#and foolish is love for Item. love for cloud. love for being a silly

[mishapen-dear]

thinking about the elections tonight... bad, cellbit, baghera, and forever are four candidates who are devoted to the island- more specifically, to the residents of the island. They care for the eggs, and they care for each other, and the way they exhibit that care through their primary presidential strategies is fucking fascinating.

Bad is who I watch the most, so I know him best. He's a classic mother hen. He doesn't like to take risks with the eggs, and he likes to prepare. If there's any sort of variable that could hurt an egg then he wants to control it. They have a stable relationship with the federation right now- it's not great, but they know the parameters. Don't trust cucurucho. don't follow cucurucho. send the eggs to NINHO every time there's a threat. the time of day changing means you need to run. Other than that they're p okay and roughly safe. But adding a president could potentially change everything. What if the president makes a rule that makes it easier to kill the eggs? And what about the way a president could cause tensions between the players to rise even higher? The dynamics of the island could change drastically. It's safer to neutralize that threat before it ever becomes a threat. It's easier to stop a war before it can start.

Baghera's primary concern is the way the election is designed to pit the residents against each other. All of them know that the Federation is a threat and she, like Bad, is focused on not letting them hurt more people. But, unlike Bad, she's less resistant to change. If the power is spread to multiple players rather than just one, it will be harder for the Federation to corrupt any one of them. Each time before the Federation has gotten to someone it's done so by isolating them. Felps, Cellbit, Jaiden- they've all spent a lot of alone time with Cucurucho. A council isn't just to consolidate the ideals of the island; a council would protect the players themselves. Sure, there might be disagreements and arguments, but they've had those before (and they're having them now!) and there's no reason to think they wouldn't be able to get through them again.

I hit a bit of a wall with Forever and Cellbit's pov here. Everything I know about their plans are from the debates and paraphrased discussions that have been translated here on tumblr, I'm going to talk less about their explicit plan and more about what the result will entail- a single president who takes responsibility for the island. It seems to me like they've recognized the presidential seat as the powerful opportunity that it is, and they want to take advantage of it. Here's some extra personal speculation but, adding rules, adding or removing mods, proposing public works, enforcing laws- those are just the abilities that are listed. Those are incredible opportunities to make the Federation take action, which is more than they've had before. We've seen before that the Federation isn't perfect; the Federation makes mistakes.

By working with the Federation, by making them take action (in a semi-controlled, semi-predictable way) you open them up to more opportunities for them to fuck up (while benefiting you). And, maybe, one of those fuck ups will be the key to taking them down. Maybe they could reopen ender chests. Maybe they could open the nether. Maybe they could learn why the Federation is holding an election in the first place. It's possible to do all these things with Baghera's plan, sure, but that's not a guarantee and, if someone like Bad is on the council, there's absolutely no way to be sure it would get done. And, if there's a council, then that opens up everyone on the council to the Federation's wiles. If there's just one president, then that's where the Federation's focus will be. By using a single person to build a relationship with the Federation, they only risk that single person. By electing ministers instead of a council, they can ensure that the island residents' needs are being heard while placing the federation's focus on that one person. A point can be made that they've done that before- with varying results. like kidnapping. selling your soul. etc. But! overall, I think they've gained more than they've lost by singling out one person. Because of them, we know that Cucurucho can't be trusted. We know that the Federation has a series of tunnels underneath the island. We know that the Federation not only has some sort of cryo technology, but had some unknown reason to use it. We know that there was another person working with Cellbit to take care of Felps (theorized to be ElQuackity), so we know there's at least one more Fed that isn't Cucurucho + blank-faced workers. There's been risk, but there's absolutely been rewards. This is just a very long meandering way to say that their plan to sacrifice Forever to the presidential seat reminds me very much of Cellbit's plan to sacrifice himself to the federation. They're saving their friends by potentially damning themselves and I, for one, think that is cool as hell.

they all care about each other so much. bad's plan means taking on no more risk. baghera's plan means spreading that risk evenly to stand strong together. and cellbit and forever's plan means taking the risk onto themselves so they can reap the rewards for others. am i reading too much into things? no this is tumblr and this smp is about LOVE and i really genuinely think that their election plans are a fantastic example of just how much they love each other

#qsmp elections #qsmp #qsmp analysis #again i haven't been following cellbit and forever's exact plan too closely but i've gotten the sense that their pushing of public works is #just to get people to vote for them and the true reason they want forever to be president is to infiltrate the federation #if that's not it tho feel free to let me know i'd love to know these cubitos reasonings #but with my interpretation i like the silly little extra headcanon of mr cell “sold his soul to the cops” bit #subconsciously sacrificing forever to the feds and pushing him into corruption #which ALSO makes the forever-killing-cellbit-to-kick-him-out-of-the-running plan Even More Tasty #'what if i let you kill me. what if destroying me destroyed yourself. what if i have already destroyed you on purpose and you forgave me #now what if i dont mean it when i do it again' #if anyone wants to examine the other candidates (or these same ones) and figure out how their election strategy is an example of their love #please do #i don't know enoguh about the others #but i know that gegg is love-turned-grief burn-the-world-down #and foolish is love for Item. love for cloud. love for being a silly #i don't know etoiles' plan for if he gets elected but i know he also deeply loves the island and the residents #him and his security <3 and the care packages for new players <3 and the way he Craves Violence but absolutely refuses to hurt anyone who #doesn't deserve it. most guy of all time #personally i want foolish to win because i think it would be really fun #but i think that any of them (even the candidates i don't know) would be a Fantastic president #we're going to get some good roleplay any way it goes so ill be happy :3 #the only mechanic thing i want is for them to open the nether but that feels like a given for anyone so im not worried about it tbh #ty for coming to my tedtalk #hello if you're reading this tag. i see youre just as un-normal about these characters as i am. or you just like to read. respect either wa

[iceprincessviviane]

Eyes in the darkness

Paring: Yandere!C!Technoblade x BookwormEnchanter!Female!Reader

Type: Romantic (Technoblade is yandere). Trilogy - part one. Next part.

Warnings: swearing, possessivness, yandere, angst, injury, sugestive content, threats, blood, silly jokes created by me.

Summary: Technoblade was watching Y/N for some time, trying to stay in the shadows. Unfortunately voices and thoughts won against the logic and he want her now on his side forever.

Author's note: Inspiration from a lot of things, but especially: Hades and Persephone, Beauty and the Beast. This used to be oneshot, but I changed my mind, ut will be trilogy. English isn't my first language, so sorry for any mistakes.

Words in red colour are Technoblade's voices.

Words in blue colour are Y/N thoughts.

Y/N didn’t know when was the last time she ran for her life. Probably during one of the pillagers attack on the village or maybe in the Nether. But none of them was that type. Now she was being chased by something way much more dangerous than besties. At the moment, she’s being followed by the Blood God himself. Despite the aching and pain of her muscles and her throat feeling dry from gasping for air, Y/N was still asking herself how did on earth this happen?

~*~

Y/N always loved books and reading, she came to Smp two weeks after Foolish arrival. Actually her friendship with him leaded her here. They exchanged the letters and she was interested in staying somewhere for a while. After some time, she decided to come. Her divine friend already started to build his summer home and had few buildings done. She stayed there for few couple of days, they decided to build something for herself. She already have met most of Smp members including Dream Team, Bench Trio and rest, but owning home, place for stay was good idea. Sometimes Y/N liked to be alone. Eret allowed her to build something behind his castle, it was always nice to have someone close.

It took time before she ended house, it was cozy one with big field in front, farms, cellars and most important - library with enchanting place. It was huge, biggest part of the house with plenty of regals and reading spots. Y/N loved to spend there time and collectin more books or texts. Foolish had a lot of ancient scrolls or manuscripts and liked to share them with her. They could spend hours discussing about their favourite ones.

Books caused that Y/N met Phil, because he was the second person on the Smp, which had great collection from centauries. Shark god took her at trip to Tundra. Y/N was excited to meet such person and nervous too. Happily, everything went all right, Technoblade wasn't that time in home, so they had chilling conversation. Winged man was very curious about her skills and enchants. Of course during his travells and lifespan he met enchanters, but didn't paid much attention to them. Now, he could meet one in chill ocassion. Their three had a lot of talking, giggling and being wholesome. Phil promised to borrow more interesting books and Y/N said, that she can give some enchantments.

When Technoblade came back he immediately felt, that Foolish was there with... someone else... someone new. It smelled like pine and old paper, very nice. Phil told him about visitors and Y/N, he ignored it a little bit, but voices... voices liked this smell a lot.

'So strange.' 'Which woman can smell like that?' 'Where is she living?'

}*{

Y/N was peaceful person with no intention to harm anybody, staying in her place. She stayed in positive relations with almost everyone, providing needed enchantments and helping caused, that a lot of members were friendly to her. Y/N liked to hanging out with Bench Trio, although they were sometimes so chaotic. Usually she went mining with Ranboo, when it was needed, cutting trees with Tommy for his buildings and staying in Snowchester with Tubbo. That is why she came with almost everyone, when Tommy and Tubbo were in Dream bunkier fighting with him. Discs were just items, but... Dream's obsession, it was dangerous and teenagers were her friends. After that a lot of things changed. Putting him into Pandora's Vault was meant to protect them, but she was getting cold shivers each time she looked at black walls of prison. Knowing that everyone could be locked there...

After Egg's influence grew stronger she tried to find some infromations about it and how could ghe possible defeat it, but that took time. Foolish and Phil were so helpful handing their ancient texts, to make research. Suddenly with crimson vines everywhere, Smp became less safer, at least she felt it that way. More members were busy with their business and stuff, they finally could do them, when Dream was locked. For example Foolish agreed to build big mansion for Tubbo and Ranboo, which got platonical marriage and Tommy started his hotel. Meeting Michael was so wholesome and funny, little zombie piglin started to like her and at each visit she read him fairy tales and stories.

Y/N decided to not think about bad sides of Smp, just being busy and tried to help, if someone needed it. Before Doomsday wandering around could be dangerous, especially for La'Manburg citizens, because Dream and Technoblade were unpleasant for them. Now she enjoyed visiting almost everyone everywhere. After a few visits, she could tell that something was wrong, Y/N couldn't tell what, but it was almost like being watched, blaming Egg and vines was her answer for that, but actually why? Why did it do that? She would never joined their side. Never ever. Sometimes she spotted the Phil's corws, but that wasn't a s surprise, birds were telling him a lot of informations around the Smp. Easy way to know almost everything.

}*{

Y/N was heading to her house, stepping at Prime Path. In opposite direction she spotted Quackity, slowly walking by from prison direction, which was surprise. She smiled softly to him and he smiled back.

"What's up?" Big Q asked when got closer to her.

"It's good I am coming back home, need to eat and get some nap, and you?"

"I... ended some buisness." His face stiffened and his look became more serious.

Y/N nodded little unsure about his changed emotions. Suddenly she spotted that his sleeve is covered in fresh blood.

"Are you hurt?" She asked worried.

Quckity looked at his shirt as surprised as she and frowned, he checked axe which hanged down from his belt.

"I guess so then, but I don't know where did that come from."

"Let me take care of this." Y/N suggested with warm smile. "My home is closer than Las Nevadas."

After a few moments he nodded in agreement. They together headed to her place. Weather started to become stormy, dark cloud covered the sun, threating to start raining.

Then went inside, but when she was closing door, feeling of being watched hit her with dubled strength. House was in the spine forest, but fenced and had a gate. In filed were some farms, trees and small garden, but everything seemed to look normal. Big Q sat on the couch in living room and Y/N brought bandages, water in bowl and even healing potion. He rose sleeve, wound wasn't long, but deep, something cut his arm, probably weapon.

"It doesn't look good, but you will be okay." She said after looking at cut.

"Good." He sighed with relief.

"What did make it? Do you have an idea?"

Big Q looked dead in her eyes and remained silence. Of course he knew what, but he didn't even noticed the wound before leaving the prison. Well, someone will pay for this.

"Maybe working at Las Nevadas, you know... I am still building there." He spoke after a while.

"Oh... ye you have right, but be careful next time." Y/N suggested and started to work on cut carefuly. Starting on cleaning, then gently bandaged it.

"Thank you." Big Q said after seeing the results.

"No problem, just don't walk around with untreated wound." Y/N giggled softly.

He stood up and moved his eyes on windows. Black clouds didn't go away, even became worse.

"I will go now, weather is getting worse, I want to be in home before storm." Big Q said with soft smile.

"Of course, see you next time."

After he left, big storm came, darkness fell upon the Smp, rain and wind were too strong, for coming outside. Y/N decieded to take a chance and nap. She baked some cookies and sit down on a couch with another book, which Phil borrowed her. Only the torches gave light, sometimes thunderbolt stroke and filled room with unatural blue light. Drops hit hardly, making loud sounds, but Y/N was too much into a book. Two hours has passed and slowly night was coming. She moved eyes to meet clock, yep that was supper time, put the book away and up, Gods thr storm didn't let go. Y/N watched for a while outside, then go to kitched. She grabbed blanket and wrapped it around her posture, damn there were cold.

Again feeling of being watched kicked in. She was alone at home, that was sure thing. Outside was deep dark and behind the windows was the wall of the water. Y/N bite her lip and shook head, it was just her imagination, a feeling which stayed for no reason after putting Dream into Pandora's Vault. She took an kettle and suddenly was seeing something in the corner of the eye, something red and unusual in the spine forest. Her figure frozen when she moved back eyes. Deep in the dark, around sprouce trees in the line of forest, Y/N spotted pair of shinning, red eyes, high above the ground. They were locked at her figure.

'This has to be spider... or something else...'

Right after this thought, ceature turned back and disappeard in the darkness, cold shiver went down at Y/N spine. What was that? And why it was here? At least she was safe in home...

}*{

'More.' 'Training is boring, let's find someone to fight.' 'We demand blood.'

Technoblade sighed and stopped, voices today were very, very loud. That was why he decided to train, but during it, they became even worse. He hid sword and walked into home. Phil wasn't here today, he had to do something, but didn't bother to tell him what it was. Blade went back to home by his old path through the forest. His training place was near the cottage, but still hidden from common people. All members of Syndicate knew where it was. First of all he need to take shower. When cold water touched his skin, he felt like even his bloodlust became less, quiet hiss left his lips. He earned some chafings this week. Next, he changed his clothes to common and made a cup of tea, then sit in the kitchen. Immediately his thoughts went to Y/N.

Somehow voices were acting diffrent around her and he even found himself acting that way. They were focused around Y/N and he was more calm, like just her pressence was comforting him. Technoblade remembered their first meeting, it was common day, when someone knocked on the door. He opened it and rose his eyebrows in surprise, outside was standing fragile woman, without any armor and only with trident on her back. They shared awkward eye contact, when suddenly she introduced herself as Y/N. Of course he saw her couple of times, but it wasn't officialy. Y/N has known who was he for sure, she swallowed hard and looked down with shyness. Phil yelled across the room, that she could come in. Ah yes... she loved to read books and his old friend was borrowing her them a lot. Technoblade again felt the spine and old papers smell, for him, it could stay here forever. After short visit, Y/N took books, gave back book of enchantment and left.

Techno's curiosity has increased, when he heard about her more. She was peaceful, friendly soul, completly opposite of him, maybe that was, why he felt so... diffrent around her and voices too. Piglin hybrid enjoyed watching her from the distance, in the shadows, but lately... lately it wasn't enough. Now he wanted to breathe at Y/N scent, holding her close and pressed soft kisses at forehead. He was under voices pressure so long and now his salvation was so close. But what would he make it? As longer he has thought of that, a diffrent ideas came to his head. She was delicate creature, he had to get plan at all. Techno knew almost everything about her: hobbies, traditions, friends and fighting skills. Phil told him a lot about enchanters, they could make enchanting books after years of studying and had magic talent sometimes. As they knew, Y/N could enchant books at any spell, so she had to studied a lot. Technoblade sighed and grabbed his cloak, time to keep an eye on few things.

'Let's not go quietly!' 'Let's go quiet as grave...' 'Blood for the Blood God!'

}*{

That was busy week, Y/N could only one time saw Foolish and Phil, but whole Smp seemed a little bit diffrent... luckily she was able to go on mining trip with Ranboo and Eret visited her with a couple of books, which were about Smp. Now was afternoon and sun slowly started to set, she was heading to her house, where waited for her snow fox, which she found in Snowchester. Cute, little ball of fur stole Y/N heart immediately. When she finally stepped inside, Snowflake - that how she named it, ran into her squeaking high.

"What happend my little one?" She knelt down and pet it's head.

Fox looked at her with big brown eyes and squeaked once more, then jump into her arms.

"Oh oh oh... are you afraid of something?" Y/N hugged Snowflake and looked around. Everything in home seemed normal, door was closed, in a field same, animals were quite nervous, but everything was good. She frowned and stepped inside, then put fox into basket with small blanket.

"I will bring you some berries, you will like it for sure." Y/N smiled gently.

Unfortunately, she didn't have any at this moment in home, Snowflake was there only for three days, so she couldn't make berries farm so fast, because she had to set up a space. Luckily, she lived around coniferous forest, so didn't even hesiatate, Y/N just grabbed backpack and went outside. Sun was lower in the sky, but still it was warm and brightly. Birds were humming quietly and around was quite quiet. Berries bush weren't so far, she founed some, but in order to make supplies, decided to find more, then plant them around the house. It would spared the time and work.

"Y/N." She heard deep, lazy voice and immediately turned at it's direction.

The Blade was standing under big sprouce tree with satisfied grinn on his lips. Eyes locked on Y/N figure, which completly froze at the sight of him. She have never been with him alone, in tundra always Phil or Ranboo were around, now it felt... strange and risky, she still remembered what happend to La'Manburg citizens.

"Technoblade." Y/N spoke softly, being careful to not crack her voice, despite building feeling of fear. She noticed, that piglin hybrid under his royal, crimson cloak was wearing armor, probably not his best one, but still enough to win fight. Part of hair made into bun, rest were freely in his back and shoulders. From his belt was hanging netherite sword and netherite axe was sticking out from behind. She spotted, that his weapons were a little covered in blood, same as his sleeves and parts of shirt. He was killing monsters right? Or just hunting? Uncomfortable, awkward silence reminded between them, only forest noises distrubed it from time to time.

Voices were too loud today, too agressive, too greedy, killing monsters and pillagers wasn't enough, Quackity has already tasted his steel, well he deserved that after showing up in Y/N home. He had so much fun with him, but after that he needed some rest, comfort and calm. That is why without even thinking too much Technoblade went straight to Y/N house. He hoped, that everything will change, that he finally will has some break from voices, violence and killing. Of course he liked his way to be... but yes sometimes, you have to make a nap.

"Are you wounded?" Y/N asked quietly breaking the silence. After all, if he needed help, she would help him, without hesitation.

Technoblade's grinn became more sinister, he put hand on sword hilt and slowly tilted his head on right side.

"This isn't my blood." He said without caring at all.

"Oh, that's good then..." Y/N whispered, but he could hear that.

Piglin hybrid studied her posture, she had only trident at her back, backpack in left hand, no armor, no more weapons. Poor little girl, that's not how you are going outside your home, she was literally unarmed in his eyes.

"So... what are you doing here? Alone? In the forest?" Technoblade asked and moved closer to her.

The way he spoke these words, made Y/N shiver inside, outside, she grabbed her backpack harder. Surely there was nothing to worry about, she has never done something wrong to him or Philza, she wasn't dangerous or wanted to has any power. Techno is probably just passing by. Suddenly he was so close, now she could for real see the height diffrence, for the gods sake, her head reached around his breastbone. Y/N looked up only to meet piglin hybrid's burning gaze.

"I... I was collecting berries for my snow fox. Something scared her, so I thought that she will calm down after getting some and I ran out of them..." she suttered and swallow hard.

"How sweet." Technoblade commented and his smile widened.

"So... you are just passing by?"

"Not really."

Sudden grip on her chin caught Y/N off guard. Technoblade forced her to look straight into his eyes. His face stiffened a little bit, she hissed quietly, when claws touched harder gentle skin. Then she realised... Blade's eyes were red and she heard, that it could glow in darkness. Her skin became pale and pupils widened. It was him, that time during a storm, he was watching her...

"What are you doing?" Y/N asked quietly, without any clue, what was going on.

'She is so innocent.' 'We love her scent.' 'Let her know.'

"I have something to tell you." He leaned and immediately her scent hit him harder, resisting to take deep breath wasn't that easy.

"What excatly?"

"I was watching you for a while Y/N. Belive me or not I found that interesting, because your pressence is calming for me, I can fall asleep while listening your voice and push away my violence behaviour, when you are around." He stroked her cheek by his thumb and smiled haughty. "I am always getting , what I want and I want that so badly, you can't even imagine."

Y/N shook head and made few steps back, leaving his grip, couldn't belive what she just heard. That's impossible.

"I don't know what to say... I can admit, that I had strange feeling of being watching but... I blamed the Egg..." She looked deep into his eyes, trying to put everything together. "What do you mean, you are always getting, what are you want? How am I suppose to understand that?"

"Listen sweetheart, we can do this in two diffrent ways: good or bad. If you choose first one, fine politely you will go with me. Second way? Well I can be very convincing, when I want to." Technoblade frowned.

None of this options was good for her. Y/N sighed and her shoulders dropped. She couldn't do anything literally...

"Come on princess. I can take care of you, I promise, you will be happy." He gave her his hand, but gripped sword hilt harder.

Y/N always avoided the conflicts and argues, never has started any, that was easier and better way to live. She could take care of her interests, powers anf friends by being supportive or neutral. Technoblade's behaviour made her shiver and feel sick, there was no guarantee that he will keep his words, even if it were sweet and promising. Y/N knew that fighting him was pointlees, he were ten thousand better than her, she didn't even have armor or second weapon. But surrender just like that? Without any resistance? She always was determinated, miss 'you can always find a way, solution'. Not a chance.

"I think I have better option, which lay in the middle." Y/N smiled gently.

"Well, tell me then." Technoblade rose his eyebrows with curiosity.

With one smooth move, she put backpack on and immediately started to run. The Blade's pupils widened, he burst out laughing.

"It will be funny."

She has known, that she needed to lose him in forest. Going to home wouldn't help, because door or gate couldn't stop Blood God. Lost him and then ran away from Smp, at least her current living location. Y/N realized that she couldn't even ask for help anyone. Probably Technoblade would come after her friends, helpers, so that was it. Y/N versus The Blade, she was on her own.

'How did she dare to run away from us?!' 'Chase her, catch her.' 'Faster, faster, faster!'

It seemed like running away from Tommy for fun, came in handy and long trips with Ranboo caused her to move fast through forest. Y/N nimbly jumped over obstacles and avoid rocks or roots. Her pace wasn't the fastes, but she could hold it for pretty long time. She wasn't thinking a lot, just tried to run away as far as she could.

'Don't look back, don't look back, it will make you slower.'

Hiding could be good idea, but not now. As long as he was close, she couldn't stop at all. Breaking through the forest was only hearing noise, soon, she heard her heavy breathing. Heading to unknown direction wasn't so wisely, but Y/N had no choice. After a few minutes, she stopped to catch breath. Around was sudden so quiet, cold shiver went down at her spine. Too quiet.

"Already tired?" Technoblade's voice surprised her from left side.

She turned head, just to see him leaning against the tree. In his right hand he held sword, didn't even look like he was running.

"You can't outrun me little one. A lot of people tried, now they are dead." He aimed sword at her. "We can end this farce here. I am not mad, honestly, you made me smile a little bit."

"You will have to catch me, if you want me going with you." Y/N said and then continue to run away.

"Oh I will princess, that's what predator does to the prey."

Y/N started to feel really tired, muscles aching, throat dry from gasping for air, hair dispelled and cheeks red. She ran for a while, but now had to stop. Technoblade immediately appeared in her field of vision. He was walking carefuly, but still looked intimidating.

"Don't come closer!" She released a cry.

Piglin hybrid stopped about eight meters away. He leaned sword against the ground and looked at her with curious gaze.

'Here she is, our reward.' 'Let's finally take her with us.' 'We like that sound.'

"I think, I just caught you." A little grinn appeared on his lips.

She looked straight into his eyes. Her gaze full of fear met a calm and determination. Y/N didn't even want to think what would happend, if he fulfilled his desires. Gods sake, she was free human being, none could take her freedom, she didn't ask for this. In an act of desperation, with the last of her strength, she used her powers. Feeling of warm through fingers and energy drained from her veins, but then burning light. In Technoblade's towards direction flew literally fireball, but he was too skilled for this. He made a dodge and looked at Y/N with mix of proud and shock. She dropped to her knees, struggling to stay conscious, despite the pain at her whole body and tired mind and unclear vision. Technoblade immediately was with her, he knelt down and support her, by putting arm around her waist. Y/N leaned back against his chest, fatigue prevailed over reason.

"Enough for today princess. You run out, if you will keep resisting." He whispered calmly.

"Please, please... please I don't want this, I want to go home." Her voice was cracking, tears strimming down at her cheeks.

"Hush darling, everything will be all right."

Technoblade's body radiated warm, his tone suddenly was so calming and sleepy. She wanted to close eyes so badly, but still fear was too big.

"You are safe, nothing can hurt you I promise."

After this words Y/N gave up and lost consciousness. Sun went down and shadows became longer and darker.

}*{

Phil careful closed the doors, then walked quietly down. Technoblade sat in kitchen with cup of hot tea, he immediately looked at his old friend, his eyes were worrying.

"Y/N is good, she lost consciousness, because was too tired. You said that, she used her powers."

"It was literally fireball, but I dodge that easy."

"Well, now we know about her powers at least... interesting, what you are going to do, when she wake up?" Phil asked and sat in opposite site.

"I know, that you are not glad about this, but I will figure this out. She won't cause any troubles." Techno's voice became deeper.

Winged man sighed and looked at his friend. He knew what he was going through, when voices became louder and demanded blood, each moment of silence or when they were quiet, Technoblade cherished and tried to make it worth. Phil couldn't be angry or mad for his friend about that deed, but... he was torn.

"Come on spit it out. I can see that you want to tell something important." Piglin hybrid said slowly.

"We were through a lot of shit, we know each other for almost ages and we blew up the nation for gods sake, kidnapping isn't the worst thing you have done, but..." Phil started and looked at Techno. "I wish you best and everything good, but I don't know how will I act around. Y/N has come to me for books, we were talking about stuff, I gave her cookies and tea. How will I explain, that I am supporting your decision? And I am always on your side." Phil said aloud his worries.

"I will give her time to get used to. After certain amount of time Y/N will understand." The Blade was lost in his thoughts.

He was so greatful of his friend statement, but still a little bit unsure. This case shloudn't affect on their relationship or Phil's life. Honestly Technoblade belived that his pressence will comfort Y/N at least, as he said they were close and enjoyed each other company.

"Someone will notice her disappering. What then? And Ranboo is visiting us a lot." Phil sighed a little.

"I've got this, trust me."

"I trust you with my own life." Winged man nodded.

}*{

Sunlight kissed her skin gently, when it showed up on window. Y/N felt softness under herself and on her back. Quiet sigh left her lips, when she opened eyes. In the room was very bright, but for sure it wasn't her room. Immediately cold shiver went down at her spine. Still weak, she tried to lift herself, because she was lying on stomach. Bed was big, with good beddings and pillows.

"Don't move, you are still weak." Technoblade's voice was soft, but loud.

Y/N bite her lip and then lifted head. He was standing near the bed and observing curiously, looking completly diffrent. White, linen shirt and high waisted, leather trousers, hair braided tighly. In this version he was... more open and accessible, not so scary.

"Where am I?" She asked slowly and rolled at her back with quiet hiss. Muscles still hurt and throat was dry.

"In my house, in tundra safe and..." He cut off, while noticed that Y/N is trying to get up. "What did I say?" He stepped closer and sat on bed.

She sat unsure on mattress, just to met Technoblade here, he gripped again her chin, as in the forest and forced her to look at him. This time it was more gently.

"Darling please..."

"You can't take my freedom!"

His eyes darkened immediately and Y/N regreted her words. She swallowed hard, when Blade looked deep into her eyes.

"Of course I can and I will, if you don't behave good. If you didn't notice, you aren't chained or tied, but pretty comfy in my bed." He said slowly with threat in his voice. "Think about it."

Technoblade released her and got up. She looked down thinking about situation, yes he didn't tied her, but still it wasn't good case. Y/N just wanted to be free, do stuff which she want and meet friends. Maybe Smp wasn't perfect, but still now it was her home, there were a lot of wars or argues, but she still had house and persons which she cared about and this was mutual, now everything was unsure.

"I am just afraid... " Y/N whispered quietly.

"As I said earlier you are safe here, you are safe with me. Nothing can hurt you." Techno grabbed bowl with soup and came back. "Here, eat, you need to recover."

"Thanks." She smiled weakly to him, took bowl and started to eat slowly.

'Good girl.' 'She will behave for sure.' 'We can teach her a lesson.'

Y/N was napping for the rest of the day, Technoblade gave her one of their books, so she wasn't bored. Probably tomorrow or next day she will stand up.

The sound of closing doors, caused her to closed book and put it away. Piglin smiled gently and took off his shirt suddenly. Y/N eyes became big.

"Wait wait wait..."

"Calm down princess, I am just going to sleep, nothing else." Technoblade smirked for her panic.

"So... where shloud I move?" Y/N asked looking around the room.

"Nowhere. You are staying here with me."

Immediately her cheeks went slighty red. She looked at him curiously. His pink skin seemed gentle from the distance, a lot of scars marked his chest and arms. Some of them little, some of them large, the biggest one was through both sides of chest. Technoblade released his hair and came closer. Y/N moved to make him some space. He laid down, she followed his steps but remain distance.

"Goodnight." She said and turned back from him.

"Goodnight sweetheart."

He blow up torches near the bed and silence fell upon them. Not even a five minutes passed, when Y/N felt sudden grip on her waist. She froze, Technoblade hugged her and pressed kiss on her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Quiet whisper left her lips.

"Snuggling and cuddling." He whispered softly.

Y/N couldn't help, she giggled quietly. Techno took this as premission, her back touched his chest and second hand slowly stroked her hair.

#c!techno x you #dsmp fandom #dream smp #philza #c!technoblade x you #c!technoblade x reader #c!techno #yandere dream smp x reader #yandere dream smp x you #yandere #c!yandere!technoblade #yandere technoblade x reader

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part ten

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x OC

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

  Posting new chapters on Wednesday and Friday!

Die Hard and stolen glances

After making sure Sarah ate a hearty lunch, Martha took her leave, worry still lingering in her eyes. She’d made her friend promise to call Mallory as soon as possible. Sarah decided she’d contact her tomorrow at their usual time. And while she always looked forward to talking with the woman who’d raised her through her teen years, she felt dread creep up at the thought of having to either lie or tell her the truth and deal with the consequences. Telling Mallory her abilities had resurfaced would be equivalent to purchasing a ticket back home. And that was the one thing she could not do. Not until this situation with Vought was resolved.

Putting those thoughts to rest, her mind moved onto the other pressing concern: her upcoming movie night with Black Noir. It felt silly to think—even more when said out lout, but they bonded over their love for action movies. She shrugged her coat on and wrapped a scarf loosely around her neck before heading out of the house. The neighborhood she lived in wasn’t extremely well kept and trash often littered the sidewalks, clustering in the corners. She’d been skeptical when the previous owner had given her a tour. However, she soon realized she didn’t mind, and the affordable price and relatively quiet environment ultimately won her over. Being right outside of the city, the housing complexes were low rise, about two floors high, some three. She had a view on the city and could easily access the university on her bike. Sure, it took about fifteen minutes, but the peace and absence of the city’s obnoxious traffic in that small, rundown neighborhood made it worth it.

She soon reached her destination: the nearest small shop, “Dave’s Grocers.” Immediately, she headed for the party necessities section, searching for straws amid the colorful shelves. She soon grew impatient, scanning the items multiple times.

“Hello, welcome to Dave’s Grocers,” a young employee greeted her. “Is there anything I can I help you with?”

“Hi, yeah actually I’m looking for straws,” she glanced back at the shelves, “but I can’t seem to find any.”

The young man—whose name tag read Bernard in a squiggly handwriting—looked through the shelves himself before confirming her suspicions.

“I can check in the back if we had anything come in,” he offered.

“Yeah that would be great, thank you.”

With that she followed him and waited at the front counter as he disappeared into the back. He soon returned with a box in his arms.

“I found a box of them,” he smiled genuinely. He set the box down and opened it up.

The first thing that registered in Sarah’s mind was, “They’re pink.” She looked to him for confirmation.

“Magenta to be precise.”

She pushed some of her hair behind her ears. Black Noir had refused a drink last time because he wouldn’t take his mask off. She figured that by offering him a strawed drink, he’d accept it. She was sure she’d seen him drinking from a straw before, either in passing at Vought or on television. She wanted it to be a thoughtful act, and here she was thinking of offering him a pink straw.

Sure, it was just a color, right? Their generation was past binary color preferences—pink for girls, blue for boys. They were over it, right? A lot of men see no issue in wearing pink or purple these days. But Black Noir was no ordinary man. 

What was initial horror, soon morphed into amusement. She became curious of  his reaction. 

“How much” she questioned, eyes glued to the intensely colored straws.

“Uh,” he checked the side of the cardboard to be sure, “a dollar and fifty cents for a pack of twenty.”

She nodded, making up her mind, “I’ll take one.”

After paying he asked her to hold up, scratching the back of his neck.

“Could I get your number?”

She eyed him in suspicion, the man from the previous night flashing in front of her eyes. But then she quickly softened. He’d been helpful and seemed like a sweet guy.

“Look, I’m sorry but I’m seeing someone,” she slightly twisted the truth.

“Ahh, should’ve known,” he looked down with a disappointed smile. “He a good guy,” he asked.

Sarah wanted to choke right there. He’s Edgar’s damn hitman and has probably killed more people than she could count.

She simplified her answer with, “Yeah, he’s great,” she held up the straws, “these are actually for him.”

Bernard laughed lightly, “Bold. That’s why you looked worried when you first saw them, huh?”

She chuckled, “Yeah, he’s in for a surprise.”

After waving goodbye, she took her leave and headed back home.

.

When eight o’clock rolled around, Sarah was ready. She’d fixed her hair, her dark brown coils forming a soft cloud over her shoulders. A light coat of mascara was what she settled for, deciding to forego any other makeup. This was a casual meeting between two people who were barely acquaintances, she reminded herself. She changed into comfy clothes, slipping on her best pair of black sweatpants with a matching sweatshirt. Soft socks were a must.

Finally, she made sure her necklace poked out of her top. It had been her mother’s, who’d passed it down to her when she’d first been hospitalized. It was meant as a reminder that her parents were always with her and that they’d fight her disease together. It was a symbol of hope. Now, it was a small piece of her parents she kept on her always. Sometimes, it gave her a sense of peace as she recalled memories of family dinners or the playground. Other times, it fueled the guilt and deep-seated hate she felt towards the institution that made her into the monster she is. She fiddled with the black pearl, crowned by a gold fringe.

Heading back into the living room, she planned to wait for him on the couch. And there he was, standing in the middle of her living room.

This time she didn’t jump or freeze, already growing accustomed to his sudden appearances. She was grounded, she refused to be afraid. She thought it was foolish to not fear such a dangerous threat. So, she acknowledged it, but left it in a corner of her mind where she could see it but deny it control of her actions or reactions.

“Hey,” she greeted nodding at him, “how are you,” she asked.

He nodded at her and she quickly handed over their black notebook for him to reply.

Fine. You

She smiled, “I’m doing okay.”

He watched her movements, fluid and more controlled than last time. What he’d witnessed the night before had given him a new perspective, and he desperately wanted to question her about what happened. But at that point, he’d be admitting himself as a stalker. He stayed silent.

She nodded towards the couch, “You can sit, the movie’s already in,” she said turning her television on. “I made some popcorn, I’m not sure if you wanted to eat anything.”

He sat and simply watched her. Sarah ducked into the kitchen before she ended up losing her confidence. She emerged with a big bowl of popcorn, inhaling the smell, and humming a tune. She set the bowl on the coffee table, glancing at the massive man before heading back into the kitchen to get their drinks.

“So please bear with me,” she said moving towards him with the two drinks behind her back. “I know you aren’t comfortable with pulling your mask, so I went and got something to help with that…” she trailed off.

He tilted his head slightly, and she imagined an inquisitive expression had formed on his face.

She moved the drinks to the front, careful to not spill any.

“I know the straws are bold…” she stated the obvious. “Would you like some?”

He assessed the situation—the straws, the soft blush on her cheeks, her frame engulfed by her sweatshirt. And he found himself nodding, if only to put her at ease. He was unexpectedly moved by her thoughtfulness, a tightness forming in his chest.

She exhaled the breath she’d been holding, “Great, here you go,” she said brightly.

She grabbed a throw blanket to wrap herself in and moved towards the other couch chair in the room. He frowned. She was cold? She looked so much smaller in her home clothes, and he felt an itch to gather her in his arms. He ran at a higher temperature anyway, he’d probably feel like a thermostat to her.

“Do you want a blanket?”

He blinked at her, and she too found it amusing that this massive dark man might want one of her small light blue covers.

He shook his head. I’m fine and followed it with a thumbs up.

She nodded and snuggled into the chair, diagonally to his right.

She grabbed the remote and pointed it to the screen, pressing play.

And so, they watched the movie, constantly exchanging hurried, shy glances. Once, she was watching him out of the corner of her eye, and she saw him discreetly lift his mask, pick some popcorn and drop them in his mouth. He immediately covered his face again and chewed without making a sound. She was disappointed that in the dark she missed it. At one point, Sarah was surprised to see his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. She too laughed, and often commented her favorite scenes. She hoped he didn’t mind. She just couldn’t seem to help herself. And he secretly loved it. He enjoyed her voice, especially when she was talking to him.

He watched her snuggle deep under the blanket, her sweatshirt sleeves pulled over her hands. He watched her laugh and comment the scenes they both knew by heart. In the dark room, he watched her more than the movie itself. The colored light projecting from the screen flitted across her cheeks, her attention captured by John McClane as he took down Gruber’s team in the Nakatomi Tower.

Black Noir was rather disappointed when the credits rolled and she rose to switch the lights back on. He perked up when she spoke, “Always a classic, huh?”

He nodded with enthusiasm.

She recited with a deeper voice, “Nine million terrorists in the world and I gotta kill one with feet smaller than my sister.”

Sarah was pleasantly surprised when he clapped his hands and wrote Bravo.

She curtsied, “Why thank you.”

She must be losing her mind, joking around with one of the most dangerous men in the world. And yet, right then she couldn’t bring herself to fear him. Black Noir was still holding his drink, hot pink straw sticking out like a sore thumb.

She took the last sip of her own drink, and embarrassedly stopped when she began to slurp loudly.

“Oh god, sorry. My friend absolutely hates it when I do that.”

He looked over as she brought her legs up into a cross-legged position. And then he did something that surprised them both.

He gave her a thumbs up and loudly sucked on his straw, emitting the same sounds she’d just made. Sarah stared wide-eyed and began to laugh.

He wrote. Sorry :)

“We’re both scandalous—just scandalous,” she smiled.

She gathered their empty cups, but he stopped her before she could get up. She looked so comfortable and he swiftly stood and placed a hand on her shoulder, indicating she should stay seated. Sarah looked up at him shocked and suddenly reminded of his murderous tendencies. He gently took the cups from her hands and immediately went to wash them in her kitchen sink. He felt rather than saw her enter the small kitchen leaning her back against the counter beside him, watching him work. He stilled and she quickly realized why, his big, dark gloves left on the counter.

She felt like they had entered a bubble, a very unstable bubble that could burst at any second.

She whispered softly, “It’s okay, you don’t have to hide here.”

He stared down in the now empty sink. He finally brought his hands up and over the edge, slowly reaching for the gloves. His skin was a toffee brown, his long fingers rough and calloused. She felt the sudden urge to reach out and touch him, assure herself that indeed there is a man under the suit. She quickly swallowed the thought and filed it away.

He looked at her and she held his concealed gaze for a few, long seconds. She wondered what thoughts were whizzing across his brain.

“Who knows what you look like?”

He merely stared at her. She tried, “Anyone?”

He shook his head no.

She continued speaking softly, finally looking away. “But isn’t that lonely? I mean not being comfortable enough in another’s presence to be seen as you are?”

She knew this was a sensitive topic for him and feared she’d taken it a step too far. But fortune favored the bold, and she wanted to understand the silent man in front of her.

He promptly left the room, and she sagged against the counter. She thought he’d left, and instead there he was returning black notebook in hand. He came to stand next to her, so close her head reached his shoulders. He too leaned back against the counter mirroring her stance. He scribbled against the paper.

Are we friends?

She smiled confused, “Uhm I’d like to think so, but it's not something you just decide, it just happens when you enjoy being around a person. Do you see me as a friend?”

He stared at her for the longest, and she found herself glancing behind him at the knives stand further down on the counter. She could feel her heart beating loudly and grew worried that she’d truly overstepped his boundaries.

Relief flooded her when he finally nodded.

When can I see you again?

He found he needed to leave, he needed to think somewhere he could focus. Those dark chocolate eyes of hers disarmed him, and he felt vulnerable under her gaze. The fact she’d seen his hands had shaken him. But she hadn’t recoiled, he reminded himself.

Sarah thought about it, “How does Wednesday evening sound? Same time?”

He nodded. 

He wasn’t sure what friends did when parting. He’d observed that some hug, some shake hands, some wave... What stage were they at? He wasn’t sure what would be appropriate in this situation.

He drew his characteristic smiley face on the notebook for her to find, and flipped it closed. He felt shaky under his collected exterior, and her perfume sent him over the edge. He twisted and pulled her close into his chest, an arm around her back as he pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head, inhaling her vanilla leave-in conditioner. Just as quick, he pulled away, straightened his posture and walked out of the room, leaving the notebook on the table.

Sarah was bewildered. Her heart was racing, her thoughts jumbled into an incoherent mess. She stood there for a couple minutes. But what truly surprised her, was that she felt a fluttering sensation in her stomach, a blush creeping up her neck. You have got to be kidding me, she thought to herself.

What was absent, instead, was the enveloping warmth she felt before a breakout. Maybe she wasn’t in danger around him, after all.

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724 ​  @proximio-5 @damiminator @omegahighendpro @rpgluvr95 @sweetrabbitteamx

#the boys #the boys tv #the boys amazon #black noir #fanfiction #the boys season 2 #oc story #romance #black noir x oc

[screamingatanemptyroom]

Snow White’s Revenge pt 2

Hey everyone! Here’s a pt 2 to the short I wrote last time. I had a sudden urge to continue it for a couple of parts or so.  

Part 1 linked here. 

Enjoy!

____________________________

“I can’t believe that worthless brat is still alive!” 

The Queen’s angry shout was accompanied by the loud crash of her wine glass against the wall. The shattered pieces flew through the air, landing on her skirt and shoes, but the woman ignored them, her gaze focused instead on the blood spattered girl being escorted through the palace gates. The entry guard had already passed on her story, the words causing the Queen to wish there were more things to smash in the room.

“A wild animal?! Killing the huntsman but not that brat?!” She shook her head. “How is it possible?” 

“Is that a question for me?” The golden eyes in the enchanted mirror showed enjoyment as the item watched the Queen’s fury. “I’m more than happy to exchange the answer for a few years of your life energy.”

“Shut up, you useless piece of junk!”

“Not my fault you start the day off by wasting your daily question.” The mirror laughed. “Be careful not to frown too much, or even your magic won’t be able to hide the lines in your face. You might be dropping to third fairest soon! What are you going to do then? Kill every attractive female in the kingdom?” 

“If I have to.” She muttered in response, but quickly calmed her facial expression. “No matter what, Snow White must die.”

“Then why not kill her? Why do you make things so needlessly complicated?” The golden eyes rolled with disdain. “Foolish human.”

He queen sighed. “She’s the daughter of the late king and queen. My claim to the throne is temporary, and fragile at best. If it were known that I was behind her death, the citizens… even the other kingdoms wouldn’t stand by. It would be seen as disregarding the natural order of royal blood. But if it’s an accident…”

Her slim, well-manicured finger tapped against her jaw. “Now that she’s back, I’ll have to be careful. Prince Alexander will be arriving tonight. He will likely wish to discuss an engagement with that girl.”

“And you care? If he takes her away you can be fairest in the land, right?”

“Fool. She’ll have a powerful backer to support her should she wish to take the throne. Rather than compete with his brothers, the prince may fancy taking over an easier fight here.” Her hands clenched into tight fists.

“Whatever it takes, I have to make sure that this marriage does not happen.”

____________________________

 “I have to make sure this marriage doesn’t happen, Phil.” Prince Alex forced a smile for the crowds as they rode into the Royal Capital, towards the palace.

“Again, I think you’re an idiot for turning down a beautiful sweet girl, but sure, so you’re just going to tell her that you won’t marry her?” Phil sighed, keeping a diplomatic expression on as he rode behind the prince.

Alex shook his head slowly. “Our parents had pretty much guaranteed the marriage before the late king passed. If I just refuse it now, her mother could make a huge political scandal out of it. That could hurt my chances for the throne back home.”

“You really need to think this through, Alex. First of all, I don’t know if her stepmother cares…”

“Snow White has to be the one to reject the marriage.”

“… I’m taking back all my concern for you. You’re an idiot.”

Alex grinned. “No, I’ve got it all planned out! I’m going to act like a violent thoughtless brute…”

“So you’re going to act like yourself?”

“And once she sees how different I am from the prince in her dreams, she’ll cancel the engagement and I can negotiate a non-marriage related treaty in exchange! It’s fool-proof.”

Phil stared at the prince with pity in his eyes. “I think you meant ‘foolish’.”

“You just wait. After I’m done, there’s no way Snow White will continue to hold onto the dream of marrying me!”

____________________________

“There’s no way I’m going to marry the prince.” Snow sighed as she tossed her knife at the practice dummy in the corner of the room. “Maybe it would be easier to just kill him?” 

“Your highness!” Gertrude, the middle-aged nursemaid who had always been by the princess’s side since she was an infant, stared in horror at the stuffed figure that now had a blade sticking through its crotch. “I thought you couldn’t wait to marry Prince Alexander!”

That was the innocent dream of a dead girl. Snow thought but didn’t say out loud. “Things have changed, Nanny. I have too much to worry about now to pay attention to love and marriage.” She hesitated. “Unless… is the prince really strong?”

“Strong?”

“You know, can he fight? Cut off his enemies heads and torch their homes, stomp their corpses into the mud?”

Gertrude gasped in shock. “Prince Alexander is a gentleman! He would do no such thing!”

“Then he’s useless. Someone else can marry him.” Losing interest, Snow picked up another knife, taking aim.  

“But he’s such a handsome young man!”

“Handsome?” The princess snorted with disdain. “Being handsome only attracts attention, and isn’t helpful in a fight.” The knife flew from her hand striking the center of the dummy’s chest. She stared at it with satisfaction, and then nodded.

“Yep, I’ll just have to tell him to look elsewhere for a bride. Someone weak and delicate, who suits a man like him.”

The nanny sighed. “Very well, Miss. I can’t claim to understand your thoughts, but as long as you’re happy…”

“Don’t worry.” Snow stepped forward, grabbing the knife still embedded in the stuffed target’s groin and pulling it upwards, slicing the whole dummy into two pieces. She tested the still sharp tip and smiled brightly, the delicate beautiful smile lighting up the entire room. “I’ll make my own happy ending.”

____________________________

 “A toast to our princess, and her safe return!” A portly duke raised his glass, and with everyone else slowly got to their feet and followed suit.

Snow sighed with mild annoyance, sipping at the wine with a disgusted frown. Alcohol had been a much-coveted luxury in her old world, with many people willing to trade weapons and food for a chance to cloud their despair in a drunken stupor. She had fairly good tolerance back then, but saw it as more a necessary evil for business transactions rather than something to enjoy. Drunkenness meant letting your guard down, a chance for someone to kill you.

Not that it mattered in the end. Snow thought bitterly. I was completely sober when I was betrayed and killed.

She stared down at the wine in her hand, disliking the weak, sweet taste. At least the food was rich, well flavored, much better than the scraps she had grown up on.

Seems like the prince is enjoying the food too. She glanced over the handsome young man sitting across from her, who was carelessly shoveling food into his mouth without a concern for manners or etiquette. Food was smeared around his lips, falling to the table around his plate, causing others to stare in dismay, but he ignored them, focusing on eating his fill.

Snow nodded in approval. That’s how a leader should eat. None of this delicate small bites nonsense. Eat the food quickly, in case the enemy attacks while you’re weak. Maybe this prince isn’t as bad as I thought.

Curiously enough, seeing her positive glance at his behavior, the prince seemed frustrated and panicked, his behavior becoming even more loud and boisterous.

“I haven’t eaten food this good since the Battle of Brent!” He yelled out desperately, swinging his wine glass and spilling the liquid inside. “I was decapitating enemies left and right, crushing their corpses, ignoring their cries for mercy!” 

Many of the noblewomen turned pale at his violent words, covering their mouths with handkerchiefs. A few even stood up to leave, too overwhelmed as he went into detail as to how he killed and dismembered his foes. Even the Queen seemed overwhelmed by the Prince’s brutish behavior, keeping her eyes on her own plate. Only two people in the room seemed unfazed by his words, his friend Phillip, the son of the Duke of Willowford, who just rolled his eyes, and Snow herself, who found herself increasingly interested in the man in front of her. 

Maybe the previous soul had good taste after all… She studied him closely, unsure as to why he seemed so frustrated. He seems like a violent, merciless warrior, without concern for this kingdom’s silly rules for politeness. He doesn’t look all that strong though…  I’d have to fight him to see if he is worthy to be an ally.

But as for marriage… Snow was still against it. She had seen too many fighters lose their lives at the hands of their so-called loved ones, and so had avoided relationships previously. Besides, the betrayal of her second in command in her previous life was still too fresh to consider trusting someone again very soon.

He’s probably looking for a delicate, submissive wife, so it shouldn’t be too hard to persuade him to look elsewhere. Just as Snow thought this, she realized that an opportunity had presented itself in the form of a dessert.

She took a small bite of the cake in front of her, a familiar tingling on her tongue alerting her to the poison inside. She tapped her leg under the table, hiding the green flash of her magic as she checked her body’s condition. It targeted the gastrointestinal system causing large volume vomiting and diarrhea within minutes of ingestion. 

I assume the Queen wants to humiliate me, by forcing me into such a state before I can escape to the privacy of my rooms? She took another bite, tapping her knee again, her magic nullifying the poisons effects. Still, it seems like too good of a chance to pass up. Getting back at the Queen and disgusting my potential fiancé at the same time… With a smile, she took one more bite, this time only partially nullifying the effects of the poison.

Her face turning a bright white, she staggered to her feet, not missing the Queen’s satisfied smirk. For an odd reason the Prince seemed excited too, standing up as well.

“My rough manners and words must have offended you Princess, I understand if you need to excuse yourself…” 

BLEGH. 

Snow staggered over to the head of the table, vomiting all over the Queen.

“…” The room went silent as they stared in shock at the scene before them. The Queen’s eyes were wide, her hands shaking as she glared at Snow, who smiled sweetly back.

“Mother, I don’t feel well. May I be excused?”

“…Go ahead.” She answered through gritted teeth.

“Thanks, Mother!” Grinning as if the woman who just projectile vomited at a formal dinner party was not her, Snow skipped out of the room, heading back to the courtyard outside her rooms.

____________________________

 “… The party is over.” The Queen finally spoke up again, stepping up and rushing from the room, dripping vile smelling fluid.

Prince Alex sighed sadly, covering his head in his hands. “That didn’t go well.”

Phil looked over. “Really? It looked like you were having fun?”

“Well, yeah, I don’t normally get to eat and talk however I want and formal functions, it was kind of a relief to get to act like I do out in the battlefield rather than play the part of the charming prince.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Snow White wasn’t offended!” Alex groaned. “Did you see her smiling at me throughout the dinner?”

“Maybe she’s not as delicate and weak as you thought?”

“No. She must be so captivated by my looks that she doesn’t care how brutish I act.”

Phil rolled his eyes, looking physically pained. “Do you even hear yourself?”

“I’ll have to strike more directly, be insulting.” Alex stared sadly at the leftover food for a few moments, before standing up.

“The poor girl just vomited in front of the entire royal court, don’t you think you should give her a break?”

“This is for her own good that she’s not engaged to me…”

“And your selfishness that you want her to be the one to break it off…”

Alex sighed. “You’re not wrong. But I’m going to try.” With that he walked away in the direction Snow White had fled earlier.

“Idiot.” Phil muttered, following slowly behind.

____________________________

 The prince came upon Snow White as she was rinsing her face and mouth in a bucket of icy water in the courtyard outside her rooms. Without giving much thought as to why the delicate princess was using stale cold water outside rather than taking a warm bath, he stepped forward, keeping his voice harsh and overbearing.

“Hey you!”

Snow White turned towards the prince with a neutral expression. “Are you talking to me?”

“Yeah! I have something to say.”

The princess straightened up, stepping closer while drying her face with a rough cloth, obviously willing to listen. Alex took a deep breath, mentally steeling himself.

“I think you’re  scrawny looking!”

Snow White nodded pleasantly. 

“And you’re ugly!”

Despite his horrible words, Snow White continued to stare at him, unconcerned, as if his words were simple facts rather than terrible insults. Feeling desperate and guilty, he tried once more.

“No man in his right mind would marry you!”

The princess shrugged, her flawless features still tranquil. “Is that all?”

“…” Defeated, Prince Alex’s shoulders slumped, and he whispered “No. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m lying, I’ve tried to do something terrible, when all you’ve done is be pleasant and polite. I’m so sorry!”

“… okay?”

“The truth…” He sighed. “The truth is that I can’t marry you, but I wanted you to be the one to break off the engagement, so I insulted you and tried to scare you off.”

“…” If anything, Snow White looked more confused.

“I do think you’re a lovely girl, but the royal court back home is a battleground right now, and I can’t bring someone as weak as you into danger. I wouldn’t be able to protect…”

RIP!

The tearing sound of the towel in Snow White’s hands interrupted the prince’s gentle explanation. She stepped closer, the torn cloth clenched in her fists, her face taking on a furious expression.

“WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!”

“Umm…” Confused, Alex backed away a few steps, only to have the princess close the distance once more, now whispering.

“Did you call me ‘weak’?”

“…Yes?”

The torn pieces of towel flew into his eyes, blocking his vision. Alex tried to swipe them away, but before he could recover…

BAM!

Snow White’s right fist struck his face, knocking him backwards.

____________________________

 Snow was mad.

Everything had been going so well. She had vomited all over the Queen, and while she was cleaning up, the prince had approached her of his own volition and seemed to be expressing an unwillingness to marry her. 

He called her a few names, such as “scrawny” and “ugly.” Snow found herself nodding in agreement. This body had very little muscle mass, she missed the thicker arms and legs she had worked so hard for in her previous life. As for ugly… well, Nanny had told her she was beautiful, and Snow had no complaints about the features in the mirror, but who knows what counted as attractive in this world? Perhaps this kind of face wasn’t popular? Either way, it seemed that the prince wasn’t interested in getting married, which solved another one of her problems.

Snow was very satisfied.

At least she was right up until the man called her weak.

WEAK?!

Snow remembered the feeling of her friend’s knife in her back, their whispered words in her ear still echoing in her heart.

“You’re too weak to lead anymore, Snow.”

Seeing red, Snow had already started to fight before she could think things through.

BAM!

After distracting his sight with a torn piece of cloth, she punched him in the face.

Ow! This body is too weak!  Feeling regretful, Snow tapped her arms a few times, infusing healing magic to the max , hoping to augment her strength and speed a bit.  To her relief, she felt her muscles respond, giving her more to work with in the fight. 

The prince had staggered back at her initial blow, more surprised than hurt. “Ow! Why would you…?” 

He was interrupted as she kicked him in the chest, knocking him back further. 

“We’re fighting.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed as he watched her draw closer. “If you keep at this, I’ll fight back you know.”

She swung at his head, smiling as he dodged the blow only to get her knee to his face. “Good.”

“I- I won’t go easy on you!” Alex clutched his broken nose, glaring.

“Who said I needed you to?”

And with that the two began to fight in earnest.

The prince was good, Snow had to admit. He had quick reflexes; his reactions were obviously honed on the battlefield. Even though he was injured right from the start he compensated quickly and launched a powerful attack towards her face, taking advantage of his bigger size and reach.

But she was faster.

Dodging within his range, Snow rammed a fist into his gut, causing him to bend over at the waist. Taking advantage of the lowered height, she kicked his head, causing his whole body to tumble backwards. Surprisingly, despite the heavy injury, he staggered to his feet, a bloodthirsty smile on his face.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been able to fight with everything I’ve got!” He lunged forward, seeming to stumble as he moved. Snow thought to take advantage of the slip, aiming a punch towards his chest, but he bent out of the way, showing the initial clumsiness to be nothing but a feint. Grabbing her wrist, he tried to force her around; to put her into an arm lock, but Snow simply went against the motion, allowing the bone to break.

CRACK!

The sickening sound caused them both to slightly flinch, but before Alex could recover she had already struck again, her foot smashing into his cheek, knocking him onto his back. Then, not allowing him time to stand, she stepped on his stomach, forcing the air out of his lungs in a painful gasp. 

“Let’s get one thing straight, prince:” She smiled, not noticing that the beauty of the expression caused even the heavily injured prince to be dazed for a moment. “We are not getting married, true… but it’s not because I’m too weak. “ She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with enjoyment. “It’s because you’re not strong enough to stand beside me.”

 With that she struck him once more, knocking him unconscious.

“I’m out of practice.” Sighing with dismay, Snow reached over and healed her broken wrist, wincing as the bones reset themselves. She then stared down at the prince, wondering what to do next. A strong blow like she had given him could have definitely caused bleeding within his brain. If she left him alone he could definitely die.

“He did give me a good fight… and he’s not terrible at combat…” Muttering to herself, she leaned forward and held a hand to his forehead, allowing her almost drained power to flow into the prince’s body. 

“What are you doing?” Another young man, Snow recognized him as Phillip, the prince’s friend, had walked up, staring at the unconscious prince with a mildly concerned expression. 

“Healing him.” Snow answered honestly, most of her focus on the injured man in front of her.

“Why? Aren’t you the one who injured him?”

“…Aren’t you his friend?”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure he deserved the beating he got. “ Phillip watched her for a few moments. “Are you a witch?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking. I’m not bathing in the blood of virgins or summoning demons or anything. I just happen to have abilities that are useful for times like this.”

As she spoke, the prince’s injured face slowly returned to its normal state, the swelling and broken nose fading as if they never had been there in the first place.

“Again, I feel like I should ask why. Your stepmother could use your abilities as an excuse for you to be burned at the stake if she learned of your powers.”

Snow smiled at the young man. “Who would believe that the delicate and mild mannered ‘Snow White’ beat the snot out of a man and then healed him?” She gestured at the now normal appearing prince. “He looks completely fine to me.”

“Good point.” Phillip smiled, and bowed gracefully. “Then I will thank you, Your Highness, for showing mercy in not killing my foolish friend.”

“Smart man.” Nodding, Snow stood up, brushing her hands off on her pants. “He’s all yours.”

With that, she turned around and entered her rooms, smiling.

____________________________

“PLEASE TEACH ME HOW TO FIGHT!” Snow was greeted the next morning by the sight of the handsome prince kneeling, his hands clasped in front of him as he begged with a serious expression. 

It’s too early for this nonsense.

Sighing, Snow looked over the young man with a critical eye. “Why?”

“I’m very sorry that I insulted you earlier!” Alex stared at her respectfully. “But now I know you’re really strong and I look up to you! I have so much that I can learn from you to increase my own strength!”

“No, I know why YOU want me to teach you.” She shrugged. “That’s obvious. What I want to know is why should I? There’s nothing in it for me.”

Alex considered her words for a few moments. “I’ll marry you?”

“Rejected. You’re too weak.”

“I’ll pay you?”

“I’m a princess, set to inherit the crown. I’m in a better financial position then you, who is still fighting for your own claim to the throne.”

“…I’ll be your servant?” 

Snow rubbed her forehead, frowning. “I don’t have a use for you. If anything, that young man would be more helpful, since at least he’s smart.” She pointed at Phil, who was watching their interactions with an amused expression.

“Traitor!” Alex frowned at his friend, who backed away.

“You two violent creatures leave my poor innocent self out of your discussions. I’m just here to try to reign in the area of destruction a bit.”

“…” The prince lowered his head and thought. “Is there anything you want that I can give you?”

Smiling, Snow nodded. “As a matter a fact there is.”

“Really? Because I’m willing to give anything…”

“I want your sword.”

“NO!” Alex clutched the well-worn blade hilt with a crestfallen expression.  

“I thought you said anything?”

“You might as well ask for my first born child!” 

“Again, not interested. They’d probably just be weak like you.”

Phil sighed loudly, stepping between them. “What do you like about the sword, Princess?”

“It’s well balanced, has been kept oiled and sharpened, and seems to have an appropriate length and weight that I could use.”

“If we can get you a similar sword, or perhaps one even better, would you listen to this stupid prince’s request?”

 “Hey!”

Snow ignored Alex’s shout and thought it over. “Sure.” She smiled slowly. “But I won’t go easy on you, weak prince.”

The young man stood up, shaking her hand with a grin of his own. “I’m counting on it, Snow White.”

____________________________

 “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” The Queen, having just finished her morning routine and makeup, stared into the magic mirror with a desperate expression.

Her reflection was replaced with a gleeful pair of golden eyes.

“Again, the same question. For an evil witch you’re quite boring you know.”

“ANSWER IT!”

“Still Snow White, your beautiful and talented step daughter, who has quite good aim when it comes to vomiting I hear.”

CRASH!

A crystal case of powder broke into pieces on the floor.

“When are they going to learn to not put anything breakable in your room?”

“I’ll make her suffer for that stunt she pulled last night.” Ignoring the mirror now that she had asked her daily compulsive question, the Queen pulled a hidden lever on her wall. With a screech of rusty gears the wall near the switch separated, rotated itself and an attached dresser around, revealing a hidden room behind it. She entered it, and without hesitation, grabbed a knife and slashed her own hand, dripping blood into the cauldron at the center of the room.

“I may not be able to kill her directly, but let’s see how she deals with the dark fiends of the underworld when they come to torture her in the dead of night.” She poured a few more ingredients from various jars and tubes, smiling wickedly as a green smoke began filling the air. “Just a simple contract, a few years of life force, but worth it if her torment will be enough to push her into complete despair.”

“You know what I love about you? Your boundless optimism.”

The Queen ignored the mirror’s words. “You won’t escape me this time, Snow White. You’ve been lucky this far, but in the end, everything will be mine!”

Her laughter slowly filled the room, echoing off the walls, as if the whole castle was laughing with her.

#writing #fantasy #fairy tale retelling #dark #violence #fighting #magic

[thegreenfairy13]

A Gotham Ghost Story - Part 5

When Oswald shoots Jim on the pier, his ghost is doomed to haunt the mobster. You can read the full story here. 

Thank you @mexican-texican for the beta! <3</p>

What follows feels like an onslaught. Jim is left with no choice but to follow the woman down gloomy corridors as he’s being pulled around corners and up the stairs. He wonders if death will always remain like this, being reduced to a sentient being that only observes but is unable to act.

A door behind him slams shut and the blonde hurls around to lock it. Finally, the cop can take a better look at her and gasps. He knows her, recognizes without a single doubt on his mind Gertrud Kapelput’s face however it can’t be . It’s a cop’s curse, being unable to forget a face, and even if he only ever saw her once he’s still absolutely certain.

But when looking closer, he notes how it can’t be, mustn’t be. The fragile woman might resemble Gertrud, they share the same nose, cheekbones, lips…but it can’t be. This woman is in her twenties, at most, and most notably, she’s got a ferocity and purposefulness to her that Oswald’s mother always lacked.

This young lady might be terrified but she’s not helpless. Jim observes her shoving a couple of dresses and some personal belongings into a bag before turning towards the window, for sure assessing the height and her chances should she be forced to leave the house by jumping through it.

They both freeze at the sound of steps coming down the hallway and before Jim can react, the woman does. “Hold the door!” she shrieks, looking directly at the Commissioner. When he doesn’t budge she repeats her request, more commanding this time.

Unable to process what’s happening, Jim does what he does best: saving someone. Turning, he drops his entire weight against the door. Closing his eyes, all he focuses on is the task at hand. James Gordon is still a cop and this woman is an innocent citizen demanding help. All he has to do is keep this door closed - at all costs. He sinks into the wood, feels each and every little atom, breathes the scents of wax, wood, and metal, imagines the lock fusing with the frame, imagines this single door holding up entire armies because if he doesn’t, whoever makes it through will kill her. He knows that with the same certainty he knows he’s dead, and he knows he won’t allow for it to happen.

The woman glances at him from the other side of the room, smiling gratefully. Jim smirks back at her and it suddenly hits him. She’s resilient, she’d make it without him too, but he buys her the time she needs. Another item follows the ones already in the bag and for a reason unknown, it makes him incredibly happy she’s able to gather everything she requires.

“I’m ready,” she states, already opening the window, preparing herself for the jump from the first floor. Holding out her hand, she invites Jim to follow her. Dazed, he takes it and for the second time today, he actually feels anything . He senses her warmth, picks up on her scent, which is also vaguely familiar, and vows to protect her.

“We’ll land softly,” she orders and Jim nods.

“You can see me,” he states, slightly awed and noting how his state of mind resembles being drunk. Not that he minds - it’s wonderful, as if someone had taken his brain and wrapped it up in clouds.

“Of course I can see you, silly,” she responds. “I conjured you,” the woman declares matter of factly. “I prayed for a guardian to watch over me and my child, I made the sacrifice - what good would it be if you’d appear and I couldn’t see you?” She shrugs as she tries ushering Jim toward the window.

Someone’s banging against the door already. However, Jim is certain they have all the time they need. Not a single second extra, but not one less, even. It’s a funny thing of her to say that though, that she made a sacrifice when he’s the one who died, he muses.

Jim already wants to contradict her when remembering he still has to get his facts straight first. “You’re Gertrud, indeed,” he asserts, waiting for her to confirm.

“Who else would I be?” she laughs a little bit, probably wondering what type of third-class guardian her magic procured. Given the circumstances, Jim accepts the concept of conjurings with shocking ease. Compared to dying, it’s not that outlandish though.

The lawman wants to laugh out loud. When truly taking in her physique, Jim wonders how he possibly could have missed her circumstances in the first place. Gertrud is delicate, way too thin for it to be healthy, therefore the slight swell of her belly should have caught his attention earlier.

“You’re pregnant,” he points out, feeling a bit foolish for stating the obvious the second time in a row.

Instinctively, she covers her belly with her free hand. “You’re here to protect him first,” Gertrud orders. “My safety is secondary. We made the deal, demon!”

“Demon?” Jim chuckles bemused and Gertrud’s face falls.

“You’re not…?”

“A demon?” the dead man finishes. “Hardly. I have no idea what I am. I only know I died and it was because of the baby you’re carrying.”

The women’s eyes open almost comically as she backs away from Jim in sudden horror. She grabs her bag, makes for the window once more, however backs down in sudden desperation.

“But you helped me,” she cries out, frantically looking for another way out. Feeling guilty, Jim raises his hands placatingly.  

The door behind Jim rattles again, louder this time, and the cop feels a sudden wave of urgency, as if he was forced to carry on, else he might give away his chances.

“I’m a cop, I help people,” he says matter of factly, opting for a soothing tone.

“You’re a liar, demon!” she accuses instead, eyes rolling wildly from here to there and suddenly, it hits him. Jim didn’t recognize her right away but now, as she’s pacing the room hysterically, running her hands through the strands of her hair, he perceives the madness.

In later years, her mental decline will be clear for everyone to see, but today the illness is nothing but a small seed. One day, she’ll seek salvation in the illusions her mind will gracefully procure for her and the thought alone saddens the cop. How must it have been, being raised by a mother gradually unable to differ fiction from reality? Is it the reason Oswald never told her about his true profession? It must have been easier, leaving her to her delusions and letting her see whatever she chose to.

Stomping her feet, she focuses all her rage towards the cop. “I’ll raise a good boy!” she declares with conviction. “I’ll have a beautiful baby boy, and he will be happy, he’ll be honest, he’ll be generous, and he’ll know nothing but love. I swore,” she almost screams and Jim shakes his head.

There’s something about Gertrud that makes arguing quite difficult, impossible even. “I said your baby is the cause for my death,” Jim sighs wearily. “I never said he’s responsible for it.” That’s not entirely true, but it’s a lie Jim can live with. Everything considered, dealing with men like Oswald on a daily basis is like playing Russian Roulette; he had it coming, especially after meddling with his freedom the way he did. Heck, he got ten good years, even.

Jim wishes he could close his eyes for a second, escape this new reality for a second. The only grace he’s being given is the ability to stare at a stain on the wall. He wills himself to focus.

“So it was an accident?” the future kingpin’s mother inquires curiously. “And even after your death, you’re here to help?”

“One could put it that way,” Jim admits drily.

The door rattles for the third time, a warning for the both of them to hurry up as a vivid image flashes before the cop’s inner eye: he observes himself stepping away, sees a lock breaking and wood splintering, he sees an outraged man storming inside, Gertrud screaming. Jim sees blood and he feels nauseous. He never could, could he?

Taking a deep breath, he imagines Gertrud’s lifeless body, a baby never born. It feels wrong and terrible, this death.

‘I will faithfully serve and protect anyone in need of a helping hand. I will never kill unless there is no other option to fulfill my vow.’ Jim silently recites the oath he took when joining the force, pushing away an image of his daughter running joyfully towards him. All of this is just a test, Jim tells himself. None of this is real and the past can’t be changed, he remembers his physics-teacher from fifth grade saying so.

Face lighting up, Gertrud claps her hands. “He’ll be exceptional, won’t he?” she muses. “What a man he’ll grow up to be, how much he’ll be loved when his friends even seek to protect him after their death?”

“You are friends, aren’t you?” she urges after a moment, giving him the same treatment he received the first time Barbara introduced him to her parents. It’s a look of pure scrutiny as she carefully sizes him up, for sure wondering if he’s good enough for her precious Oswald.

“We’re friends,” Jim rushes to clarify, fully aware he’s finally saying the words her son longed to hear for years.

Gertrud opens her mouth, indecisive. Jim isn’t sure why he’s secretly proud of the fact that she seems to be slightly disappointed in the statement before her demeanor changes again. It’s slightly endearing how much she and her son have in common.

Narrowing her eyes suspiciously, she assesses the dead man once more. “You said you’re a cop,” Gertrud recalls. “If you are indeed a cop, why would you , the corrupt scum of Gotham, be friends with my baby boy?”

Rolling his eyes, Jim prepares for his well-studied not-all-cops speech, the very same he bestows upon hesitant witnesses.

“I’d teach my child better than to hang out with cops and robbers,” Gertrud declares furiously and honestly, Jim can’t blame her, yet he’s got a trick up his sleeve that works even better than any type of persuasion.

“All honest cops have either quit or died,” he snaps back. “As we both can see, I’m the latter,” he adds drily.

Despite herself, Gertrud chuckles. “Can’t argue with that, darling,” he declares warmly.

“We should leave now,” Jim reminds her when he feels something pressing against his back. There’s no urgency though. He feels it again, this floating, unearthly sensation of being a mere pawn in a greater game, unable to act but to follow the path of destiny.

“Do you think you can help me?” he wonders out loud when taking Gertrud’s hand, leaping out of the window together with her.

He hears the wind rustling through the trees the very second she shouts her answer. They land on the grass, both chuckling in delight when she brushes off the leaves from her dress while Jim is still completely unaffected.

“Who was that lunatic anyway,” Jim wants to know, already running into the woods with her, admiring the long strands of hair dancing through the air. She looks so alive , like that, not even knowing how close indeed she’d been to death. If just one tiny thing had turned out differently, if she had tripped, if she had been silent instead of loud, if the door had not been made from oak, if…

Life always beats death, Jim decides. There’s no hidden romanticism in a life cut short, in a heart stopped from beating. Gertrud is gorgeous, and full of hope and love for her son’s future. He couldn’t take that from her even if there might have been a chance it would have stopped his own suffering.

Laughing in sheer relief, Gertrud runs through the trees, the bag flapping over her shoulder. “Who should it have been,” she grins. “My baby boy’s grandfather, of course.”

Even Jim has to giggle. For Gotham’s standards, that sounds like such a mundane family-drama.

“I need your help, though,” he shouts in lieu of an answer. “I need to be alive again,” he adds and Gertrud stops.

The good mood from mere moments ago is lost instantly and Jim swears he can almost feel the temperature dropping himself when his stomach falls.

“Oh, my poor baby,” Gertrud says, cupping his face lightly between her hands. “My poor, poor baby,” she repeats sadly. “The dead can’t return to life. Not like that. Either, they are gone, or they need to fulfill their purpose.” Jim hopes it’s only a trick of the light she suddenly sounds crazed.

After pondering for a moment, her face suddenly lights up. “But I can do one thing for you,” she proposes excitedly. “I told you I’d make sure my son stays away from cops. I’ll teach him not to befriend one, maybe…”

The gunshot echoes through the woods, cutting her line of thought short. That has been the last warning and Jim can practically feel the time running out as his mind is getting dragged through space and time, hurled mercilessly through the void back to where he started.

The feeling is similar to a cramp, only worse, and a hundred times more painful. Here goes his only chance for help, Jim thinks, as Gertrud leaves him behind, taking his ability to communicate with another living being with her. He screams after her, begs her to call him back, to help him however possible.

Turning, she reaches for him, tries grabbing his hand again yet they both already know she can’t follow. “I promise,” she shouts after him and Jim wants to weep.

#gobblepot #Fanfiction

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Yours | Vampire!Todoroki x F!Reader

um... can you do an AU story of Yandere!Vampire!Todoroki x Villager!Reader? Like he stalks her every night till he get enough and take her? Rape is fine xD.

Once again, NSFW! Happy Birthday, Best Boy!

Warnings: Hypnotism, Rape/Noncon

Notes: I am still going to write the second part for Aizawa “Unrequited” story. I’m still just a little backed up on my current to-do list, but I have the request saved! I know it’s been awhile though since it was asked for. Sorry :(

“Je t'adore. M'apprécies-tu?” - I adore you. Do you care for me?

“Est-ce que tu m'aimes?” - Do you love me?

“Je t'aime.” - I love you.

To Todoroki, you were so different from the other humans in your small French village. You were an enigma who walked calmly after dark to deliver goods, who confidently worked your own land without needing to be married, and who rejected the mostly wrong superstitious jargon of your fellow humans. It was so beautiful to see such a human unafraid of the things that go bump in the night — things like him that follows the innocent in the dark.

You finish your last delivery early, but the sun is already set with the coming of winter where the days get shorter and the nights get longer for the devil’s children to cause trouble. “Be careful on your way home” and “you shouldn’t be out when it’s so late” were common phrases you heard along with “strange child” and “silly girl”. You had never believed them until the night you saw a strange man standing at the edge of the village during the dusk of the day where the sun had gone down enough for shadows to finally take over the land. A chill goes down your spine when you lock eyes with that sharp gaze.

He was handsome. Much more than many of the men in the village. Finely dressed in all black with pure skin and neatly split hair. He probably hasn’t seen a day of work in his life. Though, you weren’t the only one who held these thoughts.

To him, you worked too much and toiled too often especially for such an attractive woman. You’d look much better in the castle as his precious item. Someone for him to hold and feel the heat he’s never had radiate from their skin, to listen to the beat of your heart ever steady grow wild with his attention, to see the delicate crimson pouring from your neck, free and for the taking. You didn’t belong with the humans any more than he did. They didn’t understand you like he did.

“Excuse me, are you lost?” your voice calls out to him, so strong and bold. That’s a foolish action for you to take. Though, you still keep your distance, a smarter decision. You wouldn’t need to keep your distance from him for long. You’d love him. He knew you would. You just didn’t know it yet but you were his soulmate, as you humans say. He, however, already loved you after the months you’ve spent together. It was bordering on two years now that he’s followed, watched, and protected you from any other animals roaming the village at night along with any man that dared to get close to his belonging. To humans, that was a long time to be in love but barely a blink of an eye to the immortal, and he had many more years to give. This time, he needed you to be aware of it too.

“Yes,” he answers softly, “I am lost. Would you help me find a place to stay?”

You nod and point to the direction of the square. “The mayor has spare rooms in the town hall. I’m sure he’d allow you to stay there if you need shelter for the night.”

“Would it be too much trouble to ask for your guidance there?” he questions, and the better part of you tells you to be wary as you point towards the center again with a more stern voice.

“I’m sorry, but I’m very busy. Just follow the road straight down. It’s the biggest building with a large sign. You won’t miss it,” you say, and he nods. Satisfied, you assume he got the idea and turn to continue down the road only to turn into the body of the person you were talking to less than five seconds ago.

“What—“ you barely have a chance to register your shock before he pinches your chin to bring your gaze align with his own. Then, you see just how demonic he looks with cold skin like death, different color hair you can finally see in this slim light, and two different color eyes that you can't help but peer into to.

“Don’t be afraid, ma chérie. I merely want to express my gratitude,” he whispers, and then there’s a red glow to his eyes that has your mind swirling and your own irises turning a vibrant shade of red in turn.

It’s only blank after that.

When you next awake, you’re laying on top of a red antique recamier. You cough with the dust that fills your lungs upon your first gasp. The walls around you are grey stone with cobwebs hanging around the edges, the building dilapidates despite the small efforts that appear to try to keep a structure way past its prime clean, and the hall leading to the room echoes forebodingly with the steps of another person. Your heart jumps with each step, and you quickly stand from your couch to move towards the only door in the room for any chance of escape before he closed—you gulp—in.

“You’re awake.” The small smile he gives strikes fear rather than comfort as you back away from the man. “Why are you so tense, (Name)?” Todoroki questions as if he hadn’t just whisked you off the streets earlier that night and brought you to this creepy castle of shallow light and floating dust. It’s almost beautiful when he gets closer, letting the open window catch him with the soft lighting of moonlight that reflects off from white hair. It’s then that you can see the fangs prickling at his bottom lip, and your entire body goes cold with the knowledge of everything you thought once was a lie being true. “You look pale. You should sit.”

“I—how do you know my name?” you question and try to find as much of light you can from the windows, but it doesn’t do much when it’s so faint and not from the sun. You walk around the room as he attempts to get closer, stumbling over furniture and cautiously rearranging small tables in front of yourself for the comfort of any type of obstacle between you and him.

“I’ve known your name for months now,” he explains, “Oh, I should introduce myself, shouldn’t I? I’m Todoroki Shouto. The owner of this castle.”

“Owner? You mean the creepy castle in the woods?” you reply.

“Well, my mother owned it before the villagers killed her long ago,” he explains, getting ever closer. “...Humans are so afraid of what they don’t understand, but you don’t have fear.”

How very wrong he was, because you had only fear right now.

“Then, what do you want from me? I didn’t kill her, I didn’t even know vampires existed,” you attempt to reason.

“It gets lonely here for years. Hundreds go by without a word, without acceptance,” he explains, a soft hint of sadness to his voice that would’ve made you pity him if not for the situation.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you sympathize, trying to get a little on his good side in hopes he’d let you keep your life. "Some people can be overly cruel."

“So kind,” he mutters thoughtfully. “You’re wasted on the human world. I brought you here to stay and be my belonging.”

“Your belonging?” You repeat, sweating with the realization that he backed you into a corner of the room.

Cold is all you recognize when he touches you. It was almost human with the longing he holds you with, but dead and cold. You’re held to his chest, his breathing audible from this distance, and his gaze soft. “Yes. You’d be my property,” he tells you as he slides the back of his hand along your neck. He admires the stretch and curve of the area, the perfectly pulled vein against your skin. “I’d care for you, and you’d care for me. You’d be able to enjoy an extended life with me as well. We wouldn't have to feel lonely or judged together.”

“I would be a vampire?”

“No, but I could change you if you’d like all you need is a drink of my blood,” he offers, and you shiver when his thumb traces your plump lips and slowly presses between them to poke over your own canines as if he could let you slice his skin just that moment. “Personally, I prefer you being human, it suits you somehow to overcome the disadvantage of being such a fragile creature,” he smirks amused, and you shiver when he brings his mouth to your neck and sharp fangs graze over your pulse while cold hands glide around your back.

You push away. “I’m not your belonging or some toy for you, devil!”

The sting from your rejection is clear on his face. Suddenly, you realize what you said, and your fear returns when Todoroki grimaces slightly before sighing. “I was afraid of this. I wanted you to agree for yourself but I can no longer wait for that,” he argues and the same swirling of crimson returns to his eyes that has your mind blanking and your resistance slowly dropping as you attempt to muster the strength to look away. “You will listen to me, pet.”

Then, he stops when that clouded look overtakes your features and you’re standing like nothing more than a blank puppet needing him to pull your strings.

“(Name),” he calls to make sure you’re completely hypnotized.

“Master,” you whisper softly.

Todoroki smirks triumphantly. “Come be a good girl and sit with me,” he commands and leads you to sit back down on the recamier. You obey and sit next to him. Your body is immediately his again to hold as he lets the feeling of you resonate with his whole being. As he thought, you did radiate life and color.

“(Name), are you mine?” he questions and decides to take the taste of your lips for the first time. You kiss him back with an equal force to match his own. Your arms embrace him as he pushes you down, and it’s the first touch in centuries that makes him feel high. “Mon trésor, answer me.”

“Yes, I am yours,” you dreamily state while delicate sighs escape your kissable lips. You were so beautiful this way, he decides, and pets your head like you’re a precious doll that could break at any wrong touch. The last thing he wanted to do was cause pain and knock you out your trance.

“You will be my belonging and be with me forever,” he asks, and he is melting in pure delight at your next word.

“Forever,” you repeat as he goes to kiss your neck. He nips you bit by bit, pressing his fangs down into your skin, but never enough to truly leave a mark until he’s ready to puncture into your sweet flesh. Todoroki traces every inch of your body, unable to get enough of what he dreamed of for so long — the softness of your breasts yielding in his touch, your pliable lips hot and slick against his own, the length of your curved legs leading up to your center.

“Beautiful,” is all he can repeat with the stripping of your clothes. Each article he pulls off slow like unwrapping a gift. Each inch of feminine curves presented to him making him sigh with want and relief that he finally had you. “Je t'adore. M'apprécies-tu?”

“I care for you, yes, with all my heart,” you answer and are rewarded with another hungry kiss at your lips. You whimper weakly with the attention he offers you. You're numb but can tell that something is building with the possessive caresses he places on your body, along your curves which he needfully squeezes and massages. Your lips are red from his brash kisses, and he finds himself drawn back to nip and kiss you again. Your leg slides along the back of his own and you lightly massage his head. Your cozy strokes makes something light in him. Something almost alive, or as close as he could get. Todoroki always knew you would be the only one to grant him that feeling. He loved you so much. His fragile human.

“Est-ce que tu m'aimes?”

Another kiss.

“Je t'aime," you gasp when he touches and strokes your soak folds. You open up to him desperately with the patient strokes, cool against your heat. He's never felt heat like this when he pumps his slender fingers into your yearning core. "Master, please, je veux être avec toi. Je ne peux pas vivre sans toi."

“If you really want to be with me, then beg for me, my pet,” he orders, letting his eyes glow red again to seal you into a deeper hypnosis. “Tell me you want me to make you mines.”

“I’m yours for the taking,” you airily comply, “my soul, my body, and my heart belongs to only you.”

Todoroki smiles before taking you, fully and whole. He marvels at the twitch of your face and strain of your slick walls tight around him. “You’re so perfect,” he praises. He knew he made the right choice choosing you.

“Master,” you purr and hold onto to him. He inhales your scent, the musk and the sweet smell of your sex fueling him.

Todoroki can barely wait for your discomfort to subside before pulling out and thrusting back into you. You moan and wrap around him so needfully. Todoroki knew all along that you needed him. Now, you’re showing it as you arch into his powerful thrusts. He cups your bouncing breasts and kisses your neck again, and you crane readily for him, without any fight just how he wants.

Your body is so truthful where your mind is not. You keep tightening around him. More cum leaks down his cock with each buck until you accept him easily and hugs his cock like you didn’t want him to pull away. “Will you become my belonging?”

“Yes.”

That’s all he needed before sinking his teeth into your neck and reveling in the rich taste of your blood. In his mind, your essence is the sweetest he's ever tasted, addicting. It flowed fast and strong due to the erratic beating of your heart and overflowed in his mouth as if you wanted him to have all of it. He wouldn't take too much, nothing that would kill his new lover. But, you don't accept this new role. You cry and spasm around him, his hold on you finally breaking and the world comes back with a searing pain in your neck. You pant, dizzy at what’s going on with undeniable pleasure shaking through your body. You realize quickly that he’s inside you, that your body is convulsing and your own cum is flowing in droves. You half-scream and half-groan but Todoroki focuses on drinking down every succulent drop you offer, letting the flood of iron wash over his taste buds.

The lingering effects of pleasure keeps overtaking you. You had came in feeling amazing, and you have to fight not to moan while Todoroki can feel the beat of your heart quickening with excitement and panic. He holds you down harder as you thrash but every so often your legs would squeeze around him when he hit that sensitive spot deep in you, making you groan in shame and makes him absolutely ecstatic. It’s several seconds of rhythmic pumping and sucking of your blood that you cry with his release inside you.

Todoroki unlatches from your neck, the sticky red of blood dripping from his teeth and onto the perfect puncture wound he left. Satisfied, he licks red lips and carefully rests back on top of your still shivering body.

“You are a perfect belonging,” he smiles down at you as you roughly bite your bottom lip. You don’t know just what you’re doing to him with that simple action. It draws him to thinking just how soft your lips were against his mere seconds ago.

You hiss through your frustration, refusing to believe that any of this was your own choice in the moments of blackness. “I refuse to ever be yours, monster. I’d rather die first.”

Todoroki smiles, loving your enthusiasm or feisty-ness rather. It may have been a disappointment that you still hadn’t accept it, but he knows he’ll get to hear you accept his offer one day soon. All of your own free will.

“It’s okay, amour. We have all the time in the world before I let that happen.”

#x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #yandere #Notsfw #Adelssmut #todoroki bnha #shouto #bnha

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

Smile For All The Unwanted

Another Reader x Doofus Rick fic. This fic was written for those who feel worthless. We all feel that way sometimes, and I thought this would be a nice encouragement.

In this fic, the reader learns that everything matters, even the unwanted.

_______________

Every so often, when he found out that there would be a yard sale, Zeta-7 would ask you to join him. What one would find was the usual batch of junk, the kind of things people should just throw away. It didn’t take you long to know whether or not you would buy anything, but he would browse as though they were treasures, picking up each item which caught his attention. On this occasion, you wanted to question him, wondering why he had bought a whole table of broken electronics, a wobbly coffee table, and a rusted music box, but the soft, melancholic, paternal look he bestowed on them had quieted you.

These items which no longer held any meaning to other people, had meaning to him. It was this that made you decide to look around again, to see if you had missed out on any of those so called treasures. There was a set of figurines you thought might be nice, but you stopped in front of the pile of plushies. How had you missed this? Battered, and dirty, the stuffed dog had certainly seen better days, but you chose him.

Zeta-7 did happen to question your reasoning for buying the stuffed dog, and you told him that you knew it was yours.

______________

The world was spinning. Round and round you went, until you have had enough. You didn’t have a computer chair at your house, so when you saw the one in his office, you sat down, and spun around until you thought you were going to throw up. No you weren’t high, or drunk, but just a silly human who kept themselves easily entertained.

Zeta-7 chuckled from the doorway, and you paused, as though you were in trouble. You did warn him that you tended to wander about, and if left unsupervised, might hurt yourself. He asked if you would join him in the garage, for he had something to show you. Various paintings lined the walls of the hallway, their themes ranging from winter scenes to fantasy worlds, like the kind you’d see in shows like Star Trek. You almost hit your head on the English ivy while entering the garage, and were careful not to step on the pothos vine.

In the past, he warned you about the dangers of his garage, and of the items and chemicals he kept in there, so you avoided it. Oh, but he had so much cool stuff in there. You two stopped in front of his work bench, and on it sat the ornate box. It must have been another one of his gadgets, or a repair job. Still, it must have been important if he wanted to show you.

You asked what it was. It seemed this was the question he was waiting for you to ask. You swore there were stars in his eyes, this joy, why it made him look years younger. As he explained all the mechanical components, going through the process used, and what it was, you were taking photos of him to look at later. Rick didn’t seem to mind, but he paused in the middle of his explanation.

You put away your phone, apologizing, but not sorry to have a few more cute pics of him. With your permission, he took your hand and placed it upon the box. It was vibrating, as though it were alive. Together, you opened the box, a prerecorded greeting could be heard from the hidden speakers. Then, a small figure sprung out of the metal flower inside.

The figure looked like Zeta-7, from its chest cavity popped out a tiny stringed instrument. It’s glass eyes winked, and the song played, with a chip tune accompaniment. You gasped, this song, it was the one he played the day you met Zeta-7.

_______________

For years, you two had lived in the same town, in the same neighborhood, only houses away from each other. It was funny how you two seemed to miss each other, though Rick would later tell you it was because of his job. You had been carrying groceries, thinking of what you might have for dinner when you tripped. You cursed to yourself, and almost cried when you realized your doritos broke. Zeta-7 had been working in the garage at the time, and saw when you fell across the street.

Together, you two mourned over the loss of your precious doritos. After you brought your groceries to your place, he invited you for some tea. You were wary, you didn’t really know him, but he thought it would be a great way to get to know his neighbor. In the end, he brought over a cordless tea kettle, and you two drank your cheap green tea on your porch, talking about everything and nothing. You might have passed it off as nothing but company with a stranger, but what won you over was his little performance.

With his phone, he played the song on a ukulele app.

Smile, though your heart is aching

Smile, even though it’s breaking

When there are clouds in the sky

you’ll get by

If you smile through your fear and sorrow

Smile and maybe tomorrow

You’ll see the sun come shining through

for you….

The rest, was history.

___________________

Back inside the house, you two sipped on hot chocolate. In the corner of the living room, was a neat coffee table you hadn’t seen before. You kneeled beside it, and passed your hand over the mosaic tile. Underneath one of its legs was a book, missing its cover. You knew, this must of been one of his yard sale finds, but with a makeover. You asked why he didn’t fix the wobbly leg, he told you it gave it character, and that the book needed a friend.

Over and over you passed your hand over the table, strangely entranced by how cool it felt to the touch. It had been broken, but he made it right. Thinking back to the music box, it was the same old music box, but with a makeover, possibly using parts from the electronics. Resting your head on its surface, you found comfort in this knowledge. Zeta-7 saw the best in everything and everyone, even when you couldn’t see it yourself.

You sat there so long, that he joined you in admiration of the table. Why, you sighed, and he told you that he thought you needed a friend. No, you replied, you were talking about the knick knacks. Resting his head beside yours, he told you a fantastical story, one you that you didn’t think you could believe. He told you about his life, about the universe, and how there were other Ricks, but he was a fluke among their kind.

No, he was not an alien, but he had been to space. No, he was not a clone, but he knew how to create one. In his way, he explained as one would with a child this information, which could one day put you in harm’s way. Like the items which he had bought, what others considered garbage, useless, and unwanted, he thought of himself like them. In his home, they became like kin, and he’d find a way for them to be happy just like he strived to be.

Foolish it was to personify the lifeless, items which could never love him back, but they were his, and he gave them a home. Like his plants, they were his friends, and though he knew better, they remained so. You knew that he was different, and you found that at the end of his story, it didn’t matter. Zeta-7 was himself, he was his own person, and no clone, no alien, or creature could say otherwise. Above a whisper, he asked if you were disappointed.

No, you smiled, because you had chosen him. Just like he had chosen to see the good in everything, even if it meant nothing, he saw something in you, and you saw it in him. With his permission you laced his hand, and told him about the stuffed dog you had bought. After you had taken it home, you fixed him up. Though he would always look a little worn, it’s story wasn’t over.

Rick sighed, giving your hand a squeeze. Your kindred spirit, he was too pure for this universe. Something about you must have been good if he wanted you. Out of everyone in the universe, this silly old man, who loved his plants, crafts, and ukulele, wanted you. You hummed, a giggle escaping you when he told you that you looked pretty at this angle. You asked if he would show you the music box again, and he jumped up and ran for it.

Funny, he moved like running was something he was used to doing. Reluctant, you moved away from that little table, but you were sure that you’d be together soon.

__________

Your hot chocolate wasn’t so hot anymore, so you popped it in the microwave. You wondered what was taking him so long, and feeling a little hungry, popped some popcorn. Considering his sweet tooth, you dressed it up with toppings. Another thing you two shared was your love of toppings. Like, if you two ordered a pizza, you’d want as many as they are willing to put on, and the funnyman that he was would ask for a larger pizza just so that you two could have even more toppings.

With your bowl of buttery, crunchy goodness, you found that sweet spot on the couch, and waited. After twenty minutes, you left the empty bowl in the sink and wandered around, poking things you liked. You knocked on the garage door, and entered. He was tinkering with something, and froze when you laughed. Zeta-7 told you he was inspired to create a device, but it’s purpose was a surprise.

You sighed, knowing what would be best to do. You told him you were going to go home, and his hands stopped. He didn’t want you to go, he liked having you around, having someone to ask questions, to interrupt the silence which seemed to follow him. And you, you didn’t want to distract him, so you told him it would be best if you went home. Zeta-7 offered to walk to walk you to your home, but it was alright.

Sometimes he didn’t understand, and you had to choose your words carefully. There was no need to be desperate, to constantly please, and while it made you happy, it hurt you to see him so anxious. You told him that you loved it when he was himself, even like this, being the man who adored science as much as he loved everything else that he did. You turned to go, but he asked if you could wait a moment. Removing his goggles and gloves, he stood, making his way to where you were.

If you allowed him, he would go entertain you, then come back to finish the job after you left. Yet, if you let him go, he could finish the job, but feel guilty, and anxious over what caused you to go. You told him to choose what he wanted to do. You didn’t want him to feel guilty, and you didn’t want to stand in the way of his work, and whatever he chose, you’d respect his decision. You, he said, he wanted to be with you.

Be it here in the garage, or in the house, if you were around, he’d be able to relax a little. So you stayed, even for a little while longer. You asked questions when appropriate, handed him tools if they were out of his reach, and flirted when he was doing calculations, causing him to drop his pencil. When he was satisfied, he stopped tinkering, and apologized if it was boring. If watching him mutter to himself, blissful, with those gentle hands, carefully piecing together a device that did who-knows-what was boring, then you didn’t deserve him.

What had he done for you to want him he asked. How was it possible, that anything or anyone could like him, when he was so himself. You asked for his permission, his reply firm, but doubtful as to why you’d want to touch him. Pulling your chair close, your knees touched his.Intertwining your hands, you kissed them, and you colored him a picture with words.

As a writer, you knew a great deal of words which could flatter or please, but sincerity in the dearest form would be enough. You pointed out that he was an elysian creature, that his creativity, and how his capable hands created works of peace and love. Combing your fingers through his hair, you described his intelligent, orphic, beautiful mind. And while he was not young, he had varedity, and how his thoughts communicated with his body, and how his body, expressed itself so honestly, that you were surprised the whole world hadn’t fallen in love with him. You weren’t old enough, creative enough, or intelligent to describe him completely, for many of his virtues were ineffable.

If one were to trace those invisible qualities, they would lose themselves in a universe with so many stars, they would die before they could count them all. Zeta-7 wasn’t great, but unforgettable. You told him to stop you if he was uncomfortable, but he was contemplative. You thought you said too much and pulled away, but his grip was strong, and he told you he wished to know the rest.

You told him he could not fix you, that these feelings of yours weren’t broken, but designed, and with his actions, he painted you splendor. In his ear, you whispered every way he drove you wild, and how it was dangerous for him to be around someone like you, since you were at a constant state of wanting to kiss him. Then you pulled away a little, and sighed, telling him because you were only human, you would kiss him if you didn’t govern yourself. And while he was attractive to you, it was only because his soul was so beautiful. Wrapping your arms around him, you kissed him softly, telling him you should go.

Yet, not before he gave you the ornate box. You couldn’t believe that it was for you, you didn’t even feel like you deserved it, but he wanted you to have it. Why, you asked him, why did he make the music box for you. As though it weren’t already obvious, he chuckled. Being your neighbor, he had seen you over the years, was curious, but afraid to say anything. Rick suspected you were quite a character, and that when you two finally met, all he wanted was to know you, and see you smile back.

#doofus rick #doofus rick x reader #j19z7 #rick j19z7 #j19ζ7 #rick j-19-zeta-7 #j-19-zeta-7 #j19zeta7 #rick and morty fanfic #my writing #my fanfic #my fanfic stuff #my work #rick x reader #rick sanchez x reader

[shimadatales]

hey hey hey requests are open, heck ye. Could I have a request of a drunk Hanzo being picked up by his s/o and him not recognizing her and him basically being like "No I will not go with you, I am waiting for the love of my life" and just gernally speaking highly of his s/o while she guides him home

I made this one slightly longer than usual, because I had quite some fun with it! So, thank you for the great idea :) I also did it in HC form, but if you want something different, please tell me. Enjoy!

- Hanzobeing drunk was a rare occasion and a quite funny one at that. It happened atone of the Overwatch parties, in which a certain cowboy had stupidly asked himfor a showdown. The gesture alone already made you roll your eyes, but to yoursurprise, the archer became quite competitive over it. As you brushed it off assome silly display of strength amongst men, Hanzo saw it more as an insult tohis ego. Even though he was not a big drinker and thought that any drink shouldbe taken moderately and saved for the right time and occasion, he did not allowsomeone else to ridicule him and get away with it. The competition was on andthe two were starting to down their respective drinks in high amounts.

- Abig jar of whiskey for McCree and a considerable amount of sake for Hanzohimself. Of course, he would not enter the competition with such anunsophisticated choice of liquor. For a man who did not drink too much toooften, the marksman surprisingly wasn’t a lightweight and you were trulybaffled by the way he composed himself, even after downing over ten cups of theexpensive rice wine. His expession did not seem to change either, the deadpanlook still visible on his face along with a slight smirk, as he slowly saw thecowboy succumb to the drunken haze after a while. However, he was just as eagerto win this fight as the archer was and had quite some experience in drinkinghimself, which proved him to be a formidable opponent and the two only seemedto rile each other up more and more.

- Bythe time most of the drinks had been devoured, both men were equally as drunkand wasted, Hanzo having tried his hardest to keep his own composure at max andhoping to see Jesse lose his own, but it seems that a drinking competition wasnot something the archer was quite made for. The cowboy proved to be tooridiculously serious about the game and the both of them were evenly matched,which resulted in a draw in the end. As it was getting rather late as well, afew of the other members offered to bring McCree to his respective quarterswhile you would take care of Hanzo yourself, telling them it was fine as youlived nearby the headquarters. The warrior however, seemed somewhat… reluctantto go with you? You were not sure why, but his drunken state must have taken atoll on him after all, as he looked up at you with a dazed expression once youtried to put his arm around your shoulders to keep him upright. He tried tostruggle, although weakly when he roughly voiced a few slurred words. “Releaseme. I will not go with you-“ The archer had to pause his sentence for a moment,his mind clearly too fogged from the effects of the heavy dose of alcohol hehad taken earlier and he hiccupped slightly before he continued. “I am waitingfor the love of my life. She will be arriving shortly.“ Another ratherunattractive hiccup left the man’s throat and you honestly had to giggle alittle at his silly performance, despite the confusion you felt over his words.

- Hemust be feeling disorientated from all the poison in his body and you were sureto lecture him about this all in the morning. For now, he needed to be put inbed with some medication against the heavy hangover that would followafterwards. You chuckled lowly to yourself, muttering something about the badattempt of flirting he was using on you while being in such a drunken mood andyou silently hoped he would perhaps tell you this personally once he was soberagain. Hanzo once more tried to mumble a few more words, but they were tooquiet and broken for you to hear and on top of that, the archer almost seemedto fall asleep right in his seat and in this moment you decided that you hadenough, putting more force into getting him out of said seat and to yourquarters. Now half asleep, he was less of a hassle to get along with you, butthe whole ordeal still proved to be difficult as you had to do most of the workin carrying him and he honestly felt like deadweight, putting a noticeablestrain on your body. Hanzo could barely move his feet due to fatigue and thusall of the weight of his muscles and body came to rest on your shoulders andback, which you were sure to feel in the morning. Not to mention, his breathwas far from comfortable to be around now as well and you hoped this situationwould not repeat itself in the future, shaking your head once again at thefoolish rivalry between the two men that had started this.

- Thewalk to your room became slightly awkward even, as the archer was slowly wakingup again, although still intoxicated and began inquisitively sniffing aroundyour neck, a curious hum escaping his throat. On normal occasions, you wouldhave enjoyed it quite a lot, but in this moment, where your man was clearly asdrunk as a lord and the smell of sake heavily surrounding him, it was far fromenjoyable and perhaps a little embarrassing. Being the nice person that you arehowever, you chose to ignore it and couldn’t help but smile to yourself at hisunusual demeanor once again. Your decision would become regrettable after sometime though, as the archer’s advances didn’t cease now that he was moreconfident due to the alcohol and his face was soon practically buried in yourneck, the tickle of his nose and beard almost too painful to bear along withhis muscled body on your shoulders. “Ah. My love. You have finally come atlast, I was missing you.” You could almost feel the dumb smile on his face andwere wishing to yourself he wouldn’t try to distract you any longer, ascarrying him around was one of the biggest tasks you had done so far today. Fornow though, you could only sigh softly at his remark. “I have been here allalong, you know.” You laughed lightly. “Andit’s a good thing I got you out of there too. Who knows how it could haveescalated further…” The last part was more a thought to yourself as youweren’t quite sure if the archer could control himself fully while being sodrunk. It’s honestly frightening how alcohol can have such a grotesque effecton even the toughest of people.

- Hanzodid not continue talking after you replied to him, as he was too busy staringout in front of him, eyes half lidded and an aloof expression on his face. Hehad probably already forgotten about what he wanted to do in the first place,his mind now being a short-term memory because of the recent events. You letout a sigh of relief once you felt his head shift again, this time to laycomfortably on your shoulder instead and a few snores escaped him. The greatwarrior had fallen asleep, again, but this was a hundred percent better comparedto his drunken antics. Getting inside your quarters must have been the moststressful part by far though. Now that the archer was dead asleep and thus notcapable of moving at all, making you find your keycard extremely difficult as aresult. And to make matters worse, it was usually in situations like these,that the most important of items could not be found, even in the simplest ofplaces. As a heavy sigh escaped you along with a few curses, you gently laidHanzo on the ground, who kept snoring there like a bear mind you and fiddledaround in your pockets to find your keycard. Once you found it, you didn’thesitate to open the door and get the archer to his feet again, now determinedto get him to bed as quickly as possible, so you too could get your well-deservedrest.

- Youthanked the heavens for having no stairs inside your home in that moment, asyou weren’t sure you would have been able to carry him all the way up there toyour bed without having a fractured back. Before retrieving the aspirins fromyour cupboard, you carefully placed Hanzo under the bed sheets and checked tosee how he was doing. After you came back, he was still in a deep slumber, hismouth slightly agape and you could see a noticeable drool forming at the cornerof his mouth. You put your hand before your own as to try and not laugh toohard, not wanting to wake him up and having to deal with his bad attempts atflirting once again. You had to admit though, he was looking rather endearinglike this. He no longer held a serious expression, as his whole face seemed tobe relaxed because of the alcohol and you wished you could see him more likethis, except for the drunken part of course. After watching for a few moremoments, you decided to call it a night and gave him a kiss on his foreheadbefore joining him on the other side of your bed, snuggling against his side.As the sweet state of slumber almost overtook you as well however, Hanzosuddenly began snoring considerably louder, to the point it began preventingyou from falling asleep yourself and you knew that this night would probablynot end the way you wanted it to and you honestly felt like a babysitter forsome part, your tired and exhausted mind clouding your judgment.

- Sighingin defeat, you came to the conclusion that if you stayed with him for the night,it would probably result in you not getting any sleep at all and perhaps evenhaving the marksman’s weight crushing you in the process if you did happen tofall asleep at some point. So, you stepped out of the bed and took a spareblanket from the closet next to it along with a pillow and made your way overto the couch in the living room. Hanzo as before, kept on dreaming without acare in the world. Not aware of your distressed state and for a moment, youeven didn’t feel so guilty about him getting a hangover in the morningafterwards. A little payback for the hard work he had put you through youthought, as you smirked to yourself on the couch and waited for the sandman tocome and take you with him as well this time.

#hanzo x reader #hanzo shimada x reader #overwatch #overwatch x reader #overwatch imagines #hanzo shimada #overwatch hanzo #hanzo headcanons #overwatch headcanons #hanzo imagine #anonymous

[strickenice]

Sea Glass and Songs

Percy had the cursed song stuck in his head as he walked the cobblestone path of the village.

“Fate has been cruel

And order unkind

How can I have sent you away

The blame was my own

The punishment yours

The Harmony’s silent today”

He got weird glances from people as he walked by. His hood was pulled low over his head, and he passed my a bounty sign.

“But into the stillness

I’ll bring you a song

And I will your company keep

To your tired eyes

And my lullabies

will carried you softly to sleep”

His mom’s sweet voice broke through his memory. 

She had called the song the Lullaby for a Princess, and he had nearly forgotten the words if Annabeth hadn’t sang them last night.

“Once there was a god who shone like the sun

He’s look out on his kingdom and sigh

He smiled and said ‘Surely there is no body so lovely

And so well beloved as I’

So great was his reign

and so brilliant his glory

that long was the shadow he cast

Which fell arch upon the older sister he loved

Who grew only darker as days and nights passed.

Percy remembered the story book she drew for him. The smiling man with the gold hair, gold eyes, golden skin, and gold sword standing next to a girl with black hair, silvery white skin, silver eyes, and a silver bow.

“They are brother and sister?”

“Yes, they were the twin gods. Apollo, the sun god, oversaw the day. Artemis, the moon goddess, protected the night.”

“But Artemis was sad?”

“She wasn’t as loved. No one saw her for who she was, and that made her mad.”

“Lullay moon princess, goodnight sister mine

Rest now in moonlight’s embrace

Bare up my lullaby

Winds of the Earth

Through cloud and through sky

And through space

Carry to peace and the coolness of night

And carry my sorrow in kind

Sister you’re loved so much more than you know

Forgive me for being so blind.”

Some people had stopped their day and followed him, hearing his voice carry the song.

“Soon did that god take notice

That others did not give his sister her due

But neither had he loved her as she deserved

He watched as his sister’s unhappiness grew

But such as the way of the limelight

It sweetly takes hold of the mind of it’s host

And that foolish sun god did nothing to stop

The destruction of the one who had needed him most.”

Percy’s eyes welled up with tears. The story brought back so many things, all of them about his mother.

“Lullay moon goddess, goodnight sister mine

Rest now in moonlight’s embrace

Bear up my lullaby

Winds of the Earth

Through cloud and through sky

And through space

Carry to peace and the coolness of night

And carry my sorrow in kind

Sister you’re loved so much more than you know

May troubles be far from your mind

And forgive me for being so blind”

“And Apollo, wounded and bleeding, lept for his sister’s bow next to him. Artemis stood opposite with a glowing ball of pure silver light in her hand. She told him ‘I’m tired of the empty temple while yours overflow. I’m tired of the mortals worshiping the sun but fearing the night. They want to fear me? So be it.’”

“And what did Apollo do, mommy?”

“He pulled back a glowing gold arrow and aimed for the ball of light. He summoned all his strength into the arrow and let it go.”

“He stopped her?”

“For a price. The light held her heart, blackened with fear and anger. The arrow pieced here heart and she fell backwards, dissolving into stardust and rising to the heavens, leaving only a pile of clothes. Apollo got up and saw the damage he had done. According to legend, his scream of pain and sorrow could be heard all around the world. He took his sister’s moon staff and cried over her items before standing up and becoming the god of both the moon and the sun.”

“The years kneel before us

Fearful and unknown

I never imagined

I’d face them on my own

May these thousand winters

Swiftly pass as I pray”

“He built the largest temple her could in his sister’s name. People from far and wide came to see the silver and black building, leaving all sorts of things.”

“Like what?”

“Necklaces, bracelets, weapons, clothing, gemstones, spoils of war. Some people even brought their daughters as offerings.”

“That’s silly!”

“Artemis was the patron of girls who did not want to love. Apollo blessed them with the ability to pass around the word of the moon goddess, and they were protected from the power of any other men so long as the worshiped Artemis.”

“He really did love her?”

“Yes he did.”

“I love you

I miss you

All these miles away

May all your dreams be

Sweet tonight

Safe upon your bed of

Moonlight

And no not of sadness

Pain or Care

And when I dream I’ll fly away and meet you there

Sleep

Sleep

Sleep.”

“According to the story, Artemis will return one day. Apollo did not know how, or when, but all he wanted was for her to come back and see how much the mortals really loved her. That is why we say goodnight to the moon. Every night.”

Percy blinked away a couple of tears as he entered the bar.

He just needed a break from the memories.

Just for that night.

#mermaid annabeth #pirate percy #siren/pirate Au #I'mma name is #Sea Glass and Songs #ponyphonic #lullaby for a princess #lullaby for a princess by ponyphonic #yeah I changed some of the lyrics #it's a good song #also no mermaid really in this #sorry

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Flood my Mornings: Round and Round

anon said:

I would love to see Jamie at a like carnival or fair and Claire introducing him to all those weird foods in FMM! What would he think of cotton candy or a funnel cake?

Notes from Mod Bonnie

This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.

See all past installments via Bonnie’s Master List

Previous installment:  Unimaginable (Jamie and Claire pick a name for the wee bun in the oven)

May, 1951 

“Jesus—fucking—holy—blasted—G’ughh—”

I thought the last word was likely, ‘God,’ but it was anybody’s guess, really, drowned out as it was by yet another bout of vomiting and the sudden blast of music from a nearby loudspeaker. 

“Oh, love...That bad, is it?” My tender, spousal concern was acknowledged only with a string of Gaelic curses, surprisingly creative ones for a man so laid low.

It was a gorgeous hot day (bright enough that I was grateful for my broad hat), but it did make the scent of vomit that much more inescapable. The county fair had come to town, and with both of us having the rare treat of being off on a Saturday, we’d decided to make a family outing of it.  Though it was hardly a grand exposition, both Jamie and I felt giddy as Bree strolling around amidst all the merriment, taking in the exhibits, music, livestock, food, and rides...including a deceptively innocent-looking Merry-go-Round. 

“It was so good of you to try it for Bree’s sake, love.” I rubbed Jamie’s back, trying my level best not to laugh at the way his hunched back seemed to have lost all its vertebrae. “Is there anything I can get you to make you feel a bit better?”

He raised his head a fraction from the garbage can, high enough only to glare at me. “How about a trip through the stones to ten minutes ago so I might choose to SPIT on the fool contraption instead of ride it?”

"Not sure that’s quite how it works, my love," I whispered, laughing and kissing his shoulder. 

"Daddy? Da!? DA!?!" Bree chirped from below. “Can we go—go an’ do the round’n’round again??”

Jamie looked down at our two-(no, two-and-a-half-and-then-some!)-year-old. "Do ye want to send your poor Da to his death?”

“Doesna—doesna’nt go to DEFF, Daddy," Bree laughed as if he were being hilariously obtuse, "Goes ‘round and ‘ROUND.”

“So I noticed,” he groaned, hunching once more over the garbage can and spitting.

“Okay, lessgo DO it!!!” and she was tearing off back toward the Merry-Go-Round. 

“Ohhhh, no-you-don’t, little monster,” I said, swooping her up into my arms before she scuttled off. My sunglasses slipped to the tip of my nose, but I couldn’t immediately get them back up. Between the heat, the sudden movement, Bree now like a boulder on my hip, a heavy handbag banging against the other, and my back abso-bloody-lutely killing me from toting around a seven-months-grown-human in utero, I suddenly felt woozy and completely spent. “Here, lovey,” I panted, trying to keep from toppling over, “Can you help push Mum’s glasses up? Yes, just—There we go, thank you, sweetheart.” 

“Melcome!” she chirped and gave me a wet kiss on the mouth. 

I mmm’ed happily and kissed her cheeks as we swayed together next to Jamie. “Was the ride fun for you, at least, baby?”

"Uh-HUH, s’was BUNCH fun!"

“Hear that, darling? ‘Bunch’ fun.” 

From the plastic depths, I thought I heard him name a few other choice things it was ‘bunch’ of.

I did feel for Jamie. We should have known it would be no better than a boat for motion-sickness, and he’d spared ME from having to ride the thing, after all (though truth be told, I quite liked such exhilarations when not pregnant). But I was ALREADY shaking with silent mirth imagining the photos I’d snapped, all laid out in the cherished family album. The first few would show a sweet and lively scene: Jamie smiling cheerfully, standing with his hand on Bree’s back, she triumphantly mounted on her plastic chestnut steed waiting for the ride to start... and then would follow the play-by-play of the situation’s rapid deterioration, every revolution of the Merry-Go-Round showing a Jamie still more pale and hunched and desperate, until—Well, that LAST one was a blackmail goldmine for the ages.

“Daddy?” Bree asked suddenly, her face scrunched up as she peered at her father. “You mad’it Mama?”

That got Jamie’s attention and he straightened. “Mad at her?”

“All...” She waved her hand. “...mean.”

His eyes softened and they flicked up to me, verifying that I wasn’t in fact upset. “No, I’m no’ cross at either of ye, a leannan,” he promised her. “The ride on the Merry’round just made my wame all wobbly, such that I forgot my manners.” 

I bounced Bree on my hip. “I bet sometimes you feel a bit grumpy when your tummy hurts, too, right?”

“Oh, aye,” she conceded, a flash of pure Scottishness beaming through, as it did from time to time. She leaned over and gave Jamie’s elbow a clumsy pat. “Sorry for y’r tummy hurted.” 

“That’s verra kind of ye to say, mo chridhe.” 

“Havva snack, w’feel ALL bedder, okay?”

“...Suggests the young miss with NO motive of her own,” I said, nuzzling my nose against hers.

“Oh, definitely not,” Jamie agreed soberly, eyes twinkling. He stretched, replaced his hat, and exhaled, then gave a small ha! of surprise. “I will say, Bree-love, a wee bite does sound just the thing.” 

“Good, let’s HAVV’it.” 

“If there had been ANY doubt about your parentage, Bree, that bottomless pit of a stomach would have been proof-positive.” I sighed. “Alright, you two, let’s see what we can rustle up. Here, Jamie, will you—?” I honestly felt like I was going to fall over.  

Jamie obligingly plucked her out of my arms. “Jesus, lass,” he said with an exaggerated groan, “but you’re getting big.”

“Nuh-uh, Da, I’m the little.”

“Aye, you’re still the little, for now,” he agreed, tenderly tucking her hair behind her ears, “Before long you willna be the littlest, though.”

She nodded, sagely. “When Beeyin’s comin.’”

“Aye, cub,” he agreed, grinning at me, “when Baby Ian comes.”

Brianna couldn’t be convinced for anything that just ‘Ian’ would do, and insisted each time on referring to her brother by what she considered his full title: Baby Ian. The only problem with this was that she couldn’t seem to manage all the syllables in a row; hence, “Beeyin”; hence as well, many private family jokes, such as equating him to a wee bean; or when the wee lad would start jouncing me about like a racehorse, Jamie cocking his head to the side and asking, ‘Beeyin your bonnet?’, and other such delightful silliness. 

“Alright, let’s see about some chow. You two stay here,” I indicated a nearby shaded picnic table, “and I’ll see what I can scrounge for us. What kind of snack do you want, Bree?”

She screwed up her face in ferocious concentration before saying definitely, “Som’fin GOOD.” 

“Well, thank you for being so specific. Very helpful, I don’t think. Any preferences?” I asked Jamie.

"Som'fin good sounds perfect,” he said with an attempt at a wink. 

“Ooooooooo!” Bree squealed a few minutes later when I returned with the goodies.

“Cotton candy,” I explained, carefully passing Jamie the paper cone supporting the precarious pink cloud. 

“Cotton?” he asked dubiously. “And it’s edible?”

“Just spun sugar,” I said with a grin. “Now, Bree, take your fingers and—No-no, just pinch a little off with your—oh—Oh, well.”

Bree had stuck her entire face into the sticky mass and taken a monumental bite, pulling back with wisps of pink in her eyebrows, enraptured. 

Jamie looked skeptical to the extreme. “Does it taste nice, cub?”

“Uh-huh!” Bree clawed out a fistful of fluff and shoved it upward toward Jamie’s mouth. “TASTE!” 

Jamie gave me a preemptive grimace and took a tentative bite. “Holy Moses,” he said, blinking hard and shuddering as he swallowed. “It’s like pouring the whole sugar bowl direct into my mouth.” 

“It’s GOOD,” Bree insisted, chowing down with relish. 

“None so verra filling, I’d wager, but as long as ye like rotting your teeth out—” 

“Here,” I laughed, “I came prepared with other options as well.” I pulled the next item from the bag. “Care for some Elephant Ear? Just a silly name, I promise,” I said hastily, seeing his alarm. “No pachyderms harmed in the making of this treat.” 

“What is it, then?” he asked, peering around Bree’s head. “Pastry?” 

“Try it while there’s trying to be had,” I said, handing it to him. “I’m eating for two, and we fully intend to eat our way through the entire elephant.” 

He did enjoy the fried dough, going back for several huge bites, licking powdered sugar from his fingertips. “Lord, though I dinna ken if I can manage wi’ any more sweeties.” 

“Alright, let’s see how you manage this.” 

Jamie had probably never had American corn in any form before, I reflected, let alone on the original cob. I certainly hadn’t grown up eating it, and so it didn’t occur to me to buy it at the market. From the gusto with which Jamie inhaled the roasted ear, slathered with butter and spices, though, it was going to have to become a regular staple. 

“No foolish name for this one?” he asked as he was finishing the last few bites. 

“Not as far as I know,” I shrugged, trying to wipe Bree’s face, which was an unmitigated disaster-zone.

"Pity. Missed a good chance.” 

“Oh?” 

He waved the naked cob suggestively. “Corn on the co....” And the barest-whisper of “...ck.”

“You’re a ridiculous human being,” I murmured, leaning in to kiss him. 

“And you are absolutely lovely,” he murmured back against my lips, squeezing my knee. 

“C’n I havva cornna-cock, too?” 

#;mod bonnie #Flood my mornings #;fluff alert

[quillerqueen]

Down In Yon Forest

Alone in the world though Regina may be, she doesn’t have to spend Yuletide season all by herself.

 But she’s chosen to.

 Yule morning wakes her with the gentle drizzle of fog, glittery particles drifting in and chilling her cheeks peeking from the furs pulled all the way up to her chin. Her little burrow is cosy if not outright warm, but she can tell it will be crisp and cool outside, just as it’s been the past few days. Today’s going to be a busy day for Regina, she’ll make sure of that—no time to dwell on useless, sentimental nonsense such as the lack of friends and family to burn the Yule log with. Regina slips from beneath the blankets and into the fuzzy vest, grabs two apples and a slice of stale bread from her small and pitifully empty pantry, dons gloves, bow and arrow, and steps outside her rustic abode.

 The willow forest gleams in the weak winter sun, wisps and clouds of fog hanging suspended low over the ground, a lazily shifting mass that lends her little nook of the forest a half eerie, half ethereal ambiance. Tiny droplets and crystals of ice float in the scant rays, and perhaps she’d stand in wonder at such a sight if not for the brazen frost pinching her cheeks and creeping beneath her skin the longer she stands still.

 Off Regina goes then, bypassing the trigger of the falling log and the pit trap concealed under the cedar tree, never bothering to watch for animal tracks the hard, frozen forest floor won’t be marked with. Her snares yield a single rabbit, and well, it won’t be the first time she goes without substantial dinner—at least that orphaned brother-sister duo new to the village won’t have to go without. They’re already up and about, diligent as ever by the time she sneaks up to their window and coaxes it open enough to deposit the modest catch on the windowsill. They’ll know it’s from her anyway, it’s not the first time she’s contributed to keeping the children fed and watered, but she leaves unseen all the same with just a touch of guilt and regret she knows would only grow with another imminent invitation to share in tonight’s festivities with them.

 An invitation she would have to decline, just like she had all the rest before them made by a grateful widow here, a poor and numerous peasant family there. Only yesterday she had some dozen pairs of eyes beg her to stay for the dinner she’d helped secure with the same sack of money that would keep the orphanage above water for another year.

 The money had come from the royal tax carriage she’d robbed the day before to buy herself passage out of the kingdom. She’d been planning that particular heist for weeks, her escape from Snow White’s vengeful clutches for months. The orphans needed the money more. Regina will just have to bide her time for just a little longer. Another carriage will come, another opportunity will present itself—but not tonight. Tonight, all the world is going to celebrate.

 Little groups of wassailers form in the small marketplace, and Regina watches hidden behind bushes of juniper and holly as they go door to door, singing and drinking spiced wine to the health of friends and neighbours. Love and joy come to you.

 It’s sentimental of her to be here, sentimental and foolish, but she’s still only human after all and while she’s used to solitude and even prefers it, Regina craves company once in a while. Today she does, in whatever shape and form she can get it without endangering herself and others too much. Yuletide brings back memories, for better and for worse, of a life long gone, of palace feasts with leftovers in such abundance that her stomach was blissfully full even with just the scraps. But in the good old days, the servants would have a feast to themselves, cooks and handmaids and menservants and all the help, and Regina would open gifts with stable boys and another batch with the princess. That was when Queen Eva had still lived, before the deadly rift between Regina and Snow White came to be.

 And now everything is a potential trap, a betrayal waiting to happen. Regina has to be suspicious, constantly on edge, ever vigilant. To a fault, she sometimes wonders; then dismisses the thought—it’s only self-preservation.

 Yuletide is no exception. Not with the wanted posters doubling in number and the prize on Regina’s head quadrupling. Snow White hates the season as much as she hates Regina, and the combination of the two seems to be quite unbearable to the tyrannical queen. No, if anything, Regina needs to be more cautious this time of the year than ever.

 Which is why the scrap of parchment tucked into her pocket has no business being there. She’s not going to use it, she decided that days ago.

 Then why hold on to it at all?

 ### It’s something of a tradition for Robin Hood and his Merry Men to venture into the town of Nottingham around solstice and spread some Yuletide cheer. Granted, it is risky business with the sheriff, Robin’s old rival, always looking for a bone to pick, but that’s part of the fun. Nursing cuts and bruises or even a broken nose the following morning, on the other hand, is not half as amusing. So his men rise reluctantly but refuse to shine on this misty Yule morn, and Robin’s vigorous efforts to bring some order into the bit of chaos their camp currently resembles is met with much grumbling and general grouchiness.

 “Less talk, more action,” Robin frowns while sorting through the various items of clothing haphazardly discarded around the camp—always one to lead by example, Robin makes sure of that. Then, smirking at a very hungover Friar Tuck: “I remember instructing you to share mead with the townsfolk, not to drink half a keg yourself.”

 Tuck mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like I hate guests, but sets about washing up the pots and pans from breakfast all the same.

 “Oi, Robin,” shouts Will Scarlet, leaning on the broom for support rather than sweeping up the shards of the clay bowl with globs of porridge still clinging to them. “That’s a lot of trouble we’re going to for this lass, innit? More than any guest in all me time here.”

 The Merry Men have entertained nobles and dignitaries in abundance, yet these visitors are guests only by the title bestowed upon them mockingly, treated to a feast they would pay for thrice over once relieved of coin and gems. Concerns with the camp’s cleanliness and overall charm simply never surface. The only aspect to showcase to them is without a doubt the camp’s ingenuous defences—although neither of these poor devils would be able to trace their way back to the cleverly disguised hideout even if they tried.

 Will’s cheeky implication starts a veritable riot of jests and jokes, and Robin finds himself the subject of much good-hearted ribbing and roasting over his apparent anticipation. The easy back and forth is partly a relief—even though the majority have been amendable to argument and eventually gave their stamp of approval to bringing an outsider into their circle, a hint of discomfort lingered all the same, and Robin’s glad to see that lift, if only temporarily. The downside of this banter, however, is the heat he feels rising to his cheeks—a silly thing over something quite as non-existent as any sort of romantic entanglement with this competition he’s never had the occasion to properly meet, but a thing nevertheless that his men would be sure to tease him for mercilessly should they notice.

 Robin ducks into his tent to retrieve his bow and arrows and sets off to instruct the sentries for the day.

 Halfway to the nearest watch post, Little John falls into step with him. A smudge of dried blood peeks from the frayed edges of the bandage plastered over his nose. He pinches the bridge of it gingerly— a tell-tale gesture that suggests he’s about to approach a sensitive subject. And so it is.

 “Dey hab a poid, mate,” says Little John mildly.

 “They have a point about what?” Robin stalls. And he really shouldn’t be using Little John’s temporary speech handicap against him, so he adds with a lick of guilt: “Revealing the whereabouts of our hideout?”

 “Dad I cad udderstand. Dobe, I bead all de fuss you’re baking abou’ dis bardicular visit. Abou’ Regida.”

 “Well, you know my reasons for inviting her, so I won’t repeat them. I’m aware she’s competition, John, but I’m certain we can trust her with this. It would be a valuable alliance. I don’t know,” Robin sighs with a touch of exasperation, “I just feel it in my gut that we’d be a good fit. Bandit Regina and the Merry Men,” he adds hastily lest there be any misunderstanding.

 His closest friend merely nods in response, a knowing little smile trailing after the gesture, as if he could understand something Robin himself can hardly begin to sense.

 “You’re fine with this, then?”

 “Her cobing—yes.” Then Little John frowns and huffs: “De cleading—do.”

 ### Regina is too curious for her own good. The scrap of parchment her latest heist yielded rustles between her fingers, crumpled and unreadable by now. It doesn’t matter, she has it memorised. What she hasn’t figured out though is why the outlaw would divulge the carefully guarded secret of their encampment’s location to their prime competition. Obviously this smells of betrayal, doesn’t it? It’s a trick, no more, and a rather heavy-handed one at that. Perhaps they’re even conspiring with the queen.

No, she doesn’t believe that of him somehow—stupid though such a hunch is.

If she approaches by ground, she will be spotted. So what she must do is climb and crawl in the foliage, painstakingly slowly, and once she reaches a point after which she must be discovered by the sentinels stationed at the perimeter of Robin Hood’s famously untraceable camp, to seek some kind of proof that the message was indeed from the thief and not, perchance, a setup with Black Knights lying in wait (they’re way too dim-witted to come up with a plan this complicated themselves, but the queen could have).

It takes a poorly concealed protruding root to shake her awake as she trips and fumbles for support lest she end up face-down in a luxurious carpet of moss. What the hell was she thinking, foregoing vigilance for the sake of fruitless speculation? She’s not going to this alleged campsite of theirs, she decided that a while ago. It’s just not safe, or reasonable. At least not when they’re expecting her. But in a few days, or weeks, when they’re no longer counting on her—although will they be foolish enough to let down their guard once they know their secret’s been revealed to her? Time will tell.

Regina’s steps lead her down a path dusted with flecks of snow melting to sludge under her boots. There’s no game in sight, not a sound other than that of leaves and snow crunching and squeaking under her boots. Fat flakes float around her, flurries chasing each other to the ground in ever increasing numbers, painting the forest a veritable winter wonderland.

The clearing she favours is hard to approach in the best of conditions, but Regina knows the way—up the gentle slope of the hillock, twining between branches as needles prick her face and pull at her hair, and finally around the boulder blocking the game trail. A few strategic brushes of her hands to clear away the snow, and she slips into her usual seat on the upturned trunk with a content sigh.

A patch of the forest stretches before her—a canvas of greens and browns and a blinding, sparkling white—yet she remains hidden to prowling eyes at this magnificent vantage point. She loves it here, loves the seclusion and the simultaneous oneness with nature that surrounds her here like a soft blanket. She doesn’t come often because the place belongs to other forest-dwellers, and she’d be loath to deprive them of their safe place just as she clings to her own. Yuletide is the only exception—they don’t come here this time of the year, and so she’s not intruding upon anyone when she gifts herself the blissful peace the place invariably fills her with.

Regina lets her thoughts wander and drift much like the snow, which soon drops like a thick curtain over the world. The tips of her boots brush mindless patterns into the freshly fallen layer as she swings her feet inches above the ground, memories of wooden swings and feet kicking in the air swimming before her eyes. Faster, Regina, higher! comes Snow White’s elated voice from back in a different lifetime, and Regina’s arms ache as she laughs and pushes her royal friend with more vigour. It’s only the cold, she tells herself as she wipes a cluster of tears from the corners of her eyes.

Perhaps this year the queen will open the parcel tied with a string that Regina’s left for her under the rosebush they used to play hide-and-seek in. Every year Regina leaves a present, something small and simple, for old times’ sake. Every year she finds a pile of ashes in its place, and knows the queen incinerated it before Snow White ever had a chance to resurface and see it for the peace offering it was—even just a temporary one; even just for the duration of Yule.

Twilight falls and Regina hasn’t moved, her backside numb with cold and back stiff. Somewhere deep in the forest (her heart skips when she realises she knows exactly where now), the thief and his men are making merry in the warmth of the burning Yule log. Somewhere in the village, church bells are ringing for those of the new belief to assemble for mass. Old ways and new flourish side by side, a motley of faiths, legend, and lore; but Regina doesn’t set much store by either of them—no creature, god, or fairy has ever come to her aid, no matter how she’d beg or wish or pray. Only the forest has been there for her, though harsh and cold at times, giving nothing for free and always making her work for her livelihood, but providing all the same if she only tries hard enough, imprinting a lesson life’s been so intent on teaching her—that the only one she can ever truly rely on is herself.

A shuffling sound comes from the thicket, a body pressing its way through to the clearing, putting an end to Regina’s reverie.

Her senses are suddenly on alert, her instinct kicking in. She reaches for her bow and plucks an arrow from the quiver. Something—or someone—is coming, and she’s ready with her bow strung tight and aimed at the mysterious source of the commotion.

A deer stumbles forth, dragging itself through the snow and brambles.

The poor beast is huge, and frozen still at the sight of the intruding human. It’s precious quarry, food for days if Regina fells it, and she cannot possibly miss from this close. Her stomach rumbles at the thought of the feast.

And yet she doesn’t shoot.

Their gazes remain locked, human and beast, and Regina bites her lip—the animal looks almost pleading. It’s come all the way here, where it thought it’d be safe and sheltered, only to find itself staring in the eye of a predator. Regina huffs in exasperation—this isn’t how you survive in the wild, and yet she knows she’s going home hungry tonight. She can’t kill the beast—not like this.

Lowering her bow, she steps back, stomach growling in protest, her mind raining reproof but her heart full when the deer steps further into the small glade, as if it understood. Regina gasps when its knees buckle and its long legs fold under its massive belly as it sinks to the ground, a high-pitched wail resounding in the stillness of the thickening night.

It’s a doe—and she’s in labour.

### Sherwood forest looks as festive as it ever could, even the weather playing into Robin’s cards as it works its wintry magic on the landscape. The camp gleams with cleanliness as much as any forest hideout could, and the Yule log is burning with a bright, homey flame. Robin sips on spiced wine and watches the air shimmer from the heat as he stands on the snowless patch of ground cleared by the warmth of the fire. He’s waiting for the guest that’s already running late.

Robin watches Regina every year, and can’t fathom her behaviour. She hides from those she does good unto, and doesn’t make friends. The suspiciousness and fear of betrayal he understands to an extent, but the thoughtful gift she smuggles to the queen is a mystery to him—she’s met with such cruelty, with guards swarming around that same spot every year, and yet she never fails to make this gesture. He wants to know that generous yet closed-off heart—curiosity and awe, and a feeling of kinship he’s only just beginning to grasp, are his sole motivation. That’s why he entrusted her with their biggest, deadliest secret, and drew a map, hoping the show of trust would convince her he wasn’t a threat to her.

It seems to have achieved the opposite, for wait as he might, she doesn’t show up as the ancient festivities in their camp proceed. The Merry Men honour the old ways, the turning wheel of the year fuelled by the never-ceasing battle for rule between the Oak King and the Holly King. He’s no idea what Regina’s beliefs are—but he finds, befuddled, that he wants to know them with a force he can’t quite account for yet.

With a heart quite inexplicably heavy, Robin abandons the half-drunk beverage, asks Little John to oversee the festivities in his absence, and sets out for a walk to clear his head.

He wanders aimlessly through the woods he knows like the back of his hand, slipping under branches heavy with snow, cool flakes melting on his nose and eyelashes in the ever thickening fall. He pays no attention to paths already snowed in, to landmarks barely discernible in the overwhelming whiteness that quickly turns into dusk. Lost in thought, Robin jumps as a bulk of snow tips a branch and lands on the ground with a soft thud.

Pressed against a tree, he draws his weapons and strains his eyes for a glimpse of the mystery visitor responsible for the disturbance.

A doe comes into view—and she’s alone. That’s odd for the season, for deer rarely wander from their herd, and especially not in winter. A lone doe is a rarity unless it’s the spring, unless she’s—pregnant. Robin’s eyes drop to its protruding belly hanging low, to the swollen udder, and his arms fall to his body, his grip on the bow and arrow slackening. The doe’s isolated herself because the birth of her young is imminent, and she must be on her way to the fawning site. Her timing is most unfortunate—in this weather, it could even be fatal.

Robin shakes his head, filled with compassion for the poor thing, and for lack of better things to do, he follows the retreating animal. The vigorous snowfall hinders his vision, and he needs to keep his distance and stay upwind lest he scare the doe, but luckily he’s figured out her destination halfway there. Reaching the clearing, he crawls through the foliage and crouches amongst the boughs, out of sight but with a perfect view himself. He won’t interfere with nature’s course unless absolutely necessary.

The doe’s lying on the ground, a dark shape in the pristine snow, her pained cry cutting through the serenity of the night.

And then he hears another voice—a soft cooing, words quite indiscernible if they are words at all, but clearly meant to comfort the ailing mother-to-be. Robin cranes his neck, squints in the dark, and gasps when realisation dawns on him.

Regina’s bow is at the ready within the blink of an eye, her aim remarkably true considering she can’t possibly have seen him.

“Don’t shoot,” he says quickly as he emerges into the clearing with his hands raised, “I’m a friend.”

“I don’t have friends,” she claps back without thought, then corrects with a hint of something—sadness, and frustration with herself maybe, for revealing too much or wanting more: “We’re not friends.”

“Perhaps I meant the doe,” Robin grins.

He can’t see her face from here, but he would stake anything that she rolls her eyes at him.

“You can’t have followed me here,” she reasons, still suspicious—always suspicious, and he supposed it comes with the trade, but in her case it feels like there’s more to it than that. “The snow has long covered my trail.”

“As I said, milady, I followed the doe. I wanted to make sure she and the fawn will be fine.”

“Well, I have the situation under control,” she insists. A stubborn one, this Bandit Regina. “Go back to your camp. Celebrate with your men.”

“I’d rather stay,” he says mildly, and steps to the log.

### “I’d rather stay,” he says brazenly, and hovers over her makeshift seat as if he had a right to be there. “May I?”

“I don’t own the log,” she shrugs, still standing with her bow drawn but lowered, and damn him for making her feel so flustered. Especially when he brushes specks of snow off the wood and makes a sweeping gesture next, prompting her with a wink to sit.

Regina scoffs at the gallantry, though her stomach performs an odd little skip that’s hard to blame on hunger. Their arms brush as they sit side by side, bows and quivers propped either end of the log. The moon choses that awkward moment to illuminate the clearing, casting silver light upon the world. Regina needs every ounce of self-control not to give in to curiosity and stare openly at the face she’s only ever seen on wanted posters, often alongside her own. Do the drawings do him justice?

The doe watches them with soft brown eyes brimming with pain, but soon she has other concerns as she begins to prepare for the fawn’s arrival, licking herself thoroughly.

The outlaw seems engrossed in the scene, and Regina uses his distraction to take a proper look at him.

He’s handsome. Painfully so. Fair hair, brilliant blue eyes, stubble she wants to run her fingers over. Dimples for days when he turns his head and smirks—caught. Shit, he’s caught her staring!

“I was hoping we’d meet under different circumstances,” he tells her with that smirk still glued to his face, “but I’m certainly not complaining. Witnessing a fawning is a rarity even for us forest-folk.”

“Did you really think I would just walk into my competition’s camp? I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Actually, I do know that. I’ve admired your work for quite a while. I was going to propose a partnership.”

“Oh?” That’s—not at all something she expected him to say. Praise and compliments on her accomplishments have been scarce in her life. But she mustn’t let herself be so easily swayed by sweet talk. People lie, and make mistakes, and betray others—her heart is her own responsibility, and she’s hell-bent on keeping it whole and beating in her chest. “I appreciate the offer, but I work alone.”

Robin Hood nods, as if he had seen it coming, quite undeterred as he admits: “I was hoping you might reconsider. It seems we’re already partnering up for the night at least.”

The thought of spending the night with this man sends her heart into a wild stampede she doesn’t know how to tamp down.

“This kind of thing hardly takes all night,” she rolls her eyes at him. Presumptuous thief. And yet it’s she who’s—annoyingly—blushing at his innocent statement.

“Not if it goes smoothly, no,” he gives her. “But her timing’s off—she may yet find herself in trouble. I hope I’m wrong, of course.”

“Why aren’t you at camp anyway? Weren’t you gonna throw a grand Yuletide fest?”

“Oh I’m sure my men are making the best of it,” he chuckles. He has a good laugh—warm and rumbling. “I fancied a walk. She crossed my path. You know the rest. What brings you here?”

“I fancied a walk,” she grins gamely. No way is she detailing the depth of her thoughts to this stranger who styles himself as friend. Not that he’s a complete stranger, of course. There have been messages, aside from the map. Whimsical notes back and forth upon snatching loot from under the other’s nose. Words of warning when danger lurked. She knows his reputation, and he knows hers. That doesn’t make them—well, anything, beyond acquaintances at best.

Then the doe gives out a strangled little sound and begins to push, and there’s no room for conversation anymore.

###

It’s only when Regina loses herself in the moment that Robin breathes more freely.

The second that moonbeam hit Regina’s face, Robin was simply enchanted. All this time he struggled not to let it show, not to stare too long or bask too obviously in the moment. Ever since those first few words, that smart mouth of hers and the adorable scrunchy face she made at him, she’s been reeling him in—and she doesn’t even know it. Her dark hair’s a tangled mess, her braid barely holding together and adorned by stray needles and twigs; her face raw from the long stay outdoors; her mouth perhaps a touch bluish from the cold. It’s her eyes he wants to fall headlong into though—flecks of honey in molten chocolate, bottomless, swirling with emotion.

Those eyes are trained on the doe in labour now, and completely oblivious to the rest of the world. She leans forward on the log once the baby deer’s forelegs emerge with its little head tucked between them, barely able to hold back as she wills herself not to interfere with nature’s way. She’s worrying her lip, fists clenched as the doe struggles on. Robin’s not sure what to attribute his little shiver to—the chilliness, the little mewl the half-born fawn lets out, or Regina’s fingers digging into his thigh absent-mindedly.

He orders himself to snap out of it, to comport himself like the gentleman he is, and focus on the poor deer like he said he was there to do in the first place. The sight truly is a rare one, and most expecting deer wouldn’t tolerate others nearby when their time came, but this one seems resigned to their presence. Indeed, she looks absolutely knackered. The fawn’s progress seems to have stopped, but it’s not for the doe’s lack of trying.

“It’s stuck,” Regina whispers, eyes wide with horror.

“They’ll make it,” Robin assures, though he fails to keep the worry from his voice.

The doe has a faraway look in her eyes now, and Regina rests her arm on her belly, clutching nervously at her garments. He quite understands what she’s going through—a burning need to help clashing with the knowledge that their interference might just ruin the fawn’s bond with its mother.

Robin stands slowly, a vague idea floating to the surface of his mind, but he’s barely taken a step when he’s yanked back by a fretful Regina.

“Don’t touch the baby,” she hisses, “you can’t! She’ll—” her breath hitches, “she’ll abandon it if you do!”

Rumour has it that’s what happened to her—that her mother abandoned Regina as a baby, that she left her in the forest to fend for herself—to die.

“I know,” he rushes to say, “I won’t.”

Robin reaches for his wineskin and uncorks it, raising a brow at Regina. With a soft oh, she holds out her cupped hands for him to pour water into, and offers it to the doe. She drinks up—and again, and again. Robin has no more water to offer, but Regina grabs a handful of snow and breathes on it furiously, the warmth of her breath melting it to sludge for the doe to drink.

And then with another mighty push the fawn slips out.

Robin grins broadly as the new mother sets to licking the little thing clean, his heart filled with reverence at the miracle of life. A wet chuckle escapes Regina when the doe’s vigorous cleaning knocks the fawn off its wobbly legs, and once the little one starts nursing, Regina turns to him with tears running down her cheeks and a smile so radiant it positively robs him of air.

And that’s when Robin knows he’s well and truly doomed.

### Regina isn’t sure how or when it happened, but they’re halfway to the Merry Men’s camp before she even realises her hand is clutched in Robin’s. Their shared experience has brought them rather close rather quickly, forged a bond that scares her but that she also can’t help but want to explore. Their bows clink together now and again as they walk side by side, and they snicker at each other every time. Reverence has given way to elation, and even though that fearful, warning voice at the back of her mind tells her she’s being reckless—perhaps not with her life after all, but most certainly with her heart—Regina decides not to listen for once.

The hour is late, and the sentries must recognise their leader because there’s neither warning nor attack as they enter the ingeniously concealed camp. The fire is burning low, the Yule log feeding the flames still, and empty tankards lie scattered around kegs of ale and barrels of wine. Remnants of dinner are strewn on a rough-hewn table—a wild-turkey leg here, a chunk of pork there, sweet honey cakes piled high, and candied apples on a spit.

He offers her one and she accepts, looking around the many tents, in which his men have undoubtedly departed for the night if the snoring is any indication.

“It was neater when I left it,” Robin excuses with a half-smirk, and she can’t believe he’s actually being bashful about this—as if he were anxious for her approval.

“I didn’t have you pegged for a neat-freak,” she teases, then takes pity on him. “It’s a good hideout. Well-concealed. Well-protected. Very clever."

He beams at her—actually beams at her, and could the impossible man be any more adorable?

“Well, we missed dinner—but how about I make you breakfast?”

“That sounds wonderful, but—” It’s too big a commitment, feels way too much after having spent the whole night with him, and part of her wants to run and never look back. Part of her wishes for him to to give her just enough time and space to work through her issues. To be someone not to break down the walls built around her heart, but to patiently wait for her to invite them inside.

“Tea then—to warm you up before the journey.” And bless him, he seems to understand. She could cry—and she has, she remembers and feels her cheeks grow hot. He doesn’t comment, only grins as he jokes: “My men say I make a mean cuppa.”

“Tea,” she nods, laughing, “and another one of those scrumptious apples?”

“Whatever milady wishes.” Robin clasps her fingers gently, looking at her in a way that makes his meaning quite clear—it’s not just the meal he’s talking about. He understands, and he’ll wait.

Regina’s never been the kind of person who gets a happy ending—but perhaps she can afford a merry beginning, and see where it takes them.

#ouat #outlaw queen #outlaw bandit #oq ff #bee writes fanfic #down in yon forest