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my-unmanageable-mischief · 3 years

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New Norm

For the Anon who requested : Hey can I get a Sirius black x reader fic where their parents arrange their marriage.

Part 2

Trigger warning : Vomiting

Sirius Black x Reader

You were practically inconsolable. Sobbing deeply into your pillow as your mother rubbed your back, your grandmother was behind her standing in the doorway with her nose slightly in the air. She was never fond of you- a troublemaker since you could walk. The family disappointment. The moment you were sorted into Gryffindor you expected to be disowned. Your paternal grandparents took it hard, your father even harder, but your mother- a soft spoken and at her core, kind hearted woman, still loved you. You were her only daughter after all.

“This is no way for a young lady to behave.” Your grandmother tisked, and your mother looked over her shoulder, eyes pleading, “You’ve been given a gift greater then you deserve, to marry into the noble house of Black is a great honor.” That’s all she kept saying. How honorable it was, how lucky you were. You didn’t feel lucky. You choked slightly on your tears and your mother rubbed your back slightly harder.

“I don’t want to be married! Not to a Black, not to anyone!” You sobbed, punching your pillow before shoving your face into it and letting out a scream.

“Despicable.” Your grandmother scoffed. “You should be grateful, for a girl like you to marry a man like-”

“Mother.” Your mother spoke firmly, never raising her voice, “Give us some privacy please.” Your grandmother was displeased but she turned and walked swiftly from the room, allowing your door to slam shut behind her. It sounded like the lid of your coffin closing. Once you were alone your mother wrapped you in her arms, pulling you to her chest, allowing you to cry it out. When you were good and done and fully exhausted she pulled back looking at you.

“I am sorry.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?” You asked, voice pleading as you looked at the woman who was supposed to protect you. She smiled sadly, wiping the tears from your face with the sleeve of her robe.

“We’re not doing anything to you, my love. This truly is for your own benefit. A good husband with a good name will take you far in life. You know, your father and I had an arranged marriage. We turned out alright, and we had you- and all your lovely brothers. Good will come from this.” You wanted to argue with her. To tell her that your father was a bastard and that they didn’t turn out alright. Your eldest brother hadn’t spoken to your family since he graduated and your youngest brother was so brainwashed he had never had an original though in his life. Nothing about your family was fine. “Besides, your father has already set these plans in stone. This summer you are going to marry Sirius Black. That is final, my love.” Final. If the door was the lid to your coffin closing then those words were the nails keeping it shut.

“Okay,” You croaked.

“Wash up and come downstairs for dinner, we will talk more then.”

“Okay,” Your voice was broken and hoarse from your sobbing. “Will grandmother be there?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

On the other side of London Sirius Black was having a very similar and entirely different conversation with his own dotting parents. Much more screaming, and a lot less sobbing but the sentiment was the same. He did not want to be married. Not to you, not to anymore, especially not to someone his mother picked out for him.

“I’M NOT GETTING MARRIED!” He roared at his mother who threw another curse in his direction, Sirius dodged it.

“You will do as you’re told your ungrateful bastard! You bring shame on this family every single day, this is the least you can do!” She screamed back, his father sat in the parlor reading the Daily Prophet, ignoring them both.

“I haven’t even graduated! And you expect me to be married? To some bitch you’ve picked out for me?” His mother sneered.

“A bitch she is, perfect for you. I couldn’t get anyone worthy of the Black name, since you’ve disgraced yourself. You will be marrying Y/N Y/L/N. I think you’ll have more in common then you know, both pure-blooded family disappointments. The bottom of the barrel. You deserve each other. Maybe you’ll learn then.” He stopped when she said your name, surprised. He knew you, sure he did. A fellow Gryffindor a year below himself. He knew you were smart, and pretty and as far as he could tell, kind. Frankly, he didn’t even know you came from a pure-blooded family. When Sirius said no more his mother lowered her wand slightly, still sneering.

“Go to your room immediately and do not leave until you’re fetched. We will be dining at the Y/L/N’s house later this week to finalize the plans for the ceremony. You will be ready to go, and you will be on your best behavior. Or else.”

“Or else what?” Sirius muttered, moving towards the stairs.

“Or else your father will have to deal with you.” He wouldn’t admit it but that frightened Sirius to the bone. He and his mother could fight and yell their heads off for hours uninterrupted, but once his father got involved it ended swiftly and painfully. Sirius nodded once before stomping up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom, content to lock himself inside for the remainder of the week.

A week later you sat in your kitchen fidgeting awkwardly in a dress you would have never voluntarily worn. But your grandmother had bought it, and your mother insisted saying it was a gift and a kind gesture. You were convinced it wasn’t. A green light flashed from the next room over, where your grandfather and father were waiting for the Blacks to arrive, and you heard an unfamiliar voice going through introductions.

“Get up,” Your grandmother snapped at you, and you stood but didn’t move. “Go!” She barked out, “If you’re to be the lady of the house it’s high time you learned some manors. Go greet your guests.”

“Yes, grandmother.” You muttered, walking from the kitchen into the sitting room. You knew Sirius from school, mostly from the gossip of your dormmates- according to them he was a god and could do no wrong. You couldn’t deny he was fit and he and his mates were a laugh, but the Sirius you saw in your home was not the Sirius from Hogwarts. Gone was his usual laid back demeanor and it had been replaced with cold eyes and a painfully neural look. You were used to the rule breaking wild child you heard epic tails about. You were surprised he wasn’t brought here kicking and screaming. His parents looked just like him, and there was a younger boy with them, something with an R if you remembered correctly.

“Hello,” You greeted them, glancing at your father and grandfather sideways as you attempted to muster a smile- it came out more of a grimace. “Welcome to our home, Mrs. Black, Mr. Black. Sirius. R-erm...”

“Regulus.” The mother spoke curtly. You nodded.

“Regulus. Welcome.”

“Thank you child,” She was a stern looking woman with a voice that cut through your thin dress, chilling your bones. But the father was even worse. He barely spoke a word, only stared at you disapprovingly.

“Come to the dining room, dinner is ready,” You father offered, gesturing, the Blacks filed past him and you into the other room, Sirius glancing down at you and meeting your eye as we went. Dinner was awkward, the talk was strained and sparse. You ate your food quietly, keeping your eyes downcast and only speaking when directly addressed, which was rarely. You caught Sirius’s eye a few times during the meal and offered him a small shrug and halfhearted smile which he barely returned. At least you had one thing in common; your shared misery.

“The wedding will be in July,” Mrs. Black stated, and that got both of your attention, two heads turned.

“This summer? I’m-”

“Thrilled.” Your grandmother completed for you, sending you a chilling look. You swallowed thickly and looked back down at your lap for a moment as the conversation finally shifted to why you were all gathered.

“We can hold it here, if you’d like, in the yard.” Your mother offered, eyes misty with tears of joy at the idea. You were going to be sick.

“May I be excused to go to the loo?” You managed to choke out, everyone looked at you, and your mother nodded.

“Of course, dear, everything alright?”

“Fine,” You spoke but you were already out of your chair as you practically ran from the room. You heard your grandmother’s voice before you shut yourself into the bathroom.

“She’s just nervous, you remember how it was.” Nervous wasn’t the word you would use. Disgusted was more accurate. Destroyed. Completely and utterly devastated. You retched into the toilet, spilling the contents of your dinner you had forced down. When you were done you laid on the floor for a few minutes, trying to calm yourself.

“Sirius,” His mother pulled him from his thoughts.

“Yes?” He asked boredly, pushing his food around with his fork.

“Why don’t you go check on your fiance.” It wasn’t a suggestion as much as it was an order politely delivered for the sake of their company.

“I’m sure she didn’t fall in,” He responded dirly and his mother’s face darkened.

“Go. Now.” Sirius tossed his napkin down onto the table and glared back as he got up, following you in the direction you had went. He knocked on a door and opened it when no one responded and was met with a large office. Not the loo. He found another door and knocked sharply.

“Be out in a mo,” Your voice called weakly from inside, he frowned.

“It’s Sirius. I’ve been sent to make sure you’re not trying to escape through the pipes.” He joked lamely and listened to some shuffling on the other side of the door, when you opened it, it was from a seated position on the floor. He smirked slightly. “What are you doing down there?” He asked, stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him, “Alright?” You scooted back towards the toilet and shook your head going green.

“I think I’m going to be sick again, you might want to go,” You warned, gripping the toilet bowl with white knuckles. Sirius felt something for you in that moment- pity maybe. You seemed so young sitting on the floor of your bathroom, and that’s because you were.

“I’ve seen worse,” He assured, wincing as you began to heave into the basen. He came forward awkwardly, scooping your hair into his hands, trying to keep it out of your face. “You should see James after a bottle of firewhiskey.” You snorted out a laugh before retching again violently. When you were done you sat back and wiped your mouth and Sirius dropped your hair, going to the sink to get you a glass of water.

“Thank you,” You croaked, taking it and sipping it slowly, “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s alright. Are you okay?” He asked, knowing the answer but wondering if you would grace him with honesty.

“No,” You whimpered, “This is all... too much.”

“Understandable,” He agreed, sitting on the bathroom floor beside you, “I am sorry. About this, the situation we have found ourselves in.” You shrugged meekly and continued to sip on the water.

“According to my grandmother marrying you is a blessing for a disgrace like me,” You spat the words, not looking at the boy. “Like I’m supposed to be grateful I’m marrying virtually a stranger. Like I’m supposed to be happy to be married right after I turn sixteen for Merlin’s sake.” He nodded sympathetically.

“Well trust me, being seventeen doesn’t make it much easier. And according to my mother this is my punishment for being the family fuck up, no offense.” You waved him off with a hand, “So at least we’ve got that in common.”

“What a wonderful thing to share.” You mused and he chuckled. There was another knock on the bathroom door before it opened your mother poking her head in. “Mum,” You greeted her, how long had you been gone?

“Y/N, are you alright?” She asked, coming fully into the bathroom eyes worried.

“I think I’m ill, must be grandmother’s cooking.” You quipped and Sirius hid his laugh behind a cough. Your mother looked at you sternly for a moment before her eyes went soft.

“Poor dear, come back to the table, say your goodnights and then go to bed, we can finish the planning without you, it’s not a worry.” You wanted to tell her you weren’t a part of the planning to start with but refrained.

“Yes, mum.” Sirius got up first and took the glass from your hand, setting it on the sink before offering you his hand, which you took, allowing him to pull you up. “Thank you,”

“Don’t mention it.” He assured and your mother led you both back to the dining room.

“Y/N isn’t feeling well,” She announced, and at the look of you no one could accuse you of lying, you were pale and clammy and still a bit green.

“My apologies, Mrs. Black, Mr. Black. I wish I could have been better company.” You didn’t. Mr. Black simply nodded and you while Mrs. Black managed to barely hide a sneer.

“Poor dear.” She stated drily, but you had an inkling that she could simply care less. “Feel better and worry not, your wedding will be taken care of, nothing for you fret over.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” You managed a weak smile at her which she did not reciprocate. Your mother ushered you off towards your bedroom and you managed to send Sirius a thankful glance over your shoulder as you went.

You took solace in the little things over the next month of wedding planning. Mainly, that your mother allowed you to choose your own wedding dress much to your grandmother’s dismay.

“It’s hideous.” She commented when you had brought it home.

“I think it’s lovely,” you answered smugly before being forced to sit through another lecure about how ungrateful you were. She was right, you weren’t grateful for the torture they were putting you through. Your birthday came and went with little fuss, the only gift you received came late at night by owl. You went to your window, letting in the unfamiliar owl, and taking the small simply wrapped parcel from his leg before opening the attached note.

Happy Birthday Y/N,

My mother said I should get you a gift for your birthday, and you’re lucky I talked her into letting me pick it out on my own, she’s got awful taste. You should see the dress robes she wanted me in for the wedding, even my father had to veto them. Anyroads, hope your birthday was good, happy sweet sixteen. Enjoy the wedding planning, I sure am. (Sarcasm if you didn’t pick up on it,). I will see you in a few weeks.

Sirius

You smiled at the kind words, thankful for them. You set the letter aside and opened the package genly, revealing a small jewelry box, you opened it and allowed yourself a small gasp. It was a simple gold chain with a small ruby pendant, Gryffindor colors. You smirked, knowing it was a direct disrespect of his parents to get you such a gift, it made you love it more. You put it on and looked at yourself in the mirror, touching the jewel gently.

The two weeks flew by sickenly fast and you found yourself laying in bed wide awake at three a.m. on your wedding eve. Your grandmother had denied your request to have some of your school friends attend, citing that there was no room on the guest list for half-bloods and blood traitors. When you finally slept, it was restless and you kept waking up, a pit in the bottom of your stomach. Finally, about the fifth time you woke up it was light enough outside that you could call it morning, so you dressed in a dressing gown and tiptoed downstairs.

Your house was spotless, covered in flowers and decoration even though the ceremony would be held outside. You snuck into the kitchen and snagged an apple before going to the window to look at the backyard. Every bush was meticulously manicured. Chairs were set up with a white runner between them, leading to an altar adorned in more flowers. It was a bit too frilly for your taste but it wasn’t bad. You ate your apple, staring out over the scene before you, trying to picture yourself walking down that aisle, Sirius at the other end. You shuddered.

“Y/N, you’re up early.” You turned to look at your mother and shrugged.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Too excited?”

“Something like that,” You murmured and your mother looked at you with pity.

“Come here dear child,” She offered you a hand and you came forward, taking it. She pulled you into a hug and you went limp in her arms. “It will be alright. I promise you.” You didn’t believe her but you still tried to seek comfort in her words. You found none.

“I don’t want to be married,” You whispered.

“I know, darling, but this is what is best for you, you must trust me.” You continued to cling to your mother like you were a little girl again. “You will return to Black manor after the wedding and I will miss you dearly.” You’d already had this conversation, this argument. “You will go to school, Sirius will graduate, and you will have a home of your own to return to by next summer. One more year of school for you and you’re done. You’ll be all set. A home, a husband, a life. It will be fine.”

“Right,” Fine.

You spent hours getting your hair and makeup done perfectly, all the while micromanaged by your grandmother who was in full force. If she couldn’t pick your dress out she was going to have a say in the rest of the ensemble. Finally, you were left alone for a few moments. You looked around at your bedroom, most of the important things already packed into a few trunks to be moved to Black manor. Your door opened and your father stood there, he was to give you away- literally and figuratively.

“It is time. Come.” You walked to him taking his offered arm. He led you through the home you had grown up in and you felt a swell of emotions within you that you did your best to suppress. He stopped at the doors to the garden and waited for the music to start. One of your cousins was a flower girl and she stepped out first, throwing more petals onto the runner as she went. You were next. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as your father covered your face with your veil. Another few seconds past and he began walking, taking you with him. It felt like a dream- or maybe it was a nightmare. Either way you didn’t feel like it was real. The guest list was small and intimate, which made it easier. You kept your eyes trained forward as you walked and they landed on your soon to be husband. He looked handsome, standing there in his black dress robes, a flower pinned to his chest. He was looking back at you, an unreadable expression on his aristocratic features.

You stopped just in front of him. Your father turned you towards him and lifted the veil again, leaning down to kiss your cheek with an emotionless face. This entire event was all for show, to fulfill some meaningless expectations that didn’t matter. He turned you back towards Sirius who offered you his hand, you took it, allowing yourself to move up to stand across from him. You didn’t listen to a word of the ceremony, only tuning in when your hand was squeezed.

“Do you, Sirius Black, take Y/N Y/L/N to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her, for as long as you both shall live?” So many promises in such a fleeting moment for a union without any love. Sirius looked at you, holding your gaze.

“I do. I take you, Y/N, to be my wife from this day forward, to join with you and share with you all that is to come, and I promise to be faithful to you, to protect you, until death do us part.” He went off script. The script you had been forced to sit down and memorize for the last three weeks. What did you need protecting from?

Do you, Y/N Y/L/N, take Sirius Black to be your wedded husband, to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him, for as long as you both shall live?” You felt your throat closing up with panic as you looked at the man-the boy in front of you. As long as you both shall live, you repeated to yourself. He squeezed your hand again and you took a deep breath.

“I-I do. I, Y/N, take you, Sirius, to be my wedded husband, with your faults and your strengths, as I offer myself to you with my faults and my strengths. I will help you when you need help, and turn to you when I need help. I choose you as the person with whom I will spend my life." As if it were a choice.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride. May Merlin bless this union.” Sirius took your other hand in his as well, so he was holding both in his. You never expected to be kissing your husband for the first time in front of a crowd of people- and you certainly didn’t expect the man in front of you to be Sirius Black. He leaned in and you fought to keep from pulling back. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, letting it linger for a moment as the guest applauded. When he pulled away he offered you a gentle smile which you returned.

The reception was dull, even with Sirius by your side and the several glasses of wine you managed to consume. You danced when you were ordered to dance, socialized when you were ordered to socialize and ate at the designated times. Pictures were taken and you couldn’t help but wonder how they would look tacked up on the wall of your future home. Together. It was a weird feeling, to think about a future with the man, but it was becoming slowly less unpleasant. Towards the end of the night, Mrs. Black approached the two of you, placing an iron grip on Sirius’s arm and you didn’t miss how his entire mood shifted.

“You will go inside, and floo home. There is more business to tend to here, for the adults. We will be home in an hour or so, you two will be in bed.”

“Alright,”

“Yes mother.” She corrected and he merely rolled his eyes at her. You began to panic. You were leaving? Now? You hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to your mother. Sirius lead you into your house, into the quiet stillness that was welcomed. You stopped just inside, putting a hand on his shoulder as you slipped off your heels, holding them in your hand offering him a slightly lopsided and halfhearted smile.

“I’ve been waiting to take these off all night,” You admitted, and he chuckled, offering you his arm as you walked through the house.

“I don’t blame you, I couldn’t imagine going through that torture with the added bonus of being on stilts.” You snorted and he gave you the first genuine smile of the evening.

“You’re cute when you do that.” Your cheeks burned as you entered the parlor where the fireplace was. Sirius helped you inside and took a handful of floo powder before announcing ‘Black manor’ and you were gone. Gone from your home you had grown up in, gone from your mother and your life and everything you were used to. You were now in an unfamiliar sitting room, surrounded by unfamiliar walls. Regulus sat on one of the sofas a book in hand.

“Congratulations to the happy couple,” He drawled.

“Shove it.” Sirius muttered, taking your hand and leading you from the room, up the stairs, and down the hall. He opened his bedroom door and ushered you inside. You looked around your husband’s room. You were hit with a wave of something. Sadness? It was the room of a boy, not a man, not a husband. A boy, because that’s what he was after all. Quidditch posters littered the walls, along with a grand Gryffindor banner that looked like it was stolen straight from the great hall- hell it probably was. Knick knacks and books and magazines littered his desk; at least he managed to put his laundry in the hamper.

“It’s not much but it’s home.”

“It’s lovely, very... you.” Sirius went to his bed, pulling a box out from underneath, opening it to reveal a full bottle of firewhiskey. “Shall we have a toast?” He asked hesitantly and your shoulders relaxed.

“God yes,” You breathed and he chuckled, opening it. You came to the bed, sitting down beside him. Sirius took a long swig from the bottle before handing it over to you, and you did the same.

“So... wife,” He started and you smirked slightly, handing the bottle back and watching him take another large gulp.

“Yes, husband?”

“Weird isn’t it?” He asked and you nodded, accepting the bottle when he handed it back.

“Really weird.”

“Bad?” He asked and you smiled slightly, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Could be worse. They could have married me off to a Malfoy.” He laughed at that. You continued to talk about anything besides the wedding, besides your future. You became more and more relaxed in his presence as you drank and finally got the chance to properly talk. You moved from sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed to lounging across it, you laying on your stomach and Sirius laying with his back against his pillows. You felt light and happy for the first time in a month. You two sat, giggling as Sirius recounted one of his finer pranks against Severus Snape. You snorted again, covering your mouth as you pictured the look on the slimy gits face.

“Have you always done that?” He asked and you quirked a brow at him.

“Done what?”

“Snort when you laugh, I never noticed it before.”

“I didn’t think you noticed anything about me before..” You admitted. Sirius nudged you.

“Course I did. Smart, funny, and pretty. You’re a trifecta my dear.” You felt yourself blush again, looking down at the half empty bottle between you.

“Thank you,” You murmured and he shrugged. You stifled a yawn as Sirius looked at you softly.

“Sleepy?”

“A bit.”

“We can go to bed.” He offered and you nodded. You looked around, suddenly aware that your trunks weren’t there in his room, they had probably been delivered downstairs, if they’d been delivered yet. Seeming to read your mind Sirius peeled himself from the bed, going over to his dresser. He took out a t-shirt of a muggle band you didn’t recognize and tossed it towards you. He went to another drawer and rooted around for a moment before coming up with a pair of boxers.

“These are old, they should fit you,” He stated, tossing them as well, you caught them, rosy cheeks. He pointed to the door that was slightly ajar, “Bathroom is in there,” You nodded, and climbed out of the bed, smoothing out your dress.

“Thank you.” You went into the bathroom and once you were changed you reemerged. The t-shirt was long on you, covering the boxers you were wearing. Sirius was lounging on the bed in a pair of sweatpants, shirtless. You averted your gaze, scratching the back of your neck. Sirius sat up, seeing you hesitate.

“Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” He asked and you shook your head, going to place your dress over the back of his desk chair.

“No, that’s alright.” You promised. He looked handsome basked in nothing but the light of the moon and the small oil lamp on his bedside table. You climbed into bed beside the boy and he pulled the covers over both of you, reaching over you to turn the lamp off. You flushed again with him so close to you. He moved away and you a moment past where you missed the proximity. Sirius laid back into his pillows, and you curled up on your side facing him. He turned his head and smiled at you.

“Goodnight, my wife.” He raised a hand, brushing a lock of your hair away from your face.

“Goodnight, Sirius.” He leaned over then, placing a small kiss on your cheek before settling back in with a large yawn. You remained curled up on your side until well after he had fallen asleep. You were exhausted but being surrounded by so much unfamiliarity you couldn’t sleep. Eventually you drifted off to the tune of your husband's light breathing. Your new norm.

#Harry Potter #Sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you

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ladykatakuri · 3 years

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What`s in a Name

The Bad Batch ( complete with Crosshair and Omega )

Rating: General

Word Count: 2326

Warnings: None, it is a family story about names. There is an OC in here that was part of the group as cadets though!

Summary: “So, how did you all get your names?” Omega looked at them, curious and intent on hearing the stories, all of them, on how her brothers had gotten their own unique names.

Notes: This is something i have been thinking about and decided to write because it is just fun. How did they get their names and how do they feel about it? Omega would know a lot about the guys from her time on Kamino, but i am pretty sure that information about how they got their unique names was not deemed important by either the Empire or the Kaminoans so it would not be included in any official report. Their names might be, only to serve as information when dealing with outsiders on missions, but that is about it.

“So, how did you all get your names?” Omega looked at them, curious and intent on hearing the stories, all of them, on how her brothers had gotten their own unique names.

For a moment the men in front of her look surprised. They have their own unique names and they have had them for a long, long time now. Nobody ever asked how they got them and even among regs it was not something that was important. Afterall, out of all of the clones, Clone Force 99 was different and the regs were not sure what to make of them.

“Well kiddo, I got my name as a cadet on Kamino when I was part of the Domino squad. You know we get our names from our brothers, most of the time right?” Echo looks at Omega, who had turned to look at him as he began to speak.

“Yes I know.” Omega nods and crosses her legs to sit in a more comfortable way, ready to listen to the stories behind the names.

“Well, we were not a very well oiled machine when we started out and our personalities shaped us and gave us our names. I became Echo after they began to complain how I would echo all the orders we had gotten.” He chuckles as he thinks back to those times he spent with the squad, how they went from being a chaotic bunch to a well tuned group of brothers that could take on the entire galaxy, or so it felt to them. “Fives especially loved to name people and he was the first to come up with Echo. I guess that it stuck with me from that moment on.” The recollection of how he had gotten his name has him feel somewhat nostalgic, longing for those times to be revived once more, but most of all to have his closest friend and brother back so he could talk to him again.

Understanding how this memory of old has affected him, Omega turns to the next man she wants to hear from.

Tech, still standing, leaning against the wall while tinkering with yet another project, notices the silence and looks up. “Ah, I suppose it is not much of a mystery how I got my name. After all, the names we clones have mostly symbolize some aspect of our own character. It would be more surprising if we had completely normal human names instead of designations that would suit our abilities or achievements.”

Nodding to the explanation, Omega looks at the man in front of her. “That is true Tech, but sometimes the name is not as obvious or maybe even surprising in it`s origin.”

Surprised by her logical reasoning, Tech smiles. “You are correct, but my name is no surprise. From the moment we were trained as cadets, it was very clear that my mutation had given me a high intelligence and I had a knack for technology. Because I was always working on computers and other tech while learning about anything and everything else, people started to call me that tech kid or that tech weirdo. From that point on I decided to take part of the name and just go by Tech and it is what I have been called ever since.” For his brothers, who knew him well enough, it was clear that despite his bravado, it still stung at times when he thought back to the name calling and how they had all been shunned by the regulars who were not different from all their other batch mates and brothers. Thankfully, as they aged, they also became stronger both physically and mentally and Tech grew immensely in both ways.

As Tech went back to tinkering with whatever he was working on, Omega turned to the next of her family. Only to notice a strong glare coming from the man that has never been one for stories, or many words for that matter. Crosshair just looked at her with his toothpick shoved to the corner of his mouth. Omega grinned at him as she focused her full attention on him.

With a grumble he replaces his toothpick with a new one and relaxes his shoulders for a moment. “Fine. I didn't have much physical strength at first. So I trained a lot when we were cadets and when we did blaster training they realized I was a crack shot. I trained harder and realized it was damn easy to shoot targets, no matter where they were or where I was. I became the best and during some physical testing they realized my eyesight only improved. I got special sniper training and physical training that would enhance all my skills and that is how they started to call me Crosshair.” Crossing his arms was his way of showing that story time was now over and he resumed chewing his toothpick as his attention went to his brother sitting on the floor next to him.

“You forgot to mention why the regs began to call you Crosshair for real though.” Nudging the sniper with his elbow, Wreckers laugh beamed through the hull of the Marauder. “The regs would always try to bully us, anyway they could. You know, because we are different. One night, they pushed Tech and cornered him, ready for a beating and Crosshair locked in on the one that hit him. He was standing pretty far off but he hit that guy good with his dinner plate! Hah! The reg didn`t know what hit him!” Still laughing, thinking back to how the reg fell on his back, surprised by the dinner plate that came flying from across the hallway, Wrecker wheezes as he once more nudges Crosshair against the leg. That's when they started to call him Crosshair. Cuz when he has you in his crosshairs, you are never getting out of it!”

Omega laughs as loud as Wrecker does at the story. “That is awesome! But how did you get your name Wrecker?”

“Well kid, not because I destroyed everything or something. I mean, I didn't always wreck stuff when I was a cadet.” The huff coming from Crosshair stops him from talking for a second. “Hey! I didn't Crosshair! That was later….. You see kiddo, as a cadet I was pretty careful with everything. I mean, I was already pretty big, bigger than others, and also pretty strong, so I had to be careful what I did. Then this bounty hunter came and he was supposed to train us or something. Well, he was just a kriffing jerk about it and he made fun of us all the time. Hunter told us to stay calm and not let it get to us or something, but that guy was a nasty piece of work. He changed the training program so it was way more difficult than other cadets had to do. Hunter got hurt badly when he tried to shield me and I went mad after that. I mean, the guy was laughing about it! So, I lost control and wrecked the training room trying to get to that guy. The regs heard all about it and started to call me Wrecker as an insult. But Hunter told me to use it as a name because it shows how strong I am when I protect my family.” Beaming with pride he looks at Hunter. “I guess it was Hunter that really made it my name then.”

Hunter nods at Wrecker, a low chuckle escapes him when he thinks back at the times his brothers had gotten their names. Sure, they had pretty difficult, or better said, hard times as cadets, but at least they had each other and that was the only thing that truly mattered anyway. Knowing that he would have to tell the story of how he came to be Hunter he turns towards the young girl that has been listening to it all while snacking on some Mantel Mix.

“I guess I am the last one to tell you about my name.”

Omega already settled to listen to his recollection of the time he became Hunter, nods and grins.

“Well, I guess it is mostly because of my heightened senses that people expected me to be a good tracker, what they did not expect was that I would also become a true hunter.” For a moment he closes his eyes as his mind takes him back to the exact moment and he seems to hesitate.

“You know….. that squads consist of a minimum of four clones but most times there are more in a squad, right?” He looks down at Omega who just popped a piece of mix in her mouth. Chewing, she nods at him. “Yup, i know.”

“Our squad was supposed to have some more members…….” Realizing that the full truth would be revealed to Omega, the others shuffle in their places. Echo, though not an original member of the group, knows the story and understands it is not an easy memory to share.

Tech stops tinkering for a moment and looks at Hunter. A small nod at his sarge and he continues his work.

“Tsk.” It is the only sound that comes from Crosshair, who glares at Omega, for the audacity she has dragging it all up and for Hunter who allowed it.

Wrecker, the most gentle of them all, swallows as he suspiciously turns his head for a moment. When he turns back, his eyes seem to have been wiped dry and he smiles at both Hunter and Omega as approval.

“We have desirable mutations. Something that the Kaminoans would try to add to the newer generations of clones that were bred on Kamino. But changing the genetic makeup of a living being does not always work out well. Tech could explain it al in greater detail.” He holds up his hand to stop his brother, who already looked up, ready to go into greater details about genetic mutations and enhancements and how tinkering with it could have negative or even destructive effects on the subjects.

“Some did not survive outside of the pods used to accelerate age or the treatments to enhance our abilities. In the end our squad consisted of five survivors that could be trained.”

The mentioning of the squad consisting of five members has Omega perk up for a second. This was news to her, though she expected that Nala Se had not told her every single detail about all the members of her favorite squad of clones. Especially not when it became clear she was more interested in this small group than any of the other groups.

“Bug was the last one to die on Kamino, but not from the changes that were made to his genetic makeup. He died in an accident, or that is what the rapport stated. We knew that some of the regs wanted to teach him a lesson. Bug was always curious about other people and would bug them with questions on anything that caught his attention. It annoyed some of the others. They altered a training program and disabled the safety protocol, thinking it would only wound him. But bug, training his blaster skills at that time, was shot by one of the training droids, in the chest. He did not make it…….” Hunter stops there and looks at Omega. “You remind me of him.”

Omega, touched by the remark, softly smiles and nods at Hunter, indicating to him to continue his story.

“When we heard what happened to Bug, we did not believe it was an accident. Bug might have been absent minded at times, but he would never forget to turn on the safety protocols. Tech hacked the systems and found out what really happened. I guess that is the moment I started to earn my name. I hunted the regs responsible for what happened and we taught them a lesson. We didn't kill them, but they knew never to mess with any of us ever again.”

Omega, emotional from the story she was told just now, stands up and dashes over to Hunter. Throwing her arms around him she hugs him tightly. “I`m so sorry Hunter! I didn't want to make you all sad. I just thought it would be fun to hear how you all got your names.” With a sob she pushes her head into his chest, close to crying.

Hunter gently wraps his arms around her for comfort. “It`s ok Omega. Don`t worry about it.”

Wrecker, standing up, moves towards his little sister and pats her on the head. “Don`t worry kid! It was nice to think about Bug too ya know? He was fun to have around.”

Tech, finally done with tinkering with his latest project walks by as he mentions something about checking the auto pilot. A soft pat on her shoulder to tell her not to worry about it as well is all the comfort she needs from him at that time.

Crosshair, not a man to show many emotions, especially when it comes to Omega says nothing as he walks past them. The only surprising action is a quick, soft smile for her as he looks at the young girl still wrapped around Hunter.

Echo puts his hand on her shoulder as he turns her around. “Come on kid. Let's give Hunter a chance to breathe while we go and grab some food for dinner.”

With a final warm smile for Hunter, Omega nods and turns around to leave the hull and join Echo in preparing some food for their dinner. She asked for a story and had gotten more then she expected. Just a little more of the personalities of the men she came to see as her true family, the men she loved even before they met and that she wished to be with for the remainder of her life.

@loth-wolffe@nahoney22@hellothere-generalangsty@reluctant-mandalore@moonstrider9904@chaoticvampirejedi

#The Bad Batch #How did the Batch get their names?#Tech #Echo #Hunter #Wrecker #Crosshair #Omega #TBB #Fan Fic about TBB #What`s in a Name

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ourloveisforthelovely · 3 years

Text

Forever (one-shot)

Harry Potter Marauders Era

Request from AO3- If not it's good lol, but I was thinking the reader saves Regulus in the cave and he survives. And the rest of it shows how he copes and all. Very sad and angsty and like he’s depressed because it should have been him. Obviously, Sirius helps him and all but there's only so much he can do. You don’t need to write it but I feel like it would be a good plot

Rating- E- mentions of death, depression, suicide. Super angsty

_____

“It will be okay, Reg. Everything will be okay.”

Regulus’ eyes snapped open as the nightmare got to the point that he hated. Your soft voice was trying to calm him, as always. You were trying to make sure that he knew everything would be okay and only needed to trust you...but this time you were wrong. Every night it was the same thing...the same curse. Regulus watched you die in his arms every night. Every morning he woke up ready to greet death and be with you once again.

I never should have taken her with me.

The thought itself was folly. Regulus knew that you would have never let him go off to that cave alone. It was foolish for him to ever let you go but he did. Now the love of his life was dead but Regulus wasn’t. He survived after you pulled him from the water. It wasn’t until the two of you were able to get outside did he realize how injured that you actually were...and you died.

He would be forever haunted by the image of you dead in his arms. Your pretty face was no longer lively and warm but transfixed on him with set eyes never to move again. It didn’t matter how many times that Regulus pleaded with you to take another breath...just one more breath...you didn’t. The hand that was locked in his soaking shirt had dropped to your side as the blood now oozed from your mouth.

Regulus’ princess was gone...

It had been a little over six months ago and Regulus was still in the same state of grief that he was in on day 1. There had been no coping. Coping was some fairy princess that would always elude Regulus for the rest of forever. To say Regulus blamed himself was an understatement. He screamed “it's all your fault” over and over every day.

After about month two, Walburga had enough and called Sirius to come to get his younger brother before she killed him herself. Sirius, of course, came running. It didn’t matter if it had been years since he had actually spoken to his younger brother. Upon having the conversation with Walburga, Sirius was ready to step in. He would do whatever he could to save Regulus from slipping away to a horrible existence that would end in either murder or suicide.

Sirius tried.

Regulus thought as he slowly wiggled his way out of bed. The blood rushed to his head, almost knocking the younger brother backward. Regulus wasn’t sure how much alcohol that he had drunk the night before (or any night before that). It was never enough.

Drunk...that was how Regulus spent the majority of his day. He had never been much of a drinker before you died. Regulus didn’t like giving up that precious control that he loved so much. After your death, he welcomed not being in his head. It didn’t matter how much Sirius or any of his friends tried to hide the booze, Regulus found it.

Memories of the previous night filled his head. He had been drunk long before Sirius arrived home. Regulus was almost to the point of passing out when Sirius came in cheerfully talking to Remus about a new restaurant that they were going to. He only had to take one look at his brother before he realized what kind of state Regulus was in.

“Why, Regulus? Why do you keep doing this? Do you think that Y/n would want you living this way? She wouldn’t want this at all. Y/n loved you...more than anything. She would want you to make yourself happy...not be this depressed and depending upon booze and whatever it was that you were taking.”

Regulus barely looked up at Sirius. For some reason, his brother seemed taller than normal. Looking at Sirius from the couch made Regulus want to vomit.

“She begged me to stop….begged me to take her away...we could have lived in the country...I could have her with me until we died. There is no greater punishment for me than to keep living without Y/n. She made everything worth it.’

“If you keep going the way that you are going...you are going to end up dead.”

Sirius had intended for his comment to strike some fear in his younger brother but it had the opposite effect. Regulus looked thrilled. It had been the first time that he had smiled in months.

“Brillant.”

Sirius almost fainted when that single word left Regulus’ mouth. Remus’ comment of “you can only do so much” quickly plagued Sirius’ mind.

Regulus felt guilty for what he was doing to his older brother especially when Sirius was trying so hard. What Sirius didn’t seem to understand was Regulus was ready to get back to you...if that meant death then so be it.

His grey eyes flickered to the small vile that sat on the nightstand. The poison that was...sure to take him to the gods. Regulus smirked at the comment that left the clerk’s name at the potion shop. Regulus had gone into the shop the day before yesterday and asked for the most powerful death potion available...now it was his.

The clerk seemed a bit worried that such a young man was asking for such a horrible potion. Usually only sick and extremely old asked for such a brew. Regulus had made up some lame story about it being for rats that were scaring his poor mother to death (little did the shop clerk know that the rats were scared of Walburga...not the other way around). When Regulus offered to pay double the listed price, the clerk no longer argued.

“You must have some horrible rats.”

The old man finally commented as Regulus gave him a small smile before walking out without another word.

“I don’t care if it hurts.”

Regulus thought as he opened the vial. The potion in the cave was the most horrible thing that he had ever experienced but Regulus would drink it again if it meant getting you back. If this potion was that bad, it could be another punishment for him being so careless in your death….a final punishment that he would welcome.

Regulus froze hearing Sirius downstairs laughing over something stupid. He felt guilty for a brief moment.

“I’m sorry, Sirius.”

Taking one final breath, Regulus put the vial to his lips and downed its contents. He stood motionless for a moment as the intense urge to go to sleep washed over him.

Not so bad…

The next thing Regulus knew he was standing by what looked like the Black lake at Hogwarts on a sunny day. Looking over his shoulder, Regulus smiled seeing you sitting by the tree with a book on your lap. He couldn’t help but smile looking at you from where he stood.

Of course, she’s reading.

Thought with a smile as your hair blew a bit in the breeze. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Regulus quickly walked over.

“I should have known that your personal heaven would involve books.”

You looked up before instantly smiling. It took you three seconds to be on your feet with your arms around Regulus’ shoulder. If you didn’t let go of him for the rest of eternity that would have been just fine with Regulus. Breathing in your sweet scent, he felt calm and happy for the first time in ages.

“What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you for a while.”

You said with a smile before interlocking his hands with yours. Regulus shrugged.

“I didn’t want to be without you.”

Regulus commented as your smile faded.

“Regulus...no...not like that.”

He shrugged again.

“It was worth it. You made my life worth living. I did what I was supposed to. I got the locket and Kreacher is going to destroy it. It's up to someone else to finish the story. Our story is here.”

Your unhappy smile faded as you pulled Regulus down beside you. Laying your head on his shoulder, you smiled again.

“It's not so bad here, you know. There’s no rain, no stupid war, just…”

“Us.”

Regulus interrupted before leaning down for a kiss. You nodded.

“Forever.”

_______

@amelie-black @regulusslut @truly-insatiable @fandomsxxregulus @quuenofblacks @jessyballet @knreidy1 @acciosiriusblack @mimisparkle12 @teletubiswszpilkach @spiderxalmighty @exhsle @bennyberry @rubyroscoe1 @whymyparentscheckmyphone @criminalyetminimal @fific7 @hazncalsgal @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @fandom-trash-worth-it @hankypranky @summer-novak @emiwrites3reads @shaylybaby2032 @marichromatic @li0nh34rt @tas898 @stuckinsaudi1 @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @knight-of-gleefulness @untoldshortsofthefandoms @sprnaturallover @deanwherescas @shitfaceddaniel @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner

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songfell-ut · 3 years

Text

Merry Xmas toooo

Hey @venelona remember when I was talking about that Beauty & the Beast thing in your server

Well, I copied myself, ‘cause Sans is still not good at following through on getting a human soul, and a stray bit of paper drives the plot once more.

This is nowhere near finished because it’s me. I’ll polish it up and put it on AO3 once my other gift is done for tomorrow (she said famous-last-words-ly).

Prepare yourself for a shock: I wrote something long. Indents, meh. Warning, Sans is stupid.

Today was not a good day: it was cold, he had to get married, and now there was a human in his garden.

This was problematic for many reasons. For one thing, as the literal lord of all he surveyed, Sans always found it hard to get any alone time, much less a chance to nap. He’d started coming outside each night after dinner to doze off for a few precious minutes, at least until the wind whistled through his sockets one time too many or his brother started yelling at him over the wall. On this particular evening, though, after his chat with Toriel, his sole aim was to avoid seeing anyone; luckily, he’d already forbidden the others from coming into the garden, and he was prepared to stay out here forever if he had to, weather and Papyrus be damned.

Sans was not prepared to take a shortcut to his favorite bench by the nightshades and sit down, only to catch sight of someone hunched behind a bush at the end of the row. The skeleton scrambled to his feet in sudden panic, readying his magic to defend himself. Who or what the hell was that? No one should be here—this was his place! Had Toriel told him all that crap to trick him into going out alone, then sent someone after him? But how?

His instinct was to attack first, but for all Sans knew, this was some kind of trap; instead, he watched and listened, waiting for the thing to make its move. His soul thrummed like a harpstring, ready to summon bones to skewer the intruder, or teleport away—

But nothing happened. As the seconds ticked by, Sans gradually realized that the small, dark-clothed figure wasn’t crouched to spring at him or lying in wait, just bending down to examine the flowers. He couldn’t sense any malicious intent whatsoever; in fact, it didn’t seem to know he was there, or that he was coming closer for a better look.

Well, no wonder: it was wearing a cloak with a deep hood that blocked its peripheral vision, and it was facing into the wind, where it couldn’t hear or smell anyone sneaking up from behind. That meant the intruder was either very confident or really fucking stupid.

Maybe it was just Monster Kid or one of the others screwing with him? After all, no matter how often Sans told them to stay the hell out of his garden, and no matter how strongly his subjects were compelled to obey him, he kept finding rocks, bits of bone, and other junk the little bastards had tossed over the wall. Things had gotten better since Papyrus started patrolling the outer courtyard, happy to combine his favorite pastimes of keeping things tidy and beating the shit out of people, but…

But no, this wasn’t a kid who’d found a loophole in his orders, or an adult monster strong enough to defy him. Sans took a couple of quick shortcuts at different angles to appraise the intruder, confirming that it wasn’t sized or shaped like anyone he knew; it also failed to react when he stepped through an arch of greenery just a few feet away. No shift of attention, no magic gathering to attack or defend itself—who could possibly be that dumb? None of the surviving monsters would ever dream of dropping their guard like this, not even the kids!

The wind shifted, and Sans’ nasal ridge twitched as an unfamiliar stench hit him. He recognized the scent of leather from its clothes, but there were strong hints of…some kind of hair, and…bodily fluids? There was something missing, too, so basic that it took Sans a minute to pinpoint it: the trespasser had no magic whatsoever.

That was the most confusing thing of all. No matter how fishy or perfumed or otherwise gross they might be, everyone had that dry, slightly spicy smell. Had someone dressed up an animal and released it into the garden as a prank? A thrill of fear raced through him again—did Toriel’s curse include female animals? It’d be just like her to dump that on him and then make sure he ran into a bear or a deer or something!

Suddenly, the intruder sighed heavily, straightened up, and shook its hood off. To Sans’ shock, it wasn’t an animal or a monster: the thing standing in his garden was a human. It turned its back to the wind, squinting down at the white-stoned path and up at the surrounding wall, the smooth black marble shining rose-gold in the twilight.

What the hell was a human doing here? At least it was a male; Sans relaxed a little, then shook himself and edged forward.

Humans were legendary for their cruelty and cunning, but this particular specimen didn’t seem very dangerous. Beneath its dusty travel clothes and heavy cloak, it was almost as short at Sans, with a wrinkly face and gray streaks in its hair. Did all humans get like that after only…what, fifty years? Granted, Sans was just twenty-five, a baby by monster standards, but he wouldn’t be this twitchy or feeble when he reached the human’s age. And he wouldn’t be dumb enough to wander into someone else’s territory after sundown!

The man had started walking again, still oblivious to Sans’ presence, and paused at a fork in the path. Sans silently willed him to turn right, and he’d been obeyed by everyone he knew for so long that it was a surprise to see the human go left instead. The skeleton watched in irritation, then disbelief, as his uninvited guest sat down on a low wall and pulled a map out of his pocket.

That had to be the stupidest thing Sans had ever seen. Did human maps of the area include HAUNTED CASTLE ON FORBIDDEN MOUNTAIN? He doubted it. Besides, there was a village at the foot of the mountain, straight down through the forest; even if he couldn’t find the main path, all this moron had to do was walk downhill, back the…way he’d…

Wait. How had he even gotten in here?

Quick as thought, Sans zipped over to the massive iron gates that stood between the castle and the outside world. Sure enough, the ivy growing between the bars had been disturbed at one end where the man had squeezed through. Sans extended one bony finger very, very slowly toward the gate, and as his phalange approached the nearest bar, the air filled with a warning hum, his bones prickling with alarm till he stepped away.

The barrier was still working, then. What had the King said before they dusted him? Anything could get in, but nothing could get out…except a monster in possession of a human soul. But there were no—

The skeleton monster’s sockets widened again, this time in excitement. He grinned hugely, then took a shortcut back to the human, who was trying to fold up the map. Just in case, Sans peered at the human’s chest, gauging how much effort this would take.

His elation immediately vanished, disgust welling up in its place. Of all the humans who could’ve wandered up here, it had to be one with a pathetically weak, almost sickly little soul—and why did it have to be green? Fucking Kindness! Talk about shitty luck!

Not that he was going to pass up the opportunity, of course. Absorbing any human soul, no matter how crappy, would give him power greater than every other monster who’d ever lived, combined. He could finally pass through the gates, descend on the human village like a force of nature, grab as many souls as he wanted, and come back here to destroy the ga—no, he’d wreck the whole fucking castle! The others would finally be free, too, though he wouldn’t be stupid enough to share any souls with them. Maybe Pap could have a few, just enough to fulfill his dream of tearing Undyne to pieces, and to help eliminate Toriel; then they’d be untouchable in a world where “kill or be killed” was the only rule!

Sans was jerked back to the present by the human making a horribly wet noise and pulling a square of cloth from his pocket. Why was this disgusting sack of flesh even here, anyway? As far as Sans knew, no one had come near the castle for decades; even the local wildlife stayed far away. Yet here he was, an ordinary-looking human who had come all the way up the mountain in the approaching dark.

The man had finally sensed something wrong and was looking around uneasily. “Hello?” he called. Sans stayed where he was, silent and contemptuous; sure enough, the human’s gaze swept right past him. “Odd,” he murmured, lowering the map and folding it in half.

Sans knew he should go ahead and kill the guy now, but the wind chose that moment to pick back up, rustling through the flowers and nearly yanking the map out of the human’s hands; the man swore and fumbled at the stiff parchment, fighting to keep hold of it.

The skeleton chuckled, almost pityingly. As lord of the castle, he decided he could be magnanimous and let this moron finish putting the map away. Besides, it was funny as hell to watch him lose to a piece of paper.

Eventually, the man gave up and tried instead to stuff the half-folded map into his pocket, pulling a few things out to make room. Enough of this, thought Sans, his amusement fading. The skeleton took a few steps forward, letting his magic swell to a darkly feverish pitch and drift off him like red smoke. He was probably scary enough as it was, but anything worth doing was worth overdoing, especially when it’d make the human’s reaction that much funnier.

Besides, this idiot had trespassed on Sans’ land and his solitude at exactly the wrong time. A quick, clean death was too good for him, but it couldn’t be helped: Sans had to get his soul out in one piece and reach the village before daybreak. Ha, maybe he’d put his hood up and pretend to be the Reaper the humans feared so much—wasn’t that why they had exterminated every single skeleton monster but him and Pap? He’d give the fuckers something to be afraid of!

It was time, all right. The human had finally sensed someone at his back, and began to turn around. “Excuse me, I—”

Another gust of wind suddenly came howling through the garden and tore the map out of the human’s grip. It landed with a thk and skidded along the white-stoned path; with it went a couple of envelopes he’d set on his lap, and another, much smaller piece of paper, which blew straight into the nearest flowerbed.

The human’s demeanor changed in an instant from annoyance to panic. “No!” He flailed at the air, then stumbled over the wall, charging through the flowers. “Come back here!” he yelled, as if the wind or the paper could understand him.

Sans froze, feeling his magic go still as the blossoms answered—or, rather, echoed: “Come back here!” What the hell was the guy doing tromping around like that? Those were echo flowers, not daisies! One of them was worth twenty of this dumbfuck!

The wind was still blowing, but after a few clumsy grabs, the human threw himself full-length onto the ground, trapping the paper amongst the squished flowers. He sighed gustily – ha – and stood up, smiling. “There you are,” he murmured, his voice clear as the wind dropped to a light breeze.

The skeleton couldn’t see what the human was looking at so fondly. In his irate curiosity, he hesitated another moment too long: “Hm,” the man said to himself. “Yes, that’ll do.” He crouched again, grabbed a blossom at random, and plucked it clean out of the ground.

“What the fuck?”

Sans’ roar shattered the air like a rock through a stained-glass window. He was too angry to enjoy the human’s shriek of terror, or his attempt to turn and run; the skeleton jerked his hand up and sideways, yanking the man off his feet and hurling him onto the path. “Who the fuck d’you think you are?” snarled Sans. His magic flared up again as he advanced, staining the footpath red. “Huh?”

The human was trembling violently, staring up at him. “Are you deaf or somethin’?” the monster demanded. He grabbed the man by the collar, hauling him to his feet. “Answer me, or I’ll rip yer fuckin’ head off!”

The human gulped. “I…” He squeezed his eyes shut, sweat rolling off his face. “P-P-Please forgive me, my lord! I-I was being pursued by bandits, and they didn’t stop until I reached this place! I needed shelter, someone to point the way home—” He peeked up at Sans again, almost hiccuping in fear. “I-If you’ll permit me to leave, I swear I’ll never trouble you again!”

Sans glanced up at a nearby lantern hanging on an iron post, and it obligingly lit itself. “That’s for damn sure,” said the skeleton. His wrath faded a little as his prisoner gaped at him in the clearer light. Now he understood the expression “bug-eyed,” not to mention “slack-jawed”; it was one of the funniest things he’d ever seen. Still… “You expect me to believe ya just wandered in here outta nowhere?” Sans jerked his head at the castle looming behind him, though the moon hadn’t risen to provide a properly spooky silhouette. “Didja think you could sneak in, grab somethin’, an’ get out before anybody noticed? ‘Cause I fuckin’ noticed!” He stabbed a finger at the echo flower in the human’s hand. “That shit doesn’t grow just anywhere!”

The man blinked stupidly at the flower, as if surprised to see it. His eyes darted back and forth, his other hand sneaking toward his pocket. “I…I can explain, my l—”

“Uh-uh.” Sans waggled his finger, and the human cried out as his hand was yanked straight over his head, the little slip of paper fluttering to the ground. Ignoring his protests, Sans made a couple more gestures to open the man’s coat and run a thread of magic through the pockets, then the lining. He frowned as he found several coins, letters, a comb, a pipe…but no weapons.

Huh. If the human hadn’t been going for a knife or something, then what the hell was he doing? Was he just trying to put the paper away? How goddamn stupid could he—

“Please!” the man almost shrieked, and Sans was startled into releasing him. He watched the human stumble back, dropping the echo flower in his haste to run after the slip of paper again. Luckily for him, it blew against the corner of another bench, where he could easily stoop to retrieve it. The map lay nearby, but the human didn’t even look at it; he sighed in relief, and started to turn around.

Sans was directly in front of him, grinning at his strangled squeak. “Whatcha got there?” The skeleton didn’t wait for an answer, just reached for it.

“No!” To his astonishment, the man flailed at him, backing away till his shins hit the bench. “I-It’s nothing!” the human babbled. “Nothing at all! Just a picture that I didn’t want to lose! You can leave it!”

Later, Sans would try to blame himself for not being more careful. But he had every right to be curious, and no reason to be thinking of Toriel right then; it was only natural for him to use his magic to grab the paper and hold it up to see what was so fucking important. So, he did.

The human was right: it was a delicate ink drawing. Sans felt the smirk slide right off his face, and he took the picture in both hands, peering so intently that he didn’t even notice the man grabbing his sleeve. “Who’s this?” the skeleton inquired, trying to sound careless. “Yer wife?”

“My daughter!” The guy was actually jumping to try to grab it, like a frantic kid. “As I said, it’s worth nothing to you! Please give it back!”

Sans absently pushed the human off with his elbow, raising the paper to the light. “Knock it off,” he grunted as the man came right back.

The human’s sheeplike face contorted. “Has milord never seen a woman before? Give it ba—”

Skeletal fingers shot out and locked around his throat. To Sans’ surprise, when he glared down at the human, the man glared right back, even as he clawed at Sans’ radius. “Why d’you want it so bad? Is she dead or somethin’?” the monster asked in sudden hope.

The human’s eyes bulged wider, and he struggled to speak until Sans loosened his grip. After a bit of coughing and puffing, the man rasped, “How dare you? She’s my child, you wretched beast!” He dashed Sans’ hopes with a jerky shake of the head. “I’ve been away from her for over a month, and I was only hours from home when I was attacked! That’s all I’ve had of her! If I’m going to die at your hand, the very least you can do is let me see it one more time!”

Sans’ jaw clenched so hard that his single golden tooth creaked under the pressure. He shut his sockets, aware that he had to think very carefully before he spoke. “I got some questions for ya,” he snarled. “Tell me the truth, an’ you might leave in one piece.” He opened his sockets, his ruby eyelights pulsing across the human’s face. “Got it?”

The wind shrieked past them again, but Sans held both the human and the slip of paper steady. The man stared at him in clear distrust; Sans wasn’t sure if he was being brave, or stupid, or what, but he wasn’t cowering anymore. As a slight token of respect, the skeleton opened his hand, letting the human jerk away. “Yes, milord,” the latter whispered, massaging his throat. “Whatever you wish.”

Sans snorted, and snuck another glance at the portrait. “What’s your family name? What were you doin’ away from home fer so long?”

The man’s brow wrinkled further. “My name is Proust, milord. I’m a merchant, so I travel frequently. I’ve been investigating a business opportunity in the capital.”

A merchant? That was hard to believe. The coins in the human’s pockets consisted solely of pennies and a few silver pieces that Sans didn’t recognize; Proust was dressed fairly well, but on closer inspection, the fur trim of his cloak was patchy, while his leather coat was shiny with age. Either he was a cheapskate, or he hadn’t made any real money in a long time. “How’d it go?” Sans asked sardonically.

“Poorly, milord,” the man snapped. “I promised Frisk I’d bring her something from the city, but then I could barely afford to pay my way home.” He looked down at the echo flower, which lay on the stones between them. “She likes gardening, so…”

Sans knew he should make another fuss about the theft, but he had a bigger problem. “‘Frisk’?” he repeated. “Is that a nickname or somethin’?”

“No,” Proust said stiffly. “What else would my lord care to know?”

Sans gave him another glare, and though the man flinched, he didn’t look away. “Heh,” the skeleton murmured. “She your only kid?”

“Yes, my lord. My wife died in childbirth. Frisk…” His voice caught. “She’s all I have left.”

The monster grimaced. He almost would’ve preferred an aggressive human to a sappy one. “How old is she?” The paper trembled. It wasn’t the wind: his hands were shaking. “Did you leave her home alone, or with ‘er husband, or…?”

The human eyed him in rightful suspicion. “She’s twenty-two, my lord. We live with my brother’s family. She’s unwed—I’ve had several offers for her hand, but she refused them all.”

“Why?” Sans asked bluntly.

Proust blinked a few times. “She didn’t love them. She didn’t even like most of them, and the one she might have accepted left because my brother wouldn’t give her a dowry. Why do you—”

“A dowry?” Sans repeated. “The hell is that?”

This was obviously a sensitive question: the human’s face turned a weird color, and something pulsed near his eyebrow—a vein? Was that what it was called? Sans turned his head in disgust, studying the portrait again. If she had veins, he couldn’t see any.

The human cleared his throat. “It’s a gift of money or other goods that a woman brings to a marriage. Many young women in our social class have a difficult time finding a husband without one, and…”

“An’ you don’t have enough cash to sell her off?” Sans waved a hand as Proust swelled with rage again. “Never mind. Whatever stupid shit humans get up to, I don’ care.” He was quiet for a moment. “Just seems pathetic that you’ve gotta pay someone to take ‘er.”

“Was milord listening?” the human demanded. “I’ve had six other gentlemen ask to marry her, and four were willing to forego any dowry at all! She was good enough!”

It was Sans’ turn to twitch. “Why? What’s so great about ‘er?”

Proust made a noise like an angry frog. “May I humbly entreat milord to explain his gracious interest in my family?”

Sans toyed with the idea of telling him the truth, and shrugged. “Just curious. So, I’m guessin’ you wanna see her again?”

“Yes, milord, absolutely,” the man said in a rush. “I’d do anything—you have no idea how much she means to me!” He looked longingly at the paper in Sans’ hand, still held up to the lamplight. “She drew that herself,” he added.

Sans started. “Really?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Yes, indeed,” the human said proudly.

The skeleton scowled at the picture. It was a perfect rendition of a young woman seated at a table, wearing an old-fashioned gown; her dark hair was twisted up into a bun, showing a small earring, a pearl necklace, and a graceful curve of neck and shoulder. Now that Proust mentioned it, she did seem to be drawing herself in the mirror, one hand holding a pencil and the other steadying the paper, her head tilted to look up at Sans.

For a moment, he was so angry that he couldn’t breathe. This was bullshit! Why should he pass up his chance at unlimited power because of a girl who probably wasn’t even that pretty in real life? He should just rip the stupid picture in half, rip the human in half, grab his shitty green soul, and get things started!

But the longer he stared at the paper, the less he wanted to rip it in half, kill the human, become godlike, etc. etc. It just seemed…boring? Unnecessary?

Tch. This was all Toriel’s fault! She’d called him to her room that evening in an absolute fit of laughter and told him exactly what was going to happen, and the old bitch knew he’d come down here afterward and—

And he couldn’t stay mad about it. Instead, something weird was happening behind his sternum, a sticky kind of warmth spreading like an infection through his ribcage and down his limbs. No matter how hard he tried to dwell on being jerked around, or why it had to be some squishy human with a dumb father and a weird name, Sans couldn’t look away from the portrait, caught by the girl’s clear, bright eyes. No one had ever smiled at him like that…

He came down here every night to get away from everyone, but what if…what if he had someone he didn’t want to get away from? Unbidden, a thought crept up: what would the garden look like with this human in it, helping water the flowers or sitting with him to watch the sun set? What would it be like to always have someone to talk to about stuff bothering him, help with all the day-to-day crap of running the household…smile at him, keep him warm at night—

Shit! Had Toriel laughed at him because she knew he’d actually want this to happen?

“Hello?” Proust was asking. “Milord? Is something wrong?”

Sans shook himself. “Fine, she can draw. Does she know how ta do anything?” That’d be a perfect excuse to forget about her. If he wanted to keep something cute and useless around, he could just put a collar on one of the kids and make it do tricks!

The human actually laughed at him. “We went to stay with my brother, milord, when Frisk was fourteen years old. He was a widower, so she took it upon herself to be the lady of the house. Within a few months, she was managing his servants, balancing his accounts, organizing his social affairs—clear up till he remarried last year.” His narrow chest puffed out. “It’s a large part of the reason she’s been sought after. Any man would be lucky to have her.”

The monster’s hands were trembling again, a strange sensation burning him from the inside out. “Is—” It was a childish question, but he couldn’t help it: “Is she nice?”

Proust looked at him strangely. “Yes, milord. She is.” He flinched as Sans’ grip on the drawing tightened. “Forgive me,” the man quavered, “but why do you—”

“Gimme your hand,” growled the skeleton. He gestured, keeping the paper suspended in midair as he lowered his own hands. “Take the glove off.”

Proust swallowed once or twice, then obeyed. Sans didn’t hide his distaste as he took hold of Proust’s wrist, the human’s pulse twitching against his thumb. For a second, he didn’t know if he could go through with it; then he glanced at the portrait, and said, “Don’t move.” Before he could lose his nerve, the monster lifted a skull-shaped pendant from beneath his shirt, positioned the human’s finger between its tiny jaws, and willed them to snap shut.

Proust yelped as the pendant latched onto his finger. “What in God’s name is that thing?” he cried, trying to shake it off.

“Magic,” Sans said pleasantly. The poor skull didn’t seem to like it any more than the human did: its jaws sprang right back open, and he could’ve sworn he saw it make a face at him.

Proust was staring at his hand in disbelief, searching for signs of any blood or puncture wounds—nothing. “What…?”

“Here’s what’s gonna happen.” Sans tucked the pendant back under his shirt. “There’s a spot over by the gates where you can sleep. No one’s allowed in here, so you oughta be safe till morning. When you leave, jus’ head straight down the mountain. Pretty much any of the paths will take you to Ebott. I’d send ya there now, but my magic can’t get through the barrier on the gate.” He sighed. “Need ta pull some strings to get you back out at all.”

The human was torn between intense relief and distrust. “Thank you, my lord. May I—”

“Nope. Just be happy that’s all I did.” Sans indicated the man’s finger as Proust pulled his glove back on. “I’ll even let ya bring ‘er the flower. Nice, eh?”

The man swallowed hard. “Yes, milord. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. But…may I please ask why?”

The shadows seemed to creep in, darkening the lamplight. The human shrank back as the skeleton’s grin broadened. “Wanna hear somethin’ funny?” Sans reached up to run a finger along the portrait’s bottom edge. “I’m the boss around here, but there’s a lady hangin’ around I can’t get rid of, and she knows stuff. Guess what she told me ‘fore I came out here. Go on, guess!”

Proust looked nearly sick. “I…I don’t know, my lord. What did she—”

“She said, ‘Congratulations!’ An’ I said, ‘On what?’ And she said, ‘On your upcoming marriage!’ So a’course, I said, ‘The fuck are you talkin’ about?’ An’ she said I was gonna meet my wife real soon.”

It was subtle, but Proust’s eyes flicked to Sans’ pelvis. The skeleton’s amusement vanished. Just like a human—didn’t he know how magic worked? “Yeah, my wife,” he growled. “Funny part is, she was right.” The monster took Frisk’s drawing in one hand and tapped the side of his skull with it. “Wanna know who Toriel said it’d be?”

The man didn’t move, except to make a noise vaguely resembling “Who?”

Sans chuckled. “The first woman I saw once I left the room.”

A beat of silence. Sans was wondering if he’d have to spell it out when Proust howled, “No!” and made a credible attempt to tackle Sans and grab his daughter’s picture. “You can’t—”

The skeleton sent him sprawling with one push. “Sorry, Dad,” he drawled. “I left the room, an’ I saw ‘er. That’s that.” He laughed harshly at the man’s expression. “What? She’s gonna get her own damn castle, lotsa nice stuff—I won’t even make you pay for ‘er!”

“You—” Sans watched, bemused, as the human sprang to his feet, fists clenched. “Tear me limb from limb if you want, but I am not giving my daughter to a thing like you!”

“Yeah, about that.” The skeleton raised a finger. “Y’know that little nibble ya got just now? ’s a great trick. Lemme show you how it works.” Hmm…what to do? Better not get carried away, or the guy would have a nervous breakdown before he could get his daughter up here. “Grab the echo flower and say, ‘I’m a stupid doo-doo butt.’”

Before Proust could protest, his body turned, stooped, and picked up the blue flower. He brought it to his lips, and said, very solemnly, “I’m a stupid doo-doo butt.” Then his head jerked up. “What in the—”

Sans hooted with laughter, fighting the urge to slap his future father-in-law on the back and accidentally break his spine. “See? When I say you’re gonna do somethin’, you don’t have a choice, do ya?” He sobered in an instant. “So, yer gonna go home an’ fetch ‘er for me. Got it?”

“It doesn’t matter what you’ve done to me,” Proust said defiantly. “You said it yourself. Once I pass your gates, your magic won’t have any effect.”

“Good thing it ain’t my magic, then. It’s yours.” He got a blank stare, and sighed in exasperation. This was getting old: it was chilly out here, and he had a lot of planning to do. “I don’ have time fer a whole magic lesson. What it boils down to is, yer a part’a this place now. The magic’s with you wherever you go. Even when ya get back home—”

Proust chose that moment to make a break for it. Sans watched him race toward the gates, then reappeared directly in front of the bars, forcing the human to stop short. “Listen,” he said coldly, forestalling Proust’s attempt to cover his ears. “Three days from now, you’re gonna bring Frisk here. Yer gonna tell ‘er whatever you need to make ‘er stay. Then you’re gonna shut up and leave, and you won’t come back.”

The human’s face was crumpling in a way that suggested something wet was about to happen. “You can’t be serious, milord! Please spare her! Kill me instead!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, quit bein’ dramatic!” Sans jerked his thumb at the castle. “Like I said, she’s gonna have everythin’ a lady could ever want. Almost everyone’s dead now, so there’s a bunch of neat stuff left. Hell, we got a whole room with nothin’ but jewelry in it.”

For some reason, this didn’t seem to reassure the human. “Frisk does not want things, and even if she could be bought off like that, a wonderful young woman like her has no business being entrapped by a loathsome abomination like y—”

“Shut your fucking mouth. Right. Fucking. Now.”

Proust’s teeth clicked shut as the air around Sans roiled with crimson magic. “Just for that,” the skeleton hissed. He stepped forward, jabbing the human’s shoulder with one pointed phalange, almost a claw. “Just for that, you’re not allowed ta make stuff up about her goin’ to school or marryin’ a human or somethin’. You’re gonna tell the truth: you fucked up an’ trespassed on my property, and you only get to live ‘cause you had somethin’ worth tradin’.” Another poke. “Let ‘er know that you’ve got three days from now—” Sans glanced at the rising moon. “—an’ if you’re not here by then, she gets ta watch her dad rot from the inside out.”

Another long moment of silence passed as the human stared up at Sans, hopelessness dawning as he searched in vain for any sign of mercy. There was no telling what he would have said if another sound hadn’t made them both jump: “SANS!” It came from over the marble wall, advancing rapidly. “YOU HAVE HAD EXACTLY AS MUCH LEISURE AS YOU DESERVE, LORD BROTHER! I HOPE YOUR TIME HAS BEEN RESTFUL, BECAUSE YOU HAVE FIFTEEN MISCREANTS TO DISCIPLINE AND A JAM SHORTAGE TO ADDRESS BEFORE YOU CAN RETIRE FOR THE NIGHT.” A stiff click-click of heeled boots. “I WILL BE WAITING IN YOUR SITTING ROOM. YOU ARE HUMBLY REQUESTED TO BE THERE WITHIN TEN MINUTES OR ELSE FACE SEVERE CONSEQUENCES!”

Sans mumbled a long stream of curse words as Papyrus’ footsteps strutted away. That reminded him of something. “Don’t even think about killin’ yerself or breakin’ a leg or somethin’ ta get out of this,” the skeleton said, still facing the garden wall. “I’ll say it one more time: go home, get ‘er packed up, an’ bring her back here on time. No tricks, no cute little loopholes, nothin’. Don’t bring anybody else with you, or I’ll kill ‘em. Got it?”

The human shuddered. “How—” His voice cracked. “How can you do this? You don’t have to do this! This is your castle, your land—surely there are enough women of your own kind to choose from? You don’t have to steal my daughter!”

The skeleton shifted to look at him. “Nope,” he said, and made to step around the human.

“Wait!” Proust fell to his knees, fists clasped in supplication. “One thing, my lord, I beg of you! Please don’t harm her!”

Sans could’ve cheerfully punted the man across the garden. “The fuck?” the monster snarled down at him. “Why the hell would I hurt my own wife? What am I, a goddamn human?”

There was no answer, only a ragged sob. “Good night,” the skeleton muttered. Proust tried to say something else, but Sans paid him no mind: he had things to do, and to look forward to.

Her father was hiding something.

That seemed impossible, and not just because he was a terrible liar: almost the moment he stumbled over the threshold of her uncle’s house in a filthy, sobbing heap, he had started babbling about a monster stealing his Frisk. Once he’d been cleaned up, fed, and tucked into bed, he’d stayed awake long enough to relate a horrible, fantastical tale of stumbling across the castle from local legend and running afoul of its hideous master. And they’d believed it, because…well, she loved her father, but he had the most wretched luck imaginable.

At least her aunt had been asleep when all the commotion started, so there was nothing to stop Uncle Raph from assuring his brother that they would look into the matter as quickly and thoroughly as possible. Servants were dispatched to fetch books from the library and summon the nearest mage from his cottage outside the village; by the time Aunt Kay woke up, her maid could report to her that her brother-in-law had come home bearing a “geas,” a type of curse far too powerful for humans to break, and would lose his daughter in less than three days.

Frisk had to give her aunt credit: she said all the correct things about being so very sorry and hoping that there was a way to save her poor niece from having to live with literal monsters, possibly for the rest of her life! And when it became apparent that there was nothing anyone could do, she was the first to embrace Frisk – as much as she could around her enormous belly, of course – and assure her that if any young woman could handle such a bizarre fate, it was her. She’d packed a bag of sentimental items for Frisk to take with her in case she got homesick, with only the slightest hint of glee at having sole dominion over the house now.

Her father had come home with a cold brewing, because of course he had; knowing she was going to leave and having so little warning had caused chaos among the servants, and Frisk was too busy making arrangements to do more than check in on her father every few hours. He spent most of his time either asleep or staring at the beautiful blue flower he’d brought her.

That was the last bit of proof anyone needed to believe his story. Echo flowers only grew in intensely magical surroundings, and there was so little magic left nowadays that they were thought to be extinct. But here it was, a thick-stemmed, six-petaled blossom that repeated anything spoken nearby. Frisk would’ve been more excited about it under different circumstances, but…well, maybe her new employer would let her have a few of her own.

The whole thing was strange, all the more so because of the way her father had told that part when they were gathered to listen to his story. He’d said he was bound to do what the creature commanded him, which was to bring his daughter up to the castle within three days’ time. The most logical supposition was that Frisk was going to get eaten, but her father had hastened to assure them that the beast seemed angry at the very idea of hurting Frisk. He just wanted…

There was that little hitch in his voice when he said the beast wanted Frisk to perform all the functions of a housekeeper, and that she would be well rewarded—why hadn’t he just said “The monster needs a housekeeper”? And why had he clutched his chest like that afterward? Was the geas hurting him for saying the wrong thing?

Frisk had kept herself too busy to think about it very hard, to believe that she was really going to be thrown out of another home and into the clutches of monsters from myth and legend; on some level, she could convince herself that her father had exaggerated or made some kind of mistake, and it wasn’t going to be so bad. But now, nearing sunset on the third day after her father’s misadventure, they were most of the way up the mountain, and fear was starting to creep through her veins like frost. Her father could be naïve, even simple-minded, but he wasn’t crazy. She really was going to be left alone in a strange place full of strange creatures, expected to take care of them, answering to a walking, talking skeleton—this couldn’t be happening!

A couple of the younger manservants had insisted on accompanying them part of the way. The mage had warned them that they could only get so close to the castle before the horses refused to go any further; sure enough, about a mile from the castle gates, the men had to help them dismount before the animals grew frightened enough to turn and bolt. Frisk gave each man a quick hug – at least her aunt wasn’t there to scold her – and they reluctantly headed back down the mountain to wait with the terrified horses, ready to escort her father home.

The latter was growing more and more agitated as they approached the castle on foot. He could barely speak with his throat raw from coughing, but the way he kept glancing at her, clearing his throat and sighing heavily— “What is it, Father?” Frisk finally asked.

“I…” He swallowed. “I haven’t been entirely truthful, dear.” She stiffened, shifting her bundle to her other shoulder as he coughed into his handkerchief. “The creature didn’t order me to say the exact words in just the right order, and I didn’t want to humiliate you in front of everyone by telling the full story—”

“What story?” The lump in her throat grew heavier as the trees started thinning out, the ground sloping sharply upward. “Is it really true that I have to stay with the monsters and keep house for them?”

“It’s true, love, but…” Another maddening pause. “Er. He is a skeleton, so I believe you’ll be spared…some things, but running the household is included in your role as—”

The wind rose from nothing to a scream of frigid air, nearly throwing them to the ground. Frisk lowered her arm, and to her dismay… “We’re here,” her father croaked.

In the dying light, a huge wall loomed over them, black marble framing a set of gates over thirty feet tall. The bars were nearly obscured by climbing ivy; despite her fear, Frisk found herself drifting closer in sheer curiosity, reaching to pull the ivy aside.

“Frisk!” her father croaked. He was almost unrecognizable, pulling her back and giving her a little shake. “I…” She watched him struggle with himself, and lose. “Stay here, and be good,” he said jerkily. His lips formed a few frantic words, but she couldn’t catch them before he crushed her to him in a sudden, fierce embrace. “Be careful,” he whispered. “I love y—”

The sun had disappeared over the horizen. Before she could hug him back, Frisk felt something coursing through her father’s body, forcing his arms to drop and his legs to carry him back a step. He struggled to get more words out, but it was too late—what had his last orders been? “Shut up and leave”? Charming, and succinct…and effective.

This was it. Frisk had had plenty of practice at smiling, and did her best. “Goodbye, Father,” she said helplessly. “I love you, too.” Then she turned and plunged through the ivy before he could hurt himself resisting any further.

When she stepped free of the bars and brushed the leaves from her face, Frisk almost forgot her sorrow and despair in sheer wonder. Lamps on iron posts lit up a garden arranged in long, orderly, but breathtakingly lovely rows of bushes, flowerbeds, statuary—she’d never seen anything like it. Letting her bundle hang from one wrist, Frisk turned to look at the gates and the massive walls, wondering how big the grounds must be if this was just a private garden. Granted, it belonged to the lord of the castle, and he obviously cared enough to keep it in good order…

And had terrorized her father into forcing her out of her home to come play housekeeper amongst total strangers for…how long? If the problem was just that monsters couldn’t cook or clean up after themselves, maybe she could stay long enough to teach them and then go back. Surely they didn’t expect her to do it all on her own forever, not when they had magic to help them do everything? But if they could do it with magic, then why bring her here at all?

Frisk shook her head, scanning the garden for signs of life. She could hear a fountain burbling in the near distance, just out of sight; the wind was freezing, but carried the smell of flowers, helping calm the human down a little. It was enough to let her take a step forward, then a few more, wandering into the first stand of rosebushes and a patch of black irises. Their petals didn’t reflect light, but shone like velvet, tempting her to reach out—no, she thought hastily, snatching her hand away. Touching flowers without permission was what got her poor, well-meaning, hapless father into this mess!

No one seemed to be coming to meet her, but then, it wasn’t completely dark yet. If she had a few minutes to herself, then Frisk figured she could spend it in peace and calm before she met her fate, whatever that might be, whatever her father had been trying to tell her… So the young woman stood up and set off down the path, taking her time examining the rows of irises, snapdragons, and several flowers that had no business blooming at this time of year.

She didn’t see a shadow step out from behind a lamppost. Nor did she notice when it hesitated, then vanished, reappearing behind another lamppost, and another, and another, till it was just a few steps away.

Frisk thought she felt someone watching her, but when she turned around, there was nothing there. Shivering, she drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders, squinting up at a faint outline against the darkening sky. The castle wasn’t exactly hard to find, but that didn’t mean she knew how to get there; the garden was so huge that she couldn’t tell which path led out of it. Maybe she should—

“h u m a n~”

Raw terror flooded her senses, and her brain screamed so many conflicting orders that nothing got through; Frisk could only stand stock-still, clutching her bundle till she summoned the courage to whirl around.

Nothing was there. Was her mind playing tricks on her? No, she couldn’t have imagined such an awful voice, deep and rough as—

A delicate tap, tap on her shoulder.

Frisk shrieked and twisted around, landing on her rear with an ungentle thmp. “What are you doing?” she yelled. “Who’s—”

The air went still, her lungs shriveling and her heart stopping at the sight of a skeleton – this must be the skeleton – looming over her. The smooth bone of its skull had a dull, velvety sheen like the iris’ petals, and dots of red hellfire glinted in its empty sockets. Its teeth – no, fangs – were bared in a cruel grin, hands buried in the pockets of its black coat; beneath it, the creature’s shirt was a surprisingly bright red—satin? The tidy, domestic corner of her mind wondered how expensive that had been, and how difficult it was to keep clean; as a matter of fact, the skeleton was more richly dressed than her father had been at the peak of his wealth, right down to a frankly garish gold tooth. This had to be the lord of the castle, beyond a doubt.

But his wealth was less important than the fact that a skeleton was staring down at her. It didn’t speak, or grab her, or do anything but stand there, its face unreadable. Surely it could talk, after the way it had cursed her father?

Anger surged through her, propelling her to her feet. “Greetings, my lord,” Frisk said coolly, stepping back to discreetly brush herself off and drop into a deep curtsey. One of them had to be civilized about this! “My name is Frisk. I am here by your command.”

The skeleton blinked, the bone of its sockets somehow closing just like a human’s eyelids. Frisk was almost too fascinated to be angry—almost. It silently shifted its weight. Was it a “he”? The monster was dressed like a male, and had sounded like it. Why wasn’t he saying anything else?

A light gust of wind flapped her hood against her neck. Shivering, she broke eye contact to hitch her bundle back over her shoulder and reach to pull the hood up. “I hope I’m not too late to—”

Quicker than she could blink, the creature was right in front of her, inches away. Frisk tried not to cringe as his bony fingers plucked the hood from her grasp, letting it drop against her back. “What…?” Stupidly, she reached up again, and the skeleton’s brows drew together. His fingers pushed her hand away and, to her shock, rose to brush her hair off her cheek.

That did it: she was willing to come here to save her father’s life, not to be scared out of her mind, stared down, kept freezing, and all but propositioned by the thing that had done this to them! Who did he think he was?! “I beg your pardon!” she snarled, and the skeleton’s sockets widened as she smacked his hand away. “You will not touch me without my permission, milord! And if I am not allowed to wear this—” Frisk waggled her hood. “—then you will please take me somewhere out of the wind!” She tried not to sniffle, and hoped he’d attribute it to the cold. Without thinking, she scratched her cheek, trying to erase the unwanted feeling of those smooth, warmish fingers on her skin. “Lead the way!”

To her alarm, the red light in his sockets vanished, as if she’d blown out a candle. “Yes, m’lady,” growled a voice from somewhere deep in its chest. Frisk gripped her bundle as the skeleton turned on its heel. “Come along.”

Frisk tried not to gulp too loud, and hoped it – he – couldn’t hear her heart pounding as she followed him across the garden. With the anger ebbing away, fear was reclaiming her, dulling the wind’s bite and the ache building in her feet from the walk here; her aunt had insisted she wear a respectable dress and heeled slippers to meet her new master, never mind how impractical they were for traveling, and Frisk could feel a blister forming.

The skeleton’s shoulders were hunched, his hands in his pockets as his boots scuffed the white stones. It was a distinctly un-noble posture, almost sullen. Was he really the lord of the castle? He wasn’t carrying himself with much confidence, and though she’d obviously irritated him, he hadn’t bothered to correct her. Maybe monsters were nicer than humans overall, no matter what the stories said; maybe, she thought as they exited the garden through a wicker gate and started across a courtyard, humans were entirely wrong about them. She might just be a—

“Dumbass!”

The skeleton stopped so fast that she nearly walked into him. A moment later, something flew across their path, followed closely by a small yellow body. “The ball’s a dumbass,” it said helpfully in passing, with the snide, high-pitched tone of a child almost breaking the rules.

Frisk’s escort made a low noise and suddenly whipped his hand up and around. She barely had time to process what was happening before the little monster was jerked into the air, flipping upside down and hanging in a scarlet cloud. “Ya think you’re smart?” the lord demanded, gesturing to silence the…child, she supposed. “Don’t answer that!”

The lizard-like monster didn’t have arms to gesture with, but kicked his feet and snapped his teeth more than expressively enough. “Knock it off,” the skeleton warned him.

The child obediently stopped kicking, and started mouthing obscenities instead. To Frisk’s dismay, the cloud of magic dropped him onto the ground head-first and, before he could recover, picked him back up; the lizard stuck his tongue out in defiance, at which the red cloud rose several feet higher before dropping him again. This time, when it picked him up—

“Stop it!” Frisk protested. They both glared at her, and she shook her head. “He’s just being a child! He’s not hurting anyone!”

The skeleton snorted. Frisk felt her face flushing again as the magic dropped the young monster once more; the child gave her one sneering glance before scuttling off. Then the lord turned to glare at Frisk, who was trembling with fear and rage. “I could say a lot of stuff right now, but you just got here,” he said with dangerous patience, “so I’m gonna cut you some slack.” He started walking again. “C’mon. Everyone should be in the Great Hall by now, ‘cept that little fucker, but that’s fine. He’ll hear it, too.”

Frisk wanted to ask what he meant, and object to his language, but she was tired, and cold, and sore, and hungry, and now keenly aware of what the monster could do to her if he chose. She followed him meekly across the courtyard and through several more winding paths, most too dimly lit to see more than the skeleton’s broad back; he wasn’t much taller than her, but he was powerfully built, even without his hellish magic. He didn’t look sullen anymore, just angry. Frisk wasn’t one for self-pity, but…what had she done to deserve this?

He eventually stopped in front of a door so small and unassuming that she went right in after him, blinking in the sudden light, expecting to see a kitchen or servants’ entrance; instead, when her vision cleared, it revealed a dazzling array of…red carpets, stairs, dozens of voices, thousands of candles—her senses were too overloaded to take it all in. This must be the Great Hall, she thought muzzily, barely aware that the skeleton had turned to watch her.

She did notice when he took her hand, fingers tightening as she reflexively pulled away. “This way,” he muttered.

Frisk couldn’t help scowling. For someone who had spent so much time and cruel effort getting her here, he didn’t seem at all happy to have her. At least his hand gave her something to focus on as he led her through the columns at the back of the room and into the center of the red carpet. As she’d thought when he touched her face in the garden – which she still resented – his bones were as warm as human fingers, with a strange consistency, smooth and slightly pliant. He was probably strong enough to crush her fingers like brittle leaves, but he held them just firmly enough that she couldn’t get away. How nice of him, she thought irritably.

Suddenly, the skeleton paused and turned to face the room. “Hey,” he said, almost conversationally. “Shut up.”

The human thought he was talking to her until the hall grew very quiet, making her ears itch. A tug on her hand turned her to face the same way he was, and her eyes widened.

The room was full of monsters—the ones she’d heard about as a child, and with whom she’d be living and working now. There were creatures made of ice, one built almost entirely out of razor-sharp teeth, several fire spirits, some with fur or scales, or both…there was another, much taller skeleton, and…

Hm. She was good at making quick estimates, and there were barely a hundred monsters in the hall. Surely this couldn’t be all of them?

“So,” said the lord. With his free hand, he dug beneath his shirt and pulled out a pendant shaped like a miniature skull, elongated like a deerhound and sporting far too many fangs for Frisk’s taste. The skeleton raised the pendant to eye level: in an instant, Frisk sensed a shift in the atmosphere from mild disdain to wary, almost fearful anticipation. “Here she is,” proclaimed the lord of the castle. “Meet…Frisk.”

No one reacted, except for a few scoffs and an extremely half-hearted “Hurrah” from the back of the hall, more insulting than no response at all. Frisk hoped she wasn’t expected to introduce herself, or say literally anything else.

Luckily, the skeleton was already speaking again. “So,” he intoned, and as one, the monsters flinched. “First off, no one’s allowed to hurt her—directly, indirectly, on purpose, sort of on purpose, tricking her into it, trickin’ someone else into it, I don’t fucking care. Humans are weaklings, remember? If any of you assholes so much as breathes on ‘er too hard, I’m gonna take you apart mote by mote and burn yer dust in front’a everyone.”

Judging by the monsters’ shocked faces and low murmurs, this was quite the threat. The skeleton lord’s hand was holding hers a little more tightly—was he shaking? At the front of the crowd, the other skeleton had uncrossed his arms and seemed ready to—

“Second!” Everyone twitched. “You do what she says, when she says, unless I tell you different.” He paused, as if weighing his options. “No lyin’ to her. If she wants ta know somethin’, you gotta give ‘er a good answer.”

More murmurs of surprise and resentment. Frisk could feel little pulses through her contact with the skeleton—his pendant was doing something magic-related as he spoke. With a start, she remembered her father’s description of the skull that bit him and inflicted the curse of obedience; this must be the same thing, in a way that let him use it on every monster at once.

Regardless of how he was doing it, Frisk wished she understood why. He clearly did want her here, but how terrible could things be for him to go to these lengths for her? The first tiny prickling of unease began skittering around the back of her mind. What had her father been trying to tell her? Something he’d been hiding that would have destroyed her reputation among her family and friends, with worse duties than arranging parties and checking whether the maids were stealing anything …and the monster being a skeleton was relevant. What could possibly—

Someone had asked a question. “No, not yet,” the skeleton said, to groans of disappointment. “Party’s tomorrow. We’ll hold off for tonight and let her get settled.”

A loud, rude snort made everyone turn to the back of the crowd. “Well, ain’t that sweet?” It was a tall, armor-clad figure holding a faintly glowing spear. The voice was female, but almost as rough as the skeleton’s. “I know if I was her, I’d want you to hold off for tonight!”

The monsters erupted into jeering laughter. Frisk’s face burned as the implication sank in, and she gave the skeleton a disbelieving glance as that sense of disquiet prodded her again. What kind of party was he talking about? Would he really go to this much trouble to procure a normal housekeeper, much less protect her like this and celebrate her coming?

To her bemusement, the skeleton seemed as embarrassed as she was, and several times angrier. “Fuck off, Undyne!” His magic pulsed again so strongly that Frisk’s palm tingled. The woman in armor made a faint sound and staggered back against the wall. “If you’ve got time to say stupid shit, maybe it’s time you—”

“That’s enough,” said someone above them.

Frisk felt the air in the room shift again; this time, it felt like a classroom where the teacher had walked in and just looked at everyone. Every monster in the Great Hall – even Undyne – sank to one knee; the skeleton’s hands dropped to his sides as Frisk turned to watch another monster descend the staircase. “Tori,” he mumbled.

The white-furred monster glared at him. She resembled a giant goat, but seemed far more predatory, perhaps because of her golden eyes; they reminded Frisk too much of her uncle’s captive hawks, which always looked ready to eat someone. “How strange,” the goat-woman murmured. “I could have sworn that we’ve met before and you know how to properly address me.” Like magic, she was now smiling brilliantly at Frisk. “Welcome to our humble abode, my dearest girl. May I be the first to congratulate you on your conquest of Sans’ affections?”

The human’s polite smile was fixed in place, the one she used at parties when trapped in conversation with people she wasn’t allowed to run away from. “You certainly may, Lady…?”

“Toriel, my child. I am the former Queen of this place, now a silly old lady enjoying my twilight years in retirement.” The goat monster inclined her head, and suddenly raised her voice. “Thank you all for coming. I believe dinner should be ready soon?”

That was the monsters’ cue to scatter, no compulsion necessary. “Well,” said Toriel as the room emptied. Her smile twisted in utter contempt. “You seem surprised, my dear. Was Sans incompetent enough to allow your father to lie about your purpose here?”

The skeleton – Sans – gritted his teeth. Frisk would’ve felt sorry for him if…no, wait, she wouldn’t, ever. “Well,” she said, echoing Toriel, “when my father told everyone at my uncle’s house what happened, he said the monsters wanted someone to ‘perform the functions of a housekeeper.’ He never came out and said I’d be marrying anyone.” Frisk gave Sans as poisonous a look as she could, and his sockets went blank. It was unnerving, but she was too angry to care. “On the way up here, he tried to talk more about it, but then he had to leave.”

Toriel cackled, raising the hairs on the back of Frisk’s neck. “Of course he didn’t tell the rest of your family you’d be sharing your bed with a skeleton! You’d be the laughingstock of the village—no, the whole country!”

“Tori,” muttered Sans. Somehow, his entire skull was turning a dull crimson; he’d shrunk in on himself, looking much smaller and curiously vulnerable. Good.

The goat monster must have agreed; she smirked, and fully turned her back on him. “I hope you can understand your father’s intentions, my dear child,” Toriel said. Frisk would have given anything to make her stop smiling. “Parents tell these little fibs every so often to protect their children’s feelings.” She patted Frisk’s shoulder with a soft, heavy white paw. “I’m sure you’ll understand once you start having them.”

Frisk’s skin crawled—whether it was Toriel’s touch or the thought of that with Sans, she couldn’t say. Probably both. “I wish he had given me some forewarning, Lady Toriel, but I understand his reasons. He was also very sick when he reached the village, and likely still is, so we didn’t have many chances to talk privately.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” Toriel murmured. “But it was to be expected after a night outside without food or drink, and then a walk down the mountain without provisions.”

“A what?” Frisk rounded on her would-be husband, who was sweating profusely. How the hell did—no, never mind. “You didn’t give him anything at all? And you made him sleep outside?” she demanded.

Sans’ eyes sparked red again. “He trespassed on my land and fucked up my garden! What was I s’posed ta do? Give ‘im a cookie and his own private room?”

“Anything but keep him outside like a dog!” Frisk was so angry that her eyes were filling with tears. She swiped them as discreetly as she could. “I am overtired, Lord Sans! May I be shown my room for the night? Or would you prefer I sleep in the garden?!”

“Fine!” he bellowed. For a horrible moment, Frisk thought he was really going to lock her outside—no, he was grabbing the pendant: “Panne! Lapis! Get your asses down here, now!”

“I’m afraid you have your work cut out for you, my child,” Toriel said kindly to Frisk, who was seething so hard that it took a moment to realize someone was speaking. “If you want any help, dear, you need only ask.”

“Thank you, Lady Toriel,” the human replied. “I’ve dealt with bullies before, but they usually don’t have magic on their side.”

Toriel cackled again as Sans’ eyes went blank. “Well said, my dearest Frisk! Very well said. Our lord is accustomed to getting what he wants, but a bit of reality may be what he needs.”

“Y’know what?” The skeleton’s voice was high and loud with indignation. “You’re right. Forget it. Fuckin’ forget about this whole thing! We’ll do the ceremony, make it so yer creepy-ass curse worked, an’ then she can go back to her dumbass family. How’s that sound?”

Frisk’s heart leapt…until Toriel gave a gentle sigh. “Yes, Lady Toriel?” the human asked warily.

“Yeah, what?” Sans snapped.

“Several things, children. For one, Sans, you already came crawling to me for help in getting Frisk’s father through the barrier—to be honest, I’m surprised we were able to do it at all. I absolutely do not have the resources left to move another human through the gates safely.”

Frisk could have cried, but as it turned out, that was the least of her problems: “And if you think you’ll be man and wife after a few words and a slice of cake, you’re sorely mistaken. A true marriage is built on time, trust, and communication.” Toriel nodded benignly. “And sex.”

“What?!” It came out in perfect tandem between the skeleton and human.

The goat monster didn’t bother to hide her glee. “I never said you’d find a wife in name only, you pathetic sack of bones! What are you thinking, trying to get rid of her? Why go to all the trouble of snaring such a lovely thing if you were just going to shoo her off? I’ve never seen you so excited, having your room prepared and planning what to eat for—”

“There they are,” Sans said sharply, looking and sounding ready for death as two rabbit monsters approached. “You! Get her fed, bath, sleep, whatever! I’m goin’ to bed, good night!”

Toriel’s grin was the most evil thing Frisk had ever seen. “Good night, my lord? It’s only—oh, dear. There he goes.” She examined the tips of her claws, and gave Frisk a look that made the human shudder. “Was it something I said?”

“REALLY, BROTHER, I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU EXPECTED.”

Sans tried to think of something witty, but it was easier to bash his head against the wall some more. So—

“WILL YOU KINDLY STOP THAT FOOLISH NOISE! IF IDIOCY COULD BE REMOVED THAT WAY, I WOULD GLADLY CRACK YOUR EXALTED SKULL OPEN. BUT NO, YOUR LORDSHIP’S STUPIDITY WOULD REMAIN INTACT NO MATTER WHAT MEASURES WERE TAKEN.”

For the millionth time, Sans found himself reaching for his pendant, the key to the spell encompassing the castle and its grounds. All he had to do was concentrate on Papyrus and command him to shut up for ten goddamn minutes. His life would be easier, and quieter—

—and complete shit, because Pap wouldn’t be his brother anymore. Sans rolled his skull sideways along his bedroom wall, glaring at the taller skeleton. “Get yer ass off my bed.”

Papyrus snorted. “WHY? IT IS APPARENT THAT YOU WILL BE THE ONLY ONE USING IT FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE.”

“Oh, not you, too!” Sans grabbed a book at random from the shelf and chunked it at his brother, who easily caught it and tossed it to the floor. “What, you wanna be more like Undyne?”

“PATHETIC AS SHE IS, IT WOULD STILL BE PREFERABLE TO OTHER PERSONS OF MY ACQUAINTANCE, BY WHICH I OF COURSE MEAN YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE TERRIBLE.” Papyrus did get up, though, and Sans tensed as his brother approached the mirror. “WHY DO YOU STILL KEEP THIS?” To Sans’ indignation, Pap took the ink drawing from where Sans had stuck it in the mirror’s frame, holding it up for a closer inspection. “SURELY, NOW THAT YOU HAVE CAPTURED THE HUMAN IT DEPICTS—”

“Put it back,” Sans snapped.

Papyrus tutted under his breath. “AS MY IDIOTIC LORD WISHES.” Unwilling to make a mess of any kind, the younger skeleton tucked the picture very gently back into the frame, smoothing down the creased edges. “IT WILL BE RUINED IF YOU DON’T STOP CARRYING IT EVERYWHERE.”

“Yeah, I know,” the elder skeleton grumbled. He let the back of his skull thump into the wall again, earning another sharp look. “You can leave now.”

Pap’s boots tapped impatiently on the stone floor. Several rolled-up rugs were stacked at the other end of the room, but Sans had made several excuses to leave them there, unable to admit his fear of picking something she didn’t like. Of course, now he would kill for that to be his biggest problem. “WILL YOU BE ALL RIGHT, BROTHER? SHALL I BRING THE MANUAL? THE SECTION ON WOOING A KIDNAPPED BRIDE IS PITIFULLY SHORT, BUT—”

“I’m good, bro,” lied Sans. “Go to bed.”

It wasn’t a command, and they both knew it. “I DIDN’T GET A CLOSE LOOK AT MY NEW SISTER,” Papyrus remarked. His gloved finger tapped the edge of the portrait. “IS THIS ACCURATE?”

“No,” Sans said sharply. “Don’t touch it.”

“HMPH!” Only Pap could make that a complete sentence. “I SEE. THE ARTIST SEEMS SKILLED ENOUGH, BUT IT MUST BE ANOTHER HUMAN LIE. IT IS A SHAME, BECAUSE THE FEMALE IN THIS PICTURE IS NOT NEARLY AS HIDEOUS AS MOST OF HER—”

“Get the fuck outta my room!”

Eventually, Papyrus complied, leaving Sans with only his stupid, stupid thoughts for company. There weren’t enough permutations of “fuuuuck” to express what he was feeling, so he settled on staring at the windows and letting his head hit the wall some more.

He hadn’t lied to Papyrus. The picture wasn’t accurate: it didn’t show that her eyes were gray, or the way her nose scrunched when she was mad, or how her cheeks turned pink when he touched them. Looking at it always made him want to hold her, but it didn’t have her light, sweet scent or feel so damn soft that he forgot he wasn’t supposed to touch—

Fuuuuuck. She was here, but this was still bullshit! He’d felt a twinge in the spell framework and realized that someone was trying to get around one of his orders – probably by a lie through omission – but how was he supposed to know it was Proust? He never expected that whinging, craven little shit would avoid telling Frisk she was going to be married. She hadn’t had time to get used to the idea, weigh the pros and cons, maybe move past him threatening to kill her daddy as leverage…

Oh, who the hell was he kidding? Even if Sans had gone about this as honorably as he could, and even if she’d had a year to think it over, she never would have accepted him on her own. No matter what anyone said, he was still a monster, and she was still…

His mind veered off yet again to when he’d followed her through the garden. He’d been so thrilled that she was really here, but so terrified that the ideal he’d built up from one picture would fall short of reality; maybe he’d made an ass of himself, getting everyone to clean stuff up and get things out and plan it all down to the second for someone who’d drawn herself to look better than she really was. Maybe her dad was just being a dad and he’d actually spoiled her rotten, letting her take the credit for some actual housekeeper’s work. Maybe she wasn’t really that nice. Maybe this was a mistake.

So, faced with possible perfection, what did he do? He snuck up close enough to smell her, weirded her out, and then tried to play it off as a joke, which scared her even worse. And…

No, the picture wasn’t accurate. He’d been so stunned that he just stood there like a complete moron, not apologizing or helping her up or introducing himself, because she was so beautiful that he forgot to breathe. Of course she got scared and mad at him, and he didn’t know how to handle it because he didn’t know how to handle anything, so he just acted like himself, and—

He was going to kill Toriel if it was the last goddamn thing he did!

The wind was howling again. Sans wondered if it was keeping Frisk awake, assuming she could sleep at all after discovering she was going to marry him.

He looked at his bed, which had never had anyone but him in it, thank you, Papyrus—he’d enjoyed modest success in his sex life before that stupid fucking day with Asgore, but ever since, he found that being able to make people do anything he wanted was a massive turnoff. It felt creepy and pathetic and, well, wrong, even if he didn’t actually order anyone into the sack, or to do anything in it.

Now that he was going to have an actual wife – who thought he was a bully, hated and feared him – would that be any better? Maybe if he courted her well enough, let her see that he’d loved her before they ever even met, refrained from using magic to change her mind…

If that was the best he could do, then no, it wouldn’t be any better. Sans gave himself one last bang on the wall, kicked his boots off, and climbed onto the bed. “G’night,” he said out loud, and closed his sockets to wait for morning.

#hey i think i'll terrorize my way into a relationship #wait wHy DoESN't sHE LiKE Me

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hellowkatey · 3 years

Text

Febuwhump Day 8

Prompt: “hey, hey, this is no time for sleep”

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence and injury

Crash at Point Rain

The battle already rages below them as the 212th Attack Battalion descends toward Geonosis. Obi-Wan watches with great trepidation as the ground forces are already deep in the midst of a violent undertaking. The explosions kick up the dusty surface of the bug planet, creating a cloud that obscures his view from seeing anything besides the muted flashes of blaster and cannon fire.

The Force reeks of death and destruction. If the turbulence of the gunship isn't enough to cause his stomach to turn, the feeling of darkness is.

"Five klicks to the rendezvous, General!" the message is passed from the pilot.

"Very good, stay sharp."

Everything relies on things according to plan. So naturally, everything goes up in smoke.

A massive explosion next to them causes the gunship to jolt, nearly throwing half the men out the other side of the open ship. Obi-Wan whirls around in time to watch one of their other ships, hit by cannons, violently explode and fall to the ground in a massive fireball.

Oh, not good, he thinks, because as long as they are in the air, they are practically defenseless. The clunky ships only have so much maneuverability and the dust is too thick to get a proper visual to shoot down the anti-aircraft tech.

"Take evasive action!" he yells, though his orders are implied. The blast doors are slammed shut, and darkness encompasses the hold. Obi-Wan white knuckles the hand-hold, his heart dropping as the reports begin to come flooding in through his commlink of other gunships having the same issues.

He would have preferred to never step foot on this Force-forsaken planet again. One time on Geonosis is more than enough in Obi-Wan's opinion, but apparently, the bugs seem to have a significant role to play in all of this. He still remembers the carnage in that arena like it happened yesterday. It still haunts him that all of this could have been stopped had they managed to capture Dooku.

Instead, Anakin lost his hand, The Jedi lost numerous, and the galaxy received a civil war.

Cody's voice rings through on his commlink, sharp and frantic. "General Kenobi, don't land! The zone is hot!"

"But there's nowhere else to go!"

Suddenly, the gunship jolts once more, but this time the horrible sound of durasteel being forced apart and the heat of explosion accompanies it.

"We're hit, we're hit!" he yells over the alarms that now blare through the cabin. "We're going down!"

Some troopers fall into the walls as the ship loses control. Obi-Wan can see out the front window from where he stands, and the red sands of Geonosis are very quickly approaching. We're coming in at too hard an angle!

Another shot comes hurdling through the very window, shattering the transperisteel and striking the pilot. There is only time for a gasp of surprise, and then the trooper slumps forward.

"Brace yourselves!" Obi-Wan screams as the ship takes a nose dive. Gravity is pulling his body off the ground now, and despite his order, he finds himself suspended with only his grip on the strap as an anchor. The Jedi Master flails, trying unsuccessfully to plant his weight anywhere else and get some traction, but troopers are already being thrown at a terminal velocity within the durasteel coffin, pushing him out of any position of security he could manage.

When the front of the gunship slams into Geonosis, Obi-Wan is torn from the handle. He unceremoniously crashes into the durasteel floor, his forehead bouncing off it with a sickening crack. Darkness clouds his vision, but he holds onto consciousness as the belly of the ship follows close behind in the violent crash. He is tossed into a huddle of other troopers, their armor cutting into the unprotected portions of his skin. Obi-Wan has no idea if up is up or down is up, or how long they have been skidding across the surface of the planet. The pile of helpless men is suddenly thrown in the other direction as the ship seems to slow, but tip onto its side. Obi-Wan, on top of the pile one moment, is hitting the wall again the next. This time, he doesn't have a moment to react before the other occupants of the hold are on top of him.

The destroyed gunship itself has stopped, but everything still feels like it's spinning. He gasps through the thick black smoke that has funneled into the cabin, trying to move, but the four troopers that are slung across him have him pinned against the wall. His head throbs, his vision is blurred. He can't tell if it's from the smoke or he hit his head hard enough to give him a nasty concussion-- possibly both.

Through his haze, he hears groans of agony around him. His troopers have not moved since they came to a stop. He can feel their Force presences-- they're dim. Few. Many have perished, and many more are on the way.

Obi-Wan manages to get an arm free and pushes the clone that lies across his chest to the side. Blood covers the front of his armor where it looks like his blaster got jammed in his throat. He pushes down a wave of nausea and uses his newfound freedom to push another one of his fallen men off his leg. He's weak. Barely able to manage the weight, though he's never had issues before.

"General!" a faint voice calls from the other side of the ship. It takes him a moment to look up, searching lazily across the smokey cabin. A trooper slowly gets to his feet, stumbling over the bodies of his fallen brothers and landing on his knees at Obi-Wan's side.

"Trapper," he recalls his name. "are you injured?"

"Not as bad as others. And you, sir?"

Obi-Wan grimaces as another wave of nausea burns like acid in this throat, and decides to ignore that question. "Help me get free if you can."

Trapper is able to pull the other two troopers off him before practically collapsing. Obi-Wan pulls him to sit next to him with his back against the wall. "Well done, trooper. Rest now."

The clone sighs in relief, reaching up and pulling his bucket off, and holding it in his lap. Now that they have settled and the smoke has thinned, Obi-Wan can finally take stock of the damage.

The walls of the gunship look as though they were crushed between the hands of a giant. It's a wonder it held up the way it did judging by the force of their impact. Bodies of troopers are strewn about. Motionless. The smell of blood and burning flesh is already potent, which is just about pushing Obi-Wan over the edge.

"Pardon me, Trapper," he says before leaning over away from his companion and emptying the contents of his stomach. He vomits until there is nothing left, and then his stomach still twists, as though even its natural acid must be ejected. Tears spring up in his eyes and his face feels hot and clammy. Obi-Wan has to clutch the wall to bring himself back to his original sitting position. His hands are shaking. He folds them together in an effort to calm them.

His head hurts. It's a dull, radiating pain that encompasses his head and runs down his neck, making his body simultaneously feel like it's crumbling and completely numb.

He can feel Trapper watching him. "I'm okay,"

"Did you hit your head general?"

"A better question may be what didn't my head hit."

It's more honest than he usually is, but Obi-Wan is quickly losing the will to hide it any longer. He is holding back tears that he isn't sure why are trying to force themselves out. He's felt greater agonies, been through worse tribulations.

But the tears don't seem to be sadness. It's difficult to place, but he feels angry? Frustrated? With every passing moment, his emotion seems to change.

It's exhausting. He's exhausted. Obi-Wan lets out a shaky breath and lets his heavy eyelids fall closed. Though the gunship was dark already, the total darkness is like immediate relief.

"Hey, general, this is no time for sleep."

"It sure feels like it," he groans.

"If you have a concussion you must stay awake to monitor your symptoms, sir."

"And if I decide to nap?"

Silence hangs between them for a long moment.

"I believe there is a chance you may not wake up. Sir."

As enticing as that sounds in the moment, Obi-Wan forces his eyes open again, rolling his head slowly to the side to look at Trapper.

"We can't have that, I suppose."

Minutes or hours later-- Obi-Wan isn't sure-- voices echo from outside and rapid footsteps approach. Not the buzz of Geonosisans nor the clank of battle droids, which is comforting at least. He grips his lightsaber anyway, ready to use it if needed.

Obi-Wan isn't sure of how much help he could possibly be, though. After taking greater stock of his injuries, he is quite sure he won't be able to stand on his own for more than a few minutes, nevermind actually fighting.

The door of the gunship is forced open and light streams in, causing a flare of pain behind his sensitive eyes. He squints through the daylight until his swimming vision finally focuses long enough to see familiar troopers.

"Waxer, Boil. Am I glad to see you," he pauses as they run forward to meet them, their gaze obviously wandering to their dead brothers lying about. "Trapper and I are the only ones still alive."

"Good to see you, sir," They hoist him to his feet, quicker than he probably should have been by the way everything goes black for a few long seconds, but Waxer keeps his arm securely around him as he blinks through it. "Commander Cody's established the square just beyond this position..." a ringing in Obi-Wan's ears drones out the clone's voice, and he winces, squeezing his eyes shut until it passes. "...trying to surround us as we speak, sir."

Right. The battle. The war. Now out of the ship, he is rudely reminded of the brutality of the ongoing battle that is only made worse by his pounding head. Blaster shots sound as though they are being amplified directly in his ears, and explosions and cannons make his knees feel weak from the light sensitivity.

Medical is going to have a field day with this, he sighs.

Though he wants nothing more than to collapse in his bunk for the next week and a half, he reminds himself of the importance of their success. They must recapture Geonosis and take out their droid foundries.

Obi-Wan pulls the Force around him, releasing his pain and using it to augment his strength. It's a short-term solution-- and something that will get him in deep trouble with the healers if they find out-- but it will do for now.

There will be time to rest when the war is over.

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday8 #hey hey this is not the time for sleep #violence and injury #head injury #landing at point rain #obi-wan kenobi #wax #boil #trapper #cody #star wars #tcw

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3w-writer-with-wings · 4 years

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10 Most Powerful Scenes in Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS

10) Three things

Starting with probably the most well known quote in VRAINS – three things. It would’ve been probably ranked higher if it was not that repetitive and its impact wasn’t scattered to many different scenes, but it is still a very powerful scene regardless. Yusaku was just an innocent six-year-old child who loved to play a card game and yet that same game was turned against him in the cruellest way possible. Suddenly he had to duel for survival and suffered for each defeat. For half a year, Yusaku was trapped in a never-ending nightmare that didn’t seem to stop until he heard Ryouken’s voice. These few sentences gave Yusaku hope to hold on just a while longer and he started using them as his coping mechanism, even years after the Lost Incident. Like Yusaku said it himself, it felt like the life stopped moving for him and despite therapy he could no longer lived his life like others. Thinking of three things to move forward was the only thing that helped him out and knowing there might be someone else still trapped there made him more determined to find out the truth. Since he used this coping mechanism outside duelling, it may also suggest that three things speech is the only thing that kept him from turning into an empty shell like Jin.

Another thing that makes this scene so powerful is Ryouken’s side of it. Just like Yusaku, he was also just a child who loved the game and most certainly just wanted to play a game with a new friend. It is still unknown if Ryouken was aware of what will happen to children, but it is most likely that he genuinely meant no harm. True his father brainwashed him with his ideas of work for “greater good”, but Ryouken knew it was wrong. He could only report the incident to police and push the memories of it away and yet he reached out to one of the children just before he did. Later it was only further proved just how guilty Ryouken felt and always had a soft spot for the victims. Neither Vyra nor Faust had the courage to report the incident, but Ryouken, a mere eight-year-old child had. Despite his father’s brainwashing, he acted on his own and continued to do so until all the victims were fully safe.

9) Ai saves Yusaku

From the start of the series, Ai wasn’t a typical partner character like Atem or Astral since he was mostly goofing off and wasn’t really useful when it came to duelling. However, in this scene, Ai shows for the very first time just how powerful he really is and even Yusaku is left speechless at Ai’s abilities. Ai even tells him to shut up back and letting him know that he is far too in this duel to just give up. He even refers to him as his partner and shows he is willing to risk his life for him all the same way. Considering Ai was already using Yusaku as his personal weapon against Knights of Hanoi at the time, this may be the first time he actually started seeing Yusaku as his own person and not just as the tool in his plan. Ai has always been sneaky and successfully covered up his true colours, though in this single scene, he genuinely looks concerned about Yusaku.

8) Hope for the future

Hopeful and optimistic scenes are very rare in VRAINS and this is just one of many reasons why this one was included. Shortly after Earth’s death and Go’s decline, Yusaku blames himself for what happened and is again unsure about what they should do. Fortunately, Takeru, Ai and Flame are there to cheer him up and despite the approaching battle, Yusaku is hopeful for the future. Compared to how he used to be, when he told Akira that he can no longer live normally and that he sees no future, this is a major change. Yu-Gi-Oh! protagonists have always been optimistic and even if it was impossible, they believed in themselves and in their actions. Yusaku has always been bold and realistic, so seeing him hopeful and thinking about future in his own realistic terms made it that more impactful. He even smiled several times and ensured both Ai and Flame that they have a plan to keep them safe and if it won’t work, they’ll just think of another one. Watching this scene for the first time really made you feel that despite the hardships, this show will have a happy ending and for a while it really felt that way. Knowing how VRAINS will end this scene may also hint that this is when Ai truly started thinking of Yusaku as his true friend. Ai has been moulding Yusaku into Playmaker from the start and when his so called weapon acknowledged him as a living being and promised to do everything he can to keep him safe – that’s likely when Ai began to realize just how much is Yusaku willing to do for him.

7) Earth’s execution

This scene is probably among one of the most heart-breaking ones as it is among surprising ones as well. Villain very rarely wins in Yu-Gi-Oh! and when they do, it’s a big deal. Earth wasn’t around for long but when he was, he appeared as a very nice, caring and socially awkward Ignis. He was likely also the only Ignis besides Ai that expressed love towards someone and he was willing to do anything to keep Aqua safe. What makes his death that much sadder is that he was captured by Go who was by this point a mere shadow of what he used to be. Both Go and Earth were victims of SOL’s greed and ended up as their tools. SOL did absolutely everything to ensure Earth was not a living being, using scientific expressions reserved for objects and not stopping even when he screamed he is his own person and cried his eyes out when forgetting about Aqua. Another powerful comparison was between Akira’s and Queen’s reaction to it. Akira couldn’t watch while Queen smirked and likely only thought of next step which later turned out to be creation of their own Ignis and putting Earth’s data in Go’s implant.

Other Ignis also felt Earth’s death, along with his own origin. Specter has always appeared to be someone who was entirely devoted to Ryouken’s plans and would do anything to destroy Ignis, despite being connected to one. After Earth’s death he felt like a part of him was gone and he even shed a tear and looked disturbed when seeing Go being fused with Earth’s data. Deep down Specter felt the bond between him and his Ignis and when Earth was no more, he likely felt the same pain as when his beloved tree was cut down.

6) Yusaku defeats Kusanagi

The duel between Yusaku and Kusanagi was anticipated from the start since it wouldn’t be a Yu-Gi-Oh! if it didn’t include an emotional clash between two best friends. What made this duel that more emotional is that Yusaku and Kusanagi seemingly did not have that best friend dynamic that so many protagonists before them had. They treated each other more like caring co-workers and even Yusaku stated many times that Kusanagi was his acquaintance and not a friend. Many times it also appeared like Kusanagi saw Yusaku as Jin and was doing all of this for his little brother and would likely choose Jin over Yusaku. Still there were many moments where Kusanagi showed legit concern over Yusaku and apologized many times for involving him into this. As for Yusaku, he appeared to be more or less stoic about it, showing little emotion, which made it hard to tell just what kind of relationship he really has with Kusanagi, not to mention he always used very polite mannerism towards him which was his surname and –san. Compared to Takeru, whom he refer to simply by his first name, that was pretty polite though then again, Yusaku didn’t mind Takeru nor Kusanagi calling him by his first name either.

It was clear that the reason why they kept their relationship strictly professional was because Kusanagi knew there will be a time where he might need to put Jin over Yusaku and yet he still cared about him. Yusaku also did not want to involve anyone since he knew what he was doing was dangerous and even Kusanagi needed a while before he became a part of his team. Lightning knew well about their bond and did not hesitate to use it against them in the cruellest way possible. Even though Kusanagi played along and tried to make it as convincing as possible he was likely breaking inside. It also does not help that the scene where Kusanagi deals multiple damage to Yusaku looks strangely identical to the Lost Incident flashbacks where Yusaku was electrocuted many times. The duel came to a point where Yusaku couldn’t fight Kusanagi and that’s when it was clear that he also cares about him. The flashback to the promise further proved that this duel was something they anticipated and were ready, but what truly makes this scene so heart breaking is when Yusaku outright cries out after dealing the final blow to his friend. It was clear that Yusaku was ready for something like this, but at the same time he didn’t understand just what this meant for him. It truly broke him and another reason why this was so impactful is that duel was a mirror image to Lost Incident. They again took something that Yusaku loved and turned it against him until he was broken to the core. Only this time, there was no Ryouken who could tell him to think of three things in order to go forward.

5) “You know nothing about me!”

When VRAINS started, no one really had a clue what it will be about besides hover boards and duels in virtual reality. By episode 2 the first hint of Lost Incident was shown and by that point it was clear VRAINS is going to be a lot more complex and dark to previous shows. We all wanted to learn just what exactly happened to Yusaku and what the truth he was so desperate to uncover was. By episode nineteen he is finally close to that truth, but Akira stands in his way, claiming he knows all about what happened and that Yusaku should let Akira handle this. We learn that there were six children who were kidnapped and held captive for months until they were rescued. Akira compared that experience with his own when he lost everything and had to do shady jobs in order to provide for himself and Aoi. He expected Yusaku to accept his help and move on with his life, but instead of that Akira is met by absolute rage. Yusaku and Kusanagi both appeared to be rather cool and collected people, however seeing how Akira was treating everything so lightly made their blood boil and shouted all of their frustrations out. This was followed by Yusaku’s raw description of just what was happening from the point of view of someone who actually experienced this and not someone who merely reported it. It was nowhere as simple as Akira described it and learning that Yusaku still suffers from PTSD and night terrors rightfully justifies his rage. Like Yusaku put it, he tried to move on countless times and did everything he could to forget the pain, but he just couldn’t. Learning the truth was the only cure he knew would help and seeing someone brush it off just like that was incredibly insensitive and gave him all the right to be as mad as he was.

4) Yusaku doesn’t want to fight anymore

It is rare to see Yu-Gi-Oh! protagonist to give up and for someone like Yusaku who will do anything to reach his goal, it was absolutely heart breaking to see him give up. This was the second time he was broken apart, only this time he had no one to give him hope. Yusaku has been fighting his whole life and tried to distance himself from others because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to take it if he were to lose them or if something happened to them. He even was getting better at socialising and trusting others more which is why this scene is so sad. Just when he was seemingly experiencing bits of normal life, Lost Incident happened again and this time it took away his friend. He was outright defeated at that point and despite protecting Kusanagi from Lightning’s badmouthing, Yusaku just couldn’t take it anymore. The pain of loss was so great that he simply shut down. In a way it is similar to when Yuma lost Astral and cooped himself in the room for days, refusing to eat or talk with his friends. And honestly can you blame him? This started out as merely quest to learn more about Lost Incident and over the time it turned into fighting with cyber terrorists, protecting thousands of people and dealing with homicidal AIs. Like suffering from PTSD and night terrors, Yusaku had even more responsibility pinned on him and it is understandable that after such ordeal he could not take it anymore. It was only thanks to Kusanagi’s voice that he found the last of his strength in order to defeat Bowman once and for all.

3) “If losing a friend means your heart breaks, then are you trying to break my heart?”

Now this single quote may as well break your heart. Yusaku and Ai might’ve started off as an odd pair that regularly annoyed each other, but with more episodes, deeper their relationship became. Ai has always appeared to be this happy-go-lucky goofball and that turned out to be a mask. Not only to cover up his true motives for siding with Playmaker, but his own personality as well. When he was cracking jokes, he was really just covering up the fact that he has been torn apart and hiding in network for years in order to protect his friends. Yusaku was his only hope and even though he has been manipulating him to the very end, Ai grew attached to him and especially after losing other Ignis, he felt alone and guilty. What makes this scene so powerful is that Yusaku tells Ai loud and clear that he is his friend and losing him would as painful as when Ai lost his fellow Ignis. A couple episodes ago Ai said there is only one person he fully trusts with his feelings and this person turned out to be no other than Yusaku. Ai also revealed that he was using Yusaku as his weapon and yet Yusaku still referred to him as his friend. This entire duel was probably the first time the two of them were completely honest with each other and out of all sentences they exchanged, this one was the most heart wrenching.

2) Revolver's helmet breaks

Like Yusaku, Ryouken has also been moulded into Revolver, the man in charge of cyber terrorist organization known as Knights of Hanoi. His father who brainwashed him with his ideas to a point when he was willing to blow up himself with the rest of the network has created his entire identity and Ryouken had little to no say in it. Despite closely following the orders, part of Ryouken still rebelled since he wanted to uncover Playmaker’s identity and the fact that he managed to do it behind his father’s back proves that he wasn’t completely loyal to his father. He always had that tiny bit of conscience that made him report the Lost Incident and learn about the victims. After his father’s death he both felt free and lost, so it was a good thing he took some time off to clear his thoughts. He had time to learn everything about the victims and the case of Windy’s child was likely one of the many reasons he decided to outright eliminate all Ignis. And once that was done, the only thing he was left with were sins of his father. He was even ready to surrender himself to authorities and go to jail if that would help Takeru and other victims to move on. They settled this with a duel and when Ryouken lost, his helmet broke, symbolically freeing him from his burden. Takeru didn’t want him to go to jail for crimes he didn’t commit and rather wanted him to be a rightful Knight of Hanoi – the one who protects network and others so Lost Incident may never happen again.

1) Ai means »to love people«

Yu-Gi-Oh! series tend to give their characters rather meaningful names, like how Yugi means “game”, how Yugi’s and Juninchi’s first two letters form a word “friendship” and even in SEVENS, Yuga Oudo translates to “seventh road” which symbolizes Yuga’s wish to invent things for better future. The second Yusaku named Ai, I knew his name will be important part of the story. I already knew Ai means “love” and considering how much emphasis’ series put on relationship between protagonist and his partner, I assumed it will be important someday. VRAINS told a story of an AI who was torn from his world and friends and ripped apart, driven by revenge and goal to get back. In order to achieve his goal, he manipulated a traumatized boy into becoming a weapon he needed, successfully using him until the very end. What he did not expect is that the person he carefully moulded into a tool for his plans would become his closest friend so when he was slowly fading away in Yusaku’s arms and heard what his name meant… that’s when it hit hard in the feels. Ai was an AI with free will, born from the pain and misery that Yusaku had to endure for long months. He was programmed to think freely and yet the fate has drawn him back to his origin, slowly understanding just how much he needs Yusaku and how much Yusaku needs him. Even though there was a way for them to be together, he understood the pain Yusaku has been feeling his entire life, the pain of being used and knowing Yusaku cared about him to the point of protecting him with his life, it was clear there was only one other way. Not wanting to hurt him anymore, Ai sacrificed himself for his partner and once he learned the meaning of his name, he faded away with smile.

What he did was the ultimate act of love for his partner.

#yugioh vrains #vrains #yusaku fujiki #ai vrains #Revolver #kusanagi shoichi

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treatian · 3 years

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The Chronicles of the Dark One: Magical Loopholes

Chapter 40: Magic Over Science

It had been a very long night. But a productive night. For the longest time, he'd felt like looking into the curse at the town line was headache-inducing. For every answer he developed, two more questions followed. But finally, he was beginning to feel like he was on top of it, narrowing down the magic that was there, getting something accomplished. He might not feel like he was out of the woods yet with it, but he felt like he was getting somewhere. Of course, having a solid, completed potion at morning's first light helped that feeling.

During one particular experiment last night, he'd found a hint of magic in his samples of the curse that didn't belong, something weak. In exploring it a little more, he realized it was magic borne of the previous barrier, the one that kept people from leaving Storybrooke. Though he was committed to getting himself out to see Baelfire, he was also committed to keeping Belle safe. If that meant protecting the rest of the town just to protect her, then that was what he was going to do. Besides, what he'd had in mind was so easy that not doing it seemed foolish.

A few hours later, just as the sun came up, he'd completed his project. It was sealed inside a tiny glass vial but still not complete. Once it was done, when it was time, it would act as a barrier again, but this time in reverse. Once he returned with Baelfire, he could activate it, and it would form a seal around Storybrooke, keeping the outside world safely away from the town. It would be a precaution, just something for a little extra safety. However, the spell wasn't done yet.

The magic that he'd found inside the curse would work, but it was weak. It would need a powerful dose of magic before it was ready to protect the entire town, magic that he couldn't provide. It needed Light Magic. The Dark Curse had been made of Dark Magic to keep them in their cage. This had to be made of Light Magic to reverse it and keep others out. Fortunately, he had a plan for that.

David had mentioned when they'd gone to find Belle that they'd been working with Fairy Dust in the mines. Dove had informed him that the word on the street was that he was doing it so that he might open up a portal to get Emma and Mary Margaret back; as if that had any chance of working. Still, no matter the reasons, he knew the mines traveled throughout the entire town; if and when they found fairy dust there, that would do the trick. It was a small vial, but when willed properly, the potion would work with the fairy magic to spread it throughout the town and create the border. When the time was right…

He wrote out his notes on a small scroll so he wouldn't forget, then rolled the small potion up in it and slipped it into his black bag for safekeeping just as the sun came up. He used magic to take himself home so that he could shower and change clothes, before using magic to return to the pawnshop, glance over into the library to make sure nothing looked amiss, and then get down to work. After the night he'd had, he was happy to do some ordinary things in his shop: polishing, appraising, tinkering. It was nice to let his mind go blank for a few hours. In a perfect world, he'd be sharing this time with Belle, but until she decided the time was right, until she was ready to tell him that she wanted him back in her life for that hamburger, then he'd continue to keep his distance and watch from afar.

It was late afternoon when he finally sent out his usual check-in with Dove. Yesterday he'd concluded his time of spying on Smee. He'd brought him a list of places he'd gone to, the people he'd seen, and on occasion provided a picture for him. None of them were the wretched pirate. That, combined with his experiments the previous night, convinced him…he'd told the truth, Hook was not in this realm. Small favors, he supposed. But that didn't mean he was willing to let Dove go so easily. It was a small town, but he knew that it was bigger than it seemed. He wanted him for his eyes and ears out there, and that was why he'd sent him a message this afternoon.

Anything I should know about, Mr. Dove?

He expected silence or a snide remark. Instead, to his shock, he received a relevant update.

Not that I know of. Sounds like Dr. Whale and the Mayor are just settling an old score of some kind.

Well, that was a unique update indeed. And sent with such reassurance that it sounded like he thought he knew what he was talking about. If that were the case, it must have been all over town. If he needed to eat, or this had been before the Curse, he might have gone to Granny's and heard something, but he'd been camping out in his shop for days with little interaction with others. He didn't know anything of what he'd just sent him. So, he responded to the message.

Oh, how so?

He waited a solid five minutes for the answer, and when it came, he didn't think there was a way he could have prepared for it.

Turns out the guy is Dr. Frankenstein, like, the one from our memories. He resurrected one of the Mayor's old ex's using some kind of stolen magical heart from the cemetery. Things went very wrong for a while, but it sounds like everything is under control. She handled it, killed the guy again, or something like that. Anything else?

He smirked, practically hearing the snide remark that he'd been expecting in his head, already prepared with an answer.

Rent's due today. I'll assume you are doing your part.

There was no reply to that, but he was fine with that. Dove had given him other things to think about.

Frankenstein had resurrected Regina's "ex"? Daniel? With a magical heart from a cemetery? Well, he couldn't exactly see Regina willing to agree to such a thing given what had occurred the last time he'd "attempted" to resurrect Daniel; at least she shouldn't be if he'd done his job properly. But then why would Whale involve himself without request? What would make him want to do that? And a heart from the cemetery…well, now he knew for sure, Regina was keeping her magic in the cemetery, probably in that mausoleum that she kept her father in. There was a good chance that was also where she'd kept Daniel. But still, steal him of his own free will for no reason? It made not a single lick of sense.

The bell to shop rang. He nearly shivered when he looked up to see Whale, formerly known as Dr. Frankenstein, standing there. It was nothing specific that set a chill down his spine but rather a realization. The doctor had never been in this shop before. They'd never come face to face in Storybrooke before, never had the need to. But the image of Whale here now…it was familiar. What he was wearing, the box he was carrying, the pale look on his face, even the fucking light spilling into the shop, he'd seen all of it before! In a vision he'd had just before he'd sent Jefferson back with the Doctor to his own world. They'd argued, quarreled over whether magic or science was the greater power. Obviously, he'd been on the side of magic and the doctor on the side of science. But the vision had told him that someday a time would come with the Doctor would change his opinion and eat his words. Today was the day.

He put down his work and met Whale at one of the tables where he promptly set the box, a cooler, on the table and opened the lid. He had a strong stomach, but he didn't think that even a vision would have properly prepared him for the left arm sitting upon ice still dressed up in a white sleeve. He glanced up at the doctor and noted that his left hand wasn't sticking out of his sleeve as the right one was. He collected himself and glanced up at the doctor.

"When they say I charge an arm and a leg, that's meant as a figure of speech."

"Put it back."

"You want me to reattach your arm?" he questioned.

"Can you do it?"

"Of course," he answered. So…this was what would bring the doctor back to him after all these years? This was what he was willing to trade his opinion for. He had a bum leg, he couldn't blame him for wanting his arm back, but he wasn't about to forget what had happened before. "But first, tell me why."

"Because I want to use it again."

"Obviously," he chuckled, but not exactly what he was talking about. He wanted to hear the words. But seeing as how his Dove was only sending him the bare minimum of information these days, he also wanted answers. "I meant, why bring that stable boy back from the dead? Why now?"

Whale sighed and looked away. He shifted his weight and winced as he stared at the ground avoiding his gaze, classic indications of guilt. No matter why he'd done it, he obviously felt it hadn't been worth it in the end. "I thought…" he finally choked out. "I thought that if I helped her, she would return me to my world. I want to see my brother–to try to bring him back again."

"Again?" he prompted with genuine curiosity. The last time he'd seen Whale, he'd sent him back to his world with a magical heart, but that was where the story ended for him. He'd had no need of him after he'd succeeded with Regina. He'd never asked Jefferson again what had become of him. And so now he waited in eager anticipation of the story he didn't know.

Whale paused, sorrow written on his face. "The first time ended badly," he answered. "I need to return and try it once more."

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. He almost felt bad for the moron. His explanation made sense, but he'd made some great assumptions before acting that were his downfall. It was a piss poor plan. There was no returning to the other world, not without destroying this one, and considering that would mean leaving Henry behind, he really doubted that would happen just to return Whale to his brother. And really, there was nothing to be done. He'd provided the heart, the best heart that he had. If it "hadn't ended well," then there was really nothing else to be done that could change that from happening again.

"Well, it seems that's rather beyond her abilities," he informed him with a false smile. "My condolences."

Whale didn't particularly look surprised at the news. He merely nodded and peered down into the cooler. "Now, my arm. You said you can do it," he whispered.

"Oh, yes. But there's a difference between can and will," he smiled.

"Name your price."

"Say it," he ordered.

"Say what?" he asked innocently enough. Oh, how quickly they "forgot."

"You know what," he argued back. "You came here, not the hospital. So, say it."

Oh yes, he knew. The Doctor knew what he wanted and didn't want it. He enjoyed it, watching him twist and flail and sneer as they stood there before he violently shrugged his jacket off and revealed what the creature he'd made was truly capable of. His sleeve was torn off, soaked with blood on one side, but still, he glared at him as he took a deep breath and finally said, "I need magic."

And there it was, the line he'd heard all those years ago. The shiver he felt now was from complete and utter satisfaction. It was worth it to finally win that argument.

"That's all I needed to hear," he stated before waving his hand over to the one in the cooler. The magic barely took a thought, and the arm was back on the Questionable Doctor's shoulder as it should have been. He raised his hand in front of him and stared at it, completely amazed. But he didn't have time for amazed. He didn't have the patience for it. So, he extended his hand across the useless cooler toward the Doctor. "Always a pleasure doing business with you, uh, Victor," he beamed like the salesman he was.

The doctor reached out and shook his hand. Finally, their deal was complete.

#Rumbelle #Rumple #Rumpelstiltskin #Dark One #Mr. Gold #Frankenstein #Dr. Whale #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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kikovalkiko · 4 years

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Toxic II (Modern!Ivar X Reader)

A/N: Hi! I never thought there would be anyone that would seriously read the first part! Thank you so much for that and the feedback I got. That means a lot to me! This part is a bit longer than the last. I hope you enjoy! Let me know your thoughts!

Warnings: Mafia, spying, angst, talking about death, a soft Ivar

Words: 2k

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gif is not mine

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POV Y/N:

The hot smoke of my cigarette filled my lungs as I inhaled while the cold morning breeze embraced me. I was standing on my balcony of my apartment. Thoughts still all over the place from the night before. As I watched the sunrise do it’s thing my phone started buzzing.

Did it work?

Aethelwulf. He held me hostage when my family got killed. He told me it was for a greater purpose. I guess this shithole is what he ment. I didn’t had a choice.

I tried to ignore the message and put my phone away. My phone started buzzing again.

Meet me at 9 pm at the bar Odin’s Cave.

Even though it was an unknown number I knew it was Ivar. My heart dropped at the thought that he might know about me and Aethelwulf. I immediately started panicking and lit another cigarette to cool myself down but it didn’t really helped.

As I finished my cigarette and ignored the non stop buzzing on my phone, my doorbell started ringing. I got up and went to open. Aethelwulf.

“A little bird told me that you got invited to a little meeting tonight. Let’s get you ready”, Aethelwulf said. His bodyguards stepped in front of him and grabbed me on each side of my arm, leading me downstairs.

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POV Ivar:

I sat there in my office looking at the file my contact man did for me. Her face is so marvellous. I tried to remember every detail he found of her. Her birthday. Her education. Her hobbies. And most importantly her disappearance after the death of her whole family.

The door on my office opened. Hvitserk came in and told me that the driver is downstairs to bring us to the bar. We went down and we set off.

Half an hour later she came into the bar. Hvitserk and I sat in the darkest corner to prevent people hearing what we had to discuss. She looked so wonderful but so frightened. I could see her nervously looking for whoever sent her that message this morning. I could feel her heart stop when her eyes locked in with mine. I gestured her to sit in front of us and her movements followed as if she was in trance. Her eyes never leaving mine.

“I knew you would follow my friendly invitation”, I said when she sat down.

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POV Y/N:

I felt like I was frozen. His words hitting me like little knives.

“Guess, I didn’t have a choice, did I?” My hands were cold but sweating.

“Do you want something to drink?”, Hvitserk asked and I immediately felt more comfortable. He sure is a player but he is lovely. Unlike Ivar.

“Yes, an irish whiskey please.”

Hvitserk went to the bar to get the drinks. Ivar and I just sat there in silence. His eyes never left me. How can someone be so intimidating?

Hvitserk returned with the drinks and I took a sip right away, hoping that would loosen my body. I looked up at them and both of them kept staring at me.

“So, why did you order me here?”, I spoke softly, trying to break this loud silence. Ivar smirked.

“I wanted to show you how powerful I am and that you don’t even have to think about lying to me”, he almost whispered. “I know everything about you, Y/N.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. I felt my body tense up.

“Your father was the best man of Ecbert, right?” I nodded, scared of what will follow. “But Ecbert got your family killed after Ecbert found out that your parents wanted to overthrow his reign.” Ivar’s eyes turned dark and I knew that this would not end well.

“Y/N, can you explain to me how you had to watch everyone in your family die when you weren’t even in your village at that time?” My heart dropped. He knew and I already said goodbye to my life in my head.

“How come you tell us lies?”

“I- I didn’t- It’s not what it looks like. I swear.” I tried to form words to get me out of this shitty situation. I knew I was fucked either way.

Hvitserk chuckled and playfully hit his brother. “Maybe we should show her what happens when you lie to us.” Ivar looked back at him and started smiling brightly.

“No, please.” I whimpered. I noticed a napkin in front of Ivar and took it. Thank god I always have a pen in my purse, which I took out. The brothers looked at me confused.

I started to make up a story while I wrote something completely different on the napkin.

Aethelwulf took me hostage and wants me to spy on you. He put a tape recorder on me for this meeting with you. He and his spies are sitting in front of the bar in a black car. I want to help you!

As I continued telling that made-up story I turned the napkin to them. They read it and immediately checked what I wanted to tell them. They looked up at me and I pulled the top of my blouse apart to where you could see the cables. I continued putting my hair behind my ear so they could see the earpiece they put on me. Hoping no one except them sees it.

“And that’s how I watched everything even though I was on the other side if the country. They filmed everything.” I ended my story like that.

Hvitserk and Ivar looked at each other. I could tell they believed me.

“Y/N, why don’t you tell us everything you know about Aethelwulf back at our place?”, Hvitserk asked and Ivar looked at me nodding. I knew they wanted to help me.

“Tell them yes. Go with them”, Aethelwulf told me through the earpiece. I slowly pointed to my ear, trying to tell them Aethelwulf said something.

“Yeah, sure. I’d love to.”

____________

POV Ivar:

As we arrived at our mansion I got my bodyguards to watch out for any spies. I really wanted to help Y/N break away from Aethelwulf.

We sat in the kitchen of our home and talked. I placed a notebook and a pencil in front of her and wrote out a question while Hvitserk told some stories about our childhood to show Aethelwulf that we trusted her.

Do you need anything from your apartment? We can send some of our men.

Hvitserk continued to talk about how father played with us in the garden.

I got a bag already packed for this. It’s in my bedroom inside my closet. I prepared everything days ago.

“Do you remember that, Ivar? That used to be so fun.” - “Oh yes, I always felt like a normal child with him”, I answered to keep anyone on the other side of Y/N’s earpiece from getting suspicious.

I read the answer Y/N wrote down, looked up at her and nodded.

“If you excuse me for a second, please. I’ve gotta go to the bathroom”, I said while standing up. Hvitserk and Y/N nodded and kept a conversation rolling.

I went to Ubbe’s room and told him everything. “Go to the isolation room in the basement. There are jammer inside the wall. The connection to her devices will get lost. Then you can take them off and destroy them. I’ll get Hvitserk and go get her stuff”, Ubbe always had the best ideas. We went back as fast as possible.

“Hey Hvitserk, would you mind come with me? I want to get some snacks for us and our lovely guest.” - “Yes sure, see y’all soon.” Hvitserk and Ubbe went outside to the car.

I looked at Y/N and she was playing with her hands on her lap. I could tell she was scared. Her eyes started tearing up, so I took her hand. She startled at my touch.

“Y/N, would you like a tour through the mansion?” She nodded and quietly affirmed.

I showed her a few rooms before heading in the basement. I tried to calm her and showing that everything will be fine. She never let go of my hand.

“And this is our playroom. We have a pool table and…”

____________

POV Y/N:

As soon as Ivar opened the door to the playroom, besides where no pool table was, white noise came out of my earpiece and I couldn’t hear Aethelwulf.

“Can you still hear him?” I shook my head in response. “Good. This is our isolation room. There are jammers in the walls. Every digital connection is now cut off.” Ivar came closer to me. “You can now take them off.”

My eyes started watering in relief. “Thank you”, I sobbed and hugged Ivar. He clearly was shocked but I didn’t care.

Ivar turned around so I could start taking off my clothes. Then we could get rid off the devices. As I stood there only in my lace underwear Ivar turned around without warning.

“That is a very delightful view”, Ivar chuckled when I gasped in shock.

“Sorry. Here take my hoodie.” He took his black hoodie over his shoulders and I felt somewhat disappointed when I saw a T-Shirt still covering his body.

“Wanted to see something else?”, Ivar asked. Shit, I guess, he caught me looking. “No, I- I didn’t.” I looked away trying to seem unbothered.

“You can stay in my room, I got a big bed. Or you can stay in our guest room.” Is he telling me he wants me to stay with him?

“I think I’ll stay in the guestroom.” - “Alright. Let’s get rid of these, shall we?”

-2 hours later-

Everything went well. We destroyed the devices and Ubbe and Hvitserk got my bag and even some more stuff from my apartment.

I layed in bed in the guestroom trying to sleep but I had too much on my mind. I had an own bathroom like every bedroom here. Ivar’s room was across from mine. To clear my mind I decided to jump under the shower, that always helps me.

When I got out of the shower I could feel myself getting more relaxed. I wrapped a towel around my body and started brushing my teeth and hair. I looked in the mirror. Now it’s time to finally get some sleep.

“Hello, love”, Ivar sat on top of my bed waiting for me.

“Gods, Ivar. You scared me.” - “I’m sorry”, he chuckled. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Only ‘dressed’ in my towel I sat next to him. “Yeah, I am. Thank you for helping me. You have no idea for how long he made me his dog.” He smiled at me. Although he is said to be the the most dangerous man in Denmark and possibly in Europe, he is so soft. i never thought that about him until now. I could feel myself get lost in those eyes.

“I really want to kiss you right now, Y/N”, he whispered. My heart started beating fast and I didn’t know how to respond.

Ivar put his hand on my cheek. “You are so beautiful”, he continued. His hand wandered from my cheek to the back of my head. His touch felt like fire crawling along my skin.

“Can I kiss you?”, he asked, still whispering. I couldn’t make up words but my body made my head nod.

He pulled my head closer to his but stopped right before his face and put his other hand on the other side of my nape of my neck. I could feel him breathing out on my face. The air tensed up immediately.

“I wanted to do this since I saw you in that tight black dress at the club last night.” Without losing anymore time his lips crushed hungrily on mine.

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius Let me know if you want to be tagged :-)

#ivar the boneless #ivar #ivar ragnarsson #ivar x reader #ivar fan fic #ivar imagine #vikings imagine #vikings #ubbe #hvitserk #alex hogh #alex hogh andersen #imagine

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snarky-badger · 4 years

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So I wrote a thing...

I don’t know where this came from, I really don’t. I’m behind on SPN by like, three seasons but I saw the clip of Cas saying bye to Dean and this clawed it’s way out of my brain jar. I... *eyes ficlet* apologize?

@praise-kink-anon read it and said it was good enough to post, so here it is.

This is a one shot. I have ZERO drive to continue this. This is all that came to me and I’m not going to write more. So enjoy and if someone wants to write something based on this, go ahead.

_____________________________________________________________

Is This The End?

(Destiel, Demon!Venom Symbiote, Castiel, Dean Winchester)

I knew as I spoke, as I watched his face, his expressions, that he didn't feel the same as I did. Dean loved me, yes, but as a brother, as family, which, yes, that was wonderful, so wonderful, but my love for him had changed over the years. Grown and shifted and evolved.

At first, I'd thought him arrogant, cold and harsh and bloodthirsty, ready to do anything and become anything to fight the darkness of the world and the inherent darkness that the human spirit can have. But as I stayed, as I watched and protected and slowly became an integral part of his life, I learned. I learned that he loved Sam with the brilliance of the sun, that even small things, like pie or a good beer, would bring about rare, true, smiles from him.

I learned that he carried every failure and loss on his shoulders as if it was his duty to forever mourn those he had lost, even if they had been brief friends or allies. And Sam. Dean would do anything to protect his little brother. Had done everything to protect him. Things from the darkness, from Hell and beyond, had tried to rip them apart, and all had failed.

And now... Now I suppose, as I stand here, bearing my soul, I realize that despite my wish for him to be free of the burdens he carries, my death will become another weight upon his shoulders, it will become another heavy stone that will threaten to erode his spirit and tear at his soul and convictions. I hope Sam will be able to help him, though I am aware that my death will hurt Sam as well. Perhaps just as much, though for different reasons.

Angels... We rarely stray. I am an outcast, I know this. I allowed these humans, these Winchester Brothers, to inexorably change me, down to the fibre of my being. I came to understand them better than any other, even God, apparently. My own Father didn't even understand me, but Dean, I believe, I hope--

No. Hope has no place here. Despite my desire that this be a happy event, that this is not a goodbye - a goodbye that is so much more permanent than Hell, for I know that no Angel will come to pull me from this darkest of perdition's -this is the end.

Dean doesn't seem to understand, or if he does, he clings to denial. I know what I must do, I know that this is something that has been a long time coming, chasing at my coat tails for years. But it doesn't matter to me if he doesn't love me as I love him, all it matters is that I had the chance to tell him, to let him know that I cherished him most.

I hate having to shove him aside, leaving a hand print on his jacket, a copy of the scar he carries on his shoulder from when I ripped him out of Hell all those years ago. But I know him. He'd only try to protect me, and in this, I know he mustn't. Losing him... it would break me. And I would rather let the Empty destroy what I am than watch him die.

Death barges through the door at the same time that the Empty embraces me. The coldness of the touch burns me to my soul, and I close my eyes, allowing myself to be taken. If it means that he continues to live, I will gladly give myself up.

I am pulled into darkness. Fire, greater than anything Hell has ever stoked turns my wings to ashes, every feather catching light as I plummet. My tears evaporate as my skin scalds, and even though my eyes as closed I can see the fire far below rushing towards me. Death, or at least it's personification, shrieks to my left, trying to fight, to use whatever power she has to break free, but I know it's impossible.

The darkness enfolds her, squeezes tight, and then she is gone. I continue to fall into the flames, until I hit a rocky, sharp, bottom. The air is ash, the sky roiling flames. Blackness, like living oil, undulates around me, circling me, but I am too weak and too tired to fight. Would there be any point? I accepted my Fate.

A part of it lunges at me, and I instinctively try to wrap my wings around myself to protect myself - futile, the pinions are gone, feathers soot, the bones charred and shattered.

Coldness, so cold, like what I think liquid nitrogen must feel like, envelops me. Evil, it's evil, the purest form, darker than any demon. It slides into my flesh, into every cut and burn, coiling inside me, like a sickness, like a poison. The Empty inspects me from the inside out, it's thoughts - dear God, it can think - slick and viscous, like tar, invading my mind.

And then, to my horror, it speaks, it's voice rumbling through my being, it's hunger for the heavenly light that is my soul evident.

Hello, Little Angel. What a delicious morsel you are. It chuckles and I shudder in revulsion, tears cleaning trails down my soot covered face as it slicks it's mind though my memories, it's yearning for the Earthen plane evident.

"What--- What are you?"

It laughs again I? I am Venom. And you... You, are mine. And together, we will find a way to be free, and then... then Little Angel, you and I, will feast.

#snarky is writing #destiel #supernatural #spn #dean winchester #castiel #Venom symbiote #demon!venom #one shot #ficlet #fanfiction

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

The Softest Fire (Part 26)

Prompt: Rosaline Vaughan had it all: fame, money, power, glory, a high status job. Until, one day, she woke up, and realized something was missing from her life.

Word Count: 2988

Warnings: dealing with animals(??)

Notes: First Fantastic Beast fic! I could NOT have done this at all without @arrow-guy. They have created a counterpart to this fic, writing it from Nora Vaughan’s perspective (Rosaline’s cousin/adopted sister). Fic aesthetic done by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo.

I had sent a floo message to Dumbledore, telling him I would be in later that day. I had some business to attend to. I stormed into the Ministry, going to Leta’s desk. When I found it empty, I turned to the person beside her desk, sitting in their own space.

“Do you know where Ms. Lestrange has gone to?” I inquired.

“Um, no, Ms. Vaughan,” he answered, seeming a bit skittish. “Oh, I think she went to a bookstore, in Diagon Alley.”

“Thank you.”

I made my way over to Diagon Alley, and on the first bookstore I encountered, I saw Leta Lestrange through the window, near the cash register. I used a non-verbal spell to slam the doors open to the bookstore, causing everyone in it to look at me. Leta looked up, wondering what the sudden noise was.

Everyone else in the bookshop seemed to curl in on themselves as my face held nothing but a beautiful rage. I walked over to her, my eyes burning with rage.

“ Five minutes. It took you all of five minutes to show your face here and like a storm, you’ve destroyed every relationship in your path. You must be rather proud of yourself. New record, I supposed.” I scowled at her as I stared into her eyes.

Leta shook her head and gave a bit of a smile. ‘I didn't commit a crime. I came back to my fiance."

With venom in my voice, I responded, "But he's not your fiance, anymore. He hasn't been for quite sometime and it's characteristically selfish of you to assume the world stopped because you were gone."

“Me, selfish? What about that cousin of yours? She flirted with a man who was to be engaged. She seduced a grieving man, and what more? She’s gone off and made everyone worry for her. People assumed I was dead. I’m the one back from the dead and yet no one seems concerned with me. Tell me, Rosaline, which of us sounds more selfish? The one who turned up after being dead, or the one who ran off like a child because she couldn’t get what she wants?”

I smirked. "This is eating you alive... isn't it?"

Leta’s eyes shifted away as she tried to gather her books. She responded, "I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

"You can't stand the fact that someone good is getting care, love, attention. That people are worried for her. That we have people all over the globe looking for her. And you no longer demand that kind of attention. No one cares where you were or where you are, now that you're back." I shook my head, a bit of a laugh escaping it. “Leta Lestrange gives up her life for the greater good, and the world is still turning.... imagine that..." I tsked and she seemed ready to cry, or hit me. "You no longer have the love and attention of Theseus. You don't get the anger that you want from me, or the devotion you've come to expect from Newt. You didn't know Nora. You still don't, and you never will, and that's exactly why you could never understand why Theseus is so worried. Why anyone could be more concerned with where she is than you reappearing. Simply put, she matters to us. To him. You don't. Not anymore, at least."

“I return home, after being presumed dead for a year, and instead of being met with open arms and warm smiles, I’ve been met with nothing but hostility and indifference. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe there’s a reason for that? And the reason is you?” I asked coldly. “Stay out of our lives. Theseus doesn't want you, Newt doesn’t want you, and I certainly don’t want you. Consider this the friendliest warning you can receive before it’s officially a threat.”

“You don't have any power any more, you can't bully me into doing what you want, Rosaline."

I took a step closer to her, narrowing my gaze at her, getting incredibly close to her face. “Don’t I? I have friends at MACUSA. I have friends at the Ministry. I am dating Theseus’s brother. and I was engaged to Grindelwald for a while and I've kept some of his secrets - I have allies all over the globe, in all sorts of pockets, with all levels of power...do...not...test me,” I challenged, malice in my voice before turning and exiting the shop briskly.

--------------------------

I went back to Hogwarts that night and checked in with my contacts all over the globe, no one had any news. I don’t think I’d ever felt more frustration in my life than at that moment in time. I kept up with the potions and spells to try and locate her the rest of the week, but nothing helped. Nothing happened.

Newt retrieved me Friday evening and took me back to his flat. We had dinner at a restaurant, then we returned back to his flat and he bid me goodnight, telling me the guest room was set up. I thanked him and went to work.

I began working on a new potion, having access to different potions here and ingredients.

It was well past 1 am when Newt came down the stairs in his night clothes. “Rosaline?” he called, rubbing his eyes. “Rosaline, it’s nearly two in the morning? What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

“Trying to find Nora,” I informed, as if it were obvious.

"You know you don't have to run yourself ragged to find her. You can do it. You always do," he encouraged but his words only sent anger through me.

“Really? Because i haven't found her yet, so what do you know?" I muttered in response, snapping at him. I sighed, dropping my ingredients and leaning against the counter in his kitchen. “I’m so sorry, Newt. I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with myself. I’ve never… I can do anything. You know this. And I can’t simply find my own sister. Not through tracking, not through intuition, not through magic. Not to mention, Dumbledore gave me this bloodpact to break and I haven’t made a dent in it. I’m a failure and I’m not used to that, but I shouldn’t take it out on you. I’m sorry. I'm just worried, and nothing is working. How can nothing be working? What if she's hurt? What if Grindelwald has found her? What if he tries to hurt her or use her to get to me?" I shook my head. “This isn’t about me though. I just don’t want her to be hurt somewhere. She hasn’t reached out to any of us. She didn’t leave a note. I know she left because of Theseus and Leta, but what if… while she was alone, something happened?”

“Nothing’s happened. Nora is a strong woman. Perhaps nothing is working because Nora skillfully hid herself from us and she doesn't want to be found?”

I bobbed my head as he came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders, squeezing them.

“Here, sit,” he coaxed. “How about you make yourself a cup of tea. I’ll be right back.”

Weakly, I nodded before putting on the kettle and sitting down, rubbing my forehead. I made a cup of tea, and just as I was about to sip it, Newt came up the stairs from down in the creatures’ basement.

“What’s that? A charm to make me the best tracker in the world?” I asked, a bit bemused and exhausted.

He frowned, tilting his head to the side, indicating that’s not what it was. “This...is a boggart,” he said, his hands holding a small box like a jewelry box. “I think… we may need to revisit what your biggest fear is.”

My brows came together in confusion. “Why? What will that help? It’s still time, and we’re running out of it by not--”

Newt put the box on the table, reaching over and taking my hands in his. “I think we should take a look,” he urged. “Please?”

I smiled at him, a bit resentful that he could get me to do anything with a simple request. “Very well.”

He opened the box and the boggart swirled out, nearly faster than I could see. I braced, expecting to see Grindelwald, Nora hurt or worse, the hour glass, a clock -- but none of those things appeared.

Instead, in front of me stood -- myself.

A mirror image stood before me and I frowned, turning to Newt.

“I… I don’t understand. This is a boggart, is it not?”

“It is,” he affirmed, stepping forward. “Rosaline, your biggest fear is you. You’re afraid you're not strong enough or good enough. You’re afraid you’ll disappoint yourself. You’re afraid you’ll turn into the darkness that Grindelwald made you while he had you.”

A tear slipped down my cheek and I wiped it away quickly.

“How did you know? I didn't even know,” I asked, perplexed.

He said a quick spell and the boggart was back in the box, sealed tight. He let his wand fall into the pocket of his pants. “Because I’ve known you for nearly all of our lives. Is it that surprising that I’d know what it looks like when you’re so obviously loathing yourself? We shared the Hufflepuff common room for seven years. You were practically my assigned shadow for over a year. We’ve worked side by side for five years. I’ve befriended your sister in the time we weren’t working together. I spent months searching for you, and we have been romantically involved for months. It is not a stretch to say that I know you, and I know you very well.” He coaxed me to sit down at the table. “Rosaline, I love you, and I care for Nora. We will find her, but nearly killing yourself to find her will not do it. Nora wouldn’t want this. She left with a sound mind. I’m not saying to stop looking for her, but is it possible we could take a break? Or even ask for other help? Perhaps have Dumbledore look?”

I nodded. “Yes. I don’t suppose it would hurt to take it a bit slower. I’m not used to anyone if I burn out. I just…” I bit my lip, never having admitted this to anyone. “My power is all I have, I don’t have any other redeeming qualities, so if I’m not the best spell caster or smartest one in the room, what can I possibly bring to the table?” I shook my head before my face fell into my hands, tears flowing freely now. I hadn’t cried in a long time. Not since I woke up from Grindelwald’s curse and before that, I was a young girl. “You’re so kind, intelligent, patient, hardworking, and just… everything Newt. Nora is witty, charming, sweet, always protective, business savvy, strong, independent. So I worry that whenever I run into something I can't handle, something I can’t do, I start to lose the little bit I bring to your life.”

He began to shush me. “Rosaline,” he started, his face and voice gentle, “do you really think I’m that shallow?”

“No, but--”

“But nothing. Rosaline, I don’t love you for the magic you can perform. Yes, it’s nice and i’m proud of you whenever you use it to help free an animal or heal a creature. But you’re so much more than just your magic abilities. You’re the woman who stepped away from a position that could be susceptible to corruption because you didn’t want to turn out that way. You gave up fame, fortune, and glory just to come work with me because you said my work was meaningful. My work as a measly little magizoologist. You protected me from other students at Hogwarts who wanted to tease me. You have continually attacked my brother’s ex-fiance, albeit that isn’t the greatest thing, you did it to help your sister and protect my brother. For as long as I’ve known you, Rosaline, you do everything because you have a heart of gold. Your magic is just one small tool you use to help make those things a reality, it isn’t the whole picture, and it certainly isn’t why all those children at Hogwarts adore you, or why those professors all praised your potential. You are good. More importantly, you are good enough, especially for me.”

This time, happy tears poured out and I got up and hugged him, wrapping him so tightly I wasn’t sure either one of us could breathe.

---------------------

I returned to Hogwarts and decided to talk with Dumbledore again. I went to his office, knocking on the open door before stepping in. “Professor?” I greeted, walking up to him. He was seated at his desk, reading.

“Oh, hello, Rosaline. How are you?”

“Not too well since Nora is still missing. Have you heard anything?” I wondered.

He shook his head. “No, but I feel it’s not my place to get involved. Nora is a very headstrong and independent woman. She clearly left intentionally, so who am I to question that?”

I furrowed my brows at him. “She wasn't in the right state of mind. Leta turned up at Theseus’s doorstep and like all men, he had the good thought to say something stupid about it and she misunderstood, so she left.”

“Precisely. This all sounds like a lovers quarrel and I don’t feel inclined to interfere.”

I took a step forward, my hand going to my chest, balling a fist up over my heart. “My sister, while very adventurous and sometimes careless, has never just outright walked out on her life. Never. She didn’t even leave a note or sent word that she’s alright. I’m concerned about her, Albus. I’m asking for your help. Please. I’ve never asked for a thing from you except letters of recommendations.”

“I want to help, Rosaline, truly I do. But I just can’t permit myself to do that. I can maybe try a simple tracking spell but there are no guarantees. Bring me something of hers the next chance you get and I will get started on it.”

“Thank you,” I breathed out and he gave me a small smile and nod.

-----------------------------------------------

Nora had been missing for two months.

For two months, I’d used every ounce of energy and time to dedicate to finding her. Nothing was found though. I didn’t lose hope though, just sleep, and partial sanity. Newt and Theseus tried like maniacs to help.

My threat to Leta didn’t go unnoticed. Leta told theseus about it, but rather than lecture me or give me grief over the matter, he took the moment to explain to Leta that she did in fact cause issues for him. He told her that he loved Nora, had for quite some time, and Leta’s return didn’t change that.

I worried and worried every day, fearing the worst, wondering what happened to my beloved sister. I oftentimes wanted to scour the whole earth, but I couldn’t. Thoughts of her abduction ran in my head, but if they did abduct her, wouldn’t they reach out to me with the plans for a threat, or a trade? None of that had happened yet. I reinforced all the spells around my quarters at Hogwarts and Nora and my flat, just in case it was Grindelwald.

So logically, ultimately, I had to accept the tragic truth that Nora Vaughan just didn’t want anything to do with me, or the Scamander brothers, or even her own book shop.

Theseus had been missing now for a week as well. He went off in search of Nora. I, nor Newt, had any idea of his whereabouts. We had no idea if he’d found her by now or not. We simply had to keep working to try and find her too, and hope we could get word to Theseus.

After Newt and I went out for a bite to eat, he walked me to Nora’s flat, where I was still living. I touched the handle and it had alerted me, through a spell I put on it, that someone had entered the flat. I gave Newt a look of caution and pulled out my wand.

I unlocked the door silently and came up the steps as quietly as I could while Newt searched the downstairs. I went to my room first, thinking it was someone to get me. Pushing open the door, my wand at the ready, it revealed my normal, empty bedroom. I walked over to Nora’s room, holding my breath. I sincerely hoped that she was on the other side, but I didn’t put a lot of faith in it.

I clutched the handle, turned the knob,readied my wand, and pushed.

The sight surprised me.

But it was a happy, welcome surprise.

Nora and Theseus were curled around each other on her bed, her old blankets covering them. All of her things were back in their rightful place. My fear, anxiety, and worry melted away in an instant.

Newt was suddenly right behind me. “Did you find the intruder?” he asked.

“No intruder,” I whispered over my shoulder as I moved slightly so he could see as well. “They’re home.”

“Ah. It’s so good to see them,” he affirmed.

“Yes… it is.” I closed the door, letting them sleep. “But, that brings about a bigger matter,” I said.

“Oh?”

“Things seem to be moving quickly with Theseus and Nora. I think it’s time I stopped overstaying my welcome and moved into a new flat.”

“Right, yes, that… yes, that might be wise.”

“How would you feel about one that was closer to you?” I asked, both emboldened and slightly fearful of his response.

“I think that would be quite lovely, actually.”

I beamed at him. “I do too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#the softest fire #newt scamander x ofc #newt scamander x oc #newt scamander fic #newt scamander

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gcldenchild · 3 years

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let it be known that goldie is not okay by any stretch of the imagination.

as shown in the ask post, he has some serious mental health issues. his most pressing? his suicidal tendencies and thoughts. this covers how those came to be, and how they’ve affected him throughout his life.

to say that he’d always dealt with it is inaccurate, but it certainly has been persistent for a good portion of his life, even before the attempt at transmutation.

at first, it was only the thoughts. they were minor, of course. after his mom died and he and al were truly left orphaned, ed had wondered if it was because he existed that their dad left. hohenheim was crying in that one photo they had together, after all. it always stuck at the back of his mind, and thus began the fantasizing in order to somehow justify what had happened to him and his brother.

he grew a mild fascination with death. constantly envisioning what it would’ve been like if he’d never been born- or died before he could damage his parents relationship somehow- and how al would’ve lived afterwards.

how al would’ve felt having a normal family to take care of him for his whole childhood, instead of it being completely taken away when he was only four.

part of it stemmed from an inherent longing to see his mother again in some fashion, twisted into childlike fantasies where he’s the one to die first and watches on from whatever kind of heaven he’d go to, reunited when the rest of his family passed on. peacefully.

he didn’t want to deal with grief anymore, but he couldn’t deny his true reality. their mother was gone, their shithead father was nowhere to be seen, and the house was unbearably lonely. things began to get overwhelming. he’d begun to grow slightly delirious in his study of alchemy.

most of it is masked as enthusiasm. it becomes a subconscious habit to talk about alchemy with a fake sense of determination, in order to fool the people around him into believing he wasn’t losing his mind understanding the greater world of science ahead of him, with every single word he’d read swirling around in his brain as he attached it all to the fading face of his father.

yock island, though instilling a certain lesson, does intense damage to his psyche. it was the first time he’d started to grow uncomfortable with his own fascinations. at this point, it wasn’t his own life at stake- it was al’s, too. he’d already started losing it by studying things for days on end, but nearly starving to death with his brother really put things into perspective.

he learned the meaning of all is one and one is all, but the cost could not be justifiable. not when a pool of fear stirred in his gut constantly, him finally aware of the true nature behind all his “harmless” fantasies.

he tried to shut them out. to ignore them. and then izumi had to go and warn them to never commit the taboo of human transmutation.

something broke in ed the day he even suggested that they try to find a way to crack human transmutation. so much had grown. he’d barely been able to get up that morning. even still, he acted like everything was normal. like he wasn’t struggling to even stand, being crushed under the weight of his spiraling, pent up emotions and thoughts.

he just talks with al, and something in him just... breaks. completely. he can’t bear the weight of it all anymore, and he finally talks, from the darkest recesses of his soul.

“i think we could bring mom back.”

he wishes al could’ve known better. he regrets ever saying those words, ever pushing his brother to help him with it all, ever placing his hands on that transmutation circle.

for a brief moment, he feels like he dies. it’s almost satisfying, to him. and then he wakes up in the fucking gate, truth taking his leg as payment. and then- the fucking thing they brought to life, for the cost of al’s whole body and his leg. it spits blood, reaches out at him, and he has to literally resist the urge to retch and let himself bleed out.

he only continues for al. to get al back. al didn’t deserve this. he was only ten, damnit.

it gets worse. he screams during his automail surgery, ranting about anything he can think of, trying to keep himself breathing. trying to push through it all for alphonse. everything is boiling over, and he can’t handle it.

he slowly begins to develop anger as a protective shield. it’s the only way he’s able to shut everything in his head up. the only time it begins to boil over to a point he can’t control is when he can’t bring himself to be angry.

ed still cared for other people, no matter how much he tried to ignore it. he still does good things out of his own natural moral code. unfortunately, though, being that nice? it actively hurt him, because it lets the chaos spiraling in his stomach return. he’d barely be able to get up the next day without a solid thirty minutes of extra “sleep.”

his naps become ways for him to cope with the hellish cacophony. it’s just so much easier to yell and not acknowledge the fact that people want to help him, no matter how much he may need it.

when nina happens, the nightmare that follows- although not the first of its kind- is one of the only ones to render him inconsolable upon waking. he can’t just go back to sleep, but he can’t talk, either. he has to sit through it, with his heightened breath, the heavy feeling in his chest practically choking him the entire time.

he shuts people out. he shuts his own brother out. the normal facade serves its purpose well.

when scar almost kills him, he is pained to say that the conflict in his head is wildly disproportionate.

living for al’s sake is outclassed by the want to die.

it’s the first example of his thoughts breaking out from their prison. he was ready to accept death, above all else. and then al punches him for being stupid. with everything having already snapped, he can only respond as if he were a deer in headlights, unable to truly comprehend the situation.

things just get worse. and worse. and worse. he can’t cope with it all. his anger keeps exploding, trying to protect him from himself. to keep him from going through with some of those thoughts and just sacrificing himself to get his own brother’s body back, as if the world would be better off without him.

to an extent, he was convinced it would. he never acted upon it consciously, however.

ed would never make a direct attempt. he’d do stupidly self-sacrificial things sometimes, yes, but he’d never try to kill himself outright. he wouldn’t want al to see- al had already had enough death in his life, and ed didn’t want to burden him with both his own death and the fact he was his own murderer at once.

this doesn’t stop the fantasies from getting worse. though. nor does it stop him from looking at himself in the mirror, hallucinating both the feel and sight of choking himself. (not like that would be the only way, though, of course. he’d imagined so many, over and over, and they played in his head constantly.)

he thinks about it so, so much. al is the only thing to keep him grounded. his little brother is the only being that grounds him.

it doesn’t stop him from doing things to harm himself, though. when he’s alone, he finds himself knocking against the side of his own head hard or pulling on his hair to intentionally cause pain. his head becomes sensitive, but only because hes desperate to do anything to drown everything out.

one could even find scratch marks along his arm from when he gripped onto it too hard during one of his fits, paired with the tips of his automail having a sharper edge. he hates letting people see those, but at least they’re faint. he can play them off as simple wounds from getting into a fight. the bruises are a different story, but its not as if he cant make something else up to explain them.

he panics when people see through his facade, and retaliates with even worse anger. he goes on the attack like a caged animal because deep down, he WANTS help. it’s just hard for him to even receive it before he’s been completely, utterly broken for that day.

being separated from al is debilitating.

even though he knows that alphonse can handle himself, it still does not change the fact that he’s become unhealthily dependent on him. al is his entire reason for living, and being far from that tether eats away at what composure he has left.

when he’s impaled, he wasn’t even sure if what he was going to do would even work. to envision himself as a philosopher’s stone? he’d never had that sort of a handle on his own soul before.

as he’d seen with envy, though, the yelling of everything inside him, screaming to be let out perfectly matched the stones of the homunculi. ed saved his own life, only letting himself live for alphonse, wherever he may have gone.

the months of being separated are fucking torture.

or, at least, they are, for only a while. by the time he was in alenthaal, ed had grown ... unnaturally hopeless. even though he looked fine, almost everyone in town saw through his mask.

luitumi is the one to break him first.

“edward?” “yeah, whats up, luitumi?” “you don’t need to pretend anymore.”

he’s completely dumbfounded. she attacks him right at his core. naturally, he puts up his shield, trying to force her out. to get her away from his problems. and then she fucking takes his normal hand, squeezes it, and looks at him with those unwavering glass eyes, and he breaks.

it’s all let out at once. every thought swirling around manifests as panicked crying, yelling, whining- really, anything he can verbalize. he says “you don’t know anything,” and she shuts him up completely by saying “i wouldn’t be talking to you if i didn’t, edward.”

she doesn’t destroy his shield. she takes the other route of forcing him to put it down.

ed still doesn’t remember a lot from that day, other than the feeling of being hugged by multiple people at once. the entirety of team lazarus.

emotionally drained, he can barely get up the next day, too. but instead of suffering through it by himself, he can feel a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him through it.

he’d fallen asleep inside the living room, and lucaun and carson were waiting for him the next morning. luitumi was making food with yularosá, and cobalt was talking with heinkel and darius and greed.

it’s ... sickeningly domestic.

and yet, it wasn’t something he’d experienced since mom died. he hadn’t felt this familial safety since then, not even at the rockbell house. luitumi had broken down his walls in a single night, most likely fueled by whatever emotions charity had been able to pick up on, and now the rest of the people who could be considered “friends” in this fucking town are doing what they can to help.

talking with any of them about his feelings becomes mandatory. they don’t give him a choice, and for some reason, he can’t bring himself to fight it. the better part of him knows that he needs it.

at first, its twice a day. usually luitumi and lucaun handle it. cobalt and carson deal with his constantly presenting daddy issues, though. carson knew the feeling of growing up with a dad who didn’t love him (and, initially, no dad at all), and cobalt knew the feeling of fucking hating his own father.

his need for a parental figure slowly dies down. cobalt will never be a father to him, just like mustang, but he’s okay with that. cobalt doesn’t have any legal standing over him unlike the colonel, and he’s a lot more fucking comfortable with that.

cobalt doesnt have to pretend like he’s a father in any capacity for ed. what he does is out of his own heart, not because he sees ed as a ward.

at least, that’s what ed believes. and he likes it like that. people not pretending to be things they aren’t helps him shut away that one need.

it moves to once a day. he trails them a lot. his attachment issues come into presence, but they keep reminding him that its okay to need someone. slowly but surely, he’s able to deal with being left alone, though not for very long.

it moves to every other day. his thoughts are a lot less loud than he remembers them being.

it moves to only twice a week. the first time ed doesn’t artificially smile is for their christmas and new years celebrations, when luitumi drags him into the dancing circle with her. the whole thing reminds him of some of the celebrations they used to have in resembool in the summer. he says he’s not a good dancer, but luitumi doesn’t care. he lets her take the lead for the start, and just like everything else in his life, he learns fast.

he finally begins smiling, completely free of his thoughts for once. he actually has fun that isn’t tethered to everything he’s been building up for over these many years.

alenthaal becomes his safe place. “whats said in alenthaal, stays in alenthaal.” he genuinely believes it to be true.

when the promised day draws closer and closer, he promises to come back. it’s not just al he’s living for, anymore. he’s living for this town, too, full of people who make him feel safe.

when al sacrifices himself to bring his arm back, it sets ed back what feels like years. his anger returns, completely unstoppable, and his one focus is to kill father. and then greed dies.

it just gets worse. even with the bastard gone, his progress is still set back significantly.

he yells at hohenheim. calls him a rotten father. he didnt want to deal with any of that self sacrificial garbage, not because that was the man who left them, but because thats exactly what ed does.

he thinks. thinks so, so hard. finally, he draws out the circle, everything finally becoming clear.

he sacrifices his own alchemy. ed doesn’t need it anymore, not when it’s caused him and his brother so much pain.

he has the town of alenthaal. he has his friends. he has his family.

who needs alchemy, when he’s got them?

and he beats truth, in his own special way. al is brought back. even though they spend months in rehabilitation, ed’s head is so much clearer than its ever been.

he returns home resembool. everything was worth it.

when he visits alenthaal once again, luitumi’s changed. she’s permanently merged with charity as a result of the promised day. they become two extremes- a complete lack of any alchemy at all, and a newfound power that still has so much unknown alchemy to tap into. even still, they share that hug, ed having kept his promise to not die.

he does his best to be more open. alenthaal is his safe haven, but having more than one isn’t impossible.

in the time before he goes off to the west, he tries to open up, bit by bit. its hard. the thoughts aren’t gone, and he knows they never will be. he’ll still have times where he’s rendered useless by them all, but this time, winry and al are there to help.

his emotions are genuine. his smiles are genuine. he doesn’t have to fake anymore.

when decides to study alchemy in the west, he knows every possible risk. he continues, despite the danger, because this would be his way of coming to terms with what happened to hohenheim. he ties alchemy to him, and even in death, that doesn’t change.

his father is gone. his father was one of the greatest alchemists the world had seen.

so ed will just overcome him, even without being able to perform alchemy anymore. he’ll prove that he’s more than just his kid. he’ll make his dad proud, as much as he hates calling him by that name.

luitumi joins him on his journey. they ground eachother. neither will have to deal with their pain alone, not this time. ed knows suffering through it isn’t an option for him anymore.

the thoughts will return, once in a while.

ed no longer shuts them out at this point. he lets them be, allowing them to stir until the mental soup is done. until his head finally becomes clear.

#tw suicidal thoughts #cw suicidal thoughts #tw suicide mention #cw suicide mention #tw self harm #cw self harm #goldie is seriously fucked this is a general warning #post promised day hes a lot better but before it? he still needs consistent help. things still constantly overwhelm him.#even though he gets a lot better at dealing with it in alenthaal it still very much is all there.#this is also a uhhh super fucking long post HGDJHS #{|❂|} THE GOLDEN CHILD | edward.#{|❂|} HE WHO TRAVELS THE STARS | info.

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tvdversefanfiction · 3 years

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Origins of Magic

Warnings: I do not own the rights to the television series “The Originals”, “Vampire Diaries”, or “Legacies” and do not own any of the characters within the TVD universe, I am making no profit from this and have no intention for this fanfiction series except for readers to enjoy. 15+ Mild to Strong Violence, Strong Language, Witchcraft, sexual scenes, and sexual references. F/F, F/M, M/M, Other.

CHAPTER 8 HERE

Chapter 9 - The Fall of the Mikaelsons

Sapphire Black stormed into the Mikaelson compound, with her eldest son Magnus in tow, walking like she owned the very world, because once upon a time she did, as the mother and daughter broke up a clearly heated exchange between Henrik Mikaelson and his siblings Elijah, Kol and Rebekah, who were all stood by the fountain looking like they were ready to go to war with each other. “Henrik Mikaelson, I presume,” Sapphire greeted the youngest Mikaelson as she walked towards him, ignoring the existence of the others. “I hear you hold the power of the hollow within you…Inadu was a very special witch for her time, what she lacked in originality she sure made up for with that wickedly wretched werewolf curse.” “You’re Sapphire Black?” Henrik replied in shock, knowing exactly who the woman who now stood in front of him was. “You’re one of the original witches, the supreme witch of the Midnight Coven.” “What now?” Kol asked, chiming in on the two witches’ conversation. “Did you just say your last name was Black?” Rebekah asked the woman witch, realizing she was a relation of her former love Annabella.” “Yes, I believe you know my children Annabella, Kayne, and Primrose…well, I suppose it is you knew Kayne, now that I am a grieving mother.” Sapphire answered the original female vampire, while casually mentioning her youngest son’s death as if it meant nothing to her. “Kayne Black is dead?” Elijah asked in horror, sick to his stomach by the revelation. “I am not here to discuss matters of my children,” Sapphire responded before returning her attention to Henrik. “My son informed me he granted you the hollow’s power but you see it was not his to give away…after all, all witches are descended from either me or my coven and I would like that power back.” “How exactly do you suppose I give you…” Henrik began to say, but before he could finish asking his question, the supreme witch had plunged her hand into his chest, before pulling out his beating heart and dropping to the ground, dropping at the same time as Henrik’s now completely lifeless body, as Rebekah, Kol and Elijah looked on in horror, completely shocked by their brother’s sudden death. “Well now that I’ve dealt with that arrogant little witch it is time to deal with you vampires,” Sapphire addressed the remaining Mikaelson’s, who were still shocked by Henrik’s death. “Another thing witches got wrong while I was away, at least during my days the only thing killing witches was other witches…mostly me but still it is far better than bloodsucking corpses claiming superiority over witch kind when we have always been superior to your kind!” “Listen lady I do not really have much patience for witches on the best of days but you just killed my brother so I am going have to kill you out of family principle although your elitist old crone act and the fact you do not give a damn about your own son’s death is sure going to give me pleasure in ending you!” Rebekah threatened the supreme witch as she walked up towards Sapphire. “Oh darling you act like the big bitch around here because you lived a thousand years, how precious…” Sapphire stated as she raised her hand, the force of her magic causing Rebekah, Kol and Elijah to fall to the knees in agonizing pain, the excruciating groans from the vampires were met by the sounds of their bones breaking. “I was older than you are now when I had my first child, you are all nothing more than a spell gone incredibly wrong!” As the force of Sapphire’s power kept Elijah, Rebekah and Kol down on their knees, screaming in pain, a seemingly unlimited Sapphire walked turned around, raising her right hand once again before chanting in a long forgotten language as the supreme witch cast a spell which made a tree grow from out of nothing, in the compound, in front of the Mikaelsons and Magnus’ eyes. The tree in question was a small tree but it’s height did not take away from the sheer excellence of Sapphire’s magic, as she revealed to all she was capable of more than any witch that came after her, and what type of tree did this ancient witch create from out of thin air? None other than a white oak tree and yes, the type of tree chosen by her was anything but a coincidence. “Your reign is over!” Sapphire declared gleefully, as she turned back around to face the three crippled Mikaelsons, as they completely fell to the ground, passing out from the excruciating pain they had endured due to Sapphire’s sinister magic.

Sapphire Black just stood there in all her glory, as her and her eldest son Magnus stood in front of Elijah, Rebekah and Kol’s unconscious bodies, which were spread across the ground within the Mikaelson compound, both mother and soon looking as victorious as they felt as Sapphire began walking over to the small white oak tree that she had recently conjured up courtesy of many spells she had memorized from centuries passed. As she slowly began to reach out towards the tree, picking an easy branch on it to pick, she quickly found the entire tree going up in flames causing her to let out a sigh of frustration as she turned around to see her daughters Bella and Rose walk into the compound defiantly. “Let me guess your fragile ego has led you to take out the Mikaelsons straight away well mother you are nothing if you are not predictable!” Rose stated with a wicked grin, happy to have spoiled her mother’s plans. “Clearly you are stupid enough to believe their own hype and are so threatened by it you got to take them out just to prove to yourself you can.” “That’s our mother for you Rose, she may be powerful in terms of actual power but when it comes to the so called human wielding said magic she is nothing more than a jealous insecure excuse of a woman who needs a title to feel like she is not completely and utterly pointless.” Bella chimed in, eager to join her sister in verbally bashing their mother. “You think I am envious of a bunch of blood sucking bag of bones!” Sapphire scoffed, eager to dismiss her daughter’s claims. “Well you wanted to have a kingdom, but you failed, and they managed to have everyone bow to their say for over a thousand years.” Bella replied to her mother, not buying Sapphire’s dismissal. “Thing is dear mother you can have all the power in the world, but you are not immortal.” Rose informed her. “I mean come on you were defeated by Bella and Magnus…now my sister has upgraded her choice of partner you stand no chance of making the rest of this day!” “How can you still side with Annabella after everything?” Magnus asked Rose furiously, as the rage and envy over Bella’s bond with their siblings being greater than his only continued to grow. “Magnus you were never really one of us, in fact you if we did not kill you, you would have bored me to death!” Rose snapped at her older brother. “You’re as self-entitled as our mother with not even half the power and I can promise you that your first death will seem like a breeze in comparison for what I have got planned for you and mother after what you did to Kayne.” “Now girls, this rebellious attitude really does impress me but it is going to grow tiresome really quick…may I remind you that the two of you along with my son Kayne completely destroyed the mechanisms of death which is how myself and Magnus found ourselves back to the land of the living.” Sapphire explained to her daughters. “Which means if he wants to Kayne too will find a way back…unless I fix what you broke and leave him stuck there forever.” “You would stop your own child from a chance at bringing himself back from the dead?” Rose asked in horror, unable to understand how her own mother could be so cruel. “She does not see him or any of us as children,” Bella told her youngest sibling Rose, before turning to look at Magnus. “We have always been and will always be nothing more than powerful pawns to her…” “I will of course close and fix your little mess up after Kayne returns to the living, Annabella, if you promise me your undying loyalty,” Sapphire bargained with her oldest child Bella, before turning her attention to Rose. “And yours too my youngest child.” “I guess we really are nothing more than pawns.” Rose replied reluctantly. “Well played queen you bargained the only thing I still give a damn about…which means of course you have my loyalty.” “Mine too!” Bella gave in, looking disgusted with herself for what she knew she had to do to get her brother Kayne back. “Good,” Sapphire replied with a sinister smile, knowing she had her daughters exactly where she wanted them. “Welcome home my darlings, I think this place will make a fitting new kingdom for what awaits us all and where else is better than the soon to be extinct Mikaelsons.”

Unaware of the extent of the chaos which awaited him upon his return to New Orleans, Klaus sat behind the wheel in his car driving home late at night on a lonely road eager to find out what mess the latest union of his siblings and the Black siblings had caused not only his family but his city too. He could not help but think of the last time he was around the Black siblings, especially Kayne Black, as he wondered whether it would be difficult to see the man whose heart he broke, wondering if Kayne hated him for denying his love for him and whether he was another old friend turned foe. Klaus Mikaelson had always regretted how he handled things with Kayne Black, the fact Kayne had spent centuries believing his love was never requited was by far one of the original hybrid’s greatest regrets, however, he always believed it was better than putting him in danger if he had told Kayne his true feelings. Klaus spent the journey thinking over his past with the only man he had ever loved, and deep down within all the guilt, regret and heartache, he could not help but begin to consider the hope of a second chance, not knowing that chance was already dead….or was it? Suddenly a figure of a man appeared on the road in front of Klaus and his car, shocking the Mikaelson sibling by its sudden appearance as he found himself unable to stop the car in time to not hit this man, something a few years ago he would not have even cared about, however, as the car hit this figure, there was no crash, no hit, nothing, for Klaus’ car went straight through him, as if there was nothing there. After his car came to an abrupt stop, a curious and somewhat furious Klaus launched the car door open, climbed out of his car and stood up on the open road shocked to see a non-corporeal version of Kayne stood in front of him. “No…” Klaus managed to say, as tears formed in his eyes, the startling realization of what this meant for Kayne’s existence within this world, going from hoping to heartbroken within mere moments. “They need your help Niklaus.” Kayne stated before disappearing out of sight only to reappear once again. “Do not return to the compound…” “Kayne you’re not making any sense…what happened to you…what the hell is going on?” Klaus questioned the spirit of Kayne Black, struggling to work out what was going on around him. “Please just trust me,” Kayne pleaded with his former lover. “Head to Athens...” Before Klaus could hear more, in order to work out what had happened to Kayne or why he was warning him about returning to New Orleans, Kayne had once again vanished out of sight and after standing on the open road all alone for more than a few minutes he realized Kayne was not returning and the only thing Klaus could do was either follow the advice of someone that could be a foe, or head back home with the possibility of a trap awaiting for him. Klaus never trusted Kayne Black enough many years ago and he believed that was a mistake, but would this time around be any different, well one thing is for sure if he wanted to stop the fall of the Mikaelsons then he better trust the newly deceased with the second time around.

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jbuffyangel · 4 years

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Strength: Arrow 8x05 Review (Prochnost)

We’re headed back to Russia for some Queen family vacation fun, except their version of “fun” is kidnappings and fight clubs.

Let’s dig in…

Oliver, Mia and William

Do you remember how we used to pray for a scene of Oliver teaching Felicity the bow and arrow?

The scenes with Helena fueled my hate fire for years. The closest we ever came to Olicity “training” was Oliver offering Felicity a few punching pointers

and the glorious salmon-ladder-leads-to-sex scene.

I’m not complaining! All I’m saying is we could’ve had a bow-and-arrow-training-leads-to-sex scene too. I have several insert-scenario-here-leads-to-sex scene ideas this show has yet to explore.

Anyway, if we can’t have Felicity training with Oliver then second best is their daughter training with Oliver. The intro to “Prochnost” is almost three minutes long and it’s pure fan fiction from start to finish.

Source: felicitysmoakgifs

Oliver teaches Mia how to tennis ball and uses cooking as analogy before he remembers she’s 50% Smoak.

It is clear Mia still has a lot to learn not only from a vigilante perspective, but also in terms of her archer skills.

When we met Oliver Queen in the pilot his skill set was perfected. He was a fully formed bad ass.

We haven’t seen Mia train other than a montage with Nyssa Al Ghul in 7x16 and I am thoroughly enjoying there’s still a lot she can learn from her father.

Source: 1-crazy-dreamer

Oliver reviews all of his trick arrows with Mia, but doesn’t want them to become a crutch.

Source: lucyyh

What he doesn’t say is trick arrows became more of a necessity in disabling criminals after killing them was no longer an option. We’ve come a long way with Oliver Queen. If you had told me father/daughter training sessions were in our future when I watched the pilot then I would’ve laughed you out of the room because that’s a special brand of CRAZY.

Of course, a training scene without the stick thingies wouldn’t be a training scene on Arrow.

Source: miasmoakdaily

Yes, I know there’s a technical term for the stick thingies, but if I haven’t learned it by now do you think I ever will? No is the right answer.

Oliver: Nyssa taught you well.

Mia: Mom made sure of it.

I think Arrow makes an important point during this scene. Nyssa Al Ghul is good, but she’s no Oliver Queen. There’s been many seasons where it feels like the writers down played Oliver’s skills to give the other team members something to do *cough*L*urelLance*cough*.

However, the writers seem particularly focused on showing how Oliver’s skills are a whole other level now. Remember, he’s the guy who killed Ra’s Al Ghul – probably the greatest fighter of all time. It’s why Riccardo Diaz being a formidable threat was so laughable. When Felicity reached out to Nyssa she was asking the best for help, but there truly is no substitute for Oliver Queen.

Source: miasmoakdaily

Mia “The Machine” Smoak-Queen (her official title btw) doesn’t need a break, but I love how Oliver worries about her nonetheless. DADDY OLIVER IS SO SOFT.

Source: amunetblack

Mia gently reins in William’s ramble and this is the brother/sister banter I am here for. Look, I know we’ve clocked a season and a half with these kids and I should be used to moments where they remind me of Oliver and Felicity, BUT I CAN’T GET USED TO IT. It still fills me with absolute glee anytime it happens.

Children are individuals with unique personalities, but one of the more fun aspects of parenting is seeing traits of other family members, or maybe even yourself, emerge in the child you’re raising. I feel the same glee when my daughter reminds me of my husband or mother. And since William and Mia are my fictional TV children why should I be any different?

There’s a Curtis reference in this scene, so naturally I doze off when that happens, but the cliff notes version is the energy wave that destroyed Earth 2 can be recreated. There’s a Russian general trying to replicate it via pulse wave generator weapon and Team Arrow needs to get the plans.

I think. Plus they need plutonium which Diggle volunteers to get.

Oliver invites the kids to Russia with him and they are equally as shocked as I am.

Really? We’re going to Russia? I mean, I know we’re going to Russia, but Oliver’s casual invitation makes this trip sound like the equivalent of a grocery store run. The kids are so excited to be invited they think they’re going to Disney World with Dad.

This is so not going to be Disney World. TELL THEM THIS IS NOT GOING TO BE DISNEY WORLD OLIVER.

Oliver: I’m a better man. Different man. I think I can teach them the good without showing them the bad.

Oliver thinks this is going to be Disney World.

Diggle accurately points out visiting the place which was home to the darkest point of his life may not be as simple as Oliver would like it to be. His answer is equally wonderful and sooooo WRONG. It’s WONDERFUL Oliver believes he’s a better man. It took us 8 long years to get here and his statement is no small thing. Round of applause for our boy.

Unfortunately, this is where the wonderful ends. Oliver is determined to only show his children the good. I guess it sounds ok when he says it, but upon closer examination it misses the forest through the trees. Everything that happened to Oliver Queen, good and bad, has formed the person he is. He cannot extricate the bad from this story anymore than he can the good. They are a sticky wicket forever entwined together. Take out one and you don’t get the full picture. And what his children need and deserve is the full picture.

That’s not to say Oliver’s filter is entirely wrong. There are certainly topics and information children are not ready to hear, can’t understand, or wouldn’t be appropriate to tell them. Every parent has some kind of filter when raising their children because that’s what good parenting requires.

This is appropriate when children are small. As your child grows into an adult then your relationship with them must become more adult, which requires more transparency. This is the problem between Oliver and his children. He is parenting like William and Mia are still little. And they are not.

If plans for a pulse generator sound like a flimsy excuse to go to Russia then you’d be right. The real reason we’re going to Russia isn’t because of some rando general. It’s to say goodbye to one of Arrow’s greatest supporting characters - Anatoly Knyazev

“My brother.”

I block out most of Season 6 because half of it was a walking horror show, so I don’t remember where Oliver and Anatoly left things after he joined and then betrayed Team Bad Guy.

I guess their cool now? I don’t really want to spend all kinds of time on Oliver and Anatoly hashing out their issues, so if a hug gets the job done then I’m good. Also William speaks Russian. Queen men speaking foreign languages is hot.

A+ reaction Steve.

Source: arrowdaily

Anatoly was bored in the Maldives, now owns a bar and has a delicious pina colada recipe so that pretty much catches us up on him. He offers to help find Burov, but Oliver doesn’t want Anatoly’s “friends” involved because they are Bratva and he’s not discussing the bad parts of Russia with his children. I think the good parts of Russia ended at pina colada, Oliver. See how this is going to be a problem?

The best place to meet up with Burov is a local fight club. This prompts William to share where he met his baby sister and gives us Oliver’s best dad reaction to date.

Source: 1-crazy-dreamer

Bless you William. You do God’s work my boy.

Mia: Why did you bring us on this mission if you aren’t going to let us help?

Oliver: This is the Bratva. They are terrible people and you guys are my kids.

Mia: Yes, but we’re not children.

Oliver: Well you are when I look at you.

Aww… my sweet, lovable, wonderful Oliver.

Do we ever stop looking at our children as children? Probably not. I know I will always be my parents’ baby girl and my daughter will always be mine. It is difficult to fully accept a human being as an adult when you’ve changed their diapers. And in Oliver’s defense he changed Mia’s diaper about five minutes ago in the present timeline, regardless of the future adults standing before him. We must give him some time to… adjust.

But Mia is Mia and doesn’t listen to anyone, other than William (SOUND FAMILIAR?) and he’s firmly on her team this week, so they go to the fight club and watch Dad in action. Mia has heard the stories of her father all her life but seeing him in action is an eye-opening experience. She is difficult to impress, but her dad is AWESOME. Yeah, we think so too honey. Welcome to stanning Oliver Queen.

Source: olivergifs

Unfortunately, the Bratva aren’t cool with the deal Oliver made with Burov and kidnap him along with Mia. Her Spidey sense was tingling, so she went to check on dad. Oops.

Source: feilcityqueen

If there is one lesson the Arrow villains consistently fail to learn it’s DO NOT MESS WITH PEOPLE OLIVER QUEEN LOVES. He gets very angry and wildly unpleasant, which leads to many broken bones and occasionally murder. You put hands on Felicity Smoak and even I’m down with Oliver ripping off your head.

Of course, Oliver wakes from unconsciousness and his immediate question is if Mia is okay. Can’t-Admit-I’m-In-Love-With-You Oliver,

Boyfriend Oliver,

Fiance Oliver,

Ex-boyfriend Oliver,

Husband Oliver,

and Dad Oliver are all the same Olivers.

Mia doesn’t understand why everyone in Russia knows who Oliver is and quickly deduces Dad was Bratva. Our princess is a smart cookie! Oliver is ticked Mia didn’t listen to him and there is truly no greater justice in the world than God creating a child who is exactly like you. Robert and Moira are having themselves a nice little chuckle.

Source: lucyyh

The Bratva threatens to torture Mia if Oliver doesn’t tell them what’s on the zip drive. Mia is very brave and tells Daddy not to say anything. Pfft. Not likely Little Miss Square Bear. He points a gun at Oliver’s precious girl and counts down from five. The Green Arrow breaks like a pretzel. Honestly, I’m shocked Oliver didn’t give the guy the whole store after four.

Source: olicitygifs

Unfortunately, nobody believes Oliver is telling the full story and a very large knife is brandished in Mia’s direction. Seriously? The one-time Oliver tells the truth he’s accused of lying. How ironic is that? The goon was at least 20 feet away from Mia, but Daddy was ready to flay him alive seven different ways.

Oh. He was only cutting the restraints. Okay, we’ll knock down the flaying to five different ways.

The Bratva force Mia to play the Ring the Bell game. I don’t know if that’s what it’s called, but it works for my purposes. Oliver is very much HELL NO CHILD, but really her only other option is death. Of course, if she doesn’t ring the bell she dies too. ISN’T RUSSIA FUN?

Mia kicks major ass, but is unable to ring the bell in under 60 seconds. This might have something to do with her wasting time to look back at the clock and then waiting an additional 3 seconds to reach for the friggin bell, but that’s just details. Be less stupid Arrow.

The Bratva don’t shoot her because… they’re nice gang of Russian mobsters now?

Source: arrowdaily

This made very little sense other than Arrow doesn’t want to shoot the female lead of their new television show. On second thought, good enough for me. Oliver shoots death daggers at the man who scared the friggin bejesus out of him and it’s pretty much a certainty he will be flayed eight different ways.

William has a full-on panic attack over his father and sister’s kidnapping and it’s pretty much the cutest thing ever. Then L*urel actually provides some necessary and helpful information. Is that the second week in a row this happened? I’m scared fandom. Hold me.

L*urel: Aren’t the people in your family constantly injecting each other with tracking devices?

William: Normally I would say God I hope not, but now I guess I can see the advantages.

He’s able to track them down, but L*urel and Anatoly show up right after Oliver has already freed himself by dislocating his thumbs. I love that trick. Mia’s reaction is the perfect combination of horrified and impressed. She really wants that trick to be on the next lesson plan.

Mia is bumming hard over not ringing the bell and boozes it up with some scotch. THY NAME IS GENETICS.

Oliver has had enough of his kids almost dying and is putting their asses on a plane back home BECAUSE THIS ISN’T DISNEY WORLD.

William jumps firmly on Team Mia and reminds their father he’d be dead without them. Oliver has been dislocating his thumbs on his own for awhile now children. I think he’d survive without your help.

It’s time to set these kiddies straight.

Source: oliverxfelicity

Mia tries to argue the whole adults saving the city angle, but that’s not going to fly in this timeline cupcake.

In this timeline, Oliver smooshed those perfect chubby cheeks one more time before he left to save the universe

Source: oliverxfelicity

and his rebelling teenage son, who was ousted from the present storyline to make a ridiculous plot point work in the future storyline, ignored his phone calls. (I’m never getting over the whole William never moves in with Mia and Felicity thing. NEVER.)

So, all of his children can take several seats and do what they’re told or they will be grounded! That includes no computer for you, William and Oliver will be taking that bow and arrow back little miss Mia.

Side note: This was a perfect time for William to explain WHY he didn’t return any of Oliver’s calls or if he even received them, but NOPE. Why would these writers attempt to clean up this mess of a storyline with reasonable explanations? Better to just ignore the Grand Canyon sized plot holes and keep driving through.

Stephen Amell does a wonderful job in this scene as Oliver’s voice quivers with emotion. He’s skating the edge of keeping his composure and losing it all together perfectly this season. Neither Mia nor William have offered much understanding for where Oliver is coming from. Yes, they are adults but 1) No matter how old they get they will always be Oliver’s children and 2) HE MISSED TWENTY YEARS.

Oliver has been very clear this was not a choice he wanted to make. Mia and William are not the only ones who lost something precious. Oliver lost a lot too. Part of being an adult is letting go of the natural narcissism we all have as children. So, if Mia and William want to put on their big boy and big girl pants then they need to show their father a little understanding and compassion.

Mia: And because you made the choice to protect us I had to spend my whole life alone. I didn’t have a chance to get to know my brother to get to know you.

Mia is not ready to do that yet. She throws Oliver’s choices in his face once again. He is still the one she wants to blame. If this reaction frustrates you then that’s understandable because Mia is supposed to be frustrating right now. It’s odd for us to be identifying through Oliver, but that’s what happens when the hero becomes fully evolved. This entire episode is about showing how much Mia still has to learn not only physically, but emotionally too.

Source: oliverxfelicity

Oliver is getting used to Mia’s blame by now and it doesn’t really change his opinion on this situation. The worst part of this argument is Oliver believing his children hate him. His worst nightmare was Mia and William not understanding his choices and resenting him for it. Oliver’s greatest fear isn’t death. It is his children believing he abandoned them.

Mia being angry at Oliver over not growing up with William is really not his fault and it’s bizarre how the writers are insistent on lumping that in with everything else she’s ticked about. I did a deep dive on Mia’s emotional and psychological viewpoint last week and I won’t repeat it here because everything still stands. But how is Felicity never going back for William Oliver’s fault?

I’m not putting the blame on Felicity here either. It’s a ludicrous plot point that makes absolutely no sense, so it’s pointless to even try to argue the logic. And yet, that’s exactly what the writers keep trying to do. But it merely shines a brighter spotlight on their illogical reasoning behind the decision.

We are already sympathizing with Oliver because we know how heartbroken he was to leave his children. We know he sacrificed everything for a bunch of ungrateful twats who caught a lucky break for existing in the universe. But forcing Mia’s character to continually blame Oliver for EVERYTHING can rapidly make this character unlikeable. Particularly since her father left to SAVE THE UNIVERSE. The writers need to tread carefully. This has the same nonsensical threads of the Season 4 break up. Or, even worse, Mia channeling the same the anger/blame/bitterness of Season 1 & 2 L*urel Lance. Nobody wants a repeat of those hot messes.

Oliver is floundering. He missed twenty years of his children’s lives. They’ve arrived from a different time as adults. Oliver was still learning how to be a parent and then the universe flipped the board. He has no idea how to do this and the one person who can help him isn’t here. If there was ever a time Oliver needed his Felicity this is it.

So, the only guiding light Oliver has right now is the promise he made his wife and mother of his children.

Source: oliverxfelicity

Not to get too nitpicky on the details Oliver, but as @callistawolf pointed out in our Watchover episode of 8x05, we never heard him make any promises to Felicity about the children.

In their final goodbye, it was Felicity promising Oliver to do whatever was necessary to keep their children safe (re: Nyssa Al Ghul). So, let’s just create our own head canon there was some Olicity discussion about the future kids being in present day off screen and he made the promise to her then. Cool? Cool.

OR Oliver is merely trying to score points in an argument via emotional manipulation, which hey man. More power to you. Whatever it takes to keep kiddos safe, I guess. I did have to chuckle about Oliver keeping his promises to Felicity NOW that she’s off the show. Where was this guy in 6x23? Or maybe I sobbed quietly. Probably a little of both. Regardless of the reasoning, it’s an EPIC speech. Dad for the win.

Oliver decides it’s time to get boozy. Amen brother. Pass the scotch.

Anatoly is no Felicity Smoak, but in the ever-spinning weekly wheel of characters trying to fill her role, he asks the obvious question. Is Oliver sending his children home because he believes they cannot handle Russia/vigilantism/life?

Of course, the answer has been obvious from the moment Oliver decided to only share the good. It’s not about what his children can handle. This is about what Oliver can handle.

Anatoly: That is understandable. You’re ashamed. You have truly done some terrible things.

Oliver: Thank you for the reminder.

Anatoly: But you also have done some good things. It’s important that the kids see both.

Can’t you just hear Felicity Smoak saying these lines? Only in an adorable ramble and less booze? I miss her. Just leaving this here.

I absolutely understand Oliver’s refusal to share the darkest moments of his past. It’s not like my dad has gone chapter and verse into his Vietnam experiences. But I know he was there. I know some of the stories. Maybe Oliver doesn’t need to go into detail about the time he skinned a guy, but he can be honest with his children about being in the Bratva.

Anatoly: That’s the thing about teaching. It’s not about what you want to say. It’s about what they need to hear.”

This part of the speech is all Anatoly.

Source: 1-crazy-dreamer

He taught Oliver living was not for the weak because this was the lesson Oliver needed to hear. Maybe he missed out on teaching William and Mia how to tie their shoes or ride a bike, but nobody understands what it means to be a hero better than Oliver Queen. The Crisis is coming and if Oliver is marching slowly but steadily to his death then he must pass on all he’s learned. There is still so much to teach Mia and William about Oliver’s life and who he is. Those lessons can only come from their father. What William and Mia need to hear is the truth.

“You were so little. I think that’s what I’ve always wanted all these years. Is for you just to stay little, quiet and safe. But you’re not any of those things. You’re loud and fearless and it scares the crap out of me.” Derek Shepherd, Grey’s Anatomy

His children are loud and fearless and it scares the crap out of Oliver Queen. But there’s a deeper fear driving his hesitation. Oliver is afraid that if he tells Mia and William the truth about his past then they’ll only hate him more. He is constantly afraid of losing his children’s love.

But truth is the path to understanding. Anatoly is right. Oliver must give Mia and William a chance. The real truth is there’s nothing he has done or will ever do that will make his children stop loving him. Sure, Mia is angry at Oliver, but she’s only angry because she loves him. She craves her father’s approval more than anything.

Oliver changes his parenting tactic. He cannot shield his children from the very life they have chosen for themselves. He asks Mia to fight in the ring with him and William to help get them in. Oliver treats his children like they are part of the team – like partners.

Mia has been trying to show her father what she’s capable of since the moment she came to the present. Underneath all that anger and blame, is a little girl who just wants to make her daddy proud. What Mia needs to realize is she already makes Oliver proud merely by existing. However, he offers her the support and belief she’s been craving as they enter the ring together.

Source: oliverxfelicity

The look on her face says everything about how Mia truly feels about her dad.

Source: arrowdaily

FATHER DAUGHTER FIGHT CLUB. From the moment, we met Blackstar in the ring I hoped she was Olicity’s daughter and we would somehow, someway get a scene of Oliver and Mia teaming up. But I never imagined these circumstances. It’s awesome.

After kicking butt as a team and a family, Oliver opens the door to his past and lets his children walk through. And what better place to start than the beginning?

Source: olivergifs

The truth is a tie that binds and it will be the foundation of Oliver’s relationship with his children. Something he never had with his parents until it was too late.

And did William and Mia stop loving Oliver after they heard the truth? No. They understand him better and love him all the more for what he’s survived.

Mia: Don’t forget to send me that picture of my dad with that haircut.

Anatoly: Don’t forget to ask about Bratva tattoo. We have matching.

Oliver: Used to. Used to actually.

William: Oh I’m gonna need to hear that story immediately.

Well... son this raving loony burned my tattoo off my chest after several hours of torture.

The warm banter of this scene isn’t to make light of what Oliver Queen suffered. It’s to show the power of telling our stories. Pain and fear lose control over us, bit by bit, the more we talk about it and share with our loved ones. We let them inside the good and bad, so we don’t have to carry it by ourselves anymore. Overtime, we begin to see our suffering for what it is - something we survived. Children, in particular, have an ability to find the light in the dark. We can see our life through their eyes and remarkably, yes even find the humor in what was once unspeakable pain. And come on - Oliver’s flashback hair is always funny.

Family is the source of Oliver’s strength. It always has been. It’s what helped him survive the unsurvivable.

He can only become his children’s strength by teaching them how he became a better man. William and Mia can only understand who their father is, and how to be heroes, by knowing the good and the bad. Hiding either tarnishes the beauty of his story. Oliver is finally strong enough to tell it and his children are strong enough to hear it. And that’s how the past, present and future will find harmony, acceptance, forgiveness and love.

Source: oliverxfelicity

Diggle and Roy

John enlists Roy’s help obtaining the plutonium.

Source: thistributeisonfire

We’re going to run through this pretty quick because this storyline is all about getting Colton Haynes back on Team Arrow for the final episodes.

Diggle tells Roy what happens to him in the future. The cure for Roy’s bloodlust wasn’t hiding out on Lian Yu for 20 years. It was rejoining the team and fighting for the city again.

Diggle: Maybe this time you don’t have to wait that long.

Diggle’s ENTIRE motivation is to change Roy’s future and it’s not difficult to figure out why. Obviously John cares about Roy and wants to help him. However, Roy also makes a very good test case. Diggle is also desperate to change Connor, JJ and Zoe’s future as well. If they can make their own hope in the present then maybe things can be different for his children in the future.

Source: 1-crazy-dreamer

We all need love and support. None of us can truly survive on our own - particularly when we are suffering. Roy fights John at first, but eventually he comes to realize he’s right. Roy found purpose and family when he met Oliver so it makes sense to him they are the reason he gets better. So why wait? He comes home and begins the path to healing twenty years earlier. And thus, a major storyline from Season 7 flash forwards begins to change.

ROY MADE SENSE Y’ALL!!!

L*urel L*nce

I truly could not figure out why L*urel was in Russia. I guess to help Oliver track down these plans, but she spent the better part of the episode staring at her fingernails. That’s not even an exaggeration. KC stared at her fingernails for an entire scene.

Source: thistributeisonfire

Her interactions with Oliver are even more bizarre.

Source: 1-crazy-dreamer

I’m sorry, but does L*urel go here? Bl*ck S*ren has been on the show since Season 5. You’d think at this point she’d know Oliver Queen can easily handle one guy twice his size. I’m chalking up this stupidity to the acting version of a layup, so Stephen Amell can spike it with the epic comeback of, “I’ll give him half a chance.”

I guess L*urel is primarily in Russia to betray Oliver Queen and steal the plans or something, per Lyla’s instructions.

LL: And here I thought I was supposed to be the bad guy.

At last count Lyla never murdered innocent people, so I think she's still ahead by the numbers Bl*ck S*ren. This is the problem with L*urel’s character this year. The comparisons her character makes this season are INSANE. Putting on a new suit and calling yourself Bl*ck C*nary doesn’t automatically make you morally superior to everyone.

At least when Season 7 L*urel was playing attorney she had a healthy perspective on herself. I was a big fan of the snark last season and found her character to be refreshingly amusing in her biting honesty, but this year the writers lost the snarky humor and have gone straight to obnoxious hypocrisy and judgment. Sometimes she’s just downright mean in a way none of the other characters deserve. Yes, Lyla is being shady, but this in no way erases the horrors of your past L*urel.

L*urel: If saving it means going back to the person I used to be then what the hell is the point?

We all know this whole betray Oliver thing the Monitor is playing at with L*urel is a trick. She’s not going to betray Oliver and prove herself a worthy and useful hero. Ok. Whatever. I know I’m supposed to get excited about her big speech, but this line kind of gnawed at me.

L*urel is unwilling to save an ENTIRE EARTH because she’d have to do something shady. She’s not willing to do any dirty work if it sullies her good name. So, Earth 2 only matters as long as L*urel gets to be a hero on it? I guess I should be happy L*urel is holding onto her moral center, but if there’s anything Oliver Queen’s story has taught us sometimes heroism requires doing unpleasant things for the greater good.

Take Lyla for example – a person L*urel feels quite comfortable judging. Lyla has been lying to her husband, something she does not want to do, for the greater good. I think we know enough about Lyla’s character by now that even though her actions are hurtful we can trust her reasons.

LL’s primary function this week it seems is to rat Lyla out to Diggle and Oliver.

Source: stevesrogered

I guess we’re supposed to rejoice there’s no price L*urel is willing to pay for her morality, but this is still the same person who has yet to take any responsibility for the people she’s murdered. The line just sounded so arrogant and self serving to me. I don’t know. Maybe it was just KC’s delivery.

It’s been difficult for me to imagine what role either L*urel or Dinah will play in the spin off and seeing as how the writers are struggling to find a purpose for their characters in the final season of Arrow I am not encouraged. That said, L*urel’s scene with Mia was one of the few bright spots for her character in this week’s episode. Mia believes she’s not cut out to be a hero because she failed to ring the bell like her father and Zoe’s death still weighs heavily on her conscious.

Mia: Every time I try and live up to my dad or to prove I can do what it is you all do. I fail.

L*urel: If you’re trying to live up to us, don’t. We are just as flawed as anyone. Especially me. All you can do is live up to yourself.

Damn L*urel. That was really good advice and a truthful reflection of the person you are. CAN WE HAVE THIS ATTITUDE CONSISTENTLY WEEK TO WEEK PLEASE WRITERS? This is the first time I can see a version of L*urel working in the spin off, but that’s always the problem with the writing of her character. We never know which version we’re going to get.

Season 8 is slipping back into very bad Season 1 habits. There’s a lack of cohesiveness with L*urel and they really need to get this sorted out before the new show hits the air. Otherwise, we’re going to have the same problem we’ve always had with her character. No matter how many versions of L*urel’s character these writers create they never figure out who she truly is because they don’t want to devote the necessary screen time. This leaves us with a half baked canary every single time.

If L*urel is going to play Rupert Giles to Mia’s Buffy in the spin off then this scene is a good indication of how it could work, but that’s only if this path stays on track which seldom happens with this character. The key to LL is a very specific supporting role. She worked great in Season 7 because her focus was getting Oliver Queen out of jail. Then,it was about fleshing out her redemption and shipping her back to E2 to make amends.

L*urel lacks a concrete To Do list this year. They toss her into scenes and she takes up space looking at her fingernails. Or she arrives a few minutes after Oliver frees himself to scream down a door he could have easily opened. Or she says something hypocritical and nasty. REALLY? This is the best these writers can come up with? Sadly, history points to yes.

Keep her scenes short. Keep her scenes specific. Keep her scenes supporting. That’s the only way this character works. And believe me I wish it was different, but there doesn’t seem to be any version of L*urel L*nce these writers can keep a handle on.

You know what I appreciate about this scene between Anatoly and William though? Anatoly addresses his less than honorable past and apologizes. I can’t fully remember what Anatoly did to William - I think it might have been related to kidnapping or a bomb or a nuke or all three. See? I told you I don’t remember S6. My point is - can we expect an apology from L*urel for being an accessory to William’s mother’s murder? I won’t hold my breath. It would be extremely helpful if they addressed LL’s past in an honest way and actually had her show remorse to one of her victims, but again that requires more screen time and effort than this show is ever will to give her character.

SO WHY DO THEY KEEP HER AROUND?

Stray Thoughts

Connor isn’t in this week’s episode because he’s checking in on Sandra. Soooo… Connor can visit his mother but Mia and William can’t visit theirs? I know this is yet another EBR plot hole, but find a better reason for Connor to be MIA writers. It just makes the Smoak-Queen family look uncaring, which we know they are not. And if Connor can get an off camera mother moment mention then why can’t Mia and William? THESE ARE THE THINGS THAT ANNOY ME.

“Has anyone fought six men before?” Mia and Oliver’s side eye is hilarious, but didn’t Mia fight six goons by herself? And we’ve watched Oliver take down twenty without breaking a sweat. Raise the number in the ring a little if you want me to take their hesitation seriously.

Diggle is absolutely horrified to find out Lyla is working against the team with The Monitor. “I didn’t want to believe it was true.” Boy, really? Who are you kidding? This is Lyla Michaels, super spy. She’s been lying and doing shady things from minute one. She’s the Oliver to your Felicity. Get out of here with that nonsense. This is totally something she would do and you know it. Lol

William doesn’t like the field, but the allure of beautiful couture convinces him otherwise. At least he didn’t have to go on a skeevy date with Ray Palmer to wear it. Source: felicitysmoakgifs

William’s “Wrap it up” sign while Mia was fighting was such a funny and wonderful way of showing their team within a team.

“I can be the fun uncle.” Raise your hand if you want Anatoly as a fun uncle.

He was a complicated, but ultimately wonderful character who made Arrow a better show.

Goodbye Anatoly. I will miss you. source: oliverxfelicity

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