#besides this sense of unreality that he is dealing with everything while trying to be as nice and kind as possible when everything is weird

[delusionland]

Billy and teddy kaplan-altman are the gay answer to the comic book code that devastated the golden age of comic books.  teddy and to a lesser extent Billy represent a moment in time, a feeling, a history that is beyond their minimal appearances in the last 15 years. And its not just about being gay---its about what it means to be GAY and completely, and totally unproblematically, unthreateningly good in the most common sense "aha!" Moment in comics. 

This is the middle ground between absolutely no censorship in comics at all, and our straight Christian propaganda fanon-canon blue boy scout superman aimed at little boys. Of course two of the most extensively powerful people in the marvel universe are two dumbass gay boys who REFUSED to say goddamn and say gosh-darned who are just? Really nice and in love after everything they've been through? 

Sometimes you don't want to read about superman beating up racists bc that shit can be scary and traumatizing. Sometimes you just want the most normal boy next door toothless fan raised couple to have matching sauron rings and get married twice and have mental issues and daddy/mommy issues that can be picked up and put down as easily as flying thru the air with ur boyfriend when u have superstrength and can shape-shift and fly and also u are king of space.

There is room for that story. There is room to breathe and to laugh, to talk about the deeper moments, the interdependence, the ways u are unhealthy and scared and lonely… and there is also room for mcu quips about a "twunk with great arms."

Its hard to trust stories, even after you've read every page. Its impossible to trust characters---theyre just fiction and prone to editorial whims. Its impossible to trust writers---they won't let you read their mind, and are also often forced into editorial corners.

But there is room for good. For boys who trust too much. Who are kind, excessively, needlessly so.

Superheroes and unfortunately our modern understanding them wouldn’t exist without the comic code foundation of characters striving so hard to be perfect---and continuing to try again, every time they got knocked down by serious threats after the code was knocked down.

There is no such thing as perfect, and I don’t want to censor myself or my own lgbtness or mental illness, which is not as SIMPLE, or easy to manage. But if I cannot be satisfied with the good within myself, I can be satisfied with the good in comic books that profess to be nothing more than themselves, that provide decent character arcs--and make me hope for more for myself one day.

#ooc: hc #king of empyre describes teddy as a good-good nice goodest boy and like! wow! that's it! thats all there really is to his character! #besides this sense of unreality that he is dealing with everything while trying to be as nice and kind as possible when everything is weird #but he deals with everything so well and so healthily its honestly so nuts #one of the few superheroes to go to therapy even if the therapist did turn out to be a monster #he's just. welladjusted. shy. nice. polite dreamy boy. maybe a little out of it at times. maybe tries way too hard #but he's just NICE. he was just raised right by a woman who loved pink lemonade! #he KNOWS he's living the dream! he knows his boyfriend is wonderful and his powers are wonderful and his destiny is insane... #he's so NORMAL but i guess there are normal people in this world. ive never met them. but teddy kaplan is a nice nice round spongebob boy

[hotdamnhunnam]

Too Good for Grey

A/N: Sooo this is a fic that I’ve had in mind ever since I first posted my list of Imagine Ideas a while ago! Though I know Charlie’s decision not to play the role of Christian Grey is what was best for him, part of me will always be heartbroken that we all missed out on 50 Shades of Hunnam 😭💔 In this fic you’re his girlfriend; he’s considering the role and you let him... practice in the bedroom 😏

Pairing: Charlie Hunnam x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, dom!Charlie, blindfold, bondage, punishment, light flogging (just with his belt, nothing too intense) Request: No specific request, but there’s been demand for a Part 2 of Red Carpet Rogue and I decided to write this fic as a sequel to it!

Word Count: ~3.4k

[Please read Red Carpet Rogue first if you haven’t yet! Otherwise the second paragraph won’t make much sense without that reference...]

You love mornings like this one. Lazy weekends with your boyfriend, hottest man under the sun. Completely chill and easy and carefree, nowhere to be. No work, no plans. You’re seated in his lap feeding him pancakes from your fork, since that’s the only way to get your man to focus on his breakfast. Charlie’s hands are fully occupied, roving and reckless, moving all over your robe and deep inside. Clearly still riding high from such a scandalously sexy night.

You push another forkful past his lips, then playfully lean in to lick some syrup from his chin as it so sweetly drips. His stubble tickles, causing you to giggle, while he growls and tightens his grip on your hips. “Mmm...” he hums, digging into your skin with his thumbs. “You know I still can’t get over just how fucking awesome last night was, Y/N. Thinking we should invest in a stretch of red carpet to relive it over and over again.”

“Hmm, I like the way you’re thinking...” you respond, settling deeper in his lap and slowly sinking, till you feel your man’s enormous cock grind up against your cunt. Heat burning through your silk robe and his sweatpants. “God, you were so fucking dominant. More than you’ve ever been.”

“That a good thing?” the bastard asks you, as if he has to, bursting into laughter when you shoot him a glare of the fuck do you think?!? Your dom/sub dynamic is not a new thing. “Well, chalk it up to this new script that I’m considering. Came my way yesterday before we headed out for the evening.”

He gestures at the stack of papers on the counter behind him just now, which you hadn’t noticed all morning somehow. You blink at the title printed on the front page and cannot believe what you’re seeing. Basically stop breathing. “Oh, wow...”

Charlie flashes a cheeky grin as he gets off on your reaction. Can’t resist making a stupid dirty pun, ‘cause he’s the worst. Rubbing his crotch harder against yours as he says the words. “Yeah, who could’ve seen that coming.”

“Now if you’re gonna start talking dirty to me, Mr. Hunnam... you’d better be ready to act on it,” you warn him, well aware he’s been ready and raring to go all damn morning. “I know you’d slay this role but don’t know if you really want it, to be honest.”

He shrugs as he kisses stray drops of maple syrup from the corners of your mouth. “Yeah, I’ve got my doubts. But haven’t ruled it out. Think some part of me wants it. Luckily I’ve got the greatest girlfriend in the world to help me work through my decision-making process.”

“Well, should we call it work...” your lips curve into a seductive smirk, “...or play?”

At those words, Charlie’s cock fucking jerks. That’s your answer, of course. Better than anything he can say.

And you’re so fucking ready to meet Mr. Grey.

***************

“You sure about this, babe?” he asks as you hastily finish your pancakes. You’re hungry for something quite different, for fuck’s sake. Your pussy’s so wet that it practically aches. “It’s not like we have a red room...”

“But we do have a very nice bedroom,” you tell him. He’s trying to stall and you’re not gonna let him. You’re ready to go. “Plus we’ve got, you know—silk scarves and ties, a closet full of all kinds of hardware supplies. So I’m sure you can... improvise.”

Charlie’s still acting as if he has to think twice. Blinks twice, with an excited little twinkle in his eyes. “Somebody’s eager...”

“Somebody? Both of us, baby. You know you can’t wait for this either.”

“I just want to make sure you’re ready...”

“Charlie, I know you’ll take things slow and steady. I trust you completely,” you reassure him as you kiss his cheek softly and sweetly. “Besides, we’ll rely on the traffic lights code. Red for stop, yellow for ease it up. Green for go. They used those safewords in the books, right? Never read them so I don’t really know.”

“Then how do you know what—”

“Know what Fifty Shades even involves? Love, I’m not some kind of pop culture idiot,” you interrupt, taking his hand to guide him down the halls. You’re really not about to let him stand and stall. “And I may have looked up... a few things on Google. Being such a kinky bitch and all. Brainstorming new ways to play the role of your submissive little slut.”

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” he grunts as he finally gives in to what he wants, suddenly slipping into dom mode all at once. Changing his tone, making you moan, slamming you up against the wall. Towering over you so big and strong and tall. “Who would’ve thought... who knew that’s what my sweet little girl is up to when you’re clicking away on your laptop? Googling filthy ways for me to fuck you up?”

You groan in desire as his dirty words start a fire. “Ch-Charlie...”

He reacts just as you knew he would, and his dominance feels so damn good. Last night he scolded you just the same, when you called him by name. “What the fuck do you call me?”

“Sir,” you instantly answer. Obviously. Filled with the urge to say more, like a good proper whore, since you feel more submissive than ever before. Thirsty for fifty shades of Charlie. “Thank you for reminding me, sir. I’m so sorry.”

“You better be,” he chides, sliding his hands down your shivering sides, then swiftly untying your robe and letting it fall open wide. His touch upon your skin is hot as hell and fucking heavenly. “Your place in life is to obey. Do as I say. To serve and pleasure me.”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, breathing heavily, as he cradles your face in his dominant fingers. “I promise I’ll always remember.”

You’ve known it to be true, since the day you first met him: Charlie Hunnam owns you, and you fucking let him. You’re fated to live for his pleasure and love him forever.

He reads all of the thoughts in your head as he slowly lets go of your face, slaying you with his blazing blue gaze. Though you moan at the loss of his fingers, the power and passion of his touch still lingers. You can feel it all over your sensitive skin. Fifty shades of pure sin.

And you love it. Want every damn shade of it. Already so addicted to the deep submissive state you’re in.

The next words that he speaks... make you so fucking weak. Mr. Grey has most certainly come out to play. And he is here to stay. To make you fifty shades of horny. “That’s a good little whore. Gonna give you the punishment you’ve been so desperately hoping for. Now run off to the bedroom and wait for me... facing away from the open door... naked and down on your knees.”

****************

Yes, sir. Yes, please. You’re pretty sure your cunt is leaking all over the floor as you obey your master’s orders, flinging your robe off your shoulders, stripping down and sitting back upon your heels.

It’s not the first time Charlie’s ordered you to kneel—but this right now... just hits different somehow. He’s so hot it’s unreal, too dominant for you to even deal. And you’re obsessed with how insanely good it feels.

You’ve already lost track of just how long you’ve waited. Heart racing, breath bated. How much time has passed? It may have been two minutes or two hundred. You just know that once your man arrives at last, he’ll be all set to give you everything you’ve wanted.

The moment when he finally comes... you feel his presence from across the room. Exuding vibes of absolute alpha male dom. And you’re so desperate to receive all of that energy from him. You can’t believe how blessed you are to be his woman. Here experiencing fifty shades of Hunnam.

Though you’re dying to turn behind you toward the door to see how good he surely looks right now, you stop yourself somehow. Keep both hands resting on your thighs, with lowered eyes, head bowed. Still and silent, though self-conscious that you are breathing incredibly loud. You’re so fucking aroused.

As Charlie takes a few deliberate steps toward you... rests his hand against your head, stroking your hair and tenderly twining his fingers through... you already feel dead. Can’t stop some smutty sound from slipping out your slutty little mouth.

He then reaches around, to trace his thumb across your bottom lip, shifting his grip before you can even attempt to kiss his fingertips. Needs you to know that you are not to make a sound, till he allows. That he owns you without a fucking doubt.

He’s owning you now with the tone of his voice and the touch of his hand. “Y/N. I need you to understand... that you are mine to command.”

“Yes, sir,” you breathlessly answer. And the slut in you compulsively reacts, tilting your head back, in an effort to make eye contact. Dying to look up at his gorgeous face, to meet his gaze, as you profess the shameless fact: that you belong to him, in every way and always...

And yet your man has other plans. Prevents you from catching a glimpse of him before you even can. He had arrived with something in his hands—a strip of cloth, some kind of tie or scarf, silken and soft. He masterfully fastens it around your eyes the moment that your head tilts back, and suddenly your vision fades to black.

“Now that’s no way for a good little slut to act,” Charlie scolds, as he tightens your blindfold. “Shifting from your position? Moving without my permission?”

Ugh God, he’s so hot you could die. “I...”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry. I’m sick of your worthless apologies. High time I teach you a lesson in proper submission.”

“Ohh, sir—” you moan as he pulls you closer, till the back of your head rubs against the huge bulge in his crotch. The prize that you crave so fucking much. The object of your dreams. You can tell that he’s wearing your favorite jeans, and his cock is so hard it’s obscene, bursting out of the seams.

Then he effortlessly hoists you onto your feet, the bare skin of your back sliding up against his upper body—shirtless, naturally—so that you can feel every firm ridge of his muscles and all of his raw carnal heat. “Now I know what you want... but what’s much more important... I know what you need.”

Those words murder your cunt, and it feels like time stops. Then the next thing you know Charlie has you facedown on the bed, both arms over your head. And he’s tying you up. Binding both of your wrists to the bedposts, with some fucking serious rope.

This is everything your inner slut ever hoped. And you can’t even cope.

He’s just getting started and already this feels so damn perfect you just want to cry. Fucking magic. You’re fucking ecstatic. Tears of pure euphoria rise to your eyes, fighting at the blindfold he had tied, dampening the fabric.

Charlie picks up on all your unspoken emotions, as he always does. He can tell that you’re buzzed and just wants to make sure that this isn’t too much. Leaning in near, to whisper sweetly in your ear. “How’s the traffic?”

“Huh...?” you reply in a hazy sigh, taking a moment just to realize what he means. “Oh—green. So green.”

“Mmm, good to know,” he smirks against your cheek, as you revert to being too horny to speak. “But we can always take it slow. Just let me know if we’re approaching yellow—”

All of a sudden you’re able to speak again, just then. The words are somewhat muffled as your face is partly burrowed in the pillows; you make sure that Charlie hears you loud and clear, though. “Hell no. Green means fucking go.”

“If you say so...” he smirks once more, kissing your cheek before he lifts off of your back, all fucking ready to attack. You both can’t wait for what’s in store.

Charlie has spanked you countless times before. With you facedown in bed, you would’ve guessed that’s what he had in mind—to slap your slutty ass red, then to fuck you from behind. Remind you that you’ll always be his dirty little fucking whore.

Today you’re hoping for a little something more.

And that’s exactly what he’s giving. This time around... the punishment’s bound to hit different.

You can hear the faint rustle, telltale sound of metal and leather as Charlie undoes his belt buckle. Oh, shit—surprise, surprise—for some of these supplies, he didn’t even have to venture in the hardware closet.

Everything he needs to exert his total dominance, he’s fucking got it.

And it’s everything you’ve ever fucking wanted.

“Know just how much this pretty ass loves getting punished...” he teases, taking your bare naked cheeks in his hands with a few tender strokes and squeezes. 

If you had to guess—without being able to witness—he must’ve looped his undone belt around his neck to free both hands for just a minute. He must look so fucking hot right now. An absolute sex god like nobody’s business.

“This sweet ass will look even prettier in pink by the time we’re finished,” he says it like a promise, and you really hope he keeps it, to be honest. “You know I would say prettier in red, but...”

“Oh, no, that’s a bad word,” you murmur in playful laughter. Repeat the right color to make sure he feels reassured. “Green, sir. Want you to let loose and get fucking mean, sir.”

“Ugh fuck,” he murmurs, as you hear him smile while he slides the leather belt off of his shoulders. You can just imagine what the sight of you in such submission has done to his denim-clad cock. “You’re killing me, love...”

“But that’s your job. I’m the sub,” you remind him, well aware you’re coming close to topping from the bottom. Sort of. Whatever it takes, to get Mr. Grey to come out to play, to feel comfortable falling into his role as your absolute dom. “Now go crazy and get rough. I promise I want it, sir. Honest. I can’t get enough.”

“Such a good fucking slut,” Charlie rasps, slowly grazing the edge of the leather across the soft globes of your ass. “Once we’re done with your punishment... you know I’m gonna fucking wreck this perfect little cunt?”

“Yes, sir. Please punish me and use my pussy for your pleasure.”

“Motherfucker...” you hear him quietly mutter, scrambling to strip out of his jeans, because his cock is probably straining in pain against the denim, harder than it’s ever been. No surprise since your cunt’s also wetter than ever. It’s just so perfect that you two are getting off on this together. You love the way your dirty words have this effect on him, just as his do on you. You’re such a slut for Mr. Hunnam; the best thing is that he’s such a slut for you, too.

Once he’s finally naked and gets in position behind you, he takes a few seconds to soak in the view. Psyching up for what he is about to do: whip the shit out of you. Just as you want him to.

“Now with each lash that comes down, I want you to keep count. And need you to repeat the color. Loud. You understand?”

“Yes, sir,” you swear, yielding to his command, instinctively arching your ass up in the air, because you’re desperate for your punishment. “Yes, sir, I understand. Green means hit me as hard as you can.”

“You fucking greedy little cunt,” he taunts with a dominant sneer. “Who makes the rules here? I’m gonna go just as hard or as soft as I want.”

You realize you were stupid to think he would go so hard, right from the start. Charlie knows where your limits are, even when you don’t. He reads your body and your mind and sees into your heart. Knows just what you need even when you’re too focused on only what you want. That’s why you have no doubt that he’ll dish out the most perfect punishment.

And so he does.

From the very first lash on your ass... your breath halts with a heart-stopping gasp. You have never felt such a damn buzz. From the way the sensation bursts onto your skin, underneath the smooth leather, a blossom of sin, pain blurring into pleasure... you want this to just go on forever and ever.

Your master had given you orders, you somehow remember. “One...!” you scream, as you sink deeper into submission, so desperate for him it’s obscene. “Oh God, thank you, sir. Green.”

“Good girl,” he mutters, just before he treats you to another. Each hit makes your fucking toes curl. You are the luckiest bitch in the entire fucking world.

“Two! Fuck, thank you...” you wholeheartedly thank him again and again, with each serving of perfect pain, grateful to your dom for how fucking awesome it feels. It’s unreal. And you keep screaming green on repeat, to give him all the safety and comfort he needs.

He’s enjoying this, no doubt—his cock’s standing rock hard and proud—but this first time around, with each strike that comes down, Charlie is much more focused on reading your signals. Respecting your limits, especially when it’s so tempting to test them a little. You don’t really seem to have any with him, as far as he can tell. Which is epic on some level, but also scary as hell.

He decides when you’re finished, with getting punished, since you’re taking it too fucking well. All you want is more of it; you love it and can’t think of anything else. On your end it’s exquisite. Excruciating ecstasy fulfilling your every fantasy. All because it’s pain coming from him. Fifty shades of Hunnam. All because of how deeply you worship and love him.

If there’s one thing you love more than taking these whips from his belt, the sweetest sting you have ever felt... it’s getting ripped to pieces by his massive cock. Playing your lifelong role as a slut for Sir Hunnam to fuck. Taking him in your soaking wet cunt, letting him ravage you just as hard and as fast as he wants, rough and savage, dishing out some serious damage, till you both explode deep inside and all over each other at once.

Something about the hard passionate sex today, the way he wrecks today... feels even hotter after how you got to play.

Apparently he really likes it when you tap into his inner Mr. Grey.

You both come harder than you ever have, as his huge shaft unloads inside your hole and feeds your soul and breaks you right in half. Breathing in shallow gasps as you feel him fucking collapse, your naked back slick from the sweat off of his sculpted chest and his firm chiseled abs. His face is buried in your hair, and though you know how much he wants to unfasten your blindfold and unbind your wrists, so he can turn you over for a heartfelt kiss, and shower you with hours of loving aftercare... right now your man’s just laying there and praying for some air.

He’s just so perfect it’s not fair. You know he’ll spend the whole rest of the day talking through all your feelings, treating you to every form of healing. Endlessly obsessing over every mark upon your skin, like he committed some ungodly sin, compulsively asking you whether you’re really okay. And he’ll keep on asking no matter what you say. Although he also loves to play this way... deep down he’s doing it for you, because his love is pure and true.

And that was when you fucking knew: this man is way too good to take the role that he was offered yesterday. You’re here to help him though each step of his decision-making process, to respect him if he wants this, and support him either way—but you already feel quite sure after today that your man Charlie is quite honestly... too good for Grey.

***************

Hope you enjoyed this, and would love to hear if you did!! 🤗❤️

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[theonceoverthinker]

500. As this daily series of mine comes to an end, I just want to reflect on all the MARRY time writing Fair Game HCs has brought me!

I’m freezing up as I’m trying to write even just this intro. I don’t feel ready. After a year and a half, how can I feel anything else? This series is now a part of me and ending it is like losing a piece of my soul. I have so many emotions -- too many emotions -- it doesn’t feel wrong to end the series here (The 500 milestone makes sense), but it hurts all the same.

Let me start with thank you to everyone whose read these. Seriously, I know I thank you occasionally, but I can’t do it enough. Knowing that there are people interested in what I write and think about these two and enjoy the happier life I’m paining them in the absence of canon just makes me feel so much less alone than usual. It means the world to me so please believe me when I say that I wouldn’t have gotten to 500 without each and every one of you, whether you were here from the beginning or just joined in whenever. 

I’m so happy to have finally reached this moment, but simultaneously so torn up about what that means.

Will I never do another Fair Game HC again? HECK NO! While the regular daily episodes are ending, if I find another topic that I want to Fair Game-i-fy, I will definitely make more episodes, and hopefully, before long, I will! I just need to take a break from the daily updates. I’ve hit burnout several times over the past year and a half and it’s not fun, so while I still have some energy to spare, I want to end the daily series on a high note!

Also, forgive me because I’m gonna cheat this as a submission for @fairgameweek2021 while I’m at it (If it’s not cool, then my apologies). The theme today is Charms/Dreams and while neither of these come up in the HC itself, this wedding and this series as a whole I think acts as a reflection of the dreams much of the Fair Game fandom had for this ship. 

When I say this, I don’t mean it in the sense of I’d be upset if not each and every one of these didn’t come true -- that’s never been what my love for Fair Game was about, nor that each and every Fair Game fan subscribes to these HCs (Good GOD, no -- not even close). Like many fans, I just wanted these two characters who deserved happiness (Especially Qrow given his almost unreal amount of trauma and hardships) and seemed like they’d finally found it with each other to get exactly that. So in the absence of canon, I hope people were able to take solace in this space and live in the daydreams I created for them here.

So here we are at long last: The Fair Game Wedding. If you want to follow the story thus far, you can check out my HC compilation page. I’ve highlighted all of the wedding HCs in green, and have fully caught up the HC list!

That said, if you don’t feel like reading all of them and just want to check out this last one, here’s the tldr for what you need to know: The wedding is taking place in the Amity communications tower (This HC series only follows canon until 7X11 for those who didn’t know because I only choose to acknowledge good writing (especially for Qrow and Clover) here), Tai is Qrow’s Best Man, Marrow is Clover’s Best Man, Robyn is officiating, Ruby’s walking Qrow down the aisle, Yang’s walking Clover down the aisle, Clover got Qrow a silver ring with four tiny encrusted emeralds, Qrow got Clover a dark ring with four tiny encrusted rubies, Qrow’s wearing an onyx tux with a white undershirt and a crimson bowtie and handkerchief, and Clover’s wearing a black tux with a white undershirt and a dark green bowtie and handkerchief. 

Okay! We’re good to go!

Well, for the last regularly-scheduled time, let’s get to it!

HC under the cut!

“Uncle Qrow! Help! We can’t find your shoes!”

Ruby’s cry is what wakes Qrow up.

What a way to start the day. He hasn’t even had coffee or breakfast yet and he’s already been tasked with finding his wedding shoes. Give him a break.

It then comes to attention that this is his wedding day. By the time he goes to bed, he and Clover will be married. 

His crankiness at being woken up and put to work so quickly doesn’t fully evaporate, but a lot of it does all the same. 

And as Qrow starts searching his temporary room to find his shoes, he can’t help but take note of the bubbling happiness under him.

()()()()()()()()()()()

It feels so weird to Clover to wake up in the Ace Ops’ suite. He’s stopped by from time to time since leaving the Atlesian Army, especially as he’s been planning his wedding, but staying over feels simultaneously nostalgic and bizarre. 

Mostly though, the odd feeling is one that stems from not waking up beside Qrow. It’s not that they haven’t slept apart, but whenever they have outside of their bachelor parties, it’s been for a mission.

Well, in all fairness, today’s at once a party and a mission, and by the end of it, he and Qrow will be back sleeping right beside each other.

Clover can just barely stand the wait.

()()()()()()()()()()

The alter is beautiful. The whites and browns and red and greens come together so nicely. 

In an interesting surprise touch, Harbinger in its scythe form and Kingfisher in its rod form are tastefully placed right next to Tai and Marrow respectively. And on top of their handles, Qrow and Clover’s respective rings rest safely on each of their handles.

They’re both impressed, more so that their weapons were somehow sneak out and brought all the way to the communications tower without either’s knowledge.

Clover’s the first to arrive at Amity Tower. Tai and Marrow organized how Qrow and Clover would check in on things so they wouldn’t see each other until the ceremony. Though Clover found the superstition banal, he decides not to make a fuss about it today, not when there are more important things going on.

The sweet smell of flowers greets his nose. They’re all laid out so nicely, and possibly even more so in the reception hall. Clover looks to his and Qrow’s table, and then to his pants.

Marrow gave him back his phone this morning, and with Marrow temporarily busy in the bathroom, Clover sends Qrow a quick text before he returns.

Clover: Everything looks perfect up here, but I bet you’ll look even better. See you soon. ;) 

Qrow arrives a bit later than expected...which for him was anything but unexpected. Between finding his shoes, Tai insisting on ironing his suit (”I swear, there was a wrinkle on it this morning!), making sure he got a good meal in him, cramming everyone into Tai’s car, and dealing with traffic, it’s amazing they got there when they did.

By the time Qrow gets there, the caterers are starting to arrive and their cake is on its way over, too!

Though Qrow initially felt his scroll buzz in the car, he’s unable to look at it until now. He sees Clover’s text in between the tons of congratulations messages, and smiles.

He’s such a dork.

But he’s Qrow’s dork.

Qrow: You know it. ;) See you soon.

Far too much time is spent for either of their taste’s getting into their suits and going over their entrances and everything (Though given how their rehearsal went, neither can be too annoyed).

Both meet their respective halves of the wedding party and soon enough...it’s time.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Robyn’s the first to enter. She has a basic script in her hand, but everyone knows she’s gonna do some ad-libbing and are excited for it.

Qrow walks down the aisle first with Ruby. The whole time, he can’t but hold his breath behind his smile, worried he might trip. Ruby, who can now fully tell how her uncle operates, holds his arm tighter and more supportively. Qrow would be lying if he said it didn’t help. Upon reaching the front, Ruby gives Qrow a big hug and a kiss on the cheek before leaving his side.

After he arrives, the two sets of groomsmen enter side-by-side: Marrow and Tai, Elm and Port, Vine and Oobleck, and Harriet and Theodore (Yeah, I know basically nothing about Theodore, but I realized my numbers for Qrow’s groomsmen didn’t add up to Clover’s, and I hear the two of them got along, so we’re doing this!).

Once they’re in position, Clover enters with Yang. Clover, like Yang, holds his breath, but for a different reason. Qrow looks so impossibly good in his suit, and he can tell Qrow really likes how he looks, too. Like Ruby with Qrow, before leaving to join her sister, Yang gives Clover a hug and cheek kiss, but also a nice pat on the shoulder and a wish for “good luck.” Clover loves the sensation.

Clover whispers under his breath that Qrow looks amazing. Qrow thanks him, throwing a wink at Clover. Clover looks as stunned by it as Qrow did when he did it the first time.

Ceremony stuff happens, and then we get to the vows!

Robyn signals for Qrow to go first. He nods at her and begins.

“Clover,” Qrow says. “I want to say something to you, something that I never thought I would, especially here of all places, but something that feels like it should be said all the same. ...Here it goes. Clover, we don’t have to get married.” 

There’s a pause as everyone watching gasps. Clover is the only one who doesn’t, though he does raise and eyebrow. Qrow maintains eye contact with him and continues.

“It’s true,” he says. “We know we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives. I’m not leaving you, you’re not leaving me, and once this is all over, we’re going to go right back to the same home we’ve spent years building together to build even more of it for as long as we can. We’ll get up, make breakfast and coffee, work, come home, watch TV, and go to bed. Maybe we’ll do different things on the weekends with Tai and the kids, or maybe we’ll just relax on the couch with a movie. So no, we don’t need to get married...but that’s exactly why I want to.”

The sighs of relief are close to deafening, and expecting that, Qrow takes another pause. Clover’s smile is beautiful, not beaming of exceedingly large, but radiant as it has ever been. Qrow hopes that whoever their planner organized to record their wedding captures it because it’s a smiles Qrow imagines he’ll want to look at over and over again.

“It’s exactly because we don’t need to throw a ceremony or a big party to show the world we love each other that makes me want to do just that,” Qrow continues. “A love like what we have, one that’s special because of all the things that don’t make it special just as much as all of the things that do, well to me, that’s a love worth celebrating. I love you, Clover, and I love the fact that being here with you gives me another chance to celebrate how we feel, how far we’ve come, and how much further we’ll go.”

There are tears in the corners of Clover’s eyes threatening to fall any second. Qrow feels that his own are on the verge of doing the same.

Clover pull him in for a hug. They know it’s not what they’re supposed to do, but it feels right and that’s all that matters. It lasts for ten seconds before they finally pull back.

Robyn’s looking at them jokingly. 

“You know you’re not supposed to do that yet, right?”

“Eh,” Qrow says, shrugging with a smirk on his face. “We’re unconventional.”

“Except when we’re not,” Clover chimes in, winking at Qrow over the joke.

Robyn, smiling all the while, rolls her eyes.

“Clover, it’s your turn,” she says. The two exchange nods and then Clover turns to Qrow. 

“Qrow,” he starts, “I definitely saw my life differently before I met you. I was an Atlesian Military Captain of the kingdom’s strongest group of Huntsmen, likely to stay just where I was until I retired or died in combat. That’s what I saw for myself, and that’s all I saw for myself. In that life, I didn’t see a home, I didn’t see a family, and I never saw someone I loved so much that I’d leave everything I thought I knew behind just to stand by his side. But once I met you and the kids, I began to see all sorts of things that I’d never considered for myself before -- all of those things I just listed and more. That’s the life we’ve had together so far -- deep, kind, strange, fun, sometimes a bit mundane but also beautiful because of it. I’ve got to tell you, Qrow, I can’t think of anything luckier happening to me in my entire life than finding you.”

Qrow snorts. It’s not an interruption, but Clover can’t help but comment on it. 

“I guess you saw that coming?” Clover jokes. 

“Maybe a bit.”

“Fair enough. Well, I don’t need to tell you that with semblances like ours, luck’s always been a special thing between us. Misfortune and Good Fortune just have a way of being part of our lives, no matter what we think or plan or want. We’ve talked before about how they counter each other or why one might be more powerful than the other on any given day, but while luck might have been what brought us together as partners initially and it certainly is part of us, it’s not all of us. Luck has some interesting perks, both good and bad alike -- it can make a day or even week better or worse -- but it can’t get either of us what we have together nor take it away. Luck doesn’t earn me the sight of that gleam in your eyes when I bring you a bowl of noodles just the way you like or that smile of yours when I tell you tell you a joke. Luck helps us live our lives, but we do the rest, and I think we do a pretty good job living it together, and I can’t wait to keep on doing it with you for the rest of our lives.”

A good number of the attendants make an “awwww” sound at the end of Clover’s vows. Qrow’s tempted to make fun of it, but abstains.

Robyn nods at the conclusion of her vows. Tai and Marrow collect the rings for Qrow and Clover from off of the weapons and bring them to them. Robyn then turns to Clover.

“Clover Ebi,” she says. “Do you take this man, Qrow Branwen, to be your lawfully-wedded husband -- to love, cherish, and grow with him in sickness and in health and for better or worse as long as you both shall live?”

Clover’s smile is present. It doesn’t get bigger, but it gets deeper. 

“I do,” he says. Qrow takes Clover’s ring and slides it easily onto Clover’s finger.

Robyn turns to Qrow.

“And Qrow Branwen,” she continues. “Do you take this man, Clover Ebi, to be your lawfully-wedded husband -- to love, cherish, and grow with him in sickness and in health and for better or worse as long as you both shall live?”

Qrow’s smile stays the same -- relaxed, easy, and so utterly content. Despite seeing it hundreds of times by now, it still looks so beautiful to Clover...especially when he says the next two words.

“I do.”

Qrow extends out his hand, and Clover, with the ring he got him, slides it down Qrow’s flawless finger effortlessly.

Robyn’s smile grows.

“Then by the power vested in me by the Kingdom of Solitas and the land of Remnant, I now declare you husbands. You may now kiss.”

Qrow and Clover have kissed more times than they can possibly count.

But by the time Robyn declares them married, they’re starving to feel each other’s kisses again. Cupping each other’s cheeks, Qrow and Clover share their first kiss as a married couple.

Everyone cheers. A quarter of the room cheers through their tears.

Finally, they’re married.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Qrow and Clover get a small break to themselves before they enter the reception. They spend much of it standing and sitting close together, kissing, telling the Qrow and Clover equivalent of sweet nothings to each other, and talking about what their previous night and this morning were like. It’s kind, relaxed, and happy -- so, so happy.

The reception’s amazing. Between awesome food, “the world’s best cocktail hour” (Qrow and Clover’s words, not mine), a good DJ, heartwarming (and a little embarrassing) speeches, gorgeous decorations, cool party favors, and a beautiful and loving first dance, everyone has an amazing time.

At some point, Qrow and Clover find themselves able to sneak out of their own reception for a break (Qrow especially needs one, but Clover’s not about to pretend he’s not at least a little tired either). There’s a small empty balcony right in front of the moon. Clover loops his arm around Qrow’s shoulders and settles it on the left one.

Clover takes a deep breath through his nose and Qrow can feel his hairs bounce up and down with it.

“Smell something you like?” Qrow teases.

“More like someone. And I can’t wait to keep smelling him.”

They relax in the quiet for a bit. Qrow snuggles into Clover’s side as the gentle wind embraces their forms wherever it can.

“We’re married,” Clover finally says, said as if he’s just realized it for the first time. 

It must be the tenth time today he’s done so since the ceremony.

Qrow hasn’t gotten even remotely sick of hearing it.

“We’re married,” he repeats. 

Clover releases a rumbling chuckle, then kisses Qrow’s upper right temple. Qrow presses his lips to Clover’s hand. It’s not a kiss, per se, but it lingers delicately on his hand.

They stay for a couple more minutes before deciding that they should probably return to their party.

The rest of the party is so nice. Friends and family party and dance the night away with the gorgeous night sky all around them for hours.

The cleanup is exhausting and despite loving their wedding planner from the moment they hired her, Qrow and Clover have never been more grateful for her services than where she says they can head out and that she would finish up the rest of the work and text them (”Tomorrow afternoon. You guys are gonna need some shut eye.”).

It takes Qrow and Clover about an hour to get home. Clover drives once they’re on solid ground again. In the car, neither talk much, content to sit and enjoy the drive home in a comfortable quiet, save for the occasional joke and “We’re married” statement.

When they’re finally home, they stop at the door. After all, who’s going to carry who over the threshold? 

They compromise. Kissing each other’s face all the way, Qrow carries Clover through their front door, and Clover carries Qrow through their bedroom door onto a...very fun wedding night (Which I’m gonna let you all imagine for yourself because I have literally been writing this all day and writing about sex is kind of tough for me when I’m at my best).

When they’re at last ready to go to sleep, Qrow and Clover cuddle close and give each other a final loving look before falling asleep in each other’s arms, blissfully together tonight and for decades worth of them to come, just as they deserve. I don’t even know what to say now that we’re here at the end. I think I said it here earlier, but it bears repeating: I love you all and thank you so much for following these Fair Game HCs.

Tagging @skybird13 @whipped4qrow @mooksie01 @luck-of-the-caw @xwildangel @solitude-of-stars-deactivated20 @vastnessofthespiral @o0nashipear0o @unfairgamey @doctorrwby @clover-and-co @megan-atthedisco @wash-my-brain @bisexualdisasterqrow @thursdayseraph @doubledexterity @rwby-things-i-guess @atlas-heartthrob @the-answer-was-bi-klance @compoterie @thuskindlyiboop @oceansquid @transdemion @deltastream21 @mimiori @xya-hunter @dinosaurs-last-day @roman-torchtwink @subatomictealeaves @drbtinglecannon @saphiralunaris @pretentiouskneecaps @amxngsthxmans @ayomez13 @carbonated-table-spices @darkestsiren @chaosgameingkoi @collectingsparechangemadeeasy @michaels-daughter2005 @youmaywanttoduck @lovethewitchofendor @victorious1956 @spence0112 @madamoisellesica @ju-ka-mc-24

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#fair game #qrow branwen #clover ebi #rwby #lucky charms #luckbirds #luck birds #fairgame #qrow x clover #qrover #fair game hcs #500

[iridescent-petrichor]

the elevator

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: y/n has a panic attack

Words: 1.9K

A/N: Okay so I wrote this about a month ago but I still don’t know if I like it or not. I feel like it’s just not well written, but it’s as good as I can do so hope you enjoy!

In your two years of battling monsters and telepathic little girls, and other dimensions, you never knew you’d have to face evil Russians broadcasting a secret code across Hawkins, Indiana, with your little brother, your boyfriend, a girl from your highschool, and Lucas Sinclair’s younger sister.

The five of you hesitantly approached the box in the middle of the room. You put your hand on Dustin’s shoulder, not sure if you were trying to comfort him or yourself. Erica pulled an exacto-knife from her backpack, handing it off to Steve so he could cut open the box. Once he did, you all saw the top of a metal container. You didn’t work at the mall, but it definitely didn’t look like the usual inventory.

Steve reached forward, twisting the top. With a hiss of air, he pulled it off to reveal four smaller containers. From your angle, none of you could see the contents of them. Curiosity continued to rise between all of you, and you couldn’t help leaning forward to try to get any sense of what was inside.

“That’s definitely not Chinese food.” Steve set the top of the container on top of another box, before reaching for one of the handles. “Uh, maybe you guys should, you know, stand back.”

You moved back a couple of steps with Robin and Erica, silently trying to tell your brother to do the same.

“No.” He said, not taking his eyes off the box. You looked up at Steve, shrugging helplessly.

“Just… Just step back, okay?”

“No.”

“Step back-”

“No!”

“Seriously.”

“No!” Dustin repeated, finally getting Steve to stop and look at him. “If you die, I die.”

You rolled your eyes at how dramatic he was, trying to ignore the pit of anxiety growing in your stomach. It had been many months since any of you had to deal with fighting off demodogs, and the Hawkins Lab was shut down now, but the idea of secret Russians setting up shop in Hawkins made your heart drop.

  Steve stared him down for a couple seconds, before shrugging. “okay.” He reached back into the box, twisting, and pulling one of the containers out. He held it up, and you stepped forward when you saw the unfamiliar green liquid encased in a glass cylinder. “What the hell?”

“What is that?” Robin asked.

Before anyone could even try to respond to her question, you all felt a rumbling around you. The entire room seemed to shift for a moment, effectively catching everyone’s attention. The pit in your stomach grew painfully, and you moved closer to your brother and boyfriend for some semblance of safety.

“Was that just me, or did the room move?” Dustin asked, glancing around before his eyes landed on you. You shook your head, indicating it was not, in fact, just him, and moved towards him some more.

“Booby traps.” Erica whispered, not at all helping your anxiety.

When a mechanical whirring noise started, you wrapped an arm around Dustin, exchanging fearful looks with Steve.

“You know what? Let’s just grab that and go.” Robin yanked the container of weird liquid out of Steve’s hand, and turned to the exit. Dustin immediately obeyed, turning around to press the “Open Door” button. After pressing a couple times, the door had yet to budge.

“Is it not opening?” You whispered, feeling Steve’s hand grab yours in a silent reassurance.

“Which one do I press, Erica?” He ignored you, continuing to press the buttons on the keypad.

“Just press the damn button, nerd.” She retorted.

“Which one? I’m pressing the button, okay?” Dustin said, raising his voice while he continued to press the button.

“Press open door.” Erica mimicked his tone, growing frustrated.

“I’m pressing open door!” Dustin yelled back.

Steve released your hand, frustration taking over. “Just open the- press the other button.”

Without Steve to ground you, you suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe. Even if you wanted to stop the argument that was unfolding before you, you could barely find the words to calm your friends down.

  “Guys, get out of the way so she can push the button-” Robin tried to talk the group down, but Steve had already shoved Dustin to the side to try it himself.

“Would you stop?” Steve urged Dustin.

“I’m trying.” He shot back, glancing at him for a moment before turning his attention back to the buttons.

“Would you let me just do it? Would you stop?” Steve continued to argue, smashing random buttons to see if any would work.

“Just open the door!” Robin started to yell as well; anxiety evident in her voice.

Another mechanical clang resounded through the room, effectively shutting everyone up. You were pressed up against one of the walls trying to calm yourself down. Being in an enclosed space seemed so much more terrifying than when you had to fight the demodogs. At least then you had space to run if something went awry.

A moment of silence fell over the room; the calm before the storm, it seemed, because the room was suddenly plummeting down to god knows where.

You dropped to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, screaming.

  You buried your face in your knees, barely even able to process everyone else screaming as you fell to your presumed death. Your hands were shaking uncontrollably now, and you pulled them together in an attempt reduce the amount they were trembling.

“Shit! Shit!” Dustin screeched, pressing any buttons to try to reverse what was going on.

“We’re going down! We’re going down!” Steve yelled, gripping one of the boxes to stay steady.

“Yeah, no shit, Harrington!” Robin replied, holding on to one of the shelves for dear life.

“Why don’t these buttons work?!” Dustin’s voice was shrill as he continued slamming the buttons. You squeezed your eyes shut, praying that this was some insanely vivid nightmare.

“Press the button!” Erica’s voice reminded you that it wasn’t, and you hugged your knees tighter to your chest.

“What do you think I’m doing?!”

“Come on, press something!” Just press the button!” Steve interjected, waving his arms around in desperation.

“Push it!” Erica screamed, the two kids now slamming every button they could, to no avail.

Suddenly, the room came to a halt. Everyone – except you, considering you were already on the floor – fell to the ground.

Everything felt so unreal – which was something considering what you’d been through. You knew your friends were talking, but their words went in one ear and out the other. You kept your head down, trying to control your breathing, not taking notice of the hot tears that were streaming down your face. It was the most helpless you’d ever felt – you couldn’t even control your shaking body. When you tuned back into the conversation happening around you, you heard Dustin speak.

“-we’re stuck in here.” Dustin muttered.

Great. You picked your head up, looking around the elevator for Steve. He was about a foot away, next to Robin at the buttons. While his presence calmed you slightly, you couldn’t have felt more hopeless and scared. You were trapped in a room with no places to hide - unless you could fit behind a pile of small boxes - miles away from anyone that could help you, and you had no weapons. You were like sitting ducks for whatever Russians awaited on the other side of the door. With a glance towards Dustin and Erica, your heart sank even more. They could die down here; they’re too young to be here. Why did you agree to bring Erica along? You hadn’t even noticed Robin’s gaze fixed on you. It was so hard to breathe, but no one else seemed to be having any issue with it, and why the fuck couldn’t you stop shaking?

“Just so you nerds are aware,” Erica’s voice felt distant, and you almost couldn’t hear her over the sound of your own heartbeat. “I’m supposed to be spending the night at Tina’s, and Tina always covers for me. But if I’m not home for Uncle Jack’s party tomorrow and my mom finds out you four are responsible, she’s gonna hunt you down, one by one, and slit your throat.”

Steve was practically shaking from frustration as he leaned forward on the boxes in front of him. “I don’t care about Tina-”

“Steve.” Robin’s voice was barely audible, but her eyes were trained on you, curling in on yourself.

“-Or Uncle Jack’s party!”

“Steve.” Robin tried again, worry etched in her voice.

“Your mom’s not gonna be able to find us if we’re dead in a Russian elevator!”

“Steve!” Robin’s voice made him stop. He turned to her expectantly, but she didn’t take her eyes off you. He looked down, cursing under his breath before dropping to his knees in front of you in an instant.

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice was gentle, not bothering to turn around when Dustin continued talking about a way to climb out of there. “Hey, you okay?”

You shook your head, just slightly, keeping your eyes shut tight. When another tear rolled down your cheek, Steve’s hand instinctively shot up to wipe it away before he froze, inches away from your face.

“Can I touch you?” As soon as you nodded, he used his thumb to wipe the tear off your cheek. His hand fell, gently rubbing up and down your arm. “We’re gonna be okay, y’know.”

He shifted his position, sitting as he rubbed your back as you tried to gulp down air.

“When we get outta here, we’re gonna have so much ice cream, okay?” He joked, smile widening when he saw the shadow of a grin on your face. You nodded weakly, putting your head on his shoulder. Your breathing was still shaky, but you felt yourself calming down a little. “You know I’d never let anything happen to you right? Or Dustin.”

“We shouldn’t have brought the kids.” You respond quietly, without looking at him. The room is empty besides you, and fear crawled painfully back up your throat for a moment to realize it was because everyone climbed to the top of the elevator. “What if-“ you stopped, taking a breath. “What if we don’t make it out?”

“We will. We’ve dealt with worse.”

“We had Eleven. And weapons. And Erica and Robin don’t even know about-” Steve cupped your face with his hand, making you stop.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

You nodded, not entirely believing him. He continued to rub your back, placing a kiss on your forehead. While you weren’t fully calm, you tried to let yourself relax a little bit as Steve comforted you.

With the newfound silence you were able to catch your breath, and Steve did everything in his power to distract you from the current situation.

A couple minutes had gone by before you stopped shaking. “I’m okay.” You whispered to Steve, who promptly helped you stand. “Well- okay as I’ll ever be trapped in a Russian elevator.”

Steve laughed, and you were glad to share a quiet moment with him. Little did you know, spending the night in a Russian elevator would be the best part of the next 24 hours.

#do i hate this? yes #will i post it anyways? also yes #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader

[jauneda1]

Highschool Of The Dead Fanfic

:Just a heads up I do not own any characters or the anime/manga this fanfic is based on:

Ch 2 Escape and divided

Ita and everyone had been starring at the tv in shock. Ita spoke up while changing his uniform to his undershirt and put on his weight lift gloves. "Well I guess that was there way of not trying to start a panic and a big ol fuck you to us people who are scared shitless unable to comprehend wtf is going on" Takagi commented Ita's observation of the situation on the television. "Well of course that's what they're doing stupid. They don't want to loose a sense of order with this global pandemic." Ita: "I know that but like stay in our homes and what wait?" Takashi: "You've got a point there, they're not giving us any alternatives." Saeko: "Maybe they have a solution in sight for all this." Rei: "Yeah Ms.Busujima is right they've gotta know what there doing my father is a police officer I'm sure we wait for him to come find me-." Ita: "Wait!? Wait my ass, where not waiting this out we need to move because the longer we wait the harder it's gonna be to get out of here. I say we're better off looking for other survivor's and work together to get out of here." Takashi: "You're right there could still be people alive in here who need our help, I'm game for that plan but how would we escape if where in a large group?" Saeko: "We could use the buses that are used for away games it should hold at most 30 people." Takagi: "Okay let's make sure we have everything we need before we head out."

Ita was getting ready and trying to break off a table leg Takashi came over to speak with him.

Takashi: "I just wanted to say thank you for saving Takagi and for coming to look for me I know your parents where both home this week."

Ita: "Don't worry about I won't let anything happen to her or any of us for that matter. Besides you guys basically saved my ass too so no biggie."

Takashi: So what do you make of all this, Like this is unreal I'm not sure how to deal with it.

Ita: "Well your doing better then me I personally say fuck it. This the new world order of things that's fight and survive. I have no problem with that."

Takashi: "I knew you where gonna say something like that, but be honest with me Ita your worried about our family."

Ita: "...Listen of course I'm worried but I'm more worried about the group my father and mother are both Yakuza. They can protect themselves, they're probably out there helping the community as we speak. If anything goes wrong Takagi's parents will take them in and we'll find them there."

Takashi: "I get it now that's your main plan."

Ita: "Yes I wouldn't call it a plan, but a final solution if we are forced to wait for the government to save us it would be there."

Takashi: "Okay I'll inform everyone, you gonna be okay with that?"

Takashi said this with a shit eating grin on his face having to watch It's tear off a table leg.

Ita: "Well I wasn't blessed enough to find a bat like you dear cousin."

Takashi while walking away speaks up with a smile.

Takashi: "Hey when your done over there don't for get to grab that extra bat we picked up on our way here."

Ita's inner thought: "You son of a bitch"

Saeko had been sitting cleaning of her wooden sword when Ita walked up to thank her.

Ita: "Hey Sa- I mean miss Busujima thanks for the help back there. I-

Saeko got up and hugged him tightly and passionately everyone noticed not many people aside from Takashi but Saeko and Ita used to date heavily in junior high until there second year. Ita was one of the few who students who where held back. Out of embarrassment he cut it off with Saeko and started to diligently keep his grades up while also working part time. Ita returned the hug with just as much emotion and love as Saeko.

Ita: "Saeko, I'm sorry for worrying you."

Saeko: "You're an asshole you know that."

Ita: "Yeah... Yeah I know."

After that heart warming moment everyone was all set to move out along the way they saved a small group of survivor's. The real challenge though was getting out since the only way was through the front door. Takagi had said earlier that we should be able to walk by most of them because they couldn't see us. But now we needed to put that to the test.

Ita: "There's no way around this I'll go down there and confirm it. Takashi you got my back if shit goes down.

Takashi: "Is that even a question I've got your back."

Saeko: "W-wait Ita I'll come too.

Rei: "Yeah me too you both can't go alone."

Takashi: "Listen we can't go down there as a large group if it turns out they can see us we're not all gonna be able to run back up the stairs.

Ita nodded his head in agreement and then looked to Takashi and used his head to gesture let's go. As the two got to the bottom of the stairs they knew that there was no turning back now. Takagi's claims where true Ita was about to swing the bat on one them who was approaching but Takashi put his hand on Ita's shoulder. As they did so the zombie passed them bumping past Takashi's shoulder. After realizing this Ita watched Takashi pick up someone's shoe and they both nodded to each other. After a loud slam the zombies all walked towards the sound after clearing out the atrium mostly everyone started coming down. But of course shit couldn't go there way one of those guy's they saved a little bit ago had accidentally banged his weapon on the railing cause a loud metallic sound to ring out throughout the atrium into the outside.

Takashi: "RUN!"

Everyone took off outside everyone covered each other's backs but one of the guys was to slow and unable to save him Ita who had been covering the rear with Kota saw the guys girlfriend about to pass him and run to her dying boyfriend. Ita knew good and well she would die too. So he did the non sensible thing and grabbed her by the waist before she could get past him and dragged her even though she screamed and cried he wouldn't let go. He knew that Takazu wouldn't want that for her he didn't know the guy but he respected his final wishes.

Ita: "Kota cover me, Takagi come with me hurry!"

Kota: "Roger that."

Takagi: "Why are you dragging her if she wants to go die let her."

Ita: "We both know that's not an option to me."

After they made it to the bus Ita put Naomi in Takagi's care. They where all set to go but another group of students ran towards the bus and Ita didn't pay any mind he just clearing out the undead infront of the bus. As he was getting on he saw something unthinkable and cruel. A little bit away from the bus he saw a teacher kick a student in the face who was asking for his help. Ita was completely dumbfounded and unable to speak he just knew he needed to get on the bus before anything else happened. After getting on Miss.Shizuka put the bus into drive and ran threw the school gates like a bad ass.

Ita made sure to cheer this out getting a deep blush from the school nurse.

Ita: "BADASS. Nice one miss Shizuka!"

Shizuka: "O-oh it was nothing I was just doing what I needed to do."

She had a deep blush on her face that went unnoticed by Ita but Saeko definitely noticed the doctors blush. After atleast an hour of driving things started to get worse as Mr.Shido's group started to cause trouble with Takashi's group Ita had kept out of it mainly because of what he saw Shito do, but also that it was to late to do anything about it he rather not cause a scene. But if he's being honest he doesn't want to move right now he has been blessed with the fact that Saeko wanted to sit next to him. So they sat together with her leaning on him.

Ita's inner thoughts: "Shit I could fall asleep like this. But I need to stay awake for her sake for everyone's sake if anything pops off. But I'm gonna enjoy this moment right now I deserved this... But she deserved better."

After a little more back n forth Rei had hit one of the guys in the chest before he could get in Takashi's face. Mr.Shido started to get all weird and talking about how the group needs a leader shit but Ita's had enough of this. He stood up leaving Saeko's side to do what he did best with a swift motion he swung the hardest right hook he's ever swung knocking the pedophile out cold.

Ita: "You of all people are not fit to be a leader, I saw what you did earlier. You left someone to die, kicked him in the face to save your own life but you think we would accept you as a leader... Yeah right shit stain."

During all this Ita noticed that Takashi and Rei had got off the bus so naturally he followed with Saeko behind him.

Ita: "Takashi what's going on?"

He didn't get a response. But he had a really bad feeling right about now.

Ita: "Saeko go get back on the bus just in case.

Saeko: "Are you sure I think it would be best if I-."

Ita and Saeko both noticed it at the same time. A bus filled with zombies was coming there way.

Ita: "GO! Let Shizuka know to move the bus I'll get Takashi and Rei."

Saeko: "Right be careful."

After that Takashi heard his name being yelled and Turned only to grab Rei and run Ita saw the bus coming but he couldn't chase after them he needed to get out of the way his dame self this caused him to jump to his left. After the crash he could barely hear or have time to adjust because a secondary explosion happened which sent him flying.

???: "I...

???: "Ita!?."

Ita: "Y-YEAH. I'M OKAY. WHAT'S THE PLAN!?"

Saeko: "TAKASHI SAID TO MEET THEM AT THE EAST POLICE STATION. IF NOT TODAY TOMORROW AT 7PM." BE SAFE ITA!."

Ita: "I WILL, YOU AS WELL!"

#highschool of the dead #saeko busujima

[handonhaven]

Okay Lizzie and Josie really pissed me off in 3x16. Like Hope just ran off with someone who tried to kill her and someone who manipulated Josie. With no clue why or where they were going. And Lizzie first thought was to try to find Hope a rebound. Not to try to find out where she went or if she was in any danger. And Josie was no help either she didn't bother to do any of those things. She just asked Lizzie with who. I also didn't like Lizzie comment either. When she said "we can't afford to be picky. Anyone who doesn't melt after having sex with her will do." Maybe it's just me and I'm taking that comment the wrong way. But when she said that I got so mad. Because what I took from that was being able to have sex is only thing that matters. So let's just try to hook her up with anyone. Doesn't matter if they're a killer or a psychopath as long as they can have sex then it's fine. I don't know maybe I'm just over reacting to that(but I can't be the only one to feel something like that after hearing that comment, can I?).

So, so many Handon scenes just hits so differently now knowing that Landon was really malivore. I'm not gonna lie after I found that out I went back and watched those scenes over again trying to see if I can find any clues or hints at it. But when I did that I start it to think about the fact that we had a whole season without the real Landon. Then I start thinking about the fact that Landon has had a whole season of going through trauma one right after the other since 3x02(when Raph died) and it only got worse from there. Then I got mad at the writers for doing that to him. It was bad enough that his life before coming to the school was hell. So were they just like yeah lets put him through a whole season a trauma too. Now before anyone says well Hope went through hell this season too. I'm not saying she didn't. But I feel like Landons was on a whole different level than Hopes. Because Landon had to watch his brother die, then had to watch himself melt, then he was in malivore, then in the prison fighting off monsters, to then having malivore take over his body. And who knows what he's going through in this own mind right now. But I think my biggest fear is that when they do get Landon back the real Landon. That they play off his trauma to save time(like they often do now). Or someone will try to downplay it like it was nothing. Because if they do that imma be pissed.

So I start it thinking about that maliLandon scene with Cleo when we saw both malivore's and Landons memories. And all of Landons memories were big Handon moments for season 2(I think there might have been some for season 1 but I can't remember). And I know they did that for a reason. I think in that scene it inspired both malivore and Landon somehow to do something. I just can't figure out what and I know myself this will be stuck on my mind until we finally find out lol. I'm already thinking up theories and all both make sense but don't make sense all at the same time. And this is really going to bug me.

P.S 1: I have to say this season had one very consistent thing, the "Logical" answer is wrong.

- Logic telling Hope, Landon was dead ....wrong

- Logic telling Hope, Landon was back.....wrong (Hope felt something was off but chose to ignore it bc she missed him)

- Logic telling Hope, she and Landon are doomed.....wrong

- Logic telling Cleo, to trust Landon and he was only traumatized.....wrong

- Logic telling them Malivore wanted Cleo to escape the prison world....wrong

- Logic telling them, the monsters were coming from a actual pit....wrong

- Logic telling Hope the only way to kill Malivore is to become a Tribrid.....wrong

- Logic telling Hope she caused Landon to melt.....wrong(okay I know we don't know for sure about that one. But that feels way way to much like a red herring with how much it's been said). Also another consistent thing is everything they say things Multiple times over and over again espesally things that have no concrete proof turns out to be False. They keep repeating these things; Landon is Human, Landon is dead, Landon is not a Phoenix anymore, Hope needs to become a Tribrid, Hope is toxic to Landon(once again I know we don't know for sure yet, but there's no way that isn't a red herring), Hope and Landon are doomed. Watch all turn out to be wrong.

2. The antis and H*sies are already coming out the wood works. And there this one line I see that they're really trying to hold onto like it's a win or something. How at the end of 3x16 when Hope said "we want our friends back" they're taking it like Hope sees Landon as a friend now(among other things but that would make this too long if I write it all out). Which is sad and means they're truly not paying attention to anything. And let me just point out that Hope was speaking for everyone not just herself. So it makes more sense for her to say "we want our friends back" then it would be for her to say "we want our friend and my boyfriend back". Since they're all friends with Landon and Cleo. Even though they're not very good friends to Landon(minus Hope because Hope is with Landon and treats him better than his "friends" does). But that's a whole other thing for another time. I do my best to say away from antis and H*sies but somehow one of them somehow always end up in my timeline. And it's gonna make these next three months so much longer than it needs to be tbh.

Same. Exactly! It was all so strange.

Lizzie was just upset over the fact that Hope ditched them, but Hope has always done stuff like that on her own to keep others out of danger. Yet Lizzie didn’t even seem to care, even though both her and Josie said they didn’t trust Clarke after all he had done. So they knew that Hope could’ve been in danger. But Lizzie’s highest concern in that moment was finding Hope a rebound as quickly as possible?? What on earth... And Josie acknowledged that Hope could be in danger, said she cared more about her actual life than her romantic one, but then proceeded to do nothing. And exactly! That comment really bothered me too! Yep, that’s also how it came across to me. Like Hope being able to have sex with someone was the priority, the rest wasn’t important. I don’t think you’re overreacting, I thought it sounded really bad. And the fact that Lizzie was focusing on that over Hope’s safety... I don’t even know what to say. Then Ethan shows up and they drag him into it, it was just a mess, and probably the weirdest way and time to bring in a love interest for Lizzie. Then they get to the school, are casually standing around chatting, then Lizzie wants to give Ethan a tour. All thoughts about Hope’s safety forgotten, besides Josie mentioning in passing that they needed to tell Alaric what happened. That was the full extent of their efforts to help Hope. Then she gets back and all they can talk about is how she ditched them? Not about what happened or if she’s okay? And they’re the ones who just promised Hope she wouldn’t be facing Malivore alone... not off to a good start.

And right? It’s crazy! Me too, watching the breakup scene is SO different now haha. But ugh, yes. We seriously had nearly an entire season without the real Landon... I can’t. And same. That’s one of the things I’ve been thinking about the most, and I’m honestly mad at the writers as well. Like, it’s actually shocking to think about just how much trauma he has gone through. And I don’t know what made them to decide to put him through that much because it’s unreal. Just... why?? So true, he had a lifetime of trauma before the show even started! Went through more trauma while at the school, going through death after death. And then went through the most horrible things this whole season. And yes, Hope did go through hell, but what she went through was very different. I agree, what Landon went through was on a whole other level. Exactly! He literally went through one trauma right after the other. And he went through them alone (apart from losing Raf). Without any help, and every single time he escaped one thing, he ended up in another and endured more trauma. He’s been through pure hell, nonstop, and I can’t imagine what state he’s in right now and how he’ll be when this is all over. Oh, and literally me. I’m honestly so worried they’re gonna do that too. That they’ll just ignore his trauma, that they won’t show how he’s been affected or have him talking about it. And it will just get cut off and forgotten and they’ll jump to the next thing and he may not get even a break. Because that really is what they do all the time. And right now is their chance to show what he’s been through. To go back and show what happened to him and show his side of things. We need to actually see what he’s been through and how he’s being affected right now. And once they get him back, they need to address it. They need to let him and Hope rest. I think season 4 needs to be about them healing together, though I’m sure they’ll be dealing with more crap. So I’m very worried about that, I will be pissed right along with you if they don’t go into that. That’s probably what I want to see the most at this point, and what I think is extremely important, not only for his character, but also because they shouldn’t ignore that kind of trauma.

And yes, they were! They had Landon remembering Hope telling him she loved him for the first time, and then those other huge moments for them, the 2x08 reunion, and the scenes in 2x11. I‘m wondering if those might be Landon’s most powerful memories. And I think you could be right, I’ve wondered the same thing, but I also can’t figure it out. Like they showed Handon memories with Malivore creating Clarke like... I’m so confused haha. They definitely left us with too many questions, and now we have to wait, it’s gonna suck.

Wow, you make very good points with that. That’s very interesting for sure. The writers really used “logic” as a way to mislead the characters in order to shape the plot for the season. And I think because of that, they also had to hold the characters back from investigating things further. When I feel like Hope, especially, would’ve looked into things more to figure out what was going on, but they couldn’t have them finding out yet so they just had everyone believing in the “logical” answer. Which does end up fitting with the idea that things are not what the seem, especially with all the things you listed that they keep repeating. Which does make it seem pretty obvious that they’re trying to convince us of these things that aren’t actually true. I think it’s gonna all turn out to be wrong as well. We already know it wouldn’t make sense for Landon to be fully human since he never was, and that he’ll surely get his Phoenix powers back. And I agree about Hope being toxic to Landon too, the more they’ve talked about it, the less I believe it’s true haha. And same now with them talking about Hope having to become a full tribrid, it seems like they might be doing the same thing. Or at least, if these things aren’t already wrong, Hope and Landon will find a way to prove them wrong by fighting their fate.

Yeah, those people clearly aren’t paying attention to the show and are grasping for anything at this point. Did they not watch Hope’s scenes with Clarke and how she responded to him talking about fighting fate? Did they not hear her literally tell Cleo that she still loves Landon? Obviously, Hope does not view Landon as just a friend. She was speaking for the group, just like you said. I don’t even think Hope sees Cleo as her friend right now. When Cleo told Hope that she hopes they can be friends again after all this, Hope said nothing and just walked away. So yeah, she was speaking for everyone else, although it’s weird that the rest of them would even view them as friends either. I’m pretty sure Kaleb is the only one who really sees Cleo as a friend. And true, they’re not even friends to Landon, none of them gave a crap when he died, so I’m not even sure why they were there. I guess since there’s a threat now? But anyway, yeah, I get that it’s hard to avoid those fans, the hate is everywhere. But knowing how ridiculous their reasoning is and how far they’re reaching helps me to just kind of laugh it off sometimes, although it is annoying. It gets so tiring to see, but I’m just gonna try to focus on enjoying Handon and ignoring the antis as best I can!

#answered #3x16 #legacies spoilers #spoilers

[hollenka99]

Introductions

Summary: Ghostbur arrives in the Void and meets the half of Alivebur that never returned to the Overworld. It is not always plain sailing. Chapter 1 of Unequal Halves.

Warnings: Implied/referenced self harm, derealisation(?), unreality, death, smoking, alcoholism mention

There is the low hubbub of quiet conversation in the air. All around him is rubble and he can't quite recall how L'Manburg came to look like this. If he asked Phil, his father would likely explain. Something bad must have happened if he can't remember. So... maybe it was for the best that his mind goes blank whenever he thinks about it. It was probably just the result of Alivebur blowing the country up anyway, he didn't get a great vantage point before he died so the theory is feasible. Ghostbur must be misremembering how L'Manberg looked before- Huh, no it got restored at some point, he knows that. Not Alivebur's doing then. Phil would know. Phil knows a lot of things, including how to potentially bring back Alivebur. Speaking of Phil, his father was stood next to Eret, both of them lingering by the little recreation set. Ghostbur isn't paying much attention but his best guess is that the topic revolves around their third resurrection attempt today, the reason they've all gathered here once more. He wonders whether the others like Tommy, Fundy and Tubbo will join them. He wouldn't mind leaving for a few minutes to make absolutely sure he's said his goodbyes to them and others. That said, he has had nearly an entire week between the last attempt and today to do that. Not to mention the few days prior to that after he and Phil had organised the first round of re-enactments. Perhaps if this works out, he could influence Alivebur somehow and say goodbye posthumously. "Well, if we're going to do it, better sooner rather than later. Unless we're waiting for the exact time of day he died." "No, let's do it now. I've got the totem and sword, we're all here... there's no point in waiting for the stars to align." "And if it goes like the last two times?" "Then we deal with it. I'll take the blame for wanting to use our third and final chance." There is a pause and in the corner of his eye, he can sense Phil looking his way. "Ghostbur?" "Hi, Phil." He floats over. "Is it time to try again? I've been going over my lines so nothing can go wrong." "I'm sure you have, mate." Phil takes his arm so it is outstretched with an open palm. Into his awaiting hand, a small figurine is placed. It resembles a villager with tiny wings poking to the sides and eyes made of emerald. He believes the closest he's come into contact with one of these totems is that time some citizens of L'Manburg locked Techno in a cage as a prank. Was that thing he saw Techno use a totem? He can't recall correctly, he's not even sure he was fully paying attention since he was watching Friend sniff around at the time, but the light show had been very pretty. "This is a totem of undying. It's going to help us with resurrecting you. Do not drop it at any point. Hold it as tight as you can, got that mate? You holding on to that totem is more important than any lines you might have rehearsed." He playfully tosses it between his hands. "Okay." "Ghostbur." Phil snatches the item from mid-air. Ghostbur catches a glimpse of his father's scornful expression and instinctively averts his eyes. "This is serious. Do you understand how important it is for you to hold this totem or not?" "I do, Phil. Sorry." The item is returned to him. Like he's been instructed to do, he grips it tightly and refuses to let his hold on it weaken. Their little dramatisation goes well. He says the crucial line, the button gets pressed and even more impressively, Ghostbur doesn't flinch in the slightest when the sword meets his semi-corporeal being. This is the third time he's properly died as himself and the sixth since Alivebur's birth. He's sure that if there's any deity in charge of death, they'll be going 'oh it's you again' in a second. ---- It's an odd thing to see your doppelganger in front of you. Wilbur is certainly not a twin and he's never met anyone he's shared a particularly strong resemblance to either. Even during the genetic mishmash that created him, both sides of his family tree had won their battles yet neither claimed true victory over the other to represent themselves more heavily within him. So sure, there were traits you could see he'd inherited from his mother but it wasn't as if he looked like her. However, he was yet to meet someone whose similarity in appearance took him by surprise. The first time had been a shock. He'd been tolerating Schlatt's company with Mexican Dream making the experience a little easier to endure. The Wilbur duplicate had randomly appeared while the three of them had been sitting around, wasting time at a table. The guy is only there for a matter of seconds but it's enough to register his appearance. There's the matching dull grey skin and the hair that's darkened with death. Wilbur's vaguely aware he used to own a sunflower yellow jumper like that in life. It's certainly not the chequered top he's wearing. It happens again shortly after. Wilbur Two doesn't stay long but he appears at the exact spot where Schlatt was sitting. A flimsy connection seems to form, strong enough for the ex-emperor to speak through the ghost and have an extremely blurred view through his eyes. Wilbur sits there as his political rival talks bullocks about jacking off, protein powder and cigarettes. Wilbur would tell him to cut it out if he had cared enough about his counterpart being used like that. All he says when Schlatt seems present within himself once more is impatient prompting to continue their game. They'd anticipated another visit but his clone hasn't shown up since. By now it's been... months maybe? It was hard to tell with the only natural variables when it came to the passage of time being whether it was day or night, sunny or raining. He's been stuck in what he believes is the transition period between spring and summer ever since he got here. Which is absolutely ridiculous given that he has some creative control of this place. Regardless, he's honestly half forgotten about the incident when they truly reunite. The clone sticks out in his bright jumper. It's one of the days Wilbur's dragged himself away from whatever tree roots he's picked to curl up besides. Upon spotting the other Wilbur, he follows from a distance. He ascends a nearby tree. He swears he's been here before, amongst the highest branches to observe someone who didn't know he was there. It's the kind of deja vu he hates, the one with not even the slightest hint of why he might feel that way. Well, maybe one reason but he'd rather not dwell on that. Listen, he tells himself after travelling through the treetops, he's not going to be whole until the two of them interact so he'd better just get on with it. Well, here goes nothing. He pushes off and hops down with a thump. ---- It's peaceful here. Daisies are dotted around, as are oak trees. Despite not knowing where exactly he is, he appreciates how at ease the occasional sounds of wildlife or the leaves of trees rustling in the wind make him. Well, at least for a while, that is. He swears it's just birds. Honestly, what else would it be if not birds? He's being silly. Although, maybe he should escape from any potential creature's line of sight. A part of him he can't reach urges him to not seek out any dirt walls, to head in the opposite direction of them in fact. He's pretty sure he doesn't have anything to protect here other than himself but the instinct to fool potential pursuers directs his movements. A weighty object impacts the ground behind him and he abandons his efforts. Ghostbur risks peeking over his shoulder. And that is how he finds himself face to face with the man who'd been following his movements. "Well, took you long enough." The stranger was certainly not there a moment ago. The fact they are his mirror image is naturally the most striking detail to notice. Although, he will say Alivebur doesn't look too well. His beanie helps with hiding the full extent of his hair's dishevelment despite said hair potentially being able to somewhat distract onlookers from noticing how permanently exhausted his face was. It doesn't matter to Ghostbur. Regardless of the disapproving crossed arms he is met with, he politely introduces himself. "Hi, I don't think we've met before. My name is Ghostbur! What's yours?" "You know our name." He's rifling through his pockets, seemingly unconcerned by the momentous occasion. "Oh, you're Alivebur then." "Ali-" The other Wilbur's head whips up to glare at him. "Do I look alive to you?! We are both the same person, a person who is very much dead." "Deadbur then." "Wilbur is fine. It's our name so I don't see why you can't use it." "It doesn't matter anyway." Wilbur abandons his quest to locate whatever he was try to find. Instead, he sticks out his hand, offering for it to be shaken. "Since you haven't disappeared 2 seconds after showing up this time, I think it's high time we wrap this little charade up, don't you? My best guess is we need skin contact or something along those lines." "Charade?" The hand's altitude falters slightly, almost as if the disgruntled sigh it was paired with had caused it. "Us being apart. I'm sure you've had your fun but it's time we fused back." He should take Wilbur's hand. He really should. This is what Phil, Eret and the others were working towards. People wanted Alivebur back as it was. So that meant he had to go. Think of all that time and effort to prepare everything for something he suggested they do in the first place, wasted by cold feet. Was he the first one to bring up resurrection? He honestly has no clue. There isn't a guarantee that this will work anyway. Same as... something he's sure has slipped his mind. Oh wait no, the button! He hadn't been sure about whether that would be successful either. But it had been. So this would likely be too, right? Except, he doesn't want to. He's not ready to give up the feeling of sunshine as he strolls around, the aroma of ingredients as he brews potions, the ability to chat with his friends while checking in on them or any of the other things he's enjoyed while himself. It was him who helped make the lanterns that once floated above New L'Manburg, him who attempted to collect enough books to start a history-preserving library and it was him who tried to build Tommy a nice holiday home to cheer his brother up during their time away from their nation. He knows he told Phil he was willing to relinquish his existence to return Alivebur to everybody but... maybe he didn't entirely mean it in his heart. They'll never be enough time, regardless how much the universe may wish to grant him, yet this doesn't feel like it's close to enough. "...No." "No?" "I don't want to go back yet. I..." He isn't too keen on that scowl. Perhaps if he makes up an excuse, things won't be so tense. "I just got here so why would I leave before I um, explored?" Shoulders loosen and Wilbur is back to absentmindedly rummaging through his pockets. "Guess I won't force you. And well, if you're going to be here for the indefinite future, I can give you a tour of this place." "That would be really helpful. Thank you." He breaks into a grateful smile. "Okay so to the north is grass and trees, to the west is grass and trees, same to the south. Oh but the east is actually quite exciting. You'll find trees and grass there." "I... see. Sounds great." Keep smiling, no need to ruin any potential future rapport so early. "I can't wait to look around." "Ghostbur, was it?" "Uh huh!" "Guess I'll be seeing you around." Having finally found his cigarette, the one native to these lands waves him off, the soon-to-be lit stick inbetween his fingers. He begins to stroll off into the cover of forest. He's sure he's being silly but Ghostbur could have sworn the quantity of trees gains density as it conceals the other man. Still, Ghostbur has seemingly been left completely to his own devices so he comes to the decision he will spend the rest of the day exploring. It can't hurt to get a feel for his surroundings. Honestly, how monotonously repetitive could this world really be? --- This is fine. All this is a setback but not one they can't overcome. He'd meant it when he said he wouldn't force Ghostbur to do anything. This was all a waiting game, to be honest. He could win it with the mouth that had long ago rallied people to a cause. He once believed in the phrase 'words over weapons' and how nobody in L'Manburg should wear armour because they shouldn't need that level of protection on a daily basis. The reality of tyrannical violence had proved him wrong. However, it was a negotiation that ultimately won them the war, albeit not one he was part of. He still likes to think Tommy's success that day was potentially due in part to Wilbur rubbing off on his right hand man. So in the pursuit of victory, Wilbur vows to stay civil where possible. --- As Ghostbur wanders, he comes to realise how true Wilbur's summary had been. The longer he explores, the longer the green persists. This world truly seems to be comprised of forests and open fields. It's his third day of checking what each path may offer when he finds himself in the midst of trees. However, the woods here were familiar. All around him was birch bark. They're scattered about and nothing about them indicates a natural path that can be made. Yet, as Ghostbur walks, he seems to know instinctively how to navigate the area and the way in which he should weave through the trees. It surprises him to eventually discover a stream flowing by these woods. Yet, at the same time, he feels like he should have been expecting to find it. Why does this place feel familiar? Oh. This was where Alivebur met Tommy, wasn't it? He could almost picture it. He had been wandering around the area surrounding their latest base. At least this part of the world tended to have fairly warm Aprils. Even better after the two months Phil had made them spend in a tundra during winter. It was completely nonsensical and Wilbur had made sure Phil knew his thoughts on the matter beyond any doubt. But they'd evaded any of nature's potential attempts to make them hypothermic long enough to get through it. Now all Wilbur needed to focus on was enjoying the not-yet-scorching sunshine while Phil was... off collecting resources, he believes. He's sure he's slightly lost. The general direction of their temporary base, that was no problem to discern but the actual way to reach his destination? Who on earth knew. It was just birch tree after dumb birch tree. There weren't any of those markers that he'd been taught about either so it was like he was destined to get lost. But then, a break in the tree line? A stream, actually! He's sure Phil has the essentials like water down already but it wouldn't hurt to gather a bucketful more. Phil did lend him a chest for a reason, after all. It's not the cleanest nor clearest body of water he's ever seen. Who really cares when there's ways of purifying it. It does seem to go on for a great distance, further than Wilbur's eyes can tell. The stream itself isn't particularly wide. He reckons he could easily leap over from one side to the other. On the opposite side of the bank, there's a hole that seems to have been hollowed out by hand amongst all the mud. Rather bizarrely, there's also a random child lingering there. Wilbur was hardly an expert on determining someone's age, especially when it came to younger children. However, he'd soon know with hindsight that the little boy in front of him had been roughly 4 years old at that moment. Blond hair messy to the point it might be easier to shave it all off than attempt brushing it, clothes tattered and dirt visible in several spots of his skin, it was evident from this kid (regardless of their isolated surroundings) wasn't meant to be here. "Hey, are you lost?" "No. Go away." A thin branch makes an attempt at threatening him. "Are you planning to hit me with those sticks?" The little boy glances back at the pile nearby. "They're my Scary Ouchers." "Scary Ouchers. Uh-huh." He forces himself not to laugh. This kid must have undoubtedly been through a lot if he's out here on his own seemingly long term. "And am I scary?" "Maybe." "What if I tell you my name, will that help me be less scary?" "Dunno." "Well, I'm Wilbur. And I promise I'm not here to hurt you." The kid seems to shrink within himself slightly as he weighs whether this 11 year old stranger is worth trusting. "Tommy." "Tommy? Okay. Hi, Tommy. Do you want me to take you home?" "I have a home." "Then let me bring you back there. I'm sure your Mummy and Daddy are worried about you." "Got a home." He repeats, banging the stick in his hand against the earth. "Tommy," Wilbur sighs. "You get that this isn't a good home, right? Come on, I can take you to my camp. Me and my dad will help you out." Tommy's confliction persists until he tentatively raises a hand, all fingers folded inwards except for the smallest one. Wilbur giggles as understanding dawns. One pinky encompasses a much smaller one. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you, Tommy." "You sure?" "Just pinky promised, didn't I?" Tommy considers this then nods with all the solemnness that only a child his age could treat such a practise with. They gather up all of the so called 'Scary Ouchers', god Phil will probably get a kick out of hearing the story tonight, and dump them in the chest. With Tommy tasked with guarding their wares upon the shoddy wagon Wilbur had constructed himself ages ago, the older boy guides them back to camp. Phil is understandably confused when he sees another child by the tents. He quickly resigns himself to their new reality. The conclusion that there are no parents to speak of, at least not anymore, is kind of obvious. Any memory of them will be stolen by time and the inability of a developing mind to store any event for potentially lifelong recollection. It's fine though. The four year old has a new family now, one that will love him for years to come. And after they return home to the little house situated in a valley? Well, Wilbur's little brother only gains volume when he speaks and far too much energy the more comfortable he becomes with his new life. In response to this memory, he longs to have Tommy here, to be the good Alivebur who can be trusted to be on better terms with his little brother. The two of them used to be really close, despite how often they drove each other up the wall. But Ghostbur had seen how Tommy didn't seem too fond of Alivebur anymore. There was also the fact Alivebur had become bad at some point down the line, driving Tommy as well as others away. Because nobody is born bad and Ghostbur struggles to reason that an 11 year old boy who genuinely wished to help a homeless kid approximately a third of his age was bad too. Here, in this secluded area full of birch trees with flowing water as part of its soundtrack, Ghostbur imagines a teenager obnoxiously laying across his lap in the gentlest of ways. Tommy calls him a bitch through chuckles and playfully chastises him for being 'all sappy and shit'. It's reminiscent of moments that truly did come to pass once upon a time. His little brother once made him a daisy chain while in this very position but unfortunately, this was back when Fundy was still tiny and all it took was little hands being allowed to inspect the item before the stemmed links broke as a result of tears. It had still ended well, the remnants were sprinkled in Fundy's then-wispy hair while the baby's giggles joined the laughter of his father and uncle. God he misses Tommy. He hopes that one day, if- when he and Wilbur manage to reform into Alivebur, things will improve and they can have that again. --- By now, he knows not to expect Wilbur to look his way. It's okay, he's used to it. People would talk to him then struggle to continue fully politely hiding their desire for him to leave them to their own affairs. At least Wilbur is more willing to be upfront with it, he supposes. Wilbur has things he wants to do and so must Ghostbur. When the rain descended upon them yesterday, their conversation resulted in them clashing. Wilbur can come out with a spiteful anger without much provocation. It usually lies restrained on the surface but Ghostbur dreads when it is fully unleashed on him. For the most part, there is an understanding that for whatever reason, Ghostbur is not inclined to view him fondly. He wonders if his rejection of the merging request has anything to do with Wilbur's negative bias. Perhaps it is best that Wilbur keeps his distance. He doesn't want to believe that is the case though. It is for this very reason that Wilbur approaching him with an friendly offer takes him by surprise. "I'm going to visit Schlatt and Mexican Dream. Want to come? I think it would be interesting to see how you'd affect our dynamic. Plus, an even number of players means we could do teams." "Of course." A grin bursts onto his face. He follows Wilbur's lead as they traverse the path. He's getting used to the scenery but when he notices a mushroom his eyes had previously missed when passing by, he knows he's far from done yet. There is no time for admiration right now and he's fully aware Wilbur will outwardly make known his frustration otherwise. When they reach their destination, Wilbur tears a section of the bark off from a spruce tree. Instead of revealing more inner layers, a fully lit pathway stretches in front of them. "Well, go on. It's not like I can hold a rip in our reality open forever." "Oh!" He slips past obediently, watching Wilbur join him immediately afterwards. "You must be quite strong then if you do this regularly." "Sure. Became a real bodybuilder out here." The deadpan causes Ghostbur's attention to flick momentarily to the black sleeves that certainly aren't filled, least of all by muscles. The corridor practically belongs in an aquarium. The arching walls are made of glass, allowing for full view of all the dolphins, turtles and large variety of fish on display. The pathway itself is unusually wide but since they were heading to meet with Wilbur's friends, he can only assume they liked spending time here and therefore needed the space. Following each pair of glass panels were strips of wood upon which torches were hung. It created a lovely ambiance along with the shadows from the waves outside. To be fair, his only complaint is the temperature. It's freezing, nearly unbearably so. Perhaps they are in the sea by a tundra, sheets of ice floating above them on the surface. That would seem like a plausible answer. Ghostbur could spend a good long while here if he found a warmer outfit. "It's very pretty." "Yeah. Just wish I didn't keep having to see it for the first time each week." He wants to harness the inquisitiveness of a toddler in order to learn how exactly Wilbur would ever be able to forget a sight like this. But something tells him it's not the time nor place. Maybe the view out of the windows shifted with each visit. That seems like a decent explanation. So instead he comes out with "I like the lighting too." "Ghostbur," He momentarily glances back over his shoulder. "You can't expect me to create a dark single-file pathway. There's no steps to a dead end either, see." It's muttered with such quiet sincerity that Ghostbur questions what happened to the Wilbur who scorned him and carried an air of resentment towards everything. He wishes he had some blue to offer him right now. Whatever Wilbur's issue with dark and narrow corridors was, Ghostbur can tell it's awful, too awful for him to ever understand. As they make their way between areas, Wilbur debriefs him on what to expect. It nothing too elaborate, simply a few rounds of card games. Until they get too bored or fed up with each other. They mostly stuck to solitaire and poker if he's going to be honest. Sometimes they'd pull out board games for the sake of variety. The three of them had promised Monopoly was for when they wanted to watch the world burn which hadn't happened yet but there'd been threats to manifest a game the next time they all met up. First there was Schlatt. When Ghostbur completely blanks at the name, it is begrudgingly explained to him that this was the guy who succeeded Alivebur as president. No effort is made to hide the fact Wilbur does not view Schlatt's continued presence in his post-mortal existence in a positive light. He even admits to the game he played whereby he attempted to guess what the J in JSchlatt stood for. It did nobody any good but it served its purpose of annoying Schlatt quite well. The ex-president was a poker kind of guy which also caused clashes between them. Ghostbur is told to expect alcoholic drinks being available, especially the stronger varieties. The man's fatal heart attack hadn't been helped by his drinking habits so honestly, it seemed pretty much on brand. Either way, the less Ghostbur allowed himself to do with Schlatt, the better in Wilbur's opinion. The other member of the group was Mexican Dream. Ghostbur remembered Quackity, right? Well, Mexican Dream was his cousin. He'd been generous enough to allow Wilbur the opportunity to learn Spanish as a way to pass time. He shrugs when he says it's something to get up for. He wasn't the best student because he frequently missed scheduled meet-ups by accident or simply let practising what he'd learned when he did show up slip his mind. Regardless, Mexican Dream was an alright guy who tended to hang around Schlatt and Wilbur more for the sake of company half the time. You just had to watch out for when he began going on about his love life. Ghostbur's new, Wilbur warns, so as fresh ears he'd be a prime target for the laments regarding Mamacita. The other half of Alivebur wishes him luck if that becomes the case. Oh and before he forgets, don't ask about his death. Touchy subject apparently. The civilities go well. Given the warmth (or lack thereof) he receives, Ghostbur would say Wilbur's assessments of temperament weren't too far off. Ghostbur sticks by Mexican Dream's side throughout their games, chatting as they attempted to ignore the tension ever brewing between the former political leaders of L'Manburg while they played. Wilbur does not take long to lose his temper at Schlatt. "You can't put a joker directly under a king. Also they're both spades so not only are they in the wrong position of the sequence, they're the wrong colour and suit for that move to be legal." "You know, Wilbur, this is why I always say we should start with poker." "Oh you and your poker. If you love poker so much then why don't you make it your vice president so it can leave you the minute you piss it off one too many times." "You don't like poker because it's too hard for you to understand." "Says the one who can't even understand that a black king can't be immediately followed by a black joker." "Well at least I don't have a tell that even a newborn could recognise." "And at least I'm not so untrustworthy that two-faced is an understatement." Wilbur glares before adding an ever so succinct "Wanker." as his closing statement while he collapses back into the chair. "Asshole." "...I have a joker and it's red. Would you like it, Schlatt?" "Thank you, Ghostbur." Schlatt grins in a way that somehow makes Ghostbur wish he wasn't in his company. Wilbur's face gently slams into open palms. When his fingers are finished with their journey down his face, he plucks the offending card out of his counterpart's hold. "Put the card down. We can't start mixing packs like this." Wilbur abruptly rises to his feet. "Actually, you know what? Sod this. Between you and Tweedle Dum here, I feel like he's the lesser evil. Come on, Ghostbur, let's go back." Like a plus one whose only way in and out of the event was their invited friend, he has no choice but to follow Wilbur's lead. He would rather stay and get to know Mexican Dream better but it would seem it wasn't on the cards for today. He waves the pair goodbye. Mexican Dream returns it genuinely. Schlatt's smile comes across as sinister and his attention appeared to be on Wilbur as it was. "...I can see why you like Mexican Dream more." He comments in the tunnel home. "Yes, guy's less of a twat." He distracts himself from this disaster of a meeting with the marine life outside. It doesn't prove as effective as he would hope. --- He doesn't understand why or how but it seems that Wilbur has developed the ability to have a hunch as to where Ghostbur could be found. Today this hunch led him to a peaceful stream. The water flows uninterrupted and he can't recall the last time he was in the presence of such clear water. He suspects it goes on for a while before meeting a larger area of water. Ghostbur himself is seated by the bank, admiring the scenery surrounding them. He periodically remembers himself and returns his focus to a little notebook he was scribbling in. "What's this?" "Wilbur." The ghost lights up at the sight of him for whatever reason. He pats the ground beside him. "Come, sit here. It'll be fun." "I'm... I'm good thanks." "If you're sure." There's that wide smile again. There's no way he can't call major bullshit on it. "Has anyone told you how unnerving your constant good mood is?" "You're just saying that because you like being moody." "I'm saying it because it's the truth." He scrutinises his other half. "Nobody has the ability to be that positive 24/7." "I- Well, I do." There is an argument he could begin having with Ghostbur but he hasn't got the patience for it. "What are you writing about?" "Oh, this is my diary. I don't want to forget what I've been doing while here." Wilbur is struck with the desire- no, the need to discover what Ghostbur has been writing about him. As a general, intel was everything and as a fugitive, every bit of insider information had the potential to prove useful. Ghostbur correctly interprets his extended hand but still hesitates before adhering to the request. It's pointless though as there is nothing regarding himself to analyse. Day 8 (24/1/21) I am in the Void so I think the plan worked. I wish I could tell Phil because he seemed quite worried about the process failing. I have been counting the days at the back of this book because they all look the same and there doesn't seem to be any calendars anywhere. So I'm guessing it's January 24th right now. I think I'm getting used to the Void. Everything is very green but I like it. Exploring has been quite fun and Wilbur introduced me to a couple of his friends for a games night. The tunnel to get to them is beautiful but I think I'll need to craft a few campfires to help combat the cold there if I want to watch the wildlife. I also need more cornflowers to make blue with but they seem to be difficult to find which is a shame. I will have to keep looking but that's okay. Maybe I can convince Wilbur to help me if he's available. I'm at the stream where Alivebur met Tommy right now. I really like it. It reminds me of the picnics Alivebur used "A picnic?" "Yeah! Alivebur used to have lunch on a raft with his mum whenever they could find one. It was fun." "Good for us, I guess. I wouldn't know anything about that." Except maybe, it seems, he might. The feeling of feet bounding against the earth. Excited yelling. Ruffling of hair with something that wasn't an arm around his shoulder. An exasperated chuckle while something sweet was on his tongue. Playing lookout by a window. A contest that ends with a soggy lap. Surrounded by laughter and happy chatter. He realises what this is too late. As it fades, he chases it. No, come back. Don't leave. He needs it, even if it's the vaguest of scraps. Please, please, come back. "Wilbur?" "Sorry, I might have just spaced out for a minute. I was thinking about... about... I don't know, something." "Here." Ghostbur presents blue dye. "I haven't been able to find many cornflowers to make it but I think you should have some." "What's this for?" "You look like you're about to cry. Blue's very good at absorbing all your sadness away. You let it soak it all up and then throw it away. I promise it works. Honestly, try it." "Thanks but I'd rather not stain my hands with blue dye for the sake of humouring you. That shit takes forever to get off. Although... this does explain why your clothes are like that. I thought we'd be smarter than to wear something bright while frequently handling a substance that stains easily." "Well okay then. The offer's always there if you want it though." "I'm fine. Just need a breather. Don't uh... don't wait up for me or whatever." The worst thing is he has no clue why he's suddenly upset. Sitting on top of a hill, he overlooks land with the potential to be built upon, land that had seen construction in a world similar to this one. He's not sure if he's in the exact spot but it's close enough. In his mind's eye, L'Manburg springs into existence, a diagonal line cuts through the wall as it is destroyed by Fundy's pickaxe. Their country had come close to death before but that day had arguably been its last one. The reason why Tommy wasn't by his side in that moment is lost to him. A spark of resentment temporarily roars into a flame as he thinks of how his former right hand man should be present for this in a way more than simply joining in at the end of the anthem over a voice call. Oh who cares anymore? It doesn't matter now. Alone, he witnesses L'Manburg die before him for the... how many times was it now? At least if he's going to be mournful, he should mourn something he actually knows he's lost. --- The entry concludes with a final paragraph. I've also met Wilbur. He's the other part of Alivebur and he wants to fuse so we can be Alivebur again. We will have to eventually but he seems willing to wait. I hope he stays that patient because I don't know how long it will take me to say yes. In the meantime, I want us to become friends. He can be so dismissive and angry but despite how mean he seems, I think we could still get along if we really try. I think getting more blue should be on my list of priorities because he really needs it. Which reminds me, I need to draft a list of priorities. I think I should get on that as soon as I can so goodbye for now. --- Ghostbur makes the decision on the... well he needs to check his memory book to remember exactly what day it is but whatever today was, that was when he sets himself the goal of working on a house. It'll be a nice place, not too fancy (at least not at first, he can add to it later if he so desires) but it can be a lovely base for himself. Maybe Wilbur too, if he can get the other half of Alivebur to join him. The problem was he wasn't sure where to take inspiration from. He built a house for Tommy during their holiday and he really liked how that simple little place turned out. He also recalls Tubbo's house from when he and Tommy were messing around shortly following his arrival in the area. Now that house was very pretty. It would take some more effort to get right, especially when all he had for reference was the memory of it, but he feels it would be worth it if he wanted to go down a similar route in terms of design. Oh! Didn't Techno have a lovely looking cabin too? Perhaps he should keep that building in mind as well. Or he could come up with something new entirely. He wasn't sure yet. He thinks it may be best to experiment first. It's as he is figuring out the size and shape he'd prefer the ground floor to be that Wilbur comes across the soon to be construction site. Arms crossed, he doesn't look too impressed. But then again, when does he? "What is this?" "Oh hi, Wilbur. I thought I could build myself a house. It could be our house if you'd like. Or... Or maybe I could add a bedroom just for you if you already have a house." "I think I'll pass. Though this does explain all the missing oak trees around here." His gaze flicks to the pile of wood Ghostbur has gathered. "Anyway, you're just doing this by hand?" "How else would I be doing it?" "I have my ways. You probably have the same ones." The two of them venture through a taiga until they reach a hill overlooking an empty field of plains. Even before he truly lays eyes on their expanse of their destination, he can sense how far of a drop it would be to reach it without caution. "Wait!" The warning comes too late to have any effect. Wilbur leaps from the edge. Rushing forward instinctively, Ghostbur dreads the scene he is sure will be upsetting to witness. He shuts his eyes but risks a peak regardless. It's to his utter shock that Wilbur stands waiting, perfectly fine. "I know we pretty much have all the time in the world but I'd rather not spend it waiting for you to get on with it and jump already." "You're not hurt?" "What? No, of course not. Why would I-?" Realisation arrives and Wilbur's only reaction to it seems to be an eye roll. "We're dead, you idiot. When was the last time your feet actually touched the ground? In fact, when was the last time you even had feet?" "Oh." "Yeah." Wilbur continues to walk ahead, using an arm to beckon Ghostbur in the right direction. "Now come on." Once they settle on a spot for the demonstration, wooden blocks materialise without warning. They arrange themselves into an empty birch cube that is perhaps twice as tall as they are. It's not a complex structure, pretty non-descript. Ghostbur had been hoping to be a bit more ambitious with his construction work than this. However, he supposes Wilbur is simply only showing him the basics. There's no need to go overboard in an attempt to show off. "It's pretty simple, really. All you have to do is picture what you want and boom," A final block of birch comes into existence. "It shows up without much effort. It saves a lot of time and hassle. Got it? How about you summon a torch to test it out." He imagines a stick. Even a branch will do, he feels. As he does so, a weight grows in his hand with the appearance of a long brown object. The stick he summons is actually fairly substantial once it solidifies. For extra measure, he concentrates on the tip. He devotes his thoughts to warmth and autumnal bonfires and an orange glow then- Oh! Well, next time he should make sure he's careful when causing spontaneous combustion. "See? Easy. Now toss it here." With the rudimentary house completed and torch in hand, Wilbur carelessly allows the flame to linger too close to the wood. Ghostbur is unable to cry out a warning before the building is set alight. It gradually dawns on him that, somehow, this was a deliberate action to achieve this consequence. It leaves Ghostbur more lost regarding the workings of the other man's thoughts than ever. "What is the point in this? I don't... I don't understand." "It's warm." He acts as if this is the obvious answer. "Do you feel it, Ghostbur? Do you feel the cold, the way any and all sources of heat seem to be sapped while you try to make the most of them? You've been here days, you must feel it. Took me a day to recognise what it was. It's the Void, Ghostbur, it's the Void. It- It- It takes the heat from this place. We could be standing in the middle of the fucking desert right now but you'd still feel a chill, like someone left the window open and caused a draft. I... you know, I made this place to get away from it but it followed me regardless. Just... got muted, I guess. I carved out a little bit of the Void. Not even that big. It simply feels that way because it's like in those drama productions where you have the scenery on a rotator or whatever it's called. Not using it? Just poof, gone on standby or- or taped over. Mixing my metaphors here." "Stop standing there before you're on fire." "Hmm? Oh, don't worry about that. Doesn't scar or anything. I can reverse any damage, make it seem like it never happened." "Just get out of it." The ghost reaches out to his friend. Wilbur steps back to avoid him. "Ghostbur, I'm fine. I only want to be warm." "I can make a fire if you want. A normal one, in a pit." "Like I haven't made a bonfire before. You really think I haven't tried that?" "Let's get some water. You just have think about it, don't you?" "Wait, no! I tend to watch it burn. Gives me something to do." "O-Okay." So they witness the structure's demise to fire. Ghostbur mourns the loss of the materials that seem to be going to waste for the sake of entertainment. He can't help but succumb to the desire to be enraptured. The flames dance with curls and bows and sways. He breaks his gaze away to glance at Wilbur, curious to see if he is having a similar experience as him. His companion has only a hardened expression to show, one that pairs a set jaw with calculating eyes. Yet a light, separate to that reflected from the fire, can be spotted dwelling within those same eyes. What one finds aesthetically pleasing albeit wasteful, the other studies as if he can learn how to tame it in order to command it to do his immoral bidding. --- Wilbur thinks of buttons. How technically easy they are to press. How, despite this fact, he'd been getting closer and closer to a dozen attempts before bailing. How one of his last memories (from the ones he'd been oh so generously permitted to keep) was that of burning. Fire is destruction, the chaos of something that aims to consume indiscriminately, a means to an end. But at the same time this is safe, controlled, something he can force to stop if it goes too far. There are 101 reasons why he has every right to hate Ghostbur. More, he'd argue actually. Since they became two, he's been left with the shortest end of the stick. Ghostbur got to go have fun and enjoy himself, got the opportunity to act like everything had always been alright since he'd deliberately discarded the evidence that suggested otherwise. And the personified form of the discarded evidence had simply been forced to endure the nightmares, to desperately avoid triggers he's not willing to confront in any shape or form yet, to attempt to find comfort in familiarity regardless of why an object or location may seem familiar to him. He's done this before. Not every day, mind you. He's not that big of a masochist to pull that shit. Perhaps once or twice in the span of what might be considered a fortnight, if that. Other times he's simply not done anything for a while. But Wilbur has gone through this process before. He has stood in flammable structures and allowed the flames to take their course. He hacks when the smoke increases to the point of becoming overwhelming. It hurts, of course it does (it's fire for crying out loud). Yet when he leaves the scene of arson, any blisters that have begun bubbling on his skin disappear at his command. The main incentive to act so stupidly is to remember. He can recall bombs and the devastation of witnessing his safety being ripped away before his eyes. Over and over, he attempts to confront the things that keep him up at night. The door is always right there, waiting to be flung open the second he decides it is more than enough for that session. In Albert Einstein's eyes, he could qualify to be called insane. He would disagree but then again, they are using different definitions. While alive, he had developed a smoking habit. It began as something to help alleviate stress. Then not inhaling nicotine ironically became a source of stress for him. That's how addictions form, he supposes, with stupid destructive cycles such as his. The inherent need to risk slowly killing his lungs for the sake of feeling relatively decent didn't seem to carry over to Ghostbur. Lucky bastard, always getting the better end of the deal. By his design, most likely. Be civil, he reminds himself, since it will increase his chances of securing victory. Now that Ghostbur is here, he is a step closer to getting what he's wished for since they'd died. It is only a matter of time before he rediscovers the peace of being whole once more. What he hopes will be peace. Wilbur thinks of buttons and fires and explosions. Most importantly though, he thinks of how nice it must be to witness something subjectively beautiful and not question a myriad of life choices. --- Ghostbur didn't appreciate the loneliness. Back down with everyone else, his friends and family either tolerated his company or told him to leave them alone. Even the friendlier ones had a habit of getting tired of him hanging out with them for too long. Sometimes he happened to catch them when they were busy. It was fine and certainly no big deal. Everyone needs alone time. Wilbur, for instance, likes a lot of alone time. Then there were those that Alivebur hurt and struggled to not be reminded of the man they once knew whenever Ghostbur was around, like Phil and Tommy. It was nobody's fault. He did have a striking resemblance to his pre-death counterpart. All this in consideration, Ghostbur could really a friend. Or perhaps more specifically, a Friend. He's seen Wilbur do this practically effortlessly so how hard could this be? He thinks the best way to go about this is to take it slow and begin at the bottom. He brings himself to an open space so he can have as few obstacles during this important moment as possible. Two pairs of hooves appear, already upright on the grass. With them comes four legs then a torso adorned in naturally blue wool which is accompanied by a tail. When the process comes to an end, Ghostbur is met with a familiar face. He wraps his arms around the neck of his closest companion in a hug. "Hi, Friend. I've really missed you. We can hang out whenever Wilbur is being grumpy or wants to be alone. Would you like that? Maybe we can even convince him to like you too. But that might be hard since he doesn't seem to like anyone." He feels it should be common courtesy for Ghostbur to introduce Friend to Wilbur. After all, his twin had already extended that courtesy to him the other day. --- "Wilbur!" There is no need for him to acknowledge the voice calling out his name. Even if he didn't recognise the owner of said voice, there is no-one else it could be. Yet when he does, he isn't sure whether to curse his reflexes for making him see the sight in general or be grateful for the minute's forewarning it grants him. Encouraged to tag along with Ghostbur is an affront to nature. "So..." He begins when the two visitors are near enough. "The sheep." "Yeah! His name is Friend. I had a sheep just like him when I was with everyone else so I thought he could keep me company while I'm here." He's not even sure how to respond to this development. He simply stares at the animal as he attempts to process it. It's so weird because he swears the sheep has one of those rare genetic variations where their wool is quite literally blue naturally. It's obviously not been dyed at all because you can tell with that sort of thing. Somehow, Ghostbur has straight up manifested a sheep with a rare coat colouring. He wants to be more thrown off by it than he is. Yet he struggles to do so. Because, in the several days since he's met the one he shares a face with, he can't truthfully claim he's surprised. "Friend, huh? Well, you really have a knack for coming up with names, don't you?" "I guess." "You asked me the other day what you should call me. You seem to love these cute little versions of our name. Given the way I treat you, I'm surprised you haven't been tempted to call me Meanbur or Sadbur or even Why-The-Fuck-Won't-You-Take-A-Hint-And-Just-Leave-Me-Alonebur?" Ghostbur hesitates, clearly a little shocked by this outburst. He quickly corrects himself, changing his expression instead to something more akin to content thoughtfulness. "Oh, I know! What do you think of Soulbur? I like Soulbur. Because you're half of his soul." "Fine, whatever makes you happy. Though if you really need to bother someone, I'd rather you go to Schlatt or MD." "But do you like Friend?" He glances back at the sheep for the sake of humouring his twin. "I... I suppose it's alright for a sheep. Don't want too much to do with it though. It's your pet." "He is more than a pet." And it comes off as if he's offended him. "He's well, he's Friend." "Gho- It is a sheep. I get that you're attached to it- him so you're hardly planning to serve mutton anytime soon but he's still just a bloody sheep." As he distances himself from Ghostbur to escape this nonsense, his ears catch muttered assurances that 'Soulbur' was not worth listening to. Plus, what kind of name was 'Friend'? His ghostly counterpart sounded like a child who'd decided their stuffed toy deserved a name to fit the role of lifelong companion. He'd retaliate but he's far from in the mood. --- Okay, as it turns out, he does begin to get used to the new moniker. For one thing, it's easier to differentiate himself from their pre-death self (though Ghostbur seems to have that covered thanks to his insistence of using 'Alivebur'). Soulbur likewise continues to tolerate him for the sake of civility. Hence why he's sat by a small fire and performing the absolutely redundant task of eating a meal. No matter how much he attempts to explain neither of them physically need sustenance, Ghostbur remains persistent on his thoughts regarding the issue. "No cows were harmed in the making of this steak." "Oh that's good." Ghostbur beams. "And you made a joke. You don't do that often." "Listen, I might not have a reason to laugh anymore but I do still have a sense of humour." "You know, you sound like Techno when you speak. All serious and bored." "Doesn't surprise me." He mutters. "Besides, you're the one who kept the happier emotions in the split. I'd be worried if I didn't sound like I have the more exhausting ones." "What?" "What are you confused about? You said you can't remember upsetting things, right? Well where did you think they went, the back of your mind, left stranded in the void- no, actually I suppose that one is technically true. Either way, the oversimplified version of events is that you got the good stuff and I got the bad." There is silence but there is also calm. From it, Soulbur gains the courage to put forward one of the questions he's been deliberating on for a good long while. "Ghostbur…" He frowns. "How did we die?" "You don't remember?" "No. For some fucked up reason, we apparently thought so low of ourself that it was a good memory. That or you took it to spite me." "I-" Soulbur holds his hand up. "No excuses, no rambling in the hopes you can beat around the bush. I just want the truth. Because all I can remember is Phil showing up, us getting frustrated then this unbearable pain as if... as if something was cooking us from the inside. I don't know I- it just hurt. A lot. Then we were dead. So what the hell happened to us?" The ghost is focused on fiddling with the sleeves of his yellow jumper. "I don't want to say." "Bad memory then. So... an unnecessary theft. As much as I hate to admit it, that was supposed to be mine if it was traumatic." "Wasn't nice but it was a good moment." "Well, was it good or bad? Make up your mind! I told you, I didn't want any messing around. I'm not expecting an essay from you, only a sentence or two." He groans. "Okay, how about this since you can't give me a straight answer. Did we press the button, yes or no?" "We did." "Brilliant! We got somewhere. I suspected it was burning debris but couldn't be sure. That's all I wanted." Soulbur manages only a handful of steps before his twin's voice is heard once more. "It wasn't debris. The explosion didn't kill us." "Then what did?" If his patience wore any more thin, somebody would have to pull out a microscope to view it. Ghostbur appears conflicted, ever tugging on his sleeves. "Phil was the Saint George to our dragon. He stopped us from hurting anyone else." "Whoa whoa whoa, hang on that's- Phil wasn't always the best parental figure to us, I know that, but he would never... kill us. That is not the kind of guy he is." "We asked him to." "Why would we-" "Don't ask me. You're the one who's always grumpy. You should know." Ghostbur argues back. "Even if we begged him on our hands and knees, as shitty as he could sometimes be, Phil would never cause us deliberate harm." "But he did." Soulbur visibly mulls this over in his mind before a scowl settles on his face. "Can't win, can you? Unbelievable. Couldn't even trust Phil to be on our side." "But he-" "He was supposed to take care of us. I can excuse him not being father of the year because he only took us in out of pity so we wouldn't end up on the streets. But the bare minimum I would have expected from him is to not kill the kid he's raised since they were little." "I don't know what you want me to say. You said you wanted the truth? Well the truth is Phil stabbed us with a sword because we asked him to. It was a... it was a sword with fire aspect, I think. That's why you think it hurt." "I don't think it hurt. I know it hurt." "Can we stop talking about this? I don't like it." "No. No, we are talking about this. I'm not letting you slink off at the first hint of something upsetting, Mr Repression." "I'm not slinking off. I just don't want to think about this." "Well, welcome to my life, every single bloody day since you ran off. At least you have the privilege of avoiding it." "Stop it! Stop it! Why do always have to be so- so- I'm going to find Friend. At least he's nice to me." "You are literally proving my point right now." "I don't care." "Fine! Piss off then. That's what you seem to do best, cry and run away at the slightest bit of trouble. But you can't do this forever, you know. You're going to have to accept we've been through a lot of shit one day." And for the first time in what he believes has been roughly two weeks, Ghostbur frowns. It is not the slight frown from whenever he is unsure or downtrodden, Soulbur's seen that before. Those times had been more akin to a pout. No, this expression has been witnessed by him before. He saw this occasionally in his reflection while alive, especially in the lead up to the festival and war between Manberg and Pogtopia when he'd been steeling himself to play his role in it all. So perhaps frown is not the most accurate word for it. Ghostbur glares, he scowls, he glowers. And then the façade breaks as if the universe cannot permit an angry Ghostbur to exist. Dark blue pools by his eyes and begins to spill down his face. Soulbur doesn't think he's seen his other half cry either actually. It doesn't feel right, watching the one who kept going about everything with a smile cry and descend into sobs while he's at it. The universe doesn't swiftly correct itself at this though so Soulbur will have to make of that what he will. "I'm going to find Friend." Ghostbur repeats. And that is that for the calm dinner between both halves of the same person.

#dream smp #twobur au #wilbur soot #ghostbur #my writing #tw self harm #tw death #tw smoking #tw unreality

[pyrefell]

Headcanons for some of the boys? Namely horrorfell, underswap and underfell?

you let me off my child leash and i honestly wasn’t even really sure where to even start here, so you get some pretty general headcanons. i have a lot to say about underfell and horrorfell,,,

UNDERSWAP:

IN ALL HONESTY, Underswap is currently one of my least developed AU interpretations. I'm still just really indecisive. BUT! I do have some stuff that I'm fairly set on.

Papyrus:

Never really grew out of the shyness he had as a babybones, he’s always had a much more outgoing brother to hide behind. 

He's the one that designed the puzzles in Snowdin! Puzzles are still one of his special interests in this AU. (Sans gets really excited to tell anyone that asks that his Very Cool little brother designed them.) 

He's fairly low to mid (but consistent) energy. He tries (and usually succeeds) to act all chill but he gets really excited about some things and can reach True Papyrus levels of loud. 

He and Undyne are still friends in this AU! He doesn't go to see her super often because. Hotland. But when they are together, it's pretty chaotic. They like to design things a la Mickey's Dick Smasher. 

Man, he's sure been feeling a lot of deja vu lately. Huh, wonder what that's all about. :)

Sans:

He’s still the Judge! And he's still the one that has to deal with the ever shifting and resetting timeline. It's...really starting to take a toll on him, but what's the point in telling anyone? They won't remember and besides, who's going to believe him anyways? 

He was always fairly outgoing and bubbly but he took on an even more bubbly persona kind of unconsciously to overcompensate for and hide how Tired he is now. 

Sans is just about the opposite of his brother energywise. He's full of energy for short bursts and then he sleeps for hours. He's started sleeping more since everything with the timeline started. It's not the best sleep but he’s just...so tired nowadays. 

Still completely willing to eat condiments for a joke (or a """joke"""). He eats mayonnaise by the handful. Does it mostly to embarrass (and disgust) Papyrus. 

Genuinely enraged by people who think he's young. Sure, he may be only a few inches over 5', but he's a Wide Boy. And not a naïve child, he's the older brother, thank you very much. Haven't you heard his voice? What kid has a voice that deep? 

UNDERFELL: 

One general headcanon I have is that they both have DT in their systems. Gaster gave them injections when they were still very young babybones in the sterile lab and they’d started mysteriously falling down. He’s not really a bad guy there, he wanted to save them. Of course, it’s probably got it’s side effects, right? After all the Bromalgamate and Comic Papyrus exist. :)

Their relationship is...strained. They definitely still love each other and would fight to the death for the other but they don't really talk. They both blame each other for how the other turned out, how they act.

Papyrus:

He’s blind in his scarred socket! He first got the wound when he was still pretty little and because he and Sans were still living out on the streets, he wasn’t able to get any real kind of medical care. It’s still pretty fragile but there’s really not a whole lot that can be done anymore. 

He can cook! Like, really well, actually. Grillby taught him when he was younger. He’s particularly good at cooking with whatever’s already in the house. 

I think he still wants to believe everyone can change and be good if they try. Though, whether he actually believes that anymore is kind of debatable. And I  think that he doesn’t really enjoy all the fighting. He doesn’t take any real pride or joy in what he's become. He really wanted (and still wants) to actually protect monsters. 

There's a square of fabric on his scarf that's from a well-loved blanket he'd had as a babybones. It still brings him some semblance of comfort when he needs it. 

He's well aware of timelines. Well okay, 'well aware' isn't exactly the right way to put it. He can't put a name to what's happening, why he can remember things that haven't happened yet or have happened at all. He at one point attempted to keep a journal about it all but it was gone the next reset. He'd like to talk to Sans about it, but given how their relationship is... 

Sans:

He’s got 3 golden teeth, he got hit pretty good almost directly on those teeth around the same time Papyrus got his scar. They were really loose after that but didn’t actually come out until later. 

Most still see him as free EXP. He doesn't get attacked as much anymore but the times he has, he's been able to suffice on just dodging until Papyrus shows up. He could just as easily fight back, but he's decided there could be some benefit to hiding what he can do for just a bit longer. Besides, he'd rather not place any more targets on their backs. 

He knows how to sew! He learned completely out of necessity when they were both young. They only had so many pieces of clothes, after all. He's the one who sewed the little square of Papyrus's blanket into his scarf. 

King of eavesdropping. Despite his stature (and who his brother is for that matter), he's surprisingly good at going unnoticed. He tends to play like he's completely shitfaced and passed out at Grillby's, just in case someone lets something slip. 

They both blame themselves for how the other turned out but Sans has it bad. He's supposed to be the older brother, right? He was supposed to keep Papyrus safe and stars, did he do a shit job at it, even if there were some things he just couldn't do anything about. 

HORRORFELL: 

OKAY SO, my Horrorfell doesn't start the same way the normal Horrortale AU starts. The short version is that Frisk doesn't fall until YEARS after they normally would have and they fall with Aliza. The Famine devastated the Underground. Frisk's left to try and figure out why they didn't fall when they should have and why they can't remember anything that happened during those years between. They have to balance keeping themselves and Aliza alive and trying to get through to at least Sans, who, while his memory is terrible he knows he's supposed to be pissed at them. They left the Underground to rot. I think that's all y'all really need lmao. I'm definitely going to write about Horrorfell, in fact I've already started something about it

ANYWAYS! On to the headcanons for the Boys. These two are so ride or die now it’s almost unreal. They’ve had a lot of time to air out their grievances and have the years worth of fights with each other. They work together so much better now and it comes in handy for both protecting each other and hunting. They're the most efficient and successful hunters in the Underground. 

Papyrus:

He’s effectively completely blind at this point. He needs coke bottle lenses to see. He ends up completely depending on his hearing and sense of smell when he's hunting. Despite his failing eyesight, he remains the best chef in Snowdin after Grillby's disappearance. He's always sure to use as much as he possibly can. 

His new stature has made it incredibly difficult to get into most buildings. He often ends up walking on all fours and his magic's started to adjust his body for that. He doesn’t recognize himself so much anymore. 

While Sans was comatose, Papyrus spent his time trying to ration out food, attempting to keep the peace for the denizens of Snowdin and caring for Sans. He'd continued to cut his own rations not only for the rest of Snowdin but for Sans too when he hopefully wakes up. 

He'd managed his way out to the rest of the Underground with his own brand of 'shortcut' earlier on despite the lockdown in Snowdin. Some say they'd seen him but no one's really sure if that's true and if it is, how did he get out? Can he do it again and maybe talk some sense into the Empress? They used to be friends, right? 

His memory is also not very good. He and Sans keep a big whiteboard in the kitchen with pertinent information and there's a calendar in every room with all the past dates marked off, just in case someone forgets. 

Sans:

The reason why the hole in his skull is so big and leads into his nasal cavity is because of preexisting cracks. Undyne really didn't mean to hit him! Really, she didn't... 

The selfish part of him almost wishes the DT in him hadn't kept him around, but he can't bring himself to really want that. He can't leave Papyrus alone, especially not now. 

His relationship with Frisk is...tense to say the least. When he first saw them, he didn't fully process who they were but he felt nothing but rage. He doesn't really believe what Frisk's saying when they claim they can't remember anything. Their relationship could absolutely mend, there's just so many roadblocks at the start. 

Seeing as he can't reliably use his shortcuts anymore, he's not as efficient a hunter as he could be. But that doesn't mean he isn't extremely deadly. The brothers are revered for the effectiveness, after all. 

He's developed some pretty nasty coping habits, most of which involve some kind of self harm either intentional or not. Papyrus tries his best to limit it, but he's not the best either.

#underswap #underfell #horrorfell #sans #papyrus #undertale headcanons #anonymous #long post #HATED reformatting this post lol #sorry for this absence. this post took WAY longer than i thought it would #i didnt proofread this post bc i didnt want to so if theres any errors. lol sorry

[bnhayyy]

The Call (1)

Chapter Title: Slayer

Wordcount: 4.1k

Ao3 Link: Click

Notes: Written for day one of @aot-au-week , since a Buffy AU very technically counts as a College AU, and because it's the least I owe @cookietonwrites for convincing them to take on another fic. As you can see, the idea quickly spiraled into a multi-chap, for which I am not even remotely apologetic.

Summary: There is only ever one slayer at a time; the chosen one, a girl strong enough to fight against the vampires, demons, and forces of darkness.

 Mikasa has accepted that for her, being the slayer means living a reclusive life, haunted by the image of the first person she failed to save and unable to ever truly let anyone in. However, everything is called into question with the arrival of Annie, a girl who claims to also be a slayer. Mikasa's life becomes much less solitary seemingly overnight, but friendship is followed by a deadly conspiracy, and with it, the threat of loss and heartache.

Mikasa's world consisted of a haze of blurred vision and the gentle buzzing in her ears. She blinked, and the figures on the paper before her solidified into numbers for a heartbeat before fading out once again. Trying it a few more times didn't yield any better results. It only made her aware of how much her eyes burned and how heavy her eyelids were. How heavy her entire head was. How easy it would be to just slip forward and… 

The buzzing reached a crescendo. A hand reached out to grab her shoulder. She jerked back upright to find Armin sitting across the table from her, one hand still extended and a worried expression on his face. 

Mikasa faltered. Words played at her lips, semi-contradictory things like 'it's fine' and 'what's wrong', but none of them felt right enough to actually be voiced. Instead, Armin was the one to break the silence. 

"When's the last time you slept?" he asked. 

Mikasa sighed. He must be really worried if he was cutting straight to the point like that. 

"Don't worry about it," she said, even though she knew it wouldn't work. 

Armin's frown deepened as a hint of disapproval trickled onto his features. He pitched his voice into a whisper to say, "you don't need to go out every night. You can't- you shouldn't be doing this alone."

"I do," Mikasa countered. "I'm the only one who can. You know that, Armin."

There was one girl in the whole world charged with keeping the forces of darkness at bay. She couldn't cast that duty aside just because she was tired.

It was with that thought that she realized that her gaze had begun to drift back toward the table. She snapped it back up as Armin asked, "does Erwin know how thin you're wearing yourself?" 

Mikasa pursed her lips. "Erwin's only been here for a few weeks. He'll get used to it."

"You shouldn't be used to it," Armin insisted, the softness of his voice warring with the rapidly mounting undercurrent of anxiety. He was still talking, too, about how Erwin wouldn't approve and she would be more productive if she wasn't dead on her feet. She didn't absorb any of the actual words, his voice fading back out into that gentle, incoherent buzzing.

Then there was a flicker of movement as something faded into sight in the corner of her vision, and everything Armin said became utterly doomed to sail right over her head.

Mikasa very determinedly did not look at the figure. She didn't turn her head and didn't allow her eyes to move in his direction beyond that first involuntary twitch. It didn't matter. He leaned forward, and she caught a glimpse of the green eyes peering out from what she knew would be a placid-yet-piercing expression.

"He's right, Mikasa," he said. "You need to take better care of yourself."

She allowed her eyes to flicker shut even though it did nothing to block out the man's voice. The voice of her own imagination.

"You've always been like this," he sighed. His voice had a whisper of warmth in it today, a touch of fondness tucked within what sounded like age-old resignation. "But you shouldn't. You're at your best when you have our friends with you."

Something flickered within her at the comment, although she was pleased to note that she managed to keep it within. There was no need to remind the hallucination that she didn't have any friends. Not even Armin, truly. Because for all that they were fond of each other, no amount of fondness could ever make up for-

"-kasa?"

It was the hint of iron intertwining itself with the worry in Armin's voice that got her to open her eyes. Mikasa forced herself to look at Armin and only Armin, who was leaning halfway across the table at this point.

"You really need to get some rest," he said. She moved to open her mouth, but he cut her off by asking, "you don't have trigonometry for five more hours, right?"

Mikasa nodded.

Armin gave one short, decisive nod, which appeared to be more for himself than anything. "You should take a nap, then."

The shift in her expression was subtle, just a faint downward turn to her lips, but apparently still enough for him to catch, because he quickly added, "you're going on patrolling again tonight, aren't you? Even a couple of hours would be better than nothing. I promised to meet up with Annie in a little while, but. I could walk you home?"

Mikasa didn't bother asking who Annie was, but she didn't protest either. She could see the logic in his argument, even if it felt painfully like a waste of time. "No, it's alright," she said. "I can walk myself."

Armin frowned. "Okay, but you will-"

"Go home and take a nap. Yes." She was already standing up as she finished agreeing. If she was going to keep her word, then it would be better to get it done sooner than later. The earlier she left, the sooner she could return. "I'll see you tomorrow," she promised.

With that, she turned around and left without taking another look at the boy who maybe, in another world, could have been her friend.

Or the distorted memory of Eren Jaeger.

*

Mikasa laid in her bed and closed her eyes.

*

Thud.

"Clear!"

Thud.

"Clear!"

Thud.

"Cl-"

Coughing. Choking, sputtering, straining, a strain in her chest that turned into an ache resonating throughout her entire body. A pain worse than anything she had ever felt in her fourteen years.

Shouting. Rushing. Urgent voices talking rapidly. Not to her, with her aching body and spinning vision, but to each other. White coats and flashing lights. They were talking, talking, and there was something she had to say, something more important than the flashing lights or the unreal pain or the whisper of strength that shouldn't be there. There was something, someone, she had to ask about-

Her voice cut off in a hoarse croak when she tried to speak. Her throat stung, like it had been worn ragged by- by-

Salt.

Memories flashed by her in a dreadful kaleidoscope. The parents. The men. The boy. The other man, the one they'd thought would help. The sea - he'd thrown them in the sea, her and-

A jolt of energy. Mikasa forced herself upright and grabbed the wrist of the first person she saw. Surprise was on his face. Surprise and discomfort; her grip was stronger than it should have been. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was-

"Eren," she croaked.

"Eren." The white-coated man's voice was softer than she needed it to be. Focused on her. He needed to be focused on not her. "Is that your name? Eren?"

Through parched lips and a throat like sandpaper, she croaked out, "where's Eren?"

The man gave her a long, sad look. No. No. He shouldn't be looking at her like that.

"He saved me," Mikasa pressed. "Then he- the-" monster “- we went in the water together."

One faltering moment that lasted for an eternity.

The man redirected with talk about her. What's her name, can she describe what she's feeling, she's okay, it'll all be okay - it didn't matter. It didn't matter and it wouldn't be okay. It didn't matter, because in that moment, he didn't need to answer.

His expression spoke only of death.

*

She woke up feeling more awake, but just as tired as she had been before.

*

Mikasa didn't even try to pay attention during trigonometry. The nap may have refreshed her to some degree, but not enough for that. Besides, she still had a solid C. Spending class zoned out was... admittedly detrimental, considering that she had been in a similar state for her last two classes, but not so devastating that she wouldn't be able to recover from it. She would just have to cram as hard as she could once she had the opportunity to spend a few nights on her classwork. It wasn't a pleasant routine, but it had gotten her through her first two semesters of college. She could make it work for this one as well.

Besides, she had more important things to spend her brainpower on.

A girl had been marked absent during roll call. Mina Carolina. A single absence was not unusual in and of itself, but although Mikasa couldn't claim to know Mina well, she had not seen the girl take a day off before. That didn't mean that she couldn't - she could be well and truly sick, or an emergency could have popped up. People took days off all the time, even those who normally didn't.

The trouble was that there had been a marked increase in people turning up absent lately. Most of them never returned. There were no bodies found or hints as to their whereabouts. They were simply never seen again.

Mikasa didn't want to feel a sense of distant mourning. She wanted to hope that Mina would show up at their next class with some excuse for the teacher about how she can sick or had to deal with an unignorable situation. However, that same part of her had also wanted to hold out hope for Franz and Hannah when they disappeared from her American Literature class, and now they were nothing but faces on missing posters.

The semester had only been in swing for a month and a half. Mina would be the third victim person she had shared a class with. Not third overall - just that she had shared a class with specifically. When she scaled the radius up to encompass the entire campus, she would be the fifth disappearance.

According to Erwin, Paradis' level of supernatural activity was on the low side of average. She suspected that that was the reason he had been hinting that they should relocate. He felt that she was wasted here, and as her Watcher, he wasn't comfortable doing nothing about it, no matter how new to his position or unwelcome he was. And truthfully, five people disappearing off of a college campus during the first semester and a half wasn't unusual. College was stressful. She didn't know the details regarding two of the disappearances, and even with the couple who had seemingly disappeared off the face of the like, a human culprit was just as likely as a demonic one, if not moreso.

So why was she so certain that Mina Carolina had met her death at some point since she had last seen her?

Why did she feel like she had failed to stop it?

Once the feelings of dread and guilt grew strong enough for her to be actively aware of them, Mikasa decided to redirect her attention to the students who were there. 

Armin probably would have been one of her classmates if she hadn't insisted that he not take any classes that run past sunset and directed him to the morning trigonometry course instead. However, it wouldn't have been a large class even with him and Mina. 

Four of the students scattered across the room were unknown to Mikasa. However, her seat near the back of the room allowed her to keep an eye on them with relative ease. That, in turn, allowed her to be fairly comfortable in her assessment that they were normal human students. 

She could say the same of her four other classmates as well. They, however, were a little higher on her radar. 

Closest to her, his desk seated directly in the last few rays of evening sunlight, was a muscular blond man. Mikasa thought that his name began with an 'R', but didn't know much else about him. He'd caught her attention with a loud, outgoing personality and general demeanor that made him seem like an odd fit for the class. At the moment, it looked like he wasn't paying much more attention than Mikasa herself, fiddling with the ring on his left hand and only occasionally glancing up at the teacher. 

The blonde next to him was as much of a stranger, but she at least looked like she was focusing. She had gained Mikasa's attention by joining a week after classes had started. Since then, however, she had proven quiet and distant, only interacting with her classmates when she glared at the man next to her for trying to talk to her while she was working.    

Jean Kirstein, meanwhile, clearly didn't want to be a stranger. Over the past year, he had made a few attempts to reach out that she could admit were enduring. If she didn't have her duty, he might be someone she could consider a friend. As it was, she couldn't bring herself to do anything but brush him off, for his own sake. He didn't pay her much attention in class though. That wasn’t to say that he was completely focused, even though he had claimed a seat at the front of the class. She often glimpsed him speaking to the student next to him. There’d also been enough instances when she’d heard a frustrated comment from him regarding the course for her to get the sense that trigonometry wasn't particularly easy for him. However, she also suspected that he was hardworking and dedicated enough to make up for it.

The student next to him was Marco Bott. Cheerful and painfully earnest, he was honestly mostly notable to Mikasa because he was Jean's friend. He seemed like a good person though. That meant he was a reminder of why Mikasa couldn't let Jean become her friend no matter how hard he tried or let herself rest no matter how much Armin tried to insist. If she faltered, if she slowed, there would be consequences.

Mina used to sit behind Jean and Marco.

The sound of chairs being pushed back and writing implements being put away drew Mikasa out of her stupor. Rather than look at the clock, she glanced out the window.

The sun had already begun to set.

She quickly stuffed her textbook, pencil case, and notebook in her bag, feeling only a brief pang of guilt for the blank sheet of paper that stared back at her. The items landed haphazardly, and she knew that if she looked, they would likely only partly obscure the stake, crossbow, and knife that laid carefully arranged at the bottom. She zipped it shut before anyone could get curious and try to sneak a peek; a reflex even though she knew that no one would be bold enough to try that with her.

Despite being the last one to start getting packed, she was the first one out of class. Just like she always was. From there, it didn’t take long to get off the campus.

The first two blocks of Mikasa's walk went like she was heading home. It was as she reached the third - the one that would have lead back to her apartment - that she took a sharp right. From there it was four blocks straight on, then one block to the left. A simple route, but one that had come to haunt her nightmares.

Dusk had descended on the cemetery by the time she reached it.

Logically, she knew that she wasn't likely to run into anything for several more hours.

Instinctively, she knew that Mina Carolina wasn't likely to return to class.

This wasn't a night to take risks.

Mikasa wandered deeper into the graveyard, where she was less likely to be spotted by any passerby, and pulled out her stake. There, she began to wander.

It wasn't a small cemetery by any means. That was what made it the ideal hive for demonic activity. Not only were cemeteries where the majority of newly turned vampires rose, but large ones were also rife with additional dead bodies and crypts. This one was even separated into several different sections, which made it easy to get lost.

Getting lost made it easy to watch the time slip by.

A couple of hours into her patrol, a familiar figure flickered into existence at the edges of her vision. She didn't say anything to him, and he followed her silently, gaze occasionally flickering to one side or another as he took in the graveyard. As if he might notice anything before she did. Technically speaking, she supposed that he might. He had "caught" things a few times in the past, when she was subconsciously aware of something but hadn't been fast enough to process it with her conscious mind. It was the only thing that made sense, for all that she desperately wished that it wasn't.

A slayer whose hallucination needed to point things out for her couldn't mean anything good for the world.

She forced herself to look away from the figment and focus on her surroundings.

Not five minutes later, the sound of shifting earth caught her attention. Mikasa turned and strode toward it, her grip on her stake tightening and her gaze fixed straight ahead. Within seconds, she had spotted it; a grave with the earth beneath it stirring. As she watched, a hand punched up and out of it, grasping desperately at the ground. The head came next - an unfamiliar man, his face distorted by lumps across his forehead and nose, slitted yellow eyes, and fangs. The visage of a vampire prepared for predation. It glared at her as it struggled and snarled, eventually freeing its other arm. Once that was done, it had a much easier time dragging itself to the surface.

It never got the chance to free itself fully. The second its chest was completely exposed, Mikasa sprang into action. She grabbed the thing by the lapels of its dirt-stained tuxedo and dragged it upward. Fear flicked across its face, causing the predatory features to fall away and leaving a normal face behind. A face that could have been human if she didn't know better. She didn't allow herself to look closely.

In a blink, she had rammed her stake through the vampire's chest and into its heart. It dissolved into dust a few seconds later. Mikasa stood and watched the flecks flutter back down to earth.

She was drawn out of her reverie by a firm, "you shouldn't be patrolling tonight."

Mikasa grit her jaw. "I already rested," she pointed out.

"It isn't enough. You've been exhausting yourself, one little nap isn't going to make up for that."

"You just saw me kill a vampire."

"Yeah, and it took way more out of you than it normally would."

Mikasa whirled around to face the figment. Something in her chest threatened to hitch as she allowed herself to look directly at him, just as it so often did, even years after he first manifested.

The thing before her almost could have been a ghost. It wasn't though; god knew she had done enough research on the subject. Ghosts, when they visibly manifested at all, took the appearance they wore at their time of death or at another point in their life.

Eren Jaeger had been fourteen when he died. Even if he responded to the same name, this grown man with distant, unreadable eyes couldn't be him.

He wasn't anything. She'd run all of the tests as she learned more about the Supernatural. She wasn't haunted, there weren't hints of a demonic presence lingering around her - there was nowhere he could have come from other than her own mind.

He was nothing but a manifestation of her guilty conscience. She had come to terms with that years ago, yet she was still wasting time arguing with him.

At that instant, it was suddenly very tempting to look away. However, she forced her gaze to remain steady as she coldly said, "leave."

The figment blinked. "Mikasa-"

"No," she interrupted.

Something flickered in the illusion's eyes. It was difficult to identify, caught behind that distorting wall that so often covered his emotions, and she didn't even bother to try. He opened his mouth again, but she didn't let him get another word in.

"I'm not willing to put up with you tonight," she said. "Get out."

His expression finally came together into something real and visible. Alarm. "Mikasa, move!"

Mikasa lunged to the side just in time to avoid being grabbed by the shoulder.

She spun around to find a burly vampire standing over the ashes of the one she'd just killed. He was musclebound and bulky enough that he might be somewhat difficult to face in hand-to-hand combat - but not so much as to stand a real chance against her. "Slayer," he snarled. "I am going to grind you into dust."

Mikasa didn't bother responding. He lunged forward and she spun to the side, ducking beneath his flailing fist to get behind him. As she moved, she noticed that Eren had disappeared. Good. She sprang forward, stake in hand, only for the vampire to swing back around at the last moment and grab her wrist. He squeezed, a horrible grin on his face, and she had to fight to keep from automatically releasing her grip on her stake.

As the vampire leaned forward, she twisted to punch him in the sternum with her free hand. It only made him falter for a moment, but it was enough for her to wrench her wrist out of his grasp. It was also enough for her to come to a terrible realization.

Her blows weren't as hard as they usually were and she was moving slowly.

Eren was right.

There wasn't any time to ruminate on that. The vampire lunged forward, and Mikasa dove to the side again. She leaned into the momentum and swung her leg out to land a kick to the vampire’s side. He stumbled, a curse on his lips.

It didn't bring her any sense of victory, for as she brought her foot down, it landed on uneven ground. Not observant enough.

Pain shot up her ankle and the world began to tilt.

Eren still wasn't anywhere to be seen. Funny. If her mind was going to conjure up even a distorted version of Eren Jaeger, she would have expected it to happen when she died. She had thought that he would watch.

Mikasa hit the ground, the side of her head slamming hard against a flat gravestone. The world continued to spin around the sound of the vampire chuckling. She clenched the hand holding her stake, only to find that it must have fallen out of her grasp during the fall.

She forced herself to sit up, hands pushing hard against the ground to make up for the way the world was spinning around her. When she looked up, the vampire was glaring down at her. She tried to stand up, to scurry back, but her ankle gave out when she tried to bear weight on it. A sprain - just a sprain - nothing that wouldn't heal in a couple of days with her abilities, but even a sprain couldn't bear weight immediately. The vampire was saying something now, but she couldn't make out the words, couldn't hear anything past the buzzing in her head, couldn't feel anything but the sensation of warm blood oozing from the cut in her head.

The vampire was reaching for her.

She hadn't wanted to take a risk, and because of that, she was going to die tonight. And Eren wasn't even there to see it.

Maybe that was fitting. She hadn't witnessed his final moments either. Maybe he wanted her to die alone as well.

The vampire's hand closed around her neck. She forced herself to look up, to at least look her death in the eyes-

- and the vampire exploded into dust. In his wake stood the blonde girl from her trigonometry class, stake in hand and gaze locked on Mikasa.

The girl said something. Mikasa blinked, hearing her words, but unable to process them. The girl frowned, and Mikasa grit her teeth, just to give herself another sensation to focus on.

"Repeat that," Mikasa ordered.

The girl extended a hand. "I asked how badly injured you are," she said.

Mikasa ignored the hand and moved to force herself to her feet. Her injured ankle protested once again, but she bore the majority of her weight on her other leg and managed to get upright. "I can handle it," she said. "Who are you?"

The girl didn't seem at all off-put by Mikasa's blunt question. If anything, she seemed like she expected it. "Annie Leonhart," she said.

She paused for a moment. It did nothing to prepare Mikasa for her next, impossible words.

"I'm the slayer."

*

Weeks later, armed with only an axe, her memories, and the desperate research of a lonely girl scared she was losing her mind, Mikasa went hunting.

She found the one who had snatched them from the bodies of the original monsters and tossed them into the ocean.

She took his head, and he turned to ash at her feet.

#mikannie #mikasa ackerman #annie leonhart #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk fic #AoTAUWeek2021 #my writing #my fic #The Call #it's a multichap so it gets its own tag

[talldarkandroguesome]

5th of Frostfall, Tirdas

Finally we came to place where Seryn looked about. Perhaps it was the towering stones that marked the way for her, but we turned sharply and began our way along the Foyada, taking one of the branches just a ways beyond.

I do not wish to disclose any further details, that is already too much to identify the secret, sacred path. I shall say no more of it.

Our journey was slowed significantly by the increase in volcanic activity under our feet. It was bad enough that we had to stop and watch for falling stones. At one point Seryn actually made a shield, protecting us from a bolder that rolled down the side of the mountain. It was clear that the activity was increasing. It was as Tel and the others had warned. It was clear that most animals had sensed the increase themselves, for there was little animal life to be found anywhere near our path, save for the occasional shadow of a passing cliff strider.

I must say, Seryn has a keen ability to avoid cliff striders , something I asked her about as the light began to fade around us. She laughed and told me that perhaps it was that they were drawn to my scent of my incessant talking. I gasped, surprised at such words, but she quickly dissolved into a giggle and I found myself caught completely unexpected in her jest. I laughed myself, so surprised by the turn and I was glad for the break in what had been a lull in conversation as we walked.

After that, she was more jovial. At least until our upward climb drew near to where there appeared to be a cave.

Above, we could hear the wise woman shouting for someone to stay back.

We ran to find her fending off some skafin, of all fetching things! We defeated them with little issue and ran to the wise woman’s side, checking that she was alright.

She told us she was, that Azura had protected her until we arrived, just as predicted. I looked at Seryn, but she just smiled at me. I do not know if she was aware of the secret or if she simply was glad that we were where we were supposed to be.

Then the wise woman stopped, as though hearing something, so Seryn and I kept silent. Then she spoke, as if someone else were there and said she understood. I realized then who she was talking to as soon as she said, my Lady.

When she turned to me and said I should follow her, I felt my face flush in anticipation, my heart racing. As we headed towards the mouth of the cavern, the wise woman told me that the Queen of the Night Sky asked that I help the wise woman in coming to the correct decision regarding a claim. I could hardly believe my ears.

I asked, trying to contain my excitement, if it was regarding Chodala’s claim to be the Nerevarine. She told me I was correct and that clearly my insight as a diplomat would be needed. Although the Red Exiles had been convinced of Chodala’s claim, the wise woman said she was far more uncertain. But there was more she had to consider, for she feared that if she opposed him there would come retribution from the Red Exiles that could well harm all the Velothi in Ald’ruhn, and possibly beyond as well. 

As we entered the cave, I was struck by the fact that this was a far more ornate shrine. Instead of the usual statue of Azura, stood with Her arms spread wide and the moon and star sitting upon each palm, this statue had Her seated, Her hands together, palms up, held downward. She appeared more to be offering than Her usual show of radiance. Her face appeared serene and kind. Besides Her were two statues of moon and star. At Her one knee, was a small pond, besides which was an altar covered with offerings.

I pulled myself from the awe that overcame me, I had a duty. A sacred one at that. So I asked the wise woman about her options. We spoke of different outcomes that could come from her decision. Finally, we agreed upon an option that would be the most beneficial, it would stop Chodala while allowing the wise woman to remain impartial. It might have consequences for me, but I assured her that I would be far happier having violence directed towards one House mer, than to risk harm coming to her people.

So she explained that if I could find from the spirits of the failed incarnates what brought about their failure, then those flaws could be compared to Chodala’s ambitions. It would be enough to prove that he was headed towards his own doom. His failure. Then she would be allowed to refute him.

I was thrilled and a bit overwhelmed by everything happening around me. Azura had spoken of me. I was in a sacred shrine, the likes of which I had never seen or heard of. I was going to be asked to speak with the failed incarnations of Nerevar, something I only knew a little about. I was going to be present to dispute an Ashkhan’s claim at Nerevarine. There was so much! It was unreal. I was in this pivotal moment in history. Only, instead of simply trying to help the hero of the story to reach the final stage to defeat evil, here I was actually a player in the outcome of history!

Despite Naryu’s jabs about my being hero, I have never felt that was a role designed for me. Yet, here I was, stepping into a place where likely no one outside of the wise women who maintained the shrine, ever entered. And Azura had asked me to do so.

Surreal is the only word I can think of that begins to describe the feeling.

The wise woman showed me how to summon the spirits and then bade me return to Ald’ruhn when I was done, for she needed to be there when Chodala returned from his meditations. Then she left me to do as I was told.

Making sure to carefully follow every instruction, I summoned the spirits of those thought to be Lord Nerevar’s reincarnations. Then, one by one, I saw the ethereal images of each of those great Velothi heroes who had claimed to be the Nerevarine before, rise up from where they had been laid to rest around Azura’s statue.

I took up ink, quill, and parchment, and I wrote down all that they said. Their stories, in their own words. I made sure to spare no details, writing as fast as I could, even when my hand cramped and my finger tips grew numb. This was far too important to let discomfort stop me.

I thanked each of them for their wisdom. I felt satisfied that I would be able to present these sacred stories, wisdom from those who had experienced it themselves, before the wise woman and Chodala. Perhaps Chodala would even see the folly of his ways and be convinced to continue on his great path in a way more befitting a unifier.

As I made to leave, a voice stopped me.

It was Azura, calling me to speak with Her.

I knelt before the great statue and kowtowed before it. I felt warmth and comfort from Her voice. The void where my soul once lay, instantly filled.

She offered me council before I went to refute Chodala’s claim. Offered me the wisdom in how best to present what I had learned and pressed upon me the importance of succeeding in this endeavor. Further, She told me that it was the staff that was making Chodala so bold and reckless and to prevent further destruction, he must be made to part with with. That he is not the Nerevarine.

That last part could leave no doubt. Chodala was clearly being led astray by the power in the staff. I had wondered by who or what, until I recalled the Skafin who attacked the wise woman. Clearly Chodala had made a deal with the Prince of Bargains. It was something to consider as we took our next steps. Perhaps he could be convinced that he should not try using Daedric pacts to fulfill his ambitions.

Before I left, Azura told me that I should assist her champion, which of course I agreed to. She named Seryn as that mer, a friend to all the Velothi people. I kowtowed again, pressing my forehead upon the cool ground. I swore that I would do so and that I would protect her, even should it cost me several lives.

I felt a pleased feeling all around me and my heart swelled with joy.

Then the radiating feeling began to dim and fade, until I was left alone in the cavern.

As I raised my head, the cavern was dimmer that before and I felt wetness streak my face. As I touched my cheeks, I felt tears. I felt the blessing that was given to me. And I knew my task.

I headed out of the cave and found Seryn waiting for me. She was deep in meditation, but looked up as I approached. She asked me if I had found what we needed. I said that I had and as the moons rose in the sky, I read the words of each of the three failed incarnates to her.

She thought in silence after I had finished. I remained beside her, content in knowing that I had a part to play. Seryn was going to succeed. She would convince her brother with evidence he could not deny. He would be forced to see reason. Then we could explain the gravity of consequence that came with his staff, a consequence that threatened the very people he wanted to unite. If Vivec’s power got too low, Red Mountain would certainly erupt, killing everyone that lived near, Velothi and Housemer alike.

Seryn spoke up and said she would need to sleep on everything and plan our next move. I told her I was hers to command, she only needed to say the word.

She laughed and told me that she was another diplomat, not the Ashkhan. I bowed and played her servant as we stood and gathered our things. I wonder if she understands how truly amazing she is? Does she know yet that she is Azura’s chosen?

It is not my place to say. If she does not know now, she will soon. I am sure of that.

We teleported back to Ald’ruhn and Seryn retired for the night. Normally I would go and sit with the rest of the tribe and drink and sing and enjoy the company, but I felt the weight of what was to come and decided that sleep would be a better use of time.

I only hope that we help Chodala to see wisdom.

#ESO #TES #RP #Dunmer #Elder Scrolls Online #The Elder Scrolls

[caxsthetic]

Loving You

Oikawa Tooru x F!Reader

Both of you share the vows to each other. And with love, two souls become one.

The mirror in front of you seems intimidating. It's covering one side of the wall entirely. The yellow light from the sun pouring inside like a parcan. There you stood, twirling the dress once again to check for any kind of flaw.

You take one step forward, looking deep into the mirror. Both of your orbs scanning your face, afraid that maybe you smeared your makeup. A low chuckle could be heard from the door, making you jolted by it. Usual smirk adorning his face as he sees you panicking inside.

"Not funny." You pouted as you saw the figure, "Could you be a good brother for once, Hajime?" You saw him walked towards you through the mirror. He stood beside you, looking at your reflection. Today you look breathtaking with the beautiful dress to wrap your figure.

"You look okay." Letting out a frustrating sound, you jab him with your elbow, "Ouch! How come a woman as abrasive as you could have someone?!"

"I learn from the best, okay?" Iwaizumi eyeing you with confusion written on his face, "Duh, I have you as my brother. How could I not become like this?" You laughed, he could only smile at how your eyes twinkling with happiness.

"Why him, though? From any guy in this world, you have to choose that trash?" He asked you this almost every day. But today is the first time it seems so unreal. For you to have the brown-haired man as your significant others.

"Maybe because I know him my whole life." Your face looks so peaceful as thousands of memories twirling inside your head. Iwaizumi couldn't help but smile at how smitten you are with his best friend, "Please be supportive for today!"

His large hand patted your head gently, untangling the knotted strand in your hair, "I promise I am going to be supportive today." He stood behind you and softly kissed the back of your head, "After all, it's the last day people addressed you as Iwaizumi."

"Oh my god, Hajime. What if I tripped on my dress while I walk towards him?"

"He will laugh, of course." You snorted at the obvious answer,

"He will, though, not going to deny that." Your brother chuckled from your dejected answer, "But, he will help me and lead me to the altar, I am sure of it."

"I couldn't deal with your imagination somehow."

"Hajime!" He flinched because of the outburst. You let out a long sigh, suddenly quiet, "You think dad would approve?" You fiddled your finger as nervousness started to struck into your core, "Yes, dad may know him entirely, but what if he didn't want me to be with him? But I couldn't stop it, Hajime. I-"

"You are happy, right?" His question was catching you off guard. You nodded without any hesitation, "And you love him, right?" Your eyes met through the mirror, and you smiled.

"With my entire life."

"Good," He massaged your shoulders carefully, "That's enough." His finger pinched your nose as you pout at him, "Now, let's make him faint at the sight of you." You smirked at this, ready to face your soon to be husband.

Scratch that, you are not ready.

The second your gaze fell to the brown-haired volleyball player, you couldn't help but gripped Iwaizumis's arm tighter. There stood on the altar, is Oikawa Tooru. You told him just to let his soft hair fall down naturally, and damn he looks good without a doubt. His suit perfectly wrapped his lean figure, making you think about how could someone become this perfect.

Oikawa Tooru looked at you with eyes full of adoration. He remembered how he bowed in front of your mom and brother, asking for your hand in marriage. His day always adorned by your presence, he couldn't imagine to have it any other way for the rest of his life. You already showed him the dress before. But it still couldn't prepare him to see you walking down the altar to his embrace.

When your figure was finally close to him, you took a look one more time to your brother. Iwaizumi and Oikawa nodded to each other like they exchange some kind of promise. Your brother gave your hand to his best friend, smiling at you one last time to reassure you that everything would be perfect from now on.

Iwaizumi loves you entirely, and he still could feel how small you used to be the first time he holds you in his arm. Now there you are, dazzling like a star with a bright smile on your face as you stood in front of Oikawa. He believes in you and his best friend, knew that you are perfect for each other.

You gulped, trapped by the brown orbs that you always love to gaze on. Your eyes started to prickling with tears the second his hand engulfed yours. You could remember that time when you share your first kiss. He cried after losing to Shiratorizawa while you enrol to Kitagawa Daiichi. You are there to embrace him and calmed him down when the others were afraid to approach him.

Oikawa Tooru still remembered the first official date. Both of you decided to sneak out at the middle of the night to go to a midnight festival. You and he ended up cuddling on the riverbank where a lot of fireflies accompany you as you succumb to each other embrace. Even when your brother beat him up into pulp the morning after, it's all worth it.

The riverbank held a special place. It's the place where he took you on the first date and the place when he kneels down on one knee to ask you to carry his last name for the rest of your days on earth. After sobbing and make him wait for seconds, you tackled him and pampered his face with kisses. Even without verbal consent, he knew for sure the answer to his question.

"Iwaizumi (Y/n), the first time I laid my eyes on you, I feel like the alien has abducted me. Because that time, I know for sure a human couldn't be as gorgeous as you." You almost snorted in front of the entire guest by his opening vows, "It hurts me a little when your brother hide you from me for like years! Even now, when I remember that I still feel betrayed." His voice was childish, pouting like he always does.

"But, that one time when you are there to knock some sense into my head after one particular match," Oikawa's voice turned serious and sincere as he smiled, "I know for sure I started to love something, in this case, someone, more than volleyball itself." He gulped down and chuckled when he saw your not-so-pretty face as you hold down your tears,

"(Y/n), I love you. I promise to be with you through thick and thin. When you are sad, I will be there. When you are in a good mood, I will try to maintain that." Oikawa Tooru is nervous, and he never feels like this except around you, "To this end, I call upon all present to witness that I take you, Iwaizumi (Y/n), to be my wife. I pledge to you all of these things from the bottom of my heart for the rest of our lives."

"Oikawa Tooru," It's your time to read your vows, "I remember how my brother always whined about you every time he looks pissed off after practice." Now Oikawa is the one who made an annoyed face, "He always rants about you for years, making me curious about you at the process." You sing-song your voice with a teasing tone, "Though when I finally see you, I was like- He's good looking! But then you started talking. That's when your handsome aura is gone entirely."

"(Y/n)-chan!"

"I am sorry, my love. I wanted to tell the truth." You chuckled and now turned to be serious, "But then I started to see another side of you. I admire how you always work hard to be the best, loving it when you show your sincere smile, something that a lot of people missed from you." Letting out a content sigh, you continued, "And I feel like I have privilege because I could see that smile every day." His brown eyes were now glossy with tears,

"Tooru, I promise to always be there, to be your best friend, to respect and support you every step of the way." You closed your eyes for a split second, composing yourself, "I, Iwaizumi (Y/n), take you, Oikawa Tooru, to be my husband. You are my life, my everything, and I promise I will be your equal partner in a loving, honest relationship, for as long as we both shall live."

Takeru, who is now a teenager, take one step ahead to give a pair of a platinum ring. Oikawa smiled at him and took one of the rings with his right hand. He grabbed one of your hand and looked deep into your eyes, "With this ring, I marry you and bind my life to yours. Iwaizumi (Y/n), I promise that I will spend my whole life loving you." His fingers delicately put the wedding ring to your finger. He put his lips on your ring finger with satisfaction playing in his eyes. 

You are a nervous wreck, and Takeru could see it in his eyes. He smiled at you to reassure you that it will be going on smoothly. You took the ring from him and stare into your significant other, "This ring is a token of my endless and abiding love. Oikawa Tooru, I promise that I will spend my whole life loving you." You slipped the ring to his finger carefully. Oikawa was eyeing the officiant with impatient gleaming in his brown orbs.

"You may kiss the-"

But before that, your lovers immediately brought you into his arm and spun you around. Kissing your lips passionately like there were just the two of you in this world. You are not complaining though, so you cling your arms on his neck, closing your eyes and savour the moment while the officiant announces you as husband and wife.

Loud claps could be heard on the entire venue, you let go of the kiss and smiled at your husband. Your family, friends, and his volleyball team witness the vows between the great king and his queen. His arms still snaked into your waist, keeping you close to him. Your eyes fell to your brother who's trying hard to hide his tears. You nudged your husband and pointed to your brother, shamelessly. Resulting on both of you to be scolded by the older Iwaizumi siblings.

Both of you stride down towards your family and friends, greeting them as they congratulate the blossoming love of the new Oikawa. It still makes you giddy with how you hold different last name for the rest of your life, "Hehe, Oikawa (Y/n)." You splurt it out in the middle of a conversation, daydreaming on your own. Iwaizumi could only flick your forehead to erase any scandalous thought from your mine.

"Hey! Don't hurt my wife like that!" You blushed hard when you heard your husband whined to your brother, "Please don't bully my wife on our wedding day," He gave your brother a sly smirk before continuing, "My dear brother."

As if on cue, your brother kicked the brown-haired man to the oblivion. Making you gasp and ran to him immediately, sending a deathly glare to your brother before dashing off. Oikawa Tooru sat down on the ground, pouting. He looks so cute that you couldn't help but kissing his cheek gently. The pout on his face changed to a broad smile in a matter of second.

You sat on his lap, trying hard not to make any scratch or flaws on your wedding dress. The other guest took a look at the sight and giggled. It's uncommon to see the groom and bride to sat down on the ground, literally cuddling each other on their own wedding. But this is Oikawa that they were attended to, what did they expect?

"What did I do to deserve you, (Y/n)?" He wrapped his arm on your waist, "You are so perfect and really know me!"

"I don't know, but I am here willingly, you know." You gave him an Eskimo kiss, making him titter like a child. His gaze was now calmed and look at you lovingly, just like any other time when he laid his eyes on you, "What is it, Tooru?"

"I know that I would never be satisfied when it comes to volleyball." You suddenly remember that night when he lost from Karasuno High School, "I will always be reckless, stubborn, and didn't spend a lot of time with you." Your finger played with his ring finger as he talked, "But I promise you this," He lifted your chin to meet his eyes, "I will be the best husband for you, Oikawa (Y/n)."

You gave him a heartfelt smile when he leaned in to kiss your forehead. His soft lips always soothe you, and you will always fall for him every single day. You will always be his, and he will always be yours. Like a lock without a key that wouldn't be functioning well if they are not together, your relationship with him could be pictured like that. You gaze into each other eyes, exchanging the unspoken vows in between.

"And I will be the best wife through our everything, Oikawa Tooru."

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #hq!! #oikawa tooru #oikawa torū #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa #fluff #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagine #hq #great king #haikyuu imagines #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime

[museflight]

The Call (1)

Chapter Title: Slayer

Wordcount: 4.1k

Ao3 Link: Click

Notes: Written for day one of @aot-au-week , since a Buffy AU very technically counts as a College AU, and because it's the least I owe @cookietonwrites for convincing them to take on another fic. As you can see, the idea quickly spiraled into a multi-chap, for which I am not even remotely apologetic.

Summary: There is only ever one slayer at a time; the chosen one, a girl strong enough to fight against the vampires, demons, and forces of darkness.

 Mikasa has accepted that for her, being the slayer means living a reclusive life, haunted by the image of the first person she failed to save and unable to ever truly let anyone in. However, everything is called into question with the arrival of Annie, a girl who claims to also be a slayer. Mikasa's life becomes much less solitary seemingly overnight, but friendship is followed by a deadly conspiracy, and with it, the threat of loss and heartache.

Mikasa's world consisted of a haze of blurred vision and the gentle buzzing in her ears. She blinked, and the figures on the paper before her solidified into numbers for a heartbeat before fading out once again. Trying it a few more times didn't yield any better results. It only made her aware of how much her eyes burned and how heavy her eyelids were. How heavy her entire head was. How easy it would be to just slip forward and… 

The buzzing reached a crescendo. A hand reached out to grab her shoulder. She jerked back upright to find Armin sitting across the table from her, one hand still extended and a worried expression on his face. 

Mikasa faltered. Words played at her lips, semi-contradictory things like 'it's fine' and 'what's wrong', but none of them felt right enough to actually be voiced. Instead, Armin was the one to break the silence. 

"When's the last time you slept?" he asked. 

Mikasa sighed. He must be really worried if he was cutting straight to the point like that. 

"Don't worry about it," she said, even though she knew it wouldn't work. 

Armin's frown deepened as a hint of disapproval trickled onto his features. He pitched his voice into a whisper to say, "you don't need to go out every night. You can't- you shouldn't be doing this alone."

"I do," Mikasa countered. "I'm the only one who can. You know that, Armin."

There was one girl in the whole world charged with keeping the forces of darkness at bay. She couldn't cast that duty aside just because she was tired.

It was with that thought that she realized that her gaze had begun to drift back toward the table. She snapped it back up as Armin asked, "does Erwin know how thin you're wearing yourself?" 

Mikasa pursed her lips. "Erwin's only been here for a few weeks. He'll get used to it."

"You shouldn't be used to it," Armin insisted, the softness of his voice warring with the rapidly mounting undercurrent of anxiety. He was still talking, too, about how Erwin wouldn't approve and she would be more productive if she wasn't dead on her feet. She didn't absorb any of the actual words, his voice fading back out into that gentle, incoherent buzzing.

Then there was a flicker of movement as something faded into sight in the corner of her vision, and everything Armin said became utterly doomed to sail right over her head.

Mikasa very determinedly did not look at the figure. She didn't turn her head and didn't allow her eyes to move in his direction beyond that first involuntary twitch. It didn't matter. He leaned forward, and she caught a glimpse of the green eyes peering out from what she knew would be a placid-yet-piercing expression.

"He's right, Mikasa," he said. "You need to take better care of yourself."

She allowed her eyes to flicker shut even though it did nothing to block out the man's voice. The voice of her own imagination.

"You've always been like this," he sighed. His voice had a whisper of warmth in it today, a touch of fondness tucked within what sounded like age-old resignation. "But you shouldn't. You're at your best when you have our friends with you."

Something flickered within her at the comment, although she was pleased to note that she managed to keep it within. There was no need to remind the hallucination that she didn't have any friends. Not even Armin, truly. Because for all that they were fond of each other, no amount of fondness could ever make up for-

"-kasa?"

It was the hint of iron intertwining itself with the worry in Armin's voice that got her to open her eyes. Mikasa forced herself to look at Armin and only Armin, who was leaning halfway across the table at this point.

"You really need to get some rest," he said. She moved to open her mouth, but he cut her off by asking, "you don't have trigonometry for five more hours, right?"

Mikasa nodded.

Armin gave one short, decisive nod, which appeared to be more for himself than anything. "You should take a nap, then."

The shift in her expression was subtle, just a faint downward turn to her lips, but apparently still enough for him to catch, because he quickly added, "you're going on patrolling again tonight, aren't you? Even a couple of hours would be better than nothing. I promised to meet up with Annie in a little while, but. I could walk you home?"

Mikasa didn't bother asking who Annie was, but she didn't protest either. She could see the logic in his argument, even if it felt painfully like a waste of time. "No, it's alright," she said. "I can walk myself."

Armin frowned. "Okay, but you will-"

"Go home and take a nap. Yes." She was already standing up as she finished agreeing. If she was going to keep her word, then it would be better to get it done sooner than later. The earlier she left, the sooner she could return. "I'll see you tomorrow," she promised.

With that, she turned around and left without taking another look at the boy who maybe, in another world, could have been her friend.

Or the distorted memory of Eren Jaeger.

*

Mikasa laid in her bed and closed her eyes.

*

Thud.

"Clear!"

Thud.

"Clear!"

Thud.

"Cl-"

Coughing. Choking, sputtering, straining, a strain in her chest that turned into an ache resonating throughout her entire body. A pain worse than anything she had ever felt in her fourteen years.

Shouting. Rushing. Urgent voices talking rapidly. Not to her, with her aching body and spinning vision, but to each other. White coats and flashing lights. They were talking, talking, and there was something she had to say, something more important than the flashing lights or the unreal pain or the whisper of strength that shouldn't be there. There was something, someone, she had to ask about-

Her voice cut off in a hoarse croak when she tried to speak. Her throat stung, like it had been worn ragged by- by-

Salt.

Memories flashed by her in a dreadful kaleidoscope. The parents. The men. The boy. The other man, the one they'd thought would help. The sea - he'd thrown them in the sea, her and-

A jolt of energy. Mikasa forced herself upright and grabbed the wrist of the first person she saw. Surprise was on his face. Surprise and discomfort; her grip was stronger than it should have been. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was-

"Eren," she croaked.

"Eren." The white-coated man's voice was softer than she needed it to be. Focused on her. He needed to be focused on not her. "Is that your name? Eren?"

Through parched lips and a throat like sandpaper, she croaked out, "where's Eren?"

The man gave her a long, sad look. No. No. He shouldn't be looking at her like that.

"He saved me," Mikasa pressed. "Then he- the-" monster “- we went in the water together."

One faltering moment that lasted for an eternity.

The man redirected with talk about her. What's her name, can she describe what she's feeling, she's okay, it'll all be okay - it didn't matter. It didn't matter and it wouldn't be okay. It didn't matter, because in that moment, he didn't need to answer.

His expression spoke only of death.

*

She woke up feeling more awake, but just as tired as she had been before.

*

Mikasa didn't even try to pay attention during trigonometry. The nap may have refreshed her to some degree, but not enough for that. Besides, she still had a solid C. Spending class zoned out was... admittedly detrimental, considering that she had been in a similar state for her last two classes, but not so devastating that she wouldn't be able to recover from it. She would just have to cram as hard as she could once she had the opportunity to spend a few nights on her classwork. It wasn't a pleasant routine, but it had gotten her through her first two semesters of college. She could make it work for this one as well.

Besides, she had more important things to spend her brainpower on.

A girl had been marked absent during roll call. Mina Carolina. A single absence was not unusual in and of itself, but although Mikasa couldn't claim to know Mina well, she had not seen the girl take a day off before. That didn't mean that she couldn't - she could be well and truly sick, or an emergency could have popped up. People took days off all the time, even those who normally didn't.

The trouble was that there had been a marked increase in people turning up absent lately. Most of them never returned. There were no bodies found or hints as to their whereabouts. They were simply never seen again.

Mikasa didn't want to feel a sense of distant mourning. She wanted to hope that Mina would show up at their next class with some excuse for the teacher about how she can sick or had to deal with an unignorable situation. However, that same part of her had also wanted to hold out hope for Franz and Hannah when they disappeared from her American Literature class, and now they were nothing but faces on missing posters.

The semester had only been in swing for a month and a half. Mina would be the third victim person she had shared a class with. Not third overall - just that she had shared a class with specifically. When she scaled the radius up to encompass the entire campus, she would be the fifth disappearance.

According to Erwin, Paradis' level of supernatural activity was on the low side of average. She suspected that that was the reason he had been hinting that they should relocate. He felt that she was wasted here, and as her Watcher, he wasn't comfortable doing nothing about it, no matter how new to his position or unwelcome he was. And truthfully, five people disappearing off of a college campus during the first semester and a half wasn't unusual. College was stressful. She didn't know the details regarding two of the disappearances, and even with the couple who had seemingly disappeared off the face of the like, a human culprit was just as likely as a demonic one, if not moreso.

So why was she so certain that Mina Carolina had met her death at some point since she had last seen her?

Why did she feel like she had failed to stop it?

Once the feelings of dread and guilt grew strong enough for her to be actively aware of them, Mikasa decided to redirect her attention to the students who were there. 

Armin probably would have been one of her classmates if she hadn't insisted that he not take any classes that run past sunset and directed him to the morning trigonometry course instead. However, it wouldn't have been a large class even with him and Mina. 

Four of the students scattered across the room were unknown to Mikasa. However, her seat near the back of the room allowed her to keep an eye on them with relative ease. That, in turn, allowed her to be fairly comfortable in her assessment that they were normal human students. 

She could say the same of her four other classmates as well. They, however, were a little higher on her radar. 

Closest to her, his desk seated directly in the last few rays of evening sunlight, was a muscular blond man. Mikasa thought that his name began with an 'R', but didn't know much else about him. He'd caught her attention with a loud, outgoing personality and general demeanor that made him seem like an odd fit for the class. At the moment, it looked like he wasn't paying much more attention than Mikasa herself, fiddling with the ring on his left hand and only occasionally glancing up at the teacher. 

The blonde next to him was as much of a stranger, but she at least looked like she was focusing. She had gained Mikasa's attention by joining a week after classes had started. Since then, however, she had proven quiet and distant, only interacting with her classmates when she glared at the man next to her for trying to talk to her while she was working.    

Jean Kirstein, meanwhile, clearly didn't want to be a stranger. Over the past year, he had made a few attempts to reach out that she could admit were enduring. If she didn't have her duty, he might be someone she could consider a friend. As it was, she couldn't bring herself to do anything but brush him off, for his own sake. He didn't pay her much attention in class though. That wasn’t to say that he was completely focused, even though he had claimed a seat at the front of the class. She often glimpsed him speaking to the student next to him. There’d also been enough instances when she’d heard a frustrated comment from him regarding the course for her to get the sense that trigonometry wasn't particularly easy for him. However, she also suspected that he was hardworking and dedicated enough to make up for it.

The student next to him was Marco Bott. Cheerful and painfully earnest, he was honestly mostly notable to Mikasa because he was Jean's friend. He seemed like a good person though. That meant he was a reminder of why Mikasa couldn't let Jean become her friend no matter how hard he tried or let herself rest no matter how much Armin tried to insist. If she faltered, if she slowed, there would be consequences.

Mina used to sit behind Jean and Marco.

The sound of chairs being pushed back and writing implements being put away drew Mikasa out of her stupor. Rather than look at the clock, she glanced out the window.

The sun had already begun to set.

She quickly stuffed her textbook, pencil case, and notebook in her bag, feeling only a brief pang of guilt for the blank sheet of paper that stared back at her. The items landed haphazardly, and she knew that if she looked, they would likely only partly obscure the stake, crossbow, and knife that laid carefully arranged at the bottom. She zipped it shut before anyone could get curious and try to sneak a peek; a reflex even though she knew that no one would be bold enough to try that with her.

Despite being the last one to start getting packed, she was the first one out of class. Just like she always was. From there, it didn’t take long to get off the campus.

The first two blocks of Mikasa's walk went like she was heading home. It was as she reached the third - the one that would have lead back to her apartment - that she took a sharp right. From there it was four blocks straight on, then one block to the left. A simple route, but one that had come to haunt her nightmares.

Dusk had descended on the cemetery by the time she reached it.

Logically, she knew that she wasn't likely to run into anything for several more hours.

Instinctively, she knew that Mina Carolina wasn't likely to return to class.

This wasn't a night to take risks.

Mikasa wandered deeper into the graveyard, where she was less likely to be spotted by any passerby, and pulled out her stake. There, she began to wander.

It wasn't a small cemetery by any means. That was what made it the ideal hive for demonic activity. Not only were cemeteries where the majority of newly turned vampires rose, but large ones were also rife with additional dead bodies and crypts. This one was even separated into several different sections, which made it easy to get lost.

Getting lost made it easy to watch the time slip by.

A couple of hours into her patrol, a familiar figure flickered into existence at the edges of her vision. She didn't say anything to him, and he followed her silently, gaze occasionally flickering to one side or another as he took in the graveyard. As if he might notice anything before she did. Technically speaking, she supposed that he might. He had "caught" things a few times in the past, when she was subconsciously aware of something but hadn't been fast enough to process it with her conscious mind. It was the only thing that made sense, for all that she desperately wished that it wasn't.

A slayer whose hallucination needed to point things out for her couldn't mean anything good for the world.

She forced herself to look away from the figment and focus on her surroundings.

Not five minutes later, the sound of shifting earth caught her attention. Mikasa turned and strode toward it, her grip on her stake tightening and her gaze fixed straight ahead. Within seconds, she had spotted it; a grave with the earth beneath it stirring. As she watched, a hand punched up and out of it, grasping desperately at the ground. The head came next - an unfamiliar man, his face distorted by lumps across his forehead and nose, slitted yellow eyes, and fangs. The visage of a vampire prepared for predation. It glared at her as it struggled and snarled, eventually freeing its other arm. Once that was done, it had a much easier time dragging itself to the surface.

It never got the chance to free itself fully. The second its chest was completely exposed, Mikasa sprang into action. She grabbed the thing by the lapels of its dirt-stained tuxedo and dragged it upward. Fear flicked across its face, causing the predatory features to fall away and leaving a normal face behind. A face that could have been human if she didn't know better. She didn't allow herself to look closely.

In a blink, she had rammed her stake through the vampire's chest and into its heart. It dissolved into dust a few seconds later. Mikasa stood and watched the flecks flutter back down to earth.

She was drawn out of her reverie by a firm, "you shouldn't be patrolling tonight."

Mikasa grit her jaw. "I already rested," she pointed out.

"It isn't enough. You've been exhausting yourself, one little nap isn't going to make up for that."

"You just saw me kill a vampire."

"Yeah, and it took way more out of you than it normally would."

Mikasa whirled around to face the figment. Something in her chest threatened to hitch as she allowed herself to look directly at him, just as it so often did, even years after he first manifested.

The thing before her almost could have been a ghost. It wasn't though; god knew she had done enough research on the subject. Ghosts, when they visibly manifested at all, took the appearance they wore at their time of death or at another point in their life.

Eren Jaeger had been fourteen when he died. Even if he responded to the same name, this grown man with distant, unreadable eyes couldn't be him.

He wasn't anything. She'd run all of the tests as she learned more about the Supernatural. She wasn't haunted, there weren't hints of a demonic presence lingering around her - there was nowhere he could have come from other than her own mind.

He was nothing but a manifestation of her guilty conscience. She had come to terms with that years ago, yet she was still wasting time arguing with him.

At that instant, it was suddenly very tempting to look away. However, she forced her gaze to remain steady as she coldly said, "leave."

The figment blinked. "Mikasa-"

"No," she interrupted.

Something flickered in the illusion's eyes. It was difficult to identify, caught behind that distorting wall that so often covered his emotions, and she didn't even bother to try. He opened his mouth again, but she didn't let him get another word in.

"I'm not willing to put up with you tonight," she said. "Get out."

His expression finally came together into something real and visible. Alarm. "Mikasa, move!"

Mikasa lunged to the side just in time to avoid being grabbed by the shoulder.

She spun around to find a burly vampire standing over the ashes of the one she'd just killed. He was musclebound and bulky enough that he might be somewhat difficult to face in hand-to-hand combat - but not so much as to stand a real chance against her. "Slayer," he snarled. "I am going to grind you into dust."

Mikasa didn't bother responding. He lunged forward and she spun to the side, ducking beneath his flailing fist to get behind him. As she moved, she noticed that Eren had disappeared. Good. She sprang forward, stake in hand, only for the vampire to swing back around at the last moment and grab her wrist. He squeezed, a horrible grin on his face, and she had to fight to keep from automatically releasing her grip on her stake.

As the vampire leaned forward, she twisted to punch him in the sternum with her free hand. It only made him falter for a moment, but it was enough for her to wrench her wrist out of his grasp. It was also enough for her to come to a terrible realization.

Her blows weren't as hard as they usually were and she was moving slowly.

Eren was right.

There wasn't any time to ruminate on that. The vampire lunged forward, and Mikasa dove to the side again. She leaned into the momentum and swung her leg out to land a kick to the vampire’s side. He stumbled, a curse on his lips.

It didn't bring her any sense of victory, for as she brought her foot down, it landed on uneven ground. Not observant enough.

Pain shot up her ankle and the world began to tilt.

Eren still wasn't anywhere to be seen. Funny. If her mind was going to conjure up even a distorted version of Eren Jaeger, she would have expected it to happen when she died. She had thought that he would watch.

Mikasa hit the ground, the side of her head slamming hard against a flat gravestone. The world continued to spin around the sound of the vampire chuckling. She clenched the hand holding her stake, only to find that it must have fallen out of her grasp during the fall.

She forced herself to sit up, hands pushing hard against the ground to make up for the way the world was spinning around her. When she looked up, the vampire was glaring down at her. She tried to stand up, to scurry back, but her ankle gave out when she tried to bear weight on it. A sprain - just a sprain - nothing that wouldn't heal in a couple of days with her abilities, but even a sprain couldn't bear weight immediately. The vampire was saying something now, but she couldn't make out the words, couldn't hear anything past the buzzing in her head, couldn't feel anything but the sensation of warm blood oozing from the cut in her head.

The vampire was reaching for her.

She hadn't wanted to take a risk, and because of that, she was going to die tonight. And Eren wasn't even there to see it.

Maybe that was fitting. She hadn't witnessed his final moments either. Maybe he wanted her to die alone as well.

The vampire's hand closed around her neck. She forced herself to look up, to at least look her death in the eyes-

- and the vampire exploded into dust. In his wake stood the blonde girl from her trigonometry class, stake in hand and gaze locked on Mikasa.

The girl said something. Mikasa blinked, hearing her words, but unable to process them. The girl frowned, and Mikasa grit her teeth, just to give herself another sensation to focus on.

"Repeat that," Mikasa ordered.

The girl extended a hand. "I asked how badly injured you are," she said.

Mikasa ignored the hand and moved to force herself to her feet. Her injured ankle protested once again, but she bore the majority of her weight on her other leg and managed to get upright. "I can handle it," she said. "Who are you?"

The girl didn't seem at all off-put by Mikasa's blunt question. If anything, she seemed like she expected it. "Annie Leonhart," she said.

She paused for a moment. It did nothing to prepare Mikasa for her next, impossible words.

"I'm the slayer."

*

Weeks later, armed with only an axe, her memories, and the desperate research of a lonely girl scared she was losing her mind, Mikasa went hunting.

She found the one who had snatched them from the bodies of the original monsters and tossed them into the ocean.

She took his head, and he turned to ash at her feet.

#mikannie #mikasa ackerman #annie leonhart #the call #attack on titan #snk #eren jaeger

[thebrunetteweasley16]

The unbreakable vow (part 2)

Words: 1K+

Part one

No one knew what had happen with your relationship, but both you and Fred were a walking mess. You didn't bother to do your hair anymore, you got skinnier than ever before and dark circles under your eyes were the most prominent feature in your face now. Fred on the other hand was quiet all the time, with his head on the clouds and no one had heard anything about Weasley products since the beginning of the year. 

"I knew she would cause trouble, she's a Malfoy after all" 

Ron said, this was a common topic between the Weasleys, because they were really worried about Fred. And about you too.

"You can't really be that thick" 

Ginny lifted her eyes from the paper she was writing to give Ron a death stare

"what?" 

"There's obviously something wrong with this, I don't know what, but I'm going to figure it out" 

"I'm with Ginny" Hermione contributed "how is it possible that they lasted two years together in secret but they broke up the moment they make their relationship public?" 

Lee Jordan who was a good friend of the twins, overheard the conversation 

"can you drop it already? Fred needs go out there, date other people. I just set him up with a beautiful Ravenclaw girl, and he seems happy about it"

"No. I'm not dropping it" 

Ginny stormed off the common room, slamming the Fat lady's painting. 

Fred wasn't sure if this was the right thing to do. He was still in love with you, even after the horrible things you said, but Lee was right, he needed to move on. He met the Ravenclaw girl at the three broomsticks. She was cute, but she was not you. They talked for a while, but then you entered from the door. He felt wrong. Like he needed to hide because he was cheating on you, but he reminded himself that you had never loved him and he was moving on. He stared at you though. That was not the face of a girl who broke up with someone she didn't love. Your hunched shoulders, your lifeless eyes. It was not normal. 

When you looked up catching Fred's eyes and saw him with another girl you were about to have a panic attack. You left the place so fast that your friends didn't even notice. 

Fred excused himself and followed you to the place you two used to hide. Your secret place. He approached with caution because he heard you crying, and when he found you sitting on the floor, hugging your knees and holding an old sweater of him, his heart broke even more than two months ago when you broke up with him. 

"Hey"

He said, you jumped a little and looked at him. Panic started building up in you

"what are you doing here?"

You asked, drying your tears so he wouldn't notice them. He did anyway 

"what's wrong?" 

Fred stood there, debating himself to go and sit beside you, like he used to do last year

"it's none of your business" 

You spat, not letting yourself look into his eyes

"you came here, so you made it my business" 

"don't flatter yourself Weasley, I came here because it's quiet. Well, at least it was moments ago" 

"That doesn't explain my sweater" 

A sight escaped from your lips

"I don't have time for this" 

You stood up and tried to leave, but Fred blocked the exit 

"what do you think you're doing?" 

"I tried (y/n). I tried to stop thinking about you, to forget you, to move on, but I can't because I still have a lot of questions that you never answered!" 

A headache started on the back of your head, but you brushed it off as the stress of the situation 

"if I answer them do you promise you won't talk to me anymore?"

"I promise"

You sat on the floor, not sure if this talk was going to be your breaking point, but you reminded yourself that when this happened in the past months, you only had to remember that the entire Weasley family was in your hands

"fine"

Fred sat beside you, but not as close as he used to

"okay. What did I do wrong?"

You couldn't still look at him in the eyes, so you fixed your gaze at the ground

"I already told you. You didn't do anything wrong, I just never loved you"

"I don't believe you for a second"

"that is your problem, not mine"

"you know why I don't believe you? Because I know you. I have known you ever since you stood against your brother when he called Hermione a mudblood. Since you went that time at the burrow without your father's knowledge and everyone loved you. Since we went to the kitchens and you greeted Dobby like he was your friend, like an equal. Since you and Ginny started to be best friends and started using this same room to talk because Ginny understood this situation maybe even better than I did. And there is no day that passes by without me regretting putting so much pressure on you to reveal our relationship to the world"

You were left without words. You had practiced all summer what to say to Fred, but you never expected this kind of talk. Silence remainded in the room, until Fred broke it

"look at me in the eyes and tell me you never loved me and I promise I will leave you alone from now on"

You didn't need to look at him in the eyes to know you couldn't do that. You couldn't look at his green eyes that you loved and lie to him, but you tried anyway

"I... I don't-"

You started, but your words got stuck in your throat when you realised how close you were with Fred, the boy you loved. The boy you will always love. Fred could sense what was going on and he got closer and closer to you until your lips touched his.At first you wanted to pull away and run as fast as you could, but you didn't. You forgot about everything happening, your father, the unbreakable vow, your aunt Bella, everything. Instead of pulling away, you kissed him back with all the emotions you felt at the moment. Sadness, guilt, regret. The words I've missed you so much were implicitly told in the kiss from both of you. 

The kiss was passionate and you didn't miss the chance of positioning yourself on Fred's legs, like the old times. He grabbed your waist as if this was unreal to him and he wanted to make sure you were actually there.

"I love you"

You said, looking into his eyes

"I love you too"

He responded trying to catch his breath, but when you were about to kiss him again your headache was so painful you thought someone just hit you with a hammer

"(y/n)? What is it?"

"My head it hurts. It really hurts"

Fred acted quick. He grabbed you and carried you down the halls, heading towards Madam Pompfrey. You heard a voice talking to you, it wasn't Fred. It was Ginny

"(y/n) did you break the vow?"

You couldn't speak, so you just nodded

"Damn it! Why would you do that you idiot?!"

That voice was definitely Draco. You felt Fred dropping you slowly in a bed, and you could barely hear Madame Pompfrey

"what's wrong with her?"

"I don't know... I-"

Fred started but Draco interrupted him quickly

"she broke an unbreakable vow. You need to save her, please. She is my sister"

And that was the last thing you heard before it was all darkness.

All the Weasleys were there when you woke up, plus Hermione and Draco

"she's awake!"

Ginny yelled and ran to your side

"what happened? How am I alive?"

You asked

"madame Pompfrey thinks the third party at the vow didn't do the spell right"

Fred answered, and then proceeded to kiss your hand

"Oh God, I probably owe everyone an explanation"

You said, sitting on the bed

"not really" Ginny spoke "Draco explained everything to me before any of this happened" 

"she attacked me!" 

Draco complained and you chuckled a little, but then you realized how dangerous this situation was. Draco wasn't going to stay quiet.

"Draco, about our parents..."

"they won't hear a word about this, if they did I would be in trouble too for telling her about all this"

You smiled at your little brother as he left the room. You knew he wasn't doing this because he would be in trouble. You looked at Ginny

"I was so irresponsible, I'm so sorry. Imagine if I had really died, you would have to deal with my aunt Bellatrix and my father"

Ron shook his head

"we have Harry every year at our house, I hope you don't think mum and dad aren't ready for some death eaters"

You chuckled

"well, I think we need to go. I'm really glad this is over"

Said Hermione smiling genuinely at you

"yeah, I think you two have a lot to talk about"

Ginny winked at Fred and everyone left you two alone in the nursery. Fred sat beside you in the bed, holding your hand and forming circles with his thumb in it.

"I'm so sorry"

He said. Your eyebrow furrowed

"what for? It's me who needs to apologize"

"no. You wouldn't even be in this situation if I had been a good boyfriend and listened to you in the first place"

You squeezed his hand

"none of this is your fault. It was my decision in the yule ball, you didn't pressured me, and the good news is that we can see each other again in secret"

He smiled

"yeah about that. I have a surprise for you tomorrow".

 A portable swamp. A freaking portable swamp. When Fred told you he had a surprise for you, you never imagined him going against at least 90% of Hogwarts' rules. That obviously didn't mean you didn't like it. Umbridge's face was priceless and you were sure your boyfriend was going to scape punishment somehow, so you weren't worried about that

"Accio broom!"

You heard both twins yelling. The brooms came and Fred turned to look at you. He extended his hand and you and you took it, positioning yourself on the broom too. The three of you abandoned Hogwarts

"give her hell from us Peeves".

"Where are we going?"

You asked with the biggest smile you ever had on your face

"to our new store on Diagon Alley, you're going to love it

"Fred answered. You hugged him with more strength than required to not fall off the broom. You loved him and everything was going to be okay. Your life was starting at that moment. 

@livingforbarnes 

Thank you for your support!!

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader

[findingarcadia]

Made For Him

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26818468/chapters/66040222

Chapter 4 : Disharmony

The two of us sat in silence for a bit, drinking in the sounds of nature. Me more so than Shoto, who was undoubtedly enjoying the sensation of my fingers running through his hair. To this day my mind could not understand why he dyed it but nonetheless went with it. To be honest it looked good on him. Him and his two-colored eyes. We sat on Yua’s porch watching our group of friends and family play, get dirty, and wrestle through the dirt. I loved each and every one of them in their own way. That included the older people in our ‘family’. Thinking about this family brought my mind to the many unanswered questions I still had.

What exactly are we?

Why is everything a secret?

What is it that lingers around and tugs at me?

Am I crazy?

Living in Washington, let alone a town so close to the border of Canada it was 50 percent forest and more beyond the United States border and mostly protected by laws – laws that forbade many from trespassing on certain lands or deforesting. I never understood the importance of that until recently, the forests were our home. We were woodland people if anyone had to label us. I never understood why part of that many questions deal. We stayed away from the towns and people mostly. We’ve lived here in Spokane since we came to America.

In my time here I did notice many things, people steered clear of us. The other kids rarely spoke to us. We were labeled weird and barbaric for living in the woods and surviving the way we do. I’d like to think we were normal….mostly. We lived like anyone else, shopped for food, hunted for the winter, used furs to help warm us along with some luxuries. We just kept to ourselves. Like a tribe. Or a pack.

“Izuku…”

My mind raced, dark green bunnies zipping about on my life and questions that I barely heard the words that came from my best friend.

“Earth to Izuku.”

I took a breath and pulled my hand from his hair and looked down at him. “Sorry, mind bunnies.”

“I see that. What is going on in that head of yours?” He said as he turned slightly toward me.

“Would you believe me if I said absolutely nothing?”

“No.” Shoto deadpanned.

Sighing I tugged the blanket around myself and up to my chin. “You know, we’ve been here for a long time.”

“And?”

“I’m just saying. Anyway, it’s been what eleven years.” I said softly through the fabric while looking out at the slowly dimming light. Aizawa would most likely want me safely inside the house, and he would probably call Yua just for kicks to make sure I was home. “No one has changed.”

Shoto paused in his motion of attempting to get up and let his eyes shift toward me.

There was a long pause that made something in my head sound an alarm.

Something was not right.

“Change?” he asked. “Change as in personality-wise or what? We don’t need to change who we are or what we do because here we are a family. We look after one another. Why change?”

Smooth Shoto Todoroki, real smooth.

“Yeah…” I agreed knowing full well he detoured the true meaning behind my statement earlier.

“Come on, worrywart. Let’s get you inside.” Shoto stated as he turned and lifted himself to his feet. He offered a hand to help me from my comfortable spot and sadly I took it mourning the warmth and comfort that I had at that very moment. Letting the blanket slip from around me ungracefully, I shoved it back into the chair and allowed Shoto to pull me towards him and ultimately toward the door.

“Aww look at you being a good babysitter. You brought me back home right at curfew.” I taunted. “I’m sure if you sit and give paw, you’ll get treats.”

Shoto just stared at me while I had gotten my keys out and had them in the door ready to open it. “Forget Aizawa and his issues,” Shoto said as he moved away from me with a small smirk on his lips. “You’re lucky I let you live past childhood.”

A snort gracefully slipped out of me, or as gracefully as a snort could. Before I could say anything Shoto swatted my backside and took off, off the porch, and along the path toward his family’s house. His agility to this day confuses me and makes me a little uneasy. Shaking my head I opened the door and walked in, toeing my shoes off at the front. The house Yua and I lived in was designed similar to a traditional Japanese house. Well at least on the inside. Shoes off at the genkan.

“Hang your jacket up!” Yua’s voice floated through the house from the kitchen. Her senses always amazed me, her knack for knowing who was in the house or what was going on was unreal, but hey I guess that is a mom thing. What’s funny is that I had been seconds away from just tossing my jacket either on the floor or on a chair.

Making my way to the kitchen I spotted the mother-to-be, or already mother… I don’t even know anymore. She was creating a concoction of things. Taking a sniff, I could smell a weird mix. “Onions, peaches, chocolate, noodles…” I paused watched her add pickle juice while she had a cookie shoved in her mouth. “I’m ordering take out.”

“Awww Izu, you don’t want some?”

I looked on in horror, surveying the dishes and chopped vegetables on the counter and the other empty containers. “Nope.” I declared. “You and your craving have just created a monster sickness in my stomach.”

Yua giggled and shrugged while she attended her…whatever it was.

“Where’s the beef?”

With all the weird craving this woman had, there was always meat involved. Beef usually, ground and made into the perfect meatballs, or shredded and sprinkled over something. I swear the baby was a carnivorous beast and it made its mother eat weird nasty meat concoctions. Ah, the price of motherhood. Those dark, fuzzy, hopping creatures were back in my brain. Lately, weird things had been happening when it came to Yua, her abdomen would swelling and something it looked like the baby was having a party in there, other times her abdomen would be a normal size for someone who was as pregnant as she was. I had thought to ask but assumed it would go into the pile of unanswered questions.

“Hey.” Yua touched my chin. “I’m going to be okay.” I wondered briefly when I had zoned out long enough for her to waddle herself toward me.

“Mind reader.” It was like this woman knew me so well that my thought never escaped her.

Yua just smiled and pulled away from me with her hand pulled up into fists, like she was ready to throw a punch. “I’m a fighter, besides I’m just pregnant not…”

“I know…”

I didn’t want to think of anything happening to the one person aside from Aizawa that helped nurture me and raise me. For an orphaned child she has never met, Yua had given up being anything normal and risen to the plate of motherhood. She gave me a home and made sure of our places in this family. She stood up to many people when it came to me and my mischief, Aizawa included. You know I think that was why we were together like this because Aizawa saw her love and care and willingness to fight for someone she knew nothing about.

“You’re gonna be okay.” I whispered to myself, hoping that if repeated enough I would believe it. That if said enough like prayer, it would be true. Pregnancies are difficult, sometimes women die in childbirth. Especially if the family was insistent on home birth, those were difficult if there were complications.

Shut up brain.

“Alistair?” Changing the subject was the best considering where my brain decided to go. Stupid bunnies making my train of thought run wild. Yua’s husband, the man she left Japan for. He usually was glued to her side, never one to leave for fear of something happening. Hence the fear instilled into me. Besides, Yua could cook and he never missed her meals. Even if I was not fond of the man, he just gave me weird vibes, his absence was a bit strange to me.

“He won’t be home tonight.” She said as she waddled back and forth in the kitchen, messing with her mixture of food. “Try this.”

Having let the mind bunnies free to dash and hop I realized too late that I took the bite offer. I had regrets, major regrets. Never again was I allowing this woman to feed me. Her food, I wanted no part of any longer. “Disgusting!” I had spit it out in the trash and proceeded to drown my mouth with anything sugary to get the taste out of my mouth.

“Hmmm…” she said and spooned a portion into her mouth. “Your loss, I guess.”

I gagged and proceeded to take large gulps of the soda I had opened. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Yua shrugged and proceeded with her project. At this point there was no other word for it, the food was a project made for the science fair. It was a concoction made of pure pregnant evil.

“I swear, if I didn’t know you, I’d say you were evil.”

“Then you don’t know me very well.” She said as she took another spoonful.

“Yeah, on that note.” I left the kitchen in search of the takeout menus we had stashed somewhere for when Shoto and I had those boring nights of video games and crap talk. “Alistair isn’t home, even though he’s like your guard dog. Aizawa has given me a curfew and gave me babysitters. You’re messing around with me in hopes of distracting me from asking questions.” I yelled as I dug through the side table drawer in the living room. “What’s going on?”

Yua’s form appeared in the entryway of the kitchen leading toward the dining and living area. “Izuku, do me a favor. Stay out of it.” Her expression was one of pleading and I turned away from her face to look at the now found menus.

There was silence on my end. I couldn’t stay out of this, it involved me. I’m part of this family. I deserve to know.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you would.” She sighed. “I’m stressed, Izu, I don’t think this is good for me so please.”

My eyes widened and I looked at her then. She struck where it hurt, my care, and worry for her. “You’re gonna be fine.” I repeated my statement from earlier. “Besides telling me to stay out of it, makes me want to know even more. It obviously must be big, and it involves this family. I am part of this family.”

Yua didn’t respond. Not a word. I couldn’t read her expression and at that moment, deep down I knew this was far bigger than I expected.

#MadeForHim #ao3fic #ao3 writer #BNHA fic #BAKUDEKU #izuku mydoria #shoto torodoki #katsuki bakugo #Shouta Aizawa #werewolf au #Bakugo and Midoriya #lovestory #supernatural myths #japanese myths #werewolves turn into actual wolves #BABIES #ILOVETHEM #chapter 4

[giogama08]

Tendou Satori, School Festival part 2

First part. Here is the second part. I just got a strike of inspiration. It’s so cliche, but I really wanted a scenario like this, it was a little hard to finish but I hope u like it, and as always sorry for my English. ft Ushiwaka.

After seeing Tendou, your heart was pounding like crazy into your chest. Sure, the haunted house was scary, but the main reason was that he just confessed to you. He. just. confessed. It sounds surreal that the guy that you liked and thought he only sees you as a friend had just confessed to you. You thanked all your gods for your good fortune.

As you arrived at your classroom, you were still flustered and prayed that no one else noticed it. You changed your clothes quickly and started helping your classmates.

You were not the only one distracted because of what happened. Tendou was unable to keep in character and lost the cool/monster aura he has until now. His classmates thought that he might be exhausted and decided to relieve him of duty, which was a shame cuz thanks to him the whole school was talking about their haunted house.

After he washed and changed his clothes, he found himself wandering through the school, daydreaming about you. He was having a rush of adrenaline and everything felt so unreal, like if he was in a dream. Fortunately, it didn’t pass much time till he found Ushijima. The brunette instantly senses that something was off with his friend since he was spacing out.

“Did something happened to you? Sorry if I couldn’t make to see you performing” he said, trying to guess why Tendou was so distant. At the mention of the haunted house, the face of the redhead immediately matched his hair, remembering how he confessed against his will. He really didn’t understand where he got the courage but now he was losing confidence. He covered his face with his hands and shrank until he curled up. Ushijima observed him, waiting patiently for him to stop being dramatic.

“Wakatoshi-kun, what should I do?” he said in an almost desperate voice. “I-I just confessed to (Y/n)-chan inside of the haunted house”. Ushijima opened his eyes just a little, but the rest of him kept immovable.

“What did she say?” he asked. 

“She said... She said she likes me too...” His voice distilled insecure as if the idea sounded absurd. He was still curled but his face was now lifted toward Ushijima. “What should I do?”

Ushijima failed to see the problem. 

“I think we should go visit her” He was being rational. After all, he was in the same class as you, so he has to stay close in case someone needs extra help. Despite Tendou’s complaints about not being ready yet, Ushijima managed to drag him onto his classroom, where you were working at the moment.

Tendou has been wondering what Ushiwaka’s class did for the festival (since he had been busy preparing for his stage, he forgot to ask) but his heart was definitely not ready for what he saw.

“...A maid cafe?” the redhead was about to say something about it being so cliche, but the idea just got stuck in the air as he noticed the irony of his situation. He was forced by Ushijima to take a seat and watched you taking orders and serving in an outfit that can only be described as taken out of Tendou’s wildest fantasies. His face quickly changed color to a bright red. You looked so cute. The length of the skirt was just above your knee, so he has a great view of your legs. The way you moved from table to table looked like you were floating.

Of course, Ushijima stayed with him (for moral support) but was doing nothing to help him calm down. Eventually, you noticed his gaze and went directly to his table. He started to panic as he saw you approaching. 

“You came!” You said bashfully with a smile on your face. You felt embarrassed that he saw you using a maid uniform nonetheless felt a little pleased that he seemed to be enjoying it. You both were a blushing mess, but your smile gave him the courage he needed.

“Of course! I promise, didn’t I?” the sound of his voice comfort him as he didn’t sound as nervous as he was. He decided to take a step forward. “Besides, you look absolutely gorgeous. How could I missed a view like this?”. Tendou was internally congratulating himself for his bold comment, while you were internally screaming. Your blush intensified to the point where it was spreading to your ears and neck.

“(L/n)-san, there are still some tables unattended. You shouldn’t be distracted” said Ushiwaka, interrupting your conversation. Tendou clicked his tongue. He knew the ace didn’t have bad intentions but he wished his friend was a little more perceptive of the atmosphere. On the other hand, you mentally thanked him for giving you a chance to recover yourself.

“S-sorry! You are right, Ushijima-kun. I’ll be back in a minute” You said, as you rushed to take some other tables orders.

“Just how righteous you have to be?” said Tendou clearly annoyed. 

After that initial conversation, Tendou kept flirting with you every time you approached his table. As expected, at the end of your shift you were exhausted. Your heart was pounding like crazy and your head spinning as well. You took your time changing clothes before leaving your classroom, while Tendou was waiting for you outside. All his initial doubts and insecurities seemed to have disappeared after spending some time with you. He was sure now that you correspond his feeling and it was not just him daydreaming.

He took your hand as you both walked to the exit of the school. Both were heavily blushing, surrounded by a comfortable silence. 

“Well, today was a very productive day” the middle blocker start saying. “I have to admit it didn’t quite go as I imagine but I don’t complain” he added, tighten his hand a little around yours. You giggled.

“To be fair, it was a pleasant surprise for me too. But you were quite annoying during my shift, Satori-kun. I could barely work with you there!” he just laughed at your statement.

“Well, be prepared... Cuz from now on I’m your problem to deal with and I’m not planning to slow down” He said, standing in front of you, his face just inches apart from yours. You sent him a smile that took his breath away.

“I’m counting on that” You whispered before standing tiptoe and kissed him softly on his lips. 

#haikyuu!! #tendou satori #tendou satori x reader #tendou x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagines #my post #my writing #shiratorizawa #school festival au #maid cafe au #ushijima wakatoshi

[somedrunkpirate]

In the dark we travel (Geraskier scifi au part 4)

Ao3 | Tumblr: part 1, part 2, part 3 | Rating: M | Hurt/Comfort

Teaser: 

As if Geralt had the intention to. He feels unbound. The light— he’d been in darkness so long that even though the emergency LED sting his eyes, the illumination itself is like a balm. The dark had made more space for visions, for unreality. In here, there is only the light, the water, and Jaskier.

In here, it almost seems possible to accept he’s being cared for. That this is allowed.

Chapter 4 

There are no guards.

The observation stops Geralt in his tracks momentarily— he gets a vague sense that this is important information. There should be a reason why there are no guards. Guards do not just suddenly up and disappear. That’s not their job description. Guarding can’t be just a sporadic activity, whenever you feel like it, because then things like this happen: someone stumbles upon a door, unguarded, and could just go ahead and walk in.

But the idea is so deliciously simple that Geralt goes right ahead and does it, any thoughts of mysterious de-guarding completely melted from his mind. He’s lost in a sensation of relief that he doesn’t have to deal with fighting right now, when he’s barely sure what is real and what isn’t.

He also knows, vaguely, that three nights without sleep shouldn’t make him this out of it, but it's easy to just blame it on the stench and not waste his precious time thinking about stuff. His bursts of clarity must be used efficiently, and now he’s going to use them to burst the door open to the restricted waste, level three.

Medical waste, that is what he needs. There must be something in there he can mix together into some semblance of a sleeping concoction. He doesn’t have all his supplies anymore, but he has some, and he has his memories of chemistry lessons and picking herbs in the gardens. Whatever he makes might kill the average humanoid, but hopefully it will just knock him out.

And there are no guards, so this should be easy.

He slips through the hallway quietly— ignores the whispers and the mutterings and the footsteps coming out of the labyrinth behind him. False, he thinks, even if Roach isn’t here to hear. The guards have a specific sound when they walk. Those Coalition-issued working boots. These steps— far in the distance, sound more like feet, or paws, naked on the floor.

Guards do not take off their shoes. Not in their job description.

Geralt stealths his way to the door. It probably has alarms on it, but he doesn’t really give a shit, so he makes a sign and Ard does the rest.

He isn’t sure if the alarms are off, or if he isn’t able to hear them in the waft of new smells that come towards him. In either case, he isn’t going to be able to last a long time, so he better get going and find what he needs.

The third level is much smaller, about the height of a normal room, for once, and yellow lines direct to different sections. It is fairly easy to find the right general area, but when Geralt arrives and runs his eyes along the long rows of boxes, he realises that he is in no state of mind to read the labels.

He’s stunned, for a second. Completely at a loss for what to do. Slowly, like something bubbling up from a thick, muddy swamp, he develops a vague idea of just grabbing a big thing, and filling it with other little things, and figuring what to do with them later.

But before he can even get to that first step, there are more sounds— footsteps again. But these ones have shoes. Or at least, one set of them does. The others are hooves, and they come with a sense of frustration and determination.

“Oh fuck,” Geralt says.

It is almost night, and he’d promised— he’d promised Jaskier. He’d wanted to sleep, and he’s trying to find a way. A way that doesn’t ruin everything.

Jaskier had been distracted for the day. That afternoon, the light in the window had finally disappeared. The week of the void had started. So, as promised, Jaskier had performed Craven Rose. It had lasted for the better part of the evening, and Geralt still hadn’t been able to sleep.

“Geralt!”

Geralt takes a reflexive step back at the sound. Bad choice. He’d been right about the ship going low on funding, because the slight push of his shoulder sends the whole rack into motion, rusted screws snapping at the joints, it lists to the side, and one, two, three objects fall off the shelves.

Geralt manages to dodge two.

Jaskier has just skidded to a halt in front of him when the third— the largest, tips over and covers Geralt completely in some sort of chemical goo.

It burns his hands, his shoulders, his neck.

And then, finally, blessedly, Geralt passes out.

Geralt comes to swinging. Swinging, as in, the movement. He blinks his eyes open and realises he’s been thrown over Roach’s back. He groans.

“Geralt?”

Jaskier is beside him at once. Geralt has to crane his head strangely to look up and see his face. He’s met with an expression artfully combining worry and utter exasperation.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Geralt tries to say something, but the pressure of Roach’s back into his chest makes it hard to take a full breath. He lets himself slip off, landing on his feet only just. He’s lucky the tunnels here are barely 5 feet wide, because there is a wall behind him to catch him.

Jaskier makes an irritated noise and stalks around Roach, pointing a finger at him. “You are in no state to walk to the bathrooms, get back on Roach or I will—”

Geralt frowns at him, tunes out the rest of the threat as he tries to make sense of what Jaskier is saying. The however many minutes he’d been unconscious linger like a spirit boost in his body— he’s more in control of his senses than he’s been in a while, but Jaskier’s rapid fire reprimanding makes him feel slow and lost again, missing something. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling around Jaskier.

After a second, Geralt catches the source of his confusion and pulls at it. Finally able to speak, he asks, “Bathroom?”

Jaskier takes a very deliberate breath. “You’re a walking health hazard. You’re not gonna fight me on this.”

Geralt looks at his arms, legs, and has to acquiesce to the point. Whatever chemical he’s been doused in, it wasn’t strong enough to completely eat through his clothes. There are large areas that have been bleached, strange grey and white blobs among the dark fabric, but where his skin was covered, it was protected. The problem is the parts of him that were not.

His hands, for one. He’d held them up reflexively, trying to protect his face— mostly successful. Parts of his arms where he’d had his sleeves rolled up, and his neck where the goo slid down from where it landed on his shoulders. The back of his head is mostly left unblemished, his hair only a little burned at the ends.

For all Geralt has no desire for a walk of shame through the crowds of people, his pride has little priority in comparison of getting this fucking shit off of him as soon as possible.

Like hell he’s gonna be carried in there though.

Deciding that arguing the point would be more effort than it is worth, Geralt just starts walking.

“You goddamn bugfuck—” Jaskier seethes behind him.

Geralt sets his jaw. One foot, other foot. His hand stings as he drags it across the rough metal of the tunnel walls.

Jaskier keeps up easily with him. “You can’t honestly think you’re going to make it.”

“Survived worse,” Geralt grits out. It isn’t even a lie. This is nothing. Though he could do without the running commentary.

“I give you 30 seconds before you pass out again,” Jaskier says. “If you really want to walk in there, at least let me help— or Roach, if that's better. You won’t have a wall to lean on once we reach the hall.”

Geralt continues, forcing himself forward, but as the tunnel opens up, he has to concede to the argument.

He doesn’t want Roach anywhere near the crowd, and she can’t climb up those walkways anyway.

Once the hall is a handful of paces away, Geralt stills. He waits, leaning against the wall.

It takes only a few moments for Jaskier to take the hint. Without a word, Jaskier takes his arm and puts it over his shoulder. Geralt allows his weight to shift from his hand, still lingering on the wall, to Jaskier’s form. Jaskier takes it, surprisingly easily, and begins to walk at a steady pace.

It’s warm, comfortable. Quiet, for a little while.

Geralt tells Roach to go back to the containers, and not to worry.

She sends back a gentle impression of pressure, stability, warmth. She isn’t worried.

Geralt divorces himself from the thought. Doesn’t think about why.

It’s easy to be distracted. The closer they reach the light, the more eyes turn towards them, staring.

A different quiet envelops him. Not a kind one at all.

Conversation halts and they watch as the Ancienthunter enters their company for the first time, weakened, dirty. Pathetic.

Jaskier speaks up right when the weight of their eyes becomes almost unbearable.

“And this is why we don’t mess with the labyrinths, kids. Anything can fall out of those fucking drums when you least expect it.”

He says it lightly, but there is a tension beneath it that catches Geralt off-guard. Something he would’ve expected to be altered— covered, by the mod. Maybe it’s because he’s so close that he can hear the discrepancies. Or maybe Jaskier is distracted, isn’t using it as well as he normally is.

Regardless, the others don’t seem to hear it. His remark was both an acknowledgement of their staring, and an answer to the questions that motivated it. Now, the mystery solved to an extent, most are shaken into a reflex of manners— or any semblance of them they’ve been taught. Slowly conversation picks back up again, though there is more murmuring than not. Geralt could bet what the topic is.

“Corron, could you fly up and run the bath? We’re gonna need the big guns for this.”

The tall black and white feathered Decalon nods, already having wandered up to them, and lifts off with two big flaps of his wings. In the limited space, it is more like a long leap than flying, as he easily crests the edge of the highest walkway and slips into a door.

Geralt’s eyes trace from the apparent end goal down the four long angled sections of walkway that criss-cross diagonally against the wall. At this point, the journey seems like a special form of torture, but with an intense awareness of the eyes still watching behind him, Geralt gathers the last of his energy and sets forth, back straightened and face blank.

The trek feels all too similar to those first few days in Zevos, trying to trace some beast or another in the pale deserts of Bacovas. The region is merciless not only in its heat but in the heaviness of its air. Not humid, just heavy, every step taking that much more effort. Geralt hadn’t had the interest to find out whether it was biological, cheminal, gravity, or whatever else, but the result had been exhausting.

It had felt good— earned. Life had been too easy for a while there. It had felt fitting to be in a place where it took too much effort to run.

And now, he can’t run from this either— the stares, the quiet encouragement of Jaskier’s voice. The pull of his mod is back again, lulling him into an almost meditative state. He barely feels the burns anymore. The air is heavy, the lights are too bright, but somewhere, in his mind, he’s floating. Light.

“You’re almost there, Geralt, come on. You’re going to feel much better with all this off you.”

He’s— they’ve stopped walking. They’re in a room with showerheads mounted on the walls but in the corner, below two of them, lies a large tub.

Jaskier is talking still, his voice like the water, an even stream of warmth.

“Before you ask, yes, we found it in the Piles, and yes, we cleaned it thoroughly, and yes, you are not allowed to argue with me.”

As if Geralt had the intention to. He feels unbound. The light— he’d been in darkness so long that even though the emergency LED sting his eyes, the illumination itself is like a balm. The dark had made more space for visions, for unreality. In here, there is only the light, the water, and Jaskier.

In here, it almost seems possible to accept he’s being cared for. That this is allowed.

So Geralt doesn’t protest, doesn’t speak as Jaskier helps him out of his clothing. There is no room for humiliation in the warm fog that fills the room in white clouds. As Geralt sinks into the tub, Jaskier is muttering under his breath, throwing the clothes underneath another shower stream, saying “— about 90% chance they cannot be saved, though if you were to wear them again you might restart a bleached leather look once more. It’s been a few decades since that was in vogue.”

He pratters on and on, and Geralt lets it come over him. It is strangely soothing to know he isn’t alone.

There, enveloped in warmth, light and companionship, Geralt finally, finally, falls asleep.

“What am I going to do with you?”

Geralt blinks, becomes aware of his surroundings one sense at the time. He hears the voice— Jaskier, the shuffling of feet on tiles. He feels water, lukewarm around his body, and then his hands and arms, the tell-tale tugging and twitching of his skin that comes with augmented healing. He smells, lavender and thyme, all around him but especially in his hair.

And then he sees— Jaskier, half covered in fog, half uncovered of clothes, face in tense lines but dissolving at once when their eyes meet.

“You’re awake, I see,” he says, smiling. “I’d started to wonder whether I would have to drag you out to save you from dissolving.”

Geralt shifts in position and groans, his muscles aching from holding in a strange position for too long. “How long?”

“You got a good four hours in. Don’t worry, I haven’t been staring at you for that whole time. When I was sure you wouldn’t drown yourself, I checked in every once in a while. Threw in some stuff.” Jaskier holds up a little glass jar and dips in his fingers, “You know, bath salts, oils. It wouldn’t do just to have to rot in your own chemical waste water for the whole duration. Would kind of defeat the purpose of all this.”

As if to punctuate his sentence, he flicks his wrist and throws in a pinch of something shimmery.

Geralt presses his lips together. “My hair?”

Jaskier’s smile doesn’t let off, but his eyes flicker away for a second. “I— you.” He sighs. “You were out cold but kept your head above water. I didn’t know if the goo was on your head, so I rinsed it a little. Just some soap and water, all above board, I promise.”

Geralt has to fight the urge to curl up into himself. How could he have let himself be so defenseless? He trusts his body to wake at any irregular sensation, and to think he slept through someone touching him.

Jaskier must see something in his face, because his smile disappears and his hand goes to reach out, but then stops mid way, hesitant. “I’m sorry. I truly didn’t intend—” He takes a breath. “I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

You could have left me alone.

But Geralt knows that isn’t fair. He would have— he would have survived this, if it hadn’t been for Jaskier. But it would have been much more painful, and Geralt is so tired. Jaskier has had ample opportunity to hurt him before. He’s had the majority of the crowd under his control from the beginning. It would only take a few choice words to turn everyone against him. But he hasn’t done that. He’s only ever been kind. And while Geralt can’t let himself trust that— cannot be as naive to think that there isn’t something, some reason, why Jaskier is doing all this — he also can’t convince himself that Jaskier would have used his vulnerability in malicious ways.

Everything he’s been doing so far is to prevent Geralt from being that— to help him recover. If there is anyone malicious to his well being, it is Geralt himself.

And the speech mod could falsify care, warmth and earnesty. But it doesn’t affect the eyes, or— or a hand.

A hand, trembling slightly, reached out towards him before landing on the edge of a tub.

Jaskier is watching him still, searching. Waiting.

“I never asked,” Geralt ends up saying, but it isn’t— defensive, this time. His voice comes soft, low, almost confused. “You never had to—”

To care. To do this, to do any of this.

Relief so often comes with a laugh, these days. Jaskier chuckles and shakes his head. “And yet, here we are.”

Here they are, in a Garbagecraft rocketing through space. In a bathroom with rusty showerheads and orange emergency lighting.

In a moment of respite.

“Come,” Jaskier says, projecting calm. Geralt can hear what's underneath it. The hesitance, the worry, and the exhaustion too, of another kind. It’s a gift. “Let’s get you out of here and into a bunk.”

Geralt huffs, but takes his hand, allows himself to be pulled by more than a voice.

Allows himself to be led.

Allows himself, for just another moment, to be cared for.

He’s taken risks before. He’s done dangerous and reckless things and did not have one thought for the consequences.

But somehow, following Jaskier seems to be the greatest.

And for a moment, Geralt doesn’t have it in him to regret it.

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