepped outside, and the light turned on in the living room.

When she stood in the doorway, staring out at the lifeless room, the telephone started to ring.

Her feet felt heavy as cinderblocks. She plucked the receiver from its cradle, bringing it to her ear with shaking hands.

From the other side, someone breathed heavily.

Max pressed the phone closer, hard enough to hurt. “Billy?”

A crackle of static. Some peculiar noise.

Apologies on a dying breath.

Then, “Max.”

ao3

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #tw: death #tw: mentions of child abuse #tw: racism #max mayfield #billy hargrove #steve harrington #lucas sinclair #harringrove #lumax #el hopper #joyce byers #post season 3 #stranger things 4

[jaskierswolf]

The Shape of Love Pt.6/6

Previous

Kaer Morhen was brilliant. The old keep was somehow caught in time itself, both ancient and yet so very present as it loomed in its corner of the mountains. Jaskier could only imagine what it must have looked like in its prime. Even with crumbling walls and barely functioning rooms, the keep was impressive. Vesemir, Geralt’s sort of father figure, greeted them as they reached the great doors of the keep.

Jaskier had travelled up the mountain as a thick furred tiger, one specially suited to cold weather. He’d read about the animal in a book at Oxenfurt and decided it would be his best bet for travelling through the harsh conditions and bitter cold up to Geralt’s home. Before they’d reached the keep he’d shifted back and gotten dressed so he could meet the other witchers as a human. Having been attacked by Lambert when he’d been a wolf he didn’t want to risk any more miscommunications.

“So, Wolf,” Vesemir grunted, and Jaskier was beginning to realise where Geralt had inherited his social skills from. “A human bard.”

Geralt hummed back.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and patted Geralt’s arm. It seemed as if it were down to him to explain their situation. “You have questions?” Jaskier asked with a tilt of his head.

“Geralt’s never brought a friend back before.” Vesemir huffed.

“Well then, I am honoured to be the first” Jaskier smiled brightly. “but I supposed you’re wondering why?”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier glanced at Geralt, his witcher gave a small nod so Jaskier shifted. He always shifted into a smaller animal first if he hadn’t changed first. After tearing through too many clothes as a child he’d learnt that it was easier to crawl out of his clothes than to keep replacing them. He shifted into mouse and squeaked as he was suddenly engulfed by his silvery blue doublet. The pile fell to the ground with a soft thud and he braced inside the fabric as he landed. He heard Geralt’s soft chuckle and the ground vibrated as the witcher stepped closer to his clothes pile.

“He can portal?” Vesemir guessed. “But only without clothes. How strange.”

Geralt hummed and Jaskier felt a hand digging through his clothing, the movement tickled his whiskers. He bit Geralt gently on his finger and crawled onto his palm. His nose twitched as Geralt pulled him out the clothes. He squeaked as his eyesight adjusted to the outside world. He could barely see but he flicked his whiskers and managed to orientate himself on Geralt’s palm. He sniffed and scurried up Geralt’s arm, perching on his shoulder.

“He’s a mouse?” Vesemir’s voice rumbled in the air.

Jaskier squeaked and leapt at the older witcher. As he leapt he shifted into a falcon. He swooped and circled around Vesemir’s head, delighting in the return of his vision. It was sharp and he knew that in this form the woods surrounding Kaer Morhen would be a playground. He flew high into the sky with a loud cry and then bombed back down towards the ground, landing on Vesemir’s outstretched arm.

The older witcher stroked his feathers with a finger and he preened under the affection. “How remarkable. Are there any limits?”

Geralt hummed. “He only has one form per species. He wouldn’t be able to change into me, he’s not a doppler, but as far as I’m aware the only limit is his imagination.”

Jaskier launched into the air and shifted again, landing as a jaguar. He yowled at Geralt and nudged his leg. Geralt scratched between his ears and he shifted into a cheetah so he could purr as he rubbed up against Geralt’s leg, not so subtly marking the witcher with his scent.

“His eyes.” Vesemir breathed and reached out a hand. Jaskier head butted Geralt one last time before prowling over to the older witcher.

Vesemir held Jaskier’s face gently in his hands. “Absolutely remarkable.”

Jaskier let the older witcher study him for a few moments, until he started to feel like he was back in Lettenhove castle being treated like some kind of freak show in a circus. He yowled suddenly and jumped back to circle behind Geralt. He shifted back into a mouse and scurried up Geralt’s leg and found a nice warm crevice in his armour.

“Jask?” Geralt sounded concerned but Jaskier was caught up in the sudden wave on anxiety. He wanted to trust Geralt’s family. That was why he’d displayed his abilities but the way Vesemir had looked at him was so like the healers from his past.

“I’ve upset him.” Vesemir noted cooly. “When he changes back ask him why.”

“I will.” Geralt hummed and Jaskier felt the rumble in the witcher’s chest mixed with the steady vibrations of the medallion.

“Go. I’ll handle Roach. Your room is set up but I wasn’t expecting a guest. He could stay in Eskel or Lambert’s room until they arrive.” Vesemir said and Jaskier felt a shift in the air nearby, Roach snorted and stomped her foot.

“It’s fine. He can stay with me.”

Jaskier squeaked. Of course he would stay with Geralt. They always shared a room. At first it had been because Jaskier had stayed in animal form and couldn’t get a room on his own without shifting to human, after that it had just been habit.

Neither witcher nor bard questioned it.

Jaskier didn’t shift back for almost a week. The anxiety was easier to handle in animal form. He settled as a wolf and Geralt was almost always petting him whenever he wasn’t busy with chores or training. Jaskier helped out by going out to hunt. He managed to take down a small buck and pulled the carcass back through the forest to the keep. Geralt had far too much fun dumping a bucket of water over his head to wash the blood out of his fur. He snarled at the witcher but allowed him to brush the gore from his fur.

Lambert was the next witcher to arrive.

The redhead took one look at the russet wolf curled up by the fire and threw himself across the room.

“Jaskier! You bastard. How’s the head?” Lambert grinned and buried his face in Jaskier’s fur.

Jaskier wagged his tail and barked.

“Leave off.” Geralt grumbled and shoved Lambert back. “Get your own.”

“Oooh, alright grumpy.” Lambert laughed. “I was going to ask whether you wanted a drink but you can get your own.”

Jaskier rolled onto his back and howled, wagging his tail.

“Shut up.” Geralt growled but rubbed Jaskier’s belly with a small smile on his face.

Eventually, Jaskier shifted back. He was curled up on the bed next to Geralt, with his head on the witcher’s chest when he decided enough was enough. He let out a long sigh and let his magic ripple through his fur. Geralt’s hand stopped in his hair.

“There you are.” Geralt murmured into the dark room.

“Hmm.” Jaskier agreed, taking a page out of Geralt’s book.

“What happened?” Geralt asked as his hand began to thread through his hair once more.

Neither of them cared that Jaskier was now lying naked on Geralt’s bare chest.

Jaskier had accepted a long time ago that he was in love with the witcher. He’d never had a friend that he could be himself around before and it was so easy with Geralt. The witcher didn’t bat an eyelid when Jaskier shifted between human and animal forms. He didn’t treat Jaskier differently between forms either. The witcher had struggled at first when Jaskier had shifted to human. He’d been so openly affectionate when Jaskier had been an animal but hadn’t quite known how to express that when Jaskier was human but after months on the road together Geralt had gotten better. He often let Jaskier snuggle up to him in human form, and petted his hair just like he would when Jaskier was an animal.

Geralt wasn’t as talkative when Jaskier was human but he didn’t mind. Jaskier could talk enough for both of them. He was just happy that Geralt had let him stay.

He explained the anxiety that had overwhelmed him when Vesemir had studied him so intently. He kept the part about his past as vague as possible. Geralt already knew some of the details and it wasn’t easy for Jaskier to remember.

Geralt was silent as he listened, letting Jaskier explain without interruption.

When Jaskier finally ran out of words, Geralt hummed.

“Come here.” He murmured.

Jaskier frowned and sat up so he could see Geralt’s face. The witcher was staring at him with warm amber fire in his eyes. Jaskier couldn’t breathe under the intensity of his gaze. He felt his cheeks heat up and his mouth dropped open.

“Geralt?” He asked, his voice wavering.

Geralt sat up, cupping Jaskier’s face in his hands, and kissed him, so gently that Jaskier wasn’t sure that he wasn’t imagining it. His heart was hammering in his chest and he had the overwhelming urge to shift back into an animal, any animal.

He whimpered helplessly against Geralt’s lips.

Geralt chuckled and rested his forehead against Jaskier’s. “Is this ok?” He breathed, warm air tickling against Jaskier’s skin.

Jaskier laughed, almost hysterically. “Ok?!” He cried and flung his arms around Geralt’s neck before pulling him into a hug. “Gods Geralt. I’ve been wanting to do that for months!”

“Hmm.” Geralt nuzzled into his neck. “Why didn’t you?”

Jaskier sighed. “I didn’t think you’d want to.” He admitted. “It’s, it’s a bit strange considering the whole…” He let go out Geralt to wave his arms. “animal thing. I’ve never kissed anyone who’s known about that before.”

“Why would I care?” Geralt scowled. “You’re still you."

Jaskier shook his head. “Only you would think so, my darling.”

He smiled sadly at Geralt before leaning in to kiss him again. The kiss was longer this time, growing deeper with every second that passed. Jaskier threaded his fingers through Geralt’s long silver hair and hummed into the kiss. Geralt tasted faintly of the stew they’d had for dinner but Jaskier didn’t care. He was kissing Geralt of Rivia, and Geralt wasn’t pushing him away, quite the opposite in fact. The witcher’s hands pressed against his back pulling him closer.

Jaskier pulled away to breathe and Geralt growled, pushing Jaskier back against the bed and kissing down Jaskier’s neck.

Jaskier was suddenly very aware that he was naked.

“Geralt.” He tugged at the witcher’s hair and forced the man to look at him.

Geralt’s normally golden eyes were dark with lust. He frowned and tilted his head with a grunt.

“Are you sure about this, dear heart?” Jaskier asked, trying to catch his breath.

“Yes. Are you?” Geralt growled.

Jaskier’s heart fluttered at the sound. “Gods, yes.” He pulled Geralt into a fierce kiss as if to prove his point.

He had never been so sure of anything in his life.

____________

The next morning Geralt and Jaskier had sheepishly slunk into the dining area for breakfast. Witcher hearing didn’t allow for many secrets in Kaer Morhen and Geralt had explained that both Vesemir and Lambert would know what they’d been up to the night before.

Luckily Jaskier was shameless.

He greeted both witchers with a wave and a brilliant smile. Lambert whistled and cheered loudly, whilst Vesemir just smiled into his drink.

“So is this a new thing?” Lambert smirked.

Geralt punched him in the arm. Jaskier put a hand on Geralt’s chest. “Geralt.” He chided softly. “I’m sure he’s only asking because he cares.”

Geralt snorted. “I doubt it. He’s a bastard.”

Jaskier smirked. “Oh believe me, I am very aware of that.”

“I am right here!” Lambert crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Look, I’m happy for you. Just keep it down next time. I really did not need to be serenaded to sleep by a sonnet about Geralt’s dick.”

Jaskier laughed. “How about a ballad?”

“No!”

“An epic retelling of—”

“Absolutely not!” Lambert put his hands over his ears.

Everyone was laughing by the end of breakfast, even Vesemir. Jaskier hadn’t seen the older witcher so care-free before. Jaskier felt pretty smug about it. Jaskier offered to help clear the plates whilst Geralt and Lambert started their chores around the keep. That was when Vesemir cornered him in the kitchen.

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier almost dropped the plate his was holding but he recovered pretty quickly. “Ah, Vesemir. What a surprise!”

“I’m sorry, about before.” The older witcher held out his hand and Jaskier shook it, still bewildered by encounter. Vesemir had taken great care to avoid Jaskier whilst he’d been an animal so he hadn’t expected the witcher to approach him so soon after turning back into a human.

Jaskier waved his hand. “Nothing to worry about. There’s, there’s no problem.”

“Hmm.” Vesemir raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh well, umm, maybe there was a teensy problem. Just, umm. Just ask Geralt.” Jaskier’s fingers were playing on unseen lute strings. “It was a bad memory, that’s all.”

Vesemir nodded and patted Jaskier on the back. “You’re alright, pup.”

Jaskier tilted his head at the nickname, realising that he’d been accepted into Vesemir’s pack.

“Thank you.” He nodded, barely able to conceal his grin.

The next witcher to arrive into the keep was one that Jaskier had never met before. Geralt introduced them with a quick wave of his hands.

“Eskel. Jaskier.” He grunted.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and bounded up to the new witcher, hugging him tightly. “Hello!” He sang happily.

“Geralt?” Eskel asked but returned the hug tentatively.

“Geralt’s boyfriend.” Lambert explained. “Ow!”

“Geralt!” Jaskier let Eskel go and spun round to poke Geralt in the chest. “Play nice.”

He put his hands on his hips and tilted his head as he glared at his witcher. Geralt gave him a small smile and hummed.

“You got yourself a human?” Eskel asked, still a little stunned by Jaskier.

Jaskier sighed deeply. Normally he preferred that most people saw him as just a human but he wanted to be honest with Geralt’s family and honestly it was getting tiring having to explain the truth every time. The wolf witchers were going to have to get used to his nudity if he had to keep shifting between forms whilst he was at the keep for winter. He didn’t mind staying as an animal but Geralt’s room was at the top of a tower and he really didn’t want to have to fly up every time he wanted to change back.

So he started to pull off his clothes.

“What the fuck?” Eskel covered his eyes.

Lambert cackled and Geralt just sighed. The silver-haired witcher opened his arms and Jaskier dumped his clothes in Geralt’s waiting hands before walking to the centre of the courtyard.

Geralt tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at him.

Jaskier smirked and winked at his witcher before letting his magic loose. His skin rippled into red scales and felt the fire burning in his chest. His front talons hit the ground with a loud thud and he roared, letting loose a burning pillar of fire into the air.

“Holy shit!” Lambert yelled.

“He’s a dragon?” Eskel stared up at him in awe.

Geralt just pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Jaskier, stop being so dramatic for once in your life.”

Jaskier snorted a smoke ring at Geralt and launched into the air. The colours were amazing in this form and he could see for miles. The burning in his chest was uncomfortable so he let out another geyser of flames as he flew above the keep. He could smell the salted jerked meat from the panty and his stomach rumbled loudly even though he’d already had breakfast. He snorted and looked around in the trees below until he spotted a doe grazing on the banks of the river.

He dove down without thinking and scooped the animal up in his talons. He roared as he returned to the keep, landing in the courtyard with a thud. The doe was already dead in his talons so he snapped up his meal in two bites.

“Fuck…” Lambert breathed and Jaskier turned to snarl at him.

Geralt jumped between them and placed a hand on Jaskier’s snout. “Jaskier.” He said slowly and calmly. “Maybe a dragon isn’t a good idea.”

Jaskier looked down at his bloodied talons and shifted immediately into a cat, his tail flicked as Geralt picked him up.

Eskel pointed at him. “He can change!”

Jaskier meowed and rubbed his head under Geralt’s chin. He suddenly felt very full. He would have to change again soon, into a bear or something with a larger stomach until he could digest his dragon meal properly. His magic compensated for the sudden change but it still ached.

“Can you become a goat?” Eskel grinned and crossed his arms.

Jaskier yowled and looked up at Geralt.

“Yes.” Geralt answered for him.

“Amazing.” Eskel nodded. “Welcome to the family, Jaskier.”

Jaskier purred happily and pawed at Geralt’s face.

Family.

After years alone on the road, he had a family.

All because he’d found one very lonely witcher on the path.

He purred and nuzzled into Geralt’s chest. For the first time in his life, he was found.

______

Next story!

#the witcher #geraskier #shapeshifter!jaskier #shifter!jaskier #jaskier pankratz #geralt of rivia #geralt/jaskier #geraskier fanfiction #witcher lambert #witcher eskel #vesemir #dragon!jaskier #the shape of love #wolfie's witcher writing #wooo it's finished #kaer morhen

[the-melting-world]

The Empress | Side B: “I Will Be Blessed”

I want to give a special dedication to my amazing friend and partner in crime Ligia Nunes @ligiawrites​ ​. This installment of The Empress is a major turning point in Kip’s journey. The opening scene was strongly inspired by the Strength throne art created by Ligia a while back (located at the end of the fic). I don’t think this moment would have ever existed if had it not been for that throne. So thank you, Ligia for continuing to inspire so much of my storytelling.

***

~ In which a humble gardener stops resisting…

The Trio Appearances: Kipling | Khleo | Ozy

Arcana LI appearances: Asra | Nadia | Muriel 

Track Origins: “I Will Be Blessed” by Ben Howard

Not sure if this is the right track? The full album can be found here: The Empress

cw: none

~ 2.2k words

 Kipling opens a Door that takes her and Asra to Strength’s Gate.

Kipling and Asra crowded around a golden throne in the middle of a flowering vale. The magicians’ fingers were already grazing the surface of the elaborate throne, trying to capture the shape of every groove, the curl of each engraved leaf glinting under the midday sun. 

“Was this here the last time you came through this realm?” Asra asked as he crouched down in order to study the finer stalks of wheat fanning out from the base. 

“No,” Kip replied airily, her focus still mostly absorbed by the face of a lion staring out at her from the backrest. Its features were half concealed by depictions of broad leaves and delicate flora.

If it hadn’t been for the boisterous game of catch and chase between the three familiars in the background, Kipling and Asra might have never been able to snap out of whatever spell the throne had over them.

Taro, Faust and Abaco kicked up an assortment of purple and orange wildflowers during their romp. The ring of flowers remained suspended in the air for much longer than normal before they languidly drifted back down to the earth.

Kipling wondered how much longer she and Asra would have to wait for Khleo or Strength to arrive. Only thing was certain – she didn’t want to walk away from this throne. And, she noticed, neither did Asra.

“There is a body that belongs in that seat, but it is not my own.”

Kipling and Asra straightened up and spun abruptly to come face to face with the guardian of the realm. The Major Arcana was just as beautiful and terrifying as Kipling remembered. This time Strength had settled on her sphinx form, her face an impossible fusion of female and feline.

The Arcana was well past the seven foot mark, glowing, and draped in fabrics whose color constantly shifted between red wine and raw berries. Whatever words Kip had for the celestial being died on her lips. Asra, who had more experience conversing with the Arcana, took Kipling’s hand and addressed Strength directly.

“Thank you for permitting us into your realm. I’m Asra Alnazar and this is my partner, Kipling Bronne.”

Without moving her mouth, Strength said, “I know who you are, Small Magician. And I know why both of you are here.”

When she didn’t elaborate, Kipling found her voice and asked, “What did you mean earlier when you mentioned the throne?”

Strength fixed the gardener with her predatory gaze. “I meant what I said, Small Empress. It does not belong to me.”

Kipling’s heart began to race. She squeezed Asra’s hand. “Then who does it belong to?”

“Who else?” Strength cocked her head to the side. “The cub you call Khleo.”

Kip stepped forward. “Tell me where she is.”

“Kipling.” 

Asra’s hand came down on her shoulder.

“She’s not here,” Strength said flatly. Then she walked past both of them and made herself comfortable on the throne. “I’m keeping this seat warm for her in the meantime. You must understand, Small Empress. I can only protect my cubs from the nest. When they leave, things are out of my control.”

“Is Khleo in danger?” Kip asked, wishing she didn’t sound so desperate.

Strength did not mock her for it. In fact, her expression appeared sympathetic. As sympathetic as a werelion could hope to look.

“Danger is a strong word.” Strength gave a wistful sigh. “The cub is being kept in a cage. Perhaps not one with metal bars and padded locks, but a cage all the same. Under such circumstances, she is more of a danger to herself than anything else.”

Kipling closed her eyes and took back her hand from Asra. He watched in concern as she hugged herself and swayed on her feet.

Not Khleo. Not her Khleo. 

“It’s my fault,” Kipling croaked. “I always tried to blame it on Ozy, but that’s because it was easier. That way I didn’t need to face what I had done.”

Asra reached for her again. “No, you can’t do this to yourself, Kip.”

“But she is correct, Small Magician.” Strength interjected. “The Small Empress helped put my lion cub where they currently are.”

Kipling’s knees gave out as she choked on a sob. Asra caught her before she could completely stumble.

“Stop it!” 

He hadn’t meant to shout at a Major Arcana, but he couldn’t keep watching Kip beat herself up.

“Strength,” Kipling made eye contact with the Major Arcana as she leaned on Asra for support, “tell me how I can help Khleo. What can I do to set her free?”

“Now you’re asking the right questions.” Some manner of a grin stretched across the werelion’s maw. “Ultimately it is up to Khleo to set herself free, but these things, as you know, cannot be done alone.”

She stood up, her face sobering right before she rested her paws on Kip’s shoulders.

“The beast in Khleo has fought. She has done nothing but fight since she walked through that Door that you opened all those years ago.”

Kip couldn’t stop the tears from snaking down her face. But she wouldn’t dare look away from Strength now.

“Khleo has fought and fought and fought. As exhausted as she is, she doesn’t know how to stop. And she will go on fighting until she can’t anymore. The body I gave her is both a blessing and a curse.” Strength sighed and let her paws drop from Kip’s shoulders. “I’ve done all I can, but the cub is stubborn and will not hear me.”

She drifted away from Asra and Kipling. The wildflowers in her path bowed to her and blazed gold.

“Something tells me that Khleo will listen to you. I took away their magic so that they may live, but that does not mean they have lost their command over the Doors. It may not look the same for them as it does for you, but…. They just need someone to show them the way.”

By this time, Taro and Abaco were back on Kipling’s shoulders and Faust had reunited with Asra. 

“Finish your training, Small Empress. Then seek out your Patron.”

Strength waved her arm. A Door appeared.

“Now go.”

Kipling and Asra walked away from the throne towards the portal. On the way, Kip stopped and rested the tips of her fingers on Strength’s wrist. The Arcana looked down on the gardener. Kipling didn’t say anything. She just stroked the light coating of fur and gazed up into the eyes of the sphinx.

Strength let go of another heavy breath, lacing it with a purr.

“Your friend. All she wants is to be free. To rest.”

Kip wished she was tall enough to catch the sun-lit tears before they streaked down Strength’s whiskers. 

“She deserves it.”

***

Back at the Palace, Kipling found Ozy meditating in the gardens. She had come alone this time. The familiars had gone inside with Asra when they returned from Strength’s realm.

Instead of disturbing Ozy, Kipling walked over, sat down and joined him. She fell into the trance quicker than usual. As if Ozy’s disciplined presence had served as a catalyst.

Kipling wasn’t sure how long she and Ozy sat there under the weeping willows with their legs crossed, their palms face up, relaxed and resting on the peaks of their knees. Their breaths were independent of each other. Each one entered deep and left with ease. Each thought floated in uninvited and drifted off unnoticed. 

Despite the coverage of the silky willows, Kipling felt the sun on her, giving the shapes that danced behind her eyelids a peculiar glow.

By the time Ozy’s voice called Kipling back, there were more warm tears hugging her freckled cheeks.

“You went to go see Khleo on your own. Without me.”

Ozy didn’t sound angry, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t.

“I had to,” Kip said, her voice surprisingly steady despite the emotions that the trip had brought to the surface. The more the trance of the meditation wore off, the harder she cried. She wished she could take a breath in order to tell Ozy that they were tears of relief rather than pain. She would see Khleo again. She was meant to help them. Strength herself said she needed Kipling’s help. 

Kipling felt like a weight had been lifted from her heart. When she dried what she could of her tears and looked up at Ozy, she found that she could focus on him completely. Her heart was still being pulled in other directions, but not as strongly as before.

Kipling allowed Ozy to help her onto her feet. 

“What did Strength say?” Ozy asked, his tone implying that he knew Khleo wasn’t there. His words briefly brought back images of daisies materializing spontaneously in the shape of a Door.

“She saved Khleo’s life by taking away their magic.”

Ozy confirmed with a gentle nod. “Right. She blessed Khleo’s body with accelerated healing and more strength than the average human, but they won’t ever be able to open another Door. What else did the Arcana say?”

“She said that Khleo needs to rest.”

Ozy made a thoughtful sound, his hazel eyes turning to the sky. “That’s what she told me too.”

Kipling reached up and lightly pulled on his ghost lock. “I’m ready to talk, Ozy,” she said it with a smile. “About everything.”

Ozy brought his attention back to Kipling. She was surprised to see that same hesitation on his face that he wore when he first arrived. As if he was expecting a rejection. 

Kip felt her confidence slip as she wrung her hands and fought to maintain eye contact.

“Before we help Khleo, there’s a lot we still have to do first. For one, I need to apologize to you.” She closed her eyes and inhaled a meditative breath before going on. “Ozy, I didn’t want to leave you on the island that day, but I was so disgusted with myself. I had felt like that all year. No matter how much I wanted to, I just couldn’t own up to what I did… to your face.” Her eyes burned, but she opened them anyway and forced herself to look at Ozy and the telling scar over the bridge of his nose. 

“Every time I looked at you, I told myself that everything was my fault. I was the reason Khleo was gone.”

Ozy shook his head and set his jaw. Before Kip could blink, she was holding onto him and he to her. It came somewhat as a shock, this being the most affection they had allowed themselves to show each other since before Khleo’s accident.

“Everything happened like it was supposed to, coz,” Ozy reassured her. But his voice was shaking, his hand trembled as he massaged his fingers into her curls and coils. He was remembering the pain, Kip could tell. And it made her remember too. How much she had pushed Ozy away in the beginning. How she punished him for something that was her fault too. She remembered the year between the accident and leaving for Vesuvia when she refused to let him back in. No matter how much Ozy begged and begged.

Everything happened like it was supposed to.

“No one’s supposed to be alone for ten years!” Kipling sobbed. “But I didn’t know, Ozy. I swear I didn’t know.”

Ozy’s voice regained some of its usual lightness. “Oh no, don’t you dare try to take the blame for that. I knew what I was signing up for. Remember that, Kipling. I put myself down there. Not you.”

Kip hugged him harder. “But I was the one who hurt you. I forced you to make that choice. Family isn’t supposed to do that to each other!”

Ozy pulled back just enough to lift Kip’s chin. “You’re right. Family shouldn’t do that. But you know what else?” He smiled softly. “Family forgives.” He reigned her in against his chest, this time bringing his face to the crown of her head. He breathed in those nostalgic notes of shea butter, coconut oil, and sea salt. Ozy closed his eyes and imagined he was kissing the sugar white shores of his youth. He imagined himself kissing every painful unsavory memory goodbye.

“Now can we be a family again?” He asked, his face still buried in Kip’s hair. “Please? I need to put everything behind me... but I cannot until you let go of all this guilt. Trust me, you don’t need it anymore, Kip. You can let it go.”

And then Kipling… she broke. Water and thunderous sobs poured out of her like she was the sky. Ozy didn’t walk away from the downpour. If anything he held Kipling closer. She had so much water in her, it seemed. As if that sea where they were all were born had been with her this whole time. Kipling had brought it with her to Vesuvia, but pushed it deep, deep down and locked it away.

Ozy let himself be the stone well to catch all of Kipling’s rain. Though he had spent all that time surrounded by water and knowledge, in many ways, it had left him feeling very empty. Oz’mandias knew that as long as he had Kipling, he would never need to know that emptiness again.

#there is a lot of crying in this one #just a heads up #arcana albums: the empress #arcana albums #kipling the apprentice #ozy the grey mage #the arcana #asra #asra alnazar #my writing #the arcana fanfic #the arcana fic #asra the arcana #kipling bronne #oz'mandias

[foulserpent]

ned meets sheogorath (1836 words)

cw: suicide mentions

"HELLO Nedirael! Glad you could make it out here!" the voice boomed, familiar and all the more alien for it. 

Ned stood across the hall of a grand throne room, weary and bedraggled and half clad in a weak leather armor he’d found himself not needing. A great tree loomed in back, its leaves an autumnal blaze of reds and oranges that bathed the room alien sunlight. Two torches burned a bright icy blue and a pink to either side of the throne, setting the stained glass to either side into a dizzying array of sparkles far too overwhelming to see what they depicted. Everything seemed to bend inwards, space itself being pulled to a singularity at the center.

There sat Sheogorath.

They looked a lot like Xikeel, much as they did when they had appeared to Ned weeks before, almost a decade after he had last seen his friend alive. They were a brighter red and crowned with teal horns, with scales that reflected with iridescence in every color he could imagine and some beyond that. They wore a robe almost equal in vividness and fluttering ceaselessly. It hurt Ned's head to try and see where embroidered fabric ended and tiny, colorful butterflies began. 

Perhaps most striking of all was the beard. How the hell had she grown a beard?

"Hi, Xikeel." Ned said as he made his way down the aisle.

Sheogorath shifted in their seat, resting their hairy chin on three hands with an expression of exaggerated annoyance. Some butterflies swarmed upwards, before settling back into the shape their sleeve.

"Don't you know my name?" Sheogorath asked. "I didn't work so hard just for nasty little mammals to come in here and call me all manners of nonsense words."

The butterfly-robe scattered yet again, their little bodies intertwining and blending like paint on a brush to form another scaly arm. The daedra began to drum that hand onto the throne.

Ned grimaced. If there was any doubt that his old friend had really changed into something else, it was dead and buried.

"For fucks sake Xikeel," he said, ignoring the daedra's many eyes rolling. "I thought you were dead, I thought- I thought the Blades took you out, or you went off and, uh,"

"Tried the same thing you did? And did a better job at it?" Sheogorath grabbed the edge of thin air and lifted off of their throne. They made a great show of crossing their legs in midair, before slouching into another relaxed position. 

"No, no, no, your friend just got lost. Can't blame her. It's sooooo much nicer here than out there!" They punctuated by even more arms flinging themselves into existence in a gesture of pride, before dissipating into more fluttering insects.  

"So, what actually brings you here? Surely not just to stand around and gawk."

“I-” Ned started, but he was interrupted. 

"I hope you like my palace? And my realm? I changed things up around here. My saints really want to kill you, and most of the beasts here wanted to eat you or lay eggs in you, but I told them, 'no! This is a guest of honor!'"

The Golden Saints half hidden in the dizzying light of the room gave no acknowledgment, though they all stared down at him with unblinking needle-slit pupils. Ned continued to ignore them.

"Okay, so if you aren't Xikeel, then what makes me the goddamn ‘guest of honor’?" He asked.

"I mean, if you want my Saints to hunt you for sport I guess I'm open to-"

"No, no, I'm good." Ned interjected. “I’m just. What happened to you?”

“Nothing happened to me. Well, something did. Happens every thousand years or so, but I’m back to normal. I’m my own man. I’m brand new!” Sheogorath cheered, then lowered their head in seriousness. “And to answer your obvious question, your friend helped with that. So I returned the favor. Said goodbye for her. Like, ten or a hundred years or something late, but I did. Sorry, I forgot.” 

Ned felt his head start to ache. 

“I didn’t come all this way to listen to this, I mean holy fuck are you getting this?” He threw his arms out. “I thought you were dead.”

“Well, that’s kind of a you problem, isn’t it?” Sheogorath yawned.

Ned’s rubbed his face in exasperation, sucking air between his teeth.

"Xikeel... Can you please-" He paused, a stupid question forming in his throat. He already regretted it before it clumsily fell from his tongue. "Please just stop it?"

Sheogorath gave him a blank stare.

"Oh, okay!" The daedra said. 

With a puff of smoke, Xikeel stood before him. She was as he remembered, small and spindly, dull red and broken-horned. She wore the same cheap shirt and trousers as that final day. Everything was just as he'd last seen her, standing in the doorway ten years ago, saying "I'm going out" and getting only an "okay" in return, walking out of the door and out of his life and out from the world.

Ned froze at the sight of his friend. He could scarcely bring himself to breathe, feeling as if the very act would blow her away. She gave him a smile - just slightly parted teeth. Not an argonian smile, but one she would give to him, to Martin. A gesture that could soothe a mammalian friend more easily than the subtleties of argonian facial expression. She smiled under blank, golden eyes.

"Did you really think that would work?"

Ned went cold.

Xikeel's body twisted back into oblivion.  It stretched and lengthened until they were something like a dragon, long and blazing and too familiar. They danced in airborne circles around Ned, trailing sparks as they passed.

"Alright, here's one for you. Imagine you find the last surviving shard of your family, blackout drunk, drowning in a river!" They spat the words like venom.

Ned's stomach dropped even further.

"And you pull it out and pull the water from its lungs, and you say, 'Please don't go! I need you!'" They shrieked. A mockery of tears bubbled up from Sheogorath's many eyes as the daedra swam in dizzying loops around the man. "I need you so much! I can't do this alone, please!" They cried.

"And after all that, after everything, it does it again. And it punches your idiot face when you try to stop it!" Sheogorath spun one last loop, catching the tears in their cavernous mouth before swooping up towards the ceiling.

"I'm sorry." Ned said.

He had just wanted to die. He had enough of getting back onto his feet only to have everything he built be ripped out from under him again. He had been so tired of being kicked and beaten until he was reduced to some scarred thing that somehow hadn't yet learned not to rest its head in any open hands that were offered to it. He had only seen one way out. God, he didn't want to hurt her. 

Sheogorath now twisted in tight spirals, filled with some frenetic energy and half screaming.  "Yeah, that really is the kind of thing that changes a person! You're getting it now!"

"I'm sorry." Ned said. "I'm so sorry, Xikeel."

Sheogorath dropped like a shot bird, landing on four legs with a heavy thud. They crawled towards Ned with a terrible speed. The man flinched but did not move. The daedra loomed to their full height, sticking their whiskered snout into his face.

"Who are you apologizing to?"

Ned's face contorted with pain. Finally, a sob tore through his throat.

"Who are you apologizing to?!" Sheogorath roared, yellow eyes flashing like stars far beyond the border of their face. They cut golden fractals through his tears.

"Who are you apo-" Sheogorath was cut off as the man flailed, batting their face away. Ned stepped back, frame now wracked with sobs. He dragged in a shuddering breath, and screamed.

"Fucking STOP IT!"

The palace was silent. A heavy absence now choked out the air. Ned's shuddering gasps came to Sheogorath as if through water, a thick dark river their gills fluttered against in vain.

"Xikeel.. I know... I know..." Ned trailed off as he broke into sobs.

Sheogorath hadn't felt the man's touch. They weren't this body, they were the whole room. They were the whole city. They were the whole realm. The body was merely a face for it, cradled in the daedra's own churning belly. How had it felt the man's touch?

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The daedra did not have tear ducts. Their eyes could hardly even be called eyes, really. They came and went as they pleased. 

"I'm sorry."

Sheogorath did not know if it was the man who now spoke, or their own. They didn't move closer. They just sat on the ground and bent their head.

Bridged in misery, the two rode out their sobs.

"This place isn't safe for you." Sheogorath finally said. Their voice came out a soft monotone. It was smaller now, too much of a fragile hollow-boned thing to come out of a god's mouth.

"I know, I know."

"People who come in here have a hard time getting out, sometimes."

Ned laughed. It caught in his throat and shuddered into another sob. "You think?" He asked.

Sheogorath slithered next to him. He didn’t look at them, far too occupied with wiping tears from his face, which fell in spite of his efforts. His wet face sparkled in the firelight, and he was smiling in a way hurt things do. Sheogorath took one last look, setting all these features to memory and holding them close.

Ned finally looked her in the eyes.

Without another word, Sheogorath opened their mouth and swallowed him. For just a split second, Ned saw an alien sky full of stars. He was a weightless mote, adrift in a sea that stretched shoreless long past any horizon. Wind whipped his sides, eroded him away to a core and back again.

Then, warmth. A sun that was not his sun caressed his skin yet again. He realized, with a start, that he'd been holding his breath.  

He opened his eyes.

Ned stood on the edge of the portal where he had come in just a day before. Brightly colored butterflies drifted around the edges, burning to sparks as they hit the barrier and flaring back into life as they bounced away. He was alone again. Unharmed and untouched, with eyes still burning with stars and tears. His breath came in shudders.  

He was facing the twisted reflection of his own world, far away beyond comprehension and close enough to touch. It was morning. There was the lake near Bravil, the treeline in the distance. He thought he even saw the dim outline of the tent Shap had pitched to wait for him.

The message was clear. It was whispered in the wind, punctuated in the beating of chitinous wings.

Go home.

"I’m sorry.” Ned whispered.

Go home.

#idk how to content w4rn specific4lly but this is 4lso re4lly like n4sty 4t one p4rt 4nd might be evoc4tive of emotion4l 4buse? its not but #might feel h4rd to re4d if youre sensitive to th4t #4lso my 'a' key h4d been working for 4 few d4ys 4nd now 4s you might be noticing its fucked up 4g4in #NOT IN THE WRITING LOL I REPL4CED IT #my writing

[blackicephantom]

The black dragon and the coward CH. 12

Note: I know your all waiting for something different, but this needs to happen first. Trust me. Please tell me what you think, because i feel a little insecure about this one......

Please enjoy!

Tagged: @patolemus , @runestarchild

- . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . -

Somewhere in the ocean

A long, serpentine, figure swam slowly through the water, when it felt a certain kind of vibration. The fins on its head tried to locate the origin, but to no avail. Then something poked him at the back of his mind and he started to surface. The blue scales glimmered in the sunlight and the slim face rose skyward. Just a single moment and he heard the cry, the call to come home.

With a swift jump he dove back into the depths of the water, only to jump back out in a high arch and with his own melodious cry. His main fins spread wide and his tail finished his elegant form.

The Oceanblue Raindragon recognized and answered the call to arms. And in a show of power dark storm clouds started to form and seconds later heavy rain fell upon the earth and the sea.

Once his body was back in the water he took the course back home.

Colonello, the Oceanblue Raindragon, swam swiftly and as fast as he could. His family was waiting for him.

Deep in the mountains

Fon sat quietly near his den, when the wind started to pick up and dark clouds started to form. Electricity shot up his spine and he shuddered. He stood up and watched as all the birds stopped singing and the wind howled louder and louder. Red flames engulfed his form and scales replaced soft skin.

In one smooth movement he circled a few times around the mountain he dwelled in, so that his upper body and head are even with the mountain's peak. His mane and his whiskers danced in the wind and he knew. Just then a roar echoed thru his stoney valley and resonated with his own wish and desire.

He rose up, slightly above the mountain top and sang his own song to join that of his brothers. A rough and yet calm sound left his throat and the winds around him turned themselves into little hurricanes and storms, ready to cut down the land itself.

He knew that he said he would look for Kyoya but it seems that this will have to wait, just a little bit longer. As the last note of his cry faded away, he took to the sky and started in the direction of the forest he had left only days prior.

The Bloodred Stormdragon heard and heeded the call to arms.

Inside a secret lab

Beeping filled the dark room a lonesome and glasses wearing figure occupied. Many monitors showed him just as many sceneries and yet nothing changed. He’s been in this laboratory for years now, researching everything that came to mind, but mostly ways to protect his own, so that what happened on that fateful day would not repeat itself. And he’s been waiting. Waiting for that one moment…… Verde knew that his home underground was anything but optional, but he also knew Reborn….. and all the others…..

Suddenly almost all of his instruments measured impossible data. The displays went highwire and a few displays even broke down due to the sudden intensity. A smirk and a low chuckle escaped him. Of course this would happen shortly after he thought about it.

He stood up, ignoring all his different machines and displays and went to the small lift he built to make his way to the surface. On the ride up he thought about many things. Even about his fellow Arcobaleno….. which was more than unusual. But it has been a few years now. And just as Reborn has said: this years have felt like they went by in the blink of an eye for him.

Once he was back above the ground he took a deep breath and looked around.

Unlike what his instruments had shown him, the world was silent. And that could only mean one thing: he was not alone. But out of all the people that knew him, only two could really find him. The first one is the one to call them home and the other one the silent killer in their ranks.

He watched as mist slowly crawled along the ground, which confirmed his suspicion.

A small rustling reached his ears and he just stood still and quiet, once again waiting. Next came hissing and a long indigo coloured body, only seen in parts. The mist grew thicker with every passing moment and the long body started to draw steadily closer. Then there was someone behind him but he doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t need to.

“I see that you’ve found me, Viper.” A hissed laugh was his answer and just as the mist and the stillness had appeared, it vanished. Suddenly there were howling winds and pouring rain and, most importantly, the still sounding roar of their own kin.

Both Arcobaleno looked up into the slowly graying sky and knew it was time.

With the flash of a single lightning bolt a massive creature stood amidst the green. A long maw and strong legs were the most prominent features, closely followed by the sparking yellow spikes that run along it’s back and tail and its dark green scales. Lightning crashed into the trees and rushed through the clouds above while a thick misty blanket fell over the earth, obscuring the view of all that dared to look.

Around that massive body the other one curled in on himself, his body slowly growing and a pair of thin looking wings sprouting from his form.

And thus two more voices joined the almighty song of the weather.

A low and rumbling growl from the Forestgreen Lightningdragon and a deafening yet silent screech from the Indigoblue Mistdragon. Thous two also heard the call to arms and were ready to take back what was once stolen. Their answer resonated with the cries of their brothers and no sooner were they on their way. One digging his way home and the other silently sliding close behind him.

In a village on the other end of the continent

Chains rattled as another foolish human tried to get too close to him, his tails trashing behind him. It's been ages that he has seen the sky or breathed fresh air. These villagers only caught him by sheer luck and a great deal of misfortune on his part.

The long spikes along his back vibrated gently and he raised his head, ignoring the weapons that were pointed at him. The air was charged with something…..exciting. A familiar tension filling his core and making his heart pound. It was like the thrill right before a battle and he fucking missed this. He wanted to stretch his wings, follow the clouds he was born in but this stupid chains kept him grounded.

Then there was a rumbling, right outside his meager cage. He watched as lightning tore through the sky and rain started up, which got stronger and stronger with every passing minute. His anticipation grew as the wind turned into cutting blades, almost blowing his captors away. A storm was brewing and he knew exactly who started it. So he concentrated on the wind, on the vibrations in the air and every sound that comes from somewhere farther away. And there it was: a melody so long forgotten and yet still so beautiful and familiar. The song of his family! It was time to return!

Clouds gathered all around the Village and blocked the usually bright sun. People were starting to panic and the guards that are supposed to keep watch over him became scared. His tails trashed again right before three became one and his two wings became four. Because of the increased mass of his wings the chains keeping him down broke and because of the decreased number of tails the chains keeping him pinned slipped away. He was almost free, yesssss, he could almost taste it! Only thing left to destroy was the cage keeping him here. Four wings returned to being two and one tail became three again and with the spiked tips he just slashed his way to freedom, cutting through the iron bars like nothing.

Taking a running start he swept into the air, chirping his own answer to the long overdue call to arms. The Violentpurple Clouddragon, Skull, was on his way home. Six feathered wings carried him towards his brothers, his purple scales riddled with scars.

The clouds accompanied him and shrouded his figure from view.

Back with Tsuna and Reborn

As Reborn finished his roar he settled back down and listened while he still supported Tsuna at his side. He too could feel the return of the boy's fire and couldn’t help his smirk. Iemitsu and the other foolish have no fucking idea what’s awaiting them.

From far away both could see dark clouds gathering, followed by pounding rain and destructive lightning. The slight breeze slowly grew into turbulent winds which in turn evolved into a raging storm. The air turned humid and the dragon watched satisfied as mist started to spread through the forest. Then he listened as one after another all their voices came together as a unique and beautiful song. All their specific tunes come together but something is still missing…… That’s the moment Reborn hears a soft humming, a tune that Luce used to sing….. It’s a soft lullaby that she sang for the kids.

Roaring once again the Midnightblack Sundragon completed the harmony.

The sky was once again filled with all the raging elements, waiting to avenge the dragon that’s been slain unjustified so long ago and to take revenge for all this undeserved pain and torment.

Inside of Vongola Nono’s office

Timoteo wasn’t an idiot. When he got the notice that Tsuna was missing, again, he knew that something was up. That thous three other boys were not to be found either worried him beyond belief. But when the weather started to change he clasped his hands together and started to pray, because this could only mean one thing.

The Arcobaleno were about to gather. And where the seven strongest get together, calamity almost always follows. And without a sky to soothe their rage he sees no hope for the village and his people. He saw what they could do while trying to protect someone. Now they didn’t have this luxury. He knew that something like this would happen someday, was even prepared to face the dragon's wrath this time. But he had his own duties to fulfill.

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts and one of his guards entered. “Nono, our mages have returned.” He gave an affirmative hum and sighed. Before the guard could leave again Timoteo called out to him. “Please send in Coyote and the others, it’s an emergency.”

Timoteo, Vongola Nono, hoped against hope and prayed to all gods that would listen that the tragedy would not repeat itself. But when this haunting roar sounds again in the distance, Nono knows that their chances of survival are very slim to none existent. `Please have mercy, oh kind one and spare us the pain. Let us not spill innocent blood, let us not condemn our children.´ It was an old prayer, one that Vongola Primo taught in his time, but Nono has no other option left. A single tear slid down his wrinkled cheek.

`Oh kind one, let us live peacefully and in joy with the dragons harmony, sung in a lovely lullaby.´

_TBC_

#Khr #reborn x tsuna #r27 #dragon and coward #fanfic

[project-ohagi]

Keigo Takami ღ Hawks x Reader 4/4

Buy me a coffee!! <3

Parts 1 / 2 / 3

For a single, fleeting moment, he thought his ears were devils of deceit. And in spite of the agony carving your perfection on to his heart, he hoped beyond hope that you were lying. He wouldn’t lash out, he wouldn’t even get angry - promise! All he needed was for you to retract those vulgar words, or to chime in with a regretful smile and a "Just kidding!". He waited. Gods…he waited.

But, something deep within his core was slowly sobering him to the harsh reality.

His harsh reality…and the prospect of whiling away his future without you, without those heart-warming cuddles and the kisses that seem to last a lifetime.

We said 'Forever'…didn’t we? Where's our forever? Where’s our happy ending? Marriage…children…all those things we talked about, all those things we…things we dreamed of. Where are they?...Where are they?

Would your lips ever meet again? Would he…could he ever move on, ever forget such a rush of emptiness, such extraordinary devastation? He tried desperately to ignore the woebegone whimpers creeping up his throat. If, on the inside, you were still his (Y/n), the woman he adored more than anything or anyone in the universe, then you wouldn’t wish him to cry. Still, it was always a close call. The Earth seemed to curtail the pace of its rotations, as he watched every memory you once shared, replay in his head. But…rather than your joyful giggling, your sweet (often sassy) comments…there were screams. His own screams, ringing in the abyss of his mind. They couldn’t exactly be heard, more…he sensed the vibrations of his anguish, manifesting into pain-dipped cries that were hellbent on tormenting him, and him alone. Their sound was eclipsed by something much more horrific - the lamentable song of a shattering heart.

Could you hear it? Could you detect such well-veiled sadness?

Why would he tear apart the remaining traces of himself, searching for a forgotten emotion? At this point, it wasn’t even buried behind something stronger, like your amnesia, or the confusion of being thrown back into a life you couldn’t remember. It was simply non-existent. Why was that so hard to accept? He couldn’t let the sadness bleed on to his face. He wanted to look the epitome of emotional strength - maintain his playful façade through all of this pain. It wasn’t for his own sake. He just…he wished you the utmost happiness, but he found it difficult, agonising beyond compare, to so much as stomach the thought of being scrubbed from your life. He was your happy place…remember? You told him, each and every time those pitiful tears consumed his face. You stayed up, late into the twilight, admiring his sleeping countenance. And when he caught you in the act, your cheeks illuminated with embarrassment. It was soothing.

Did he really have to let you go?...To relinquish control over your heart?

She's always been a free spirit. I never controlled her…never wanted to. But now…right now…I'd give anything to do just that. Make it so she can't leave…so she doesn’t want to.

It was merely wishful thinking. Was he a coward, about to listen in silence as the love of his life spoke of someone new? Was he a coward, frozen in place, and prepared to watch as you walked out? After everything…all the pictures, all the food, the devotion he showed…the memories…

…Was he finally caving? Had you destroyed his heart and soul, completely?

He realised too late that you were gazing past his shoulder, fondly, though evidently still expecting a response. What did you want him to say?...What did you need to hear?

"Oh yeah?" He swallowed thickly, praying that you didn’t question the caution in his voice. "…Who?"

You perked up immediately, and leaned forward. "Well, he wouldn’t say his name, but he was really hot! At least, I thought he was! He's got a few scars, eh…I think he has a fire quirk? Pretty sure he's a vigilante or something, 'cause he was fighting these street thugs. Oh, and he's got really pretty eyes! They're a deep blue, and his smirk is just…"

Truth be told, Hawks was forced to tune out. Blood thrummed in his ears, so violently that for a minute, he feared something might have exploded. He didn’t register your words, or he would have sensed the peril. He would have asserted himself, for your protection, demanded that you never make contact with such a dangerous man again. He would have known…this was certainly no vigilante. This was a villain. This was Dabi. And Dabi was danger personified - definitely no match made in Heaven. Not for someone as angelic as you.

However, it was soon pushed from his mind.

Oh how he wanted, so desperately, to turn back the clock.

He couldn’t have ever imagined you so willing to abandon the nest…to abandon him. A harsh lesson was learned, the day he returned home after a regular shopping trip, with you nowhere in sight. His instant panic wasn’t unfounded, for you proved elusive. Your room was vacant, some clothes and your phone missing. Not an inch of his façade remained intact, as he scoured the city for you. He cried himself to sleep that night, and his incessant sobs eventually gave way to an unrelenting nightmare. He was unable to stop the flow of tears, accompanied by a thunderous grief. Where did he go wrong? Why did he ever leave, even for a second? He suddenly regretted not paying more attention to your one-sided conversation, not realising who had enraptured you so. He hadn't wished to know, because having that knowledge meant getting hurt, and he was already breaking.

He searched.

In fact, he never stopped. He refused to. As the days became weeks, then months, over-exertion and lack of sleep started catching up. But he couldn’t quit. Not now. What if you were close? What if…Heaven forbid…you missed each other by a whisker? He couldn’t give up! He couldn’t…

…Not even if you willed him to. Oceans, countries, even ordinary people, and those with powerful quirks…nothing would demonstrate resistance in the face of his resolve. All the pain would subside, his nights would no longer be polluted by restlessness and fear. You could be together again. You could be happy! You could be whole! And he was determined to bring you home.

Just a little longer, dove! I won't let this end! I'll make sure we still have a future! I don't care what it takes.

In April, he found you.  

[Word Count: 1087]

#bnha #bnha x reader #my hero academia imagines #keigo takami x reader #multi-fic #bnha hawks #hawks x reader #angst

[chocoholicannanymous]

Cautionary Tail (Glee)

Disclaimer: I own nothing except an overactive imagination and way too many plotbunnies.

A ficlet that’s been lying around in my outlines in need of some editing and a paragraph or three - perfect to deal with on a grey and dreary Sunday.

Cautionary Tail

The tale of Mister Whiskers is one warning sign after the other, from start to finish – from before the start even. It's just that Kurt doesn't see them, or doesn't recognize them, or connect the warnings to the correct things.

It starts like this. First day at NYADA – NYADA! – Kurt meets Annie. Annie who's from Dallas, and who is almost embarrassingly welcoming, and who tells Kurt way too much about herself.

Still. Except for Rachel she's the only one who even tries, while everyone else is gleefully whispering about how Kurt's only there because someone else dropped in, and how Madame Tibideaux took pity on him.

(That's...not quite how it went, with the truth being that yes, someone dropped out three and a half weeks in, and yes, NYADA prefers full classes so they looked for someone to fill the empty spot. But Kurt didn't get it because of pity, he got it because out of all the candidates that the Mme found acceptable he was the only one willing and able to show up in class the next morning. Anyway, the important thing is that he's here now, and he's going to make the most of it.)

So. Annie it is, when it comes to hanging out with classmates-who-aren't-Rachel. And that means listening to her stories, and trying not to judge. Just, it's not always easy.

Take her boyfriend, for one. David, who's super-cute, and who she's going to be with forever, and who didn't get accepted to college this fall but came with her to New York anyway and got a job just so they wouldn't be separated. Yeah. That...doesn't sound too healthy. In fact, it sounds a bit like Rachel and Finn, back before Finn started thinking for himself.

(And yes, Kurt knows how mean that sounds, just, Finn? When it comes to girls he really doesn't have a history of thinking for himself. He really, really doesn't. Just like Kurt maybe doesn't have a history of thinking clearly when it comes to boys, and ignoring how maybe it also sounds a little like him and Blaine.)

Anyway. That's Annie, with her super-cute boyfriend, and their super-cute apartment, and their super-cute plans, and Kurt's impending diabetes from all the sugar, and then the next super-cute thing. Which so happens to be Mister Whiskers.

Mister Whiskers is an eight week old kitten, who's the cutest ever, and Annie's baby, and Kurt's being bombarded with so many warning signs he can barely breathe. Two nineteen year olds, who have barely left home, who are still adjusting to living together (and no, Annie, three weeks alone in David's family's summer home does not count) and might implode any day now from adult life, and they're bringing a helpless living being into it.

(Kurt's just happy it's not an actual baby, which, yeah. Good thing Annie's almost as eager for a Broadway career as Rachel is or it might have been.)

This is never going to end well, Kurt thinks, as he listens to Annie bubble on about one cute thing after the other. Because everything is cute with Annie, until one day it's not.

Their apartment is too claustrophobic, and David's too boring, and doesn't understand her ambition, or her classes, and doesn't like her classmates, and he's holding her back. And just like that Annie's moving into the dorms, and David's never mentioned again.

(Kurt thinks, but never even hints at it out loud, that this is what would have happened to Rachel and Finn.)

That should be it, but of course it's never that easy. Because there's one thing left to stop being cute.

Mister Whiskers.

Because as cute as kittens are, the truth is that kittens always become cats, and cats are many things, but Annie-cute isn't one of them. Of course, that's not how she sells it to Kurt. Oh no. It's that cats aren't allowed in the dorms, and it doesn't feel right for David to take him alone, because it's their cat, and well, Kurt's the only one who isn't living either in a no-pets building, or with an allergic roommate, so can he please adopt Mister Whiskers?

He says yes, obviously, because it's not the cat's fault that Annie's not nearly as mature as she thinks. David walked into this eyes open, but Mister Whiskers? Had no choice.

And so Kurt has a purring, loving bedmate.

Over the months that come Mister Whiskers becomes Kurt's steady ground.

Mister Whiskers is the one getting cried on when Kurt breaks up with Blaine for cheating. He's the one listening to quiet confessions about not being able to truly let go of Blaine even when the option of Adam and all his sunshine becomes available. His fur is damp with tears when Adam tells Kurt that he's moving to LA after graduation.

Mister Whiskers is also the one listening to Kurt's worries about having gotten back together with Blaine too easily, and his guilt about telling Blaine to halt his proposal – because shouldn't he have been willing to go there too, if he really loves Blaine?

Maybe it isn't so strange that Mister Whiskers is also the one giving Blaine a haughty look before walking away and refusing even treats from him?

O---o--o---O

As June becomes July Blaine starts talking about how amazing it'll be with the two of them in New York, together all the time, with references to the loft, and Kurt starts getting flashbacks to Annie and her super-cute life. (Annie who just so happened to be dating one of their classmates two months after breaking up with David, and whose last email to Kurt talked about – you guessed it – the apartment the two of them are going to share with another couple this year, and how cute it'll all be.)

He agonizes about it, but in the end there's only one thing to do. Set things straight – and isn't that a joke – before it's too late.

“So you never told me where you are going to live,” Kurt breaks off another one of Blaine's soliloquys about fall in the City.

He listens to Blaine's verbal version of stomping the breaks, followed by a more than fair amount of spluttering.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm sorry, did you tell me and I missed it? Because if so, I apologize. I wanted to know where you're going to live. I wanted to check up subway lines and such.”

“I'm going to live at the loft, obviously.”

There's an incredulous tone in Blaine's voice, with a darker undertone Kurt doesn't like, and together it reads as a warning sign. “Don't continue this line of thinking” it says. It is where Kurt's supposed to back away, with an apologetic line or three about of course Blaine's going to live there, Kurt was just being silly. Except Kurt can't take that easy out. He's got a lap-full of reminder why exactly he can't.

“No, you're not. No, listen to me. You can talk all you want about how we've been fine in the loft together, but that's never been for more than 3 days, and quite frankly that's not the same. That's been you being a guest in my home, where I've had all the responsibility.

“Blaine, you're 19. You've never lived alone. You've never been responsible for bills and food and cleaning, and you need to learn that before you move in with someone else. Because I don't have the time, or the energy, or quite frankly the desire to do it for you. If I'm going to be in a relationship I want to be so as a partner, not as a mom-replacement.”

He gets enough of that from Rachel, thank you very much. (Interestingly enough Santana, with all her bitchiness, is the easier person to live with. Even counting her complete disregard for privacy.)

Blaine starts talking again, and the longer he talks without Kurt backing down, the angrier he gets.

Finally Kurt sets his foot down.

“If you can't respect my desire for you to become a somewhat functioning adult without me holding your hand, then how am I supposed to trust that you'll respect anything else? Am I supposed to be the one to tell you what needs to be done, and how to do it, and keep track of you actually doing it – and doing it properly – and dealing with you not wanting to do it right then?

“If you live on your own and decide it's more important to go to Callbacks than to clean the bathroom,” something Blaine had done on his last visit, cheered on by Rachel, “then you're the only one dealing with a disgusting mess. If you live here then not only do I get to deal with it too, but I'm most likely the one having to clean it instead. I'm not doing that. Show me you can live on your own and we can talk about living together. Or don't. It's up to you.”

It's harsh, he knows it, but it's also necessary. Kurt's already responsible for taking care of himself and Mister Whiskers. He's not going to add another person to that. And he's definitely not going to let Blaine's dreams about “super-cute” steamroll over reality and back him into a corner.

Not even if it means being single again.

Yes, chances are Rachel and Santana will take Blaine's side in this and things will become very uncomfortable at the loft. But if so Kurt can take his own advice. He's never lived completely on his own after all, which might be a nice change.

He knows he'll do well on his own though – him and Mister Whiskers.

~The End ~

#chocoholic fics #kurt hummel #kurt fic #cat fic #haven't we all met an annie

[methethgfan]

The 49th Hunger Games

“That’s it, Brainy. You fought well. Now come to me. I’ll make it short. I won’t hurt you much, I promise,” he said to her with an evil smile on his face as he swam towards her. She looked at the taser in her hands, hesitated, then turned it on and threw it into the water. Wiress watched him being electrocuted from afar, and listened to his blood-curdling death cries.

Hickory, dickory, dock. The mouse ran up the clock. The clock struck one, The mouse ran down, Hickory, dickory, dock...

The arena: A beautiful, mountainous landscape with many great lakes and large forests. Small, wooden huts were to be found at certain places in the arena, always hidden behind enormous trees ascending to the dark sky. The Cornucopia was standing in a rather remote area, on a willow, far away from the largest lake in the middle of the arena, and behind the forest that encircled every other part of the arena. Thus, the tributes were forced to enter the forest, whether they liked it or not. The ground was always muddy because it was constantly raining. The air was so fresh that it was painful to take a deep breath. The temperature, neither too hot nor too cold, was another bonus. But the appearance was deceiving. Mutated piranhas living in the largest lake were longing for human flesh eagerly: if a tribute entered the lake with blood on their body, the piranhas immediately started attacking them. Therefore, it was very important to double-check whether one had blood somewhere on oneself before entering that lake. More danger was guaranteed with mutated frogs living by the lake, but luckily, none of the tributes were killed by them. The 49th Hunger Games were a little different than previous years: when there were only ten tributes left, Xander Holliehopp, the Hunger Games announcer, announced an exciting news: he invited the tributes to a game, more precisely, a quest. Chests were hidden in certain places in the arena, containing everything ranging from food and weapons to special equipment. At regular intervals he would give them a riddle, and the correct solution would lead the tributes to the respective chests. The discovery of a chest was announced with trumpet sounds so that other tributes wouldn’t search for it in vain. That way, the Gamemakers hoped to bring the tributes together in order to have them fight each other. Suddenly, those with little chances of winning had equal, if not better chances…

The tributes: This year’s Career pack consisted of highly skilled fighters. They all received at least 9 points during their individual training sessions, and two of them even got 11 points. A few other tributes were promising as well, but the majority didn’t know how to fight, let alone hold a weapon properly. Thus, many people were certain that a Career would win the Games for the third time in a row now. In fact, they felt so certain that several news agencies sent their journalists onto the streets of the Capitol to conduct interviews and ask the people which one of the Careers had the best chances of winning (”1, 2, or 4 - Who is it worth rooting for?”). Good thing the Games were always good for a surprise...

The names of the tributes were...

Warning: Some readers may find the following text disturbing. Reader discretion is advised.

Ten tributes died during the Cornucopia bloodbath. The Careers proved to be very talented fighters. Eight tributes escaped the bloodbath without getting involved in any fights with their opponents.

24. Scarlett Briggs (age: 15 | skill: x | training score: 3 | days survived: 0): Female tribute from District 8. Scarlett was the first tribute to be killed: the girl from District 2 sent a knife to the back of her head.

23. Foncer Warwick (age: 18 | skill: x | training score: 5 | days survived: 0): Male tribute from District 9. Foncer was killed by the girl from 4 on his way to the Cornucopia.

22. Daizy Munt (age: 15 | skill: x | training score: 4 | days survived: 0): Female tribute from District 11. Daizy wasn’t planning to run towards the Cornucopia, but she didn’t want to leave it empty-handed either. She had just bent down to pick up a pair of socks lying on the ground not far from her own platform when she was hit by a knife belonging to the boy from 2.

21. Linen Nash (age: 13 | skill: x | training score: 2 | days survived: 0): Male tribute from District 8. Linen was killed by the girl from District 2. While he had been searching a box for useful supplies, the girl had caught him in a headlock from behind and broken his neck. Never before had a female tribute done that, which is why the viewers were highly impressed with her.

20. Gage Hoberry (age: 18 | skill: bodily strength | training score: 7 | days survived: 0): Male tribute from District 6. Right at the start of the Games, Gage got into a fight with the boy from District 1. Both had grabbed a backpack at the same time. And although the boy from 1 would have the entire Cornucopia for himself and the other Careers, he still didn’t want to let go of the small backpack that could have been live-saving for Gage (“You can have everything else you want!” – “But I want this, buddy!”). Gage was stabbed to death by him.

19. Kernel Renvin (age: 16 | skill: bodily strength | training score: 6 | days survived: 0): Female tribute from District 9. Female tribute from District 9. Kernel had succeeded in collecting some supplies at the Cornucopia, but when she attempted to run to safety, she was attacked by the girl from District 4. Kernel survived the attack and could’ve easily run away, but instead, decided to fight the girl (“Oh, no. You shouldn’t have done that, sweetie. Not with me!”). They wrestled on the ground for a while until the boy from District 4 showed up and killed her with his trident.

18. Thyme Fernsby (age: 18 | skill: x | training score: 3 | days survived: 0): Male tribute from District 12. Although Thyme was one of the oldest tributes, he was very weak physically. Having dealt with hunger his entire lifetime, he weighed at least sixty pounds less than his age-mates. Thyme was overpowered and killed by the girl from District 4.

17. Saline Declan (age: 14 | skill: x | training score: 3 | days survived: 0): Female tribute from District 5. Saline was killed by the boy from 1 on her way to the Cornucopia.

16. Cash Stasbury (age: 14 | skills: bodily strength, speed | training score: 8 | days survived: 0): Male tribute from District 11. Male tribute from District 11. People were taken aback when it was revealed that Cash was only 14 years old: he was tall and physically very fit. It was no surprise that he scored 8 points at training. Cash was already searching the Cornucopia for weapons before the Careers had reached it. Although originally looking for a spear, other weapons were tempting for him as well, which is why he wasted too much time there. The Careers – the two boys from 1 and 2 – reached him before he could escape. The boy from District 2 seriously injured him (“That’s what you get, you stinky frugivore.”) and then walked away to grab another weapon. Cash bled to death short time later.

15. Norah Nell (age: 15 | skill: speaking | training score: 8 | days survived: 0): Female tribute from District 6. Norah was the only child of Jetta Nell, victor of the 18th Hunger Games. It frequently happened that children or other close relatives of former victors were chosen as tributes. And because of their family backgrounds, these tributes have always attracted a lot of attention. In Norah’s case, however, it was her personality that made people like her from the beginning: funny, witty, self-ironic, adorable. A brilliant speaker and stand-up comedian. Her interview with Caesar Flickerman was an emotional rollercoaster because she would make the audience burst out laughing just to make them cry the next moment. She didn’t even try hard to become their favorite candidate (“Caesar, do you think it’d be possible for me to stay in the Capitol for a few more days? I’ve seen a man with whiskers this morning, and I really want to go back and check whether he was a real cat or just a copy-cat. You may dump me in the arena afterwards – but I wouldn’t complain if you didn’t!”). And even during her individual training session with the Gamemakers, Norah decided to impress them with her talent for stand-up comedy instead – and received 8 points for that (to be fair, the Gamemakers were a little tipsy at that point)! People believed she had a hand for weapons, too, since they didn’t know what talent she had showcased behind closed doors. Inside the arena, Norah decided to run towards the Cornucopia and grab something with her before she left. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the right thing for her to do because she was severely wounded by the boy from District 2. She turned around and limped away while pressing her hand against her abdomen to stop the bleeding. Minutes later, she collapsed to the ground and died of blood loss. Her death left the people in the Capitol devastated, and some people even demanded to hold a nationwide moment of silence for her (which, of course, was denied). This was the very first time in the history of the Games that a tribute had become one of the top favorites of the Capitol audience despite they hadn’t survived a day in the arena.

A total of 14 tributes had survived the bloodbath. The Careers began searching for more victims that same day. But it turned out to be a hard task: apparently, the others were too good at hiding. The unsuccessful search (that lasted for a full three days) was very depressing for the Careers. They felt weak compared to Careers of previous years who had always found their competitors very quickly. The psychological pressure, and the increasing feeling of looking nothing but stupid while wandering around the entire arena, resulted in one Career putting the blame on another (”If you wouldn’t walk so slow!”, “Stop being so loud!”, “You never listen to me!”, “I told you we should’ve searched for them in the afternoon!”). And the hot temper of some worsened everything even more...

14. Volta Finley (age: 16 | skill: x | training score: 4 | days survived: 3): Male tribute from District 5. Volta survived the Cornucopia bloodbath because he didn’t even participate in it: he had turned around and run away immediately. And since he had no blood on his body, he crossed the great lake without any problems with the piranhas (which he didn’t even notice) by clinging to a boat with one hand and rotating his other arm wildly to push himself forward. Soon he realized that his clothes were apparently holding him on the surface, which is why he let go of the boat and stopped moving. Indeed, he was floating on the surface. Volta reached the opposite bank a few minutes later, and after wandering around the woods for a while, came across a small hut that was well-hidden by giant trees. He remained there until on the fourth day he was so hungry that he decided to leave his hiding place to find something to eat. He was found by the Careers shortly afterwards. Volta had tried to run away from them but slipped on the muddy ground. The Careers were happy that they had finally found another victim, but they couldn’t decide which one of them should kill him because everyone wanted to carry it out (”Leave it with me.” - “No way, he's mine!”). Eventually, they agreed upon killing him together: one after one, the Careers stabbed Volta until the cannon went off.

13. Sable Archer (age: 17 | skill: bodily strength | training score: 7 | days survived: 5): Female tribute from District 10. Sable and her district partner were classmates, which is why they immediately allied with each other once they had entered the arena. Both were well-built and ready to put their lives at risk. Both ran towards the Cornucopia and grabbed everything they could, they didn’t even think twice. The way they wandered around the arena without showing any signs of fear or anxiety very much resembled Careers. It was unusual for a non-Career to act like this inside the arena, which is why both appeared as likely contenders for the victory. Plus, Sable looked very pretty with her strong physique, wavy blonde hair, protruding cheekbones, and dark blue eyes. Thus, it wasn’t surprising that she received a sponsoring gift on the second day (a sandwich box), and another on the fourth day (a cheesecake) because she was craving sweets. Her district partner on the other hand had received nothing. Therefore, it was very normal for him to be envious of Sable. And as it’s expected from a true ally, Sable even shared her sponsoring gifts with him. But what seemed to be usual envy was actually hatred. Her district partner knew that this wouldn’t go on forever, that in the end, their ways would part, if Sable didn’t kill him first since she was the one receiving all the sponsoring gifts, not him, and therefore wouldn’t have a problem surviving on her own. But these were his thoughts, not Sable’s. And these thoughts quickly turned into a murder plot. Armed with nothing more than a kitchen knife, her district partner decided to put his plan into practice. He prepared lunch with plants and fish they had collected before and the leftover cheesecake, and when both were having lunch, he heaped praise on Sable for being sponsored, and then hugged her (”What would I do without you?”). Sable was very surprised by that since the two had never been close, but she wasn’t suspicious. Instead, she tried to swallow the cheesecake, uttering “Oh, uhm, it’s OK”. But her district partner didn’t let go of her, and embraced her with all his strength combined. Sable tried to shake him off, now being alarmed, but it was too late: her district partner pulled out his kitchen knife and stabbed her in the back (”But every good story needs to come to an end”).

12. Oakley Huntsman (age: 15 | skills: hiding, speed | training score: 4 | days survived: 6): Female tribute from District 12. Oakley’s parents were merchants, they owned a small bakery in District 12. That’s why she was well-fed in contrast to her slender district partner. At the start of the Games, Oakley had been indecisive as to whether she should try her luck and take some supplies with her, or run away immediately. Finally, she decided to run towards a backpack a few meters away, and to her surprise, managed to grab it and escape. The boy from 2 threw a knife in her direction, but Oakley was fast and smart enough to zigzag away. The backpack turned out to be a gold mine: it comprised plenty of snacks, a rope, a pocketknife, an empty water bottle, and two small, metallic objects Oakley couldn’t identify. They looked identical and resembled stones. Their surface, however, wasn’t smooth: instead, it seemed as if they had handles. Oakley tried everything that came to her mind to find out what exactly she was holding in her hands (”What on earth?...”). When she couldn’t think of anything else, she held the objects against the wall of the small hut in which she was hiding. But nothing happened. Disappointed, she wanted to put the two objects into her backpack, but they seemed to be glued to the wall. With great difficulty, Oakley managed to detach the objects from the wall by slightly rotating them. Apparently, she was in possession of magnets sticking on any type of surfaces. But she still didn’t know how to make use of them, until in the early hours of the second day, she woke up to voices nearby. As if she had already unknowingly prepared herself for such a situation, she packed all her things together, strapped her backpack on, and took the magnets in her hands. Then she jumped out of the window (that she had left open in order to listen to suspicious noises nearby more easily), held the magnets alternately against the outside wall of the hut, and climbed onto the roof. She heard some people entering the hut at that precise moment, and recognized them by their voices: the Careers looking for victims. Oakley kept still and waited for them to leave, but the Careers seemed to be in no hurry. Just at that moment it started raining, and Oakley got soaking wet while she was lying there face down, too scared to move. After what felt like an eternity, the Careers finally left. Oakley didn’t change her hiding place because she thought it was very unlikely the Careers would enter her hut again. She remained there till the seventh day. In order to kill time, she grated branches the wind had driven through the open window of the hut using her pocketknife. Suddenly, lightning struck her hut and set it on fire: the Gamemakers wanted to lure her out of her hiding place. Oakley, who had been startled by the sudden noise, cut her finger but didn’t realize it because she was rushing to leave her hiding place alive. She wandered around for some time, but didn’t feel safe at where she was, which is why she decided to cross the great lake. She grabbed a boat, but was too afraid to hop into it in case someone would see her. Hence, she used it as driftwood. The moment her bleeding finger touched the water, she was ripped to pieces by mutated piranhas.

11. Amos Saywell (age: 16 | skill: kitchen knife | training score: 7 | days survived: 7): Male tribute from District 10. After he had murdered his ally (and collected her sponsoring gifts), all hell broke loose in District 10. A large crowd protested in front of the Justice Building, demanding that the Gamemakers should make Amos’ time in the arena a living hell. This was the first time a district had done this. The Gamemakers, however, were in raptures about Amos because he had given the viewers in the Capitol exactly what they had wanted: entertainment. And the Gamemakers were very fond of such tributes. A street interview conducted in District 10 convinced most people that returning to his home district was probably not the smartest idea for Amos. One particular interview stood out the most because the interviewee was a close relative of the female tribute (”What do you think of him?” - “What I think of him? He’s a real shame, that’s what I think! And if he should ever come back, I know exactly what I’m gonna do with him”). After that interview, people started calling him “Amos, shame-os”. Of course Amos didn’t have a clue what was going on in District 10, although he was clever enough to assume his actions would have consequences. But that was the last thing on his mind, what was important now was that he somehow had to survive the Games. When he was rambling through the woods, he forgot to smear his footprints on the muddy ground. Tracking him down was therefore child’s play for the Careers: the girl from District 2 sent a knife into his right shoulder, and the entire Career pack ran after him (”You can’t escape from us!” - “He really thinks he can run away from us! How cute!”). But when Amos ran towards the lakeshore, the Careers stopped: he was just about to enter the great lake with a bleeding wound. The Careers watched him jumping into the water (”Who’s gonna tell him?” said the boy from 1 jokingly) and being torn into pieces by the piranhas. Amos screamed in pain, but not for help. His last words before he was decapitated, were: “Sable! Forgive me!”.

Day 7: “Dear tributes, I hereby open the Quest. Remember, every two days you’ll be given a riddle that you’ve to solve in order to find the respective chest. In total there will be three riddles. Now you may be wondering why you should play along. Well, there won’t be any sponsoring gifts during this time. So, if your supplies are running low, or you simply want to get your hands on unique weapons and special equipment, this is your chance. Ladies and Gentlemen, here is the First Riddle. Good luck! ‘A piece of art. Standing there, apart. Maybe you'll find a dart? What else wants your heart?’”

10. Munira Kirklyn (age: 16 | skill: x | training score: 6 | days survived: 7): Female tribute from District 7. Munira’s family belonged to the upper class of District 7, meaning she hadn’t spent her childhood with cutting trees. Therefore, she had never actually used an axe, which was rather unusual for someone living in 7. Still, she pretended that she had a way with axes, and tried to impress the Gamemakers by swinging an axe. They weren’t highly impressed by her, but still gave her a 6 because they convinced themselves that she - a tribute from 7, the lumber district - had been cutting trees at home daily. But once Munira was inside the arena, it turned out that she hadn’t. She allied herself with her district partner, and hoped to survive with his help. Munira was very adventurous, and never hesitated following her partner around the arena. After the Gamemakers had revealed they would soon propose them riddles, the boy from her district suggested them to ally themselves with both tributes from District 3 (”They’re clever. I’m sure we’d find the chests more quickly that way. We need them.”). Hence, both began searching for them without taking a break (”We need to find them before they announce the first riddle, Munira.” - “What are you going to do, if we wouldn’t need their help anymore?” - “Get rid of them.”). And indeed, they found the two climbing up a mountain (”We won’t hurt you, promise!” - “Here, you can have our weapons. Or you know what? We’re throwing them away, see.”). The girl from 3 was hesitant, but the boy from 3 thought this alliance would benefit them since neither one of them knew how to fight. Therefore, the tributes from 7 could serve as their bodyguards. So, they accepted their offer. Only a few minutes later, the announcer proposed them the first riddle, and the girl from 3 solved it in a few seconds (”Art, apart, dart, heart... Start! The Cornucopia - that’s where everything started!”). The boy from 7 felt vindicated that he had made the right decision. They ran as fast as they could in the direction of the Cornucopia, but when they were inside the woods, Munira ran against a force field that threw her backwards, and her heart stopped. The two from 3 stopped to help her, but the boy from 7 told them to move on (”There’s nothing you can do for her! Hurry!”).

Day 9: “Ladies and Gentlemen, here is the Second Riddle. Good luck! ‘Careful, stay where you are! And don't listen, even though they say "Come in!". Waiting for red, waiting for dead. Step in, and they'll tear your skin.’”

9. Tiber Yusko (age: 18 | skills: close combat, knife | training score: 10 | days survived: 10): Male tribute from District 2. Just like some of his allies, Tiber had volunteered as a tribute. He was a tall muscleman who was very gifted at close combat. But surprisingly, he preferred throwing knives at his opponents instead of using his body strength to his advantage. The viewers, however, gradually became more and more annoyed by him. Reason for that was his way of talking: his vocabulary was very limited, he would use vile language, and constantly tell anti-jokes. He was also the main reason why the Career pack had a hard time searching for victims: he would unintentionally set them on the wrong track by claiming to know where the other tributes were hiding (”Believe me, my instinct is inevitable” - “You mean inerrable?” - “Yeah, whatever”). After the first riddle was announced, the Careers racked their brains over where the chest might be (”Piece of art? Sounds like a portrait to me. Or a picture?” - “I feel like it’s right under our nose.” - “Wait! Could it be the sky? That’s the only artsy thing here.” - “Right! And darts could be, you know, thunders?” - “That really makes sense. So I guess the chest will come with a parachute or something?”). And while others were searching for the chest, the Careers just stood there, hopefully staring at the sky, until a trumpet sound told them that someone else had found the chest. They embarrassed themselves yet again on the ninth day (”I think this one’s pretty obvious” - “Yeah - ‘stay where you are’ - like, don’t move or you’ll be torn to pieces.” - “Wait, what are you guys talking about?” - “The mines at the Cornucopia. They’ll explode once you touch the ground before the Games are officially opened.” - “But what about the ‘come in’ part?” - “The Cornucopia. Because it’s so tempting.” - “Makes sense!” - “So, what are you waiting for? Let’s go and get that chest!”). But when they were standing at the Cornucopia, proud of themselves for having solved the riddle, the boy from 1 suddenly facepalmed (”Wait - no! The lake! The piranhas! Go, go!”), but it was too late: a trumpet sound was heard at that very moment. Thereupon, the Careers blamed each other for that mistake (”How stupid of you to think the chest would be hidden inside the Cornucopia!” - “You had the same idea!” - “Hold your horses!” - “What are you, a groom?”). The Careers hadn’t gotten along very well since the start of the Games, but after not being able to find the chest for the second time, their relationship was finally shattered. They had eaten up their supplies, and thus, were starving for the first time in their lives. It all came to a bitter end on the tenth day...

8. Isla Shaw (age: 17 | skill: katana | training score: 9 | days survived: 10): Female tribute from District 4. Since the two previous Games had been won by tributes from Districts 1 and 2, many people hoped a tribute from 4 would come out as victor this time. And Isla seemed to fulfill all the requirements needed: with fiery hair, petrol blue eyes, and delicate pink lips, she was another tribute who captivated people across Panem. She was a talented fighter as well. During her interview with Caesar Flickerman, Isla seduced the audience with her looks and charming manner. Many people were betting on her. However, viewers were disappointed to see that Isla never stood up for things she believed were right, and instead did what she was told without ever contradicting her allies (”But what if the chest is at the la-” - “Isla, we’ve already solved the riddle. It’s at the Cornucopia. Aren’t you listening?”). On the tenth day, Isla found pouched food in the backpack of the boy from 1, while she and the others were starving. Isla gathered all her courage and confronted the boy in front of everyone (”I thought you were starving?” - “What are you talking about?” - “I found this in your backpack.” - “Yeah, sure. I guess it’s yours and you’re just too scared to admit” - “You, I- How dare you say that!”). Things escalated once the other Careers got involved (”I always thought you were the type of person to do such thing, Isla” - “On the contrary, Awes seems to have the word “thief” written all over his face.” - “Why don’t we just calm down and share the food?” - “Oh, shut up!” - “Fine, I pouched it. It’s not my fault you’re all too dumb to have done it as well.”). That’s when several Careers drew their weapons... Capitol’s favorite (4th-choice).

7. Strawberry Fair (age: 16 | skill: | training score: 9 | days survived: 10): Female tribute from District 1. Strawberry was the third child of Lovejoy Fair, victor of the 27th Hunger Games. She grew up in the shadow of her mother, and because of her mother’s popularity in their home district, people expected her children to be as talented as their mother was. Thus, Strawberry was constantly compared to her mother, the honorable victor from District 1. Unlike her siblings, Strawberry was the only one of “reaping age”. Her siblings had never dared to volunteer as tributes, much to the disapproval of their mother, who was eager to make history by becoming the very first victor with another victor as their child. Only her elder brother had attempted to participate in the 48th Hunger Games, but another volunteer had been picked as the male tribute of that year instead (and Strawberry’s brother had secretly been very glad about that). Therefore, Strawberry was her mother’s last chance to rise to fame yet again, and she didn’t want to disappoint her. She promised her that she would volunteer as a tribute once she had reached the age of 17. But when her name was called during the Reaping, it was no longer necessary for her to wait for so long. As it’s typical for Career districts, another girl immediately volunteered, and the Capitol escort asked Strawberry whether she would like to give her place to that girl instead. Strawberry didn’t answer immediately. She turned to her mother who was sitting behind her on the stage, inconspicuously shaking her head, and then said “No, I’m fine”. Not because she didn’t want to disappoint her, but because she didn’t want to dwell in her shadow for the rest of her life. Strawberry turned heads in the revealing red cashmere dress she was wearing for the interviews, with a golden strawberry pattern on it. Inside the arena, she wore her blonde hair in a ponytail that was secured with a strawberry hair clip. The Capitol audience was already in love with her before they had seen her fighting. When a fight broke out on the tenth day, Strawberry got into a fight with the girl from 2, and was fatally injured by her. Capitol’s favorite (3rd-choice).

6. Jigger Seelig (age: 16 | skill: trident | training score: 9 | days survived: 10): Male tribute from District 4. Jigger was a cute boy with an innocent face. He seemed to be much younger than 16, which is why he looked out of place next to his tall and strongly built allies. During his interview with Caesar Flickerman, Jigger was constantly blushing and smiling shyly (”So, Jigger, tell us something about yourself” - “I... uhm... so...” - “Oh, no need to blush! I promise we won’t tell anyone!” - “I’m actually a very shy person, Caesar...” - “Well, looks like you didn’t show that side to the Gamemakers - 9 points! Congratulations on that.”). But behind the curtain was a boy who enjoyed killing to the fullest. Thus, everyone was surprised to see how dangerous he actually was. While some Careers, including his district partner, got into a physical fight on the tenth day, Jigger didn’t interfere, and instead secretly put the food in his pockets. When he was about to run away, the boy from 1 chased after him (”I’m afraid it’s not so easy!”), and broke his neck. Capitol’s favorite (5th-choice).

5. Tosca Tyrell (age: 18 | skills: bodily strength, sword | training score: 11 | days survived: 10): Female tribute from District 2. It didn’t happen very often that a female tribute had such an intimidating effect on others. Tosca was muscular and the tallest out of all Careers. Many of her male opponents looked like a joke next to her. Most people were certain she would make it to the final battle, if not win the Games. But things turned out differently. Tosca punched the boy from 1 in the face after she had learned that he had secretly pouched food. This set off a chain reaction: the boy from 1 tried to give her a headbutt, but the boy from 2 shoved him to the ground. The girl from 1 went in between to keep the three apart, but was slapped in the face by the boy from 2. Suddenly, they faced each other armed. All the frustration of the last days had built up in such a way that the Careers lost their temper. The girl from 4 tried running away but Tosca rammed a sword into her back before the boy from 1, who had just killed the boy from 4, slit her throat. Capitol’s favorite (2nd-choice).

4. Copper Emmens (age: 15 | skills: intelligence, inventiveness | training score: 5 | days survived: 10): Male tribute from District 3. Copper was very intelligent just like his district partner. They quickly became friends in the arena, and helped each other surviving it by inventing things. The viewers were highly impressed by them, but still believed neither of them would win the Games. Although very clever, he wasn’t good at judging people which unfortunately sealed his fate. Capitol’s favorite (7th-choice).

Day 11: “Ladies and Gentlemen, here is the Third Riddle. Good luck! ‘Ascending to the bright sky. You're asking why? Because they're hiding something from the eye. A perfect place for a spy!’”

3. Awes Castellan (age: 18 | skills: bodily strength, sword | training score: 11 | days survived: 11): Male tribute from District 1. Awes was another volunteer, ready to risk anything in order to win the Games. After the other Careers were dead, he took the food with him (”Morons...”) and calmly walked away while eating crackers. Awes had good chances of winning, if it hadn’t been for the surprise his final opponent had in store for him... Capitol’s favorite (1st-choice).

2. Veneer Foye (age: 17 | skill: axe | training score: 8 | days survived: 11): Male tribute from District 7. Veneer was very smart and determined. He was also very elusive. But above all, he was a great actor. He enjoyed the attention he received as a tribute to the fullest, and always made sure to act for the cameras. Although the viewers seemed to understand the nature of Veneer’s opponents by the time they had entered the arena, Veneer still remained a mystery to them. By joining forces with the tributes from 3, he hoped to solve the riddles and find the respective chests. And indeed, they found two chests (the first containing a tracking device that was able to find tributes thanks to the trackers injected into their arms, and the second baskets filled with food supplies), before their alliance split. Veneer showed his true colours near the end of the Games after the cannon went off several times, announcing the deaths of the Careers. Veneer had miscalculated the cannon shots, wrongly thinking the only survivors beside him were his two remaining allies from District 3. That’s when the horror began... Capitol’s favorite (6th-choice).

1. Wiress Thorner (age: 15 | skills: technology, intelligence, inventiveness | training score: 4 | days survived: 11): Victor of the 49th Hunger Games from District 3. Wiress was an inconspicuous girl with short brown hair and ashen skin. She was reserved and preferred not to display her emotions. During her interview with Caesar Flickerman, she gave him such clever answers that he had difficulties keeping up with her. He also gave her the nickname “Brainy”. Among other things, she told him about her inventions and discoveries. In addition, she could express herself excellently, and knew more than anyone else - like a mobile encyclopaedia. Furthermore, her instinct was very reliable: Wiress had great insight into human nature, and sensed things way before they happened. But her opponents underestimated her, thinking she wouldn’t need her brains in the arena. Wiress, however, proved on many occasions that she was way ahead of them: when she was soaking wet after fishing with her ally in a small lake (they had built the angling rods themselves), she took off her clothes and hung them on a temporary clothesline so that it would dry faster in the cool air. Together with her ally, she also devised a water filter system by collecting sand, gravel, moss, a piece of cloth and coal, the latter had been sent to them by a sponsor. While others wandered around the arena helplessly, Wiress and her district partner used every possible resource the arena offered them. When the tributes from 7 wanted to join forces with them, Wiress intended to decline, but her district partner thought it was a better idea to accept the offer. Wiress disliked the boy from 7 because he was the only tribute she wasn’t able to judge, and thus, couldn’t outguess. But she had no other option than joining them. She was always very careful around him, and watched him closely to understand his complex nature. Wiress always thought about running away, but was afraid the boy would kill her district partner. On the tenth day, she tried to persuade her district partner that the boy from 7 was highly dangerous, and was intending to kill both of them very soon (”Copper, he is up to something. We better leave him now before it’s too late.” - “Wiress, you’re just overthinking. He’s just pretending to be dangerous, that’s all.”). Her district partner, however, told her that he wouldn’t be able to fight both of them on his own, regardless of his fighting skills. But Wiress was still convinced something bad was going to happen very soon. Hours later, when the three were sitting inside a hut, the cannon suddenly went off multiple times, announcing the deaths of several Careers - 5 out of 6, which meant that one Career was still alive, reducing the total number of players to four. Wiress was already on her feet and ready to escape, when the boy from 7 rushed forward and stabbed the boy from 3 to death. Wiress escaped through the window and ran away as fast as she could, but the boy from 7 wasn’t in a hurry (”You can’t run forever!”). Wiress ran through the woods until she sought refuge inside another small hut which also happened to be the place where the third and final chest was hidden. But Wiress didn’t realize that at first: she was trembling uncontrollably, and had difficulties breathing normally. Then she noticed the chest, opened it, and found a taser inside it. An hour later, she heard a twig snapping, and looked up to see the boy from 1 standing at the window and directy looking at her with a creepy smile on his face (”Peek-a-boo!”). He entered the hut through the door, and approached Wiress, grinning (”Didn’t expect to find you here, I must admit. But I’m not mad about it.”). After standing in front of her for a minute, he decided to try out something new (”I haven’t choked anybody. Yeah, I think it’s about time.”), and slowly approached Wiress who was just staring at him in horror. Then he suddenly screamed and sank to the ground: Wiress was holding the taser in her hand. While he was trying to get up, Wiress grabbed a knife that had slipped out of his pocket. The boy tried shaking off the paralysis caused by the taser, and then approached Wiress again (”You little rat.”). He raised his hand, ready to strike her, when he suddenly stopped moving: Wiress had rammed the knife in his throat. Thereupon, the boy coughed and splattered her entire face with blood. Wiress sank to the ground, teetering back and forth while lethargically staring at her bloody hands and the dead boy lying in front of her. She was too traumatized by the death of her district partner, her friend and companion, and the horrible death of the boy from 1, to feel any other emotion than horror. Half an hour later, a sudden knock at the door startled her out of her thoughts (”Knock, knock! I know you’re in there, Brainy. Won’t you open the door for me? Oh, that’s rude, Brainy. I thought you were clever.”). Wiress slowly got up, moved to the window, carefully looked out, and then escaped the hut through it. She leaned against the wall, unable to move due to fear. Suddenly, the boy from 7 showed up right above her: he had climbed onto the roof and now looked down at her with a broad smile on his face (”Tick tock, time is running, Wiress! Aren’t you tired of playing the cat-and-mouse game? I mean, it’s a lot of fun, but let’s better end this right now.”). Wiress ran away again, this time in the direction of the nearest lake. She swam across that lake until reaching the shore. The boy from 7 calmly followed her (”I totally forgot about that boy. You’ve killed him on your own? I’m very impressed! Too bad you won’t be lucky this time.”). Wiress put her hand in her pocket, holding the taser, while staring at the boy who was still grinning, unaware what was expecting him (“That’s it, Brainy. You fought well. Now come to me. I’ll make it short. I won’t hurt you much, I promise.”). He then laughed at the sight of her (”Just a tiny little bit. Tick tock, the time is up!”). That’s when Wiress turned the taser on and threw it into the water. She watched him being electrocuted from afar, and listened to his blood-curdling death cries. The cannon went off, and she sank to the ground yet again, teetering back and forth while singing a nursery rhyme (”Hickory, dickory, dock. The mouse ran up the clock. The clock struck one, the mouse ran down, hickory, dickory, dock.”). She remained in that position even after the hovercraft had showed up to bring her away, and got up fifteen minutes later, still in great shock. Capitol’s favorite (8th-choice).

Wiress was never the same. Although her mentor, Beetee Latier, had protested that she shouldn’t be interviewed due to her condition, Wiress was still brought on stage. But she didn’t talk. The Capitol was not happy with a victor like her. President Snow initially believed that she was just acting so that the Capitol would leave her alone, but then realized she wasn’t. Wiress lived in seclusion until she became friends with Beetee: he reminded her of a friend she had lost in the arena. During the 75th Hunger Games, Wiress kept having flashbacks of her first Games: the clock arena reminded her of Veneer’s catchphrase (”Tick, tock!”), and the blood rain reminded her of the time Awes had splattered her face with blood. That’s why she had been too shocked to tell her allies about what she had found out about the arena, and had been repeating “Tick, tock!” over and over again. As if the ghosts of those two boys had appeared decades later to haunt her again.

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*Capitol favorites attracted Capitol citizens’ (and therefore whole Panem’s) attention the most. Various reasons for this included their unique skills, impressive deeds or exciting storylines. More screen time made it easier for them to survive in the arena compared to less noticed tributes (e.g. in terms of sponsor gifts). Also, there was a lower risk for them to be exposed to the Gamemaker’s arbitrariness (e.g. mutts, different dangers) due to contributing to the viewer’s excitement. The higher their placement (1st, 2nd, 3rd…), the better. Nevertheless, the possibility of encountering dangers in the arena was never completely ruled out.

Sorry for any language mistakes. English is not my native language. Please let me know about any mistakes I have made.

I’d be grateful for your feedback! I spend A LOT of time writing all of this, so I’d really like to know what you think.

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Other finished recaps: The 1st, 25th, 36th, 50th, 65th, 68th, 69th, and 70th Hunger Games

#hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #suzanne collins #wiress #fanfic #panem #quarter quell

[dailyaudiobible]

03/11/2021 DAB Transcript

Numbers 15:17-16:40, Mark 15:1-47, Psalms 54:1-7, Proverbs 11:5-6

Today is the 11th day of March welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it is always a great day when we get to get together like this, come around the Global Campfire, find our place, step out of whatever's going on and just let the Scriptures speak. And, so, let's let the Scriptures speak. We’re reading from the New International Version this week, picking up where we left off yesterday back into the book of numbers and just remembering what has happened. Spies have been sent into the land, the people have moved out, it's time to go into the land, but a bad report comes back. And, so, they are disqualified and now an entire generation will spend the rest of their lives in the wilderness while their children grow up and then it will be their job to go into the promised land. And, so, we’ll turn into some areas now where we feel like we’re reviewing things - additional laws, a reaffirming of laws, a rehearing of laws. This is because we have a shifting of generations that is taking place. Numbers chapter 15 verse 17 through 16 verse 40.

Commentary:

Okay. So, in the book of Mark today, we covered the territory that includes the crucifixion of Jesus, His death, and before that brutal mistreatment and mockery. And this culminates with Jesus hanging from the cross having been crucified. So, He’s got nails affixing Him to beams where He's hanging waiting for death to come and He cries out in a loud voice, “my God my God why, why, why have you forsaken me?” And, so, let's…let's just work our way to that point by just looking back at the last days of Jesus. We…we remember Jesus, walking through Jericho and healing blind Bartimaeus while He’s on His way to Jerusalem. We…we…we know that Jesus knew what was going to happen because He kept telling His disciples what was going to happen. And, so, He heals blind Bartimaeus as He passes through Jerusalem knowing that He's 18 miles away from His death, an uphill climb to Jerusalem. And as He is on that walk, we remember some of the disciples coming around Him arguing who’s the greatest and can they have a position with Him on the left and on the right. And we see Jesus loving and caring for them but understanding that what’s about to happen is beyond them. They really do expect the Messiah to cause a revolt and overthrow the corruption and overthrow the government. So, you…I mean…how could we put ourselves in the position of the Savior in that moment, but we can think about it, at least, we can consider it, at least, we can consider what it might be like if we knew that we were going to be dying. And none of us want to think about that, but if we knew that we were going to be dying in the next couple of days and our friends or family, they come around us asking for things, we might find that to be isolating, we might find that to be tremendously lonely. Like nobody actually does understand what we’re going through. We read the story of the Last Supper the Jesus had and we certainly know that this is where the Eucharist or communion originated and comes from, this tradition that we carry on until this day. But Jesus had this last meal, and that's the thing. It was the Last Supper. It's called that because of some huge theological meaning. It's the last meal. It’s the last meal before the suffering and He's having that meal with the one who is betraying Him to death. So, you have to wonder, like what is that like? Usually we find out we’re betrayed and it causes a big battle and there’s broken relationships and all that but He’s like sitting there enduring it, even inviting His betrayer to partake…take of the cup. We could say Jesus is enduring the betrayal. And anyone…and I think everyone in the sound of my voice at least understands the concept of betrayal, but many of us have been betrayed in some sort of way in our lives. And, so, we know the isolation in that and the depression in that, the uncertainty, sort of the shift of what we thought was real being tipped upside down. Jesus is enduring all of this. This is all part of the makeup of a fully human and fully God being upon the earth. We’ve followed Jesus into the garden of Gethsemane now a couple of times in Matthew and Mark and we see Him crying out to God very, very human prayer, very human prayer, “if there's any way that we don't have to do what we’re about to do that would be great. Like, is there any way the cup can pass? If there's any way that I don't have to do what I'm being sent to do, if it…if it can go away or if there’s some other way…but not my will but yours.” And, so, we’ve seen Jesus sweating it out. Like He's in anguish in the garden of Gethsemane, anguish - a very human thing to experience. And then the time comes, and the mob shows up and the kiss of betrayal and the binding of the hands and freedom is taken. And Jesus, the Divine One made flash has lost His freedom and He's willingly going. And then we go in before the high priest and all of the accusations. And let's imagine that this is taking place at night and that it goes the deep, deep into the night until exhaustion sets in. And we know that when we’re being yelled at and we’re exhausted at the same time, the feelings, the emotions involved in that are so isolating and so confusing and so upside down. And Jesus is being falsely accused and He’s taking it. He’s not saying anything back. He's listening. He's taking everything that they’re trying to concoct against Him. They’re verbally abusing Him for hours. And some of us have experienced this in some sort of way or another. We…we get the concept if…if not like the whole thing if we don't understand exactly what it's like to be verbally abused. But for hours. But then…then they judge Him. He tells the truth about who He is and then they call Him a blasphemer and they start beating Him and blindfolding Him and tearing out His beard. We can read these things as if they don't hurt, as if He doesn't really feel them, somehow, He’s above it, somehow, He's aloof, somehow, He’s not really enduring it, somehow, it's not really what it appears to be. If they grabbed His whiskers and yanked, then it would hurt. If they spit upon Him which the Bible says that they did, it would drip off His nose, it would drip down into His beard. Like, let's not make this what it's not, let's make it what it is. This is what He's doing. This is what He's going through. And like I said, we can't really put ourselves in that position but we can imagine just briefly what the emotions might be inside of us if this is what we were enduring. And after being smacked around and beaten up then He's given over to the Romans who…who professionally beat Him until He's…He’s a bloodied pulp gasping for breath trying to endure every frayed nerve that is screaming agony. And then He tries to carry this cross and He gets some help. But in the end, the cross gets to where it's going, up on the hill of Golgotha where they strip Him, humiliate Him and nail Him to beams and hang Him to die. So, when we get to this moment where He’s like, “my God, why have you forsaken me?” Well, we can understand the path that brought Him to that moment just before His death. And I know. All my life I’ve heard the theological explanations for the “why have you forsaken me, my God, my God.” The thing is, it’s theological conjecture. It's trying to solve a problem when it's not inherently explained. So, it is what it is. We take it at the face value. We take the words at what they say that He hung from this cross and He cried out. It’s why, which is so human. I don't…I don't even…I wouldn't even know where to begin to count the times that I’ve said that to God over the course of my life and I know I'm not alone. It's sort of the question we end up at with all the time, “like why is this happening?” So, I don't think that God was confused about what was going on. I don't think Jesus was confused but I think He was feeling the things that human beings feel because He chose to descend, to condescend Himself, to reduce Himself, to become one of us, to show us in person the way that we should go and to call out the truth and model life for us in person, experiencing what we experience in all points except for without sin. So, He would experience what any human being would experience, which brings us to the big point here. We’re looking at Jesus died on the cross and this is the second time we’ve crossed this territory in our readings for this year, but if we just simply look back over the last few days of Jesus life and the things that transpired, the things that He had to deal with physically, spiritually and emotionally we would realize that we really don't have anything to hold onto when we are crying out to God that He doesn't understand what we’re going through. Probably more accurately is that we can't understand what He went through, but He certainly understands what we go through. And, so, the cross certainly means a lot of things to us, as believers in Jesus. It is pivotal, it is irreplaceable in the Christian faith and in our story, but one thing that it should tell us very clearly is that God does understand. So, my suggestion or word of advice, or whatever you want to call it is, that we just don't go there anymore. It's…it's not true. God understands all of it. He's the only one that understands all of what you've been through, all that you're going through, anything that you might go through, things that you’ve had to endure that have left scars, things that you desire that are just out of reach, brokenness that's too painful really to even think about. This is the thing about this story. This is the thing about the gospel, is that Jesus came to rescue us eternally, but also, He came to identify with us personally. And when we kind of hurl these why questions - I don't get it, You don't understand - all of this stuff that gets built up and that we say or at least feel or think, it's not true. And that only estranges us, that only puts up a wall between us and the only one who actually does get it. So, we've been in this season, a season known as Lent. We’re still in that season. It ends the Saturday before Easter, so April 2nd I believe. This is the time, a season, an actual season to meditate upon and consider these things deeply, not just quickly, not just surface, but to actually take 40 days to contemplate and sit with them and meditate upon them and open ourselves completely to God in every conceivable way, maybe even fasting so that every time we have a craving that we can consider what we’re doing to remind us of what's happening or opening ourselves fully to God so that He can rearrange us in any way that we need so that there's nothing off-limits to Him because He does understand us and we do put our hope and faith in Him and Him alone utterly. So, this is a really good time then to look at what's happening here and look at the humanity of Jesus and understand that he does understand what we’re going through and that we would be lying if we claimed that He didn't. And, so, we should never put that between us and Him ever again because He does know.

Prayer:

Jesus, we confess. We have said it more times than we can count. We have come to You with misunderstandings. We have come with estrangement. We’re angry with You that You didn't show up in the way we wanted You to, or You don't understand what we’re going through or the depths of the blackness of what we’re facing, or that You just couldn't possibly understand the depths of the human experience. And yet that's not true. You do indeed understand the depths and blackness and darkness of the human experience. We just bore witness to it with what we read in the book of Mark today. You understand. And, so, we’re sorry that we've used that, that we've hurled that. Like when we face You hanging on a cross on our behalf and then we think of the insults that we've hurled or the accusations that we've leveled at You, that You couldn't possibly understand what we're going through, O it's embarrassing, it’s humiliating. This is what we should feel, sorry. We should feel sorry. We should repent. We should turn and go the other way and never come this way again. And, so, this is our prayer, and this is our declaration. We will never accuse You of not understanding us, never again. It's not true and it only divides us. It pulls us away from each other, where it's only going to get more destructive in our lives. So, we’re clinging to You and we’re inviting You as we continue through this season of lament and repentance to show us, Holy Spirit come. What are the ways, what are the places inside of us that we’re still walling off, that we’re still withholding from You? We want to move through this season and give everything to You. Come Holy Spirit we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

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If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, if the mission that we share to bring the spoken word of God read fresh every day and offered to anyone on this planet any time of day or night, and to build community around that rhythm so that were not on this journey alone, if that is something that matters to you than thank you for your partnership profoundly and with all humility. There is a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you’re using the Daily Audio Bible app you press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

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And that's it for today, I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Good morning DAB family God bless you all. Guinn from Texas you had called in for a father who has one son in jail and the other homeless and you also mentioned how you had a son who is in jail and you know he had experienced an…an encounter with the Lord and is saved although you lost him late along in a motorcycle accident. First of all, I'm sorry about your loss Guinn but I'm grateful that you got to know the Lord. And for father that you called in for I am praying for him. I am praying in the name of Jesus that both your sons are going to come to know the Lord in the name of Jesus. I am believing in the name of Jesus not only are they going to come to the Lord they are also going to be a witness to the Lord in the name of Jesus. That the one who's incarcerated will be able to witness the gospel to others in the name of Jesus. And the one who is homeless will be returning home in the name of Jesus. Melissa from Alabama I am sorry for the loss of your friend your dentist doctor Kirby. I am believing and praying that his wife and kids are going to be comforted as well as you and all those who have survived him in the name of Jesus. Lynn newbie your daughter's marriage rocky marriage that is and I am praying for her in the name of Jesus I am praying for all things that are not of God in that marriage to be bound in the name of Jesus I am believing for restoration in the name of Jesus I am believing for assistance with the four children. You know, especially the ones with the special needs I am believing in the name of Jesus. Maria first time caller long listener your daughter Taylor 26 years old I am binding that in the name of Jesus I am binding everything that is attacking and restraining her away from the Lord in the name of Jesus God bless you all. Esther…

Hello this is Michael Gene Elmore from way out West. We had a couple of praise reports. And first one is about my wife Terry…Terry Elmore she’s been working the last couple years in a Christian school as a teacher's assistant for the preschool kids and it has just been wonderful. I mean it's really just blessed her life and really been a great thing for her and for the kids that she get to teach these kids about Jesus teach them how to spell their name tie their shoes and do all this basic stuff and she just absolutely loves it. And another praise report is about my daughter. My oldest daughter Jessica has told me that she's been listening to the Daily Audio Bible since the first of the year and she's got a couple kids and stuff and I think they're listening to the…I think they are listening to Zeke the kids are too. So, just really really an answer to many of my prayers and stuff. I'm also praying for all these people on here. I…I listen to all of the requests and some of 'em just really touch my heart. I mean this lady that said that her husband she overheard that her husband’s leaving her and I'm praying for her and praying for him to come to his right mind and change his mind and repent. And all the people who are sick and so forth, I pray for em’ every day and and I love you people love this family, the Daily Audio Bible. Adios.

Hi family this is Biola from Maryland I hope you're all doing well. Brian And Jill God bless you, God bless you for this powerful ministry that is a ministry to thousands around the world. Family when you do think of Daily Audio Bible and you throw your log into the campfire remember to give. This is very important for continuity. I want to pay for the young lady that called in dealing with postpartum depression. Doctor John from New York give you an excellent, excellent advice. Sister I want to direct you to 2 Corinthians 10:3-5 that tells you how to fight. Like doctor John said, every time those evil thoughts come to your head just take them captive like prisoners of war, pull them down in the name of Jesus. Hold them captive to the obedience of Christ. And right now, I come against every contrary voice that is disturbing you that is harassing you. I bind you foul spirits in the name of Jesus. Sister I want you to listen to doctor John's advice, excellent advice. And I want to pray for Lynn. I want to pray for your daughter, her situation and your son in law. Father I pray that you will arrest this young man's heart O God Lord, that You will arrest his heart for You, that You will break his heart, make it tender for You, let him come to know You. And I pray for deliverance oh God for Lynn’s daughter in this situation in the name of Jesus, that you will reconcile them, reconcile their marriage in Jesus’ name. Maria, I heard your heartbreaking prayer request. I pray for Taylor. O Father Lord I break the hold of the enemy over Taylor's life in the name of Jesus. Father Lord of heaven I pray that You would deliver this Young lady, soften her heart for You, Holy Spirit pursue her diligently. Let Andrew and his team, let them be successful in the name of Jesus. And Lastly, Julie I'm praying for you in your situation that the Lord will step in and take…

Hi, my name is Amy I'm calling from Vancouver Canada and I am so grateful for this Daily Audio Bible. Brian I discovered it back in the fall and countless days of pure joy and that the scriptures have just come alive through your voice and through…through God in…in you. Thank you very much for that. Thank you to the community for your prayers for your encouragement for one another. I have realized that there is a family out there that is worldwide and just God’s Angels everywhere is incredible. I've had the opportunity to pray for so many and I thank you for that. I thank you for moving forward your prayer concerns. Today I bring you mine. I've been diagnosed finally, praise God, after waiting for three years to have diagnosis with a pelvic prolapse. I’ll spare you the details but it's incredibly painful and there's at least a two year wait list for surgery here in Canada, at least. And…and 34…and it's really really painful. I’m off work and I want the joy of the Lord back in my step. I'm persevering, I'm continuing on. __  and…but I also pray for strength and determination too, to learn what he has for me in this season of my life so that one day I can __  and __ and encourage others as well in their own journey. Thank you so much for the prayers and the support and I…I really truly have come to love each and every one of you that I have had the opportunity to hear. Thank you so much. Wonderful…have a wonderful day. Bye bye.

Hello, DABbers this is Bianca calling from North Carolina it's actually Sunday March 7th at 9:07 PM __. I decided I would call in every 7th of the month or at least try to. So, I was just calling really to say thank you to Brian and the Hardin family. I actually started to listen to DAB Kids with my son in the morning with Ezekiel and five and a half. He get really excited when Ezekiel reads by himself. And, so, that's really awesome, those short little tidbits on the way dropping him off at school is really cool. And I’ve just been pondering a lot lately how Brian has been talking about having situations happen taking a pause and just observing for a moment before we respond. So, I just wanted to call and say that I am praying for that for myself. I definitely know that I can be quick tempered and quick to speak before I think and it’s something that I know that I've needed to work on but I haven't truly invested the time and the thought into it in order to do it because it is a skill that can be learned if it is practiced. And, so, I'm just calling in today praying for that ability to take that pause before responding and try to respond from a place that's in line with who I want to be versus who I am in that moment of frustration and inability and anger and sadness. And, so, I'm just asking for prayers for that. I'm praying for all of you as I listen through. There's so many different things going on but just know that when your prayer is voiced and played it is heard and someone is praying for you. Thank you. I love you all and I hope you all have a wonderful week.

Hey DAB family this is David from Pennsylvania first-time caller just started listening back in January. Just wanted to call in and say thank you to all those people who have been sending in prayer and encouragement. I'm praying along with you guys and the encouragement just keeps lifting me up as I listen to them. So, thanks. I actually was touched by one caller who came in and was talking about how God still does the little things. It really hit me because in the past week I've been asking God, “hey can you show me something that…that you are still doing small things?” And he showed me at least three times in the past three days, “yeah I'm still doing small stuff.” So, thanks…thanks for just bringing that up again. Well…hoping to call in again soon. Bye.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #320

we on a spree today!

Would you rather be twice as smart or twice as happy? Give me the happiness, please. What happened the last time you cried? I was having a PTSD episode. What happened the time in your life when you were the most nervous to do something? I think the most nervous I've ever been was in elementary school when I won the D.A.R.E. essay contest and had to read my paper in front of the whole 4th and 5th grade in the gym. There may be something else, though, there's just a LOT of instances where I've been an anxious mess. What was the greatest television show of all time? Meerkat Manor, man. I canNOT wait for it to resume, I believe this summer. What one thing would you be most disappointed if you never got to experience it? Maybe petting a meerkat, particularly a descendant of a Meerkat Manor character, Flower Whiskers in specific. I would cry, and that is a promise. I am just... so thankful for those little creatures. Because of them, I've met so many irreplacable friends and developed a hobby that was a way to dump my creativity into since I was what, 10 years old? What celebrity would you trade lives with? BITCH let me be Amy Nelson (Mark's gf) for OBVIOUS REASONS. Haha on a serious note though she is an INCREDIBLE person that I'm so glad Mark found. :'''') What story do your friends still give you crap about? Nothing, really. What is your weirdest dealbreaker? I'unno... define a "weird" dealbreaker. I find mine to be pretty reasonable. What’s the first thing you’d do if you were the opposite sex for one day? Well, look at myself in a mirror? See how I look. What is the weirdest quirk your family has? We have this thing where we say "I love you mostest period" at random to imply we love the other person more than they could love us, indisputably. How old is the last person you kissed on the cheek or lips? On the cheek, it was either my niece or nephew, who are 4 and 6. The person I last kissed on the lips is 22. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans? Not anymore, no. I don't wear jeans. Do you think you could live with your best friend? I would fuckin LOVE to. Do you have someone who you can be your complete self around? I'm most comfortable with myself around Sara. What were you doing when you found out Michael Jackson was dead? I was swimming in the pool while Dad was grilling lunch. The last person you kissed, was it a drunken or sober? Sober. Have you ever introduced yourself with a name other than your own? Online, I've introduced myself with my account name, but generally, I say I'm Brittany. Are any of your siblings married? I don't know about the half-sister I don't know, but two are married, and one is engaged. Do you use an umbrella when it rains? Not usually, no. When was the last time you had a lot of fun? A lot of fun? That's one damn good question. Probably not since I last hung out with Sara. The last time you cried, who was there to comfort you? I was alone. What was your most recent reason for smiling / laughing? I chuckled at something in a John Wolfe video. Are you attracted to the last person you talked to? Um, that would be my mother. So no. Do you like your middle name, or does it embarrass you? It's pretty, but I hate having it. It's one of the most common white chick middle names ever. Are your toenails painted? No; I don't paint my nails. When was the last time you couldn't stop laughing? Why? Probably a funny YT video, I dunno. Any ways in which you're very different from the person you love/like? We have some differing political views. Why did you first kiss the last person you kissed? The timing felt right and I love(d) her. Has anyone seen you kiss the last person you kissed? Yeah. Who was the last person’s voice you heard? Besides via YouTube, my mom's. Who do you get along with best in your family? Mom. Have you ever been kissed in a car? Yeah. Is there anyone in your life that knows right away something’s wrong with you? Oh, absolutely my mother. Has your phone ever gone off in the middle of a class at school? Oh god no, I'd die. The last time you washed your hair, did you use conditioner? I never do. It adds oil to your hair, and mine is naturally oily enough. Do you prefer light or dark jeans? DARK. Do you have an item of clothing that reminds you of someone? Tell me about it, and the person it reminds you of. I have a good handful of those. When you listen to music, do you generally sing along, or just listen? I just listen, usually. Do you have any of your exes as friends on Facebook? Yeah. Does more than one person like you? *shrug* You log into Facebook and see the red ‘1’ notification next to the message icon. Who do you want it to be? I fucking hate that my answer is "Jason." If your hair is long, would you ever think about having it cut short? Or, if it’s short, would you like to grow it long? As far as I'm concerned, my hair will never be long again. I love it so much more short. What if you were told that your life has to stay exactly as it is right now, and nothing will ever change? How would you feel about that? I'd... honestly probably kill myself. I don't know that with certainty, but yeah. I'd be pretty damn devastated. What’s the most expensive thing you own? Probably my snake. Name something you really can’t wait for? MAY!!!!!!! GIMME MY TATTOOOOOOOO!!!!! What do you want in your future? E.g marraige, kids… A great career, a healthy and permanent relationship, lots of pets, adventure, life satisfaction... Got any major celeb crushes? m a r k e d w a r d f i s c h b a c h Do you have any glow-in-the-dark items in your room? If so what? No. Have you ever stalked anybody? Yeesh, no. If you could be on any TV show, which would it be and why? I'll just hypothetically say I WANTED to be on television for this, because irl, I don't. Ummm. I guess That '70s Show, because I love the '70s, and it'd be so cool to have a big group of friends like that. What is your favorite brand of hairspray? I don't use hairspray. What is the last thing you tripped over? Our doorstep, lmao. Do you were glasses or contacts? If so what color are your frames/contacts? I wear black-rimmed glasses. Do you like stickers? If so what kinds do you like? Yeah. I used to collect them as a kid and put them all over my dresser. Do you like coloring? Yes. What is in your backyard? Some bushes and a shed. Maybe a tree. I've been out there like, once. Do you own a globe? No. What is your favorite wild cat? Snow leopards are the prettiest, imo. As animals in general, I find lions the most interesting. How many continents have you been to, and which ones? I've never left North America. How many continents has your best friend been to, and which ones? She hasn't, either. How many continents has your dad been to, and which ones? Same as above. Have you ever been so terrified that you felt paralyzed? Yep. What’s a place you have a strong emotional connection to? The community college I first went to. Particularly where Jason and I took his senior prom pictures. Who was the last relative you visited? Grammy, before she passed away. My uncle was with her, too. Do you ever wonder what kind of person you’d have turned out to be if a certain event never happened to you? Oh, certainly. I wonder all the time what would have happened if Jason didn't leave. I could still be horribly depressed, or dead, considering ultimately, the event led to me finding the help I so desperately needed. Or maybe I'd be perfectly happy with kids and know how to be an actual adult. I was only a teenager, and yet with him, I never felt more mature and just... capable. When you’re home alone, do you still shower with the bathroom door closed? Yes. Have you ever bought something really expensive and ended up returning it? I don't believe so. If you could have anyone’s singing voice, whose would you choose? Amy Lee is the brazenly obvious answer. What are your top 3 favorite genres of music? Metal, rock, indie. Same general category, I know, but it's almost all I listen to. Is there anything you’d like to say to your last ex? We're best friends, and I talk to her regularly, so I can tell her anything. Where did you buy your dishes from? No clue. We've had the same plates and bowls I think my entire life. Do you think Mars will be colonized in your lifetime? No. Have you ever been on a ship? Boats, yeah. I think ships are just the really big ones, right? Sails and all? Do you ever take intentional breaks from checking/posting on social media? No. Who was Van Halen’s better singer - David Lee Roth, or Sammy Hagar? David Lee Roth. He's an arrogant bastard, but boy can he sing. Which fictional character has the most memorable quotes? I don't know. Maybe the Joker. Do you watch The Office? Gossip Girl? Grey’s Anatomy? None of 'em. Name someone you know with a birthday in December: Sara! What color was the last vehicle you were in? White. What is your dad’s name? Kenneth, but he's just called "Ken." When was the last time you slept in a bed with someone else? Not since I last visited Sara. Do you have any indoor pets? Both my pets are indoors. How do you feel about teenagers claiming to be in love? It's entirely possible. I was; nobody could EVER convince me I wasn't. Are you dating anyone? If so, for how long? No. Do you know anyone with Down's Syndrome? I think so? What animal that is endangered is your favorite? Oh yikes, I don't know. I don't really know every endangered animal, y'know, and I love all animals SO much. Maybe elephants or tigers. How do you believe the Earth and life on it was created? I feel like there was SOME sort of ultimate intelligence that created the universe, but I don't know anything about it/him/her/whatever. Then I believe in evolution. Basically, some sort of conscious creation, and then let life do its thing. What’s your religion? I don't have one. You could say theism, but is that even a proper religion? Do you like your teeth? No. During my worst depression, I was very bad at taking care of them, and now they have a yellowish tint. Have you considered getting contacts that change your eyecolor? What color? Oh yes, I've wanted to have more sapphire blue eyes. Do you wish you lived somewhere else? Yes. Living in the suburbs just isn't my jam, but it works for right now. What’s the craziest color you’ve seen on a house? I think I've seen a pink house before? Don’t you hate the texture of lotion on your skin? Yes. What’s the prettiest cat you have seen? There's this brown British Longhair with beautiful green eyes that I adore on social media. Name's Smoothie. What is your favorite doughnut? Chocolate frosted or glazed. Do you have a hot tub? If so, where is it located? No. What is your favorite party game? Man, I don't even know popular party games, haha. Do you or your parents rake your yard? Neither of us do. No matter where we've lived, ever since Dad left, no one rakes. Do you buy drugstore make-up or high-end make-up? We always buy drugstore makeup. What’s the last good love story you read? I don't think I've read a love story since The Notebook. Do you own a lava lamp or disco ball? No, but I wish I had a lava lamp. When was the last time you went to the roller rink? It's been many years. Do you own a kaleidoscope? No. I did as a kid, though. Have you ever made an inspiration board for your room? No, but I absolutely plan to once I get a big enough board to hang on the wall, and my "office" is cleaned out. I want that room to be full of motivation. Who is the best-looking male celebrity? Take a wild guess. Where would you like to travel to next? Yellowstone. I want to spread Teddy's ashes there in an area with wolves to rest in his roots. Less importantly, I want to take looooooaaaaaaaddddddsssss of photographs. Where are three places you go to relax? Just my room, really. If you became famous, would you change your name to something exotic? No. What color is your favorite pair of shorts? I don't wear shorts, ever. List five items on your current wardrobe wish list. I've wanted a black, studded leather jacket since I was in high school. I also really want big, spiked leather boots, too. Then there's tons of band tees I want. Who makes great song covers on YouTube? JONATHAN YOUNG!!!!!!! GO!!!!!!!!! LISTEN TO HIM!!!!!!!!!!! Who is one of the best songwriters? Otep Shamaya. Painting or drawing? I strongly prefer drawing. Painting that shows brushstrokes or painting that looks like a photograph? The latter. The former can be quite stylistic, though. First thing you wash in the shower? My hair, but if you mean my actual body, my chest. Brown or white egg? I don't even know the flavor difference. Favorite time of year? October-December. Do you own a gun? I legally can't due to a suicidal history. Have you ever been in a castle? Excluding the Disney World castle, no. Are you a clingy person when it comes to relationships? I honestly am. Have you ever been bitten so hard that there teeth marks were there after? I mean, I've had hickeys before. Would you ever date a disabled person? (Be honest) Yes. If you found a baby randomly by itself what would you do? Call the cops and stay with it until they arrived. What is the most personal question you have ever been asked? I'd rather not repeat it. When was the last time you wished time would move faster? Literally every waking moment of my life. It's so sad, thinking about it. I'm just rushing my life away. Are there any owls in your room (as decor, of course)? No. If you’re not straight, who was the first person you came out to? Sara. Do you enjoy hearing birds chirp? I do. Have you ever hiked a mountain? No. Where did you meet your first crush? School. Who is your favorite little girl? My sweetheart niece. What is your favorite song by the last band you listened to? Oh boy, don't make me pick. Does your best friend have kids? No; she doesn't want any, either. Where did you go the last time you drove for longer than an hour? The beach, I think. If you were pregnant, would you want a boy or a girl? Hypothetically, a girl. How often do you get fountain drinks from a gas station? Rarely, but every now and again. Who is your favorite character in your favorite movie? Mufasa. What junk food can you never pass up? Donuts came to mind first. But I think that's because I'm craving donuts, haha. Have you ever had a UTI? Yeah, multiple. I don't drink nearly enough water. I've had one so bad my kidneys hurt like a bitch. What's the last color you dyed your hair? Red.

#survey #surveys #questions

[fandomstuff67]

The Aftermath

Yes, this is another ficlet I wrote, yes I know I post these really often, but it’s just because my brain loves to come up with ideas at midnight and I can’t just ignore them. So, this latest Destiel ficlet is called The Aftermath, in which they defeated Chuck, but suffered some losses. This is an idea as to what the ending of the show might look like. It’s not entirely happy, because I don’t think they’re going to let us get away with them all living, so ***Spoiler Alert*** in this take on the ending, Sam dies. 

Also, I wanted to say that if you’re someone who enjoys these mini fic posts I make, please let me know if you want to be tagged when I post new stories. 

Okay, without further adieu, you can read it here down below, as always, or you can read it on my Ao3.

                              The Aftermath

They did it. They beat Chuck. They won. 

As happy as Dean wanted to be that they managed to outsmart Chuck (with the help of Amara, Jack, Michael, and Cas) it hadn’t been a total win, there had been losses. 

Sam had gotten caught in the crossfire between Chuck and Amara. Chuck had hit him with a powerful blow that sent him flying across the room where he fell and never got back up. Dean knew Sam was already dead before he hit the ground, but part of him hoped that maybe he was okay, maybe the blow hadn’t killed him. But they weren’t that lucky. Sam was gone, and this time he wasn’t coming back. 

They lost Jack, too. Not by death, which Dean could count partly as a win, but to Michael. Michael took him up to Heaven, and together they were going to rebuild the Silver City and create more angels. Even through all the differences they’d had, all the fights and grudges Dean had held against him, he was going to miss the kid. Jack had promised to visit when he got the chance, claiming he was only one prayer away.

Cas’ grace was the other thing they lost. Dean couldn’t exactly say it was a huge loss, not compared to Sam’s death, anyway, but it was still a loss. Cas had burnt himself out helping with Chuck’s demise, every ounce of grace he had left his body, leaving him vulnerable; human. 

Cas didn’t seem all that bothered by it, almost like he was expecting it, and maybe he was. Cas had been human before, he knew what to expect, he knew how it felt, Dean couldn’t do much in the way of helping him adjust because Cas didn’t seem to need help. Cas had got it in his head that Dean was the one who needed help, because Dean was grieving. 

Sam’s death had hit him hard, true, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t gone through it before. The only difference this time was that no demon deal or any amount of pleading with Billie, would bring his brother back. Dean had become a shell, just a body, going through the motions. He ate as little as he could get away with, he drank coffee in the morning but it always turned to whiskey after the first cup. Day and night, he wandered the halls of the bunker. He didn’t sleep well, maybe two hours a night, but those hours were always plagued with nightmares and the ghost of Sam’s limp body in his hands. 

Cas noticed Dean’s sleeplessness. Of course, he noticed. And Cas being Cas, he kept trying to help. 

“I’m fine, Cas,” Dean would say to every inquiry from the ex-angel.  

“Dean, you’re not fine,” Cas would reply. 

And of course, he was right. Dean wasn’t fine, he was never going to be fine again. Life without his brother was just as empty as he’d thought it would be. Yeah, you’re right, I’m not fine. Dean wanted to say, wanted to scream, but he didn’t. He never let Cas hear those words; that was until one night when Cas found Dean standing in the doorway of Sam’s bedroom, just staring, silent tears streaming down his cheeks, that he finally broke. 

“He’s really gone,” he said, his voice choked and raw. 

“Yes,” Cas replied solemnly. 

Dean felt the palm of Cas’ hand slide across his back in soothing strokes and before he could stop himself, he was turning into Cas’ warm embrace and burying his face in the crook of his best friend’s neck. 

“It’s okay,” Cas said softly, his hand still moving in slow circles along Dean’s back as sobs wrenched themselves from his chest. “It’s okay.” 

Dean didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but he cried until his eyes were dry and he was hiccuping in breaths of air. All the while, Cas soothed him and Dean drank in the scent of his friend, the safety that he felt wrapped in his arms. Fear suddenly spiked through Dean’s body and he gripped Cas tighter. 

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered in a whimper. “Please, don’t leave me.” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Cas said against Dean’s ear. “I would never leave you.” 

Dean sobbed again and held onto Cas so tightly that he was almost certain Cas couldn’t breathe, but the ex-angel didn’t make a sound, he just patted Dean’s back and let one of his hands trail through the short hair along Dean’s neck. 

“I’m not okay, Cas,” he said into Cas’ shoulder. 

“I know,” Cas replied softly. 

“I just… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I can’t hunt, not without him.” 

“So don’t. There are plenty of other hunters out there. Let someone else save the world for a change. You should live your life for once, do what you want to do, not what you think you have to.” 

Dean sniffed and pulled away from Cas slightly, only keeping a whisker of space between them. Cas’ blue eyes were filled with sorrow and understanding and Dean wanted to cry again just at the sight of him. 

“Are you telling me to retire?” Dean asked through a huff. 

Cas lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m telling you to do whatever you want to do, Dean. You don’t have to give up the life, you can still help other hunters, like Bobby did, but you don’t have to be out in the field anymore. If you do decide that you want to keep hunting, I will accompany you if you want.” 

Dean pondered the thought for a moment, hunting with Cas didn’t sound all that bad, but the thought of retirement also lured Dean in. He thought about going into town, getting a real job, having real food for every meal and not something that he had to heat up in a microwave. It was tempting, and Dean found himself almost smiling at the thought of himself like that. 

“And if I don’t want to hunt anymore,” Dean began tentatively, “you’ll really stay here with me?” 

Cas’ lips twitched at the corners, the smallest of smiles pulling at the edges of his mouth. “Yes, Dean. I’ll stay.” 

Dean’s eyes flickered over every part of Castiel’s face. His blue eyes, the shadow of his stubble, his slightly flushed cheeks, the way his lips were parted as he gazed up at Dean. 

He didn’t know why he did it, maybe it was the heat of the moment, maybe he finally realized that he should stop saying no to the little voice inside his head that always spoke up whenever he was in any kind of vicinity to Castiel, or maybe it was just because Dean was feeling so lonely and sad that he just needed that human contact; whatever it was, Dean would later thank it for giving him the courage to surge forward and press his lips to Castiel’s. 

Cas made a small noise of surprise, but it only lasted a second before he was kissing Dean back. They hardly left themselves any time to get a gulp of air between kisses and Dean pushed Cas up against the wall, sliding his fingers through Cas’ unruly hair. 

Kissing Cas felt like coming home. It felt like everything he’d ever been missing in his life was wrapped up in the soft plush cushions of Cas’ lips. They kissed until they were forced to stop, dragging in deep breaths while they stole quiet glances at each other. 

“Dean, are you sure you-” Cas began, but Dean held up a hand to stop him. 

“Whatever you’re going to say, the answer is yes. Yes, I want this, I’ve wanted this for a long time but I never had the guts to tell you. I’ve wanted this since I saw you in that barn, since you told me that I deserved to be saved, since you gave up everything for me. I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.” Dean paused, drawing in a few breaths of air and letting his eyes connect with Castiel’s. “Do you? Want this, I mean.” 

Castiel’s hand brushed against Dean’s, and soon their fingers were linked together and Cas was leaning in, lips brushing against Dean’s as he replied. “Yes. I’ve wanted this since I first raised you from perdition.”

Dean’s heart fluttered in his chest, the smallest ounce of happiness drifting through all the sadness and anger, it carried a small wisp of hope, and as Dean kissed Cas again, he began to think that maybe everything would turn out okay. 

                                           ****

The years went on. Dean became a mechanic in town, and Castiel took after beekeeping and sold the honey he collected to a local farm. Every morning, Castiel would go out and look after the bees in the small clearing behind the bunker and Dean would come with him, letting their hands tangle together as they walked, each sipping from a mug of coffee as they listened to the birds chirping while the sun began to rise on the horizon. 

It was perfect. Well, almost perfect. Sam’s absence still left Dean with a hole in his heart that would never be filled, but Cas was still here. He stayed, and every night when he kissed Dean before they slept, shifting under the covers to lay his head on Dean’s chest and trail his fingers over Dean’s skin with featherlight touches, he reminded Dean that he really was going to stay; and it was then that the words suddenly slipped from his lips. 

“Marry me,” he said into the stillness of his bunker room. He tilted his head to look at Cas, who was now looking up at him, blue eyes bright. Dean repeated the words. “Marry me, Cas, please will you marry me?” 

Cas smiled. A warm comforting smile and then leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Yes,” he replied, voice deep and rough as he kissed Dean over and over again. “Yes, Dean, of course I’ll marry you.” 

The ceremony was small. Eileen, Donna, Jody, Claire, Alex, and Patience attended it. Jody officiated it, vows were exchanged, rings were placed on fingers, and it was over within fifteen minutes. Hugs were given, promises to see each other again soon were made, and then Dean and Castiel returned to the bunker and spent their wedding night tangled in the sheets of their bed. 

                                         ****

When Dean first noticed the gray lining his hair he stared at it for a solid ten minutes before he realized that it wasn’t just a reflection from the light. He chuckled at it, amazed that he was living long enough to even have gray hair; he never thought he’d see the day. 

Cas claimed that he liked it, that it added something to Dean’s features, and when Dean noticed gray in Cas’ hair too they laughed about it and kissed and then carried on like they usually would. They went outside to watch the sunset, hand in hand, and laid out on their backs to watch the stars when the sky opened up to reveal the dots of shining gas.

The years continued to pass, slowly and blissfully, and Dean eventually retired from his job as a mechanic and helped Cas with the beekeeping. 

The town was filled with rumors about who the two strange men living in the old bunker were. Some of the theories were outright laughable, like the ones where people speculated that they used to be part of the mob, or that they were criminals who ate children that came too close to the bunker, but others were closer to the truth.

Some said that they used to travel the country and help people, which was basically spot on, and others said they were just two men living out the rest of their days in peace, which was also the truth. 

One morning, when Dean and Cas went into town for their weekly groceries, a young boy of about ten or eleven approached them when the screaming of the Impala’s hinges alerted him to their arrival in town. He was only tall enough to reach Dean’s chest and was chewing on a piece of bubble gum. 

“You’re them, aren’t you?” the kid asked, as he came to a stop in front of them. “The strange guys that live in that old bunker.”

Dean and Cas exchanged glances and then Dean knelt to the ground to be eye level with the boy. “Yeah, we’re them,” Dean replied with a small smile. 

“Is it true that you were abducted by aliens?” 

Dean chuckled, that was a new one. He shook his head. “No. I was abducted by fairies once, but not aliens.” 

“Fairies?” the kid echoed. 

Dean hummed in affirmation. “Yes.” 

The kid’s eyes flicked to Castiel and he looked him up and down, taking in the trench coat that Cas still insisted on wearing. “My brother said you used to be a bounty hunter.” 

Cas let out a small huff of laughter as he regarded the boy. “I was a soldier,” he replied.

A soldier of God. Dean finished in his head. 

The boy’s eyes went wide. “Did you kill anyone?”

Cas sighed and looked over at Dean, who took his hand and squeezed it. “Yes,” he answered honestly. 

The kid let out a small gasp and then immediately turned to Dean. “Were you a soldier too?” 

“In a way,” Dean replied. 

“So is it true you saved people? My Grandma said you saved her life once.” 

Dean nodded slowly, feeling warmth spread through him at the thought that he had saved this boy’s grandmother, effectively meaning that this kid was here because of him. 

“Cas and I used to travel the country and stop evil creatures from hurting people.”

“Wow,” the kid breathed in awe, but his wide-eyed smile suddenly slipped and he blinked up at them in confusion. “But, if you’re not saving people anymore, who is?” 

Dean chuckled again and reached out to ruffle the kids long shaggy hair, painfully reminding him of Sam's hair, and how he used to ruffle it when they were kids. “Don’t worry, there are other people out there, and Cas and I still help behind the scenes.” 

“But, what if there’s something evil in Lebanon?” the kid asked, suddenly worried. 

Dean glanced over at Cas again, who was looking at Dean fondly, and then smiled. “Then Cas and I will take care of it. We won’t let anything bad happen to the people in Lebanon.” 

The kid’s smile came back in full force and he looked up hopefully at Dean and Cas. “Really?”

Dean nodded. “Really.” He got to his feet and then gave the kid a gentle push on the shoulder. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, now run along, Cas and I have some shopping to do.” 

“Okay, bye!” The kid smiled again and then waved to them as he ran back to where his mother was chatting with someone outside the post office.

Dean looked after him for a moment, seeing Sam again in the child’s eagerness and thirst for answers and knowledge. 

“Are you alright?” Cas asked as Dean let Cas’ hand slip into his for the walk into the grocery store. 

“I’m good,” Dean replied. “He just reminded me of Sam, that’s all.” 

Cas nodded in understanding. “Yes, I thought so too.” 

Dean clung to Cas’ hand as they entered the store, wondering what life would be like had Sam lived. It would have been perfect, just him, Cas, and Sam in the bunker, Eileen would probably be there too, married to Sam, with kids. But for what Dean got, he couldn’t exactly complain. 

Cas was all he needed to keep living, Cas made him feel safe and loved, he reminded Dean how to live without constantly grieving. Cas was his utopia, and if this was the ending that he was served, then who was he to complain. It was a better ending than he thought he’d get going into the fight with Chuck, and so he was going to continue to live in every moment with Cas by his side. And sometimes, when Dean was sitting alone in the bunker in Sam’s room, like he made a habit of doing once every day for an hour, it felt like Sam was there with him, telling him it was okay to enjoy life. Every new day was a gift, and Dean was going to continue to open them like it was Christmas morning. He was happy to be alive, and he was thankful to be spending the rest of his days hand in hand with the love of his life. 

#Supernatural #SPN #fanfic #ficlet #Destiel #DeanCas #Dean Winchester/Castiel #Dean Winchester #Castiel #Supernatural Fanfic #fluff #some sadness #possible ending of the show #the aftermath #fandom_stuff on AO3 #my writing

[elenatria]

Chernobyl is the only show who gives us a wide variety of beautiful (shipable) persons, from nerd-twink Dmitri to pure-twink Leonid.

Do I have to make a list of Chernobyl’s badass yummy tragic shippable men?

Oh well. I’ll make a list of Chernobyl’s badass yummy tragic shippable men.

Because I’ve never seen a show with SO MANY badass yummy tragic shippable men in such few episodes. And some of them had only one memorable line. One. Line.

Do I start with Dyatlov? Watch me start with Dyatlov.

I remember… he was the second thing that impressed me when I watched ep 1 (the first was Valery leaving many bowls to his cat and committing suicide right after. I had to re-watch the bowl scene.) I was so struck by his guy-next-door looks, I was like “what the hell am I looking at, why does he look so familiar? Why does he not look like… an actor?” And then the detached way he’d say “Akimov…” as his voice trailed off, a voice so cold yet calm and mesmerizing. I’ve never seen such a realistic “villain” before and, just to play the devil’s advocate here, it still kinda bugs me that Mazin talks about him as this super nasty irredeemable villain. I have the impression that even in the recent podcast he talks as if HBO Dyatlov and the real Dyatlov are one and the same. Lack of time to explain himself maybe? Jared starts poking into that with his mention of an excerpt in the script of the court scene where we were meant to feel some compassion for Dyatlov (34:55) (his “history and motivations”). That part was omitted in the script btw, but if anyone has seen it… 

And of course there’s the deleted scene here. That we will probably never see.

I do understand that an auteur has to support his choices no matter what, and Mazin’s choice is Dyatlov = villain. But I do believe he is kinda absolute with some things, conveniently overseeing them, even saying that he didn’t give Jared any jokes because “Legasov wasn’t funny” (46:32) . 

Wut? 1:14

If he had said “I didn’t write Legasov as funny” he would have kinda owned it but the use of the past tense (”wasn’t”) implies that he meant the real Legasov. Same goes for Dyatlov I guess.

Akimov.

His relationship with Toptunov. Enough said.

Akimov wears a wedding ring and that feeds lots of “forbidden relationship” fics and I love it.

On to Toptunov. Yeah. Twinkest twink I’ve ever seen.

And I mean these guys are on fire, and we had to watch the very last episode to find out.

Steamy Toptumov fics? Bring them my way.

Then we have Vasily. 

Thank god I hadn’t seen The Terror before Chernobyl so I watched Adam Nagaitis’ Igantenko with pure eyes.

To this day it hurts to watch his scenes. All of them. And it’s even worse to read his story in “Chernobyl prayer”. Soooooo much worse. Not only because it’s a true story but because his wife’s description makes you feel the pain. How a decaying body can suffer, and the people taking care of it.

I understand some fans were kinda bummed that the show didn’t dig deeper into his and Lyusya’s love story. Makes sense. But to me they’re the definition of tragic puppy love and it hurts as it is.

And then my beloved Sitnikov with his exasperated, confident “Follow me”. I mean.

Another ring-bearer that one.

Aaaaaah look at that handsome confident face marry meeeeeeee. 

Bryukhanov. Another guy-next-door. Had me staring at the screen, listening to his every-day high-pitched husky voice and I was like “Did that guy jump right out of that seaside pastry shop where I was with my dad  back in the summer of 1985?”. Did they use a time machine to bring him to the show or something?

And now I’m finding out he has a fan base. Fuck yeah.

Fomin. Ok I legit knew that guy but I couldn’t put a name on his face

He was James Potter. ^^ And oh, he has worked before with Stellan and Emily in Breaking the waves. Somehow you feel compelled to trust that face, never mind if in “Chernobyl” he was cowardly and scared as a rat. The way he yelled “It was Dyat-lov!…” as they took him away, so beautiful, so dramatic.

And now, on to the main course.

DMITRI.

Oh my paws and whiskers.

He cares about Ulana SO MUCH that he follows her around on a Saturday like a puppy. Bringing her coffee and who knows what else. 

He even jokes about her dedication. But oh look, he’s dedicated too.

Comrade, I don’t wanna say it out loud but I’m crushing on you.

You can see Ulana is almost afraid to look into his eyes when she asks him what he’s doing there. She knows. 

But of course there are so many things keeping them apart. There’s the age difference - people would call her names even if they wouldn’t call Dmitri the same names if their ages were reversed. There’s their professional relationship that shouldn’t be compromised. There’s that ring on her finger that Dmitri doesn’t know if it’s a wedding ring, an engagement ring, or an ex-lover’s present. Does she even have eyes for him? Dmitri doesn’t know.

Even meatier stuff. 

PIKALOV. 

*screaming*

Wanna love a character because of a single line and the way he delivers it? Yeah, Pikalov is your man.

The steady decisive pause before his statement. The honour, the nobility, the self-sacrifice. If you didn’t know by then that “Chernobyl” was going to be the show with the biggest number of small but honourable characters, you got your first hint with Pikalov.

Another overlooked but honourable character. Shchadov.

And he has lots of power bottom potential.

Alrightz. Fan favourite time. I don’t even have to go into details. Glukhov.

Thank you, Mr Ferns, for being the only character in the show to deliver both noble heroic lines as well as eye candy.

Next: TARAKANOOOOOOOOOV.

Big dick energy right there. His resigned pauses between sentences, the way he sucks in the smoke, his authority as he greets each and every soldier. Stunning.

Pavel.  *cries* 3

If you swear to never watch the dog scenes again there is so much shippy potential in that one. Pacho prompts, here I come!!

Bacho, his war code of honour and his “I’m happy every day”.

You *know* he’s not happy but it doesn’t matter. What matters is how he’s trying to convince everyone else that he is. His perseverance. There’s a war to be won, even if he knows he’s losing.

Last but not least: Stepashin. Give me Roose Bolton in a minor courtroom role anytime, ANYTIME.

Honourable mention to Charkov because yeah, you know me. Because I just can’t get over this man. 

Also C-V-B. Also dub con. Don’t judge me.

#chernonyl #hbo #characters #jessie buckley #lyudmilla ignatenko #adam nagaitis #vasily ignatenko #emily watson #ulana khomyuk #paul ritter #dyatlov #robert emms #toptunov #sam troughton #akimov #alan williams #charkov #adrian rawlins #fomin #con o'neill #viktor bryukhanov #mark lewis jones #pikalov #jamie sives #sitnikov #ralph ineson #tarakanov #barry keoghan #pavel #matthew needham