#had to put it somewhere so here you go. the massacres of today. and this is not even counting the palestinians being indiscriminately killed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

charleslee-valentine · 4 months

Text

For The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Fan Event Day 2: The Family House

Ship(s): None

Word Count: ~2,800

Warnings: Child abuse, miscarriage mention, spousal abuse, injury, trauma.

@texas-chainsaw-fanworks

_____

5+1 Things- Five times the Sawyer Family wasn’t happy. Plus the one time they were.

Mama’s six months pregnant when she can’t go to work anymore.

It’s not her first baby since Drayton, but this little one will be the first to make it this long. Every night before bed, nine year old Drayton Sawyer kneels at the side of his bed, and prays and prays that his little sibling will be okay. Not that he’d stop getting hit. Not that they’d get more money. Just that that baby will be okay.

The part Drayton really doesn’t like is that they have to move to get mama help. Without working and all, she can’t afford the little place they’ve been staying in, so she decided to take up some space with grandpa.

Once they arrive, any anguish Drayton had, it triples on the spot.

The house is huge. He’s already the one who cleans it all up, Mama’s too busy to do it all. No he’ll be forced to do the impossible task of keeping a giant farm house clean and cared for, all by himself.

He asks her, “Are you sure we hafta stay here?”

But it’s ignored, brushed off. He’s forced to shake hands with his grandpa and run upstairs with all the bags they’d brought.

Might as well do a little exploring.

He hopes he can have the bedroom at the back. It’s empty, save for a desk by the window, but the room is tucked way off in the corner by itself. He’d finally have his own space.

He leaves his bag in there and ventures off to disappointment. The rooms by the bathroom on the other side of the hall are bigger, but he doesn’t want to share a room with Mama no more, she snores too loud when she’s been drinking and passes out.

It doesn’t happen much now that there’s gonna be a baby.

Drayton wonders where baby will go. Maybe downstairs somewhere? But oh how he doesn’t want to go back down there. Drayton wants to curl up and hide somewhere forever. He isn’t ready to be given a work list already, so soon after traveling half the state to get here.

The boy sits on the very top step at the landing, and looks about, noticing cobwebs and dirt just about everywhere, even in the fur of the trophy pelts hanging on the wall. Of course he’ll be the one cleaning that later. He rolls his eyes and sighs as quietly as he can.

From here, looking down at the first floor of the house, he feels like nobody can tell him what to do.

~~~~

Daddy’s back.

He wants rights to his daughter, little Sissy Sunshine they call her.

Hair the color of angel dust and sunflowers. Not like Drayton’s ugly, dark features according to Mama.

Drayton takes the baby outside when he can, or off to another room to play with blocks or something. So long as he lives, daddy ain’t coming nowhere close to the one and a half year old girl.

He puts a little teeny sunhat on her and carries her with him, in a hand fashioned carrier for the girl. It’s just a burlap sack with a string woven through and an old bag strap sewn on, but it works better than letting her roam while he works outside. She has to stay away when it comes to the heavy duty stuff, she can stay in her little bouncer toy then, but today’s just poking around in the front garden and trying to get the bushes and flowers to cooperate.

A little smudge of dirt on her pretty pale cheek won’t hurt nothing. ‘Sides, she’ll be helping Drayton run this place one day. Not like the adults around are goin’ to do a damn thing.

Baby Sissy stares up at him and smiles with her tiny, gappy teeth. He focuses intently on burying the roots of the gardenias and acts like he doesn’t notice.

Until. The sound of glass shattering in the house. Profane screaming. Anguish and hatred pouring out every gap in the house, under doors and through windows and boiling out of the chimney.

Who coulda guessed that the man that pointed a gun to mama’s head ain’t the right choice to open her legs for again. Drayton hates them both.

Sometimes he wishes they’d just kill each other and get it over with.

The baby starts to sniffle like she can read those thoughts. Like she knows Drayton is every bit the monster the scary grown ups are. He feels guilty.

Grimacing, he wrenches out of the firepoke gloves he was pretending were for gardening, tossing them aside and cradling the back of her fragile blonde head.

“Hush, now. Just.. Just quiet on down.”

He’s just barely a teenager. How the hell is he supposed to know how to calm a crying baby? It doesn’t work and she starts hollering her little head off.

Drayton glares at the front door of the house, waiting for it to open. He knows they can hear the baby crying. He knows they won’t come and help. He holds her a little tighter, feeling every wail and hiccup and sob that tears through the baby’s tiny body.

“Come on, little one. Gotta.. Just calm down.”

~~~~~

The babies keep coming. Different guy this time, different promises. Only consistent is that Drayton��s the one shouldering all the weight.

There’s two of them, tiny and sick little things. Right now, they’re going through a phase of colic, crying and crying and got-damn crying non-stop.

Drayton swears the hairs at his temples are going gray. Might not be all that unrealistic at twenty something.

He’s trying to act his age, meet someone at a bar, settle down, forget babysitting for his low life mother. But that’s never gonna happen.

Sissy’s only about eleven now and not nearly mature enough to deal with giving the twin boys their breathing treatments and shots and changing diapers and blending up the solid foods they should be eating by now.

On the plus side, Drayton’s becomin’ a fine cook, providing for his siblings, but that’s not his place now is it?

Mama and grandpa preach the same story, gotta marry young and provide for the woman, so she’ll provide to the family name. To hell with that.

Got no interest in it. Why should he want brats of his own with three siblings running around now?

The farm work don’t magically disappear either. Mama don’t lift a finger, grandpas halfway to death's door, and sissy’s afraid of the machinery. Same old story.

One baby on his front, the other on his back, both of ‘em crying their eyes out. No sense in wasting the breath on trying to calm them. Might save his hearing, if it worked, but it doesn’t, so he ignores it. Grits his teeth and hauls ass to get the crop planted in time.

Hell it’s not like he’s ‘bout to let these kids starve just ‘cause this ain’t the life he wants. Even he’s not that cruel.

Has he considered running off and letting them deal with it? Of course he damn has.

Has he decided he’ll step up and make sure they’re at least living comfortable, if not well? Regrettably, yes.

Does that patience get tested even more when the baby on his front- little Nubbins he calls him since he’s so tiny and mama can’t be bothered to call them anything- hiccups from all the crying and spits up right on his shirt? Well, that would be another yes.

~~~~~

Mama dies when the fifth baby is born. Grandpa’s been dead for two years by then.

She never knew who this baby’s daddy was, to leave somebody for Drayton to beg for help.

So they’re all alone.

Everyone his age is settled by now, yet here he is. Bottle-feeding the little shit that never even got a proper name. Watching the boys and their almost grown sister playing around. Like a hawk.

It’s not a gentle gaze. He’s angry today. Waiting for one of them to slip up so he can take it out on them.

They know it too. Robert tugs on Sissy’s sleeve and asks her a question, whispered in her ear. He thinks he’d get in trouble if Drayton heard his stutter out loud. The way things are going, he just might.

The baby had a cleft in his lip. It’s stitched up now, but he won’t ever just feed even with the bottle right in front of him. This shit was easier with the twins just eating through tubes in their bellies.

The glass and thus the milk has gone cold by now, not warm like it should be, but he can’t be assed to fix it. If only shouting at a five month old worked half as well as it did on the boys. He’d shake the baby and scream at him, “Just eat what you’re given goddamit! Little brat, suck it up!”

Well then he’d sound like Grandpa.

Maybe he already does.

Drayton closes his eyes and forgets about the conspiring between the two siblings in the yard. Almost, almost gets a goddamn moment of peace while the baby at least tries to get his deformed and scarred little lips around the bottle, but that never lasts.

Sissy interrupts. “Can I see the baby?”

Drayton doesn’t even open his eyes to look at her. “No. He’s eatin’.”

“Mhm. Sure.” How he’d love to slap that attitude off her face. It’s just dripping from her tone. He can just imagine her hands on her hips, a puckered expression on her impatient face.

His fingers twitch. He suppresses that for the sake of not dropping the infant in his arms. Yeah. That’s the reason.

“Go bother the boys.”

“It’s the boys wanna see him.”

He scoffs. Shakes his head. “Hell no. He ain’t their doll.”

Sunshine’s glow seems to be covered by angry clouds today, her tone the exact opposite of her name, “They wanna name ‘im, Drayton. Is it a crime now that they actually love their brother?”

Something funny clutches at his heart. Something like guilt maybe. Sissy’s already storming off but he stops her. Puts the still full bottle down and raises the little baby up.

“Here. I’m tired of this anyway.”

~~~~~

The letter come in November of 1971.

They were drafting Robert. His birthday’d been drawn out of a lottery. He was among the first few groups of the year. Some grand prize.

The boy’d cried harder when they had to shave his head than the day he finally left. The same couldn’t be said for his brothers.

Drayton stayed stiff but the younger two.. Well, not even their sister leaving a few years before could've prepared them for the idea of war. Of their Bobby being shot at.

It’s Draytons fault. None of them should’ve qualified. That damned idiot can’t even spell his own name, can’t reason like the grown adult he’s s’pose’n to be.

Too much pressuring them to act right. To act normal. He’d faked it til he made it, except this wasn’t no academic test they give him. It was a competency test, and now he’d be gone. For a year at least.

The house is quiet.

Bubba hides from the world, the scary world he thinks is gonna eat up his brother. Spends all day in his room with the lights off. Tinkering with what he’s got

Nubbins is the opposite. He wanders outside. Too far past the property line. Gets in random cars. Asks if they could take him straight to his brother and gets mad when they don’t. Can’t.

Drayton would keep him on a tighter leash if he wasn’t working his days away at the station. The checks from the boys’ ailments started running thin. Mama's life insurance run out long ago, never making a dent in the debt she left. He had no choice to but to work.

Everything’s broken. Wrong.

Family come first. It always had. Never got to spend a day of his adult life doing anything other than taking care of those brothers of his.

And yet.

Now that he doesn’t have to-

Now that Robert is gone-

Drayton hurts. Mourns. Regrets. Wishes things might’ve been different.

He wishes the kids didn’t hate him. Taste of his own medicine, maybe. The bastard raised them spiteful. Should’ve known it’d be like this.

They don’t even look at him most days. Just float around the same house. The one of their childhood.

The one that was supposed to keep them safe.

~~~~~

It takes Bobby getting injured.

How pathetic that the only thing that could bond the family is more suffering?

Somehow it works.

Maybe it’s having to clean up the bloody messes of his bandages when his stitches split. Or having to help him navigate the house without being able to see it.

The head wound cut out his vision, like a light switch he described it. He’d thought it was blood in his eyes, but the lights never quite turned back on.

So it’s up to the rest of them to be his eyes.

In some ways, to be his protectors again.

Nubbins is always flying up to help him if he needs so much as a sip of water. But sometimes Nubbins can’t be there. Sometimes he’s out of commission with his own troubles, and god knows Bubba’s too afraid to touch Bobby ever since he got hurt. Scared he might break him.

That leaves one.

When Bobby gets stranded up the stairs one day, he calls for him. “C-Cook. Cooooook. Y-You gonna help me o-or what?”

“Or what.” Drayton grumbles in response.

“A-As if.” Bobby laughs at first, a wheezy, nasally thing, but then a dead serious look crosses on his face, turning into a bitter scowl, a hint of fear, “Y-You’re not really gonna-“

“Hell no.”

Drayton heaves his old ass up there to help Bobby down, guiding him to the railing and giving him one arm to steady. It’s clumsy, two grown men don’t fit side by side on these steps, but they get him to the ground so it works fine enough.

Robert blindly reaches for his brother, patting him across the face appreciatively. It would piss Drayton off if the boy could help it. A wound as bad as he got, there’s not much feeling in them hands anymore either. They say you lose your eyes and get guided by touch, but he don’t got much of that either. Like he’s lost.

Drayton’ll accept the gesture for what it was meant to be.

Nubbins saw. His skinny ass was hiding behind the doorframe of the sitting room

“Come here, get your brother boy. ‘Fore I get tired of him.”

The mystery gets Bobby riled up, “Who-Who’s it gonna be? Is it B-Bubba?”

His head darts back and forth, the little bit of hair he’s got growing back so far flying around like mad.

Grabbing him by the frail shoulders, Drayton turns Bobby towards his twin, “No, you nitwit. Listen.”

The sound of their gait is different. Bubba's favorite boots click on the wood floors for one thing, but he’s also much bigger. Boards creak under every movement of that boy. It’s obvious the one approaching now isn’t him. And well.

“Nubbins!! Hi Nubbins!!” Robert greets excitedly.

Nubbins ushers him away into the next room, glaring daggers at Drayton until he can’t see him anymore, “Was he mean?”

“N-No way! H-He got me down!” Bobby points in the direction he thinks the stairs are and makes a clumsy little walking man with his fingers. But of course he can’t stop there. A devilish giggle, “I-I think big brother’s g-goin’ softie on us.”

The anger melts away from Nubbins’ face like an ice cube, replaced with his own bastard smile, “Y-Yeh, he-he even let.. let Bubba put makeup o-on him.”

It’s true. Drayton couldn’t argue with the kid. He was crying his eyes out and tugging at his hair and throwing a whole fit. This was back when they first got Bobby home from the hospital, and he’d been bleeding all over the place still.

Hell, it only seemed right. You get so old, get so tired of being angry, you can’t hold the same grudges. Let the kid play. Though he did cut him off at the lipstick.

Nubbins won’t share that detail though. The thought is enough.

It certainly shocks Robert, who gasps like it’s his first day breathing air, or even like he hadn’t already heard this before, “No!”

“Y-Yeah!” Nubbins nods his head, even though his brother can’t see it.

The two of them laugh like anything’s even funny. Like they did when they were young. Sometimes it seemed like they were functioning on one brain, having conversations nobody else but the walls of this house would ever hear. Maybe they were.

Drayton doesn’t want to imagine what it was like when Robert’s heart give out twice on the surgery table. What was going on in his twin brother's head. It was hell enough on him and Bubba.

Maybe he is easing the iron fist he’s kept on this house. Who can blame him for that?

Let them have their moment.

Drayton grumbles under his breath, but it’s a comment really quite fond, “Little shits.”

#tcmfanevent #drayton sawyer #sunshine sissy slaughter #sissy sawyer #nubbins sawyer #chop top sawyer #bobby sawyer #bubba sawyer #tcm fanfic #tcm 1974 #tcm 2 #sawyer family

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saedii-gilwraeth-simp · 2 years

Note

Can you do an au where Tyler looks more syldarithi than terran so Corae takes him to live on Syldarya and Laeleth convinces her to come on the unbroken ship with her so she wont be alone, please.

ooh this!

"Oh come on, Tyler, you fight like my sister," Kal calls, goading his friend and Tyler rolls his eyes between parries.

"I've fought your sister, that's a compliment!" he calls, grinning, twirling and jabbing at Kal, who moves only just quick enough to dodge. Tyler laughs and Kal and him clash back together again.

"You're not putting everything in today, why?" Kal said and Tyler shrugs, a smirk lifting his lips and lighting up his green eyes.

"Oh y'know... didn't get much sleep last night. New ship and all, Saedii was excited," Kal feigns retching.

"Just because you two are Be'shmai doesn't mean I needed to hear that," he says.

They're interrupted by the Andarael's horn sounding.

"Saedii must have found those rogue legionnaires, come on," Tyler says and they move towards the docking bay, filing in with the other Unbroken soldiers.

Tyler didn't particularly like the Unbroken nor they him, but he would follow Saedii anywhere and anywhere has led him here.

All of the other Unbroken seemed amused by the legionnaires, but Tyler creeps closer. They massacred WayWalkers, and they were Tyler's people, not anyone else's. He needed to look at these people.

He finally strode up to near where Saedii had a clear view of them and he caught sight of them and his lips curled at all of them but one.

The Betraskan in purple and the Terran's in Blue and Red all looked so utterly disinteresting, but Tyler's eyes catch on the girl in a cheery yellow.

He doesn't know her, but he does. He stares at her for long enough that he cannot shake the feeling that somewhere deep in his soul, he knows this person like they're a part of him that he had lost a long time ago.

And when she turns to look at him, he knows that she recognises him too. And neither know why.

"You know when you get a feeling you can't shake?" He says and Saedii looks up from her desk.

"Sure, why?"

"This is gonna sound insane to you but I think I know that Squad's Face but I have no idea how or when we could have met," he says and Saedii considers for a beat.

“Well, they’re in the cells, maybe go down there and figure it out,” she says and he goes back and forth on whether to do so. Finally, his need to know wins out and he stands and strides out, radioing down to tell the prison hands to put the Face in an interrogation room. This conversation needed to be private.

“How do I know you?” Is what the Face says when he walks into the room. He would snap at her for asking questions, but she had taken the words out of his mouth. She smirks as if she knows that was the case. He sits across the table from her and crosses his arms. Her eyes catch on his glyph and she frowns.

“Interesting that a WayWalker is able to command people on this ship, when there’s a shit ton of them in the cells,” she says and he can feel her fury but remains impassive.

“They’re being delivered to the Starslayer. I don’t bother asking why. Why are pretending you care, didn’t you kill a thousand Waywalkers?” He asks and she makes a face and he knows what about her is undeniably familiar. That face is one his mother has made a thousand times throughout his childhood. He stares at her as she tries to find words and he sees it.

This Terran, for reasons he cannot figure out, has his mother’s eye shape and her jaw. And her voice, he realises as her thoughts seep into his.

Before she can respond, he stands and goes to leave. He orders the guard outside to leave her in there, he will be gone for only a second.

If he has a sister, he should confirm with his mother first.

#aurora cycle #aurora burning #auroras end #Tyler Jones #scarlett jones #saedii gilwraeth #kal gilwraeth

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frankcastleissoft · 3 years

Text

Lover

Frank Castle x reader

Word Count: 4,431

Warnings: angst, attempted rape, conflict/tension, and fluff (( but that’s not a bad thing :) ))

This new life with Frank was very simple. Not much else to be said about it. You both went to work and came home. Day after day, week after week. Simple.

It had been almost five months since Frank had finished off the last of the people responsible for his late family’s death. You could tell it still hurt though. It stung deep in his core. Like there was a ton of bricks inside of his chest, weighing him down. It hurt you too, to see him like that. Work for him was just a way to let out everything he was holding deep inside of him. He worked at a construction site, tearing down an old building. Sometimes he didn’t come home till dark and that scared you.

You worked at a catering company. You would go to the companies and help cook and keep the food refreshed. Cooking was something you really loved to do, so when you were able to get this job it really helped the situation.

The situation:

Frank was dead. And technically you were too. Not really anyone knew about you, but you had to be dead too. Now you both were living in a small, one room apartment.

You would come home around 5:00pm every day. Frank never beat you home. The last five months had been rough to say the least. Your marriage felt like it was hanging by a thread. You hardly talked and there was always this tension between you two. Some days you wouldn’t see Frank at all. He would come home after you were asleep, take a quick shower, find the plate of dinner in the fridge, then go to bed. You always made him dinner. Without fail. Frank loved your cooking. He was always starving when he got home.

And by the time you woke up in the morning, he’d be gone. It gave you this ache in your heart when you woke up and he wasn’t beside you in the bed that was much too small for the two of you.

So you would get ready for the day, then head out the door for work. It was always the same. Unless on the rare occasion, Frank would be dead asleep next to you, breathing heavily. He slept so hard sometimes it made you worry about how intensely he worked.

Work was long today. It felt like everything was ten times harder than it usually was, so you were looking forward to getting off your feet and sipping some tea, while reading a book. The little things meant the most living like this. The air was cool as you walked along the busy, Brooklyn streets toward home. You pulled your coat collar up against your neck, attempting to warm yourself.

After a few flights of stairs, you pulled your keys out of your bag and unlocked the door. You set your things on the table in the middle of the room and put your coat in the wardrobe that was just small enough to fit in the room. You looked around the apartment. The bed was facing you, across from the door and the wardrobe. In the middle a table sat there with two chairs on each side. To the left was a door that led to the smallest bathroom in history. Then a doorway beside the bathroom led to the narrow kitchen. The cabinet space was limited and there was a small oven and only a little bit of counter space. The Fridge seemed to take up the most room. It wasn’t much, but you did your best to make it feel like a home. Flowers on the table— they were dried up and dead now. A rug in the kitchen, a knitted quilt on the bed, and a few books on the nightstands.

You made your tea, then made dinner soon after. Just like always, saving a plate for Frank. You had finished dinner, avoiding the mess, now sitting at the table, reading and indulging in another cup of tea to help you sleep well tonight. Then you heard a key slide into the lock and the door opened. Frank’s heavy boots stepped in, the weight of his feet sounded like he had had a long day too. He placed his metal lunch box on the table, and sat down to take off his shoes.

“Hey,” his deep voice whispered.

“Hey,” you said just as quietly.

He put his shoes by the door, then went to the bathroom to wash his hands. You watched him from where you sat. His dark hair was getting longer and his beard made him look so different. You didn’t mind it though. Your eyes traveled down to his hands. They were so calloused with so many welts and blistered. More proof he worked so hard.

“I wish you wouldn’t work so hard,” you said without even thinking about it.

Frank turned off the water and patted his hands dry. You knew he had heard you, but he pretended not to.

“I’ll heat up your dinner,” you said, setting down your book and heading for the fridge, avoiding eye contact.

As his plate made its way around the microwave, you stared at it intensely, lost in a jungle of thoughts.

You and Frank had met during his massacre in Hell’s Kitchen. One night (or early morning) you were walking home from your dead-end job at a crappy diner, when a strange man came up behind you, sticking a gun against your side. He casually told you under his breath to stay quiet or you were dead. You felt fear spread through your entire body, not one finger left without terror. You continued to walk, the panic making it hard to put one foot in front of the other. But the man helped you out by shoving you along.

“Wha-What do you want?” you managed to crack out.

“I haven’t quite decided yet,” his voice sounded evil and cold.

Your stomach fell through, your heart pounded even harder. You had hoped he had just wanted your wallet, but now it seemed he wanted more from you.

“Come here,” he growled, shoving you into an alley, no one around to possibly help you.

You let out a cry as he shoved you against the wall, your head felt like it could have split against the brick. You sobbed out little pleases and cries.

“Shut up!” the man yelled in your face.

You finally saw what he looked like and you almost wished you hadn’t. He began to pull off your coat with one hand, the other holding the gun at your stomach. You felt paralyzed. You wanted to fight back, to never let this man take this from you, but you just couldn’t. Once your coat was off, he started on your shirt, a white button down, your diner uniform.

“Oh, hello, Y/N,” he sneered, noticing your name tag. “It’s nice to meet you.” His voice echo through your head. You knew it would haunt you if you made it out of this alive.

At that moment, you heard heavy feet scuffing against the sidewalk outside of the alley.

“Please,” you said a little louder, hoping the person would hear you.

“Shut up!” the man yelled again, shoving the barrel of the gun into your stomach harder. And just then, a large man shoved into the man who had half unbuttoned your shirt, knocking him to the ground. You cried harder, relief washing over you. The big man got the gun from the criminal and began beating him with it. Repeatedly and with so much force, you couldn’t help but stare. When his head was much too beat in to be alive, the big man stood up, looking down at his work. You just stood, melting into the brick wall. Both of your breath was rapid and heavy.

“You okay, ma’am?” the big man’s raspy voice echoed in the alley.

You just nodded quickly, almost scared of your hero too. He turned to look at you, his face splattered with blood. This was all too much. You were just coming home from work, looking forward to sleeping for twelve hours. But there was something in his eyes. They were dark, but full of something you couldn’t quite place. Your mind began to fog up and you felt yourself lose control. Then your legs gave out and you began to lose consciousness. You felt strong hands catch you around your waist, then you were out.

It was dark and quiet except for the faint sounds of cars and sirens. You were laying down and staring up at the darkness, a small light illuminated the space around you. When you were fully awake, you shot up, looking around. For a second you thought you had been taken somewhere, kidnapped, but when you saw the man who had saved you, your fear subsided some; but still wary of your safety.

“Hey,” his voice just as gravelly as in the alley. “You’re safe.” He added, noticing your nervous eyes.

“Where are we?” you asked, looking around.

“An old building,” he replied. “You’re safe here.” He assured again.

You took in your surroundings again, lost in your fuzzy brain. Then something struck you, and you looked back at the man sitting on the floor. His face was stained with bruises. Dark ones around his eyes and lighter ones on his cheeks.

“Wait…” you spoke softly. “You’re Frank Castle. You’re The-The Punisher.”

“That’s what they’re calling me.” he said, almost pissed off at the mention of it.

You felt a bit of fear stir up inside of you again, but it quickly settled. He saved you.

“Why did you save me?” you asked.

“I wasn’t going to just keep walking when I heard you were in trouble.” his gruff voice replied.

You gave a slight smile, thinking.

“You’re not like what the news makes you out to be.” you started. “I mean, what you did to that man was pretty… intense, but you saved me. They make it seem like you’ll just kill anyone.”

“I only take out the ones that deserve it.” he said matter of factly.

You grimaced a little at that; you didn’t know how you felt about his morals. But you watched him from where you laid. There was something about him that was comforting. Maybe it was the fact that he had just saved you from something that would have stuck with you forever, or maybe it was that he seemed like he genuinely cared about your well being.

“Where’s my coat?” you sat up, feeling a little frantic. It was something that felt so important in the moment that it made you anxious.

“Oh, I- I didn’t get it. I didn’t see it,” Frank said, noticing your frazzled state.

“It’s okay,” you sighed. It was just a coat.

“Can I go home?” you asked, slightly pulling the blanket off of you.

“Yeah,” he stood up, a grunt of pain leaving his lips. “I’ll walk you back.”

At first you were going to decline for some reason, but then you realized that was the stupidest thing you could do. You stood up slowly, your head still fuzzy from the passing out.

“Here. You can use this.” Frank laid a big coat over your shoulders.

“Oh- thank you.” you said, caught off guard. You slipped your arms in the sleeves that were too long for your hands to poke through.

“Yeah,” he said under his breath.

As you walked home there was silence between you. You wanted to talk to him though. This all felt so surreal.

Then a loud noise, probably a motorcycle backfiring, came out of nowhere. You were still shaken up by what had happened maybe an hour before, so this sent fear through your body. You let out a fearful cry and grabbed onto Frank walking beside you.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He said calmly. “It’s nothing.” He held your wrists, taking your hands off of his arm.

“I’m sorry,” you let out a nervous laugh. “I’m so on edge. This isn’t my average night.”

Frank gave you a smile. His smiles were magic, his eyes smiled too.

“This isn’t too unusual for me,” he snickered. “Except for you.”

That made you smile a little wider. There was something about him. Had you known him for twenty seconds, or twenty years?

“Well, this is it.” You said, taking a step up to your apartment building, now more level with Frank’s eyes.

He stood there, stocky frame, both hands in his pockets.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked, a slight smile on his lips.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said quietly, almost blushing at the care in his voice. “Do you want your coat back?” You began pulling your arms out of the sleeves.

“No- you keep it,” he put a hand out in front of you in rejection. “I lost yours, so.”

You smiled again, putting your arms back in all the way. It was quiet for a little while, just standing in front of each other. The city was mild tonight- well, this morning. It had to be 3am by now.

“Thank you.. Frank.” You said his name, really felt the word, nervous what he would think that you used it. Names are weird to say sometimes… when you don’t know the person very well.

He didn’t respond right away, maybe you were overthinking and it hadn’t really been that long.

“—For the coat.” You giggled, holding the front of the coat with one hand like a model.

Frank snickered, shaking his head. “No problem.” He grinned.

The joke hung in the air for a while as an excuse to not leave each other. But then it left and you both stood there in the silence again.

“Good night… uh.” Frank said.

“Y/N,” you replied.

Frank had seen your name tag, but he didn’t want to sound creepy by knowing your name.

“Y/N.” He said back.

The way his voice carried your name gave you this feeling deep in your stomach.

“Good night.” You replied.

He took a step back and you took another step up.

“Be safe.” He said quickly, then turned away, walking back to where you both came from.

The next night, you were walking home from work again. This time with your pepper spray in hand. As you walked, you felt like someone was following you. You became very aware and walked a little quicker. Then you slightly turned your head and caught a glance of the person. You stopped in your tracks. That frame you knew anywhere.

“Are you trying to get pepper sprayed in the face?” You chuckled.

“Not what I was wanting to happen, but worth it just to know you’re taking safety precautions.” You heard a gruff voice say behind you.

You let yourself laugh out loud, turning around to see Frank in a baseball cap and coat. He was grinning from ear to ear too.

It continued like that. He would walk you home every night. “Just for his peace of mind” he would tell you. That made the butterflies in your stomach fly higher. Those butterflies wouldn’t calm down. Even when you were just at home or at work. Frank was all you could think about.

One night you were at the diner, pulling another graveyard shift. You were in the back filling up the salt and pepper shakers. It had been a slow night. The bell sounded, telling you someone had come in.

“One second!” You called, screwing the top back on a salt shaker. Then you went to the front and saw Frank. You both gave each other bright smiles.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, coming out from behind the counter.

“Had the night off, thought I’d pop by.” He shrugged.

“Oh, okay,” you replied, shrugging too, joking like this was a normal thing he did. “Coffee?” You asked, but already started pouring a mug.

“Thank you.” He nodded. “I’ll just wait over here till you get off.” He went over to a corner booth.

“Okay,” you ducked your head, smiling like a fool.

As things progressed in The Kitchen, Frank walked you home less and less. You knew what he was. You knew what he did. It scared you to think about sometimes. There was something so mysterious about him, but there was something rooted so deeply in him that was just simply good. That’s what you saw every time you looked at him. His goodness.

Frank didn’t tell you much about what was going on, he said he didn’t want you getting in the middle of it; you had a couple fights about that. But you knew about Karen and how she was trying to help him. You were thankful for her. That she was helping him in ways you couldn’t.

He told you about his family. You cried. It broke your heart to hear the way he talked about them. His eyes glossy, his voice growing raspier.

Then he got arrested. You were shocked as you watched the news on the tv in the diner.

As the days dragged along, you felt yourself start to think it wasn’t ever going to be what you wanted it to be with Frank. It was hard to come to that conclusion, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop caring about him.

One day, you tracked down Karen Page and told her who you were and you both talked for hours. She told you about how she was investigating his case. You told her what you knew about him, it wasn’t much at all, though.

She told you as much as she could about his case. It was nice to have her, you both got along so well.

You kept up with the trial through the news, it hurt to see the way he was handling it.

Then he broke out of jail. That scared you. You didn’t know what he was doing.

Then all of the shootings happened. Everyone was blaming him, and you didn’t know what to believe. Karen was quick to tell you that it wasn’t him and that he had saved her. Those few days you were a nervous wreck. Karen wasn’t answering your calls and you didn’t know what to do.

Then the next night— or very early morning, you were coming home from work. You dumped your coat (the one that was really Frank’s) and purse on your couch and headed for the fridge; you were starving. Then you heard a sound in the corner of your living room, causing your stomach to flip. You slammed the fridge door in fear. Then a figure stepping forward, into the moonlight coming through the window.

“Frank?” you dropped the apple, tears immediately flooding your eyes. “Wha-What is going on?” Your voice quivered with emotion. You noticed is bruised and bloody face.

“I gotta disappear for a while,” he said slowly.

“Frank,” you said again, running forward, into his arms.

This was the first time you two had had any physical contact like this. His arms wrapped around your waist so tightly, you thought he could break your ribs if he wanted to. Your arms were around his neck, your face in his shoulder. Blood was probably staining your shirt, but you didn’t care.

“Do you mind if I wash up a bit?” He asked after you had parted.

“No, of course,” you led him to the bathroom.

That was the last time you saw him. The news said he was dead. Some explosion. It broke your heart.

A few days after the news, you learned it wasn’t true. The experience in your living room when he showed up was heart stopping. You woke up around 11am after another late shift. You shuffled into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

“Can I get some of that?” You heard the familiar, gravelly voice say behind you.

You gave him the what-for for scaring you out of your skin. But it ended in tears and gratefulness that he was alive. You had to admit, you had a feeling he was.

He left the next day, saying he had to finish what he had started. You tried to convince him not to, but he was too stubborn.

About a week later, he came back. He told you he had to disappear, go underground. He had changed his name to Pete Castiglione and he said he couldn’t see you anymore since he was technically dead. It stung. It hurt him too, you could see it in his eyes. There was something about his eyes that always had you captivated.

“Frank,” you said quickly as he stood up to leave, after telling you all of this.

He froze.

“What if I came with you?” You knew it sounded crazy, but you felt like Frank was someone you couldn’t live without. You’d known each other maybe a month, but it felt like years. You had a feeling he felt the same way.

He didn’t move, holding his hat with both hands in front of him. You stood up from the couch, turning to face him.

“Tell me you don’t feel like you’ve known me for years, like we were meant to meet.” You said, your face burning with embarrassment as you spoke. “Tell me you want to leave and never see me again. That you could just leave and never look back.” Your voice got caught in your throat.

“Y/N…” Frank whispered, taking a step forward.

“Cause if you tell me that, I’ll let you go. It’ll break my heart, but… I’ll let you go.” You bowed your head, closing your eyes, tears streaming silently down your cheeks. You felt a warm hand grasp your face, so gently. You looked up and was met with those eyes. They were glossy and sad.

“Frank,” You said so quietly.

“I can’t tell you those things, Y/N,” he replied. “I can’t lie to you.”

Your heart sped up as you looked up at him, his thumb grazing your cheek, wiping away fallen tears. You leaned forward, your head resting on his, both of you holding onto the moment with everything you had inside of you.

“I can’t let you go.” You whispered.

“You don’t deserve to live like a dead woman.”

“I’ll be with you.”

“What about your life? Your friends and family?”

“I don’t have any of that.” You told him that your parents were both dead and you didn’t have any other family. And friends were never your strong suit.

“But I—“ Frank continued. “I can’t put you in danger and you deserve so much better than—“

“You deserve to be happy, Frank.” You interrupted. “I know you don’t think you do, but you do.”

He was quiet. Standing there, you in front of him, your hands now intertwined in between you, he was in awe of you. He never thought he would feel like this again about someone. To him, you were perfect in every sense of the word.

“Please, Frank,” You stood on your toes and place a kiss on his cheek. Your lips felt the tear that had run down his lightly bruised face.

“You’re gonna have to start calling me, Pete,” he said, and both of you broke into the biggest smiles.

You jumped up into his arms in the tightest hug. Then you pulled away, looking at his sweet face. You both dove in at the same time with a deep kiss. It was full of so much love you both felt like you could burst into a million pieces.

“You are everything, Frank Castle.”

A few weeks passed and you both decided to get married. It was scary and something that was difficult for Frank, you could tell, and you didn’t blame him. But he loved you, simply and hard, so he knew it was right.

You changed your last name and quit your job and began to live a different life. A life away from the internet and the outside world. It was difficult to have to forget about your old life. More difficult than you thought it was going to be. You moved into a much smaller apartment and left everything of yours behind. You were dead after all, and you can’t take your things with you when you die.

You had contacted Karen before everything. She was the only person Frank trusted and you wanted to make sure she knew that you were both okay. She was so happy for you both.

Now here you were, months later, that honestly felt like years. Frank had distanced himself from you and you had curled in on yourself too. Things were rough. The routine was the same and everything was stuck in a time loop.

Frank had cleared his plate, now taking a shower. You turned on the clock radio for some music while you tackled the messy kitchen. Music was a safe place for you and it was nice to at least have the radio to keep you company. Then a love song came on that you adored. It was one of those songs that you can’t help but sway to. Frank came out of the bathroom soon after it started, but you hardly noticed as you were lost in the tune. You were standing over the sink, washing a plate, swaying to the slow beat. You did notice Frank enter the small, kitchen area, but you were caught off guard when he slowly wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. You were stiff for a moment, but quickly softened into his embrace. You laid your head back against his shoulder as you both swayed from side to side, lost in the lyrics.

“You’re my, my, my, my… Lover.”

You felt Frank’s warm breath against your neck. It was so comforting. His arms tightened around you and you dropped the plate in the dish water, moving your soapy hands to on top of Frank’s. This was everything.

The song ended, it wasn’t long enough. You turned to face Frank, looking into his eyes. His eyes. You hadn’t looked at them and gotten that feeling in so long.

“Frank,” you said with your breath, your hand grasping his bearded cheeks.

You felt his hands grasp your hips tightly, and you both leaned in, your lips pressing firmly against each other. Things got a little brighter as the night went on.

...

380 notes · View notes

rosiehunterwolf · 3 years

Text

stuck with you (through bright and blue)

Prompts: Protective

Word Count: 4,400

Characters: The squad

Timeline: Pre-movie movie!verse

Trigger Warnings: Manipulation, Toxic Friendship

Summary: Kai only wants two things: to protect Lloyd, and to give him the best birthday ever. Unfortunately, Lloyd seems hell-bent on making that as difficult as possible. Kai’s always prided himself on achieving the impossible, but dealing with human emotions is much more complicated than beating up Garmadon’s generals or shooting enemies with fire, as he quickly learns. Movie!verse

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“Woah, it looks like a massacre in here.”

At the sound of Cole’s voice, Kai, Jay, Lloyd, and Zane looked up from the map they had sprawled out across the table. Red pen was everywhere, circling different buildings and connecting them with lines.

“We’re having trouble finding a venue for Lloyd’s party,” Zane explained.

Nya rolled her eyes. “It’s not that hard! Just pick somewhere!” She held a hand out, shaking her phone. “We have five days until his birthday. Most places require at least that many to book a reservation. If we don’t decide today, we’ll have nowhere to go.”

“We can’t just pick anywhere,” Kai insisted. “It has to be perfect!”

“Why don’t we just go to the arcade?”

“It’s always so busy there.”

“It’s a Wednesday night! How many people are going to be there?”

“Trust me,” Jay said, “It’s still busy. It always is.”

Cole peered at the map. “Why’d you cross off the movie theater? Isn’t there a new Starfarer movie Lloyd’s been wanting to see?”

Kai shook his head. “Tickets sold out in like five hours. By the time school was over and we got over there, they were all gone.”

Jay frowned, running his fingers along one of the major streets. “What’s your favorite restaurant, Lloyd?”

“A restaurant? Are you serious?” Cole laughed. “We’d get kicked out in ten minutes.”

“Why can’t we just do it at my place?” Lloyd murmured. “I don’t need anything big deal.”

Kai frowned. “Your apartment isn’t that big, Lloyd. And I don’t want to bother your mom with all the decorations and stuff.”

Lloyd shrugged, looking down. “It doesn’t need to be big.”

“If you really want something simple,” Nya said, “why don’t we just do it at the warehouse? It’ll just be us, but there’s lots of space.”

Zane nodded. “That space would suffice. We would just have to ask Master Wu.”

“That is, if you’re certain that’s what you want.” Nya looked at Lloyd closely. “You sure you don’t want to do anything else?”

Lloyd nodded.

“Positive, bud?” Kai pushed. “Because it’s your birthday. We don’t mind at all.”

“I’m fine,” Lloyd insisted, getting to his feet. “It’s just another day on the calendar. Don’t make such a big fuss.”

The ninja fell silent.

“Lloyd,” Nya murmured, “it is a big deal to us.”

“Sorry. I’m just tired. And I’ve got homework. I should go.”

“Lloyd, wait-”

The green ninja pulled away from Kai’s outstretched hand. “I’m fine, Kai. I just have to go. Call me if you need anything.”

---

When they went back to school on Monday, their teachers loaded them with assignments, and Kai didn’t have a spare minute to talk to Lloyd in their shared classes. He couldn’t even talk at lunch because Lloyd had to make up a test. He kept his eyes peeled for his friend every time he was in the hallways, but if there was one thing Lloyd was good at, it was not being seen.

At the end of the school day, Nya texted him to meet up near their lockers. He got there and found her huddled around her locker with Cole, Jay, and Zane.

Kai walked over to them. “What’s going on? Where’s Lloyd?”

“He said he’d catch up with us later, which is why now is the perfect time for party preparation,” Jay said, gesturing towards Nya, who had a fiercely determined look on her face and was tightly clutching a clipboard. “Apparently she’s been waiting her whole life for this.”

“Alright.” Nya looked up from her clipboard. “I’ve already got streamers and gift wrap at home. What about you guys?”

“I’ve got a banner ordered with his name on it,” Cole said. “And of course, the shark tablecloths-”

Jay blinked. “Sharks?”

“Yeah. He loves sharks.”

“No, no, no, you’ve got it all wrong! We’re getting the dragon ones! He loves dragons!”

“Well, yeah, duh, but he’d obviously like the shark one better.”

“Are you kidding? Sharks would remind him of his dad’s mechs!” “Yeah, well, dragons remind him of his mech, which also reminds him of fighting his dad.”

“Totally not the same, plus dragons are way cooler-”

“Okay, we’re going with the Starfarer ones, then,” Nya grumbled. “What about balloons? Who’s covering-”

“I have balloons,” Zane interrupted. “Two hundred and seventy-five of them.”

They gawked at him.

“Zane… why do you have so many balloons just lying around?” Jay asked.

“They are new! In the package! I can blow them up for Lloyd’s birthday party-”

“Shhhhh!” Four pairs of hands immediately pushed over his mouth, silencing him, even though they were the only ones in the very empty hallway.

“No one can find out,” Cole insisted. “This is Lloyd’s special day. We’re not about to let anyone ruin it.”

“Okay, so Zane’s got the balloons.” Nya ticked another item off the list. “What about the cake? I have most of the ingredients to make one at home, but I’m completely lacking the baking skills.”

Cole nodded. “I can bake a cake. What’s his favorite kind?”

“Lloyd likes that Funfetti one,” Kai murmured.

Cole’s nose wrinkled. “I’m not baking a box mix. I can get him the rainbow sprinkles, though, and make a homemade one.”

“Okay, sounds good. Jay, could you pick up some confetti before his birthday? And Zane, we need some fun paper plates.”

“Zane, you should get shark ones.”

“No, dragons!” “Zane will pick out whichever plates he likes,” Nya snapped.

“What about gifts?” Jay asked. “What are you guys getting?”

“I’m not telling you,” Nya yelped. “I have the best gift ever and I don’t want you stealing any ideas.”

“I’ve been setting aside pieces of my allowance for a month,” Cole grinned. “It’s gonna be sweet.”

Jay blinked at him expectantly, and Cole smirked. “I’m not telling you, either, blabbermouth.”

“Blabbermouth?” he yelped. “I can keep secrets perfectly fine, thank you.”

“Oh yeah? What about that time you nearly gave away all of our ninja identities?”

“Or-” Zane added, “when he and Lloyd were working on those surprise mech upgrades and he accidentally said something in front of Kai and Nya?”

“Oh, remember when he spoiled the finale of Cole’s favorite show?” Nya grinned. “Cole was pissed.”

“Okay, okay, so there were a few times,” Jay spluttered. “But those were a while ago! I have many more secrets that I have kept than I haven’t.”

Cole crossed his arms, smirking. “Name one.”

“Well, there was that one time, where I- hey!” He stopped, glaring at Cole. “You’re trying to trick me into telling you a secret!”

“And it very nearly worked. So no. You can’t know.”

Nya shrugged. “Sorry, Jay. He’s right. When you have a secret, you get nervous. And when you’re nervous, you talk. A lot. It would only be a matter of time before you spilled everything to Lloyd.”

“Fine,” Jay muttered. “Keep your secrets.”

Kai jumped slightly as Nya elbowed him, and she frowned. “You okay? You’ve been really quiet.”

Kai shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Is it just me, or… did Lloyd seem like he doesn’t really want a birthday party?”

The others went quiet.

“We’re not going to not give him a party,” Nya insisted. “You know how he gets. He never wants anyone to make a fuss.” Her brow furrowed. “It’s like he still can’t get it into his skull that we care about him.”

“I mean, of course I want to, it’s just… we can’t force him to do anything he doesn’t want.” Kai bit his lip. “It’s been a rough past few months for him. I just want him to be happy.”

“We all do,” Cole agreed. “Lloyd deserves a night just about him, for once.”

Zane frowned. “But how are we supposed to give him the party that he wants if he won’t tell us what he wants?”

“Let me try to talk to him,” Kai said. “He might open up more if it’s just one of us there.”

---

Lloyd, in fact, did not want to talk.

He was more open during their classes the next day, and held casual conversation with him, but forcefully avoided the topic of his birthday whenever Kai brought it up.

He huffed with frustration. What kind of kid didn’t want to celebrate their birthday? He wished Lloyd would just tell him what was going on.

He wasn’t going to, though, so naturally, the next best thing was to follow him.

He wouldn’t call it spying- just finding another way of obtaining information when Lloyd refused to give it himself. Besides, he was doing this to help Lloyd, not to hurt him.

Kai jerked himself out of his thoughts as Lloyd nearly slipped from his view. He gritted his teeth, refocusing on him. Lloyd wasn’t an easy person to follow, either.

When he finally caught up to him, keeping a reasonable distance, of course, Lloyd was hovering near his locker. An unfamiliar, dark-haired kid was leaning against it, laughing at something as Lloyd smiled uneasily. Kai edged closer, his frown deepening.

“Where’s the spike head? And the rest of your gang?”

“Kai?” Lloyd shifted. “I dunno. He probably had homework and stuff to do.”

The guy shrugged. “I kind of found him annoying, anyway. You realize no one could ever get to you when your friends were around, right?”

“I guess that’s… kind of the point.”

“You can’t spend your whole life letting them protect you. If you block out any person who hurts you, you block out anyone who could potentially be a friend, too.” The guy smiled in a way that made Kai wanted to chuck himself between Lloyd and the guy.

“That’s… that’s the thing. No one wants to be nice to me.”

“Spare me the sob story,” the guy rolled his eyes. “I know your dad sucks, but at least you have one.”

Lloyd flinched. “Sorry.”

The guy laughed, putting a hand on his shoulder and shoving him. “Stop being so jumpy, will ya? No wonder kids pick on you, you’re as harmless as a flea.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Lloyd blinked. “I can’t hit them back, or I’ll be in more trouble than I already am.”

“You don’t need to hit them, just show them you’re not a total coward! Maybe if you actually listen to them instead of cringing away, things might change.”

“Listen to them? Are you saying they’re right?”

“What does it matter if they’re right? Look, Lloyd, you’ve already got it hard enough as it is, and you’re making everything more difficult. You’d be so much cooler if you actually hung out with important people and not the outcast-losers you’ve stationed yourself with.”

For the first time since the conversation had started, Lloyd appeared indignant. “They’re not- I mean, you’re not-”

The guy laughed. “See? You can’t even get a word out. You’re so pathetic. You don’t even need the fact that you’re Garmadon’s son to get picked on, you already got it all set up for the torment-”

Kai wasn’t aware of himself pushing forward, he just was, and suddenly he was gripping the guy by the collar of his shirt, a pair of wide, brown eyes staring fearfully up into his.

“Who do you think you are and what the hell are you doing?”

“I… um, I…” the guy swallowed, his throat running dry.

“You treating my best friend like a piece of shit?” Kai shook him. “Are you?”

“I’m sorry!” The guy squirmed. “I didn’t really mean it, we were just joking around, he says that kind of stuff to me all the time!”

“Really? Lloyd. Says that. You sure we’re talking about the same person? Because I do not take nicely to liars.”

The guy squirmed harder. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! Just please let me go, I’ll never bother you again!” Kai shot him the fiercest glare he could muster. “You better not.” He stepped back, dropping the kid, and he took off like a bullet.

Turning back to Lloyd, he saw his friend was staring at the fleeing boy with wide, disbelieving eyes, but it quickly dissipated to anger as he turned to Kai. “What the heck did you do that for?”

Kai’s eyes widened. “I was protecting you? From a bully?” Lloyd’s eyes flashed, and Kai actually took a step back. “I don’t need you to protect me! I can fight my own battles!”

Before Kai could even say anything, Lloyd was storming down the hallway and disappearing around the corner.

Kai just stood there for a moment, in shock. What was that all about? Hadn’t he done the same thing for Lloyd a dozen times? Why would defending him ever be bad?

A buzz in his pocket interrupted his thoughts. Kai pulled out his phone to see a new message in the chat from his sister.

irondragonfangirl: how r things going with lloyd

MasterofFiyaaaaa: honestly? i think i made it worse

irondragonfangirl: well u better find a way to fix it soon because his bday’s TOMORROW

MasterofFiyaaaaa: yeah i’ll find a way through to him

MasterofFiyaaaaa: i just hope he listens

irondragonfangirl: don’t worry

irondragonfangirl: he will

irondragonfangirl: just make sure u remember to listen to him too

irondragonfangirl: i have a feeling we haven’t been doing that enough

irondragonfangirl: i feel terrible

MasterofFiyaaaaa: yeah me too

MasterofFiyaaaaa: we’ll make it up to him though

MasterofFiyaaaaa: right?

irondragonfangirl: sure as long as cole doesn’t burn this cake

irondragonfangirl: seriously y did we let him bake it

irondragonfangirl: if i dont respond in the next hour just assume his house burnt down and im dead

MasterofFiyaaaaa: can i have your motorcycle if you die

irondragonfangirl: shut up

---

Kai spent an hour looking for Lloyd after their confrontation, but he couldn’t find him anywhere, and Lloyd, unsurprisingly, hadn’t answered any of the twenty-some texts Kai had sent him, either. Eventually, he had to give up looking for him and resigned to speaking to him at school tomorrow.

His birthday.

In the first class they had together, Lloyd avoided looking at him, and Kai felt an ache in his chest. Today was his birthday. He knew things weren’t going to turn out like he had imagined, but he wanted them to at least be better than this.

Swallowing back his nerves, Kai walked over to him, where he was doodling something in his notebook.

Kai cleared his throat. “Um. Lloyd?”

Lloyd looked up, an expression flashing across his face that Kai couldn’t read, but he didn’t immediately leave or turn away from him, which Kai took as a good sign.

“Happy birthday, dude.”

Lloyd smiled tentatively back. “Thanks.”

Things didn’t go immediately back to normal after that- there was still a tension between them, and Lloyd wasn’t saying much more than a couple sentences at a time, firmly avoiding the topic of the previous day- but at least it was back to a level where Kai didn’t feel absolutely horrible for ruining his day. Lunch, at least, got a smile out of him- as well as a bunch of embarrassed blushing as Nya stabbed a candle into his brownie (they couldn’t actually light it, lighters weren’t allowed on campus) and they insisted on singing to him so off-key that Cole looked like he wanted to punch them.

When the last bell finally rang, Kai headed over to Lloyd’s locker, hoping they could talk now that there weren’t other kids around, but he wasn’t there.

Kai relented, pulling out his phone.

MasterofFiyaaaaa: Lloyd? i know youre upset but can we plz talk?

He held his breath, staring at the screen intensely, as if that would make Lloyd respond.

While he was waiting, a message from a group chat popped up.

irondragonfangirl: what’s taking so long jay, we need those decorations

jaybird123: eta 5 mins

jaybird123: i literally just left class how’d you get there so fast

jaybird123: wait you didn’t use the tunnels did you

irondragonfangirl: no me and cole are bringing the CAKE remember?

irondragonfangirl: im not taking that through the tunnel

irondragonfangirl: we didnt spend 3 hrs on that for it to get squished

irondragonfangirl: i told the nurse i wasn’t feeling well so i could go home early

irondragonfangirl: why didnt YOU take them

jaybird123: i couldn’t exactly discreetly smuggle all these decorations into my locker

jaybird123: mmm cake. is it good?

irondragonfangirl: don’t even THINK about it, that’s not until Lloyd gets here

jaybird123: but im hungryyyy

jaybird123: do i need to pick up anything for dinner?

rock’n’cole: nah it’s cool, we just found out lloyd’s favorite chinese restaurant, the Bamboo Dragon, delivers so we’re gonna order from there

jaybird123: my mouth is watering already

ZaneJulien:0xD;): Jay, you shouldn’t text while driving.

jaybird123: tell nya to get off my case then!

irondragonfangirl: exCUSE me zane you are supposed to be putting up those balloons right now why are YOU on your phone

ZaneJulien:0xD;): Why are you texting me? We are in the same room.

irondragonfangirl: why are YOU texting ME

rock’n’cole: would you guys just stop being dumb and come help me

irondragonfangirl: great now you got cole in on it too

rock’n’cole: would you two just GET OFF YOUR PHONES

Kai was interrupted from whatever turn the conversation was going to take next when he finally got another notification.

thegreendragon: ok. you know where i’ll be

Kai blinked, turning towards the doors and pushing through them, walking out onto the school lawn. The main feature was the football stadium, although there were other things as well- large trees, garden patches for the science classes, picnic tables for eating lunch outside, if the weather permitted. And- although the students were too old for recess, now- there was still a small swing set- a simple, rusty thing, with only two swings, but it served its purpose. Sitting on one of them, gently rocking, was Lloyd.

Kai made his way over, sitting down beside him in the other swing.

“So, uh… can we talk? About yesterday?”

Lloyd nodded, and Kai titled his head at him, trying to gauge his thoughts. “Who was that kid?”

Lloyd breathed out slowly. “His name is Brad. He was my best- and only- friend in elementary school, but we were separated when I moved away. Brad’s family just recently moved to Ninjago City, and I… I was hoping to reconnect with him.”

Kai ignored the twinge of jealousy at the words “best friends.” Lloyd was allowed to have other people than him in his life, and things had obviously changed since then, anyway.

“I’m sorry, Lloyd. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, but from what I saw… Brad was being a jerk to you.”

Lloyd shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, I… he’s changed since we were kids. The efforts at rekindling our friendship honestly aren’t going so well. That’s… that’s why I was in a bad mood. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You were only trying to do something nice for me.” “Don’t worry about me. But this Brad kid… anyone who treats you like that doesn’t deserve to be your friend.”

“I know, I just…” Lloyd sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I was so eager to make a friend other than you guys…” His eyes widened as he processed his own words. “Not there’s anything wrong with you guys, it’s just- I just wanted to actually earn someone who wasn’t friends with me because of a shared occupation.”

Kai elbowed him. “Hey. This whole ninja thing may be what got us introduced to each other, but we’re not friends with you because you’re one of the ninja. We’re your friends because we love you as a person. As Lloyd, not the green ninja.”

Lloyd sniffed, giving him a soft smile. “Thanks, Kai. I’m glad I have you to protect me.”

“You don’t need protection, but you’re stuck with me as a best friend, so you’re going to get it, anyway.”

Lloyd laughed. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

His phone buzzed, and he quickly checked it.

irondragonfangirl: the party’s all set up, now the only thing missing is lloyd. did you get to talk to him?

MasterofFiyaaaaa: yeah, we’re cool now. on our way

Kai turned back to Lloyd. “C’mon, green machine. Let’s go enjoy your birthday.”

Lloyd blinked at him. “Huh?”

“Your party, remember? The one Nya and the guys have spent the whole week planning? Or is there some other celebration I don’t know about?”

Lloyd shook his head. “No, no, it’s just- I thought I messed it all up.”

“Don’t worry, we got it under control.”

“Really?”

“This is our teammates you’re talking about! Stubborn as mules. They’re not giving up on you that easily.”

“I… thank you. Thank you guys.”

“You can tell them yourself. We’re going to this party, and we’re going to have fun!”

---

Kai had to admit, he was impressed with what the others had been able to pull off in such a short amount of time.

It was nothing huge or extravagant, but it was a nice little party, and Lloyd seemed to like it better like that, anyway.

They were barely through the doors of the warehouse when Jay was launching himself into Lloyd’s arms, pulling him into a tight hug, the others close behind.

“Happy birthday!” they cheered.

Lloyd hugged them back, laughing. “Thanks, guys, I didn’t- I didn’t expect all this!”

“Are you kidding?” Nya put her hands on her hips, grinning. “We’re pulling out all the stops for our baby bro.”

Lloyd’s smile briefly flickered to a scowl. “I’m not a baby.”

“To us, you always will be,” Kai said, slinging an arm around his shoulders and ruffling his hair. Lloyd squirmed away, although he was unable to hide the grin on his face.

“Wow, this place really looks different.” Lloyd gazed around at the warehouse with wide eyes. They had pushed aside training equipment to make room for tables and chairs, and green and gold streamers decorated the walls, adorned by multicolored balloons. Someone had plugged a gaming console into the TV, as well as a DVD player next to a box of DVDs- which must’ve been Jay’s, he was the only person Kai knew, apart from Master Wu, who even had DVDs anymore- because Kai still hadn’t been able to convince Master Wu to buy them Netflix on the warehouse’s TV, getting the TV there in the first place had been hard enough as it was. On the far end was a buffet table, filled with rice, chicken, dumplings, and other Chinese staples from the Bamboo Dragon- as well as a beautiful, heavily frosted cake in the center of it all. It was decorated with rainbow sprinkles, making it completely and uniquely Lloyd.

Lloyd’s eyes were on the cake too, his eyes wide. “Cole! It looks amazing! I never knew you were so good at making cakes!”

Cole shrugged, trying to hide his smile. “I’ve had some experience.”

“Hey! What makes you think Cole made it?” Nya sniffed.

Cole blinked. “I did.”

“Well, I helped.”

Cole snorted. “Don’t know if you could call it that. From my point of view, it seems like I was doing most of the work while you were busy texting your boo.”

Both Nya and Jay turned scarlet.

“I was not,” Nya spluttered. “I was making preparations for Lloyd’s party!” “Yeah, yeah, whatever you have to tell yourself.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions too hastily,” Jay said, turning to walk over to the cake. “The true judge of quality will be how good it tastes.”

Nya stuck an arm in front of him. “Not so fast, mister! Dinner first.”

After laughing, playing games, and eating, they insisted on opening presents. Lloyd was all smiles and gratitude with each one, which ended up sparking a debate between the others about whose gift he liked best.

“He totally loved my gift!” “Nuh-uh! Did you see the way he smiled a little differently on mine?”

“Jay, you literally gave him a book. Why would he be excited about that?”

“Not just any book! A first edition Starfarer collector’s comic from when my parents were kids, and in mint condition, too!”

“Why would you want some dusty old comic when you could have the newest Starfarer video game?” Kai argued. “It took forever for me to find one of these, they were sold out everywhere.”

“Starfarer this, Starfarer that,” Cole sighed. “I don’t understand how he could possibly need any more Starfarer things. The record I engraved for him is way more personable and unique.”

“You guys are thinking about this all wrong! You should’ve gotten him a katana like me, something that he actually needs and uses.”

“Statistically, Lloyd spends more time drawing than any other hobby,” Zane said. “Which means my gift of an art book and new set of pencils is logically the best fit.”

“Clearly you guys all have it wrong in the head-”

“Guys, relax,” Lloyd laughed. “I loved all your gifts equally.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Jay… it means exactly what you think it means.”

“You can’t even pick one gift?”

Lloyd shook his head. “No way. These are all amazing. Thank you, guys. Really.” His gaze met Kai’s for a long beat. “For everything.”

“Of course. But, just to make things clear, you did like mine the most, right? You’re just saying you liked them equally, so that you didn’t make the others feel bad?”

Lloyd smacked his forehead as the others burst into protest again, and Kai shot him a sharp-edged grin. “I can do this all night.”

Eventually, Lloyd got them to stop bickering- the mention of cake got them all quiet pretty quickly- and after divvying it up, they went over to the couch and played the video game Kai had gotten him. He quickly lost track of time, but time didn’t matter. Even if it meant they would be tired for school the next day, seeing Lloyd like this- half sprawled over his teammates, brow scrunched in concentration as he mashed buttons on his controller, hints of frosting on his lips as he tried and failed miserably to bite back his laughter- it was worth it. He looked happier than Kai had seen him in weeks.

For that, he could even contain himself from bragging about how Lloyd obviously liked his gift best.

#ninjago #ninbingo #my fic #rosie writes #ninjago kai #lloyd garmadon #ninjago nya #jay walker #ninjago cole #ninjago zane #HAPPY BIRTHDAY GREEN BEAN #I LOVE YOU SO MUCH #XD guys i got so excited about lloyd's big day #maybe i have a bit of a problem but shhhhhhhh #hope this did him tribute #tlnm #thanks for reading!#reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

NHS ghost travels to the past and the only ones who can see him clearly are baby!NHS & NMJ

on ao3

“Would you believe that I’m a saber spirit?” the ghost asked. “Or maybe an ancestor?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said. He did not put down the exorcism talisman.

The ghost sighed. “Well, it was worth a shot.”

Before Nie Mingjue could do anything more, the ghost rushed at him – taken aback, Nie Mingjue flinched, and when he opened his eyes again the ghost was gone.

He still pinned the talisman onto the swaddling wrapped around his baby brother, who was grumbling in sleepy dissatisfaction at having been nearly woken up.

He wasn’t taking any chances with his brother’s health.

“I’m actually not dangerous,” the ghost argued. He’d figured out that if he hovered high enough, Nie Mingjue wouldn’t be able to get at him – though he still flinched whenever Nie Mingjue threw rocks at him. He must be a relatively new ghost. “I know it’s difficult to believe, but I’m here to help.”

“Sure,” Nie Mingjue said. There were plenty of pebbles next to the place where laundry got done, and he could grab one without being spotted whenever he dunked the clothing in. “I believe you. Come down here a little closer, I’ll believe you some more.”

The ghost sighed.

“Just give me a chance, okay?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“I have good reasons –”

“Don’t care.”

“If you come any closer, I’ll douse you in a male virgin’s urine,” Nie Mingjue said. “Ghosts are supposed to hate that.”

The ghost huffed. “Like I’m dumb enough come near you when you’re swaddling the baby anyway.”

“I’m leaving, I’m leaving! Just put Baxia down already!”

“You need more salt.”

“I thought ghosts hated that, too?”

“Maybe it’s rock salt ghosts hate?” the ghost asked, floating over Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. “I don’t think I have anything against proper seasoning.”

Nie Mingjue huffed, rolling his eyes, but he did add a little more salt.

“Ah ha!” the ghost exclaimed. “You are starting to listen to me!”

“That’s when the recipes says to put it in,” Nie Mingjue said. “I was always going to add some more of it in then.”

“I don’t believe you! You were definitely listening!”

“Listen, if I was a normal ghost, your father would have totally gotten rid of me, right?”

“Never said I thought you were normal,” Nie Mingjue said, soothing his brother to sleep in his arms with soft murmurs and a gentle voice that did not come naturally to him. “I said you were a pest. Did I ever say anything about being normal?”

“…no, I guess not,” the ghost conceded. “Damnit, I thought I was onto something with that. Also, shouldn’t a nursemaid be doing that?”

“Can’t be trusted,” Nie Mingjue said.

The ghost frowned, then blanched. “Right, right,” he murmured. “I nearly forgot, what happened with – uh, what happened right around that time. That would have been recently, too, wouldn’t it? You’ve always remembered it better.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t say anything.

“Still, you’re only seven. Even if they were scared to hire a nursemaid for fear of letting in another assassin, shouldn’t someone else be doing this?”

“I’m eight,” Nie Mingjue said.

“The point still stands. Surely one of the servants..?”

Nie Mingjue sighed. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re at war,” he explained. “Everyone who can swing a saber is out fighting it, and that includes the servants.”

“I thought it was too quiet,” the ghost said, half to himself. “I haven’t seen anyone else in – okay, actually, now that I think about it, I haven’t seen anyone.”

“War,” Nie Mingjue said.

“You’re eight,” the ghost said. He looked upset. “How could they leave you alone like this? You make your own food, you do the laundry, you take care of – this is ridiculous! There must be people who are too old to go that could help…there must be other children! Where are the other children?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t say anything.

Nie Huaisang needed his sleep, after all.

“I refuse to let this go,” the ghost said. “Even if – especially if – a whole bunch of the other kids died or something, even if all of them died, which they didn’t, there’s absolutely no reason for you to be left alone like this.”

Nie Mingjue sighed. He’d hoped that the ghost would let it drop, but apparently, no.

Apparently, he was going to have to engage.

(Nie Huaisang waving his hands at the ghost, burbling happily, had nothing to do with that decision.)

“You assume they left me,” he said. “You have it backwards.”

“…what?”

“I ran away,” Nie Mingjue explained, and the ghost’s jaw dropped. “This place was abandoned because of the war – too awkward an outpost to be worth it for either side – and I took my brother and we came here, just me and him and Baxia. I’m planning on staying until the war’s over.”

“But why? You’re the heir.”

“Yeah,” Nie Mingjue said. “That’s why.”

“…what?”

“It’s ‘sang’ as in mulberry leaves, right?” he asked. “For his name? I heard you whispering it to him.”

“I - yeah, it’s mulberry,” the ghost said, blinking at him. “And ‘huai’ as in ‘to hold’…but you know that already, surely?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged.

The ghost stared at him. He didn’t blink, which was typical of ghosts, but still a bit unnerving.

“You named the child, didn’t you,” the ghost said. It wasn’t a question. “You take care of him, you raise him, you’re refusing to return home…it’s war, you said. Because of the massacre of the junior generation that everyone pretended was an accident but wasn’t, because of Mother’s death from that assassin pretending to be a nursemaid. People do things when they get angry, during war. What was going to happen to – to the baby?”

“Massacre at his conception, declaration of war at his quickening, assassination at his birth,” Nie Mingjue recited. “That’s three bad things; bad luck comes in fours, and we really can’t afford to lose this war. Newborns die easy as flipping over your hand, and maybe the next one won’t be so unlucky, won’t be a calamity star – that sort of thing. It was too dangerous.”

“Oh,” the ghost said. “I never knew.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Nie Mingjue said. “Who would have told you? I would’ve killed them, first.”

The ghost twitched, and stared at him.

“I like Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue said. “It’s a good name. Even if how you got it is a bit circular.”

“Someone murders you,” the ghost – Nie Huaisang of the future, as Nie Mingjue had long ago figured out, but it was easier to keep thinking of him as ‘the ghost’ – said, sitting with his back against the wall and his knees pulled up to his chest. It’d be a sad and pathetic sight, except for the way he was sitting on the ceiling. “I was trying to come back to stop it from happening…maybe even prevent our father’s murder, too, if I could. That happens when you’re fifteen, by the way. You have to inherit, and spend the rest of your life avenging him.”

“Do I succeed?”

“…yes.”

“That’s good, then,” Nie Mingjue said.

“Don’t you want to know more?”

“Why? Are you planning on going somewhere?”

The ghost uncurled himself from his dramatic misery to float down until his head (still upside down) was floating in front of Nie Mingjue. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“Ghosts that resolve their business are liberated,” Nie Mingjue said. “Maybe I like having you around.”

“…oh.”

“One day you’re going to save the world,” the ghost told him.

“Today, you already have,” Nie Mingjue replied.

“Maybe I never went back in time,” the ghost said. “Maybe I’m just dead, and this is one of the eighteen hells, punishing me for everything I’ve done.”

“Are you having a bad time?” Nie Mingjue asked. He himself was having a good time: Nie Huaisang wasn’t crying, for once, and he had him sitting in his lap, a stick wrapped in his little baby hand (supported by Nie Mingjue, of course) waiving in the air in the rudimentary beginnings of proper saber forms.

“Well, no. But then again, ‘everything I’ve done’ wasn’t that bad, and all done in the name of filial piety – I even bought already-dead cats – well, except for little Mo Xuanyu. He deserved better than he got from everyone, me included.”

“None of that made even the slightest bit of sense to me, you know,” Nie Mingjue said. “But if you feel so bad about it, I promise to change it this time around.”

“No, you don’t understand,” the ghost said. “If this is the underworld, then you wouldn’t have the chance to change it. We’d just repeat this over and over again, forever!”

“How many times has it been for you, then?”

“Well, only one. But it could be the beginning of many times! Or – or – maybe I’ve forgotten the previous times!”

“Seems like a pretty stupid punishment if you just forget about it,” Nie Mingjue said.

“…hmm. Good point.”

“You’re prone to anxiety, aren’t you?” Nie Mingjue said to the Nie Huaisang in his arms, who made an expression that was clearly his best effort at smiling. He was still building up those facial muscles. “We’ll have to work on that, in this life.”

“Hey!”

“Okay, so, positing that this whole living in an abandoned outpost is a real thing that is happened and is still happening, which I’m still not convinced of –”

“I don’t seem like the type to run away?”

“…you were always very righteous.”

“Sometimes, righteous people do stupid things,” Nie Mingjue said.

“Remind me to tell you about someone called Wei Wuxian,” the ghost said, now thoroughly distracted. “He’s more or less the walking, talking incarnation of that…”

“Did he have a sad childhood?”

“What? I mean, I guess so? His parents died, he lived on the streets for a while, developed a fear of dogs, but then he got rescued by Jiang Fengmian and adopted, so – are you taking notes?”

“How else am I supposed to keep track of all these names?”

“Maybe you should go pick up Meng Yao. If you’re planning on changing things, I mean.”

Nie Mingjue squinted at the ghost, who was supervising the stew he was making. It was meat, for once – a pheasant that had conveniently gotten scared to death. The ghost had gotten very creative in how he could help out despite his general incorporeality. “Isn’t that the name of the person who eventually kills me?”

“Well, yes.”

“Why would I go help him?”

“…he had a very sad childhood?”

“If I adopt everyone you say had a sad childhood, there won’t be a junior generation anymore,” Nie Mingjue pointed out. “They’ll all be Nie sect.”

“And it would be better for them.”

“Annoying for me, though.”

“ – and that’s what demonic cultivation is,” the ghost concluded. “Why do you ask?”

“I have absolutely no reason to be interested in a type of cultivation specifically designed to make dead creatures do what I say, including shutting up whenever they’ve started talking in the middle of the night,” Nie Mingjue said, yawning. “None whatsoever.”

“It’s not that late, it’s only – hmm. Oops.”

“It’s not that different from what I do with Baxia,” Nie Mingjue argued.

“What you do with Baxia eventually kills you,” the ghost argued back.

“I thought you said I was murdered?”

“Through an existing weakness!”

“Without which the world will end, so it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine at all!”

“I’m just saying, it would be –”

“No! I am not letting you demonically cultivate with me, and that’s final!”

“Fine!”

“Your older self is so annoying,” Nie Mingjue told Nie Huaisang after the ghost had stormed off. Through a wall, no less, and that was purely to be especially dramatic about it since Nie Mingjue knew that he knew where the doors were. “Such a pest!”

“If we’re going to do this – I can’t believe we’re going to do this – we’re doing it slowly,” the ghost said. “You hear me? Slowly. I don’t care how much of a cultivation genius you are.”

Nie Mingjue nodded.

“And no one ever finds out about it, okay? No one. If someone happens to see me, you need to lie and say that I – that I’m –”

“A saber spirit?”

“Shut up.”

“Baba!” Nie Huaisang burbled, or at least something that sounded vaguely similar. He was probably a few months too young for actual speech, though.

“Da-ge,” Nie Mingjue corrected, just in case.

The ghost sniggered. “So much of my childhood is suddenly explained, you have no idea.”

“I think I’m going to tell him to call you mama,” Nie Mingjue said thoughtfully. “What do you think that’ll explain?”

“You’re depressingly good at this,” the ghost said. “I mean, everyone always said you were a genius, but you’re really good at cultivation.”

Nie Mingjue shrugged.

“I still think you should hold off on the demonic cultivation aspects.”

“We’ve already agreed to disagree,” Nie Mingjue said. “And knowing demonic cultivation helps me refine my cultivation of Baxia as well – I can filter out only the finest resentful energy for her.”

“You make it sound like cat food.”

“Since you also thrive on resentful energy, what does that make you?”

“A mouse, surely.”

“Nah. Hedgehog.”

The ghost acted as if it had been stabbed and fell over backwards.

Dramatic bastard.

“There’s a person outside,” the ghost said. “They’re at the edge of the boundaries.”

Nie Mingjue could feel his shoulders stiffen. “What are they wearing?”

“Nie colors. I would’ve taken care of it myself if it was a Wen.”

They’d had an incident with a Wen squad coming too close, once.

The ghost, strengthened by Nie Mingjue’s demonic cultivation and the bond he’d formed between him and Baxia, had ripped the cultivators in the Wen patrol squad to pieces before they’d gotten too close.

Nie Mingjue had told him that he appreciated the enthusiasm, but to try to keep the mess down a bit next time. All that blood had attracted predators willing to feast on human flesh, and Nie Huaisang was still small.

“What boundary?” he asked, and went to go look down at it from one of the windows. “Oh.”

“Is this going to be a problem?” the ghost wanted to know.

Nie Mingjue looked at the man walking up. “No,” he said. “No problem.”

“What does he want? Is he going to make trouble for Sangsang?”

“No,” Nie Mingjue said. “Just for me.”

He waited outside the door, Baxia in his hand.

His father came to a stop a reasonable distance away. “What will it cost for you to return?” he asked.

It was about what Nie Mingjue had expected. They were a practical family.

Nie Mingjue didn’t have memories of his future life, and the ghost didn’t remember this period of his previous life: the months they had spent together in this abandoned fortress, the way Nie Mingjue taught him to smile and to crawl, fed him and changed him and slept with him to calm him, the life they had shared in the world without the ghost.

Still, he had asked the ghost the questions he had wanted answered, casually dropping names into conversation with the ghost to judge his response, and he figured out what his answer must have been in that life before.

He’d asked for the heads of those that had directly threatened Nie Huaisang, and an oath that the sect would honor Nie Huaisang as the heir, that he would be sect leader following Nie Mingjue. He’d gotten what he’d asked for, but what had been meant as a gift had in the end only been a burden – the ghost wouldn’t have been so desperate to come back to this time if it wasn’t.

He wouldn’t make that mistake twice.

He smiled.

“I’d like to make some changes,” he said, thinking of all the people that the ghost had talked about – all the ones who had sad childhoods. Many were the children of the other Great Sects, which would make things tricky to start – most people didn’t want their children raised by outsiders – but he’d thought of ways to make it work, and he knew the investment would ultimately bear fruit. His father, ruthless as he was, would understand that part of it, at least, even if he didn’t understand the rest. “Back me in full, or lose me forever.”

This was even more of a gamble than what he had asked for in his past life. A few heads, even of loyal servants, didn’t matter much, compared to blood – a blank slate was a far more dangerous request.

His father looked him over, and Nie Mingjue knew that he was calculating whether it was worth it. Whether it was Nie Mingjue’s head that he should take, this time, since he himself was still young enough to have more sons. But Nie Mingjue had learned from the ghost all the secrets he’d known about his own future cultivation, added to it the demonic cultivation he’d deduced, and he was, in the end, a genius.

There was a reason he was confident enough to make the request.

“Very well,” his father said. “I will back you.”

They told everyone that the ghost was an ancestor.

#mdzs #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #lao nie #my fic #my fics #Anonymous

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whitexwingedxdoves · 3 years

Text

the other side | part 1 [request]

Pairing: Negan x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Warnings: Language, Death, Unrequited Love Summary: After being saved, you devoted your time to becoming the best saviour you could be until Eugene lets you in on a secret. A/N: Requested by @jinxeee im excited about the next couple of parts. ITS A FUN ONE I PROMISE. - I hope you like it <3 Click to read the next chapter

Covered in a thick paste made up of blood and mud you laid against a stone, staring up into the clouds. Surrounding you were piles of the fallen dead, some newly executed, some days old. You couldn’t remember how many days you had been there, fighting for your life but it had been long enough for the hunger to start eating away at you and the thirst to turn your throat into sand.

“Holy shit!” a voice echoed through the empty field and left you feeling even more vulnerable, which you had once thought was impossible. Using every bit of energy you had, you pushed yourself into a sitting position looking for the source. Your eyes met with a rather tall man, wearing a leather jacket and what seemed to be a bat hung from his shoulder. Behind the man were two others, though they didn’t quite hold the same confidence that the man in front did. You watched as he approached you, kicking a few of the dead out of his way, he levelled with you now crouching in front of you using the bat as some sort of crutch. “You’re one badass bitch” a smirk creased his features as he stared at you, you were too dazed to fight anymore you accepted your fate with these men as you laid back down on the rock to find peace in the clouds allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

Once your eyes opened again you started to panic, not feeling the liberating breeze that you allowed yourself to fall asleep too. You felt much more rested, fitter to fight again. Your eyes darted around the room you now laid in, taking in the medical equipment and the grey concrete walls, you had never seen this place before and though it felt like a miracle that somewhere like this existed in this world you still remained sceptical. You pulled the needles from your hand that connected to a drip bag and pushed yourself out of the bed, taking light quiet steps as you came closer to the door. You grabbed one of the tools from the medical bench, a scalpel, just in case and turned the knob on the door slowly, peering out of the crack you made. It seemed safe enough to leave having not seen or heard anyone in the corridor.

You stood against the wall in the hallway, the tip of your toes holding you weight. “Hey!” your head snapped behind you as you saw a man run towards you, you held the scalpel close to you, your grip tightening the closer he got. Once he was close enough you jammed the tool into his forearm, sending your knee into his delicates. Your plan was to run but before you could even turn you felt arms wrap around you, holding you in place. Thrashing as much as you could to be released from their grip only caused them to hold you tighter.

“Well fuck!” you recognised the voice that ran through the hallway, it was the voice of the man back at the field. You stopped trying to free yourself when your eyes met with his. “I was right, you ARE a badass!” his laughter filled the silent halls as he stepped over an injured man to come face to face with you. “I like you” he whispered into your ear.

You were escorted back to the medical room by a woman and the man, a doctor who seemed to be waiting for your arrival as you sat back down on the bed. “Who are you?” you whispered as the doctor checked your vitals, not baring to look up at any of them.

“We’re Negan!” the woman spoke, your brow cocked at her words. “We save people… Negan saves people” she finished, your eyes now darted to the man in the leather jacket. You’d never let the way he smirked leave your mind, it was infectious. He seemed to be full of pride as the woman bragged about his work here. Your eyes welling at the sound of it all, she made him sound like such a saint. “He saved you” she added causing the tears to fall down your cheek, his eyes now met yours.

“Thank you” almost choking on your words, you allowed yourself to relax a little more.

After the doctor cleared you to leave, the woman you’d now learned was named Laura took you to your new room, though it was to be shared with her. That night you spent a lot of time thinking about Negan and how incredibly lucky you were that he found you. Your heart seemed to swell when you thought of him and the way his leather jacket fit snug to his body, the stubble on his jawline and the way it highlighted his smirk. You were ready to be one hundred percent devoted to him.

It had been a while since Negan saved you and you had spent every second of your time since then trying to prove your loyalty to him. He placed you with Laura for a reason, to teach you about the way things worked and to teach you the ropes on how to be the best saviour you could possibly be and you were, one of the best. You did everything Negan asked you to without even batting an eyelash, you would never deny him anything. Your love for him grew stronger every day, it hurt sometimes that you couldn’t call him yours but at least you could be by his side and protect him.

Today your job was to watch over Dr Eugene, make sure he was getting everything he needed and to keep him safe. You didn’t mind this job so much, Eugene never really spoke too much to you, he only ever told you things that you had no interest in knowing but he was easy to block out most of the time. Today he seemed different, a little off from his usual self, he paced his room and seemed a lot more jumpy. You really didn’t like it, it was like he was up to something he shouldn’t be. “What’s going on smarty pants?” Eugene even jumped at your question causing you to smirk a little. He shook his head and insisted nothing was the matter. “Sure doesn’t seem like nothing! Come on, spill the beans otherwise I’ll have to get Simon in here and he doesn’t play quite as nice as I do” you teased tapping your foot on the floor awaiting his explanation but when he responded with silence you turned on your heel and headed for the door. “Fair enough, SIM-“ the man cut you off mid sentence, clearly scared for his life.

“No… no need.” Turning back around you took a seat on the armchair and gave him a smile. “The wives…” he started, almost second guessing his choice to tell you about what had happened.

You sat in complete silence as Eugene told you all about the wives plans to kill Negan with some sort of pill and how they made them before fully thinking it through. He held the two tablets in a zip lock bag in front of you, you took them from him with force, your cheeks turning red at the story he just told you couldn’t say you didn’t believe it or that you didn’t see this coming, you saw how his wives acted around him and heard what they would say when he wasn’t there. Ungrateful bitches. You pushed yourself onto your feet and gave the fragile southerner a warning look and he took a couple of steps away from you and out of your reach. “You ever try this shit again, I’ll have your head on a pike.” You whispered in his direction before leaving the room. You shouted to the guards on his door to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t leave his room as you stormed towards the wives bedrooms.

Fuelled only by anger you ripped one of the doors open, the zip lock back still in your hold. The girls looked over at you, like deer in headlights noticing the pills in your hand and as the door shut one of the girls took her chance at wrestling you for the poison in your hand. When the others realised what was happening and that she couldn’t fight you on her own, the rest joined in piling on top of you scratching and pulling at your hair, pushing you down to the floor as you tried to scream and fight your way out of them. Without even thinking you pulled out your handgun and started shooting rounds into the women who hovered over you. It felt like a curse being such a good shot as you watched each wife drop, a few falling on top of you. You laid there for a moment, like you did in the field, completely speechless, your body now covered in their blood. You heard the door swing open but you didn’t dare look to see who it was. You just laid there, allowing the blood to soak into your clothes.

You recognised the next set of footsteps that came through the door, you knew for a fact it was Negan. Swallowing the lump in your throat you pushed the girls off you and sat up right, your eyes following Negan as he made his way across the room. Your eyes filling with tears as he witnessed the massacre. “I'm sorry” you croaked but you didn’t seem to grab his attention as he looked down at his fallen wives in pure disbelief. “I had no choice” the guilt had crept up now, strangling you with every breath you took. That’s when he looked at you, a look you could never forget. He looked so confused yet angry at the same time as he took in the sight of you, bathed in his late wife's blood, he didn’t talk, he just looked in the direction of the door before turning his back to you.

“Put her away” he spoke softly, not allowing his emotions to better his judgement. You shook your head as you stood up to your feet, attempting to avoid the other saviours.

“No, you don’t understand. Please let me explain! They were trying to kill you, they had pills. You have to believe me.” you cried but it was no use.

You had been in the small box room for a while now, still covered in blood, you sat in the corner of the dark room, holding onto your knees as tightly as you could replaying the last couple of years in your head. You never felt so much shame before after everything he did for you, you go and kill his wives. Why you didn’t tell him before you went in there all Rambo you’ll never understand. The anger got too much for you to process. The sound of the door unlocking broke your concentration. You looked up hoping and praying they would let you out now. The light stung your eyes a little, causing your arm to act as a barricade as they adjusted to the new light. “We didn’t find any pills” the voice that once made you melt like butter now only causes you tears, you looked at the man in disbelief, though all you could see was his silhouette.

“No, no… you have to look again. Ask Eugene, he made them. Please Negan you have to believe me” you pleaded as he leant down to your eye level… similar to the way he did when he first found you.

“He doesn’t know what you’re talking about” his tone was soft which only made you more anxious. You shook your head vigorously, why would Eugene lie like that

“No, please. I would never lie to you, Negan. Please.” Your tears seemed to clean your bloody face as you reached forward to place your hands on his but he pulled away. “Please, I love you. I would never try to hurt you like this” you almost skipped passing, admitting your feelings for the man as you sat there pleading but the butterflies swam in your stomach as you heard his breathing getting heavier.

“So you did all this… all this because your a jealous fuck?” he screamed at you, you could hear the sound of your heart breaking. “You’re pathetic.” He finished before turning on his heels and shut the door behind him. You heard the lock on the door turn once more but you bolted towards it anyway, slamming your fists into the door attempting to speak under your cries but to no avail. You sat back in your corner, attempting to catch just one breath but you couldn’t… all you could do was rock back and forth… hoping one day he would see sense and free you from this cage.

#negan smith #negan #twd negan #negan x reader #negan x y/n #negan x you #twd fanfiction #negan fanfiction

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chocoluckchipz · 3 years

Text

Not a Spying, Not a Fake Date

The day Marinette met Adrien Agreste—the hottest supermodel alive, an only son of fashion icon Gabriel Agreste, and her long-time, embarrassing celebrity crush—was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. Instead, not only did she present herself as a total klutz, but his friend Nino had stolen Alya only two weeks later.

On a Saturday afternoon, no less!

Don’t get her wrong. Marinette was happy that Alya finally was interested in a guy more than the latest scoop. And she absolutely didn't mind skipping one of their weekly get-togethers in favour of her BFF going on a coffee date with their new classmate. Marinette wouldn’t be bored. She could work on one of her projects or play video games… if the day wouldn't be so perfectly gorgeous and sunny. Wasting it inside would’ve been a crime. A walk around a local farmer’s market, on the other hand, sounded just about right. And if said market happened to be across the street from where her friend was meeting Nino, that was a pure coincidence.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Marinette was absolutely not spying on anyone, and if she glanced the couples’ way once or twice, it was only to appease her morbid curiosity. No harm done. She wasn’t interfering. She couldn’t even hear what the two of them were talking about. Surely not about Adrien. Or her. Or her and Adrien. Nope. No way. Impossible. She wasn’t curious at all.

“You know you aren’t very subtle?”

Marinette froze, her blood running cold. She knew that voice. It was ingrained in her memory by now. But there was no way Adrien Agreste was standing right behind her, whispering in her ear. It must be nothing but a product of her imagination. Yes! A hallucination of a post-pubescent girl with a crush of irrational proportions.

Still, she spun around just to check if it was time to make an appointment with a therapi—

Her jaw hit the floor, eyes widening. The man in front of her sounded like Adrien, yet he barely looked the part. Most of his hair was hidden under a beanie, a pair of glasses framed his face. Baggy, black clothes covered his body. His chiselled jaw sported a light stubble, and a hippy backpack was slung over his shoulders. Not a shred of his classy self left, replaced by a sexy, casual chic version of the man.

“Adrien?”

He winked. “Looking beautiful as always, Princess.”

Her cheeks flamed despite her knowing better. He’d given her that nickname only because she was a clumsy mess, not because he was trying to flirt. Princess, aka "damsel in distress", someone in need of being saved. In her case, frequently being caught before she hit the ground as she kept tripping around him. Stupid Agreste and his stupidly handsome face.

A movement in the cafe caught her eye, and Marinette nervously grinned. Adrien was Nino’s best friend. There was no way he wouldn't know where Nino was taking Alya for their first date, which meant Marinette better be very careful in her words and actions, or else she wouldn’t be the damsel for much longer. The title of a “Creepy Stalker” didn't sound the bit least appealing to her.

“You look nice too,” she said, looking her best innocent self. “Different. I barely recognized you. I like the glasses. And stubble. Stubble is nice. Little of it. Not too much. Too much would look shabby. But yours looks good. Perfect. Not shabby at all.”

He chuckled, a corner of his lips curling into a smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. It was one. A compliment.”

“Why, thank you.”

Another couple left the cafe, catching both of their attention. Marinette quickly shifted her gaze to the apples at the stall she was standing by. As long as she acted natural, Adrien wouldn't suspect a thing.

“So, what are you doing here today?”

She inwardly groaned and stashed a few apples in a paper bag. “Apples. I’m here for the apples.”

“What a coincidence.” Adrien picked one of the red ones and twirled it in his hand. “I’m here for the apples too. By the way… Nino just asked for the bill, so if you were planning to do more shopping in other places, I’d say that’s our cue to pay for these and get ready to leave.”

Marinette glared his way, her whole face burning up. That cocky smile, that glint in his eyes. Of course, he’d catch her. But she wouldn’t give up so easily or she wasn’t Marinette Dupain-Cheng: her papa’s pumpkin, her mother’s sweetheart, the future of Paris’ fashion! “I’m not spying on anyone if that’s what you’re implying.”

“I wouldn't dare to accuse you of such a thing.” He grinned, putting the apple back. “But… may I suggest a few tweaks to your disguise? You know, in case you’re still up for some non-spying activities today.”

“I don’t need any tweaks. I’ve been here for an hour, and they haven’t noticed me. I could tail them all day if I wanted to, and they would not notice me.”

She froze, the last of her hopes to escape this unscathed vanishing right before her eyes. Curse this man! It was his fault her brain was shutting down around him.

The corner of Adrien’s lips curled in a smile as he leaned closer. “You might be well hidden amongst the rainbow of produce here, but, believe me, as soon as you step outside, that bright red hoodie of yours will give you away instantly.”

“In your dreams,” Marinette huffed, folding her arms over her chest. “This hoodie is the only thing in my closet Alya hasn't seen yet. My sunglasses cover half of my face, and I let my hair down instead of my usual ponytails. They would never recognize me.”

“Well, I did, didn’t I?”

“That’s because you came close. They are at a distance.”

“Nino will notice someone trailing them in a bright red hoodie. Believe me, that man lets no detail escape him. But give me five minutes, and your own parents won’t recognize you even up close.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “What for? The date is over.”

“Far from it. Nino planned coffee, a walk around the city, and a movie. He bought the tickets this morning.”

Adrien seemed to be confident in what he was saying, but Marinette couldn’t trust someone she’d recently met over her best friend, even if she was in love with him. “I don’t believe you.”

“There is only one way to find out if I’m lying.” He stretched his hand towards her. “Shall we?”

Shall they what? Why was he even here? She had to get out of the house for physical rest and mental health. What was his excuse?

“And what are you doing here, M Agreste?”

“I told you already.” The corners of his lips curled up in a sly grin. “Apples.”

“Right. And you went all out on a disguise for that?”

“Precisely.” He grinned wider. “I also knew Nino was having a date nearby, and being the great friend I am, I didn’t want them to see me and think I’m spying on them.”

She wanted to smack that shit-eating grin off his face. But Nino and Alya were exiting the cafe, and Adrien tilted his head to the side, his hand still outstretched toward her. “So? Want to not spy on them some more, or do you have other plans for the day?”

No, she didn’t, and perhaps she should be smarter, but something inside her was melting by the second, Adrien’s smile slowly massacring any scraps of reason she still had. “If you tell anyone, I’ll deny every word.”

“No one shall ever know.” He grinned. “Now, may I suggest a few tweaks to your disguise? To minimize our chances of being discovered.”

“Fine, but be quick. They are walking away.”

Adrien nodded and pointed to her hoodie. “Take this off.”

There was no time for questions, so she silently obeyed. The moment Marinette removed the garment, Adrien was already pulling his black sweater over her head.

“Wait! What are you—“

“Black is less conspicuous.”

“But what about you? It’s chilly, and your shirt doesn’t look very warm.”

“I’ll be fine. I wore that sweater for fashion, not because I was cold.” Stuffing her hoodie in his backpack, he looked her over once more. His face suddenly brightened. He grabbed her hand and pulled her out to the street in the direction of the nearest convenience store.

“We don’t have time for this,” Marinette protested as they neared the door of said establishment. “We’ve already lost them.”

“No, we didn't. We might not see them, but I know where they are.”

“I know that, too,” she grumbled. “In Paris. Where else? Europe, Eurasia. Planet Earth, Solar system. Hard to miss if you fly toward the Sun. ”

Adrien laughed. Long and heartfelt, the sound of his laughter brightened the space around them. There was still a glint of joy in his eye and a hint of mischief in his voice when he recomposed himself. “Nino spent hours planning their route yesterday, and yours truly was helping him. I know where they are headed. We’ll catch up.”

Hesitantly relenting, she followed him in the store, and once inside, Adrien disappeared somewhere between the rows. When he walked out, he was carrying a hairbrush, a couple of pins and hair ties, a small mirror, a plastic tablecloth, and a can of temporary hair dye. Quickly paid for, Adrien pulled her into the nearby alley. "Do you trust me enough for a blind makeover?"

A loaded question. She hardly knew anything about the man behind the carefully crafted image of his public persona. But Marinette loved surprises, and it wasn’t like Adrien even had anything that could potentially cause serious damage to her appearance in his hands.

“You aren’t going to cut my hair, are you?”

“Wouldn’t dare to even think about it.”

“Strangle me with that tablecloth?”

“It’s to protect your clothes from the dye. And before you freak out, it’s a temporary one. It’ll wash out with the first shower.”

At least it was pink—her favourite colour. "Don't make me regret this, Agreste."

“I promise, you won’t.”

She sent a glare his way. “If I do, you’re dead.”

Adrien laughed and slightly bowed. “Your trust means the world to me, Princess. Now, if you’ll allow me, I shall start.”

Marinette nodded, removing the sunglasses from her face. Adrien quickly draped the plastic tablecloth around her shoulders. The moment his hands ran through her hair, her brain short-circuited. It felt like heaven. Pleasant tingles cascaded down her skin at every touch as he brushed, tied, and clipped for what felt like an eternity yet was way too short of a period before he whispered in her ear, “Close your eyes and hold your breath for me for a moment.”

That would not be a problem; Marinette wasn’t sure she was breathing for the last few minutes anyway. He was too close. She could feel the heat of his body, the warmth of his breath, and that was doing things to her she’d rather not experience in a random alley off a busy street in the middle of Paris.

Oblivious to her internal turmoil, Adrien sprayed her hair with the temporary hair dye and proudly pronounced his job finished. The plastic tablecloth off her shoulders, he pushed a small mirror in her hands. “You can open your eyes and look now.”

Her speech was gone the moment her eyes caught her reflection. Most of her bangs were pinned back in the middle, only some of the hair framing her face on either side. The rest was gathered in two cute, messy buns on top of her head that had pink highlights all over them, something the tips of her bangs sported as well. It was a look she’d never thought of doing herself, yet somehow found herself loving more with each passing moment.

“Not bad,” she said, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Are you secretly a stylist by any chance?”

Adrien chuckled, putting her sunglasses back on her nose. “Nope. But I did grow up in a fashion tycoon’s house watching makeup artists transform people to an unrecognizable degree with simple tricks.”

“Well, you have a talent, M Agreste. I really like this.”

"Why, thank you." Adrien grinned. "I do like the outcome, too. You were always cute, but now you're straight-up adorable. Like a little mouse. An extremely lovely little mouse. ”

Marinette looked away, taking a step towards a street. He wasn’t flirting. He was just complimenting his own work. He wasn’t flirting. “As long as Alya doesn’t recognize me.”

“She won’t.” Adrien followed her. “Hey! Maybe we should hold hands and pretend to be on a date? They’ll never figure us out if we do that.”

Her eyes widened as he offered her his hand. “Are you… are you asking me on a fake date?”

“Do you want me to ask you on a fake date?”

“I’ve never liked anything fake,” she huffed. “Says a lot about one’s character.”

Adrien chuckled. “Then it’s good that all I’m asking is to hold hands. For a better disguise, of course. Not faking. Real hand-holding.”

An earnest smile on his lips, he stepped closer, silently waiting for her reply.

Marinette swallowed, her eyes falling to his outstretched hand, one that looked more and more appealing to hold by the second. How would it feel to have her palm in his? If she chickened out now, she might not get another chance to find out. “Only for the purpose of a disguise.”

"Only for that," Adrien assured, entwining their fingers together, his gaze on her soft and gentle. "Allow me to be your guide on this non-spying, not-a-fake-date mission, Princess."

His words fell on deaf ears as Marinette struggled to keep her composure. Big, strong, and very warm. Somehow safe and secure. Like a lover’s embrace. Holding Adrien’s hand was everything Marinette didn’t know she needed up until now.

He must have noticed something was amiss, cracking a dumb joke to break the awkwardness as they started their walk. Marinette tried her best not to laugh, but Adrien kept going, each joke worse than the preceding one. Ten minutes in, and she couldn't believe she ever had a crush on this… man-child. Adrien was the dorkiest dork she'd ever met. A dork who asked too many questions. So many it felt like he wanted to know everything there was to Marinette. She didn't mind. There were quite a few things she wanted to know about Adrien, as well, and what better way to ask if not as a retaliation to his inquiries?

About an hour later, they spotted Nino and Alya on a promenade by the Seine, walking hand in hand just like them. Her friend beamed, laughing so hard, Marinette could swear there were tears in Alya’s eyes. Nino looked no less happy, grinning at Alya with a satisfied look on his face. A smile found its way onto Marinette’s face. Adrien watched them mesmerized, slightly tightening his grip on her hand.

“Everything looks good,” he said, turning to her. “Their next stop should be a music shop a few blocks away, and there are a few cafes just across the street. Want to get a headstart and have an early lunch?”

Marinette nodded. She could use a drink or two right now. A nice large glass of the cold water because Adrien seemed to take their… whatever-this-was way too seriously, being all attentive and gentlemanly and extra charming, and if not for his assurance they were not on a date, Marinette would’ve surely thought otherwise. Just as she suspected, her silly crush on this man seemed to slowly be turning into something more than a simple attraction. Something different. Something deeper and more profound.

“Awesome!” Adrien grinned, turning back to the town. “I’ll buy us movie tickets once we’re there. Where do you want to sit? I prefer the middle, but I’m pretty sure Nino got the middle row seats, so that’s a bit risky. Shall we try for the back row?”

A pinch of guilt nagged at Marinette. Another glance at their friends in the distance and she stopped, slowly pulling her hand from Adrien’s grasp, mourning the loss with every inch lost. “Perhaps, we should stop here.”

He halted his steps, looking down. Seemed like she wasn't the only one feeling guilty about this. “You’re right. This wasn't a good idea.”

“They deserve more than two stalkers for friends.”

“They do. I was just too curious. This is the first time Nino’s been so crazy about someone.”

“So you decided to secretly third wheel them?”

He gave her an unimpressed look. “You don’t get to judge me. We’re in the same boat in this. Apples and all.”

Marinette couldn't hold back a snicker.

Adrien interlocked his fingers behind his head, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “I was really looking forward to that movie, though.”

“You’ll live.”

“Will I?”

“Absolutely, you big baby. Just go watch it by yourself if you want it so much.”

“But that’s not fun.”

“Better than stalking your friend on his date.”

“Then perhaps I should get my own. A date, I mean. For the movies.”

Marinette fell silent, her chest tightening. A guy like Adrien could have any girl he wished. And while she didn't think herself to be worse than anyone else, what were the chances he’d want her when girls like Kagami Tsurugi openly confessed their love to him?

“I guess you could,” she said, pulling out her cellphone to get an Uber.

“Then will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Go to the movies with me? Lunch and movies. A date. A real one. Nothing fake about it.” He was looking straight at her, a trembling smile on his lips, a soft glint in his eyes.

She blinked once. Twice. Her ears must be deceiving her. “Me?”

He nodded. “You.”

“But… Why?”

“Because I like you.” He stepped closer. “Because ever since you fell into my arms that first day, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Excuse me, but I did not fall into your arms!” Marinette huffed. Amazing or not, she wouldn't allow him to trample her reputation like that. “I just tripped, and you happened to stand in the trajectory of my fall. Or rather, you moved into it because, if my memory isn’t failing me—and my memory never fails me—you almost ran across the room to catch me.”

Adrien laughed. “Guilty as charged, but can you blame me? You’re amazing, Marinette. You’re smart and brave and confident and so very beautiful. A guy like me could only dream of being worthy of your attention.”

“You kidding me, right? A guy like you can have any girl he wants.”

“But there is only one I need,” he purred, leaning closer. “Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I’d be the happiest man alive if she’d give me a chance. I’m prepared to beg on my knees if that’s what it’ll take.”

Somehow, her hand was in his. He brought it to his lips and laid a lingering kiss on her knuckles. How could she say no to those eyes and that confident smoulder with a hint of childish worry behind it? The way she felt about him, she wouldn't want to say no even if her life depended on it. Marinette kept her eyes on Adrien's when she shifted her hand in his grasp, entwining their fingers together. "Only if we go to a different movie theatre. I don't want to run into Alya and have to explain things."

“Sounds good to me.”

“And we’re getting soulmate ice cream at Andre’s before that. I want to check if we’re meant to be before I commit to anything.”

Adrien laughed, pulling Marinette into a hug. “I’m pretty sure I won’t even have to bribe the man to get the result I want.”

“You’re way too confident, M Agreste, you know that, right?”

“Only when it really matters.”

“And is this one of those situations?”

His gaze soft and loving, Adrien leaned down, his lips gently brushing against the flustered skin of her cheek. “You’re at the top of my ‘Really Matters’ list, Mlle Dupain-Cheng.”

Another kiss to her nose, he lingered for a moment before whispering, “May I kiss you the way I know you want me to kiss you now? Or shall I wait until the end of our date?”

There was only one answer Marinette could give him. “Right now would be perfect.”

***

This is a reworked chapter from my upcoming "Dreams of You" story. If you're planning on reading it, don't be surprised to see part of this as one of the chapters. Hope you'll enjoy both of them!

#miraculous ladybug #adrienette #adrinetteapril2021 #first date #fluff #they're stalkers and they know it #aged up

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chayacat · 3 years

Text

Devil’s Sweet Star (42)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut

***

Ah... that expression of shock on your face, that lack of reaction... Or at least that frail voice that is yours. Danny couldn't have dreamed of a better reaction from you. We would think we were in a movie, where the girl discovers a terrible secret about her boyfriend. This is actually the case, with one exception: We are not in a movie. Danny watched you, his sneaky smile on his lips, like a cat watching the little mouse in his cage, the lion watching the gazelle, or the wolf devouring the poor little doe that will soon serve as his meal. He was slowly moving towards you, but you backed up against the wall, causing him to stop.

“Surprise, Honey. Happy to see me?” He said with a provocative smile.

“J-Jed? No... I don't believe it. It's a nightmare... or a prank! You can't...” you start to say.

“Can’t what? Being the one who since all this time harasses you every night making you doubt about your loyalty to your boyfriend? I can tell you my sweet little star, that all this is real. But... let's redo the presentations. Jed... never existed. My real name is Danny, Danny Johnson, to serve you.”

“You've been lying to me all this time... But why??”

“Think twice Sherlock. I am... quite wanted in other states. I wasn't going to swing my true identity, to a complete stranger I had just met. And then... there was a good chance... that you have heard of me. But luckily for me... that was not the case.”

“Your office...”

“Want to take a look? since the time you wish to enter it, now that you know the truth, I can show you. Follow me.”

Danny walked past you, while looking behind him to see if you were following him. He unlocked the door of his office and opened it so that you could finally enter it. He saw this expression of surprise on your face again, and this temporary absence of voice made him shudder. Everything went as he had imagined. It remains more than to know how all this would end.

“It's you who... who did all these murders... these innocent people... McKellan and... Hoggins.” You said finally.

“Nice deduction Sherlock. This is me. All those nights when I was inventing an excuse to go out... it was only for that. Spying, stalking... and kill.” Respond Danny leaning against the door.

“And also, to see me as Ghostface. You... you tried... you tried to rape me... and you pretended nothing had happened the next day.”

“And I apologize for that. But I had to... play my role. You would have suspected me too soon otherwise. I had to dissuade you from Jed. Let you accept me as I am. More confident, more... Enterprising then Jed." Replied Danny.

“From the beginning you lied to me. On everything. Your identity, your past, your work... I'm sure this story about this Carla is not real! You invented it or stole it from someone!” you said a little angry.

“Everything I told you about my past... is true. My parents were real assholes. Treating me like a dog. And as for my life with Carla... everything is true. Except one thing: When I learned that Dr. Pheels, the one who cared for her, had let her die, I went to see him one night. I entered through the window. He was in his office. I confronted him with his actions and he... he has denied everything. *You won't be able to prove anything Johnson. No one will believe you, you're wasting your time, Johnson. You'd better leave and find yourself another jug to fill your nights. And if she's sick... think of me. You can touch a small part. * At that time... I took out a knife that I had taken from home... and I slaughtered him like never before. My first murder, the one that made me who I am today. This is where Jed Olsen was born as well.”

“And I would still be there. You won't get rid of me as easily. I've told you before: I'm a part of you now.” said Jed in Danny’s mind.

“That night. You could have killed me. You could have made me yet another victim of your massacres. And yet you left me alive, you played with me, you... persuaded me to kill Hoggins. At least to let you kill him. Why? Why didn't you kill me that night?” you ask calmly.

It's true. He could have killed you that night. It would have made you just another victim and move on after hiding your corpse somewhere. He could have done it so many times... But he didn't. On the contrary, he lets you live, he spends time with you, shares his life and his past as you did with him. By curiosity? that's what he's always said to himself so far... but in the end isn't it for another reason? Isn't it more because he has found, or at least he thinks he has found something he thought was lost forever? And that he wanted to protect at all costs?

“Lying to her won't do much good here Danny. We both know that. Be honest with her. Like she was with you. And be honest with yourself. Believe me.” said Jed in Danny’s mind, leaning in front of him.

“I could have. At first, I confess that I did it out of curiosity, to see how far you could amuse me and I would have killed you as soon as you bore me. But... you were... so innocent. But just as fierce. Like Carla. She was like you, dreams full of heads, with punchlines when it was necessary. And a heart of gold, always ready to help people and do good around her. And the more time I spent with you, the more I felt like I was reliving my life before.” responds Danny sincerely to you.

“Good choice. It's a bit late, but better late than never.” replied Jed smiling.

“Now, that's the question everyone is asking. You know everything. What are you going to do?” Asks Danny to you.

Danny looked you straight in the eye, his smile having sag to make way for a more serious face. He had his knife in hand, ready to use it if you ever try to play the heroes or warn the police. He would like to not do that, but his secret has to come first. Even if it means killing you. He doesn't want to, but he won't have a choice. He no longer has a choice, and neither do you. You could have stopped before, avoided this relationship. It would have been easier for him. But here... it will be the first time for him that he will have to kill someone reluctantly. There is no turning back now. For both of you. This is where everything will play out.

Deep in his mind... Danny knows how it's going to end. There is no chance that you will accept all this. Even if you have shown flaws, he knows that you will denounce him, or try to stop him. If that really happens, so be it. But he can't help but hope. What a stupid spirit of humanity. And yet, what was not his surprise, when he saw you approaching him hugging him. For a few minutes, he waited for you to take out a knife or a weapon of some kind to attack him. But nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just... a normal hug. As if none of this had happened. Nothing had been said.

“Well... I... I didn't expect that. Unless this is a ruse on your part.” said Danny suspicious.

“What good would it be now that I try anything against you? You said it: if you fall, I will fall too. And... you may be an assassin... you've always been there when I needed... you listened to me, you protected me. You could have killed me a long time ago... and you didn't. And all those moments we spent together... I could never forget them. Never.” You respond without letting him go.

“Me neither.”

“I guess you've made it. You have succeeded in making me your accomplice. That's what you wanted. You wanted me to enter your world.”

“It won't be easy... but I would teach you to get ready for this new life. Lie... Keep one's mouth shut... Trick... As long as you are with me, nothing will happen to you.”

Danny gently took your face with his gloved hand before placing a quick kiss on your lips. But before he can back off, you kiss him passionately, hugging him a little more. He is not a doctor, or even a psychologist, but he could easily conclude that he caused you to have Stockholm syndrome. Or at least something close to it. However, he will have to be careful in the early days. He doesn't know if all this is real... or if you cheat. It's in Danny's mentality, he was betrayed too often in his youth, he will not let himself be fooled so easily.

“We're going to have to put ... two three little things to the point. First, outside of these walls, and when someone comes here, I'm Jed. no one should know my true identity. Not even Mattew and Melina.” starts Danny.

“It's horrible... to have to lie to them. They're friends, I'm sure they would understand.” you respond.

“They will especially warn the cops. At least after researching me. Journalistic curiosity, honey, can wreak a lot of havoc. Especially at the level of the closest people. Second, if the police come to ask you about Hoggins, you say you don't know anything. You tell them that the last time you saw him was when he threatened you in your café. Your employees will be able to confirm this.”

“Because I have to use them as an excuse now?” you replied.

“Everyone around you can serve as an alibi. I've done it often... very often during all these years.” responds Danny shrugging his shoulders.

“Anything else to know?”

“Even if you know about my office, I'd appreciate not seeing you inside. Everyone has their own business. Was I clear enough?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. So, how was your day?” Danny asks as if nothing had happened.

“As usual... I had two calls. For the succession, it is settled. And my aunt can't wait to meet you one of these days. But other than that, nothing very extraordinary. I'm exhausted.” you respond sighing.

“I know exactly what you need to... relax.”

Danny slowly lowered his hands until he reached your ass, putting a small slap. You jump slightly before looking at him, biting your lips slightly. A smirk comes to his face, provoking you just with the look. His piercing blue eyes, the secret of his charm. And it is in a fiery kiss that you both direct in the room, undressing each other before finding yourself on the bed, completely naked. The kiss continued, more sensual, and Danny finally entered you, making you moan with pleasure. He waited for you to relax before he began to move, and every move caused the two of you an insatiable pleasure.

No need to hide, no need to live under Jed's identity, no need to be Ghostface to satisfy his fantasies. Now that you know everything, now that you know who he is, he can finally be himself. He will continue to "play" Jed outside his walls because it is not necessary to arouse the suspicions of either office colleagues or the police. And even less of Wilhelm. This guy is a real leech.

Now with you he can finally be himself. You are the sweet little star of the devil. And no one will be able to approach you. In every sense of the word... the beast has been released. And nothing can stop it.

Not even himself.

***

(And it's done! This chapter was quite quick to write because since it is the continuation of the previous chapter, the ideas came to me quite quickly. Well, it's true that almost the entire chapter is mostly dialogue between Danny and the reader, but really, I didn't see how I could write it other than that. I don't forget the fic RE8 and the little teasing I talked about! By the way, if at the moment you do not know what to play, whether on Switch or PC, I recommend Road 96, a real surprise that I love! I hope you’ll like this chapter like the others ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all! See ya!)

#dead by daylight #dbd #dbd fanfic #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen

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sadoeuphemist · 4 years

Text

Six Times You Knew What Everyone Was Thinking (and one time you didn’t):

The King sits you down with his other two advisors, has you close your eyes, puts a hat on each of your heads. The hats will be either red or white, he says, with at least one red one. The first to speak up and name the color of their own hat wins the prize.

You open your eyes, see the other two advisors both with red hats staring at you. You all study each other, thinking. Silence. Silence. No one coming to a conclusion.

Ah, but in their silence it is obvious: if your hat were white, surely one of them would have figured it out already. Your hats all are red, of course.

You pass through a tunnel in a group of n where n>2 friends, wind blowing through your hair; you emerge from the darkness to see each of your friends with a smudge of soot on their foreheads. You laugh. You cannot help but laugh. They look hilarious! The moment they realize they have a smudge of soot on their foreheads, they will wipe it clean, of course, but for now all of you are laughing. You all will keep laughing as long as there is a spot of soot left to be seen.

You think, How inseparable you are from your friends, how your minds all work according to the same rules of logic! You can imagine what they are all thinking, right now, in their laughter; and they of you; and you are imaging them imagining you and so on ad infinitum. You watch them laughing and are looking into a hall of mirrors.

You think this is what knowing is.

In any case, so long as your minds all tick along at sufficiently different speeds, eventually, your faces will all be clean.

You attend a conference of logicians, a mad tea party. At the entrance they place a colored band around your head, forbidding you to look at your own color. They sit you all in a circle around a table, allow everyone to silently look around at one another, to note down the colors of everybody else.

This problem is solvable for everyone, they tell you. At regular intervals, a chime will sound, and everyone who knows the color of their own headband at that point is to stand and leave the table. The game will continue until everyone has left.

An inference: everyone must share a color with at least one other person, see it reflected somewhere, in order to have any chance at succeeding. If you see someone with a color all of their own, ah, then you must be their partner. If a pair fails to stand at the first chime, it is because they must have each seen something in you that you could not see in yourself, and so you will all rise together at the next chime as a trio. And so on, and so on, the smaller groups at first and then the larger, everyone in turn finding the group where they belong.

There is nothing to it but the logic. It is so orderly, so inevitable, done like this.

There is a blind spot in all these variations. Something so obvious that everyone but you can see. A mark on your forehead, a crown or dunce cap placed atop your head, that characteristic of the self that can only ever be perceived through someone else.

You do not know if your husband is cheating on you or not.

There is a system, as these things go. Gossip flows freely here, and so every woman knows of every unfaithful husband in the kingdom but her own. It would be discourteous to tell her. All women in the kingdom are required to train in logic before taking a husband; this too is widely known. You can trust them all as you can trust yourself.

One day the Queen makes an announcement: infidelity has run rampant in the kingdom, and so every woman who learns her husband has been unfaithful to her must kill him that very night. Every execution - or lack of executions - will be publicly announced the next day. You know quite well the number of unfaithful husbands in the kingdom, as does every wife: n, or n+1.

You count the days, and check your loaded pistol, and you wait.

There are two hundred inhabitants of the island: a hundred brown-eyed, ninety-nine blue-eyed, and you. The rules of the island are numerous, and contrived, and have little room for variation, but by now I think you must have grasped the pattern. You all think in lockstep, are all perfect logicians. You all know the color of everyone’s eyes but your own.

One final rule: the moment someone knows their own eye color, they must leave the island by ferry that night.

For a long time nothing happens. Each day passes like the other. The sky is an eternal blue. No one learns anything.

And then one day, an oracle visits the island, gathers everyone together to make a single announcement: there is at least one person among you with blue eyes.

She has not told anyone anything new, of course. You all could see either a hundred or ninety-nine blue-eyed people; you all knew that already. And yet, the count has started; time, invisibly, is ticking. And yet, and yet, and yet...

The answer has been much discussed: on the hundredth night, all one hundred blue-eyed people leave the island (as it turns out, you had blue eyes, as might have been predicted).

But the question is this: What did you learn?

You and one of your blue-eyed compatriots have been captured, locked in separate cells, far from one another. Eight strong iron bars block the door of your cell; your fellow islander (though you do not know this, have yet no way of knowing) counts twelve in theirs.

Your captor told you this, before you were separated: the number of bars in both your cells added together would total to either twenty, or eighteen. Your task is to determine which. He will first ask your friend during the day, and then if they cannot reason out an answer, he will come to ask you at night. Day in, day out, until one of you can give the correct number with absolute certainty, and then you will both be freed.

You learn nothing else each day, nothing but your continued inability to answer. You must choose between two immutable possibilities - your friend must either have ten bars, or twelve - and as one day passes, then the next, then the next, the routine and options both unchanging, it may seem impossible to ever inch towards a conclusion.

Ah, but then when were you ever limited to what was merely possible?

There are 8 bars in your cell; theirs must have either 10 or 12. Meaning they might imagine you as having 8, or 10, or 6. And so they imagine you in your cell as you were a moment before, calculating the possible number of bars in their cell: 10, 12, 8, 14. And from there, you imagine, they imagine you imagining them imagining you: 10 or 8 or 6 or 12 or 4 ...

Each possibility branches out into further possibilities, broadening the ranges, worlds within worlds within worlds within worlds. You are so alike. You know each other, perfectly: not just in everything that might be, but in all the things you might imagine within those possibilities that right now are ruled out even as hypothetical, and the things your imagining’s imaginings might imagine, and so on and on and on...

You are looking into a hall of mirrors.

Uncertainties multiply themselves. Through the kaleidoscopic reflections of one another you each discern every combination of numbers that might be conceived of, no matter how many layers deep in hypothetical: 18 and 2, or 16 and 2, or 16 and 4, or 14 and 6, and so on all the way down the rabbit hole.

After the first day passes without incident, there is no longer any conceivable set of worlds where your friend has eighteen bars. (The answer would be too obvious, the game over immediately.)

After the first night passes, if you know your friend does not have eighteen bars and yet you still cannot give an answer, then there is no longer any conceivable set of worlds where you have two.

The days pass in silence. The range of possibilities shrinks, ever gradually honing in on the truth.

Of course, you both already knew full well that these combinations were impossible. You each had your own set of bars, perfectly immutable, the iron laws of addition and subtraction. You all saw a red hat. Ninety-nine pairs of blue eyes, at the least! Everyone knew, and everyone knew that everyone knew that everyone knew.

But eventually there is an end to the maze of mirrors, of recursive possibilities, after so many, many iterations, when finally you cannot tack on another ‘knew they knew’ and still have it make sense. Then, you wait, each day passing, each of you learning from everyone else in their inaction: I have done nothing yet today to free us, and so now I know they know I do not yet know ...!

(a blue-eyed person sees 99 blue-eyed people, and thinks: they might each see only 98 blue-eyed people, and think: they might each see only 97 blue-eye people, and think: ....... they might each see only 2 blue-eyed people, and think: they might each see only 1 blue-eyed person, and think: they might not see any blue-eyed people at all!)

(this is what the oracle teaches you!)

------

After all your trials, this one is the simplest: You are one of two generals on opposite sides of a city, planning to launch a combined assault. Your target is walled, and well-fortified. You will need to attack together or not at all. A single army alone would certainly be massacred, so neither of you will send your troops forward if there is the slightest hint of doubt.

Alas, your only method of communication is sending messengers back and forth through enemy territory. There is a good chance they will be killed; the journey is quite perilous. But lives are cheap, and messengers are plenty, and you are both eager for victory. How many messages will you need to send back and forth before you can begin?

Answer: this is a simple problem, well known to be impossible. Send as many messengers as you want, but without a reply you cannot be sure that any of them survived. The other general must confirm the message - but how will he know that you received the confirmation without himself receiving another confirmation in return? And then that confirmation must be confirmed, and so on ad infinitum, each link in the chain essential and thus itself needing verification, such that no number of messages successfully delivered could ever be enough.

There is an insurmountable gap between you, meaningless assurances piling up, all made unbearable by uncertainty: Do you understand me? Do you understand me? Do you understand?

RESOURCES:

Wikipedia article on induction puzzles: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Induction_puzzles

Possibly the earliest known formulation of one of these kinds of puzzles (the smudge of soot one), by A.A. Bennett: https://puzzling.stackexchange.com/questions/28194/the-origin-of-the-blue-eyes-puzzle

Blue eyes puzzle (solution): https://xkcd.com/solution.html

18 or 20 bars puzzle: https://puzzling.stackexchange.com/questions/45664/are-there-eighteen-or-twenty-bars-in-my-castle

Two Generals’ problem: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Two_Generals%27_Problem

Common knowledge: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_knowledge_(logic)

#fiction

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quillandink333 · 3 years

Text

Scarlet Carnations ~ Part I

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.9k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

A deafening blast jolted me out of my slumber. I snapped upright.

As a member of law enforcement, I was painfully familiar with the sound of a gunshot, and that was exactly what I’d just heard.

I strained my ears with bated breath, trying to hear over my own thundering heartbeat.

Loud, frantic footsteps raced down creaky, wooden stairs. Then a terrified scream filled the halls of my childhood home.

I tore away the sheets and rushed to where the scream seemed to have come from. When I reached the parlour was when I stumbled upon the scene. There, right at the foot of my mother’s memorial, was my godmother’s cold, lifeless corpse. Kneeling beside her was her granddaughter, Paya, weeping into her open palms in shock.

Only a minute or two had passed since I’d awoken at the sound of gunfire. “Wait here,” I ordered, then made a break for the front entrance, the nearest and most instinctual escape route.

But when I threw the doors open, there wasn’t a soul to be found.

I returned to the parlour with my tail between my legs. Then my toe hit something heavy and metallic that clacked underfoot. When I looked down and saw what it was, I froze. With caution, I ever so slowly stepped away from the weapon.

“Great...” I muttered, seeing as now it would have my toe prints on it. But the longer I looked at it, I realized I’d seen this revolver somewhere before.

Then it hit me. It hit me like a two-ton train car.

I quickly made sure Paya’s head was turned. Then with terribly trembling hands, I did what I had to do and carefully tucked it away in my nightgown.

I’d feared the precinct wouldn’t allow me to participate in the investigation seeing as I’d been on the scene at the time of the crime. However, it seemed they trusted me enough to even appoint me as the lead investigator. Granted, I had done a lot to earn their trust over the past three years, but this was unheard of.

Nevertheless, I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. The next morning, at seven o’clock sharp, I returned to the scene of the crime equipped with all the necessary tools of my trade.

I looked out the window of the cramped police buggy at our destination in utter astoundment. There were already droves of officers there, awaiting the arrival of me and my partner. The sight of the place I’d once called home being chained off and hidden from the public like this was jarring, to say the least. Of all the strange crime scenes I’d seen, this was the strangest. I never could’ve imagined I’d be returning here, not to eat Auntie Impa’s delicious pork buns or to hear Auntie Purah talk about her latest technological endeavours, but for work. How could I have?

“Zelda! Good—good morning!” greeted a rather skittish Paya when she opened the door for us.

“Good morning, Paya.”

She nearly lost her smile when she noticed Constable Fyori standing beside me. “Please, come in.” She stepped aside, and he and I entered into the low-ceilinged yet stately vestibule, removing our shoes and leaving them by the door. “Can I get either of you anything? Some tea, maybe?”

My assistant opened his mouth, but I raised a hand, silencing him. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. We have important business to take care of.”

“Oh, yes, of course! Silly me,” she chortled. “I’ll let you get to it, then.”

The first order of business was to examine the body. In most cases, a specialist would be needed to perform an autopsy, but unlike most inspectors, I had the forensic knowhow to take care of it myself. One might have said this was a side effect of my hobbies and my avid interest in all things related to science that I’d harboured since grade school. However, a full autopsy complete with the weighing of the body and the removal of the organs would come later. For now, it would suffice to determine two simple things: the time of death and the cause of death.

But before I could even get close to the body, I was stopped by my assistant, who grabbed me gently by the arm.

“You don’t have to do this,” he uttered in his typical, mousy tone. “I can call for someone else to come and take care of it for you.”

The look of real and profound concern seated deep in his aquamarine eyes pulled at my heartstrings. It had been a year, roughly, since he’d first begun working under me. He was always so worried for me, and I always felt terrible because of it. I unhooked his hand from my arm, putting on a warm smile. “I’ll be okay, Link.”

He looked at me as if to ask, “Are you sure?”

“Really, it’s fine. Don’t worry,” I insisted. “Thank you, though.” This finally got him to return my smile, albeit only briefly.

I already had a decent estimate of the time of death. The period we were looking at was between half ten at night, when the last person awake (which had just so happened to be me) had gone to bed, and three in the morning, when the gunshot had given me that rude awakening. Really I should have examined the body as soon as I’d discovered it. In most other cases I worked on, I even wished I’d been the first on the scene, before the stiff had yet to even go stiff. Of course, the one time I happened to be one of the first to discover a murder, it had to be like this.

And yet, until I knew who was responsible for this atrocity, grieving could wait.

Right off the bat, I could tell that this had been a homicide. This may have seemed obvious to someone like Paya, but as a detective, I’d had to forcefully train myself to assume nothing and question everything. Based on the characteristics of the hole running straight through her neck, however, I determined that the gun had been shot from too far a distance for it to have been suicidal. Auntie Impa’s arms simply weren’t long enough.

But for a death caused by hemorrhage from a severed jugular vein, there was a shockingly small amount of blood. The rush-woven mat beneath her was nearly spotless, and I knew from experience how difficult it was to get stains out of these mats. Even when I checked underneath the mat, there was still nothing. No blood, and no bullet.

With a final nod, I stood up and signalled the other officers to take the body away.

“Now, let’s see here...” I said to myself, scanning the area immediately surrounding the corpse before approaching my mother’s altar. But when I laid eyes on the damage it had sustained, I stumbled back.

Though she hadn’t been a follower of the same faith held by the Sheikahs, my mother’s memory had been enshrined here because, like myself, they’d been like a second family to her.

With all due caution, I picked up what remained of her photograph. The glass was shattered, and a bullet had completely erased her face.

If this wasn’t a sign of the Yiga organization, I didn’t have a clue what was. Who else would’ve borne such ill will toward Hilda Hyrule, the town’s beloved last mayor who’d been dead ever since the tragic “accident” at City Hall eighteen years prior? That massacre had been what had ushered in their age of power, and with no one left to stand in their way, they’d been terrorizing the city ever since.

Before I’d even had the chance to begin my analysis, I heard Paya’s timid footsteps shuffling up to me. “Zelda?” she whispered, obnoxiously tapping her finger on my shoulder. “Excuse me...”

I turned my head and forced a grin. “What is it?”

“Umh, I didn’t know he’d be accompanying you today.” I didn’t even have to follow her gaze to know who she was eyeing.

I suppressed a sigh. “Constable Fyori is my partner,” I reminded her politely. “I take him with me on all of my investigations.”

“Yes, I know, but...” Now her gaze was nervously flitting back and forth between me and Link. “I-I wasn’t prepared to see him again after so long. What if—what if he says something to me?”

“He won’t,” I huffed. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh my, I’m so sorry,” she fretted. “I’ll get out of your hair.” I gave her a nod of the head in thanks, and she kindly stepped back and out of my space. But even after that, I could still feel her intense stare from across the room. I let out the sigh I’d been holding in. Sure, Paya was irritating, and I was going on maybe four or five hours of sleep at most, but there was no excuse for me to be irrational, especially since it would get me nowhere in my line of thinking. What I wouldn’t have done for a nice, hot cup of chamomile at that moment.

Based on the extreme angle of the bullet’s trajectory, one could tell at a glance where the shooter had to have been positioned. They’d have been standing above the altar with very little space between the two—definitely not enough for an entire person. Therefore the bullet that had taken the victim’s life had to have been a different one. This was backed up by the absence of any blood around the hole or anywhere else on the shrine. So why had I only heard one gunshot that night? And where in the world was the bullet responsible for Auntie Impa’s death if not on the scene of the crime?

After photographing the hole and scribbling my thoughts and observations down in my notebook, I began the procedure of extracting the bullet from the altar. This was a delicate task, one that I admittedly had a hard time trusting anyone else in the force with. Once I’d succeeded in retrieving the bullet, I determined it was of the same calibre as the one that had passed through the victim’s throat, meaning it was likely that it had been fired from the same gun. Unfortunately, all these facts corresponded with the weapon I’d found on the scene mere hours ago, two chambers of which were empty. There may have been no prints left on the trigger, but even so, I simply didn’t have it in me to run a striation comparison.

Standing up straight and taking a quick, deep breath, I turned to my assistant, who seemed to be investigating the mantelpiece. “Right, then, Fyori.” He turned his head as I approached him. “Anything to report?”

“No, madam,” he replied solemnly, avoiding my gaze and peering straight ahead over the top of my head.

“Is that so...?” I tapped the end of my pen against my chin habitually. “We seem to have a dreadfully diligent killer on our hands.” I gave the room another once-over from where I stood beside him. “You’ve been thorough in your search as always, I presume?”

“Of course.”

“And you found nothing? Not even a fingerprint?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Then let’s move on,” I sighed, turning toward the doorway leading out into one of the building’s many corridors. He followed, just a few paces behind me. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to check since we got here.”

“That’s strange...” muttered Auntie Purah as she jumped through the footage captured by the front entrance’s security camera. “Symin, did I miss something?”

The Sheikah estate’s security supervisor shook his head. “Not that I could see.”

“Let me check it again.”

But even when she rewound and skipped through it a second time, the only person to appear was still myself on my initial search for the killer. Link gave me a furtive glance. I smiled at him in reassurance.

“Perhaps the other cameras caught something,” I suggested. “It would make sense that the culprit wouldn’t want to simply waltz right in through the front door.”

Auntie Purah looked to Symin. “Well, there are three other cameras, but two of them are so far removed from the scene that I doubt they’d be of much help.”

“And the third?” I asked, reaching for my notebook and something to write with.

“That would be the courtyard camera.”

“Ah, perfect!” The courtyard was located at the very centre of the property and served as an intersection between the four main hallways. “That one’s bound to have caught something. Let’s see.”

But this, too, would turn out fruitless. Throughout the night, there wasn’t even the shadow of a clue as to the killer’s movements.

“This...” I gaped. “This is impossible.” I knew for a fact that this particular model of camera was designed for the very purpose of protecting its footage from being altered or obstructed. Could the killer have made themselves invisible somehow?

“I don’t believe it.” Auntie Purah shook her head creakily. “Our company takes great pride in the reliability of our security cameras!”

Enraged, the tiny, old lady tried to stand up from her seat. Then a loud crack resounded throughout the cramped surveillance office. She screamed.

��Miss Purah, please calm down,” urged the kindly Symin, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she seethed, adjusting her glasses. “Thank you.” I didn’t know the man as well as I did the rest of the family as he had become a part of it a few years after I’d left the nest. However, it seemed like he would make a fine successor to Auntie Impa’s role of keeping her elder sister’s enduring impulsivity in check.

“There’s no reason to worry, Auntie. This is no fault of yours or your company’s,” I said, hoping to ease her pain a little. She’d suffered a terrible loss, and it was taking a great toll on her. It was difficult to watch such a brilliant mind come undone because of something like this. But after hearing my words, she looked up at me with a wrinkly smile. “My partner and I will just have to do an even more thorough inspection of the property tomorrow.”

The ride back to the precinct wasn’t a pleasant one. By the end of the day, my own mind had deteriorated into a swirling whirlpool of confusion, resentment, and woe. The investigation so far had borne so little results, it was hard to imagine that tomorrow’s search would be that much more successful. Of course there was still so much more that needed to be looked into, but right now, I just couldn’t see this turning out well. I still hadn’t solved the mystery behind my mother’s death in eighteen long years. Why, in this case, would I prove to be any less of a failure?

I curled my fists against my legs, trying my hardest to forget about the empty feeling in my stomach. Despite this, I knew I didn’t have the energy to do much more rational thinking today, if any at all.

Then my colleague broke the silence. “She was important to you, wasn’t she?” he asked, but such a personal question was strangely out of character for him.

“Yes.” I smiled sorrowfully into my lap. “I never really thought of her as a mother figure,” I admitted, “but she did put a lot of time and effort into raising me, in my actual mother’s stead.”

“She must’ve been a wonderful person.”

This made me laugh, to both his and my surprise. “Well, she would often scold me and Paya with the strictest attitude you can imagine, but I suppose she always had our best interests at heart.”

The longer I thought about Auntie Impa, the more I mulled over who could possibly have wanted her dead. She had already been getting on in age. Had the perpetrator’s need to kill her really been that dire? The only time people ever went that far was when their victim’s life would’ve put them in danger somehow if they’d have allowed them to go on living. But then again, there was the Yiga organization. They went around committing murders a couple times every week for seemingly no reason other than to flaunt their power. Perhaps Auntie Impa really had been just another one of their prey. Even so, I couldn’t shake the suspicion that there was more to it than that.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

The constable cocked his head, but kept his eyes on the road.

But then I stopped myself. There was still no proof of the Yiga’s involvement, so there was no point in bringing it up now. “Well, all of it is quite strange, frankly,” I amended. “The lack of blood, the missing bullet...”

“Could the killer have moved the body from somewhere else, perhaps?” he tentatively suggested.

“Very good, Link. That’s exactly what I’ve been theorizing.” The tips of his ears flushed, and he seemed to shrink back into his seat a little. “Oh, but then...wouldn’t that make it more likely for the cameras to have caught something?”

“That is true,” he concurred. “And there’s still been no sign of the murder weapon?”

I swallowed hard. “No...” My eyes flickered down toward my briefcase. “None.”

#my writing #fanfic #botw #zelink #botw zelink #zelink botw #botw link x zelda #botw zelda x link #link x zelda #zelda x link #zelink fanfic #zelink fic #zelink ff #zelda pov #detective au

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genshin-obsessed · 3 years

Note

[moth]

happy birthday pocket!

i had no energy to make this a genuine fluff drabble it's 12:30 am here

----

Groaning, Diluc runs his hands up his face. Tf was he gonna do on your darned bday when his freaking schedule is full of ABYSS ABYSS ABYSS ABYSS ABYSS MUAHAHAHAHA

He mumbles something about perhaps gathering a small bouquet of small lamp grass before discarding the idea, thinking that it wouldn't be enough to resemble all the love and adoration he had for you. He unties his hair, letting the crimson locks rest against his back as he picks up the quill once again, writing away. 'Perhaps a letter will work for now. After I return from my duties, all my time will go to them for sure.' Smiling, he begins to pour his heart into each words written down on the parched paper.

----

Flopping down on your couch, you flip through a magazine of advertisements. Man, you were hungry. And what's better than grabbing some leftovers from what Diluc had cooked for you two the other day? You smile at the thought of the sight of your husband in the kitchen with an apron on, hair tied into a high ponytail as he works his magic. Gaze shifting to the ring on your finger, your eyes soften at the ruby gem, reminding you of his beautiful crimson eyes.

----

He quickly slips the letter into your mailbox, yes the two of you do not live together(yet), rushing off elsewhere. Probably outside of Mondtsadt's walls to make some abyss mages perish. He first starts with Brightcrown Canyon, moving from area to area- Man, this guy is traveling all across Mondstadt, excluding Dragonspine, with the image of your smile on his mind at all times. I mean, what can I say? He's obsessed with you. If you got injured? In the blink of an eye he'll be hurling a freaking phoenix at what, or who hurt you. If someone insulted you? "Sorry, did you say something to my lovely wedded partner here?" he questions, ticked off with a very concerning smile on his face. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, opening his eyes which send a chill down the insulter's spine. "That's right. We're married, got a problem? Call them a hilichurl on drugs, they're my hilichurl on drugs. A random, dumb idiot? My random dumb idiot. Back. Off."

----

Shuffling over to the random fridge in the kitchen, you look around the kitchen before giggling and taking out the leftovers from "Once Upon a Time in Mondtsadt", his specialty. You slip the plate onto a rack, placing it on the stove, somehow warming up the meal.

----

Diluc jabs the hilt of his claymore into an abyss mage, twirling his weapon around and stabbing the monster right in the face. He opens the map, noticing that he's already in the second to last area. A new motivation! A small hum of satisfaction is heard before he proceeds to massacre the popularity of abyss mages in Mond.

----

You slip the plate of warmed-up "Once Upon a Time in Mondstadt" onto the counter, hopping onto a high stool and rubbing your hands together excitedly. Grinning, you cut off a piece of the steak and let it enter your mouth, the texture and flavor instantly making you float up to heaven.

----

It's.. Raining... Diluc is soaked. Soaked.

----

Setting down the fork and knife, you get off the stool and walk towards the front door. 'Perhaps mail has arrived already..' Opening the door, you check the mailbox and are met with a nice looking envelope. It's a pastel scarlet-ish color, with a white lacey pattern along the edges. Slowly scooching back inside, you close the door and open the envelope, unfolding the letter.

Dear (Y/N),

Happy birthday, dearest. I would've had something planned for today, but unfortunately the abyss has eaten up my schedule once more. But if the sun hasn't sunk when I get back, would you like to spent some quality time together? Perhaps we could eat out at Sara's, or go sight seeing. Perhaps the sun going down would be nice, stargazing sounds fun. Many ideas have circulated around my head while I was writing this, however do be prepared to accept a bouquet.

'Oh honey I'll make sure to have the bouquet somewhere on display in my house, fosho.'

You mean a lot to me, and since Father's passing, you've been here for me at all times. When we were younger, when Kaeya was taken under Crepus' wing, when all three of us had those good times.. Ah, it's always nice to recall the kind moments we shared.

You stifle a laugh, remembering how Kaeya had accidentally frozen Diluc- But then the ice slowly started melting with an angered Diluc underneath.

My entire heart is dedicated to you. If you have a wish that I can grant within my power, please ask for such. Even if it counts as spoiling you rotten, I'll love you no matter what. You've made my life so much easier, and whenever you can you also help me out with the abyss. Not that I'm fully supporting such, since you're putting your life into danger which is what I do not want.

'And you are too, fighting the abyss as well,' you chuckle. 'My love, please take a break for once.'

Now I must end this short, due to me being behind schedule already. I need to set out ASAP. See you soon, I love you.

-Love,

Diluc.

Your heart flutters at the last three words, oh how it always does so. But your cheeks can't help but blush at the words written down.

----

Trudging up your doorstep, Diluc knocks on the door. The sun.. had already fallen. You open the door by a crack, peeking through and immediately swinging it open at the familiar redhead. Wrapping your arms around him, you sigh contently and rest your head on his chest. "I missed you..," he mumbles, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. "Why don't we head inside? Ah, before that.." The darknight hero takes out a bouquet, as promised in the letter, the flowers glowing a wonderful blue. Small lamp grass. So, he went with his original plan. Lovely. He hands it to you, patting your head before making his way inside.

--END

carp i am so tired it's now 1 am

well uh

gn pocket hope you enjoyed this <3 <3 <3

Hello Pocket! I'm here to wish you a quick Happy Birthday!!

[Cicada]

You've become a year older! How sad.. But nonetheless, congratulations on making it this far! Both me and Moth are very proud of you, even if you're technically the bigger one here, and we're always encouraging you!

Thank you for being a wonderful writer, and person in general.

-Cicada.

It’s official :’) I am Diluc’s hilichurl on drugs

On a more serious note, thank you so much Moth!! You didn’t have to do this, but you did and it makes me very happy! I really appreciate it💖💖 this was definitely my bedtime story lol even though I have I think one more! This was adorable, I got to be married to Diluc- UGH IT MADE ME SO HAPPY!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!! Just the thought of this made me tear up😭😭 you’re awesome, thank you my friend!

And Cicada, yes I know I’m getting older 😔 I’ll be ancient soon enough- but thank you. To you both! Your words mean a lot to me too💖💖💖

I hope you both have a wonderful day/night💖

#🌸─ pocket tries #✧ ─ moth #✧ ─ cicada #saving this 🥰

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depressedhatakekakashi · 3 years

Text

Yesterdays Sadness Saved For Today

AU: Ghosts Au

Words: 1726

Rating: Teen

Characters: Hatake Kakashi and Uchiha Shisui

Warnings: Minor Character Death

Summary: Kakashi tries to escape the village for a while, desperate to get away from all of the ghosts that litter the streets. Unfortunately, the spot he chose to hideaway has a surprise for him.

Made with lots of help from @sakura-rpblog

@itachi-uchiha-deserved-better @uchihashisui-kun it's pretty heaving Itachi and Shisui focused, so I thought maybe you two might like XD

Dark clouds hung over the village.

Not the kind that would pour rain on top of the villager's heads and flood the streets. Force people to run for cover inside of shops or under trees. Those were avoidable.

No, these clouds were the ones created by overwhelming sadness. The ones that would hover over the village until people had time to mourn. To say their goodbyes and stuff their pain away deep down inside of their hearts so that they could move forward.

Forget about what had hurt them so much.

The village was still healing from the attack, and the ghosts who hadn’t made it home littered the streets. Shinobi from the leaf, sand, and Sound all sharing the same streets where their bodies had fallen. Some were searching out the people they left behind, others just standing there wondering why it was Konoha they were stuck in or why they hadn’t moved on.

It was too much for Kakashi to handle today. He needed to escape. To get somewhere where he didn’t have to see any more ghosts, just for a little bit.

So he went to the Naka. A quiet place to hide away and read his book. Maybe he’d even be able to forget about all of those wondering, lost spirits that littered the streets of Konoha. The people that no one else could see.

Finding a nice spot under one of the trees a bit closer to the cliff’s ledge, he settled himself in and pulled out his book. Ready to waste the day away and forget about that crushing sadness that loomed over the village.

“I wonder what you’re reading,” Jumping up from his spot, Kakashi turned to face whoever had decided to intrude on his peaceful getaway, his face immediately losing all color as soon as he saw who was standing there. “Oh, sorry I didn’t mean- wait, can you see me?”

Uchiha Shisui.

A man who had died years ago, leaving behind no body or trace of what had even happened to him, now standing in front of Kakashi staring at him with wide empty eye sockets, blood running down his face.

The weirdest thing about the whole situation was he was still smiling. A bright, toothy grin, full of excitement and energy.

“You can see me!” He threw his arms up into the air in celebration. “I never thought….Itachi always acted like I wasn’t here…”

This is not how Kakashi had imagined his day going when he had made the decision to head to the Naka. Clearly, there were things he didn’t know about the area.

“Hey,” Shisui took a step forward and waved a hand in front of Kakashi’s face, acting as if he could see the other man even though there were no eyes inside of his skull. “You alright? You haven’t said anything at all.”

What was he supposed to say? Were there even any words that fit into this situation? Anything that wouldn’t make him feel like he had officially lost his mind?

“You-how…” that was definitely not it. Now he just sounded like an idiot.

“Well, I suppose that’s a bit hard to explain,” Shisui straightened his back and brought a finger up to rest against his chin. “I don’t really know why I’m here, or how. It’s all a little confusing and no one ever bothered to explain it to me. I just...I died, and then I was here.”

A familiar explanation.

Every ghost he had spoken to had said the same thing, and none of them left until whatever it was tying them to this world was solved. Whether it was a loved one being able to move on, or someone being forced to pay for what they had done to them.

It varied from person to person, and he didn’t have enough information about Shisui’s death to know what was holding him to this spot.

“Where’s Itachi?” The question caught him off guard. Staring at the other man, he watched as that bright happy smile slowly turned sad. A more haunted, hurt look taking over Shisui’s face. “I haven’t heard from him in a long time. He used to visit a lot but then he just...stopped.”

Did he explain the situation?

Tell Shisui what had happened to his clan? How Itachi had slaughtered all of them, taking their lives one by one until the only ones left were himself and Sasuke.

Was that the death he wanted to grant Shisui? The eternal knowledge that Itachi was the reason the Uchiha clan was no more?

“Hey,” Shisui called out to him, forcing him out of his thoughts. “You’re not answering my question. Is everything alright? Is Itachi...”

Opening his mouth, Kakashi tried desperately to come up with something to say. Perhaps a lie that Itachi was just busier than usual, or a promise that Itachi would come to visit again. He’d make sure of it.

He couldn’t though.

He refused to be the one to give Shisui hope.

“He went through with it, didn’t he?” The words sound so broken when Shisui speaks again, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I tried to talk to him. To tell him that he didn’t have to. That he shouldn’t listen to Danzo. But no matter how hard I tried, or how loud I yelled, he never heard me.”

It sounded to him like Shisui knew more about the situation than even he did. Which made sense in a way. Kakashi had tried to get through to the younger shinobi, but he was a living breathing person. Capable of trying to put a stop to whatever it was Itachi had planned.

Shisui was dead.

Incapable of doing anything. Just a memory for Itachi to visit and vent to. Itachi probably had no idea he was even there listening to his words. If he did, Kakashi couldn’t imagine him being so open. Holding the weight of Shisui’s judgment on his shoulders.

“How long?”

“Five years,” a statement of fact with no emotion in it, even though there was a deep sense of sadness that had settled inside of his soul years ago over the events. “I tried...I wanted to help him but-”

Shisui held up a hand to silence him.

“It’s not your fault,” words he had tried so desperately to believe over the years, but never could. Itachi was his responsibility. His teammate. “The only people to blame here are Danzo and me.”

Danzo.

That was the second time Shisui had mentioned the village elder. It couldn’t have been a coincidence, could it?

He wanted an explanation. Anything that would help him to understand why Itachi had done it. “What happened?” he asked, terrified of the answer that he was so desperate to hear. “Why did he...I don’t understand.”

For years he had tried to come up with a reason.

To understand why Itachi had done it. Why he had thought it was the only course of action when he had tried so hard to get through to the younger shinobi. To help him out when he seemed so troubled by everything happening.

But Itachi was a living breathing person, capable of making his own decisions as he saw fit. No matter how much Kakashi wished he had just opened up to him and allowed him to help in some way, he had chosen not to.

Based on what Shisui was saying, though, that may have been a choice made by someone else. Someone playing god and using Itachi as their pawn.

“Itachi was stuck in a hard place,” Shisui answered after a moment of contemplation. “Fugaku-Sama wanted him to use his position in Anbu to gather information for the coup, while Danzo wanted to use him to take care of the problem he believed our clan to be.”

Kakashi wants to scold himself for not figuring it out sooner. It should have been obvious to him that Danzo had his hand in the events of the massacre. He had seen what the man was capable of doing to get what he wanted. After all, this was the same man who had sent Tenzo to kill him so that he could have his Sharingan.

If he was willing to kill a loyal leaf shinobi, he’d have no qualms massacring a clan that was planning a coup against the village. But of course, he didn’t want to get his hands dirty. He needed a pawn, and apparently, Itachi had been the perfect one to use.

“I wish that he could have heard me,” Shisui sighed. “That I could have helped…”

“Itachi chose his path,” Kakashi whispered, hoping to give Shisui at least some release from his sorrow. Maybe if he was able to forgive himself, he’d move on. Find his peace and take his peace in the afterlife. “You hold no responsibility for what happened, Shisui.”

“Perhaps,” making his way past Kakashi, Shisui came up to the cliff’s edge and stared down at the water below. “Maybe if I had survived, things could have been different.”

Reaching out towards the man, Kakashi found himself wishing for once that he could actually touch a ghost’s shoulder. Maybe it would help reassure Shisui a bit better.

He’d never know. As always his hand simply went through the spirit’s body. A stark reminder that he wasn’t interacting with someone of this world any longer.

“I’ll just have to wait,’ Turning his head, Shisui smiled once more at Kakashi. “When he’s ready, he’ll find me here. I know he will.”

A smart man would take the opening that Shisui had given them and run. Find themselves a new place to hide away and escape the sorrow that littered Konoha everywhere they went.

Kakashi was a genius, but he was not a smart man.

Making his way to the edge of the cliff, he carefully took a seat beside Shisui and stared out to the horizon. That dark cloud he had been trying so desperately to escape only growing as he listened to Shisui starting to hum beside him.

There was no guarantee that Itachi would show up anytime soon, if ever.

So for as long as he could, Kakashi would keep Shisui company.

It was the least he could do. Even if Shisui never found his peace at least he wouldn’t have to be alone.

#Hatake Kakashi #Uchiha Shisui #Minor Character Death #Shisui's death #Kakashi see's ghosts #counter strike: global offensive #Taryn's Birthday Celebration 2021 #Taryn's Birthday Fics

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czarojay · 3 years

Text

LONG POST

Someone please stop me from writing the ghost tubbo idea i had a month ago to procrastinate on the dreamon au

Because like i had this AU and maybe if i write about it here it will stop me??? I can’t actually find the conversation on discord where i talked about it so i’m probably just gonna throw stuff here from memory and change half of it

Feel free to write a fanfic inspired by this, but 1. tag me 2. i’d appreciete if you credited the idea or at least said i inspired you ^^’

Ok so Tubbo died during the Festival. Like I don’t care if in this a Respawn!AU or Permadeath, irl or whatever. Tubbo doesn’t respawn and dies in Tommy’s arms.

Assuming it’s a world with Respawn, Tommy just waits for Tubbo’s body to disintegrate or whatever the bodies in this AU do, as Techno massacrates people in the background, he just repeats to himself something along the lines of “C-come on Tubbo! Respawn already!”, but his friend stays limp in his arms, growing cold.

In the end, they need to flee, like they did during the festival. Feel free to make Wilbur even more insane or evil whatever you prefer and make him leave the body saying either don’t take it, he’s a traitor, just like Eret or just it’s going to be a dead weight (ha, a pun!) (that was so inappropriate to the scene sorry ignore this), so they leave the body and it’s buried in the Manburg just like in the later Tommy’s stream where he zoomed onto the grave with a sign saying that here lies the traitor Tubbo.

But you can also make Tommy carry his dead friend’s body all the way to Pogtopia, anger and grief clashing, still in the denial stage, hoping Tubbo will come back. Like Tubbo dies all the time! He’s just such a clingy, clumsy big man right? He will come back, right?! Tommy rests Tubbo somewhere in the Pogtopia on a makeshift bed hoping it will make the healing faster and as Techno and Wilbur talk ‘downstairs’ he realizes something. Tubbo isn’t coming back. He would be back by now normally.

He’s shook to the core with the realization and shakingly goes down to Techno and Wilbur. The pit happens, but at the end, even after Techno’s speech about the language of violence, maybe Tommy snaps? Maybe Tommy yells how Tubbo isn’t coming back? Maybe the older men, practically brothers to Tommy, realise that Tubbo is nowhere to be seen? Maybe they realise the boy, the spy, the victim of the situation is dead? Maybe Niki stares and gasps in horror in the background and is the one who goes to Tommy first to comfort him and help him with the wounds from both the pit and the whole today? Maybe Wilbur stares in horror at his fists, realising he’s the one who put Tubbo in danger? He wanted Tubbo to do the speech, he made Tubbo run back and forth between the two leaders, maybe if he didn’t pressure Tubbo as much, Schlatt wouldn’t have noticed. Wilbur falls to the ground and sits with his head between the knees for a long time, wondering about what he did wrong.

Technoblade? He’s awkward and we all know it. He may be a god of PvP, the best farmer in Minecraft, but he’s still awkward. Of course he wants to comfort his little brother, but what can he really do? He’s at loss and still hasn’t fully accepted what he’s done. He killed Tubbo, but he had thought he’d respawn/survive(I really went at the beginning and said this can be also for permadeath au and then wrote it all about respawn au but whatcha gonna do huh).

Overall the tension in Pogtopia is high, but to be fair, so is Manburg. People didn’t know about the execution and (you know what im just gonna keep going as if the respawn au was planned) the brush with death, even if they respawned, was never pleasant. It’s even worse when they somehow find out Tubbo didn’t respawn. Some people are happy with the fact, others are in shock and grief.

And here can end chapter 1! Or at least it feels natural for me to cut off somewhere here! Idk really it all depends on your writing style. I'm not gonna dictate how you’re supposed to write idk myself neither.

Assuming Tommy took the body with him, he later goes on to the only place where Tubbo found peace. Where Tubbo went during the war, the only place where he wasn’t bothered, where he was safe and truly free, without a leader or a dictator over him. Tommy went to Tubbo’s jungle base.

He took the body with him, not letting anyone of Pogtopia know where he’s going, not wanting a Wilbur or a Technoblade, especially a Technoblade with him. He felt as though he needed to do this alone. He needed to make sure his friend, at least posthumously, gets the treatment he deserves. So he buried his best friend as he would bury a king.

Tommy spends the night at the jungle base and awakes at night, by a greenish blue light. It’s not too strong, but it’s just enough to be felt. He rubs at his eyes, trying to awake himself, to see if he’s not seeing this, but there it is. A will-o-wisp floating in the middle of the building. Tommy gets up, picks up his sword and carefully maneuvers around the wooden beams with a collapsed floor, he gets to the centre.

He gently cups his fingers and let’s the ember fall on his hands, but as soon as it touches them, there’s a bright flash and Tommy falls to the floor momentarily blinded. When he regains his sight he looks up and sees a ghost floating above him. Its back is turned to him, but he can tell it’s as confused as he is. But wait… He recognizes that shirt. It may be more bright and glowish, but…

“TUBBO” he screams in the dead of the night, the nature suddenly quieting. The spirit turns around with phantom tears in their eyes “,Tommy?” they whisper and that was the moment both of them were sure of each other’s identity.

Tommy rushes, tries to stand up and hug Tubbo, but he simply passes through the boy.

As disheartening as that was, Tommy is still overjoyed to see Tubbo alive. Or at least here, as they soon agree that he is in fact dead. Feel free to put a flashback here, a new paragraph or whatever maybe a new chapter from tubbos perspective.

The last thing Tubbo saw was a grim grin from Techno and a flash of blue and red fireworks. Here is a “how creative can you get” test! You can put somehow afterlife looks like, maybe something comes for Tubbo to go on, but he refuses? Maybe he sees nothing or everything is a blur? Maybe it was the last thing and the first thing he saw was Tommy’s crying face? Here is your free chappy for all the angst it can fit! Have fun go wild, turn on some sad music and let it ALL out!

Tubbo and Tommy talk for long and Tommy tells Tubbo the fallout of his death and Tubbo tells Tommy what happened from his perspective.

But here’s the funny thing, because I don’t know what you think, but… ghosts aren’t actually bound to places! They’re spirits they can go wherever they please! So Tubbo decided to stick around to Tommy. And as they travel and reach Pogtopia, they find out, Wilbur or Techno don’t see Tubbo. From a brief moment, where Tommy was sleeping and Tubbo broke away and went to see Manburg after the festival on his own eyes, he meets Schlatt and as he stops his breathing (he doesn’t need it, he’s dead, he just does it for comfort or out of habit), he’s scared, he think he’s noticed and waits for insults or a surprise or a sorry or a laugh, he feels something phase through him. Schlatt didn’t see him. Schlatt can’t see him.

After a number of tests Tommy and Tubbo settle it. The leader can’t see the spirit.

Niki can see him, it’s settled pretty much the day after Tommy came back, with a shout of fear and surprise and later happiness.

Quackity can see him as it’s settled, when Tommy meets him in the forest and Quackity aside from being scared shitless by a teenager with netherite armour, he sees a disoriented, glitchy ghost behind the teenager, floating creepily, lighting up the forest around them in a sickly cyan light.

Everyone can see Tubbo, but the people who caused his very death.

AND I’M DONE HERE. I DON’T KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT. I CAN TRY TO THINK OF SOMETHING IF YOU ASK ME, BUT RN AS I’M WRITING THIS DOWN I DON’T KNOW.

Reminder, if you want to write this plz credit the idea <3 Also holy shit this hit 1831 words how.

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