#hello everyone go read the spirit bares its teeth right now. do it for me if you like Meat and Wretchedness and the Sludge of It All.

[cool-as-steel]

yeah so it's looking more and more that the transgender historical romance regions do not have what I desire, but the transgender historical horror regions certainly do!

#the captain's library #hello everyone go read the spirit bares its teeth right now. do it for me if you like Meat and Wretchedness and the Sludge of It All. #now off to read camp damascus in hopes that I will jive with it #I have Failed To Jive with my previous read (to my moderate disappointment) but finished it anyway. so it goes.

[cablesscutie]

Inspired by @hayleynfoster’s comic and some hilarious headcannons about the littlest steambaby with Hayley and @favlie​

Read it on AO3

1.

The day Avatar Aang comes to meet his second niece, Fire Lord Zuko refuses to let his youngest child out of sight.  Katara rolls her eyes, and reminds her husband that neither of their children had ended up psychologically disturbed because of their flights.  “Not,” she adds, pointing at Aang, “that I am allowing a repeat, but I think just holding her while firmly on the ground will be fine.”

“Mmmm,” Zuko hesitates, curling Kallik closer to his chest.  Her big eyes blink up at the adults guileless from her blanket.  “No.”

“You let Azula hold her!” Aang argues.

“She doesn’t do anything with the babies!” Zuko shoots back.  It’s not strictly true, he knows, but his sister’s ritual with newborns is unsettling in a much different way.  She simply stares deep into each child’s eyes upon being handed them, until some kind of understanding passes between her and the baby.  Results have varied, but the most important part is that there was no threat to life and limb.  

Katara’s raised eyebrow says that she also doesn’t believe Zuko’s words, but she doesn’t say anything.  They are, after all, a united front - to the children, to politicians, to their friends.  In the privacy of their chambers, however, he knows he will be hearing about this.

2.

Katara and Zuko take the kids to spend Kallik’s first birthday at the South Pole.  It’s a tradition they’ve observed with all three, and Zuko always looks forward to going to visit her family.  The house is loud and chaotic, full to bursting with people, the exact opposite of his own lonely childhood.  There is no posturing, and everyone loves and squabbles openly.  On this particular visit, they have overlapped with Aang’s stay with Sokka and Suki, so Gran-Gran’s house is in even more of an uproar than usual by the time Zuko and Katara arrive.

Kya immediately dashes off to coo over her little cousins as they toddle around behind Pakku, pretending to be otter penguins.  Satoshi runs to the kitchen to be showered in kisses and cookies from Gran-Gran.  Hakoda finds them barely out of their parkas and already thoroughly abandoned.

“I could’ve sworn you had at least one other child,” he tells Katara, scratching his head as he pretends to search for his missing grandchildren.  She laughs and hugs her father tight.  Neither of them let go for long moments, and Zuko’s throat feels tight when he notices his father-in-law’s misty eyes.  He looks down at Kallik, thinks of his other two children, and wonders for the thousandth time how Hakoda could ever forgive him for keeping Katara so far away.  It’s why he hands his daughter over easily when her grandfather waggles his fingers expectantly and says, “Alright, give her here.”

Hakoda settles Kallik on his hip with practiced ease, and pulls Zuko into a brief hug with his free arm.  “Good to see you, son.”  

Zuko clears his throat.  “You too,” he says, and Katara laughs softly at his awkward shuffling, amused by how he doesn’t know what to do with his hands without a baby in his arms.  She answers his question by lacing their fingers together as she leads him deeper into the house to find her brother and their friends seated around the hearth fire watching the kids run around.

Hugs are exchanged all around, and Zuko settles into their familiar company.  Hakoda joins them after taking Kallik to say hello to Gran-Gran and Pakku, and bounces the baby on his knee to make her laugh.  Aang makes silly faces at her that have her letting out piercing giggles and reaching out to try and grab at the wooden beads of his necklace.

“Well clearly she’s bored of me,” Hakoda says, making to hand her off to her uncle.  “Here you go -”  Zuko leans over and intercepts.

“Oh no.  No baby catapult,” he says, shaking his head.

Aang gives him a pout to rival Momo.  “Come on, we’re indoors!”  Katara clears her throat, and when Zuko glances over, her eyes are narrowed at him.  With a sigh, he holds Kallik out to Aang.

“Fine.  But I’m watching you.”

3.

Extended family vacations to Ember Island always sound like a good idea to Katara.  At first.  When her husband is burnt out and aching, and the kids are climbing the walls, and she just wants to lie in the sun with a book, it seems like the cure for everything.

And then they arrive.  Somehow, much like she forgets the excruciating pain of childbirth, she never recalls the onslaught of chaos and catastrophe that comes every vacation.  Like the time Sokka got stung by a jelly-ray.  Or the time Suki and Zuko got in a fight about disciplining each other’s kids.  Or the time every single one of the kids managed to get sunburnt and couldn’t sleep.  Every year, it’s always something, and somehow, it usually ends up being at least partially her problem to solve.

This year, though, is somehow turning out alright.  They reach day three without major incident, and almost entirely without tears - a near miracle for a vacation involving five children under the age of ten.

“I’m almost done with my first book already,” she tells Zuko as they rock slowly in a hammock on the deck, whispering in hopes of keeping any listening spirits from knowing that she’s gotten her hopes up.

“Good, you deserve the break,” Zuko says.  He looks on the verge of sleep despite the fact that the sun is still climbing in the sky.  The dark circles beneath his eyes are already faded almost to nothing.  She sighs happily and grabs her book, but before she can actually crack it open, she hears Toph cackling and her Mom Senses light up.  Zuko calls after her in surprise as she leaves the hammock swaying wildly behind her, but she doesn’t look back on her way to the beach.  

When she arrives, it is just in time to see Toph pick up Kallik, a wicked smile on her face.  Sokka and Suki’s twins are further down the beach standing beside Aang, both of them jumping up and down with excitement, waiting for something.

“Go long, Twinkle Toes!”  Katara’s eyes go wide, and faster than should be possible, she reaches them, yanking Kallik out of Toph’s hands.  “Hey!”

“Absolutely not!”  Katara says, scowling.

“I was gonna catch her!”  Aang shouts.  Katara shakes her head.

“This is not happening.  No way.”  Then, silently lamenting the loss of quiet time with her husband, Katara looks at the twins and asks, “Who wants to go get some ice cream?

4.

At Zuko’s request, his birthday is not a big deal with his family.  It’s a combination of the fact that the entire Fire Nation loses its mind about the day anyway, so he is all but forced to spend a day attending a festival in his honor, and the fact that he is used to his birthday being a marker of all the disappointments he has been in the past year.  It is a long-standing compromise with his wife that she is allowed to throw him a small, family-only party, to be kept within the bounds of the garden.  He enjoys the excuse to get everyone together without a barrage of meetings involved, and the rest of their family is so boisterous in comparison to him, he can almost forget that the day has anything to do with him at all.

For his thirtieth birthday, he makes the further concession of allowing Uncle to set up his new phonograph so there could be dancing.  Zuko is manning the crank, watching Katara and Kya swing each other around while Aang sits next to him, flipping through the records looking for the right song.

“Do you have a request too?” Zuko hears him ask, and turns to see Kallik has toddled away from Uncle Iroh and approached the Avatar.  She puts her hands on his knees and starts bouncing, flashing him a smile that shows all of her new teeth.  “You want upsies?” Aang coos, and reaches to scoop her up by the armpits.  Zuko clears his throat loudly, shooting Aang his best murder eyes, and the Avatar shrinks back into the collar of his robes a little.  “What about dance party?”  He lets Kallik grab onto his fingers and starts hopping around with her to the beat, hunched over and both of them giggling.

5.

“Oh Uncle Aaaaang!” Kya sings, striding out into the garden where Appa has just landed. She has Kallik on her hip, and Satoshi follows along at her heels, excited to see Appa and Momo again.  His pockets are already full of lychee nuts for his fuzzy friends.

“Hey guys!” Uncle Aang calls, his gangly arms waving excitedly.  “Are you the welcoming committee now?”  He lands in front of them on a gentle breeze, setting down his bag and grinning broadly.

“Mom and Dad are in a meeting,” Kya informs him.  “But somebody wanted to go for a little flight.”  She hitches the toddler higher and winks conspiratorially.  “If you catch my drift.”  Uncle Aang’s eyes go wide, and he looks between the kids with unease.  Satoshi feels terror grip his throat.  He knew his big sister was crazy, but would she really…?

“Oh I dunno, your Dad was pretty...adamant...that you all are grounded until further notice.”  Satoshi lets out a sigh of relief.

“Dad’s in a meeting,” Kya reiterates, as though being in a meeting involves entering another dimension.  She should know better, her brother thinks to himself.  Mom and Dad always find out when they’re up to no good, and as the sibling who’s usually leading the charge into trouble, Kya should definitely have that figured out by now.  Uncle Aang should absolutely know that by now, but with horor, Satoshi realizes that the Avatar is looking a little bit convinced.  “And we’re not gonna tell on you,” she wheedles.  Speak for yourself, Satoshi thinks, glancing around to see if there are any guards within earshot if he calls for their parents.  Sadly, it seems nobody has realized that the Avatar requires careful supervision.

“Well…” Uncle Aang considers, then comes to his decision, smiling once again.  “Alright, I guess one can’t hurt.  Who’s going?”  

Kya moves to offer Kallik to him, her tiny hands reaching out and making grabby motions.  Satoshi’s world goes into slow-motion.  There’s a roaring in his ears, and as if from outside his body, he hears his own voice say,

“I am.”  Kya and Uncle Aang blink at him, stunned.  Their uncle is the first to recover, and asks,

“Are you sure, kiddo?  I mean, you weren’t the biggest fan when you were a baby…”

“I want to try again,” he makes himself say, despite his sweating palms.  Uncle Aang grins and ruffles his hair.

“That’s the spirit!  You get that from your dad.” 

As his uncle’s hands grab him under the armpits, Satoshi hears Kya mutter, “It’s the self-sacrificing idiot gene,” and then he is gone.  As he soars through the air, he wonders if maybe his body hasn’t even left the ground yet.  He can’t feel anything.  Maybe he just died of panic and this is just his soul taking off for the spirit world.

Then he reaches the height of his arc and starts plummeting back to Earth, and the sensation of all his internal organs rattling around asserts the fact that he is very much still alive and experiencing this.  He closes his eyes before he gets anywhere close to the ground, so it comes as a surprise when he comes to a sudden stop, cradled briefly by robes smelling of hay and bison fur, before being deposited back on his feet.

“How’s the weather up there?” Uncle Aang asks him, patting him on the back.  Satoshi doesn’t know what the weather was like.  He doesn’t know anything except that solid ground beneath his feet may have replaced his mother’s hugs as his favorite feeling in the world.  He meets Kya’s eyes, and sees from her horrified expression that he must look like as much of a husk of a child as he feels.

A quiet, affectless “Thank you,” is all that he can manage to say, and then he is wandering back into the palace, where he shoves his head into the nearest antique vase and screams.

+1

“Psst.”  A small sound behind him has Aang on alert.  The Fire Nation Royal Palace hasn’t been a place of danger for years now, but with Toph and Sokka around, the probability of sneak attacks has risen a hundred fold.  He doesn’t see anything though, and goes to turn back around, only to be caught by a surprisingly firm grip on his cape.  About two feet below where he’d expected to find his assailant, Aang comes face to face with his youngest niece, Kallik.  Her expression is the same determined furrow of the brow that Katara and Zuko have shared for so long it is impossible to tell which parent bestowed the trait on her.  It has the eerie effect of summoning the terrifying force that is their combined will.  Aang already knows that whatever she wants from him, he’s going to cave, and it will probably get him in trouble.  “I hear you’re in the business of yeeting kids.  I want in.”

Aang sighs.  Zuko has been trying to prevent this day since the moment Aang met Kallik, and Kallik has been trying to evade her father’s overprotective tendencies since the moment of her existence.  It is a battle Katara has elected not to fight, likely remembering her own impossible stubbornness and the futility of trying to stand against it.  So it is with all of that knowledge that he says, “Okay.”

“Flameo!” Kallik cheers, punching at the air.

“Well ‘flameo’ was actually more of a greeting -”

“Let’s save the fun facts.  I wanna fly.”  With a creeping sense of dread, Aang follows the child pulling him along by the cape until they reach a courtyard.  Kallik turns to face him, plants her feet, and rubs her palms together.  “Alright,” she says, spreading her arms wide.  “I’m ready.”

“Here we go...I guess,” Aang says, glancing over his shoulder as he reaches out to scoop her up by the armpits.  The coast is clear, so he swings her around in circles a couple of times to get ready.  As his niece starts to giggle, the garden blurs, and wind ruffles his robes, Aang feels the giddy anticipation of liftoff.

He hoists Kallik, up, up, up.

And then her momentum carries her out of his hands, and the wind that has built up around them propels her even higher.  Her already small body shrinks until she looks more like the shadow of a bird in the night sky, clearing the palace roofs.  A happy shriek pierces the air.  Aang smiles, feeling her wonder as if it is his own.  This is always the best part of someone’s first flight - witnessing them discover the wind anew - and while taking Air Acolytes to glide at the Northern Air Temple is fun, nothing compares to sharing this part of his culture with his nieces and nephews.

Kallik tumbles back into his arms, eyes wide with wonder, ecstatic grin plastered across her face.  “Again!” she cries, the moment breath rushes back to her.  

Aang laughs and holds her on his hip.  As he always does, he asks, “How’s the weather up there?”

“The moon is huge!  And I could see the whole city!  And the ocean!”  Kallik’s pudgy hands move in broad, sweeping gestures so similar to her mother’s bending as she speaks.  He still remembers Katara’s delighted gasp the first time she flew, Toph’s bruising grip, Zuko’s shocked laugh.  This moment, too, will be another piece of the Air Nomad legacy living on.

As Aang tosses Kallik yet again, Katara finds Zuko leaning against a pillar at the edge of the courtyard, watching.  She approaches her husband, curious to find that he isn’t having a coronary at the sight of their daughter in freefall, and takes hold of his arm.

“You gonna yell at him?” she asks, feigning nonchalance.  He doesn’t look away from them, but he is smiling, serene.

“Eh, she seems fine.”

#zutara #steambabies #zk fic #my writing

[toshis-puppycat]

Hello Again Part Five

A/n: I am so sorry this took forever for me to post, I don't always feel amazing and its been hitting a little too hard recently But here I am again! Its good to be writing for Toshinori too, I've missed writing for him 👉👈 I hope yall enjoy and commissions are still open! Thank you all so much for being patient with me! <3

Summary: It hurt, remembering. And unfortunately danger was coming.

Ashido looked incredibly excited seeing the big three. You could see the dots connecting in their heads about them. Even Yaoyorozu said what you knew they were all thinking 'Still in school, but practically pros already. They're the students they should be chasing after.'

From what you'd heard about these students, they were that good. You could see them saving people already. You'd also heard about their previous sports festivals. Ahem, Togatas approach to things because of his quirk certainly made things interesting to watch. (I.e. when they showed you the footage you looked away mildly embarrassed at how Togata had to strip down for his quirk). But getting the title of "The Big Three" takes hard work, and you knew that because of it these students worked especially hard to achieve that.

"Get to it. Introduce yourselves briefly." Aizawa said, beginning to point at one of the students. "Let's start with Amajiki."

The boy gave an intense look to the class, one that you could tell scared them as they all sat a little straighter in their seats. He started shaking and quietly talked to the others. "Its no good. You two go. I just can't. Even if I try to imagine them as potatoes, I can see their human bodies. I know that they're still people. No words are coming out. My minds blank and my mouth is dry." You could tell the other students were confused as he shook. "I can't say anything. I wanna… go home." He finished turning to face the wall. You could definitely understand that part. You were mentally begging to check out yourself. The lack of sleep along with the overall stress still affecting you was a lot. But you were going to hold out. You'd sleep later. You were barely paying attention to the students talking, well mostly Hado asking a ton of questions to all the students. It was rather cute of her, she sounded like she should in your opinion. Young, without the major stress involved with being a hero since she's still a student she only gets the glimpses, and nothing has been severe enough recently. Only All Mights last battle, and well you tried not thinking about that tidbit. You tried not thinking about All Might at all. You only checked back in as Togata told the class that they had to fight him, all at once. You all made your way to the gym, watching him stretch and prepare. Although you didn't know much about the third years, you could tell the students weren't taking it seriously. They have fought pros, and they've fought legitimate villains. But right now that didn't matter. They needed to see the ones that are close enough to the level of pros. The ones they have to strive to be. At least Midoryia was taking it seriously. You knew he felt like he was missing a lot. And he wanted to strive to be better (like someone else you knew), you pushed the thought away, just as he rushed Togata. You blinked slowly at the sight. Was that… his clothing just falling off? Hmm, no wonder he stripped before doing anything during the sports festival. Poor Jiro, and well all the students. You remembered how red your face was seeing All- you had to push that thought away. That was slightly embarrassing for both of you, and well… again you didn't want to think about him right now. You felt your heart throb. You missed him. You didn't pay much attention to the actual fighting. It hurt. It hurt thinking about him. You bit your lip. It wouldn't do well to break down in front of everyone. You were strong, so you grit your teeth and pushed the feelings down. You could see Togata beating the crop out of all the students. Few were still standing. Now they were taking it more seriously. This kid put in hard work to be able to get everything down to a pat. Midoriya did well though, predicting exactly where Togata would be. But it wasn't enough, as all of them ended up defeated. Togata would have to work on that predictable part of his attacks. Villains would kill for someone that predictable, and although it took Midoryia actually analyzing the situation, a smart villain would do the same eventually. Or they would listen to someone who could do what Midoriya does. And it could get him killed. He was fast, but an unfortunate reality was that eventually, he wouldn't be fast enough. Someone would be faster, and it won't end well. Permeation. It was actually a good quirk to have with the right training, and well the spirit that Togata has as well. To be fair any quirk would be a good quirk to have, especially with the right help on how to train it. It was why you're a hero. You learned as much as you could, trained like hell, and overall just did your best. You turned everything you experienced into the power you showcase whenever you used your quirk.

"Let's get back to class now. Say "thank you"." Aizawa said. All the students yelled it happily. They were beyond excited at the prospect of work studies. Before the three third years left, you ran after them.

"Togata!" They all turned at you.

"Oh cool! You're that hero that disappeared 20 years ago right? How'd that happen? How are you feeling now?" Hado asked you hurriedly. You gave a smile.

"I'm doing just fine now." A lie, but you weren't telling children what you were feeling. No matter how close they felt to you in age. "Togata, I've got a favor to ask."

"I can help however I can!" He exclaimed. Easily giving you a blinding smile.

"You're interning under Sir Nighteye, right?" You asked.

"Yup, I sure do!"

"Great. The next time you're planning on heading over to see him, mind if I tag along? Eraserhead mentioned to me that he might need a healer on his end for things." You asked.

"I sure can ma'am." He replied easily, still giving a carefree smile.

"Great! I'll see you when that happens then alright?"You smiled at the group. "You guys are doing amazing, and Amajiki it's alright to be anxious. Just remember you have support available for you alright?"

"Y-yes ma'am." He replied, hunched over.

You ran back over to the first years leaving the gym. Trailing behind them, you finally succeeded pushing away the negative feeling at least.

☆☆☆☆☆

In the safety of your own room you allowed yourself to finally relax. You were still trying to hold back though. The day was long, and it was difficult to not just break down again. Everything was just hitting you too hard. Thrown into the future, everyone busy and you still having feelings for All Might but him… he moved on. Of course everyone would. You were gone for 20 years. But it hurt. It… it hurt so much. You felt the tears gather in your eyes and sobbed. Your whole body was shaking, and you weren't breathing in properly almost hyperventilating at how hurt you were. The feeling wasn't going away for even a moment. You could just feel more agony, you wished. You really wished that he didn't move on. That you weren't thrown so far into the future. That your childhood friend didn't abuse his children and wife so severely. You wished that you were just better than you actually were. Alas you were just you, you were thrown in time. And you couldn't reverse it.

☆☆☆☆☆

As the days passed it was getting harder to avoid him. You kept walking out whenever he would walk in. You really couldn't handle being near him. You were just avoiding the eventual confrontation that would happen. Avoiding him telling you he was Midoryias father. And then you especially wanted to avoid the press coming to U.A. all together. They could… probably figure something out, and you didn't trust the press too much. You didn't want to see something portraying you as some young gold digger hero trying to ride the coattails of a more experienced pro. You weren't trying to do that at all. You were a good hero on your own. But not a lot of people knew about how you showed up. It could easily be figured out with research, but even then it could still be spun around as such. Or the public view of you could turn to that even if it's not said or even hinted at. You cut your thoughts off. It would do no good to dwell on it. Not when the guest came in.

"Don't worry on my account, Mr. Aizawa. I wanna get a feel for what dorm life is really like, so there's no need for them to act any differently from normal." Was all you heard as you walked by, giving a polite nod to the reporter and exiting the dorms.

Avoid it. Don't even think about it. Ignore it until you could be alone. Don't let anyone see you break. You needed to be strong.

☆☆☆☆☆

You didn't really need anything, you left to mostly wander around. Get a true look at Musutafu and how it's changed over the years. Everything was looking a little better, people were safer. 'Toshi did a good job protecting everyone.' You thought. A symbol of peace didn't exist when you were a kid, just heros doing their best. He truly changed the game for what heros could do. But it wasn't all good was it? You could feel it, the way certain people were staring, how they interacted. There was some underlying tension between people. It was subtle but you learned early to read things like that (you tried forgetting how you learned that, not good to think about that right now). Today you were going to figure out what happened with Kotaro. You needed to know if he was okay. If he was able to be happy, if he was able to become who he wanted to be. You really hoped he was able to. Then you could see him! And spoil him the way you had planned when you were younger. And you could apologize to him. You could finally make it up to him. For missing out on so many things for him. All you had to do was look.

☆☆☆☆☆

You made your way to the detective you'd talked to when you first came to. He was honestly the only one you could talk to in your opinion. He knew you already and understood that you were, by all means, a time traveler, so you trusted him. Toshi trusted him too. Don't think about it. You walked into the police station. You were going to be just fine. You were thankfully easily able to get his attention.

"Ah hello y/l/n. Its good to see you."

"Hello Detective. It's good to see you too." You replied. You stood by awkwardly, watching as he began sorting through paperwork. "I uh know we don't know each other that well. And this might be awkward but I need to ask for your help." You continued. He turned towards you a little panicked, (He knew you were avoiding Toshinori, mostly because the man himself came to him panicked about it, and well you looked exhausted) you didn't register that though, looking down at your feet. "I know we don't know each other that well. But… I really need your help to find someone." You clenched your fists. "He means a lot to me and he was hurting so much before I disappeared. I need to apologize." You looked up at Naomasa with pleading eyes. "I need to apologize to him Naomasa." He looked a little awkward at that.

"I can't help you like that." He said, and you looked away. "I can let you know if I ever hear about him though. It won't look good if I give out his address. But I can keep an eye out for you and let you know." He put a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him again. "I'll help as much as possible, just give me the name I need to keep an ear out for."

"Shimura!" You exclaimed in excitement, not seeing how Naomasa froze. "Its Shimura Kotaro!"

☆☆☆☆☆

It was easy to get you to leave after he said he'd help you find Kotaro. He… he couldn't tell you what happened to him though. Not now. Not when you looked at him like that. And you just barely knew about Shigaraki. Plus it was too shocking to know you knew Nanas son. He could hold off on telling you for now. Just so he could figure out how he could. He hoped you didn't figure it out before then. And well… he had to tell Toshinori you knew his mentors kid. How the hell was he going to do that?

☆☆☆☆☆

You were walking back with a little more skip in your step. More excitement than when you left the dorms. Naomasa said he'd help you! You would see Kotaro again. You'd be able to hug him with all the love you had in your heart. Things were finally going to be looking up for you. Finally, things will go right! Just then someone ran past you, and you heard someone cry out "My son!" And everything stopped. There were villains you truly believed could be successful if they had gotten help. But you drew the line when it involved children. You knew how devastating it was to be hurt so young. You immediately began chasing after the person who ran past you, flicking your wrist to have water rush to the child in their arms. They stopped running, pressing a knife against the young boys neck, as they turned towards you.

"Don't think I won't cut him you dumb bitch!" They yelled. They didn't notice the water. And they probably thought you were just some civilian trying to play hero. You narrowed your eyes at them.

"You don't have to hurt them-" they cut you off.

"If you come closer I'll slit their throat!" They snarled at you, the child in their arms was sobbing. Absolutely struggling to contain their tears.

"Its gonna be alright kid. I'm here to keep you safe alright?" You said to them. They looked at you and their lips were wobbling. You gave a reassuring smile. "Besides. They're not a cool villain at all are they? Their situational awareness sucks." The villain narrowed their eyes at you and was about to start screaming again, when you finally made the water move forward fully and covered the little boy in their arms. The blade wasn't even able to touch his skin. Not even a little nick as you forced the child out of their arms and into yours. The villain gaped at you, then tried to turn and run. But you already made sure they were trapped by another flow of water, plus using their own blood to hold them back.

The boy was sobbing in your arms and the mother was finally able to catch up to you, sobbing and reaching out. The boy was able to drop in her arms instantly, with a wobbly voice calling out "mom!" She thanked you profusely after that, and you both waited for police to show up. And you were almost scolded, until they realized you had your license and Naomasa greeted you by calling out your hero name. You and the mother gave your statements as they arrested the person who tried kidnapping the little boy. Kidnapping was a strong word though, they just knew it'd be harder for anyone to catch them if they ran with a kid in their arms. Afterwards you were going to walk off, but a tug at your shirt stopped you. A small hand clutching the lower half of your shirt. He had a small scrape on that hand.

"Thank you for saving me, Ms. Siren." His voice was still wobbly, still shaken up. But he was giving you a bright smile. The mother was smiling at you both, with a grateful smile on her lips and mouthing her own thanks to you.

"Kid, I've gotta thank you too! You were so brave!" You said, crouching down to get a better look at him. "Can I show you a little trick?" You asked, gently grabbing his scraped hand. He gave you a confused nod, but his eyes lit up seeing you create a flow of water and covering his hand with it. Any stinging he felt in his hand vanished in an instant, and his eyes widened in glee.

"Whoa… Ms. Siren you've got the coolest quirk!" He yelled. You didn't see it. But someone walking by saw you heal that little boy, and you didn't know it, but he was working for Overhaul. You wouldn't really know it until much later, unfortunately. But you went back to the dorms, running into the reporter who was just leaving and giving a respectful bow to him. You were safe at the moment. Unknowing of what was about to happen, and how your life was about to change again.

☆☆☆☆☆

"Boss." A voice called out, getting the attention of a man holding a little girl covered in bandages. He nodded in acknowledgement. "There's a new hero out and about. But I think she'd be quite useful to us." He said. The other man passed the little girl off to another person, gesturing them to take her to her room.

"I'm listening."

☆☆☆☆☆

taglist: @saratour, @devilkou, @yukiimanic, @theygottheircages, @itsallmightbitch, @toobsessedsstuff, @quirkyfandoms, @anxious-cat-with-cheesesticks, @waitwhatsrealityagain, @toxicjayhoo

If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know 🥰 I hope yall enjoyed 💖

#bnha #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #all might x reader #toshinori yagi x reader #tiny bit of angst #also haha theres overhaul #I'm so sorry to yall but i hope you like it

[hostess-of-horror]

The Stranger

[This is a retcon of my previous story, "An Unexpected Guest." I wanted to start all over because I didn't know where to take the story and it felt rather fast and sloppily written. It will have a similar plotline but approached in a different (and better) way. Also, M.B. is my self-insert OC, the character Jawaii belongs to @strawbunniiee and Phantom belongs to Nintendo/Ubisoft.]

For @strawbunniiee, @salamifuposey, @kindpopstar, and everyone else who wants to read it!

---

Jawaii: "Again, again!"

[Jawaii laughed as she is lifted up and thrown into the air. After a few seconds of airtime, she falls right back into Phantom's mitten-like paws. Her tiny frame perfectly fits into his palms like a little doll. Phantom giggles along with her, and hugs her into his chest.]

Phantom: "Whew! My arms are getting tired. How about we head on over to my theater?"

Jawaii: "Okay!"

[They begin to venture back into the theater. A dense, eerie fog looms over the land of Spooky Trails. The further they went, the thicker the fog became.]

Jawaii: "It's so foggy! I can't see anything."

Phantom: "Every now and then, Spooky Trails would become hidden by fog. And by the looks of things, it appears to be a full moon out tonight. What perfect timing, and how awfully fitting!"

Jawaii: "Yeah, it makes sense, considering how creepy the place is. I'm not scared though."

Phantom: "Heh... For many travelers, nights like this are the reason why so many of them often get lost. Some of them just head back to where they came from. But for me and the other inhabitants, a foggy night is normal. Think of it as like a rainy day for the citizens of the Mushroom Kingdom."

Jawaii: "I think it's cool! It's like we're floating on clouds!"

[Jawaii reaches out and waves her hand into the fog. A cool breeze chills her skin as white wisps pass through her fingers.]

Phantom: "It certainly does. I love the fog. It brings such a wonderful atmosphere for whenever I sing. Ethereal and otherworldly. I can blend easily amongst the fog and no one could see me!"

Jawaii: "Really?"

Phantom: "Yes! Despite my, well, rather massive size."

Jawaii: "You would be the ultimate champion of hide-and-seek!"

Phantom: "Oh well, I wouldn't say that... unless the competition is in Spooky Trails."

[Jawaii giggles. Suddenly, their conversation is cut short as Phantom abruptly stops.]

Jawaii: "What is it?"

Phantom: "The gate... I thought I closed it."

[Jawaii turns to see the silver gate that stands guard in front of Phantom's theater. She notices it has been left opened. Phantom gently lets her down to investigate.]

Phantom: "Someone must have pried it open." *turns to Jawaii* "Stay here."

[Phantom floats over through the gate and into his theater. Jawaii watches as he looks around, searching for any more signs of trespassing. She inches forward to investigate as well.]

Phantom: "Thieves... whoever opened the gate must be a thief! I don't know how they did it, though, it's a very heavy gate."

Jawaii: "There aren't any scratches, at least so far. Maybe they... crawled over the gate and opened it on the other side?"

Phantom: "Hmmm... Whatever happened, I do hope they didn't steal anything of value."

????: "Looking for this?"

[Phantom spins around to look behind. Standing across from him is a trio of thieves, grinning and chuckling menacingly. The shortest one in the front of the other two is holding a vinyl, spinning it in his hand. Jawaii runs over to Phantom to stand guard.]

Phantom: "Jawaii, no!"

Short Thief (#1): "Awww, look at dis, fellas! The big guy's gotta lil' baby doll to save his big behind! I think she wants to meet the Bandit Boys in person!"

Tall Thief (#2): "Yeah!"

Middle Thief (#3): "Hehehe, yeah, boss!"

Thief (#1): *mockingly* "Why hello there, little girl! Do you wanna play tea party with us and your friend over there?"

[The Bandit Boys cackle in unison. Jawaii growls and prepares her battle stance. Her hands shapeshifting into long sharp swords, glistening underneath the moonlight. The thieves immediately stop as they notice. Phantom prepares to fight alongside Jawaii.]

Thief (#3): "Da fuq?"

Jawaii: "I... don't..... LIKE TEA!!!"

[As she screeches, Jawaii leaps towards the Bandit Boys in an attack. She lands on the tall thief (#3) and the other two separate in defense. Thief (#1) holds the vinyl close and Thief (#2) goes to attack Phantom, but is immediately met with a musical sonic wave as Phantom belts out a hig note. He goes flying and lands farther back into the ground.]

Thief (#1): "You knucklehead! Get the girl!"

Thief (#3): "Get her offa me! She's poking me!"

Jawaii: *stabbing* "Give! Phantom! Back! His! Vinyl! THINGY!!!" *more stabbing*

[Thief (#1) groans and runs towards Jawaii. He flings her off of Thief (#3), sending her falling on the ground. Jawaii winced in pain; Phantom immediately picks her up to protect her. Thief (#2) gets up and joins the other two. Thief (#3) is covered in wounds but he still stands.]

Thief (#1): "Alright... you two can put up a fight.... Heh, but not for long... We still got our loot!"

Thief (#2): "Hehehe, yeah, we got it!"

Thief (#3): "Hehe... heh... owww...."

Phantom: "Leave this place now!

Thief (#1): "Or what? You're gonna put on a performance? Sing a musical number like some Disney princess? Nah. I don't think so. In fact, you've got something else. Something that is very, very valuable. Inside that belly of yours... is a gramophone. A very expensive gramophone."

[Thief (#1) pulls out a knife. Phantom is taken aback and backs off slowly.]

Phantom: "How... do you know?"

Thief (#1): "I know a lotta things. That's why I'm the leader. Now... where to cut..."

[Before Thief (#1) gets a chance to do any damage, an explosion of shimmering light blinds him. After regaining his sight, he finds himself and the other two thieves surrounded by a strange aura. A magical curse was cast, trapping the Bandit Boys within its barrier. The barrier appears to be strange smoke, fading in between the colors neon purple and neon green.]

Jawaii: "Woah..."

Phantom: "What... on earth?"

[The silver gate creaks. Everyone turns. There standing at the entrance is an unfamiliar face, with her right hand lifted up in the air. In her hand is the same kind of aura the magical circle was emitting. She continues to walk towards the Bandit Boys.]

Jawaii: "Phantom, do you know who that is?"

Phantom: "I've never seen her before in my entire life."

[As the stranger continues to walk, she twirls her hands, bending the aura to her will. As she does, the magical circle twists and contorts into a mass of skeletal spirits. The Bandit Boys huddle together, avoiding their bony grasp. The spirits moan and wail into an anguished cacophony, cornering the thieves as they reach out and crawl towards them. The stranger laughs at their fear. She then bends the aura again, this time having the spirits hold them down while she walks up to them. Soon, raspy voices begin to call out.]

Spirits: "Cut them.... cut them open.... dissect them.... dissect them all.... their insides are valuable.....!"

Thief (#1): "W-wait a minute! Hold on there, now! We're just thieves! And it's only one measly vinyl! Isn't this all a bit extreme?"

Thief (#3): "Y-yeah! W-we.... we can give you money! You can have all of it!"

Thief (#2): *whimpering* "Just... just don't hurt us!"

[The stranger stares at the Bandit Boys, saying nothing. She then motions her hand, allowing herself to walk through the magical circle. The spirits all look at her and bow one by one. The Bandit Boys watch as each one respectfully worship her. Who is this woman, and what kind of sorcery is this? She walks up to Thief (#1) and kneels down, looking at him eye to eye.]

Stranger: "Do you really think apologizing or bribery is going to work?"

Thief (#1): "...."

Stranger: "I'm going to give you a choice. I want you and your 'gang' to leave. Not just them, but everyone. I suggest you give up your greedy ways and actually get a life for once. Or, if you'd rather not..."

[The stranger motions her hand again and the spirits transform into an amalgamation of monsters. They writhe and contort, baring their teeth, clawing their flesh, their eyes wild with hunger. Their howling echoes throughout the theater.]

Stranger: "... then take a chance. I dare you..."

[The Bandit Boys suddenly scurry away in fear. Thief (#1) hand over the vinyl and follows behind, never looking back once. The stranger sighs and stands up, examining the vinyl.]

Stranger: "I hope there aren't any scratches on it."

[She turns around and sees Phantom and Jawaii staring at her with wide eyes. A moment of silence between them all passes.]

Jawaii: "That was... AWESOME! How did you do that?! Tell me, tell me!"

Phantom: "...."

[Phantom remains speechless as Jawaii hops out from his arms and approaches the stranger. The stranger looks at Phantom, her excitement getting the best of her.]

Stranger: "I can't believe it... it's you! You're still here after all this time!"

Phantom: "Excuse me?"

Stranger: "I was looking for you! I heard in the Mushroom Kingdom many stories about you. Some say you were gone after Mario defeated you, and some say you were still around. A few believe that you're nothing but a ghost story. I had to find out for myself."

Jawaii: "A ghost story? But he's as real as I am!"

Phantom: "Madamoiselle, I greatly appreciate your help and for saving me and my friend, Jawaii, here. But, do forgive me, who are you?"

Jawaii: "Oh yeah! What's your name?"

Stranger: "Oh, uh... my bad! Should've introduced myself first... my name is M.B. Consider me as a really big fan." *smiles*

#my writing #fanfiction #M.B. #self-insert OC #Jawaii #OC #Phantom of the Bwahpera #Phantom #Tom Phan #mario rabbids kingdom battle #mario + rabbids kingdom battle #mario rabbids #mario + rabbids

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Chaos and Bloodshed Already Haunt Us

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Tim and Jason get kidnapped by Black Mask. Jason is too sacrificial for his own good.

Tim has been waking up tied to chairs in strange places since he was thirteen, to the point where he has been kidnapped more times than he’s been to Chuck E. Cheese. When you’re a Wayne kid and a batkid, you learn to accept regular kidnappings as a part of life, just like taxes. Is it so unreasonable that Tim would prefer to wake up in his own bed, for a change? First things first: take stock. Assess the situation. Go from there. Before he’s even opened his eyes, Tim feels for what he’s pretty sure is regular rope keeping his hands tied behind him. Unfortunately, even rope can hold a bat when said bat has no weapons to bail them out, which Tim doesn’t. His utility belt and bandoliers are missing, and any spare tools he has hidden on his person are impossible to reach with the way his arms are wrenched behind him. His fingertips are already tingly, going on numb. “Red? You up?” Tim opens his eyes at the familiar voice. Jason is tied to his own chair across from him, a mirror of Tim’s own situation. The room itself is small—gray walls, cement floor, unmarked crates stacked along the walls. Jason’s helmet is off, exposing the domino he wears underneath. Tim’s mask hasn’t been touched either. “Do you remember what happened or do you need the recap?” Jason asks.

It’s blurry at best, but Tim remembers enough. “Intel mission on Black Mask, right?”

“Started out that way. We got here and I figured out that Sionis was selling weapons to Intergang so we blew the whole shipment to hell.” “You figured it out?” That doesn’t sound right, as fragmented as Tim’s memories are. From the throbbing in the back of his head, he must have been hit pretty hard. “You calling me a liar?” “I ain’t calling you a truther,” Tim mutters, fiddling with the rope that’s been cutting off circulation in his hands for what must have been at least an hour. He can’t get Jason and himself out of here in this condition. “Did you—" “Already signaled him.” Good. Bruce will send someone to bail them out of this in no time. They just have to hold out until then. “Oh, good, you’re awake,” a chilling voice speaks from behind Tim. “You have no idea how bored I was waiting for the party to start.” Fingers touch Tim’s shoulder and he jerks away. Jason, unbothered by the newcomer, snorts. “This is what you consider a party? You need some fucking friends.” Sionis ignores the jab. He passes Tim and goes straight for the camera set up near the left wall, just far back enough to fit both Tim and Jason in frame. Very, very bad sign. He turns it on, the red light blinking. “You making a movie?” Jason says. He’s snarky, but Tim can see the fear lurking behind his eyes. Roman ignores him and adjusts the camera so it points at himself. “Hello, Batman.” Tim’s eyes snap up to meet Jason’s. “In case you were wondering, this is a live feed you’re getting now. And don’t try tracing it, you’ll just waste your energy. You’re not the only one who has talented technicians on his side.” He leans in closer to the camera, his mask nearly touching the lens. “In the spirit of clarity, let me be clear: this, right now? This is a gift. This is my warning to you to stay the hell out of my business, otherwise you and your precious lackeys will have to answer to me.” He moves out of the frame and zooms in on Tim’s masked face, then Jason’s. “Lucky for me, I found a couple of your birds messing with my shipment, and they so graciously volunteered to help me set an example.” He steps aside and gestures to a tray of tools, each one more horrible than the last. Most of them are still coated in blood from his last victim. Tim gulps. Sionis peruses his collection, which gives Tim the chance to catch Jason’s attention. He jerks his head toward the camera, mouthing, Tell them where we are. Jason nods, and Tim looks back at Sionis. “You think I haven’t been tortured before? This is just a workout.” Is it true? No. He’s terrified, actually. But Jason needs time to signal Bruce through the camera, so Tim will stall for as long as he can. “Bold words, kid.” Sionis picks up a knife, tracing the edge of it with his fingertip. “Just makes it more fun for me when you break.” He comes closer and grabs Tim roughly by the chin, pressing the knife against his cheek uncomfortably close to his eye. “I’ll bet I can make you cry.” “Hey, Blackie,” Jason calls, ripping their focus away. His eyes are narrowed, mouth twisted. “Did you hear the one about the rich dude who wore blackface?” Sionis tightens his grip on Tim’s face. “Do tell.” Stop talking, Tim tries to convey telepathically. Don’t make this worse. “It was universally agreed that he was a piece of shit.” “You should learn to keep your mouth shut when someone’s holding a knife to your baby brother’s face.” To prove his point, Roman digs the knife in, slicing a thin line down all the way to Tim’s jaw. Tim inhales sharply at the sting. “Baby brother?” Jason repeats. “You really are an idiot.” He doesn’t look at Tim, keeping his glare solely on Roman. “I barely know the guy. He follows me around, thinking I walk on water or some shit, but trust me. He’s a pain in the ass. You’re doing me a favor, really.” Sionis pulls the knife away from Tim’s face. Tim releases a breath. Sionis approaches Jason now, his knife still raised with Tim’s blood staining the steel blade. “Someone’s mouthy today.” “If you think this is mouthy, you should have heard your mother last night.” Sionis plunges the knife into Jason’s knee. Jason locks a scream behind his teeth, his face contorting in pain. “Try walking on water now,” Sionis hisses. He yanks the knife out, blood splattering on Jason’s legs and the floor. Tim looks nervously at the camera, its red light blinding ominously. Is Bruce watching this from the other side, agonizing over having a front-row seat to this display? Or is he already gone, on his way to rescue them? Tim hopes it’s the latter. “You think—think I haven’t been stabbed before?” Jason pants, his teeth gritted through the pain. “That was child’s play.” “Is that right?” Sionis looks over his shoulder at Tim. “Then maybe we should get a second opinion. What do you say, kiddo? Want to match your brother over here?” “Thank god,” Jason says. “Go over there and stay, if you wouldn’t mind. Your breath smells like dog shit. But I guess you are what you eat, so.” Roman punches Jason in the face so hard Tim can hear his teeth clank from here. He does it again two, three times, until blood streams from Jason’s nostrils and spills over his lips. Tim pulls frantically on the ropes binding him, tries to do anything, but he’s held tight. “Now, that,” Jason says, spitting out a mouthful of blood and what looks like a tooth, “was better. Still amateurish, but at least you’re not a fuckin’ sissy about it.” “Hood,” Tim snaps. “Please, shut up.” Why are you doing this? “Why should I listen to you? You’re the one who got us into this mess in the first place, replacement. This is your fault.” Jason’s words are snarls and his eyes burn with a tangible hatred, all directed at Tim. But Tim knows him too well. Not everyone wears a literal mask like Sionis does. Roman reaches for his tray and picks up a new blade, this one with large, jagged teeth. “By all means, keep talking, Hood. See where that gets you.” “What, are you going to stab me? Go ahead. The little shit deserves to feel guilty.” Sionis poises the blade at Jason’s shoulder, digging the tip in until Jason hisses. He leans in close, grabs Jason’s jaw with his other hand. “I know you’re not stupid. You think that if you act like a big enough asshole, you can save the runt from me.” He pushes on the knife, slowly sinking it into Jason’s flesh, ridge by ridge. “I’m very okay with that.” Roman twists the knife and Jason screams. Tim closes his eyes but he can’t cover his ears; he can’t tune out his brother screaming in agony, and he almost wishes that he were in Bruce’s position, watching this through a video feed. At least then he could turn it off. “Stop, please,” Tim begs. “He didn’t do anything, it was all me. It was my idea to blow up your shipment. I ruined your business, not him. Just—hurt me, take it out on me. Not him.” Sionis releases the blade, leaving it sticking out of Jason’s shoulder. “Told you I could make the little bird cry.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim has never felt so powerless in his life. It feels like it goes on for hours, the blood and the screaming and the sickening sound of torn flesh. It only gets worse when he escalates to the snapping of fingers, the crackle of knife through bone. He hits Jason so many times there’s more purple riddling his face than clean, unmarked skin. And every time Sionis so much as looks at Tim, Jason does something new to pull his attention back like a wasp on a string. He provokes the sadistic bastard with vulgar comments, snotty complaints that belong more in Damian’s mouth than Jason’s. And Tim can’t do anything but watch. He doesn’t know how long it’s been when something crashes behind him, which he assumes is the door. Roman barely has time to drop the blowtorch he’s holding before a batarang strikes him in the center of his mask, knocking him out cold. Jason doesn’t react. He hasn’t lifted his head in so long it puts Tim on the edge of panic, just quiet groans and grunts through every new injury inflicted on him. “Tim!” Dick is at Tim’s side in an instant, already working on the ropes binding him. “Are you okay?” Bruce is tending to Jason, putting a field dressing on one of his many open wounds while he talks to Alfred through his earpiece. He’s telling him to call Dr. Thompkins and tell her it’s an emergency. As soon as his hands are free Tim is lunging up from the chair, only for Dick to grab him by the shoulders and force him back down. “Hey, hey, slow down. Where are you hurt?” Dick lightly prods around the cut on Tim’s face, which is undoubtedly going to need stitches, but Tim couldn’t care less. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Jason, who lets out a groan when Bruce accidentally jostles his broken arm. Tim shakes his head, swallowing thickly. “He didn’t—he didn’t do anything to me. He didn’t touch me at all. Only Jason.”

#whumptober 2020 #batfamily #batfam #batman #jason todd #red hood #robin #tim drake #red robin #idiot duckboy #angst #fanfiction #fanfic #black mask #roman sionis #dc comics #no.6 #'stop please'

[welllpthisishappening]

Newbie here for all the hockey and Captain Swan nonsense (and pretty much everything else on your blog!) Can I request either "bloody kiss" or "a hoarse whisper “kiss me”"? Also, I definitely am interested in what Big Bang you just completed!

Hi, hello, welcome to this nonsense! You can absolutely request both of those things and I can semi fill those prompts with far more words than I was planning on writing. Eventually, maybe these prompts won’t all be canon, but that’s apparently the vibe we’re riding right now. Everyone else is welcome to partake in the aforementioned nonsense of this blog and the kiss prompts extravaganza so I don’t keep shouting about the book I finished this morning. It was real dumb. Like, super dumb. Anyway, here’s some making out. 

“You know I could hear you?”

He doesn’t hear. Her. Emma. Almost hears. Words filter through a haze that appears to finally be catching up with Killian, eyelids fluttering and pulse steadying and he imagines a lot of that has to do with the placement of her fingers. Trailing across his forehead and just above one of his eyebrows, studying him with a sort of intensity that he knows only she has. 

Fiancée. She’s his fiancée, again. 

Even the thought makes his heart feel as if it’s going to beat its way out of his chest. Explode, possibly. That would be rather violent though. Could ruin the moment, as it were. 

“When was that, exactly?” 

He mumbles. Barely moves his lips. Can only manage to crack open one of his eyes and it’s not the one with the eyebrow Emma appears so intent on memorizing. Not that he’s especially opposed to the memorization. Of his eyebrow or any other part of him, not after another involuntary and far too long separation and he hopes Blackbeard drowns. 

Somewhere off the coast of Neverland. 

None of those mermaids are particularly merciful. In Killian’s experience, at least. 

“Couple days ago,” Emma says, “the chest started talking.”

He opens the other eye. “Be more specific.”

“You’ve got an exceptionally dirty mind.”

“Chose your words more carefully then,” he challenges, but there’s no real heat behind his words. Not that way, at least. “Do you think we’re winning now?”

“In the non-existent True Love race?”

Smiling as widely and as suddenly as Killian does threatens the structural integrity of his cheeks. Both of them. Muscles strain from lack of use and recent frown-like tendencies, and furrowing his brow even a little bit sends a flash of pain through all of him. Gods, but he’s tired. And strangely comfortable. Stretched across sheets that apparently boast a rather high thread count, though he’s still a little shaky as to what, exactly that is, and even less sure it really matters, not when her fingers are so soft and his heart continues to do that erratic beating thing and—“Last I heard your mind-reading powers were a little suspect, witch.”

“I don’t think we’ve reached the insult portion of the evening.”

He chuckles. Keeps smiling. Doesn’t even consider pulling her fingers down. Despite the growing need to kiss directly beneath her ring for as long as she’ll allow. “Let me know when we get there, aye? And yes, I do believe we are. Winning, that is. Underworld challenges, magical doors fueled by magical flowers. Am I missing anything?’

“Sucks we didn’t get a rainbow kiss.”

“Perhaps that’s waiting in the wings. Of romance and whatnot.”

Listening to her laugh is his favorite thing in the world. Bar none. The way it flutters out of her occasionally, like she’s still a little surprised that it happens and Killian used to worry about that. Not anymore; not now, certainly. Now, he wants to keep surprising Emma. Wants to be surprised. To never grow entirely complacent or completely content. Although, he’s awfully close to content now. If he’s being honest. 

Piracy often frowns upon complete honesty. 

“Maybe,” Emma concedes, “and you’re not letting me tell my story.” “You’ve got very distracting fingers, that’s why.”

She rolls her eyes. Keeps tracing and it’s wonderful and comforting and—

Killian hisses. Grits his teeth before he can completely school his features, which makes Emma’s expression twist almost immediately and he’s not interested in that. Unless the twist is coming from the precise way her hips tend to buck when she’s beneath him. As it is, her eyes widen and his breath catches and she pulls her fingers away. From the gash he’d almost forgotten was on his forehead. 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she chants, but he’s already moving, and using the hook he’d removed hours ago to tear off a corner of the shirt he also should have taken off is not quite as simple as he’d like. Takes a moment for him to get any worthwhile fabric off, dragging it immediately across Emma’s blood-stained fingertips. 

“Stop that. Apologizing does not become you, Your Highness.”

“That’s stupid.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

Her eyes widen. More. To an almost comical size, catching Killian off guard because he means those words as well. The syllables, too. Down to each letter and each sound that rolls off his tongue and he’d like to use his tongue for a variety of other things, but this feels important and a line they can’t come back from, and Emma’s magic surges. Jumps over him in a way that feels as much like a blanket as a semi-aggressive wave and he supposes there’s something in that contradiction. To the way he feels and the way they are and a True Love competition that absolutely does not exist. 

He knows he’s not bleeding anymore. Neither one of them move the fabric from her fingers. 

“I’m sorry,” Emma repeats on a whisper, shaking her head before Killian can so much as open his mouth to object, “for not thinking and not trusting and I—well, maybe the shell phone was another True Love sign. That puts us at three, at least. Definitely winning.”

Heart explosion does not hurt nearly as much as Killian expects. And his heart’s been yanked and squeezed and used against him, more often than he thinks is average. Even in this realm. So he’s got plenty to compare it to. Only now—well, he doesn’t think his heart is actually bursting and he cares less about the realm than the people in. About the flash of golden hair he noticed well before his eyes met hers and he knows he’ll think about the way she stumbled over her own feet in a magical doorway every single night for the rest of his already far-too-long life.  

He only cares about her. That’s the point, he supposes. 

“I love you too,” Emma says, answering a message from several days earlier. “How did you hit your head, by the way?”

“Blackbeard is a noted bastard.”

“God, fuck that guy.”

Scoffing is not laughing, but weariness is creeping back beneath his skin and Emma’s lips quirk up all the same. He’s staring, that’s how he notices. Unabashedly, so. And it’s entirely possible she’s blushing. “That’s the spirit, aye. You really could hear me?”

“Yeah. It’s, uh—there was tear magic involved, apparently, so I guess you couldn’t hear me?” She doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question. Killian knows. Shakes his head anyway. “Right, right, yeah, I figured, and I...well, I knew you wouldn’t leave, too. Even when I wanted you to have left.”

“You wanted me to have left?”

“That sounds shit, that’s not—” Emma’s nose bumps his. There’s not much room between them. So, he kisses her fingers. Makes sense. Plus, he doesn’t have much space to do anything else. “That’s not what I mean, not really. If you left, then it was just...another failure, you know. Would have made it easier to shove into the corner, try not to think about it because I could say I always knew it would happen, or I expected it. But that’s as shit as advertised and I know you’d never do that and I don’t want you to do that, don’t want you to leave, not again or ever and—”

“I think you should kiss me,” Killian interrupts. Gruffer than he’d like, and he’s not capable of magic anymore. Can’t rip hearts out of chests or threaten them with anything more than this realm’s poor food options, but he’s fairly certain the golden-haired woman lying impossibly close to him on these ridiculously soft sheets is all too aware that she already holds his heart in both her hands. And he can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather it be. 

She moves. All arms and feet, fingers in his hair and mouth slamming into him, catching his gasp and his groan in equal measure while he tosses the goddamn hook on the floor. It falls with a clatter that draws laughter out of both of them and makes it easier to pull Emma against his chest, Killian already shifting onto his back while his tongue manages to accomplish at least a few of the things it would like to. 

Nails scratch and hips do, in fact, buck. Desperately searching for a rhythm and tearing a bit more at clothes he’s willing to burn eventually. There’s no rainbow. No swelling or invisible orchestra, save for the roar between Killian’s ears, but he can’t bring himself to worry and finds it ridiculous to care. 

He knows. Emma knows. The goddamn magical door knew. And his message got back, even if it wasn’t perfect. To her, just like he did. 

For as long as they both should live.

#cs ff #kissing prompts #really the plan was not for these all to be canon #or for them to get longer #but let's not act like that's surprising #also very nice anon: my big bang is bellarke! #it's a beauty and the beast AU #it is also ridiculously long #that's not surprsiing either #really #because of who i am...like as a person #anonymous #laura rambles

[karasunovolleygays]

UshiIwa Fic Recs

(that nobody asked for)

Hello! It’s my distinct pleasure to welcome you all to UshiIwa hell! I’ve been malingering here for years, but with new developments in canon, it looks like I am no longer stuck on Gilligan’s Island (me plus the six other sad bastards i’m stranded with). 

As a long time sufferer of this ship, I would like to introduce you to some of my favorite UshiIwa stories, including a few of my own bc tag smol. :’)

Rating: G/T

I Lose Control by voices_in_my_head Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, OMC (Coach) Summary: "He looks to the bench, where Iwaizumi’s eyes dance from player to player." Words: 1,538 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: this is an interesting study of how Ushijima would deal with an injury at a crucial moment when everyone is counting on him, plus a dose of priority.

Cordially Uninvited by Karasuno Volleygays (that’s me) Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Possible Current Manga Spoilers, Established Relationship, Paparazzi Summary: Paparazzi haunting notable people has always been a problem, but Hajime and Wakatoshi opt to clear the air on their own terms. Words: 1,279 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: I thought it would be interesting to see how Ushijima would deal with celebrity and subsequently strangers poking their noses in his personal business.

Three Doors Down by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Fluff, More Fluff, pretty bara men bonding over dogs Summary: When Ushijima inherited a property that had seen better days, he found himself spending a lot of time and effort in a new part of town restoring the house to its former glory. However, he didn't expect a litter of puppies in a yard a few houses over to revive his spirit, as well.

He certainly didn't anticipate their owner stirring something to life within him, either, but that was a development he didn't need much coaxing to get used to. Words: 13,145 Chapters: 2/2 My notes: I have no excuses for how fluffy this is.

you're good, too quickly admitted by pyrality Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Coffeeshop AU, College AU, Fluff, Getting Together, Awkward Flirting Summary: Iwaizumi sits back in the chair, "Oikawa thinks I could do better."

Ushijima swallows, eyes still on his laptop screen, "And what do you think?"

"I think I'd like to go out to lunch with you sometime."

He looks up at the other boy, feeling warm at the sight of Iwaizumi's crooked, barely there smile, a challenging twinkle in his eye.

"Oh," Ushijima manages before he recomposes himself, "I'd like that.” Words: 2,731 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: UshiIwa dating to spite Oikawa is too good to turn down.

Alight by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Time Skips, Rivals to Lovers Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime can't believe his soulmate is the guy who just wiped the floor with his team, but there is no denying the fact that he is irrevocably linked to Ushijima Wakatoshi. Words: 4,504 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: If you’re interested in them getting to know each other through their failures and vulnerable moments, this is probably your jam.

Baby It's Cold Outside by RarePairGremlin Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Winter, Cuddling, light grinding, hints to smut but nothing is described, jaw kiss, Kissing, Fluff, Established Relationship Summary: The childish grin spread over his lips again as he faced them, his gaze roaming up them slowly as an idea formed. Ushijima, ever prepared, was fully dressed in thick socks a pair of blue sweats, which they had tucked into their socks like the crime against fashion they are, and a thick hoodie. He knew for a fact, since he’s stolen it enough times, that the hoodie was fuzzy and soft on the inside. Beside them lay a steaming cup of tea, the bag still steeping inside as they liked their tea strong, and the aforementioned throw lay comfortably across their lap. A perfect image of warm and cozy.

It would be a shame if someone was to disturb that now wouldn’t it? Words: 1,471 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This is exactly what it says on the tin, plus a bonus NB Ushijima!

the ghost in your room by mousecat Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Unrequited Love, Unrequited IwaOi, oikawa is a bit of a dick Summary: Hajime finds a way to get over Oikawa Words: 1,173 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: It’s an oddly pleasurable mixture of fluff and a punch in the throat.

Good Graces by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Established Relationship, Arguments, Mending Fences Summary: Hajime is pissed at Wakatoshi for something he admits he did until he finds out the real reason he did it. Then he feels like a jackass. Hopefully, his live-in boyfriend is up for a good old fashioned groveling session. Words: 2,059 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: Making your otp mad at each other is hard and it hurts, but the communication afterward is so important. 

lit the very fuse by mousecat Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Getting Together, Unrequited Love, Christmas Eve, Mostly Fluff, ushiwaka is a soft boy, you can never convince me otherwise Summary: Hajime isn't sure what he and Ushijima are to each other, but he knows he's still stuck on Oikawa. Words: 2,609 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: If you like FWB to Lovers, step right up and scream into the void with me. 

Once An Enemy. by BGee93 Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Getting Together, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends, Aged-Up Character(s), Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Not Beta Read, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, Volleyball, Volleyball Dorks in Love, Volleyball Dorks & Nerds, volleyball mentioned not played, Getting to Know Each Other, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Declarations Of Love, Dorks in Love, Confessions, Enemies to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Coffee Shops, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Coffee, First Dates, Awkward Dates, Aobajousai, Shiratorizawa, boyfriend sweater, Confusion, Cliche, cliches, Awkward RomanceAwkward Meetings, meme team - Freeform, Slow Build, Slow Romance, very slow burn, Sleeping Together, Sleepovers, Bonding, Forced Bonding Summary: 'It took several minutes to catch his breath again and to stop hissing through his teeth at the areas that throbbed, until they were just a dull ache. Once Iwaizumi felt he was able to move again he slid his hands up the strangers chest, ignoring the ripple and twitches his touch caused since the situation was already awkward enough without Iwaizumi appreciating the well toned muscle under his fingertips, as he pushed himself up till he was able to look at the persons face. There was more lighting on the bottom floor, as it was closer to the illuminating street lamps outside, so he was able to make out exactly who the man was within mere seconds despite the face still being quite shadowed. And the identity shocked him into stilling every joint, muscle and fiber of his being.

Oh hell no.' Words: 20,130 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This was written for me as a gift in an exchange a while back. Have I stopped screaming about it? Not bloody likely.

Rating: M

Focus (On Me) by Verbrennung Tags: Underage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ushijima is a 1st year, lots of staring, and looming, and crowding, Seijou!Ushijima, rated for ~makin' out~ Summary: Nobody had foreseen future Super Ace Ushijima Wakatoshi transferring from Shiratorizawa to Aoba Johsai for high school. Everyone's curious to know why, and as Iwaizumi discovers, some of his reasons are... unexpected.

An AU in which everything is mostly the same except Ushijima is a first year at Aoba Johsai and has a huge, looming crush on Iwaizumi. Words: 12,454 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This should probably be rated T instead, but whatever. If you ever wanted to know how much of an awkward bastard both of them are when they’re into someone, this is your jam.

Point Blank by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Future Fic, Brief (but pertinent) Mention of Homophobia, Slow Burn, Financial shenanigans, Scary Men with Guns, Minor Character Death Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime accepted a position at a company that was going places, and he knew he had a bright future ahead of him if he just kept his head down and worked hard — a future his family desperately needed him to achieve. He didn't count on an old rival working in the same building, nor Ushijima Wakatoshi's surprisingly cordial demeanor, yet he managed to make an unlikely friend and an even more unlikely roommate.

But when Iwaizumi climbed up the company ladder and into some of the more shadowy recesses of the corporate realm, he knew they would both get more than they bargained for, and the only person he knew he could trust was Ushijima. Words: 44,981 Chapters: 12/12 My notes: This was my first UshiIwa and I still think about it a lot. Imagining these guys in regular jobs is strange, but kind of endearing when you get a feel for how they live their lives after volleyball.

Rating: E

Flare by fish_wifey Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, From dislike to like, Tension, Sex Toys, Anal Sex, Dressing Room Sex, Topping from the Bottom, Orgasm Delay/Denial Summary: Ushijima's forwardness makes Iwaizumi edgy, but after they figure their shit out, it's Iwaizumi who brings Ushijima on edge. Words: 7,687 Chapters: 2/2 My notes: Enemies to lovers speed run ahoy!

Tangled Webs by Karasuno Volleygays (Restricted) Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Black Widow AU, Assassin Iwaizumi, Crime boss Ushijima, alcohol use, Drugging, dubcon elements, Angst Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime is a seasoned killer, with wit sharp enough to cut and reflexes to match. He's never missed a kill. That is, of course, until he meets his new mark — Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Can Ushijima offer Iwaizumi what he truly desires, on top of a night of heated passion that can only end one way? Words: 4,120 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This was some fucked up stuff, but sweet baby jesus it was a wild ride to write.

Unraveled by Karasuno Volleygays (Restricted) Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Bondage, Knife Play, Edging, Rough Sex, Flogging, Breathplay, Toys, Dubious Morality Summary: After his liberation from his past life, Iwaizumi adjusts to life with Ushijima. But something is missing, and Ushijima picks the strangest (and most erotic) way to give it to him. Words: 5,145 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: It’s cute that I thought the first fic in this series was fucked up. This one was clearly more so, but noragerts.

Poly/Multiship ft. UshiIwa

4 AM by ApparentlyAda Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, this is so stupid, I'm Sorry, Oikawa and Ushijima talk about dogs, Iwaizumi is Oikawa and Ushiwaka Trash #1 Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: "Ushiwaka."

"Yes?"

"What if one day you woke up as a chicken?"

"What if one day you shut the fuck up?", interrupts Hajime groggily.

(Or, simply put, the awful(ly amazing) conversations these three dorks have during sleepless nights) Words: 1,064 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: I hope you like banter and Oikawa roastage haha

Bridge the Gap by FindingSchmomo Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Polyamory, Established Relationship, Divorce, Past Child Abuse, Lawyer! Oikawa, Police officer iwaizumi, Flower Shop Owner Ushijima, child kageyama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks, Anxiety, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Meet the Family, chap 6 is the familys ongoing mission to keep kags hydrated, chap 7 is meet the parents edition, Internalized Homophobia, just a touch of it really Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru and Ushijijma Wakatoshi love each other more than anything, but sometimes that’s not enough, especially in a world that doesn’t love them back. Tiny cracks begin to widen, ever so slowly, until the gaps they leave seem insurmountable.

They find their answers with each other, and surprisingly enough, with the little boy loitering outside their window.

—-

Or, a story of disconnects and the love it takes to bridge them. Words: 121,443 Chapters: 18/18 My notes: It’s long with a lot of heavy themes, but if you look at the tags and think you can get through them, it’s so worth it.

a taste of heaven by beatboxbmo Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Polyamory, Birthday baking, Cuddles, Established Relationship, Aged-Up Character(s) Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: tooru comes home early on his birthday to see his two boyfriends asleep on the couch. they baked him a surprise. Words: 2,141 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This is exactly as warm and gooey as it sounds.

Three's A Crowd by FindingSchmomo Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Romance, Comedy, Romantic Comedy, Miscommunication, Dating, First Kiss, a mess, These Boys are a MESS, Chatlogs, Light Angst, Polyamory, OT3 Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: Iwaizumi loves Oikawa.

Oikawa loves Iwaizumi.

Neither of them will say anything.

Then, suddenly, Ushijima is there.

And things get very complicated. Words: 32,385 Chapters: 9/10 My notes: Normally I don’t put WIPs on rec lists, but this one is close to completion and it’s so, so worth it. Boys are dumb and you should appreciate them.

adolescence and all its glory by pageleaf Rating: E Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Established Relationship, Developing Relationship, Wooing, Future Fic, College/University, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Fluff, Flirting, Established Iwaoi, eventual OT3, Threesome - M/M/M, Manga Spoilers Summary: Iwaizumi was supposed to meet new people. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do, when you go to a different university from your best friend? Now that his life isn’t filled with Oikawa, he should have been making new friends, trying new things, whatever.

Instead, he shows up barely on time to his anatomy class, hears a small noise from beside him, and turns around to see Ushijima Wakatoshi. Words: 20,024 Chapters: 2/2 Relationship: UshiIwaOi My notes: Accidental rivals to lovers? Enjoy the sound of me screaming into the abyss, and the abyss screams back.

Close For Comfort by Leryline Rating: E Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, NSFW, ushioi - Freeform, really sinful but great, Angst, it has a happy ending i promise, iwaoi - Freeform, Phone Sex, Rough Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Romance, Threesome, Double Penetration, Spitroasting, Bottom Oikawa Tooru, Cheating, but look it's integral to the plot ok, ROMANC E AHGHGNJD it's so gay, turning a oneshot into a multi-chap out of spite: a novel by me, also: don't cheat on people irl my dudes it's not cool. not cool.like legit please DO NOT Summary: Oikawa Tōru has always seen his future with Iwaizumi Hajime - solely, utterly, completely. After all, Iwaizumi is his pillar, the only person he needs in the world.

...right?

[or: Ushijima Wakatoshi comes in and fucks everything up, as usual, but Oikawa has never given in easily, and neither has Iwaizumi, for that matter.] Words:61041 Chapters: 15/15 Relationship: UshiIwaOi My notes: If infidelity makes you uncomfortable, even if it has a happy ending all around, I would pass on this one. The smuts, however, are top shelf.

Privacy by plumtrees Rating: E Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, House Party, Alternate Universe - College/University, Future Fic, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Riding, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking, Partner Swapping Summary: Iwaizumi reaches for the knob by his hip, easily twisting it open and getting them both inside. They stumble in with their lips still sealed over each other’s, silent giggles passing between mouths as Oikawa hurries to flatten his hand against the door to shut it and crowd Iwaizumi against the surface, other hand winding around his waist to pull him close, keep him there—

But then an alarmed noise rips from Iwaizumi’s throat, the hand steady on his shoulder suddenly pushing him away Iwaizumi’s looking behind him, expression a mix of shock and mild horror and Oikawa follows a split second later, just in time for a moan to resonate past the muffled music being carried over from downstairs.

“Oikawa.” Ushijima greets, only the slightest tremor to his voice as Shirabu sinks down on his cock. “Tendou didn’t mention you’d be here.” English Words: 9,736 Chapters: 1/1 Relationship: UshiShiraIwaOi My notes: Good lord this is spicy. This is ‘swinging’ in its truest form.

Show Me You Own Me by preciousghouls Rating: E Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Threesome - M/M/M, Threesome, Rimming, Barebacking, BDSM, Daddy Kink, on oikawa's part, Dom/sub, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasms, Bottom!Iwaizumi, bottom!Oikawa, top!oikawa, top!ushijima, switch hitter oikawa, Established Relationship, Developing Relationship, i have sinned, sleeping drug in five lines, Consensual, Begging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Petplay, Collars, Cuffs, Butt Slapping, Spanking, Butt Plugs, domestic AU, Crossdressing Summary: It's Oikawa's idea, of course. But Iwaizumi finds himself loving the way Ushijima has Oikawa wrapped around his fingers, and before long they're both moaning at the hands of Ushijima.

aka the kinkiest shit I've ever written in my life. Words: 20,819 Chapters: 4/4 Relationship: UshiIwaOi My notes: Sometimes wanting to be dommed by ushiwaka is a communal mood, ya know?

Tumblr Fics

(mostly not rated/tagged; proceed with caution and at your own discretion)

Untitled by notsuchasecret

Untitled by worthlesspride (this is definitely E)

Untitled by worthlesspride (this is definitely E)

Untitled by raspberrydevil

Untitled by raspberrydevil

Untitled by deathbelle

Comfortable by raspberrydevil Relationship: ushiiwaoi

Morning Kisses by raspberrydevil Relationship: ushiiwaoi

Meet My Nephew by raspberrydevil Relationship: ushiiwaoi

#ushiiwa #iwaushi #ushiiwaoi #ushijima wakatoshi #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #hq #hq!! #hq chapter 395 #hq manga spoilers #manga spoilers #fic recs #haikyuu fic recs

[shapes-den]

Art Prompt Competition Entry

(I had to cut down my submission for the WD competition, by a lot, to match the maximum word count, but I thought I'd post the longer version (that's been spell-checked, haha) for anyone who wanted to read it. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I'm enjoying going through everyone else's submission so far!

Content warning for: Hallucinations/visions, themes of death and mortality, body horror, animal death, mind-altering substances, blood, other horror themes)

.

.

“My name is Bu’ha.”

 “Bu’ha?” Ourkan squinted. “I can’t see you to tell if the name fits.”

“How rude of me, elder.” She stepped forward to allow the old wolf to sniff her.

“A yearling?”

“Yes, I’m a trainee healer, my parents suggested I go on this journey to gain confidence in myself.”

Ourkan huffed. “You seem old for a yearling.”

“Well…” Bu’ha paused, laughing nervously. “I was planning to get over my fear of corpses first.”

Ourkan laughed. “A wolf afraid of food? Well, I won’t ask the real reason.”

“It sounds stupid, but it’s true.”

“Strange.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m doing this for. Mother says I should gain enough life experience that silly things like that won’t upset me”.”

“I’m tired,” Ourkan cut her off, slowly stretched out his front paws and scratched at his ear, looking pained, “You should go find my grandson. Big red wolf, you can’t miss him.” He turned away and curled up, tucking his nose under his tail tip. Ignoring her.

"Goodbye... Elder."

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

Bu’ha plodded up the winding path she had found just past the rude elder's resting spot. Perhaps this pack might help her get over her embarrassing phobia? Ever since she was small the thought of death and dying had terrified her. She even sympathised with the prey her pack caught, apologising before eating, but her mother said this was a good quality in a healer. Compassion. Just… maybe not this much. Catching her own food had already driven home the message, the necessity of prey death, but she simply couldn’t rationalise predator death. They fed no one. It seemed so... senseless.

Sniffing out the presence of other wolves, Bu'ha picked up the pace. Ferns, damp from the mid-morning rain, grabbed at her forelimbs as she brushed past them. Chalky-smelling rocks crumbled into a slurry beneath her toes, but she didn't mind, her thoughts were focused on the two wolf pups who were passed out on a bed of sweet-smelling herbs ahead of her, blocking the path.

Smiling to herself, Bu'ha nosed the closest pup, but the smile soon turned to a deep frown. These poor pups were freezing in the cold autumn wind! Angrily she looked around for either parent, before realising that the pups hadn’t moved an inch.

An icy feeling went down her spine. Could they be…?

“What are you doing?!” Her thought was interrupted by the harsh bark of a middle-aged female. “Get away from my nephews!”

“They’re… alive?”

“What a rude, unobservant yearling! My sister’s twins are just sleeping. They happen to have been born with gifts that make them tired.”

Bu’ha took another look, feeling foolish as she saw that both pups were breathing deeply. How could she be so stupid? The two wolves were joined at the hip. Every healer knew that unusual puppies like that were often colder than normal wolves. It was their connection to dead things that made them that way. That same connection meant that they didn’t live long, and she had just been the most ignorant she could possibly have been. Not a great first impression.

“I’m so terribly sorry, your healer and their parents must be amazing at caring for them. Your nephews seem very happy and healthy.”

“Of course, our healer’s the best in the valley!” She said, with a cunning glint in her eye. “In fact, you should go and see her, perhaps you might learn a thing or two about etiquette.”

“Oh! I would love to; I’m planning to be a healer.” Bu’ha wagged her tail, happy to have found an excuse to leave. Meeting the medicine wolf would be a bonus to her learning too. 

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

The pup’s aunt had given her very precise directions, seeming to enjoy making her stay and listen for an uncomfortably long time. It served her right though; she had disrespected the poor female’s family members. Bu’ha took a deep breath as she picked her way delicately through puddles and sharp rocks at her feet. It was slow going, but it gave her time to think about her manners at least.

The air was getting colder, but through the damp and moss, she could smell that the healer was close. Herbs and poultices had a distinct leafy smell, that seemed almost bitter to her, and she could've recognised it from a mile away.

Trailing plants hung down over a rocky cliffside at the end of the temporary stream, but there seemed to be no wolf or den in sight. She put her nose to the floor, hoping to pick up a scent, but all she could smell were puddles and an odd metallic tang that made her gag. Probably some rare type of medicine or plant, not that it made the stench of it any less disgusting. Maybe there would be a path on the cliff somewhere? Bu’ha stepped forward and nosed at the sodden, dripping vines. The revolting scent was stronger here, but so was a much sweeter smell of dried flowers, that seemed to be carried on a breeze blowing out of the rock itself. Of course! The medicine wolf must have a den hidden behind the plants. How clever, she thought, to keep any sick wolves where they would be undisturbed. Good for recovery. Now if only she could remember what the healer’s name was…

“Hello?” she whined, “Is a wolf name Huth here? Your packmate Auru sent me.”

A nose suddenly touched her own, causing her to jump at least 10 feet into the air in surprise.

“A visitor!” said the greying muzzle poking out from behind the curtain of greenery, “I never get visitors, come in!” Just as quickly as the nose had appeared, it vanished again, back into whatever cave or crevice it's owner lived in.

“Do… Don’t you want to know why I’m here?” Bu’ha asked, both curious and confused.

“Of course not! It’ll be obvious enough when you get in here, hurry up!”

The yearling laughed, it seemed like learning from this wolf might be fun. Thank goodness this pack’s healer wasn’t as abrasive as the rest of them. She pushed her way eagerly into the cave, taking in her surroundings as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.

An elderly wolf with large patches of fur missing here and there, greeted her with a wagging tail.

“Don’t worry, I’m not contagious if you were wondering,” The old wolf sized her up, almost jealously despite her warm smile “As we get older, healing comes much slower.”

“Oh, of course, I didn’t mean to stare.” This wolf, Huth, was clearly old enough to be envious of the yearling’s youth, but she sounded friendly, and all those years of wisdom would be fascinating to hear about.

Bu’ha fluffed out her fur, not wanting to appear judgemental. Old wolves aren’t dead wolves, she thought to herself, though, she didn’t really believe it looking at Huth.

“You look half-starved. Did my cranky relatives bother to feed you?”

“No, but I- “

The older wolf cut her off by shoving a chunk off meat under her nose.

“Eat up!” She said cheerfully, not pausing for a response.

“… Thank you.” Bu’ha sighed, knowing she couldn’t refuse the hospitality of a shared meal, and whispered a quick apology to the unidentified creature she was eating.

“Custom of your pack?” Huth enquired. The elder was sharp, she hadn’t missed Bu’ha’s quirk. Should she lie? “No, you seem touchy about it. Don’t worry, I won’t judge you. Spirits aren’t just superstition, you know.”

“Oh?”

“I can show you, after your meal. Spirits make the herbs more potent, full of nutrition. Good for growing wolves.” The elder gave her a kind, almost pitying look.

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

Both wolves padded softly over snow. Mist rose from the surroundings, but Huth had told Bu’ha this was the magic of the place. Tall, slender trees were silhouetted against the early evening light, in an eerily beautiful way. Bu’ha was enjoying herself, she had already learned a few things, and the air was cool and pleasant to her nose.

“How do you feel?” Huth asked softly.

“Hm? Cold, mostly.”

“Good… Good. Tell me when you can see it.”

The young wolf tilted her head, looking around. Now that she mentioned it, the trees seemed to be swaying in time with her breath, each exhale blowing condensation into the still air. The ground was breathing with her, glistening dewdrops shining with life.

“Do… You mean… spirits?” For some reason her words were slow to reach her mouth. Each step was becoming harder, and yet Huth seemed unaffected by the energy of the forest.

“Shh, shh, you tell me when you see. Tell me what it says.”

“Huuuth…?” Bu’ha felt nauseous, her blood rushed in her ears. Everything felt darker than before. The tree (… were they trees?) moved with greater intensity, with purpose. “What…?”

Black blood dripped down blacker bark, each tree a twisted limb that uprooted itself to crash forwards towards her. Moss melted and bubbled underfoot. Howls of air almost knocked her down as she cowered before a mighty beast. Ragged breaths, bright dead eyes, its ribcage heaved as hers did, sucking the air from her lungs and forcing it back down her throat with no care for her mortal whims.

Each inhale brought a wave of sickness; each brought a tide of death. Small critters curled up and died before her, plants withered and rotted to nothing. All consumed by the black, black blood.

That corpse-like, canine face, an emaciated grimace that pulsated with an air of indifference. Urine soaked into her tucked tail. The slender spirit did not care.

“Tell me what it says!” Her vision was blocked as Huth let out a ragged screech. “I need to know what to do!”

Bu’ha stared up in fear at the mess of flesh that was the older wolf. Every inch of Huth's muzzle throbbed with open yellow pustules, bubbling like molten fat, barely clinging to her rotting bones. Her jaw hung loosely, teeth gnashing at nothing as strangled sounds of desperation left her throat. Her eyes were no more. Instead, her sockets poured forth dark, sticky liquid, that fell down her cheeks and hit the ground with a sickening squelch. Her cries were getting louder. Her head was twitching violently. One paw held Bu’ha pinned to the ground. Her empty sockets remained focused on the yearling.

Not to be ignored, nor constrained by the mere laws of physics, the tall, twisted sprit passed through the medicine wolf, it’s head almost comically small compared to its sinewy neck. Both wolf and spirit blended into one as a strange sense of calm overtook Bu’ha.

How idiotic she had been. Death was inevitable. Death did not care. Death was not…

Her vision faded into

nothingness.

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

Pitiful.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Huth kicked her back legs with each contemptuous thought. What a waste of time. The twisted corpse behind her had showed such promise, and yet…

“Too much mountain toad?” She pondered. What a moron. If only she hadn’t been so focused on the approaching winter, she wouldn’t have messed things up for the twins. Might even have cured them before the snow drifts got too deep.

The old wolf’s muscles ached as she bitterly kicked a clump of large icy earth at the yearling.

“Help…” A soft whine came from behind Huth... had she imagined it? Excitement overtook rationality as she turned sharply towards the ‘corpse’. There! Shallow breaths, despite the lifeless eyes.

“Perfect!”

Perhaps she wasn't so useless after all.

#wolvden #vagueshapes writing #horror #cw horror #cw animal death #cw body horror #cw hallucinations #ask me to tag anything else because I just wanted to get the main things down #this is basically a twisted au of my coal valley stuff #bc i had a conjoined born recently #and it would be devastating for the pack #anyway this was awesomely fun to write

[morwenna-crows]

#SkulduggeryBites: Interactive Twitter Short Story

The #SkulduggeryBites choose-your-own-adventure story ran on Derek Landy’s Twitter page, starting on March 20th and finishing on April 1st.

The story updated daily for almost two weeks; at the end of each update, readers were given the chance to vote on what should happen next, influencing the direction of the plot.

The whole thing is about 10,000 words long. Apparently, the plan is that it’ll be edited, and then included in a future short story collection. I’ve put the original under the cut.

The corpse hung by its neck from the tree like an oversized Christmas ornament, each gentle sway teasing a groan from the branch.

There were corpses hanging from the trees on either side of it, and more beside them, forming lines that curved slightly to become an expansive circle — a border within the woods.

Valkyrie Cain observed this boundary of dead bodies.

“That,” she said, “is ever-so-slightly ominous.”

Skulduggery Pleasant stepped up beside her, adjusting his hat. The suit was dark blue today, a three-piece with a white shirt and a blue tie. The face he’d been wearing as they’d talked with the sheriff flowed away now, revealing the skull beneath. His shoes, polished to a shine, sank into the soil. He didn’t seem to care.

“This display does more than offer a warning,” he said. “The moment we step through, we’re in her territory.”

“The monster’s female?”

“We’re dealing with a witch,” Skulduggery said, nodding, “one of the old-fashioned, non-human variety. The kind that would pluck little children from their beds and nice old ladies from their gardens and gobble them all up.”

“She hasn’t eaten these people.”

“No,” he murmured. “She hasn’t. I wonder why.”

“We should probably go ask her,” Valkyrie said. “You know, before she eats anyone else in the town. I doubt they’d be able to handle many more unexplained disappearances.”

He dipped his head to her. “After you.”

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow, and stepped across the boundary. Twigs crunching beneath their feet, they moved through the wood. Valkyrie had never been to this part of America before.

The sky was the colour of a bad mood and the air couldn’t quite summon the energy to become warm. The further they walked, the fainter the birdsong became behind them, until it faded altogether.

The wood was holding its breath — the way a child might as it hid beneath the bed while the monster searched the house.

They stepped into a clearing. In the middle of that clearing was a cabin. Its roof dipped. Its windows sagged. Its stone chimney slumped.

Skulduggery nodded to Valkyrie.

“Go ahead and knock," he said.

“You think that’ll be OK?” she asked, frowning. “A witch won’t try to eat me or anything?”

“If she does, I’ve got my old friend here to talk her out of it." He tapped his jacket, right where his gun was holstered.

Sighing, Valkyrie approached the cabin, stepped up on the rotting porch, and knocked.

“Hello?” she called. “Anyone home?”

She heard movement inside. Footsteps. Shuffling. The door rattled, a heavy key turning in an old lock, dragging back the latch. The door opened.

A little old lady, wrapped in a shawl, peered out. “Hello?” she said, her voice weak and hesitant. Nervous. Scared, even.

Valkyrie put on her best and most reassuring smile. “Hello there,” she said. “I was passing, and was just wondering if you’re the one eating people.”

The little old lady blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry? Eating who? What? I’m afraid I don’t know quite what you mean.”

“Oh,” Valkyrie said, “sorry.”

She leaned down until she was level with the elderly woman. “Eating people,” she said, loudly and slowly. “Are you doing it, you decrepit old bag?”

The witch grew so fast Valkyrie barely had time to register it. One moment she was a stooped old woman in a shawl, the next she was twice the size and lunging from the cabin, an oversized fist knocking Valkyrie off her feet.

Valkyrie slammed to the ground and rolled in the twigs and the dirt and the dead leaves, and the witch thundered after her. Her skinny arms were too long for her body and her hands were way too big for her wrists. Her grey hair burst from the shawl like she’d been electrocuted. Her jaw jutted at an angle, her gaping mouth overstuffed with yellowed, broken teeth.

Skulduggery pressed the muzzle of his gun into the side of her head, and said, “I’d stop moving, if I were you.”

The witch froze.

Valkyrie picked herself up, rubbing her jaw. “Ow,” she said.

The witch’s eyes — hazel eyes, they were — bulged in their sockets. “Don’t kill me,” she said. “I don’t deserve to die.”

“And the townspeople you’ve strung up around your home?” Skulduggery said, moving round so that he stood beside Valkyrie. “Did they deserve what you did to them?”

The witch licked her lips. She had a very, very long tongue. It was cracked, like old shoe leather.

“I do what I do for a good reason," she said. "A very good reason. I’m protecting that town.”

“By killing everyone in it?”

The witch didn’t answer.

“What’s your name?” Valkyrie asked.

“Esmerelda Montague,” said the witch. “I have lived in these woods since I was a little girl, and that was a long time ago. I watched the town grow from an empty field to a single lodging to a home for hundreds. I have watched the people from a distance because they don’t like me. They never have. But I protect them, nonetheless.”

“Protect them from what?” Skulduggery asked.

“From the monster,” said the witch.

A sound reached them, bleeding through the trees. A long and guttural roar. It faded, and silence reclaimed the clearing.

“That,” Skulduggery said, “would be the monster, yes?”

“Please understand,” said Esmerleda, “if it gets loose of its prison you will see a slaughter the likes of which you could scarcely imagine. The town I’m protecting. The next town over. The state. The country. It will attack, devour, and disappear. There is no way to track it, and no way to kill it.”

Valkyrie bushed a leaf from her hair. “And you’re the only one who can keep it trapped?”

“Yes.”

“And you do that by killing a bunch of people and hanging them from trees?”

“I have formed a magical boundary,” Esmerelda said. “A border between life and death, a shield against —”

“And you do that by killing a bunch of people,” Valkyrie repeated, “and hanging them from trees?”

The witch faltered. “Yes,” she said.

“See, that’s where you lose me.”

“Take us to it,” said Skulduggery.

Esmerelda sagged. “That is not wise, skeleton.”

“Probably not, but I’m the one with the gun.”

The witch looked at them both, and shook her head regretfully. “Very well,” she said, and started walking. They followed close behind.

“What kind of monster is it?” Valkyrie asked.

“I don’t know,” said the witch.

“Does it have a name?”

“I don’t know that either.”

“How long has it been here?”

“As long as I have.”

“How long is that?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know how long you’ve been here? What age are you?”

“What age is this tree?” asked Esmerelda. “Or that rock? What age is the air? I am old, I know that, and I remember when I was young, and I know that the time between the two has been long, and lonesome.”

“Who named you?”

“I did. I took my name from a young woman I hung from a tree. She wasn’t using it anymore, and names were suddenly all the rage, so I tried it on and it’s mine now.”

“Cute story,” Valkyrie murmured.

Esmerelda stopped walking, and turned to them. “We are close to the monster,” she said, “and so I must beseech you to leave. It’s not too late to walk away and leave this to me. The balance I have struck is delicate. Your very presence may be enough to tip the scales. My way is working.”

“Your way kills innocent people,” Skulduggery said. “It’s time to try something new.”

“You think new ways are better ways?” the witch asked. “Of course you do. You’re centuries old, are you not? I can sense that about you. And yet your clothes, your weapon... you put all your faith in the new. But battling the old monsters requires the old ways. This is something you’ve forgotten, skeleton.”

Her hazel eyes flickered to Valkyrie. “Your mind is more open. Walk away, girl. Convince your friend to walk away beside you, and I will give you a reward.”

Valkyrie folded her arms. “I’m not interested in—”

“You have lost people.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Loved ones. Yes? You’ve lost them.”

“Everyone’s lost people they love.”

The witch nodded, leaned closer. “But I can bring them back.”

“Right,” said Valkyrie, drawing out the word. “So if we turn round, and leave this whole mess to you, you’ll... what? Actually bring someone I’ve lost back to life?”

“Yes.”

“And you can do that? You have that kind of power?”

Esmerelda hesitated.

“That’s what I thought,” Valkyrie said.

“I’m just a witch,” said Esmerelda, “and my abilities are limited. But I possess the knowledge, and that knowledge is a key that can unlock the secrets of life and death.”

“You’re stalling.”

“I swear to you, girl — I do not lie to you.”

“Keep walking, witchy.”

With great reluctance, the witch resumed her march through the woods. Skulduggery followed, just out of range of a sudden swipe, and Valkyrie walked parallel, ready to throw lightning if Esmerelda tried anything sneaky.

“You’ll regret this,” Esmerelda said. “I could have reunited you with a loved one, but you have spurned my offer.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Esmerelda glanced behind her. “And what of you, skeleton? What would you give to have your wife and child at your side once more?”

Skulduggery’s head tilted slowly. “How do you know about them?”

The witch shrugged as she walked. “These are the things I know.”

“So you’ve heard of me.”

“I have not.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t read my mind.”

“True, I don’t have that ability. But I know loss, and I know sorrow. The people I hang from trees, they have all lost loved ones — either to me or to the monster. I reunite them with these spirits in death. I see your wife and child, and I see so many others. I see a scarred man, and a quiet man, and a woman with silver hair.”

A glance to Valkyrie. “And you, girl. I see an uncle, and a... twin? No, another version of you, one without magic. How curious.”

Valkyrie narrowed her eyes. “Just because you can see the people we’ve lost doesn’t mean you can bring them back to us.”

“You are correct,” Esmerelda said. “It is not so simple as that. Not so simple as a click of the fingers or an incantation intoned. But I could have made it a possibility. I could have unlocked the door and allowed you to reach through, to pull your loved one from death. And now, alas, I fear it is too late, for we have arrived.”

They stepped through into another clearing, this one pebbled with tree stumps. In the centre of the clearing was a small circle of trees carved with sigils.

Valkyrie had been around enough of the various languages of magic to at least recognise the patterns of the most popular — but these weren’t even the slightest bit familiar. Something moved within that circle of trees, something dark and something big.

Valkyrie stepped closer, trying to get a good look. Its skin was mottled green and black, and it was so big it could barely turn round in its wooden cell. Its arms were as long as Valkyrie was tall, and there were claws on the ends of each crooked finger.

She spied a mouth, and teeth, and it growled as she neared.

“Hello, brother,” said the witch.

The monster roared at her, a sound so violent it made Valkyrie step back.

Then the roar passed, and the monster glared. It had yellow eyes.

“Your brother,” said Skulduggery.

Esmerelda gave another of her sighs. “I’ve always thought of it as such, but perhaps that’s due to the fact that my life has been so sorely lacking in the love of family that I have latched on to it as my only companion. You must think me pathetic.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” said Skulduggery, trying to get a better look at the monster. “I just think of you as a murderer. Valkyrie, what do you think? Might there be a spare cell big enough for this charming creature?”

“I reckon,” Valkyrie said. “Though we’ll have to call in a squad or two of Cleavers to secure it for teleportation.”

“I can help you with that,” said Esmerelda, turning to them. “I can render the monster—”

She moved without warning, her fist crunching into Skulduggery. Valkyrie raised her arm and poured magic into her fingertips and lightning leaped but she was far too slow, as the witch was already upon her.

Esmerelda picked her up and then brought her down, slamming her into the dirt. The air rippled and struck Esmerelda from behind, making her stumble over Valkyrie, and Skulduggery hurled a fireball that caught in the witch’s hair.

Esmerelda screamed and batted at herself furiously, and Skulduggery’s gun flew into his hand.

Then Esmerelda spoke three words that sliced into Valkyrie’s head, and Skulduggery grunted, and stiffened, and fell backwards.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, Valkyrie released her lightning and this time it found its target. Esmerelda hollered and jerked back, fell, scrambled up. Valkyrie fired again but the witch moved, and the lightning tore a chunk from one of the trees holding the monster.

The sigil burned.

The monster burst from the trees and Esmerelda spun, lunged, trying to grab it, but her legs gave out and she fell, even as the monster loped out of the clearing and vanished into the woods.

“No, no, no,” Esmerelda mumbled, forcing herself to her feet. “What have you done? What have you done?”

“We can catch it,” Valkyrie said, panicking. “We can catch it before it hurts anyone.”

“We won’t be able to contain it!” Esmerelda snapped. “This is your fault, girl! Now I have to take more innocent lives!”

Valkyrie stared at her. “What? No. No, we just have to—”

“You are responsible for what I am about to do,” the witch snarled, and ran back the way they’d come.

Valkyrie got up, rushed over to Skulduggery, pulled him to his feet. “Did you hear that? Did you hear what she said? What do we do? Skulduggery, what do we do?”

“Split up,” he said, snatching his hat off the ground.

“Seriously?”

“I’ll go after the monster. You go after the witch.”

“Splitting up is a terrible idea!”

“Then you go after the monster and I’ll go after the witch.”

“That’s still splitting up!”

“The monster has to be stopped, and we can’t let Esmerelda kill anyone else.”

“Fine,” Valkyrie growled, backing away from him. “But I’m only doing this because it’s my fault if she kills anyone.”

She turned, ran a few steps and then leaped, energy crackling around her as she shot into the sky. She skimmed the treetops and got a blast of cold air rushing right into her face, making it hard to breathe.

She twisted round, flew like she was doing the backstroke, her hair whipping over her eyes. Valkyrie glimpsed the town approaching fast and she took a deep breath and twisted again, swooping low.

She landed in a run that she slowed to a jog, hopping a wall behind a used car lot. She made her way through the aisles of vehicles. A salesman brightened when he saw her, but she just waved and kept walking.

The town was small, and it was nice, and it was quiet, and there was no one shouting or yelling or raising the alarm, so she was pretty certain she’d beaten Esmerelda here. If she knew which part of the woods the witch would be emerging from she could have hid there and smacked her over the head with something heavy — but as it was, all she could do was keep an eye on the treeline.

“Sheriff told me about you.”

Valkyrie turned. A woman stood there, looking at her with red-rimmed eyes. She was in her 40s, and her roots were showing. Her clothes were high-end but lived in. Someone who’d recently taken a substantial knock, then. Someone who’d lost someone, maybe, and hadn’t had the time to deal with it.

“I’m here to help,” Valkyrie said.

The woman nodded like she didn’t believe her. “And your friend? You came with a friend, didn’t you? Man in a suit?”

“I did. He’s in the woods.”

“I see,” said the woman. “In the woods. And why is he in the woods? Is he here to kill the monster, maybe? The monster who’s been snatching away the people of this town?”

“I don’t know anything about any monsters,” Valkyrie said carefully. “We’re just here to—”

“Help,” the woman said. “Yes, I heard you the first time. People are talking about the two of you, talking about seeing you both walk into those woods... Did you know, we don’t go in there? Did you know we never have? I was born here, raised here, and since I was a child I’ve known that you never go into the West Woods. Because of the monster, you understand. The monster.”

Her lip curled. “Grown men and women, talking about monsters like they’re real. Placing all the blame on some creature when our husbands and wives and children go missing and are never seen again. And now look. Here you are, feeding into that... that hysteria.”

“I’m not trying to make things any more difficult than they already are, Miss...?”

“Oh! You want to know my name, do you? My name is Joanne. Joanna Freely. My husband was Jacob Freely. I say 'was' because he’s gone. Snatched away. By the monster, apparently.

But instead of looking for clues and finding whoever is doing this, the Sheriff of this godforsaken town is happy to blame it all on some supernatural being that lives in the trees. So who are you, I wonder, and what brings you to our town? You’re not from here, obviously. You’re not even from this country, are you?”

“I’m Irish.”

“Good for you. Heard it's lovely over there."

“My name’s Valerie. I’m here to—”

“You’re lying.”

Valkyrie blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“My husband lied to me,” said Joanne. “He lied to me about a lot of things, that man. He wasn’t... he wasn’t strong, in the way you have to be strong. So he lied to me and I got very good with spotting lies. And you lied to me just there, when you told me your name. Why’d you do that? What are you hiding?”

Valkyrie took a moment to scan the treeline, then looked back. “OK,” she said. “My name’s Valkyrie. I know you don’t believe that the monster exists, that it’s some sort of town legend, but I know it’s real, and so does my partner, and we’re here to stop it.”

Joanne shook her head. “You people... You come in here charging grieving families to speak with their lost loved ones and you take their money and—”

“We’re not mediums,” Valkyrie told her. “We’re not charging money for this, and we don’t want anything in return. When we’ve done our job we’ll leave and you’ll never have to think of us again.”

“Your job. This is your job, is it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re monster fighters, are you?”

“Among other things.”

Tears came trembling down Joanne’s cheeks. “Do you know what I think? I think you and your friend are behind it all. I think you’re taking those people. I think you’re taking them and killing them. I think you killed my Jacob.”

“Joanne, I’m so sorry for your loss, but I swear to you—”

Joanne had a gun in her hand now, and the tears were coming fast. “Why?” she asked. “Why’d you do it?”

Valkyrie raised her hands slowly and spoke very, very calmly. “Joanne, I haven’t hurt anyone in this town. Anyone at all. You need to put the gun down.” “Why’d you kill him?” “You’re upset and you’re in pain but I promise you I didn’t kill your husband.”

Joanne clicked back the hammer. “Then you’re just here to profit from his death,” she said, her hand shaking. “I’m sick of it. Sick of it all. It stops here. This town needs to wake up and stop dreaming of monsters and creatures and face reality.”

“If you kill me, it’s murder.” “Maybe that’s what they need,” Joanne responded. “A bit of everyday murder to snap them out of whatever delusion they’re under.”

Something blurred behind her, a mass of grey hair and broken teeth, and Valkyrie

tried to shove Joanne out of the way. Joanne jerked back and fired. The suit absorbed the impact as best it could, but Valkyrie still went stumbling away, one hand at her belly. She watched the bullet fall from between her fingers, squashed-up like a crushed soft drink can.

She would have heard it hit the ground if her ears weren’t ringing from the gunshot. Joanne’s gun bounced on the pavement near Valkyrie’s foot. She looked up, saw Joanne’s terrified face as Esmerelda grabbed her. Saw one of the witch’s massive fists swinging for her, and then the world juddered and went away.

Valkyrie blinked. She was blinking. When had this started? When had her eyes opened? She had no idea, and yet here she was, blinking at the blue sky and the trees that slid by.

She went over a root. Hit her head. It hurt. She didn’t like that. She didn’t like any of this. Her jaw was sore, her thoughts clouded. Her hand hurt and there was a tightness around her ankle. She was being dragged. Rustling filled her ears. She was being dragged across the ground in the woods, her hands trailing after her. Dragged by her ankle. Yep, that made sense.

She raised her head. Oooooh, that made her feel sick. That made her want to puke. She put her head back down and closed her eyes and focused on breathing.

When she was confident she wasn’t going to throw up over herself, she raised her head again.

Yep, definitely being dragged through the woods.

Esmerelda gripped her left ankle in one hand and pulled her along behind her as she walked. With the other hand, she dragged Joanne. There was somebody else, an unconscious man, slung over one shoulder. Three of them, then. Three people to be killed and hung from branches. Not if Valkyrie had anything to say about it.

She went to blast the witch with lightning and nothing happened. She examined her hand. A sigil had been scratched into the back of it. A little blood had trickled and dried against her skin. Damn it.

“You’re awake,” said Esmerelda without looking round. “Don’t try to kill us,” Valkyrie said. “It won’t end well for you.” “I have to,” the witch responded. “It’s the only way to save the town.”

“How can you be sure? Have you tried other ways?” “I have tried all the ways.” “I think we both know that’s an exaggeration.” Esmerelda glanced back. “At least your death will mean something, which is more than most can say.”

Valkyrie was dragged over another tree root. “I hate to break it to you,” she said, “but if you do manage to kill me, it won’t be the first time I’ve died. I’ve been around the block with this sort of thing.”

“Sorcerers,” said Esmerelda, and Valkyrie saw the edge of a smile. “Also,” Valkyrie said, “if you kill me, the skeleton in the suit is going to be super-mad at you. Trust me, you do not want that hassle.”

“I will kill the skeleton when I see him again,” Esmerelda said. “It is a surprisingly easy thing, to kill the dead.” “Many people have tried.” “They should have tried harder.”

“You want to know what I think?” Valkyrie said, and suddenly lashed her free foot into Esmerelda’s wrist as she torqued her body violently to one side — but Esmerelda didn’t let go, and she just kept walking, and Valkyrie sighed and allowed herself to be dragged onwards.

“Lame,” she said. “Don’t worry,” said the witch, “we’re almost there.” “Lame,” Valkyrie said again, but louder this time. They passed into the clearing and the cabin came into view.

“Are we going in there?” Valkyrie asked. “We are.” “Is that where you’re going to kill us?” “It is.” “I see,” said Valkyrie, and started

shouting for Skulduggery. “Do you really think that will do you any good?” Esmerelda asked. “He is in pursuit of my brother, and my brother is very fast indeed. They are both a long way off by now.”

Valkyrie glowered. “Well, I’m going to keep shouting, if it’s all the same to you. Shouting and... fighting!” She grabbed a branch as they passed it, sat up and swung as hard as she could at Esmerelda’s arm. But the branch was old, and dry, and the very act of swinging caused it to break in two, and so all she swung was a handful of crumbling wood. “Ah, bloody hell,” she muttered. The door to the cabin swung open.

“Can I walk?” Valkyrie asked. “Can I at least walk to my doom, instead of being dragged? My magic is bound, I’ve got no weapons, and you’re stronger and faster than me. There is no way I can escape. Just... come on. I feel stupid being pulled everywhere.”

The witch stopped walking, considered it, and let go of her ankle.

Valkyrie stood, brushed herself off. “Thank you,” she said, and stepped through the door.

The cabin was wide and cold and smelled of something musty and unpleasant. There was a small bed in one corner, and a large table with a single chair. The table was stained with something dark. Blood, presumably.

Esmerelda came in, closing the door. She put Joanne and the man on the table, and reached for a long, thin knife.

“Woah,” said Valkyrie. “Just woah. Hold on. Slow down. Skulduggery’s going after the monster. You don’t know him, but I do, and generally, when Skulduggery goes after a monster, the monster loses. Now, I don’t want to tell you how to witch properly, I’m sure you do your job very well, but shouldn’t you wait a little before you start killing these people?”

“I am going to wait,” said Esmerelda. “Oh. OK, cool.” “First I’m going to kill you, and when that’s done, I’ll kill them.”

Valkyrie shook her head. “What I’m saying is, you might not have to. Skulduggery will bring your brother in, I’m sure of it. The monster will either be dead, or it’ll be in shackles, or it’ll be... I don’t know what it’ll be, but it’ll be something. I wouldn’t be surprised if Skulduggery rode it back like a horse.” “Your skeleton friend will not defeat it.” “You don’t know him like I know him.”

Esmerelda put the knife into a pocket somewhere in the folds of her ragged clothing. She closed her eyes and breathed out, and it was like she was breathing out her mass, because when that breath was done she was a little old lady again.

Valkyrie watched her hobble over to the chair, and she sat in it with a heavy sigh. “You poor girl,” Esmerelda said. “You have no idea.” “No idea about what?”

“These woods. The town. What’s happening here, between us. The people on this table. Your skeleton friend. My brother. You can’t feel it?” “I’m not entirely sure what you’re on about, to be honest.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Esmerelda said. “It took me a long, long time before I started to sense what was going on. What was really going on.” “Maybe you could tell me.” “I doubt you’d believe it.”

“You’re a witch. My friend’s a skeleton. My own reflection turned into a god. I think my mind’s pretty open to new possibilities.” The old lady did her best to smooth down her hair. “I trapped my brother,” she said. “I made a cell for him, a boundary he could not cross.”

Valkyrie waited for her to continue. “And there’s another boundary,” Esmerelda said at last, giving up on her hair and returning her hands to her lap. “A boundary made from the dead bodies of the townspeople that I have hung from trees. This boundary serves multiple purposes. It keeps unwanted visitors away — mostly — and it gives me the strength I need to do what I have to do. So there’s a boundary outside of a boundary.” “OK.”

“But there’s another boundary, outside of even that. It encompasses my brother’s cell, this cabin, the town, and this county, small as it is. You passed through it when you arrived.” “I didn��t see any boundary.”

“It’s not something you see but it is there, nonetheless.” Valkyrie nodded, like she was beginning to understand, even though she had no idea what the witch was on about. As she nodded she scanned the cabin for a weapon. Couldn’t find one.

“And what does it do?” she asked. “What’s it for, this boundary?” “It changes things,” said Esmerelda. “It changed you. It changed your friend.” “I don’t feel any different.” “Of course not. If you felt the change it would defeat the purpose.”

“And what’s the purpose?” Esmerelda smiled thinly. “There’s very little point in telling you. You’ll be dead soon.” “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that. But hey, satisfy my curiosity before I go.” “Ah, but I’m afraid to, you see. I’m sorry, what is your name?”

“Valkyrie. Valkyrie Cain. My friend’s Skulduggery Pleasant.” “Valkyrie and Skulduggery,” Esmerelda said, and her smile broadened. “I like those names. I’m afraid to tell you, Valkyrie, because I have never told anyone. I have never spoken the words aloud. I’m afraid that when I speak them, they’ll know that I know. If they don’t already know. Which they probably do.” “And what are you talking about?” Esmerelda looked around, like she was expecting the walls to come crashing down. “There are... beings. Watching us.”

“Beings?” “I don’t know who they are or what they are. All I know is that they are watching. And controlling.” “Controlling what?” “Me,” said Esmerelda. “You. These people here on the table. Your friend Skulduggery.”

Valkyrie frowned. “Um... No. Nobody’s controlling me, thank you very much.” “These beings are powerful. You think they’ve endured for so long by being clumsy? Over time, I’ve developed a sense for their interference. When they make a change the air is different, somehow. It becomes charged.” “And what kind of changes do they make?”

“It happened just a few minutes ago, before you started shouting for Skulduggery. It happened in the town, when you tried to push this lady away from me,” Esmerelda said, nodding to Joanne.

“It happened right before you ran after me, and before that, when I offered you the choice between having a loved one returned to you and turning back before we reached my brother.”

“I’m sorry?”

“These beings,” said Esmerelda, whispering now. “They control this little pocket of reality. Do you understand? This is where they play their games. They watch us, and every so often they... they decide which direction we take. What we say. What we do.”

“Are they watching us now?” “Oh, Valkyrie, my dear. They’re always watching.” “And they decide my actions? So they’d decide if I scratch my nose with my right hand or my left hand?”

Esmerelda’s tongue flickered out, like she was tasting the air. “I can feel the charge,” she said. “Yes. They will decide this.” “Uh huh,” said Valkyrie. “OK then, I’ve already up my mind about which hand I’m going to scratch my nose with. You’re saying they’ll decide, is that right? Then let’s see it.”

Valkyrie looked up. “Alright you sick weirdoes, let’s see it in action. Decide for me. Which hand is it going to be?"

She scratched her nose with her right hand, and immediately frowned at it. “Well,” said Esmerelda. “Was that the one you were going to use?” “I wasn’t going to use either,” Valkyrie said. “My nose wasn’t itchy.” She looked up. “You’re saying someone made me do that? Who?”

The witch shrugged. “As I said, I don’t know — but I’ve sensed them for years.” “Why don’t you leave? What’s keeping you here?” “My brother. Making sure he doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“See, now just wait. OK, there might be a group of oddball beings out there, watching us right now, dictating our movements, and don’t get me wrong, that is creeping me the hell out — but let’s not stray too far from the fact that you kill people to stop the monster from killing people. Doesn’t that strike you as the slightest bit hypocritical?”

“My brother will kill a lot more than I ever would.”

The old woman clapped her hands. “But enough of such thoughts! The beings have watched, do watch, and will watch, and I’ve grown accustomed to it! It’s the way the world works. But today, you die so that I can imprison my brother once more.”

That knife again, in her hand, and she stood. “Wait,” said Valkyrie. “Just stop. Before you turn on your full witchy glory, just hear me out. I have a plan. I know how we can get the monster back in his cell and figure out what these mysterious beings are after. I mean, you’re curious, right? After all this time?” “I... yes,” said Esmerelda. “My curiosity is piqued.” “Then help me conduct a little experiment. Will you do that?” “You think you can make these beings reveal themselves?” “And their intentions, yes.” “How?”

Valkyrie tapped her head. “I’m a little bit psychic. I don’t have it all figured out yet, I’m not the most talented Sensitive the world has ever seen, but I reckon I’m good enough to sense them, like you’ve done. And I think I can go further.

They want something, right? They’re watching us for a reason. From what you’ve told me, it could be something as simple as entertainment. These mysterious beings of yours just might be warped enough to derive some degree of satisfaction from watching others go through hell for their own amusement. If that’s the case, I think I have a way to turn that against them.”

“How?” Valkyrie bit her lip. “I don’t know if I can tell you without them overhearing.” “Whisper it.” “Will that work? Can’t they hear whispers?” “Yes,” Esmerelda said miserably. “They can hear everything.”

“Then maybe... maybe I can speak directly to your mind. Can we do that?” “We could try,” said the old woman, and came forward and Valkyrie punched her across the jaw. Esmerelda fell in an unconscious heap.

“Back in a bit,” Valkyrie said to Joanne and the man as she hurried out of the cabin. Boots crunching over dead leaves, she ran to the clearing where the monster had been trapped and took off in the direction Skulduggery had gone. She found his gun, and scooped it up and ran on. She found his hat, and scooped it up and ran on. Then she found Skulduggery. He was standing just before the edge of the woods with his back to her, his arms folded, one finger tapping against his chin.

“Ah,” he said when she reached him, “you’re here. Good.”

He held his hands out. She passed his belongings back to him. “Thank you,” he said. “I almost died,” she told him. “The witch almost killed me.”

“There’s an old saying, Valkyrie: ‘almost’ only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.” “What? What does that mean?” “Old sayings don’t have to make sense. They just have to be old.” “Where’s the monster?” “Nowhere.” “Sorry?”

“I chased it. We fought. It ran here... and vanished.” “It went invisible? It teleported?” “I don’t think so. It just... stopped. Very strange indeed.” “Huh.” He looked at her. “What?”

“I’ve got something even stranger. Esmerelda seems to think there are beings watching us right now that control what we say and do.” “And you believe her?” “I don’t know. A few minutes ago I scratched my nose and my nose wasn’t even itchy.”

“That does sound damning,” Skulduggery muttered. She scowled. “It was an experiment, and it was — shut up. My point is, she might be right. If she is right, then that means they’re watching us right now. They’re listening to everything we say.”

Skulduggery’s head tilted. “Even the boring bits?” “What boring bits?” “Good point. Come, tell me exactly what happened since we split up.” She filled him in as they walked back to the cabin. “I might have a theory,” he said once they were approaching the door.

“Already? OK then, what’s going on?” The door burst open and Esmerelda came sprinting out in all her witchy glory, the knife in her hand, and she leaped at Valkyrie but Skulduggery’s gun was already in his grip and he fired a bullet into her

leg. The leg crumpled beneath her and she stumbled but kept moving, the knife raking across Valkyrie’s suit, barely missing her throat. They went down, scrambling, Valkyrie gripping Esmerelda’s wrist in both hands, keeping that blade away from her.

Skulduggery hunkered down beside them, just out of reach, the gun pointed at Esmerelda’s head.

“I’m going to have to object to you killing Valkyrie,” he said, and the struggling stopped immediately. “I’ve spent so much time training her up and I really don’t want to start again with someone new. I know you’re tough, and you’ve been around a long time, but I assume that a shot to the head will kill you just as dead as it’d kill most people.”

“I assume so, also,” said the witch. “Then what do you say you drop the knife, before Valkyrie takes it from you and rams it into your eye?” Esmerelda smiled. “I think you overestimate your friend’s abilities.”

Valkyrie twisted Esmerelda’s wrist, plucked the weapon from her hand as it sprung open, and tapped the tip of the blade against the witch’s cheek, just under the left eye.

“Oh,” said Esmerelda, and leaned back, coming up to her knees.

Valkyrie wriggled out from under her and stood. “That was risky,” Valkyrie said. “Shooting her leg like that.”

“It was,” Skulduggery murmured. “I should have shot her in the chest. Hitting a leg when the target’s attacking is not something I would generally advise anyone to attempt.” His head tilted. “I’m lucky I’m such an amazing shot.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” said Esmerelda. “I felt it. The charge in the air. The beings took the option away from you.” “Ah yes,” Skulduggery said, “these mysterious beings. Do you have a name for them?”

“As I told Valkyrie, I don’t know who they are.” “But you must have named them. You must think of them as a collective group.” “Not really. I just call them beings.”

“Well,” Valkyrie said, “that’s not gonna work for us. We like things to have names. You get that, don’t you? Why names are important? You took a name for yourself, after all.” Esmerelda frowned. “I suppose...”

Skulduggery lowered his gun, but didn’t put it away.

“From what Valkyrie told me about you, you may have missed out on some of the new rules of magic. And by new, I mean anything that’s cropped up in the last few eons. If we could figure out what these beings are called, or even if we just go ahead and name them right here and now, that gives us a certain amount of power over them. Not a whole lot, but it’s something.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know anything that could help,” said Esmerelda. Then she frowned. “Where is my brother?” “Gone,” Skulduggery said. “It left the woods and it disappeared. You say it’s been around for as long as you have?”

“Yes,” Esmerelda replied. “But what do you mean by ‘gone’? Is it... is it dead?” “Maybe. Or maybe it never lived. Maybe it never existed.” “But... but you saw it.”

He shrugged. “I’ve seen plenty of things in my life, and even I’m not arrogant enough to think that every one of them was real.” “You think the beings who are watching us made the monster?” Valkyrie asked.

“It’s possible,” he responded. “They made it, put it in these woods to act as a threat, and observed what happened next.”

“But who’d have that kind of power? Are we talking about, like, a Darquesse situation? Someone learned their true name, and they’ve been acting as God here in this little county ever since?”

“Perhaps,” Skulduggery said, “but I don’t think so. Someone of Darquesse’s power would be able to control things a lot more tightly. These beings, whoever they are, are limited in the directions they can give.”

“So it’s not a bunch of gods we’re talking about here?” “I don’t think so.” “Have you ever heard about this kind of situation before?”

Skulduggery nodded. “There have been instances over the years of people feeling like they had no input into their own decisions. There were occasions when mages would act out of character, particularly during the 1980s.

I’ve personally known sorcerers who have died in bizarre circumstances undertaking ridiculous tasks when they really should have known better. An old colleague of mine conducted one of the only investigations into the phenomena. He referred to the ones controlling it all as Horts.” “Ah,” said Valkyrie. “So he wasn’t into the idea of giving something a cool name. Good to know.”

“He had a theory that there were both individual Horts and entire Councils of Horts,” Skulduggery continued, “all casting votes to decide the fates of a select, unlucky few.” “And that’s what you think is happening here?” Esmerelda asked. “Can I get up, by the way?”

“Yes, I do think that’s what’s happening here, and no, you cannot get up.” “But you shot me in the leg.” “Well, you tried to kill my friend.” “And who are these Horts?” Valkyrie asked.

“I think we can safely assume that they’re not gods,” he answered, “but they do have a certain amount of power to wield over us.” Valkyrie resisted a shiver. “They probably don’t like the fact that we’re discussing them, do they?”

“For all we know, they’re finding this highly amusing. Or they might be deciding that it’s time we do something exciting, like fight, or kill each other.” “So what should we do?” He pondered this, and then he sat on the ground and indicated Valkyrie to do the same.

“We should not do anything,” he said. “If we commit to inaction, we may force their hand. If something spurs us into motion, then we’ll know that not only are they watching, but they are also listening, and comprehending the discussion we’re having.”

“And what purpose does this serve?” Esmerelda asked. Skulduggery tilted his head. “By forcing them to engage with us, we’ll start to take away their power.” “By merely sitting here?”

“Sitting here peacefully, yes. They might decide to throw a pack of goblins at us, they might send the townspeople after us with pitchforks and burning torches, they might try something else entirely... but once they do any of this, we’ll gain the upper hand.”

“But if they’re listening, then they know that’s exactly what we’re waiting for,” said Valkyrie. “So, like... they won’t do anything, and they’ll just wait us out instead.” “If we’re dealing with a single Hort, yes, that is entirely possible. But if, as we suspect, we’re dealing with an entire Council of Horts, it will be much harder for them to control the outcome. All we need is for one of them to cast a vote, just one single Hort to cast that first vote, and then it will all come crumbling down.”

They sat there and waited. “My leg hurts,” said Esmerelda. “We don’t care,” said Valkyrie. They waited some more, but no goblins attacked, and no townspeople swarmed them with pitchforks and burning torches.

“Nothing’s happening,” Valkyrie whispered. “Maybe we’ve got it wrong. Maybe there’s no one watching us.” And then a rabbit hopped up. They watched it sniff the air.

“Is that something?” Valkyrie asked Skulduggery. “Like, is that the something else you mentioned? Seems a little odd that they’d send a bunny. Or is that just a regular old bunny with nothing to do with any of this, that would have come by anyway?”

“Shoot it,” said Esmerelda. Valkyrie glared. “Do not shoot it.” “I think you should shoot it,” the witch said, nodding. “He’s not going to shoot it,” Valkyrie told her. “It’s a rabbit, for God’s sake. He’s not going to shoot a rabbit.”

The rabbit twisted and contorted and expanded, its teeth turning sharp, its eyes glowing red, expanding until it was the size of a man and growling like a wolf. “Shoot it,” said Valkyrie. “Shoot the bunny. Shoot the bunny in the face.”

It hopped towards them and they got up quickly. The rabbit snarled and Skulduggery thumbed back the hammer on his gun. It lunged and he fired three times and the rabbit whirled and collapsed.

Skulduggery walked over, nudged the dead rabbit with his foot. It immediately dissolved into a red goo that was absorbed into the ground. “Well,” Valkyrie said, “this day just keeps getting weirder. Skulduggery? Do you have anything to add?”

“Not just yet,” he said slowly. “But this is very interesting.” “Is that the word you meant to say? You sure you didn’t mean to say baffling?”

His head tilted. “There’s nothing baffling about this in the slightest. With every decision the Horts make, they’re giving us vital information that we can use to beat their little game.”

“So shooting the giant rabbit-monster was a learning experience?” “Everything is a learning experience, Valkyrie. Except maybe this conversation.” She grinned. She couldn’t help it.

“OK,” he said, “we have an opportunity to fight back. Esmerelda, can you walk?” “I can limp, if I must.” “That will suffice.” “I can hobble, if I have to.” “Yes, I get it, I shot you and it hurts, but we really need to focus on other things right now.”

“Sorry,” said Esmerelda. “Quite alright,” Skulduggery said. “If you want this to stop, if you want to be released from whatever hold they have over you, you’ll walk south through the woods. Valkyrie will walk east. I’ll walk west.”

“And why are we doing this?” Valkyrie asked. “When I was chasing the monster, I did nothing that I would regard as unusual or out of character,” he said. “This is purely a guess, you understand, but if I’m right, which I usually am, it means that the Council of Horts is only able to focus on one of us at a time. If they focus on Valkyrie, like they have done, that means they are not paying attention to Esmerelda or me. When they take their eyes off us, therefore, we can begin to strike back.” “Wait,” Valkyrie said. “So what if they do focus on me again? Then I’ll be the one in danger while you two are off somewhere.” She held up her hand. “And my magic is bound, remember?”

“I can fix that,” Esmerelda said, and reached out and scratched the back of Valkyrie’s hand. “Ow!” “Sorry.” “That hurt! Ow!”

Valkyrie rubbed her hand vigorously, but the sigil had been successfully corrupted, and she could feel her magic again. “Thank you,” she muttered. Esmerelda beamed.

“Are we all set?” Skulduggery asked. “Everyone clear on the plan?” “Not in the slightest,” Valkyrie responded. “What if the Horts focus on you? Then it’ll be me and Esmerelda coming up with a plan and, I’ll be honest with you, my plans usually involve people being punched. But I can’t punch the Horts because I don’t know where they are.” “I also like to punch people,” said Esmerelda. Skulduggery shrugged. “If they follow me, then we’ll have another piece of information that we can use against them. Ready?”

“Not in the slightest,” Valkyire mumbled. “Which way’s east?” Skulduggery pointed. “Right. And we just walk, is that it?” “Walk until they send something after you,” Skulduggery said. “Then run. Or fight. Whatever you’re in the mood for.”

“I’m in the mood for fighting,” Valkyrie scowled, and they all started walking in different directions.

Valkyrie stomped through the undergrowth, kicking leaves and snapping twigs. She looked up at the sky, glimpsed between branches.

“Well?” she said. “You going to do something? Here I am, walking along. That’s not very interesting, is it? If you’re getting bored you should probably throw something my way. Nothing big. Nothing sharp. An idiot, maybe. Someone I can punch and I won’t feel too bad about it.”

She frowned. “But why would I feel bad? The bunny wasn’t real — not really real. And it looks like the monster wasn’t real, either. So whatever pops out at me won’t actually exist — not in any meaningful way.”

Her phone beeped and she took it out, read the screen, scrolled a bit, then put it away again. She walked on, not bothering to even look up now.

“I read this book, a few years ago. Massive book. Anyway, it was about this town that had a horrible thing happen to it, and all the people were forced to do terrible things, and it turns out that it was all because some, like, alien kids got bored one day and decided to persecute a bunch of humans.

They didn’t look at these humans as much more than ants, I suppose. Or maybe less than ants. But is that what this is? You’re playing these games with us because you require entertainment?”

The ground started to slope downwards. Valkyrie leaned back as she went down. She slipped and fell, landing in a sitting position. Her frown deepened. “Was that you?” she asked. “Or was that me? Did you make me slip, or did I just slip? God, this is nuts. This is doing my head in, it really is. It’s giving me a headache. Is this a stress headache? It is. See what you’ve done?” She closed her eyes and gently rubbed her temples for a few minutes.

When she was done, she stood. “Was that fun for you?” she asked. “I hope it was. I hope you were thrilled, watching me get a headache.”

She started down the little hill again, weaving between the trees, placing her hands on the trunks to slow her momentum until the ground levelled out. “A word of warning, though,” she said. “I don’t know how long you’ve been at this, but things are different now. The moment you involved Skulduggery and me, it all changed. You’re not going to win this one. I don’t know if you’ve done your research, but we’re quite well known for stopping bad guys. Which is what you are, by the way. You’re putting people through hell. You’re responsible for so many of those townspeople being killed, for your own, selfish amusement. You’re the villains of this piece. I hope you realise that.”

She shrugged. “I mean, I get it. If you view us as something less than ants, then why would you care? If we mean absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things then why shouldn’t you use us for entertainment? Entertainment’s important, especially in times as messed-up as these, am I right? I’m right. I know I am. But I’m afraid we’re going to have to put a stop to it.”

The ground started to rise and Valkyrie kept going, using the trees to pull herself up. When she got to the top she took out her phone again, used the compass to set her in the right direction.

“You know what I can do, don’t you?” she asked. “I don’t mean the lightning or the flying. I mean the other stuff.”

She tapped her head. “In here, like. You know I’m a Sensitive too, yeah? I’m not the best at it, by any means, but I’ve done some training. What’s the point in having a talent if you don’t develop the talent into a skill, you know? So I’ve got a little skill in the psychic department — enough to scan my surroundings for eager little minds... like yours.”

She grinned. “Oh, I know you’re there. I can sense you. I know you’re watching me. I know you’re listening, and I know this is piquing your interest — some of you more than others. That’s OK, I’m not going to take offense. Some of you may not like to be addressed so directly. To you, I say don’t worry. This’ll be over soon enough.”

Valkyrie entered the clearing where the witch’s cabin stood. Skulduggery and Esmerelda were waiting for her.

“Any trouble?” Skulduggery asked as she walked over. “Nope. Don’t think they even noticed I was walking in a circle. But they’re there. I can sense them. They’re paying attention.”

“I still don’t understand,” said Esmerelda. “This is a device we use for communications,” Skulduggery said, showing her his phone. “I used this to send Valkyrie a message in which I laid out my plan. If the Horts could read the message, they would have immediately done something to stop us returning to your delightful home. But because we are all here, they weren’t given the opportunity to read it — which proves my theory.” “What theory?”

“The Horts aren’t all-powerful,” Valkyrie said. “There’s something else, maybe someone else, choosing what choices to offer them.” “How far did you get with the scan?” asked Skulduggery.

“I did as much as I could without making them suspicious, but I think it was enough. There’s a... I suppose you’d call it a presence, beyond even the Horts. It knows this is coming to a close. I think you’re right — I think it wants it all to stop. It feels it’s time to end.”

Skulduggery nodded. “That makes sense. We wouldn’t have been allowed in, otherwise.” Esmerelda stiffened. “Something’s about to change.” “I can sense it, too,” said Valkyrie.

“I doubt there’s any need to worry,” Skulduggery responded. “The Horts are demanding a choice, but I don’t think they’ll get what they’re after.”

“We're gonna find out,” Valkyrie said, feeling the charge in the air, feeling the fine hairs stand up on the back of her neck. “It’s happening...”

The feeling passed, and she looked around. “Nothing,” she said. “No changes, no nothing.” “That’s never happened before,” Esmerelda said. “As in, nothing has never happened. Something has always happened. It’s the way of things. I don’t think I know what to do.”

“I rarely suffer from that affliction,” Skulduggery said. “Valkyrie, can you sense a mood?” Valkyrie’s thoughts became songbirds and flew away from her for a moment, and when they returned they sang to her.

“Finality,” she said. “It’s coming to an end and they know it.” “Can you tell us anything about them?” “They’re... I don’t know. They’re like us in a lot of ways, I think, but also different.”

Skulduggery nodded. “My colleague who opened the investigation, he had his theories about who the Horts were. At various times he believed them to be a group of high-powered Sensitives, a group of Warlocks, or simply sorcerers grown bored of long life. But he had one theory that struck me as closer to the probably truth. He believed the Horts exist outside our reality — close enough to take a peek every now and then, close enough to interfere in limited ways, but too far to actually live beside us.”

“That would go with what I’m sensing,” Valkyrie said slowly. “But the presence behind them... I have no idea what that is. I don’t know, maybe it’s their god.” She closed her eyes, and raised an eyebrow. “Someone’s definitely amused at that idea.”

“I’m glad we can still entertain,” said Skulduggery. “But this over. The game, the experiment, the trial, the show — whatever this is, it’s done.” There was a deep, deep rumble from somewhere below them.

Valkyrie frowned. “Please don’t tell me that’s what I think it is. Please don’t tell me that’s someone packing up their toys and going home.”

“Actually,” Skulduggery said, “I’d say it’s more like someone wiping the page clean. Either way, we should probably get the hell out of here.”

“But my leg!” Esmerelda said as ground begin to shake. “You shot me in the leg and I can’t run!” “Are you still complaining about that?” Skulduggery said, and gripped her around the waist. “Hold onto me.” “Oooh,” the witch said, grinning.

As they lifted into the air, Valkyrie ran to the cabin. “You go on,” she shouted. “There are two of the townspeople in here! I’ll get—” She barged in. Joanne and the man stood there, looking at her.

“Fun’s over,” Joanne said. “That’s a shame. I was enjoying that.” The man started to dissolve into nothingness, starting at his feet and quickly rising until his head vanished and he was gone.

“Huh,” said Valkyrie. “So... what? None of the townspeople are real? All those folks that Esmerelda killed?” “She didn’t kill anyone. She thought she did... but she didn’t.” “And the town itself?”

“Disappearing even now,” said Joanne. “Along with the woods. There were just fields here before I started. Just empty fields.”

“How long have you been doing this?” Joanne smiled. “A little while — but time moves differently for me. Not faster, not slower, just... differently.” “And I take it you’re not Joanne.”

“There is no Joanne. This is just a mouthpiece I’m using. I just wanted to say hello. Just wanted to say ‘well played.’” “What’s your name?” “You and your lot... always after the names, aren’t you?”

“Are you a Hort, or are you the thing I sensed behind it all?” “I’m a bit of both, actually. I’m the one behind it all but I’m also curious to see what happens. Or at least, I was. Ah, I suppose it was time it ended. I have no regrets.”

The cabin shook, and Skulduggery called her name. “I’ll be out in a second!” she yelled back.

Joanne didn’t have any legs. They’d dissolved, just like the man had.

“The beings you call Horts... once I involved them I had no way of knowing what would happen next. It might have killed you. I’m glad it didn’t.” “Yeah, me too.”

“I’ll miss it. I’ll miss Esmerelda. She was fascinating to watch. The things she did to the few in order to save the many... Your world will be a less interesting place without her in it.” Valkyrie frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“Her kind,” Joanne said, “they live for a long time. But not this long. She became, however, a vital part of this entire experience, and I couldn’t have done it without her. Will you tell that I said thank you? Will you tell her that?”

“I don’t think I will, to be honest. You’ve ruined her life, and now you’re ending it. You get that, don’t you?” Joanne shrugged, and then her shoulders dissolved. “Ah,” said Valkyrie. “To you, she’s not really real, is she?” “Not really.”

“And I’m not really real either, am I?” “No. I mean, you’re more real than Joanne, or the town, but... not by much. You’re mostly make-believe.” “Says the floating head.” Joanne laughed. “You have a point, Valkyrie, yes you do.”

Gaps appeared in the cabin walls. Through them, she could see the woods. The woods, also, had gaps in it. “Right,” Valkyrie said, “we’re off. You want my advice? Never come back here.” “A threat?” Joanne asked, amused.

“Very much so, yeah. There’s a reason you haven’t told me your name, isn’t there? Because you know that we’ll be watching for you, and we’ll be ready, and if you do come back, we’ll get a fix on your position, we’ll find your dimension, and a load of us will shunt over and kick your ass. You got me?”

Joanne laughed, and then her head vanished. Valkyrie spun, energy crackling, and she burst through the gaps in the roof and joined Skulduggery and Esmerelda and they flew the hell away from that place. *

Esmerelda sat on the stump of a tree and looked out at where her woods used to be. “So my whole life,” she said, “has meant nothing. And now even that is going to cease to be.” Valkyrie glanced at Skulduggery, and they both stood there, and didn’t say anything.

“I’ve been alive for all this time and I thought I was... I thought I was helping people and saving lives and none of it mattered. Not one little bit. All those people I killed...”

“Well that’s the good news, isn’t it?” Valkyrie asked. “I mean... you haven’t killed anyone. Not really.” “But I thought I did. For all this time, I thought I did.” Tears ran down her cheeks. “I spent my youth here. I grew old here. My life has been a waste. My power...” She looked up. “I could have helped people. I could have healed people. I could have brought people back from the dead.”

Valkyrie frowned. “You were serious about that?” “I’ve been serious about everything,” the witch said. “My whole life. But I don’t have that power anymore. I did have it, when I offered you the choice.”

“But that wasn’t my choice!” Valkyrie said, tears springing to her eyes. “That decision was made by the Horts! You said so yourself!”

Esmerelda nodded. “Maybe they knew what they were doing when they cast their votes, or maybe they didn’t quite realise the opportunity that lay before them. Maybe they didn’t believe that it would have been so easy.”

“Please. Please, you said it was knowledge, right? You had the knowledge that was the key to life and death. Tell us. Tell us and we’ll take it from there.” “I don’t think I have the time, girl.”

“Please,” said Valkyrie, “just try.” Esmerelda smiled, started to speak, and grew so old so fast that she turned to dust. Valkyrie stared. The breeze picked up, tossed the dust into the air and swirled it around.

“I could have done it,” Valkyrie said. “I could have brought one of them back.” “It wouldn’t have been as easy as that,” said Skulduggery. “There would have been complications. Loopholes.”

“I could have tried, at least.” “No,” he said. “You couldn’t.”

He put his hand on her shoulder. “You didn’t have a choice.”

END

#skulduggery pleasant #skulduggerybites #@the nonny who asked for this: I hope the formatting is okay for you? #i wasn't sure of the best way to include the polls but I didn't want to leave them out #long post

[the-shadow-of-atlantis]

Surprise

Tagging: @melyaliz @thespacebuns @coffee-randomness

Summary: it's Annabella's first birthday with the team.

A/N Willow belongs to a friend and Jen belongs to @melyaliz

Read Earlier Parts Here

“Hello Megan!” M’gann suddenly exclaimed making everyone turn to look at her.

They were barely a few minutes into the teen comedy movie they had decided to watch, Annabella quickly paused it.

“We should have a beach day!” M’gann clarified excitedly. “We’re literally within walking distance of the beach and we have our own private section.”

“I’m not a big fan of hot days in the sun.” Willow said wrinkling her nose a bit making Annabella chuckle.

“I’ll bring the giant umbrella.” Annabella promised to her friend who seemed to contemplate it.

“Oh we can do a cook out and play beach volleyball and-“ M’gann was suddenly caught off as the zeta tube announced the arrival of Kid Flash and Robin.

A gust of wind nearly knocked the bowl of popcorn Annabella had on her lap. Looking up Wally stood before her a handful of popcorn already in his mouth as he stared at her accusingly.

“What’s this I’m hearing about you not having a birthday party this year?” Wally demand making Annabella freeze in place.

She stared at him in shock, Wally and Maia knew better than to talk about her personal life with the rest of the team present.

“That’s none of your business.” Annabella mumbled.

“You have a birthday coming up?” Kaldur asked from his spot on the recliner, Annabella wanted to hide.

“When’s your birthday?” M’gann asked, somehow seeming more excited than how she was planning a beach party.

“August 10th.” Wally, Maia, and Dick responded making Annabella glare at them all.

“Oh dear that’s six days from now. Is that enough time to plan a party?” M’gann asked.

“No because I'm not having one.” Annabella demanded. “Besides we're already planning a beach day there's no point in having so many things at once.”

“We could make your birthday the beach day.” M’gann offered.

“No I already told my dad I wasn’t having a party this year.”

“Technically you told bats you didn't want a party at your guys place you never said anything about the cave.” Wally countered.

“You have 10 seconds to run before I stab you.” Annabella muttered through clenched teeth.

“Guys if she doesn’t want to have a birthday party then we don't need to throw one. Let’s just stick to the beach day for now. If by next year she changes her mind then we can throw one.” Superboy said, making everyone turn to stare at him.

“What?” He asked shrugging. “Can we get back to the movie now?”

~~~~~~~

We're totally going to plan her birthday party right? -Wally

We should still do the beach day to throw her off our trail. -Robin

What if we do the beach on the 8th. It's a couple days before her birthday, do you think she'll suspect anything? -M’gann

As long as we act normal, yes. -Robin

If you want to act normal I suggest you all stop text while she's still in the room. -Kaldur

Also keep in mind shes going to try and avoid this place now that we know when her birthday is. -Willow

We’ll take care of that. -Wally & Robin

~~~~~~~

“What do you mean the beach day is tomorrow?” Wally whined as Annabela helped M’gann prepare the food for the next day.

“Its what you get for blabbing about my birthday.” Annabella shrugged as she grabbed some more stuff from the cabinets missing the wink Wally shot at M’gann.

“But I go back to school tomorrow.” Wally whined again.

“Well you should have thought of that before you decided to open your big mouth. Now scram I don't want you touching any of this food.”

~~~~~~

"Just because you are robin doesn't mean you get out of wearing sunblock." Annabella shouted as she chased her brother around the beach.

Superboy managed to get a hold on Robin and held him long enough for Annabella to spray him down.

"Ha!"

"Aw man why did you have to get the sticky kind." He complained trying to rub some of the stuff off.

"Maybe if you stopped being a dick I'd get the better kind." Annabella said sticking her tongue out at him and making Willow giggle from her spot underneath the giant umbrella.

"Come on guys the water is great!" M'ganns called out.

Robin immediately rushed over and dived into the water. Annabella went to leave her bag next to Willow.

"I'd he coming?" Annabella asked hopefully only for her spirits to drop when she saw the look on Willows face.

"I extended the invite but he said he was 'busy'." Willow said making Annabella frown.

"Well then is it true? That the new girl is showing up today?" Annabella asked suddenly perking up again.

“How do you know about that?” Willow asked but Annabella simply smirked.

“I have my ways.” Was all she said before tuning and running towards the water.

Sure enough Artemis turned up shortly after they finished their day at the beach. Though Annabella wasn't able to talk to her much since Roy should up and assigned the team a mission. By the time the mission was over Annabella was already back home.

“Hey.” M’gann called out to Artemis before she could leave.

“What’s up?”

“That girl that was here before, Bells. We’re throwing her a surprise birthday party in a couple days, you’re more than welcomed to come. And you don’t have to worry about a present when trying not to go overboard.” M’gann explained.

“I'll think about it.” Artemis said nodding before entering the zeta tube.

~~~~~~~

“Happy birthday Miss Annabella.” Alfred said as he placed a plate stacked high with pancakes.

“Thanks Alfred.” Annabella smiled sheepishly as she reached for the syrup. “When are they getting here?”

Jen couldn’t help but smile as her cousin bounced in place. “Mom said their plane should be landing around noon. Plenty of time to shower you with love before its time for dinner.”

“Aw that’s too far away.” Annabella pouted as she poured her syrup.

“I'm sure we’ll find some way to pass the time.” Jen said, sharing a look with Dick from across the table.

“I think I’m good on pancakes for the month.” Annabella groaned as she laid down on the couch in the media center.

“You and me both.” Jen sighed sitting down by Annabella’s head and stroking her hair.

Annabella sighed as she relaxed, settling into the couch, was it too early to take a nap? However any thought of a nap was quickly disturbed when Annabella felt a familiar just of wind.

“Surprise.” Was all she heard Jen say as Wally hoisted Annabella over his shoulder and rushed her down to the cave and through the zeta tube.

“Surprise!” The entire team shouted as soon as Wally set her down in the living room.

Annabella wasn't really sure what to say, she wanted to be angry but all she could feel was their joy radiating from them. So she simply smiled and began the train off hugs.

The gifts were nice, Willow got her a snowglobe of Star City which Roy claimed was also from him since he's the one that payed for it. Kaldur got Annabella a beginners book on how to speak atlantean. Wally got her some more flash memorabilia. M’gann went with a simple cute dress. Artemis having been new simply got Annabella a batman hoodie which she thought was hilarious and one she didn't have yet. Connor got her a small little stuffed bear and she couldn’t help but smile as she carried it around.

M’gann went all out on the cake, chocolate cake with blue icing. The food was mainly take out from Annabella’s favorite local spots. Before she knew it the food was gone and it was time for her to head back home in time for the family dinner, she just hoped the dress M’gann got her would still fit by the end of the day.

“How was your day?” Bruce asked as soon as they appeared in the batcave, making sure everything was set for no disturbances this evening.

“Good.” Annabella said bounding up to her dad and wrapping her arms around him. “Thanks for letting them do this.”

“Happy birthday sunshine.” Bruce said, turning to kiss the top of her head. “Now go get dressed, your cousin is waiting to see you.”

Annabella quickly sprinted up the stairs suddenly wishing for the day to never end.

#yj imagine #part of the team #oc x yj

[runningwithhellhounds]

Pidge is fourteen. She and Keith are pressed against the Garrison wall, both a little breathless despite not having moved for half an hour. The memoir is taking place on the other side of the wall, outside, beautiful day. They can hear everything. This is the first time she's alone with Keith. It's funny how a sentiment brings you closer instantly; a tragedy to call this all-consuming loss a sentiment.

''I could sneak you in, at the end,'' Keith offers, seventeen and blood simmering.

''No. I don't want to see his face,'' she says and immediately feels horrible.

She draws a forever sign in the dry soil and it intensifies her pure agony like she thought it would. She stretches her long socks further past her ankles, hair still long and tied into low buns. She doesn't feel like herself. Her brother was a half of her self-definition.

''It is now appropriate to pause for a moment to reflect on the huge impact the crew will continue to have on humanity’s aspirations. We extend our deepest sympathy to everyone inspired by their spirit.''

Dust is rising from where Keith is thumping his fists on the ground with a devastating frequency. His eyes are clenched.

''Hey,'' she says, lowly. Collecting ignition to continue, firestarter petroleum oozy. But Keith says, ''Yeah.''

He splays his hands on the ground. Looks up, continues looking up. It's too bright for that to be comfortable. She fixates on the bruises on his knuckles and the blood around his fingernail.

''You have blood on your fingernail,'' she says. Keith brings his hands up, stoic and turmoiling at the same time. ''Right thumb,'' she says.

They have come up with a post-mortem communication code, okay? Matt said if one of them died and became a ghost, they would knock three glasses over. It's so so horrible. Keith lays a hand atop of her head.

''Perhaps this is the nature of heroism. Striving to achieve something that is beyond our ability. Even being the best doesn’t protect you from errors. Perhaps that in itself honours space and space exploration.''

Keith clenches his fists again. He had said Shiro would never. He’s too good for errors.

''I guess,'' she swallows, ''I guess we are the only ones who—'' The only ones with this erroneous feeling. This fucking mistaken grief. ''Who believe in them more than that,'' she finishes.

''Well, that's awkward,'' Keith jokes. They smile at each other, vaporous.

''We will now play a special song – the last song recommendation Matthew Holt sent to our station on Earth. Panic Vertigo by The Wrecks.''

Oh no, she thinks. Her mind spills into a stream of no no no, when Keith growls: ''Let's get the fuck away.''

He's already dusting off. He doesn't offer a hand and Pidge is grateful.

At fourteen, the Garrison is holding a memoir for the lost crew and Pidge’s hands feel unstable when she drinks from glasses. On the way to the ceremony, she and Keith climbed off his motorbike at a gas station made for boys like Keith, rogue, creases of their jeans sharp, boots strangely clean. Keith bought them canned coke and she was grateful.

 *

 She's pulling a yellow pepper apart, thinking, quite uselessly: maybe the illusion of strength stems from weakness. She squished it until it cracked and now the seeds are falling on the counter.

She's a half of a person. But, in contrast to the missing half, an idea is forming within her. In contrast to the missing half, Enceladus is still her favourite moon. It helps her think: Keith, from whom she hasn't heard for weeks, is a cyrovolcano. And she won't remain a flyby. She'll be a rover.

She calls the Garrison three times to reach him and carries her phone as a weight in her pocket for three days before he returns the call, bleeding apprehension.

''Hello?''

''Keith,'' she says, solemn. ''Keith. Can you steal something for me?''

 *

 Pidge is fifteen and a boy called Lance makes her doubt her insight all over.

She stops in a corridor when she sees him now, well past sleep-time. Lance hovers two fingers above the skin of a girl's hand.  His eyes flicker to hers, watchful, intent.

''How does that feel?'' he mutters with a ghosting smile.

''You're not touching me,'' the girl says through the teeth of her grin. Lance smiles elastically in a way that makes Pidge feel like she can snap.

The girl clears her throat, mouth a contour of a smile, and then Lance, too, turns. The girl pulls her hair in a tail, then releases, and Pidge watches it swing behind her back.

''Hi,'' Pidge says, ''Lance.''

''Hi, Pidge.'' He grins, pulls the girl's hand behind his back and holds it there with both hands. ''Look at that. Won't tell if you won't.''

Pidge runs her fingers through the hair at her nape. She thought familiarisation would come more slowly. Not letting go of the girl's hand, Lance pulls a key ring from his pocket, spins it around his finger. It's something kitsch, lowbrow and vibrant and nostalgic. She isn't like that. He's vibrant and she compares herself to extraterrestrial objects.

''Won't tell if you won't,'' she repeats.

 *

 She can't fall asleep, just keeps thinking, defined, almost geometrical thoughts. It's often like this. She just lies frustrated.

She thought it would be easy, that she would uncover the assembly of concepts of her and re-cover them with a new sheet. Instead, she is stuck. What drives science forward is the universality of laws. Eyes open, duvet light on her chest, she is stuck. Can't go forward. She can't develop herself, no universal laws apply.

A week ago she broke a plastic fork without meaning to and didn’t know what that meant.

 *

 Lance walks into the dark dining hall where Pidge sits slouched and they both start.

''Oh, uh, hey. Pidge. Wow, right? I didn't know the dining hall was unlocked at night, but looks like you've known. What are you reading?''

She glances down at her tablet. She's coordinating outputs of Garrison detectors. The device on the backside of the tablet is reading the academy’s data analyses. Lance comes close enough for its light illuminate him and she tilts the tablet away from him, towards her stomach.

''Wikipedia,'' she lies. He grins.

''Is this referring to your, what it that, a tablet?'' he points at the special offer sticker in the corner of her tablet that she scraped from a sandwich wrapping.

''No,'' she says, ''It’s referring to me.''

''Yeah? How so?''

How funny that a person so whole is asking her this. ''You want me to tell you why I think I'm special?''

''Sure,'' Lance crosses his arms.

Her neck cracks when she tips her head up. Maybe this: she has, in a way, cracked all the joints in her body, cracked her everything, new shape recuperating under the always-loose clothes. Who is she? Primordial soup of a person. Chemically potent. An isomer inverted. And can’t stop thinking about that. The transition, the hoax, has made her the embodiment of metacognition.

''I cognise about my cognition,'' she says. Lance’s eyebrows shoot up and it makes her want to cross out her answer. ''I’ll find aliens,'' she covers up. Something less irritating, less out of reach, and no less sincere. Lance beams, whole body moving illogically with enthusiasm.

''Me too! Man,'' he says, closer now, and Pidge concludes magnetism attracts him to things, never repels. ''Please tell me you have a plan. Humanity has lived so long without aliens, it’s time.'' He straightens up with intent. ''Are you going to cognise something for the Garrison? Or, I mean, if we can reach Kerberos. I mean. Maybe we’ll have the tech to go further just when I’m allowed to fly higher than fifty thousand feet.''

''Yeah, well. Icarus only flew too close to the sun because his wings were shit.'' Lance grins, but then tilts his head.

''You look upset,'' Lance says – because he seems to live on the outside of himself. She shakes her head. Typing tempestuously from her home floorboards, she thought: the Garrison would be a she-unknown zone. She’d be a hoax, and people wouldn’t know her. But actually, no. She can give what she can give.

''Some officers don't take girls seriously,'' she says.

''Oh,'' Lance sounds surprised. ''Is there someone you like?''

''No. That girl, what's her name? Do you take her seriously?''

''The one from the hallway?'' Lance asks and it makes her feel infinitely worse. ''Whoa, dude. Yes, I take Alleine seriously. I'm not just, I don't know, playing. I have respect.''

She sweeps her electronic chips into a pile on the tabletop. She’s not trying to be inflammatory. She just feels her bedrock being attacked.

''They have internal worlds too, you know.''

''Dude. I know.'' He folds his arms and she doesn’t know what to say. He half-laughs, looking to the side, arms unfolding. Okay, adventure over for tonight. See you around. Nice talking to you, Pidge.''

''Lance,'' she calls. He turns, tilts his head a little. ''I like your confidence. Keep it up.''

''I like yours,'' Lance smiles, just by the door, when the door swings open, an officer stepping in.

''Ah,'' Lance breathes. Straightens up. ''Sir.''

''Good evening, cadets,'' an officer Pidge doesn’t know barely glances at her before settling on Lance. Crypsis, she thinks. ''McClain. Are you testing the admissions?''

Lance takes in the scattered electronics, glances at Pidge. ‘’I — Pidge was teaching me, sir. About – structural aircraft repair procedures. After today's simulation I thought I could benefit from it, and I feel – devoted—'' he stumbles over devoted three times, and she feels her body jerk. Lance looks horrified.

''Bring your devotion to class tomorrow. And don’t test academy rules. Two minutes to clear up.'' Lance keeps his eyes on him as he leaves, breathing in slowly. Shiro was a Garrison commander and she has met him twice. She’s sure Shiro would use euphemisms.

''Jesus fucking Christ,'' Lance says.

''Whatever you want to believe in,'' she replies. Lance huffs.

 *

 In her head, she once calls her inner voice her articulatory control system. Then thinks: that’s enough. Her insight told her that this person-creation would lead her further than any human has ever been. And her insight is good: she’s picking up data she doesn’t know what to do with. That’s good. Her insight was a carefully crafted thing and she absolutely loves that Matt and Keith are the two people who'd never tell her you're overthinking this. It’s for them. She doesn’t own three glasses, because she believes: in Matt, in herself.

 *

 It’s her foresight that can’t be trusted much. She talks to Lance and doesn’t feel very real. Maybe she should start listening to music.

 *

 ''Hunk,'' Lance says, back straight and voice loud, ''do you know Pidge? He's a romantic.''

''I'm not a romantic,'' she snaps, climbing carefully over the bench with her tray. Hunk is sitting opposite of Lance and now scoots along the bench and ends up in front of her. His relaxed arms, elbows on the table and hands clasped, look warm.

''Sounds like a compliment, but. Lance, you dick, what did you do?''

Lance grins while chewing. Like Michael Jackson. ''I meant it positively. But I still trade these bad boys—'' he lifts a bottle of juice, ''to compensate. Want, Pidge?''

''No. Yes,'' she snatches it Lance’s hands. She likes the knowing between him and Hunk. It’s different from her, and from Keith. They are both somehow not old enough for it, maybe; don’t have enough real niceties.

''These were out when I was a child, can’t believe I’m getting them in my dream school, too,'' Hunk says. ''Like, the smell. Smells like childhood.''

Treat and threat are such similar words, she thought while drinking coke on a curb with Keith, smelling her way into childhood. And now she thinks it again.

''Good god,'' she jerks, her fork screeching against the plate.

''Whoa. You doing okay?''

''Yeah,'' she clears her throat, a cover-up, a swallow-down. Before her insides disseminate. ''I just lost track of – time,'' she finishes lamely.

''Oh,'' Hunk says. ''Track of time is a good thing to lose. If I were to lose something,'' he smiles.

 *

 Lance chews like a Hollywood star and isn’t afraid of heights and she is volatile. But maybe she’s past the impact-heavy stage of moon formation. Pidge is fifteen, her hair is short, and she’s the first microorganisms bursting to life. She’s the detection of some geothermal activity. Still uncertain, but onto something.

 *

They are perched and tense above the extraterrestrial sample curation building. It's the most perfect of surprises. It's Shiro.

She breathes in. She sends the location to Keith, the rushed word: Shiro. Coordination and causation are her blood type, after all. It's nothing new, to be an in-group spy. An infiltrator. They all start at the explosions.

''No way,'' Lance says, strained, hype-high. ''That guy is always trying to one-up me!''

The desert-night wind cools the sweat at her hairline to a suggestion of a headache. It's all happening very fast. When she speaks, it's taut and dusty.

''Who?''

(on ao3)

#voltron fic #voltron lance #voltron pidge #voltron keith #vld fic #fic

[thinkyoureholy]

The Phoenix [1]

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Pairing : Park Chanyeol / [Fem] Reader

Genre : Angst, Violence, Language, Fluff, Future Smut, Character Death?, Fantasy! AU

Words : 2.2k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6.

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

-Y/N’s P.O.V-

I ran to where my mother was, knowing she could put an end to this before anyone got hurt, “Mother!”

I froze when I saw her just staring at the chaos going on below. My father was putting his life on the line, fighting to keep us all safe and she was just watching? I stomped over to her and grabbed onto her forearm, turning her to face me forcefully.

“What are you doing?! Why are you just standing there?!” I shouted, tears blurring my vision as the light of the fire from outside glowing brighter caught my eye.

“Y/N-”

“You’re the queen! Do something! Why do you even have your powers if you’re not going to use them?!” I yelled, the tears now streaming down my face , “Father will die at this rate...mother please.”

At hearing me beg like that she finally broke down, falling to her knees. She sobbed into her hands in front of me, I didn’t know what to do.

“Y/N you feel it too don’t you? Y-You feel the darkness taking people. I know you can feel that it’s not done taking people...no matter what I do it’ll still take them!” She cried out, “Your father-”

“No. Don’t--Don’t say it. Father will be fine, he always is.” I said, stumbling back into the wall behind me.

“A war with a Phoenix will only end one way Y/N! Your father started a war he can not win and now…”

“No! F-Father will stay alive I-” I cut myself off at hearing an ominous laugh coming from behind me.

No.

My heart sank to the pit of my stomach as I turned to face the wall, seeing a shadow the size of what looked like a fully grown adult, “G-Go away.”

You can’t get rid of me sweetheart, I am a part of you. Right now I’m in charge of who goes, you’ll be able to control me when you’re older.

“Shut up.”

Can’t do that either. I’ve got a mind of my own...well not a full mind but a part--you get what I mean. Anyway, tough luck kid but I’ll be taking many lives today.

“N-No at least spare my father...please.” I begged, the tears still steadily streaming down my face.

No can do. Everyone goes today, even mother dearest there. I’m sorry kid but the only one you’ll have left is that twin brother of yours.

“Please.”

You can’t cheat death. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a job to do.

I reached out to stop it but my hands just grabbed onto air, the shadow now gone. I turned to my mother in a panic, placing my hands on her shoulders.

“Mother please! Do something!” I cried out in frustration.

I was frustrated that I wasn’t in complete control of my powers yet. I was frustrated that I couldn't save anyone. I was frustrated that I was forced to watch as everyone died. 

“Y/N...you can’t stop this, no one can.” She said, not even bothering to look me in the eyes.

I grit my teeth angrily, rising to my feet and running out of the room. I had to find him. It said he was the only one I would have left, I’ve got to make sure he stays safe.

“Kyungsoo.”

“Kyungsoo.”

-

My eyes flew open as I sat up, “Kyungsoo!”

I looked around in a panic, letting out a sigh when I realized it was only a dream, a memory from years ago replaying in my mind. I brought a hand up to clutch the fabric that laid over my chest, the pain lingering. I closed my eyes for a moment before opening them again when the door to my room swung open.

“What? What happened?!” Kyungsoo asked, stumbling into the room.

I had to stifle a laugh at his appearance. His clothes were barely on as his hair was so disheveled I wondered how it even got that crazy. I stifled the laugh but I couldn’t stop the smile that played at my lips, watching as realization dawned on him.

“You were dreaming again weren’t you?” He asked with a sigh, raking his fingers through his hair as he leaned back against the wall behind him.

“Sorry.” I said, grinning sheepishly.

He bowed his head for a moment before pushing himself off the wall, “Well since we’re both up we should go tend to the gardens, you’ve been slacking off for the past few weeks.”

I nodded, “I’ll go out after I get ready.”

He gave a nod of his own, beginning to walk out of my room but he stopped just as he was about to close the door behind him, “You know what happened that day...it wasn’t your fault.”

My lips formed a thin line, all traces of a smile gone now as I bowed my head, staring down at my open hand. A moment of silence passed through us and in that moment a mist as black as the night sky, no it was darker, the mist was a straight up onyx color. All light that hit it was swallowed whole, the mist now covered my entire hand, my eyes darkening as I stared at it.

“No...it’s not. It’s his fault. And I’ll personally be the one that makes him pay for his sins.”

Kyungsoo said nothing for a second before speaking up in a soft voice, “Hurry and get ready. I’ll be waiting outside,” And with that he left, closing the door behind him.

The black mist that covered my hand now dripped onto the bed before falling to the floor. It moved as if it had a mind of its own until it covered the door, its shape the same as it was all those years ago.

“Why must you keep reminding me of that day?” I asked, watching a grin spread across its face.

‘I don’t want to say it’s fun watching you suffer a bit but then I’d be lying.’

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

‘You mustn’t forget those who hurt you and your family. You must take revenge.’

I scoffed, throwing my blankets off of me and climbed out of bed, grabbing my robe, “You think making me relive that day will make me angrier don’t you? Well...how much angrier do you want me to get?”

As soon as I finished my sentence the wind blew through the windows, water swirled around my feet as shards of ice formed over my head, “How much more do you want?”

The shadow grinned again, a chuckle falling from it’s lips, ‘Enough to swallow a whole empire. You need to eradicate them from existence, killing the current Phoenix isn’t enough, it’ll just choose a new vessel. You need to kill them all, that entire empire needs to fall.’

I rolled my eyes at its words making the wind, water, and ice disappear, “You’re delusional if you think I’m going to kill hundreds for the sins of their king. He’s the only one I want, everyone else is none of my concern.”

I went to take a step forward but froze when I felt pressure around my throat. A reached a hand up to my throat to get it off but there was nothing there. That’s when I knew it was responsible for this. I glared over at the shadow that was still on the wall, watching it’s smile grow.

‘You'll kill them all...whether you want to or not, I don’t care. I gave you the reigns five years ago and I can easily take them back. Don’t test me, kid, you don’t want to get on my bad side.’

And with that it gave one final squeeze before letting me go. I inhaled sharply, rubbing my neck to soothe the pain. Now I’m starting to understand why the previous owner of this darkness never lived past twenty-five, it was a living nightmare.

……

I hooked my arm with Kyungsoo’s as we walked through the garden, “Do we really have to do this? You know we have servants for this right?”

“Father taught us to do things on our own and not rely on the servants.” Kyungsoo said, his voice soft, reaching out a hand to brush against one of the roses, “Besides, it’s been awhile since you had time to walk through these gardens and relax.”

“Yeah well we all can’t be king of the earth now can we?” I said with a smile tugging at the corners of my lips for a second before it vanished, “While you’re out here dealing with the land and animals I’ve got to make sure the Hannan empire stays afloat, even if I have to do so by instilling fear into our people.”

“They don’t fear you they just…”

“They just don’t enjoy being in my presence. It’s fine Soo, I know what they really think of me. I mean I wouldn’t enjoy it either if I had to look into my own eyes. My appearance makes me look like I’m hardly alive…”

“Y/N-”

“Anyway I think I’ve been out here long enough. There are some documents I have to read through and some papers to sign as well.” I said quickly, cutting him off.

I let go of his arm and quickened my pace but before I could get to far I turned back to face him, forcing a smile on my face, “Say hello to Hayi for me, I know she hates it when I can’t see her often. Keep her spirits up for me will you? Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on between my own brother and best friend.”

I chuckled softly at seeing a blush rise to his face, turning on my heel and walking away before he could say anything. I let my smile fall, a shadow casting over my eyes. Just as I reached the palace doors he stepped out from behind a pillar, bowing quickly before falling into step with me.

“What did you find?” 

“Same as usual, your highness. He’s not showing signs of movement but our people are ready to move as soon as anything happens.” 

I nodded, casting a glance at the guards that lined the walls, “I take it you have this many men guarding my brother as well?”

“Yes, your highness. He’s ordered us to keep our distance but we’re always watching him, making sure he stays safe.”

I let out a hum of approval, looking down at the throne before taking a seat, “Thank you, general, you may leave.”

He hesitated for a moment, opening his mouth to say something but closed it immediately. I gave a tilt of my head, raising a brow and waited for him to say what was on his mind. When he didn’t I spoke up.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know if it’s even worth bringing up.”

“I’ll be the judge of whether it’s worth it or not. Now say it.”

He averted his gaze for a second, my patience wearing thin, “Junmyeon.”

“His brother, Jongin, he’s--he’s been teleporting more often these days. We don’t know where he goes off to.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose, “We can’t do anything about him when he’s teleporting, we’re at a disadvantage against him. Next time bring me a report on the both of them. I thought that Phoenix was the only one we had to worry about…” I trailed, annoyed with that pair of brothers.

With that Junmyeon nodded, bowing deeply and turned on his heel, walking away. Before he could get too far I called out to him.

“And Junmyeon,” He turned at the sound of his name, “Don’t hesitate telling me something in the future, anything you say is worth listening to.”

He smiled softly at my words, an emotion I didn’t recognize in his eyes, “I’ll keep that in mind...Y/N.”

I nodded, not bothered by him calling me by my name instead of ‘Your Highness’. Junmyeon had been close with my brother and I when we were younger, we were childhood friends. He was one of the few I allowed to call me so informally. He gave a bow of his head and left, leaving me in the room with his men guarding me.

“All of you but four step outside and guard the door.” I ordered, grabbing a stack of papers I had put off to the side since yesterday.

-Chanyeol’s P.O.V-

I sank further into the water, leaning my head back and closed my eyes. My moment of peace didn’t last long, hearing footsteps approaching me.

“Can’t I get a minute to myself, brother?” I asked without opening my eyes, already knowing it was him.

“Sorry but it’s the only time I can talk to you without others overhearing.” He said.

I let out a sigh and opened my eyes, staring up into his onyx eyes, that single gray streak in his jet black hair catching my eyes for a moment, “What is it?”

“You know she’s watching you, right?” He asked, sitting down, taking his shoes off and dipping his feet into the water but he quickly pulled them out, “Fuck, the water is freezing!”

I snickered at the look on his face, a smirk settling on my lips, “Of course I know she’s watching us, I’m not an idiot. But let her believe she has the upper hand...she’ll never beat me, I am a Phoenix after all,” I said, my smirk growing into a full blown grin, my crimson eyes glowing.

#exo scenarios #exo fluff #exo angst #exo smut #exo #exo fanfiction #exo series #exo ff #exo fic #exo fanfic #exo chanyeol #park chanyeol #park chanyeol ff #park chanyeol imagines #park chanyeol fanfic #park chanyeol scenarios #park chanyeol series #chanyeol fanfic #chanyeol smut #chanyeol angst #chanyeol fluff #chanyeol ff #chanyeol fic #chanyeol au #fantasy au #alternate universe

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

Reliving An Old Nightmare - Chapter 8

<= Chapter 7

Summary : Snatcher reunites with a familiar brat. Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/22337299/chapters/54650140

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Hello everyone! I hope you're all going well!

This chapter was supposed to be wayyy longer but... I couldn't see the end of it and, at one point, I decided to split it. If I didn't, it would have taken me far more time to finish it and I didn't want to keep you guys waiting too much, especially after the previous chapter.

I originally drew three pictures for this chapter, but since I split the chapter, the first two drawings will be in this chapter and the last one will be in the next chapter. I'll probably draw something else for chapter 9, again.

In any case, I hope you're still interested in this story, and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! Please don't hesitate to tell me your impressions, as they really help me to find motivation.

Happy reading!

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Chapter 8:

Snatcher had had enough. He was sick of everything. This was way too much than what he signed up for -HA- and it had been the final straw. Not only did he almost die -again- but he had seen his parents, only to fight with them.

This had to stop: that was what he was thinking while dressing up. He chose a long blue tunic with a hood, and brown pants. He also found black boots in his wardrobe and put them on. Standing up was still painful, though anger managed to keep his mind focused on other things. He tried to remember the way to the village square, only succeeding in getting quick flashes full of colours in his mind, but nothing more. The shade supposed it would come back to him once he walked there. After all, that was what had happened when he had entered the village for the first time.

He came closer to the mirror in the room and looked at his reflection. His face was very pale and his eyes were swollen and red. His hair was a mess too. Well… On the bright side, no one would recognize him at first glance, which was exactly what he wanted. Plus, he looked more like a ghost than a human at that moment! At least, that was a more usual appearance to him.

He put the hood on and stared at himself: no one would be able to recognize him like this. He barely did.

He turned back to the bed and crouched beside it, wincing at the pain caused by the action. Very carefully, he lifted the mattress in order to take back the kid’s poorly-made drawing. He didn’t like the idea of leaving it behind. Not because he found it cute! Absolutely not! He only disliked the feeling of leaving proofs behind him, that was all. Nothing more.

He shook his head, determined to forget his last train of thoughts. He stood up once again before putting the drawing in the left pocket of his pants. Only because no one would find it there. Obviously.

He cast a last glance at the room: he was definitely notgoing to miss it. On the wall touching the headboard of his bed was hanged a painting which featured both him and Vanessa. He held back a shiver at the sight of it. He had noticed it before, of course, but he had a much better view now that he was further away from it. He wanted nothing more than just rip the prince’s smile from the painting. What a fool.

He felt the anger coming back and walked to the door with heavy steps. He was so done with everything. He opened the door bluntly and stormed off. There was no one on the third floor to stop him, allowing him to go down the stairs without meeting any resistance. When arriving on the second floor, he could hear Vanessa’s cries from where he was. The ghost rolled his eyes: she wanted to cry? Whatever. He didn’t care. As long as she didn’t freeze him and the village, that is.

He ignored her and kept going downstairs, meeting one of the servants on his way to the ground floor.

-“My Prince?” they called out to him, more than surprised to see him out of bed. Snatcher simply ignored them, dismissing them with a quick hand gesture. He had no time for that and, even if he did, he didn’t want to stay there any second more than necessary.

His face must have shown those exact thoughts since the servant stepped back instantly, not insisting more. Good. The ghost passed them and quickened his pace. Now that someone had seen him, they would get help to try and reason with him. And Snatcher very much prefered to be outside before Vanessa found out about him running away.

The shade finally arrived at the ground floor and passed another servant. The latter didn’t even get the time to try anything as Snatcher silenced them just like he did for the first one. The other fled, presumably only to get Simeon as fast as possible.

“I have to get out of here now.” The butler would probably do anything to stop him, especially if it was an order from Vanessa. The ghost crossed the main hall, happy to see that no one was in the room other than him. The other servants were most likely trying to cheer Vanessa up or, at least, do something that wouldn’t make her angrier.

The spirit walked to the huge door of the manor and pushed it open. A bright ray of sunlight blinded him for a brief second until his eyes adjusted. The wind caressed his face and the ghost took a deep breath, filling his lungs with fresh air. He hated to admit it, but that was something he would miss, after regaining his spectral body. Feeling things… That was nice, even if it hadn’t lasted long.

He forced himself to stay focused: he couldn’t lose more time. Without looking back, he passed the door quickly and closed it behind him. His eyes fell on the big area between the mansion and the first houses of Subcon Village. Why did he have to have legs?

He groaned and began walking again, clenching his teeth in frustration.

“It’s only for a little while, it’ll be over soon…” However, it did very little to energize him. This was going to be a very long day… But how hard could it be? It was just walking! The hat-wearing brat could run just fine, why wouldn’t he be able to walk? This was nothing more than a mindset problem! If he wanted to, he could ignore the pain and walk just fine!

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The ghost was, in fact, not fine.

Not only was the pain becoming more and more unbearable after arriving at the village, but having a crowd around him was starting to make him feel quite dizzy. No one had seemed to recognize him yet, fortunately. However, the noise all around him was so loud, so unusual to him, that he couldn’t help but feel nauseous. Furthermore, people kept touching him on accident. Sometimes it was almost unnoticeable, but other times it was more violent, with children running into him while they played. Being surrounded by people made it harder to find fresh air as well. The superposition of all those sensations… It was more than overwhelming. When he had woken up, it had felt nice to sense them again, after all those years being dead… Though, now, it was nothing more than pure torture to the shade. Everything was too much, too much, too much.

The spirit distanced himself from the rest of the crowd, to rest on a nearby bench. Sitting down was just what he needed. He kept his legs outstretched to ease the pain and rested for a while, watching the crowd moving before him. It was so… Surreal. All those people used to be ice statues two days ago… And now they were walking just in front of him, as if nothing had ever happened! Which, in a way, was the case because of that time travel problem? He wasn’t an expert, that was more the kid’s forte rather than his.

Speaking about the said kid, he looked at his surroundings. He had followed the crowd, hoping it would lead him somewhere he would recognize… But it only lead him where he was now. Was he close or far from the square? He had no idea. The place looked familiar, yes, but everything did. The spirit used to live there after all. However, his memories were fuzzy and with all the people walking and talking around him… Thinking was difficult. He could feel a migraine coming with just the loud noise of chattering.

“Oh no, not again.” Feeling physical pain really was something he wouldn’t miss, along with his stay in Subcon Manor. He shut his eyes, trying to ignore everything, in vain. All his senses were attentive, trying to catch any information they could get. His sense of touch could feel the draught of people passing right next to him, the heat produced by their fleshy body, the bench under him, the rays of sunshine on his face… His sense of smell caught many sents, not all of them enjoyable to him. He wrinkled his nose in displeasure, trying to focus on something else, anything. Finally, there was his sense of hearing: he could overhear people talking to each other, the sound of carts passing near him, rapid steps from children, their high laughter bothering him quite a lot… However, another noise caught his attention. It was… Water? Water being splashed not far from where he was?

He knew that sound. He had heard it before, he was sure of it. Snatcher stood up mindlessly, as vivid pictures appeared in his mind: memories he had done everything to forget, flashbacks of this village and of its various parts, even unimportant details… Now he knew where he was. His legs had subconsciously taken him exactly where he was supposed to go.

Snatcher made several steps towards the sound, pushing people out of his way as he passed the next building. His eyes fell on the one thing he was searching for: the village square. It was a place full of people, with several shops on the side. On the centre was a pond, from which came out a pole. The kingdom flag was attached to it and fluttered with the wind. The pond was surrounded by a wooden fence, opened on his side of the square. Kids were playing in the water, splashing each other while giggling stupidly. The shade looked at them, hoping to find the brat he was supposed to meet among them. However, even if he couldn’t see their face because of their masks, he knew she wasn’t among them.

That’s when he realized something: how would she be able to recognize him? He was back in his old human body, in a time period where her grandmother wasn’t even born yet!

With sudden fear, he took the drawing out of his pocket in order to look at it. His eyes widened when they fell on his representation: she had drawn him just like he used to look with his spectral form, not like his human one. She had no idea of what he looked like now. What if she was waiting for his ghost version to show up? If the kid was hiding, trying to find him first… Then she simply wouldn’t. What should he do in that case? What if he never found her at all? Or what if-

However, before his mind could find any other possible worst-case scenario, he was hit by something in the head.

-“Ouch!” He brought his hand to his head to rub the painful spot. Something fell right next to him and he lowered his eyes to examine it. It was a pebble, next to his shoes. He rose his eyebrows: did someone just-

As he was about to look up in order to find whoever hit him, he felt another bump on his hood, missing his head by very little. Alright, that was it. Someone had just signed their death warrant. The ghost lifted his hands, ready to strike anyone in range with his powers, but quickly put them down. No powers left, how could he have forgotten… Still, his eyes inspected the crowd, searching for the stupid person who had tried to mess with him. He looked, and looked, and looked, before staring at a particular mask visible among the mass. This one looked different than the others… While the latter looked like foxes or pink rabbit masks, this one was dark green and had some sorts of long antlers on the top of it. It is only when Snatcher looked a little lower that he saw the yellow cape and purple dress that he was searching for so much.

It was her! It was the kid! She was staring at him behind the wooden fence and waved at him.

The ghost remained motionless. Did she know it was him? But how? She did throw pebbles at him to draw his attention, though the spirit had no idea how she had guessed it was him, from all the people walking around them.

Before he was able to think more, the masked child walked backwards and gestured him to follow her, while maintaining eye contact. Or, well, Snatcher supposed she did, as the mask prevented him from seeing her face. The shade moved towards her, not wanting to lose her among all those people. He did wince from the pain, but it was nothing new at that point. He forced himself to focus on what was important rather than that and tried to follow her through the crowd. He had to push several persons aside, lowering his head not to be seen as he walked close to others. Keeping up with the little girl from the corner of his vision, he quickened his pace. Where was she taking him? Wouldn’t it be easier to take him with her onto her spaceship, by teleporting them away or whatever method she used? Why was she trying to take him somewhere else?

They finally stepped out of the mass of people and Snatcher saw the kid entering a dark alley, far from the main square. She wanted discretion? He could do that, though, was it necessary since everything was to be erased in the end? Well, time travel wasn’t his strong point, maybe he got it all wrong.

He entered the alley a few seconds after her. He could see her a few steps away from him, having finally stopped walking away. Just as he was about to call out to her, she took off her mask  and replaced it with her usual top-hat, before giving him a bright and happy smile:

-“Snatcher!” The ghost didn’t get the time to reply, as the hat-wearing child pounced on him, hugging him tight in her little arms. The sudden contact made Snatcher’s body freeze instantly, as sensations submerged him. The impact caused the pain in his legs and hand to intensify and he bit his lower lip not to make any sound. A few seconds passed before he was able to push the brat away, purposely ignoring her pout, as he tried to regain his composure.

-“Yeah, yeah, kiddo, hello to you too, I got that.” He dusted his tunic with brief gestures and looked back at the child, whose eyes were still fixed on him. God, it felt so good to finally act like himself and not like that dumb prince he used to be!

-“Next time you want to call me, just come instead of throwing rocks at me, or something.” he groaned, still feeling the throbbing ache on his head from the previous hit. The kid simply giggled at him, with that awfully annoying laughter of hers.

-“Sorry, I wanted to be discreet. But it worked, didn’t it?” The mischevious expression painted on her face was enough to tell the shade she didn’t regret it in the least.

-“You’re lucky I don’t have my powers anymore, kid, you’re playing with fire here.” He stopped, thinking about what had been on his mind since the moment he arrived at the village square: “By the way, how did you know it was me?” He asked in a wary tone before adding: “You drew me in my spectral form in your meetup message, so how did you recognize me?”

His questions seemed to put the child ill-at-ease immediately, as her smile fell the instant she heard his words. Her posture shifted in clear awkwardness, as she hunched her shoulders, looking at everything but the shade:

-“Hum… Well I‌ was waiting for you and… I saw you from afar looking at my drawing, so I supposed it was you?” Her tone was unsure, clear signal that she was either lying or, at the very least, hiding something from him. And the ghost really didn’t like being lied to, especially after all he had to endure to come here: there were limits to his patience.

-“Oh yeah, so you just threw a rock at someone you didn’t know, just in case it would be me? Because I‌ was looking at something you couldn’t see from where you stood? Even if I could have been looking at any other paper?” He stared at her, unimpressed. He had dealt with many liars through his life as a ghost, with most of his contractors and everything, so he just knew when someone wasn’t telling him the truth.

-“Yes? Well, it was you, so why-”

The ghost cut her short, making her cower even more:

-“You’re lying to me.” He came closer and stoop menacingly upon her, using his lowest voice: “I don’t like that. So let’s try again: how. Did you know. It was me.”

The child remained silent for a few seconds, definitely tensed and uncomfortable. In any other situation, the kid would have laughed at him, not taking his threats seriously. But now, she was trying to avoid his stare as much as possible. She was hiding something, the ghost was sure of it. The girl shifted a little, as if she didn’t know what to do with herself. Eventually, she opened her mouth again, speaking with an anxious tone:

-“Okay, uh… Do you know what Time Rifts are?”

The spirit looked at the kid, as confusion slowly replaced anger on his face:

-“No? You’re the Mrs Know-it-all regarding time travel stuff here, not me.

-Well…” She paused for a moment, looking for words: “So, they are caused by broken Time Pieces. They’re like… Tears in reality, leading to alternate dimensions, where you can interact with things, mostly and…

-Get to the point, kiddo!

-I’m trying to!” She protested, not liking to be interrupted: “The thing is… While most of them are pretty standard, some are… Different.” She answered, her eyes avoiding his once again.

-“What do you mean, ‘different’?”

The question made the child cower more, as she muttered her answer hastily:

-“They’re linked to people’s memories.”

The shade stared at her, not knowing what she meant at first. However, his mind quickly connected the dots, between her explanations and the way she was behaving in front of him… She knew. His eyes widened at the realization and he felt a weight settling on his shoulders.

-“How long did you know?” The question left his lips as his mind was trying to process what he had just been told. In front of him, the child was rubbing her hands together in nervousness.

-“A while…?” She finally found the courage to look at him after replying. The shade didn’t know what to think. He had never told his past to anyone and the only person knowing about it was Vanessa herself. The thought of anyone other than himself knowing about it made him… Terribly ill at ease. It was as if a dark part of him had been revealed, for everyone to see. This past was something he had tried to hide for so long… And now someone knew and had even known about it for a while.

The ghost really didn’t know what to think.

-“Snatcher?” The girl’s quiet voice brought him back to reality.  Her face was full of something akin to sadness and pity. The spirit didn’t like that. He clenched his teeth and, for once, was the one to look away this time.

-“I don’t need your pity.” He said with a low voice. Why did someone have to know? And why the kid of all people? Why did it bother him that much? The ghost eventually shook his head. Well, it was too late to do anything about it, now that she knew. His face softened as he looked at her once again:

-“Sorry you got to see that.” Just having flashes of his last moments made him feel terrible. The child probably hadn’t known how to bring the subject, no wonder she felt bad about telling him now. Silence settled between them, as no one dared to speak after that for a few seconds.

Snatcher was the one to break the silence, as he realized something else:

-“Wait, those Time Rifts… I think I saw two of them!” He remembered the one in the forest, just like the one which had appeared in his room. The kid’s message had actually come through it apparently. Did she know about them?

The child seemed to guess his thoughts, as she replied, visibly relieved to change the subject of the conversation:

-“Actually, those were because of me.” She explained, before continuing: “I was trying to find time anomalies and that’s how I learnt you were here too. But it kind of messed up some things in the process… That’s why they appeared. They didn’t lead anywhere though, they were only minor. I also used the last one to send you my message since, like I said, I managed to find your location thanks to the information I got from the time anomalies.

-’Time anomalies’?” He repeated.

-“Well…” She paused, as if she was trying to find simple words to explain something very complex. Which was most likely the case: “I was trying to understand what was happening. It’s very… Unique. It’s something I have never seen before and I only know this kind of situation through some theories I heard about.

-So… Are you telling me you can’t reverse it?” Dread settled over the ghost, as his biggest fear was starting to come true. This couldn’t be happening, this simply couldn’t be happening… His body was tensing up and his breathing was getting faster, just like his heartbeat. He couldn’t help but pray for the kid to tell him she was able to reverse everything, as if nothing had ever happened. Though, when he saw the hat-wearing child wince, his heart sank in his chest.

She couldn’t reverse it. Her stance was enough of an answer to the ghost.

-“It’s not that I can’t…” She started, hesitant, before being interrupted by Snatcher’s angry tone:

-“Then what? What’s the problem?‌” He lifted his arms, frustrated: “I’ve been stuck in this place, meeting people who are supposed to be dead, and you’re telling me you can’t bring us back?”

The kid put her hands on her face and took a deep breath, now frustrated as well:

-“Stop interrupting me!” She groaned in her palms in exasperation: “I can take us back! But it’s complicated!

-And what exactly is complicated, here? Can’t you just take us into your spaceship and reverse it by whatever means you’ve got there? I thought you were an expert on time travel stuff!

-I am, ugh!” she retorted, still grunting for a few seconds: “But it’s not a time travel problem! That’s why it’s complicated!”

The shade looked at her, bewildered. “Not a time travel problem”? What did the kid mean by that? How could this not be a time travel problem? His confusion must have shown in his features, as the child slowly lowered her hands to meet his stare. She sighed and continued her explication, conscious of the ghost’s wish to understand what she meant:

-“At first, I thought someone had broken a Time Piece. But the thing is… No one actually broke one.”

No one had broken a Time Piece? What was she saying?

-“Then why are we here? Didn’t we travel back in time or something?

-We didn’t. That’s the problem. We’re not in the past: we’re only in an imitation of the past.

-An… Imitation?”

The spirit couldn’t be more confused at the kid’s explanation. And, deep inside him, a new fear was starting to appear: the fear of being in a situation much stranger and harder to solve than what he first anticipated.

The kid nodded:

-“We’re in a Time Rift. And it’s not an ordinary one, it’s artificial. Someone made it from scratch using one of my Time Pieces.”

Snatcher’s body froze, as his mind was slowly starting to understand what the kid was trying to say.

-“You mean… Someone has recreated this?” He gestured to their surroundings in bewilderment.

-“Yeah. They didn’t break a Time Piece to get back in time, they used it to create a replica of the past, for some reason I don’t understand. I’m not even sure how it’s possible in the first place…” She crossed her arms, clearly dissatisfied by her own ignorance.

Snatcher’s confusion had reached his height. What? Why would anyone create an artificial past when they had the opportunity to actually go back in time? It didn’t make any sense! But what bothered him the most was that he knew who the person responsible was: Vanessa. It could only be her! She remembered things just like he did! There was no way she was innocent in this. But then again… Why would she create an alternate dimension when she could have gone back in time to erase everything bad from their past? Not only was it extremely illogical but it was strange, considering all the possible powers held by one single Time Piece.

None of this made sense to the spirit.

The child must have sensed his distress, as she extended her small hand to him:

-“I’ll be able to explain more back on my ship. I’ll show you what I’ve discovered until now.”

The ghost looked at the little hand that was offered to him. The situation had really changed for the worst, hadn’t it? He sighed and slowly gave his hand to her. When his left one touched hers, the child’s eyes drifted to his other hand, still painful from the frostbite:

-“Wait, what happened to your hand?” She asked, frowning. She let go of his left hand to grab his right one, not thinking about the pain it would cause to the shade.

-“Ouch, ouch, ouch, hands off, kiddo!” He tried to take it back, but the brat kept a tight grip on his skin, forcing him to give up his resistance. She examined it, inspecting it very carefully. Suddenly, a horrified look appeared on her face as she seemed to understand what, or more precisely who, was the cause of that injury.

-“It’s her, isn’t it?” She asked, with a knowing expression painted on her features. The shade only stared at his wound with a conflicted look, both sad and dismissive at the same time.

-“Yeah. She knows what’s happening too.”

The kid winced again. The situation was probably worse than what she had thought as well. She eventually let go of his hand and extended her arm instead for him to take.

-“Let’s go on my ship. I know how to cure this.

-You do?” He retorted, quite wary. He had seen what her spaceship looked like and it certainly didn’t belong to someone who knew how to take care of themselves. The brat guessed his thoughts and replied with an offended voice:

-“Hey, you were the one who forced me to go to Subcon Manor! I had to cure my own frostbites. Though, they looked better than yours does.”

He scoffed: oh yeah, he had forgotten about this contract. Well, at least it was a good thing for him now, as she knew how to cure that. Or he hoped she really did, as the pain was starting to become more than just unpleasant, at this point.

He finally extended his own arm, standing next to her, arm in arm.

-“Okay. Now what?”

She simply smiled at him and clicked her fingers. A beam of light appeared instantly and surrounded them very briefly. Snatcher then felt his body being transported in a way he absolutely hated, as if it was moving fast, too fast.

He was so going to kill this kid. But not before she got them back in their own time period.

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I hope you enjoyed that new chapter! Don't hesitate to tell me, any comment is a huge help to me! I can't wait to show you more of the story, as it's really getting somewhere from now on... Hehehehe!

See you in the next chapter! Please take care in the meantime :D

=> Chapter 9

#A Hat In Time #Reliving An Old Nightmare #RAON #snatcher #vanessa #hat kid #fanfiction #my art

[teamhook]

CSSNS 2019 Rionnag Dorcha Gorm (Dark Blue Star)

Hello all!

This is my contribution to this year’s @cssns

I know my other story is still going on and it will find it’s ending, but since I cannot say no to @kmomof4 here I am, once more.

I wanna thank the lovely ladies at the CSSNS Discord. I love chatting with you all.

I wanna thank the mods of CSSNS19, my lovely very patient Beta @searchingwardrobes and my artist for the event @hollyethecurious

Below the cut, you will find the current chapter and at the end art by me.

AO3

FFN

Killian woke up at dawn and quickly changed. He realized now how much he had missed the sea. Sure, there was the lake he'd mention to Emma last night, but it wasn't the same. The smell of sea salt called to him. He looked outside his window to make sure there was enough light for him to take a walk to the docks.

He rushed out of the inn. It was a fresh morning and the air was cool and crisp. He arrived quickly to the docks. The ship was easy to spot. The Jewel I floated proudly on the gentle waves. The last time he was on the ship he had his mum and Liam. They were a happy family, and now they were gone. The Jones family ship looked a little beat up. He was surprised, knowing how particular his father was. He touched the ship reverently. While lost in thought on the ship's deck, he missed a swish in the shadows.

There was a sudden change in the air. His heart sped up, and his senses were on full alert now. He turned just in time to come face to face with the thing that killed his mum and had been terrorizing young Leo.

It had a cloak and its face was pale and covered in scars, with white eyes. The thing tilted its head in recognition and glided towards him. Killian turned and grabbed a steel hook hanging from the ship's wheel. He sliced through the creature, and it shrieked as it disappeared. He thought that maybe those supernatural shows were onto something. Killian looked around to make sure he was alone once more. Still shaking, it took him a minute to calm down. He shoved the hook into his back pocket and finally left the ship. He walked to the inn as fast as he could. He gave Ruby a strained smile as he walked by the front desk.

~~~

Emma woke up to the sound of scuffling. She darted up, her eyes instantly turned to the spot Leo was supposed to be. "Em, I'm hungry." The boy told her. She studied him for a bit. He looked better, he was rested. She couldn't help but smile. Killian had been back for one day, and her little brother had managed to sleep through the night.

"Okay, kid. Let me get ready. Is Killilan in the restroom?" She got up and stretched.

"Nope, he wasn't here when I woke up." He looked at her with his big eyes.

"Okay," she looked around the room. She panicked for a nanosecond. His things were all still there. "Well, he probably went to the diner. Leo, go to the restroom, and brush your teeth. There's an extra toothbrush for you. Wash your face too. Killian probably just got hungry, and he didn't want to wake us up."

The boy rushed to the restroom. Emma picked up her clothes to get ready once Leo vacated the restroom.

The door flew open, and Emma met a rattled Killian. Her brow rose as he looked around the room. "Emma, where's Leo?"

"He is in the restroom. Why?"

"That bloody thing just attacked me at the docks."

"Wait, right now? In the morning?" Her eyes widened.

"Yes, it was in the shadows, but I used this" he takes out the hook from his back pocket. "It went away. I think it caused it pain. The occult books Belle gave us to read mentioned iron can hurt spirits. The occult books Belle gave us to read mentioned iron can hurt spirits."

“This helped?”  She took the hook from his hand.

The restroom door flew open, and Leo burst out. As soon as he saw Killian, and ran to him. The boy hugged him tightly. Emma couldn’t hide her smile. Killian’s eyes met Emma’s, and for a moment happiness flowed over them.

The moment was interrupted by Leo's stomach growling, and the trio erupted in laughter.

Killian sobered up, "I'm guessing, Granny's for breakfast."

Emma cleared her throat, "Yeah, give me a second to change." She handed Killian the hook.

Leo's eyes lit up at the sight, "Whoa, is that a hook? Can I touch it?"

Killian looked at Emma for guidance, but she had gone inside the restroom already. He pondered if he should let the lad touch it. The boy just wanted to look at it, how bad could it be?

"Alright, lad. Just a quick touch."

The boy’s eyes went wide with excitement. "Cool!"

The boy's fingers barely tapped the hook.

"Leo, be careful. The tip is sharp, and I don't think your sister would appreciate it if you hurt yourself."

Leo rolled his eyes. A family trait he shared with Emma.

Emma finally emerged from the restroom, fresh-faced. She wore the same clothes from the day before, but still managed to look beautiful.

“Alright boys, I’m ready and starving.”

~~~

Leo sat next to Emma, and Killian sat across from them. The trio looked over the menu.

Granny approached the table with a big wolfish smile. Ruby had mentioned that Emma’s friend Killian was back. Unlike most of the town, the older woman never believed the boy had hurt his mother. What happened that night she didn’t know, but she did know the boy adored his mother. She could see it each and every time the Joneses entered the diner for some food.

“Good morning, so what can I get you?” Granny asked.

Emma answered, “Good morning, Granny, can we have three orders of pancakes?”

“Of course,” the older lady raised both eyebrows, “anything else? Maybe some eggs and bacon?”

Killian turned his gaze to the young Leo, “That sounds lovely, Lady Lucas.” He gave her a charming smile.

Granny smiled, “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you boy?” Her gaze turned to Emma, “I can definitely see the appeal.” She finished writing on her pad and headed to the kitchen.

Emma’s cheeks turn red. Is it that obvious? She tried her best to avoid Killian’s gaze.

They were enjoying their delicious food and failed to notice the pair arriving at the table.  

Ahem.

Emma, Killian, and Leo turn to the source of the sound. Her dad and mom beam at them. “Good morning, my sweethearts,” Mary Margaret gushed.

David added, “That looks delicious. May we join you?”

Leo smiled and nodded. Emma glanced at Killian. “Yeah--” She waited for a sign from him that she needed to decline, but all she saw was a genuine smile on his face.

David guided his wife to sit in the empty spot Killian had left vacant. Killian slid over in the booth to make room for Mary Margaret. David graciously got an empty chair from another table and sat down.

Granny approached them as quickly as her age allowed. “I’m guessing you two don’t need to see the menu. The usual?”

Mary Margaret and David nodded their agreement.

Emma, Leo, and Killian continued eating. The silence was overwhelming. Young Leo was the one who broke it once he was done chewing his food. “Mom, Dad I finally slept through the night. Look-” He pointed to his well-rested eyes, and gave a smug smirk. “Thanks to Killian, he kept the monster away.”

Killian winced, Emma muttered, “shit.” Leo, oblivious, dove back into his food.

Mary Margaret and David shared a look. “Son, what monster?” David looked at Leo for clarification.

Emma responded for him, “Dad, he means” she lowered her voice so her parents were the only ones to hear her “the night terrors. He doesn’t need the treatment the doctor is recommending.”

“Just because he had one good night doesn’t mean he is better,” David stated.

Mary Margaret was awfully quiet just looking at her son. He looked happy, relaxed. and rested. “We could wait, look at him, he does look better.”

Killian was extremely quiet still eating.

Mary Margaret turned to Killian, “Killian, I’m sorry we’ve been rude. It is so nice to see you.”

David tilted his head to get a better look at him. “Killian, it’s good to see you. I’m sorry-”

Killian’s bright blue eyes turned to them. “It is nice to see you both.” He added politely.  

Granny arrived with Mary Margaret and David’s food.

David looked at his food. All those years ago, he had asked Emma to keep away from Killian. Yet they’ve found each other once more. Once the awkwardness had disappeared, everyone enjoyed their breakfast.

Mary Margaret and David asked Emma to keep an eye on Leo since they had to take care of some errands before the Gala.  

Emma and Killian were just talking about simple things when Belle burst through the door. The little belle announcing her arrival was still chiming when she reached their table.

“I think I found something,” Belle told them, out of breath.

Emma smiled, “Okay Belle, calm down. Catch your breath, and you can tell us what it is you found.”

Belle grinned and dropped some sort of archive/record book. It looked old. “Look here. There were disappearances for almost 300 years but not as consistent as in the last 100 years. The most notable were of the founding families, and it was always the second born child to disappear.”

Emma bit her lower lip and glanced at Killian. Despite everything, Emma was just happy Leo was in the kitchen making cookies with Ruby like a normal kid.

Killian asked, "When did the attacks begin?"

Emma added, "Yeah, something must have triggered them."

Belle looked at the pair, “The attacks started about 300 years, but they were rare. There’s no exact date. I agree something triggered them to become more consistent in the last 100 years give or take. I think it coincides with the Gala. We started the Gala to celebrate the founding families about 100 years ago, right? That is when the attacks intensified. You’re both descendants. Killian is the second Jones, so he was attacked. Emma you are the eldest, Leo is the second and was attacked.”

Emma shook her head, “I thought they got attacked because they both peeked. You are not supposed to peek, if you do the fairy will take you away.”

Killian was silent just listening to them.

“I know but as descendants from the founding families it looks like they were selected that way. I don’t think it made a difference that they peeked. What matters is their bloodline. I don’t know what happened, but this thing has it out for the families.”

Emma pondered Belle’s words. “I think mom has somethings passed over from my great great great grandmother, diaries I think. Mom saved them because they are part of our heritage. Maybe there’s something there.

Belle smiled brightly, “As soon as you have something, you can take it to the library.”

Emma nodded, “Okay.”

Killian stared at his hands. “So it truly was my fault.”

Emma turned to him, confused, “What?”

He met her eyes. “My mum, if I would have let her take me, my mum would be alive, and maybe Liam would be too.”

Emma laughed, “Are you kidding me? To your mom it wouldn’t have been a choice. Your life for hers. She adored you, and "if she had it to do over again, she would choose you.” She smiled and reached out for his hands.

“It doesn’t matter, it's still my fault.”

She shook her head, “No, this is not your fault. Whoever angered this thing, that’s who is at fault.”

Leo arrived from the kitchen with a big smile. He had a big, chocolate smeared grin on his face as he put the plate of warm cookies on the table.

They ate a few of the delicious, gooey cookies in silence.

“Hey kid, do you mind keeping Belle company for a while? We need to go to the farm to pick up some stuff. It won’t take long. You know how organized mom is.” said Emma.

Leo just nodded his agreement. He liked Belle.

Killian leaned into Emma’s space, “We better hurry, if Belle is right about her deductions. When is the Founder’s Gala?”

“Tomorrow night. Do you really think she’s right?” Emma glanced at Leo worriedly.

“She seems like a smart lass. Imagine if someone has wronged you, would you be happy if that person was celebrated as a hero?” His eyebrows rose to his hairline.

Emma sighed "I get it. I just think it's crazy."

Killian smiled "What? That there's a vengeful ghost out there targeting the people you love?" His ears reddened. He meant Leo, but deep inside he hoped he was included. He hadn't been back that long, and now he was having a hard time seeing himself anywhere else.

“Alright let’s go. Come on, kid.” They shuffled out of the diner after paying for their meal.  They walked to the library, and Leo rushed inside.

“Don't worry lass," Killian encouraged her, "he will be okay. We will find a way to end this.”

They drove out to her parent’s farm just outside of town.

“So when did your parents move from the old house?” Killian asked.

Emma didn’t take her eyes off the road. “I think we moved a few years after your mom. The neighborhood didn’t feel the same. My dad always wanted a farm.” She shrugged.

“Do you not live with your parents?” Killian turned his full attention to her.

“Oh no, I don’t. Dad wasn’t happy about that. He claimed it made no sense since the farm is big enough. He said I wouldn’t lack privacy, but I enjoyed living on my own when I was in Boston. The loft is pretty cheap, I lucked out.”

They arrived at the Nolan Farm.

“Would you like a tour, Killian?”

“Not this time, let’s just find what we came for. Maybe another time you can show me around.”

“It shouldn’t take long, my mom is very organized.”

They got to the cellar and found a few old trunks. Each going through a trunk, they searched for the journals.

After an hour or so, Emma said, “Killian, I think I found something. Uh, this diary is from Eva right after the first Founder’s Gala. I tried to warn them but no one listened.” she muttered, “I knew Hester Blue wouldn’t be pleased.” Emma mumbled, “Oh here we go. My grandmother told me how Hester was killed unjustly. She loved the town kids, indulged them with sweets, and as a special treat when they lost their last baby tooth, she would give them a gold coin.” Emma looked up when she heard scuffling, and Killian sat next to her “the youngest Spencer and Midas went into the forest alone after they were told not to. They were missing for hours. The town quickly turned on Hester. She got blamed for the missing children.” Emma looked at Killian, “she was judged and executed by the town’s most powerful men. They buried her by a tree next to her home. Since her death, the forest hasn’t been the same.”  

“I believe this is it, Is there anything more?” Killian asked as he got up.

Emma flipped through the pages. “We can take it and read it carefully at the library.”

“Alright let’s get back to Belle and young Leo. I just hope there’s more of the location. Do you think her home is still out there?”

“We’ll find out.” Emma grabbed his hand and with her free hand held on to the diary.

They headed to the library to share with Belle the new information they had found and to see if they could find out more.

Once again Emma asked for Leo to spend the night, but they spent it with Killian. Leo felt safe with Killian.

~~~

In the shadows of the town, the vengeful spirit of Hester lurked. She hid in the dark corners. She had become angrier and restless after the child escaped her all those years ago. There was a new child to focus her ire on, but he too proved elusive.

#cssns19 #Captain Swan #cs ff #kmomof4 #CS Crew #CS Mafia #cs au #cs ff au

[uomo-accattivante]

(NOTE: If you want an accurate idea of the real-life spy that Oscar Isaac will be portraying in his next film, “Operation Finale,” read this. What a story! 😱)

***

For a long time, when I was growing up in the building I still live in on Manhattan’s Lower East Side, I knew one neighbor only as Peter. Tall, bronzed and muscled, Peter lived on the 13th floor. If I was riding the elevator alone with him, he always said, “Hello, how’s your mother?” in an Israeli accent after (sometimes) removing a cigarette from his mouth. When I’d see him talking with my 4-foot-10-inch mother in the lobby, her tiny hands gripping shopping bags from Gimbels, they were so different in size that they looked absurd. Mom knew Peter was an amateur artist; she had once been in his apartment to admire his work. She was an amateur artist, too, and my father teased her that she had a crush since that time she went with him to Pearl Paint on Canal Street to buy more oils.

Then in 1986, everyone in my building found out that Peter was not only an artist; he was also a Nazi hunter. It was the 25th anniversary of the trial and hanging of Adolf Eichmann, and a wave of newspaper articles accompanied a special exhibit at the Jewish Museum. Peter the elevator charmer was none other than Peter Malkin, the former Israeli spy who snatched Eichmann off an Argentine street in 1960. Eichmann, of course, was at that time the most wanted Nazi at large — an ardent believer in the Nationalist Socialist agenda, and a former architect of the Final Solution as the SS Obersturmbannführer in charge of Jewish affairs.

After the excitement those articles caused, he got a book deal. “Eichmann in My Hands” (Warner, 1990), co-written with Harry Stein, shed more light on his role in the capture of Eichmann. Here he claimed that he had been a Mossad agent for 28 years but never killed anyone. Mom wondered if I, too, wanted to read the book, but I was just post-college having fun, and the Holocaust was far off my radar. That sentiment annoyed her greatly.

I recently thought of Malkin again while writing other Lower East Side stories. I tried to find his old book on my bookshelf, but then remembered it was one of the books my husband made me give away after insisting I was a book hoarder and promising I would never miss it. I walked to Strand to see if the store had it. It did, one copy. Signed by Malkin.

I sat in a Broadway cafe with a friend who was amused by my excitement at Malkin’s scratchy signature: “Who? Should I know of him?” Now I was determined to really get to know my elevator companion whom my mother so admired. If I hadn’t appreciated him before, I would do so now.

Peter Zvi Malkin was born in 1927, in a village in Eastern Poland that had roughly 1,400 Jews before the Holocaust, nearly 70% of its population. He had a few persistent memories of that time, including a one-door, one-window heder, a tiny school.

Then, in 1933, when he was almost 5, his family moved him to Haifa, to escape rising anti-Semitism. His parents also took his brothers, Jacob, 6, and Yechiel, 17, leaving behind their eldest child, 23-year-old Fruma, a blue-eyed blonde who lived next door and was a second mother to Peter. She and her husband had three children, but her son Takele was closest to his age; the child was his daily playmate, and his best friend.

Poland in these uneasy times had an exit visa shortage, and cutting through red tape required money the family did not have. Fruma pleaded with her parents to save funds, and she promised they would reunite in the Holy Land shortly. Her parents acquiesced. In his memoir, Malkin recalled boarding a ship, and in British Mandate Palestine he entered a strange new world of foreign sounds and tastes, like oranges, dates and prickly pears. His father and his elder brother found work making bricks in Haifa — and by 1938, with news in the papers worsening, Malkin’s mother was making desperate trips to the local government department to, once and for all, get her daughter and grandchildren out.

Young Peter was a risk-taking kid, often exploring where he should not. People noticed, people talked, and soon someone at Haganah, the pre-state underground militia, heard about his exploits.

In 1941 he was selected at the tender age of 14 to join its secret ranks. Here, he got intensive training in explosives. After the final year of British rule, the group became the core of the new Israel Defense Forces — and with Malkin’s proven knack for detonating bombs, he was a sapper during the Israeli-Arab war of 1948.

A year after Israeli independence in 1948, Malkin joined the Mossad, Israel’s new Institute for Intelligence and Special Operations. Concurrently, he joined the Department of Internal Security, known as Shin Bet. He artlessly wrote on his application “I like adventure” as his main reason for applying, and despite eyebrows lifted at that answer, they offered him the job, starting at $40 a month. Safecracking and explosives were his fortes, and he trained in many more specialized skills. His cover was as an artist who traveled for inspiration, but he actually took art very seriously, having started painting at 16.

While spying, Malkin often drew stained-glass windows in churches. “I spent a lot of time in churches,” he said in one interview. “If you go to a synagogue, someone is always asking if you’re alone, if you’re married. In a church, in a hundred years no one would ask.”

At the start of 1960, Malkin was debriefed on his latest assignment, which shocked even him. He was to capture Adolf Eichmann. The new mission was called Operation Attila, and Attila was Eichmann’s code name. That May, Malkin and six other Israeli men flew to Buenos Aires, where the Mossad believed it had pinpointed Eichmann’s whereabouts. Mossad’s headquarters in Tel Aviv decided that Malkin would lead the capture, but then another agent would take over interrogation.

How had Eichmann gotten here?

After the collapse of the Third Reich, he was briefly caught, but in 1946 he had escaped from captivity in the United States and spent years hiding in Germany. In 1950, Eichmann went to Italy under the assumed name of Ricardo Klement, but only after a monk got him a Vatican refugee Red Cross passport. On July 14, 1950, he disembarked in Argentina, and for 10 years he worked in a variety of jobs in Buenos Aires. Eichmann was briefly a gaucho.

In August of 1952 he was joined by his wife, Vera Lieble, and his sons, Klaus, Horst and Dieter: The sons were instructed to refer to him as Uncle Ricardo. The Eichmanns had a fourth son while living in Argentina, Ricardo, who reminded Malkin of his lost blond playmate, his sister’s son Takele.

Lothar Hermann was almost blind, and became the unlikely source who had put the Mossad onto Eichmann. A former dissident and a Dachau camp survivor who, after Kristallnacht, left Germany for Argentina, Hermann had lost his sight, the result of severe beatings from the Gestapo. The family lived as non-Jewish Germans, and his daughter, Silvia, knew Eichmann’s eldest son, Klaus, who still used the family name Eichmann at his father’s insistence, even though Eichmann himself went under Ricardo Klement. One day, in an outdoor restaurant, Hermann and his daughter sat down at the table next to Eichmann and Klaus, and Silvia Hermann decided to make introductions. Her father may have been blind, but he had seen Eichmann when imprisoned and had heard his voice. He immediately contacted both German and Israeli authorities about this suspicious “uncle” and they sent someone to investigate in January 1958. After a quick inspection of the unimpressive middle-class Olivos neighborhood where the suspect was dwelling, the Mossad discounted the intelligence; it seemed impossible for a once lofty Nazi to be living there.

In 1960, a new Mossad team found that the man was still living in Buenos Aries, and still under the alias Ricardo Klement, but now renting an even more unimpressive suburban home on Garibaldi Street in the dreary suburb of Villa San Fernando. Hiding near a creek, the team spied on Attila, a thin man in thick black-rimmed glasses. The weather was not kind and they were often cold, as none of these crackerjack minds had realized that May was the start of winter in the Southern Hemisphere.

Through his field glasses, an agent observed a celebratory family dinner March 21 and did the math: The Klements’ anniversary celebration corresponded to what would have been the Eichmanns’ 25th, “silver” anniversary. Attila unfailingly returned home by the same bus each evening from his administrative job at a Mercedes-Benz factory; the bus arrived at his stop at around 7:20. The snoops were increasingly sure that Atilla was Eichmann, and that getting him when he was near the bus stop was the best plan of action. They decided on May 11 as the day it would all go down.

On this cold, rainy day, the green-and-yellow commuter bus pulled up on Eichmann’s stop along Route 202. Atilla did not get off. But minutes later, a little past 7:30 a.m., the next bus arrived.

Malkin wore fur-lined leather gloves so as not to have to touch the man during the scuffle. He wrote, “The thought of placing my bare hand over the mouth that had ordered the death of millions, of feeling the hot breath and saliva on my skin, filled me with an overwhelming sense of revulsion.” “Un momentito, Señor,” Malkin said, using the Spanish phrase he had practiced for this moment.

Unarmed, he grabbed Atilla’s right hand, spun the man around by the shoulders and pinned his arms behind his back. The man’s scream was piercing. Malkin pressed his hand over his mouth. Atilla’s false teeth dislodged. The leather gloves were quickly “soaked through with his spittle.” He took him on his shoulders, and spirited his target into a waiting black Mercedes-Benz. A fellow spy drove them both to a “safe house” in a rented villa 90 minutes south, in a more upscale neighborhood in the Florencio Varela district, where there was a garden with Moorish arches, a plush carpet and a stone wall to keep out nosy neighbors. In the safe house, Atilla denied he was Eichmann even as the doctor quickly examined his mouth lest he had poison hidden on him. Then Atilla was checked for a scar of 3 centimeters beneath the left brow, two gold bridges in the upper jaw, a rib scar of one centimeter, a Secret Service tattoo, his shoe size and other markings.

“You have SS number 45526?’ Mossad interrogator Hans asked Atilla.

“No! 45326.”

The men were startled.

“Was ist deine name?” another agent named Zvi Aharoni demanded.

“Ich bin Adolf Eichmann.”

In a small bedroom, a blanket concealing the only window, Eichmann was blindfolded and manacled by his ankle, in striped pajamas. Hans worked on him to see if he knew where other prominent Nazis were hiding, including Josef Mengele.

At night the spies stayed inside in the villa. As the team whiled away the hours with chess and cigarettes, a female agent arrived to cook and clean. In the pre-PC era when he got his book deal, Malkin wrote that the men had hoped for a sexy woman to arrive and change the atmosphere. But instead they had been sent Rosa, a chunky Orthodox Jewish spy whom he knew back from Tel Aviv. Oh well, at least now they had a cook. Eichmann ate only kosher food during his 10-day stay in the safe house.

Malkin was assigned to feed and shave the prisoner, and to make sure he moved his bowels. He also oversaw his deep knee bends — Eichmann had to stay in shape to survive the trial. While Malkin sat in the room on his shift, he began to secretly draw him, using the sketch pencils, acrylic paints and makeup he carried in his disguise kit. All he had in his possession was a South American travel guide he had purchased for the trip. He used its map-covered pages for a canvas.

He had plenty of time alone with Eichmann over 10 days, and he surreptitiously began with a black-and-gray portrait overlaying a map of Argentina. On the next page, he imagined him in SS regalia. “I continued drawing in a kind of frenzy. Now I had him watching a railroad train, counting the cars; now in abstract, lying prone atop a flatcar, bearing a machine gun; now, on facing pages, appeared Hitler and Mussolini; now my parents and, in muted pastels, her eyes immense and brooding, my sister,” he wrote. The Mossad wanted Eichmann to sign a form saying he was traveling to Israel on his own accord. He would not sign for Hans, who had spoken to him so harshly. Malkin decided to give it a try, never admitting he chatted regularly with Eichmann, partly to understand the mentality that had sent millions, including 150 of his relatives, to their deaths. They spoke in broken German and a half-Yiddish that Eichmann understood well. The man who had a master file he labeled “The Final Solution” maddeningly claimed he was no anti-Semite, that he even studied Hebrew with a rabbi in Berlin. To study how to kill them better, Malkin suggested.

“I have nothing against the Jews,” Eichmann insisted. This did not sway his guard, who had lost so many relatives. “On the contrary, I love Jews.” To add insult to injury, Eichmann went on to recite the Shema: “Hear O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One…” He asked to be tried in Germany. “You must be tried in Israel,” Malkin told him. He told him that if he signed, his wife and little ones could come to the trial. (This actually happened in Ramale Prison on April 30, 1962, and Vera Eichmann’s visit was revealed only recently.)

Eichmann called Malkin by his agent code name, Maxim: “Do you dance, Maxim? Do you like music? I hope you like Viennese waltzes.”

“We found ourselves co-conspirators of a sort,” Malkin wrote. “He knew as well as I did to fall silent at the sound of approaching footsteps.”

Malkin served him a good red wine that a fellow operative had been saving for the Sabbath, and played flamenco music on an old record player in the villa. Music cheered the Nazi. Malkin toasted him. He sneaked him a Kent. More relaxed, Eichmann confided to Malkin that he had lived in fear. “For 15 years I expected what has happened to me — and it has happened.” He also admitted that he had spoken to a fortuneteller in Argentina, who told him he would not live past 57; he believed her.

Eventually, Malkin got the signature.

With so many spies in one house, Rosa and Malkin now shared the room that had two single beds. One night, he whispered to her that he was talking to their prisoner against orders. Sympathy was an uncrossable line, and Rosa was horrified, but she listened to what they had discussed. Afterward, she scolded him: “You act like you’re in love with him!” Eventually so many emotions were brought up by the capture that Malkin joined Rosa in her bed one night, and he held the woman, clothed, in his arms, crying.

The operation to commandeer Eichmann was timed close to festivities celebrating 150 years of Argentine independence from Spain, which made it possible for the Mossad to fly the first El Al plane to land in Argentina without suspicion, even though there were no scheduled flights between the two countries. The delegation was in fact an operational cover, and included Mossad and Shin Bet security service people. Operation Atilla was so top secret that the delegation leader Abba Eban, then minister of education and culture, may not have even known about Eichmann’s capture. When Eban disembarked, he gave a speech in astonishingly perfect Spanish, after strains of “Hatikvah” played. Malkin and his spy pals were at the airport to watch. They waited for word on what day the plane was leaving, which turned out to be less than 48 hours later, on May 20. When told all was a go, Malkin quickly used his makeup kit to change Eichmann’s appearance on the flight to Argentina, dressing him in an El Al uniform as a steward. Eichmann loved being in uniform again, and straightened his posture. It was not lost on Malkin that Eichmann was leaving the country with a Jewish star on his hat. “Recognize that star?” he asked him pointedly.

As they headed to the airport, Malkin’s teammate, Dr. Klein, rolled up Eichmann’s sleeve to give him an injection. Were they killing him? No, Malkin assured him, this was the day he was going to go to Jerusalem, and they needed him as mellow as possible. Eichmann was ushered on board the El Al aircraft with the forged passport for Israeli agent Zeev Zichron. Malkin had made up Eichmann up to look like the passport photo of Zichron.

Mossad agents decided it was best to tell the other passengers on board, since it was a lightly populated flight and many of those delegates who had come for the Independence Day festivities were not allowed back on and had to fend for themselves to get home. The passengers were understandably flabbergasted that they had to book alternate commercial flights. One of the men on board, however, was El Al’s chief mechanic, who fell to pieces, having lost his 6-year-old brother in the camps. Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion announced to the Knesset that Adolf Eichmann had been captured on May 23, 1960. You can imagine the hullabaloo in Israel. But there were no medals or interviews for the agents. Rather, there was absolute authority of safety rules — they were instructed to tell no one of their involvement.

In 1961, starting on April 11, Eichmann was put on a trial that would last for more than four months.

Every word of the trial was filmed to document evil that much of the world was denying. Eichmann, however, did not view himself as evil, saying famously, “Nothing is ever as bad as it appears, or one could put it another way, nothing is ever as hot as when it is cooking.” Malkin went just once to the courthouse, walked near Eichmann’s glass isolation booth, locked eyes with Eichmann and nodded. He never went back. He said he didn’t want to hear the trial.

On August 14, Eichmann was sentenced to death and found guilty on all crimes against humanity and the Jewish people.” He was hanged June 1, 1962 and his last words (in German) were: “Long live Germany. Long live Argentina. Long live Austria.” Eichmann was cremated at a secret location, and his ashes were disseminated into the Mediterranean Sea, beyond the limits of Israel’s official waters. No country would endure his grave, nor would his grave ever be a site of pilgrimage.

Malkin stayed mum on his involvement, but broke the rule once, in the spring of 1967, when his mother fell ill and he got permission to abandon an assignment in Athens. His beloved ima was dying in a Haifa hospital, 12 years after Eichmann’s ashes had been scattered. “Mama, I captured Eichmann. Fruma is avenged,” he told her. She did not answer. He repeated his claim. Gradually her eyes opened. Her hand squeezed his. “I understand,” she managed to say.

Well, there was one other time he let out the truth, the day he hailed a cab in New York City with a Mossad friend in the back seat. Malkin recognized a Polish accent. It turned out the cabbie was from the same town Malkin had fled as a young boy. He knew how Fruma was killed, and how all the others in town met their deaths. In 1941, he said, the Jews in town were rounded up near the fountain, then taken to a camp outside Lublin. The driver had survived as a slave laborer and escaped, but not before the man had witnessed Eichmann making rounds. His seatmate poked him and whispered, “Are you going to tell him?” No, he could not. He left the cab and turned back to see his friend talking to the driver, who was now looking his way, wonderstruck. The driver called out, “Is this true?” Finally, Malkin called back, “Yes!” The driver gave Malkin’s Mossad friend back the cab fare. He could not take any money — his passenger had already repaid all Jews a thousandfold. By most accounts, by this time he was already the most successful agent in Israel’s history, the Jewish James Bond. After he caught Eichmann he also nabbed Israel Baer, the Soviet mole whom the Russians had sent to Israel. Baer had claimed to be born to Austrian Jews. Malkin was rightfully proud that he clandestinely acquired a list of ex-Nazi nuclear scientists collaborating with the Egyptians. He once eavesdropped on a meeting of Arab officials by hiding under their conference table. He eventually rose to become chief of operations in the Mossad.

But he did not work for Israel only. On Malkin’s passing in 2005, Robert Morgenthau, now a renowned former Manhattan district attorney, said of my neighbor, “I think he was the outstanding intelligence agent of the 20th century.” Starting in the late 1970s, Malkin assisted Morgenthau on several investigations, including one involving CIA agents suspected of selling weapons and explosives to Africa. In addition to consultant fees, Morgenthau repaid Malkin by expediting his green card.

Not all Peter Malkin anecdotes are so heavy: I chuckled reading how he once used his expert disguise gifts on his mother before a mission; he arrived at her Sabbath dinner in Haifa, pretending he was a foreign student who showed up at her door at the request of her son. Via an unspecified spy apparatus, he changed the sound of his voice and the appearance of his mouth. For several minutes he had her convinced, but then she realized who was really sharing challah with her. “You are going to kill me!” she cried. However, further in the meal his mother guessed that he was going away on a top-secret mission. “Even a secret agent,” he said, “can’t lie to a Jewish mother.”

In the spring of 2005 I first found out that my own mother had stage IV ovarian cancer, a disease she would battle for the next two years. At the time of the diagnosis I was working on a book with her, a funny novel about the members of her retirement club, the Happiness Club, who were always complaining about their children not coming for a visit. She had taken notes on several Happiness Club members, including a Holocaust survivor named Irene Zisblatt, whom she recorded in the late 1990s for the Century Village retirement newspaper she edited, the Hawthorne Herald. She asked my brother and me to turn the newspaper article into a documentary. We were insulted that she was suggesting our next film together. Spielberg saw value where we did not, and Zisblatt’s story was included in the documentary he produced, “The Last Days,” which won an Oscar in 1998. The second it won, the phone rang — “Told you so,” my mom said.

I laughed again about that call so many years later. My mother was right about bothering to get to know your neighbors, and your duty to the future if you are a storyteller.

The other day, while my daughter did her eighth-grade homework, I rode the elevator to Malkin’s old floor and rang his doorbell. A middle-aged woman whom I have seen in the laundry room but had never spoken to answered.

I explained what I was writing. “Oh I recognize you,” she said. “You have a young daughter, right? A teen. An Australian husband?” She introduced herself for the first time: Irena Nuic-Werber. She was in real estate. She briefly asked me to wait, as she wanted permission to participate in my article by name, for normally she and her husband are very private people. Yes, her husband Daniel was quite honored. He felt it was important to help celebrate Malkin.

“When we bought [the apartment,] there was his art up to the ceiling — vibrant colors, red, yellow, orange. Many of his artworks were painted on maps. It was breathtaking,” Nuic-Werber told me. “We did not meet him, obviously, but we bought from an attorney who knew him well, who had stories. We were very touched to live here, as much of my husband’s family perished in the Holocaust.” Tears welled in her eyes. “We think of his apartment as a sacred place,” she said, “In Israel, you know, he is very famous. I wish he was more well-known in America.”

###

#oscar isaac #peter malkin #operation finale #adolf eichmann #laurie gwen shapiro #article #forward #true story

[sapphicscholar]

Anon: Hello! I love your fics & writing! I know you have a lot of prompts so feel free to disregard / no rush! I would love to see more of NB!Sawyer being a mentor to young(er) NB folks. Thx for considering! I really love reading your NB!Sawyer fics they are phenomenal! And I hope your day is going well! :D

From @geofender -  So, I heard that Asia Kate Dillon came out as a non-binary and pansexual person and received the HRC Visibility Award. Idk if u accept prompts but... can u write NB!Sawyer reacting to this news?

From @lilbevmary -  for more of NB!Sawyer (sorry this one isn’t Director Sanvers!)

And for KimberKatie, I'm sorry this is so much later than expected!!

TW for a brief discussion and instance of misgendering

A/N: This chapter brings back Charli from Chapter 127! Apologies for the delay on getting back to Sawyer – I had this chapter all written on my work computer a little while ago but it got deleted and that was just demoralizing…

Chapter Text:

“Damn, they really went all out this year, huh?” Alex whispered, squeezing Sawyer’s hand as they wove through the throngs of people gathered by the silent auction tables and the line from the makeshift bar that snaked through the room.

“Stuff like this is what makes them enough money to keep going through the year,” Sawyer explained, gently tugging Alex over to a relatively quiet corner of the room so they could figure out the game plan for finding the best food and making sure they saw all the people they wanted to see.

Alex settled up against the wall, feeling Sawyer’s arm settling around her waist. She had to admit, the LGBTQ Center had been completely transformed. The fluorescent lighting had been turned off, replaced with strands of twinkling lights and a few spotlights dotted along the “red carpet” for the award night theme. The TVs—more often tuned to the news or to the handful of television shows that had decent LGBTQ representation—had been moved to the edges of the room and were showing clips from other awards ceremonies.

Sawyer glanced around at the different screens, noting Asia Kate Dillon being awarded the HRC Visibility Award on one screen and them presenting the first non-gendered acting award to Emma Watson on the next. They smiled to themself, dropping their head to Alex’s shoulder.

Noting the direction of Sawyer’s gaze, Alex asked, “Nice to get a bit of representation out there, huh?”

“Yeah,” they nodded. Sure, a handful of people out there did not a revolution make, but people like Dillon and Smith were splashing they/them pronouns on mainstream news sites, getting people who were more likely to read Entertainment Weekly than Everyday Feminism to hear about trans and non-binary and genderqueer labels, among others, and learn in a way that didn’t put the onus for education solely on the shoulders of those few out folks in media.

They pulled their gaze off the speech they had pretty much already memorized and scanned the other screens, finding the cast of Moonlight winning their well-deserved Oscars, Ellen Page coming out, and footage from the annual GLAAD awards. As Sawyer moved to turn back to Alex, they noted Charli lingering near the entrance, a roll of raffle tickets hanging from their wrist and a broad smile on their face.

“Should we go buy some tickets? Give Charli a little business?” Alex asked, looking over at the entrance as well.

“Ah, well, they should earn their free dinner,” Sawyer teased. “I’ll go grab tickets from them if you want to find us food.”

“You’ve got a deal. Dessert first?”

“Always.”

While Alex peered over the food table, inspecting all of the options and making small talk with a few of the staff members from the Center she had gotten to know over the past couple of months, Sawyer found their way over to Charli. “Excuse me, I’ll need all of your tickets,” they announced dramatically. “I need to win all of the prizes for my fiancée.” They still beamed at the new title—at the subtle band that sat on their left ring finger—a reminder of the forever they had promised one another.

“That so, Sawyer? Here I thought she stayed with you for love. Didn’t realize it was just your deep pockets.”

“Ouch! You wound me,” Sawyer teased, though they were glad to see Charli in high spirits. As much as they had opened up to Sawyer their first time meeting in the Center, it had taken a while for Charli to begin treating Sawyer as more of an equal—someone they could tease right back instead of someone who was always in the role of mentor and adult and educator.

“Yeah, yeah, somehow I don’t think the hurt will last.”

“Mm, probably not,” Sawyer agreed. “Now, how goes the volunteering? Any fun stories to tell? You know: sharing is caring and gossip is best shared with your dear friend and mentor…”

“You just wanna know if Marc brought the boyfriend that he hasn’t let anyone meet.”

“Did he?”

Charli laughed and shook their head. “He’s been here since noon panicking about all the last-minute decisions. He would’ve been the worst date.”

“Fair…” Sawyer mused, looking around to see if they had questions about anyone else in the vicinity. “Everyone being alright to you?”

Charli shrugged, their smile faltering slightly. “Eh, a few people see the dress and keep calling me miss, but, I don’t know, I guess it’s fine.”

“You can correct them, you know, if you feel comfortable.” They knew that the Center had become something of a safe place for Charli, a place where they could be out and open, could come and know that people wouldn’t misgender them or assume they were straight and cis just because they wore a skirt and lip gloss.

“It’s fine. It’s—tonight isn’t about me.”

Sawyer pursed their lips, not wanting to force Charli to do anything but also knowing just how demoralizing it could get when person after person wasn’t getting it, wasn’t acknowledging that there might be something wrong with assuming a he/she gender binary at a freaking LGBTQ Center event. Catching sight of Alex with a still empty plate talking to one of the Center’s board members who had been trying to talk her into running for a spot on the board now that she spent almost as much time as Sawyer in the Center, Sawyer decided they could hang out with Charli a little while longer, help make sure that they were being treated well even by the attendees who only showed up at the Center for its twice yearly black tie events.

The next few guests were fine. One knew Charli and greeted them with a warm hug as he thanked them for giving up their night to help out, then introduced them to his husband, and the next few were polite enough as they declined the offer to buy tickets, most of them making a beeline for the bar instead. The next group to stroll in brushed right past without listening to Charli’s pitch about the proceeds going to a good cause, and they caught Sawyer’s gaze and rolled their eyes. “Keeps happening.”

“Yeah, well, at least we’ve got a cash bar so that we still get something out of them.”

“Excuse me, miss?” came a guest’s voice as she made her way through the door. “Can you tell me where the reserved seating is?”

“Uh, sure,” Charli answered, gritting their teeth and gesturing at the door and toward the rows closest to the stage. “Left side is reserved for Center staff and awardees. Right side for family and friends of the Center.”

“Thank you, dear. Also, I love your dress. You look so pretty!”

“They do have a rather wonderful sense of style,” Sawyer cut in, throwing an arm around Charli and grinning down at them.

“Oh, ah, yes—yes, they do.”

As she wandered off into the crowd, Charli looked up at Sawyer. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t have to—and I won’t again if you don’t want me to—but I know I like it when Alex does it for me when I’m not quite feeling up to it.”

“Yeah…thanks,” they mumbled.

“Anytime, kiddo.”

“Excuse me, I’m 16 years old.”

“Psh, barely.”

“I can drive!”

“Don’t own a car, though.”

“You’re rude.”

“I’m delightful.”

Charli just rolled their eyes and turned back to the door, almost immediately turning back to Sawyer with an undignified little squeak.

“You okay?” Sawyer asked, all signs of teasing gone as they went into protective mentor mode.

“Yeah! Yeah, um, totally fine,” Charli rambled, their gaze flicking back and forth between Sawyer and the line of people filing in through the main entrance.

Sawyer scanned the crowd, their gaze lighting on one of the high school-aged girls they’d noticed hanging around the Center once or twice over the past few weeks. “Have anything to do with Neeti showing up?” they asked, a knowing glint in their eyes and a teasing smile on their lips.

“No!”

“Really? So your cheeks are just always pink and I haven’t noticed it?”

“Yep, mhm.”

“You should talk to her.”

“We already talk.”

“Why not tonight?”

“She just…” Charli trailed off, finally letting out a dramatic sigh and giving in. “This past week I think…I think maybe she was flirting with me?”

“Do tell! Let me get Alex, hold on!”

“No!”

“Fine, I’ll wait a few minutes. Spill.”

“I don’t know! She just said something about how it would be nice to see me outside the Center and maybe we should get coffee, just the two of us.”

“So she asked you out on a date.”

“I don’t know.”

“No, I’m telling you: she asked you on a date.”

“Well it’s happening in two days—whatever it is.”

“Oh my gosh, we need to make sure she’s good enough for our baby! We need get Alex over here first. She’s better at the intimidation tactics.”

“Ugh, you’re like the embarrassing parents I thought I escaped for the night,” Charli sighed, but the smile they kept trying to hide suggested otherwise.

“Oh, Alex!” Sawyer called out, motioning for her to come over and join them.

Eventually Alex made it through the crowd, two plates of food held aloft to keep them safe. She arched an eyebrow as she handed over a plate. “You bellowed?”

“Charli here has a date this week and is in desperate need of some embarrassing parental figures for the night, which means we need some shitty dad jokes to properly embarrass them. Hit me with your worst puns!”

“Why do you think I would just know bad puns?”

Charli snickered as Sawyer shrugged, looking far too innocent. “I’m just saying, out of the two of us…I’m too funny to tell jokes that awful.”

“I resent that. You’re barely funny.”

“Quite the opposite—I crack myself up.”

“Yeah, yeah, Sawyer. If you’re the only one laughing…”

“Hush,” Sawyer retorted, silencing Alex with a kiss.

“Alright, well, I’m gonna leave you two lovebirds alone…”

“Not so fast!” Alex called, handing off her plate to Sawyer and rounding on Charli. “Tell me all about your mystery date. Who are they?”

Charli sighed, even though they were secretly pleased that Alex had been just as welcoming as Sawyer. She certainly didn’t have any obligation to—not that Sawyer did either, but at least they were a volunteer—but Alex had been quick to invite Charli over to their home and hang out with old science journals while Sawyer chatted with Charli about their own experience coming out and dealing with assholes out in the world. Every so often she would lean over the back of the couch and chime in with words of encouragement or grumbled threats when Sawyer recounted some of the more egregious stories, but she was just as happy to open her doors and let the two of them take over the kitchen for the night.

“Well, her name is Neeti—she’s the one over in the black pants and the maroon shirt over there. She goes to the private school across town, but she lives kind of close to me. She’s really smart.”

“Dating nerds is the best!” Sawyer crowed through a mouthful of cupcake.

“One day she saw me in the Center reading Macbeth for my English class, and when I threw it down, she came over and sat with me and helped translate it into modern English, told me it helps to read it aloud or see it performed.”

“That sounds like a nice date idea…” Alex trailed off, grinning at the way Charli’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“No, I mean, she invited me over to come watch some of the movies, but I think she was just trying to help me with my homework.”

“Who do you think is more oblivious,” Sawyer asked, a shit-eating grin on their lips, “Charli or Kara?”

“Oh man, I can only pick one?” Alex laughed.

“You’re the worst.”

“That’s factually incorrect. We feed you. Now let us meet your totally just a friend that you have a big crush on who wants you to come over her house to cuddle and watch movies with her.”

Charli grimaced but dutifully waved to Neeti. And, as nervous as they might have been about introducing her to Sawyer, they also knew that Sawyer always had their best intentions at heart. Plus, if waving at Neeti earned them that smile…well, they would wave a hundred times more.

“Hey, Charli!” Neeti greeted them, pulling them in for a hug that had Sawyer and Alex giving exaggerated thumbs up to Charli behind Neeti’s back.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Oh yeah, well, um, I remembered you mentioning it, so…”

Sawyer just barely resisted the urge to let out a loud noise of excitement at the adorable awkward flirting.

“Cool, yeah, I’m, uh, really glad you made it.”

“Yeah?” Neeti beamed at Charli. “I know you’re stuck on door duty for a while, but want me to go steal you some dessert?”

“It would be a shame if you missed out on the cannoli,” Sawyer interjected, unable to resist any longer.

Seeing the look of confusion on Neeti’s face at the new voices, Charli took a deep breath and introduced them: “Neeti, this is Sawyer.”

“You look familiar,” Neeti noted.

“Yeah, I volunteer at the Center. But normally just on weekends.”

“Ah okay, yeah, I come in after school sometimes, but not a lot on the weekends.”

Sawyer bit their tongue and didn’t ask whether it was because Charli also tended to spend a couple of nights a week in the Center working on their homework.

“And this is Alex, their fiancée,” Charli added, gesturing toward Alex who offered a wave and a small smile.

“Nice to meet you, Neeti.”

“You too.”

Deciding the awkward hovering between just friends and trying to date wasn’t the best time to subject Charli and Neeti to an interrogation or shovel talks, Alex turned to Sawyer. “What do you say we go hit the buffet one more time before we find our seats?”

“It doesn’t start for another half hour,” Sawyer protested.

“And you can’t think of any way to spend half an hour with your fiancée?” Alex shot Sawyer a pointed look, trying to communicate that they should leave the two young ones to themselves, give them a chance to flirt awkwardly and stumble their way toward realizing that the liking bit wasn’t one-sided.

“Oh…oh! Okay, sure!” Shooting a wink over their shoulder at Charli, they called, “She means stuffing our faces with dessert and playing 20 Questions, just so we’re all clear!”

“Whatever you say, Sawyer! Whatever you say,” Charli laughed, turning back to Neeti, their broad grin morphing into a shy smile. “So, uh, how was your week?”

Sawyer was tempted to linger, hiding behind a group of tall people, but they let Alex drag them back to the table for proper dinner food this round. “If things go any further between them…”

“If it goes further, you can get in line behind me to make sure that they both have only the best of intentions.”

“And you’ll do the dad jokes?”

“Why do you keep insisting I tell dad jokes?”

“Look, Danvers…I’m not saying it wasn’t adorable, but I do remember the anniversary card you wrote me that began with asking me if I was made of copper and some other element ’cause I was so damn cute.”

“Tellurium,” Alex interjected, grinning and chuckling to herself.

“See! Big nerd—right there.”

Alex silenced them with a kiss, feeling their lips pulling up into a broad smile and fearing another teasing remark was coming. “If you wanna get as lucky as DNA helicase tonight…” She let the threat linger in the air.

“But you’re not even wearing jeans, Danvers!”

#sanvers #nb!sawyer #maggie sawyer #alex danvers #tw brief instance of misgendering #fanfic #prompt fill #fluff #representation matters #ao3feed #original character