#a Story About Losing All My First Experiences After Suffering Defeat At The Hands Of My Twisted Genius Of A Childhood Friend

[anki-of-beleriand]

In the darkness you said goodbye

Summary: Wanda makes a mistake, and she thinks she can tlak herself out of it.

Warnings: Cheating, F/M sex, bittersweet ending, Wanda is to blame.

Pairing: Reader/Wanda - Reader/Carol - Wanda/Vision

Author's note: This story is an experiment, mostly I want to see how it goes as a one shot, and second just want to see how it goes with Wanda. I hope you guys liked it, as always English is not my mother tongue so forgive me my grammar, spelling and funny mistakes.

Second part: In the light you love her

 Winter was your favourite time of the year.

The snowflakes falling on the ground, and the sound of Christmas jingles around the streets was enough to put you on a good mood. It had been five years since Thanos was defeated it and the Blip was reversed changing the shape of the universe, the stories people told were now shaped for a past that defied everything they knew.

Midgard had certainly changed in the last years; new heroes were born and the old ones were ready to step aside and give way to the new generations. Your face lifted up to the Avengers Tower standing proudly in midtown Manhattan while the cold of the early afternoon surrounded you in a comforting embrace.

You smiled to yourself, music blasting through your ears while your hand closed around the small box you had worked your ass off to get for this special date. Your phone vibrated, the ringtone you attached to Natasha’s name breaking through the music and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the sudden interruption.

“Yes, mom?” The voice at the other end chuckled, and you allowed yourself a tender smile.

“I’m just making sure you’re okay, kiddo, no need to be a brat about it.”

“I am okay, more than okay, I’m super okay!”

“So, you’re nervous.” The older woman replied, and you gulped chewing on your lower lip.

“I am, I’m super nervous.” You confessed, the hand closing around the small box as you spoke. “Tasha, I love her, I…god when I lost her in the Blip, I almost lost myself to darkness…”

“I remember, Y/N, I know it was hard for you.” And Natasha remembered those dark times, you had always been an open gate to darkness.

The very nature of your species made it easier for your heart and soul to give into darkness, your powers were not only a manifestation of your mutation but also a warning sign of what you were capable of doing. But Natasha never gave up on you, and from the moment Thor brought you in and she took care of you, you became the woman Natasha knew you could be. Then, Thanos happened and Natasha could see for the very first-time what Thor and even Loki meant when they said that you were born out of pure blackness. You became unfeeling, careless, cold and almost cruel…

The moment you lost Wanda, on that battlefield watching her disappeared, that was the first time Natasha feared you.

You turned around destroying every single servant that Thanos had brought with him, your shadows covering Wakanda just before they perished in screams of pure agony. Darkness had covered you, and everything would have ended in disaster if Steve hadn’t knock you out; not many understood the deepness of your love for Wanda, but Natasha had been there to see the growing friendship, the affection and the tender moments stolen in between their teenage years.

Natasha had seen the relationship grow from afar, and she could tell you were far to in love with Wanda to not suffer with her lost. But even after you woke up, it wouldn’t be until everyone went looking for Thanos in space that you really broke.

Natasha still remembered when you crumbled to your feet after having destroyed an entire fleet of Chitahuri while looking for Thanos with Carol. How you cried until she put her arms around you, and you finally let go of the pain of losing the woman you loved with all your heart and might. You cried for days, and soon every surviving Avenger was afraid of losing you, of not being able to reach out to you. Natasha hated to see the suffering in your face, the whimpers leaving your lips as you tried to talk and explain that you were hurting so badly you didn’t know what to do.

It took time, but eventually you started recovering. Tony and Steve, as well as Carol and Rocket helped in the process. From them you learnt about your past, and your planet, they talked to you about your origins and your powers, and Natasha was happy to see you recover.

You became not only an Avenger, but also an amazing woman.

And now, after five years of having defeated Thanos and recovering the woman you had been in love since you were fifteen years old, it was just fair for you to have a happy ending.

“You have grown so much since I first met you, Y/N. Wanda is a lucky girl, you know?”

“Nah, I’m the lucky one, I just hope…I mean…” You stood by the gates of the Tower, trembling while cleaning up your sweaty hands. “We’ve been talking about having children and all, and I just… I don’t know if I’m a mom material but…”

“You are. You are, Y/N, now stop stalling and go get her, kiddo. I love you.” Natasha stated in that motherly tone you had come to love as well, you chuckled when you heard Yelena in the background and Natasha cursing in Russian.

“Okay, okay, don’t kill auntie Lena, and stop cursing. I call you when …. when I can.”

“Please have loud, sweaty sex with your soon to be fiancée, and call us when you finish!”

“Yelena!”

You chuckled shaking your head while hanging up.

The building was mostly empty, there was only one security guard that greet you with a polite smile and a mug of hot chocolate on his hands. You went past him into the elevators, your finger selecting the floor Tony had given to Wanda when he first finished the Avengers Tower.

You stood there hearing the music, your hands completely sweaty while your heart hammered hard against your chest. There was a deep void inside your stomach, and you couldn’t help but lifted your eyes to the numbers on the screen. You knew that day would be the day, today had been your last active day as a hero, and Tony had already hired you as normal everyday scientist in one of his investigational facilities. Wanda still thought you were in Kamar Taj with Strange and a girl that had shown to his doorstep, so tonight would be a great surprised that you hope would finally give you your happily ever after.

When Wanda came back, trying to build your relationship with her had been hard.

Wanda found it difficult to adapt herself to a life she was not used to, she found it hard to find out you had travelled around the galaxy being a hero with someone like Carol Danvers and Rocket. At first, you found it funny that Wanda was jealous of Carol, but then it was not only Carol but also your new house in Westview, or the bicycle you bought to go around the city. It was about your job at Stark’s Industries and your lack of interested in being a hero. Then it was you leaving your hero life behind and wanting to be normal, or to gather the new generation of heroes…

Your relationship with Wanda had been rocky, to say the last, after she came back.

But you had learnt that time and communication fixed everything, and after a while the both of you talked about what you really wanted. About your future, about your hopes…and you realized that Wanda wanted nothing more than a life with you. To build a family, and to be happy. She was finding it hard to do so, in a world that had moved on without her, and you made sure to let her know every day that your life had been nothing without her in it.

You smiled putting the ring from your pocket.

Now, finally you could close the last gap and asked Wanda to marry you. You had given up everything in your old life, to start your new life with Wanda.

“Okay, here we go…”

The door of the elevator open and you stepped inside the living room. The place was decorated with candles, and the sweet aroma of Wanda’s favourite perfume. You furrowed your brows, looking around the place you could see her back, and some of her things scattered around.

You walked down the halls, stopping dead on your tracks when your eyes fell upon something you did not recognize. It was a dark jacket. You looked around the scene, and then you caught the sounds. You felt dizzy, your body burning while your stomach dropped leaving a foul taste in your throat.

The hallway was dark, most of the doors were closed but the last one at the end of the hallway. Yellowish light came from it, and as you approached it you could tell it was the light coming from different candles. You were trembling, all of a sudden you felt cold and empty.

A heavy weight positioned above your shoulders, and your heart trembled at the sight before you.

Wanda was on the bed, sprawled and legs wide open with Vision on top of her. Both were naked, and Wanda was throwing her head back grabbing the bedsheets tightly, Vision was trusting inside her whispering in her ear.

Your eyesight blurred for a moment, but your presence went unnoticed and just as you came in, you left. You were staggering around the hallway until your knees gave up and you fell with a soft thud, tears rolling down your eyes and the ring you had made for Wanda fell to the floor.

A part of you, the darker part, ignited a fire inside you ready to scream and bring down the hole building with Wanda and Vision in it. You wanted to make them suffered, for them to experiment the sheer pain you were experimenting at the moment. But another part, the one you had gained with your family and friends simply told you to go.

And so, you did. Falling into the shadows you disappeared leaving behind the ring you had made to Wanda as promised to her, a commitment, and show of your love for her.

Later that same night, Wanda cringed shivering as she exited her room. She placed a hand on her face, shamed and self-disgust filling up her mind, just as she thought of the passion that Vision ignited in her. She knew she needed to put a stop to the affair with Vision; she knew that she had to do it soon if she really wanted to move forward with Y/N and actually started the family you two had talked about. But Wanda was afraid to do so, she was afraid of the consequences, of Vision not understanding, of anyone finding out…

Wanda was strolling down the hallway until her feet stepped on something hard on the floor. She furrowed her brows, and her expression soon changed as she realized it was a small box. At first she thought this was one of Vision’s attempts to get to her heart, but then Wanda felt her stomach dropped and her heart ached painfully in her chest.

Inside the box there was a ring.

And suddenly, Wanda realized how stupid she had been.

Wanda stood there, her eyes wide open filled with tears. She made her way to the door, but you were no longer there, the room was still dark and when she turned on the lights her gazed fell upon the dark box you had been carrying for almost five years.

“Wanda…” Vision said behind her, but Wanda couldn’t do or say anything at all, her eyes completely fixed on the ring you had brought to her.

It was a start.

A green start resembling a spiralling galaxy, the shank of the ring made of white gold.

Your name and hers written around it, the date you two said I love you to one another right beside them.

It was at moment that Wanda realized how stupid she had been.

_________________________________________

“You really have some nerve to come here, Wanda.” Natasha stood by the door glaring at the redhead, her arms crossed though she could sense Yelena getting her weapons ready.

“Natasha, I need to talk to her.” Wanda was on the verge of desperation.

For more than a month she had tried to reach out to you, to try and get to talk to you and explain herself. Wanda knew that whatever you had seen, whatever had happened, she would need to do more than explain what had happened. Why she did it. You were nowhere to be found, and everyone had closed their doors to Wanda who only got disgusted faces, and harsh words thrown at her.

She knew she was risking a lot by coming here, but it was her last chance.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you.” Natasha stated, her eyes glaring at Wanda. “Now, if you excuse me…”

“Natasha, please…” Wanda all but begged, she had tears in her eyes and it was quite evident she had not sleep in quite a while.

Natasha hesitated; she wondered if Wanda understood the gravity of her sin.

The former Black Widow almost went to the Tower to kill with her bare hands the red head. Y/N had come home, a scream of pure pain leaving her lips just as tears rolled down her cheeks. It took Natasha almost an hour to get Y/N to tell her what had happened, and she was so heartbroken she curled up on her bed and cried while holding a hand to her chest.

No one knew the reality of a broken heart.

How much it hurt, how it made your body cold and ached as if a thousand knives went through your every nerve. Y/N spent three days on her bed, ignoring everyone and everything around her. For a brief moment, Natasha had been afraid of the darkness growing in your eyes, day in and out seeing it covered your iris and expanding little by little.

“You broke her heart, Wanda.” Natasha stated through gritted teeth. “You broke her, and she loved you more than life itself. I can’t tell you just how much she loved you and how much you messed up…”

“I know! I know! I know!” Wanda screamed putting a hand on her face. “I know screwed up! I KNOW!”

Natasha seemed unfazed by the outburst, and Wanda broke in front of the former Widow pleading with her eyes.

“Please, I just need…”

“She is not here.” Natasha finally said.

“What?” Wanda winked confusedly; Natasha hesitated before speaking.

“She left two days ago.”

“Where? Why?” Wanda panicked, she glanced at Natasha then back at Yelena. “Where is she?”

“She left the planet; Loki came in and took her away.” This time around it was Yelena, the blond-haired woman smirked nastily at Wanda. “And we don’t know when she will be back, perhaps never, and if she is lucky, she may meet someone that won’t break her heart.”

Wanda stood there, lost and crushed by this news. Natasha hesitated for a moment, a part of her feeling this was not the best way to give the news. The woman stepped forward moving past Wanda.

“She is not coming back anytime soon, Wanda, so if I were you I would just let go.” Natasha turned to look at Wanda. “She waited for you, she almost lost herself for you, she was going to marry you…”

“I know! I just…god, this is so mess up!” Wanda wrapped her arms around herself. “I need to…I…I just…I need her…”

“You’re too late for that, Wanda.” Natasha then turned around and left.

Wanda stood there.

She was alone, lost and desperate, and without a single clue as to where you were or how to reach you out. Not a single way to talk to you, to explain to you…Wanda fell to her knees, her hand reaching out for the ring in her pocket. Tears rolling down her cheeks, and her mind a pool of confusing thoughts.

She would wait if it was necessary.

She knew that you were hurt, and she would wait for you to have a chance to explain herself to you.

And then, she would make sure to show you that Wanda was yours. That you held her heart in your hands.

It would be quite a while before she would see you again. But Wanda would wait, just the same way you did.

_________________________________________

Winter was back.

You lifted your eyes to the sky, closing your eyes while enjoying the feeling the cold on your face. Your ears twitched catching the sound of laughter inside the house, turning around you saw Kamala Khan squealing like a fangirl while hugging Carol tightly. You smirked at the sight, Carol was still getting used to such shows ow affection and Kamala was certainly someone without any limitations in her PDA.

“Y/N!! Oh, did you hear?? I will help you guys move!!!” Kamala went back inside her house screaming at the top of her lungs, “AMMI!”

“Move?” You asked raising a single eyebrow, Carol winced making her way to where you were standing.

“Well, I was thinking that perhaps I shouldn’t be moving around so much, and that staying on Earth is not such a bad thing, after all.” Carol shrugged looking away from you, her lip caught in her teeth with her mind filled with thoughts and possibilities.

Overthinking her every step as always.

“I think Monica is going to love it, Kamala is screaming her appreciation…”

“And you?” Carol asked this time around facing you with just a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. “You’re back again, what would you do?”

You had been away for two years, while you never stopped contacting Natasha and the others you had left earth with a single thing in mind. To heal. Your heart had been broken to pieces the moment you found about Wanda’s infidelity, you had cried and cursed and almost turned to darkness until you found yourself at the hands of Carol Danvers. For the second time, the woman took it upon herself to help you out, out of friendship she never thought she would get a chance with you; not after having heard of your story with Wanda and certainly not after she was back. Her odds didn’t improve one bit when she saw how heartbroken you were, Carol knew by then you needed a friend and that was what she offered you.

A friendship that, little by little turned into something else.

Still, there were times in which Carol doubt herself and the relationship she had forged with you.

You softened your featured, your arm wrapping around her waist putting her closer to you. She leaned in, nuzzling your neck before placing a soft kiss on your jaw looking for comfort. You smiled lowering your face until your lips met hers, the kiss was slow and sweet, and Carol smiled into the kiss.

“So, that’s an idea of what you want to do?”

“Ugh, gross.” Monica made a face while Kamala was looking at the scene with a glint of curiosity in her eyes.

“Okay, ladies, nothing to see here.” Carol tried to shush them away, but you wrapped your arms around her again, you turned her around and kissed her once more making Monica gaged and Kamala giggled nervously.

“Let’s give them a show, Danvers.” You mumbled in between kisses; she punched you lightly on the arm flustered stepping away from you before she decided to just follow your lead.

“Very well, I think it is time for me to go back to work but…” Monica turned to Carol wrapping her arms around her. “Please, Auntie Carol, tell me when you get there and don’t forget to keep an eye on the plane.”

“I won’t Captain trouble.” Carol said affectionately, Monica smiled sighing as she stepped back.

“Don’t be a stranger, Rambeau.” You gave her a hug, and the other woman glanced at you then back at Carol.

“You’re one to say, Natasha Romanoff is still waiting for you and you heard Fury…”

You winced fidgeting on your spot, you had heard Fury and Natasha was also waiting for you. You nodded scratching the back of your neck.

“I guess is inevitable.” You shrugged. “I will tell you all the gross details of these meetings.”

“I will wait for them anxiously, take care of Auntie Carol please.”

“I will, don’t worry.” You winked at Monica and stepped back to join Kamala and Carol inside the Khan’s family.

“Hey, are you okay?” Carol fixed your hair behind your ears, you nodded curtly pecking her nose.

“Yeah, let’s eat and then I will take you home, Captain Marvel.”

Earth had changed in the last two years she had been here.

The street were loudly, and the technology had certainly improved a lot. The stories were different now, most of them included the newest heroes in the cities, and the evilness lurking in the shadows.  You enjoyed the soft purr of the bike you had bought in Jersey City, Carol had her arm wrapped around your abdomen leaning against your body while you drove down the streets of a city you had not seen in a long time.

Up until now, you had spent your time in the guest room at the Khan’s family home. You had tried to say no, but Ms. Khan was very adamant that they would not stay in a hotel or something equally dangerous. And Kamala was beyond excited to have them both in her home, at least until all the moving details had been arranged and soon they would be driving down to Luisiana.

To say you were nervous was an understatement, it didn’t mater you had spoken with Natasha almost every day since leaving earth. Or that you had been kept up to date with the gossip around the Avengers and the newest additions thanks to Yelena, it was the fact that this little party would include Wanda as a guest. Two years ago, you had left your home running away from your feelings, your heart had been broken and you never thought it would mend. And while it took some time to get it back together, to actually allow yourself to feel and fall in love again.

You had done so.

Carol had become your world, but this time around you were careful to not lost yourself into the relationship. Carol was not an easy person, and while the road to happiness had been a bumpy one, you wouldn’t change a single thing of how everything happened. Not if it meant that at the end of the day she would wake up with you beside her, a mug filled with coffee and a morning of meaningless talks watching the space in the window of a ship.

“Wow, I don’t remember this building being here on my last visit.” Carol stated getting off the motorcycle, she glanced up to the building then turning to you.

“I bet Tony made some arrangements.” You smiled turning to the main gates, your hand seeking out hers.

“Are you ready?” Carol inquired tilting her head, you nodded curtly and then without wasting any more time, you two entered the building.

There were many familiar faces, but soon you found yourself being wrapped in a tight hug by none other than Natasha. You softened your face and your arms wrapped around her pulling her close to you, Carol watched from a distance, her lisp curling into a gentle smile before she turned around and left for the bar. These moments were for you, and you had been waiting to come back and see the people you love, Carol could understand that much. With a heavy heart, and insecurities filling up her mind, the woman made her way to the bar never noticing the redhead glaring daggers at her back.

“You look so good, Y/N, did you cut your hair?” Natasha put you at arm’s length, her eyes twinkling while the examine you with care.

“Yeah, a little and well I have to be on top physical form to be in space, so…” You smiled sheepishly, Natasha chuckled placing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“How have you been?” Natasha finally asked and you just shrugged.

“Fine, I guess. I just come here due to a mishap of  powers between Carol, Monica and a girl called Kamala.”

“So I heard, quite the adventure I guess.” Natasha then hit you on your arm.

“Hey!”

“So if it hadn’t been because of that you wouldn’t have come?” Natasha was a little hurt by this, you shook your head lowering your gaze before shrugging.

“No, of course not. I did have plans…” You stated and Natasha was about to speak but trailed off just as her eyes caught another person coming towards them. “I knew I have to come back, and I was dying to see you all, I was just… waiting…”

“You were waiting for what?” Wanda asked behind you, and she wait anxiously for you to turn around.

You thought the moment you heard her voice again, that you saw her again your resolution would crumble and that perhaps you would fall under her spell once more. One of your greatest gears included your weakness to perhaps leave behind your relationship with Wanda and moved forward. But this never happened, and soon after you started healing it was easier to move on. Now, after two years, you stood before her and you realized you had been scared for nothing.

Of course, your stomach dropped, your palms started sweating and your head fluttered in your chest when you saw her again. She was still as beautiful as you remembered her, her voice still carried with it such a powerful tinge, something you had always loved from her.

But something else had changed, the shivering in your heat came along with an old pain and rage that went through your senses. You clenched your fists closed, but remained impassive while Wanda offered a tentative smile.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Wanda chewed on her lower lip before speaking, “do you think we could talk?”

You glanced out of the corner of your eyes to see Natasha standing closed to you, Yelena had stopped talking with a brunette in a dark suit, and both of them were walking towards you. You then lifted your eyes and soon you found the eyes of Carol looking at you with curiosity, after a moment the other woman smiled and nodded in understanding.

“I think we need to talk, Wanda, lead the way.”

Two years ago, on a day such as this, you discovered the pain behind a betrayal.

You glanced at the sky, the snowflakes falling slowly down the streets, the breeze caressing your warm cheeks while you waited patiently for Wanda to speak. The other woman had changed as well, she looked thinner, and tired, her hair was longer and she seemed quiet and alone. Wanda turned her stare to you and you could see their love and regret and loneliness.

“Why didn’t you stay?” She asked, her voice breaking by the end of the question.

You raised a single eyebrow snorting while shaking your head.

“You really asking that?”

“The ring…You were there…” Wanda started and you winced remembering that day, the old pain coming back as you remembered how it felt.

“I could have killed you and Vision.” You stated looking away from her. “I was so mad, so heartbroken, Wanda…I knew if I had stayed or said something…well, it would have ended in a bloodbath.”

Wanda winced wrapping her arms around herself, “I just…god, I’m sorry. I just…I’m so sorry for everything, I never…”

“What, Wanda? You never what?” You asked harshly, Wanda stepped back lowering her face.

“I was afraid, and I wasn’t sure of what I wanted, okay? I came back and you were already all over me, and I really didn’t know what you were expecting of me, and he was just there listening to me and…”

“And I didn’t? Wanda I asked you, everyday I tried to make our communication to work!” You huffed rolling your eyes at the excuses. “What were you hoping for, Wanda? A child? A dick? What?”

Wanda had thought about it in the last two years, she thought about her reason and why she had entered into a senseless affair with Vision. The truth was she didn’t know exactly why, she always thought that you had everything resolved by the time she came back, you had five years to organise your life and made decision for the future whereas Wanda had been trapped in nothingness until she came back to face a world she didn’t recognize. Vision had been the only one who understood, the only one who let her talk and expressed the way she wanted to about the situation, and in the midst of those conversations Wanda fell into passion and desire to make her life and indecision more bearable.

“I was just hoping everything went back to normal, and that…I didn’t feel so lost.” Wanda mumbled knowing her words meant nothing to you at the moment.

You sighed shaking your head, “I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

“Y/N, I just…I…search for you.” Wanda mumbled, you nod curtly at her.

“I know.”

“I want to explain, to tell you that it meant thing.” Wanda stated lowly. “I wanted to tell you that I Lov…”

“Don’t.” You cut her off before she could continue. “Don’t say it, you don’t have any right to say to me anymore, Wanda.”

Wanda stepped forward, holding back her tears she made sure her eyes were locked with yours, her heart beating fast and her whole-body trembling.

“I love you.” Wanda said softly. “I’m still in love with you, and I just…”

“Can you hear yourself, Wanda? If you love me you wouldn’t have done…you would have come to me first! We would have talked about this, about us!” You exclaimed waving your arms around. “You wouldn’t have cheating on me just because you felt alone or misunderstood.”

“Y/N…” Wanda started but she cut off as soon as someone entered the balcony you two were in.

“Hey, baby, are you…Oh, sorry, I’ll be inside if you…” Carol interrupted glancing at you then at Wanda, before turning around and leaving.

Wanda clenched her jaw, turning to you eyes that flickered between red and green.

“So, you left two years and you have replaced me already?” Wanda asked bitterly, you snorted shaking your head.

“Nobody can replace you, Wanda. You will always be my first love.” You stated softly, your heart fluttering at the veracity of your words.

Wanda clenched her eyes close, you closed the distance between you and her standing right in front of her. Your eyes drifting for a moment to see the ring you wanted to give her on her left hand.

“Wanda I loved you with my whole heart, I thought you and I will be forever but after I saw you with Vision, I couldn’t take it.” You mumbled placing a hand on hers, Wanda shivered and she knew there was a finality in your tone.

When she imagined this meeting the outcome was different inside her head. She always thought you would come wanting to go back but not without some kind of request or penance so everything could back to normal. She never imagined the outcome of this would be for Wanda to experience the same broken heart you had experience two years ago.

“I didn’t want this to happen.” Wanda mumbled wrapping her arms around herself, you pressed you lips together stepping back a little. “I thought we…”

“Me too.” You replied.

Wanda was about to take the ring away, but you stopped her offering a bittersweet smile to her.

“I made it for you, so…it’s yours, Wanda.”

The other woman broke into a half smile, but she was looking just miserable, she caressed the ring and the tears fell down slowly.

“Are you…are you happy?” She finally asked, you scowled at that question.

“Are you?”

Wanda sighed looking away before nodding, “yeah, yeah I am.”

You pressed your lips together, lowering your eyes before looking at her.

“That’s good.”

The lie rolled out of her lips easily, and while it was quite evident you knew Wanda was lying neither one of you was about to say anything at all. Wanda put her arms around herself, she wanted to say something else, perhaps asked how long passed after you left for you to get together with Carol, or how exactly did you two ended up being a thing. But Wanda knew that wouldn’t help at all, if anything would make her bitter.

“I guess…you better go back, I…Carol must be waiting for you.” Wanda turned her back to you, her eyes to the city.

You stood behind her, your hand lifting to reach out to her.

For a brief moment, it seemed as if you were to look for her, perhaps to talk or say something, anything that might change your situation and hers. You thought the moment you went back to her, that perhaps the old flame would ignite and that you and Wanda could offer one another a second chance. You were afraid that perhaps what you felt for Carol was just…revenged, and just a sense to fill up a void left by the broken heart.

But it wasn’t like that.

And while a part of you would always love Wanda, she wasn’t the person you were in love with.

Carol was playing with her drink on corner far away from everyone else, she was looking gloomy while pursing her lips. You softened lightly, strolling directly towards her.

“Hey, Marv, why are you pouting?” You chuckled when she lifted her face towards you, her eyes going wide before she tried to play it off.

“I’m no pouting.”

“You certainly look like someone who is pouting.” You chuckled leaning in to peck her cheek.

“I’m no pouting, and what are you doing here? I thought you were still talking to Wanda…” Carol looked away trying to conceal her emotion, she didn’t want to look jealous or insecure, she was supposed to be stronger than this.

You leaned in wrapping your arms around her waist, “mm, I was but now I’m not and I think I want to go home, so…shall we leave?”

Carol narrowed her eyes at you, it took her a moment before she placed a hand on your cheek.

“Are you okay?” She asked, tilting your head slightly.

“I am.” You replied smiling softly.

“Did you two…clear things up?” Carol didn’t want to look eager, nor did she want to sound desperate. But she had always known the conversation with Wanda was something you needed to do.

It was a chapter of your life that was waiting to be closed.

“I did, we did.” You hesitated before continuing. “I realized that a part of me would always love Wanda, she was my first love.”

Carol nodded in understanding, her mind soon brought Maria to memory, and she could relate to what you were saying. She was observing you with care, your eyes gleaming lightly as they locked yours, and Carol felt her heart skipped a beat at the softness and love she found there.

“Then, I realized that you are the love of my life, Carol.” You said it so simply Carol felt her abdomen and her heart flutter, making her body tingle at the revelation. “I am in love you with you, and I can’t imagine anybody else I want to be with but you.”

You had heard before how many people stated Carol Danvers was a flat, unfeeling individual, that she was just too unemotional, and quite incapable of expressing emotion. You had discovered this was far from the truth, Carol was someone who felt too much and suffered in silence; she was just selective with the people she allowed in her life.

“I love you to, Y/N.” She mumbled just before closing the distance and kissing you softly.

“Mhm, I think we better go.” You said smiling goofily at her, “wait until we tell Kamala where we were.”

“Oh, no please, she is going to start arguing with us because we didn’t bring her over.”

“Don’t worry, I have it covered, I ask everyone for their signature.” You replied showing a small notebook you had stolen from Kamala’s room. “I think with this we are forgiven.”

“My hero.” Carol stated rolling her eyes, you winked at her before grabbing her hand and dragging her around the room to say goodbye.

Wanda watched from a distance as you and Carol said goodbye, your face never lost the brightness brough by your smile and your hand never left that of Carol who was following you with tenderness and love all around the room. The young witch knew she had messed up her chances with you, she knew the moment she saw you entered the Avenger’s Tower that what would happen that day would be a final conversation more than anything. Wanda felt her heart break to pieces, her eyes filling up with tears as she finally realized she was alone.

She had tried to cover her mistakes, and her emotions with a meaningless night of passion that had costed her happiness.

Now, as you entered the lift with a laughing Carol by your side, she realized that you had said goodbye to her a long time ago.

That day Wanda had broken your heart while hidden in the shadows.

#personal #fanfic #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wandaxreader #female reader

[alllsunday]

A few thoughts on how Portgas D. Ace is the epitome of the Tragic Hero. For one, his entire life was a tragedy.

“A tragic hero is the protagonist of a tragic story or drama, in which, despite their virtuous and sympathetic traits and ambitions, they ultimately meet defeat, suffering, or even an untimely end. They are often imperfect or wounded with some sort of fraught experience, and typically have some sort of fatal flaw.”

He fits the criteria :

1.) “High status/noble”

Ace is the sole heir of the notorious Pirate King and the only known female Will of D carrier. Yes, he’s not a noble, but he is obviously a high status pirate and a person with the “noble” qualities Aristotle was talking about even if he wasn’t literally one. Honourable, generous, polite.

2.) “Flawed”

The fatal flaw (hamartia) that brings about the hero’s downfall, destruction caused by their own hands. In Ace’s case … well, if I had to narrow it down, I’d say wrath, arrogance, and never backing down were the most key to his downfall, but the title of #1 has to go to his hubris (excessive arrogance/pride). It was because of this he went to Wano to challenge Kaido, the monster not even Oden could slay. Izou himself pointed out Ace’s arrogance. It was because of this he challenged Whitebeard, went after Teach, and ultimately ended in tragedy. Ace had been the strongest almost his entire life, losing was.. new. It doesn’t matter, cause everytime Ace is in a situation where he fucks up he always gets himself out of it, and when it comes to fighting as a whole, strength is his one constant. Even in the face of Teach’s power, he underestimated him, thinking that he’d win, which brings me to my next point :

3.) “A reversal of fortune”

“The character should suffer a terrible reversal of fortune, from good to bad. Such a reversal does not merely mean a loss of money or status. It means that the work should end with the character dead or in immense suffering, and to a degree that outweighs what it seems like the character deserved.”

Ace was a traumatised and heavily wounded character who spent his childhood suffering. It was not quite a childhood. As an older teenager, he was tearing up the world of piracy (the first pirate of the new generation, super rookie, all at an insanely fast rate, even much moreso than Luffy) before joining Whitebeard and settling down. Though not eradicated, his internal struggles cooled down slightly. Maybe by the time he was a fully wisened man and not a boy fresh out of his teenage years, he could have been on the road to healing - but his belief that he could obviously beat Teach, his subordinate, was the catalyst for the events that were to come.

It was seemingly going alright - Ace had fit in, made friends, had the family he had so needed.

That flipped over almost instantly, and ended in his painfully premature death. During the fight, Ace realised he’d been overconfident. But this time he couldn’t back it up. Teach had won.

On his deathbed, Ace finally realised that he wanted to live. Death was the thing he’d wondered about for his entire life, and now that he was actually on the brink of it - he had changed his mind. After 20 years, he genuinely wanted to keep going for the first time. Yet it was snatched away from him.

To add insult to injury, Sabo’s death, one of Ace’s many traumatic experiences, ended up being a misunderstanding. Sabo was alive and didn’t remember him… until he had died.

#portgas d ace #one piece #asl brothers #sabo #monkey d. luffy #character analysis #ace one piece #whitebeard pirates #spade pirates

[ecoamerica]

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24HighSchoolStudents #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental education #environmental justice #environmental protection #environmental health #high school students #high school #youth #youth of america #school

[awkwardspontaneity]

Until The Battle Is Won

BOTW Link x GN!Sheikah!Reader

Final part of Memories of You!

Previous

AN: Hey everyone!! This is the final chapter of this story. I wanna thank everyone for sticking around with my lousy update schedule ':). Anyways, I've loved writing this story and I'm kind of sad to see it end but also I love this ending so much- even though it hurts. So grab some water, maybe a snack, some tissues, and strap in. This is long and pretty sad.

TW: gore, reader death, descriptive injuries

Summary:  The final battle is here. Hyrule is in ruins as Ganon tears through every defense they had and now, the final champions must protect their Princess in the race to deliver them to their destinies.

It was dark.

Link was running through the forest, another hand in his as Y/n led the way. Their white hair was a beacon amongst the trees as he surged to keep up with their gazelle-like pace. He was focused on keeping up with the Sheikah warrior when he felt the hand slip from his. Link skidded to a stop, shouting for Y/n over the pouring rain. He knelt in front of Zelda, watching as she dug her fists into the mud beneath her. “How did it come to this? The Divine Beasts. The Guardians. They’ve all turned against us. It was... Calamity Ganon.”

Y/n had made their way back to the pair, carefully falling to their knees beside Link. He felt their hand curl around his, sensing the turmoil in him. It was all falling apart around them. They had worked so hard, faced so many trials, and made so many friends. And it was all for nothing. The fight was stacked against them, so much so that even Link was feeling the knot in his chest. They all felt helpless.

“Mipha, Urbosa, Revali, and Daruk…trapped inside those things...” the princess let out a heart-wrenching sob. “It’s all my fault!”

As Zelda cried into her hands, Y/n reached out to pull them back down, carefully pulling away the strands curled into her fists. When watery green eyes met red, the young Sheikah gave a pained smile. They linked hands with the princess and the knight, giving them both a firm squeeze. “I know it feels like we’ve already lost, like everything we’ve done has been for nothing. But we can’t think like that. We have the power of the master sword and the sealing light of the Goddess. As long as we hold our heads high and give this fight everything we have, Hyrule will survive this.”

“But I can’t use the sealing power!” Zelda pulled her hands away, fisting them in her dress to stop the shaking. Maybe if she weren’t such a failure, Hyrule wouldn’t be in danger. Her friends wouldn’t have to give their lives to face that monster. Why couldn't she do this one thing right! “I’ve tried everything and still I keep failing. Because of me they’ll die fighting the very beasts they were meant to pilot!”

“None of us can save them!” Y/n was looking down at the ground and, even through the rain, they could feel the tears sliding down their cheeks. “We can’t go back from where we are. We don’t have the time or the ability to save them from those beasts. So we must move forward. If we give up now… everything we went through…everything they are going through... it will be for nothing. And Hyrule will fall.”

Zelda surged forward, collapsing in her friend's arms. She clung to both as a sob tore from her throat. None of them could be strong. Not strong enough. Pressing his hand against Zelda’s back, Link reached out and placed a hand on Y/n’s arm. His voice was gruff, the stress and pain of what they were about to do- what they had already done, was too much for any person to bear. “All that we can do is keep fighting for their sake. We have to keep moving or we lose. We can win. We have to.”

He met Y/n’s eyes and they gave him a soft smile. They pressed their hand against his back and the princesses shoulder drawing both pairs of eyes to them. “No matter what happens, our friends will be by our side. Their wills become ours. And when you face down Ganon, you won’t be doing it alone. You’ll have the love and support of all your friends. All of Hyrule. So save your tears until the battle is won.”

Zelda sniffled, bringing a hand up to wipe at her cheek- not that it did much help with how muddy they had gotten from being on the ground. She wanted so badly to give into the crushing weight of everything that had happened. Just this morning she had held hope within her as she climbed mount Lanayru and now… she had lost everyone she loved. Her kingdom had fallen along with her father. All she had left sat here before her. Gazing at her with matching weight on their shoulders. They too felt the chains of destiny closing in around them. But they stood tall. These two bore the weight of the world without complaint and now, they placed their belief in her. The failure of a princess would not fail again. She refused to fail her friends. “Then we have no choice. We have to fight for them… and for each other.”

Y/n smiled at the princess, carefully pulling the trio together so their heads touched. “When this is over we can do as many crazy experiments as you want.”

Laughter bubbled up amongst the trio, smiles breaking through the tough exteriors they had adopted the closer Calamity had gotten. Each of them had suffered at the hands of destiny, and now they would face what could be their final battle.

Y/n choked back a sob as they thought of the sacrifices that had brought them to this point. The sacrifices they would need to make to save Hyrule. All they wanted was for their friends to be able to look over their homes with smiles. For the weights to finally be lifted from their shoulders and allow them to live their lives without the looming threats of their destinies. They knew the knight and the princess could never go forward after all that had happened since Calamity broke through but, if there was something they could do to protect those they had left, Y/n would do whatever it took.

Link watched his friends with a tightness in his chest. They were ready to face Calamity Ganon. He would protect them in the final battle and, when the time came, they would finally be free of the weight of Hyrule. He stood up, reaching a hand to the princess to pull her to her feet. Y/n placed their hand on his cheek, wiping with their thumb as he watched them. They gave a smile and he knew. They had confidence in him. He never viewed himself as a hero, no matter how many times his partner had called him one. But when Y/n looked at him it was like that pressure lifted. Like he really could defeat Ganon. And he would. No matter how long the fight lasted. To finally be able to spend his days doing what he wanted with the person he loved. To be free.

The trio took off again, heading towards the castle. Y/n stuck close this time so they could discuss battle plans with Link. They knew the most Guardians were in the fields near the castle so they would need to find a way past them. They couldn’t release the Guardians from the corruption so they would have to destroy them if they were spotted. The question was if they could destroy that many.

Y/n was starting to wish they had Robbie's anti-Guardian weaponry, even if they weren’t perfected.

------

The answer was no. They could not defeat the Guardians.

They had barely made it halfway through the fields before they were spotted. Once one Guardian had seen them, the rest followed. They were surrounded in seconds and, no matter how many Link and Y/n took down, it seemed like 5 more took their places. They were more than outnumbered. They were losing hope fast.

Y/n shot three bomb arrows into Guardians eyes, barely dodging blasts from two others. As the Guardians collapsed to the ground more followed. Mechanical limbs crushing their brethren to the ground with a deadly screech. They only cared to destroy the champions that stood below them. And it was starting to feel like they would.

Another blast echoed in Y/n’s ears and they felt the burn of the laser against their cheek. Too close! They knocked an arrow when the screech of metal sounded behind them. They barely managed to roll out of the way of a destroyed Guardian collapsing to the ground where they stood. They barely came up from the ground when they were knocked back down again.

“AHHH!”

Y/n could barely hear their scream over the shrieks of metal and the ringing in their ears. Flames crackled around them but the heat was nothing compared to the agony in their shoulder. They had been hit. Their skin still burned like thousands of needles pricking their way across their chest. They could feel nothing and everything at once. Like every nerve in their body was exposed and on fire. They couldn't focus, flames and metal blurring into one. It was over, wasn't it?

“-n… Y/n… Y/N!” Y/n felt the arms around them, a sob tearing through their throat as a hand brushed against the wound. Red eyes finally focused in on teary green orbs. It was only when their vision blurred did they realize tears were falling. The princess was crying too, shouting over the noise as the young Sheikah lay limp in her arms. Her hands slipped on the blood surrounding their shoulder and Y/n shot up with a silent gasp of agony.

“Y/N! You’re okay!”

Y/n stared at the princess in front of them. “Where’s Link?”

Zelda pointed to the center of the battle where the champion fought. Y/n shot to their feet, ignoring the pain that tore through them. They drew back their bowstring. “Whistle so he comes this way princess.”

She whistled as loud as she could and Link spun to the duo. His eyes widened as an arrow streaked past him and he took off. The champion slid behind the pile of fallen Guardians as the bomb arrow exploded. Dust and flames shot into the air creating a cloud over the battlefield.

Y/n ducked under the fallen Guardian with the others, heavy breaths escaping them all. It was only a moment. A single breath of time to plan their next move.

Link was the first to move, lunging forward to inspect his partner. He had seen them fall. Seen the princess holding them in her arms. And he had thought that was it. But here Y/n sat. Injured, but alive. And that was what mattered. That they were alive. He brushed hair away from their face with a shaky smile- honestly more of a grimace. He couldn’t find the words to explain his relief. How much he needed them and that he was happy they were okay, so he stuck with simple. “I love you.”

Y/n smiled back. They always knew what he meant, like they could read every thought in his head. They had felt it too. That moment of fear that they would never see each other again. But they were still here, giving him that goofy grin he loved so much. Despite their pain, Y/n was a rock- solid and unmovable. And they gave him hope. Y/n could smile at him and he could fight until his last breath. “I love you too.”

They sat in each other's arms, taking in the moment they had together. What could be their last moment with each other. Because Y/n had a plan.

“You have to go ahead without me.”

Y/n watched their friend’s faces morph to shock, then anger. Y/n knew they would fight the idea, but they had no choice. Even as their friends protested the idea, the Sheikah held up a hand. “If you and Zelda are to make it to the castle you need a clear path.”

“You can’t take on the Guardians alone!”

“It’s the only choice.”

“You said we fight together.” Y/n met Link’s eyes and they almost broke at the agony in them. They had never seen so much painted across his visage, the boy keeping a stoic face for the sake of his role. But here they were. There weren't enough words to describe the pain they both felt, physically and mentally. They were fighting on the losing side, and now they could lose each other? It was hard to see a point in the fight with so little left.

“Leaving you is my last choice… but I need you- both of you- to survive.”

“And what about you!?”

“I’M NOT THE CHOSEN ONE!” Y/n finally allowed the tears to fall. They didn’t matter. What mattered was guiding the chosen pair to Ganon. As long as Link and Zelda survived, they had completed their duty. Their life never mattered. It didn’t hold the same weight. Choking back their sobbing, Y/n tried to smile. They had their happy moments. Made friends. Fell in love. And now they had to fulfill their destiny. No matter how much it hurt. “Right now our destinies have to part ways… and I don’t know how long we’ll be apart. So I need you to keep fighting, even when I’m not beside you. Because together I know you can beat Ganon.”

“We shouldn’t have to leave you.” Tears were swimming in his cerulean eyes. The only thing that kept Link from crying was the promise he made. He wouldn’t cry until the battle was over. “I can’t lose you. You are my life… and I can’t live without you.”

“You can.” Y/n reached out, caressing his face in their hands. “You will… because I love you. I love you in this life, and the next, and every one that follows. I will stand by you until there isn’t a reason to fight and even then, I’ll stay with you. I. Love. You.”

Link surged forwards, pressing his lips against theirs. It was desperate. He needed to convey everything he felt in the few moments left. That they would stand together no matter what time they were in. They could be ripped apart or thrown through time, or even lose all their memories and they would still share this bond. As long as destiny brought them together, they would connect like perfect halves. They completed each other.

Link was the first to pull away, hands running through Y/n’s hair and over their face. It was like he was trying to memorize every detail about them. Like if he focused he could commit Y/n to memory. He needed to be able to find them again, even if it was only within his own thoughts.

“You need to go.” Y/n broke the trance, whispering the words neither of them wanted to hear.

They had to part ways.

Link pressed a final kiss to Y/n’s forehead before he stood up. Zelda lunged forward to hug the Sheikah, sobs escaping her. She squeezed so tightly Y/n had to bite their tongue to keep the whimper at bay as pain shot through their injuries. They would bare the pain for this moment with their friend. Pulling Zelda close to their form, Y/n whispered encouragement and thanks for their time together.

When Zelda pulled away, she wiped her tears before giving a grin. She may not hold the same belief in herself that the others did, but she would do what she could. She would hold onto the strength of her friends and use it as her weapon. Everyone had protected her for a reason. She would show them it was not in vain.

With their final goodbyes Link and Zelda took off, weaving through the corpses of Guardians. Y/n waited until they had reached the open fields before stepping out from their hiding spot and whistling. Mechanics whirred to life around them as Guardians rose to defense. Y/n drew back their arrows, white hot pain flaring as their shoulder stretched. This would be their final stand. They would give it their all, here and now, so their friends could go on.

The next few moments were a blur of exploding arrows, machines being crushed, and the blasts of lasers. Y/n couldn't keep track of how many times they had pulled back the string of their bow, loosing arrow after arrow in order to keep the masses of mechanical beasts focused on their being. They reached for their quiver once more, red eyes focused on the glowing eyes of the Guardians targeting them, only to come up empty. There were no arrows left.

There was no more hiding. All the Sheikah had left were the dual blades strapped to their side and the hope their speed would be fast enough to survive.

Y/n pulled out their blades, taking off towards the closest Guardian. They jumped up the front, thrusting their blade into its eye before flipping onto the next. The process of picking off Guardians continued as the Champion flipped and twisted their way through the masses of mechanical monsters.

Flipping off the top of a Guardian, the Sheikah noticed Guardians getting away from them. They had noticed the others! Y/n ran towards where their friends were and, in their panic, missed the giant arm heading their way.

CRUNCH

With a strangled cry, the Sheikah champion hit the ground. They tried to stand, curling in on themselves as they hit the ground again with a sob. There were too many. Y/n was exhausted. Everything hurt. So. Much.

Letting out a cough, Y/n felt a warm liquid trickle down their face. They could hear the Guardian closing in on them. The rest seemed to have lost interest when the champion fell, allowing this one to make sure it was for the last time. Propping themselves up, Y/n could see the red target on their chest. Mustering all the strength left in their body, they launched their sword at the Guardian. It struck the eye and, twitching in its failure, the beast fell. Unfortunately, this drew the rest of the Guardians back to the young Sheikah on the ground. Y/n fell back to the ground.

Thump.

Guardians picked their way over mounds of mechanical parts.

Thump.

Y/n closed their eyes.

Thump.

At least it didn’t hurt anymore.

BOOM!

Golden light erupted across the fields of Hyrule, extinguishing the flames and sucking the light from the Guardians deadly eyes.

It was warm.

Y/n smiled. Zelda had done it. She wasn’t a failure. She had unlocked her sealing powers and finally, Ganon would know defeat once more.

Y/n watched the clouds clear from the sky, stars beginning to light up the night. They supposed Ganon had pulled back from the golden aura. Maybe one day they could lay under the stars with Link. Swallowing the metallic taste of their blood the fallen warrior reached a hand up. They basked in the light of the stars twinkling above. It was like they were waving the champion up to their sides. As Y/n’s light faded, the stars grew brighter, blurring together into one light.

And with a soft breath, the Sheikah Champion allowed themselves to rest at last.

------

100 years later Link stood there watching over the fields of Hyrule. Calamity Ganon had finally been defeated. Zelda was safe as was Hyrule. The duo had made their way down from the wreckage of the castle, ready to begin their new adventure. They were free of their destiny, but the memories would follow with them forever. The Hylian Champion felt a tug and he spun back to face the castle. There above floated the spirits of his fellow Champions. Finally free from the corruption of Ganon and his malice beasts. But what stole the breath from his lungs was the spirit of the one he loved- Y/n- floating there with a grin on their face. Noticing him watching, they sent him a goofy wave, knocking their spectral arm against Revali. Link let out a snort. They never changed. Their lights began to dim as the Champions began to walk away leaving him to watch their final goodbyes. He smiled softly as he saw Y/n mouth ‘I love you’, a hand pressing against their heart, something he was quick to respond to. With one last wave, the Sheikah Champion faded away. And as Link watched the spirits of his friends- his love- fade into light, he let a tear fall quickly followed by more.

The battle was won.

#legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda link x reader #loz x reader #loz link x reader #breath of the wild x reader #breath of the wild link x reader #botw link x reader #botw x reader #link x reader #reader has sheikah features like hair and eyes #awkwardspontaneity

[oneyeartoparty]

The brothers react to discovering they’re MC’s biggest fear

Wow the last few weeks have been hectic for me. Been feeling incredibly alone and don’t have anyone to talk to and found out I need surgery which will happen sometime soon. I’m glad to have gotten to motivation to get this out for you guys. I’ve a request coming next so keep an eye out. This one is based on how MC has been through so much and what if this affected MC greater than they realized? I hope you all enjoy this =)

WARNING: This react has spoilers for all of Obey Me up to Chapter 60

This story contains: Blood, mentions of death/murder, traumatic experiences.

Lucifer

Lucifer is cautious as he enters the room the bogeyman is hiding in with MC in tow.  Few things scare him, but what does are things he’d rather MC not know about.

Still, above all else he wants MC to be safe. If that means they find out something about him he’d rather them not know about, then so be it. Their safety and happiness are his priority.

As the bogeyman before them begins to warp its shape, he puts up his guard. With their combined power, Lucifer is sure the bogeyman, no matter which form it takes will be a triviality to deal with.

MC is too consumed by fear to see the shock and guilt consume Lucifer as, surprisingly, the bogeyman turns into him.

“Did you think you wouldn’t face consequences for your actions, MC? You’ve broken so many rules, interfered so much, that it's time you paid for your insolence with your pathetic human life!”

The real Lucifer was quick to banish his fake as it pounced on them. With it gone, he focused his full attention on MC, who was completely still, gazing at where the bogeyman once was.

He knelt, taking their hands in his own, rubbing them gently to slowly calm MC down. He told them he was sorry he’d scared them so badly. He would do whatever it took to fix his horrible mistake.

With a kiss to the back of their hand, he promised for as long as MC loved him, he would never do something to make them so scared again.

Mammon

Mammon was already terrified at the thought of facing the bogeyman again. Even a fake Lucifer was terrifying, and it was something he didn’t ever want to see again.

Still, with some gentle coaxing from MC, he followed them to face down the bogeyman. Once they enter the room, he moves behind MC to hide, while simultaneously bragging about how unafraid he is.

A rumbling begins that causes Mammon to jump. He sinks behind MC, awaiting the appearance of Lucifer, but to his surprise, nothing happens.

At first, Mammon is ecstatic! They’d easily banished the bogeyman without a scratch or scare. He is soon brought back to reality when he hears MC’s panicked cries.

“Mammon? Mammon can you hear me? Please don’t leave me again. Lucifer said you’d look after me and I’m confused and scared. Please come back, I won’t be annoying anymore. Please.”

At that moment Mammon comes to the horrible realisation that his abandonment of MC during their first few weeks in the Devildom when he saw them as nothing more than a burden had taken its toll.

He hugs them desperately, telling MC over and over that he is here and that if they wish it, he will never leave their side again. He tells MC that he’s sorry and that he loves them.

From then on, Mammon sticks to MC like glue. No matter where they go, he’ll follow unless they say otherwise. He promises to always be there to make sure they know they’re adored and never, ever alone.

Leviathan

It takes a lot of convincing to get Levi to accompany MC to confront the bogeyman, but he decides to go because the thought of MC going alone is something far worse than a fake, albeit horrifying copy of Lucifer.

Instead of Lucifer, however, what appears is another version of him in his demonic form. It looks furious, its tail flicking back and forth, knocking over lamps, leaving holes in the wall and smashing the window.

Levi though it would target him. After all MC had protection right? But it became clear and the creature turned to MC, its rage only increasing as it began to shout at the scared human.

“YOU CHEATED MC! I’M THE BIGGEST TSL FAN, NO ONE CAN BEAT ME IN A TSL QUIZ WITHOUT CHEATING!”

His copy keeping screaming at MC, looking ready to pounce at any moment. The real Levi for his part wanted to scuttle out of the room and forget what had happened. But he was spurred on by his love and need to protect MC.

Using his considerable power, he banished the bogeyman, the false version of him fading with a shrill shriek, leaving only MC cowering in fear.

Levi rushed to them, hugging them, peppering them with kisses (something that will later bring a blush to his face) and promising them he’ll never do anything to make them that scared again.

He keeps his word and is also careful to manage his temper when it comes to his passions while MC is around. He also does his best to work with them to help them overcome their fear.

Satan

Satan isn’t fearful of the bogeyman as he entered the room with MC. He wants the creature gone, especially after it scared his brothers so badly. Upsetting his brothers like that is not something he will let go of so easily.

He wonders what the creature will become when they encounter it. He doesn’t have any fears, at least any he will admit to himself, and MC has the blessing of Luke. Would it even be able to do anything against them at all?

As the door closed behind them the creature begins to morph. Satan decides to take this moment to banish it, wanting to be rid of it before it caused them problems. He pauses though when what appears before him is none other than himself in demon form.

“How DARE you compare me to Lucifer MC! How foolish I was to expect anything more from a sniveling, weak human. Now you’ll pay fo-.”

Before the copy has a chance to do anything more, Satan acts, banishing the creature from sight to some distant unknown realm.

The threat gone, he turned his attention to MC. They were still as stone, still scared of the image of him. Guilt floods him, and he rushes to MC, profusely apologising and begging them to forgive him. He has done so much damage to his love that he can’t forgive himself until MC is happy again.

Being the Avatar of Wrath, he will always have an angry side, but he does his best to calm down and refrain from getting out of control while MC is around. He also becomes far more affectionate, often snuggling with them as he reads them stories or watching cat documentaries.

Asmodeus

Asmo is worried about how ugly the bogeyman will make him. He knows that his greatest fear is being ugly, and it brings him genuine fear thinking of all the horrible, ugly versions of him the bogeyman could conjure.

The form the creature creates is of him, but he’s his normal, beautiful and dazzling self. He thinks it’s a trick for a moment, and he waits for the form to shift. Instead, it speaks, looking directly at MC.

“Why would I love someone like you? I’m perfection incarnate. You’re my plaything, someone I’ll discard like the rest. Don’t think my affectionate words are anything more than sweet nothings.”

Asmo turned to MC, who was now backed against the wall, their hand covering their face, but doing nothing to hide their sobs.

Asmo rarely becomes as enraged as he did at that moment. He isn’t one to not get angry, but true rage from his is rare. With all the fury and power he can muster he summons a portal and forces the bogeyman through, sending it somewhere it will never return from.

With the bogeyman gone, he turns his attention to MC. He approaches them slowly, moving beside them. He isn’t sure how to proceed. His heart is aching at seeing MC so upset and he wants them to smile that beautiful smile again.

He starts to name each and every part of MC and why he loves it so much. From their nose to their toes, he doesn’t stop until MC is smiling again.

From then on he showers them with affection and love. Every morning starts with a compliment and a loving kiss, and he always makes sure MC knows he couldn’t live without them.

Beelzebub

Beel enters the room first, wanting to shield MC from anything the bogeyman might decide to do. He’ll gladly endure whichever one of his fears the creatures summons if it means MC stays safe.

Despite his effort, as the bogeyman warps its form, what appears is him in his demon form. This form is angry, its stomach loudly growling also drowning out the angry words being spoken by the creature.

“WHY DID YOU EAT MY PUDDING, MC? THAT WAS MY PUDDING AND YOU’VE GONE AND EATEN IT. NOW WHAT AM I SUPPOSE TO EAT?!?”

As the creature screamed and shouted the sounds of shattering plates and crumbling brick echoed around, though nothing in the room was touched.

MC was terrified, backing away until their back touched the wall, too overtaken with fear to move any further.

Not wanting MC to suffer any longer Beel focused on banishing the creature. Focusing his power, the creating began losing shape. It fought him, but eventually, it faded from sight, banished back to where it had come from.

After the bogeyman is defeated, Beel approached MC. They’ve calmed down now the bogeyman is gone, but it has affected them. He apologises for allowing his hunger to overtake him so much that it caused them to fear him so much.

He gently hugs them, promising he’ll do whatever he can to help them overcome their fear and to never let his hunger overtake him so badly again, two promises he seals with a kiss.

Belphegor

Deep down Belphie knows what he’ll see if the bogeyman targets him and shows him his greatest fear. But he doesn’t want to admit it. The reality of admitting it is too much for him.

He accompanies MC regardless. He knows that together they can overcome whatever is waiting for them.

But Belphie didn’t fully realise exactly what the bogeyman would become. It began to take shape the moment the door shut behind them, forming into him in his demon form, fresh blood dripping from his hands and tail and splattered all over his clothing.

“Guess you are just a stupid human, huh? Falling for my silly trick you deserve to suffer and die like this.”

MC is petrified, begging him to not hurt them. It was MC’s fear that inadvertently spurred on their magic, banishing the creature without them realising.

With the bogeyman gone, Belphie could only stare at MC. He didn’t realise how much what he had done hurt them, and now that he did, he feared no matter what he did he would only make it worse.

Everyone waiting outside bursts through the door after hearing MC’s cries, and goes over to comfort them. Belphie decides to leave and return to the mansion and begins avoiding MC, thinking it better he stayed away.

It takes MC approaching him with Beel for him to talk with him, rather than leave the room. They talk and both agree to work together and heal so they can move forward, starting their journey with a hug and a kiss.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me leviathan #Obey Me Levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #asmo #Obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #belphie #obey me gender neutral mc #shall we date mc #shall we date lucifer #shall we date mammon #shall we date leviathan #shall we date levi #shall we date satan #shall we date asmodeus #shall we date asmo #shall we date beelzebub #shall we date beel #shall we date belphegor #shall we date belphie

[maxwell-grant]

Red of Overly Sarcastic Productions once said :"If you can imagine your Batman comforting a shared child, then congratulations, you're righting Batman. If not, you're just writing the Punisher in a funny hat". This got me wondering: could the Shadow comfort a scared child?

Could he? You forget who was there to lift young Bruce to his feet at his first brush with death (sadly far from his last).

But it's an interesting question to pose still, because children were straight up not in the pulps, not in any I've read, and I can't recall any episodes of the radio show that feature them much (there's gotta be at least a few, because they had everything in that show). The most interaction I think The Shadow's ever had with children (from comics that I can discuss here, because Marshall Rogers' "Harold Goes to Washington" is way, way too much for me to go into right now, and the less I talk about some other DC comics, the better) is in the Street & Smith comics.

There's Jerry from the Devil Kyoti arc, a kid who was traumatized by an encounter with the villain who Sayre's looking after and who ends up having some kind of hidden power that allows him to see The Shadow and defeat the villain. There was a blonde Jerry who showed up later in the Monstradamus arc, but he isn't a kid so much as he's diet Jimmy Olsen or a replacement for Harry, but he had weird eyesight-based powers and a familiarity with The Shadow, so I assume it's the same character.

There was also Donald Jordan - Shadow Jr, and okay, I may have to talk more about this weird little failed experiment some other time, but the basic gist of it is that The Shadow had a friend in Tibet named Harry Jordan (and someday I'm also gonna write about the weird prevalence and significance of the name "Harry" in The Shadow's mythos in and out of universe) who was murdered, leaving his son orphaned and with nowhere to go. And, I'll admit that I have a real weakness for The Shadow calling people "son", which he does a lot in this story.

And as you can expect, it then turns out that the kid's also learned how to cloud minds and has basically the same powers The Shadow has in these comics, and they solve the mystery of his dad's murder together, and yeah, you can absolutely tell that they are setting up this kid to be The Shadow's Robin. Although, interestingly, they don't have The Shadow actually recruit the kid, instead it's Jordan who asks The Shadow if he can go with him and join his mission, and Cranston even states he's going to have to "earn" his way

"Must I stay here, sir? It will always remind me of dad - I'd like to devote my life to your fight against evil and evil doers!

Now, "Shadow Jr's" career was incredibly short-lived, it only lasted for about two other issues, and I have no idea what happened in his final appearence called "Snake Eyes" in Shadow Comics #77, I cannot find that issue anywhere and I really want to. But the one other solo story of his I've read was...well, I think it kinda illustrates why the idea of The Shadow having a Robin was doomed from the start.

...Yeah. Even The Shadow at his most sanitized and family friendly is still The Shadow, and there's no room for children in his network, obviously he shouldn't and wouldn't have children be in those positions or make decisions expected from grown-ups who have already had encounters with death and danger, why would anyone do that-

The only instance I can think of The Shadow interacting with a child in the pulps was during The Prince of Evil, when he has to rescue a young boy from Stark's thugs.

Cranston, dazed, tried to stagger to his feet. Before he could do so, the thug had picked up the limp figure of the boy and was darting out into the street. There was a scream of horror from pedestrians.

A heavy truck was racing at top speed along the avenue. Straight into the path of the truck, the thug threw the senseless boy!

The driver of the truck jammed on the brakes. But it was too late to halt the heavy vehicle. The broad-tired wheels rolled toward the limp head of the lad on the pavement.

An instant before it could crush out his life, Lamont Cranston dived headlong into the path of destruction. His shoulder struck the boy, rolling him toward the curb. A quick wriggle, and Cranston swerved aside from the grinding death that loomed over him.

He picked up the boy. One glance and he knew there was no time to lose. The attempted killer had leaped into a waiting sedan and had already made his escape.

The boy was all Cranston could see or think about. Brass knuckles had fractured his skull. He had suffered a concussion of the brain. A glance at his bluish lips and the fixed glaze of his staring eyes told Cranston that unless the boy was operated on immediately, he would die.

A leap, Cranston was in his car. He laid the boy gently on the seat beside him, then headed the car toward the nearest hospital. Traffic lights were ignored.

The boy was taken to an emergency operating room and a skilled surgeon went to work. When it was over, Cranston asked only one question: "Will the child live?"

"Hard to say. We'll do our best."

"Spare no expense. Put him in a private room. Engage day and night nurses."

Cranston's face was pale. He knew that he himself was indirectly responsible for the boy's attack. A supercriminal had made a prompt answer to Cranston's message over Jackson's telephone. That telephone must have been tapped. The attempt to kill the boy was a vicious warning for Lamont Cranston to mind his own business about the Harmon family. It was a follow-up of the attack on Jackson's dog.

Cranston felt a surge of hot anger. He kept it under control while he answered routine police questions. He told all he knew - which was nothing.

He had only one angry thought. He intended to drive straight to the office of David Chester. He'd get the truth out of the sleek Chester, if he had to batter him with vengeful fists!

Cranston was actually halfway to Chester's office before common sense returned to him. He realized he had lost his sense of balance. He was behaving exactly as the crooks wanted. He was playing their game, not his!

He parked, and the hot rage drained slowly from him. He stopped thinking about the limp figure of a young lad on a white operating table.

This is definitely because Tinsley writes the character differently than Gibson, but I actually cannot think of another occasion where we got to read about The Shadow actively wanting to hit someone with his fists. It's very, very rare to read about The Shadow actually getting mad in the first place in such an undignified way. And I think with this passage, you'll start to notice a pattern.

The problem isn't that The Shadow cannot interact with kids or that he can't comfort them, he does it to his agents and adults he wants to help just fine, he knows how to address people in their language, or any language. The problem is, The Shadow is constantly surrounded by danger everywhere he goes, because he is The Shadow. He can be any number of things at any number of occasions, but usually, when The Shadow shows up, it's usually because people are going to die, and people are going to kill, and it's his job to address that and work the scales.

Children should not be anywhere near this, and if The Shadow's interacting with a child, it usually means that some grave danger or tragedy fell upon them, and he's here to either prevent greater tragedy or address the fall-out, and he'd be the first to agree that neither of these options should be happening at all. It doesn't mean he's not gonna do what's right and give life and limb to protect them, but, it shouldn't be up to the Boogeyman to look after them in the first place. Maybe it shouldn't be up to the Boogeyman to protect us.

But then again, as I mentioned when I talked about my own reasons for liking The Shadow so much, there are many kids who would like nothing more than to have the Boogeyman by their side to protect them. There's comfort in knowing that the scariest man in the room is unconditionally there to protect you, and that is the comfort that The Shadow gives best. Not as Cranston, not under a friendly face, but as what he is.

Due to a lack of scenes from the pulps or satisfying scenes from elsewhere, I will instead be pulling one from a fan story written by Kimberly-Murphy Smith, editor and writer of The Hot Cornerm where The Shadow rescues a child who was kidnapped for blackmail. I couldn't care less that it's fanfic, and if you do, come back in 20 or so years after The Shadow's been made public domain and it's gonna be just as official as anything licensed (on my “to write about” list: how fickle the separation between “official” and “fanfic” is, and the many times it plainly didn’t exist). There’s aspects of her writing I don’t care for, but I really like this scene and I do think The Shadow’s more gentle interactions with people are necessary to getting the character.

Annabelle.

She stopped crying for a minute. "Who's there?" she said, her voice choked.

A friend. Your mommy and daddy sent me to pick you up.

"Mommy? Mommy's here?"

Sh-h-h. Annabelle felt a gloved hand gently stroking her hair. She's waiting for you at home. So, we need to hurry up and leave.

"'kay." She looked around. "Where are you?"

It's kind of hard to see me. It's dark in here, plus you've been crying so much your eyes probably hurt.

"Yeah."

Don't be afraid. I'm here to help.

"'kay."

The implicit trust of children was simply amazing at times. Adults trembled in fear of The Shadow's wrath, but children somehow seemed to understand that he was there to help them, even if they couldn't see him.

Sit up, Annabelle. I'm going to pick you up. Be very quiet.

One hand took each of her arms and guided them around a neck she could not see. "Why are you wearin' a blanket?" she asked as the fabric of his cloak brushed against her shoulders.

Sometimes I get cold at night.

"Even in the summer?"

Even in the summer. He gently stroked her cheek and wiped away her tears. Now, you need to be very quiet so those bad men in the next room don't hear us. I'll bet you're tired.

She nodded.

He rocked her on his arms, projecting a very gentle hypnotic relaxation into her with his powers as he did. You probably didn't get your nap, either. Poor thing. Lean on my shoulder and go to sleep. And when you wake up, you'll be back with Mommy and Daddy.

She yawned, then snuggled against his shoulder and went to sleep.

The Shadow sighed with relief. Now to get past the men out front. He gently pulled the pistol out of its holster under his left arm and slipped it into the belted waist of his overcoat within easy reach, then secured his grip on Annabelle and draped his cloak over her.

She clutched the edge of his cloak in her hand like a security blanket and snuggled against his shoulder again.

(Art by Jill Thompson)

#replies tag #the shadow #pulp heroes #fanfic #I think about the -Sometimes I get cold at night- response a lot #and how superhero capes can easily be likened to oversized blankets #and The Shadow is one of the main reasons why capes became so popular among American heroes #seriously you can see how practically overnight so many heroes at the time imitating The Shadow acquired capes #and what is a hero if not a childhood fantasy manifest #they are all just wearing blankets to battle #I think my posts are turning into too much of rollercoasters

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 18 | S.R.)

Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Finale |

Summary: Reader finds more productive ways to spend her time, including babysitting Henry and volunteering at the local inpatient hospitals.

A/N: That’s my gif so please give credit if you use it 🤗 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader 
 Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Oral (female receiving), addiction, relapse, discussions of death/murder, unsub talk, hospitals, inpatient ward Word Count: 13K

MASTERLIST

—————————————————

The next morning felt strangely similar to the morning of the day we’d gone to the bank. . Waking up in Spencer’s bed and smelling the unmistakable, comforting scent of old book pages and stale coffee. I’d told him when I first came to his place that it reminded me of a library, but it was more like that quiet local hole-in-the-wall bookshop.

It almost felt like that morning, but there was one glaring difference: Spencer wasn’t in the bed.

When I sat up to try and locate him, I was reminded that there are consequences to my actions. My stomach hurt like shit, and I swore I blacked out for a second from the pain. It would pass, though. Considering I had gotten through the night without waking, it clearly wasn’t that bad.

I thankfully managed to get out of bed myself and take the pain medication I kept in my purse. And armed with the knowledge that the pain would subside within the next half hour, I hobbled toward the distant sounds of… vomiting.

Not even bothering to stop yet, I made my way to the kitchen to grab the poor guy a glass of water. It was the least I could do for his comfort considering that I was about to make his headache much, much worse.

Peeking my head through the open door, I frowned at the sight of my boyfriend half asleep on the toilet.

“Hey old man. I brought you some water.”  

Finally looking up, not having noticed me until I spoke, Spencer groaned as he backed up to lean against the wall instead of the dirty porcelain. “God, when did I get this old?”

“Hmm. I’m guessing sometime in the past 30 years.” I hummed, joining him on the cold tile floor. The two of us just rested there, his hand reaching out to take mine with a solemn smile.

“You’re cute.” He mumbled.

“I know, thanks.” I joked back, knowing that I really looked like a whole mess, with my hair desperately needing to be brushed. He never seemed to mind, though. I was glad for the lighthearted domesticity of the moment, because I knew I was about to shatter it like a brick through glass.

Softening my features as much as possible with the anxiety coursing through my veins, I squeezed his hand before finally whispering, “You know your age isn’t the only reason you’re sick though, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He snapped back with about as much hostility as I was expecting. He ran a frustrated hand over his face, his breathing picking up almost immediately as he tried to calm himself down.

“I know you’re just trying to do what you’re supposed to, but please…” The waver in his voice broke my heart and turned my stomach to knots. With more force, he held his hand in the air and continued to stare straight ahead. “Just... don’t. I’ll call my sponsor.”

I tried to keep my voice quiet and nonthreatening as I pushed, but I knew that it wasn’t going to make much of a difference either way.

“We have to talk about it, too, Spencer.”

“No, we really don’t.”

“You’re going to get your chip taken away,” my voice broke in half as the word fell from my mouth, “I know that that’s important to you. We can’t ignore it.”

Speaking faster, our urgent pleas overlapped to create a small cacophony booming through the acoustics of the bathroom. “(Y/n), seriously, stop. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A silence fell between us, and I let it sit there for a minute. I wouldn’t get anywhere with him if he was defensive, and that’s exactly what he was at the moment. But I wasn’t trying to chastise him; I’m not his mother, I’m just his worried girlfriend. I loved him and I knew something was wrong, and I just wanted to help.

I didn’t know how. The men I loved never made it far enough for me to be able to help.

“You didn’t even tell me you were coming home. We need to talk about that, at least.” I offered the narrowed scope, hoping that he would take it without any more of a fight.

He didn’t. Instead, he took back his hand and turned it to a fist in his lap. That time it was my breathing that became unsteady, and I tried to touch him, but he recoiled when I came too close.

“You didn’t seem to mind me being drunk last night.”

Although I knew it was coming, the words hurt just the same. I resisted the urge to mirror his actions. I wasn’t angry. I wouldn’t be angry, because that’s what he wanted. If I reacted that way, he could write off my responses.

“I’m not going to agitate you or shame you when the damage is already done, Spencer.” I said as confidently as I could, “I knew you needed affection and you weren’t going to ask for it yourself.”

He finally looked at me again, and in doing so, realized he was making a mistake. The anger melted from his face within seconds, being replaced with overt sadness and guilt. “I could have hurt you.” He whispered through the tears that started to fall.

“But you didn’t.” I said with a gentle smile, reaching over to wipe the saltwater from his cheek. “That’s not a very good excuse anymore.”

“It’s always a good explanation.” He clarified, chewing on his bottom lip. His hands released from their tense state.

My fingers couldn’t move fast enough to clear his tears, but he brought his own hands up to rub the tired eyes. I used the freedom to run my hands through his hair, pulling him closer to me.

Resting his head against my shoulder, he let out a deep, shaky breath. I continued slow, soft strokes along his arm, listening to the rhythm of his breath slowly recalibrate. Once I was satisfied with the pattern, I tried again.

“What happened on the case, Spencer?”

The tension returned, but subsided quicker than it had before. He took a deep breath and spoke through the exhale, trying to rid himself of the thought as he said it.

“We had to kill someone.”

My movements paused for a second before I reminded myself to continue, but my confusion remained. “I understand trauma is complicated but… You guys have to do that pretty often.”

Spencer wasn’t the kind of person who liked to share his thoughts. I knew as much; even his coworkers hadn’t seen the parts of him that I’d seen. There was no way for me to know if I knew them all, but I figured that I didn’t. I was almost certain there was a side of Spencer Reid that even I didn’t know. The only reason I didn’t try to figure it out was because I knew he liked it better that way. He designed his heart that way for a reason, and I wasn’t going to try and pry it out of him.

But he was scaring me. He almost never talked about his job, which didn’t bother me when it was obvious that he didn’t bring it home with him. Him getting drunk and defensive, though, were very different circumstances than the usual.

Understanding that there was no other way out of this, he continued to talk, hushed and slow. “I was alone with the guy, and I had the opportunity to kill him, but I didn’t. I didn’t kill him, even though I really wanted to.”

‘I really wanted to.’ The words stuck out in my head, no matter how quickly he tried to bury them.

“But after Hotch showed up, he had to do it. We didn’t have a choice anymore.” His arms crossed over his chest, but he pressed himself harder against me in a strange, contradictory stance.

I couldn’t respond to the most important part of his confession just yet; I knew the story wasn’t over. Like I’d told him, trauma and grief are complicated; however, there was something else he needed to admit before I could address the part of his admission he seemed most affected by.. “Spencer, that’s okay. That’s not your fault.” I reassured, trying to coax his arms away from his chest. I’m no profiler, but I felt like if he stopped trying to build walls, things might be easier. I could at least try to break down the ones that were tangible.

“I’m not worried about it being my fault. I’m worried about how… angry I am.” He said in defeat, dropping his arms back to his lap. He still didn’t want to touch me, it seemed. Like the same hands that had wielded a gun against a man were too tainted to share.

“I’m angry because… I wanted to kill him, I wanted him to suffer for hurting innocent people and —“ He covered his mouth, and I think the motion surprised himself.

I couldn’t help but feel partially responsible, no matter how illogical I knew that was. It felt like yet another morning was being taken away from us by what had happened before. I didn’t want to think about it; I didn’t want it to torture Spencer the way it did me. It was wishful thinking, and the stupid kind, at that.

Spencer would always blame himself and care too much. While he was always trying to work on the former, I hoped that the world would let him keep the latter. His compassion was one of the many reasons I fell in love with him. The thought of losing the man who felt the need to confess to me that he’d lied about checking me out in a crowded club invoked a sadness I never wanted to experience.

Although, the prospect of that loss paled in comparison to the acute sorrow I was feeling right then, holding Spencer while he failed to hold back tears, choking on his words. “I didn’t do it, and then he almost hurt someone else.” He said, his voice growing more frantic as he broke from my hold, grabbing his hair and pulling it like it would do something to stop the thoughts.

“And I’m angry that I wasn’t the one who got to do it. I wasn’t the person who got to kill him.” He spat, rocking forward as I tried to wrap my arms around him again. He didn’t let me, putting an arm out to hold me away from him. Still, he looked at me when he forced himself to say the conclusion that I’d reached the second he told me he had wanted to kill someone.

“I’m angry that I didn’t kill someone, (y/n).”

There were so many things I wanted to say to him that my mind literally couldn’t pick any of them. All I could do was stare at the man I loved, stopping me from doing the only thing I wanted to do. I just wanted to hold him; to remind him that I would love him no matter what. Just like we always did, I wanted my body to express the things that my mouth wouldn’t articulate.

But apparently, I was capable of doing that without even touching him. Because the longer we sat in silence, the more his enraged grimace warped to a frown. “Please, don’t look at me like that.” He begged, unable to take his eyes off of mine. I wondered if he could hear my thoughts, because before I even spoke, he pulled his arm back. “Don’t look at me like I deserve sympathy for that.”

Ignoring the pesky numbness forming in my lower half at the awkward position on the unforgiving tile floor, I thanked the lord that I was finally getting some relief from the narcotics, which allowed me to climb on Spencer’s lap. He’d finally ceased his valiant efforts to keep me away from him, accepting me with his hands on my hips.

When I tried to kiss him, however, he turned his face away with a sharp inhale. Careful not to use too much force, I use a tender hand on his cheek to lead him back to me. His eyes bounced between my lips and eyes, almost like he was asking me to try again.

“I’m not going to pretend you’re a monster to make you feel better, Spencer.” I whispered, attempting to infuse the words with everything I felt.

Whether it worked or not, I could never be sure, but Spencer’s small smile sneaking over his cheek was enough for me. “I’m pretty sure it’d make me feel worse.” He croaked, laughing as he bit his tongue to stop any other jokes from slipping out. Like he was betraying the pain by letting it go.

“Well I’m not going to do that, either.” I returned with a laugh. Then, satisfied that he would accept my affections, I closed the gap between us. The kiss was so soft I could almost question whether our lips touched. But his hands slid over my lower back, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me against him.

Eventually, it became obvious just how tired the both of us were. With a quiet thanks, he rested his face on my shoulder, enjoying the calm after the storm of his feelings that he’d finally released.

“Can you come back to bed?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He mumbled, holding tighter for a second before he started to help ease me off his lap. “Let’s go, little girl.”

The return to my nickname made me happier than I’d like to admit. At this point, the use of my real name was like a litmus test for his anxiety. And although I could feel Spencer slowly opening back up to me, he still felt so far away when we crawled under the covers.

Turning on my side to face him, I saw something in his eyes that alerted me to just how deeply rooted this problem was. It wasn’t just the event we’d discussed; it was the knowledge that there would be many more like it in the future.

I wondered what Spencer saw when he looked at me. Did he see me like I was in that moment, or was I always going to look like I had before, choking on blood and a confession I wish I could have made more beautiful? Did he see me at all? Or did he just see all the mistakes he’d made? Would all our moments together be marred by the overwhelming tragedy of a single one? More than anything, I just hoped that he didn’t see the faces of the people who had caused us to be in that horrible tableau. I needed Spencer to see beautiful things when he looked at me, because I needed to see them in his eyes. If something so ugly was the biggest thing between us, our relationship would fray with time, each of us unable to truly see the other.

“You’re the best man I’ve ever known.” I said into the silent early morning air of his apartment.

As expected, Spencer’s precarious smile broke almost immediately, replaced with violent sobs and an attempt to hide his face from me by burying it in my chest. I let him, wrapping my arms around his head in the hope that I could act like a shield for the world that never let him rest.

“I’ll love you forever,” I let my voice break, but I didn’t let that stop me. “And nothing will ever change that.”

—————————————————

One of the things people never warn you about when you’re dating a bona fide genius is that there is no such thing as a surprise. It was like every time I came up with an idea, Spencer could see it on my face within seconds. I was never really sure how he did it, although he usually had the decency to wait until a normal person would have figured it out to say something. For example, when we were about three streets away from his best friend’s house.

“Why are we going to JJ’s house?” He finally asked, turning to me with a confused but excited expression that almost hid the residual negative feelings that insisted on sticking around a week later.

I glanced over at him, laughing at the way his fingers bounced on his lap. He never was subtle with his emotions. “I may or may not have offered us up as babysitters so she and Will could have a much needed date night.”

From the way his shoulders dropped, I could tell it wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. Still, it didn’t seem like he was disappointed— he was simply trying to read my motivations that were seemingly counter-intuitive.

“Really? Isn’t that gonna be a lot for you?” The concern was evident in his voice, which I found both endearing and a little annoying. It wasn’t this fault, really. I was just so freaking tired of not being able to do basically anything I wanted to. Especially when the thing I wanted to do was watch my boyfriend and his godson.

“Henry may be well behaved, but he’s still a toddler.” Spencer continued, eliciting a deep sigh from me.  

“That’s why you’re here.” I half-joked, pulling into the driveway that was starting to feel familiar. If someone had told me a few months ago that I would become friends with the woman I was angrily binge watching clips of on YouTube, I would have asked them if they had me confused for another girl. But, much to Spencer’s delight, JJ and I never really had that awkward phase. From the second that I met her, I knew that we just wanted the same thing: above all, for the people we loved to be happy. And it seemed we both had a soft spot for the man currently in my passenger seat.

“Oh, running after the kid is my job?” He laughed, already unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling his bag onto his lap in his excitement.

“Yep.” I stuck out my tongue at him, which only made him lean over in an attempt to steal a kiss. I allowed it, if only to bring him within arm’s reach. When he started to pull away, clearly ready to hop out of the car and run to his favorite toddler, I grabbed a fistful of his cardigan in an attempt to keep him closer for a second longer.

“But seriously, Spencer, I…”

He settled into his seat, immediately recognizing the faint tremor in my words. His hand came to rest over mine, and I sighed at the warmth that filled my whole body in seconds.

“I want you to remember that you’re a good person.” I whispered, trying to let him feel how deeply I meant the words, “I know how much you love Henry. I think spending time taking care of someone that’s… not me… will be good for you. And me.”

Those big brown eyes glassed over, glancing down and then away from me as he remembered looking at my stomach didn’t ever do much for his self-hatred. Which, in turn, just made me feel worse. I wondered if there would ever be a day where he could look at me and not feel that way. I desperately hoped that there would be.

Spencer rubbed his eyes to stop any other emotions from spilling out. “Does JJ know we’re using her kid as therapy?” He joked between sniffles.

“She’s a smart lady.” I shrugged, smoothing out the now wrinkled cardigan beneath my fingers. “Besides, Henry said he missed you and it’s hard to say no to him.”

And just like that, Spencer’s bouncing returned, his hand reaching behind him to open the door before he could even open his mouth to speak. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t keep him waiting, then.”

There was no stopping him at that point, and I trailed along behind him, watching as Henry tumbled out of the front door and straight into my boyfriend’s waiting arms on the porch.

The rest of the night went a lot like that, too. Once the novelty of having me there wore off, and Henry realized that my boo-boo made it hard for me to play the way little boys liked to, Spencer returned to his rightful place as Henry’s favorite babysitter.

I didn’t mind; I was perfectly content watching the two of them. Between the cheesy magic tricks that required a little bit of childlike innocence to be entertained by and Spencer’s attempts to follow along with Henry’s excited rants about cartoons my boyfriend had never even heard of, I somehow fell even more in love with the man.

And even though I had planned this for him, it was restorative for me, too. There was this weird, paradoxical guilt you feel when you’re dating someone like him. Although I know that he wanted to spend every waking second of his free time with me, it made me feel like he was missing out on something else. Something better than me.

It was so easy to forget that we could do those things together. In a way, I could thank my injury for that. When we were limited so much on what we could do together, we had to find creative ways to spend time together that were still stimulating for the both of us.

That being said, in that moment I wished for nothing more than rest. Even just watching the two boys together was exhausting, so when Henry’s first yawn sounded, I jumped at the opportunity. Because, see, Spencer was good at the playing, but I was much better at the cuddling.

It wasn’t like he could argue, either, because while Henry curled up next to me on one side, Spencer was on the other, his arm reaching around to rest on the young boy’s back. Despite picking out the movie, Henry fell asleep against my chest within minutes.

And in the quiet calmness of JJ’s house, I found myself almost falling asleep, too. My head rested against Spencer’s shoulder, moving ever so slightly with each deep breath as my eyes struggled to stay open. That was when Spencer kissed the top of my head so delicately that I almost didn’t feel it.

“I love you, little girl.”

My heart skipped a beat at the sound, and the wave of goosebumps and satisfaction covered me like a blanket. If we’d stayed for even a few minutes longer, I would have fallen asleep right there. However, JJ and Will arrived home just in the nick of time. They tried to convince us to stay, but Spencer seemed uncharacteristically excited to leave, so I didn’t question it even though I wanted to. I took the trip home to catch up on my phone and try to wake myself up enough to spend another hour or so awake with him before I passed out.

“Don’t fall asleep yet.”

I perked up in my seat, not entirely sure if he’d actually said the words, or if I’d just imagined them a little too vividly. But when he glanced over at me, I knew that he was just doing that slightly unsettling thing where he read my thoughts.

“Why? You got plans?” I said through a yawn, trying to stretch within the confines of the car.

“As a matter of fact, I do have plans.”

At first, I thought nothing of the smug way he said it— up until I felt his hand slowly slide up my thigh, the pressure of his fingers increasing when he couldn’t go any further.

“This feels familiar.” I chuckled, my mind transporting me back to our first not-a-date. The sensations caused a desire to burn through me so quickly I became lightheaded, my lungs hungry and desperate as Spencer continued to tease me by avoiding the one place he knew I wanted him to touch.

But, of course, just as I reached down to move his hand, he pulled it away altogether.

“Lucky for you, we’re almost home.”

I audibly groaned, knocking my head back against the seat now that Spencer had succeeded in waking me up. “Sometimes, Spencer…” I mumbled, “I remember why I have to be such a fucking brat.”

“It’s my fault, is it?”

There was a distinct darkness and deviancy in his words, despite the joking cadence they were uttered in. It was a voice I hadn’t heard in some time; a voice that was imprinted so vividly in my memory that even just the thought of it would make me putty in his hands. And I knew that I was reminiscing a lot, trying to relive times that had long since passed, but every time I saw a part of the old Spencer — the Spencer who rambled in museums and demanded I cover up my Lolita costume — the more I felt like my life was finally returning to normal.

“Of course it’s your fault. Have you seen me?” I gestured to myself, swamped in a sweatshirt and shorts like a weather-confused idiot. If the clashing clothing wasn’t enough, my make up had smeared from constantly rubbing my eyes. “I’m an angel.” I concluded, intending it to be sarcastic but knowing that he really saw me that way.

And sure enough, Spencer looked me over for just one second before pulling into the parking lot to his apartment complex. “You’re spoiled.” He decided.

“Doesn’t feel that way right now.” I whined, chewing on my bottom lip as I continued to wait for his attention.

But he just parked my car, leaning over to grab his bag from between my legs. Before it got too far, though, I clamped my legs around the leather. “Stop ignoring me!” I said through a pout, only getting more heated as he chuckled in response, tugging on the satchel until it slid from between my legs.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Spencer’s eyes locked with mine, his other hand grabbing my chin and forcing my bottom lip out from between my teeth. He held my mouth open against my resistance, but as soon as I gave into his hold, he relaxed his grip, leaning forward and pressing a much-too-soft kiss against my lips.

Without even fully breaking away, he turned my head to the side to whisper in my ear, “Get inside and I’ll make it up to you.”

Life was returning to normal. Together we excitedly stumbled through the Langham apartment complex until we got to his door, and he fumbled to unlock it without letting me go.

Everything about the chaos felt comfortable and predictable. I didn’t even notice the dull throbbing in my stomach because Spencer’s hands felt like home. The insistent noise of all my messy insecurities was quieted by his lips trailing down my jaw and neck as we finally crossed the threshold.

“Watching you with Henry, I just...” Spencer began to mumble against my neck, our bodies gravitating toward his room with a complete lack of grace, considering how well I should know the layout by now. We made it to the door, but not his bed, as he pressed me against the wall right on the other side.

His lips were slightly swollen from how feverishly he’d kissed me, his breathing ragged and his hair wild from where my hands had raked through it a few too many times. But his eyes were what really caught my attention, staring into me so deeply that it caused a shiver to roll down my spine. Spencer sensed my hesitance, because he brought a gentle hand to my face before he spoke, quietly but surely.

“I want to marry you one day. You know that, right?”

I thought about before; how those words would have filled me with both a naive joy and overwhelming anxiety. But as I stood there, staring back at him, I felt a genuine smile spreading across my lips.

“We speak in a lot of ‘one days,’ Dr. Reid.”

I couldn’t tell the effect the words had on him, although I had a few guesses. I’d avoided the part of the sentence he’d meant for me to hear the loudest. We both knew I’d heard it. At the same time, I hadn’t denied the idea or given any reason to suggest I wasn’t happy about the statement.  

“I’m serious.” He insisted, not ready to drop the subject just yet.

Unfortunately for him, though, I had other plans. As much as the talk of marriage gave me butterflies, there were more immediate needs I wanted him to fulfill. So, without saying anything, I subtly suggested that he put off the conversation and switch to other activities with a firm hand against the bulge that had already formed in his pants.

“God, I want to fuck you.” He immediately groaned, his head lolling forward and resting against mine. I figured that it would be harder to convince him to fuck me now that he wasn’t drunk, but he seemed even more willing now that we’d already made the leap of faith once. Nothing bad had happened to me then, and the dramatic improvement of my mood was helpful for both of us.

So I began to slide down the wall, my hands raking down his chest as I giggled, “Let me help you.”

Spencer’s hands moved so quickly and with such strength that it surprised the both of us. Luckily, he’d grabbed my hips instead of my stomach, halting me before I could drop to my knees.

“No.” He firmly corrected, lifting me back to my normal height before turning the two of us around so that my back was to the bed. “It’s my turn.”

Much gentler now, he helped lower me onto the bed, but he didn’t follow me yet.

“Take off your clothes.” He instructed me as he removed his own.

I listened, watching him intently to try and determine his plans before he actually got to me. But he kept his expressions to a minimum, only giving away his enthusiasm in watching me sheepishly remove my clothing. My shirt was still on when he climbed onto the bed and over my body.

“I want to see you.” There was something pitiful about the way he uttered the words, and my hands hesitated, holding tightly to the hem of my shirt as I avoided his eyes.

“You have an eidetic memory, Spencer. You know what it looks like.”

“I’ll never stop wanting to see you. You’re so beautiful, (y/n).” He used my name, and my body reacted just as quickly as he realized his mistake. Grabbing my arms before I could close them over me, he brought my wrists against the bed beside my head. “You can leave it on for now.”

What he said provided me all the context I needed to know what he was planning, and I locked my legs around him, hoping that I could stall him for a few moments.

“Please, Spencer. Please fuck me.” I begged, arching my back and baring my neck to him, knowing that he could see my erratic pulse in my neck.

“I can’t. Not yet.” His voice was strained, one hand raised so that his fingers could brush over my neck. “It won’t be much longer.”

Frustrated by his undying desire to take care of me, I used my hand that he’d released to grab a handful of his hair. “I want to feel you inside of me again.” I moaned through the words, my heels digging into his back and bringing his hips down to meet mine. I watched as his eyelids fluttered shut, his breath hitching in his throat.

“I want to see the look on your face when you fill me up.” I continued, bucking up in search of the delicious friction I’d been deprived of for months now. “I know what you’re thinking when you do it.”

“F-fuck.” He struggled to lower his hand to hold my hips down, but I could tell he was scared he would hurt me in the process. It was a dangerous game, to ever put me in this position when neither of us had pants on. Spencer’s confidence wavered as he choked on his words, “This isn’t going to work.”

“You can’t think about that if I’m not touching you.”

“Yes, I can.” He responded with no hesitation, his eyebrows raising in a challenge.

“But isn’t it so much more fun when it’s actually possible?” I cooed.

“It’s always possible, it’s just so unlikel— Fuck!” Spencer cut off by his own gasp when I finally succeeded in pulling him against my heat.

The noise that I gave was something between a sigh and a moan, and I swore I saw Spencer’s pupils dilate in response. There were just some things he couldn’t hide, no matter how hard he tried. But my satisfaction was short lived, and Spencer sat up on his knees to place a manageable distance between us.

“We’re not doing this.” He growled through clenched teeth, his nails raking over my thighs before he removed them entirely. “Stop being a greedy fucking brat and spread your legs.”

I waited a second, hoping that Spencer would get impatient and force my legs open himself. But he flashed me a look, warning me that if I didn’t behave, he could very easily just send me to bed without any satisfaction. And as much as I wanted to call his bluff, the idea of going to bed without getting to touch him was so upsetting.

So, I slowly dropped my legs open, running my hands over the skin still burning from where his hands had touched me. And even slower, Spencer lowered himself until his face rested against my thigh, the scruff of his cheek causing a shiver to run up my body.

“Don’t tell me that a few months of me pampering you has undone all of my hard work.” He murmured so softly I almost didn’t hear it.

But the fact that I did was evidenced by my laugh. “That would imply you’ve actually accomplished something to undo, but I’m just as bratty as the day you met me, Dr. Reid.”

He smiled, his eyes focusing on my face as I continued to giggle, now urged on by the way his breath tickled my inner thigh. “Is that right?” He said in that familiar cocky voice. “Because I happen to recall that the first time that I did this, you tried to stop me.”

The blood rushed to my cheeks as my mind replayed the memory of his smirk from when he had held my legs open for him.

‘You’re not broken, little girl. Promise.’ Just the thought of the words was enough to cloud my mind, but I was dedicated to besting him in this exchange. If he was going to be arrogant, then I would give him the best challenge I could.

“Would you rather I fought you?” I asked, beginning to pull my legs shut before he grabbed them and pulled them over his shoulders.

“No. The instructions for tonight should be very easy to follow; even for you.”

I was trying to pay attention, but it was getting harder the closer he came to actually fucking doing something. It was so obvious that he was getting off on the way my eyes were barely able to stay open, my chest moving with each half-sob that came when he would lay a kiss against my hips.

“What are they?” I slurred, grabbing handfuls of the sheets to prevent myself from forcing him against me.

It was clearly the exact question he was waiting for, a devilish smirk stretching over his cheeks as he dragged his lips down to where I wanted them, moving them against my skin to say, “Stay still, and don’t be quiet.”

While I appreciated the instruction, I feared that it was in vain. Because when Spencer finally flattened his tongue against me, I couldn’t have stopped myself from immediately crying out if I tried.

My hands retained their death grip on the sheets, partially making up for the fact that my body immediately disobeyed his command to stay still. But I couldn’t help it; the long strokes of his tongue up and down my sex felt like pure bliss. And honestly, it wasn’t even just the physical sensations. It was just the knowledge that we were back where we should be; shamelessly indulging in our need for each other without inhibitions. Spencer was clearly enjoying himself, his hands struggling to gently hold me down while he devoured me like a man starved.

I couldn’t look at him, my head bent so far back I could see the headboard. His name fell from my mouth like a mantra, my hips rolling against each motion of his tongue.

“I missed you.” I cried, my legs once again locking around him, my heels on his back as I wished I could pull him closer. “I missed this so badly, Spencer.”

He couldn’t really answer, although I think the moan that he gave was meant to be a response. The vibrations almost sent me over the edge, but right before they could, he pulled back ever so slightly.

I glanced down to figure out why, and was met with his eyes watching me intently, analyzing every response I was giving him; memorizing the way my body shook with need after just a few weeks in his absence.

“Please, don’t stop.” I begged, not caring how pathetic the words sounded when they broke in my throat.

“Oh, I’m not.” He mumbled against me, raising his lips to close around the bundle of nerves at my crest.

At first, I just sighed, appreciating the soft flicks and swirls of his tongue that would eventually build up another release. But it was when I closed my eyes that he revealed his plan.

Without any warning, I felt his finger slip between my folds, thrusting into me with one fluid motion as my wanton moans filled the room. He didn’t let them distract him, his mouth intent on the rhythm it had set, and his hand insistently working to match it.

There was nothing comprehensible in the noises I made, and neither of us seemed to mind. Spencer was only urged on, quickly adding a second finger in his ruthless pace that finally forced me to release the wrinkled sheets in my hands. Instead, they wound through his hair, pulling me against him as I chased my release.

“Please.” I whined, hoping that he would know what I was asking for. Because I didn’t even know what I was asking for— just that he could give it to me.

And sure enough, he did, his fingers beginning to curl inside of me with each motion. I used all of the energy I could muster had to keep my hips relatively still, although they were still trembling with the tension spreading through my muscles that tightened around him.

I wanted to call out his name, to give him the praise and recognition he deserved, but my tongue was tied in the haze of pleasure that overtook me. I could barely breathe, my mind transported to some alternate universe where there was only Spencer and myself. There was no point in identifying where we diverged, because he felt so much like a part of me in that moment, I could never separate from him again.

My walls fluttered around his fingers that still pumped into me with the same vigor. His tongue continued to circle my clit while he gently sucked, clearly lost in his own form of pleasure from the activity.

I wished I could touch him more. I wanted to drag him up to my lips, turn him onto his back and ride him until my legs gave out. But I couldn’t; my body tired and no longer used to the energy we once made a habit of spending on each other on any given day. It had used that energy to dull the pain so I could enjoy the relatively tame experience we had just shared.

As I came down from my orgasm, I was filled with guilt over the fact that I hadn’t so much as touched him once in this entire encounter, and now my hands weren’t even able to keep my grip on his hair as he lifted his head.

Spencer seemed none the wiser about the shame brewing in my head, and he wiped his mouth to reveal a lovesick smile beneath his hand.

“Good girl.” He rasped, crawling up to my side rather than on top of me. With a tender hand, he brushed aside the strands of my hair that stuck to the sweat on my face. “I knew you could behave.”

He sounded so proud of me, which only served to intensify the guilt now pouring from my heart and tainting the rest of what should have been a beautiful memory. I clung to the little bit of light I saw in those toffee eyes.

“How dare you imply I’m ever capable of such a thing.” I chuckled, reaching out to hold him somehow.

He took my hand in his, raising it to his lips for a brief kiss before resting them both against his heart.

“Can I help you?” I sounded drunk from my exhaustion, but hopefully determined enough to convince him I was willing. He didn’t buy it.

“No, go to sleep.”

He leaned forward like he was going to kiss me, but then brought his fingers down over my eyes, brushing over my lids in an attempt to get me to close them. To his credit, it worked, but only for a second before they snapped back open.

“That’s not fair!” I murmured, pulling the sheet over me while I tried to sneak closer to him. I noticed the way he scrutinized my free hand’s movements, ready to stop it from doing too much.

‘It’s gonna be like that, huh?’ I didn’t let it stop me from trying. I didn’t even get to his bellybutton before he snatched my wrist.

“I said no.”

“You know... I could help you without touching you.” I offered instead, pressing my hand against his chest since he wouldn’t let it move any lower. “It’s not the first time we’ve touched ourselves for each other.”

Spencer snorted at the reference, bringing my hands up to his neck, where they happily ran through his now tangled hair.

“That didn’t end well for me last time.”

“I bet you still finished without me.” I teased, my tongue slipping out from my mouth.  “Did my pictures come in handy?”

“Like you said— I have an eidetic memory. I don’t need pictures.”

The most noticeable part of his response wasn’t the way his cheeks turned pink, but rather that he didn’t deny that he’d used the pictures. Knowing they were long gone now, considering Penelope’s tendency to snoop too much for her own good, I wondered if that memory was filed away somewhere special in his mind.

“You especially don’t need them when I’m right here.” I purred, tugging him closer by his hair until the gap between us was gone, our lips pressed feverishly against the other.

It was always like that. Like the second we touched, the proverbial dam between us turned to dust. Within a matter of seconds, we’d be so wrapped up in each other that we didn’t care about the wreckage left in our wake.

Spencer didn’t let it get that far, though. He hadn’t in some time.

“You have had enough excitement for one day. I don’t need anything.” He clarified, clearing his throat and acting like I couldn’t feel his erection pressed against my thigh. Still, his next statement was so genuine I couldn’t have argued with it if I tried. “I just wanted to take care of you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

But on the topic of wanting, I knew I felt it more. “I want things to be normal again.” I answered quickly, an urgency blooming in my throat that died when I tried to finish the thought. “I feel so... useless.”

His hand has grabbed my chin before I even noticed its absence on my hip. He held my face towards him, a dark and pained timbre in his voice.

“Don’t ever think that.”

It was a plea. I wanted to give him the relief and assurance he sought, but my gut told me to be honest with him, even if it hurt us.

“It’s just that before, we... did so much more and I’m scared that I won’t...”

Why was it so hard? He was looking at me like he would do anything to stop me from feeling even the slightest discomfort, but I felt like I was suffocating. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I didn’t want him to worry. I wanted to make him as happy as he made me, but...

“I’m scared that I won’t ever be able to do it again.”

He couldn’t tell me that I was wrong. If he tried to make it only about my physical condition, he risked the chance of me telling him I don’t want to do it ever again. Did I feel that way? It was hard to tell; it was too early to tell. But the crushing despair that I felt at the thought of losing that part of our relationship suggested I did not feel that way.

“Hey. Look at me.” Spencer’s voice tore me away from the intrusive thoughts about our inevitable fallout, his hand still holding me in place in front of him, and his eyes still promising me the world.

“Just because we’ve done something before doesn’t mean we ever have to do it again.”

The words felt like the first breath after struggling for air underwater and finally breaking the surface just in the nick of time. Why were they such a relief? I couldn’t figure it out, but was too afraid to ask, fearing how Spencer might take it. Although, the tears pooling at my lashes gave him more than enough to read.

“Tell me you understand.” His request was as gentle as always. After a moment of trying, and failing, to collect myself, I nodded.

He sighed, cautiously moving his palm to cup my cheek. It was his voice that broke then. “I know this is hard, but I need you to use your big girl words for this. I need to make sure you hear me.”

“I understand.” My throat ached as I forced the words out. I could tell he wasn’t convinced but knew any argument would be meaningless while we were both so tired.

“Thank you.” He said, anyway. And like the prettiest sounding broken record, he let his fingertips trail over any exposed area he could find as he spoke the same words I’d heard before, even more insistent. “Even if you never touched me again, just knowing that you’re alive and happy... That alone makes the happiest man in the world.”

Spencer’s lips pressed against my forehead, resting there for a little too long. From the uneven shake of his breath, I knew he was hiding something, but didn’t want to ask what. I suspected they were tears.

I had disappointed him again. I had hurt him, yet again. I hadn’t meant to.

“It’s all that I need. To know that you’re happy.” There was an implicit message hiding in those words.

He was saying he wanted me to be happy, consciously neglecting to voice the resigned addition, ‘even if it’s not with me.’

“I know.” I whispered, half asleep as he continued drawing patterns on my skin. I meant to tell him that he was the only man who’d ever made me feel truly happy, safe, and loved— the only one I trusted with my heart. But all that came out was a simple, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He said back, leaving me to wonder if he’d heard what I meant.

—————————————————

After everything I’d been through, I’d sworn that I would never want to be in a hospital ever again. But, unfortunately for me, it seemed my stubbornness extended even to my own limits, which explained why I was currently walking through the doors of the residential inpatient ward. It was a good idea in theory, to volunteer in the last place I wanted to be so that I could grow used to being there again.

It didn’t have to be a scary place.

Especially since the people around me weren’t the typical hospital patients. In fact, the people there weren’t even the usual patients of the hospital. Apparently, the ward was hosting a group of traveling patients that had been deemed fit for a vacation to the nation’s capital.

My assignment was simple enough - simply meet with a person and discuss the book they were currently reading. There was no requirement that we had to have read the book before, considering that would leave most people without a partner at all.

I was expecting to meet someone to discuss some niche romance novel or whatever had recently come out in theaters, but as I scanned the list of books, one stuck out to me more than the others.

The Book of Margery Kempe (1501).

It wasn’t the book itself that piqued my interest— I’d never read it. I had, however, listened to Spencer explain the entire premise to me on several occasions. Unsurprisingly, no one else volunteered for the book from the fifteenth century that referred to the main character as “this creature.” No one until me, that is.

There was no questioning who my partner was when I entered the room, spotting her quickly on the outskirts of the room with the book in her hand, but her eyes fixed on the raindrops slowly dripping down the window.

“Hi, are you Diana?”

She jumped a little at the sound of my voice, and I tried not to be consumed by guilt for surprising her despite my best efforts not to.

“Who are you?”

“I’m (y/n). I’m sorry if I scared you. I was assigned to be your book buddy today.” I explained, gesturing to the book on her lap with a smile that wasn’t big enough to be fake. From what the nurses had told me about her, I figured it was best to just be as genuine as possible… which made my answer to her next question a little more difficult.

“You’ve read this book?”

“Actually, I haven’t. No one had.” I laughed, pulling another chair over to her before taking a seat. “But I have heard someone go through basically the entire story in their own words, so...” I never finished the thought, cut off by a slight scoff from the woman.

“I figured. You’re very young.”

“Hey! Young people can read the classics.” I defended, crossing the lower half of my legs and tucking my hands between my knees. It probably gave away some of my nerves, but I figured it was alright considering she wasn’t a profiler and Spencer wasn’t here.

“But you don’t.” She wryly noted.

“Guilty. My boyfriend does, though.” I acquiesced, albeit a bit distracted as my mind decided to focus on those memories rather than the current reality.

“At least you’ve got that exposure. It’s important to learn these things.”

For a second, it felt like I was being lectured by my boyfriend, making it hard not to laugh, which I was pretty sure she didn’t appreciate.

“Can you tell me about it? I want to know if my boyfriend was just making stuff up.” I shrugged, laughing while I found myself avoiding her eyes. She noticed that behavior; most people would.

But to my surprise, she started to explain the book, anyway. Less surprising was the realization that Spencer hadn’t made up any of it. It was clear as day from their similar words that they had definitely read the same book. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought they’d discussed it together, too.

She was more talented than he was at explaining, though. Maybe it was a little bit my fault, considering I always got distracted by his voice. But with her, it really did feel like someone sharing a part of themselves. I could tell how deeply she cared for literature, and it made me more excited to hear about the chaste holy woman that found herself tempted by jealousy and sex.

When her story was winding to an end, I was almost sad that it was over. “You must have been a professor.” I mumbled, having already forgotten the information I was given by the nurses.

She was quick to correct me, her mouth curling into a frown as she said, “I still am. I’m just not on the campus anymore.”

“Of course. Gotta stay sharp, right?” I half-heartedly joked, sitting up from my slouched position. A brief stint of silence stretched between us and glancing at the clock I realized that it would still be a little while until Spencer could come get me. So, I turned back to the woman in front of me, noticing the way she stared out the window as she chewed on her nails.

“Is that why you wanted to visit D.C.?” I wondered aloud, and her response didn’t help assuage that curiosity at all.

“I... have another reason.”

“That sounds very mysterious, Diana.” I giggled, leaning forward and whispering, “Are you secretly a rebel?”

She scoffed, but I detected amusement behind the apparent derision. “Nothing like that.”

As sneaky and vague as she was being, and the fact that I had been warned of her paranoia, I still found myself wanting to ask her what could possibly make her as happy as her current thought.

“So what is it?” I said, leaning back in an effort to seem less insistent, explaining my intentions in a rant reminiscent of my boyfriend. “I don’t mean to pry, I just... you got really happy and I’d love to share in that excitement.”

“That’s just selfish.”

She really was so much like him.

“That’s how you know I won’t judge you.” I pointed out, raising one hand in the air and placing the other on my heart.

“I’m not worried about that.” She just waved her hand at me, ignoring my dramatic gesticulations and sighing as she glanced down at the book once more. After another moment of contemplation, her eyes flicked up to me so quickly I almost missed them, analyzing my features one more time before she carefully said, “I’m here to visit my son.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

Although her expression was anxious, she still seemed at least a little relieved to have shared her plans with someone.

“He is.” She returned, lightly brushing the back of the book, almost like she was trying to remember something etched on the beveled hardcover. “He’s a good boy. Very bright. He has wonderful adventures. He goes all over the country. He used to tell me everything but... he’s gotten too busy for his mother these past few years.”

As I took in the words, I felt the pain in her voice. My heart wrenched in my chest, imagining how awful it must be to not have a chance to talk to your family. “I’m sure he doesn’t mean to ignore you.” At least, I hoped not. She had so many stories to tell, even in just this short window, I couldn’t imagine anyone would want to avoid her. Then again… I knew it could be hard.

“I know he’s busy. That’s why I wanted to come here. It makes it easier for him.” She was confident in her explanation, and I nodded back with similar gusto.

“Have you talked to him yet?”

“No. I’m going to have them call him today.”

We were both happy then, and I clapped my hands together in front of me to suppress the urge to touch her as I excitedly replied, “I hope you get to see him.”

“Me too,” she agreed, simultaneously hopeful and defeated, before turning back to the window with the same wistfulness as before. “If not, the museums will be nice, too.”

“Hey, if you need a docent, I could always call my boyfriend. He would be so excited to talk to a fellow scholar who could actually follow along.” I excitedly replied, rocking forward in my chair with a goofy grin at the thought. She reminded me enough of him that I figured the two would get along. He’d at least understand what she talked about, unlike me.

“There’s no one that can compare to my son.” She warned, narrowing her eyes and pouting in a way I swore I’d seen before on another face.

“I bet. He does sound a lot like him, though. I bet they’d be friends.” The gears in my brain, rusted and slightly worn, started to turn. “They actually might be... my boyfriend lives near here.”

And that was when it hit me, the obvious conclusion I’d been avoiding for some reason. That creeping, unsettling familiarity wasn’t from coincidence; it was my brain recognizing her as an extension of the man I loved.

“...What’s your son’s name?”

She never got to answer, because no sooner had I finished saying the words thanwe both heard Spencer’s voice from the door behind us.

“Mom?”

The realization crashed into all three of us like a goddamn freight train. And even with my flair for the dramatic, I found my head spinning as I tried to will time to rewind itself.

“Spencer? How did you know I was here?” Diana said through a confused gasp, turning to me to see the equally stunned look on my face.

“I didn’t… I—“

They both turned to me, but I was too busy staring halfway between them, my jaw dropped open and my brain suddenly devoid of any helpful thought.

When it decided to finally be helpful, it was only marginally better. “Well… that makes a lot of sense.” I said with a cringeworthy laugh. When neither of them laughed, and continued to stare at me, I quickly shot up from my chair and waved a shaking hand. “You should talk to your mom. I’ll give you guys a minute.”

I didn’t get very far before Spencer’s hand caught my wrist, his wild eyes wide and insistent as he crackled, “Actually, I need a minute alone with you. If that’s okay.”

I turned to Diana for her permission but found nothing useful. She was also still caught up in the disaster that had just occurred, and turned back to her son who seemed genuinely apologetic.

“Sorry mom, I’ll… I’ll be right back.”

Spencer nearly dragged me out of the room, shutting the door and hiding out of sight of any windows. If he was ready to unleash his pent up anxiety, though, he wasn’t quick enough.

“Spencer, what the shit?!” I whisper-yelled, the sound echoing through the sterile hallway.

My boyfriend didn’t have any answers, his hands raking through his hair as he clearly tried to calm his heart and rapid breath. “I’m sorry I— I didn’t know that she was here! What is she doing here?!”

“Oh my god. Shut up. I’m freaking out. What if she thinks I’m weird?” I rambled back, grabbing my chest once I realized that I was freaking out just was badly as the idiot in front of me. Because seriously, he couldn’t tell me his mom’s name so I wouldn’t be blindsided like this?

Then again, I guess I couldn’t talk.

“What did you say to her?” He whispered back, dragging his hands over his face. He seemed eerily calm while asking, considering just how much we could have gotten into during our conversation. Although, I guess it would have been weird to share the more intimate, embarrassing details with a stranger at a hospital.

“I don’t know! We just talked about you!”

“You talked about me?!”

“Well we didn’t know we were both talking about you!” I said was quietly as possible, which was not quiet at all. Waving my arms between us, I tried to explain the jumbled mess in my head. “She was talking about her son and I was talking about my boyfriend and— Actually, that reminds me.”

“What?”

His answer came in the form of a soft thwack on the back of his head. He jumped, raising his hands to his head in both shock and embarrassment at the public chastisement, despite there being no one around to witness it.

“Call your mother, asshole!”

“Ow?! Don’t hit me!” He whined, and I could tell from the tone that the only damage done was to his ego.

“Stop ignoring your mother! You shouldn’t even be out here!” I reminded him, laying my hands against his chest and beginning to push him back towards the door. “Get back in there!”

Spencer’s hands held onto mine, and for the first time in a while I noticed that they were shaking. The lighthearted panic I’d felt seconds before vanished, replaced with a painful sadness that seemed to bleed from him into my hands.

“I’m not trying to ignore her, I just…” His eyes were struggling to focus, and the crackle in his voice warned me that there was something he was trying to avoid saying. “I can explain… This.”

I didn’t need to hear it.

“Explain what?” I meant the question to be an expression of my feelings, but it seemed to freak him out more. Like I actually expected an answer for why his mother was in a program like this. Like the reason he had kept that from me mattered. I already knew the reason he didn’t tell me— It was pretty obvious.

“Spencer, I don’t care that she’s here. That doesn’t bother me.”

From the faraway look in his eyes, I knew he didn’t really believe me. I couldn’t blame him entirely. The shame was clear on his features. But I also knew that nothing I could say in that moment would make him believe me; it would probably take a long time. That was okay. We had time.

“I’m serious. She’s your mother and you love her, so of course I’m going to like her.” I tried to reassure him anyway, and I noticed the small twitch of his pout that slowly turned into a pitiful smile.

Trying to keep that upward trend, I motioned to my absolutely ridiculous outfit and bedhead before I laughed, “I’m mostly just mortified about the fact that I just met your mother looking like this and acting like a fucking moron.”

Thankfully, Spencer laughed back. His hands gripped mine tighter, and through the tears that stayed perched on his eyes without falling, he croaked, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… go see your mom. I’ll go hang out in the cafeteria for a minute.” I jumped up on my toes, yanking my hands back only to them around his neck.

His arms caught me like they always did, holding me so tightly against him that I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. I kissed him just as hard, trying to remind him that there was nothing in the world that could ruin the happiness I felt when he held me.

I held his face as the kiss ended, squishing his cheeks together and warping his smile in the process. I was just grateful that it was still there.

“And take your time talking to her, because I am fucking starving.” I instructed. The crisp hospital air on my skin was cold as he left, but inside my chest, butterflies erupted that kept me warm. He gave me one final goofy wave before we went our separate ways again.

As I wandered through the hospital halls, I wondered if he knew how nervous I actually was. I couldn’t tell him yet; he would misinterpret it, regardless of his profiling skills. He would see the anxiety in my interactions with her as my fear over his future mental state instead of what it really was— fear that the other woman he loved wouldn’t approve of me.

There was no sense in worrying about it yet. Diana and I had shared a great time together as far as I could tell, and I would definitely make sure that Spencer spent more time talking to her in the future. So as depressing as the hospital cafeteria could be, it wasn’t so bad that day.

—————————————————

Being alone with Diana was so much different after I’d learned that she was Spencer’s mother. Then again, we weren’t really alone - Spencer was there, he’d just passed out and somehow ended up with his head against the pillow on my lap. I was a little surprised by how comfortable he was being so touchy feely in front of his mother, but I’d also recognized the exhaustion the second he walked into the hospital. He’d been out cold for at least 10 minutes, and I was barely able to stay awake, myself.

Diana seemed wide awake, though, watching the minute rise and fall of Spencer’s shoulder as he slept. At least, I thought that was what she was watching, but it could have also been my hand stroking his arm.

“My son seems very happy.”

I looked up, shaken by the sudden sound after nearly falling asleep to the rhythm of Spencer’s breath against my knee. “I think that has more to do with you being here.” I said through a yawn.

“I’m not so sure.” That was all she said, quiet and skeptical. Her eyes were scrutinizing everything she could see, and I thanked the stars that I didn’t have to go through this without him here, at least. At least we’d had one nice memory together first.

“Are you the reason he’s been so busy?”

I was dreading the question but had already planned my response. “I hope not. His job is so stressful, and he spends so much of his free time taking care of me.” I looked down at the mop of brown hair that hadn’t been brushed.

When I ran my hand through the ends of his curls, he shifted on my lap, his hand coming up to grab my thigh as he buried his face into the pillow. I chuckled at the clingy movements, which poorly contrasted my words.

“It makes me feel awful.”

I expected her to look disappointed or disturbed by the action, but she mostly just looked… sad.

“He’s good at taking care of people.” She explained, her head jerking away to stare at the lamp beside her. “I made him do it too often.”

Her answer hurt me in more ways than one. It hurt me because I felt the guilt and shame in her voice over something that she had no control over, which was obviously something that should never happen. But it also hurt because I heard myself in it, and I had to ask myself if, just like I had found traits of my father in Spencer, he’d found his mother in me.

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t be ashamed of being like her - she was brilliant and obviously cared for him deeply. It was the source of the shame that frightened me.

Was he just with me to take care of me? How soon would he grow tired of that? What would happen when I got better? Would I ever? Did I even want to, if that meant he would leave?

They were terrible, awful thoughts to have. So, I did what I was best at, and shoved them back into the corner of my mind to revisit when I was desperate and alone.

“I think he would disagree. He obviously loves you very much.” Was what I said, instead.

“I could say the same for you.” There was a slight bitterness in her words that forced a frown out of me. The words were forceful, almost like a compulsion that she wanted to fight but was too tired to win. She seemed to regret that, too.

“I know my son... and I’ve never seen him like this before.” She pointed to him on my lap, still sound asleep despite the conversation happening above him. “I don’t think he’s ever slept that well with me. And…”

Part of me wanted to tell her that it wasn’t always like this. I wanted her to know that it had nothing to do with any failing of her own, but a failing on the part of the rest of the world for hurting him when neither of us had been there. But she probably felt the same guilt I did that we couldn’t fix those broken parts. Her eyes met mine, and in the reflection, I saw both of our apprehension.

“I’ve never felt like a girl was taking my son away from me before.”

The breath wasn’t knocked from me, but it did fall out of me in a slow, shaky exhale. I didn’t know what to say back, terrified by the implication behind the words just as much as the fact she felt them.

“He’ll always be yours first.” I promised her, refusing to look away from her eyes even as she refused to meet them. I needed her to know that I would never be a threat to them. That all I wanted or cared about was that he was happy and safe, and that I knew she felt the same.

“Then he should call me more.” Diana said, wry humor bleeding back into the conversation despite how heavy it had become.

“I’ll make sure he does.” I answered, my hands resuming their gentle soothing motions. I saw her hand mimicking the actions against her blanket and found myself wondering about things I’d never ask her. I knew virtually nothing about his childhood aside from the prodigy thing, but it was clear that his father was not in the picture, and that he was very close with his mother.

I couldn’t blame her for wanting to protect him. Just as I had thought it, she’d said it herself.

“When you’re kind like my son, the world will eat you alive if no one is protecting you.”

Maybe Spencer had gotten that mind reading trait from his mother, rather than his profiler training, I thought.

“Are you going to protect him?”

I wasn’t ready for that question. Honestly, I hadn’t even considered it. In all the time we’d been together, I’d selfishly worried about how any harm to him would affect me. In my defense, it had always seemed the more likely scenario.

I was so worried about being the source of his hurt or not being able to fix it that I never thought about how I could prevent it. It almost felt… inevitable. Everyone who loved me got hurt, and he’d already made up his mind on that topic.

“I’m going to try.” The hesitance in my voice gave away my anxieties, and Diana spoke quicker and bolder. 


“You said he takes care of you, but what do you do for him?”

The walls were closing in on me, and I couldn’t fucking breathe. My hand on Spencer’s arm grabbed his shirt before I noticed. I wanted him to be awake, to hold me and tell me that it would be okay. I wanted to be far away from that conversation— that question.

“I-I…” I mumbled, trying to flatten my hand as his mother saw it, trying to act like I wasn’t a fucking child clinging to her boyfriend to save her from a question she didn’t have a satisfying answer to.

It was too late, and Diana covered her mouth as she looked away. “I see.” She said before we both went silent.

The silence didn’t help either, though. If anything, it felt worse. Like my chest had been torn open and she could see all the contents, and the longer I gave her to draw her own conclusions about what she saw, the worst they would become.

That was stupid, right? I couldn’t tell. She liked me, right? Did it matter?

“He told me he wants to get married and have kids and I’m just...” I started to ramble, my hands now hovering above Spencer as I stared down at him, still sleeping soundly like the world wasn’t crushing me above him. In a panic, I looked up to Diana with what I can only assume was a terrified, frantic look. “I’m worried. I’m scared that he won’t be as happy as he could be if he stays with me instead of... someone else. And that question scares me because I still don’t know why he cares about me so much when I can’t give him half of what he gives me.”

My chest heaved from a combination of the lack of breath and skyrocketing pulse. Diana peered at me through her peripherals, a battle visible behind her gaze.

“Most people would be scared to admit that. Especially to his mother.” She thought out loud, and I knew she was weighing my open admission to determine how likely it was that I was lying.

“I figured lying would be worse. I know honesty is important to your family.” I confessed, hoping that my openness wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass. “I don’t ever want to lie to either of you.”

I left off the ‘again.’

“You know what I think?” Diana said, tapping her chin and readjusting the blanket over her legs as she found a way to be more comfortable with the tension floating in the air.

I took it as a good sign. I hoped it was a good sign. I looked at her in anticipation.

“I think... you two will be happier than you think.” Diana’s lips curled ever so slightly as she held her own hand, rubbing the back of her hand the same way Spencer often rubbed mine. “Love is more than similar beliefs. It’s wanting to share your life with someone. Wanting to see them happy.”

Despite the content of her words, it didn’t feel like a lecture. It was… warm, and comforting. Her voice sounded familiar and loving and safe. She was the one who had taught Spencer to talk.

“I love my son more than anything else in the world. I won’t let anyone take him away unless I’m positive that he will be happy.” Diana finished; the warning grave but her voice quiet.

“I understand.” I replied just as softly, finally looking back down to Spencer. My heart felt like it would burst from the image. As much as I wanted him to see me and his mother having a heart to heart, it was best not to worry him with our battling affections, no matter how minimal the risk.

“Do you love him?”

The question hung in the air because I was still so caught up in his face that I almost forgot she couldn’t read my mind.

“Yes.” I felt the tears forming in my eyes as I breathlessly repeated, “Yes, I do. I love him.”

Diana must have heard the strain in my voice and seen the tiredness in my eyes, because the threatening tone faded. “Then take care of him.” She said, more like a plea than a demand. “Take care of him like I never could, because you know how much he deserves it.”

I nodded, excitedly and happily, my voice breaking and interrupted by a hard swallow to rid myself of the lump in my throat when I said, “I will.”

With perfect timing, Spencer’s body jerked under my hand as it found its way back to his shoulder. “What are you guys talking about?” He slurred before even opening his eyes, clearly bothered by the lost time wherein his mother and I could have spoken about any number of horrifying things.

“We were just saying it’s time for me to head out.” I lied, and Diana’s sly smirk was enough of an indication for me to feel alright about it. It was funny—I’d just told her I never wanted to lie to him, but this one seemed pretty harmless. She deserved alone time with her son, after all.

“Do you want me to drive you?” He finally sat up, rubbing his face to try and get rid of the creases that had formed from the pillow’s texture.

I laughed at the question because he was so obviously not in a position to drive. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d gotten an Uber after leaving his place, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. At least this time wasn’t a walk of shame.

“No, I’m fine. You stay here and spend time with your mom. Awake, this time.” I warned, poking him on the nose and earning a playful giggle from the grown man at my side. “She came a long way. She deserves it.”

He quickly got me back, grabbing my face and pulling me forward to plant a kiss on my forehead. And as much as I would have preferred one on the lips, I was grateful for his sudden modesty in front of his mother. It still felt strange.

“Okay. I love you. Drive safe please. And tell me when you get home.” He instructed as I nodded along, already having memorized the speech from every time I’d ever left him.

“Of course.” I murmured through a somewhat embarrassed pout before I got up and grabbed my things.

Before I made my way to the door, I stopped, turning to see Spencer take the seat beside his mother. She took his hand, but she looked at me. I thought about hugging her but knew that Spencer’s company was far superior to mine, and that every second I distracted her was one less she got with him. So, I settled for a wave and a smile.

“Goodnight Diana. Thanks for the talk.”

“Goodnight.” She returned, with a contented smile washing over her as her son rested his head on her shoulder. The final image of the two of them happy in each other’s company was enough to satisfy me until the next time I saw him. Because, like we’d just discussed, he was happy, and that was all that mattered.

As I opened the door to leave, she spoke again. “Thank you.” She said, and I knew she was talking about more than the conversation.

“Anytime.”

—————————————————

| Part 19 |

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[ecoamerica]

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[vex-bittys]

In Your Dreams: A Horrortale Story

Raffle prize for @purplesangel. When your life is a living nightmare, is it any surprise that your dreams are just as bad? Thankfully a dream-walking human has arrived to help, but will she still want to help Axe when she finds out what he’s done to stay alive?

WARNING: character death mention, language, blood mention, some disturbing imagery including cannibalism (no details)

READ ON AO3

----------

Life in the Underground was an endless nightmare for Axe. During his waking hours, he checked his traps and hunted in the forest, often returning home empty-handed only to see the disappointment and desperation in his brother’s sockets. Supply trains became frantic riots as too many monsters competed for their share of too little food, and the sharp pain of hunger lingered even after the skeleton brothers’ meager meals.

Madness seeped in through the hole in his skull, distorting reality. He clawed at his skull, trying to release the pressure of the frenetic energy that consumed him. He could feel the darkness lurking, waiting for him to make a misstep, some seemingly trivial mistake; that’s when it would strike, shredding his thoughts and shattering his focus. There was no escaping it, and Axe knew that one day it would swallow him up.

Sleep provided no reprieve. In his dreams, Axe continued to suffer. He watched his brother fade away to nothing from starvation. He felt the gnawing emptiness of his own unsatisfied hunger. Feasts appeared before his single working eyelight only to transform into grains of sand that slipped through his fingers when he reached for it. He ran through the shadowed forest outside of Snowdin, fleeing an unknown terror in the night while thorny tendrils of a deeper darkness caught him, slowing his progress, dragging him down, and allowing his madness to suffocate him.

Days dragged on into months, and months melted together into years. Waking life remained bleak with monsters still struggling (and at times failing) to survive. Food sources dwindled, and the gathering of other resources fell by the wayside as every creature in the Underground focused on filling their stomachs as best they could. Everything stagnated in its state of destitution and decay… everything except Axe’s dreams.

Axe’s nightmares repeated themselves night after night until slowly, they began to change. It started with the appearance of a new character- a human that Axe didn’t recognize, though he thought it might be a female. At first the human only observed the horrors that lurked in the sleeping world of Axe’s mind. Gradually, though, she began to interact.

It all started during one of Axe’s nightmares about his brother. Crooks would turn a pleading gaze to his brother, mouthing a soundless plea for food. Axe would fall to his knees, sobbing and pounding his fists into the ground. Crooks slowly collapsed, and the gradual dissolution of his body sent his dust drifting towards his brother, filling Axe’s mouth and nasal cavity until he choked himself awake… usually. This time things turned out differently.

“I’M SO HUNGRY, BROTHER,” Crooks’ voice came from the air around them and not his mouth, the teeth there long since broken or knocked askew from gnawing away at non-edible items simply to assuage the need to chew.

The human appeared, but instead of observing the unfolding scene, this time she glanced around until her eyes fell upon Axe.

-

Since the very first time you’d stumbled across this heart-breaking nightmare scenario, you’d worked hard to return to it. Dream-walking involved focus, practice, and a bit of luck, and in this venture, the fates were on your side. You’d walked this collection of now-familiar nightmare images many times, slowly working out which participant it belonged to and why the skeleton with the broken skull kept replaying these torturous situations in his sleep.

Now, you were ready to interact and hopefully restore some peace to the sleeping world of the monster in front of you. You extended a tentative hand towards him, unsure if he would welcome your touch as a form of physical comfort. He just stared at your outstretched hand as if it would bring some new and unfathomable horror to his disturbingly familiar nightmare. You let your hand drop. Words would have to suffice then.

“It’s not real,” you told the stocky skeleton firmly.

His sockets narrowed suspiciously. “what do ya mean, ‘not real’?”

“This-” you gestured to the vague, nondescript surroundings and very crisp, well-defined figure of the tall, starving skeleton behind you, never breaking eye contact “- is not real.”

The skeleton with the broken skull laughed, a harsh and humorless sound that grated against your ear drums. You sighed, frustrated but determined. It rarely improved a situation to reveal yourself while dream-walking; most dreamers forgot their nightly travels when they returned to the waking world anyway. Those who didn’t merely discarded your presence, along with any advice you might give, as part of a nonexistent scenario that could not influence their waking lives and should thus be ignored.

Normally, you resigned yourself to this and walked through dreams as a silent observer, but this skeleton’s torment tore at your heart and brought forth a tenacity within you to help him in the only way you could: by walking through his nightmares and defeating them, one by one, until nothing remained but peaceful slumber.

The skeleton with the broken skull scoffed. “you don’t know nothin’,” he growled obstinately.

“I know that your most frequent nightmares involve food, madness, and losing this other skeleton-”

“my bro,” the skeptical skeleton clarified.

“Losing your brother,” you amended with an edge to your voice, “to starvation.”

“it’s not like you’re some expert investigator piecin’ together the clues, pal. we’re all starvin’ and dustin’ down here,” he said, dismissing your observations. You frowned. Was there some truth to these nightmares? Often dreams represented thoughts and fears in a metaphoric manner, but maybe this skeleton didn’t have room in his troubled mind for subtlety.

Regardless, you would do what you could for him in the only place that you could reach him.

“I don’t know what your life is like in the waking world,” you conceded softly, “but this? Everything around us now? It isn’t real.” You continued in a rush before the skeleton could interrupt you again. “You’re asleep, and your mind is processing your fears… and your reality… into nightmares.”

The skeleton inhaled, obviously ready to argue again, but you stopped him by making a sweeping gesture towards his brother. Had this nightmare been reality, the taller skeleton would be dust by now. Instead, the image was frozen in place thanks to the stocky skeleton’s change of focus. “Look,” you ordered boldly.

-

Axe begrudgingly allowed his single eyelight to stray from you to his brother. While it was true that nothing had changed in the scene since he had turned his attention to his unexpected visitor, the moment he looked back, the scenario resumed. Flakes of dust drifted loose from his brother’s body, floating away on an unfelt breeze to disappear as they dispersed until nothing remained except the unbearable weight of guilt and his brother’s ghost of a voice whispering “Why?” over and over again in his head.

Why didn’t you save me?

“It’s not real,” you whispered solemnly behind him, but honestly, that didn’t matter. Watching his brother die of starvation that he should have prevented sent jagged pains through his SOUL whether it existed solely inside of his mind or not. Your next words, however, carried a much greater impact: “I can teach you how to change it.”

-

The most frustrating part of dream-walking was the inability to change the contents of people’s dreams or nightmares yourself. While you could view the unfolding events, you possessed no real power over them. Only the dreamer could affect their dreams. Thankfully, unlike dream-walking, lucid dreaming is a skill that can be taught.

As with every teaching experience, some students learn more quickly than others. Axe, as he eventually introduced himself to you, was not one of those students. The most difficult aspect of lucid dreaming for him happened to be the very first step to lucid dreaming at all: accepting that what he experienced while he slept was a dream instead of a warped reality that lived inside of his cracked skull and broken mind.

“These images all come from your thoughts,” you explained again. “You can control them, but first you have to accept that you can control them.” 

You knew that the dreams involving his brother were far too emotionally charged to make good fodder for lucid dreaming practice, and you preferred to steer clear of the choking darkness since you had no idea what effects such a powerful and overwhelming negative force could potentially have on you, even as an observer within someone else’s troubled subconscious. This only left the dreams of an untouchable feast to practice on… and practice was not going well.

As with your many previous attempts to gently guide the stocky skeleton towards seizing control of his nightmares, the lesson had quickly devolved into a squabble. You insisted that Axe could learn to control his subconscious surroundings; Axe stubbornly insisted that he could not. You would point out that this was his dream, and his mind; he would attempt to discredit your existence as just another piece of the complicated web of nightmares that plagued him: a human offering him false hope in a bleak and hopeless world.

It did bother you a little bit that Axe considered you- a (mostly) patient and helpful human- to be nightmare fuel. Only monsters lived in the Underground since the long-forgotten war, so why would Axe’s guilt-riddled dreamscapes include humans?

You decided to save the questions for another time.

“Try again,” you told Axe, who only answered with a weary, frustrated sigh.

-

Irritation swirled through Axe’s excessive magic, though it was aimed more at himself than at you. Every night you tried to help him take control of his dreaming mind, and every night, despite your calm instructions, he failed. You made it sound so easy, so why couldn’t he just grab a stupid spider donut off of the stupid table and shove the stupid thing into his big, stupid mouth?

“Try again,” you told him patiently as he brushed the gritty sand from his finger joints. He uttered a weary, frustrated sigh.

“i am trying,” he grumbled, biting back a deluge of unhelpful comments and curses. He touched another piece of food, a french fry, still steaming though it had been sitting on a pile of its doppelgangers since the nightmare began. The entire fry stack crumbled to sand before he’d even lifted one free; Axe’s patience dissolved along with it.

“if this was as easy as you claim,” he shouted, letting his anger overflow into sharp words, “then i’d be able to pick up these plates and smash them on the floor like i want to!” Without any conscious thought, Axe lifted one of the plates in question and hurled it at the ground. It shattered, leaving silence in its wake as Axe and the dream-walking human stared down at the shards on the ground in awe.

Axe gave an entire stack of plates an experimental shove, sending them cascading over the edge of the table and onto the ground where they created an inharmonious symphony of destruction. You applauded the spontaneous mess and squealed with glee, and Axe swept you up into a quick celebratory hug, spinning you around once before setting you back on your feet. As soon as he set you down, he grabbed a donut and crammed it into his mouth. Chewing, his sockets narrowed in utter bliss, he picked up a second donut and offered it to you. 

Nothing tasted as sweet as victory… except for maybe a spider donut.

-

You didn’t want to dampen the skeleton’s joy by telling him that you wouldn’t be able to taste a donut in his dreams, so you took a bite, your head still spinning from his sudden show of physical affection. With a promise to see him the following night, you stepped out of his nightmares. You felt content that you’d taken the first big step on a journey to giving Axe the power to sleep peacefully without constant, horrific nightmares plaguing him.

The next lesson would be more difficult; you intended to guide Axe through banishing nightmares of his brother’s death. Out of consideration for Axe’s privacy, you had never asked him why he had such specific nightmares about his brother, but nightmares involving a sibling death as vivid as Axe’s hinted at some very dark and complex situations existing in the skeletons’ waking world. Those hints aside, Axe had outright stated that things were terrible in the Underground where he lived. Maybe working through his dream would give him some insight into fixing his real-life situation, at least the one he faced with his brother.

You hoped so. During the nights you’d spent helping Axe learn how to lucid dream, you had come to consider him a friend. You hated the thought of him suffering. You especially hated that you could only reach him during his nightmares. You wished you could do more, but how? Those were thoughts for your own waking world.

Tonight you wanted to focus on Axe’s progress, and once he’d gotten some practice at lucid dreaming, you’d work on changing the heart-breaking nightmare of his brother.

-

Sweat beaded on Axe’s skull as he waited for you to appear. He could feel himself slipping towards darker dreamscapes, and he fought to stay in the safe in-between place like you’d shown him. He told himself that the tremors in his bones were caused by his unstable magic and not by fear. What if his previous successes were a fluke? What if he failed when it mattered the most? 

Thoughts of failure sent him spiraling into the guilty nightmare of his starving brother. After all, his failures in reality led to this, and the dire consequences that he saw unfolding in his subconscious lurked only a step behind him in the waking world. Soon his real life would become this very same nightmare, and he would be left as powerless to stop it there as he felt to stop it here.

Thankfully, you appeared within seconds to chase away the grim meanderings of his mind and help him focus on the task at hand- Crooks.

Axe’s brother loomed in front of him, eyes pleading, begging for something that Axe could not give him. He watched the image of his brother twist and reshape itself, growing alarmingly large, the bones stretching from an influx of magic that still somehow managed to provide almost no nutrition. He whispered his brother’s name, frozen in place and unable to remember what he was supposed to do to stop the scene unfolding in front of him.

A small hand slipped into his; he had forgotten about you as his familiar fears swamped him. You looked up at him with a calm expression and nodded, encouraging him.

“You can do this.” Your words bolstered his courage. He dragged his panic back under control and turned to face Papyrus… or what had become of Papyrus under his inadequate care: the monster now known as Crooks. 

“You know what you need to do,” you whispered.

Axe stepped towards his brother, focusing on Crooks as he had seen him last: tucked into his bed, the blanket no longer quite long enough to cover his lanky frame, wishing Axe a good night and sweet dreams and promising to see him in the morning. Keeping that image locked in his mind, Axe let his lone eyelight travel over his brother’s altered frame. Sure enough, not a single mote of dust rose from the other skeleton. Crooks simply stood there, watching him through sunken sockets.

Though he’d brought his brother’s recurring death to a halt, the words that swirled and echoed around him continued, too faint at first to make out individual words or phrases. His brother’s voice whispered accusations like poisoned arrows that pierced his SOUL. A chorus of questions, all beginning with “Why…?” slowed, sharpened, and gained clarity. Crooks spoke, though his mouth never moved and the words seemed to thrum within his very bones, tangible beyond mere sound.

Normally Crooks’ omnipresent voice asked him why he would allow his brother to starve, but this time the question differed, though it still sent chills to the very marrow of Axe’s bones.

“WHY DID YOU MAKE ME EAT-”

Axe quickly hushed his brother, stealing a glance at you to gauge your reaction. You simply made an encouraging gesture as if to say “Go on, you’re doing great.” He wondered if you’d feel the same way if you knew what Crooks’ next words would have been.

“i couldn’t let ya starve,” Axe spoke softly, tilting his head to maintain eye contact with his much taller brother. “i’d do anything to keep you alive.”

“EVEN-”

Axe nodded, nearly choking on guilt. “yeah. even that.”

“BUT I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T EVER WANT-”

Remorse softened Axe’s expression, and his gravelly voice hitched. “i couldn’t let ya dust. i had no choice. i’m so sorry.”

-

Without warning, Crooks slumped, but he wasn’t collapsing into dust. Instead, he crushed his brother against his ribcage in a tight hug. You sensed a loosening of the guilt and remorse that gripped this particular nightmare so tightly. Things weren’t resolved yet. Nightmares could rarely be banished in a single lucid dreaming session, but you’d given Axe the tools he needed to seize control of his sleeping world. 

Only one challenge awaited you now: fighting the suffocating darkness of the final nightmare. You made plans to tackle that monumental task once Axe felt satisfied that he could manage this current nightmare on his own. Working through the tangle of emotions that his brother’s death awakened would take quite a bit longer than satisfying himself that he could eat his fill of dream donuts, but you were willing to go the distance to help Axe.

You actually wanted to do this, no matter how much the slithering darkness terrified you. Axe just meant that much to you.

-

“I think we’re ready for the final nightmare,” you declared after a dream session in which Axe showed off by summoning various items for his brother to eat.

In the lucid dreams about Crooks, his dream-brother mostly stood or sat nearby providing companionship and support as Axe practiced controlling his consciousness. Axe enjoyed the time with his brother, despite the knowledge that this version of Crooks existed only inside of his mind. It gave him a tentative sensation of hope that perhaps someday he could experience this type of peace with his brother in the waking world, free of the constant mad scramble for survival.

Your words shattered fragile, fleeting calm. Sweat beaded on Axe’s skull. The final nightmare contained his deep, dark fears, his madness, his guilt. Tendrils that reeked of his unspeakable crimes dragged him down into the cesspool that used to be his SOUL. He didn’t want you to see that part of him. He didn’t want you to know what he was truly capable of.

You’d never come back, and he’d be left alone with the echoing, blossoming psychosis that suffocated him. It would be worse now though. You’d shined a light into his life, and now he risked that glimmer of goodness being torn away… torn away because of what he’d done.

The punishment would fit the crime of his continuing survival.

-

You stepped into Axe’s dream world, excited and nervous at the prospect of facing the unknown horrors of this last nightmare that plagued him. The endless grey limbo that surrounded you came as quite a surprise when you expected inky vines of darkness encased in the thorns of Axe’s painful emotions and memories. Axe refused to meet your eyes when you approached him. Something was off about the whole situation.

“Is everything ok?” Maybe Axe wasn’t ready to face the darkness of the upcoming nightmare. You didn’t mind; you weren’t going to push him towards something that he didn’t want to do. You weren’t exactly eager to face it either, and besides, you thought you might enjoy just spending some time with Axe.

When he raised his head to meet your eyes, you couldn’t suppress a gasp of fright. Goosebumps erupted along your arms, and you shivered.

Axe’s single red eyelight… it glowed with an eerie flickering light, seeming to swell until the socket could barely contain the vortex of its power. Axe tilted his head at an unnatural angle and laughed at your reaction. You forced yourself to stand your ground despite your fear. This was not the monster you knew. Axe now embodied the darkness of his own inner turmoil, and it froze the blood in your veins.

“nothing is ok!” Axe’s snarl dissolved into sinister chuckles that made his broad shoulders shake. He lifted a hand, phalanges curved like claws to scrape at the hole in his skull. You lunged forward to pull his hand away before he caused more damage to himself, and he shoved you roughly away.

-

The hurt and confusion in your eyes filled Axe with dark satisfaction. You needed to know just what kind of monster he was. You needed to fear him, to run away and never come back. Instead, you offered him your compassion yet again.

“Let me help you.” Tears filled your eyes. His madness must be breaking your sweet, loving heart, but he drove home his depravity because if he let himself care, you’d find out the truth eventually anyway. Losing you would hurt more if he actually had you first.

This time when you reached out for him, he dodged, letting your momentum carry you to your hands and knees on the floor. He loomed over you, oozing menace like a thick fog.

“help me?” Axe’s scornful laughter echoed around the empty landscape. “and why,” he asked cruelly, “would you help a murderer?”

“Murderer?” You repeated the word as a question, as if you weren’t completely sure you knew what it meant. Your eyes widened in shock as tendrils of darkness climbed Axe’s arm, sliding over his bones like living tattoos until they pooled in his hand, taking on the shape of a huge meat cleaver.

“how do you think i’ve survived so long, little human? i hunt, and i kill.” He grinned, his mouth stretching into a disturbing parody of joy. “humans mostly. honestly, did you think the blood on my hoodie was mine?”

-

You admittedly hadn’t thought much about the blood stains on the hoodie. Maybe they were his. Maybe they were ketchup. Maybe in his dreams he wore the stains of his brother’s imagined death. Dreams and nightmares created their own reality with its own details pulled more from a dreamer’s mindset than accurate memories. It shocked you to think that Axe truly wore a hoodie that had once been soaked with fresh blood.

Human blood.

You trembled. Axe began to circle you like a hungry wolf, casually swinging his gigantic cleaver.

“Do you regret it?” you finally asked in a tiny voice.

-

Those four words penetrated the armor of madness that Axe was using to push you away, and they struck him like a well-timed attack. He reeled, reaching for some lie to keep you from seeing the truth and pitying him.

He found nothing.

The meat cleaver fell from his shaking hand. Axe sank to his haunches, covering his face with his hands, trying to hide from you and your perceptiveness. He wanted to scare you away before you could judge him and abandon him, but you shot your question straight to his SOUL, refusing to believe the worst of him.

“every fucking minute of my life.”

This time, when you tentatively reached for him, undaunted by his previous rejection, he leaned into your touch. He hated himself for his weakness, but every second that you stayed, even if you left eventually, was a second he would cherish until time wore away even the memory of his dust.

With his first admission, however poorly he’d delivered it, out of the way, Axe couldn’t stop himself from confessing even more of his transgressions and regrets. “i lied and told my brother it was meat from an animal in the forest. he didn’t want to eat humans, but i tricked him. i couldn’t let him starve” The words poured out of him; he feared that as soon as things went quiet, you would realize what an irredeemable abomination he was and flee. “i shouldn’t have done it, but i didn’t know what else to do. we were so hungry… and it messed up our magic. there’s no way to hide what we did. no way to undo it.” 

-

Axe’s words stumbled to a halt, and you sat for a moment in the heavy silence of the grey dreamscape, contemplating them. You hated what he had done, but you also understood that his only other option would be watching his brother starve to death. The circumstances didn’t allow for any winners, and Axe suffered with the knowledge of the things he’d done. 

“You were trying to survive.” Your voice nearly cracked on the final word. You could not fathom the desperation that drove Axe to his decision.

You remembered all of the heart-breaking stories that Axe told you about the Underground: the human who’d stolen the SOULs that the monsters had gathered and fled, taking the monsters’ hope with them, the death of their monarchs at the human’s hands, the Royal Guard Captain’s ascension to a throne that she didn’t possess the skills to manage, and the unbearable suffering of monsters starving to death or falling down because of an unshakable despair.

You raised your eyes to meet Axe’s eyelight, expecting to see softness there once more, but instead his horrified expression stared back at you. You didn’t need to puzzle out the cause because a moment later, barbed shadow vines lashed you, wrapping around your legs and dragging you towards a puddle of oozing darkness near your feet. You struggled against the thorny tendrils, and they tightened, driving each wickedly sharp thorn-tip into your flesh.

Pain seared your legs, real physical pain… in someone else’s dream. Panic washed over you, and you fought harder to escape, causing the barbs to rip deeper into you.

You screamed.

-

Shaking off his shock at the sound of your scream, Axe lunged forward. He wrapped both of his arms tightly around you and wrenched you away from the grasping vines. A writhing mass of them rose up behind him, swarming over him like living things. Staggering a few steps forward, Axe set you on an empty bit of space, but the vines quickly pulled him off of his feet and into a kneeling position. More tendrils rose to wrap around him, and the inky darkness of the puddle rose up to meet them, slithering up his body and swallowing him up in the darkness.

“i can’t protect you here… i can’t keep you safe from me, from my mind.” Axe choked out the words through the darkness consuming him. He couldn’t let you come back. He wouldn’t allow you to be in danger because of him.

This had to be good-bye.

He focused his mind.

“don’t come back.”

-

You jolted awake, that one last glimpse of Axe’s red eyelight, brimming with pain and regret burning in your mind. He had kicked you out of his dreams and told you not to come back. You couldn’t dream-walk in a mind that wasn’t open to your presence. Your throat constricted, and you felt tears sting your eyes. What if you never saw Axe again?

When you tossed back your blankets, you half expected to see scratches on your legs where Axe’s negative thoughts and emotions had touched you, but your skin was unbroken. You’d never experienced a nightmare so vivid and intense, but you breathed a sigh of relief that it couldn’t reach you in the waking world. If only Axe would let you come back, you could tell him that despite your panicked reactions, his dreams had no power to harm you.

Instead, he would continue to face the torment of his past mistakes all alone… for now.

Because while you had been helping Axe deal with his nightmares, you hadn’t neglected the appalling circumstances of his reality. If you could make your waking project work, you would be able to truly save the skeleton that you cared for so deeply.

I won’t let you push me away, you vowed.

-

Axe settled himself on the bench of his sentry station, taking a break from prowling the forest for potential meals. The barren snowscape left him all alone with his thoughts, and he hated it. In one bout of unhinged boredom, he’d created a sign for the outpost: “Head dogs, 5G.” It made as much sense as anything else in the Underground. Besides, there was no such thing as a hot dog in this frigid wasteland.

The narrow lines of dead tree trunks shifted if he stared at them too long, and the wind that howled through them carried voices whose words he could not quite arrange into coherency. The windblown whispers rose in volume until the roaring of innumerable voices filled his skull. The blazing white of the snow surrounding him only added to the sensory overload. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t see. 

“shut up, shut up!” Axe chanted, clawing at the hole in his skull. Reality warped, the passage of time quickened and slowed, and nothing made sense anymore…

… and you were standing in front of him.

Axe recoiled in disbelief. How could this be happening? He hadn’t fallen asleep… or had he? Maybe you were a cruel hallucination conjured by his loneliness. He refused to accept the vision of you even when you reached out in that oh-so-familiar way to calm the scrabbling of his phalanges against the jagged edges of the hole in his skull.

Axe’s hand shot out as quickly as a striking snake and grabbed your wrist. He yanked you forward until you were partially bent over the sill of the sentry station. He raised his massive knife high above his head; his eyes held no recognition, no clarity, no sanity.

You held completely still, unflinching. The meat cleaver hovered threateningly above you, but it did not fall. You and Axe were frozen in the moment, but despite the madness that absolutely radiated from him, you trusted him not to hurt you.

“you’re not real,” Axe accused you in a gravelly whisper. You weren’t even sure if he meant to speak aloud at all.

“Are you going to kill me?” Your voice didn’t waver, and you kept your eyes locked with his single eyelight, calm yet firm.

Axe lowered the knife. Real or imagined, starving or not, he would never hurt you. You knew him too well. He released your wrist, hoping he hadn’t hurt you by grabbing you like that. He wanted to ask how you’d gotten here, but other matters demanded a higher priority.

“you aren’t safe here,” the skeleton scolded gruffly. “didn’t you listen? monsters here kill and eat humans!”

“Good thing I found you first then.” You tried to diffuse the tension with bravado, but you had to admit that your choice to come to the Underground was a risky one. Axe’s eyelight travelled over your body, searching for injuries while surreptitiously taking in the sight of you. His obvious concern for your safety filled you with warmth and determination.

“there’s nothing good about this,” Axe growled though he had to admit that seeing you again definitely felt like a good thing to him. That little bit of goodness could be snuffed out in a hurry though if another monster saw you and attacked. “i’ve got to get you out of here.”

Axe lumbered out of his sentry station, glancing furtively around the barren landscape, though it wasn’t entirely clear whether he expected to spot an enemy or an escape route. The skeleton stopped right next to you, attempting to block you from prying eyes. You found his protective stance rather charming, but you weren’t here to be charmed. You were on a mission.

You slipped your backpack from your shoulders, swinging it around into Axe’s line of sight and opening it. Seven clear canisters sat inside, each with a brightly-colored heart shape inside of it. Axe’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“are those…?” Axe sounded almost reverent, and with good reason.

“Human SOULs? Yes. I gathered these from willing donors who wanted to help set the monsters free.” It had taken dedication and time, but you’d meticulously interviewed potential donors until you tracked down all seven SOUL types that you needed. Now, only the path to the Barrier stood in your way.

Without warning, Axe swept you into a crushing hug, then proceeded to spin you around. Your feet actually left the ground, and you laughed softly at the thrill of it.

“you’ve got to meet my brother, then we’ll smuggle you into the Capitol.” For once you heard excitement and hope in Axe’s voice. His eyelight gleamed with resolution as he reached for your hand. You placed your hand in his without hesitation. Axe’s declaration that he knew a shortcut still rang in your ears as the world spun beneath you and everything went dark.

Disoriented, you tried to take in the scene around you. You’d been outside, standing in a forest choked with dead trees and carpeted in snow, but suddenly you found yourself in a house. The loud colors of the bowling alley style carpeting had long since faded, and the couch had obviously seen better days. Everything in the house was touched with the same look of elegant decay: faded colors, worn fabrics, the yellowing of book pages, and the subtle musk of disuse. 

A fine film of the dust of time spoke volumes about the life of two monsters who devoted so much of their lives to simply surviving that they were forced to neglect the basic upkeep of their home. The house looked so long abandoned that the presence of life within it seemed almost surreal. You couldn’t find words to break the silence that permeated the house, soundless echoes of what it had once been.

Movement caught your eye; a lanky figure detached itself from the shadows and stepped in the dust-mote-filled light. Your eyes travelled up and up, an impossible height despite the figure’s hunched posture, until you found facial features that you recognized from Axe’s dream. The vivid colors of Axe’s subconscious bore the same washed-out appearance here that characterized their home, but you knew this must be Papyrus, now known as Crooks due to the effects of his recent tragic diet.

Crooks wrung his hands shyly, awaiting your reaction to his somewhat terrifying appearance. His teeth were crooked and broken, caked with something red that you tried not to think about too much. His nervous actions tugged at your heart, and you offered him a gentle smile which he responded to with a smile of his own.

“I’D OFFER YOU SOME OF MY SIGNATURE SPAGHETTI AND EYEBALLS, BUT WE’RE ALL OUT OF PASTA.” His apologetic tone did little to distract you from the fact that the skeleton brothers were short of pasta but not eyeballs. 

“That’s alright. Really.” You didn’t hold out much hope that Crooks had misspoken considering Axe’s earlier admission. The sooner you got these monsters out of their Underground prison, the sooner they could return to normal healthy eating habits.

“my friend here wants to help us get to the Surface. they’ve got plenty of pasta up there. we just need to talk to ol’ Queen Undyne first,” Axe interjected, using a light tone to dispel the awkwardness of his brother’s offer. 

Crooks perked up at the mention of Undyne. “UNDYNE WILL BE SO RELIEVED. I DON’T THINK SHE LIKES BEING QUEEN VERY MUCH…” You clutched your backpack and its precious cargo of SOULs, unzipping it slightly to show the mingled glow of seven vibrant colors. Crooks peered at them with a mixture of curiosity and delight.

Axe shifted uncomfortably. “yeah, relieved,” he mumbled, refusing to meet your eyes. You didn’t have much time to wonder about the skeletons’ very different reactions to Undyne because Axe extended a hand to you and Crooks. As soon as your fingertips brushed his smooth, warm bones, everything went dark again.

In the few seconds it took your eyes to communicate the view of a once-opulent throne room to your poor confused brain, a glowing blue spear appeared and slammed into the ground so close to you that you felt the force of the impact thrumming up the shaft of the weapon. If Axe hadn’t yanked you backwards, you would’ve been impaled. Where had it even come from?

“UNDYNE WAIT! THIS HUMAN IS A FRIEND!” You followed the direction of Crooks’ voice to see an armor-clad monster with a wild mane of crimson hair. She held another glowing blue spear, and her single yellow eye focused on you with murderous malice. You staggered backwards from the force of her glare. 

“No human is a friend to monsters,” Queen Undyne roared, launching a volley of her spears at you. You resigned yourself to your doom, regretting that your rescue attempt had been such a short-lived failure.

A wall of bones erupted from the tiles of the floor, blocking the attack. Crooks and Axe both stood next to you, arms outstretched to summon the defensive maneuver. More spears struck the bones, causing them to shudder, but they remained standing. You turned wide, panicked eyes to Axe, searching for some explanation or reassurance.

“can you hold her off?” Axe asked Crooks, who nodded somberly. The stocky skeleton grabbed your arm and dragged you down a hallway of soaring pillars coated thickly in cobwebs and floor to ceiling windows of cloudy, cracked glass. Away from the immediate danger, you began to tremble. Tears welled up in your eyes.

Axe pulled you close, wrapping you in the safety of his arms and gently rubbing your back. He made soft shushing sounds, and you realized that your tears had turned into terrified sobs. Your body shook, and you hiccuped, trying to catch your breath. Axe held you until the overwhelming wave of emotion subsided.

“i’m so sorry. i thought maybe we could talk some sense into Undyne. she and my brother used to be really close, but the last human who came through here… well, that human killed a lot of monsters and stole the SOULs that we had collected towards breaking the barrier. they left us with nothing but despair and dust, and Undyne blamed herself for not stopping them. it… affected her.” Once again, Axe looked guilty.

“How can we convince her that I’m trying to help?” You gripped your backpack with determined hands. You didn’t gather these SOULs for nothing, and you didn’t plan to leave the starving monsters in the Underground without at least making an effort to save them.

“you aren’t going to convince her of anything.” You opened your mouth to protest, but Axe laid a phalange against your lips to silence you. “i want you to get out of here. it’s not safe, and i would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“What about breaking the Barrier?”

Loud crashes sounded from the Throne Room. Axe shot a quick glance over his shoulder before pushing you further down the hallway. “i need to go help my brother. if we can convince Undyne to trust you, i’ll meet you at the Barrier to break it and free the monsters.”

“What if you can’t?” More sounds of destruction threatened to drown out your whispered words, but Axe was close enough to hear you over the cacophony. Sorrow filled his single eyelight.

“i won’t put you in danger.”

“That doesn’t answer my question!” Actually, it did answer your question, and the implications left you frantic with worry for him. You wanted to explain how you felt about him, why his plan tore your heart to pieces, that you couldn’t just leave him behind, but the sounds of battle were approaching quickly. 

Crooks slid backwards into the pillar-lined hallway, kicking up dirt. He held bone attacks in his gloved hands, and he used them to deflect wave after wave of spear attacks. The barrage of attacks drove him backwards again, closer to you and his brother. Axe stepped between you and the sound of Undyne’s war cries.

Turning, he cupped your cheek in one large, bony hand. His eyelight drank you in as if to memorize every feature of your tear-streaked face. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “go,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours.

Then he was gone, teleporting to the entrance of the hallway to join Crooks with bone attacks flying. 

If you stayed, it would only distract him. He wanted you to go, to be safe. It took every bit of willpower in your body to walk away, to step through the Barrier without him, knowing that he never would’ve fought Undyne if it wasn’t for your meddling.

You waited.

And waited.

The seconds stretched out, each one lasting a thousand excruciating years.

You waited.

-

Axe curled up on the couch, full to bursting from a delicious dinner prepared by his brother. Yawning, he rested his skull in your lap, and you gently stroked his scapulae, smiling as he began to doze. He no longer feared nightmares. In fact, he rarely dreamed at all anymore. After all, what would be the point in dreaming?

Life on the Surface far surpassed anything that his subconscious could fabricate, and he already lived that dream every single day, with you.

INDEX

#vexy writes #horrortale #horrortale sans #ht!sans #horrortale papyrus #ht!papyrus #horrortale undyne #ht!undyne #horror!sans x reader #fem!reader

[where-theres-smoak-2]

The Problem With Grisha

 Spoiler alert for the first two grishaverse books, Shadow and Bone, Siege and Storm, also for the first season of Shadow and Bone. 

I don’t know if its necessarily a problem as that may be bad wording for it but there is something strange about the way the Grisha are written.  Now that I’ve watched the show and read the first two books I’ve been thinking more about this. The strange thing about the way Bardugo chose to write the Grisha is that she writes them as being both a minority and oppressed group that are hunted and killed but also as a privileged group. You get this really weird scenario where you’ve got the First Army looking at the Grisha as privileged and who are treated better than them in that they are given nicer accommodation in the army camps, they are given these bulletproof uniforms (the Keftas) whereas First Army are sent in as cannon fodder and have to have their sugar rationed. They are also treated with healers whereas first army are sent to medical. In the first episode too you can see the Grisha acting in a privileged way with the squaller challenging Mal to a fight knowing that if Mal wins he’ll be arrested and if he loses he could be seriously injured. With Zoya reminding Mal that stealing from second army will get him ‘put in a hole.’ Mal’s comment about the grisha always bulling them whilst the general is away. In the second episode you’ve got the first army general referring to the Grisha as ‘those fancy folks’ and talking about how when he joined the army his superiors considered Grisha lives to be more important than those of the first army. The grisha live and train in a palace. And having read the books I’ve learned there's even this hierarchy within the second army where some ranks are more favoured than others. All of this paints the Grisha as this privileged, elite force. 

But then on the flipside of it we are also shown that Grisha are oppressed, they are forced to fight the King’s wars just as much as the First Army soldiers are. They are hunted and prosecuted and experimented on. They are shown to be feared and hated by not just the Fjerdans and the Shu Han but their own people too. In the second book we learn that after the fight in the Fold between Alina and the Darkling the First Army turn on the Grisha even tearing them from their beds and killing them to the point where many Grisha have to run and hide. In the show the Apparat tells Alina that the peasants hate the Grisha because the Grisha do not suffer and yet we are shown on countless occasions that the Grisha do suffer. 

I can’t help but wonder why Bardugo wrote them this way, as this kind of paradox where they represent these two opposing archetypes. Taking a guess I’d say it was because of the way she was trying to present the Darkling and Alina and what I mean by that is under the Darkling’s rule the second army is segregated into these ranks, the Corporalki, The Etherealki and the Materialki, and they are ranked in that order with the Corporalki being the most favoured and the Materialki the least. Then when Alina becomes the second army general in siege and storm one of the first things she does is get rid of this favouritism. She encourages the three ranks to sit together at dinner and for the First army and the grisha to bond. I think its obvious that Bardugo was trying to show the difference between Alina and the Darkling, its very much Darkling ‘bad’ because he wants the Grisha ranks segregated and he doesn’t encourage friendship between the two armies. But Alina she represents unity and so is the ‘good guy’. However I personally don’t think it really works because there are too many other contradictions. Like its painted as the Darkling encourages this rank climbing and competition within the Grisha and this, I’m better than you, type attitude and yet we also know that he encourages the grisha to be humble and has them eat peasant fare. Its painted like the Darkling didn’t encourage unity between the first and second armies yet we also know that he discouraged bullying between them and that the first and second army worked together to cross the Fold in the skiffs to get supplies for the first army. There just seems to be too many contradictions. I don’t know I just think maybe it would have made more sense to have the Grisha be one or the other. Like to have them be an elite force that rules over the first army and have privilege, power and wealth. I feel like then this whole power corrupts theme would have fit in better because as it is, whilst they are presented as having some luxuries they are mostly materialistic, like the palace and nicer tents and nicer clothes, meanwhile they are shown to be very downtrodden and as being hunted. Whilst they have these powers that make them special as the first army general said with the advance in weaponry it won’t be long before the grisha are as useless as the rest of them. Which ties in with what the darkling says in the books about the age of grisha power coming to an end. I feel like with having them be both oppressed and privileged (if you even really can be both) you get this very confused message or moral of the story. Because  you’ve got this villain who is craving power, who is hungry for it and you’ve got this army of grisha where some of them are also craving power and this is being shown as being bad, dangerous, the message here is don’t crave too much power, you’ve got a villain who becomes a tyrant and makes others suffer and is this symbol of the powerful hurting the weak for their own gain. But then he’s got this backstory where he is doing all of this in an attempt to save his people from prosecution. So now I am sitting here wondering what is the message here, is it that you shouldn’t save your people from prosecution? Or is it that sometimes good intentions can lead you down a dark path of corruption when you seek too much power? See if it were the second that might work, but only if you proved an opposite solution to it. For example if Alina had another solution to end the grisha’s oppression without committing all the dark deeds that the darkling does, if she ends their sufferings without giving in to the corruption of power. But so far she hasn’t, so far all Alina has been focused on is destroying the fold, but we are also told both in the books and the show that the grisha have been prosecuted and hated long before the fold was created. Sure it didn’t help but the people never needed it as a reason to hate or hunt grisha. So really what is destroying the fold going to do in terms of making things better for the grisha? The other thing Alina is focused on destroying is the darkling. So you’ve got the heroine of the story who is trying to destroy the man who is trying to save their people from prosecution because he has become too corrupt and power hungry, but she herself also doesn’t have any other solution to the Grisha’s plight. I mean maybe she’ll come up with some kind of solution in the third book and I’ll have to eat my words but as of right now I just feel like the message or moral could be clearer. 

Like I said I feel like it might have worked better if the grisha were written as the ruling power of their world. As the elite and the first army as the oppressed who struggle to get supplies and who are used as cannon fodder as the grisha sit back in their fancy tents. You could then have the advancement of their enemy weaponry coming in and with the grisha’s abilities being less useful their power begins to slip away and maybe the first army sense this and try to rise up against them. The darkling fearing the loss of power then has the whole power corrupts thing going on and enter Alina who grew up outside of the little palace and so never had the power and privilege of the grisha and understands the plight of the oppressed first army, she ousts the Darkling and becomes the new general and teaches the grisha that they must stand against their enemies and can only defeat the fold by uniting with the first army. Then you’ve got that clear message of Alina, the hero, teaching the powerful to reach out a helping hand and rise up the weak, to stand united and to create a system that benefits everyone equally, one of unity.   

Who knows maybe I’m thinking too much into this. But either way I’ve rambled on about this enough so I am going to leave it there.     

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone spoilers #the darkling #alina starkov

[hallothere]

I broke down and wrote the essay. No, I did not and will not proofread it. I don’t waaaannaaaa

There’s Only One Winner For Isengard

In a perfect world, in a world with no meta requirements that could bend to the will of the player, we would roll up to Isengard level-capped, no debuffs, with one quest-marker on hand: Ruin Saruman’s day. But this is a pre-written sequence of events in which we are only along for the ride. We, the player, and a Ranger are shipped off to Isengard with only one conceivable goal: survive. On a meta level we know what Saruman is capable of. At level 70 or 80-something at best, even we are aware that we are no match for a wizard with a canon fate. Not to mention our Ranger companion! The Grey Company has been through enough (though we don’t know the half of it yet) and we are reasonably distraught at the possibilities.

This is why we, the player character, will lose the game of Isengard.

Beyond the meta rules of the game, where quest objectives are whatever the devs wanted them to be (looking at you, Mordrambor) the player character can not defeat Saruman in any way that’s meaningful. And (again on a meta level) in order for us to get to experience the action at Helm’s Deep and Rohan at large, we have to get out of Isengard. We’d get bored of waiting for Theoden and Co. We’d hurl insults or slap fish at Saruman and realistically incur wrath. Honestly, with the set of circumstances presented to us, who could survive imprisonment in Nan Curunir?

Only one of the Company ever could: Lothrandir of Suri Kyla. 

To begin with, none of the Rangers we have any real information on could have done it. Anyone who’s spent time in Angmar is at a disadvantage due to the prevailing dread (game mechanic or otherwise) that can be manipulated by Saruman. Any Ranger that has a major traumatic past is at a disadvantage (sorry Mincham) because if nothing else, Saruman has proven to be a master of illusion. Even Halbarad for all his leadership ability has a pretty exploitable weakness: eventually Saruman can crack the code with a vision of Aragorn’s demise, the one end Halbarad must fear above all others. Or what bond could more easily be exploited than that of a leader and his men? Lheu Brenin’s in the gang now after all. All Saruman would have to do was send for a few more incentives. 

But Lothrandir comes built with a few key advantages that make him the only Grey Company Ranger qualified to come out of this battle of wills on top. His specific strengths, mindset, and personality traits combined with the circumstances that the game sets up going into Isengard make him the clear choice of Rangers- if a Ranger you must have- to stay behind in Nan Curunir. 

Lothrandir wins because he changes the game. From ‘go’ our co-prisoner does something that either puzzles the player character or sends them into an anxious fit. Lothrandir declares himself fearless and sprints recklessly into the ring. Any way you figure it, this seems like a poorly calculated move. He doesn’t stop to survey the enemy. He doesn’t gather intel. Heck, he doesn’t even bide his time to see if he’ll be killed before he even reaches the dungeons. Lothrandir sprints right in without so much as a thought or a plan. Saruman doesn’t know it yet, but from that moment on Lothrandir has him on the back foot. 

Consider for a moment Saruman’s MO. He’s a wizard, and he uses a great deal of magic, sure, but time and time again we are reminded of the power of his voice and his words. He calls down a storm on Caradhras (in the movies for darn sure), he via-Wormtongue whispers poison into the ears of King Theoden. He doesn’t lead with any kind of grandiose display when trying to sway Gandalf. No, he leads with a persuasive argument. Later on, he nearly talks Theoden back around, after failing to wipe out all of Rohan. After killing the man’s son for goodness sakes. He nearly talks himself out of that one!

But Lothrandir has already changed this from a game of wits to a game of wills. There will be no vying for favor, or biding time, or compliance, or even giving Saruman a chance to ‘talk it over friendly’ first. He’s already spitting on the shoes of everyone he sees. The accomplishment in this is twofold, and it makes a major impact on the rest of his time in Nan Curunir. 

Firstly, by establishing a new game, Lothrandir sets Saruman up for a whole lot of assumptions. He does not display any signs of diplomatic ability, wisdom, or even common sense. He very intentionally projects an attitude of reckless disobedience. In the player’s own eyes, it seems as if he ‘doesn’t know any better’. This gives Saruman a clear path to take regarding Lothrandir. He assumes you can’t reason the typical way with someone who has shown zero inclination for listening. The player character demonstrates that the Grey Company (or least their associates) are capable of compliance. For all intents and purposes, this Lothrandir doesn’t appear to be. He’s contrary, fool-hardy, and evidently dumb enough to dive in headfirst and get himself killed. You beat that kind of guy into submission… don’t you?

But Lothrandir has changed the rules of the game. Saruman is no longer fighting with his best weapon, but with a tool to be found in any old villain’s arsenal. When he took the approach of reasoning with the player character and disregarding Lothrandir, he set the victor’s foundation on our snow-pilgrim’s greatest strength. 

Secondly, by establishing a new game, Lothrandir makes this a battle of physical endurance. Unbeknownst to Saruman, this is the one thing that makes him stand out from the rest of the Grey Company. He has walked through the frozen north lands and the fiery south lands and come out unscathed. He has mastered the unarmed combat style of the Lossoth by joining in mid-winter wrestling matches in a place that took down many Elves, Angmarim, and notably one King of Arthedain! Lothrandir has conceivably spent his entire life training for this matchup. Any endurance he has built up, any fighting he can do without access to a weapon, all are assets to the kind of game he just made Saruman play. Lothrandir is uniquely built to survive any physical torment Isengard can throw at him, or at least, better equipped than any of the others. 

To say Lothrandir is the best choice, we also have to rule out the others. Corunir was thwarted by the Rammas Deluon and for all he learned from that, it’s a weak spot in his proverbial armor. Golodir too, resisted a fair degree of torture (palantiri based, even!) in Carn Dum, but it won’t be hard for Saruman to suss that one out and make our old man’s life a living nightmare. Even Radanir, serious and seemingly unattached to any social bonds now that his good pal Elweleth has gone sailing, would be a poor choice. He is too serious, (for lack of a better term) too genre-savvy, and even if he is spitting blood and delivering a witty one-liner, that’s Saruman’s foot in the door! ‘I’ll never betray my friends and kin, you kaleidoscope hack’? You’ve just told him your weakness, Radanir! No, he can’t keep his mouth shut to save his (or Saerdan’s) life. Radanir is the wrong choice too.

We don’t know a significant amount about the others (except Ranger death would move Calenglad to tears, we can’t put him through this) in order to pinpoint their fatal flaws in the Isengard encounter. But, the game puts us in the incredible position of having seen Lothrandir’s Achilles’ heel and letting us take that disadvantage away. 

Lothrandir of Suri Kyla is uniquely equipped to survive any physical encounter that Saruman throws his way. Now, who’s to say the wizard won’t change his tune and go back to his old tricks? In an incredible twist of fate, we are. The game sets us, the player, up to play Saruman’s game from the get-go. We keep our pixelated head down, try and fly below the radar, and express just enough concern over the fate of our fool-hardy pal to get Saruman to cement his estimation of Lothrandir as a pawn in the game in stone. By making ourselves the better target for the words of a wily wizard, Saruman decides that the best way to deal with the spare prisoner is by playing right into his hands. As we all know, the player character escapes. While that might seem bad for someone who Saruman has earmarked for corporal punishment only, it covers Lothrandir’s one weakness. 

Aside from being the only significant unarmed fighter, Lothrandir is also never painted as a loner. He spends his time in Suri Kyla, hanging out with the Lossoth and sharing their campfires. In the new questline in Forochel, he jumps at the chance to make a new Dunedain friend and takes to King Arvedui like a duck to water. They’re instant best pals. It’s minutes before Lothrandir is telling him Aragorn’s life story and pledging to go with him on a buddy adventure to seek peace for a regretful shade. And if that’s not enough canon for you, Lothrandir bears the brunt of the Falcon clan aggression on the way to Isengard. He does it for you, his friend and companion in suffering. It’s a bit meta, but we have to assume in the internal universe he knows you a little. You’ve run your merry adventures to a degree where, were this not a video game, Lothrandir would at least consider you an ally if not a friend outright. 

He exposes his weakness unwittingly to the Falcon clan, but he leaves it at the gates of Isengard in an extremely well-timed move. By sprinting through the gates without a care as to what’s going on with you or anyone else, Lothrandir establishes an emotional distance between you both in the eyes of any onlookers. Whatever affection you have for him, it doesn’t seem reciprocated. This isn’t a major weakness for Saruman to exploit, then. You’re not one of his kinsmen. If he did want to pursue that line, he could always send to Tur Morva for one, right?

This is where the game comes back in to shift the tide in Lothrandir’s favor. We escape. We play the game, we nearly lose the game, and had we not been given an out the power scaling makes it difficult to conceive of an outcome where we the player can win Isengard. Sure, we’ve been released from prisons before (Delossad to name one) but this is the climax of Dunland. We make a daring escape, and move south towards the Gap of Rohan and all sorts of bad times. 

Back in Nan Curunir, Lothrandir is getting the daylights beat out of him, and taking a victory lap. He’s cemented his position as ‘the prisoner we’ll break with violence’. The uruks have seen him insubordinate and disorderly. In the Lothrandir interlude, there’s not only the canon (stated outright!) reality of past and present torture. There’s also zero hesitation in Lothrandir taking that one on the chin. There are no other objectives on his mind than making the next few minutes as miserable as possible for everyone around. He has no other goals. And he doesn’t need them. Nobody is surprised that Lothrandir is signing his death warrant within nanoseconds of being presented an offer to comply. He spits on the offer. He tips over the slop bucket. He beats bloody any orc (and gameplay purposes aside there are very few that dare come forward) that actually tries to kill him for it outright. 

He’s built up a non-rapport with Gun Ain. She talks about killing him and he doesn’t say anything. They’re all playing his game and he’s winning. In the conversation with Saruman, we’re not given the opportunity to watch Lothrandir ‘resist’ in the same fashion the player character did. We don’t need to. Saruman has bigger and better things to worry about- killing a prince, wiping out a nation- than one Ranger who he’s just going to order well-flayed again. By setting himself up as the punching bag, Lothrandir has managed to fly beneath Saruman’s priority threshold. He’s been relegated to the responsibility of Gun Ain, and still with somewhat protected status because they haven’t wormed anything useful out of him yet.

All of these moves have culminated to an impasse. Saruman is not winning points in the game like he expected. One ‘meathead Ranger’ has managed to resist all the torments of Isengard, and he’s gained nothing from this. The other prisoner escaped, word had doubtless reached him that the Tur Morva Thirty-Odd are free and raring to be a thorn in his side again. He has no external leverage to apply on Lothrandir and it’s become increasingly obvious that our Ranger friend is not engaging like the player did. But still, Saruman has his pride. It’s his downfall in the end, and it’s his downfall in his fight against the one Ranger who’s already beating him. Lothrandir can’t be killed outright because Saruman hasn’t won yet. And with that guarantee of protection, Lothrandir can coast all the way to the conquest of Isengard. 

He can keep playing the game and stalling for time. It’s morbid, but what better way to waste someone’s time and energy than convincing them slow, drawn-out torture is the way to go? A little extreme, Lothrandir, but it’s still his game to lose. He wastes Saruman’s time. If he is eventually rescued, total victory. If he’s killed in the end, he definitely didn’t give the wizard the satisfaction, so a less resounding victory but one in the win column nonetheless. 

With a little help from our usually Ranger-cidal devs, Lothrandir reprograms Saruman’s game of chess to a boxing match. He takes out all his disadvantages, gets Isengard to attack from a point of... if not weakness then at least neutral ability, and then devotes his every waking breath to violent disobedience.

Sure, you could have taken any of the Grey Company with you to Isengard. Lheu Brenin could have swapped out for Braigar or Amlan or Mithrendan or Culang- but only one of these guys has the brute strength, commitment, and sheer audacity to pull it off. 

You take Lothrandir to Orthanc. There’s a different prisoner of Nan Curunir when he leaves.

#lotro #long post #lothrandir #did i spell check or add accent marks? absolutely not #this is very fully baked but limited by my ability as a writer #lol who cares it's nearly midnight

[ejzah]

A/N: This story comes via request from @mashmaiden. Set early in season 5, when Kensi was still concerned about Deeks’ risky behavior and such. I hope I did it justice.

***

An Anchor To Hold You Through The Storm

“I don’t want to talk about this right now, Kensi.”

Deeks’ words kept playing through her head, despite her best efforts to drown them out with Top Model and junk food.

Today she’d almost lost her partner. There’d been so many close calls before, most recently when she’d found him after Sidorov tortured him. This time though, Kensi was certain he was going to die.

They’d been searching a clothing factory when Deeks uncovered a bomb with amid a pile of knock off designer jeans. With only two minutes left left on the timer, Kensi had run for the exit and alerted Eric that they needed the bomb squad immediately. It was only once she was outside that she realized Deeks hadn’t followed her.

She’d watched in frozen horror, waiting for the building to explode. It never came and a minute later Deeks casually wandered out, actually smiling. He’d seemed surprised when she first hugged him and then immediately punched him in the chest, drawing a yelp from him.

The most terrifying thing wasn’t his reckless behavior, but how little he seemed to care that he nearly died. His jokes and irreverence in dangerous situations was completely normal, his total disregard for his own life was not.

When she’d finally had a chance to approach him at the end of the day, Deeks dismissed her concerns with a laugh. She hadn’t let it go though and continued pressing Deeks to talk to her. He’d snapped back then, accusing her of babying him and firmly told her wanted to be left alone.

Hurt and angry, she’d left him at his desk, intending not to think about him again until Monday morning. Kensi couldn’t though. She couldn’t stop thinking about the look in his eye as she walked away; distant, a little confused. Definitely not alright like he kept insisting.

It was more than the ridiculous stunt he’d pulled today or his response afterward. There was a heaviness that lingered around him, when he thought no one was watching and he was more on edge, like he was prepared for attack at any moment. Worst of all was the deep sadness she saw in his eyes at random moments.

Sighing deeply, Kensi punched the power button to turn off American Idol and started rooting around the floor for her shoes. Maybe Deeks would push her away again, but she at least had to try to help him. It was her responsibility as his partner and friend.

On the way to his apartment, she grabbed a couple shakes and burgers. Food had worked pretty well at getting through to him last time, so maybe it would work again. As she pulled up to his place, she saw that all the curtains were drawn and she pulled in a shaky breath as she rang the doorbell.

She didn’t hear any noise, not even Monty’s paws clicking on the hardwood floor, and her disquiet increased. Hoping that Deeks was just sleeping or couldn’t hear the sound of the bell, she pressed it a couple more time. Eventually she cupped both hands around face and peered in the small gap left between the curtains and window. It was completely dark inside.

Feeling sick to her stomach, she wandered back to her SUV. Deeks could be anywhere right now and it was her fault for letting her emotions get the better of her. She could only hope that he’d simply decided to stay late at work, even if it was with the intent to wear himself out on a punching bag.

She drove back home slowly, feeling a sense of defeat. It felt like she was losing her friend and she had no idea how to stop it. It was horribly familiar to her experience with Jack, yet somehow it was even more devastating.

By the time Kensi made it back to her apartment, it was after 10, but she was considering heading back to the mission. It wasn’t until she was halfway down the walk to her door that she noticed a familiar figure sitting on her front steps. His blond curls were unmistakeable.

“Deeks, what are you doing here?” she asked quietly and Deeks jerked, head springing up like someone had shocked him. He sighed shakily, rubbing his jaw, his hand visibly shaking.

“I, uh, was coming to see you,” he explained, gesturing towards the door. “When you didn’t answer, I figured I might as well wait. It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.”

Kensi approached him slowly, stopping a few feet away. His gaze was downward, shoulders hunched again.

“Why did you come?” He shrugged, sighing, and finally looked up again. Even in the less than ideal lighting, the exhaustion was obvious in his eyes, the lines around his mouth.

“I wanted to say, that I acted like an idiot and a jerk and you didn’t deserve it,” Deeks answered, giving her a weak smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Forgiven,” Kensi murmured. She closed the space between them, dropping next to him on the top step. It was a warm night, but concrete felt cool in comparison through her jeans. Her shoulder brushed his when she breathed.

Inclining her knees towards him, Kensi took one of his hands, knowing she was crossing a line. Deeks looked a little surprised, but didn’t pull which she took as a good sign.

“I’m going to ask you a question,” she began slowly, squeezing his hand more firmly. “and I want you to promise me that you won’t get angry with me again or change the subject.”

“Ok.” He nodded. “I promise I won’t freak out this time.”

Ok. How are you really doing?”

“Honestly? I’m struggling a little bit,” he admitted. Rubbing his eyes with his free hand, he groaned. “I’m still having trouble sleeping sometimes. The nightmares…well, they beat any of your movies. Some days it feels like I’ll never be the same again.”

Kensi’s heart hurt for him, for how much he was still suffering without any support. A part of her wanted to ask about the stunt he’d pulled earlier, but she knew it wasn’t the right time. He didn’t need lectures or judgement.

“I’m sorry, Deeks. I don’t know if it’s much help, but I’m here for whatever you need,” she told him, carefully taking both his hands between hers. There was a wealth of vulnerability in his eyes as he stared at her and he blew out a short breath.

“It does. More than you’ll ever know.” His expression shifted to something more than gratefulness, which Kensi was not ready to examine at the moment. Clearing her throat, she let go of Deeks’ hands, and gestured to the front door.

“Well, why don't we go in? I have sone milkshakes in the car that are probably only halfway melted.”

His smile was more genuine as he accepted her offered hand, heaving himself up with a groan.

“Awesome, warm ice cream is my favorite,” he replied. As she turned to retrieve the food, he touched her shoulder and added, “Thanks, Kens.”

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #season 5 #risky behavior #you know since apparently I can’t tag this with trauma or ptsd without getting yelled at #ejzah fanfiction

[crimsonrose-monika]

[Tokyo Revengers Fanfic] By Your Side, Always

If you prefer AO3 format, here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33160153

Title: By Your Side, Always

Pairing: Mikey & Takemitchy, Implied Mikey / Takemitchy, Takemichi / Hinata, Open to interpretation.

Tags: Manila Future Timeline Mikey, Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Tenjiku Arc, Mikey Needs a Hug, Song-Inspired Fanfic

Synopsis:

If Toman had gone bad, again and again, then it meant that Mikey’s heart had been corrupted, again and again. No one could reach Mikey. Takemichi could. He was by Mikey’s side, so why?

Only that he wasn’t. Takemichi wasn’t by Mikey’s side.

Realization slammed into him, fast and so unexpected that it almost knocked the breath out of his lungs.

Witnessing the dark future that awaited Mikey and the rest of Toman, Takemichi took a leap. He desperately wanted to save the invincible Mikey from himself. This time, he decided to stay.

This fanfic is inspired by a song 歩いていこう by いきものがかり. Parts of the song was inserted in the story. I translated the song and polish the translation myself to fit the English phrasing. (Putting my rusty Japanese to work here.) Feel free to listen while reading.

By Your Side, Always

“All my life, I’ve been suffering.” Mikey whispered, tears pooling in his eyes, but he smiled, as if his death was the best outcome he could ever wish for.

Takemichi felt his heart smashed into pieces as he watched life rapidly seeping out of his dear friend. Tears didn’t suit Mikey. A smile did, but not like this. Not the small tilt of his lips that amplified the crushed hope that lurked behind his deep, dark eyes. The best smile for Mikey was the full, satisfied one that smoothed the cease of his brows and made him shine brighter than anyone.

Without thinking, words rushed from Takemichi’s mouth. He didn’t care that he had been trying his hardest to not reveal his ability to anyone. He didn’t care what side effects admitting to time leap could cause. All he could think of was Mikey’s resignation. He wanted to erase that look from his eyes. He was to give this man hope.

What could have happened that made the invincible Mikey, who had faced down an overwhelmingly outnumbered fight with his back straight and his shoulders squared, felt like his death was the only happiness?

“Thanks, Takemitchy. Your words comforted me.” Mikey’s voice was calm. He stared up at the man whose eyes reminded him of sunlight hitting the sea surface, committing them to his last memory. Takemichi was crying again, ever the crybaby. Even when Mikey had held him at gunpoint, Takemichi still cried for him. “Even if you’re telling me lies...I’m happy.”

Blood from his head wound flowed into his eyes, but Mikey paid it no mind. In his last moment, he wanted to treasure the last member of Toman who didn’t lose their life by Mikey’s hands.

Takemichi’s tears fell onto Mikey’s shoulder blade. As his body slowly lost its heat, the warmth of Takemichi’s touch became clear. How long had it been since he had felt another person’s gentle heat on his skin? When was the last time Mikey had any kind of physical contact that lasted for more than a few seconds that it took his feet and fists to take down opponents? He had forgotten what it felt like to be close to someone.

“Your hands are so warm.”

Mikey’s eyes clouded over. All awareness escaped him as his breathing slowed to a stop. Feeling like the battered floor under his knees gave away, Takemichi brought Mikey close. As light shone through the time-worn holes in the ceiling, illuminating Mikey’s lifeless form like a silent eulogy, Takemichi’s memory of the man played behind his eyes.

“From now on, you’re my bitch!” Mikey had confidently declared the first time they had met, after he and Draken defeated Kiyomasa with ease.

“I’m going to create an era for delinquents,” Mikey had proclaimed his dream with determination alight in his eyes. At that moment, Mikey had stood with his feet planted firmly, ready for anything the world would throw his way.

“Boo!” In the bath house, after the fight with Mobius’ remnants at the festival, Mikey had smiled widely and played like a kid.

“You’re strong, Takemitchy,” Mikey, who was stronger than anyone, had acknowledged his respect for the crybaby.

Reliving the memories of Mikey brought a different kind of resolution to Takemichi. He clenched his fist to steel himself and plunged into the stream of time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Takemichi hated funerals. As an adult, he understood that death was an inevitable state of humans. But recently, he had attended too many funerals—had seen too many deaths—in all timelines.

Hinata, Atsushi, Baji, Mitsuya, Mikey, Emma, Izana, and even Kisaki, whose death Takemichi had thought wouldn’t make him feel anything. How wrong he was.

Why did people keep dying despite his best effort?

During the entirety of Emma’s funeral, Mikey didn’t cry. He stared at Emma’s portrait, where she laughed brightly without a care in the world, lost in his own thoughts. Sometimes Takemichi caught a glimpse of silent despair and anguish that he had seen swirling behind the future Mikey’s eyes.

It scared him.

Emma’s death wasn’t the trigger to Mikey’s darkness, Takemichi knew, because the leader of Toman was strong. Mikey would be sad. He would grieve, he would see the world crumbling to dust before him, and he would be lost, but he would come back. Just like he had come back to face Izana with a heart that was still bleeding, ready to love another brother despite the fresh pain that was etched into his soul.

But even the strongest man could fall once the loss of his precious people piled up in such a short time. In the span of Mikey’s teenage life, he had lost three out of four family members and half of the starting members of Toman, all of them sudden, without time to prepare or make peace. Some people would come back—Pah-chin and Kazutora—but the rest were gone forever.

Even to Takemichi, a somewhat outsider-turned-friend—because they were all his friends, but he would never compare his care for them to Mikey’s—who took in the situation with great shock that clung to every fiber of his body, Mikey’s life was like a cruel, heartless joke.

How could a person experience so much pain so young?

It was already a miracle that Mikey retained his sense of self this long.

After the funeral, Takemichi walked with Hinata, but they couldn’t seem to go anywhere. In the end, they continued walking mindlessly across the town. He registered the same store that they had walked past twice before, but he couldn’t bring himself to think. Hinata didn’t say anything either. She walked beside him wordlessly, offering her presence to Takemichi’s fleeting awareness.

They stopped at an empty park, where they sat on the swings as silence stretched. The sky already turned dark when Takemichi spoke.

“I couldn’t change Emma’s death. I was right there, but I still couldn’t do anything.”

Hinata listened intently, like she always did. Takemichi could feel her patient gaze on the side of his face even as he stared down at his hands that clasped together on his lap.

“In the future, Mikey-kun lost himself. After Emma died, Mikey-kun fell into darkness. He told me that he’d been suffering all his life.” Takemichi’s voice shook at the end as he remembered the future Mikey’s existence that screamed out to him in misery, begging him to put his own life to an end. “I knew all that, but I still failed.”

His breath stuttered as the beginning of a sob formed behind his throat. His eyes were hot.

At this rate, Mikey is going to end up the same. Toman members would all die. Nothing would change.

“I’m tired, Hina-chan. I’m tired of going back to find out that it is another bad future once again. They deserve to be happy, but the world keeps throwing pain at them. It’s not fair.”

Even as he blabbered on, Takemichi berated himself for talking like a child. It wasn’t fair? The world was never fair, but it was being particularly cruel to all his loved ones.

Takemichi roughly wiped his tears with the sleeves of his shirt.

He had been thinking. He had been changing the past. He had prevented Draken’s death that would change Mikey, but then Hinata and Atsushi died. Draken was on a death row. He had conveyed Baji’s intention to Mikey and stopped him from killing Kazutora, but Hinata and Chifuyu still died. Even worse, it was him who ordered her death. Then, he made sure that Hakkai didn’t join Black Dragons. It should have been the best future yet, but everyone died, and Mikey was living a life he would rather not have.

No matter how many times Takemichi changed the past, there still wasn’t a single future where everyone was happy. In the face of repeated failures, he started to think that maybe he had been looking at it from the wrong point of view.

When he was lost in his head, Hinata spoke up for the first time.

“Takemichi-kun, what do you think you are to Mikey-kun?”

What a strange question.

Takemichi lifted his head and looked at his girlfriend. Hinata smiled at him even though her eyes were red from crying at Emma’s funeral. She had grown quite close to Mikey’s sister.

When he didn’t say anything, she looked away and spoke what had been on her mind. “Hina might not know the people from Toman as well as Takemichi-kun, but Hina has been watching when you’re with them. Mikey-kun cares about you. There are many times when you said ridiculous things, Takemichi-kun, but he listened to you.”

Hinata started pushing her feet into the ground, propelling herself gently back and forth on the swing absentmindedly as she organized her thoughts. When she spoke next, she seemed like she knew something about Mikey that Takemichi didn’t. Her big round eyes looked straight ahead, away from Takemichi, but her voice made its way into his heart.

“Your voice reached Mikey-kun, again and again. You brought him back. You mean more to Mikey-kun than you think, Takemichi-kun. Maybe there is something you can say to him that will remind him to not give in to his darkness?”

Takemichi remembered. When he had said that he would become Toman’s top member to Mikey’s face, he was serious and determined. But deep down, he knew how ridiculous it had sounded. If it had been anyone else, Takemichi would surely get a jeer in the face. He wasn’t good at fighting. He got more punches in his face than he had landed. Anyone would have thought that he was a pushover.

But not Mikey. He had taken Takemichi’s words seriously and never once laughed at him for aiming high. The invincible Mikey had said that Takemichi was stronger even though Mikey could defeat him with one kick. Every time that Mikey almost lost himself in grief and impulse, Takemichi’s sincere words brought him back to sense.

If Toman had gone bad, again and again, then it meant that Mikey’s heart had been corrupted, again and again. No one could reach Mikey. Takemichi could. He was by Mikey’s side, so why?

Only that he wasn’t. Takemichi wasn’t by Mikey’s side.

Realization slammed into him, fast and so unexpected that it almost knocked the breath out of his lungs.

“Could it be that no matter what I did, Toman still went bad because I wasn’t there?”

When Takemichi jumped back to the future, what was left in this timeline was the young Takemichi who didn’t intimately know Mikey’s suffering. He didn’t want to admit the cowardice of his younger self, ashamed at how weak he had been until Hinata’s death in the first timeline had opened his eyes, but the young Takemichi wouldn’t be able to scold Mikey like he had been asked to. Only the future Takemichi could, but he wasn’t here when Mikey needed him.

That must be why. There was no one to pull Mikey back from the brink because Takemichi who could wasn’t there with him.

If that was true, then he could just stay to make sure that Mikey wouldn’t go down the wrong path. He would act as Mikey’s moral pillar, like he had been asked to after the fight on Christmas Day. That way, instead of jumping back to find that one or all of his friends met their premature ends, he could be with them and make sure that they were okay.

When Hinata tore her eyes from the park to look back at Takemichi’s face, she knew that her boyfriend had come to some form of conclusion. She wasn’t sure what that decision was, but she knew him. Takemichi was the crybaby hero. His determination to protect was more fierce than anyone. So she waited.

“Hina-chan, this time, I’m not going back to the future.”

Hinata wouldn’t say that what she heard was anything she had expected, but at the same time, now that it was said out loud, it was the most Takemichi-like answer.

“Will it be okay not to go back?” She asked, a little worried about what would happen to the body of the future Takemichi if his consciousness was here. Takemichi had told her that he came from the future to fix things and go back when whatever he was here for was corrected, but he didn’t go into how the time leap worked.

“It should be fine,” Takemichi replied. He seemed a little unsure as he spoke, but then he pressed his lips together and held his head up high. His blue eyes that were illuminated under the street light shone brightly. “When I’m here, my body in the future was on autopilot. Even if something happens, I’m still alive here. I can continue to make changes so that nothing bad will happen to any of us in the future.”

“Is that how it works?”

“I’m not sure, but I think it is my best option.”

Hinata watched Takemichi in silence. Time passed, and Takemichi was starting to think that maybe he got something wrong and Hinata didn’t agree when she nodded to herself and gave him a sparkling smile.

“Hina will support Takemichi-kun no matter what you choose,” she said with finality, as if it had been predetermined.

Takemichi felt incredibly lucky to have Tachibana Hinata, a girl whose heart was unmovable and understanding, in his life. “Thank you, Hina-chan.”

“Also, please work out your feelings.” At that very moment, Hinata looked like someone who held the secret of the world. She seemed to know Takemichi better than he knew himself. “Hina will be waiting okay?”

Again, Hinata said a cryptic message that Takemichi didn’t quite understand. But he nodded.

歩いていこう 歩いていこう

Let’s walk forward. Let’s walk forward.

僕は「今」を生きていくよ

I will continue to live in the “present.”

君がくれた言葉はここにあるよ

The words that you told me are right here with me.

そうだよ 歩いていこう

Yes, let’s walk forward.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later, Mikey called Takemichi to meet at the Musashi Shrine. He told Takemichi to wear his Toman black uniform, which Takemichi easily complied. March temperature had warmed up a bit from the freezing February, on its way to welcome spring, but it still wasn’t anywhere near warm enough to go out without bundling up. Good thing that Toman’s long sleeves and baggy pants uniform made it simple to slip another layer or two underneath.

When Takemichi arrived, Mikey was already there, playing with the puff of his breath that the cold, humid air produced. He wore his usual white long-sleeve shirt underneath his coat uniform that draped over his shoulders. Takemichi wondered if Mikey didn’t feel cold in this kind of weather.

Takemichi told Mikey all about the future, from the very beginning when he was pushed onto the train rails. What he had changed up until now and its result in each timeline. He sobbed when he apologized for failing to save Baji and Emma, and broke into a cry when he told Mikey what had happened to his future self in Manila.

Mikey’s face was carefully blank as he listened. Takemichi couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but there was something that had been bothering him since he took his first step onto the stone paved path of the shrine. Mikey’s posture was taut, like a string that was stretched to the point of snapping. His words and his every move seemed calculated.

Takemichi didn’t like it. So when he finished the story and Mikey fell silent, eyes trained somewhere faraway, he announced his intention.

“Mikey-kun, I’m not going back.”

Mikey’s dark eyes snapped to him, surprised. His brows ceased as he contemplated. “If you’re worrying about everyone, I give you my words, Takemitchy. I’ll definitely protect everyone’s future. Hina too. I’ll make sure that the same future won’t happen, so you don’t have to be so reluctant to part ways.”

Mikey smiled, the same smile as that time when he said Toman would never lose because he was here. The one that was both confident in the outcome and self-assured in his own abilities. But Takemichi saw it, a hint of deep emotion that Mikey tried desperately not to show others. Takemichi would never have noticed before, but after witnessing the future in Manila, he became aware of little clues and changes in expressions that Mikey’s body couldn’t hide.

Toman’s invincible leader always smiled when faced with difficulties. But that wasn’t the smile that Takemichi wanted.

歩道橋の向こうに 冬のまちが見えたよ

On the other side of the overpass, I could see the city in the winter.

ひとかけらの孤独を手に 僕は明日をつないでいる

With the fragments of loneliness in my hands, I am reaching toward tomorrow.

「こころで笑えるかな」いつかの声が聴こえた

“Can you smile with all your heart?” I heard a voice from some day.

白い息が空に消える

The breath vapor disappears into the sky.

寂しくはない 駅へ急ぐよ

I’m not lonely. I’m rushing to the station.

Takemichi knew that Mikey would keep his promise. As a leader and as a friend, Mikey treasured the trust that Toman had put in him and would do his best to respond in kind. He wouldn’t break his promise.

But protecting everyone alone was a task that even adults struggled to accomplish. No matter how powerful Mikey was, he still needed a place or a person whom he could fall onto when he needed a break. Takemichi was determined to be that person. He would help Mikey protect everyone and carry parts of his burden. He didn’t want to see the hopelessness in Mikey ever again.

“I know, Mikey-kun. But I want to stay. I want to be with you and the rest of Toman.” He explained, staring at the deep dark eyes to convey the force of his sincerity. “I want to help you. Please let me help you protect everyone’s future. Please let me protect your future.”

Although Mikey didn’t act like he needed it, his future was also important and deserved to be protected.

Takemichi hoped that his expressive eyes would persuade Mikey for him, to let him know that Takemichi wouldn’t back down. Like it had played out when Takemichi had announced his intention to become one of Toman’s top leaders, Mikey would have to acknowledge it.

Takemichi could see Mikey’s resolution wavered. He reeled in his weakness a heartbeat later, but that short moment was enough for Takemichi to catch on.

“What about Hina?” Mikey pressed, resorting to bringing up a girl whom he knew Takemichi would throw his life away for if it meant she would live well. “She’s waiting for you in the future.”

Despite the reminder, Takemichi didn’t back down. “I have Hina-chan here too. I told her my decision, and Hina-chan said she would support me.”

Mikey bit his lips, his eyes straying sideways. It seemed like he had his plan, but whatever that plan was, it was being shaken by Takemichi’s words.

“I have everyone I ever want here with me, Mikey-kun. I want to stay. Not just for you and for Toman, but for myself too.”

It was as if the wall that Mikey had built around himself crumbled down like glass. In the first place, Mikey objected to Takemichi staying because he felt that the other was putting others before himself. He didn’t want Takemichi to throw away his chance to live as he wanted just because he was worried about the people in the past.

But Takemichi had said that he was staying for himself too.

The stubbornness that lined Mikey’s lips eased into a soft smile. “You already made up your mind even before I said anything.”

Takemichi grinned at his Toman leader. “I’m sorry,” he offered without really feeling sorry.

There was the sound of motorcycle engines at the edge of Takemichi’s hearing, a sound that had wormed its way into Takemichi’s heart and oddly assured him of belonging and comfort. It got louder by the seconds, until it stopped somewhere to his right, in the shrine’s parking lot that was obscured by a row of trees. Dull marching steps replaced the engine sound as a crowd of black-cladded people strode up to the stairs where Takemichi and Mikey were standing.

Something cold fell on the tip of Takemichi’s nose, before another one planted itself on his forehead. He looked up at the darkened sky and saw white flakes falling down in fluttering dances.

“It’s snowing...” Takemichi muttered.

“Strange, isn’t it? The weather forecast said it wouldn’t snow.” Holding his palm up to collect a small puff of white frozen water in his hand, Mikey gazed at it as the hundred members of Toman fell into neat rows behind their respective captains. Mitsuya and Smiley were still in their wheelchair, but they grinned widely.

「帰らないと決めたんだ」

“I have decided to not go back.”

はじまりを 告げるように 雪が降り始めた

As if to mark the beginning, snow started to fall.

“Thank you, Takemitchy. I have decided.” Mikey straightened his back and squared his shoulders, the very picture of Tokyo Manji Kai’s invincible leader. There was a gleam in his eyes that made Takemichi nodded and went down to his place right in front of Chifuyu and the rest of the first division.

Mikey looked over them confidently as he grinned. “Listen up, everyone!”

The entirety of Toman snapped to attention as the voice of their leader carried through the air. Soft snow continued to fall gently to the ground.

“We have faced a lot of hardship in our fight with Tenjiku, but we overcame them and emerged victorious. Toman is now Japan’s top gang!”

As he listened, Takemichi felt his chest puffed up in pride, and he was certain that every single person who carried Toman’s manji on the back of their uniform felt the same.

“We’ve created an era that will be handed down to generations to come, an era for delinquents that we have dreamed of! Thank you everyone for sticking with me and making Toman the best gang out there. But our dream doesn't end here. Toman will continue to show the world the way of delinquents we uphold! I hope that you all will be with me on this journey.”

Then, Mikey relaxed his posture and spoke a little more comfortably. “To let you all recover from the fight, there won’t be a gang meeting for a while. I will end the meeting here. Be careful while you go home and rest well.”

They bowed, deeply and respectfully, to the leader who had led them through many hardships and who had lost so much, before the crowd slowly receded along with the booming sound of bike roars.

The captains and vice-captains stayed for a while longer, discussing among themselves the outcome of the Kanto Incident and speculating about the future that awaited Toman, but gradually, they bid farewell one by one until the only occupants on the shrine ground were Takemichi and Mikey.

“Today, I called everyone here to announce the disbandment of Toman.” Mikey confessed, a slight smile still on his lips as he scanned the spacious ground that was fully occupied a mere moment ago. “I thought about it, the future you told me. No matter what timelines, something always goes badly. The root of it all is me. Toman goes bad because I go bad. I thought that by disbanding Toman, everyone will still be able to live a happy life even when I inevitably fall into darkness.”

Takemichi almost stopped breathing. He had a hard time believing his ears. Mikey loved Toman. This gang was his pride and dream, but he was ready to throw all that hard work and passion away to ensure that everyone he cared about would have a good life.

“Mikey-kun...”

“But you give me hope. You changed my mind,” he continued, tearing his focus from the ground beneath the steps, and looked at Takemichi with pleading eyes. “That’s why, Takemitchy, when you think I am losing myself. You definitely have to scold me and bring me back, okay?”

Mikey’s stability was his responsibility now, but Takemichi was up to the task. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked straight at his leader and friend. “I will, Mikey-kun! Definitely!” He yelled confidently, putting all his determination into the sentence that he uttered.

Takemichi was rewarded with a big, wide smile that he had been longing to see on Mikey’s face. Mikey’s eyebrows smoothened, losing the sharpness that had permanently been etched onto them for a few seconds as the corner of his eyes relaxed with the movement of his cheeks. This Mikey was glowing, moonlight reflecting on the snow in his hair.

“You’re my hero, Takemitchy.”

歩いていこう 歩いていこう

Let’s walk forward. Let’s walk forward.

僕は「今」を生きていくよ

I will continue to live in the “present.”

傷ついても 何度も 信じたいよ

Even if I get hurt, I want to believe, no matter how many times.

この手を この日々を 君と泣いて 君と笑って 僕は強くなれたんだろう

Within these hands, within these days, crying with you, laughing with you, has made me stronger.

君がくれた言葉はここにあるよ

The words that you told me are right here with me.

そうだよ 歩いていこう

Yes, let’s walk forward.

[END]

#TokyoRevengers #東卍 #東リベ #東京卍リベンジャーズ #mikey x takemichi #hinata x takemichi #tokyo revengers #tokyo manji gang #sano manjiro #takemichi hanagaki #hinata tachibana #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo manji revengers #Youtube

[kim-miri]

HALF(have a little fun) pt. ix

→ one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

→ Sayomi Zoldyck is the eldest child and twin sister to Illumi, of the renowned Zoldyck family of assassins. At the age of ten she’s taken away to Meteor City by her mother, Kikyo Zoldyck, unbeknownst to the rest of the family, as well as newborn Killua, and left to fend for herself. This is the story of the long-lost Zoldyck and those she becomes acquainted with, all while she just wants to have a little fun.

» part nine / ?

» pairing: eventually - chrollo x oc x feat. hisoka

» warnings: swearing, blood/violence, minor angst

» a/n: short chapter D:! edit: i’ve tried and tried but it just doesn’t flow right when i try to make this into an x reader:// HALF will be an oc fic and i’ve decided to cut the backstory here;( thanks for the love and support!

» word count: 2,494

☾ix. pt. ix: youth

3 months later

Loud, bass-bumping music and too many flashing lights fueled the exhilaration and excitement of one of the biggest night clubs in Yorknew City.

Sayomi had defeated her second opponent on the 200th floor with the help of Hisoka’s training earlier today, making this little outing a sad excuse for a celebration.

In reality, Hisoka just wanted to see whether Sayomi could dance or not.

He had insisted they go out and experience the nightlife the city had to offer, and with Sayomi still upbeat from her match, they found themselves sneaking into Octagon- a hip club located in the heart of Yorknew City.

Though technically Hisoka was 21 and therefore could have gone about this in an easier way, he insisted they sneak in ‘just for the fun of it’. The truth was that he’d been kicked out of the club previously after using his ‘magic tricks’ to make people’s arms disappear, but it made his intrusion all the more fun.

As Hisoka watched the floor from his spot at the bar with a drink held loosely in one hand, Sayomi was currently lost in a crowd of passionate clubbers, her violet eyes gleaming with the thrill of the environment.

The black and silver dress she wore highlighted her figure as well as electrifying eyes and hair, the metallic material dazzling under the club lights as she lost herself in the music and people.

She was letting herself go for the night like she often did on her chaotic trips to the city with Hisoka. Free from repressive parents or a fight for her life, Sayomi was at peace with her new life, expressing herself however she wanted to.

Draining the rest of his Cosmopolitan, Hisoka’s eyes shifted to the young assassin, his face remaining expressionless as he watched her draw a crowd with her alluring glow. 

He’d been staring so intensely he didn’t even notice a man take the seat next to him. The sound of the man’s voice established his presence, yet Hisoka’s line of sight ceased to drift from the girl with the bright silver hair.

“A stunner isn’t she?”

Hisoka blinked slowly, hardly registering the man’s words. A stunner indeed, but what more? “A pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty soul.”

The man laughed, setting his drink down on the bar to face Hisoka. “I take it she isn’t yours then? That’s a relief.”

Hisoka rested his chin in the palm of one of his finely manicured hands, his other tapping on the smooth surface of the bar impatiently. He couldn’t seem to figure out why his bloodlust was seeping through as he followed Sayomi with his eyes.

His? She could never belong to any man, she was her own person.

“Careful with your words there, I’d hate for them to be your last.” His words were venomous, filled with the intent to kill.

Hisoka’s nails had cut through the skin of his own cheek, his other hand clenched into a fist on the bar’s surface.

The man had shifted away from him, quietly taking his leave as he watched crimson seep down Hisoka’s pale fingers.

Over the past 3 months, he’d been able to fight her more than enough times, and now he no longer felt the same intoxicating feeling when he was with her. Sayomi never fought Hisoka to hurt him, only with the intentions of improving her own skills, which in turn left Hisoka aching for more.

However, as the days progressed he was slowly coming to the conclusion that the Zoldyck girl had an undeniable flaw. She doesn’t put up a fight when I’m with her.

He was losing interest in the girl who’d once swayed his unshakable feelings, and it distressed him that he almost felt bad for wanting to leave her behind.

His sharpened fingernails dug farther into the pale skin of his cheek as he watched Sayomi throw her slender arms around a man she’d only just met. 

She was laughing and smiling, her silky voice seeming to reach his ears through the music and cheers from where he sat. Loud and clear, the sound of her laughter rang through Hisoka’s head in an almost painful way.

She was becoming a weakness to the man who believed himself to be the strongest, and that didn’t sit right with him at all.

☾ix.

Sayomi wasn’t too sure of what exactly it was that she felt towards Hisoka.

When he took her to dinner with an amazing view or complimented her progress with training, she couldn’t tell whether it was her lack of social contact or actual feelings that led her heart to race when she saw his face.

It didn’t help that on some days she could notice the way his voice softened when he spoke to her, only to leave her heart stinging with his harsh words on other days.

He was taking mixed signals to the next level, playing with her feelings while he was trying to figure out his own.

It was selfish and cruel, falsely gaining the trust of someone who’d been through so much betrayal, all for his own entertainment.

But that was just who Hisoka was, he didn’t care for distractions or hindrances. And as fast as he’d first fallen for the young assassin, he was already in the process of making himself forget her.

He was moving on.

☾ix.

3 months later

It was the day after Sayomi’s 7th match on the 200th floor of Heaven’s Arena. She’d been scheduling her fights randomly, with no regard for who her opponents would be.

With 7 wins under her name, she only needed 3 more to challenge a floor master. 

However, with her longtime goal fast approaching, she wasn’t as happy as she thought she’d be.

It’d been about half a year since Sayomi had first met Hisoka, and all the excitement and jitters about spending time alone with a guy had died down. 

It’d also helped that for some reason Hisoka was rather occupied recently. He rarely took her out to the city, claiming he had other business to attend to, and when they did go out, he’d always turn in first mumbling that he was tired.

Sayomi was no fool, she knew that Hisoka was either losing interest in her as well or felt his job was almost through. To herself, she hoped that it was the former, for it would hurt less than to find out he’d only been around her for business purposes.

Regardless, Sayomi’s current situation was puzzling. She stood waiting for what seemed like forever in front of Hisoka’s room, ready to go out and train.

However, after knocking more than enough times and even calling his cell, there was no sign of her trainer. 

That’s odd.

Sayomi trained on her own that day, taking it upon herself to get strength training in at the gym.

It was the first time she’d spent an entire day without Hisoka since they’d started training. Deciding that he was out on his so-called ‘business’, Sayomi shrugged away his absence, going to sleep early for the first time in a while.

Yet, another day passed with no sign of the magician, and Sayomi began to grow concerned for his well-being. What if he was picked off by someone? No, he’s too strong to lose to anyone here… Did he pass out in his room?

Sayomi walked briskly to Hisoka’s room with a worried mind.

Once again there was no response to her knocking, and she decided she’d break into the room.

Using one of her longer needles, she picked the lock in no time, stepping into the unfamiliar room. 

It was empty. Only the faint smell of bubble gum and something sweet lingered in the abandoned room, the closet and space empty.

There was a note left on the cleanly made bed, the red ink standing out from the otherwise white sheets surrounding the note.

That lazy ass, of course he’d leave a note in his own room. 

Picking up the sheet, she read:

Zoldyck-

It’s about time you sneak into my room, I know you’ve thought about doing it before;) 

But jokes aside… 

I’m sorry, darling. 

It’s not like me to apologize(you can ask Kite)and that alone scared me, because I feel like you’ve changed me. Your smile and intoxicating eyes make me weak in the knees…

And I despise myself for it. 

I’m not sure why I’ve chosen to expose my faults to you, for that just makes you all the more dangerous to me.

But perhaps I want you to hold my weaknesses, and perhaps I’d like to see you come tear me apart. Yes, that must be it. 

I’ve departed Yorknew City to meet up with your twin brother, as it seems as though he’s been searching for you. And perhaps I should have taken him to you instead, but I’m not, because when the time is right I’d like you all to myself.

So don’t forgive me, Sayomi. Resent me, grow stronger, and when the time comes I’ll bring your brother back to you.

Ah, and there is one thing I’d always wanted to tell you… 

I always thought that you were most beautiful when you showed your true colors-

A cold-blooded, cold-hearted Zoldyck assassin with no regard for the pain and suffering of your victims.

Stop holding yourself back, people like us can be forgiven for our sins because of the hell we’ve been put through. 

-Hisoka 

☾ix.

A single tear rolled down Sayomi’s cheek. 

And that was all.

The flurry of sudden information rendered Sayomi breathless as she tried to make sense of his words.

This idiot really just admitted his feelings for me after all this time right when he decides to leave me here. Selfish bastard.

And he knows Illumi… but how? Illumi was looking for me? 

I have to become a floor master and get that clown to bring my brother back.

☾ix.

6 months later

Sayomi gazed out her window with a blank stare, 241 floors above the ground.

Just a week ago she’d claimed her spot on the 241st floor as the newest and youngest Floor Master at age 19.

She knew Hisoka would find out about her achievement soon, and all she could do now was wait.

Up until defeating and killing her last opponent, time had flown by easily. She was fueled by the goal of finding her brother and confronting Hisoka, but now that she was here, the loneliness began to sink in.

Kite and his student had taken off to another country in search of wildlife to study, leaving Sayomi all alone in Yorknew City.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of her situation. Here she was at the top of the tallest building in Yorknew City, a place that others died trying to get to, yet she was unsatisfied.

Her face and name were plastered on billboards and posters all throughout the city, and citizens stood envious of the young teen’s life. She had enough money that she’d never have to work another day in her life, but in exchange she no longer had a family to accept her nor friends to laugh with.

Don’t feel sorry for yourself, there’s plenty of others that have it worse.

Sayomi sighed as she turned away from the window, grabbing her mask she’d started using as a floor master to attempt to conceal her identity. 

I won’t have challengers for another month or so… might as well hit the city.

☾ix.

Sayomi walked through the dark streets of Yorknew City, her hands clasped behind her head and her eyes vacant.

She didn’t have a destination in mind, just mindlessly strolling through the city covered with news of her promotion to Floor Master. There were citizens recognizing her as well, pointing and jumping back as if she were some monster.

Though she couldn’t blame them, as her nen happened to be on the disturbing side. The replays of her fights were mostly censored, deemed too inhumane for the public eye as they played on repeat on the sides of buildings,

She wasn’t too sure how far she’d walked, spotting Heaven’s Arena rather far in the distance behind her. The shops and glamorous hotels began to fade as she approached the run down parts of Yorknew City.

It was an abandoned lot of buildings, the ground littered with oil cans and shattered glass. In a way it was tranquil, free from angry drivers and the revolted gaze of commoners.

Walking through an opening in the wired fences that surrounded the lot, Sayomi wandered through a certain building that’d caught her eye.

She felt a faint aura coming from the abandoned office building, but oddly enough it wasn’t hostile or repelling. It was rather comforting.

Sayomi’s curiosity grew as the aura increased, drawing her towards the room located at the far end of the first floor.

She saw the man before she sensed him, his large coat catching her attention. His back was turned to her crouched down on the dusty floor, the windows adjacent to him shattered, letting the pale moonlight reflect off of his coat.

St. Peter’s cross. Interesting taste in fashion…

Another careless step closer and the man’s head turned abruptly in her direction. Sayomi had ducked behind a wall, but not fast enough.

The man stood from his spot, revealing a vibrant patch of violets by his feet. Upon his loss in concentration, the flowers wilted, withering back into the cluttered floor as if they’d never been there in the first place.

Sayomi could see the man’s face from where she crouched, hidden by a barely intact wall. Her heart skipped a beat upon meeting his eyes, deep gray and captivating as he easily identified her from her hiding spot.

It felt as if time was frozen in place, the young man staring intensely into Sayomi’s eyes as if he could read her mind. 

Sayomi was unmoving as well, having been caught examining his figure from behind the wall. He was by far the most appealing man she’d ever seen, his dark, raven hair slicked back to reveal a tattoo decorating the middle of his forehead, contrasting with his gentle eyes and youthful facial features. 

Handsome, she thought. 

The man took a slight step forward, snapping Sayomi out of his hypnotizing gaze as she sped off jumping through an empty window and out of the building. 

Though she was eager to know what he’d been doing with the flowers, his aura had changed when he’d noticed her watching. It had been dangerous and intense, a total opposite of his warm and placid one when dealing with the violets.

Her quick steps transitioned into a run, feeling the need to distance herself from the lingering intensity of the mysterious young man’s aura.

She ran back towards the towering building of Heaven’s Arena, not stopping her pace a bit until she was met with the familiar neon signs and billboards that surrounded the heart of Yorknew City.

Her dreams were taken over by the man’s captivating eyes that night. His familiar aura had seemed to beckon her to him, as if she’d known him for 100 years prior. 

But no matter how hard she thought that night, she couldn’t come up with an answer as to what he’d been doing with the violets conjured by his feet. 

In her dreams she saw her own eyes within the vibrant flowers, it was an abstract thought, though for a second she wondered if he had meant for her to see them. 

She quickly dismissed this, however, scoffing at the absurdity of her own thoughts. 

What am I, a child? I must be beyond lonely if I think some random guy has something to do with me.

Though deep down inside her heart, she wished it were true. To be fated to somebody, needed by somebody who she could trust with her darkest secrets and love.

☾ix.

to be continued.

#chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x oc #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #kuroro #kuroro lucilfer #hisoka #hisoka x oc #hisoka x reader #hisoka morow #hisoka morrow x reader #hxh #hxh au #hxh imagines #hxh x reader #hxh oc #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter au #hunter x hunter imagines #hxh killua #hxh chrollo #hxh hisoka #hxh kite #killlua #zoldyck family #killua zoldyck #illumi #illumi zoldyck #assassin au

[cruelfeline]

I’ve been thinking about various aspects of SPoP, as I am wont to do, and as often happens, I’ve settled on trying to figure out why I feel a certain way. Namely regarding why I, personally, am able to feel so much more compassion towards Hordak rather than towards the Princesses. After all, the Princesses are the ones being wronged throughout this show, aren’t they? Their lands are being invaded. They’re the ones having to fight to maintain their way of life. They’re losing ground because of Hordak’s war.

So... why do I find it hard to care about them? Why are their experiences in this conflict just sort of... well, meaningless to me?

And why, instead, do my tender emotional responses strongly favor Hordak, despite his serious role in starting a terrible war?

Well! As per usual, I’m going to try to talk my way through it. 

(and, as per usual, your mileage may vary!)

Let’s start with the Princesses. They range from children to young adults. Seem like reasonably nice girls, despite various flaws. They clearly did not ask for a war, had no hand in starting it, and are clearly on the side of good, seeking to protect innocents and simply return to a peaceful way of life.

They appear perfectly designed to garner sympathy and connection... yet I feel so little for them. I feel little because, despite the show telling me that they’re fighting for their lives, and for their home, despite them being the apparent underdogs in their battle against the Horde, I feel like their lives remain relatively stable. Pleasant. Even enjoyable. 

Essentially, I feel like despite everything, they do not truly suffer. Not in a way that is consistent or touching. 

The arcs the Princesses go through either deal largely with matters unrelated to the war and subsequently involve less arduous difficulties, or are handled in such a way that any real pain is quickly resolved and loses its impact.

Frosta and Perfuma represent the former. Both are parentless rulers of their kingdoms, but there is no real confirmation that their parents were killed by the Horde, and they themselves seem largely unperturbed by parental loss. They maintain control of their kingdoms throughout the series. Frosta never loses the Kingdom of Snows, while Perfuma, though in brief danger of losing Plumeria due to damage to the Heart Blossom, ends up... well, defeating the Horde with a band of untrained hippies. So while they fight in the war against Hordak, they never really suffer any significant, confirmed personal losses because of it.

In fact, the Plumerian conflict is... kind of played for laughs.

The other aspects of their arcs have largely to do with friendship matters, or self-belief, and are also dealt with quickly and with little fanfare. Frosta learns how to make friends. Perfuma learns how to play with cacti. Afterwards, Frosta spends the remainder of the story essentially being a violence-happy little kid; amusing, yes, but not particularly tugging at my heartstrings. Perfuma likewise settles into “sympathetic friend” and, though she’s involved in Scorpia’s story at the end, also does little to invoke any sort of significant emotion. 

we’re just going to skirt around the whole “leashing Entrapta” thing, as it’s not relevant to this discussion

(Spinnerella and Netossa barely even register to me, given their very bare-bones roles in the first four seasons and standard “chipped loved one” narrative (that everyone experiences) in the fifth.) 

So, let’s move on to Glimmer and Mermista.

Glimmer and Mermista are arguably the two Princesses who actually lose unique things in the war and suffer because of those losses. And yet, because of the way the show is written, even their pain is dulled in such a way that it just does not facilitate me forming any sort of consistent, compassionate bond with them.

Mermista is the only Princess to actually lose a kingdom. In Hordak’s most visible evil act, Salineas is burned and beflagged, leading to Mermista deeply mourning the loss of her home, her culture, her peop- oh. Hm.

She takes it oddly well, doesn’t she? Apparently, ice cream in a bathtub is how deposed rulers deal with the loss of their entire country nowadays. 

And once she’s done with her moment of moping, she’s back in the fight, fueled by Sea Hawk’s shenanigans and her own power ballad (and Bright Moon’s lack of ice cream). There is no extended mourning for her people, no real depth to the loss she has supposedly suffered. There’s not even a real sense of it: we never see the people of Salineas, never know them, never get to feel anything for them. And with them being all but theoretical, the show appears to have no issue quickly forgetting them: Mermista never negotiates on their behalf, or visits refugees, or... anything. She might use Salineas in her future battle cries and as an excuse for increased recklessness, but that homage is the extent of emotion that we see.

Kingdom gone, bathtub ice cream finished, she goes on living life as if little has happened. And, because of her royal connections, she doesn’t even experience a decrease in quality of life: she continues to live in luxurious comfort despite an apparently raging war.

Because of how the writing handles Salineas, and her character in general, I never feel connected to how Mermista feels. Whatever pain she experiences is there and gone in a few scenes, quickly dealt with so the story can continue. There is no exploration, no nuance, nothing to really make me appreciate any sort of depth to her experience. And so I feel little, if anything, for her plight.

Glimmer, then, is the last chance the show has to make me feel something for the Alliance Princesses’ suffering during this war, and while season four nearly does it, the series again ends up falling short. 

Glimmer loses her mother. The actual sacrifice is emotional... though that emotion, admittedly, comes mainly from Adora. Glimmer’s pain comes through at the beginning of season four, when she is clearly in mourning all while needing to take Angella’s place as queen. Afterwards, season four does a fairly good job of making the loss meaningful: Glimmer becomes more and more willing to commit dark acts due to a mixture of grief and desperation. It works well, and out of all of the Princesses, I feel for her the most... until season five comes along and pretty much erases Angella from character consciousness.

Angella’s death essentially plays no role in season five. Glimmer does not appear to think back to it. While it drives her actions during season four, it appears to have been all but forgotten now, a particularly glaring shift when Catra, the one who is practically responsible, joins the group without it coming up at all. Glimmer’s other parental loss, Micah, likewise becomes meaningless not because of questionable writing choices, but because he simply never died.

Glimmer’s other problem, her rift with Bow and Adora, is repaired within an episode and never spoken of again. That... falls quite flat for me. 

And so, by the end of the series, Glimmer fails to maintain a believable level of distress and thus doesn’t invoke any real emotion in me. The one thing that really mattered, that really hurt her? Suddenly irrelevant in the name of Catra’s redemption. Hm.

And while these are the specific character examples that come to mind, the general situation the Princesses find themselves also fails to carry much weight in my mind. They are in the middle of a war, yet they continue to live in luxury. Skirmishes carry a sense of light-heartedness and sometimes seem almost fun. Battle plans are developed via a game of DnD. There is just no consistent sense of urgency or severity, no believable sense of emotional depth to convey to me that these characters are in truly dire straits. Yes, there are moments... but these moments are so brief, and carry such questionable lasting impact, that they don’t connect with me the way that they should. And as a result, the plight of the Princesses just feels hollow to me. 

I just... I just find myself unable to care about them because, when all is said and done, I don’t feel like they are truly in danger of real harm, or that they are realistically affected by their losses. It all just feels so shallow to me.

Now, let’s pivot and look at Hordak. Hordak, whom I still cry over on the daily. Hordak, who has owned my heart for over a year now. Hordak, who invokes in me all of the emotions. 

What is the difference between Hordak and the Princesses, other than the glaring fact that he is the instigator of the Etherian war and thus a bad, bad man? What makes him snap my heartstrings in half, while the Princesses barely manage a gentle tug?

The answer is that Hordak legitimately suffers. Terribly. Consistently. Throughout the entire series. While the Princesses experience brief moments of distress that the show quickly sweeps under the rug in favor of witty banter and friendship problems, Hordak is the direct opposite: he experiences only the occasional breath of happiness while otherwise drowning in a constant sea of bitterness, fear, pain, and deep unhappiness.  

From the moment we meet him, Hordak is stern and humorless and angry, and while this initially appears to be a side effect of him being a Standard Ultimate Villain Who Never Smiles, we quickly learn that it is due to his struggle. Hordak is constantly struggling against his physical defect, battling an illness that causes him not only significant health problems, but incredible shame. He is likewise constantly struggling to earn the respect and validation and nonexistent love of his god-brother. His sour demeanor, with all of its anger and dourness, originates in the fact that, throughout the overwhelming majority of the series, he is gravely unhappy. He is in ever-present distress, both physical and emotional. 

And as the series goes on, does that distress lessen? No. No, instead, he is rejected by his brother, thoroughly humiliated, and brutally “reset” back into his life as an actual cult slave. Rather than having his difficulties minimized like so many Princesses do, he finds himself in ever-worsening circumstances, graduating from (supposed) “disgraced, disabled military veteran” to “enslaved cultist desperate to be loved by his loveless master.”

Any moments of happiness are not only relatively brief, they are taken away as quickly as the Princesses’ moments of difficulty are. Hordak experiences love and friendship for the first time with Entrapta, only to swiftly lose her to Catra’s lies and spiraling madness. He finally begins to win the Etherian War (which is bad, yes, I know), only to realize that his victories stem from Catra’s betrayal before the whole affair culminates in Prime’s nauseating violation of his personhood.

It does not stop. Physically, mentally, or emotionally: not until his triumph over Prime in the season five finale does Hordak stop hurting, and even that is marred by Prime taking control of his body in a final act of nightmarish control before, bless him, Hordak is freed and able to begin his recovery.

In addition to being a series constant, Hordak’s pain is conveyed. It is dramatically shown through facial expressions, through body language, through phenomenal voice work, through scenes that clearly depict real anguish. 

The purification ritual is one of them; what other character do we hear scream like that, over and over, due to such terrible agony? His reunion with Prime is another; I will never forget how deeply I could sense his fear, how watching him tremble and beg instilled within me a sort of breathless panic because the scene actually made me want to instinctively protect him... but I could not because, y’know: cartoon. 

Hordak’s suffering is not only ever-present, it is varied and developed and communicated to the viewer in ways that result in it making a lasting impression. It is never minimized. It is never ignored. It is painful and horrifying with little reprieve, and it has a deep, life-altering effect on him.

That, friends and neighbors, is why I think I find myself feeling so much more compassion towards Hordak than I do towards the Princesses, despite his less-enticing place on the moral spectrum. Hordak is in pain. Consistently, meaningfully. He suffers, and the story takes it with every ounce of seriousness it can muster.

The Princesses, on the other hand, either experience little hurt or, when they do suffer, do so briefly before the narrative shoves it aside in favor of Catradora other things. As a result, they fail to make the same impression. They fail to garner my compassion because, in the end, they just don’t seem to really need it.

Whereas Hordak does.

#hordak #spop princesses

[chroniclerdl]

Seven Fundamentals to Writing Better Yu-Gi-Oh Duelfics

Ever wanted to write a duelfic just as good or better than canon?

Done right, duels are memorable action scenes.

Done wrong, duels shatter the suspension of disbelief. It’s already a big ask to imagine the world revolving around a card game.

You don’t want the tragedy where your readers yank the scrollbar past your duel, or worse, close your tab. Even the small pool of duelfic readers/writers like me will skip huge chunks of your chapters when the duels sag.

By implementing basic storytelling techniques tailored to dueling, you can hook your readers into following the play-by-play.

High Stakes

Consistent Rules

Sneaks Checked

“Balanced” Gameplay

Foreshadowing Victory

Engaging Description

Dramatic Tension

1. High Stakes

When you advertise your story as a duelfic, your first duel tells readers whether or not what you wrote is worth their time.

If your characters duel without a concrete reason to rip the opponent’s throat, readers already know the outcome:

You lose.

Why? The game is pointless. Who’s dropping whatever they’re doing just to read the equivalent of your characters sipping afternoon tea? If you’re introducing the setting and characters, why can’t you introduce exciting threats?

No reader expects your first duel to decide the fate of the world, but your characters still need to bet.

Characters wager life chips.

If your character loses, they suffer death or suicide-inducing despair.

Is it too much to start with life-and-death? No. Think of the life chip as the culmination of hopes and dreams.

As the story progresses, the stakes will rise, must rise. How? Others will entrust the main characters with their own life chips, and/or the life chips acquire additional meaning. Consider this loose analogy: at the end of a poker tournament, gamblers sit at the final table with stacks built from the chips of others.

Life chips mean different things to different characters. Let’s take the Duelist Kingdom arc.

Yugi’s life chip is the hope to save his grandfather (and later, his own soul)

Joey’s life chip is the hope to win the prize money to fund his sister’s medical operation

Kaiba’s life chip is the hope to save his little brother (and later, his own soul)

You don’t even need your final showdown to revolve around the fate of world; it just has to be one or more things that matter to your characters.

Also, make sure to communicate the stakes, or why the characters accept uneven bets.

If you have the chops, you can also play around with disguising the stakes. As in, your character thinks they’re wagering something small, but it’s actually their life chip. However, your readers still need a vague reason to believe that a defeat will devour the character.

Always make sure the characters stake one or more life chips!

2. Consistent Rules

If you watched the Duelist Kingdom arc and tried to understand the moves everyone made, your head exploded.

Ask yourself: will the clever scheme that your hero invented drive readers crazy?

If I write a magic system that requires a wand, this applies to all. I cannot become a genius and suddenly wave my hands to cast magic.

Demonstrate the rules early, preferably in the first duel, and keep them sacred.

If you must make an exception, establish it early. In that case, the exception becomes a well-defined branch of the rules that the readers can anticipate.

Can the players magically draw the card they need, whenever they want?

If you can establish the when and why, by all means. The readers proceed with the understanding that the players can reach into their deck like a glorified toolbox.

For example, Duel Links has a concept called “skills” that function like a player’s special ability. At the time I wrote this, Yami Yugi’s “Destiny Draw” skill lets the player take any card from their deck once per duel after losing 2000LP (and even if they stacked the top of the deck earlier!).

Card should also have the same, predictable effect. If the card prevents attacks, I doubt the text discusses physical properties or mentions holding things in the air. But you knew that, right?

The rules are the laws of the universe.

3. Sneaks Checked

I love duels. I also love getting what I want.

Why does getting what I want have to be through a duel?

If we talk, maybe we can come to an agreement. If I blackmail you, maybe you’ll give in to my demands. If I shoot you, I can loot your corpse. Give the readers a good reason as to why your characters would bother with the hassle of honest dueling and can’t wiggle from the consequences of losing.

Often, the duel takes place in the context of a tournament. Hopefully, the tournament officials are keeping a good eye on the players and cracking down on cheaters.

However, even that’s not a guarantee. What’s the key concept?

Power.

The competitors have equivalent capacity for coercion (usually violence) or have a neutral referee presiding over the match with the most capacity for coercion (shoutout to gambling manga Usogui).

Anyone who enters a game otherwise has lost before the first move.

In Yu-Gi-Oh, magical and sci-fi enforcement are common. The Shadow Realm can trap the loser in a desolate hell. In a digital world, the loser suffers deletion. Or just have good tournament officials.

Be vigilant when your duel doesn’t call upon these tropes.

Your amoral characters won’t mind blindsiding your other characters, and they won’t mind blindsiding you with a plot hole.

If you’re not careful, the readers will ask you why they played uncharacteristically fair.

4. “Balanced” Gameplay

Duels should be fair and fun…for the villain.

Ostensibly, everyone plays a balanced game, designed to give both sides a sporting chance. In reality, the villain tilts the field to their favor with one or more tricks up their sleeves. Why would your villain ever fight fair?

But that’s fine. We love rooting for the underdog and watching the villain get their comeuppance.

Overpowered ability to let the villain read minds? Deck full of unbalanced cards that makes the villain’s monsters invincible with no drawback? Creator who knows every strategy in the game? Readers will turn the page as they wonder how the hero will prevail.

The more obstacles you can throw in the hero’s way, the better.

Got custom cards? No problem, just follow a couple guidelines. After all, some duelists are more equal than others.

The hero’s deck is full of regular cards that have a cost to use. For every play they want to make, their cards insist that they give up their attack, discard to play, etc.

The villain’s deck is full of rare cards that power up their game for free. So long as you can justify why the card made it to print, the villain can play whatever they want.

For every step your hero takes, the villain gets two.

5. Foreshadowing Victory

How many times have you watched a duel where the protagonist comes up with this never-before-seen card that does exactly what the protagonist needs to clinch the win? In the final showdown, no less? It’s like the writers begged to be called amateurs and idiots.

No other genre tolerates such laziness.

However, readers don’t want an infodump of the characters’ decks. Show the cards in action. To cover the deck, you'll probably need multiple duels.

This also implies you have more freedom in how your character defeats their early opponents in the duelfic.

Does that previous statement contradict what I said about never-before-seen cards clinching the win as the mark of laziness? No, because here’s the rule:

Tolerance for the hero’s new cards decreases as the story progresses.

(Notice that I specify the hero’s new cards; your villains exist to make life harder by inventing unfair tricks.)

When you must include new cards for the hero late in the duelfic, at least find a way to make them first backfire.

Now, some writers have lots of knowledge about the card pool and metagame. Can they assume the readers a priori know the hero has access to any of the available cards in a given archetype?

I’d err on the side of caution and properly foreshadow the cards before they appear late in the duelfic. Not every reader is a walking card database. They have no reason to assume something exists unless you show the card.

Take the tolerance rule into consideration when planning your duels. If you know the awesome combo you want to use for the final turn in the duelfic climax, that’s your cue to scatter the cards into the earlier duels.

Plan the last duel first and your early duels last.

6. Description

Every reader wants a front-row seat to the action.

They’re paying you their time, so make it worth the admission: sleek combatants & budget-busting fights. Kaiba invented Solid Vision technology for a reason, so help readers envision your duels.

Who’s fighting? Describe the point-of-view’s impression of the monsters’ appearances. Red-Eyes Black Dragon should be self-explanatory.

What about a decorated monster like Time Wizard?

You could go into detail about how the red clock humanoid has yellow gears that form epaulets and purple, pointy boots and a green mustache made from clock hands and so on, but such a level of minutiae bogs pacing and invites skimming.

Readers just need to hear about a purple-caped, red clock humanoid with a wand to form an image. Their imaginations can handle the little details.

Paint appearances in broad strokes and one or two brief sentences.

How are the monsters fighting? Duel Monsters is a game where the target takes the aggressor’s attack like a champ. That doesn’t mean you can’t spice it up.

For example, my opponent’s dragon attacks my weaker knight with a fireball. My knight, interested in not dying, raises his shield. Unfortunately, he screams as the flames engulf him.

You wouldn’t just stand still with a straight face if someone armed with a knife lunged for your gut.

A fight scene is a string of action and reaction.

Most people also experience life in more senses than just sight.

A dragon’s fireball is a bright reddish-orange, hot, dries the air, smoky, and explodes with a boom on impact. I never tasted a fireball, and I hope I never do, but that’s still four senses: sight, touch, smell, and sound.

Include multiple sensory details.

Let’s spare a moment to talk about the heads-up display (HUD).

In Yu-Gi-Oh, cards have multiple stats and abilities. You’re free to mention whatever you deem necessary. No set formula exists. On one extreme, you can mention nothing to keep the narrative clean at the risk of confusing the readers. At the other extreme, infodumps about the monster’s abilities provide great detail but wreck the pacing. But there’s a cozy middle.

State only what you need from the card.

If your duels occurred before the era of Synchro, you don’t need details about levels. You can just display the basic stats to determine the stronger monster. If a deck has Pendulum monsters, just mention the scale numbers when they're played as scales. And so on.

You can also make an index of new cards at the end of a chapter.

BONUS TIP! Understanding show, don’t tell.

What is show, don’t tell? At its core, this concept refers to immersing your readers in the senses and feelings instead of exposition. Unfortunately, that definition is a bit vague to execute. After writing for a while, I had my lightbulb moment.

Don’t TELL the readers how to think or force-feed them a conclusion.

SHOW your readers the evidence.

Here’s a written example from Joey vs. Rex in Duelist Kingdom. See if you can spot what makes this prose telling instead of showing.

“Joey watched nervously as Two-Headed King Rex stomped Baby Dragon. He messed up his Baby Dragon-Time Wizard combo!”

You can see two failures: “nervously” and the second sentence.

Adverbs like “nervously” and other “-ly” friends get a bad rep because rookies tend to use them as telling crutches (especially beware adverbs after dialogue tags!). “Nervously” tells me how Joey reacts. But what does “nervously” look like? One character might bite their thumb. Another might fidget in their seat. The adverb in this context lacks nuance.

We also have the second sentence: “He messed up his Baby Dragon-Time Wizard combo!” When you’re explaining the “why” to something, you’re telling. It’s like talking down to your readers.

Contrast with the next example.

“A bead of sweat rolled off Joey’s face as Two-Headed King Rex stomped Baby Dragon. He stared at the Time Wizard in his hand.”

The first sentence shows me Joey’s physical reaction. I see him sweating, so I think he’s nervous.

We also see a second physical reaction: “He stared at the Time Wizard in his hand.” This comes on the heels of the first sentence, and I also have knowledge of when Joey used the Baby Dragon-Time Wizard combo in a prior duel. Combined, I think Joey is ruminating about a missed chance.

Readers are smart; they’ll catch your intention if you show the proof.

7. Dramatic Tension

I bet you know what it's like to draw a bad hand.

Imagine: The hero staggers into the arena, and the villain just needs to win one duel to take over the world. The villain draws a bunch of powerups with no monster, but the hero draws a one-turn-kill combo.

Anticlimactic. The readers throw that duelfic straight into the trash.

Don’t just write real-life duels. “It really happened” doesn’t mean it’s emotionally satisfying.

That’s why we have literary structure.

Success and setback pace together with progressive intensity to maximize dramatic tension and emotional payoff.

I’ll spare the nitty-gritty theory detail, but your duels should look like this on a basic level:

Part 1: Villain’s basic threats. Introduces the villain’s deck and style.

Part 2: Villain’s minor strategy. The villain’s first serious attempt to defeat the hero.

Part 3: Villain’s major strategy. The hero’s reversal! But the villain has worse in store.

Part 4: Hero’s imminent defeat. The hero must break through, or else will instantly lose!

Ideally, you’re also integrating the story itself into the duel; themes and duels synergize to create a stronger effect.

You may notice how the format resembles the three-act structure.

Act I is Part 1

Act II until the Act II midpoint is Part 2

Act II midpoint until Act III is Part 3

Act III is part 4.

I’ll use Yugi/Pharaoh vs. Pegasus in Duelist Kingdom as an example.

Part 1: Mind scan. Pegasus can read minds to counter combos.

Part 2: Toon World. Indestructible, cartoonified monsters attack.

Part 3: Shadow game. Toons destroyed! But playing a shadow game weakens Yugi.

Part 4: Yugi passes out. The Pharaoh must find a new way to stop Pegasus’s mind scan!

Figure out each part of the structure for your duels before writing the turn-by-turn plays.

By the way, modern real-life Yu-Gi-Oh duels don’t suit drama because the rules provide weak constraints to creating strong boards. A good modern deck usually establishes a scary turn one board and jumps straight into Part 4, whereas other card games like Magic: The Gathering and Hearthstone force the powerhouse cards to wait several turns until the player builds the mana to pay costs.

You can still write a good modern duel. Here’s a basic outline of Arc-V’s duel between Sora and Shay. Technically, “tragedy” is the structure of this duel, so I’ll make Shay the “hero” to flip it and keep matters simplified.

Part 1: Basic monsters. These clash before a monster appears from the Extra Deck.

Part 2: Frightfurs. They come one after another to crush Shay’s Raidraptors.

Part 3: Sora’s wrath. Rise Falcon survives! But Sora’s malevolent nature comes to light.

Part 4: Frightfur Chimera. Sora chomps candy and summons his biggest fusion horror!

If following the four parts is too difficult for you, that’s okay. They're just logical extensions of one basic concept. Keep the following in mind, and you’ll never go wrong:

The villain’s subsequent threats become increasingly overwhelming.

Conclusion

Much of writing a duel boils down to storytelling technique.

Let’s tl;dr the main takeaways.

High Stakes: Minimum ante is the life chip, worth a character’s hopes and dreams.

Consistent Rules: Everyone plays by the same logic.

Sneaks Checked: Characters can’t skip the duels with violence and coercion.

“Balanced” Gameplay: Villains enjoy advantages.

Foreshadowing Victory: Readers have a chance to predict the winning combo.

Engaging Description: Immerse senses and invite reactions.

Dramatic Tension: The villain makes progressively stronger threats.

As a duelfic reader/writer, I can gauge a writer's ability by measuring their duels with the fundamentals. Many fan writers struggle; even the canon writers struggle.

But writing a duelfic isn’t rocket science. With practice, minding the fundamentals will become second nature.

And don't forget to tag your story as a duelfic. It's a whole genre in fanfic, so sort it properly and help readers from the future find you.

May the heart of the cards be with you.

…

Want to see in-depth examples of my advice? I rewrote the Orichalcos arc to reimagine its untapped potential without the failures of the canon presentation. You can find it on FFnet and AO3.

#yugioh #ygo #yugioh fanfiction #yugioh fandom #fanfic writing #duelfic #writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #how to write #listicles

[peachyqueenly]

The Night of Witches

Rated: T

White Lily Cookie goes to The Night of Witches seeking answers... but this time, she is not alone. Will this affect how Fortuna writes the story?

Link to it on AO3 (if you prefer to read it there): https://archiveofourown.org/works/31830856

//Quick note before we start!!

Firstly, I'd like to thank my friends Lou and Cas (if either of you are reading this, mwah mwah thank you for your help besties!!) for helping me proofread!!! Yall are the best and your suggestions definitely helped bring this work to life <3.

Secondly, feel free not to click this link until you either a. reach the part where they appear or b. finish the entire story, but here is a link to the design for an OC (or alt design, if you will) that appears here. I find having a visual reference helps me, so: https://twitter.com/PeachyQueenly/status/1399134036359106567?s=20.

Finally, just in case, a fair warning that there is an injury (someone loses a finger) and a death in here. I don't think I wrote it too graphically, but pay heed to the T rating.

~

Such a solemn place...

White Lily had told him it was just an evening trip. Nothing specific, just that she had some business to attend to outside the soaring peaks and sweet valleys of the Vanilla Kingdom. She told him not to worry himself to the point of crumbling... and at first, he felt bad for not believing her mournful eyes.

But now? He was glad to have trusted his judgement rather than her words... for once.

The smell of burnt dough and... batter? Like the lingering smell of the occasional Cake Hound attack. That was the first thing that registered in Pure Vanilla’s senses as he got lost in his friend’s frantic mumblings. Then, he noticed how dark and dreary this place was compared to the sunshine that blessed their home. Even in the deep shrubbery that was White Lily’s personal residence, the faint traces of sunlight could be seen in the sprawling vegetation was in no doubt comforting to one such as her.

Here, however? Nothing but darkness and a foreboding sense that something was... off. As if this was a place no mere Cookie was meant to be.

“The Night of Witches...”

The Night of Witches? He recalled hearing about that back in the two’s school days. Though, no Cookie was able to learn much beyond its name. Something about it being too dangerous for them. Or those who devoted themselves to its research leaving one day— like Lily did after her crime, only to never return. Sentencing their knowledge to secrecy forevermore.

That would all change tonight.

Pure Vanilla had situated himself not far from the display of desserts Lily herself hid behind. That’s when he saw... them.

Even more towering than those grand displays were three figures; cloaked in dark robes and large hats not so different from what the practicing wizards he helped train wore. Yet, their hats lacked the crispy charm their waffle cone attire had. Those jagged edges bringing with it an air of uneasiness—unlike the soft breezes that passed through his kingdom’s canyons.

“...AND WOULD YOU LOOK AT THESE! THEY LOOK AMAZING!”

… huh?

“PHEW! I BAKED A TON OF COOKIES!”

Cookies? Were these the celestials that blessed them with life—

“HERE, TRY ONE! YOU’RE GONNA LOVE IT!”

The crack that reverberated through the air could only be matched by one from all those years ago— that glass-shattering sound which marked his last day as a student of the Blueberry Yogurt Academy. Pure Vanilla never imagined there would be a sound more frightening and life changing than that.

… and yet, that crunch of a Cookie—one of their own—being bitten into. It was enough to turn even one as pure and sweet as he into a trembling mess. One hand covering his mouth as to contain the emotions that threatened to spill out as tears and screams.

White Lily, meanwhile, had never been able to maintain her composure well. Even back when she committed her original sin, the immediate regret and despair she felt was evident in her cries. And her inability to escape the doomed school without the help of her dearest friend. So, it came as no surprise that this revelation sent her into a spiral of mutterings, shaking, and... resolve? No, that last one was surprising. Her insistence that Cookies she hardly knew must escape was a sign of just how much stronger their endeavors with the other three had made her.

All her courage was met with were eerie smiles and silence, however. Perhaps these Cookies had already met their fate... doomed to become the next generation of tragedies.

How cruel... how defeating, Vanilla thought. No one deserved this.

“I...”

“--AAAAAH!”

Pure Vanilla’s eyes shot open as he watched the one dearest to him back away in despair, only to then fall backwards. Off the table edge she was so precariously situated upon. From his view, he had little idea what awaited her... but he was not about to let her find out.

He was not about to let her be subjected to more suffering than she already had.

The beholder always on his person could only glare and roll its eye as Vanilla threw it aside and dashed forward. Jumping into action—literally. He pushed himself forward with the swiftness of the wind, and his hand soon met with her own bandaged one.

He pulled Lily back over the table... throwing himself into the maul of the beast in her stead.

Pure Vanilla could only smile as gravity took hold of him. Smile as he always did... even as the rising heat threatened to crumble him before his body even touched that sickly-looking dough below. Regret could come later. For now, relief came out as a few stray tears and a soft whisper, "Thank you, gods—”

…

White Lily only sat there, wide eyed and shaking as she tried to process what on Earthbread just happened. The soft plop of Vanilla’s poor body made her feel the five four stages of grief in just ten seconds. Denial: there was no way this was happening. Anger: why did this have to happen; why did they have to continue to suffer? Bargaining: please, let the hands of time turn back and reverse this. Depression: this was all her fault.

Acceptance was the logical next step, but it was far too early for such a thing.

Her mouth opened and closed as wordless breaths came from trembling lips. Until, finally, she tried uttering one thing, “Vanilla—”

“WHOSE COOKIE IS THAT?”

Lily quickly covered her mouth, both to stifle her frightened voice and hold back the bile she felt bubbling up. Quickly, she took cover behind a stray plate covered in desserts. Such a sight didn’t do much for the sick feeling in her gut, but at least it offered her cover from the stares of those witches and ever-smiling Cookies.

“LOOK, IT FELL INTO THE ULTIMATE DOUGH!”

Fell? Into the Ultimate Dough? She had little to no idea what this Ultimate Dough was, or what it meant for Pure Vanilla. However, that was perhaps more terrifying than at least knowing her friend’s fate.

“”T’IS ALRIGHT! LET’S JUST BAKE IT AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!”

… Huh?

“YEAH, LET’S BAKE IT!”

No... please—

“LET’S SEE WHAT FORTUNA HAS IN STORE!”

Thick streams of syrup ran down White Lily’s face. She wanted to scream for this all to cease so badly, and she probably would have if she could. This couldn’t be happening. This endless night... their endless suffering had to end eventually, right? From their mad dash into the night following the destruction she caused, to this night they were taught was beyond sacred...

Her endless mistakes couldn’t continue to doom them both, right!?

She could only sit and watch as those cruel hands of theirs began to knead the dough. How each tool so effortlessly and callously did its job: the flattening done by the rolling pin... the cutting of the dough with a tool she remembered gliding her hand across all those years ago. How cold and hollow such metal had been...

Was Pure Vanilla feeling all of this? All the, no doubt, painful experiences such cruel gods wrought?

White Lily became consumed by thoughts such as these. It was all so gut-wrenching to watch, and yet she couldn’t pull her gaze away. It was all so disturbingly mesmerizing.

Soon, many bodies laid across baking sheets normally used as parchment by Cookies. Could one of them be the friend she’d go to hell and back to save? She almost hoped none of them were. As the unfortunate fate of these Cookies was not lost on her.

How could it be? Such a loud crunch left a stain no amount of scrubbing and scratching could rub off.

All those poor, unfortunate souls were then moved over to the oven almost every Cookie escaped from. Perhaps what were once thought as gods had finally grew tired of their endless torture and torment... for now, at least. Soon, they’d move from simply trying their handiwork to...

No, Lily couldn’t bear to remember what The Night of Witches meant for the Cookies who fell victim to it. To witness to it all again.

She needed to get out of here. Fast.

Trembling, White Lily began forcing her old, tired limbs to move. Her staff acting as a cane to support the weight of both her body, which felt on the verge of crumbling, and her new sins. Someone needed to get out of here. Someone needed to tell this story.

Pure Vanilla’s sacrifice couldn’t be for nothing.

… That was when a wave of doom washed over her. This feeling... this... scent. She knew it well. The smell of molasses and pomegranates: Black Magic unique to the priestesshood they visited as young wizards. How... could the witches have gotten a hold of such magic?

And, more importantly, why did magic familiar to her fill Lily with such fear?

She was given no time to theorize. Rather than the sound of breaking glass or crunching of their fragile bodies, the clanking sound of metal vibrated throughout the room. Catching the attention of anyone conscious to it: including the witches and White Lily. The oven doors... they were slammed wide open through no fault of the ones using them. Whatever the answer was to her previous inquires, it was coming. Soon. She could feel it.

A whisper fell from her lips, “What—”

“Ha... HA.... AH HA HA HA HA HA!”

If her magenta irises could widen any more, they did so as that howl echoed around her. A familiar yet twisted laugh. One that was far too sickeningly sweet to mean good fortune.

It can’t be—

“Haaa... who could have known?” relief and a newfound truth came from the reborn Cookie’s lips. A truth as clear as the finest sugar crystals. “Who could have known it was so simple!! All the world’s problems... they all have one simple answer!!”

Another clang of metal reverberated as it slammed the fork-turned-staff against the oven. The loud noise awakening the thing on its aforementioned staff—revealing a burning cyan iris. Such an intense stare could serve as a declaration of its own, but the staff’s commander still offered its own words to those there to bear witness, “Witches... Cookies... truly, none of them have the right, nor should be given the privilege, to define our fate.”

This can’t be real.

“Reborn in a new body... and with a new name. Yes, you lot may call me Black Molasses Cookie—the one true god of this world.”

Pure Vanilla?, White Lily thought: dumbfounded and speechless.

The Witches, meanwhile, gave Black Molasses not a second of respite. Or rather, one Witch didn’t. That one fool amongst them lunged forward in an attempt to grab what was meant to be a tasty treat to them. No doubt to crush and then... eat him. He was just a Cookie, after all. What harm could he truly cause?

“Ha... foolish—”

Two eyes opened and glared at those who should terrify all Cookies: one a familiar cyan to the trembling wallflower, and the other a red that burned a hole straight through her very soul. “As I just said...” he declared “Only I get to define our fates!!”

Seeming to know what its master wanted, a soft glow emanated from the staff before a beam was fired straight towards the Witch. That which wiped one of her elongated fingers clean off. Not a drop spilled from the cauterized wound, but the smell of burning... something made Lily feel even sicker than she already did.

Meanwhile, Black Molasses laughed as his first victim wailed in agony, “HA HA!! That’s what—” his incoming tirade was interrupted when those wails and screams of the Witches turned into a mad dash, “Awww, leaving so soon? Don’t forget—you left your cakes in the oven!!”

Everything happened so fast. Cake beasts arose at the slam of his staff— awakened by its call. Their feral growls and gnawing were not directed at Cookiekind this time, however. Instead, they chased after the fleeing Witches. Bearing their fangs until they found something to sink their fangs into.

White Lily could only stare in horror at what it was.

Pained and agonized screams left the Witch who, just moments ago, had the misfortunate of losing a finger. If only all she lost tonight was that finger. Now, the beasts’ crunching fangs tore at what was left of her withering body and corrupted soul. Until not a single wail was left. And all that filled the air was a metallic scent and the howling of beasts all too pleased with their work.

“Remember this night well, everyone!!! As, tonight, I have shown the world why I am to be the one who divines and rules above all!!”

The Cakes howled louder at such a declaration.

No. No, this couldn’t be... this wasn’t her dearest friend—

“Waah...”

Finally, a much more pleasant sound registered in White Lily’s senses. A child’s voice. How had she not noticed someone so young was but a few steps away from her. Were they cowering there the entire time? Alone? Regardless, she wouldn’t let them be alone for any longer. “Young one, Do you... we need to...” A surprised gasp came as, upon closer inspection, she noticed, “Your arm—!!”

“My, my~ and what do we have here?”

There was no time for her to push the issue. Quickly, White Lily assumed a defensive position in front of the young Cookie. Or... as defensive of a pose she could assume.

Her gaze betrayed her. For the agony and fear behind her eyes served to show just how despaired she truly was. Just how much she looked at Black Molasses and knew one thing: this was all her fault. Whatever happened next could’ve been prevented if it weren’t for her twisted, curious mind. White Lily had no right to convince him otherwise, and yet she persisted, “Vanilla, I—”

“Ah, you still see that old fool in me, do you now?” not a single ounce of respect was given to what Black Molasses considered a mere fragment of his past, “Tell me, dearest Lillia.” he jeered, “You saw the same thing we all saw. You, me, and even that child... yet you look on at my divine judgement in fear. Why?”

“I...”

He sighed. “Perhaps you consider my methods too cruel? Too beneath Cookies meant to help others?” with every word used to poke at her resolve, he took a step closer to both Lily and the child she kept guard over—blue flames rising and dancing from the back of his gown, “And what of you, young one? What do you think of this night Cookies are told is blessed and holy?”

“Leave them out of--”

“Black... Molasses Cookie...?”

“There, there. I hear you, child.” with a flick of his staff, White Lily was hoisted into the air and thrown to the side like a toy who had long outlived its value. A helpless yelp punctuated the thud that followed. Black Molasses didn’t seem to mind, though. Instead, his focus shifted towards the kid, “You who lost your arm— no doubt to those infernal Witches— understands the need for the world to be rebuilt, yes?”

The child nodded, “Hm... I guess... yes.”

“Then follow me.” A gentle smile accompanied his invitation. “I can not only provide that which you need, but I can also show you a better world. One built in my image... I need but your name and devotion.”

“... Red... Velvet Cookie.” the young one responded. The simple act of sharing his name serving as an allegiance to this new Cookie’s vision.

“I see, Red Velvet...” Black Molasses mused as his hand met with the velvet-soft locks of Red Velvet’s hair. Then, his attention turned back towards Lily, “And as for you~”

The previous impact had left White Lily rather shaken and dazed, on the border of consciousness and unconsciousness. Really, it was surprising she wasn’t out like a light by now. What with the exhaustion that came with tonight’s events and the thud she had experienced earlier.

“Still awake, are we?” a crooked smile, and then Black Molasses held her chin in his hand. Directing what little of an attention span she had left towards him. Only him, “Consider my mercy, in spite of your waywardness, a blessing.” he leaned in close, crooning into her ear “I have great plans regarding you. For now, have sweet dreams... then, warn the world of my name.”

Black Molasses then let Lily’s head drop back down before turning his back to her. Leading Red Velvet away from his disciple with some remaining doubts and back towards the oven. They had a great deal of baking to do, after all. Plenty of baking... especially of one particular soul who deserved the ultimate payback.

“... not that any such warning will stop me, of course.”

And with that, White Lily slipped into unconsciousness. That sickeningly sweet laughter lingering in the air as she hoped this was all just one bad dream...

~

//Hello!! Peach (Katie) here!!!! I'd like to thank you for reading my work-- it means a lot to me that anyone would be willing to check out my writing. Trying to figure out both White Lily's internal conflicts, and how Black Molasses would differ from Dark Enchantress, was a lot of fun. I definitely want to revisit this AU both in writing and drawing over time!!

If you would be interested in anything else I do (as I'm primarily an illustrator), check me out on Twitter @peachyqueenly, A03 @Peach_KT, and instagram @peach_kt. Thank you so much again, and I look forward to bringing everyone my next creation.

Quick credit to Cookie Run Kingdom for some of the lines-- as some were remained unchanged or slightly edited to fit the scene.

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #white lily cookie #pure vanilla cookie #cookie run oc #black molasses cookie #red velvet cookie

[kkeidawrites]

Lost Light

Whew, let me tell y'all writing this one shot was killing me...having to re-watch and relive the experience from this made me have a broken heart again like all those years ago. But, here we are.

Loki Laufeyson x black!reader

Disclaimer: The story you are about to read is full of spoilers from the Avengers: Infinity War movie, I do not own any of the quotes or the gifs that are displayed on this fanfic, that all belongs to Disney, Marvel Studios which is a subsidiary of Walt Disney Studios and its proper companies and I would suggest you not read this if you have not seen the movie yet. This story is both fictional and all the characters that are mentioned are all my personal, made up ocs that I wanted to share. So, just you know, prepare yourselves. Thank you.

The stench.

The falling ash.

The haunting distress call, pleading for any help that was close by, didn't reach a willing ear.

Pieces of the ship, that once held all of the surviving members of Asgard, were scattered astray and skewed in space.

Asgardians young and old littered the remaining floating, functioning part of the ship, dead and being stabbed again by the ones who created the carnage to ensure they stayed dead.

Mawu watched helplessly as Thor laid on the bay of the ship, defeated and critically wounded, his breathing was becoming labored but the Moon Goddess couldn't do anything as she was restrained by the large behemoth that had its foot on her back.

They had fought valiantly and fearlessly, but in the end it didn't matter, Thanos had took them down without breaking a sweat. His lackeys went to work to kill the rest of the innocent Asgardians, claiming he was doing them a favor.

"Your people are nothing now...you have no world to occupy." he had said after he broke our spirits. He spoke to us like we were his captured kill from a glorious hunt.

"Your people are powerless, tired, it would be best to end your suffering."

"I know what it's like to lose," the titan turns his back to stare at Loki who shifted his gaze from his wife back to Thanos. The last thing he needed was the titan to know that he was a married man and Loki refused to allow anymore harm come to her.

He had done so in the past and he vowed to protect her since then. Mawu watched powerless as the feeling of the creature's foot pressed a bit more on her back, making Mawu grunt in pain.

"Feels so desperately that you are right, yet to fail none the less."

Thanos approaches Thor and picks him up by the neck dragging him over to Loki's stiff form.

"Turns the legs to jelly. I ask you to what end? Dread it, run from it. Destiny arrives all the same. Now it's here, should I say 'I am..'"

Thor makes a clipped comment and Loki quickly gazes at his brother fearfully then back to the menacing titan's glare.

"The Tesseract or your brother's head." His large fist began to squeeze the new king's head.

"I assume you have a preference?" Thanos asked smug.

"Oh, I do. Kill away." Loki's statement lifts the titan's chin smugly and Mawu's jaw drops in disbelief; the large brute then takes the power infinity stone and presses it against the side of Thor's head. Thor screams from the immense pain that was coming from the stone and Mawu squirmed under the beast's foot.

"Stop it! Leave him alone!" Mawu yells as she struggled. More pressure was applied to her back and the Goddess gasps in pain going limp, and had no choice but to listen to the agonizing screams of the king of Asgard. Tears were running down her cheeks, as a sob left her lips.

After all they had been through, Loki would pull something like this. Mawu believed that her husband had changed for the better and here he was allowing this monster to kill his own brother. She struggled to turn her head and out of the corner of her eye she watched her husband. He was looking conflicted to what was happening. Thor let out another excruciating cry of pain and Loki balled his fists at his sides.

"Alright, stop!" Loki yells.

The power stone was removed from his brother's head and Thor panted helplessly at Thano's side. Loki sighs in relief.

"We don't have the Tesseract. It was destroyed on Asgard." Thor wheezes.

Low and behold, Loki materializes the Tesseract in his right hand, raised to Thano's eye and the titan gives a chilling grin.

"You..you really are the worst brother." Thor says and Loki comes closer to Thanos as if to hand over the sacred item to him.

"I assure you brother , the sun will shine on us again." Loki tells him and that makes Thanos chuckle.

"Your optimism is misplaced Asgardian."

"Well for one thing, I'm not Asgardian. And for another, we have a Hulk." Just as he said that, the green gamma fused hero came barreling through and punches Thanos giving Loki enough time to move Thor out of harm's way.

"Let him have his fun." Ebony Maw tells Black Dwarf who moved to help their master.

Mawu was shocked at the quick turn of events and the pressure on her back was lifted long enough for her to roll out from under Black Dwarf and use her cosmic beam emission to blast him away from her. Sending another beam at Corvus Glaive, Mawu floated over to Thanos to help Hulk.

This brought Proxima Midnight attention to Mawu's sudden escape and she steps in Mawu's way to halt her assault. Spins her three-pronged spear to ready her stance. Mawu readies herself and her hands and eyes begin to glow a bright blue color.

"You won't leave here alive." she taunts with a smirk.

"We will see, bitch." Mawu sends beams her way and Proxima dodges them, moving close to unleash swings from her spear. Mawu dodges them and blocks the ones that reached her face.

Hulk began with having the upperhand on Thanos but, the titan quickly unbalanced him and took his down within seconds, hauling his large body over his head then slamming it on the ground of the ship's bay. Hulk lays there defeated and not moving.

Thor comes up behind Thanos and hits him with a lead pipe that bounces off his armor and the titan turns around and pushes him away. Ebony Maw takes this time to use his psychokinesis and trap Thor's body with the iron from the ship.

Mawu manages to scratch Proxima's right cheek and the woman grunts in pain touching her cheek to feel the blue blood running down to her lip. She gives a battlecry and sweeps her spear under Mawu's feet but she was quicker to jump back and uses her right leg to come down and snaps the spear in half.

Proxima uses one end of her spear to throw at the Moon Goddess and Mawu dodges it.

Elbowing her in the face, Mawu is quick to get onto her hands and spin her straightened feet in a kick combo on her face. Proxima dodges the first spin but was hit by the second one, along with an uppercut Mawu sent once she returned to her feet.

.As she stumbles back from the attack, Mawu grabs Proxima by the neck and throws her down into the ground, raising her leg to bring it down on her head as a final blow when she was suddenly grabbed by the back of her neck and pulled away from her opponent. Black Dwarf had grabbed her threw her but, Mawu was stopped by an invisible force.

The Goddess squirmed from the invisible force holding her and turned her head to see Ebony Maw holding her against her will.

She cursed him in her native tongue as she was left floating at his side.

However, the thing Mawu saw was Heimdall as he prayed softly to his ancestors and her eyes widened at what he was doing.

"Forefathers, let the dark magic flow through me one last...time." his soft prayer was heard and the Bifrost was opened and immediately took Hulk away. Thanos approaches Heimdall and grabs Corvus Glaive's double-sided polearm as he looks down at the struggling man.

"That was a mistake." Thanos tells the watchman of the gods and stabs the polearm through his heart. Heimdall stares defiantly at Thanos until his last breath of life left his body and he fell limp against the piece of metal he was propped up against. Thor cries in anguish as he watched his friend die and glares hatefully at the titan.

"You going to die for that." Thor swears to Thanos then his lips are bound when Ebony Maw seals his lips with metal.

Ebony Maw then presents the Tesseract to Thanos, as he kneels before the titan and the purple brute removes his armor, and plucks the cube from his lackey's hand. He crushes it and inside his hand sits the space stone. He places the stone on his gauntlet and hums in pleasure of the new power flowing through him.

Mawu suddenly feels weak and lethargic, her head begins to pound severely. You see, when the space stone is disrupted, it effects those who helped create the universe, Mawu is beginning to lose her powers because, the space stone is what keeps the balance of all the nine realms in harmony. With a dark heart like Thanos, the space stone could easily kill the creator gods of the universe.

"There are two more stones on Earth," Thanos marvels at the stones on his gauntlet, he then turns his attention to his 'children'.

"Find them my children, and bring them to me on Titan." he orders and his 'children' kneel down in front of him in respect.

"Father we will not fail you." Proxima Midnight says. Mawu glares at the woman.

"Karachi ẹnu kẹtẹkẹtẹ bishi (Stupid kissing ass bitch)." Mawu cursed and Proxima gives her a menacing glare as if she understood what the Goddess said.

"If I might interject," Loki makes his appearance and slowly moves closer to Thanos.

"If you are going to Earth, you might want a guide. I do have experience in that arena." he gives a dry chuckle.

"If you call failure experience.

"I consider experience, experience."

"Oh mighty Thanos," he grew closer now as he sneakily summoned a knife in his left hand.

"I, Loki, prince of Asgard...Odin's son, the rightful king of the Jotunheim, God of Mischief...do hereby pledge to you..." he gives his wife a look. Just one look to show that he loved her and Mawu's eyes widened. Mawu watched in horror as her husband approached the titan and began shaking her head.

"...my undying infidelity." Loki moves to strike Thanos through the throat but, the space stone possesses his arm to stop him. Loki pants in disbelief and Mawu struggles in her metal bindings, trying desperately to get out to help her husband.

"Loki! Get out of there! Loki!" she screams to her lover, whom even if he wanted to, could not move.

"Undying? You should use your words more carefully." Thanos scolds Loki and pushes back his arm, making the God of Mischief grunt in pain as he was quickly disarmed and Thanos gripped him by the throat. Mawu struggled harder as the titan raised her lover higher to get a better look at him. Loki's choking gargles alerted both her and Thor.

"Let him go you alainiye lori (son of a bitch)! Loki!" Mawu grunts as her metal prison squeezed around her body. She watched pitifully as her husband squirmed in Thano's squeezing grip and her tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Don't...Do not do this! Please don't do this!" she cries as the sound of Loki's bones began rattling.

As he struggled, Loki had the gal to look in Thanos in the eyes as he whimpered out one last statement. "You...will never be...a god." Loki then shifts his wavering gaze to his wife and gave her a painful smile then mouthing his love to her before the crack of his neck resounded in the tense atmosphere.

"Noooooooooooo!" Mawu yells.

Thor's muffled cry of anguish is a haunting one as Thanos brings his dead brother's body over to his bound form, dropping him at his feet.

"No resurrections this time." Thanos taunts. The titan then raises his gauntlet and activates the power stone, all around them what's left of the Statesmen began to explode and Thanos uses the space stone to open a portal and the Black Order leave the blowing up ship.

The metal around Thor disintegrated and he quickly crawled over to Loki's body. He looked over his brother's face and sobs left his lips as he hugged him to his chest.

"Loki..." he whimpers solmenly.

Mawu however, had another agenda, once she was released from the metal prison her eyes had coated over to a dark blue color and her hands glowed a illuminated white color. Her adrenaline was high as hell and so was her anger which gave her more of a boost as she flew up from the Statesmen and aimed her glowing hands at Thanos' ship.

"O gba ọkọ mi, ẹbi mi, lẹhinna o ro pe o kan le sá? Iwọ yoo ku loni, aderubaniyan(You take my husband, my family, and then you think you can just run away? You will die today, monster)! " Mawu beams up her hands and begins throwing concentrated cosmic energy balls at the ship.

Two of the engines on the ship went up in flames, and Mawu flew closer to punch a side of the ship but, her assault was cut short when a canon blasted her away. This gave the ship enough time to portal out of there.

Mawu regained her balance mid-flight and her brows furrowed in anger as she watched the ship disappear through the portal. Her tears returned and her adrenaline wore off, as the Statesmen blew up in a purple flash behind her. Mawu welcomed the force of the blast as her eyes returned to its original brown color.

She simply floated in outer space as the debris of both the ship and deceased Asgardians coasted past her. Mawu's eyes caught Loki's departed form and moved closer to him, grabbing his cold hand and pulling him to her chest. Mawu cried in his chest as she wrapped his arms around her body, wanting to once again feel his loving embrace.

The moon has a dark side and it has a bright side but, with how her emotions played out, the moon has been cased in a dark grey hue that stirs the gravity on the Earth.

Mawu didn't care about any of that right now...her husband was dead, her heart has been torn in two, and there was nothing she could do to change it. Mawu's eyes filmed over a grey color and she fell limply against her deceased husband's chest as her body shut down into a vegetative state.

The light was lost from the moon that day and the end of the universe was closer.

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I hope you all had a good cry like I did when I wrote this story. This had been sitting in my brain for weeks, yall. WEEKS. And I finally sat my ass down and wrote it. So, enjoy, like, comment and reblog. Also make sure to head over to my inbox for any requests. Peace y'all.

#black reader #black oc #mawu oc #loki x black!reader #loki laufeyson #fanfiction #black fanfiction #my writing #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson x black!reader #marvel #marvel x oc