#and so I must pick up the torch and write something

[emily-mooon]

As of right now, my Nordegrim WIPs are (figuratively) on fire and it’s been awhile since I seriously wrote something so send me some fluffy (as in the fic type) Nordegrim drabble requests in my ask box!

Since I’m a VERY slow writer, they could take some time so be patient! I’ll get them done eventually :]

#i know I probably won’t get any but hey it’s worth a shot! #we must not speak of the multiple wips i have for other pairings #Stacey x neil is in some desperate need of fics on ao3 #and so I must pick up the torch and write something #but first I’ll do some drabbles to get me back into the swing of writing for tea this time that I’ll probably post on ao3 in one big fic #*real (not tea I don’t drink tea) #as to not clog the tag #scott pilgrim #scott pilgrim takes off #scott pilgrim comic #nordegrim #stacey pilgrim x neil nordegraf #i guess I’ll tag the character tags #lmk if I should remove them ok? #young neil #neil nordegraf #stacey pilgrim

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Coworker (part 4)

Tw: Afab/fem reader, Cyprus being a sexual predator in the office, fear of reporting about it to HR, Cyprus being a dick and just manhandling you

I do not like this stinky man but i want to get out of my comfort zone in writing. It was so hard to not make him motherly, but i persevered and made Cyprus , cyprus

I wonder if this guy is actually appealing or he's just like peggable

Masterlists, part 1, part 5

There was a knock at your door. You groggily got up and wiped your eyes, you're squinting to avoid having too much light going in.

You opened the door to none other than Cyprus. He's wearing the same jacket, but a black shirt underneath today.

He looked at you incredulously. "Christ, it's two in the afternoon. You just woke up?"

You said yes and you would want to go back to sleep as soon as possible. You asked if he needed something from you.

"I need you to get out of bed! You can't just waste your three-day weekend like this, doll." He invited himself into your room, shutting the door behind him.

Its pitch black with your total light blocking blinds. He couldn't see anything, so he had to use the torch of his phone. Only to see you looking back at him tiredly, back hunched and bags under your eyes for days.

Cyprus used his thumb to gently pull your lower eyelid down and to examine your eyes. They're bloodshot and dry, you must have scrolled on your phone all night to compensate for your lack of control yesterday.

You asked if he could come back tomorrow. Or not at all. You wanted to sleep, you barely get them on work days.

There was pity in his eyes as he watched you blink strangely. "You can't keep living like this."

You said yes, you can. You have been doing this for years and you turned out fine. Again, you asked him if he could leave you in peace until Monday.

He ran his fingers through his hair and groaned in frustration. "Fine." He said, storming out of your room without saying goodbye.

To your surprise, he stuck to his word. He hasn't come by ever since, not even on Sunday. You did receive texts from him, though. His contact was saved as "My Man <3" despite not remembering even giving Cyprus your number. He must have unlocked your phone using your fingerprint and stole it for himself.

You refused to open those texts or answer his calls. You simply switched to silent mode and dozed off for two whole days.

Monday rolls around. You had to drag yourself to the bathroom and freshen up. Dress nicely for work and prepare without your bag, you forgot to ask Cyprus for it back.

You were moving automatically, using muscle memory and none of that critical thinking.

You screamed in shock when you opened the door to see Cyprus smoking there. He winced at the sharp increase in volume.

"Quiet down, it's too early for that, princess." He spoke in a softer voice.

You asked what he was doing here while locking your door.

"Picking my girl up. Come on, we're going to be late." You shuddered when he brought your hand to the small of your back, seemingly touching lower and lower since the last time you met him.

__

It felt like a walk of shame. Cyprus insisted on carrying your suitcase. Those who knew of your boyfriend would ogle at you and him. Some would boldly ask about the relationship between the two of you. And in Cyprus fashion, he would reply with something polite, but telling them it was none of their business.

Punching in at 9AM sharp, there were multiple heads turned when he set your items on your desk for you.

He was unaffected by the attention, as if he was used to it and there's nothing to fret about. You on the other hand, is fucking distressed. They're going to flock to you the second Cyprus leaves for his cubicle, knowing that they wouldn't get anything out of the man.

"Your bag is still at my place." He whispered as the office was deathly quiet for once. No doubt, it was to eavesdrop on what he has to say to you and vice versa.

You know what that smirk meant. You wouldn't be seeing your favourite handbag for a while unless you come over to his apartment tonight. You nodded, in silent understanding.

A couple of gasps sounded when Cyprus bent down to give you a kiss on the cheek. Your blood ran cold, but despite that, you stretched your neck out to see who expressed such emotions. Everyone pretended not to look, but their wide eyed, slack jaw, hand-covering-mouth expressions told you otherwise.

You asked if he really needed to do that here.

"Duh. How else are they going to know you're mine?" He chuckled lowly and ruffled your hair. Cyprus left your cubicle to return to his.

It didn't take long for the first interviewer to come along. The one nearest to your desk, wheeled their office chair to your personal space.

You sighed and covered your face, knowing that he wanted to know the juicy bits.

Another one came by, pretending to hand you some reports, but it's really just to extract some details.

Then another straight up arrived without a shame in the world. Asking bluntly about your love life with him, not even caring to be discrete.

You looked around for Jane, the monster manager. She's the lesser evil for now, if she saw this gathering happening around you, he would have shrieked for everyone to get back to work. But she was nowhere to be seen.

You tried to mind your business, giving vague and non incriminating answers to every question. But they kept pressing on, more and more started to flock towards you, chattering amongst themselves and cracking jokes. Without your boss, the office became a casual space for your colleagues to socialize without putting actual work into the company.

They're all blocking your sight, you didn't realize that Cyprus is marching up to your cubicle.

"Don't you all have work to do?" Cyprus's scowl and sharp tone caused everyone to jolt momentarily before scattering away. Once he's satisfied that they left his precious girlfriend alone, he walked away.

You sighed upon seeing that they're still throwing discrete glances at you and Cyprus.

A cup of your favourite warm beverage might help, so you stood up as quietly as possible. Trying not to alert anyone, you went into the shared kitchen. To your relief, it was empty save for you.

As usual, you grabbed your favourite cup, a sachet of your drink and began preparing it. All things were going smoothly until you heard footsteps behind you.

You knew it's Cyprus. He's standing so close behind you, that your back is pressing against his chest.

You asked him what he was doing.

"I'm just getting my mug." He opened the top cabinet and took longer than usual to retrieve the porcelain vessel. You frowned, being sandwiched between his muscular frame and the counter. A sinewy hand held onto your arm as he rummaged through the shelf.

You had half a mind to splash him with hot water. But that would probably cause you more problems than solutions.

Finally, he separated himself from you, but he was making his coffee right next to you. Cyprus waited for the machine to drip dark liquid gold, he has a hand on your shoulder at all times. He must really, really like physical contact.

You stirred your drink with a teaspoon while he picked his completed cup up.

"See you around, pretty girl." You let out a yelp when he patted your rear.

He laughed when he saw you jerk your hips forward in response to that unwanted touch.

You watch him head back to his cubicle with balled fists. This isn't right, you never saw him as anything more than a coworker.

You wanted to go to the HR and try to get him fired for sexual harassment. But you had no proof, as the CCTV cameras were faulty and the company didn't care enough to replace them. Your department was the only one that isn't slacking off, so why bother? There were no witnesses and he knows where you live. You do not want to be the receiving end of his mean punch.

You felt defeated, trapped and upset. But there really isn't anything you can do except to try and gather evidence from now on.

Or maybe get yourself transferred to another section.

You shook your head and went back to work.

__

"Baby."

You snapped out of your trance of scanning for numbers and figures on your blinding screen.

He's leaning against your cubicle with a hand in his pocket, you think he's concealing a pack of cigarettes.

"It's lunchtime. Stop working." He bent down and teased you by blowing into your ear. You swatted him away, but he only snickered at you.

You asked him what he wanted from you.

"Well. You." He adjusted his glasses as he stood back up straight. "Let me take you out to lunch."

You said you're not hungry.

He gave you a knowing look as your stomach decided to roar in defiance. You felt your face heat up at that.

"Come on. Get up, doll." He beckoned you to follow him as he stepped away.

You said you don't want to. You're staying in the office. He rolled his eyes and walked away, muttering about how you're royalty, needing him to go the extra mile for you.

You had no idea what that meant. So you continued working away.

You ignored all the attempts of your coworkers' nosy attempts to pry into your life between you and Cyprus. As much as it was tempting to tell them that you actually didn't consent to this relationship and he's a massive creep, you knew it would come back and bite you. So you just gave them neutral answers or not say anything at all.

It went on like this for the next half hour or so, until they parted ways for something. Rather, someone.

"Here." Cyprus set a takeaway container on your table. "Still warm."

He has his own box of food with him.

The women and men swoon over this gesture of kindness, but immediately composed themselves and coughed into their fists when Cyprus turned around to shoot them a glare.

They excused themselves and said they had somewhere to be. But you think they're just waiting to see what he would do with you, when he thinks no one is paying attention.

"Get up, princess. We're going downstairs, I need to smoke." He grabbed you by the forearm and slightly manhandled you. Cyprus made sure you took your food with you.

He knows all eyes were on him when he pulled you into the stairwell. Cyprus didn't care that he potentially blew his secret hideout that he goes to during lunch. He could always find somewhere else.

All that matters is that he's spending his valuable time with his favourite girl.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere concept #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc cyprus #male yandere x reader #yandere x female reader #yandere coworker

[fortune-fool02]

The Way It Has To Be

Miguel O'Hara x Villain female reader

Summary: He's reminiscing once again and wonders why canon can be cruel.

Warning: Spoilers for Miguel's past, angst. Use of both the movie and comics. Light mentions of body-horror and insects -mostly centipede- Blood.

Word count: 1,603 words

Thank you for taking the time to read this! Please leave feedback/comment and reblog as I really appreciate it. Thank you. Also, if you guys want, I am up for writing a second part of this?

Please enjoy.

Over the time he had spent watching over the multiverse, Miguel had seen many things, many tragedies and hardships that all of them must endure to continue on their own stories and their own universes.

It was part of being Spider-Man. It was their 'curse' in a way. The canon events were moments that had to happen, something decided long before they were event born, carved out just for them; and it would not be denied of those events.

Miguel stared at the screen in front of him, unable to help himself, he knew this wasn't going to solve anything but he had to watch it again. His fingertips lightly brushed over the keys before he typed in a name and began to scroll through the different events like flicking through chapters of a book. A book that he had helped to construct and compose.

The warm hue of the amber glow painted his face as he stared at the screen in front of him, then pressed play.

He was standing beside a young woman, a look of concentration on his face as he examined a sample of blood under the microscope. His hair swept out of his face a little, faint clicking heard as he gently adjusted the magnification to get a more clear image through it. The cells seemed to be reacting to the introduction of the new drug, and for the moment, held stable. Hope flickered inside him as he watched, mentally counting the seconds before that hope was snuffed out as the cells began to try to reject the drug, and soon decomposed. Another failed attempt.

"Maldita sea." He cursed, leaning away from the microscope and running a hand through his hair with a low, heavy sigh. [Name] looked at him, sympathy painting her face as she rose her hand up and gently patted his back.

"Hey, it's alright, Miguel. We'll get there, okay?" She tried to encourage him. This project was one they had both been assigned for, and had a bit riding on this. Alchemax always demanded the best with no exceptions. They wanted this drug ready as soon as possible, no matter what. [Name] picked up the clipboard and recorded down the results before adding on a possible solution.

Miguel looked at her for the moment, a light smile on his lips. Even when pressed with failure after failure, she always found a way to look for the brighter side of things, to find a solution to the problem and gain the results they seek. She always tried to find light. [Name] often stood there with Miguel, offering her torch to keep him from being consumed by his troubles, and she didn't mind at all. Someone to help keep his head above the water, to lean on for comfort.

"Okay, let's see." [Name] spoke softly, glancing up at Miguel and showed him the structure of the idea. That soft smile of hers that radiated possibility and hope.

The video ended there. The last frame frozen on her sweet smile as she looked up at Miguel. He let it linger for a moment before moving onto the next moment.

"What do you mean you're off the project?" Disbelief dripped off Miguel's voice as he stood there, his expression contorted with shock as he watched [Name] poured herself a cup of coffee. Despite her, seemingly, calm expression, Miguel saw the way she gripped the cup's handle. The light tremble as she poured the hot liquid into it.

"That's exactly what I said to Stones. Apparently, he thinks my skills can be put to use elsewhere." She said, bitterness chewing away at her. She had spent so long ironing out this project and they were so close to a breakthrough only for that bastard she called a boss to kick her off. "I then told him that he can shove his pen up where the sun doesn't shine." The empty cups shook a little as she slammed the coffee jug back onto the counter a little harder than intended before bringing her hand to her face, pinching the bridge of her nose and breathing deeply to calm herself. Both her and Miguel worked on this project together, they worked so harmoniously with little issue. But their boss didn't see it as such.

A soft frown tugged Miguel's lips at this and he walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her to pull her into a comforting embrace. "Va a estar bien." He softly whispered against her, his hand moving in steady, slow circles on her back as she leaned into his warmth. The light tremble in her shoulders grew as a faint dampness did on his chest from her. If her face was not pressed against his chest, he would have noted the look in her eyes as the tears fell. It wasn't sorrow.

His hand hesitated lightly as it hovered over the next video. Something cold gnawing away at him. He was fully aware of the next video, but he couldn't stop now.

Something was off. Miguel could feel it. [Name] had been acting distant since she was cut off from the project, occupied with her own little thing that she refused to share the details of with Miguel. But it wasn't just that. Chemicals were going missing. Samples vanishing from their secured containers. And she would not stop fussing over the centipedes. They were a branch of the department that studied them and she had taken quite an interest in them. The few times that Miguel actually saw her out of work, she would look exhausted, worn down to the bone. More so than when she had been working with him.

"Don't worry about me, Miguel. I've got it all sorted." [Name] would always tell him with a smile. But it was always strained, lacking that sweetness to it. Now, he was worried.

An alarm had been triggered Alchemax and he was the first on the scene as Spiderman. There was blood splattered along the once white corridors, smears running all the way along the ceiling as if the workers had been dragged along it. Their bodies torn apart, mangled piles of flesh and bone that it was close to impossible to identify them. The people he worked with. Colleagues of his. He followed the trail, avoiding disturbing the bodies, and soon reached the source. There was shouting in one of the larger observation rooms, a bloodied handprint on the glass of the door.

[Name] turned her head towards the sound of the doors opening, her eyes blinking in surprise. "Spiderman? I wasn't expecting you to get here so quickly." Miguel took one look at her and felt dread claw inside him but he kept his voice steady. Her hands, her body, covered in blood that didn't belong to her. Something close to claws emerging from her nails and something about her stance seemed off. Like she was struggling to remain still. Twitching.

Stones laid at her feet, still alive, with her foot on his chest. "Miss [Surname], back away from him now." Miguel ordered. She was his friend, someone he cared about, but he didn't want to do this. He didn't want to have to arrest her. He prayed she wouldn't make this more harder than it had to be. Her eyes narrowed lightly, something flickered across them that he didn't like.

"You don't get it. This bastard worked me to the bone for so long, he pushed me down at every chance he got, and then he stole my work after kicking me off my own damn project!" Her foot pressed harder onto his chest, earning a crack from the bones and a pained cry from him. That anger he caught a mere glimpse of in the break-room all those weeks ago was equivalent to a forest fire, and she was going to ensure innocent people got burnt. "Never good enough for it. Never good enough for anything! So I proved him fucking wrong! I proved him that I am stronger than him!"

Her bones cracked sharply, a light groan slipping her lips as she hunched over, her arms wrapped around her abdomen. "I am capable of great things, I know I am. You never gave me the chance. Now, I'll fucking show you how strong I am!" Before Miguel could do anything, he watched as [Name] threw her head back, letting out a pained scream. Two large appendages burst forth from her back, layered with pointed spikes along the edges of them, blood splattered around, dripping off them as they coiled and thrashed about. Flesh crawled up along them, forming along the appendages until they finally stopped growing, now trailing behind her like a twisted cloak. Her jaw unhinged, her fangs elongating as her lower jaw split open, developing into mandibles before she finally turned back towards him.

Her eyes completely blacked out, showing no sign of the sweet, compassionate woman he once knew. How could this happen to her? How could she willingly do this to herself?

The video stopped just as [Name] had turned to lunge at him. Miguel staring at the frozen image of [Name]'s twisted form and that pain he felt that day still present. He couldn't bring himself to watch their fight again. To relive that pain. He didn't stop her that day, and, in truth, he didn't even know where she was anymore. A part of him hoped that there was a chance that she could still be saved, still be redeemed. Being Spiderman was a sacrifice, he knew that. But it didn't mean he liked it.

#atsv miguel #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman2099 #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse #atsv x reader #atsv

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Queen of the Halfpipe 🏂 | Jake Seresin Imagine

Takes place before, during, and after the events of TGM

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x pro snowboarder!reader (romantic), the dagger squad (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 10k

Requested 📨 yes/no—for @gizmodear 🤍 (rules for requests)

Premise: Dedication, determination, blood, sweat, and tears. That’s what athletes put in when they say they want to compete on the world’s greatest sporting stage. Years of hard work that come with sacrifices. At a young age Y/n L/n knew she wanted to be the best when it came to snowboarding, devoting herself to the Olympic dream. Love wasn’t something she thought would happen for her as she was so focused on her career. But, as someone once pointed out to her years after she did in fact find her happily ever after, she was living in her own little Hallmark movie.

Note: ah I’ve finally finished and I’m so happy with how it turned out! @gizmodear I apologize for the long wait (i think you sent this request at the beginning of February) but I hope you like this and I delivered with everything you could’ve imagined 🥹 I really love writing the athlete!reader x dagger squad paring fics so this was so fun to write. I did so much research to be as accurate as I could since I am not familiar with snowboarding. I did watch Chloe Kim in 2018 & 2022 so a lot of what reader accomplishes in this fic was inspired by her so I hope you don’t mind that I did that (except the ending since the 2026 Olympics hasn’t happened yet obviously 😂). Please let me know what you think!

——————————————

“So one last run, huh?”

“One last one,” she confirmed, hoping he couldn’t pick up on the slight sadness in her tone. All good things must come to an end.

“Better make it count,” he encouraged her. “You got this, okay? Don’t think about it-like I always tell you: don’t think, just do. That gold medal is calling your name.”

“I better go claim it then.”

“We’ll be cheering when you do, babe. Go show them who’s the Queen.”

Some people like the heat. Going to the beach and riding the waves of the ocean. Others enjoy the rain. The soothing sound of water hitting the pavement brings comfort to their ears. Then there are those who prefer the cold. Not as popular as the other two. People feel the only way to enjoy it is by staying indoors to sit by the fire and watch the snow fall through the window.

Y/n L/n loved the snow. Having grown up in the mountains of Colorado, she was used to blizzards and snowstorms. But she loved it mostly because of the sports associated with it. You know, the ones millions of people gather across the globe every four years to watch at the Winter Olympic Games. Athletes who’ve spent their entire life working to achieve their dream of glory. People who are not even patriotic rep their colors. Children watching for the first time think, “That’s gonna be me one day.”

That’s how it was for ten year old Y/n Ln watching the 2002 Winter Olympics on the small tv screen in the living room of her home. It was a special year of the Games. Hosted on US soil in Salt Lake City, Utah. Taking place in the months after the country was met with tragedy following the attacks on the World Trade Center in September 2001. Not a dry eye in the stadium or on those watching from home as the flag that flew on Ground Zero was brought into the arena by members of Team USA along with the NYPD & FDNY.

The Olympic torch was passed by members of the 1980 gold medal winning hockey team, coach Mike Eruzione lighting the cauldron. One of the most notable teams in US Olympic history. They were just college students up against the number one team in the world in 1980, which ironically enough, was also on US soil in Lake Placid, New York. Anyone who watched them play could recall the chills they felt when the buzzer counted down to zero with sportscaster Al Micheals yelling, “Do you believe in miracles? YES!” Winning that game didn’t deliver the gold medal, no, it only secured their place in the final match. There they defeated Finland 4-2, shooting themselves into history.

Y/n was familiar with many of the sports she grew to love watching. Her family owned and lived on a ski resort, so the art of skiing and snowboarding came to her at a young age. She was around four years old the first time she went down hill with her father. By the time she was around eight she could do it on her own with little help.

While her parents enjoyed skiing, Y/n was drawn to snowboarding. More specifically, the halfpipe.

At a whopping 11 to 22 feet in the air and slopes between 16 to 18 degrees, the halfpipe brings fast momentum to snowboarders allowing them to perform difficult spins and skills as they pass from wall to wall. For the Olympics, 22 feet was the typical height of the walls.

The first time Y/n attempted to drop in on the halfpipe was at the age of ten. After watching Team USA sweep the medals in the mens and watching Kelly Clark win gold for the women, Y/n was determined to one day stand on the podium and be crowned the queen of the halfpipe. Nerves were present, as they usually are when one tries to do something they’ve never done. With her parents and a snowboarding instructor present, Y/n became the little daredevil she was and tried her best.

Of course she couldn’t be bold and attempt spins and jumps just yet. Surely that would end her career before it could even start. No, instead they would work on getting used to traveling down the slopes first. On top of that Y/n would have to unlock her inner gymnast so she could do the flips when she got air.

Her preteen years were dedicated to training. Homeschooling became a thing. Everyday she was out working tirelessly to the point her legs would ache. Often there would be a bad run where getting up from the snow would take an arm and leg to do. Balancing a social life as a teenager was impossible. Y/n pretty much sold her soul to snowboarding. But that’s what one has to do when they dream of Olympic glory.

By the time Y/n was 15 she was already making a name for herself after joining the U.S Snowboarding Team. She won titles left and right that people were coming to her family's ski resort just to watch her train. A competitor of the Winter X Games at age 16, Y/n secured the gold after her second run in the women’s superpipe final with a score of 83.75. Rumors speculated she was going to go for the 2010 Olympic Trials. Having just turned 18, Y/n was a leading contender for the Games.

But you know how there are always bad runs? Yeah….the Trials seemed to give her that.

Y/n was hoping to be the first woman to land the 1080 in competition since no one had done it before. Men had been doing the trick since 2002, not as difficult as some of the other moves they were keen to do. While practicing Y/n had successfully landed it a handful of times. So once she felt she was confident, she planned to put in her trial runs. Her coach insisted she’d wait, but Y/n was determined.

And unfortunately it was going to cost her.

After failing to land on her 1080 on both attempts, Y/n was left at the bottom of the leaderboard even with the lowest and highest dropped from her scoring. Embarrassed and humiliated, Y/n made no effort to hide how devastated she was. Tears fell from her puffy cheeks, the cold doing nothing to help. She tried to avoid the cameras but they followed her everywhere she went.

“Y/n, what does this mean for you going forward?”

“Are you going to train for Sochi?”

“Can we expect to see you at next year’s Winter X Games?”

Returning home from the trials, Y/n spent the first week watching the footage back to see what went wrong. Her coach of almost ten years was with her, scribbling furiously on the white board the error and how to fix them.

“You opened too late,” he told her, circling the area in bright red where Y/n messed up. It made her glare at the spot. “When you do that you come in contact with the snow much quicker than you want—that’s why you lost your balance and fell. You didn’t give much time to stop the momentum from spinning. You need to hit this mark—,” another red circle appeared just above the marked one, “to land on time on your feet without losing balance.”

“You’re gonna make me run this at least twenty times today huh?”

“You bet your ass I am,” he flicks the cap at her, “Now go get ready—we’ve got work to do!”

And so for the next four years Y/n worked harder than she ever did before leading up to the 2010 trials. She’d been snowboarding almost fifteen years at that point, nearly seven at the competitive level. 1080s were what kept her up at night. One of the most difficult moves in women’s halfpipe, Y/n spent the four years working to perfect it. Kelly Clark, the 2002 Gold medalist and 2010 Bronze medalist, ended up becoming the first woman to land it at the 2011 X Games, Y/n taking second place and becoming the second woman to land it the following year.

“Remember what I told you,” her coach squeezed her shoulders just before her turn at the 2014 Winter Olympic Trials. “Let the snow and air guide you, don’t guide them. Keep steady and eyes open—you’ve trained for this and you can do it, Y/n. Just do what you’ve been doing the last four years.”

Taking the advice sure as hell paid off. When Team USA marched into the dome of the opening ceremonies at the Sochi Winter Olympics, Y/n was amongst the 222 athletes representing the red, white, and blue.

Qualifications were nerve racking, but Y/n put her blood, sweat, and tears into the competition. The 1080 had everyone buzzing since it was to be the first time competed in women’s snowboarding at the Olympics. “Just get on your feet,” she told herself, placing her goggles down as she prepared to drop in. “Don’t think about it too much, just do it.”

“And here is 22-year-old Y/n L/n from Aspen, Colorado gearing up for her first run in the women’s halfpipe qualifications. This has got to be a big moment for Y/n, having missed out on the Olympic team four years ago for Vancouver. Here in Sochi she’s a favorite to make the podium after great runs at the Winter X Games, becoming the second woman to land the 1080–which we’ll see her in a moment. Y/n’s been snowboarding since the age of four—as one does when their family owns a popular ski resort. We’re excited to see what she’s got for us today.”

“For those of you watching at home who are new to competitive snowboarding, here’s how the scoring works. The athletes are given two runs—or attempts to score big by doing tricks between each wall as they go down the slope of the halfpipe. A team of six judges will then determine the scores through amplitude, another word for height, difficulty, variety, execution, and progression. The highest and lowest score are then thrown out and the remaining four are averaged together for that run. The highest of the two runs is what will determine their position on the leaderboard.”

With her first run of 90.00 and second a 86.75, Y/n advanced to the semifinals along with Kaitlyn Farrington, and Hannah Teter. Kelly Clark secured her place in the finals as the top qualifying score after qualifications. During the semifinals Y/n brought in a 92.50 and 93.50. Her coach was jumping up and down, her parents screaming and Y/n ran over to them when the results came in.

She was heading to the finals.

A silver lining moment was what she was met with after claiming a score of 91.00 following her two runs. Team USA sweeping the podium: Kaitlyn with the gold, Y/n taking silver, and Kelly the bronze.

At the press junket following the podium ceremony, Y/n could not stop smiling. Even when she was asked the question, “How does it feel to be wearing the silver medal after what happened at the trials four years ago?”

“It feels amazing as you can imagine,” chuckles erupt from all sides. “I try to erase the 2010 trials from my memory, but ultimately that is what made me determined to work so hard these last four years. Being able to represent Team USA and bringing home the silver medal alongside my teammates Kaitlyn and Kelly, who I’ve admired my entire career—and watching Kelly win gold in 2002 is what kickstarted my dream of going to the Olympics…” Y/n pauses, grin growing wider, “It’s truly an honor. I-I’m still coming down from the high of it all.”

“Y/n over here!” The athlete points to a lady, who proceeds to stand from her chair to ask, “I know you’re going to be asked this a lot so let me be the first to, are we going to see you in four years for Pyeongchang?”

Biting her lip, Y/n gave a shrug though her smile remained, “I’m gonna train so the hope is you will see me in 2018, but you never know in sports. Anything can happen. For now I’m gonna celebrate with my coach and my family who traveled all the way from the States with me and then get back to the snow when I get home.”

When one already has established themself as a name in their sport, with an Olympic medal, several national and world titles under their belt, then going bigger is to be expected. Higher difficulty in tricks, more air and speed, fighting with gravity to not fall on your ass. Y/n felt the pressure.

“You want me to do back-to-back 1080s?” She nearly dropped her granola bar, staring at her coach dumbfounded.

“You can do it,” he said as if it were obvious. “You’ve been getting so much momentum on the landing that you’re getting massive height on your 720. You can easily go for the 1080 on that.”

It seemed tricky, but Y/n wasn’t one to say no to a challenge. “Fuck it, let’s do it.”

The first time resulted in a face plant in the snow. The second time she lost balance and skidded the rest of the slope on her ass. Finally on the third attempt she managed to catch her feet, exclaiming “Holy shit! I did it!” Off to the side her coach was fist pumping, in a heap of joy for the athlete. Never had anyone successfully landed a back-to-back 1080. But Y/n did in a fucking practice run. “Pyeongchang, here I come!”

When Y/n landed the movements at the 2018 Olympic trials, she was the highlight of the competition.

“The 2014 silver medalist in this event, Y/n L/n dropping in. Great start—setting up for her 1080….beautiful landing—she’s been working hard to perfect and—-OH! Oh my gosh she just did another one!! Did we just witness what I think we did? Holy moly folks I don’t believe it—Y/n L/n has just done the impossible with back-to-back 1080s in a single run!! That’s gonna have a massive score I can already tell.”

Adrenaline was pumping through her veins like never before when Y/n came down from the slope after her final move. Giggling like a maniac, her hands covered her mouth as the crowd roared around her. Her coach was going crazy, as were her friends and family who came out to support. A score of 95.00 sent the audience into a frenzy. And even with her second run, there was no doubt in anyone's mind.

Y/n was heading for Pyeongchang.

“It was a successful Olympic Trials this past week with 241 athletes from across the country qualifying for Team USA in the upcoming Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang, South Korea. Team USA will be competing in 15 sports, with many returning to the stage—including two time gold-medalist in the Men’s halfpipe, Shaun White, and 2010 Olympic champion of the women’s downhill in skiing, Lindsey Vonn. The women’s hockey team is looking to return to glory after not having won the gold since Nagano in 1998–the team claiming either silver or bronze in the past Games. There’s been a lot of excitement among supporters for returning Olympian Y/n L/n, who will be competing in the women’s halfpipe once again—L/n was the 2014 silver medalist in the event and became the talk of the trials when she completed back-to-back 1080s in her first run of the final competition, securing her place on Team USA with a massive score of 95.00. L/n has stated she will be attempting the 1080 duo at these Games. If she can pull out a score like she did at the trials of even higher, we could be looking at a new Queen of the Halfpipe.”

For the Games in Pyeongchang, each competitor would do two runs in qualifications and those who make it to the final will get three chances to produce a big score. It was smooth sailing to the finals for Y/n. Both runs received a score of 90.00, making her the top qualifier and securing one of twelve spots in the final.

February 13, 2018 was the best day of Y/n’s life.

It was a beautiful morning in South Korea. Sun beaming down with clear skies making the snow sparkle. Y/n was the last contestant in each rotation, spending the time in between her runs to keep her mind at ease. The playlist she made was blasting through the headphones she wore, a mix of genres that included artists like AC/DC, One Direction, and Beyoncé. Sometimes the cameramen would catch a glimpse of her dancing while mouthing the words to the songs, making viewers at home and the NBC commentators chuckle. Throughout the competition people were tweeting about the athlete:

@ sassycassie: @Y/nlikesthesnow is such a mood at the @Olympics. I wonder what’s on her playlist.

@TeamUSA✔️: we’re all jamming with @Y/nlikesthesnow.

@Marvelicious: Petition for the @Olympics to include music in the halfpipe from here on out.

When it came time for her run, Y/n rolled her neck, said a mental prayer, and dropped in once she was given the green light. Her heart was racing by the time she finished her first run, which did not get a good score due to falling on her second 1080. A rocky start to her competition, the number came back a 41.00.

Quickly the athlete brushed it off. “There’s still two more,” she told herself, approaching her coach who voiced the same thing. Two more chances to score big. All she needed to do was land the 1080s and get high altitude on her 720 and backside 900. Once that happened the gold medal was practically hers.

And she did just that.

On her second run, Y/n delivered what everyone was on the edge of their seats for. She screamed in victory going into her 720 because she had landed the second 1080 perfectly. Letting the remainder of the slopes guide her, Y/n finished her run with a beautiful 900 and shot her arms into the air, the people in the audience cheering. When she crossed the line she fell to her knees, board still attached to her feet and let out a cry of joy.

“Wow, wow, wow! That was absolutely incredible! She completed the back-to-back 1080s—I know we already saw it in the qualifications, but seeing it today was even better—and that 900 was massive, she could’ve thrown in a third! Look at Y/n, she’s taking it all in—the fans are going crazy, Team USA are already celebrating. And we still have one more run left! Remember the judges drop the highest and lowest scores and it looks like it’s gonna be……A 98.75!!! THAT IS HUGE—THE HIGHEST WE’VE SEEN YET!!”

Y/n was doing her best not to cry when her coach and parents hauled her into a group hug. There was still one more run to do, but it would be her victory lap no doubt. No way would anyone be able to touch her score.

Smiling the entire time, Y/n was effortless in her final attempt. One couldn’t even call it an attempt when she was already the gold medalist. The remaining competitors had already gone, none close to the number she produced in the second run. Tears finally flowed when she finished her 900, coming to the end of the slope and unclamping her board before dropping to the snow. The sound of the cheers was so loud she could feel the vibration.

Cameramen surrounded the athlete. Feeling giddy she made a snow angel, laughing the entire time.

When the score came back a 93.50, Y/n was officially named the Olympic champion of the women’s halfpipe. She wasn’t the only member from Team USA on the podium, Arielle Gold claimed the bronze, pushing out 2002 Gold Medalist Kelly Clark by nearly two full points. Liu Jiayu was the silver medalist.

At the podium ceremony Y/n felt like she was in a dream. Even when the announcer said, “Gold medalist and Olympic Champion, from the United States of America, Y/n L/n!!” With the medal placed around her neck and the sound of the national anthem echoing for all ears to hear, Y/n thought she’d wake up in her bed and it would have all been a dream.

But it was far from a dream. The press conference assured that. Reporters and journalists from sports magazines and media swarmed the place, Y/n more nervous about answering their questions than performing tricks in the air that were life threatening if landed wrong. Several questions were to be expected:

“Y/n, how are you feeling after your big win today?”

“Can you tell us anything about your plans when these Games come to an end?”

“Is it true you and actor Dylan O’Brien have been getting rather close?”

“Y/n, are you going to train for Beijing in four years?”

Exhausted and in need of food, Y/n kept her answers simple and minimum. “I feel like I could run a marathon—but mostly I could use some snacks. Oh thank you so much—,” A volunteer brought over an apple they had, and a reporter gave some crackers. “I feel even better now, thank you.”

“Well for one I’m gonna sleep at least a whole week,” chuckles rang out. “Then I’m gonna go see Black Panther since it comes out in three days—anybody gonna go see it? The trailer looked amazing.”

At the question of Dylan O’Brien, Y/n refrained from making a face, “Dylan is a good friend of mine—we met at the 2015 ESPY’s and he’s been to my family’s resort. Not to mention I was a fan of Teen Wolf when it was running. There’s nothing more going on, he’s a great buddy of mine and that’s all.” Internally groaning, Y/n could already picture the internet reacting to her answer. No doubt would they start shipping the two. Dylan would likely get a kick out of it, but like she said they were just good friends.

Responding on the topic of Beijing, Y/n said, “I’m very lucky to call myself a two-time Olympian and would love to continue my Olympic career so yes, I do plan to train for the next Games.”

The rest of 2018 was memorable for Y/n. She was invited to award shows and movie premieres, including Avengers: Infinity War, The Maze Runner: The Death Cure (which only fueled more speculation about her and Dylan) and Spider-Man: Into The SpiderVerse. She even filmed a cameo in the upcoming remake of Charlie’s Angels with fellow athletes Aly Raisman, Rhonda Rousey, and Danica Patrick. At the 2018 ESPY’s, Y/n was nominated for four awards: Best Olympic Moment, Best Female Olympian, Best Female Athlete and Best Female Action Sports Athlete. She took the latter three, in disbelief each time her name was called.

Her personality drew people in and many young girls were interested in snowboarding because of her. Within weeks she accumulated 500 thousand followers on instagram. People begged her to start a YouTube channel, wanting to follow the journey as she trains for Beijing.

“Hello friends of the interweb,” she waved to the lens of her camera. “You’ve been shouting from the rooftops and I’ve heard you loud and clear. Today is my first attempt at…vlogging? Is that what you call it?” Shrugging, she starts to walk down the hallway of her home. At age 26, Y/n moved out of her parents home shortly after her first Olympics—-having went pro—and bought a cabin on the resort so she could remain close with her family and coach. Plus it was where she trained—a nice little plaque on the entrance of the resort reading, “Home of Olympic Champion Y/n L/n.”

Fans loved seeing a more in-depth look at the Olympian. Y/n would do Q&As, give snowboarding 101 lessons, collaborate with Olympians from other sports she grew to become close friends with, and do daily vlogs of training.

“Hi, I’m Y/n L/n,” she smiled at the camera from where she was sitting, a pale pink background behind her. “And I’m here with Buzzfeed where I’m gonna be answering some questions while playing with puppies.” Clapping her hands excitedly, she grinned, “Let’s do this!”

“Was Snowboarding always your first choice when it came to sports?”

“Yes it was,” there was a tiny bulldog in her lap, drifting off to sleep while an excited lab pup was trying to chew at Y/n’s shoes. “When your family owns a ski resort in the mountains of Colorado, usually snowboarding or skiing is going to be the first sport you’re introduced to. In my case it was just like that and while my parents were more for skiing, I loved snowboarding because it was like surfing….but on snow.”

“Where would you be if you weren’t a professional athlete?”

“You know I haven’t really thought about this,” she makes a face that reads, ‘is that bad?’. “I’ve always loved animals so….probably a vet or a career that involved animals. Since I’ve started my YouTube channel I’ve grown to love creating videos and editing them—that whole process. I would not go as far as to say I’d be an Internet personality but I would maybe use those skills to go into film work. But in all honesty, I’d probably be running the resort with my parents. It’s the family business after all.”

“Do you have any tattoos?”

“I do,” flashing her forearm, the Olympic Rings inked her skin with tiny lettering that read, Sochi and Pyeongchang. “I got the rings shortly after returning from Sochi—already set on where it was going to go. The names were done after Pyeongchang. I have other tattoos on my legs and back, but this one is my favorite because it represents the dream I achieved.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Ooh we’re getting to the hard questions now,” she laughed, grabbing a puppy that was tugging on her sleeve to hold. “Ummm…..not really. While I’ve been in relationships I don’t think any has made me feel what love is supposed to be like. It’s probably why they didn’t work out,” again she makes a face. “I had a genuine care for them, but there’s a certain way people describe being ‘in love.’ And from what I’ve heard, none of my experiences would be like that. I hope that doesn't make me sound heartless,” Y/n shrugs, not embarrassed at all by being honest. “I got too much going on right now to be worrying about love though. When the time comes, it will.”

Well she was right on that. However she wasn’t expecting it to be sooner than what she thought.

Around December of 2019, Y/n had returned to Colorado after being in New York for a couple weeks for a friend’s wedding. Since becoming a bigger name in the world of snowboarding and in popular culture, the resort got more attraction throughout the year where bookings were full. During this time Y/n would help run things to get some stress from her parents. She’d train early mornings and late at night, leaving the middle of the day to assist in any way she could. Regulars who’d been coming before she was an Olympian would treat her the same, whereas tourists coming for the first time were usually starstruck.

Y/n loved interacting with supporters. Every smile she received and autograph she sighed was met with love. Kids would ask questions, the Olympian kneeling to their level to answer with full transparency. Adults would shake her hand and say they can’t wait to hopefully see her in Beijing. Those moments are what motivated Y/n to do her best with each session.

“Y/n, could you come here for a second?” her mother called out one night after Y/n finished her final run for the day. She’d just entered the lobby to say hi to her parents before heading back home when she spotted them with a group of people. One of whom looked very familiar.

Removing her scarf from face and pulling the hood down, Y/n was met with several pairs of eyes that immediately went wide. She could imagine why, considering there was a huge photo of her with the gold medal framed on the wall dedicated to the gallery of famous visitors the resort had.

Moving closer, she noticed that the group consisted of about eight people, seven of which were guys and one lady. The older gentleman who appeared to be roughly her father’s age was beaming at her. Quickly he was introduced by her mother.

“Y/n, I don’t if you remember since it’s been so long, but this is Pete Mitchell. He and your dad go way back and he’s visited a few times since we took over this place.”

Now the face brought memories with the mention of his name. Grinning, Y/n shook the hand that was extended to her, “Yeah, I remember. Maverick, right?”

“That’s right,” he smiled. “Wow, it’s great to see you again. Congrats on everything you’ve accomplished, Y/n. I’ve been watching you compete since your first trials.”

“Thank you,” she tries not to look flustered. “Sorry for looking so busted—I just finished a run and was not expecting a reunion so soon.” The words have the older adults chuckling. Glancing behind Pete’s shoulder, Y/n nodded to his companions, which had the pilot scurry to introduce them.

Pointing to each person, he lists off, “these are my lieutenants and members of my Top Gun striker team. Bradley Bradshaw, Natasha Trace, Robert Floyd, Mickey Garcia, Reuben Fitch, Javy Machado, and Jake Seresin.”

As he calls their names they each go to shake Y/n’s hand, saying, “nice to meet you.” When she gets to the last person, Jake, Y/n feels a light spark as their skin touches, making both of them flinch.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” the tinge of a southern accent nearly makes her knees go weak, a dazzling smile to compliment the pilot.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” she returns before moving back to stand beside her parents. “Thank you all for your service. What brings you to Aspen?”

“Well we’ve seen enough of the beach and ocean—now that we’re all stationed in Miramar—and thought we’d like a scene change,” Pete explained, gesturing to her parents. “I called your folks up after our assignment to book us a getaway since these guys were in need of a break. We’re here for the weekend to hit the slopes—and teach some of them how to ski.”

“Fun,” she hums, glancing to see some nervous eyes among Bob, Javy, Mickey, and Jake. When she caught Jake’s gaze he smiled at her, making her look away before she blushed. “Who all knows how to ski?”

“Reuben, Nat, and I do,” Rooster answered, “this is the first time those clowns are seeing snow.”

“I’ll have you know, Bradshaw,” Jake lifts a hand, giving a mocking glare. “I have seen snow, but seeing as I am a Texas man we don’t get it down there.”

“I get snow where I’m from,” Bob interjects, blushing a bit, “But I was the type to stay indoors when it did. I’ve never skied though.”

“Well there is a first for everything,” Y/n beams, “and once you get the hang of it, it’s pretty easy. Although I’m probably not the best judge…..since I pretty much live on the snow.”

“I personally wanna try snowboarding,” Nat admits, smiling when Y/n gives her a thumbs up and mouths, “good choice.”

“I’ll do it if you do it,” Mickey says and the two high five.

“Maybe Y/n can give you some pointers” Y/n’s dad suggested, glancing at her with a tilt of the head. “She’d be the best teacher here.” The Olympian smiles, offering a light shrug.

“I wouldn’t mind.”

Mickey and Nat nearly turned into school children right there, but where Nat was calm on the exterior, Mickey was unleashing his inner fanboy.

“If it’s not out of your way—.”

“Oh my God, to be trained by an Olympic gold medalist? Life goal complete.”

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at the man, “That settles it then. I hope to see you on the slopes first thing tomorrow morning. How does ten sound?”

“Shit that means we get to sleep in,” Reuben said in relief, the others making the same expression. At Y/n’s confusion he adds, “we normally all get up at four in the morning. Ten o’clock is a dream.”

“I know what you mean—I get up at five for training. So I would definitely want you all to get a good night’s rest. Hours on the slopes will have you running to your bed,” checking her watch, Y/n lets out a yawn, chuckling when she finishes. “Speaking of running to bed, I am beat if you haven’t noticed.” She goes to shake their hand once more, “It was so nice meeting you all and I look forward to tomorrow. Pete, it was great seeing you again.”

Saying goodbye to the group and her parents, Y/n waves one last time and heads to the door. The entire short drive to her home, her mind wanders to Jake. A warm feeling she couldn’t describe boiled in her chest, not sure if it was a little crush or just that she was attracted to him. With his green eyes, sun kissed skin, blonde hair, and dazzling smile, the man was a looker. She definitely could see him being a charmer, maybe even a playboy.

She didn’t want to think about that possibility.

Compared to her snowboarding career, relationships were something Y/n didn’t have the best record with. Yeah she dated, shared a kiss or two with someone she was interested in, but she never saw someone more than five to six months. It wasn’t easy to balance time and energy for a partner. Snowboarding was her life and she permanently lived in Colorado. She stopped dating people in Aspen because they usually were driven by what Y/n could bring them. Relationships with fellow athletes were more difficult since they were dedicated to their sport just like she was to hers. The one time she did get involved with an athlete lasted less than two weeks.

Then you had the people in Hollywood. Since winning the silver in 2014, Y/n made plenty of friends in the film and movie industry. Anytime she was pictured with someone it sparked rumors. Even when they were with a group of friends it didn’t stop the gossip. Y/n did, however, get involved with an actor that was a friend of Dylan O’Brien. He introduced them at the 2017 Teen Choice Awards where they hit it off. It only lasted five months but it was enough to get the internet buzzing with excitement.

Since then Y/n hadn’t been serious with someone, focusing solely on training for the Beijing Olympics. As the defending Olympic champion in the halfpipe Y/n was determined to defend her title. There wouldn’t be any time for romance.

But that weekend left Y/n with a newfound feeling. One she wanted to keep the more she got to know Jake. Each night he was at the resort they’d meet at the lounge to have a drink, sometimes with a group, or by themselves. They’d catch each other in the mornings to get coffee, Y/n feeling the giddiness rise each time with every conversation. The boys caught on quickly what was happening, going as far to joke with Y/n about his history with women.

Her confidence dropped a bit, but Jake shut it down instantly, “I haven’t been with anyone in about a year. And I wouldn’t want something with you to be one and done, Y/n. I want to get to know you better and see where this goes.”

“Jake, how would this even work?” The two were sitting on one of the lounge couches the night before he was set to return to California. It was a good point to bring up. With him being in San Diego and her in Aspen, it would be difficult. “I like you and have enjoyed our time this weekend—a-and I’d love to see where this goes….but being with me isn’t easy.”

“Why’s that?” He asked, oblivious to her concern.

She gives him a knowing look, “Well first there’s the distance like I mentioned. But also I’m in a career where I prioritize that more than anything. I have to go out of the country for competitions several times a year,” her hand makes a motion to show emphasis. “This is where I train—and I don’t see myself leaving anytime soon. My goal is to make it to the Olympics again.”

Jake is quiet for a moment. It worries Y/n, thinking that he was going to get up and leave without another word. But then he gently places a hand on top of hers that was resting on her lap, “I admire and respect you for being honest with me. Not many people are like that—hell, Lord knows I wasn’t five years ago. But even though it may be difficult, I don’t want to avoid it just because of the ‘what if’s’. So it doesn’t work out, that’s okay, but I’d like to at least try.”

Biting her lip, she looks at their hands, “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” he smiles, “plus it gives me a reason to continue coming out here. I think I’ve fallen in love with this place,” glancing around the building, his smile gets bigger at the sight of the sun setting making the mountains look beautiful from where they were. “Being from Texas, we don’t get this type of scenery. I thought I wouldn’t like the snow but it seems to have grown on me in the few short days.”

“Well, Lieutenant, you’re gonna have to get used to it if you roll with me.”

“I think I can adapt well, darling.”

When the squad left the next morning, a little piece of Yn’s heart left with Jake. She didn’t believe in love at first sight but there was no denying the feelings swarming like butterflies each time they were together. FaceTimes became their thing. Usually a couple times a week with casual texting since both had busy lives. Jake then flew out a couple weeks later to spend New Year’s with Y/n, the two sharing their first kiss that sparked like the fireworks in the sky.

Y/n traveled to San Diego in February with Jake returning to Aspen in March. What was supposed to just be a weekend turned out to be Jake having to stay for nearly three months due to the world shutting down. The pandemic was something no one could’ve predicted. Both Y/n and Jake had to scramble to figure out what to do, her parents offering him a cabin to reside in since they had to close down the resort. The competitions Y/n was set to compete in were canceled, Jake having to work remotely with meetings through zoom. There was no indication if he’d have to return to San Diego and frankly he didn’t know how he would since airlines were shut down.

It was a blessing in disguise, however, because it brought the two closer. Jake and Y/n were able to do things together despite being confined to the resort. Since it was only them, her parents, and her coach on the premises, Y/n was able to still train and even taught Jake how to snowboard downhill. He told her about his career and what it was like being in the air competing against the speed of sound.

“It’s an adrenaline rush most of the time,” He explained one night as they laid by the fire, a random movie on the Tv mounted above the mantle. “You can probably relate when you do your runs. Not being able to really think and just let your body take over. Feeling a high that’s indescribable and praying it will end how you think it will.”

In the mornings Y/n would drop off breakfast and coffee to his cabin on her way to training. After his meetings he’d bring her lunch or dinner since she was practicing most hours in the day. The 2020 season was canceled, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t prepare for 2021. Athletes training for the Summer Olympics would have to wait a whole year, meanwhile the plans for the Winter Olympics in 2022 remained. Speculations already arose that by the next spring things would slowly go back to normal with the implementation of a vaccine. Jake returned to San Diego as soon as the green light was lit, mostly because the Navy was ordering him to. Airlines only allowed certain people to fly with regulations set to accommodate social distancing. It was a bittersweet goodbye for the couple, Jake promising to return as soon as he could.

Their relationship continued to be long distance for a long time. San Diego locked down several times preventing either from traveling to see each other. Y/n kept busy by training from sunrise to sunset, Jake running missions the Pentagon tasks the Dagger squad with and the two FaceTimed consistently. Luckily by spring of 2021 things did in fact calm down. A vaccine was introduced, both wasting no time to receive it, and making plans for Y/n to fly out to San Diego.

When she landed she was met with the clear skies and warm rays of the sun, catapulting into Jake’s awaiting arms after exiting the terminal. “I missed you so much!” She giggled as he spun her around.

“I missed you more, darling.”

Everyone welcomed her with smiles, the pilots excited to see Y/n again after so long. They took her to The Hard Deck to celebrate her and Jake’s one year anniversary and for her qualification in the 2021 Winter X Games.

“Excited to get back in the pipe, Y/n/n?” Reuben asked her.

“You bet your ass I am,” she clicks her beer glass with his. “Can’t wait for the world to see what I’ve been practicing.”

The squad cheered on Y/n from Fightertown during the Winter X Games, watching her claim the gold of the women’s Superpipe for the sixth time. Jake was the loudest, his reaction to her win captured by Rooster, “That’s my girl!!”

Flash forward to January 2022. The team rang the year in, Y/n joining festivities where she and Jake celebrated their third New Year’s before they all traveled North to Mammoth to watch Y/n compete in the Mammoth Grand Prix. The first completion of the year, it would be where the Beijing Olympic Team members were named.

By the end of the competition, Y/n was going to have to set an appointment with her tattoo artist to add Beijing to the list of Games.

“YEAHH!!!” The scream released, arms shot into the air as her name shot to the top of the leaderboard following her second run, the score a 96.00. On the ground Jake, her coach, parents, and friends were losing their minds. Rightfully so, they just witnessed Y/n make her third Olympic team.

“And there you have it folks, the defending Olympic champion in the halfpipe is heading to Beijing in her third Olympic appearance. Y/n L/n has shown greatness this whole weekend, proving herself as one of the best in the sport. There’s been so much improvement in her form—the Winter X Games this past year was the last time we’d seen her since the pandemic shut everything down, but that didn’t stop Y/n from getting ready for Beijing. She is unstoppable. It'll be an exciting Games next month, not just for the women’s competition—Shaun White will return to the stage for the fifth time in an attempt to defend his gold model.”

A celebratory party was in store for the Olympian. Champagne was popped and music blasting in the restaurant the members of Team USA rented together. All their friends and family were there having a grand time. Y/n and Shaun got pictures together, the internet calling them the king and queen of the halfpipe. Pretty much all of the dagger squad, minus Jake of course, were chatting up with the Olympians—Bob received a thumbs up from Y/n when she spotted him talking with Mikayla Shiffrin.

Halfway through the night, Jake pulled her aside, “How you feeling?”

“Good,” she breathed, still coming down from the high of excitement. “Excited, nervous, internally dreading the long flight but overall I’m happy.”

“I’m happy for you, darling,” he kissed her head, “You deserve this. After watching you bust your tail these past two years, I can’t describe how proud I am of you.”

Y/n felt a wave of love course threw her, kissing him softly as a thanks. When they pulled away Jake asked what was next to which she replied, “What do you mean?”

“Well…I hear Italy is hosting in four years.” She made a sound of ‘Ahh,’

“That’s what you mean.”

Jake quickly explains, “I just wanted to know if that’s in your sights. You’re gonna get asked plenty next month, so see it as me wanting to be the first to know……and because I’m already planning on being there if you do.” Unfortunately due to covid restrictions, Jake and her family are unable to attend the Games in person. Only her coach was allowed to travel with Y/n, meaning everyone else would have to cheer from home.

Italy wasn’t even on Y/n’s mind. After a career of over fifteen years and having celebrated her 30th birthday, the next chapter was something she thought about often. Jake was her longest relationship, the two at two years and Y/n fell more and more in love with him each day. While the long distance was going well, it would only be a matter of time before one of them would want to settle. Marriage. Children.

Going for a fourth Games was possible—look at Shaun. Beijing was his fifth Games, and Kelly Clark competed in five.

“Confident you’ll be around by then? 2026 is a long way from here,” teasing at first, Y/n felt her heart skip by the look she received. It was one of love, determination, and admiration.

“I’m confident in a lot of things, Y/n. And when it comes to us,” two fingertips come up to hold her chin steady, green eyes boring into hers. “I see a cabin with a front porch and gorgeous sunrise over the mountains as we drink coffee and reminisce over our glory days before the little ones left the nest. That’s what I see when I look at you.”

February 2026–Livigno, Italy: Final of the Women’s Halfpipe in the XXV Olympic Winter Games.

“So one last run, huh?” Jake squeezes Y/n’s hand, easing her nerves as she feels the metal of his wedding band on her skin. She had yet to put her gloves on, waiting for someone to escort her to the top of the slope.

“One last one,” her tone was laced with sadness, not doing much to mask her anxiety. She was one run away from winning a third conservative gold medal. Beijing was already four years ago, Y/n adding a second gold to her collection to retain her title as queen of the halfpipe. She was met with international recognition following the Games. Her performance in Beijing resulted in the first 100.00 scored in the Olympics.

On the cover of Sports Illustrated and winning big at the 2022 ESPY’s, Y/n was on top of the world. Appearances on James Corden and The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon Y/n not only showcased her gold medal, but a diamond ring on her finger where she told the world her love story with Jake.

“Hi, I’m Y/n L/n,” she waved at the camera, a MacBook in front of her and trying not to laugh at where Jake was sitting in his own chair beside the producer of GQ, videoing her with his phone. “Two-time Olympic gold medalist in the women’s halfpipe and I’m here with GQ, about to go undercover on the internet.” Opening the laptop, she shakes her head with a nervous grin. “This is gonna be interesting.”

Ironically enough, she chose the username Y/ndoesntlikethesnow. “I’m sorta scared at what Twitter and Reddit will bring. Just because….,” she makes a face, “I go on the bird app religiously so I know what that’s like, but also I’ve heard horror stories about Reddit.”

“I wanna know how @Y/nlikesthesnow managed to get up after planting face first in the snow at her first Olympic trials. On live television. If that was me I would’ve retired right then and there.”

The laugh that escaped Y/n was equivalent to a wheeze, sending Jake into his own laughter. Calming down, Y/n had to wipe her eye, “oh my goodness what a great start. Okay,” her fingers hovered over the keys, typing away with each word she spoke. “Thank you for bringing this memory up—it was truly a defining moment in my career I would say. Not only did it humble me, but had it not happened I probably wouldn’t have busted my butt as much as I did to get to Sochi. So it’s kinda sentimental now….though I do die inside each time someone tags me when they use the gif.”

Clicking send, Y/n clapped, “next!”

“Does Y/n L/n and her fiancé know they basically lived in a Hallmark movie? Guy comes to a small town and meets a local girl who’s family runs a ski resort and they fall in love in just a few short weeks. I think about that a lot.”

Both Y/n and Jake make a snort, “Jake is here with me now,” she points to though he can’t be seen. “We both love this question. And to answer it, you know it never crossed our mind that this was happening, but if Hallmark would like some inspiration for their next movie we’d be happy to give some.”

The wedding took place in fall of 2023. Shortly after Y/n made the decision to move to San Diego to be with Jake, finding an indoor halfpipe training facility to train in. She continued to dominate the 2023-2025 seasons. By the time she made her fourth Olympic team, Y/n became the most decorated female snowboarder in Winter X Games history and won the Mammoth Grand Prix for the sixth consecutive time.

Now in Italy for her final Olympic appearance, the pressure was on.

Currently Y/n was in last position, shocking many as she had multiple errors in her first two after being the number one qualifier. Eight years ago in Pyeongchang, her friend and former teammate Shaun White stunned the world when he went from the bottom to the top of the leaderboard in the final rotation of the men’s final, claiming his third gold medal.

People were itching to know if the same would happen to Y/n. Commentators and twitter alike saying it was deja vu happening.

Only Jake, the squad, her coach and family were the ones to know she would be retiring. Her last run marking the end of an era in snowboarding. With her first two a disaster, Y/n wanted to end on a high note.

“Better make it count,” Jake told her, cupping her face in his hands to stare deeply into her eyes. “You got this, okay? Don’t think about i-t-like I always tell you: don’t think, just do.” Kissing her forehead, he adds, “That gold medal is calling your name.”

Confidence filled her, Y/n lifting her chin high to show her determination. “I better go claim it then.”

Jake mirrored her grin, winking just as the volunteer was calling her name. “We’ll be cheering when you do, babe. Go show them who’s the Queen.” Giving one last kiss of support, Jake says goodbye to his wife, “I love you.”

“I love you,” she returns and he watches her leave before heading to the area where the others were waiting for him.

“How is she?” Javy asks him, adjusting the lapels of his coat. It was a cold but beautiful day in Italy. Perfect for snowboarding.

“I can tell she’s worried,” Jake takes out his binoculars, setting up to see Y/n take her place. “But she’ll pull through. She always does.”

“Welcome back to our coverage of the women’s halfpipe final here in Livigno, Italy. Y/n L/n, the defending two-time gold medalist is about to take her final run in this competition.” The title card appeared on the screen for viewers watching at home, reading: “Y/n L/n-Seresin—Gold Medalist: 2018 & 2022, Silver Medalist: 2014–Hometown: Aspen, Colorado, USA.

“It’s been a rocky day for L/n—failing to produce a big score on her first two attempts: 39.00 in the first and 49.00. She’s got one more chance to beat the 92.25 and is currently in last position. If you can think back to 2018 Shaun White was in the same position, managing to come back in his final run to take the gold. In just a few moments we shall see if Y/n can do the same.”

It’s said that your heart beats on average 60 to 100 beats per minute. That’s a normal heart rate. Throw in emotions such as anxiety and you’ll find it increasing. If a doctor were to place a stethoscope over Y/n’s chest as she secured the clasps of her snowboard, pulling the goggles over her eyes, they’d find the number of her bpm to be at least 110 maybe even 120.

“Don’t think,” Jake’s voice echoed in her head, bringing a sense of calmness. “Just do.”

“Don’t think,” she repeated under her breath. “Just do.” Maneuvering her board once she was giving the go, Y/n starts her decline into the halfpipe, dropping in one last time. Unlike her previous runs where she focused too hard that led to the mistakes, Y/n moved effortlessly like the board was in control. Back-to-back 1080s, her signature move. Getting high in the air she spun. Backside 900 and frontside 700. Opening at the right moment to hit the snow correctly and set up for the next trick. Showing off her talent as one of the greatest athletes of her generation.

Thinking back to her first time her feet touched a board, Y/n felt the nostalgia in her veins. It was comforting, masking the nerves it soon replaced. She was in her element. Picturing the mountains of Aspen and the snow she grew up on.

She could hear the crowd getting louder with each move. It fueled her, pushing the Olympian to get higher in the air, spin faster, and land perfectly. When she came down on her 1260, a difficult move usually seen in the men’s competition, Y/n felt her heart stop as she hit the snow.

It was a golden finish.

A roar ignited from the crowd, Y/n’s hands flying to her mouth, making her final descent down the pipe across the line and falling to her knees like she did back in 2018. It was so loud she could barely hear her own thoughts, audibly shouting, “Oh my God!” Desperately searching for her husband, she found Jake jumping up and down with the squad, screaming like their lives depended on it.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, Y/n throwing off her goggles and unclamping her board from her feet to run towards them. The fucking aviator broke the rules and hauled is ass over the barrier to meet her in the middle, catching Y/n when she jumped into his arms. “You fucking did it!!! You did it!!”

Suddenly their little hug was interrupted by her coach, parents, the squad and members of Team USA joining in. The score hadn’t even come in, but it didn’t matter. Y/n just pulled the comeback of the decade. Going from the bottom to the top in the blink of the eye.

“All eyes on Y/n—here she goes dropping in. Good start on the grip to gain momentum as she sets up her first trick. Here’s her signature move as we’ve seen time and time again…two 1080s often called ‘the cork’ and she’s had trouble all day with this—well no problems right there that was beautiful. Now with the backside 900….looking good—if she maintains this then the gold medal is hers. It’s gonna be that last trick, the McTwist, that could make or break this run…..no problems on that frontside 700. All there’s left is the 1260–very difficult we don’t see it in women’s halfpipe but Y/n is determined to land it—can she do it for the gold medal…..AND SHE’S GOT IT!! She landed it—oh my goodness that was incredible! That’s gotta be enough—there’s no doubt in my mind, Y/n L/n has just won her third consecutive gold in the women’s halfpipe after being in last place for two rotations—putting on a show stopping performance in the final run.”

“She knows it too. Members of Team USA and Y/n’s support team including her coach and husband are celebrating with her. She needs higher than a 92.25 to take the lead—will it be enough? It has to be…..A 99.75 SHE’S DONE IT! A QUARTER OF A POINT AWAY FROM PERFECTION, Y/N L/N HAS WON HER THIRD GOLD MEDAL IN THE WOMEN’S HALFPIPE HERE IN ITALY. THE QUEEN OF THE HALFPIPE REMAINS ON THE THRONE.”

Y/n’s lifted onto Jake’s shoulders when the score comes into the uproar of cheers around her. American flags wave in her face, a sea of red, white, and blue against the glistening snow. It was a scene she would remember in the years to come following her retirement from snowboarding.

The Olympic Rings staring back at her along with the American Flag rising to the sound of the national anthem. Gold around her neck, the heaviness leaving a lasting mark as it would be the last time she would be crowned the Olympic champion. Jake clapping with tears streaming down his face as she waved to him in the crowd. Her parents crying with him, the guys and Nat are whistling and jumping up and down. Pete in a side embrace with her coach and former teammates beaming like they were witnessing history.

In fact it was history. Y/n became the first woman to win the gold in three consecutive Olympic Games. From a little girl with a love of snowboarding who missed out in her first trials. To become a silver medalist and most decorated Winter X Games title holder. To a three-time Olympic champion.

She truly was the queen of the halfpipe.

………….

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black

#Spotify #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin x you #jake seresin #jake hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #hangman imagine #athlete!reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #tgm imagine #hangman fluff #glen powell #dagger squad imagine #Olympian!reader

[deathisararemercy]

Sacrifice

Death x Reader

The center of town was where the real party was at. A small scaffold was set up in the plaza. White lilies were set in baskets around it in dazzling grandeur. On the scaffold was a grand table, set with a brilliant spread. Only one person was seated at it. Out of all the people in the town, they were the only person dressed head-to-toe in black. Muerte couldn’t see their face as a veil covered it, but he could tell their head was bent as they picked at their final meal. This year’s sacrifice.

A/N: I always write these when I'm sleepy, y'know? Not just the fics but also the author's notes in general. I think writing the notes are my favorite part. Do people even read these? Tweedledee-tweedledum- alright. Let's get into it, shall we? This is actually a lot cuter than what the title would suggest, but it also has such an ending with some different interpretations. This is a tiny tiny bit Halloween-y and out of season, but I swear I'll try to write something for Valentine's Day. That fic will definitely be cute and fluffy, I promise.

The fire was dying out.

Not that it mattered much anyway. He was Death; things like the cold, rain, or snow didn’t affect him. Building this campfire at the edge of the dark wood was wholly unnecessary. It was probably going to attract unwanted attention to himself. But watching the dancing sparks from the campfire was a nice distraction from seeing whatever it was that was going on in the town just down the hill. He could feel it in the air and the way the stars glared down at him. Muerte wrinkled his nose. The air smelled sour like rotten onions and inevitable death. But also lamb. He liked lamb.

He stomped out the dying embers of the fire and checked that the area was all nice and clean. The wind hummed a bit. He whistled in response. Satisfied, the wolf drew his hood and began the walk into town.

For what must have been a century now, the villagers of this village held a festival to “keep Death at bay” every year due to a horrible plague that once passed through the town. It had been an awful year with a poor harvest and horrible disease. Muerte could still remember the exhilarating smell of their constant fear. He never experienced anything like it; it was like walking through an electrifying haze for days that left him in a constant state of adrenaline. Despite that, he felt guilty each time he had to take a life during his stay. And there were many.

He was silent and solemn each time he arrived at someone’s deathbed, trying to be gentle. But the way the families screamed and begged, their wails and sobs as he grimly cut the cord tethering their loved ones’ spirits to the mortal realm, haunted him long after he left the town. The spirits had hated him too, pleading for him to send them back, just so they could live a little longer, just so they could say goodbye, and cursing him when he said he could not.

But Death is a promise, not a bargain to be made.

And the villagers had been terrified of El Lobo Muerte ever since.

Since then, each year, they’d put up torches that would burn all through the night and offer one person as a sacrifice, leaving them in the center of the largest field. One hundred years later, the festival was more of a celebration to keep away illness for the coming year and dress up in costume. Little decorations would be pasted up like wolves and skulls. Sickles would be painted red and hung up next to the fields of crops.

In reality, Muerte couldn't control when people died. He was just there to release the dead from the mortal realm and send them on their way to the spirit world. But it was cute, seeing the little paper skulls they pasted up, the decorated gourds, and- oh that smelled good. They were selling chopped pieces of lamb on skewers this year. His red eyes darted to the stall where they were selling them. A small crowd had gathered there. He’d come back and buy two later.

The center of town was where the real party was at. A small scaffold was set up in the plaza. White lilies were set in baskets around it in dazzling grandeur. On the scaffold was a grand table, set with a brilliant spread. Only one person was seated at it. Out of all the people in the town, they were the only person dressed head-to-toe in black. Muerte couldn’t see their face as a veil covered it, but he could tell their head was bent as they picked at their final meal.

This year’s sacrifice.

Muerte leaned against a stall, watching them try to take another bite of food before pushing away their plate. They grabbed a golden chalice and took a long drink.

“Steeling your nerves. Interesting.’’

“What?”

The wolf looked around. He was leaning right against another lamb stall. This one was selling mini-pies. The cook looked up at him in confusion, not fear. Well, it looked like even after just a century, no one bothered to tell anyone what Death looked like.

The wolf grinned, baring his teeth. “Oh, it’s nothing. Say,’’ he leaned down to take a peek at the wares. “Could I have two of those please?”

==x==x==

The procession began at eleven bells. The town suddenly fell silent and solemn as a committee of hooded figures approached the scaffold. The sacrifice trembled as they rose, whether it be from fear, fatigue, or drink Muerte didn’t know. When they reached the bottom of the scaffold, a bouquet of lilies was procured for them by one of the hooded figures. The figures then surrounded the sacrifice until Death could barely see the top of their head. And then, they began to walk.

The crowd parted silently as the hooded figures led the sacrifice out of the village, closing the gap as the procession left. Their pace was horribly slow, but they did need to fill up an hour of time. Muerte followed the procession from a distance.

When they reached the edge of town, where the crowds were thin, the light grew dim, and the stars seemed a bit brighter, one of the hooded figures spoke. “This is the final time you will step foot in this village. Once you leave the light, you are to be led into the dark. With your back to the light, you walk into the cold embrace of death in order for the light to continue to burn bright for all those you leave behind.”

With that, the sacrifice was blindfolded, their veil covered their face again, and their hands were bound. They linked arms with one of the hooded figures and the small procession continued to the village’s largest field. The moon was full and beautiful, and the winds hummed a little tune. The wolf whistled quietly in response.

Muerte walked softly and silently, undetected by the mortals. His eyes glowed red as he tried to see further in the dark. The figures were just leaving the sacrifice there. No final words, no last requests. The figures led them to the center of the field, cleared away except for a cut tree stump, on which they seated the sacrifice. Then they just…left.

Something in Muerte’s chest twisted, his lip curling in disgust as he watched them leave the poor sacrifice alone. In the distance, the village bell tower rang twelve bells. He could faintly hear the person hold their breath expectantly. That was his cue.

“Well, well,” the wolf smirked as he pushed away the crops and stood in the clearing. “If it isn’t this year’s little lamb.” The person stood up suddenly, hopelessly trying to see the wolf in the dark. “Relax,” he chuckled, “I’m not going to eat you.”

“But-”

“Here.” He swiftly removed their veil and blindfold. The wolf suddenly hesitated. Those terrified eyes were…prettier than he expected. If he looked at them any longer, he just might-

Muerte spun them around, grabbing their shoulder so that they wouldn’t trip and fall. Their body was small and warm beneath his cold paws and firm grip. Could he just think clearly for one-

He drew one of his sickles and slashed the rope binding their wrists together. The villager yelped at the sudden release before righting themself. They turned around, and Death focused on staring at the point just between their eyebrows. Their eyebrows knit together as they examined him in the moonlight. Adorable.

“Are you…Death?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. And you are?”

They hesitated before giving their name. “My, my, my. What a beautiful name.”

“It’s the same as any other name,” they scoffed. He could see the faintest flicker of a smile flash across their face.

“Well, it’s the name of the person this town foolishly gave up this year. So I think it’s fairly important. Lamb?”

“Yes?”

The wolf howled in laughter, echoing through the silent night. If there was another villager out there, they’d surely be terrified. Muerte reached under his poncho and pulled out the pies, wrapped up in cloth. “I was asking if you wanted a lamb pie, cordero.”

Their face reddened. They snatched one of the pies away and turned their back towards him. “I- I knew that! I was just saying ‘yes’ as in ‘yes! I’d like a pie!’ you stupid lobo.”

Muerte placed a hand on his chest, gasping. “You dare call Death a stupid wolf! You better watch what you say. You never know what will be your final words.” The villager cast a glance back over their shoulder, gaze meeting Death’s. The two of them laughed.

Muerte sat down on the ground next to the stump. The villager stared at the stump before deciding to sit on the ground next to the wolf. They each ate their pies in silence, chewing thoughtfully. The wolf finished first, licking his lips. “You all outdo yourselves every year. That was delicious.”

The villager smiled, wiping their mouth with the back of their hand. “Thanks. We try to make it nice for you.”

Leaning his head on his hand, the wolf shrugged. “At this point, it’s less about me and just having a nice new year. But you know, I enjoy seeing all the cute costumes. A little kid dressed up like that Puss in Boots, running up to me with a stick sword.” His eyes narrowed suddenly, looking at the villager’s face. “Hang on.” They stiffened. He leaned in closer, close enough to smell them and feel them breathe. “You have something…right…there.” He gently wiped away a stray crumb of pie from their face.

“O-oh. Thank you!”

Was that pushing it? He narrowed his eyes again as he looked between that beautiful face and the crumb stuck to his fur. He licked his paw clean, eyes trained on the villager. Their face reddened again. He could feel them trembling a bit, though Muerte was fairly certain it wasn’t from fear.

“Say,” he began slowly, testing the words out, “Do you think I really eat people?”

They were startled and hurriedly responded, “No, of course not! At least…I hope not.”

“Well your prayers have been answered,” Muerte said, rising to his feet. The villager quickly followed. “I don’t really eat people. Neither does that Big Bad Wolf people tend to confuse me with.”

“But the others,” they said slowly, “the others from the previous years. What happened to them?”

The wolf shrugged. “I always bring food because I know they’ll barely be able to eat anything from the nerves. Then, I take them wherever they want to go, that isn’t this village.”

Their eyes widened. “You can do that?”

“Mm, yes. Granted, not everyone likes the way I travel. And the universe isn’t particularly keen on me doing this. But I don’t kill anyone. And they usually survive the trip.”

“‘Usually’?”

“I’m joking, cordero pequeño.” Muerte grinned. “So what will it be? Where would you like to go?”

The little lamb paused. “I…I don’t know.”

“Come on. You can go anywhere in the world. Just say the word.”

“I think I just want to be able to see you again.”

That took Death aback. He blinked rapidly. “What?”

“Was it weird? Sorry, I just- Listen. I want to see you again.” The mortal gestured around the field, ethereal under the moonlight. “I know I said I don’t think you eat people, but I also didn’t really expect to be alive past midnight. I don’t know where I want to go or what I want to do. But,” they added, stepping slowly towards the wolf, “now I think I want to get to know you more. You’re a pretty funny guy, Lobo Muerte.”

His heart fluttered in his chest. Well, mierda. The moonlight was caught in their hair, and they smelled sweet and full of life. Muerte bent down, reaching behind the stump to pick up the discarded bouquet of lilies. Quickly before it could wilt under his touch, he pressed one flower to the mortal’s chest. He smiled softly, tapping the tip of their nose. “We’ll find a place for you. And I'll be sure to visit before your time comes for real. I’d like to see you again too. Is that alright?”

They grinned. “Yes, of course.”

“Alright then.” The wolf unsheathed his scythes and thrust them upwards, cutting through the air. A shimmering door of light opened in front of the two. He smiled seeing the wonder on their face. “Let’s go.” And he whistled as they went.

#puss in boots #puss in boots death #death x reader #puss in boots muerte #muerte x reader #the last wish #x reader #.writing

[noroamenial]

teaser for a Raphael x Tav fanfic I'm writing.

disclaimer: I write in second person because it is meant to be for the reader's POV, AND this takes place right at the end of Act 2

You sat on the steps of the main throne room. Ketheric’s empty throne sat behind you as you stared through the hallway’s open doors to the vestibule and out into the night. The only lights were the flickering torches mounted on the wall. The air still smelled like blood and the dead, even with most of the bodies removed. Only a few hours ago you were grappling with an avatar of Myrkul. You can still recall the exact feeling: your heart beating so loudly you thought it would jump from your throat, the smell of necrotic undead, and the weight of the glaive in your hands. You had witnessed your own death a hundred times over in the moment you had looked into its eyes. 

You inhaled deeply, it didn’t matter that the air was tinged with iron, the upper floors of the tower breathed with relief. You yawned, shucking your gauntlets for the freedom of your hands, you had been waiting for this moment of relief. You rotated a wooden pipe in your hands, it was packed and slender with a curve. Halsin had handed it to you before you had slinked away from the night’s camp. ‘My gratitude can not be contained to only a gift, but allow this to be the start of my many thanks to you.’ He had said softly, with a hand on your shoulder before sending you off with an understanding nod. You puzzled over it for a moment, in your haste to escape socializing, you had forgotten a light.

“Even the smallest embers can be stoked to a wildfire. It is the consumer, fueling on whatever its claws can grasp.” A voice echoes off of the brick from behind you. And as soon as you are able to turn, Raphael stands above you, leaned over at the waist to stare curiously down. 

“If you’ve come to deal, I’m in no mood.” You sigh, turning around. Your body aches too much to stand up in your armor and face him. 

“A bird in the hand is worth more than two in the bush. I have what I want.” He sits down beside you with a shrug. “I thought perhaps you could use a lighter.” 

You don’t even realize how much your reaction time has slowed until he’s lifting your hand with the pipe by the wrist, and has vastly closed the difference between the two of you. He offers you a light—a small burning flame, produced from one finger. And as you light the pipe and test the contents—something herby yet sweet Halsin must have put together—you’re greeted with a pleased smile from Raphael. 

“It’s the least I can do for my little mouse.” He hums, and you’re so close you can pick out the streaks of white scattered through his black hair. “You went out of your way to take care of a deal meant for the vampire spawn. I feel as though I owe you more than him.” 

You shake your head, before sighing. 

“I would never let Astarion do that alone, much like he would not let me do that alone.” You explain, looking down. “I did it for him, so you don’t owe me anything.” 

“Then allow me to wipe our slates clean, if not for you, then for me.” He hums, “allow me to service for what has been paid.” 

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 raphael #raphael #tav bg3 #tav x raphael #tav x raphael bg3 #if you know you know #I also take suggestions and prompts #I just love him

[windblume-wishes]

I decided to quickly write this short tale up for his birthday (but writers block hit), please note that spoilers from his first SSR Birthday Boy card will be included in this tale, traveler!

(Silver will be about 6 years old in this story)

TW: Mentions of injuries and mild blood

𝕃𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕨, 𝕀 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖…

Silver and Lilia - Never To Part

The smell of fresh rain falling from the heavens and the sounds of thunder echoed throughout the forest below on that chilly spring afternoon. The wind whipped through the trees and the leaves danced along with it. The scent of fire filled the rainy air while it kept a small cottage warm. A small silver-haired boy lay on his belly as he played with some building blocks by the fireplace while his fae father sat on the sofa to read the paper.

Once more the thunder roared making the little boy scream in fear as he ran to his father. The fae did not hesitate to soothe his frightened child who trembled in his embrace, humming softly and petting his son’s hair.*

“The thunder cannot harm you in here, Silver, no need to cry, my dear.” He whispered, gently wiping a stray tear from Silver’s face. “There we go, those aurora eyes of yours are too beautiful to have tears.”

“B-but it sounds so angry, father! Must it be so loud and mean?” He asked innocently, nuzzling his face into his father’s hand. “It’s scary… sounds like Sebek when he’s mad.”

Lilia let out a laugh causing Silver to let out a small giggle. Oh how he loved this child of his, nothing in the world could change that for him not ever.

“Now who taught you to be so cheeky? Oh that’s right, me~! I think I did a fine job at passing that torch to you!”

Silver cracked a smile as he tilted his head as he listened to his father ramble away suddenly realizing something he never really noticed before- his father’s ears. They were different- vastly different. He slid a hand up to his own and felt them just to be sure just before freezing. His heart dropped and a small gasp escaped his petal pink lips. Tears began to prick his eyes as he slowly backed away.

“F-Father, w-why are our ears d-different…?” He stuttered, frightened as if what he just asked would offend his father- no- this man.

“Silly boy of mine, you are just now realizing? Ahahaha! My ears are like this because I’m a fae and you are a human!”

Silver froze, his heart beating faster and faster in absolute fear. His father was not his father. Where were his real parents?! His mother?! His REAL father?! Tears began to fall from his aurora eyes as he stared heartbroken and scared at Lilia.

“Y-you are not m-my real father…?!”

Lilia paled, he never wanted Silver to find out like this, he always assumed he knew he was adopted. His old heart broke at the sound of his child’s tears, desperate to run to him and soothe him but he knew better than to rush towards him, not while he was clearly frightened of him.

“Now Silver, I-”

But it was too late, Silver was already running out the door and deeper into the woods barefoot and in the cold rain. Lilia collapsed to his knees, picking up Silver’s teddy bear and one of the wooden blocks. He thought of the very first moment he held Silver in his arms and the very first time he heard Silver laugh. Memories came flooding in like a river when a dam breaks. He stood up, taking Silver’s bear upstairs to his nursery and placing it atop his neatly made bed. He wrote a small note explaining his absence from the cottage if Malleus came over for a visit and left with his nothing but his cloak and a towel.

“My baby…. I am so sorry…”

————

Silver continued to run through the dense woods, falling occasionally and scraping his knees but never stopped running. The rain violently hammered his small body and the wind nearly blew him over more than once, but he could not stop- he had to keep running until he was hidden for good.

Thunder crashed and startled him, causing Silver to fall once more but this time down a small cliff and into a narrow crevice. He smelt his own blood as it oozed from the fresh wound on his leg and from a small gash on his forehead that was hidden by his hair. He cried in pain, he never should have left home- ever. Pain flooded his small body and to make matters worse the weather was taking a toll on his health.

Silver tried his hardest to stay awake but eventually he allowed sleep to claim him once more. The warm embrace of sleep welcomed him and lead him into a much needed slumber. Eventually, a dream began to play itself in his weary head- playing sweet images of him and his father- well, former father. It was like his mind was taunting him, punishing him for running away so suddenly. Even in sleep he could not escape Lilia.

Lilia… the very man he ran away from, his own father, the man he so desperately needed to save him.

————

Lilia’s frantic cries could be heard across the forest, echoing through the trees and being carried by the wind. Still, not even a whisper could be heard from his missing son. He began to fear the worst as night set in and the temperature began to drop- Silver was still small and such conditions could kill him from prolonged exposure to the elements.

Ah humans, ever the fragile creatures they are…

Lilia knew he could not let Silver simply return when he felt like it, no, not in these conditions. The wind began to pick up and with it a small scent Lilia knew well- blood… Silver’s blood.

He froze, that was definitely not good, his baby was hurt or… worse… panic set in and Lilia began to bolt as fast as he could to the source of the scent until he found the heartbreaking scene, his young son laying in the mud with a gash on his head and bloody knee. The child looked terrible, soaking wet and clearly ill. He wasted no time and carefully pulled his son into his arms where he could properly wrap him in a towel.

“Oh Silver, I’m so, so sorry… do not worry, papa is here and always will be. Dear me, you are beginning to burn up- let’s get you to the palace immediately!”

Silver did not awaken, let alone realize he was in his father’s arms- he was oblivious to the world around him, unconscious and unmoving. Lilia sprinted as fast as he could with his precious bundle still secured tightly in his arms to the palace where he knew Silver could be treated properly in the comfort of somewhere familiar. The boy’s breathing began to make wheezing sounds and his shivering intensified as the old fae neared the palace gates, earning stares from the guards who knew him well.

Malleus met him at the door, immediately taking Silver into his own arms to allow Lilia to rest a bit and catch his breath while he got Silver to the palace doctor. The Draconia fae’s heart began to break as he looked down at the tiny human he held, never in the six years the child had been alive had he ever seen him in such a pitiful state. He refused to release his hold on Silver as the doctor looked him over, confirming that indeed Silver had come down with a rather nasty fever, thankfully the scratches were not severe enough for stitches but would need bandages regardless.

Malleus reluctantly handed Silver over to the doctor to be cleaned and bandaged, never once leaving Silver’s side. He stood by holding the child’s hand and whispering comfort to him. It had not been very long so by the time Lilia arrived inside the room Silver was fresh out of the bath, swaddled in a fluffy towel and being placed on the bed to be clothed in a soft nightgown and bandages.

“General Lilia, your son will be alright, for now let him sleep. His fever went down enough and I expect him to make a full recovery soon- I’m grateful he was not severely injured, he is one lucky boy.” The doctor smiled as he placed Silver into his father’s arms, gently resting his head atop Lilia’s shoulder. “And he is lucky to have you, sir, now, I have already handed Lord Malleus the medicine for him- in two hours have Silver take the amount listed. If there are any issues do not hesitate to call me.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Lilia replied, relieved to see Silver again and sleeping peacefully in his embrace. “Silly child, what am I to do with you, hm? Oh I know, keep you and love you!”

“Lilia, what happened? I have never seen him like this- ever.” Malleus asked worriedly, gently taking Silver’s hand in his.

Lilia sighed and began to tell his prince everything and how he believed that his son had always known he was adopted. He told him how he simply laughed it off and how he immediately saw Silver’s face drop in utter heartbreak before bolting out the door. Never once in his long life did he ever feel so ashamed for his actions, let alone towards his own son who was but a child. Malleus sighed and nodded, understanding everything clearly. He too was under the impression that Silver was aware of his adoption but it seems that now it is clear the boy had no idea. No wonder he ran away, he felt betrayed- he felt lied to.

“Lilia, now that the rain has lifted enough I suggest you return to the cottage, Silver needs to rest and if may be easier to explain everything to him there. If you require me, I will be there.” Malleus leaned over and pressed a kiss atop Silver’s head. “Rest well, little beasty.”

—————

A few hours had passed and Silver lay nestled in his own bed in his nursery with Lilia by his bedside in the rocking chair. The window was cracked a bit allowing the cool night air to flow through the room making the candlelight dance and allowing the fresh scent of the wet earth come in. Silver began to stir and whimper a bit as he began to turn, likely due to the formation of a nightmare in his mind. Soft cries began to emit from him as he tossed and turned, Lilia reached forward and began to shush his son and gently brush his face with his hand in attempt to soothe the boy who began to slowly wake up.

“P-papa…?” He mumbled sleepily as his aurora eyes began to open.

“I’m right here, my child, I’m right here.”

Immediately the dams broke and Silver let out the most pained cry Lilia had ever heard from him. Lilia wasted no time with scooping him up to hold him close and running soothing circles around his back as he gently rocked them both.

“I’M S-SORRY!! I-I’M SORRY!!” Silver wailed into his shoulder, genuinely sorry for causing trouble for his father.

“Oh baby boy, I’m not upset! I should be apologizing to you! I’m so sorry I never told you before, I always thought you knew. But you want to know something? Families do not always have to match, you and I may be two separate races but you have a lot of me in there!” Lilia smiled, peppering Silver’s tear-stained face with kisses.

“Y-you mean I-it?”

“One hundred percent, baby mine.” Lilia nuzzled his nose into his son’s soft hair, pressing him closer to his frame. “Just promise that you will never scare this old man here like that ever again! I nearly had a heart attack, I absolutely could not lose my baby!”

“I’m sorry…*yawn* really sorry…”

Lilia chuckled as he noticed the crying worn the poor child out, Silver’s eyes began to droop and he latched a sleepy hand onto his father’s shirt. He gently petted Silver’s head and began to sing an old Briar Valley lullaby, one he knew was Silver’s favourite.

“I know you I walked with you once upon a dream~”

With his father’s singing, his heartbeat and the warmth and undeniable comfort he brought, Silver drifted off into a deep sleep once more but this time with a soft smile on his sweet face.

*A/N: The lullaby Lilia was humming to Silver was “A Mhaighdean Bhan Uasal” from Brave

#windblume writes #twisted wonderland #twst #twst silver #fanfiction #lilia vanrouge #silver vanrouge #diasomnia family #malleus draconia

[clownery-and-fuckery]

Aah here take a little wip !!! writing up the end of OOT and the start of Project Failsafe rn and I am SO excited !!!!

It was too dark to see, now.

"Great- just great." Crosshair hissed. "Wrecker must've pulled the wrong karking wire."

"I doubt that," Tech responded neutrally. "I was very specific in my instructions. Something else must have occurred."

Crosshair groaned, digging around his pack for his flashlight. "I don't care what happened, just get us out of here."

"I am working on it." Tech replied, turning his own torch on and shining it around the tunnel. "Follow me."

They kept walking, their comms occasionally buzzing, the static filled voices of Hunter and Echo calling for them.

Crosshair glared around the tunnel, attention focused on the murky depths outside. He frowned, eyes scanning around the space.

"Tech." He called suddenly. His brother turned, head tilted. "How big did you say the creatures down here were?"

Crosshair waited patiently for his twin to reply. "Around double the size of this entire structure." Tech said after a moment. "Why?"

He heard Crosshair swear, in amazement or genuine surprise, he wasn't sure. "And they haven't eaten these tunnels because-?"

"Because of the electricity running through them." Tech told him, shining his torch around the space. "You see, there is a constant charge to shock the creatures should they attempt to bite through the glass."

Crosshair watched him point them out. "It is similar to Kamino." Tech reported with a shrug.

Crosshair nodded slowly. "And, what happens when there's no power?"

"Obviously the creatures won't technically have an interest," Tech waved a hand. "Unless of course, they can smell blood or anything remotely close to a meal."

Crosshair looked to his own sliced hands from the glass earlier, then to Tech's. They seemed to come to the same conclusion.

"We should hurry." Tech said quietly. Crosshair nodded, and started off, picking up the pace.

The twins almost broke into a run, slipping on what little water got in before the emergency seal. They knocked into each other after a particularly harsh slam against the glass tube.

"What was that?" Crosshair hissed, picking them both up off the floor. Tech looked around, hands stinging as he shook them out.

"I am-.." He looked around, trailing off as he seemed to spot something in the misty water.

"Tech?" Crosshair asked, turning and following his eye. "Talk to me, what is it?"

Tech sucked in a harsh breath, eyes scanning the water rapidly as he stepped back. They bumped into each other, and Crosshair startled.

"What?" He asked, squinting into the waters. He did not like that he couldn't see–

Crosshair paused. There was a subtle difference in the water, a shifting, coiling being that twisted through the water.

"There's something right beside us." Crosshair whispered. Tech nodded shortly. "Okay- it's alright. Just move slowly."

They did just that. Taking cautious steps, Crosshair kept one hand on Tech's shoulder, neither of their eyes leaving the shadow as it curled around them.

"What is it?" Crosshair dared to ask, voice barely a breath in the stale air around them.

Tech's shoulder was stiff under Crosshair's hand. "I'm not sure." He answered quietly.

They watched the shadow come closer. They risked moving quicker, taking longer strides and glancing around more feverishly.

"Wrecker," Crosshair hissed into his comm. "If we get out of here, I'm going to kill you."

Tech stopped suddenly, causing Crosshair to crash into him. "What're you doing?" He asked, looking around for the shadow. "Keep moving–"

"It stopped."

Tech was staring directly at it again. Crosshair paused, head tilted as he kept his comm on.

They stared for a long moment, then slowly, they relaxed. "Okay," Crosshair nodded. "Let's just.. keep moving–"

The shadow morphed, and a single, large eye suddenly opened, staring directly at them from the dark.

The twins let out a scream, and started sprinting.

#sw the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb echo #my loves #theyre a bit silly #as you can see i had watched the last episode of season one when i made this

[canarydarity]

Uh. Hi?

Obviously you have no obligation to do anything but uh-

if you did end up writing that pix one-shot

I know at least one person that would gobble it up.

(it's me, I'm that person)

Withering Away

(words: 1619) (link to previous Pix fic)

__________________________________

It was part of Pix’s job to have even an elementary understanding of decomposition, though it was never a topic he’d expected to come to know intimately. Or, well, he had, just not when he was still conscious for the experience. 

This was not how it was supposed to happen. There was not meant to be an awareness of such things. A mercy, it was—it must be—to lose sentience before losing all the rest; physicality, corporeal form, tangibility. A mercy Pixlriffs was not afforded. 

And was not afforded, and was not afforded, and was not afforded.

The first time—the only real time—he’d woken up gasping on the stone floor of the catacombs. Likely no time at all had passed since his, well, passing to when he awoke, but his mind felt decades older, his head weary from the encounter with death. It didn’t matter that he’d died indoors, huddled in one of the dark corners of Katherine's house, curled into a ball on the wooden planks—his body had felt itself be reclaimed, it had touched decay. 

Time had both slowed and sped up around him; the party had moved on, his stuff pillaged or put aside for his return—when they’d at first expected that to happen—then unknowing. The crown chose another host, tea was drunk, and goodbyes were said as the partygoers left and returned to their own empires; and all the while, Pixlriffs remained on the floor, watching this happen at thrice the speed, like a film being fast-forwarded, finger holding the button to remain on the fastest possible setting. He could not speak, he could not move, he could not intervene. He could take only one, shallow, raggedy breath every few minutes, the air rattling around in his quickly emptying chest, the term death rattle never feeling quite so accurate. 

All in all, the rest of the party must have been an hour or so long—but for Pix, it was mere minutes, and time did not stop there. He lay on the floor of a forgotten hallway and watched around him as time passed on; as folks and events came and went until suddenly the empire had fallen—or he assumed as such, because the rooms remained empty and dark and the sconces empty of torches and small weeds had begun to peek up through the floorboards before seemingly gaining their confidence and overtaking all. 

And as the house sunk deeper into the ground, what must happen to all happened to Pixlriffs; the life in the dirt found him, and they reclaimed what was theirs. It seemed that the speed of time had only been saving him for this: this duty of his—of us all—to give back to the ground from whence we came. He had been outrunning it for so long that it did not waste any time when it finally caught up with him. 

Roots of the surrounding plants reached like hands for his arms his legs wherever they could catch hold, and as they curled around him they tugged and tugged until his burial began. The worms and the bugs and the scavengers picked and picked at him until the leathery fleshy parts that let him resemble something human were gone, and the rest of him was left to seep into the ground and fertilize. To give back; life gives to life gives to life—it was just that the life that begins this cycle—the giver—was not supposed to still be alive when this occurs. 

And that was only the first time. 

Pix had awoken, as he’d said, on the floor of the catacombs, emptier than he’d felt in a while. Something vital had been taken from him, something living—something human. This ghostly presence was what was left. His skin was ashen and sunken and—at the wrong angle of the sun—transparent, and his insides were hollow, and his lungs didn’t seem to fill all the way when he went through the motions of breathing, but he was still here. 

So he went back to work, because what else was he to do? He was still capable, he did not see a problem with continuing to run the museum. 

The following times had been, weirder, for lack of a better way to describe it. Since he no longer seemed to be alive to begin with, not in possession of a physical body, he didn’t know how it was that he could decay. But the earth tried and tried and tried again to show him, to prove that it could be done. 

There was nothing for them to take, he thought, there should be nothing left of him to decompose. But he did.

And he did. 

And he did. 

The ground just worked harder from each time then on. It would tug at him and pull at him and bury him but each time it found nothing to eat, to consume, but it would not be deterred. It would grope and paw and beg and it would not give up until it found a piece of him that it could claim, digging deeper and deeper with each further exploration. It latched onto whatever it had found and it ripped it from him; he feared each time that there would be nothing left to be conquered, and he did not want to know what would happen then. 

This time, this most recent occurrence, he came to on the ground in Chromia, his brain catching sight of the color around him and feeling overwhelmed for a moment by the sheer amount of sensory input. Being dead, he thought he was past inherently living experiences such as having to catch one's breath—he was constantly being proven wrong. 

The sky was blue above him, almost clear besides a handful of clouds lounging about their day. It was a nice sight until it was no longer in his view; big eyes and blond hair leaning over him, a hat somehow even more aggressive and loud than the decoration around Chromia, which was saying something. Right, he had been helping Oli with his noteblocks. 

“Oh, my liege!” the bard cried, dramatics high, ever playing up an act; like he’d heard the phrase all the worlds a stage once and decided to take it far too seriously. Even so, he was as undeniably genuine in his emotion as he always was—it was a shame there was never actually an audience to watch his evergreen performance.

Oli’s hands gripped his shirt, pulling him up with more strength than Pix expected him to have, but he forgot his shock when the position change made his head ache harder.

“Not the king anymore, Oli,” he corrected, eyes clenched tight and hand coming up to grab his head. He thought perhaps he’d just sit here with his eyes closed until it was dark and there was less to look at, yeah that sounded like a good plausible idea. 

“You okay, king?” Oli asked, having backed off a step or two, though still crouching before Pix in his show of concern. “Not king as in the king as in ‘oh fair crown of jewels that’s killed you so!’ but as in ‘yes, king, slay!’ that kind of king.” 

Pix wasn’t really sure measures of ‘okay’ applied to him anymore since his status had changed to non-living. Surely the relative measure of well-being was different for those who were dead.

“Yes, Oli,” He said, rather than explaining this. He wasn’t really feeling willing to elaborate at the moment. 

Oli laughed awkwardly. “You sure? You’re looking a little green there. And, by green, I mean completely see-through to the point where I can see the grass beneath you.” 

Pix looked down, and, sure enough, his legs were looking less than tangible. “Right,” he said in response like he had any sort of reasonable explanation to offer for this phenomenon, falling back into his role as an educator out of need for some form of consistency, but there was nothing more that he could say. Oli awkwardly laughed again when there was no follow-through, the fear behind it permeating the air. 

Pix made to stand, and Oli grabbed one of his arms to help him up, the gesture appreciated well enough. 

“So, does that happen often, or? I’m sorry, is that rude to ask? I’ve never met a dead person before.”

“Often enough,” Pix said, picking up his bag and throwing the strap over his shoulder. They were technically not done setting up the noteblocks, but he didn’t think Oli would protest his needing to leave. “And I’m unsure, I’ve never been dead before, myself.”

Oli blinked at him a few times until Pix smiled, giving him permission to smile in return. 

“Don’t worry about me, Oli. I’ll figure it out in no time and be right as rain I’m sure.” He lifted a hand to bid Oli goodbye and turned away. He needed to get back to the capital. 

The bard called behind him, “Of course, king, of course! Good as new—brand new, in fact!” and then he must have turned back around himself because the noteblocks started up again, the sound carrying softly in the breeze, still slightly off-beat from the song attempting to be replicated. 

Right, good as new, Pix thought, despite the fact that in all of the human history he had studied, there didn’t seem to be a cure for having died. But there was certainly something here, something he’d never come across before. Maybe it wasn’t curable, but it was fascinating—and he’d just become his own primary source, no better subject to analyze than himself. He was going to get to the bottom of this. 

It seemed he wasn’t quite as undead as he’d thought.

#me and you anon🤝🤝🤝🤝 #the sole audience for pixlriffs fanfic apparently #and godbless for that thank you for having my back and encouraging this #pls #message me anytime to chat about pixlriffs i am far too obsessed with him #anyway yeah as i fucking said. this man was insANE for making a comment about reenacting his death and ill never forgive him for doing that #worm writes #pixlriffs #pixlriffs fic #empires smp #empires smp fanfic #empires smp fic #empires s2 #empires season 2

[serenanymph]

find the word tag

Thanks for the tag, @loopyhoopywrites! My words were grass, great and grave. Gently tagging @arctic-oceans, @sam-glade @lorenfinch, @muddshadow and @morganwriteblr (+ open tag) for the words summer, smear and smash!

grass

Lights on is at five sharp, and they’re given half an hour before they have to be on the field, breaths misting in the air and hopping on the spot in a desperate attempt to retain some semblance of warmth. Then it’s laps around the freezing circle of dirt peppered by dead grass and scraggly weeds, trying not to trip on the uneven ground when there’s all of three torches lighting up the area and the sun hasn’t even risen. Nozack stands on the sidelines and yells at anyone who so much as slows to a jog, with entire speeches full of encouraging, inspiring comments that include insulting your face, your speed, and your entire family tree.

great

Still, mysterious new arrivals or not, lessons are lessons, and lessons must continue. Mama picks up the book full of great-great-great-grandmama’s notes and carries on: magic items, the difference between lesser artifacts and capital ‘A’ Artifacts, one kind requiring power sources but never taking Bonds; the other requiring Bonds but never power sources. Madge shoots more looks out the window and trades glances with Zephyr and vibrates in her seat until she finally bursts. “Mama, why did you allow humans inside?” Mama hesitates. “How did –” She looks towards Zephyr, gaze softening with realization. “Of course. The Eye of Klysmos sees all.”

(en)grave(d) [does this count????]

“I’ll come back. You know I will.” “But what if you don’t –” “Okay,” [Zephyr] says again. He takes a deep breath, reaches up to the gleaming metal pin in his hair – silver, engraved with wind motifs, something her and Kas had worked on cleaning and restoring and polishing for months – and pulls it free of his dark curls. Ruffles [Madge's] hair and clips it on, shoving several strands of her fringe to the side. “Here. How about this, then? Now I have two reaaaaally important things I need to come back for. So, you keep this safe for me” – another hair ruffle, she sniffles – “and I’ll go get Kas, and I’ll be back in no time for you.” He tilts his head to the side, amends, “Both of you. Got it?”

beast taglist (lmk if you want to be +/-): @sapphos-scientist, @allianaavelinjackson, @arctic-oceans, @space-writes, @reneesbooks

#might've gone a lil overboard with the excerpts asfgsadjhfja sorry #writeblr #writeblr community #my posts #tag game #ser writes stuff #beast #wip: beast #find the word tag #char: rhyme #char: sol #char: zephyr

[madfictional]

Ricks phone begins to ring vibrating on the counter. Buzz Buzz.

Rick picks up the phone.

"Yo, Bro whats good?" Says Rick.

"I found something, we think you better come and look at this" Says Edd over the phone.

Rick opens the draw and pulls out a pen and quickly writes an address down.

"I'll be there soon" Says Rick.

Rick hangs up the phone and puts it in his pocket.

He quickly runs to his bedroom looking for his car keys.

Rick grabs the car key and runs down the stairs, and exits through the door, he locks it behind him.

"I wonder what they've found" Rick thinks to hismelf whilst walking to his car.

Rick begins his long journey to the address Edd gave him.

40 minutes goes by...

*Rick is singing a long to the radio in his car whilst dancing*

"This must be it" Rick thinks to himself.

Rick slowly parks outside a dense forest.

He gets out of the car.

"Edd!" Shouts Rick

Edd appears from behind a boulder.

Edd and Rick shake hands.

"It's good to see you my friend" says Edd.

"What are you going to show me?" Says Rick.

"Follow me and il explain on the way" says Edd

Edd and Rick walk into the forest.

"I was out here looking for ancient artifacts with my metal detector, I was looking around a rocky area and suddenly it begins to violently beep, I'm looking around but can't see anything other than rocks, until i moved the rocks and saw an entrance to what looks like an undiscovered cave" says Edd.

"That's brilliant, we are gonna be one of the first to see what's down there. Says Rick

"It's over here I've hidden it, incase somebody else finds it" Says Edd.

Rick and Edd walk towards the hidden cave.

"Here it is" Shouts Edd.

Edd runs over and removes a hole revealing a entrance

Rick puts his hand over the hole

"There's an air current so we will be able to breath down there" says Rick

Rick and Edd slowly decend into the Cave below.

Drips of water echo throughout the cavern.

Water splashes below their feet.

"It stinks down here" Says Edd.

"It's a very pungent smell" Says Rick

Rick and Edd cover their noses from the horrific smell.

Rick freezes.

There's 3 different tunnels.

"Now what" Says Edd

"We pick a tunnel" Says Rick

"There's a breeze coming from the left tunnel, seems the safest" Says Edd.

"Smart thinking mate" says Rick.

A silhouette quickly runs past Rick and Edd.

Edd Swiftly turns around

"Did you hear that?" Says edd

"Hear what?" Says Rick.

"Its nothing, im probably hearing things" says Edd

"Probably *Laughs*" Rick

The walls begin to turn mossy as they descend further into the Cave.

"It's getting dark", Says Rick

Edd Pulls out a flashlight and turns it on.

The Cave tunnel is endless.

"It goes on for miles" Shouts Rick his voice echoing.

They continue to walk.

The continuous drips of water echo throughout.

Rick Hears something behind him and quickly turns around shining the torch.

Edd is nowhere to be seen.

"EDD!!" Shouts Rick.

A loud painful cry for help can be heard in the distance.

The cry becomes a gurgle of pain.

Rick rushes around running through the Cave looking for Edd.

"EDD!! Answer me" Shouts Rick.

Rick looks around and realizes he's lost.

Rick knows something isn't right.

The flashlight begins to Dim as the batteries run out.

The torch turns off.

Noises can be heard all around Rick.

Ricks breath grows heavy

*Rick Bashes the torch"

The torch flickers on for a second.

A large tentacle like creature with large fangs grabs Ricks leg and drags him through the Cave.

Agonised screams can be heard.

The flashlight slowly dims again on the floor.

Silence falls.

#fiction #horror #literature #writing

[asterz-playz-official]

Holy shit I think I might be able to use this as a way to figure out the general plots of chapters if I ever wanna properly write this out-

Having said that, TURN YOUR GAZE UPON PART THREE OF THIS WRETCHED THING!!!!!

It turns out that not everything in the institute’s extensive collection of artefacts is exactly durable against blunt attempts at slamming them into glass cases.

Although, it should probably have been obvious seeing as the thing he seemed to have picked up to use as a bludgeoning object was, in fact, a vase. Hundreds of years old, priceless, and very, very breakable when you tried hard enough to slam it into something. It shattered into pieces in his hands, one of the shards slicing into his hands as the contents of it fell to the floor.

CONTINUED UNDER CUT!!!!

It took him more than a few moments to realize that the vase seemed to have been made home by more than a few scuttling, eight-legged creatures. And when he did, he screeched, flailing around and knocking things over in his attempts to get the crawling spiders off of his hands and legs. They seemed to not be too keen on touching him, either, fortunately… and soon were out of sight, the pieces of the vase vanishing with them.

The next thing he knows, someone’s standing over him with a torch, shining the light down into his face. He must have passed out at some point, and though he could hear the muffled sound of their inquiring voices, he couldn’t make out the words, or see the details of their faces to know who they were.

So instead he clocks out once again.

The next time he wakes up, it’s in a hospital bed, arms and chest and other points of injury all bandaged up and tingling from whatever medicine they’d applied as treatment for the burns.

Only then does he finally begin to cry.

So- obviously, it’s Gertrude’s fire. But the police don’t know that, and neither does Michael. Nor do any of the other staff members — except, of course, Elias, who naturally keeps his mouth shut and lies through his goddamn teeth about not knowing anything.

Still, Michael is proven innocent, mostly because there’s no clear, irrefutable evidence that points to him being involved in the fire. He returns to the institute after he’s recovered enough… only to find his cubicle cleaned out.

For a second, he’s about to start crying again, frustrated that he’d now lost his job on top of everything else. And Elias hadn’t even bothered to let him know? What’s wrong with this institute?!!?!

Gertrude had been right- he should have just-

Tim vaults up onto the table before he can finish his thought, and Sasha appears out of nowhere beside him, both of them screaming “SURPRISE!” and throwing confetti paper into the air.

Trying not to let on that he’s pretty sure he just had a miniature heart attack, Michael asks what the surprise is supposed to be, and why is his desk cleaned off. Tim’s smile broadens at this, and he jumps down with a cheeky, suave grace and gestures down the hallway in a way that makes Sasha snort aloud. “aaa’right this way- your highest-of-honor-y-ness-“

Sasha can’t help but let out another laugh “Tim-“

“Sasha.” Childishly.

She laughs again, but tries to look at least a little disdainful by way of an eyeroll… “Oh come on, just let him see what it is before you give it all away in one sentence-“

Making ‘calm down’ motions with both hands… “Okay, okay, alright-“

beat.

“I’ll just tell him-“

“Nooo, timmmmm-“

He’s laughing too, now. “Oh come on, I’m just joking- hey! Mike!” There’s a little mischievous gleam in his eye as he stops Michael and motions towards a door, waving his hands a little for effect. “Showtiiime!”

And he opens the door.

It’s a decently-sized office room. The desk looks new, and so does most of the rest of the furniture. The only older things in the room… are all of Michael’s belongings. Sat there in boxes, waiting to be organized and set up around the room.

“Ta-daaa!!!! So, whaddya think. I think it could use a couple windows, but hey, I’m not the archivist!”

Sasha gasped in pretend horror. “Tim!!”

“Uh-oh- whoops! Guess the secret’s out now, oh well! Guess I never change-“

Michael had been staring at him with his mouth slightly ajar for a few moments now, and Tim only just noticed.

“Whoa- hey there, buddy- who pressed your pause button?” The joking tone melts into something that could probably be described as ‘lighthearted, slightly teasing, but well-meaning concern’. “Something’s up, you know you-“

“Michael.”

Michael’s face is drained of color in less than a second by the voice that’s coming from behind him.

“Oh, hey! Michael, this is Jon! He’s our resident psychopath! ‘S always listening to everything everyone’s doing around here! It’s kinda creepy!”

Michael turns.

The man standing there is relatively short, at least compared to Sasha or Tim. Michael tended to try and not compare heights based off of his own, as he was always towering over people no matter how average their heights were. But “Jon” was definitely short. Michael almost wanted to laugh aloud at himself for thinking he’d been Elias- imagine.

The definitely-short man looked unimpressed by Tim’s introduction, though the sourness in his face was, at best, only tart enough to curdle days-old milk. He didn’t have the heart, though he didn’t seem to want to show that on his face. The man sighed. “Thank you… Tim… I’ll take it from here.”

Tim shot the guy a double thumbs-up, and before Michael could ask anything more about what the hell was going on, he and Sasha had left.

Jon cleared his throat politely, though impatiently, and Michael turned to see that his hand was held out for a reluctant handshake.

Michael felt his ears redden a bit, and shifted nervously on his feet, not sure how to explain to the strange, cranky little man that he wasn’t exactly comfortable with doing a handshake. His mind was too much of a mess to even start a proper sentence- so he just settled for sucking it up and trying to go for it, trying not to be too obvious about how much this was making his skin crawl.

But before he can properly begin to shake, the hand gripping his recoils, and Jon’s face morphs from an expression of impatient neutrality to one of alarm.

Immediately, Michael starts to apologize. But it doesn’t look like Jon’s even listening. His eyes are locked on Michael’s left hand, regarding it as though it might reach up of its own accord and attack his face.

Michael’s words die on his tongue, and the two of them stand there in uncomfortable silence for another moment or two before Michael offers an awkward “it was good meeting you”, to which Jon only responds with a shoulder-shrug and indecisive “mm” before walking briskly away.

Well. That could certainly have gone worse… but it’s the sort of reaction he’s used to getting sometimes. Something wrong with his smile, something wrong with his posture or how he holds the other person’s hand, a fidgeting motion the other person doesn’t like, a mispronunciation or misinterpretation of some word or phrase… it all just becomes monotonous, repetitive nonsense at some point.

But the worst is when you have to see that other person every single day.

Habitually replaying the interaction in his head to try and see where he might have made a misstep, Michael’s absentmindedly rests his hand on the door handle of his new office… and realizes, with a jolt, what has been nagging at him related to Jon’s reaction.

Not wanting to look, but still wanting to be sure before making his conclusions, he looks down at his left hand… and lets out a relieved sigh. The hand still looked perfectly fine, shaped and exactly the way he knew his hand should be. Perhaps Jon was simply also a texture-sensitive person, and Michael could finally have someone to talk to about things that only ever seemed to make him want to crawl out of his own skin and run away. The idea made him grin as he walked over to his new desk to try out the swivel chair.

Perhaps it was for the best that he failed to notice the way his hand’s reflection was bending, stretching, and distorting in the mirror that sat in the pile of his belongings…

#tma michael shelley #michael shelley #Michael tma #the Magnus archives #tma #tma spiral #the distortion tma #tw hospital #tw injury #tw spiders #tw insects #tw police #Tim stoker #Sasha James #Johnathan sims #tim tma #sasha tma #Jon tma #writing #random rambles!!!!!! #tma au #the Magnus archives au #unwinding au #tma unwinding au

[chellerbelles]

This scene occurs at the beginning of the story.

Rogue & Gambit Week 2023: Fake Dating

Rogue parked her work van as close to the motorcycles outside the bar as she could. She grabbed a few essentials and got out. Her client was between the bar and the motorcycles, chatting with a young woman, and both dressed for clubbing. Rogue ignored them both and strode over to the motorcycle she knew belonged to her client. The street light was inadequate for the task at hand, and Rogue pulled out her phone to use it as a torch.

“Hey didn’t you say that was your bike?” said the young woman.

“Hmm?” Gambit glanced over. “Oh, good, Anna’s here.”

The young woman raised her eyebrows. “Your mechanic is a woman? How come I’m not surprised.”

“I have no idea, chere. Most people would be,” Gambit replied smoothly. “It is a male dominated industry.”

“Right.” Her tone edged on accusation.

“Anna’s very, very good at what she does. I trust her with all my vehicles,” Gambit went on cheerfully. “The fact that she’s also very nice to look at is a bonus. Only a small bonus though. It’s not like I get to ogle her while she’s working. Not normally… I should do these house calls more often.”

Rogue lifted the hand holding the phone and twisted it so she could stick her middle finger up at him. He chuckled.

“She must know you pretty well if she thinks she can flip you off,” the woman said.

“She’s been servicing me for years,” Gambit replied with just the faintest hint of suggestion, before continuing: “And a lot of my friends and family use her too. Like I said, she’s a very good mechanic.”

Rogue stood and stepped back from the motorcycle.

“You were right to call me,” Rogue said as she walked over.

“Ah, you found something?” Gambit asked.

“Yup.” Rogue glanced over at the woman, then looked back at Gambit. “Should be an easy fix if you’re right about it happening tonight. I just need to grab another couple of things from my van.”

“Merci.”

Rogue just gave him a nod and strode back to her van. “Anna’s Garage” was boldly written on the side, along with phone number and web address. Rogue slid opened the side door, picked out a few select items, and headed back, closing and locking the van behind her.

The fix was just as quick as she expected.

“And done,” Rogue said, standing up once more. The young woman had disappeared from sight.

“Wonderful,” Gambit replied. “What did she do?”

“Acid trap.” Rogue held out a small contraption with an adhesive on one side. “Every time you braked, acid would squeeze out. It wouldn’t have eaten through it straight away, but it would have soon enough.”

Gambit sighed. “Belle sure likes to keep me on my toes.”

“So it would seem. Anyway, the glue hadn’t fully set yet, so I’d say you’re probably right about it only being planted tonight,” Rogue said. “Feel free to bring it by the garage if you want me to make sure. If you want me specifically, to look at it, it’ll have to be before the end of the week. I’m on vacation for 3 weeks. Todd can handle the inspection too,” and Rogue gave him a smirk, ”but I’m sure he’s not as nice to look at as I am.”

“No one’s as nice to look at as you.”

“Uh huh. What happened to your date? She get tired of you ogling another woman?”

Gambit grinned at her. “Actually, we’d only just met.” He pointed his thumb at the bar. “She’s inside with her friends. So, chere, I believe you just saved my life. Isn’t this my cue to leap into your arms, say ‘my hero’ and kiss you?”

Rogue looked down at the tools and acid trap in her hands. “You could try, but I don’t think I’d recommend it.”

“Hmm, I think I definitely owe you a ‘my hero’ and a wild passionate kiss,” Gambit said as her moved in towards her ever so slightly. “But perhaps you’re right. We should wait until your arms are free. That way I’ll be nice and safe in them after I get knocked into a coma.” He gave her a wink.

“What you owe me, is what’s going to be on the invoice I’m about to write.”

Gambit chuckled as Rogue strode over to her van. She put her things away, carefully packed up the acid trap, and then grabbed the paperwork. As she filled out the usual form on autopilot, her mind mulled over the idea of wildly kissing Gambit. While going through the routine of getting the client to sign and pay, she couldn’t help but think that he’d presented her with a solution to her problem.

“Alright Swamp Rat,” Rogue said as she set the paperwork aside, and then stopped when she saw him swinging his arms in readiness to jump.

“Leaping time?” he asked, his eyes bright with mischief.

“I am so going to call your bluff, Swamp Rat.”

“Who said I was bluffing?”

“That vacation I’m going on? One of my good friends is getting married. I was going to take my boyfriend with me, but he is now my ex for reasons we won’t get into. Would you stop swinging your arms?”

Gambit stopped. “So, now you’re dateless for the wedding?” he asked. “Why chere? Are you asking me to go with you? I thought you don’t date clients.”

“I don’t date clients,” Rogue replied firmly. “But yes, I am asking you to go with me. Everything’s been booked and paid for already, all you’d need to do is pretend to be my boyfriend of four months. Well, five months, actually, because that’s how long the ex and I should be have been dating by now. You’ll be able to be yourself because I haven’t really told any of my friends about any of my exes. People have a tendency to get a little too interested in my love life, so I prefer to keep details to myself.”

“Huh. That probably means they’ll be very curious about me.”

“Probably.”

“Get a lot of attention.”

“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons why I’m headed there well in advance of the wedding. I don’t want to take the spotlight off the bride and groom. Plus…” Rogue took a deep breath, “I kinda got my powers under control recently and I was really looking forward to messing with everyone’s heads when I get there.”

“Wow, control? That’s awesome, chere,” Gambit said with complete sincerity, and for once free of any flirting or suggestion. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Rogue replied with a small smile. “I was also particularly looking forward to doing lots of making out with my boyfriend in front of everyone. Especially the other ex that’s going to be there.”

Gambit’s face lit up with utter delight.

“So, all expenses paid vacation, getting to con a bunch of your friends that we’ve been dating for five months, antagonising an old flame, and lots of making out with you,” Gambit said. “I’m in. Sign me up.”

“I had a feeling it wouldn’t be a hard sell.”

#rogue/gambitweek2023 #rogue/remyweek2023

[chicknparm]

22 for your spotify wrapped

22. Casual - Chappell Roan

Oh thank GOD I get to talk about this I was really hoping someone would pick this one. No artist frustrated me more this year than Chappell Roan. So this will double as a review of a particular song but also venting my feelings about this artist and her reception over the last year or so. I'm gonna have to talk about a lot of outside stuff that doesn't have to do with the particular song, but hopefully you guys are used to that by now. I read a lot of Pitchfork in the early 2010s, I'm sorry.

Chappell Roan is very obviously going to be a star. Sooner rather than later. My introduction to her was on New Year's Eve in 2022. I was at a friend's house, and somebody showed me a few of her songs. Casual was among them, but we'll get to that soon. The most lasting memory of that first exposure is being drunk and dancing around a friend's living room to a song called "Femininomenon." It felt affirming and empowering and all of those buzzwords; dancing to a catchy beat and lyrics about how boys stink, dolled up and embraced and accepted and welcomed as Feminine. From what I can tell, this is the exact experience Chappell Roan wants people to have while listening to her music. It was basically the perfect introduction.

A few weeks later, I remembered Femininomenon while I was at work, and couldn't get the hook out of my head, so I hastily added it to my general playlist and queued it up. Friends, I know if this post ever breaches containment I'll be torn to shreds, but that song is Ass. I'm sorry, but calling something "camp" does not excuse bad creative decisions. If we are going to bring out the torches for Taylor Swift writing "in the pub we, are watching rugby" then I demand the same for "hit it like rom-pom pa-pom, get it hot like Papa John." It sounds like music for a Dreamworks Dance Party Ending if they made an animated adaptation of Drag Race. It is a testament to the power of Friendship and Alcohol that I ever enjoyed it.

Later, I listened to a few more of her songs, and found a frustrating and recurring theme. They were all better than Femininomenon by a considerable margin, but had very samey lyrics that felt like they were treading the same ground over and over again. It just felt repetitive. I dunno, it just bothered me for some reason. What were they about? Oh, well, you see, the thing is...um, well, about that, uh, ya see, what I'm trying to say is...*writes "I will not wade into Queer Discourse on a Spotify Wrapped review" 100 times on a chalkboard* Sigh. For an artist who I saw heralded as a "new queer icon" it was annoying that most of the songs I first heard were about how much dating men sucks! To be fair, she also does have songs about feeling liberated being with women, but hearing Femininomenon, My Kink is Karma, and Casual, all complain about men just reminded me that she may be a queer icon, but not for people like me. Much in the same way that I was put off by a girl in college saying I "couldn't understand Mitski because she writes about the quintessential experience of girlhood," I was also put off by the assertion that I must make way for a new icon, and give deference and reverence to a narrative that excludes me.

Wait, did I mention Casual there? Aw fuck! This was supposed to be a review for that song!

So uh, the thing is, Casual is basically a perfect reinvention of the classic lovelorn country song? Yeah, they play up Chappell's southern roots in a lot of her music and promotional material, but it comes through crystal clear on this song. The structure and melody feel exactly like the old country songs I'd hear at my grandparents' house, but the lyrics are youthful and conversational and explicit, with the chorus opening with "knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out, is it casual now?" The sleek, modern production keeps the song from feeling out of place among her other, more danceable singles, but the lyrics and vocals are still powerful and raw. I derided Femininomenon for having lyrics that boil down to "boys stink" but Casual feels like a genuine and specific grievance. It feels lived-in and genuine in a way that reminds me of Taylor Swift's "All Too Well," which if you know anything about my tastes or about Swift's fandom in general, you know that is a gargantuan compliment. Chappell's vocals are always a highlight when they're allowed to shine, but they fucking soar on Casual. When she hits the final "go to hell" on the second(!) bridge it feels so cathartic, and so earned, and feels like you just got done venting about a situation that had been eating you up for ages, which is precisely the tone she seemed to be going for. She fucking nailed it. This song is impeccable. I cannot say enough good things about it.

So why did I spend so many words bitching earlier? Well, for one, honesty. When she blows up even more, which she will, I don't want to pretend I was a Day 1 Ride or Die. I want the record to show that I have some Concerns. But the thing is, I opened this review by saying that Chappell Roan frustrated me. Not that she made me angry, not that she annoyed me, but that she frustrated me. That's because I found some aspects of her songwriting and presentation (and fandom but that's not her fault) grating, but I also saw obvious and undeniable talent. Even My Kink is Karma is a fine song on its own, but the sins of Femininomenon stain it too, in that the pleasure (explicitly, in the former) comes from talking down the shitty men Chappell has to deal with. Many of her other songs carry the even more egregious sin; corniness. While nothing as bad as Papa John, singing about "fugly jeans" and, uh, the entire bridge of Red Wine Supernova bring down otherwise good songs that are more concerned with sharing winks with a specific audience in a specific moment in time, than creating art that holds up on its own merit alone.

A couple years ago, there was buzz about a young up-and-comer named Olivia Rodrigo, maybe you've heard of her? She blew up with a gargantuan hit ballad filled with melodramatic teen angst and verses that were sung in cursive, years after that style became a punchline. "Well, this is a bit shit," I thought. But then when I listened to her album, there were a few tracks that I liked, most of them being more energetic with some pop-punk influence. "It would be cool if she went down this power-pop road, she's super well-suited for it," I thought again, though I assumed she'd try to chase Phoebe Bridgers in the Hunt to be the Heir to the Swift Throne. I think I was wrong on that one! From what I've heard of Olivia's newest stuff, she's bringing the shiny guitars and bratty/aggressive vocals to the forefront, and I really enjoy it! It is really nice to be pleasantly surprised, to be glad to be wrong about something.

That is why I'm hard on Chappell Roan. That is why I find the overwhelming praise irritating. Olivia Rodrigo received endless praise for one of her worse songs, and caught lawsuits and plagiarism allegations for one of her best. It is a goddamn miracle that she resisted the urge to double down on the sadgirl schtick. Chappell Roan has a terrific voice, biting lyrics, razor-sharp pop sensibilities, star presence that most would kill for, and can write hooks that rival the very best of my lifetime. The girl is money. Which is why it worries me that most of the praise I've seen for her focuses on such surface-level criteria. Quirky presentation, referential lyrics, and a crosshair on the current queer zeitgeist can certainly help your success and give you a few trendy tiktok audios. But she's got skills that can carry her forever, and no song in her still-brief discography showcases them better than Casual. In a few years, The Youth will inevitably laugh at what we now consider trendy. And Casual will still be a perfect song. If I live to be 100 I'll still be listening to it. I hope Chappell Roan makes me look stupid.

#ask meme #making this one unrebloggable because uh! #people would be mad! don't wanna deal with it!

[elegyforiphigenia]

KRONOS.

⚠️ trade offer ⚠️ : next time i visit the burnt city i finally get to know what that 1:1 is all about and i'll rewrite this with that in mind. i joke. anyway, shamelessness aside! here's a piece inspired / telling the brand of weird guy loop that is kronos. so, all the usual punchdrunk triggers apply on top of spoilers for his loop - this is specifically based on milton lopes interpretation of the role, and i believe kronos is one where the loop can differ greatly! also potential spoilers for things people have said about hades.

He sweeps a little.

One must wonder if he was always a beast. After all, how does Tartarus craft the caretaker who will stalk its tenements? Perhaps before Prometheus was liver-bitten, he made him like mankind; crafted him from clay and then let the kiln be the fires of Hades. He shares his name with a Titan – it makes the picture come together clearly: maybe Hades ordered the bones of that first Kronos to be powdered into the clay that would forge the second Kronos. And so the first would have his own ribs encage him. We will never know. In spite of Kronos taking care of that infinite resting place, finality does not mean all answers are known. It only begs that we ask more. Even uttering Tartarus stirs up more falsehood than truth: fifty pairs of underwear hang from washing lines and a feast waits never eaten, but –  but there is little use in theorising now. The boulder will always stumble to the foot again.

Pinboards of franticising is such a trivial thing to the one who finds obsession amongst only the thread upon those boards. Red string. It never leads him anywhere. Still, though, he likes to take out a small torch and shine it upon the string threaded across the tenements he cares for. The pattern it takes – the writing surrounding it – if those way down were given hours, he would spend hours staring at those threads. All to a fruitless end – each cock of his head, each forward inspection, he is always led back to the tenement square. The most innocuous item is a constant source of distrust for Kronos. With dice, his constant pocketed companion, he experiences similar puzzlement. Too many a glad time spent pacing amongst the various rooms of Troy, slipping into an absent corner. He will take them, hold them in his palm, and occasionally, he will lightly throw them up. Only numbers fall back down. And still he will watch them with enough furrowed brows to make any watcher believe they are full of a higher purpose.

He sweeps a little.

Corridors possess the strangest of things. Kronos delights in this one for it is a collection of ordinary items. Bending down, the display is careful disarray, with a spillage of cutlery asleep near cans. From this heap, he picks up a knife, clutches it around his fist, and meanders onwards to where ordinary once more approaches him. On this occasion, it is ordinary death; even electric sheep must die and so a toaster must be broken. He sticks a knife into where bread should go. He feels nothing for nothing happens. The caretaker knows that his city is decaying, for it is not his city. Nearby, in a different room, he unfurls some paper near potpourri and a lamp. Yes. There is something he must do. Something grand in design, yet done as many times as he tosses a dice. It is only fools who think a caretaker offers entirely up that first half of his title to the population bleeding around him. Kronos is deliverance.

He sweeps a little.

In the uppermost level of Troy, confusion pounds blindingly through Klub. The sorts of men who attach a space of Bacchic potential to their office are the sort who make themselves a model citizen of Troy; the city is on the verge so let us drink; dance; drug ourselves into oblivion like the writhing snake in leather who is sharpening red under their eyes. Within this space, Kronos leers up against any who might provoke him with a look. He is a zoetrope spun at a faster speed, lunging harsh as the strobes make each second appear a changed picture. Beast! Not a god. Not a man. A young man, casually smart, watches this terror through the windows. The man – the boy – thinks it looks like a bull thrusting. When it is over, Kronos stands, looming over him, and cranes his neck from one side to the other. He watches the boy. From his pocket, he pulls out a necklace made only of red string: he ensnares the boy in it.

He sweeps a little.

To be a caretaker is to have access to all the rooms of the tenements. Most of the rooms appear abandoned. In one, he reduces the puzzlement of his world to a jigsaw. In another, he sits at a mirror. Whilst he sits there, girls and boys are being sacrificed and all the flowers have gone away to make their weeping graves. He looks at his reflection – worn-out clothes licked by sweat, a face peppered with slow days tiring – and raises a handheld mirror so that he might gaze around him. Flickering just a little are his lips as he catches the eyes of the strangest creatures from the corner of his own. These shadows of people reflect in the small mirror. Slowly, smiling slightly as he does so, he guides the mirror from side to side. He sees them. He briefly acknowledges their gaze when meeting their fearful-loving awe. It is all he can see of their face, and it is beautiful. He likes to make them scared. Terror is not always a threat; terror is the vulnerability of being known. In one pretty way, he admires them – so he lifts a masquerade mask adorned with a feather from the dressing table he sits at. He wears it and practices smiling in the larger mirror. Whereas his ones to the ghosts are minacious, his ones to the mirror are sickening in their forced, bright falsity.

He sweeps a little.

Kings receive floods of crimson, but a prince only receives a sprawled out sheet. Polydorus is a boy and he claws at the red string around his throat as his eyes bulge purple. When his sister dies, she will be stroked onto a sheet by a lover, but he stumbles onto the white sheet awaiting him and is unceremoniously tugged into a locked room by Kronos. Moloch must be sated. Child after child, Kronos takes them as provided sacrifice, feeding the golden bull god. Speak it again – beast! Not a god. Not a man. He understands the machine he is instructed to feed; he pumps it full of the unfortunate youthful blood who by birth are trapped in the labyrinth of Troy. Kronos smiles again for he sees the beautiful strange creatures process their despair at death like they should: the machine operates on too many levels he does not care for, but he understands that even the unseen feed it. Polydorus is left dead in his room. He hopes Moloch is satisfied for now. His task is done; odd jobs and business, he takes care of it all.

In a dark corner, he plays with dice, and stalks red thread. It will never lead him out of the labyrinth. Instead, it loops back round on itself: he does not register time beginning again as the red traps him. But it begins again.

He sweeps a little.

#the burnt city #kronos #punchdrunk #milton lopes #i actually do not think i saw milton!kronos sweep really. but i have heard it is a kronos trait so here goes.

[lakehouse-loser]

puppet headcanons!!!

ive been plannign this pos for weeks! now i have to wake up at like 7 tomorrow and its the middle of the night so perfect time for me to write it out!

i dont know how long this will be just a warning!!! this includes everything from the puppets' personalities to physical and behavioral quirks to relationships!

ok so generally i think all the puppets have personalities that are larger-than-life because they are puppets. generally symbols of childhood folly and entertainment. goofy ah puppets

Jester:

this bloke is much sweeter than we tend to give him credit for... sure hes a lil bitch but he will always be there for his friends. he has a surprising amount of strength and know-how as we see in some scenes of the films. when he displays emotions they are always comically overdramatic like the clown he is. he has a hard time displaying his sorrow, though. when he feels genuine sorrow he tries to mask it with his dramatic flair. blade, leech, and decapy can see when hes really feeling low though, and cheer him up when they detect that melancholy. jester's also super sarcastic. sarcasm is roughly 70% of his humor

Torch:

torch is like that one guy who WILL do ANYTHING. if he sees a wild animal he WILL try to pet it, if he sees an interesting plant he WILL try to eat it. even so, he wont do something unless he's absolutely convinced it will have a good outcome for him or his friends (this doesnt mean its true, he just thinks so). hes a little dumb but supremely kindhearted. he never understands jester's sarcasm or jokes and the others have to explain them to him. he has a very literal sense of humor. hes always expecting the best out of people, and can get disappointed very easily. he can only see in shades of red.

Blade: ok so lets get one thing straight torch and blade are boyfriends, blade is very nervous and jittery. he has nervous habits of twitching and fidgeting with stuff. he scratches up furniture like a cat when hes feeling uneasy or restless. hes sleepy a lot because hes always unconsciously keeping himself still, also he stays up late a lot spying on the current enemy. hes easily spooked. he's an awkward and clumsy guy, but he tries to be serious and stay on task. he notices everything. he can also only see black, white, and green. he and torch ponder the concept of color together a lot. he dreams about hands. he collects bones

Additional Blade and Torch Thoughts:

-they nap together often

-blade explains jester's jokes to torch all the time

-they try to cook together because knife+flamethrower, it doesnt work out and they have to throw their food in the sea because it is so foul

-they have a shared goal of someday getting onto the roof of the inn. they dont know what they want to do up there but they want to go

Pinhead: he is the big brother. hes usually very calm and patient and rarely raises his voice, usually only at jester or six. one of his eyes stays shut because of (good and understandable reason). his eyesight is not too keen. he thinks about pronouns sometimes, what are his pronouns. i know he likes trucks, hes probably taken one from an enemy before. hes trying to build a mechanism so he can drive it on his own. hes not a very big talker but hes known to take part in conversation when its needed. he carries the other guys (except torch, torch too big). he likes to give them piggyback rides. he has a secret passion for poetry and occasionally he will write some of his own. he doesnt think its very good but leech woman has read a few of his works and if you ask her she will write you a 5 page essay on how compelling and thought-provoking his words are. he can pick up things 10 times his size/weight like an ant

Sixshooter: always on the grind. he is an alpha male. he gets hella bitches. he loves doing target practice. he's actually responsible for a miscalculation of the local woodpecker population, because "damn theres so many holes in these trees, must be a lotta woodpeckers over here!" we all know he can climb like a motherfucker, he can probably go upside down too like a bug. i saw our friend mountain dew glowstick flavor say that he can stand on the ceiling and i agree. he could also swim well hypothetically, but he's too nervous to try that out. he watches workout videos and works along with them even though he is just a little puppet. he laughs at every one of jester's stupid jokes, and his laugh is BIG and LOUD. he giggles his cheeky little giggle very often as well.

Tunneler: truly an anomaly. truly an enigma. he once heard the myth of "digging to china" and it didnt go very well. He's jammed his drill multiple times from getting dirt and grime in it from digging so much. he doesnt think he needs to worry about it that much because he's a PUPPET, so he's basically IMMORTAL right????? he mixes leaves and dirt in puddles and pretends to make soup. he likes to hang out with sixshooter and jester and laugh at the goofy jokes they crack. here and there he'll crack one too, but its much stranger and usually will just be met with weird looks. "why did the chicken cross the road? ground beef wholesale." he's a little socially awkward, but he doesnt realize it. he's very easygoing and doesnt really notice as many issues or disturbances as blade does per say.

Decapitron: decapy is like that one guy in a cartoon that explains the moral of the episode to the other characters. like in sesame street, he'd be the human and the other puppets would be the, well, puppets. he's very nice and calm like pinhead, but he doesnt ever raise his voice, even at six or jester. he likes to problem-solve and do critical thinking. he loves figuring out new things. he approaches everything with a very open mind. since he's kind of like the messenger of andre he sometimes gets random flashbacks to things andre experienced. sometimes theyre nice but often times theyre memories of elsa's death or the burnt up puppet theater, and they'll shake him up for a few days. he doesn't usually talk about this issue to the others, though. he can see a very wide range of colors almost like a bee, and often talks to blade and torch about color since they have a limited spectrum.

Leech Woman: she is totally cool! she has a bit of an interest in fashion and sometimes makes her own outfits from found stuff around the inn. she sucks at cleaning, though. whenever she gets her clothes dirty she dunks them in the ocean and gets confused when they come out all sandy. she sometimes wakes up in a cold sweat, worried about the whereabouts of her leeches. the leech she puked back in '98... where is it now? she has a very strong hunger because of all the leeches. she has to feed them as well. often times when she's getting a dose of elixir she will put drops of animal blood in it to quench her neverending thirst. but because of all that weird magic nonsense, she'll act weird and goofy for a little bit after. its worth it though! proud mother of an infinite host of leeches.

Additional Decapitron and Leech Woman Thoughts: -decapitron will clean leech's clothes for her. a devoted househusband -they watch lightning storms together -sometimes they go out and dance together when it's rainy out -leech is the only guy decapy vents (amongus) to about his flashbacks -they take early morning walks together every sunday, rain or shine, sleet, snow, or hail.

Mephistopheles (i know hes not one of the main ones but..... he holds a special place in my heart.) this will be short because i dont know how much i have to say about him. he talks in a swedish accent all the time. he can manipulate fire (yeah this is based off the comics). his orb shows him cool stuff sometimes. he pirated sing 2 and is currently watching it via the orb. he knows a surprising amount about wine and alcohol even though he cannot drink it. he can only see in black and white, but he has no desire to learn about other colors. he sharpens and paints his stupid little fingernails every week, and polishes his horns every other day.

i hope you liked my headcanons they took some consideration. some of them i made up on the spot though

#puppet master #tunneler #jester #torch #leech woman #blade #sixshooter #puppet master movies #headcanons #pm hcs #mephistopheles