#choose any fish and just slap a flag on it!!

[deluluass]

all yours; all mine

71 and 58 with Atsumu pleaseeese. I just love this man and I would appreciate it if you wrote something with him. Youre so talented!💕 — anon

sidenote: anon, i hope u know that u have a very special place in my heart for being the first ask ive ever received. i hope u are well & having a gr8 day ;U;

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; daddy kink; mild angst; implied post-breakup depression; toxic relationship/s

Breakups are a messy business. A lot of crying, begging, screaming (if it's that type of a breakup). Whatever it is, breakups generally inspire intense— so-intense-it-could-get-you-kicked-out-if-you're-in-a-public-place, high-strung, and the most unpleasant kind of emotions. 

It’s understandable, considering you’re losing the person you love. 

But he doesn't even look upset.

"Aah," Atsumu sing-songed, twirling the plastic stirrer between his fingers. "Ya wanna call it off?"

The heat from the mug bit your skin as you gripped it. 

"What?" you choked, shaking your head. "I didn't say that, Atsumu. I only-"

He scoffed. "Fuckin'- ya just did."

You finally looked up at him, porcelain clinking as you placed your drink back on the saucer. Ball cap on,  muscles filling up and straining his hoodie and jeans; even in an outfit that almost concealed him he never fails to take your breath away. 

Only, it's for a different reason this time.

"I said that I-" you cleared your throat. "I want- I want you to-"

"I get it, I get it." Atsumu sighed, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Let's break up, then."

He was already standing up and he didn't even deign to meet your eyes. You didn't expect much when you'd travelled all the way to Tokyo just to have a talk with him. After all, the last conversation you had was over the phone. (And that, too, did not go well). 

Though, is it too much to expect he'd at least listen to what you have to say?

"Tsumu-kun! Wait!" 

Some customers were already staring, urging you to hide, hop on the next train, and run back home; away from the cold scrutiny of strangers. 

But not now. Not when what you have with him is hanging on a balance.

"Please, sit down and- and let's talk," you huffed, voice and hand trembling as you held onto his.

Breakups are a messy business, you heard.

A lot of crying. A lot of begging. A lot of screaming. Whichever kind it is, don't breakups usually inspire only the most intense emotions?

But he doesn't even look upset, doesn't even look like he feels anything other than a passing irritation, as if you were a fly buzzing in his ear, when he told you, "I know this is ya first rodeo, but yer gonna find someone new eventually, hm?"

It's been a long time coming, Atsumu thinks. He'd known for quite a while now that his relationship with you would end, actually, ever since you'd wanted to include "feelings" and "trust" and "opening up" into the mix. 

"Why?" he'd laughed at your face once. "What? Ya ain't happy? That it? We got somethin' good goin' on don't we?"

He didn't get it, at first. You'd always been your cheerful, bubbly self; never failing to be that one sunny spot when his day gets too pesky and such a pain in the ass. You were happy.

Until you weren't. 

"You don't.. tell me things," you muttered, fiddling with your hands on the kitchen table. "Which is fine! I'm not- go at your pace, but- but know that I'd listen to you. Always. I'm here, 'Tsumu."

And it wasn't as if he didn't try. It's just that Atsumu realized, a few months later, that he wasn't any good at it. 

Every time he'd lay it all out in front of you⁠— every tiny and pathetic and gritty part of him, you would eventually take him in your arms. So much smaller, weaker than his and yet Atsumu did not mind if it could be his entire world. 

Then, a thought would creep in, like a thief that'd stab him in his sleep. In the safety of those tender arms, with those guileless eyes peering at him, Atsumu would think that he'd rather stay there forever, cling onto you until he bites the dust.  

It disgusted him. 

Atsumu couldn't stand it. Because if he could be anything in this short life, he'd choose to be perfect. And that- that wasn't it. 

So he avoided it when the occasion arose. Diverting the subject to mundane stuff was easy, at first. The weather, the new show you're binging, your slacker of a boss, what happened back in the game. When that didn't work⁠— well, there were other ways. 

(His favorite was sticking his tongue in your wet cunt, to prod at the soft walls with the tip, and to lap and suck at the clit until you're begging for the stretch of his fat cock.)

The break up was understandable. When you'd greeted him in the café as if you'd spent the entire time you were apart crying, Atsumu knew it was over. 

You just repeated what you'd always said. It's okay to be vulnerable. If he needs some time to work out the right words then you'd always wait because I love you, 'Tsumu. 

(But there was that feeling again. Like he could die on the spot if you would so much as leave his sight.)

(Ending it was the only way out. When poison seeps itself into the bloodstream, you're left with no choice but to cut off a part of you.)

Unlike others, he can say that it was a clean parting. You wanted something and he was bad at it. And because he hated fucking up, Atsumu decided to leave. Easy. 

Really, the only people who didn't understand were his teammates.

"That's strange," Hinata spat, rice bursting to his chin when he suddenly faced Atsumu. "I don't think I've seen her for weeks now."

He could hear barely suppressed groans  behind him, no doubt from Bokuto and the others, before their spiker blurted out a confused, "What?"

Because, of course, Hinata could only mean one "her.” (There had only ever been one that Atsumu Miya allowed inside the team's gymnasium; inside his circle of friends; inside his life.)

Apparently, except for Hinata Shoyo, everyone had caught on that the both of you had thrown in the towel, so to speak. (And here they thought the guy's finally in it for real.)

"Nah, it's fine," Atsumu smirked, addressing it to everyone gathered around Samu's onigiri stand.  

"We broke up." 

He clicked his tongue. "It's not like there ain't no other fish in the sea."

The remark, casually said in between sips of cold coffee, was met with a gaping silence. 

That turned out to be right, like everything else that he'd predicted. 

A hole is a hole is a hole is a hole. No disrespect meant to you. But before you there had been many others who'd helped warm his bed. It just so happened that you got to stay for far longer. 

(Because waking up next to you meant waking up to that dreamy look, as if whoever's in charge up there has finally given you everything you've ever wanted.)

(And when he greets you with a hoarse good morning you say it back with eyes that tell him he's worth it, simply for being there.)

Anyway, going back to that old routine hadn't been difficult. 

(Except when he finally does it with someone new, for some reason he keeps searching for a different touch, expecting that endearing combination of inexperience and enthusiasm.)

(And when they cum he can't help but put a hand on their mouth, around their throat, because he's hearing the wrong voice, seeing the wrong face.) 

It's obvious, looking at him. Everyone can see that life's going pretty well for Atsumu. He can only hope that the same goes for you.

"You're miserable."

Peeling your attention away from the mother braiding her young daughter's hair, you hurriedly brought it back to the two women sitting in front of you.

"See?" Aya swung her hand in your direction. "Not even listening."

"No, no," you giggled sheepishly. Kaori was already pursing her lips.

"No, seriously. I am."

You sat upright, setting the chopsticks on your bento box. 

"Then what was it she said?" Kaori pressed. She folded her arms and you knew you were in trouble. 

"Uh..huh." You nodded. "Right. So. Um...."

"You didn't catch it," said Kaori.

"I didn't catch it," you winced.

Both girls sighed. 

The first three buttons of their blouses were open, the heat of the afternoon getting to them. And as they leaned back against the wooden bench, you had a feeling that they were about to give you the Conversation that's been waiting to happen for two long months.

That's why you'd decided to start it before they could. Just so it won't linger anymore painfully so.

“I know what you're going to say."

They only raised their brows, a mere "okay, go on" than an actual expression of surprise. 

"I've been sad. I haven't been..fine. That is true," you inhaled, preparing yourself for the agonizing part. Then, you released your breath.

"Ever since..'Tsu-" you gulped. "Ever since breaking up with Atsumu I haven't been feeling like myself but nowadays I'm getting back on my feet and I'm still working see so really there's no need to worry okay? Okay."

Aya grinned, but it didn't hold her usual devil-may-care humor to it. 

"You say that," she started, "but we’ll probably always be if you keep at that- at that⁠—"

"You're rarely in the moment," Kaori supplied, to which Aya replied with a harsh thank you. "You're distracted. And we know you're trying your best to be okay on your own. We've given you space, but remember that you have us."

Something was lodged in your chest and you found it hard to breathe. You'd missed them. You hadn't realized it, but you missed your friends. 

So much.

"Thank you," you whispered, forcing back  tears. "I- I wouldn't know what to do if it not for you two-"

"Hold it." Aya raised a palm. "Before you get corny again. Can I just say, I know he's your first dick-"

"Aya," Kaori murmured.

"And we all know it was good-"

"Aya," you hissed.

Your face burned as you searched from left to right, making sure no innocent being heard her.

"But can I just say," she slapped a palm on the surface of the table. "I don't care what you or the TV or his fans say about him! But the man's a walking red flag since day one!"

Kaori rolled her eyes. And despite yourself you couldn't keep a chuckle from bubbling. 

"Here we go again."

Aya almost rose from her seat. "When he sent that poor dude from accounting to the ER for just, I don't know, breathing your way, I knew something was up!"

You felt your smile die. 

That had been the first time it happened. You'd asked him what's wrong, after you'd rushed to the hospital, and all he gave you was silence. A whole day of it. He hadn't spoken a word about it, only that he'd warned you not to talk to that bastard again, or else.

(You'd learned, much, much later, that he doesn't do well with people that annoy him. That's what he said. You wanted to know more, but he suddenly decided that he had to make it up to you between the sheets.)

Kaori touched your hand. "Talk to us," she whispered.

You hummed as you shook your head. "I just remembered him," you said, only half of the truth.

If they knew it, they didn't let on. But Aya did say, "Tell you what. Company outing's upon us. So you know what that means?"

"Oh, I don't know," you mumbled apologetically. "I might sit this one out."

"No," Kaori gritted. 

Aya held your face with both hands as she  stared you down.

"You will buy yourself a new swimsuit. You will enjoy that cheap beach resort." 

The heaviness was lifting, bit by bit, as you felt your stomach ache with laughter. And with each silly word uttered by your friends, you could almost see the gray clouds overhead disappearing. Even for a little while.

"And you, you beautiful person you," Aya beamed. "Will finally, finally get laid."

Having best friends who are dead set on helping you get over an ex is a fearsome thing to behold, indeed. 

You couldn't even get a word in edgewise as they took you in a whirlwind of spas, salons, mani-pedis, and shopping bags. 

"Calm down. You rarely spend for yourself," Kaori told you when she'd caught you peeking forlornly at the frightening bill you'd amassed. 

But, try as you might to miss owning a fat wallet, you couldn't deny that you have no regrets wasting your money away. Not even for a single cent. Because you did feel amazing.

And when the day arrived, you couldn't help at the giddiness of having compliment after compliment thrown your way. 

"Is that really you?" said a co-worker when you'd boarded the bus. "You're glowing!"

During the games, as well, you'd often hear "Love the new look!" and "Have I ever told you before that you're so pretty? Because you are." And you'd preen with a soft-spoken thank you, having been taught by Kaori that denying a compliment makes one look stupid.  

It was so silly, honestly. Though not the part where, after a lovely comment, you'd be emboldened to strike an actual conversation. Learning that a coworker has a new baby now, or that so and so has recently moved up the corporate ladder; learning that, during your period of grief and self-pity (and even during the blissful time you’d spent with Atsumu), there were so many things you hadn't noticed.

You basked in it: the shower of pleasantries and anecdotes that had you feeling soft and fuzzy inside. The same way you lazed on the sandbar, clutching tiny conch shells in your hand, as you watched the sun tinge the sparkling waves with warm light.   

"Hey."

You jolted, turning towards the person who'd called your name. It was him. "Poor dude from accounting" as Aya dubbed him.

"Sano-san," you gasped, reaching for the towel beside you to cover up. "How- how are you?" 

Of all the people in your office, he was the last one you wanted to see. Solely for the reason that things have been awkward between you ever since that incident. A working relationship characterized by the literal turning of the other cheek whenever you two bumped into each other.

"Oh, pardon me," he scratched the back of his head. "Do you..want me to go?"

Yes. 

"No..!" you blurted out. "I think-"

The sun was almost setting. You wrapped the towel around you as you took in the balmy sea breeze. 

"I think I'm done hiding," you whispered, meeting his gaze for the first time in a long while, head on and baring the tiniest hint of shame, like how you did with your friends and other coworkers.

He didn't say anything, allowing you to continue. "I- It's nice. Talking to people again," you giggled. "Look, Sano-san. About before, I'm really sor-"

"Actually," he smiled. "That's why I'm here. Well, my partner pushed me but-"

You grinned at the blush that rose to his cheeks. 

"But I wanted to tell you: No hard feelings."

Sano-san extended a hand. You stared at it for a few seconds. His hand, then his face. Back to his hand, then his face again. And when you'd finally accepted it, it felt like witnessing the cage that’s imprisoned you for centuries finally open.

"By the way," he added, walking back towards an obviously amused fianceé. "It's a good look on you, being happy."

Atsumu entertained the possibility that maybe— just maybe, not everything was  fine the night the Jackals went home after an overseas tournament.

As soon as the plane landed on Japanese soil, the hunger he felt throughout the journey morphed into some kind of  anticipation, palpable through the thrill that electrified him into wakefulness. He might have left in a hurry, only half of his mind present when the Coach ordered for a short meeting. 

His foot tapped endlessly on the way⁠— while in the car; during the tedious elevator ride⁠— and when he'd finally entered his pad, slamming the door open with much eagerness than usual, Atsumu felt his heart plummet down his stomach when he was welcomed by a dark and empty hallway. 

You're not here. Not anymore.

Hasn't it been almost half a year now? Why did he expect you, face brightened by a grin that went from ear to ear, to materialize in front of him, with the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen? As if a magician with a hat trick.   

("Welcome back!" he was aching to hear.)

(You always insisted on eating with him when he got home; sometimes opting to just stay by his side⁠— munching on a midnight snack while you babbled on, if he arrived later than usual and you'd already had dinner.)

("It's lonely having a meal on your own," you explained. "Don't you think food tastes better if you have someone with you?")

Perhaps it was the jet lag. Or, it could be that the abrupt change in time zones was starting to mess with his head. Either way, Atsumu was sure that sleep would eventually cure him of the momentary delirium. 

But then he woke up the next day feeling like someone had pissed in his morning drink. The day after that, too. Even the next had been the same, persisting onto the following weeks. 

Until one game, after a winning streak that had the crowd chanting their names and with blood still roaring in his veins, he condescended to survey the numerous people occupying the bleachers. 

And when he couldn't find one⁠— one person that had always stood out to him despite being constantly drowned in an ocean of spectators— it was only then that Atsumu Miya decided that enough was enough. 

You hadn't really agreed with Aya when she told you that you'd be getting "laid" during this short vacation. 

Reason number one: it's a company outing. And you're sure you'd be breaking some protocols by fooling around with any of your coworkers. Reason Two: as you'd sagely imparted to a miffed Aya, "I don't think it's nice to cure a broken heart with sex; strings attached or no."

That being said, the lingerie she'd chosen for you did flatter your figure. It didn't matter that "no one would see it," as Aya grumbled. It was enough for you that you yourself saw it, you thought as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror. 

The way it was tailored made it seem like it was made just for your body. The details of lace also made it look so pretty that you felt kind of sad that you'd have to cover it up with a summer dress soon. 

Nevertheless, you allowed yourself to strike a few poses in front of the mirror; feeling like a teenager on their first date as you admired how you looked in it. 

You smiled to yourself, humming a tune, before you opened your makeup kit and prepared the necessities you'd be bringing for the bonfire dinner. 

"Wipes: check," you murmured, rummaging through your bag. "Hygiene stuff. Where are you hygiene stuff, hygiene stu⁠—"

You froze.

Something rustled. Outside. As if something had moved. 

Putting a robe back on, your heart thundered against your chest as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the dimly lit sleeping area, illuminated only by a small reading lamp.

"Be careful there, girlie," the old caretaker warned as she guided you to this room. "Lots of mean spirits lurking about."

You didn't believe in ghosts. For some reason, however, your coworkers did. So you'd taken it to yourself to move here after a room assignment mishap, leaving Aya and Kaori behind. 

It didn't seem like the cursed chamber that she purported to be. Sure, it was isolated at the furthest wing of the beach house, away from the other rooms and separated by a too dark hallway. But that had been the creepiest thing about it. Besides, you heard from logistics that renting the house didn't cost much, despite its size, so maybe it's just that they lacked the resources to renovate. 

The floorboards creaked beneath you. "Aya? Aya, I know it's you," you called out as you squinted, catching a faint silhouette reclined at the corner of the bed. 

It was too large to be Aya, but you chalked that up to the shadows playing with your eyes. You puffed out a chortle, resting a hand on your hips when she finally stood.   

"Very funny, Aya," you snorted when she sauntered towards you. "Just you wait until Kaori hears about.…" you trailed off.

"......this."

You drew in a breath as she moved closer, revealing a build that was much taller, towering almost in the small room, shoulders that are way broader than the ones your friend has, and a face that clearly wasn't Aya's.

"Evenin'," Atsumu yawned. 

Your legs refused to listen to you.

"Been a minute, hadn't it, darlin'?"

You don't know why he's here. 

And even if you wanted to ask, you find that no sound could escape from your mouth when you tried to open it.

You do know this, as he gave you a lopsided grin that used to have you eating at the palm of his hand, along with a lazy gaze that was belied by a bird-like focus:

That although he told you that all he wants is a little chat, you knew that he didn't come here just for that.

You ran.

Atsumu had been the worst boyfriend.

He's aware of it now, realized it fully when he knocked on Samu's door, shit-faced, and it only took a single look and a consoling arm from his brother to break Atsumu into tears and snot, as well as Samu's voice telling him, "Yer a big baby. Ya need her, dontcha?"

That's why he followed you here, figuring that you'd love a thoughtful surprise. Because you always have. He didn't expect you'd take to it kindly, of course, not right away. But he also didn't expect that you would be doing the surprising.

You were talking to that man when he arrived. 

Didn't he tell you not to?

His intentions still haven't changed. He's here to bring you back, but before anything else Atsumu's sure it's only normal that you guys clear things up first. 

And if you're going to do that, he can't have you running away now, can't he?

Grabbing you by the waist, Atsumu's palm tingled at the feel of your body, pulling you closer to him as he pinned you to the wall and stifled your shrieks with his hand.

"Everybody's gone, angel," he whispered, losing himself in your skin, though covered in silk; lips and fingers roaming every which way because finally, finally, fuckin' finally you're here and you're real.

"Just wanna talk." He stroked the curve of your ass, middle finger tracing the lining of the crack. "Ain't this what'ya always wanted? S'let's talk," he murmured against your collarbone.

You were already crying, shaky hands weakly grasping his back and tears wetting even his cheeks. Atsumu couldn't help but smile. You'd always been a crier. It's one of the many things he loves about you. Always so honest with your emotions.

"I missed ya," Atsumu groaned as he grinded his cock against your pussy, feeling it harden when he mouthed your tits.

There was something peeking out of your robe, he noticed as it became more rumpled. 

"D-don't," you breathed, your attempt to swat his hands away thwarted when he seized your wrist.

It was lace. The color pulling the eye to your body like a siren's song. And when he stripped the robe off of you, silk swishing down your elbows, Atsumu saw that it was a piece of lingerie. One that he hasn't seen before.

Because he didn't buy this one. It wasn't from him. You weren't the type to get one yourself. 

Until now.

"This for him?" he murmured, pressing a kiss against your pulse, beating like a drum against his lips. 

"Wh-who?" you whimpered.

"The ugly piece of shit. Saw you guys gettin' chummy earlier."

He was close, too close to you, back at the beach. You smiled at him, laughed and showed him what he isn't supposed to see. And when he touched you— when the fucker touched you, Atsumu wanted blood on his hands.

"Yer gonna fuck the guy whose face I busted?" 

You squeaked as he dug his blunt nails against your wrist. Atsumu licked the red impressions they made.

"And what- what about it?" Your voice was so brittle and small. God, he just wanted to hold you. "It's none of your business, who I spend my time with. And don't- don't tell me you're jealous because-"

He chuckled, the sound of it making you shrink back into the wall. "Jealous? Doll, ya wouldn't wanna know what I'm feelin right now. But, sure." Atsumu lightly nipped at the tips of your fingers. 

"'Course I'm jealous," he rasped. "You're mine."

Then, Atsumu looked at you. And what he saw in your eyes made him stumble that when you shoved him away, all he could do was stand and stare.

"I'm not your thing, Atsumu," you cried. A light-year difference from the girl who'd always stare at him so tenderly. "I never was and I never will be. I'm not yours."

You didn't run this time. You should've. 

Atsumu clenched his jaw. "Like hell ya ain't," he snarled.

People say that breakups are a messy business. Atsumu was so sure he wouldn't have to endure that, before he met you.  Now that he's had the experience, though, Atsumu can say with confidence that breakups are, in fact, a goddamn mess.

But you're over that now. It's time to turn over a new leaf and return to one another. And Atsumu's finding out, in the process, that making up can be astonishingly reminiscent of the breakup.

You started crying when you woke up, screaming for help as you tried to budge the rope that was tying your hands to your knees. You got louder when you found out that you were naked and not in the rickety confines of the beach house. 

"Welcome home, baby," he beamed, eying you from between your legs. 

The begging started when you realized how drenched your little pussy was, his tongue lapping and slathering the cum dripping from your twitching hole, against  your swollen folds; his calloused thumb massaging deep circles on your clit. 

And when he stuck another inside your puckered asshole, you writhed out of your binds and squealed, "T-tsumu-kun…!"

Fuck. 

"Babydoll," he growled. "Daddy's gotcha, daddy's gonna treat ya so fuckin' good."

He slapped your damp cunt with his long fingers, thrusting them inside to rub and feel at your walls, at the bump that never failed to make you screech. "Daddy's been mean hasn't he? Hm? Been a bad daddy to ya, baby?"

You could only gasp out wordlessly as he slurped the juices off your clit, not stopping until you were gushing, sloppy cum drizzling on the bedsheet, every muscle in spasms, incapable of even stretching out your legs although Atsumu knew you wanted to, you really wanted to so fuckin' bad, resorting to curling your toes instead. 

"E-enough, please, please, stop!"

How adorable, Atsumu thought. "My little slut," he cooed, tapping the tip of his hard cock on your pussy. "My good 'lil fucktoy."

He relished it, wanting to draw this on forever, so he slides it against your folds, pussy lips wrapping the meat of his cock, gyrating his hips back and forth, as if he were fucking you, and grabbing your tits to play with your nipples. 

"Atta girl," he laughed, licking his teeth when he finally sunk inside your tight cunt, pushing you so far down into the mattress until his chest was rubbing against your tits, your feet dangling against his shoulders.

"I don't-I don't want this, 'Tsumu," you sobbed. "Don't want this!"

Oh, of course you don't. Atsumu knows you don't. He'd fucked you against your will, after all. 

But you were taking him so well, darlin'. Your walls were hugging his cock so fuckin' nicely that he couldn't help but shove deeper inside you, craving for the way your pussy twitched rapidly around him. 

If you weren't bound, he's also sure that you'd be pushing his hips away. But that's not what's getting to him. Because as he pistoned his cock into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass, you instantly turned your face away.

Did you know that you were breaking his heart? Shattering it to pieces, when you close your eyes like doors, locking them to prevent him from ever reaching you again. 

So he gripped your chin. Forced you to meet his eyes as you wept and shook your head. 

"Am gonna be better, baby," he groaned.  "No more keeping things from ya. None of that bullshit, now."

Atsumu shivered as you came around him, convulsing under him and strained voice still begging him to stop. Because he wasn't. He would never stop. Not when it comes to you. 

"Am all yours, angel. All yours." He pounded your fucked out cunt, chasing his own high as he kneaded your tits. 

A tear fell from your eyelids. And when he kissed you, it felt like everything in his life shifted back in its rightful place. "You can have it all," he sighed, cupping your cheek.

"So give me all of you now," Atsumu pleaded. "Come back to me."

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x female reader #dark content haikyuu #prompt

[rose-sunlight]

Hot Chocolate (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral! Reader, Platonic! BAU x Reader

Warnings: Outing, Crying, but it gets better I promise, Fluff. I feature the BAU with my different LGBTQIA Head cannons, as well.

Summary: An unsub sends an email revealing the darkest secrets of everyone on the team. Y/n shows up on Spencer’s doorstep in tears after the email reveals their sexuality.

A/n: This is my first fanfic after coming out; it’s great to be back to writing. I wrote this after something similar happened to me a few days ago! I hope you guys enjoy!

Spencer wasn’t expecting them to just…arrive on his doorstep. He knew, realistically, when he told them his door was always open, that they were bound to show up one day; he just wasn’t anticipating it to be in the pouring rain, with tears streaming down their face.

He opened the door, and the atmosphere they’d brought was overpowering sadness. The rain made their skin glisten under his porch light, and he would’ve taken into consideration how…magnificently picturesque Y/n looked in the rain, if they weren’t crying and shivering.

“Did you read it?”

Spencer furrowed his brows and shook his head dazedly, “Read what-are you okay?”

Y/n let out a sigh of relief, wiping tears and rain off their cheeks in one fluid motion. This, they had determined, was a safe place, and Reid didn’t know yet, so they finally had the choice to choose who knew. “Can I come in?” They weakly asked. Spencer nodded his head vigorously.

“Yeah, of course, do you want…I dunno, coffee, or something?”

“Um…do you…” Y/n paused to catch their breath. Their voice came out small and fragile as they glanced down at the phone screen that suddenly seemed to bright and loud. It was blowing up with messages-worried messages, from their team at the BAU. “Do you have any hot chocolate?”

Spencer let out a fond smile “You think I wouldn’t stock up when you’re always here? I always have, like, three tubs just for you.”

He hoped that one gesture showed them that he was someone who thought about them. Someone who was caring, and would do anything to show their devotion to them. Reid wanted a jar of hot chocolate powder to prove that he was worth loving.

“Thank you.” Y/n’s voice was barely a whisper as they collapsed onto Spencer’s couch, wrapping themselves up tightly in one of his extensive blankets, letting out one sigh of relief.

“No problem.”

Y/n could see him reaching for his phone, and suddenly shot up off the couch, blanket discarded in what could only be described as blind panic. “Don’t open your emails.” They ominously said, and Spencer put his phone down, waiting for the hot water to boil.

He raised one eyebrow, looking into Y/n’s eyes, hoping to analyse something, anything, that could help him understand what was going on “Are you on the run?”

Y/n snorted at the very thought “Me? Are you kidding me? No!”

“You’re just acting like…I dunno, like…you’re running from something,” Y/n went to yell at him for analysing them, and he raised his hands in surrender, stirring the freshly made hot chocolate “I’m not analysing, I’m just being observant! You want marshmallows?”

“Yes please. And I’m…maybe I am running.”

Spencer paused what he was doing, mid-plopping in the fluffy marshmallows he knew Y/n preferred over any other brand. He asked Garcia to look into their shopping history once to make sure he had the perfect type. She had teased him relentlessly with cheesy nicknames, but had relented and told him. And he had almost bought out the whole store “From the team? That’s why you’re telling me not to look at emails, right?”

Y/n sighed. What the hell, he was going to find out when they turned up for work the next day, anyway. This way, they could decide how he was told. “You know that case we’re working on? We theorized the unsub got off on revealing his victims secrets?”

Spencer handed her the hot chocolate “There you go.”

“Thanks”

“Didn’t we also theorise that he couldn’t have revealed their secrets because he didn’t have the skills to do so?” Spencer asked, more nervous about what could have possibly happened. It was a local case, one they didn’t have to travel for, but it was by far one of the most puzzling they’d encountered

Y/n paused as they sipped their hot chocolate. It was steaming; it almost took the skin off their tongue; it was so hot. But they bared it, swallowing harshly. “We were wrong. He does, or he has someone doing it for him. Anyway, he must’ve been there at that second crime scene, because he found out…information. On all of us.”

Now Reid understood why they were so upset. Y/n had something personal shared “I’m sure we all know everyone’s secrets. We tell each other everything.”

Y/n winced. Spencer placed a comforting hand over theirs. “Right?”

Truthfully, Y/n knew how Spencer would react when they told him. It would be a relief once he had congratulated them, hugged them, and continued a different conversation. Y/n knew all this, but saying the words felt unsavoury in their mouth, like sandpaper and cotton. They looked Spencer in the eyes, and felt fear. “Spencer…” they had to pause, wiping their eyes again.

Spencer was distracting. He was running a comforting hand over theirs, and they worried once they told him, the gesture would stop. “it’s ok. Take your time.”

“He…he…” Y/n wanted to scream it: he outed me, and it sucks so much. Instead, they were stuck gaping like a fish out of water. “I’m [y/sexuality].” They managed to blurt out all at once. Spencer looked sad. He nodded in understanding.

“The unsub outed you?” Spencer said, sighing as Y/n nodded tearfully “Y/n, that’s awful, I’m so sorry.”

Y/n cried. They cried as if their life depended on it, and Spencer accepted them, holding them as they did so, waiting for the sobs to die down. “They had pictures of me and some of my partners…and that damn secret blog I made when I was sixteen and still working it out. And…now everyone knows Spencer…” the cries started up again.

Spencer rubbed their back. “It’s ok. The choice was taken from you, and that sucks. But you have to think about who you have around you. The BAU isn’t exactly the straightest group out there.”

Y/n looked up at him, confused and overwhelmed. As far as they knew, the only person there who was LGBT was them, and that was something they were willing to take to the grave if it meant that their team would treat them differently “What?”

Spencer looked back, almost in disbelief, “You mean, you don’t know? Everyone’s open about it.”

“I don’t understand.”

This was when Spencer began to laugh “Oh my god! Emily; Lesbian, Me; Bisexual Gray-Ace, Derek; Pansexual, and Garcia!”

“Garcia is too?!” Y/n’s mouth was hung open in pure dumbfounded shock “That’s statistically, like, so many gays in one workplace.”

Spencer laughed “Nah, Garcia is just a really enthusiastic supporter. How did you not know—we all have our flags on our desks!”

Y/n let out a shocked gasp even more “That’s what those are? I thought they were for, like, a secret society you guys had formed without me!”

“No, are you kidding!” He let out another loud guffaw

Y/n blushed, rubbing a hand to their neck in sheer embarrassment “I guess I was just too wrapped up in myself” They admitted, prompting Spencer to shuffle closer, until he could wrap a big, lanky arm around them.

“Sorry you didn’t get to come out on your terms.” He smiled, placing a kiss to their forehead. It was well meaning, but Y/n’s felt electric when his lips were against their skin. They outwardly sighed, relaxing for the first time since the email had been sent. “Were you the only one it happened to?”

Y/n thought back to the contents of the email reflectively, “No, I think everyone got something revealed. Even you, but it was just…”

Spencer nodded as his eyes widened “Was it about Dilaudid?” Y/n let out a sad nod as Spencer scoffed loudly at the thought of this Unsub tracking them all down. “Of course, the unsub probably saw me going to one of my meetings.”

Y/n nodded, realising it was their turn to comfort “Most people knew about it, though, which means he made a mistake, one we could analyse with the team.”

“You’re ready to go and see them?” He asked. Y/n gave out a slow and steady nod “You sure.”

“It’s either now or later,” They sighed, before slapping their knees and raising to stand “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

Spencer rose with them, smiling, extending a hand for Y/n to take, which they did, graciously “Together?”

Y/n wiped some of the left over tears from their face before giving his hand a firm squeeze, downing the final mouthful of hot chocolate as if it were liquid courage, “Yeah. Together.”

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#Criminal Minds #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #bau x reader

[only-by-the-stars]

the annotated Tome of the Wild

Part 7: The Wild!

- Link didn't open his eyes. A twist on the beginning of BOTW, where you hear Zelda telling Link to open his eyes. I couldn’t resist.

- Hestu’s cameo was a lot of fun to write too. I always found him adorable, first in BOTW and then in AOC as well, and the idea of him waking up Link with his maracas was too amusing not to do. I also had to include his “shimmy shimmy” battle cry from AOC because I always laugh my head off whenever I hear it.

- This also reveals that Midna brought Link to the Great Deku Tree, a character that debuted in OOT and made further appearances in WW and BOTW.

- Something tickled her arm, breaking her out of her gloomy thoughts. Midna lifted her head and looked down. New growth was sprouting from the branch she was sitting on, wriggling its way up onto her. Nothing like this happens to Beatrice in the show, but I had to put in this chilling little moment of Midna nearly succumbing to the dekuwood. It provides a way later to introduce Rhoam’s presence in his scene, as well as some horror at what could’ve happened to her here.

- Note to self: never visit Tabantha if you can help it... Tabantha, of course, being a very cold region in BOTW’s Hyrule. Link’s newfound hatred of snow mirrors my own, and now he’s going to associate it with this horrible experience.

- “It's a bad habit, I guess.” He laughed softly. He’s referring, of course, to how he casually greeted Riju and Medli back at the school pool and they gave him a bit of a hard time about it.

- “You...” Midna stared at him for several seconds, stunned. “You...” She slapped his hand away and starting swinging her tiny fists at him, which he easily dodged. “You oaf! You idiot! What the hell—what the hell is wrong with you? How can you forgive me so easily, when you're still in a shit situation because of me? Neither one of us would be out here groping around blindly in the fucking snow if not for what I did!” I set up Midna and Link to be parallels of each other in a couple ways. One of which is that while Link has isolated himself from Mipha, hurting and confusing her, Midna is on the other end of something similar with Zelda. And here we see something they both struggle with: forgiving themselves. Midna can’t understand how Link can so easily forgive her actions towards him, while Link utterly despises himself for his actions towards Mipha and cannot forgive himself for causing her pain. He’ll later struggle with the fact that Mipha forgives him easily, just as Midna is having trouble understanding his forgiveness of her here. All of them find it easier to forgive their loved ones than to grant that same grace to themselves.

- “She told me that while she appreciated how much I cared, I should think a little more and be less reckless. I know she'd never call me stupid, but...” Link shrugged. “Honestly, I kind of am.” Another reference to Mipha calling Link reckless, and how she hates seeing him get hurt. He is indeed not the smartest guy around, but she does describe him as being very kind and determined to help those in need, so I tried to emphasize that aspect of his personality in this story. Although the “I kind of am” line is also intended to be a subtle red flag. We’ve already seen that Link thinks very little of himself and his abilities, even when it’s clear from the words of others that he’s very talented. And we’re about to soon see him use a bit of intelligence he very much does have, in order to save the day. He would never believe himself capable of such a thing, but he does it anyway.

- “Even just a few branches could be processed... enough to get us through this storm...” Note the use of the plural here. This is leading up to the revelation about his belief that Zelda is in the lantern. His desperation to find more oil anywhere is because, of course, he believes that if the light goes out she will die. And he wouldn’t be in this scarcity if not for what happened back in chapter one, with Link and Aryll and the dog accidentally wrecking the mill and his oil supply.

- He was soon rewarded with a most welcome sight: a single dekuwood branch, growing out of that of a normal tree. It seemed sickly, withered, and it waved feebly in the air, but he rushed forward and hacked it off anyway. The very same branch that tried to attach itself to Midna, sickly and withered precisely because of that failure.

- And now we come to the confirmation that the dekuwood is made from the people who succumb to despair and exhaustion in the woods, right as we see it growing all around Aryll. Rhoam has been unaware this entire time of all the souls he’s sacrificed over the past several months, and now that he knows, he refuses to do it any longer. For he, like Midna, recognizes that Zelda would never want anyone to be harmed for her sake.

He’s also right that Link would never leave Aryll to such a fate, recognizing Link’s love and protectiveness towards his little sister. This is a point where my characterization of Link wildly diverges from that of Wirt, the protagonist of OTGW. I pulled some things from Wirt for Link and his arc, but one thing I didn’t keep was the resentment and initial callousness that Wirt displays for Greg, who is revealed in the tavern sequence to be his half-brother thanks to his mother remarrying, something Greg frowns at when Wirt mentions it. Aryll is also technically Link’s half-sister, as I revealed in the letters that his mother remarried some years after his father’s death and had Aryll with her new husband, but I could not for the life of me see him being resentful or unkind to his little sister. Whatever his faults, I’ve written him as being, at his core, an incredibly kind and deeply loving person, and his adoration of his sister is a part of that. He doesn’t view her as a “half” anything, she’s just his sister and he’ll do anything to protect her. Which of course is a big part of what led to his breakdown: his feelings of guilt over not doing as good a job of that as he thinks he should be doing.

- “Link, I don't... I don't think that's natural light. It looks more like...” This has a double meaning. The fire in the lantern is not the “natural light” of the sun, and it is also deeply unnatural, given that it’s the Beast’s soul in there.

- Speaking of that! The confrontation with the Beast plays out a bit differently here than it does in the show, thanks to Midna’s personal connection to all this. Rhoam’s mention of Zelda gets her attention, and the Beast uses her love for Zelda as a way to try and turn her and Link against each other with his attempt to make them choose which soul will go into the lantern. He’ll get fuel and kill Aryll either way, but why not pit these two against each other as a way to manipulate them into doing what he wants? Except it backfires, because Midna won’t harm anyone for Zelda’s sake, and Link figures out what’s going on anyway, thanks to remembering the words of Rhoam and Telma.

- Link stood up, his mind racing. It was like when the solution to a puzzle finally presented itself in a moment of stunning clarity. For all that he’s not that bright in so many ways, it’s important to remember that he’s canonically able to solve all those tricky puzzles we do, without benefit of a guide, just using his wits and the tools he has at hand. And so too does he solve this particular puzzle, by remembering what he’s been told and piecing it together with what he sees here, thinking about the fact that the Beast’s story doesn’t add up. Which saves the day, in the end.

- “Am I wrong?” Link repeated, his voice shaking with barely suppressed fury; he took a few more steps, forcing the Beast to retreat further. “No more lies. Tell the truth for once, Beast.” Referencing, of course, the fact that Telma told him the Beast lies. He’s absolutely furious right now because of the attempt on Aryll’s life; you do not mess with Link’s loved ones. The Beast, too, fucked around and found out the hard way.

- In the show, Wirt gives the lantern back to the Woodsman to blow out after the delivery of the “Are you?” line that I kept (and had Link nail the delivery of on his first try, unlike Wirt, because that’s what makes sense for both their characters). Here, I chose to let Link kill the Beast, because he is, after all, the legendary hero who slays the villain. But even more importantly, I felt he deserved and had earned such a moment with his growing courage over the course of the tale.

- “See you later, Link.” Hey, remember how Midna broke all our hearts by saying a similar line to Link in TP as she broke the mirror and went back to her world? I sure do!

- “Sleepers wake, dreams will fade... although we cling fast..." This, and the lyrics that close out this section, are the first few lines of the vocal version of Ballad of the Wind Fish that was done for the LA remake.

- There were lights and shadowy figures coming closer, and voices—was someone calling his name? As I would later reveal in the prologue of a place to start, Mipha was screaming his name as she ran down the hill towards him.

- The words he wanted so badly to say to her hung on the tip of his tongue And it shows on his face, that desire to express the love for her that is all but bursting out of him in this moment, and Mipha sees it. She sees that love shining in his eyes as they stare at each other, giving her her hope back and then some. In a way, Link was right: if he hadn’t hidden from her, she would’ve realized what his real feelings for her are. He just didn’t know how happy it would’ve made her. But he will soon.

- “—and that's how we got away from the evil possessed lady!” Out of the corner of his eye Link saw Aryll shake the frog triumphantly, and Mipha, distracted by the sudden commotion, looked away from him. A small, muffled chime sounded, and the amphibian's stomach glowed. “The ringing of the bell commanded her! Though she wasn't really evil, just...” The series is never clear on just what the otherworld the brothers enter is, but it is clear that it really happened to them, and I preserved that ambiguity in the same way, by showing the bell as still being in the frog’s stomach.

- Link nodded. “Yes.” It didn't matter anymore how it'd gotten into her pocket; he'd made it, and brought it with him tonight, with the intention of giving it to her. There was no more question of taking it back or denying it. Courage has been achieved; he’s no longer going to hide or pretend, or try to take back the gift he worked on so hard. Midna is right: he’s been so brave in the Wild, and it’s time to apply that bravery to confessing his feelings to Mipha and letting her know that he loves her. The words will have to wait till the next day, but for now he’s doing all he can to face his fears and stop running, by hugging her and holding her hand and wiping her tears away, letting his love show in his expression as he looks at her without avoiding her eyes. Plus, of course, admitting to his intentions with the tape and inviting her over to listen to it together. They’re finally getting a breakthrough after two months of separation and pain.

- The doctor, Syrup, is a recurring NPC throughout the series, a witch who brews up helpful healing potions for Link to use on his adventures.

- I'm home, Mipha. Calling back, of course, to Midna’s line about there being someone waiting for him and to go home to her. Not only that, but in Mipha’s letters, I had her mention wanting him to “come back to her”. And now he finally has.

and that wraps this up, as the epilogue is composed strictly of Miphlink fluff and sweet, sweet payoff. if you took the time to read the fic and these write ups, thank you, I hope you enjoyed them! ❤

#annotations #and happy zelda anniversary!

[scribeofmorpheus]

Counterpart [4/5]

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Framework!Steve

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Words: 5k

A/N: When Nat went underground, instead of dying her hair blonde like in IW, she dyed it black. I had fun with the idea of Nat and Pietro and Bucky forming this unconventional family of sorts, and I loved playing with the idea that Sam and Carol were old friends in the framework, though tbh, I don’t really know where her framework arc might lead. I will have to do a second pass proofread but anyway...

Note: There’s a Framework centric spin-off in the WIP tank!

Warnings: This chapter contains depictions and mentions of alcoholism, language, violence, etc. It’s a dark series, expect a darker take.

CHAPTER FOUR: TWO HALVES

~Canada, The Refuge

The sound of birds chirping outside his window stirred him from his slumber. Bucky was still groggy from sleep, rubbing the remnants of unconsciousness from his eyes with the pads of his flesh fingers. He yawned awake, sitting up from under the covers of the double bed. Glancing at the clock, he noted it was 6 am.

"72 hours," he reminded himself as got up from the bed and walked to the closet, a watch materialising on his wrist, a timer counting down.

"Thanks, Friday," he looked to the ceiling.

There was no reply. Only the sound of wind rustling through the blinds.

While digging through the closet, he was surprised to find several women's clothes hanging next to his. Choosing to ignore that red flag, he reached for a long-sleeved shirt on the rack and noticed his metal arm was a different colour than the usual chrome-blue and gold. This one was red, white and blue.

Cap's colours, he internally pointed out.

A canary emblem in place of the Russian star he had once sported.

"What the?" He glanced at the etched bird using the door fitted mirror beside him. When his eyes looked up to inspect his face, he was greeted by a head of short hair, shaven at the sides. He would have looked military if not for his medium length stubble. He ran a hand through his spikey hair, the brush of it against the metal feeling unfamiliar, "Is this pomade?"

As soon as his hand fell from the trailed paths his fingers had parted through his styled hair, a woman's voice spoke out dotingly, "Morning, Soldat."

The woman's Russian accent was faded but present, she sounded almost like...

"Nat?" Bucky swung around.

She tilted her head to the side. Her hair was longer, darker, a charcoal blackness that absorbed the light. Her face marked by an imposing lateral scar running across the length it, partially healed like a botched brazing job. She looked different but it was indeed her.

"Nat?" She laughed awkwardly. "Not Talia?" She shrugged as she walked over. "Semantics." Her gaze running across his exposed chest with shameless desire.

"Ugh, Nat- Talia, what are you?" Bucky tried to use the closet door to hide his body.

Natasha laughed again as though he were being silly, "You're acting weird this morning. When you're done being all modest, come down to the kitchen so we can start making breakfast for the kids."

Bucky's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, "Kids?"

It was then that he noticed the couple’s photo of him and Nat on the nightstand, coupled with Nat's flirty behaviour, the double bed and the shared closet, everything finally made sense. And now his stomach was doing summersaults.

"Kids?" Bucky said again as he stared at Natasha with his mouth agape. "Nat… Uhh, Talia."

"You can call me Nat if it's suddenly easier for you, liybimaya."

Bucky's neck reclined back as if those words had slapped him, "My love...?"

"Yes?"

"What is- Never mind… Um, do you know how to get in contact with Shield?"

"James, I thought we agreed to let that go. We have enough responsibilities with the kids as it is." Natasha pointed to the portrait style picture hung up on the wall.

Bucky peered at the sixteen by twenty inch photograph. In the forefront was a group of kids of all shapes and sizes, seated on two rows of benches, wearing clashing colours and sporting wide grins as they looked out at the camera. Natasha, Pietro, Bucky and a scary, muscly woman stood behind them. Pietro had thrown up an 'L' sign behind the other Bucky's face, his cheek lines prominent in an obvious laughing position while Natasha had pressed her face between two young children, one of them sticking out their tongue playfully.

Underneath the portrait was an engraving on a brass plate: Second Chance, Home for the Displaced Children of Sokovia, 2017.

"Oh, those kids," Bucky sighed inaudibly, relief hitting him like a wave of ice-water. When he turned back to answer the raven-haired woman blinking rapidly his way, he almost felt sorry for her. Even if she wasn't real to him, she was very much real in her own right, and this very real person had just lost the man she shared a life with. What was worse was that she didn't realise it yet.

"Right, of course, how silly of me to forget about that." Bucky's lips wound up in a corkscrew motion as he pulled his shirt over his head. "Okay, then do you know how to get in contact with Fury?"

"What is a 'Fury'?"

Bucky's eyes rolled in the back of his head, "A figment of my imagination apparently. How about Sam Wilson?"

"Sam… Wilson?" Her lips upturned in a half-moon. "Is he someone from your Shield days? The name is familiar…"

"Uhh, yeah, something like that."

Natasha frowned, "What's really going on with you? You're acting strange this morning. This isn't because of the news last night is it?"

"News?"

"That Hydra captured the Iron-Maiden?” Natasha patted his chest. “Pepper is stubborn, she won't talk, you can relax. We're safe as houses as long as we stay across the border." She left the bedroom as Bucky pulled on his jeans.

Jogging after her, he spotted another framed photograph of a younger version of him shaking hands with someone who looked presidential hanging on the Livingroom walls.

"Hurry up Soldat, these potatoes won't peel themselves."

"I'll be right there Na- Talia!" Bucky searched the large living space for a computer or electronic device, he needed to get familiar with this world before he could make any efforts to find Y/N.

After he had moved some couch cushions and disorganised several drawers, Natasha came back into the room, peeling knife in hand.

"James? What are you looking for?"

"The… remote?" His voice went squeaky. “I wanted to check the news updates.”

Natasha brushed the edges of her fringe away from her eyes as she blinked rapidly again, "James the kids lost that days ago. We sent Pietro to buy a new one while on his supply run." She peered at him, folding her arms defensively. "Are you sure everything is fine?"

Bucky exhaled, moving closer to Natasha so he could look her earnestly in the eye, "No, it's not."

Her mouth fell, "What's the matter, liybimaya?"

Bucky glowered briefly, "A friend of mine is in danger, a Shield agent. I need to help her before it's too late, but to do that I need to find her. Sam Wilson was… her contact. If I find him, I can find her."

"You've never mentioned this before..." Natasha rubbed his metal arm with her free hand. "The tablet is in the bedroom, you can search about your friend."

"Thank you!" Bucky buzzed with energy, teetering in front of Natasha indecisively, unsure of what their dynamic was. He settled for kissing her on the forehead, awkwardly.

"You're… welcome…?" She watched him jog back into their shared bedroom, her fingers spinning the peeling knife with great skill.

Bucky fished out the tablet, dismayed to find it password protected, "Shit!" He leaned his head in his hand as he thought of possible password combinations. "Okay, let's try my birthday."

The screen remained locked, a message notifying him he had two more chances.

"Damn it! If I'm with Shield in this universe, maybe I just got the format wrong..."

Bucky typed his birthday in the American format.

The screen was still locked.

"It can't be Y/N's birthday because this world's Bucky probably never met her…" Bucky drummed his fingers against his temple, his eyes widening when he punched in another set of numbers.

The screen unlocked.

"Curious..." Bucky thought out loud before opening up a search engine.

When he searched for the name: Y/N Y/L/N, he was perplexed when nothing came up, instead, there was a small 'i' icon at the edge of the screen that suggested: "Did you mean Y/N Rogers?"

Bucky pressed his lips into a white slash, his neck turning stiff as his finger hesitated above the red highlighted words. After taking a moment to gather himself, Bucky's metal finger tapped on the link swiftly, the metal colliding with the glass harder than he intended.

A news headline popped up and Bucky read the words, keeping pace with the speed of the scrolling script, "Android Ensures New Yorkers Sleep Safer. Hydra's top of the line security android, Spectre, successfully apprehended and pacified the Iron Maiden's (Virginia 'Pepper' Potts) terrorist cell with record low losses. Steve Rogers and his team (comprising of veteran Hydra officers Clint Barton and Y/N Rogers) were present at the sight, providing ground support and med-evac assistance. This signifies a new milestone in overseeing Director Alexander Pierce's vision for a safer, brighter world under Hydra's protective governance.”

Bucky's molars strained from the stress of his compressed jaw, memories of Alexander Pierce and the mind splitting brain-washing sessions made his blood boil. Shaking his head, which felt odd considering his hair didn't sway into his eyes, Bucky continued scrolling through other articles.

"Power couple of the century?" he retorted sarcastically as the picture of Steve and Y/N dressed in wedding attire mocked him. Their happy faces a punch to the gut. How could he feel jealous, angry and mournful at both his best friend and his girlfriend all at once?

Bucky's metal arm propelled the tablet like a boomerang at the wall, only it never reached it.

"I leave for two days and you return to your old brooding self, smashing furniture like we can afford it?" Pietro tossed the tablet in the air with a boyish grin on his face. "Come, friend, you better not let Talia see those tight eyebrows, huh." He flashed over to the dresser and back, tablet no longer in his hand as he patted Bucky on the back. "We can't keep reminding you that it's not your fault Steve was awoken by the tentacle crazies. What could you do, huh? You were a popsicle stick for almost a hundred years. A hundred years!"

Bucky felt his anger lose its hold on him, for a moment he had forgotten everything he was feeling and seeing wasn't real. Somehow having Pietro sit beside him, treating him like a friend, made that all clear again because Bucky had never met Pietro, he had only ever seen pictures of him hanging in Wanda's room, his very presence was the stark jolt of surrealism he needed to remind himself of why he was here.

"You're right," Bucky said as he rose from the bed and retrieved the tablet.

"Oh, hey, hey, hey now," Pietro held his palms up at Bucky. "You aren't planning to-" he made a throwing gesture at the wall.

Bucky's cheek lifted up as he returned a calming half-smile, "Don't worry, I'm not going to throw anymore furniture."

Pietro let out a shaky laugh, hands placed on his hips as his cheeks inflated from a deep exhale, "Good, because I broke the other one and we don't want to see Talia get mad again."

"Err, right. That would be…" Bucky pressed the 'e' at the end of his sentence as Pietro looked on with buggy eyes. "…Bad?"

Pietro nodded in agreement.

"Oh, did you remember to get the replacement remote?" Bucky asked as he typed in Sam's name into the search engine.

Pietro smacked his thigh with the underside of his hand, "I knew I forgot something. Don't tell Talia I was here, I'll go pick it up right now."

Pietro flashed out of the space in a fraction of a second, residual wind from his velocity drying out Bucky's eyeballs.

"Jesus," Bucky whispered when he read the information packet on Sam.

 ~Sam's Homestead, Missouri

Sam was rudely awoken by his loud alarm clock that sounded more like a fire alarm than a soothing melody. He smashed the digital clock as he fumbled with his sheets. His breath tasted of something foul, like stagnant bile, and his head pounded like a marching band had just traipsed across his synapses, a throbbing sensation pulsing at his temples.

When his eyes finally opened he was horrified by the disastrous state of his avatar's home. Clothes were piled on the floor, blinds shut, several cans and bottles littering the space, filling the air with a stale rancid smell of sweat, malt and sick.

He glanced down at his vest and noticed the vomit stains, "Jesus Christ."

Sam groaned as he motioned to sit up from the bed. However, with his balance out of whack, he tumbled onto the floor, face-first into a pile of unwashed slacks that made him retch.

"What the fuck?" He looked down at his feet and noticed he only had the one leg. The other was amputated at the knee leaving behind a mangled scar and a phantom pain that his conscious mind refused to reconcile since the real version of him still had control of both his legs, submerged in a tank underwater. "I didn't see this comin’."

Sam rolled his eyes as he hoisted himself back onto the bed and looked around for a pair of crutches, reaching under the bed instinctively, he was pleasantly amazed to find them there. "Let’s try this again."

He picked himself up on one leg, hobbling about on his crutches that got tangled with all the clutter on his way out of the room.

"Hello?" Sam called out into the dusty, humid house but there was no reply, only dead silence and the grinding of a fan in need of oiling. "Man, this is turning out to be one hell of a bad day."

A stopwatch manifested on his wrist, the hours counting down. Sam pulled his head back, eyes searching for some kind of sign in place of the water-stained ceiling, "Friday, I need to get in touch with Bucky, know how I can do that?"

Silence.

"Yeah, figures."

When he got to the kitchen he saw a note scribbled on a piece of stationery: 'There's some clean laundry in the dryer. I restocked your fridge. Remember: one day at a time. S.'

"S? Who the hell is S?" He complained, turning on his three legs to get a feel for the room. A wistful sigh filling the emptiness.

A gurgling noise rumbled from his stomach, the headache that most likely succeeded his avatar's heavy night of drinking was undoubtedly the cause. Sam tried to clear his throat and rid the taste of fermented wheat from his tongue and teeth, but it didn't help much, It only made him realise how desperate he was for a good shower and a bottle of mouthwash.

He set the rusty coffee pot to brew, deciding the metal tang it would adopt would only be a trick of the senses and hopefully not carry any lasting side effects. He cracked open a window, letting the smell of conifers and rain unclog his sinuses. He then clomped his way down to the bathroom and ran himself a bath after he figured showering would be more of a challenge given his new-old condition.

It bothered him more that he could still feel his leg. It was so surreal to look down and see it gone every time. The irritation digging into his under-arms from the crutches was a psychological reminder of the harsh reality he was about to be subjected to in this world.

After brushing his teeth and changing into new clothes, which required some tactful manoeuvring, Sam looked around for any electronic device that connected to the internet.

"Bingo!" He cheered as he saw a tablet stuffed between two couch cushions. There was no password protection on the device. "Gee, I guess I got nothin' to hide huh? Well if that's the case..." Sam typed his name into the search engine and regretted it immediately after he read the first few headlines: 'Reckless Pilot Destroys Multi-Million Dollar Flight Suit; Drunk, Dishonourably Discharged; Sam Wilson's Vet Clinic Foreclosure; Disgraced Pilot Flees to the Hills.'

"Well, this is depressing," Sam threw the tablet on the couch, opting to switch on the news channel instead. As he rifled through the strange house, the news reporter filled him in on whatever passed for news in this new, frightening world.

"Eyewitnesses report of seeing a strange blue and white streak making its way across Europe earlier this week. Hydra enforcements remind all citizens to call the subservient prevention hotline if they see any person or persons acting suspiciously," the reporter said.

Sam guffawed as he flipped through old photo albums, "Oh yeah, scare the little guy into giving up his neighbour… real patriotic."

"In other news, Hydra's defence android, dubbed Spectre by the head office, has successfully led a charge to apprehend and pacify the Iron Maiden's terrorist cell earlier this week. Citizens of New York can sleep safer knowing that this menace has been brought to justice and is expected to fill out her life sentence behind bars at the Hydra supermax prison."

Withholding the urge to spit, Sam clamped down on his crutches and stomped to the kitchen to grab that cup of coffee.

The reporter continued her deep-dive, "And now, politics. Hell's Kitchen boasts another prosperous year under the leadership of Mayor Fisk. Following recent events concerning the escape of the Punisher, former military specials unit Captain Billy Russo, local citizens have demonstrated their support for the mayor's proposed anti-vigilante task force by taking to the streets in protest against the rising number of subservients. Opposing mayoral candidate, Congressman Murdock, warns voters to not be so hasty with their vote as he fears the new proposed task force may cause an increase in police unemployment rates."

Sam switched the TV off, his frustration causing him to toss the remote callously onto the couch, where it bounced and smashed onto the floor, batteries popping out of the casing and rolling under the couch.

Not without difficulty, Sam got on his one knee, his stump waving in the air without a place to perch, and extended his arm under the sofa, patting down to try and feel for the cylindrical batteries. An odd film textured object slid across his calloused pads as he patted down on the floorboards.

With an interested drone, Sam fished out the glossy paper and fell back on his ass so he could observe it properly. It was a photograph of him with someone who looked like an aged Carol Danvers. She was wearing a green flight suit, hiding her crow’s-feet behind blue-tinted aviators. Standing beside her was a grey-haired Peggy Carter in a wheelchair held in place by Sharon – sunlight flares blurring her smile. The air force logo was stuck to the side of a jet in the background, his old nickname 'Snap Wilson' spray-painted on it.

Sam Flipped the photograph around to skim read the fine, cursive inscription: ‘Congrats on moving up, Snap. You'll be missed by the grunts at the bottom. Leave some target practice for us. And remember: one day at a time. C & S.’

"Well, I'll be damned. Hello, S..." Sam's nail scratched at a smudge on the corner of the photograph, it looked almost like a watermark stamp of the letter L. "What is--"

A shrill ringing sound came from his landline. He swivelled his head from side to side trying to spot the annoying thing. It was hiding under a stack of old newspapers that needed to be put in the recycling.

"He- Shit!" He almost tumbled on one leg. "Hello?"

"Sam? It's Bucky..."

***

Bucky shoved whatever useful supplies he could find lying about into a small backpack before slinging it over his shoulders and clipping it at the front of his chest -an old habit as it were.

Natasha walked in on him circling blind spots on a map with a marker, his face conveying devastation as if she'd just caught him in bed with another woman.

When Bucky didn't say anything, Natasha pointed to the training equipment peeking out from under her bed –their bed. "Training sessions. I forgot my knee pads." She picked them up, dusting them down. "You're leaving, aren't you?" Her tone was sad yet insightful.

Bucky was growing increasingly agitated as the seconds continued to count down on his watch, "I need to head over there!"

"James, stop! Last time you were on Hydra's radar that damned psychopath tore your arm off!"

He folded the map into his back pocket, "Stark?"

She threw her hands in the air, "No, Stark is the only reason you were fitted with a replacement! I'm talking about that monster that Hydra fished out of the ocean."

"Steve?" His tone went dark.

"Did you hit your head when you were chopping firewood yesterday? Yes, Steve. Of course, Steve!" Natasha smacked the side of his head with the knee pads.

Bucky strode past her, "You don't have to shout."

"Then stop acting like you were born yesterday!"

One of the foster kids witnessed their shouting and was ushered into another room by a worried-looking Pietro. Natasha swore in Russian before slamming their bedroom door shut, trapping Bucky inside with her.

He took her hands in his, "Look, I know I don't seem myself, but I have to get to New York. It's important. There's someone I swore to protect, no matter what and she's in danger now. I know you still care about the world, Na- Talia. These kids you're helping are evidence enough. Help me do this one thing and I promise everything will go back to normal."

Natasha sighed, "I haven't seen that look in your eye in a long time. Whoever it is must be important."

"More than you know."

"Where is she... your friend?"

"With Hydra. In New York."

"A prisoner?"

"Of sorts."

"New York huh?" Her eyes steeled with venomous conviction, her fingers twitching around the air between her fingertips and her scar. "I can think of a reason or two to tag along."

"No, I can't ask you to come with me, it's too dangerous, and the kids need you."

"You need me, liybimaya. It's like I told you all those years ago, the only thing powerful enough to separate us is death…" Her hand fell on his jaw, eyes searching his for something he couldn't give. "And even then, it wouldn't be enough."

Bucky sighed, finding himself instinctively leaning into her touch, "Okay, you win. But we have to stop somewhere first."

"Dge, Soldat?" her Russian trickled out.

"Missouri."

 ***

Knock. Knock. Knock

"I'm goin' as fast as I can, god damn!" Sam chewed his bottom lip as he clomped his way to the door.

Just as he was about to twist the doorknob, the door burst open and a supersonic boom shook the keys on the wall. A blue and silver streak whizzed past Sam's peripheral. Turning, he was pleasantly surprised to find Pietro eating a packet of crisps that he stole from the kitchen cupboard, feet kicked up as he surfed the channels. “Damn, that’s one fast kid. Like a friggin’ silver bullet.”

"Forgive him," Natasha urged. "Our TV hasn't been functional beyond the weather channel for days, he's forgotten his manners." She extended her hand, "Name's Natalia Romanova."

“Nat…” Sam's mouth remained open for a moment too long and her eyebrows rose up. Gathering his jaw off the ground, he clasped her hand with a loud smacking sound before nearly barking out his reply through a wide grin, "Sam Wilson. Pleasure to meet you."

"Samuel Wilson! I knew that name was familiar. You’re the pilot who crashed the prototype--" Natasha stopped herself mid-sentence.

Sam shrugged, "The very same apparently." He moved to the side to let her in.

Once in the kitchen, he noticed Bucky hadn't stopped staring at his leg, or rather the absence of it. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." He glowered. "If you thought your day was weird, mine was definitely worse."

"I can see that," Bucky cocked his head to the side.

“Coffee? I’m pretty sure it’ll give you tetanus from the rust but…”

“No, thanks.”

 Bucky laid out the map from earlier on the kitchen table, his mind obsessing over his attack plan. Sam kept leaning over every now and again to catch a glimpse of Natasha and Pietro looking very much alive and real in the next room.

Curiosity got the better of him, "What's up with you and Nat?" 

"It's Talia over here," Bucky's eyes remained glued to the blueprints. "And apparently we're together and I go by James."

"No shit?" Sam's tone took on a higher pitch, hands tucked under his pits. "I'm an alcoholic who lost a leg and you get paired up with Nat. Yeah, that's very fair," he grumbled sarcastically.

"Sam..."

"I know, I know, I'm focusing on the wrong thing. It's just I'm a little mad is all."

Bucky stopped hunkering over the table as he looked at Natasha and Pietro with an almost-longing stare, "It's weird, you know. The other Bucky has this full life here. He smiles in all his photographs, he wasn't brainwashed by Hydra. Hell, he's even raising kids with Talia and is like an older brother to Pietro. Despite how fucked up things are over here, his life seems fuller. He seems… better."

Bucky shook the thoughts from his head, dropping the permanent marker on the table, watching it roll without making an effort to stop it.

"Speak for yourself," Sam told him off. "This side's Sam is a mess. I practically woke up in my own vomit this morning."

"Jesus," was all Bucky gave him.

"Hang on, did you say you and Nat are raising kids together?"

"Mmm-hmm. We run a kids shelter in Canada. I train them in self-defence on Wednesdays and Fridays, and History and English every other weekday."

Sam laughed, using his crutch to poke Bucky's side, "Well, shit. Look at you. Mr Professor Barnes."

Pietro's pure laughter rippled out from the other room as he watched cartoons going about their usual tomfoolery. Something kept gnawing at Bucky's stomach, making him feel uneasy.

Sam scratched his cheek, "You alright there, Tin-can?"

"During the car ride over here, Talia kept reminiscing about our third year anniversary and how we spend a week on a luxury cruise aboard a blip –for some reason, they're the more acceptable form of travel here."

"I mean, it's not such a bad idea. Reduced carbon emissions-"

"That's what you're focusing on? Blips are filled with hydrogen. They explode!"

"Excuse me for finding a bright side in all this. In case you hadn't noticed, there's not much of that going around." Sam tapped on his leg, his eyes narrowing at Bucky.

“Christ on a cracker, must I spell it out?”

“Spell what out?”

“Three-year-anniversary,” Bucky waited for Sam to catch on.

“Oh Shit! Did you two…” He walked closer to Bucky to whisper-hum the wedding march.

Bucky groaned, “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s not exactly the easiest thing to bring up in polite conversation, besides she already suspects something is off with me… him… us? Whatever, you know what I mean.”

Sam chuckled, “Huh… that’s kinda ironic. You spent so long being afraid to propose to the girl you love, even though you have everything –security, shelter –and yet somehow, the guy with more to lose, is the one who was least afraid of being with the woman he loved.” He said, glancing over at Natasha.

As if on cue, the dark haired woman rose from the couch, a piqued expression taking over her features. “Okay, James. Enough with the whispering and the side-ways glances. I think I’ve given you two enough time to catch up. Now… what’s the plan?”

“Well…” Bucky tapped his metal finger on the red circled dot and delved into the details of his rescue plans.

“That won’t work,” Natasha said bluntly once he was done. “The only way you get into Hydra alive is if they bring you in.”

“Are you suggesting…?” Sam’s eyes widened.

“Yup.”

Pietro whooshed in from the couch, licking the crumbs from his fingers. “If we’re going after Hydra, we’ll need backup.”

“I agree,” Natasha replied as she pulled out her phone to dial a number.

“I don’t think the bol'shaya zhenshchina will be enough. I have a favour I can call in. Don’t wait for me.” Pietro added before zooming out of the house.

 ~Hydra HQ, NY

You marched into the interrogation room, the sound of muffled steel punches landing on a human jaw made you flinch. The doors opened automatically and a large molar flew across the room, knocked loose from the mystery man’s mouth. He laughed, staring down his interrogator with such conviction it made your skin erupt in goosebumps.

“Leave us,” you told the man wearing the knuckle duster.

He nodded curtly before spitting, “Terrorist scum!”

You dragged over a chair and sat on it, arms resting on the back support. “So, they tell me you got caught trying to cross the border patrols. Not very smart.”

“Oh, I don’t know, as plans go…” the man lifted his head so his striking blue eyes pierced through you, a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips when he noticed you physically shudder. “It wasn’t so bad. After all, it brought me to you, didn’t it?”

Instantly, a migraine hammered against your cranium with the highest intensity yet, something about his presence, his voice, his eyes, undid every fibre of your being until all you felt was nausea bubbling up to the surface. You gripped the chair to steady yourself but the longer he stared at you, the worse everything got. You felt like you were being torn apart at the seams. In desperation, you hurried out of the room and raced towards a potted plant so you could relieve your stomach of its contents –though there wasn’t much left to throw up.

“Babe, are you alright?” Steve’s hand rubbed at your back as he kneeled next to you.

You huffed lifelessly, wiping the residue of puke from your mouth with your sleeve. Your chin quivered violently forcing your teeth to chatter. The sickly miasma of ozone clung to your nostrils as ghosts from another life encroached around you, and visible only to you from the fact that Steve wasn’t distressed in the least to see a very alive and well Wanda Maximoff laughing by a window -sunlight like fire on her red hair. Through the windows reflective surface, you saw him again, the ghost from the apartment and suddenly, you understood why the man in the interrogation room had shaken you to your core. It was him… the ghost, only he wasn’t a figment of your imagination. He was real too.

You grabbed onto Steve’s arms like they were the only thing keeping you from downing. “I think I’m losing my mind…”

Chapter Four: The Choice

AFWHI tags: @fangirl-colo @dormousse @smallmarvel @ren-ni @sargentbucket @nikolett3 @wnygirl2012 @jentismyname @evilgeniuslabz-blog @myrabbitholetoneverland @sleepingspacedragon @500daysofbecky @reidreader  

Permatags: @gruffle1 @thechickvic @notawarriorjustyet @savethehoneeybees

tags: @ladybugsfanfics 

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you x steve #counterpart fic #framework fic #marvel imgine #steve rogers #bucky barnes #alternate universe #marvel fanfiction #chris evans #sebastian stan #some buckynat I didn't know I needed in my life

[silence-burns]

Natural Enemies //part 7

Fandom: Suicide Squad / DC

Summary: Based on: “Imagine Rick Flag inviting you to join the Suicide Squad.” by @thefandomimagine

“Stay in position!” Flag shouted to his men, desperately trying to keep everyone alive.

A monster jumped at him from the open, not even trying to hide. The bullets shredded its body, but never stopped it for long. Just like in his worst nightmares, Flag found himself shooting one enemy after another, never missing, but never killing any of them. One after another, they came from the darkness, unstoppable and inhuman with their lack of fear and pain…

“Backs together, don't let them divide you!” he kept shouting, but didn't dare turn around and see to the rest of his team. One moment of distraction could cost him his life.

“Flag, coming from the south!” he heard you through the radio, your voice almost muffled by the chaos around him.

He shot a quick look at that direction, but he couldn't order soldiers to stop shooting there, they would all be overtaken in a flash. The monsters just kept coming, no matter how much they tried to keep them away…

A body crashed into him, sending him to the ground with a hard thump. Flag's head hit the ground hard enough to make the stars visible despite it being mid day.

Dripping red teeth opened to bite his face off.

Hot blood splashed on his face as the head was cut off right before that. Flag pushed the convulsing body off of him, immediately getting up and reaching for his gun, adrenaline making images flash before his eyes.

You suddenly appeared in front of him, turning his face to look you straight in the eyes.

“Shoot me and I'll shove that gun up your ass,” you promised before jumping to the right, where Deadshot was putting one mag after another in a creature that wouldn't stop crawling to him.

You slash your hand, smudging your blood over the blade before killing the creature. You didn't stop to watch it. Diving between the soldiers, you run to the creatures in the fog cutting, dodging and whirling around, trying your best not to get surrounded.

“Got your back!” Deadshot yelled, stepping in behind you. Bullets couldn't kill the creatures, but at least they slowed them down, earning you more time.

“Regroup!” Flag ordered to the rest of his men.

The wounded were taken to the center of the small circle, while the rest watched the bushes. It took you a few more minutes with the help of the soldiers to finish off the wave of creatures, some more inhuman than the others.

You stood tense, watching the area around you. The rain didn't stop pouring and hitting the leaves, creating a lot of background sounds you wished weren't there. The creatures moved quietly, but you still hoped to hear them coming this time. Terror was freezing your chest every time you thought you'd seen one more misshapen mass of semi-human parts, stitched together by a mad scientist. Appropriate number of limbs were attached to the right places, but bent and twisted in a way no human would ever use them.

You jumped, almost cutting Flag in half when he approached you.

“Woah, careful with that,” he held his hands up, coming to your left. “Don't wanna get any more holes than I already have.”

You'd crack a smile if you weren't so exhausted. Your stay in prison didn't keep you in shape after all.

“How many did we lose?” you asked, almost not recognizing your own voice. It was hoarse and stranded and you took the offered bottle of water thankfully.

Flag raised an eyebrow at the use of “we”. It was a surprise to see you familiarize with the soldiers you didn't even know. He'd never think you'd consider them anything more than meat.

“Two. Some are wounded, but they can make it to the mansion. Besides, what the hell was that?” he asked, anger raising in him suddenly. “You could have been shot!”

“I warned you, but no one picked up the radio.”

“The plan was to get someone, anyone, to the mansion and at least see the security-”

“If I did that, you'd all be dead!”

“We could have retreated-”

“Don't act like a bigger fool than you are, Flag, we both saw you were surrounded. How many more have to die for you to-”

“Easy, tiger,” Deadshot slapped you on the back of your head, making you spill some water. He grabbed the bottle from you and finished it in a single gulp. “That was a helluva mess.”

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” Flag spit, crossing his arms. He was still frowning, but Deadshot kept ignoring his moods as always.

The bottle was thrown at him. Flag noticed the red streaks on it and looked down at your hands. “Was that all really necessary? Come on, let me bandage that,” he fished a small package from on of his pockets.

“I'll be fine, there's no need to.”

“Alright, tiger, we know you're tough, but that really doesn't look well,” Deadshot grabbed your arms and forced you to get closer to Flag. “Hell, that must hurt. Can you even move your fingers?”

“I've had worse, okay? Look, it's not- OH MY GOD. I'll kill you both.”

Flag poured more disinfecting liquid on your wounds, making you hiss and try to escape, but Deadshot held you strong. You tried to stomp on his foot, but he moved away quickly.

“You need to be careful, you know?” Flag added while bandaging it as gently as he could. He was frowning, but the anger was gone from his features. He seemed worried, which surprised you even more.

“It'd be a lot easier if the rain wasn't pouring so hard, I had to smear the blades over and over again while usually a few drops would make do.”

“How does it actually work? You know, the thing you do?” Flag looked at you quickly before turning his eyes back on the bandages. “It's the first time any of those… creatures stayed dead.”

“I don't really know. I just will my blood to divide whatever I choose,” you shrugged it off.

Deadshot let go of you once Flag was finished. Your hands hurt, but you were used to it by now. The bandages looked professional, as if Flag had a lot of experience putting together awful wounds, which he probably had. It was a shame you'd have to ruin it the next time you needed to use your abilities.

Deadshot laughed. “Yeah, I remember you cut through an inch thick metal door, just like that, back at Atlanta, where we had to finish off that one guy-”

“Yeah, I remember,” you cut him off quickly, suddenly and unexplainably embarrassed of your past. Sure, the guy deserved it, but it was a really long story to explain and time was one thing you didn't have at the moment. “Come on, we need to move. More will come.”

Flag nodded, still watching you with an unreadable expression. He turned to the regrouping soldiers and started ordering them around.

Deadshot shot you a smirk.

“What?” you asked with confusion.

“Nothing, tiger. Watch out on your stripes.”

#rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flagg #suicide squad #the suicide squad #joel kinnaman #rick flag x you #rick flag/you #rick flag/reader #flag x reader #flag x you #deadshot #rick flagg x reader #rick flagg x you #rick flag imagine #rick flag suicide squad

[ocean-taste]

Surrender to the Sun (Jasper x OC fluff) STEVEN UNIVERSE

SUMMARY: Amber lives on her own on an island close to Beach City. Her life changes when Jasper washes up on her beach, quite soon after she begs Lapis to take her back.

WARNINGS: Just a fluffy kiss.

~

Had she known what awaited on her on that beach, the same beach she walked on every day – where something new waited for her, I suspect she would’ve turned around, and walked far away. For she was now a woman of routine, she didn’t mean to be, that was what she had become, and when there was something new – often it wasn’t pleasant. Or at least, that’s what she had come to believe.

But in this story she didn’t walk away, she did anything but. After she pulled down the flag that evening, her dark green eyes laid upon a figure in the sand below her. A fish? Or a whale? Maybe some trash from Beach City had washed up on her lonely shore, whatever it was she went to inspect, and soon became horrified to see it was a human figure facing lifeless on the sand.

“Oh my god! Hello?! Are you okay? Can you hear me!” 

Quickly she shook the figure, it was large and full of muscle, and heavy to lift as she pushed the person so they were lying on their back. So heavy in fact, she found herself falling on top of them.

“O-Oh my gosh I’m sorry-“

“She doesn’t want me.” Lifting her head she saw the person, was in fact a woman. Facing upwards vacantly in the sky, her amber eyes somewhere far away.

“What? Um, I’m Amber, what’s your name? Are you hurt?”

“She doesn’t want me.” The woman’s deep voice sunk even lower than before, Amber stared down at her confusedly as she still laid on the woman’s chest, though clearly the woman was too strong to mind or even notice.

“She doesn’t want me.” Amber’s heart broke a little when she listened to the woman’s voice break; as soon as tears began to form on her strong face she hid them with her arm. Biting her lip fiercely as she forced back the tears and croaks.

“I’m useless, disgusting, worthless, no wonder she doesn’t want me! But I’m nothing without her! I don’t want to be on my own again!”

“H-hey, you’re not alone.. I’m here aren’t I? C’mon,” Hesitantly, Amber placed her hand on the golden woman’s cheek, making her jump a little at the touch.

“What’s your name? Let’s start there.”

“…Jasper.”

“Jasper. Okay. You’re soaking wet, you’ve got sea water in your eyes even.” 

Jasper held back a smile as the human girl used the ocean as a disguise for her tears, she didn’t know her at all but somehow she knew she didn’t want to owe up to the fact she was crying.

“Let’s get you dry and warm, c’mon. It’s getting dark.”

~ I had that dream again, where I told that big orange lug how I had come to feel. It has been playing on my mind for some time now, when I finally realised what I’ve been feeling. The dream replays in my mind constantly, but it always ends before Jasper could answer – a typical cliché. Because I knew what she’d say: she belongs to someone else.

It took me awhile it’s fair to say to discover I held romantic feelings towards her, as we’ve always been close. We kinda had no choice in that matter, she washed up on my beach one day and I was as isolated as they came. With only a boat ride once a month coming with my groceries from Beach City, I was all on my own on my little cliff, and that’s how I liked it. Until now of course. We didn’t warm to each other immediately, but she knew she needed some help even if she didn’t want to admit it and I was curious about her, having little to no contact with people I wondered if a gem would be any different, and she was – she was better.

She had a natural admiration for new things and how they worked, whenever she thought I wasn’t looking she would show her curiosity with beaming golden eyes with the most stupid, but most adorable look on her face. When she’d catch me looking she’d clear her throat and ask what such a strange object was, and I’d tell her it was a toaster or something silly that has long since lost it’s magic for me – a boring human. But not to Jasper, that little toaster meant the world for a little moment – that’s when I knew, I was falling deeper and deeper.

“I-I’m.. not good enough…”

I turned my head to see the big orange giant I adored, having the same nightmare again. Though Jasper didn’t need sleep she’d put herself into it just because there was a chance she’d see her again.

I clenched my sheets as I brought my knees to my face, trying to bury myself away from the resentment I felt. Jasper told me everything. Though now I think she regrets it, and pretends she never mentioned it. As she did burst emotionally to me when we first met, though I don’t think she meant to. I just happened to be there to listen.

~

“I’M NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR HER!!!” The woman screamed again as she punched her fist into the waters. Her large fingers sinking into the sand like the tears that streamed down her face. Again and again she’d punch the waves of subdued waters that had once kept her prisoner, but they remained unaffected by her passion.

“I’M NOTHING!!! I’M NOTHING-“

Slap.

Jasper breathed heavily as her vision returned to her. Indeed the slap was weak, Jasper was one of the strongest Gems back in homeworld - any normal strength being was like a fly to her, and yet something still dared to test her. She turned and saw a human. Staring down at her with fiery green eyes. 

“Shut up!”

“Y-you.. YOU DARE TRY TO SILENCE ME?” Jasper tried to push herself up but her arms still felt so heavy and her legs refused to stand. Being under such pressure for so long, her body felt like lead. It was only moments ago her strength in her arms returned.

“I hate people like you, that’s why I moved away from everyone. Yet here you are, on my beach. Punching water.”

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” Jasper croaked as she swung her arms at the human, though she was kneeling she tried to land a hit but they only stepped back, making her fall face first on the sand again.

Jasper spat at the golden dust that itched at her fangs, it tasted like her. The salt. The water. All of it, was her in some way. Jasper loathed how she was feeling, Jaspers’ were meant to be strong – unfazed by emotions in the heat of battle. But that ocean wrench, had gotten under her skin.

“She’s.. gone.. She left me; all alone… you don’t get it. I feel like there’s something missing.. something important…”

“I know. But you’re wrong to value yourself on whether a person is with you or not.” Slowly, Jasper felt a hand slither from under her chin against the sand, and carefully raise her head so she looked up. Of course Jasper’s head alone was heavy, so the human slipped her other hand there to help. Jasper stayed still, for the first time in her life – she felt too distraught, too angry, too sad – to even feel or do anything.

“You, yourself are that important something. You have to – look inside yourself for it. It’s something that doesn’t need someone else for it to shine, it just – does. You think you can only be strong with this person, that’s not true. And it isn’t love. Love is when that person cheers you on, but you don’t need them to be there – you choose for them to be there. To watch each other shine, then you shine together.”

Jasper could only stare at the human as her vision once again began to grow black, but in her last act the Gem reached out for the human.

“Shine…”

And there she fell, back into the golden sand. 

~

“God I said such corny stuff back then..” I cringed as I thought back to the memory, running a hand in my hair as Jasper shifted in her sleep again.

“..Good…Enough…” I bit my lip as I lay back down next to her. Staring at her blonde hair falling over her eyes as her brow continued to fury together as she dreamt on restlessly. It angered me how this other Gem person still affected Jasper, that my words really hadn’t sunk in back then. What I’d give if she would just – maybe, think of me like she did with this other gem. Maybe my idea of love was all wrong; maybe I wanted her to be selfish with me. To consume me. 

But what the hell would I know? I couldn’t even take my own advice. When things got hard back home I just got up and left, I didn’t let anyone reach out to me. Now I have a gem I am beside myself in love with, but she doesn’t hold any emotion like that towards me. I guess I deserved it, a runaway like me – doesn’t deserve love.

“..Enough… She… Good…” Jasper mumbled, rubbing her face in the pillows whilst I shuffled closer to her.

“I want to be good enough.. for you…” The warmth I felt from Jasper was always unreal to me, she was like a golden sun, and I so desperately wanted to be burnt.

“I’m no Gem but.. I’d try to make you happy… happy enough to coexist with me… so if anything were to happen; you could live on with little pain… I don’t know what I’m saying, or what I mean… and you’re asleep and I’m frustrated but- damnit Jasper. I lo-“

Panic struck me as I looked up to see the whites of Jasper’s eyes glowing in the dark, staring strait at me with not an inch of sleep in her iris’. She was as wide awake as they came. I jumped back in shock, but she only pinned me down beneath her in response. I stared up at her, trying to read her expression in the dark but my eyes weren’t adjusting quick enough. But I knew with her alien vision – she could see my bright red cheeks.

“Finish what you were saying.”

“A-aha, what? Saying what? I’m s-sure I don’t know-“

“Don’t lie. Say it.”

I rolled my lips in a tight thin line, keeping my secret far back at the end of my throat. I turned my head against the pillow, refusing to meet her gaze whilst I tried to look for a solution but my mind grew blank. I could feel her grow angry as her grip on my arms tightened a little – but not too much, she was always aware of how weak I was compared to her.

“…I don’t want to use violence, but I’m a Jasper. That’s all I know to get information.” 

I turned to look up at her desperately, slightly afraid of what she’d do. She could crush me easily if she wasn’t careful. Slowly she raised her arms into her battle stance I had grown to know, even though I was at the other end of her fists she still looked so beautiful above me.  The way her biceps flexed as she shifted, her own body was dancing and I bet that was how she thought of war – a dance.

Funny how before I knew her, I could never see war and pain as something as beautiful as a dance. But she made me think that maybe I could find it beautiful, or more like I want to see her fight. I want to see her do everything, and remember every detail.

Quickly her hands descended upon me, I flinched as I expected a punch but instead I was greeted with a strange feeling. An itch? No a pinch? Whatever it was, it was sending shivers all over me and it made me want to laugh – looking down I saw her tickling me all over, receiving the desired effect from me as I laughed hysterically.

Her fingers crossed over my skin numerous times, returning to certain spots where she knew I found particularly infectious, quickly she was winning as tears formed in my eyes.

“H-ha! Haha! Jas-Jasper stop! Please!”

“Not until you finish what you were saying!”

She pressed deeper into my ticklish areas as the tears streamed down my face, I knew I couldn’t handle anymore as my legs flailed in the air as she sat on my lap, unaffected by my attacks – her mission was clear. With a shaky inhale I ran through the words in my mind, hugging them dearly as they had stayed with me for so long – now at last they’d reach her. The one I desired most.

“F-Fine!... I… I-I…. I love y-you Jasper.”

Instantly her fingers stopped and returned to her side. I pressed the switch next to my bed, lighting my bedside lamp so I could see her better. I turned to see my lovable giant half smiling. But the disappointment in her eyes was clear. “Well… stop.” Pain struck the inside of my heart, but it soon turned into something bitter.

“S-stop? Y-you can’t just… dismiss me like that! Fine if you don’t love me back but- goddammit Jasper I love you! Accept my feelings at least!”

“Amber stop that. You look like fire. If you don’t stop I’ll-“

“You’ll what? Tickle me again? Fine! Do your worst! I don’t care! Whatever you do, I won’t stop loving you-“

Before I could react, I felt a pair of lips crash against my own. They were hot, warm like a golden sun, at long last – I was burning. My hands travelled up into her long golden locks as I stroked her head and hair. I felt her large hands travel up and down my side, making me shiver. One of her hands gripped mine and pushed it above my head, her grip light, she let me determine how tightly she could go. Even now, she was aware of her strength against me.

Soon we parted for a breath; she stared down at me with eyes I hadn’t seen before. They weren’t their usual distant hurt ones, they were here. Whatever she had been looking at before, she was finally looking at me. I felt like I could melt into my sheets if I wanted to, but I needed answers.

“Jasper… what am I to you?”

Instantly Jasper looked hurt from this notion, she shook her head as her cheeks began to bloom a bright orange. She hid her face in my neck, not wanting to meet my eye.

“…I’m a Quartz, Amber.  I am stronger than anything on this human world; I could destroy mountains with just my fist if I wanted to.  Which is why… I shouldn’t love you, Amber. I could kill you if I’m even the slightest too rough… you’re like glass to me.”

“I don’t care.” Gently I pushed her off me, she did so obliged as I stared down at her.

“You could never break me. I’ve been breaking myself not telling you how I’ve felt. Jasper, let’s at least try. “ 

Jasper stared up at me, scanning my eyes for any sense of hesitance. When she was sure she had found none, she sighed. I prepared myself to be dismissed again when I felt her hands slowly rise up and down my thighs, I looked back at her and she was smiling shyly.

“This is the one battle I’m willing to lose.”

I smiled ear to ear; something began at my toes then rushed up to my head. Like a bolt of hot lightening. I leaned down and kissed her again, she obliged, our lips matching together perfectly. Her hands began to travel and explore me completely as did mine, and as I began to melt to her touch – I knew nothing would be the same ever again.

#jasper x oc #jasper x reader #jasper x lapis #jasper x pearl #jasper #quartz #homeworld #steven universe #lo #romance #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #beach city #beach #waves #sea

[thedoctorisadhd]

what's once on this island about?

i hope ur happy anon, bc this took me literally like six hours im not exaggerating even a little

short answer: so u take the original plot of the littlest mermaid and u plunk it down rIGHT in the middle of 1920s haiti, right

long answer (like, REALLY long answer. like REALLY long. im sorry i dont know how to summarize when there are so many good things):

“there is an island where rivers run deep…”

“where the sea, sparkling in the sun, earns it the name, ‘jewel of the antilles.’”

“an island where the poorest of peasants labor —”

“— and the wealthiest of the grand hommes lay.”

“two different worlds on one island!”

“the grand hommes, owners of the land and masters of their own fates.”

“and the peasants, eternally at the mercy of the wind and sea, would pray constantly to the gods.”

those are the four storytellers, beginning the play. lydia started the first line, then abby, then dori, then natalie, and repeat.

(oh yeah, also this is the jr version. also, i dont know everything bc i was backstage the majority of the time)

so the gods that the beach people / peasants are dancing to, theres 4 of them. asaka (played by lavanya in our production) is the goddess of the earth, erzulie (played by luke who’s closeted, so i change it to a god, erzulio) beautiful goddess of love. agwe (played by ian) is the god of the sea, and papa ge (eli, of course, and it’s literally pronounced papa gay), my personal favorite, is the sly demon of death

and this is all described in the first number “we dance”

stay tuned yo it gets better.

(its so good. dont ever listen to any version besides the chatham one i can guarantee you that any non-eli papa ge, any non-luke erzulie / erzulio, any non-lavanya asaka, any non-ian agwe, any non-lydia / dori / abby / natalie storyteller will not be as good)

so basically theres this storm, and in this storm is a little girl and the gods are like “no papa ge we’re not killing her you fuck” and they irresponsibly plunk her down in a tree

and so tonton julien (ben) and mama euralie (izzy) come along & are like “holy shit a kid” (and this girl is crying her eyes out of course bc as mr adam creatively put it to the girl who played young ti moune, “you were just dropped in a tree by some randos you’ve never seen before in your entire life”) but like theyre poor and dont have a lotta food and shit so they try to leave but the gods, showing some small modicum of responsibility, like, use the force to pull them back. so these peasants adopt ti moune and name her ti moune and theres a whole big number about her growing up called “one small girl” which i quite like actually

then ti moune is grown up (sammie) and she sings about like “whats my destiny yo” all naive in “waiting for life” and sees a car which is a big ol lead-in to the next number. which brings us to

so in the beginning of “rain” theres this HILARIOUS section of dialogue with the gods picking mangos and here it is bc i cant not include it man

asaka: 🎵 pick a mango! 🎵

agwe: 🎵 a juicy mango! 🎵

erizulie: 🎵 a lovely mango! 🎵

papa ge, being Himself: 🎶 a poison mango! 😈 🎶

[all of the other gods look at papa ge]

anyway, after that theyre all proposing things to do to get ti moune less naive, with such wonderful suggestions from these dumbasses as “splash her with a wave” and “scare her half to death”. and then erzulie is like “yeah u do that imma give her what she wants bye” and the other gods are like “????????????” and shes just like “You Heard Me” and just goes like “Love Can Conquer Anything!!!!!!! :)))))))) ❤️💞💕💚💛💙💜💝💘💗💖❣️” and papa ge is like “that’s bullshit this whole thing is bullshit that’s a scam fuck the love here’s like two reasons why” and they argue (and asaka remarks that this is “more amusing than mangos”) and the gods are all “HMMMM🤔🤔” and then they all go “A BET!”

and the gods all start like pitching in to set up this bet, so like erzulie gives her strength and asaka’s gonna guide her but then papa ge interrupts like “IM GONNA MAKE HER CHOOSE” and then johnny boy i mean ian i mean agwe then calls dibs on choosing the circumstances of the bet

and u remember that car right? well ian agwe is like “that. thats the place where the 2 worlds meet” and he creates a big ol storm and in the song he says (one of my favorite lines, actually) “rain makes the road such a dangerous place” (he did amazing in that song but i feel kinda bad bc like. he was overshadowed by the other gods who are all incredible singers, and parts of it were too low for him. like, eli can sing as high as he did, but ian really cant sing that low)

also they used the fish flags from the seussical two years ago when sammie’s sister sidne played the cat in the hat. i always found it hilarious that dori of all people they couldve chosen played a fish

ANYWAY. so the car is goin down the road and crash oh no a car accident. totally not what agwe was (shot)gunning for

and so ti moune pulls this guy outta the car right, and — by the way, now we’re in this super intense number called “pray” — and this song is real fuckin good alright.

my opinion upon this is based almost solely on the fact that within the first like ten lines of this epically long song a peasant, talking about the guy that got pulled outta the car (daniel, that’s his name), says, literally: “papa ge wants him!” i will remind you that papa ge is pronounced “papa gay” and what makes it even more astronomically fuckin funny is that both hank, the guy that played daniel, and eli, who as u may know played papa ge, are mlm.

anyway no one wants to help daniel even tho he’s Actively Dying bc Fuck The Grand Hommes, Am I Right Guys We Cant Do Anything Were Peasants And There Is Sanctity That We Must Never Talk To Look At Or Think About A Single Grand Homme, Ever™ but ti mounes gonna help him bc Fuck You Guys and she keeps him alive while tonton julien goes to find the guys family after she’s Finally persuaded the guy to do this

and ti moune doesnt sleep for Three Fucken Days by the way. thats important in the next number

also daniel is supposed to be good looking so of course ti moune Falls In Love With Him despite never having seen him before in her entire life, and also hes unconcious the Whole time. i dont understand the heterosexuals

anyway, tonton juliens at the gate to daniels family hotel and he’s like “pls let me in i need to speak to monsieur beausome!” and the gatekeepers like “get the fuck away my guy” and hes like “no but its urgent!!” and the gatekeeper SLAPS BEN [LAST NAME REDACTED]*

so ben i mean tonton recovers and like seriously gets down on his knees and begs and the gatekeeper is still like “FUCK! NO!” and then ben fucking [last name redacted]* SCREAMS SAVAGELY “I HAVE FOUND HIS SON!” HOO BOY

and then at the end of pray you hear a long high note and then one specific girl takes it HIGHER ????????? idk who it is for sure but im willing to put my money on lavanya bc jesus christ can that girl sing

*people always say bens full name when referring to him for some reason, so it’s not ben bc which ben? it’s not ben b. it’s ben [last name redacted].

so pray goes ge STRAIGHT into forever yours. not the reprise, thats later.

so. forever yours. in a STUNNING turn of events (sarcasm. absolutely the least stunning thing after the whole “papa gay wants him” in pray), the VERY fucking FIRST LINE IN THIS WHOLE FUCKING STUPID HEARTFELT SONG is literally ti moune saying “i am a tree, holding away the storm”. are you fucking serious. are you kidding me. you waste the first line on that monstrosity,

anyway basically what happens in this is ti moune is singing about tending to daniel here it is

i am a tree holding away the stormhere in my arms i’ll keep u safe and warmeven the gods wont dare to cross this linewhere my life is forever yoursand you are mine

and on that last word, “mine”, papa ge joins in and it is fuckin CHILLING, not LEAST bc eli has the voice of a fuckin angel (and sammie too, but i think eli’s is just slightly better)

so eli stalks in and the first thing papa ge does, in a True demonstration of the gay / ge agenda, is Drag The Het.

(then he goes on to say “this boy is mine”)

so eli’s also got a knife (a fake one) and this is another Important Thing so yeah

anyway sammie ti moune should “TAKE MINE FOR HIS.” (her life she meant) and papa ge is SHOOK. he just … stops. “wot”

so yeah. ti moune, in one of The most IMPRESSIVE displays of heterosexual tomfoolery and ridiculousness i have Yet Seen (scene), trades her life for this Complete Fuckin Stranger she pulled out of the car wreck whomst has not as of yet spoken a Single word to her bc HE’S BEEN UNCONSCIOUS THE WHOLE TIME!?

and heres another good line, the first gay daddy nico diangelo himself eli papa gay papa ge has had since “wot”: i am the road / leading to no return

(and this is also where eli goes REALLY high. like not for basically everyone else, but for him)

then daniels two dads apparently, grant and hugh, pick him up and take him back to the hotel and ti moune is like “NOOOOOOO” and makes mama and tonton let her leave to go find daniel, and frankly i am not very interested in this specific part of the song so fuck that i skipped it lmao lets get to lavanyas fuckin SOLO

alright. “mama will provide”. exactly what it says on the tin, taking it into account that asaka would be mother earth i guess

really all this one is is lavanya’s fuckin angelic voice and What Exists In Nature, and i cant very well put lavanya’s voice down on the page for yinz to hear can i? the only notable thing i can really think of besides this next piece a dialogue  will share w u is in the beginning theres a bunch of ensemble doing weird repeating acapella and some hopping in like frogs. “COO COO coo coo cOO COO COOO” “SHAH shaSHA-ah” “buuuuu BUM! BUM! bum” its sounds slightly weirder than it is

anyway here’s the best dialogue:

everyone: MOSQUITOS??

asaka: HA!

ACT TWO HERE WE FUCKIN GO ALRIGHT

ok, so ti moune finds daniel who doesnt know who she is bc, you know, he was unconscious the entire time. she gets him to know she was the one who nursed him tho. and they go to the front of the stage and ti moune sits and daniel puts his head on her lap. again, poor hank

now, “human heart”. jesus. i have literally cried over this song.

so erzulie goes out on stage to where hank is slowly suffering, probably, and sings this GODS DAMN BEAUTIFUL SONG about like, love n shit i guess. the storytellers and the other three gods act as a sort of choir. that’s pretty much all there is to say about human heart tho. moving on

ok so for “pray (reprise)” the gossipers (which are apparently supposed to be the storytellers, but fuck that thats lame, give my Cool Hoes lianna and taylor parts tbh) go out on stage and sing about how daniel is spending all his time w a peasant and shes a witch and yadda yadda yadda. and then theres some lame romance shit that i dont have fuckin time for

anyway, the song culminates with daniel’s father comin out on stage (lmao). which father, u ask? he had two of em? well that was grant and hugh, this one’s iain. conclusion: daniel has three polyamorous gay dads. this is the gayest production of a play ive ever seen. i mean papa ge? “papa ge wants him”? the fact that tonton means uncle so mama euralie and tonton julien arent married? “this boy is mine” coming from daddy gay himself? the fact that daniels last name means beautiful man? the “beautiful god of love” (as luke said, refusing to misgender himself in his introduction U GO LUKE)? the fact that out of the main cast (the 4 gods, the 4 storytellers, daniel, ti moune, andrea, mama euralie, and tonton julien) there are literally eight (8) actors who Arent straight (id bet that two others arent str8 and or / cis as well but im not sure)? just change daniel to danielle and itll be perfect

ayway daniel’s 3rd dad comes out on stage and tells him to stop this nonsense, young man ANYWAY NEXT SONG

in “some girls” the rich guys at the hotel all are doing a really lame colorless boring dance. then this girl andrea (ava) comes out and sings about the rumors about ti moune, that she’s stupid or wild, and daniel tells her to stop, then ti moune arrives and andrea really condescendingly asks her to dance for everyone and daniel encourages ti moune

so ti moune does a slow lame dance and then it gets loud and wild and fun! then when she’s done andrea goes to daniel and is like “she’s in love with you you oblivious fuck if you care at all you’ll tell her —” (unclear about what he’s caring about) and andrea is interrupted by ti moune who’s like “HI I HEARD MY NAME WHATCHA WANT ANDREA” and daniel goes and breaks her fuckin heart right

how he does this is he’s like “oops sorry i thought u would realize that we could never marry bc andrea and i are already engaged (since we were babies)”. daniel demonstrates an amazing amount of calmness about being forced to marry this girl he’s known all his life, and an incredible amount of insensitiveness bc TI MOUNE WAS NEVER FUCKIN TOLD THAT HE WAS ENGAGED. honestly i loathe literally every single character in this play except for the gods and the storytellers lmao

OK NOW FOR MY FAVORITE FUCKIN ONE WOW :~)

the reprise of forever mine.

so. ti moune is alone on stage and she goes like “gods please are u listening help me” and then. u hear. eli’s fucking amazing evil laugh and the gay himself appears

and he’s like u gotta keep ur promise ti moune im here to collect on that Soul

did i mention elis voice is beautiful? no i dont care, im sayin it again, eli [last name redacted] has the voice of an angel

anyway he’s like “u gave him ur soul, now u have to PAY” (the line he used here is “i am the price you’ll pay” and that sounds cool as shit)

and so “father homosexual,” as he was dubbed by luke, takes out his knife and sings “your life is forever mine” and holds the knife to ti mounes neck and ti moune yells “PLEASE DONT” and and and

he stops.

“trade your life for his.”

so papa ge gives her the knife and tells her to go stab daniel and he sings “i am the road that leads to no return” as he walks to the left side of the stage, and erzulie appears at the right side and sings human heart as papa ge continues with his verse from the first forever mine as ti moune struggles towards and away from daniel, straining, being pulled by opposite forces, love and death, and the two unite in singing “forever mine!” and ti moune casts the knife to the floor and screams “NO!”

and the music stops

and daniel sees the knife and picks it up

and says “why?!”

(fuckin bitch shoulda stabbed him when she had the chance)

and ti moune gets cast out and like, withers away at the gate neither eating nor sleeping, and then daniel comes to the gate with andrea at his wedding and sees ti moune and gives her a coin when she runs after him, and she collapses and the gods, sOMEHOW GAINING SOME MINISCULE VIEW OF THE CONSEQUENCES OF THEIR FUCKIN ACTIONS, all start CRYING. (erzulie won the bet) and erzulie hugs ti moune and papa ges probably off somewhere feeling sorry for himself bc you cant fuckin see him in the footage (nah, he’s off at the side of the stage with the other two gods neither of whomst you can see either), and mama euralie comes to sing this sad and pretty number “part of us” and then tonton and baby ti moune arrive as well for some fuckin reason,

and mama euralie says,

“and then the gods blessed her and turned her into —”

and then the gods hit their staffs on the floor (ian a bit gentlier bc his was falling apart bc he wouldnt stop fucking licking the fucking ribbons, ian) “a tree!”

and the tree comes up, forwards this time thankfully (phew) and and the tree fuckin cracks the walls of the hotel, get rekt scrubs, and the tree fuckin stalks daniel i guess, and daniels son sits by the tree and looks up and theres a peasant girl in its branches, and ti moune touches everyones hearts and also their livers, and everyone starts singing “why we tell the story”

also, fun story real quick, ive never actually seen eli dab i dont think (that’s something i need to accomplish real soon), and the dance he went off to the side and did with like, lydia, and agwe and ben [last name redacted] and daniels son and hugh — i guess all the boys in musical theater and also lydia, and the dance they have to do looks pretty damn like dabbing, and like, eli’s holding his staff so he cant do a true dab, really, but he can do a one armed one — but no. his dancing looks more like fuckin waving. ben [last name redacted] is dabbing, daniels son is dabbing, im like 80 percent sure ian’s dabbing directly behind eli, gloria’s dabbing in the back, but no, nOT ELI. im pretty sure he’s deliberately avoiding it smh

anyway

whOOP exciting parts over. now it’s time for Sad Half Circle Around Tree Girl i guess

“the stories that we weave,” and the storytellers and daniel’s son and the peasant girl in tree moune’s branches all come to the front and —

“there is an island where rivers run deep…”

#once on this island #the storytellers #abby #lydia #dori #natalie #asaka #lavanya #erzulie #luke #erzulio #agwe #ian #papa gay #papa ge #eli #ti moune #sammie #tonton julien #mama euralie #izzy #ben [last name redacted] #mr adam #mangos #seussical #sidne #cat in the hat #hank #daniel #puns

[clusterassets]

New world news from Time: Mahathir Mohamad’s Last Stand: Malaysia’s Aging Strongman Seeks to Unseat His Protégé

In a muddy clearing about half the size of a football field, several thousand rice paddy planters and taxi drivers join an elbow-to-elbow scrum, waiting in darkness in Jerlun, a rural village in northwest Malaysia. They snack on fried corn and peanuts, slap away mosquitoes, and use their cellphones to navigate over boggy rivulets. And then, well-after 10 p.m., he arrives. The crowd ululates and the black BMW disappears as supporters cut toward it. When the 92-year-old patriarch of modern Malaysia stiffly alights, he is greeted the chant: long live Mahathir. The nation’s longest-serving prime minister has returned.

After leading Malaysia from 1981 until 2003, Mahathir Mohamad has now stepped out of retirement in a bid to unseat his wayward former protégé, current Prime Minister Najib Razak in elections on May 9. As the unlikely leader of the opposition he once oppressed, Mahathir is galvanizing the fight to end his own former party’s 61-year monopoly on power.

Feared, loathed and venerated, Mahathir was many things during his 22 years as prime minister, but never an apologist. Yet he tells voters in this constituency near the Thai border and not far from his own birthplace that while he does not have much time left, he’s come back to correct his biggest mistake: appointing scandal-tainted Najib his successor.

Mahathir, who has been a titan of Malaysian politics for longer than Najib has been alive, helped install the prodigal son of the nation’s second prime minister, shunting aside a previous inheritor, “sleepy” Prime Minister Abdullah Badawi, in the process.

Read More: Could Malaysia’s Mahathir Mohamad Become the World’s Oldest Leader? He Speaks to TIME About What Sparked His Political Comeback

“I have to apologize because it was I who worked so hard to have Najib replace Badawi,” he tells his rapt audience at the Jerlun rally. “I thought Najib would follow in the footsteps of his father … but unfortunately, Najib has a different philosophy. Najib believes cash is king.”

Najib is accused of pilfering over $1 billion from the graft-tainted state investment fund, 1Malaysia Development Berhad (1MDB). While he has denied any wrongdoing, at least 10 countries are investigating the money-laundering case, including the U.S. Justice department. Then U.S. Attorney General Jeff Sessions called it “kleptocracy at its worst.” By Mahathir’s count, this scandal derailed the oil-rich nation’s rightful transition into fully developed nationhood.

A doctor by training, Mahathir spent his career diagnosing Malaysia’s ills and prescribing economic fixes. He bootstrapped the nation from an agrarian post-colonial state to a buzzing manufacturing powerhouse exporting semiconductors and commodities. Considered a disciplined economic pioneer, Mahathir buoyed the fortunes of the ethnic Malay majority, oversaw economic expansion of 8% per year and doubled the per capita income to $3,900. The gleaming Petronas Towers, then the world’s tallest building, were erected as symbol of the nation’s ascendance.

Manan Vatsyayan—AFP/Getty ImagesSupporters of former Malaysian prime minister and opposition party Pakatan Harapan’s candidate Mahathir Mohamad attend a campaign rally ahead of the upcoming general elections to be held on May 9.

But Mahathir also helped entrench the centralized government that Najib exploited. Under Mahathir, critics were jailed without trial, newspapers shuttered and judges sacked.

“Mahathir turned the state into a machine for personalized rule,” says Chin-Huat Wong, a political scientist with the Penang Institute, a state government think tank.

Yet Mahathir’s promise of returning Malaysia to its halcyon days has voters energized and even his erstwhile critics lining up behind him hoping for the nation’s first transition of power.

“Mahathir was a tyrant but he did a lot of good things for Malaysia. At the time, the country was seen on par with South Korea,” says Eric Paulsen, an activist and executive director of Malaysian NGO Lawyers for Liberty.

Under Mahathir, “life was easier, people had jobs, cost of living was not so tough,” says Rosli, a day laborer in Langkawi, where Mahathir is contesting a parliamentary seat.

Here on Langkawi, an island paradise tourists flock to for its white sandy beaches and azure sea, allegiances to Mahathir run deep. He engineered its transformation from a backwater to one of Malaysia’s tourism magnets – a microcosm of the metamorphisis he orchestrated for the nation.

In a fishing village overrun with ruling party flags, Asimah (not her real name) tells TIME it was Mahathir who cleared the jungle, built her neighborhood and provided electricity and running water. As she talks, a construction worker laying sheet-metal roofing yells down, “Mahathir is not just a Langkawi legend, but a Malaysian legend.”

Since its inception as a constituency, Langkawi has been a ruling party stronghold. It is ethnic Malay pockets such as this where the opposition will have to force a groundswell shift away from the ruling party. The Malay vote, some 60% of the total, will ultimately determine the election. The presence of Mahathir, an ethnic nationalist whose patronage created the Malay business class, undercuts the ruling United Malays National Organization’s (UMNO) tired threat that an opposition win will mean ending the Malays special privileges and handing the country over to the Chinese commercial class.

In light of Mahathir’s comeback, even the party’s own people are second-guessing their vote. “Mahathir did everything here. It makes it hard to choose how to vote,” says an UMNO campaign staffer at a rally for Najib.

In stark contrast to the electrified anticipation at Mahathir’s rally, the sitting prime minister’s arrival at a pop-up market in Langkawi on Friday barely turned heads. “The PM was here? I didn’t see him,” said one of the stall workers.

Mohd Rasfan—AFP/Getty ImagesMalaysia’s Prime Minister Najib Razak of the ruling coalition party Barisan Nasional arrives during a campaign event ahead of the upcoming 14th general election in Pekan, Pahang on May 8, 2018.

The election is largely seen as referendum on Najib as much as anything else. Independent polling by the Merdeka Center shows support for the prime minister’s party has ebbed among his ethnic Malay bedrock, but he is projected to win the election.

Najib has called on Muslim voters to show “wala”, or loyalty. Should his Barisan Nasional (BN) coalition secure another term, he’s promised an increase in cash handouts to the poor, a hike in the minimum wage, expansion of affordable housing and a possible revision of taxes.

Voters on Langkawi receiving government aid said officials have warned them that supporting the opposition is equivalent to an attempt to “overthrow the regime.”

In order to win, the four-party opposition coalition Pakatan Harapan (Alliance of Hope), will need to overcome an asymmetric system that Mahathir himself helped devise, and once benefited from. There’s the gerrymandering, irregularities with the electoral rolls, the disqualification of six opposition candidates, the de-registration of Mahathir’s new party, Bersatu, and the last-minute move to bar his face from campaign posters resulting in billboards and signs with conspicuous holes cut out. And then there’s the decision to hold the vote mid-week, which the opposition alleges is a ruse to dampen voter turn-out.

“This is one of the dirtiest elections in Malaysia’s history,” says Ambiga Sreenevasan, a human rights advocate and former chair of Bersih, the Coalition for Clean and Fair Elections.

Daim Zainuddin, Malaysia’s former finance minister known as the “oracle” for his uncanny election predictions, says, “If the election was free and fair, the opposition Pakatan Harapan would undoubtedly win.” A week before the polls, Daim defected from the ruling party and has joined Mahathir on the campaign trail.

If Mahathir does win his vendetta and recaptures the post he vacated 15 years ago, he will become the world’s oldest head of government.

SOPA Images/LightRocket/Getty ImagesDr Mahathir Mohamad the former Malaysian prime minister seen shaking hands with one supporter while leaving the Pakatan Harapan campaign rally at PPR Kerinchi, Kuala Lumpur.

Unlikely to fulfill a five-year term, Mahathir is seen as a placeholder for someone else, though how long he plans on retaining power, and who he would relinquish it to, remain matters of debate. “Well, I’m 93-years-old. How long can I last? ” he tells TIME from a seaside bungalow resort in Langkawi. He forecasts a term of “two years, maybe three years.”

“Even if I retire after that, I hope to be able to advise the government on how to handle a lot of issues,” he adds.

In a twist that would do Game of Thrones proud, many see his next-in-line as none other than Anwar Ibrahim, the deputy he groomed only to have him imprisoned for five years on corruption and sodomy charges in 1998.

Yet Mahathir and Anwar — who is behind bars again on a second sodomy charge — have agreed to let their animosities lie. Anwar’s own wife now flanks Mahathir as his would-be deputy.

Defying critics who say he’s too old to be back in politics, Mahathir has taken on a challenging, cross-country campaign schedule. Despite having had two bypass surgeries, he appears more youthful and animated than many of his decades-younger colleagues. In Jerlun, he delivered a scathing and witty rebuke of his opponent without notes or a pause. He commanded the podium with gravitas, standing for the duration of his nearly one hour speech.

“With your support, Malaysia can become one of the most advanced countries in the world again,” Mahathir told the crowd who weathered through the rain to the end of the speech.

Even if he doesn’t win, Mahathir’s comeback could damage Najib, who is seeking a third term. Under his leadership, the ruling coalition lost the popular vote for the first time in 2013.Few see him as sticking around to lead the party if he fails to turn the tide on Wednesday.

Many say this election is Malaysia’s best chance to finally break the one-party dominance uninterrupted since independence in 1957.

“The country cannot keep going in this direction,” says Paulsen, “Or we will become a failed state.”

May 08, 2018 at 04:42PM ClusterAssets Inc., https://ClusterAssets.wordpress.com

#Time #world #news #ClusterAssets #ClusterAsset #Cluster Asset Inc. #ClusterAssets Inc.

[omnipop-mag-blog]

http://time.com/5269105/malaysia-election-2018-mahathir-najib-prime-minister/

In a muddy clearing about half the size of a football field, several thousand rice paddy planters and taxi drivers join an elbow-to-elbow scrum, waiting in darkness in Jerlun, a small town in northwest Malaysia. They snack on fried corn and peanuts, slap away mosquitoes, and use their cellphones to navigate over boggy rivulets. And then, well-after 10 p.m., he arrives. The crowd ululates and the black BMW disappears as supporters cut toward it. As the 92-year-old patriarch of modern Malaysia stiffly alights, he is greeted the chant: long live Mahathir. The nation’s longest-serving prime minister has returned.

After leading Malaysia from 1981 until 2003, Mahathir Mohamad has now stepped out of retirement in a bid to unseat his wayward former protégé, current Prime Minister Najib Razak in elections on May 9. As the unlikely leader of the opposition he once oppressed, Mahathir is galvanizing the fight to end his own former party’s 61-year monopoly on power.

Feared, loathed and venerated, Mahathir was many things during his 22 years as prime minister, but never an apologist. Yet he tells voters in this constituency near the Thai border and not far from his own birthplace that while he does not have much time left, he’s come back to correct his biggest mistake: appointing scandal-tainted Najib his successor.

Mahathir, who has been a titan of Malaysian politics for longer than Najib has been alive, helped install the prodigal son of the nation’s second prime minister, shunting aside a previous inheritor, “sleepy” Prime Minister Abdullah Badawi, in the process.

Read More: Could Malaysia’s Mahathir Mohamad Become the World’s Oldest Leader? He Speaks to TIME About What Sparked His Political Comeback

“I have to apologize because it was I who worked so hard to have Najib replace Badawi,” he tells his rapt audience at the Jerlun rally. “I thought Najib would follow in the footsteps of his father … but unfortunately, Najib has a different philosophy. Najib believes cash is king.”

Najib is accused of pilfering over $1 billion from the graft-tainted state investment fund, 1Malaysia Development Berhad (1MDB). While he has denied any wrongdoing, at least 10 countries are investigating the money-laundering case, including the U.S. Justice department. Then U.S. Attorney General Jeff Sessions called it “kleptocracy at its worst.” By Mahathir’s count, this scandal derailed the oil-rich nation’s rightful transition into fully developed nationhood.

A doctor by training, Mahathir spent his career diagnosing Malaysia’s ills and prescribing economic fixes. He bootstrapped the nation from an agrarian post-colonial state to a buzzing manufacturing powerhouse exporting semiconductors and commodities. Considered a disciplined economic pioneer, Mahathir buoyed the fortunes of the ethnic Malay majority, oversaw economic expansion of 8% per year and doubled the per capita income to $3,900. The gleaming Petronas Towers, then the world’s tallest building, were erected as symbol of the nation’s ascendance.

Manan Vatsyayan—AFP/Getty ImagesSupporters of former Malaysian prime minister and opposition party Pakatan Harapan’s candidate Mahathir Mohamad attend a campaign rally ahead of the upcoming general elections to be held on May 9.

But Mahathir also helped entrench the centralized government that Najib exploited. Under Mahathir, critics were jailed without trial, newspapers shuttered and judges sacked.

“Mahathir turned the state into a machine for personalized rule,” says Chin-Huat Wong, a political scientist with the Penang Institute, a state government think tank.

Yet Mahathir’s promise of returning Malaysia to its halcyon days has voters energized and even his erstwhile critics lining up behind him hoping for a smooth transition of power.

“Mahathir was a tyrant but he did a lot of good things for Malaysia. At the time, the country was seen on par with South Korea,” says Eric Paulsen, an activist and executive director of Malaysian NGO Lawyers for Liberty.

Under Mahathir, “life was easier, people had jobs, cost of living was not so tough,” says Rosli, a day laborer in Langkawi, where Mahathir is contesting a parliamentary seat.

Here on Langkawi, an island paradise tourists flock to for its white sandy beaches and azure sea, allegiances to Mahathir run deep. He engineered its transformation from a backwater to one of Malaysia’s tourism magnets – a microcosm of the transition he orchestrated for the nation.

In a fishing village overrun with ruling party flags, Asimah (not her real name) tells TIME it was Mahathir who cleared the jungle, built her neighborhood and provided electricity and running water. As she talks, a construction worker laying sheet-metal roofing yells down, “Mahathir is not just a Langkawi legend, but a Malaysian legend.”

Since its inception as a constituency, Langkawi has been a ruling party stronghold. It is ethnic Malay pockets such as this where the opposition will have to force a groundswell shift away from the ruling party. The Malay vote, some 60% of the total, will ultimately determine the election. The presence of Mahathir, an ethnic nationalist whose patronage created the Malay business class, undercuts the ruling United Malays National Organization’s (UMNO) tired threat that an opposition win will mean ending the Malays special privileges and handing the country over to the Chinese commercial class.

In light of Mahathir’s comeback, even the party’s own people are second-guessing their vote. “Mahathir did everything here. It makes it hard to choose how to vote,” says an UMNO campaign staffer at a rally for Najib.

In stark contrast to the electrified anticipation at Mahathir’s rally, the sitting prime minister’s arrival at a pop-up market in Langkawi on Friday barely turned heads. “The PM was here? I didn’t see him,” said one of the stall workers.

Mohd Rasfan—AFP/Getty ImagesMalaysia’s Prime Minister Najib Razak of the ruling coalition party Barisan Nasional arrives during a campaign event ahead of the upcoming 14th general election in Pekan, Pahang on May 8, 2018.

The election is largely seen as referendum on Najib as much as anything else. Independent polling by the Merdeka Center shows support for the prime minister’s party has ebbed among his ethnic Malay bedrock, but he is projected to win the election.

Najib has called on Muslim voters to show “wala”, or loyalty. Should his Barisan Nasional (BN) coalition secure another term, he’s promised an increase in cash handouts to the poor, a hike in the minimum wage, expansion of affordable housing and a possible revision of taxes.

Voters on Langkawi receiving government aid said officials have warned them that supporting the opposition is equivalent to an attempt to “overthrow the regime.”

In order to win, the four-party opposition coalition Pakatan Harapan (Alliance of Hope), will need to overcome an asymmetric system that Mahathir himself helped devise, and once benefited from. There’s the gerrymandering, irregularities with the electoral rolls, the disqualification of six opposition candidates, the de-registration of Mahathir’s new party, Bersatu, and the last-minute move to bar his face from campaign posters resulting in billboards and signs with conspicuous holes cut out. And then there’s the decision to hold the vote mid-week, which the opposition alleges is a ruse to dampen voter turn-out.

“This is one of the dirtiest elections in Malaysia’s history,” says Ambiga Sreenevasan, a human rights advocate and former chair of Bersih, the Coalition for Clean and Fair Elections.

Daim Zainuddin, Malaysia’s former finance minister known as the “oracle” for his uncanny election predictions, says, “If the election was free and fair, the opposition Pakatan Harapan would undoubtedly win.” A week before the polls, Daim defected from the ruling party and has joined Mahathir on the campaign trail.

If Mahathir does win his vendetta and recaptures the post he vacated 15 years ago, he will become the world’s oldest head of government.

SOPA Images/LightRocket/Getty ImagesDr Mahathir Mohamad the former Malaysian prime minister seen shaking hands with one supporter while leaving the Pakatan Harapan campaign rally at PPR Kerinchi, Kuala Lumpur.

Unlikely to fulfill a five-year term, Mahathir is seen as a placeholder for someone else, though how long he plans on retaining power, and who he would relinquish it to, remain matters of debate. “Well, I’m 93-years-old. How long can I last? ” he tells TIME from a seaside bungalow resort in Langkawi. He forecasts a term of “two years, maybe three years.”

“Even if I retire after that, I hope to be able to advise the government on how to handle a lot of issues,” he adds.

In a twist that would do Game of Thrones proud, many see his next-in-line as none other than Anwar Ibrahim, the deputy he groomed only to have him imprisoned for five years on corruption and sodomy charges in 1998.

Yet Mahathir and Anwar — who is behind bars again on a second sodomy charge — have agreed to let their animosities lie. Anwar’s own wife now flanks Mahathir as his would-be deputy.

Defying critics who say he’s too old to be back in politics, Mahathir has taken on a challenging, cross-country campaign schedule. Despite having had two bypass surgeries, he appears more youthful and animated than many of his decades-younger colleagues. In Jerlun, he delivered a scathing and witty rebuke of his opponent without notes or a pause. He commanded the podium with gravitas, standing for the duration of his nearly one hour speech.

“With your support, Malaysia can become one of the most advanced countries in the world again,” Mahathir told the crowd who weathered through the rain to the end of the speech.

Even if he doesn’t win, Mahathir’s comeback could damage Najib, who is seeking a third term. Under his leadership, the ruling coalition lost the popular vote for the first time in 2013.

Few see him as sticking around to lead the party if he fails to turn the tide on Wednesday. Many see this election as Malaysia’s best chance to finally break the one-party dominance uninterrupted since independence in 1957.

“The country cannot keep going in this direction,” says Paulsen, “Or we will become a failed state.”

The post New world news from Time: Mahathir Mohamad’s Last Stand: Malaysia’s Aging Strongman Seeks to Unseat His Protégé appeared first on OMNI POP MAG.

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[ahzrenbooks-blog]

The Alves: Chapter Three

The Broken Tower

Four boys bolted through a field of clover beyond the keep.  The scent of the sea was less strong here, the air fresh, the sky blue.  Short trees clumped together ever more densely in the direction the boys were headed.  The smallest, tow-headed and skinny as a stick fell behind the rest, leaning his hands on his knees and panting.  The others stopped and walked back with various looks of concern.

“Why you so slow!” Geoffe demanded, clicking his tongue in annoyance.  There were few emotions that didn’t cause him to click his tongue.  The others had a name for him, because he clucked so much.  “Aren’t you a lord?  You get to train in the yard, so you got no right to lag behind like that.”

Marek straightened and lengthened his breathing.  The Quartermaster and his tutor, Kagan Restar, had taught him that deep breathing would help him recover better than panting, but in the heat of the moment it was hard to do.  “You don’t have to wait,” he griped.  “It’s not my fault I have shorter legs.”  Then he winced, realizing Jurick would’ve given a much different reply.

‘I would’ve said: “How dare you speak to your better like that?  You should match my pace.”’ Dayn suggested.  ‘But maybe that’s just me.’

“No, that’s Jurick too,” Marek muttered.

“What?” Geoffe returned.  “You talking to yourself again?”

“It’s too hot to run so much,” Marek sighed, tired of the running, tired of the sun, tired of being teased.  Still, he was a lord and he ought to try to be friendly and polite with others.  Deserve his title, like Mother said.

“You rested yet? If we’re not outta sight of the keep they’ll come catch us,” Geoffe replied, clicking his tongue anxiously.  Between the repetitive mouth movements he made after he spoke, his oddly wide eyes, and his buck teeth, Geoffe looked more like a fish than a chicken.

“Why don’t you race the chicken?” Cedric suggested.  “Let’s see who wins: the mouse, or the clucker.”  Cedric kept his hands in his pockets most of the time.  The others knew anyway about his hands covered in scars, not all of them from handling unruly dogs in the kennel.  The hunting dogs weren’t especially mean, but Cedric was, and the animals picked up on it.  He had the same ill temperament as his father, the Hound Master, but had not learned his father’s respect for nonhuman creatures.  He got what he deserved from animals that he treated poorly, and hiding his hands was his sole concession to vanity; but the Beorn boys knew a greater secret than that.

Malcolm had breath to laugh despite his figure, which wobbled when he ran.  The cook’s son was as portly as a taste-tester ought to be, for a fat cook was easier to trust than a thin one.  It was his lot to take over after his mother and father, and Mal enjoyed testing recipes.  His fault was that he liked everything indiscriminately, having yet to develop the discerning palate that would suit a nobleman’s chef.

Marek declined the race and promised to keep up the rest of the way, even if it killed him.  At least they’d reached the thick of the trees and were running in shadow.  Marek grumbled to himself that there weren’t any other ‘regular boys’ for him to befriend, like ones that actually enjoyed reading as much as he did.  There weren’t many families with children to choose from in the Beorn estate without drawing someone in from the town surrounding the keep.  While Marek’s father was determined that the boy associate with Jurick and other regular boys, his mother preferred a bit of exclusivity.  She strongly valued privacy and didn’t want her people to see her in a weakened state, especially considering how long it had lasted thus far.

She’d given Marek more reason that that, of course.  She’d told him something like: ‘The nobleman is an ordinary person masquerading as special.  We once believed that Queens were chosen by the Goddess Hadna, but only the superstitious still believe that today.  People expect pageantry of their rulers, though.  They see nobles as their betters because they have to; they rely on their masters to protect and provide for them, to know what to do in the event of war, storm, fire, or drought.  The power is pretension.  The power is only power as long as your people believe in you.  In the end, the powerful are just people who are trained to be powerful, and trained to know better.  In the end, they are trained to care about their people more than themselves.’

She’d also said: ‘Your birthright gives you power, but you will never deserve it the way others believe you do.  If you seek to use your power always for others, then you’ll grow into a fine young man worthy of everyone’s trust.”  It didn’t make sense yet.  What power did he have when the next thing out of her mouth was: “What do you think you’re doing with your feet up on maid’s nice clean table?” and “Sit up or you’ll get a bend in your spine.’

Marek felt small and slow, least of all in power within his little group of mean boys, but he caught up to his friends as his strength flagged.  He opened his mouth to thank them for waiting, but he remained wordless as he caught his first glimpse of the tower.

“That’s a good face, Marek!” Mal crowed proudly, as if the massive thing was due to his ingenuity.  “How do you like that?  It’s way taller than the keep!”

“Making it taller was a mistake,” Geoffe scoffed.  He twisted his head to the side and grimaced up at the half-caved monolith.  “Buildin’s ought not be so tall.”

“It doesn’t look safe,” Marek muttered.  “We’re not going inside, are we?”

“We’re not going inside are we?” Cedric mimicked in a high whining voice.  He stepped close and pinched Marek’s cheek.  “The poor mouse is scared.”

Dayn grabbed Cedric’s arm and bit him, but of course, only went through the body of the boy.  ‘Marek, HIT HIM!’  His eyes burned blue and cold.

Marek tried to slap the boy’s arm away, but Cedric had been training dogs twice Marek’s size and didn’t so much as wince.  Cedric scowled and let go when he chose to, then walked toward the tower with immediate and utter dismissal.  Marek rubbed his sore cheek and Dayn hovered close to him, fuming.

They got as close to the foot of the stone structure as they could.  Vines twined around rubble and trees and created an impenetrable wall covering half the perimeter.  Cedric drew his hunting knife from his boot and cut his way through loose vine until he reached a flat stone.  He pulled himself up to sit and beckoned to the others.  “Well, ain’t this comfy?”

“So now we’re here, but what do we do?” Geoffe griped.  “Look at this place.  We can’t even explore the ruin with all that rock in the way.”

Marek sat cross-legged in a thatch of soft grass and studied the structure.  The stone was white on one side from sun-bleaching and salt air hitting it, but the more protected side was still light grey.  Some of the base had sunk visibly into the earth which had caused the dramatic tilt.  He could see that the sinking event had happened quickly enough to explain the collapse of the top, leaving an unkempt hole.

“It’s like broken teeth,” Marek said.

“That the best you’ve got, book-rat?” Cedric jibed.  “You don’t know the exact content of the stone, or have some over eager words to describe the tilt of the tower?”

“Why would I?  I’m no architect.”

“It kind of does look like broken teeth though,” Mal mumbled.  “It’s funny, like someone beat up a big rock troll.”  He chuckled to silence under the others’ scrutiny.

“What really happened?” Geoffe asked.

Cedric shrugged.  “Heard it got hit by lightning some time ba-”

“I heard that too!” Mal interrupted, despite the fuming look Cedric gave him.  “It had a crew of six night guards living there a hundred years ago, and when it got struck, the lightning went through all the stone and killed them all.  Now you can see them at night if you come out without any lanterns, and if you kill a black cat under the tower’s shadow you can talk to them.  My cousin Rouphon told me about that last time he was over from Sabry.  He’s full of stories ‘specially when he gets into Pa’s ale.”

“That’s not true,” Marek argued.  “It wasn’t lightning.  Stone doesn’t conduct lightning well unless it contains a lot of metal, anyway.”

“What are you talking about?  Like conduct music?  Lightning can travel through anything!  Sides, maybe it was raining and it went through the water on the stone instead,” Mal argued back.  “Well, it could’ve!”

‘Marek, it’s Guniver’s Lighthouse.  You remember, from ‘Local Ruins and Myths’ by Alvor.’ Dayn urged, jabbing at Marek’s side with his elbow.

It jogged his memory even if he didn’t feel the touch.  “But I read about this tower.  I remember now.  And it got like this only ten years ago, not a hundred,” Marek replied.

“Oh sure, if you read it, it must be true,” Mal growled.  His face became more red than it usually was.  “I’m so sick of you trying to win arguments with your books.  Adults don’t even believe in ghosts, so how would they know anything about anything?  They certainly wouldn’t write about it unless they believed it.”

“If your story isn’t true at base,” Marek argued, “then why would the ghost part be true?  This was a lighthouse, not a garrison.  No one would put a garrison so far from the keep.  You can even see a piece of the wood from the big lighthouse torch up there.  There’s not room for more than a single bed inside the tower.  Just look!”

Dayn clapped his hands together in triumph and gave Marek a smug grin.

“Bugger off!” Mal cursed.  “It has multiple layers, don’t it?  So one bed on each.”

“Shut it, both of you,” Cedric snapped.  “Look, if you’re trying to see ghosts at night, you can’t sacrifice a animal in the tower’s shadow if there’s no actual shadow.  And there wouldn’t be.  Because of the trees around here.  Even if the moon was directly above, everything is dark.”

“That’s so stupid!  A shadow is a shadow!” Mal cried.

“You shouldn’t hurt black cats anyway,” Marek spat.  “You’ll have bad luck.  It wouldn’t make you see ghosts, either.  Magic doesn’t work that way.”

“How does it work then?  It’s not like you have talent,” Geoff stated flatly, finally giving in to the conversation.  “None of the Beorns are awake to magic.  The orchard just uses it naturally on its own.”

Marek sighed and looked away.  “Who cares anyway?  It’s just a stupid story.”

“How’d the lighthouse really sink then?” Cedric asked.  “Not lightning?”

Marek shook his head.  “There’re no scorch marks.  Just broken blocks.  A lightning strike would leave scorch.”

“Oh.  yeah.”  Malcolm lost all of his steam as he sighed.  “Just another of Rouphon’s ghost tales I guess.  Heh…”

“Should’ve known better,” Geoff laughed.  “He hasn’t been right once so far.”

“This area was strong at the time, but the earth gets soggy when it rains,” Marek said.  Dayn was stalking circles around the group, listening absently, and Marek found it difficult not to follow his invisible friend with his eyes.  “It’s something about how the ground curves and the closeness of the sea that makes more water get trapped here.  I don’t remember all of what I read, but the tower just sank under its own weight and broke off a little when it tipped.”

The others glowered at him.  Geoff clicked his tongue with disappointment.  “That’s so boring.”

Marek shrugged, unable to help it.  “They started using the new lighthouse attached to the keep once this one wasn’t doing so well.  I’m pretty sure nobody even died.”

Cedric laughed.  “Do you have a big word to describe this feeling, book-rat?”

“Hmm… Anti-climactic?”

“I don’t know about that.  Lightning wasn’t the problem, but the climate still was,” Geoff shrugged.

Dayn laughed and rubbed his face with his hands.  While inaudible, the sound of laughter echoed in Marek’s mind and distracted him.  Marek shook his head.  “I don’t know the right word then.”

In an admirable feat of phalangelical fortitude, Mal wrenched himself up onto his toes and gave a grunt of satisfaction as he noticed something.  “It’s not just the beacon up there.”  He circled the tower, craning to see up inside the maw.  “Oy, there’s a bed up there.  You sure no one lived there?”

“I told you, the keeper moved to the new lighthouse when this one became dangerous,” Marek said.  “They probably didn’t want to chance the bed on the stairs, and just left it there.”

“How sure are you?” Malcolm argued.  “We’d have to get closer to see though.  Maybe there’s a body in there.  Maybe they had to get a new lighthouse keeper because the old one got hit by a falling stone and never came out.  It’s too dangerous to come here or they wouldn’t stop us from checking it out.  That’s why we had to sneak, right?  Would they be so afraid if no one had been killed?”

“Well,” Cedric murmured, “we do have someone small enough to lift over these stones.”

The Beorns froze, the physical and the transparent.  Everyone looked at Marek.

“No way.  I’m not going in there,” Marek said, voice breaking at the tail end.  He sprang up to his feet anxiously.

“No, you’re not,” Dayn hissed, flashing in and out of Marek’s sight with the immediate reaction of his temper.

Marek flinched at the behavior.  Who did Dayn think he was frightening?  He wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop what they both knew was coming.

“Not taking No,” Cedric pushed.  “We’ll get through these vines on the outside.  Once we toss you over, I’ll hand you my knife to keep you safe.”

Marek shook his head, his eyes going wide.  “It c-can’t protect me from falling rocks!”

“Oh, poor little mouse is too afraid to move,” Cedric mocked using his high-pitched ‘baby Marek’ voice.

“Yes I am!  I don’t want that thing falling over with me in it!” Marek argued, disgusted.  “It’s abandoned for a reason!”

“Come on, you weigh the same as a puppy.  It’s not going over just because you’re inside,” Cedric wheedled.  “Come here.”

“Yeah, you’ll be careful,” Geoffe said, grinning and moving closer from the other side.  “I wanna know what’s up there.”

‘Sure, that’s what you want,’ Dayn hissed.  ‘Sure, you don’t just enjoy any opportunity to force those smaller than you into bad situations, you buck-toothed bastard.’

Marek hopped to his feet and backed away.  Cedric came at him from in front, and Geoffe the chicken, eager to impress, circled him.  Mal stood in place and gripped the hem of his shirt worriedly, as he did when anyone threatened any actual physical confrontation.

The other two caught and held Marek by the arms, then began the arduous task of dragging him toward the stones as he kicked and dug his heels into the ground.  Dayn fumed and beat his fists through Cedric’s back to no avail.  As much as he concentrated, everyone but Marek remained unaware of his presence.

“Get the bloody fuck away from him!” Dayn screamed viciously, eyes slitted with hate.  “Marek, become dead weight!”

Marek stared at him, pleading with his eyes, but obediently went limp, willing his body to be as heavy as possible.  It didn’t work.

“What’s he lookin’ at again?” Mal cried, voice higher from his nerves.  “He’s starin’ off at nothin’, like a simpleton.”

“Forget it,” Cedric spat.  He kicked Marek’s feet out from under him with a grunt, and the boys made some real progress.  They levered Marek up onto the boulders, then pushed until he slipped off the other side with a cry and a thud.  For a moment, nothing happened.

Geoffe coughed meaningfully.  “Um… Marek?  You alive over there?”

“Ow.  Yeah, but there’s something...”

“You sound weird,” Geoffe hazarded.  His mouth moved, opened and twitched to either side as he became nervous.  “You hurt at all?  Shit, was it a bad idea to push him off like that?”

“Too late now,” Cedric griped.  “You, answer up!  What do you see?”

“I feel strange…” Marek replied, voice muffled and shaky.  “It feels like I landed in a nest of invisible bees.”

“The hell is he talking about?” Geoffe whined.

The strangeness spread through Marek’s fingers.  A tingling feeling that alarmed his skin until the hair on his arms had stood up.  The flesh and small parts that made up his body were accentuated and awakened by this tingling.  He felt every sweat droplet as it moistened his shirt and hair, becoming more real and aware as the seconds ticked slowly into place.  Each breath was an agony of motion, the inhale as loud and long as the susurrus of the nearby sea, the exhale of living vaporous breath as tangible as mist at morning.  His lungs ached with expansion and collapse; time stretched until he forgot when the last breath had begun or ceased.  The shadows spread from his fingers, black as night.  Blacker.  An echo of his body, a trail of decay seeping away from where he sat.  It expanded like a pool of oil, and he gathered his voice and breath to shriek, but his strength was stolen by that slow pour.  The tingling in his body swelled painfully to a climax, and still he couldn’t make a sound.  He felt the power like a ball of explosions in front of him, drawn through him to collect there at a visible source.

Dayn rose in front of him, back toward him.  The boy’s shade gathered and swarmed with the visible darkened ball of power until he was nearly overwhelmed by swirls of immaterial black.  He thrust his hands skyward and screamed, but only Marek could hear that wrenching cry.  His stomach tried to hide in his throat, and he didn’t much blame it.  He’d have cowered too, if he could move.  The darkness swirled above, directed up Dayn’s hands, and crawled like a writhing swarm up the side of the tower.  There was a rumble of shearing rock, almost like thunder but far more present.  Three boys screamed distantly.  Rocks fell, but Marek couldn’t see clearly how many or from what face of the tower.

Then the screaming turned into hysterical cries, and the tower ceased its shaking.  The darkness vanished, and Dayn tried to turn, but faded as he fell, too weakened to remain visible.  Marek slumped, exhausted, as time resumed its usual pace.  The stone should have felt sharp and hard, but it barely registered against his head and cheek.

“OH GODDESS!  NO!  Ai, it fell right on him!  Ah!  What do we do?”

“Go get help you sodden- - - cret- - run - - “

When Marek awoke, it felt as though he’d been crushed under the rock.  He jolted awake, feeling intensely claustrophobic, but the room was wide open and well-aired with a breeze stirring the window trimmings.  He tried to rub his temples but his arms felt weighed down.  He looked at them, hidden by bed sheets, but could see nothing over his body other than the blankets.  He tried again, and his arms lifted shakily.

“What…?”

“I hear you stirring, little lord,” Jona said, pushing back the seat in front of her desk.  She rose and came close, putting a cool hand on Marek’s forehead.

“Did I…”

“Did you what?”  Jona smiled slightly, but her eyes gave nothing away.  Surely she should be more concerned.

Marek shook his head.  As ever, he was wary of trusting her.  “I don’t know.  My head is splitting.”

“Here, have some water.”  Jona reached to a flagon on a bedside table and tipped it for him.  After he’d had a few careful sips she added, “You need more rest, I think.  We’ll talk when you’re ready.  Hush now.”  She petted back his hair, but Marek only felt it for a few seconds before he was out again.

#My writing #fantasy

[shanghai-dublin-blog1]

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