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avatarmerida · 2 years

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The Messenger

Mini sequel to this. Basically a slight AU where Hunter doesn’t meet Willow by joining the flyer derby team but still falls very hard. Early Huntlow vibes.

———

Hunter kept his promise to interrogate Luz the next day, ambushing her the moment she entered the edge of the market. She wandered into a rope trap he had carefully planted, lifting her up on to the roof where he waited and quickly wrapped another rope around her to ensure he got the answers he sought.

“I already told you I don’t know anything about what Lillith said!” Luz exclaimed, struggling to break free as Hunter emerged from his hiding spot in the shadows. “What do you want, dude?”

“Hey now, I’m not here to cause any trouble! I just wanna talk!”

“Really?” Luz said skeptical. “Talk about what?”

“Well gee, I dunno...Hm, how’s your friend? The one with the braids? The Captain?” Hunter asked as though he had just stumbled upon the topic randomly and her name had slipped his mind and wasn’t replaying over and over in his head.

“Do you mean Willow?”

“Oh, yes that’s the one,” said Hunter, clearing his throat as though he was making casual conversation and hadn’t just ambushed her. “How is she?”

“She’s... good?” Luz replied, confused and cautious. This definitely wasn’t the line of questioning she was expecting.

“Has she... asked about me?” Hunter asked somewhat quietly.

“Did you kidnap me just to ask me about Willow?”

“No!” said Hunter far too defensively for that to be true. “It’s my job to... stay informed on the well being and activity of all citizens.”

“You never ask me what I’m doing.”

“Well that’s because I already know what you’re doing you’re causing trouble and giving me a headache,” said Hunter quickly before changing the subject returned him to a calmer demeanor. “Now, back to Willow... is she seeing anyone?”

“Why?” asked Luz with a dopey grin.

Hunter blushed wildly. “I already told you! Not that it’s any of your business anyway, but it’s not like that! She just seems like a good candidate for the Emperor’s Coven and so the Emperor would want me to keep tabs on her. To make sure she’s... eligible.”

“Oh, she’s eligible alright,” laughed Luz. “You trying to recruit her to be Mrs. Golden Guard?”

“You’re wasting my time,” said Hunter, walking away in a huff. “I don’t know why I thought you could take this seriously!”

“Hey! Wait! Aren’t you gonna untie me?”

“If I do...” he said turning around and folding his hands as he picked the words. “Can you give her something... from me?”

“Ooooh is it a love note?”

“What? No! Of course not! Why would I... it’s confidential! Can you deliver it or not?”

“Well, first I gotta make sure you’re not sending my friend something dangerous or explosive or tacky.”

“It’s nothing like that,” said Hunter, averting his eyes to the ground where the bag that contained the gift rested. “It’s just something that... reminded me of her.”

“Something you want to remind her of you I bet,” laughed Luz. “Do you court all recruits so thoroughly?”

“Oh, whatever!” scoffed Hunter walking away again.

“Heeeey!” Luz called back, attempting to hop forward but her confined arms made any movement difficult and she fell over. “Oof! C’mon dude, I’m only teasing! Willow is great, it makes sense you’d have a crush on her!”

“I don’t want to crush her! I want to... express my respect for her.” Hunter insisted, getting more upset for reason he did not understand.

“Yeah, I know,” said Luz as she adjusted herself to sit up to face him. “I get it, believe me; I’ve been there before myself! I bet you’re feeling sweaty and dizzy when you think about her right?”

“My vitals are none of your business!”

“So that’s a yes,” chuckled Luz. “Look dude, I don’t know Willow’s type exactly and considering my last crush did literally try to crush me, I can’t advise against... whatever this turns out to be. But I will say that if you wanna know more about Willow the best person to ask is probably Willow.”

“I just didn’t want to impose or inconvenience her.”

“Oh, but you have no issue inconveniencing me?”

“Of course not,” said Hunter simply. “But Willow is a captain, she has responsibilities, things to accomplish, and I don’t want to interrupt her plans just because I-.”

“Because you...?” prompted Luz.

“...because I admire her.” inished Hunter.

“Hmm, now that you mention it she did ask about you,” said Luz slyly, noticing the uncharacteristically soft look on his face.

“Really? What did she say?” Hunter inquired eagerly before adjusting his tone back to his idea of aloof. “I mean... oh? What did she say?”

“Ask her yourself.”

“I don’t know,” said Hunter, attempting to conceal his insecurity as he started to pace. “I wouldn’t know how to approach her. I mean it could be very... intimidating.”

“Have you seen her play flyer derby? I don’t think you have to worry about intimidating her.”

“I wasn’t talking about me intimidating her,” he admitted bashfully.

“Woah, you’re really serious about this, huh?” Luz marveled to which Hunter meekly nodded. “Well, if you want Willow to like you I think a step in the right direction would be to stop kidnapping her friends.”

“Oh really? She really said that?” Hunter deadpanned.

“If I may offer some sage advice from the human realm,” said Luz. “If you wanna be her lover, you gotta get with her friends. That’ll make it last forever, because friendship never ends.”

Hunter looked at her in disbelief.

“Please untie me, my wrists are starting to hurt” She pleased quietly, wincing.

“Ugh, fine,” Hunter begrudgingly bent down to undo his knots. “But this isn’t because of Willow, this is totally unrelatedly I just have... somewhere else to be.”

“Hmm I wonder where that could be.”

———

Luz got her answer later that day as she walked by the flyer derby field to walk Willow home after practice. She ran up to greet her friend with a big hug when something in the distance caught her attention.

“Oh Willow,” Luz sang in a low voice. “I think someone’s here to see you.”

Willow turned to see who else but the Golden Guard standing at the edge of the field, looking authoritative as ever but extremely out of place. Willow slung her bag over her shoulder as she walked over to him. He was grateful that as long he wore his mask she couldn’t see his nervous expression and surely seemed totally cool and put together.

“Hey,” she said with a small wave. “Can I help you?”

“A special delivery,” he said, disguising his voice the best he could as he held out a small potted plant to her face, his arm perfectly outstretched to create distance between them.

“Oh, thanks,” said Willow, carefully taking the pot from him, the flower small but a vibrant yellow. “Its so cute; who is it from?”

“Hunter.”

“Hunter?”

“Ya know uh the guy who was here the other day,” stuttered the Golden Guard. “He uh, wanted to congratulate you on your victory.”

“Oh, well that’s very sweet of him,” said Willow, admiring the plant. “Can you tell him thank you for me?”

“Of course ma’am,” the Golden Guard replied with a bow. “It would be my pleasure.”

He stood there for a moment in silence, as thought waiting for something else to happen.

“Was there anything el-.”

“He had a message for you!”

“Oh, okay what is it?”

He took a deep breath before responding. “Hi.”

“Hi?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, well can you tell him ‘hi’ from me too?”

“Affirmative,” he responded with a nod. “Is there uh, anything else you wish to tell him?”

“Well I dunno, is there anything else he wants to hear?”

“He uh... well I can ask him and then get back to you with that information,” said the Golden Guard. “After I touch base. Where uh would be the best place to find you?”

“Oh, well here I guess,” replied Willow. “But isn’t the Golden Guard a little too busy to be acting as a messenger?”

“Oh, uh it’s no trouble really,” he insisted.

“Okay, well l just in case, how about I give you my penstagram info to give to him,” said Willow as she crouched down to get a piece of paper out of her bag. “In case he wants to talk to me himself.”

“I will be sure to pass that on, of course,” he said taking the paper from her with gusto. “I ... just don’t know if he has an account so would it be okay if I-?”

“-tell him we’ve got a game next week,” said Willow with a smile. “If he wants to come, I’d love to see him again.”

“Right! Yes! Of course!” Hunter beamed beneath his mask. “I will tell him that! And also hi! Okay. Well, nice meeting you civilian!”

“Nice meeting you-.” Before Willow could finish her farewell, the Golden Guard had teleported away, worried that if he stayed a moment longer he would ruin his carefully crafted moment.

“Wow, he got you a flower, huh?” noticed Luz as she stood beside her as they watched Hunter run the rest the way, unaware they could still see him.

“Yeah,” sighed Willow as she admired her gift. “Does Hunter not know I can tell he’s the Golden Guard or-?”

“I think his plan is to use the Golden Guard to ask you what you think about Hunter because I wouldn’t tell him.”

“Oh,” said Willow, admiring the Golden flower in her hands and it’s resemblance to its originator. A faint touch of pink graced the tips of her ears as she smiled. “He asked about me?”

#huntlow #winter toh #toh #willow park #hunter toh #hunter wittebane #the owl house

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taiblogcomics · 3 months

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Colour Me Sad

Hey there, crumb dumpsters. It's February now, huh? Or, wait, was it already February last week…? It all kind of runs together, doesn't it? Ah, well, let's just get into it.

Here's the cover:

Ah, good, another really nice cover. I'm glad to get to show you her red outfit, because it's pretty cool. The best covers of this series have all been the most magical-girl-focused ones, haven't they? Maybe that's a lesson other comics need to take to heart. I mean, I'd read Batman more if he was a magical girl, wouldn't you~? Anyways, cool cover, and cool outfit for someone who's essentially a magical girl track-and-fielder~

Our story so far: Real world girl Wisp used her friend Willow's security system to fight shadow monsters and got sent to the Rainbow Lands, where she took up the role of legendary hero, Rainbow Brite. The King of Shadows is stealing all colour from the world, so she has to unite the seven Color Guardians to reignite Rainbow Castle. She, her sprite friend Twinkle, and Color Guard Red Flare are in the land of Red Mesas to do exactly that: rescue another Color Guard from the dungeons. But first, they gotta fight an evil robot named Herky. Excellent!

Herky is a robot with one objective: grab the intruders. He's already got Red Flare in his grip, but Wisp is a bit more clever. Recall that Red Flare thinks his power of super speed is only good for running away. Wisp, however, is a little more clever, and able to use it offensively. She first runs deeper into the cave so she can use the tunnel to dodge an extended fist, and then loops around so she runs behind the various lizard minions, while Herky punches and knocks them all out. See how super speed can be the best power~?

Herky, frustrated now, activates his ultimate move: spin mode. Fall before the unchecked might of… the windmill! Red Flare quickly becomes ill, while Wisp just shows her skill at jumprope. Finally, Herky gives up on capturing her, and goes instead for outright attacking. He slams the ground, which causes the sands to ripple enough to knock Wisp off her feet. Herky's fist comes down, and she's knocked out. The next time we see our heroes, they're undeground, in the prison cells set below the mine. Captured…

Red Flare is depowered and Wisp is unconscious, but she's being tended to by someone off-screen. The dialogue indicates it's the green Color Guardian. While they tend to Wisp (with the help of Twinkle and the green sprite, Lucky), Red Flare gushes about Wisp's performance. Red Flare's own red Sprite, Romeo, is also here. Having seen her in action now, he's definitely convinced she's the real deal for Rainbow Brite now. Twinkle backs him up, telling Lucky all about their adventures so far. They're also preparing some bandages for the unconscious Wisp.

Wisp doesn't stay that way for long, though, since she's the main character and all. She wakes up, and almost screams. And here's where we get our first look at the green Color Guard. Now, Red Flare is just a human boy with spiky black hair. Green, on the other hand, has bark-brown skin covered in swirl patterns, and leaf-like green hair. She has two small branch-like horns just above her eyebrows, and her eyes have large black irises. She introduces herself as Patty, claiming her real name is too hard to pronounce with human mouthparts.

Yep, remember when Twinkle explained that Rainbow Land provides colour for all the other worlds? Yep, that was confirming the existence of aliens. When choosing Color Guard candidates, why not pick from the best in all the universe? Wisp is pretty stunned by the revelation, even having been in Rainbow Land with a magical Sprite for about a day or so now. However, while she's yelling about this, another voice rudely tells her to keep it down, as some folks are trying to sleep. And then from nothing, a fourth Sprite appears. I almost said "third", because Romeo has not contributed one lick to the conversation so far.

This is Gloomy, a dark-coloured Sprite, who's also called an Envy or N.V.--a Non-Visible. Colour extends beyond the spectrum of what we can see, you know! Gloomy is the Sprite for Ultraviolet. He's kind of understandably crabby because most folks can't even perceive him. It's hard to invite someone to a picnic if you don't even know if they're in attendance. Just like he's crabby now because they're interrupting his nap. Twinkle points out that he's not even locked up in a cell like they are, but he demands they be the ones to leave.

Wisp tries talking to him, but he's no less patient with her. He already knows who she is, because he knows Twinkle's own backstory. Twinkle used to get bullied because he was a white Sprite. But there's no such thing as a white Sprite. He doesn't know what land he belongs to or what his purpose is. So he poured himself into studying, and that's how he discovered the history of white Sprites and the legends of Rainbow Brite. He's been waiting all his life for Rainbow Brite to appear, so he'd finally have a purpose. And now he's found her!

Wisp calls Gloomy out for being a bully, since he doesn't see her saving anybody from that side of the cage. At least she tried! At least Twinkle tried, and he had to go all the way to another world. And Lucky and Romeo are here, too! Where's Gloomy's Color Guard, after all? Gloomy replies that it takes a certain kind of person to be the Ultraviolet Guard, and while he's listing off virtues, he catches wind of an unusual scent on Wisp. No one else can detect it, but he asks if she was wearing other clothing today. She mentions her friend Willow's jacket from earlier, and this is Gloomy's eureka moment.

Gloomy disappears, and they're not sure if he just turned invisible or not. He hasn't--we cut back to Earth. Like I said, it's been at least a day since Wisp and Twinkle met, and both Wisp's and Willow's families are at the police, trying to nail down their story of what happened to Wisp the previous night. Willow could see the shadows same as Wisp, but none of the adults could. All they know is Wisp disappeared some time after the alarm was tripped. The cops send Willow out into the hall so they can talk to her parents alone.

Frustrated, she storms out, pouting at how they don't believe her. If she'd made up the story, she'd have at least made up a better ending. But there is someone who believes her. Gloomy appears, and she recognises him as the same sort of creature accompanying Wisp when she disappeared. He tells her Wisp is in trouble, and she's the only one who can help now. But they have to hurry, or they'll miss the moment. He ushers her outside, to her confusion, and has her stand in a specific place. No time to explain! And the comic ends as a lightning bolt comes down from the heavens and strikes Willow! SHAZAM!

And I do mean the comic ends. Not just the issue. Yes, it is my sad duty now to reveal to you that, as good as this series was, it only ever got these five issues. This one came out five years ago this very month, so the chances of it getting picked back up are pretty slim now. As I mentioned at the start, this was an experiment in some way. We've seen disappointing comics before. Mostly because the comics were awful. Here, I wanted to show you that disappointment can come from good comics too~

So, yeah! We'll never see Wisp and friends get out of that prison. We'll never see the other members of the Color Guard or find out what kind of powers and outfits Wisp could draw from them. I think the ending here was setting up Willow to become Stormy, but we'll never see that either. We'll never even see more of these gorgeous covers! Isn't that just... unfortunate? I wish this could've gone on for so many more issues. However many it took to tell its tale.

Because let's face it, the one thing this series was bad at was pacing. It's a lot of exposition. It really has a huge backstory and a load of worldbuilding it wants to share. And it's good stuff! It's very interesting and enjoyable! But it is paced for a very long and ongoing book, and probably would've worked better as a graphic novel instead of an ongoing series. It's a real shame. Everybody who's also had a show cancelled early (especially nowadays in the streaming age) shares this pain. I hope this at least puts a little more word out there that this existed, for however brief a time, so you can hold it in your hearts with me~

#comics #reviews #Rainbow Brite #Taiblog

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carewyncromwell · 2 years

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Tulip 🤝 Carewyn

requested by @petite-potato / @thatravenpuffwitch

Breakfast had only just ended, and Carewyn Cromwell was already nursing the biggest headache.

"Tulip," the red-haired Slytherin said tersely, her eyes narrowed, "did you really get a month's worth of detentions for letting off a Jumbo Dungbomb in the Prefect's Bathroom?"

Tulip was smirking from ear to ear. "Yep! Thought it'd be the perfect way to celebrate you scoring the position."

"How would making the Bathroom completely unusable to me or anyone else be celebrating that?"

"Hey, you signed up for this, Carewyn Cromwell," Tulip teased. "Prefects are supposed to deal with troublemakers like me."

"Well, fortunately McGonagall already dealt with you, so I don't have to," Carewyn shot back in a rather snippy voice.

The Slytherin Prefect brought a hand over her face and shook her head with an exasperated groan. This only served to make Tulip smirk more broadly than ever as she flopped an arm over Carewyn's shoulders.

"Lighten up," said Tulip. "It's just a little joke, that's all. Gotta make sure you and Charlie Weasley don't get too serious, after all...you especially."

"You and Tonks have already made it very clear how much of a stick-in-the-mud you think I am, Tulip," Carewyn said dryly.

Tulip's eyes lit up. "Oh wow, now that'd I pay Galleons to see -- pretty princess Prefect Carewyn Cromwell, in the mud."

"If you're that curious, just come to a Quidditch friendly."

Tulip laughed. The sound made Carewyn smile a little bit, despite herself.

"...I really wasn't aiming to become a Prefect, you know," she said a bit more plainly. "Snape just decided I was the best candidate. But now that he has...well, it behooves me to respect that trust. And with prats like Merula and Emily Tyler bullying people, and first years needing some guidance in getting through everything -- even just the Cursed Vaults, threatening everybody...well, I reckon there's some real good I could do."

Tulip sighed. "Now you see, this is what I meant by you getting too serious."

Despite saying this, her expression had softened noticeably.

"...Still...I reckon only you'd see a job where all you do is boss everybody else around all day and decide you're going to use it to help people."

Carewyn shrugged. "Well, of course -- helping people is the only thing I want to do, anyway, Prefect or no."

Tulip's smirk loosened up, evolving into a much more sincere smile.

"I know," she said quietly.

That sincere kindness was something Tulip had always appreciated about Carewyn. After being friends with someone like Merula, who was so very self-focused, it had been an odd, but thoroughly pleasant surprise to collide with someone like Carewyn, who was so considerate of other people's needs and feelings.

Carewyn smiled a bit more warmly in return as she got up from the Slytherin house table.

"Come on -- we don't want to miss History of Magic..."

"Don't we?" asked Tulip playfully. "Most of us sleep through the class anyway."

"We won't want to miss it because Rowan's planning on giving us a full lecture on the Werewolf Code of Conduct the instant that Binns falls asleep," said Carewyn with a wry smile. "And because Jae's bringing in a whole box of Fizzing Whizbees, as payment for me beating him in Exploding Snap last week."

Tulip grinned. "Okay, that sounds fun."

With this, the two girls headed out of the Great Hall together, talking more conversationally.

"I heard you joined the Chess Team."

"Yeah, my grans taught me how to play, when I was eight, and I found I have a real knack for it. That bloke McNully has a stick up his arse the size of the Whomping Willow, though, doesn't he? Kept trying to shove dumb theory books in my face..."

"McNully's a strategist through and through -- it's just how his mind works. And there might be some interesting stuff in those books, if you give them a try...McNully taught me a lot about Quidditch, when I first started playing at school."

"Honestly, I think the only thing I'd get out of reading those books is a good nap."

Friendship Drabble Prompt!

#friendship drabbles #hphm #hogwarts mystery #my writing #tulip karasu #carewyn cromwell #murphy mcnully #nymphadora tonks #charlie weasley #yes I couldn't resist saluting the curse-breaker's gambit tslq #I actually love the thought of prankster tulip being on the chess team #yay for diverse interests

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rinharu-purple · 3 years

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Emmm 👉👈 can i request Gavin's spring festival date analysis?! Ehem especially when Gavin said "I've waited a long time for today.." 💙

But Of course if you're not busy.. I'll wait patiently.. I just.. love read your analysis 💙 like i can feel your love and dedication for Gavin.. a lot of Gavin stan is very smart and loyal.. just like Gavin itself

Hello nonny and of course you can! Thank you for your lovely ask and reading my posts. It makes me really happy to hear this 💞 I can also double up what you've said, Our birdcop is smart and loyal and I really love being a part of Gavin-standom which includes so many talented writers, artists, analysts and it has @cheri-translates! There are so many great posts from various accounts and one can feel the love, passion and loyalty towards Gavin in all of them! 💫

An analysis on Spring Festival date is so overdue, so it is me who should apologize for not having written this before. I will more than gladly include your request scene, I hope you enjoy it ^_^

MC Testing Waters: Spring Festival Date

At the beginning of the game, MC is a young woman with lots of love in her heart, however without much experience in love. Fortunately this starts to change when she meets LIs as adults.

Spring Festival Date takes place after Firework Date and before the Romantic Date, although the timeline is quite messy, which I will come to by the end of this analysis.

If you look closely, you can see MC checking Gavin's romantic feelings towards her by using this "boyfriend game" and also uses the opportunity to get beyond his hardened exterior and touch his vulnerable side 💗

Spoilers start below this line

This date comes to, because MC lies to her aunt about having a boyfriend to avoid arranged blind dates and even promises to visit her on New Years with her boyfriend. Speculatively it seemed like a solid play, until...the time literally came.

Thinktanking about a way out of this with Kiki and Willow, they weight different options as to tell them she broke up with him, leave the city or call in sick but then the best wingman on earth Minor saves the way and suggests that she just takes a "fake boyfriend" with her, surely enough with Gavin in his mind.

MC goes through her contacts list to search for a suitable candidate, but her heart Whispers her the answer by skipping a beat as her fingertips scroll down to one name.

... Gavin

As such... MC has chosen her player for the game and Gavin's Heart Trial with MC's family commences...

---Press Start---

Creativity Test

Unluckily Gavin actually shows up for this highly important date late, with his phone off! From the storyline he arrives a couple of minutes late to MC’s aunt's place, thus starting the game one point behind. He was late because he was buying presents for the whole family! With the spot on gifts which are well received by the family because they're expensive, imported goods, limited products, cute and thoughtful he makes up for the lost points.

But it's just the first stage and he has 3 more stages to clear, the pressure is slowly rising.

This gray suit has a lovely story behind it, which you can find by the end of the story.

Decision Test

Gavin has passed the creativity test with flying colors, but in the second stage more challenging questions are on the menu. The eldest aunt wants to know Gavin's age, occupation, salary(?!) and possessions(?!). The last two questions are fairly over the line and is a no-no in my country. Asking people about their financial status as well as bragging about it is perceived as rude and insolent, that's why the way Gavin answers these questions skillfully without bragging about his wealth adds just another brick on my Gavin-temple.

Age: 24

Occupation: Police Officer

Salary: Covers the bills

Possessions: A flat in the city and a motorcycle.

In my Prank date analysis, I've mentioned about Gavin's ability to deal with impertinence and also here, he stays friendly, but only answers the questions necessary to get through with the situation. MCs family is checking whether he's wealthy enough to take care of MC (which is sad that in the 21st century that in some countries women need to be financially secured by men). So Gavin just gives them just the right enough of information to pass the test and pass he does.

There is another aspect to his way of answering though. You see, Gavin is an unmaterialistic man. He doesn't care about money or any other meta. He doesn't touch upon the fact that he's coming from a wealthy family, or that he inherits his grandparents house or that he can afford designer dresses, overseas travels or gems without giving a second thought. That shows just how humble Gavin is and I love him for it. What defines him is not his wealth, nor does he allow anyone define him on his financial status. It's his character, the values he stand for, the vision he embodies, the way he treats MC.. Ehm.. And.. His champion body and drop dead gorgeous looks (comes as an extra;))

But the game is far from over, because the family council is now going to challenge him on...

Affinity Test

This is where things get rosy as the family would like to know how they've met and whether they've been together since high school.

Look, Gavin is actually not playing a game, but living the moment. He is well aware of the fact that once he and MC become an official pair, he will be standing on the same spot a year later. He is serious...

So when they ask about their affection, he gives them his genuine answer and confesses his crush on her during high school and says that they've been going out since fall. This dazzles MC, as if she hasn't been dazzled enough lol.

The three glasses of drink he gulps surely has a role in this sincerity and taking three glasses of a drink as a punishment also becomes a tradition for MC and Gavin in the future.

And so, he proudly passes the Affinity Test with flying colors, effortlessly. Only one more stage and he's done it!

Execution Test

Every hero has his moment, when the fight takes a gloomier turn against his favor and the odds don't look good as before when he gets a strong blow, that is when the family hits him with the question "Don't you get alone well with your family?".

This is Gavin's weak spot, his cryptonite, his bleeding wound and MC's family just pressed on it. What makes this scene so heartbreaking is not just the topic itself and we know why it is a sensitive topic for Gavin but also that Gavin actually tries to signal them that this is not his favorite topic. He tells them he doesn't go home for holidays (friendly warning number 1), the aunties pushes by telling him to take some meal with him to which he replies "Thanks, but that's okay. I've been away for a long time" (friendly warning number 2) the family pushes further and as a one last resort he tells them that during college he rarely went there and spent holidays working afterwards (friendly warning number 3). Sadly the auntie than ignorantly ask whether his family doesn't worry about him and now because he's given three fair warning shots which, he downright gives them a brief and resolute answer:

- No.

That's usually the latest where people with common sense stop digging in further. Unfortunately then the auntie asks whether he doesn't get along well with his family to which Gavin no longer responds. This is the perfect way of dealing with such people and Gavin has a very intuitive talent for dealing different people from different mindsets. Give them three friendly and fair warnings, still pushing? Then give them a last chance by one final brief and to the point answer, they choose to ignore the signal? Stop interacting, you can only waste time beyond this point.

The only problem with this situation here, is that these people are not just somebody, Gavin wants to win these people over, so he cannot just ignore them. But also he cannot do it without a timeout, so he goes to grab some wine. (God it makes me so sorry everytime he has to face his family drama or is misjudged. I just wanna hug him bring him hot cocoa, give him a backrub and bring spicy food for him. Luckily he has MC ^_^)

But let's not talk only about about Gavin, because MC is struggling too. And we should recognize her stick up for him with the most cherishing words:

-Auntie, you got it wrong. He is a decent and pure man and has come to my aid many time and in quite dangerous circumstances.

When she comes back however cannot find Gavin, once she does, a heartwarming moment blooms between them.

This scene is very crucial in Gavin and MC's relationship because this is the first time MC sees Gavin tired and flustered. She feels sad for him but also happy for herself, for she feels as though she gets closer to him, thus seeing the real Gavin. By the way she show him her genuine care, Gavins heart melts and kisses the back of her hand as a gesture and so the first intimate moment involving them having a kiss ensues. Furthermore, they show each other their mutual care, which brings them one step closer and this gives Gavin the only courage he needs to tackle the situation.

When our hero gets the courage and the stamina he need from his girl, nothing can stop him now. Having gatherer his strength, Gavin returns to the dinner table:

“I am so happy to be here with you all today. In fact, I haven't felt this atmosphere of family in a long time. I have a very strict father and a brother I seldom see...I don’t even know when I turned into such a loner. Eating alone, sleeping alone, doing everything alone...until I met her. It was a beautiful autumn day. The gingko leaves were floating in the wind. I was also going through a pretty dark time. But she saved me before I hit bottom...It’s she who told me I could live a stronger life. And it’s also she who told me I could live a more tender life. I never felt lonely before, until I met her. I started to get used to star-gazing with her, having dinner with her, spending the New Year’s with her. In the future, I'll give it my all to stay with her, to take good care of her and love her. I wanna make up many times over for all the times I wasn't there”

MC’s heart stopped, aunties eyes teary, the elder Aunt want his actions to back up these words and thus Gavin has a pass from MC's family. Now that he's won the game, it's time to collect his prize.

After they leave MC's aunt's house, our lovebirds walk together in the night full of fireworks and Gavin tells Mc that Minor has mentored him on being the perfect son-in-law, hence he was late. He also asks her what she would do if he didn't show up, to which she says that her intuition says that he won't fail her and he murmurs quietly:

- I've waited a long time for today.

Of course he doesn't repeats himself when MC asks him about what he just said. But that's what kept him going all night long.

He has waited for six whole years to meet her again, to stand by here, take good care of her and love her. Tonight, he could do them all by being her "boyfriend", giving his word to her family and having their blessings. He could see that she also cares a lot for him, worries about him and wants to be there for him. He landed his lips for the first time on her delicate skin and could give her warmth.

He could finally confess his feelings for her and say the genuine things he will only say to her.

So yes, he has waited for a long time for this moment to come and when it came, he made sure to grab it tightly.

----—----—---

Timeline issues:

- The order of the dates in the game doesn't always reflect the real course of events. The grey suit that Gavin wears is actually bought after Romantic Date, which takes place after this date.

-Even though MC plans this whole game to avert blind dates, but she still gets set up later on a blind date by another aunt lol.

Thank you once again for your patience nonny and I hope that the analysis proves to be worthy of your wait 💗

Masterlist

For MC's confession let me take you here

For Gavin and MCs relationship milestones here

For a fun trivia about this date you can click here

#Meeting the family is important #Gavin preparing for being the perfect son in law #And getting help from Minor #Anon asks #mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc bai qi #mlqc haku #mlqc baek gi #mr love queen's choice #koi to producer #Meta #Analysis #Saturday night #Saturday

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angelinasway · 3 years

Text

Regaining Hope

Chapter Eight

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Sexual Assault Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever. Authors Notes: Thank you all so much for being so very supportive. You guys have been absolutely wonderful. Seriously I couldn't ask for a better group of readers. I need to warn you all that this chapter has quite the graphic and gruesome scene in it, so if that's not your thing I highly recommend skipping the part where Clark starts to watch the video. Some major questions answered here. Hope you all enjoy, and keep the reviews coming. Special thanks to my ever amazing beta Hipkarma. She always helps and inspires me. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Previous Chapters: [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six] [Chapter Seven]

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Chapter Eight

Dawn smirked as she saw the caller ID flash. So, Buffy had talked to Wes. That was good. She really didn’t want to have to break into the Watchers Council just because she was nosy and worried for her sister. Buffy hadn’t told her much when they talked yesterday, just that there was some sort of prophecy about her and this Clark guy, which just raised all sorts of red flags for her. Dawn had insisted on seeing a copy of the prophecy and her hackles raised even more when she found out how quiet Wes and Willow were trying to keep this. Looks like big sis came through however, and now it was time to give the man on the other line hell for keeping something this important from her.

“Xand, honey, can you take Abby? Wes is on the phone and it’s time for her nap anyway.” Dawn said, reaching for the phone.

“No!” Her one and a half your old screeched at the top of her lungs, making Dawn cringe. When they coined the phrase, ‘children are your parents secret revenge,’ they weren’t lying. Abigail was just like her too, even in looks.

Xander came out of their shared office, a crooked and amused smile on his lips. “You should know by now not to say that word in front of her,” He said, kissing Dawn on the forehead before reaching out and swooping up their toddler. “Come on Abby,” he said as Dawn answered her call. “Daddy will read you your favorite story.”

“Try to get Joyce down too,” She added, before saying into the phone, “Hello Wes, so good of you to finally call me.”

She heard the groan on the other end of the line and smiled. “How much do you know?”

“That there’s a prophecy about my sister and some uber-powerful guy she’s been spending time with, on your instruction I might add.” Dawn said in a mockingly sweet voice.

She heard him sigh. “Yes, that is all true. Look Dawn, I’m going to send you a copy of the prophecy through your secure fax now. We’ve been able to translate some of it, but there are certain areas where…I don’t think the language is of this world. It’s nothing like we’ve ever seen in any human or demon writings before.”

Dawn got up and walked into the office, a frown on her face. “You mean like interdimensional, there’s gotta be a reference somewhere Wes.”

There was silence over the line and for a second and she thought Wes had hung up. She’d just opened her mouth to see if he was still there, when he finally said, “No Dawn, that’s not what I meant at all.”

Her frown deepened as the first page spat out of the machine. She slid it off the rack and looked at the prophecy. There were several different languages written on the copy, Etruscan, Ancient Sumerian, Ancient Greek, and Latin. At the top were strange symbols unlike anything she’d ever seen before, almost flowing together like cursive. The next page that came out was Wesley and Willow’s translation of that page. She bit her lip, walking over to her desk and went to work making sure what they had translated so far was correct.

“So,” she began casually, “what I’m getting from the first page is that this guy is much farther from home than just another dimension.” She paused, huffing in annoyance as she snootily added,” It was Sun God by the way, not Star God.” She sighed. “Who are you using anyway, Basile?”

“Vonten,” He answered and Dawn rolled her eyes. Of course, he was using that moron’s guide.

“Vonten is an arrogant prick Wes, that book confuses people more than it helps. Burn it, it’s better as kindling. Bachman is the best at Etruscan and Ancient Sumerian, and you already know Ancient Greek and Latin enough not to need a reference.” She said, before frowning as she came to the part about the soulbond. “Wes, what the hell is a soulbond, and why is this referencing my sister and Mr. E.T. having one?”

As Wesley began to explain what they knew so far, Dawn's face began to pale. Oh, this was not of the good. Buffy was gonna wig to the nth degree when she found out.

"Does she know any of this?" Dawn asked, turning around and grabbing more of the pages that were still spitting out of her printer.

"She knows about the bond. I told her this morning." He answered.

"And what, you’re waiting until she gets pregnant before you tell her the rest?" Dawn asked angrily. "You know this is gonna freak her out..."

"Which is why I decided not to tell her." Wes interrupted.

"If you'd let me finish," Dawn snapped, slamming her hand on the desk. "I was going to say this is gonna freak her out, but it would be better if you tell her now." She huffed in frustration. "This just proves how little you guys know my sister. She absolutely will freak and she'll probably fight it at first. Just the idea of her own children having to live the life she has, is not gonna be a happy, joyous moment for her. She's already worried that Joyce or Abby, or maybe even both will be called one day.” Dawn said, before emphasizing her next words, "However, my sister is not stupid, and when push comes to shove, she'll make the right decision like she always does. I get that you’re worried about the Slayer line Wes, we all are, but keeping this from her is not the right way to go about it.”

She heard Wes’s sigh, “I realize that Dawn, but with the bond itself needing to be fulfilled, I thought that was more than enough for both of them to handle at this time.”

Dawn looked at the pages covered in the strange flowing script, similar to the symbols on the first page. Wes was right, it was a language. "We need to find a way to translate this. Do you think this is Clark's language from his home world?"

The line was silent for a moment, before he said in annoyance, “Yes, that’s what I meant when I said I don’t think the language is of this world.”

“Do you think Clark knows how to read it?” Dawn asked.

A sigh came over the line, “I honestly don’t know. I believe he just discovered where he came from, so I don’t see how he could.” He paused in thought and then murmured to himself, “But even if he can’t, perhaps the ship has a historical archive or maybe there is some form of AI technology that could translate it for us.”

Dawn frowned, “What ship?”

As Wesley explained how Buffy and Clark met and the danger Buffy had recklessly put herself in, Dawn found her ire sparking at Buffy’s stupidity. “I’m gonna kill her!” Dawn growled. “She hasn’t done something that reckless since Joyce was born. God fucking dammit, she promised me!”

Wesley sighed. “In her defense, it could have very well been her fate that made her act so rashly.” He paused before saying, “In any case, Clark was there and according to Buffy, he saved her and watched over her after she went into a healing sleep.”

Dawn was quiet as she processed that information. So, she didn’t die, which meant Buffy actively tried to stop it from happening. That was good, she was still getting smacked when Dawn saw her, but at least she hadn’t completely broken her promise from three and a half years ago. It was also good to see that this godlike Champion the prophecy spoke of wasn’t just a creature with a penchant for destruction playing at being a white hat because of a curse. That was a nice change.

“What else do you know about him?” Dawn asked. “I’m assuming you started trying to find him as soon as you started translating this.”

“Well,” Wesley began, “We first caught wind of a possible candidate about a year ago. We’d been monitoring airwave chatter for possible beings with superhuman strength when we caught a lead. A distress call came in about an oil rig off the coast of Canada in flames and about to explode. In that communication there was talk of a man rescuing the crew members aboard the rig and preventing the tower from collapsing on the rescue helicopter with his bare hands.” He paused for a moment, before saying. “We managed to find a few other incidents of him saving people, one that happened when he was thirteen. According to the incident report, his school bus went off a bridge and into the river. Three witnesses stated that a young Clark Kent managed to push the bus out of the water and rescue his classmate.”

Dawn whistled, “So this guy really is the real deal white knight, huh?”

“It would appear so.” He sighed.

“Wes we’re gonna need to access that ship.” Dawn said, looking over a small section of Sumerian that talked about a trial of choice. The rest of the page was in the alien script however, so any clue as to what that meant was beyond her.

“I know,” Wesley agreed.

“Which means, we’re gonna have to tell Buffy and Clark everything.” Dawn reiterated.

She heard Wesley groan, but he conceded nonetheless. “Alright fine, Willow needs to bring them some pendants to stave off the worst of the compulsion the bond is creating. I’ll have her stop by and get you on her way, unless you want me to tell Buffy myself, that is.”

Dawn shook her head, “No, no. I think it will be safer for everyone if I’m the one to do it.” Then she bit her lip in thought, “And don’t bother with Willow, just call me when she gets back. I think I need to do this one on my own.”

“Very well,” Wes agreed. “Willow should be finished within the next few hours. I’ll call you as soon as I know she’s returned.”

“Alright, in the meantime I’m gonna go over this and make sure all the parts I can read are translated correctly.” Dawn said, adding, "Talk in a few," before hanging up.

She sighed, rubbing her fingers along her forehead. "Well fuck," she muttered to herself.

"Everything alright?" Xander asked, coming into the office.

"No, not really," she answered handing him the translated first page of the prophecy.

She watched his eye scan the words before he blew out a breath. "So, this guys an alien?"

"Looks like." She answered.

Xander snorted, "Man the Buffster really knows how to pick 'em, doesn't she?"

Dawn mock glared, before she couldn't contain her amusement at the absurdity of the situation. "Well, you know Buffy. She doesn't do anything by halves."

****<S>**<S>****

As Clark followed Buffy down the hallway, his thoughts were a jumbled mess. He knew she had been trying to reassure him, but her words only had the opposite effect. Were they only feeling any of what they were because of the prophecy and furthermore, given the choice, would she even choose him? She had basically confessed to falling in love with her best friend. The history they had both shared, as disturbing as it was, was an important one to her. She had cared very deeply for this man. How could he ever live up to the memory of a man who had essentially changed a piece of himself for her? Part of him wanted to erase Spike’s memory from her mind, to do whatever he could to drive this man, this demon from her past and another part of him just felt wholly lost. He didn’t want to be anyone’s second best and he certainly didn’t want her to want him only because some guy thousands of years ago decided they were destined. God, he wished his dad was still alive. This would definitely be the type of thing his dad could help him through.

She stopped at a large set of double doors and turned, catching his expression before he had time to school it into a much more neutral one. She blinked in surprise, "Clark...what’s wrong?"

He shook his head, “It’s nothing Buffy.”

Her frown deepened, “Oh no, you definitely have something face. Talk to me. I promise whatever it is, I’ll try to understand.”

Clark shifted uncomfortably, before finally admitting, “I’m just feeling a little unsure about all this.”

Her eyes widened slightly, “Because of Spike?”

Clark sighed, “Well I mean think about it Buffy. You basically told me that you fell in love with your best friend and were willing to marry him for eternity, but the only reason you didn’t is because you were too scared. Would you even look twice at me if he was here now? Are the feelings I’m having for you even real, or is this just destiny trying to force us together?”

Realization flooded her expression, and she quickly shook her head. “I can’t speak for what-ifs, because I would be lying if I answered that either way…” She swallowed, “As for how you’re feeling, I’ve been under love spells before and granted you usually don’t know you’re under one when you are, but if the feeling’s part was being fabricated, we…we wouldn’t be able to fight this like we are. We would have probably already slept together.” She blushed, looking down. “Fabricated feelings they’re false obviously, but they’re very strong…strong enough to make people dangerous. If what we were feeling was a manifestation, you wouldn’t have these doubts Clark, you wouldn’t even realize there was doubts to be had.” She met his eyes then, her expression serious and stoic. “And as for the fear part, I didn’t want to get into it because…” She sighed again. “You remember how I told you that Angelus showed up right when I was starting to get my life back together?”

Clark nodded, “I remember.”

“Well, what I didn’t say is that I was planning on retiring.” She rolled her eyes, “I had this grand plan of going back to school and getting a degree in Art History and moving to Hawaii to open a gallery.” She shook her head, “It was stupid, I know.”

He immediately shook his head, “That doesn’t sound stupid at all.”

Buffy blushed. “I just mean it was stupid that I ever thought it could happen.” She shook her head, “Anyway, I started training a girl named Rayanne when we were first getting the new Watchers Council on its feet. She was bright, witty, resourceful and she already had the makings of someone who could be an excellent leader.” She looked at her feet, her hands clenching. “Me and Giles had agreed, in three-years-time, when Ray was eighteen, she would step in and fill my shoes. Faith didn’t want the position and the only other possible candidate that actually did, I flat out refused due to her inability to get along with just about anyone but Willow. I mentored Ray for over a year and she became…well, like a little sister to me. After the whole General Voll fiasco, I was ready to promote her to Senior Slayer status. She had been on it more than any other girl at the compound, helpful and demanding when need be. She’d fought through a horde of zombies and we came out of it with zero losses. The attack was completely unexpected and if she hadn’t been there, I don’t know what I would have done.” She met his eyes, “I was so proud of her.” Buffy sighed, “A few months later is when the first girl, Alicia went missing, and by the time Ray disappeared, there were already six that seemed to have just dropped off the planet.” She swallowed, “Angelus revealed himself and killed Giles a few weeks later, and almost three weeks after is when we found Alicia. She was the first and youngest to go missing and she was the first he dropped on our doorstep.” Buffy shook her head squeezing her eyes shut, “I knew what he was doing to Rayanne then, and that she would probably get the worst of it because of her association with me. Alicia was just a taste of what Angelus was capable of.” She opened her eyes, meeting his. “I wanted to have Spike claim me so we would be strong enough to save her and the rest of them, and I was scared because I knew I’d be asking for the wrong reasons. I was afraid Spike would know it too and I would only hurt him by asking. Does that make sense?”

It was Clark’s turn to avert his eyes. “Yes,” he said quietly.

She pulled out her phone and began to scroll through it, “Well just in case you have any doubts…” She swallowed, “I don’t even know why I kept this. Angelus loved tormenting me and we didn’t know it at the time but there were several Watchers from the old regime who were very unhappy with the way we were running things. Some of them made deals with Angelus, gave out my email and phone number and my location.” She looked at him, her lips pursed in anger. “One of them would even take video or pictures, documenting my pain for him when he couldn’t be there hiding in the shadows to see it.” She handed him her phone, “I’ve never watched this one, it’s the morning I found Rayanne, he saved her for last. I don’t need to see it, I lived it.” She nodded at her phone, “When he sent it, I didn’t even open it. I just dropped it in an archive and it’s been there ever since.” She shook her head, “I highly recommend only opening the third video file, the one that says, ‘Are you broken yet?’ She met his eyes then, “The first two will be what he did to her. So, unless you feel like throwing up, I would skip those.” She gestured with her chin at the double doors. “I’ll be in there beating on a bag, meet me when you’re done.”

She turned without another word and went through the double doors not looking back. Clark looked down at the phone swallowing heavily, before opening the file. The video began with the image of the front of a house, not unlike the one they were in now, except there was a large tree in front and something very obviously dangling from it. It looked to be sometime in the middle of the night or perhaps early morning, but he couldn't tell either way due to the lights on the house illuminating everything.

The person carrying the camera ran towards the house and a refined British voice in distress yelled, "Ms. Summers, come quickly. I think it may be Miss Stevenson."

The front door flew open and there she was, except she looked nothing like she did now, her eyes were wild, feral even, and she was so pale and sucked up. She looked hollow, worn-down, nothing like the girl he’d spent the last couple of days getting to know. The scream that tore from her lips and the look on her face when she saw what was hanging from the tree, tore through him like a tidal wave of emotion. Clark felt himself growing angry at the Watcher, who was obviously playing both sides. Another man with bleached hair and nothing on but a pair of black jeans came flying through the door next, his eyes wild and worried.

The camera panned and followed Buffy as she ran out to the tree, falling to her knees and screaming again. Clark saw what was in the tree then and his stomach almost rebelled right then and there. It was a young girl, no older than sixteen and the only skin left on her body was on her beautiful face and near her pelvic region. The girl’s expression was frozen in a horrified scream that no one who cared ever had the chance to hear. A large white sheet wrapped itself tightly around the girl’s wrists and tied over the lowest branch, the excess linen draping behind the dead girl as some sort of sick backdrop silhouette for the body hanging lifelessly from the tree. There was hardly any blood to speak of, just a pinkish residue from where the body had touched the clean white linen, which told Clark she had been dead for more than a few hours. It wouldn’t be visible to a human through the recording, but because of his enhanced vision Clark could even see puncture wounds in places and deep gashes from where the girl had been restrained.

The blond man came into the picture then and the Watcher came towards them, circling around so he could see Buffy’s expression, or at least that’s what he assumed the person with the camera was doing. Buffy's mouth was open in silent gulping sobs, giant tears dripping down her cheeks.

“Love,” The blond man whispered in an apparent British accent not nearly as refined as the Watchers Clark had heard so far. The man fell to his knees behind her looking up at the tree. He shuddered as tears sprang to his electric blue eyes. “Don’t look Buffy…please kitten, please go back in the house.”

The man placed his hand on her shoulder, and Buffy turned at the gesture and Clark could no longer see her face as she flung herself into the man’s arms and began to sob harder. “It’s Ray,” she howled. “Oh god, it’s Ray.”

“Shh,” The blond man hushed, rubbing hands along her back in a comforting gesture. “I know,” He choked. “I know, love.”

“We…we can’t leave her like that.” She sobbed. “I-I have to get her down.”

Clark watched the blond man close his eyes and shake his head, “I’ll do it. Go back in the house, please Slayer.”

“No,” Buffy shook her head as Clark caught the silhouette of another man flying from the house and over to them. The sound of retching could be heard, and it took Clark a second to realize the sound came from whomever had just come from the house and seen the body. “It has to be me. Don’t you see, don’t you get it? I knew,” she sobbed. “I knew what he was doing to her and I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, sweet girl, you’ve been trying to find her. We all have. This isn’t your fault.” The man choked.

“It’s not good enough,” She screamed, shoving away from him and falling on her rear, “And it is my fault, all of it! They were called because of me, because I was too chicken shit to just except the power that was offered to me!”

A sob broke from her lips, and she turned looking directly at the cameraman a sudden realization dawning in her hollow eyes. “You!” She snarled, her eyes flashing. “It’s you, isn’t it?” She started marching towards the cameraman.

“Ms.…Ms. Summers,” Whomever was holding the camera stuttered and then she was there, a well-aimed kick flying towards the camera before Clark saw sky for a few seconds.

“I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch!” She screamed suddenly hovering over the man, the wild fury in her eyes telling Clark that she had every intention of killing this man, and part of Clark couldn’t agree more. “No one else but an Angelus minion would have called me out here for Rayanne! Everyone else would know better!”

Clark watched as she threw a punch, the sickening sound of cartilage breaking ringing through the speaker as the guy howled in pain. The way her arms were angled next and the gurgling sound through the phone told him she was choking the man before three sets of arms suddenly grabbed her, pulling her off. Clark could hear the man wheeze as he tried to catch his breath while Buffy screamed and fought the three people who had pulled her away. Faith was one of them, and then the blond man, which Clark was pretty sure by now was Spike, and another man, tall, brunet, with an eyepatch. He saw Willow in the distance coming towards them and when she reached them, she touched Buffy’s shoulder before she could react and muttered a few words that sounded like Latin. Buffy suddenly collapsed and Clark realized Willow had put her to sleep. All eyes then turned towards the cameraman.

“Get her in the house, Xander.” Spike growled.

“Uh, Spike–” Xander started to say when Spike turned on him.

“Get her in the bloody fucking house, now!” He snarled, a sound like grinding bone emanating from the man as his voice altered to something more sinister. “I’m not going to kill him.” He said turning back towards the camera as two glowing amber eyes stared at Clark.

“Speak for yourself,” Faith said marching towards the man. “I’ve been getting those fucking emails too.”

“So have I,” Willow said, her eyes black as she stared the camera down.

“We won’t have to kill him,” Spike clarified as he fell in step with Faith. “Angelus will do that for us.”

“How you figure?” Faith asked, her eyes just as enraged as Buffy’s had been.

Spike suddenly sprung forward, his arm reaching out and a ripping sound emanated as the man screamed. His hand came back with what looked like a wad of hair. “This enough Red?”

“Plenty,” Willow said, sudden realization dawning in her black eyes.

“Now,” Spike said, a sinister grin stretching his fanged mouth, to the whimpering man. “The way I figure it, you got three options. The first being, you can go back to Angelus and give him this tape, at which point he finds out we now have a way to track you, and oh trust me Marcus, he will most definitely kill you for that.” Clark heard the man begin to sob, and part of him wanted to turn off the video at that point but couldn’t look away at the furious amber eyes that stared back at the camera. “Option number two, you can destroy the tape and run, which if we’re being honest would be the preferable of the three, but I’m sure you are well aware of the kind of wrath he would bring down on you if he didn’t get to see his almost masterpiece complete, so I’m sure you won’t.” Spike’s hand suddenly flew forward and the man screamed in pain, “Or option three,” He growled, “Where you run like a coward and keep the tape for leverage, hoping that your usefulness hasn’t run its course.”

He suddenly had the camera in his hands, staring directly into the screen his eyes burning into the lens. “Looks like your mole got ousted. This is your last one, Angelus. We’re coming for you and when we’re done there won’t be anything left.” The screen suddenly went black as the video cut off.

Clark let out a trembling breath looking around him and realizing he had slid to the floor at some point, his heart pounding in his chest. God, he didn’t know, he didn’t understand until that moment. That poor girl, no wonder Buffy was desperate. How many girls did she find like that before this one was left for her? How many videos did she force herself to endure before this one was sent, even Faith and Willow had said this wasn’t the first one? Clark squeezed his eyes shut, she had told him, so had Gunn but to see it. She was driven half-crazy by what that vampire had done and he could not blame her for that. What would he do if it was his mother in that position? God, he could only imagine.

He shakily got to his feet, listening as he heard the sound of a fist hitting leather, he walked to the doors and threw them open, not stopping when she paused to look at him. He had to reassure himself that she was okay, that she wasn’t that angry creature that he saw in the video. He went straight to her, his arms coming around her in a crushing embrace before his lips met hers. God, she was so strong, he didn’t realize how much until that moment. Buffy immediately melted into him, her lips parting for him as he slid his tongue into her mouth. She was such a small woman, everything about her was deceptively tiny, except her strength and fortitude both physically and emotionally. To go through what she had and still be able to function on a normal level was just short of a miracle.

He pulled away and looked down into her green eyes, haunted by her past but not dead and hateful like in the video. He bent down and laid his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I…” He started, “I didn’t…I’m so sorry Buffy.” He whispered, and he could still feel himself trembling. “I didn’t… You hear words like torture, rape, and murder but–”

“They’re not real until you see it for yourself.” She finished in understanding.

Clark sighed, hugging her closely, her head resting against his chest. “I get it now, not…but I understand how desperate you must have been to try and save the girls from that.”

He heard her sniffle, “I didn’t know what else to do. I watched all the others you know, even…even what he did to them. It was my fault, you see; those girls lost their lives because they had a connection to me.” She shook her head, “If they hadn’t been called, they would still be alive today.”

Clark pulled away and used his hand to raise her chin so he could see her eyes, “You blame yourself for every one of them that dies no matter how it happens, don’t you?”

She closed her eyes a shuddering breath hissing through her lips, before she opened them, meeting his gaze head on. “How can I not?”

He sighed, hugging her close again and shook his head. He had no response to that; he didn’t think she should. He didn’t think it was healthy, but he didn’t want to get in an argument about it with her right now either.

They stayed like that for a little while before she whispered, “You’re shaking.”

Clark nodded. “I know, the video…I’m still upset.”

She pulled away, meeting his eyes again. “Do you want me to show you how to throw a punch properly? The heavy bags have been warded well, we can start there.” She looked down, “It will…it will help relieve some of what you’re feeling at least.”

“Yeah,” He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, okay.”

****<S>**<S>****

To say Clark was a fast learner when it came to training would have been the understatement of the year. He was an absolute natural. He moved with precision and grace, sometimes striking so fast she almost didn't see him move.

As of now she was simply holding the bag for him as he got comfortable with the rhythm of landing punches and even with the wards on the bag, she could feel the impact of his strikes. At this rate she would need her suit within a few days to let him get the feel of fighting a moving target. At some point she might even bring him back to Cleveland to put him up against multiple fighters and see how he did.

"Remember to move your feet,” She reminded. "A moving target is harder to hit."

He nodded, bounced on the balls of his feet and struck, the impact of the punch making her bones rattle. "Whoa, nice one Clark." She laughed, "Felt that one in my toes."

He grinned, striking the bag again harder. "You were right," he said casually in between punches. "This does help."

She grinned, "Nothing like getting your aggression out with a bit of violence." And then she blushed, smirking, "Well almost nothing."

He chuckled as he threw a few more punches in quick succession, his own smirk forming on his lips. He had a mischievous look in his eyes and had just opened his mouth to comment when Buffy’s phone rang.

Buffy sighed, releasing the bag. "That will either be Wes or Willow."

It was now around three in the afternoon; Clark had told her he had to pick his mom up at six and it was an hour drive to Smallville from where they were. So, she was grateful that they were going to be able to get this taken care of before meeting his mom.

Buffy walked over to her phone and answered. "Hey Wes," she said in greeting. "What's the haps?"

He was silent for a moment and she could almost hear him roll his eyes at her butchering of the English language. "Willow," He began, "should be there shortly. Dawn would also like to see you. I told her I would call her once Willow was done securing the pendants."

Buffy frowned, “What? Why?”

“Dawn and I have come to the conclusion that one of the languages in the prophecy that I have been unable to identify, is most likely written in the script of Clark’s home world.” He paused, “We are going to need access to the ship, unless of course Clark can read it.”

Buffy looked at Clark and raised an eyebrow, but he quickly shook his head. “Only a few words,” He confirmed. “I think the computer on the ship might be able to translate it though.”

“That’s a negative, Wes,” Buffy answered, beginning to pace. “But he agrees that the computer on the ship should be able to do the job.”

“Very well, I’ll inform Dawn to dress accordingly. The ship is still in the same location I presume?” He asked.

“Whoa,” Buffy said halting her steps, realizing what he was suggesting. “You want us to go tonight? Clark has to pick up his mom from work, Wes.”

“I think it would be for the best. The sooner we get this prophecy translated, the better.” He paused. “Lorne told me I needed to send out more Slayers to India, Kansas, and Metropolis within the next two weeks and I would very much like to know if I should be sending two or a few hundred. If this prophecy gives any indication of what’s to come, I would very much like to know what it is.”

Buffy and Clark exchanged worried looks. “He only told me something was coming for Clark, and we’re gonna need all hands-on deck when it does.”

Buffy watched Clark swallow nervously. “He told me my time for hiding was almost up, but he said it was in the coming month.” His eyes widened in realization. “We need to translate that prophecy.”

Buffy nodded in agreement, “And I need to train you harder than just beating on a bag, which means it’s gonna be eight-hour days from here on out.” Clark opened his mouth to argue and she held up her hand, “We’ll get as much as we need to do in the mornings done, but if for whatever reason we can’t, I would loan you the money before I would let you lose your home.”

Clark frowned, “Buffy–”

“Take it from someone who knows what those kinda money troubles feel like,” She interrupted again. “I think in the scheme of things saving the world is a little more important than pride, don’t you?”

His frown deepened. “You think it’s going to be that big?”

“Lorne said all hands-on deck and it’s you. Someone coming after you has got to be as powerful, if not more.” She watched his face fall and reached out her hand out running it down his arm, “You’ll be ready, and now that we have a general idea of where this stuff might take place, we’ll all be even more prepared.”

“Wes,” she said, addressing the Watcher once more. “Were gonna need Willow to keep close, and I would call Illyria back from Cairo.”

“I agree,” Wesley said, just as a portal opened up and Willow walked through. Her smile melting away at the look on both Buffy and Clark’s faces.

“Uh-oh,” Willow said nervously. “I know that face.”

“Is that Willow?” Wesley asked over the line.

“Yeah,” Buffy said.

“Let me speak with her, please.”

Buffy held out the phone to Willow, who frowned but took it anyway. “Hey Wes,” Willow said in greeting as Buffy walked over to where Clark was standing looking more than a little worried.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

He attempted to smile but he couldn’t pull it off. “Hey, yourself.”

She bit her lip watching him, seeing the turmoil play across his face of having an unknown enemy out there that could be responsible for hurting others when they decided to rear their ugly heads. She didn’t blame him, if she needed to pull out her big guns as Lorne hinted then it could definitely get bad. She was optimistic however, because of what she’d had to face in her past. Clark didn’t have that same luxury.

“I-I know you’re not exactly used to going up against big bads, or having to fight gods,” she started. “But I promise you Clark, no matter what it is we’ll deal with it together. Tonight, I’ll have my sister meet us at your place and we’ll go to the ship and find out what this prophecy says. Whatever’s coming, we’ll deal. I promise you; we won’t lose.”

“How do you know?” He asked, a bit of hope showing in his eyes.

She stared at him seriously, “Because I don’t lose when it’s the world.”

His lips quirked slightly, and he opened his mouth to say something when Willow walked up to them. “Wes wants me to fit you for a suit,” She said to Clark, handing Buffy her phone before saying, “And, he wants to talk to you.”

As Buffy reached for the phone Clark said, “I already have a suit and it’s Kryptonian.”

Both Buffy and Willow blinked in surprise at his words, their voices ringing out in unison. “You do?”

He nodded, “Yeah, it’s on the ship still, but I have one.”

Willow smiled, “Well then, that’s gonna make this quicker. Can you bring it to me? I can enhance it with magic, add some safety features and protect you against the mystical.”

“Will that still work, even if the material isn’t of Earth?” He asked.

“Yeah Wes,” Buffy finally said into her phone, pulling herself away from the conversation. So, Clark already had a suit, she wondered what it looked like.

“So, for the time being I’m going to send fifty Slayers to each location, but keep the others on standby incase things go pear-shaped.” He said, already planning ahead. “I’ll also be moving quite a few closer to all three locations, that way all the girls have backup nearby. I think Willow should stay there at the safehouse that way she’s not far from either of you.”

“And Dawn, Xander, and the kids? They live in Metropolis after all.” Buffy asked.

“Perhaps you should explain the situation to her when she gets there. Staying there at the safe house with Willow might also be a wise move for them.” Wes said, adding, “As well as a few Slayers. I know Faith’s been itching to get out of Cleveland for a mission, maybe she and a few of the other girls should accompany her.”

“Just as long as it’s not Tanya, that girl’s a liability and she doesn’t listen to anyone.” Buffy said.

“I concur,” Wesley agreed. “Only the girls who are focused and dedicated will be allowed to participate in this mission. I would like as little casualties as possible.”

“I agree,” Buffy nodded, “What about the mystics, how many of those can we tap?”

“I have sixty-eight on file, I’ll start making phone calls now.” He sighed. “I’m just glad we have this much to go on.”

“Me too,” Buffy agreed. “I’ll call Dawn when Willow gets done here and tell her where to meet us and to put on her suit and a warm hat.”

“Very well,” he said. “Call me when you know more and I’ll begin the preparations.”

Buffy hung up, walking back over to Willow and Clark as they spoke to each other a bit awkwardly. “So, let’s get this over with Wills.”

Willow quickly nodded opening a small bag she brought with her. “So,” she said quickly. “These were a bit difficult to make since from what we’ve read the compulsion itself seems to be based purely on hormones as well as a need to unite your souls.” She looked at them both, “It took me a little while to find what I needed and even longer to put the spell together.” She sighed, “The pendants themselves will be made out of several crystals used to block compulsion, amethyst, ametrine, chrysocolla, and ruby.”

Willow pulled out two small corked vials filled with multicolored stones and handed them to both Buffy and Clark. “Now, hold out your hands and link your free ones together.”

Buffy and Clark did as she asked, holding their hands out palm up. Willow placed a vial in each of their hands and then covered them with her own hands, closing her eyes and beginning to chant. Buffy immediately began to feel her hand heat up and for a second it almost became unbearable and Buffy even watched Clark wince from the heat. It was gone just as quickly however and in its place were two hard looking marble like multicolored stones with a dark metallic chain that would hang from each of their necks. Buffy heard Willow mutter one more spell that she recognized to be a ward against breaking.

“Well go on.” Willow said smiling happily at her work. “Try them on, see if it worked.”

Buffy quickly slipped the necklace over her head and a sigh of relief left her lips. The sexual tension that had never fully abated her all day finally easing enough to where she wasn’t thinking about sex every few seconds.

Clark had a similar reaction, his face seeming to ease slightly, but Buffy was surprised when he turned to Willow and asked, “You said the compulsion is only based on hormones, does that mean any feeling we have that aren’t sexual are real?”

Willow nodded, “Of course, real love is something that can only be based off of free will. Its why love spells don’t ever work. You can’t force someone to love you.”

Buffy watched amused as Clark seemed to sigh in relief, and then quickly blushed when he noticed her watching him. “Come on stud,” she said hooking her arm through his and dragging him towards the door of the training room. “Let me go grab my stuff before we go get your mom,” a grin creeping over her face as she turned and wished Willow a good night and a promise to catch up tomorrow. “And for the record”, she added quietly as they walked out of the training room. “I still want to jump you, that hasn’t changed even with the necklace on.”

He quickly reached out to grab her arm, but she easily dodged him and took off down the hallway, a blush and a giggle leaving her lips.

Clark was suddenly there in front of her, a crooked and devilish smile on his lips. “Is that so?” And then his lips were on hers, his tongue sliding into her mouth as she squealed in surprise.

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mrvdocks · 4 years

Text

Plus One

Things get real. Can you totally hide your feelings for Steve any longer?

smut warning

(chapter four) @mochminnie @wolfish-willow

You’re in the bathroom trying not to freak out or let it show just how much your mind was reeling from earlier. It couldn’t be happening, right? There’s no way you were falling for Steve Harrington.

No, no way. He was so different from you.

But opposites attract right?

You grimaced, thinking back to the way his eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips. The way he too seemed unsure of going for it.

This would change your entire dynamic. Were you even ready to open up to someone else?

Steve knew you, sure, but just the things at surface level. Things you wanted him to know. You were afraid to even tell him about everything else back home, thinking maybe he would freak at the first sight of a parent gushing over how perfect he seemed.

If there’s anything a person never is, it’s perfect.

In many ways, Steve just didn’t seem like an ideal candidate. He never put his things away, snores too loudly, had the romantic personality of a ninth-grader, was obsessed with his hair way more than you were, and he looked for superficial things.

He knew it too deep down, it was better to ignore the flaws for the love we think we deserved instead of feeling contrite when the ugly truth was out there.

That’s where you differed. You needed honesty, it was the only way to live.

Knock.

“Hey, you okay?” Steve’s voice echoed from behind the door.

You squeezed your eyes shut. He just had to be here right now, didn’t he?

You think of something gross enough to keep him on the other side.

“I think the food’s not agreeing with me right now.”

“Oh okay, do you need anything?” Damn it, leave!

“No! I mean - no. It’s alright. I’ll be right out.”

You count down from ten, trying to ease your anxious nerves. You take deep breaths and exhale once you get to the primary numbers. At one, you stand straight and march out of the bathroom as if nothing happened. Steve sits on the edge of the bed in his dress shirt now, his blazer discarded onto the chair next to him.

He’s watching the tv blankly, a rerun of a show you both had seen back home fills out the room. You grab your night clothes and return to the bathroom, changing as fast as you can to slide into bed and call it a night. When you return, Steve’s still where he was before, only now fidgeting with the cuff links on his wrist.

You should be paid for how much you’re able to get out of him.

“Are you okay? You look like you’re about to cry or something.”

“My dad’s getting married.”

It takes you by surprise. Steve’s never talked about his dad before, not even to Robin.

“Oh,” You say simply. “Like renewing his vows or something?”

He shakes his head.

“My mom moved away a while ago. My dad, he uh…..met this woman half his age after her. She’s got kids from another marriage.” He flicks the cuff link.

“Before I moved to New York with Robin, I would just see and hear them all the time at home. He was nicer to them, do things with them that I had to beg him to do with me when I was a kid.”

You sit next to him, bringing your hand to rest atop his own.

“The night before I left, I just told him off. I told him it wasn’t fair that he got to start over with another family just because he messed ours up. He called me before we got here saying he wanted me to be his best man.”

He falls silent, his lip quivers but he purses his lips into a straight line to keep himself from letting it out. You can’t say much that will help him, but you understand his disdain and avoidance of weddings thus far.

“What’d you tell him?”

He shrugs. “I told him I’d think about it. He expects an answer when we go home.”

“Well, at least he’s happy.” You sigh.

“Yeah, for now. And then it’s onto the next one.”

You don’t want to do it, but since you’re just letting the skeletons out of the closet, you might as well.

“You know my parents are still together?” you start. “My mom’s always been this, overbearing cross that my dad carries around. She yells at him all the time but I think he’s checked out already. They didn’t want to divorce because they thought it would damn them or mess me up. But I think it did anyway.”

Steve’s entranced by you, you were opening up.

“They’ve stuck it out since they had me. And it’s just sad now. I think about them sometimes, just sitting in that house, eating their dinner and sleeping together, not saying a word to each other.”

Steve opens his mouth like he’s about to apologize for even bringing the parent topic up.

“Sure your parents split up, but at least they’re not miserable. I can tell you from experience you would’ve liked that a lot less.” You conclude, removing your hand from his and leaving to go to bed.

It’s been a weird night.

Steve stops you though, his fingers snaking onto your wrist. You turn back, thinking he’s going to talk more about his family or dive deeper into some other trauma. Imagine your surprise when he stands and bends to your level to pull you into his arms, bringing you in tight and firm. You’re taken aback, arms flying up but eventually settling on his broad back. Your fingers clutch his shirt in fistfuls, taking in the smell of him.

“Hey, Steve?”

He hums.

“I’m totally reading your boner right now.”

“And the moment’s over.” He says, pulling away. You almost frown at the loss of his body pressing against yours.

“I’m kidding!” You huff, pushing him back onto the bed.

You settle in after he changes, pulling the covers up to your chest and putting your arms above them in thought. Steve sees you staring at the ceiling.

“Have you gone catatonic on me?”

“No, it’s just….this is the most I’ve gotten out of you in two years.”

“You’ve known me for two years.” He crawls in, getting comfortable.

“Yeah but, you know, are these really things you’ve told Robin before?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

“She never asked.”

Truthfully, it wasn’t that. While Robin felt comfortable revealing the truth about herself that Fourth of July, Steve had learned to keep things to himself. It’s how he was raised. But you and Robin changed that, especially with the way you tended to overshare things sometimes.

You turn onto your side, facing him. He’s thinking about something, and he looks so magnificent doing it. The way his hair rests on his forehead, the way his fingers curl around the blanket...

Oh no. Is this how it starts? Admiring him? Craving his touch like earlier? Wanting his attention fully on you and not all these other women? It was so juvenile, feeling like this was your first love again. The strong feeling hitting you just like the waves did earlier.

It was no secret you were touch starved, but there was something in the way his touch relaxed you. It made you think sometimes. Whatever this feeling was, it was different from what you felt with Danny. You jumped the shark with him, you didn’t really know him.

But with Steve, you were starting to. He was bare bones with you.

“Goodnight.” He whispers, turning the bedside lamp off.

“Goodnight.”

“Are you telling me you don’t know how to ride a bike?” You ask Steve, watching him shift uncomfortably and unevenly on the beach cruiser.

It was your last day being in Virginia, and you didn’t want to sit in the hotel and gorge on food until you passed out. That’s what home was reserved for.

Joyce had spoken of how lovely the horses and horseback riding was here, but that was closed so you settled for the next best thing. Riding bikes at the beach.

“No I - I do know, I’m just saying this is a hard seat.”

He’s been adamant about this for five minutes now. Every now and then a girl will pass by and he’ll try to sit, only to fall on his side. You’ve taken so many snapshots of this, each time bellowing with ridiculous laughter.

“When we go home I’m developing this and hanging it on the fridge.”

“Erase this footage!” He gestures to the camera, losing balance again.

“Make me, Harrington!” You can’t help but shoot back.

Passersby found it funny the way you two were bickering. Even more so when you lent over to show Steve how to keep his arms and legs on the bike, him reassuring you he knew where everything went.

“I can do it.”

“Okay, let’s see then.” You cross your arms and stand aside waiting.

He mutters to himself and puts both his feet on the pedals, not falling to either side this time. He grips the handlebars and pedals forward, passing you with an excitement lighting up his face that a child would have when they were first learning.

He can’t manage the turn and falters, sticking a foot and hand out to cushion his fall. You catch up to him, ready to help but he lays down onto the grass and accepts his failure.

“Come on, you’ll get the hang of it. You just need more practice.”

You hold out your hand, waiting for him to take it.

“I know this keeps you healthy, but at what cost?” He grabs on, using you to balance him when he gets to his feet again. He’s too tall and heavy for you, prompting you to waver slightly and hold onto him.

You pull away when you realize your hands rested on his chest, his other arm holding onto your lower back. He scratches the back of his head nervously uttering an apology.

Feeling the blush creep to your cheeks, you return to your ride, mounting and waiting for him to do the same.

“Try to catch up.” You smirk, racing off down the hill and squealing.

“What are you, Evel Knievel?!” He yells after you, wobbling and gritting his teeth as he follows after you.

You have the upper hand on him the entire time, often hiding behind shops and emerging from behind him when he thinks he’s faster. You ride until the sun sets, enjoying the breeze and the little bit of sun before stopping at an ice cream shop. Steve thinks he’s something of an ice cream connoisseur when you look at flavors. You two end up fighting on flavors before settling on two different ones and eating outside in a garden the shop owner called a hidden gem.

“No way, cookies ‘n cream is the best one.” He remarks, finishing off the cone.

“Mint chocolate is actually superior and I won’t hear another word about it.” You took your time, enjoying the sensation your mouth was on.

He shakes his head. “It’s basically gum! It’s disgusting!”

“But it tastes so good!” You take another bite teeth first and moan in delight.

He groans in disgust but nonetheless is amused when you try to get him to eat a bit of it. He avoids your hand, moving his head out of the way every time it’s shoved in his face. You wait, plotting.

“You have some on your lip.” You say, pointing toward his top lip. He licks at it, tasting nothing.

“There’s noth -”

He’s muffled by a mouthful mint chocolate. You can’t help it when the corners of your lips lift into a smug smirk.

“Funny, huh?” He says, wiping it off with his hand.

He takes the rest of the cone and dips his fingertips in it, turning his attention to painting your cheeks and lips with as much as he can. You recoil and gasp as the cold sensation, trying to get it off but he keeps attacking.

“Okay! Okay! Truce!” You wave a figurative white flag. He stops, proud of his work, and tops it off by rustling your hair.

“I’m so gonna get you,” You promise, wiping at your cheeks and going to get him with the residue when you turn to face him and find your faces are closer than ever.

You fall silent, the trouble maker in you declining to come back for an encore.

“What, no smartass remark this time?” He teases.

As cliche as it might sound, you’re lost in his smugness. His smile falters, his brows furrowing as he realizes what he’s doing, the gap between your faces closing. You close your eyes first, testing the waters and pressing your lips against his softly. He pauses for a moment, suddenly aware of the gravity of what you were doing, bringing his hand up for your cheek to rest on. His eyes flutter shut soon after, diving into your lips and tasting the mixture of sweets.

He kisses you feverishly and desperately, sighing as he relaxes into you. Your fingers tug at his hair and the back collar of his shirt. He leads you down onto the grass, flowers decorate your head in a red halo. He settles in between your legs and holds himself up by his forearms, his fingers entangling themselves in your hair as he cocks his head to the side to get more of you.

It’s been a while but both of you are antsy and eager. You kick off your shoes and immediately make quick work of his belted pants. He catches your drift and helps you with your skirt, pulling the long pleated material up to snag both ends of your panties.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.” He whispers.

“No, it’s okay, just - here,” You grunt as you try to help him from where you’re laying, lifting your hips up to let the fabric slide off. The cool air of the night makes you shiver.

Steve peppers you with kisses as you reach for the belt and unbuckle it. Hearing it come undone makes you even more aroused.

“Hold on.” He says in a breathy voice, reaching between your bodies and lining himself in. You tease him by wrapping a leg around his torso and pushing him in slowly with the heel of your foot against his butt.

The feeling overwhelms him, letting out a sharp exhale. He glances back to your smug face and glares at you momentarily.

You move in sync, your hand grasping onto his broad shoulders and the other on his bicep to keep the pace. He grunts into your shoulder, lost in the lust. His hand comes to rest under your head to support it while also gripping it with each thrust he bucked into you.

Each thrust was different, pleasurable, and enticing. It fulfilled the need for him you had that night at the beach. You catch yourself smiling, knowing none of the bridesmaids or guests he tried flirting with got this far. Not even Sissy.

He hits a spot in you that rouses you out of your thoughts and leaves you mewling wantonly. You know he won’t last, not at the rate his thrusts are going. He’s crying out, bucking against you in fervor, gripping your hair harder, and groaning louder into your neck. You made him this way.

Ever since the first wedding, seeing you out of your element made him reconsider some things. Sure if he’d gotten a girlfriend out of this, it would be good for him. But something about you made him feel the way he thought he felt for Nancy.

He felt seventeen all over again, giddy and in love and a little horny. He just didn’t know if you felt the same. But after the beach incident and the way you took the lead first, all doubts went away.

Thinking about you, he slides his thumb into his mouth and lubricates it, snaking it down to the neglected pearl in between your legs. Your eyes shut in ecstasy at the added sensation, your back arching into him. You feel your legs shake and your feet writhe against his ass trying to amplify the feeling. His heavy breaths, needy kisses, and raunchy whispers in your ear are absolute heaven to you.

You come before him, muffling your lewd moans into his shoulder and milking him for everything he’s got. He comes with a final sloppy thrust and collapses onto you, knocking the wind out of you and leaving you catching your breath.

He pants, breath hot and heavy against your collarbone. Your legs unwrap from their previous position, now shaky and limp.

Once you two catch your breath after about a minute or two, Steve lifts his head to rest his forehead against yours. You both chuckle, finally acknowledging the broken tension.

Steve kisses you again, this time without fear or doubt. Just pure adoration.

You don’t really feel yourself fall asleep, neither does he. But you’re definitely mortified in the morning when you hear voices that wake you up with a start.

“Cooter’s out.” The old gardener points out.

The statement wakes you up, and when you realize you just flashed your privates you stand up quickly and shake Steve awake. He groans, but opens his eyes, his smile dropping once he notices the man in front of you two.

“Cooter’s out.” The old man repeats.

You pull the skirt all the way down and grab your shoes quickly while Steve tucks himself back in and apologizes profusely. You grab his hand and race out of the garden, red as a tomato and grab the bikes to go back to the hotel.

The car ride to the airport is quiet. You thank yourself for bringing something to read to avoid mentioning the embarrassing aftermath. Steve didn’t bring anything to distract him like you did, but he glances at you every so often. When your eyes meet, you both turn away quickly. But the smile on both your faces betrays you both.

Steve doesn’t even bother flirting with the flight attendant this time, his eyes are completely on you. It feels odd. You can’t even find a smart-ass thing to say, it’s like you’re short-circuiting. You didn’t know what he was thinking, but if the constant staring and easy smiles and looks of adoration he gave you were any indications, he was whipped.

You sigh in relief as you plop onto the couch, letting all your things fall after Steve gets in. He takes the initiative to break the ice when he collapses onto your chest.

You’re winded again. “Whoa, someone ate too much shrimp at the wedding.”

Steve suppresses a chuckle, taking you in. You had some type of glow he’d never noticed before.

“So…” He begins.

“So…”

“About last night,” he starts but you cut him off.

“We don’t need to talk about it, you know if you don’t want to.”

“I do.” He murmurs into your chest. He hugs your body, his head resting on your chest the same way Mickey would do it.

Damn it, you actually liked this.

“Great sex.” You blurt, shutting your eyes in disbelief at how awkward he suddenly made you.

His dimples peeked out as he felt himself chuckling. “Yeah, great sex.”

“I’m sorry,” you jittered. “I’m never usually like this.”

“Oh, I know. But it’s okay. I had fun.”

You haven’t felt this excited for something to potentially happen since you met Danny. But even now you were hopeful.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want me to go with you to your dad’s wedding?”

He must’ve remembered he had to answer that best man question because he’s unmoving.

How bad can it be? He thinks. Now that I have you.

“Yes please.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #joe keery x reader

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

Curiosity Killed the Kat

Author: @mellarkablegirl

Prompt: Everlark going to a haunted house (or other haunted tour event, e.g., zombie paintball, haunted farm, etc) Everlark can be friends or together. One of them is scared, and the other is fearless. You choose which! The emergence of fluff and/or romance is a bonus! [submitted by @mandelion82]

Rating: T

Author’s Note: This is part 1 of 3. The other two parts will be posted on my blog. Thank you!

__________

“Ugh! Peeta Mellark is the biggest thorn in my side,” she all but yelled into the emptiness of her apartment.

Katniss Everdeen, or as the gossip rags liked to call her, Miss Uptight Restaurant Heiress, was a perfectionist. She ran a tight ship. The three restaurants she owned on the upper east side of Panem were her babies, and if there was one thing she hated more than mistakes, it was a wrench in her carefully calculated plans. The head chef of one of her most celebrated outlets was just that, a giant wrench in her plans. Not that she could blame him really, but where did he get off with his jovial, always ready for a laugh, all-around chaotic personality? She still remembered the day she was forced (yes forced, there was no way she did it willingly) to hire the culinary genius, as the restaurant world called him.

She’d been having the week from hell. No scratch that. The whole month was doomed. She just couldn’t manage to keep up with all three of her restaurants. The fourth one had been in the pipeline for a while, waiting to be scrapped. Her mother had called up again, from whatever part of the world she was currently holidaying in with her latest husband, only to berate her on her lack of social life (read significant other).

And to top it all off her next-door neighbor just wouldn’t stop playing Metallica at the loudest possible decibel at ungodly hours.

So yes, she was a mess when her uncle Mitch walked into her office on that fateful Thursday morning. The first thing out of his mouth was,“ Sweetheart, you need a break and a drink, or six.” But his usual smirk was replaced with a look of concern. “I spent the weekend going over your plans for the new bistro, but I’ll be honest with you Kit, it makes the most sense to leave it untouched for now and revisit it later.” He’d called her Kit, and that’s how she knew just how serious this was. “However,” he said, “I do think I’ve found a solution for your other problem and have managed to set up a meeting with him too.”

“Him? What are you going on about Mitch? I have no other problems, it’s just been a bad week. And I hope to god you haven’t gone and set me up with that nephew of Effie’s!” she all but yelled at him.

He let out a belly laugh, a real one this time. “Oh no, I’d never do such a thing. I was talking about how you’ve been feeling so overwhelmed lately. I think what you need is to delegate your work to more people, and I think I’ve found the perfect candidate to fit that role.” She raised her eyebrow for him to continue, not wanting to interrupt what he had to say. “Kit you can’t keep going around handling all aspects of all three restaurants. You already handle the finances, curating the menu, and the whole running of the places. And if I’m being honest with you the menu’s been looking dull for a bit.”

A brief flash of anger (or was that offense?), followed by hurt, spread across her face before she settled on a serenely calm façade. “So what is it that you’re suggesting Mitch?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice void of any emotion.

“Hire a new creative head. A head chef, if you may? Try and spice up the menu and add a little more life to this place. It’s starting to get a tad boring if I’m honest with you.”

“Hire?” she asked incredulously. Then she sighed. “Hm, Mitch, I don’t I have the finances to hire a big shot chef right now. We are struggling as it is.”

“Oh sweetheart, you just need to go see him once. I’m sure the financials will fall into place. He’s an all-around nice guy. I’m pretty sure he’ll be flexible for us.”

Great, nice guys were easy to handle, right? Wrong. Because, for as nice of a guy Peeta Mellark was, he pushed all of her last buttons.

—————–

Two hours later, she found herself standing in the mall district, searching and failing to find an appropriate meeting location anywhere on the entire street. The place was drowned in various fall and Halloween paraphernalia, although the weird mishmash seemed to bring a smile onto her face.

Katniss stuck out like a sore thumb standing in a blazer and dress pants with a few files under her arm. Why would anyone invite your prospective employer to the middle of a busy shopping area on Halloween?

Her internal musing (and admitted grumbling) was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. She turned around to the most brilliant flash of white teeth, blue eyes, and floppy blonde curls. Who was this golden retriever?

“Peeta Mellark. Nice to meet you,” he said extending his arm to introduce himself.

Her eyes widened, and the look she saw on his face was a mix of extreme joy and mischief. She took his hand and shook it vigorously, avoiding making eye contact, because if she did, she was sure to burst out laughing. She took in his outfit, regarded his chef coat, and what she could only describe as a pair of bottoms from a Marvel-themed pajama set. Was this the man Haymitch thought would be the best creative head of her restaurants?

No thank you.

“So shall we?” he asked, motioning towards the mall entrance. Her face scrunched up in a look of confusion.

“You’ve invited me to a mall? For what could be a business meeting?” she asked.

“Oh, we’re not going to the mall. We’re going there,” and he pointed in the vague direction of the building attached to the mall. Her eyes almost bugged out of her head.

“The Horror House?” she coughed and sputtered. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mellark. I think that’s highly inappropriate for the meeting. This is not a date; this is essentially an interview. ”

“Oh, Miss Everdeen, I think the Horror House is the perfect place to showcase my skills. You could always eat the food I cook at one of the restaurants. I’m sure you’ve gone through my resume before you came here,” he said, ending it with an infuriating smirk.

Where did this man get off? She admitted he was beautiful in a boy-next-door kind of way. He seemed very very confident about himself (a tad too much), and really what did he think of himself and her? Was this some kind of elaborate joke Mitch was trying to pull on her? He kept saying she needed to lighten up.

He piped up as if reading her thoughts came second nature to Peeta Mellark. “I’m sure the respected Katniss Everdeen isn’t scared of haunted houses?” But she was.

Was he egging her on? Because now he’d gone too far to insinuate that she was afraid, and if there was one thing Katniss was, it was a hot-headed, stubborn woman.

She put on her bravest expression and turned to Peeta. “Alright, Mr. Mellark, I’m curious to see how exactly you turn this experience into a prospective employment opportunity for yourself, but let’s get some things straight. I’m not your friend. Do not egg me on about being scared, and if you aren’t able to convince me in eighteen minutes on just how much I need you, I will walk myself to the car, and that will be the end of this conversation. I hope we’re clear?”

“Crystal,” he said with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Oh, the man was already getting on her nerves. How was she supposed to work with him? Yet, to be honest, she had read his resume and was impressed enough to hire him on the spot. Hell, Mitch had threatened to use his veto as the financier behind her projects to hire him if she didn’t herself.

But curiosity killed the Kat.

And as absolutely unprofessional and infuriating as Peeta Mellark was, his chaotic attitude seemed to intrigue her. She was curious to see how he’d manage to turn a haunted house trip into a successful employment opportunity. What she did not expect, however, was having a full-blown panic attack five minutes into the ordeal.

She’d always hated graveyards and spooky places (haunted mansions and abandoned buildings), but her true trigger was collapsing walls. Ever since she’d lost her Pa at the age of thirteen from a building collapse, she was extremely paranoid about being stuck in similar situations. Although, the first five minutes of the ride were comparatively normal, the usual jump scares caused her to latch onto Peeta’s hand.

It was at the entrance to the second room when a simulation caused the walls to start collapsing on them. Some part of her brain told her it was mechanized. Still, fear gripped her like a vise and wouldn’t let go.

As her senses shut down, she had the distinct feeling of being lifted off the ground. Was it an actual building collapse? Would she die in there? Maybe she’d see Pa now.

Her therapy conditioned brain made her automatically start reciting her mantra. “I’m Katniss Everdeen. I’m 26 years old. I run three restaurants: Iris, Luna, and Hestia on the Upper east side. I love the feeling of freshly fallen snow and marshmallows in hot chocolate. My favorite color is green. My dog Willow is an adorable puppy. I am going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. ”

She came to under the harsh fluorescent lights of the lobby. Comfortable earth engulfed her, and she felt someone rubbing her back as they muttered assurances in her ear. She lifted her head to look into the eyes of her tether, immediately getting lost in the bright pools of blue. The color was as clear as the sea off the Maldivian coast. He had tiny flecks of gold and green in them too.

She’d never seen a prettier pair of eyes before.

“Well thank you, Miss Everdeen,” came the deep reverberations of his voice, which she felt through her body. Then she realized she was cradled in his lap.

She leaped up like she’d been burned, a blush spreading across her face. The feel of his arm around her did things to her that she’d never expected. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mellark, I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“Peeta.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I believe if we’re going to be working closely together over the next few years, it only seems right that we get comfortable addressing each other by our first names.”

“Well, in that case, Peeta,” she said, testing how it felt to say his name out loud. “It’s Katniss from today forward.” His smile could have lit up the entire dreary dark Horror House with its brightness. “I’ll see you on Monday at Hestia. We start team meetings at eleven in the morning,” she said in a way of farewell, before turning to walk towards her car parked on the curb.

As she threw a backward glance over her shoulder, she saw him standing where she left him, smiling even brighter than before if that was possible.

He was infuriating.

Infuriatingly adorable, and she was going to have a hard time maintaining a strictly professional relationship with him. Never had anyone been able to break down her walls quicker, and she was curious to see just how well they worked together. After all, curiosity killed the Kat, but she had a good feeling about this.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #mellarkablegirl #submission #prompt

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kali-writes-meta · 3 years

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Go Oft Awry: The Goals, Expectations, and Plans of Volume 8

The best-laid schemes of mice and men go oft awry -- Robert Burns

The first two chapters of Volume 8 were full of characters stating what they're going to do or what they expect to happen far more so than any other two consecutive episodes in RWBY have before. This is exciting from two different angles. It's exciting for the viewer who's just watching the series, and even more exciting from a writer's perspective. Y'all up for some scriptwriting theory?

There's a rule in scriptwriting that when it comes to the plot you NEVER repeat yourself. In practice this means that whenever a plan is spelled out in advance, it's not going to happen.

The classic example is the bride dreaming of walking down the aisle at her wedding. Anytime you see that, you know her wedding is going to be interrupted.

There are two exceptions to this rule. One is when the plan is being spelled out as a voiceover to scenes of the plan going down. Then it's okay, because the audience is still only experiencing it ONCE, not twice. We saw a bit of this technique used for the first time in RWBY in "Divide". The other exception is for an information-gathering plan when the new information distracts the audience, which we saw back in Volume 2 "Painting the Town".

What does this have to do with RWBY Volume 8? A lot, because we're hearing nothing but goals, expectations, and plans.

First, let's define the terms. A "goal" is what you're planning to do, not how you plan to do it. An infamous example from RWBY occurs in "The Argus Limited" when the Grimm attack the train.

Blake: What's the plan, Ruby?

Ruby: Don't let anyone else die!

Ruby, sweetie, I love you, but that's a goal, not a plan.

Confusion over goals and plans has only intensified since Volume 7 came out. Ironwood's GOAL of turning Amity into a communication satellite is brilliant, but his PLAN to do so by depriving Mantle's defenses was a disaster, and would have been a disaster even if what he thought was true about Salem really was the truth.

In stories, goals may be reachable -- but any expectation or plan that's spelled out in detail to the audience isn't going to happen exactly the way it's supposed to.

An "expectation" is what the character thinks is going to happen. In a story, if an expectation is stated out loud in detail, it's not going to happen exactly that way. A great example from RWBY is the introduction of Team FNKI.

Yang: You're from Atlas. What could we expect?

Weiss: Well, seeing as their Kingdom, academy and armed forces are all merged as one, I think we can expect strict, militant fighters with advanced technology and carefully rehearsed strategies.

At that very moment, a rainbow zooms past the two surprised Huntresses-in-training.

Weiss: ... Or whatever they are.

A "plan" is a detailed proposal for how to meet a goal. It's optimal for characters to have plans, but spelling a plan out in advance in detail to the audience is the kiss of doom. At that point you know they may reach their goal SOMEHOW, but it won't be by following that plan.

RWBY is full of concealed plans that work and revealed plans that fail. The best examples are probably the attacks on Beacon and Haven. Cinder's plan to attack Beacon was concealed from the audience and went off almost perfectly. Cinder's, Raven's, and Adam's separate plans for the Haven attack are all spelled out in detail to the audience, and all fail to go exactly as planned.

In "Divide" we start with the villains. Cinder has a goal to strip Penny of the Maiden power, but is thwarted by Salem. Salem already has a plan in motion and doesn't want Cinder's last-minute changes messing it up like happened at Haven. What's more worrying, Salem doesn't share her plan with the audience, so a large chunk of it just might work.

In Mantle, the Happy Huntresses have a goal to get everyone into the crater. We don't hear their plan spelled out in detail, although what we do hear in the background is a fairly standard evacuation model that's evolving to deal with changing circumstances, as such plans do. From a storytelling perspective, that's vague enough to the audience that it should mostly work. (The "mostly" comes not from any audience signalling that the writers are doing, but from the shear size of their endeavor.)

Ruby and Pietro have a goal to launch Amity via the military base command terminal. Not many details were spelled out in advance on camera, and much use was made of voiceover with action scenes, so we know at least part of the plan to get into the base will work.

Penny voices a naive goal to give Salem what she wants so she will go away, which is quickly shot down. The audience and most of the characters realize this would be a disaster, but does Penny?

Yang's team has a plan to help with the evacuation by doing what the emergency workers tell them to do. This is both a good plan for anyone assisting in an emergency, and from a storytelling perspective flexible enough to succeed.

Ironwood -- hoo boy. At this point it looks like he has a goal but nobody knows what it is, beyond "shoot anyone who says the F word." He's not jinxing any plans by sharing them. He's pretty free with his expectation that Mantle is doomed, but he doesn't go into enough detail to jinx that one.

Salem begins giving orders, but doesn't jinx it by telling us the whole plan.

Jacques spells out his expectation that Whitley will get Jacques' lawyers to free him. That means it won't happen exactly like that. (Personally I think Whitley is cooperating fully with the General and having the lawyers draw up divorce papers for Willow that remove Jacques from any custody considerations. It's the sort of thing that Whitley watched Jacques do.)

Ironwood has a plan for Watts, but we don't find out what it is.

Qrow states his goal to kill Ironwood, but doesn't spell out a plan.

Joanna steals a reporter's mic and announces the plan to retreat to the crater to the public. As this scene is intercut with scenes of people following that plan, it has a good chance of succeeding.

Ozpin spells out his expectation in detail for how the merge with Oscar will happen. That's been said often enough now that we know it won't happen exactly like that. He also states a goal to bring people together, but is candid about not knowing how. This is a goal in need of a plan, hopefully a plan that will be spelled out over scenes of it successfully happening.

May states an expectation that "between our secret weapon and my Semblance, you all couldn't be in safer hands." While this may be technically true, it also falls under the category of Famous Last Words. If we didn't know something was going to go wrong before, we do now.

Weiss states in detail a plan to get into the base which promptly goes sideways, as does Weiss herself. Hopefully that's all the jinxing that plan gets.

Fiona's evacuation plan is being adapted and carried out in real time, which saves it from narrative jinxing. Whether it will work against Salem is another matter. Getting everyone to the crater definitely qualifies as "the best bad plan we've got".

And we see one of Salem's unrevealed plans start to unfold with brutal, terrifying efficiency.

Finally, there's Ruby's nightmarish visions from the opening. Since these haven't been stated aloud, they also haven't been jinxed. There's no telling right now if these nightmares are prophetic visions or just bad dreams.

#rwby

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sepublic · 3 years

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Belos the ‘Humble Messenger’?

A thought just hit me, but if Lilith deflects some of the blame of her own actions onto Belos, by claiming she’s just enforcing his will, that he’s making her do this, in addition to considering what HE would do and how that influenced her initial choice to curse Eda…

…What if Belos is the same way, but with the Titan? Especially with how he constantly insists that he’s just a Humble Messenger for the Titan… It’s not BELOS that’s choosing to hurt people, it’s the Titan! Blame the Titan, don’t shoot the messenger… I have to wonder if Belos is also being a coward like Lilith in this own way, absolving himself of what he’s done wrong, of his own mistakes in carrying out the Titan’s alleged will. Like Lilith, Belos could be operating on a “I was just carrying out orders” type of defense here.

And given what his VA said about Belos being ‘misunderstood’ in his own way… Maybe that’s what he meant? Belos thinks there’s nothing he can do, he’s resigned himself to his own powerlessness because he really thinks he lacks the ability to make a change. That he really isn’t enjoying this… Though of course, like Lilith or Amity when she cut ties with Willow, he still bears some responsibility for the consequences of his actions, as cruel and unfair as it is. And with Belos, I imagine he bears WAY more fault and guilt for carrying out the Titan’s will, than any other character has for doing what others tell them to… Belos might think he’s choosing the path of least resistance, that he’s actually being helpful by implementing the Titan’s will in the least bloody was possible; Which, when you consider his implied genocides, says a LOT…

But it also calls into question if Belos even IS communicating with the Titan, or some impostor, or if this really is the Titan’s will, and not the influence of Belos trying to make it be the leader and role model he WANTS it to be, the way Simon Laurent from Infinity Train felt with Grace, or how Jasper tried to mold Steven Universe into the Diamond she wanted him to be; It’s that desire to have someone who validates you, who takes responsibility for you, who comforts and knows exactly what to do… While always enabling any decisions you make and encouraging them, because you can do no wrong; You’re just doing what THEY’re saying, you have no blame in this!

Maybe Belos is outright influencing the Titan, or at least interpreting its will in a very specific way, and has deluded himself into believing he’s carrying out exactly what the Titan is saying… Even if that isn’t exactly what it said, because Belos secretly knows what the Titan really meant and that’s why it was so vague, because of course Belos will understand the intent! So when the Titan tells him to spread the knowledge of magic, Belos interprets it very specifically as ‘Establish a Coven System’, because surely that’s what the Titan specifically meant…

It’s like how some alleged ‘Christians’ interpret the Bible in a way that’s very tailored and convenient to their own pre-existing beliefs and bigotry, to justify their own terrible actions. And given the comparisons between Belos and Western Imperialism by fans… In addition to Dana Terrace mentioning how she was once put into a headlock by a nun, and the way some Chrstians appropriated and assimilated pagan cultures (again sounding a lot like what Belos does)… And maybe Belos has a deluded perception of reality, of projecting of what he thinks is best, and believing that everything his role model does is actually indicative of and in support of his own beliefs. Kind of like what I speculated with Boscha, thinking Amity’s actions as a bully were validating to her own cruelty, when really Amity was horrified at the kind of person she was becoming, and did NOT approve of Boscha whatsoever!

Maybe Belos has a warped sense of identity, because he’s so convinced to himself that everything he does is the Titan’s will, he assumes the Titan’s feelings are the same as his (“The Titan will be pleased!” A triumphant Belos cries upon receiving the portal from Luz), etc. And Belos has trapped himself in his own fantasy, into thinking that he basically IS the Titan because everything he does is surely a reflection of what it believes, because it obviously agrees with him 100% and he completely understands it in a way that nobody, not even the Titan, does… Because Belos KNOWS better, he knows what’s good for the Titan, just as Odalia and Alador claim so for Amity, or what Lilith used to for Eda!

Which, this just leads to a lack of identity, no sense of self on Belos’ behalf, just as he inflicts upon others with his cult-like indoctrination… Just as Lilith might question who she is without the Emperor’s Coven, perhaps Belos, deep-down, doesn’t know who he is without the Titan; A question any parasite would ask, because Belos can’t stand on his own. He has no will nor convictions of his own, he can’t rely on just his own reasoning to justify himself because he lacks that confidence… So Belos seeks someone who CAN justify what he does, and then warps them to fully fit that idealized image of his. And so just as Lilith realizes that she doesn’t really understand Eda, that she hasn’t figured out that Eda secretly wants to join the Emperor’s Coven but just needs time or a cursed curse to join… Belos will realize that he didn’t exactly understand the Titan at all, and probably was outright influencing and projecting onto it!

This is going to lead to a lot of confusion, self-doubt… Plenty of denial, certainly. If Belos did accept this reality, this truth, and discern his delusions from what actually is… Then I could see him recovering in a way similar to Lilith, and maybe the two could find a very unusual solidarity in this, while awkwardly naviating how he used to be her feared boss and influenced Lilith herself, threatened her… And yet now she’s way past him in terms of growth and sense of self. Maybe Belos HAS considered that he’s been wrong about the Titan’s will in the past, but he doesn’t want to admit/explore this possibility, because he’s already done so much….

Maybe he’s just doing what seems to be the least challenging for him, maybe Belos has legit fooled himself into thinking he too is at the Titan’s whim and mercy, he feels bad for his victims, but what else can he do? He’s already sacrificed too many people by this point, he doesn’t want to invalidate those deaths by not going through with what he (and the Titan) planned… He’s not brave enough to do the right thing and Belos is convinced that even if he tried, he wouldn’t accomplish much. To him, he’s most at his useful as a ‘humble messenger’, probably… Belos could be a lot like Krika from Bionicle, perhaps.

Belos is certain that what the Titan has decreed WILL come to pass, it makes no difference if he or someone else carries out its will- So Belos can’t really be blamed for getting it over with, because someone else will… Or he CAN be blamed, but so what? Maybe Belos thinks he’s the best candidate to do what has to be done, the only one willing to do the dirty work, kind of like Thanos from Infinity War. Maybe he ironically thinks that only HE is the one who is acknowledging this cold, hard truth of the universe, and actually doing something about it; While everyone else is simply in denial…

If only people could just understand what he’s doing, where he’s coming from, that Belos takes no pleasure in this, he’s trying to make this as smooth and painless as possible. It really, truly DOES hurt him to sacrifice others like this for his goals… And while he ultimately disagrees with such people, Belos can still admire witches like Luz, as he used to be like them, and he finds an almost admirable youth and naivete to their traits that reminds him of his young, foolish self, so wide-eyed and really believing it could all be that black-and-white and simple, that good will prevail… Belos can’t totally blame them for thinking that way, because he made the same mistakes, so he doesn’t have THAT much of a place to judge; But he still has a tiny place, because at least Belos had the ‘wisdom’ to realize the truth and move on.

Of course, Belos doesn’t see what the Titan or the world is secretly getting at, because there’s nothing there. The Titan is indeed being fully transparent about what it has to say, it isn’t secretly ‘testing’ Belos’ faith… He is acting VERY contrary to a lot of people and things, but just as some deluded, alleged ‘christians’ believe that their god is secretly testing their faith, offering them temptation and false evidence to convince them to go off the right path, when really they just need to keep being stubborn and blocking out all other noise… Maybe Belos is just like THAT.

It’s like Luz saying that she’s picking up what Amity is putting down, even though as far as Amity can tell, she’s not putting down anything (in addition to maybe being autistic and thus not understanding this kind of saying), she wasn’t suggesting that Luz challenge Boscha to a grudgby game; Except, Belos took it WAY worse, and WAY too far to an unimaginable extent… Again, as a dark parallel to her, despite being associated with a much blinding and radiant Light than Luz’s.

#the owl house #toh #the owl house belos #emperor belos #toh belos #boiling isles titan #speculation

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deathonyourtongue · 4 years

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Willow Run | Ch. 4

Summary: On a horse ranch in Texas, life is far simpler than on the streets of Bakubah, but Syverson has a bad habit of taking in strays of all kinds, no matter what demons may be after them. Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC Word Count: 2K Warnings: Death. Yeah, I said it. A/N: You guys are the absolute best! I apologize in advance for what I’m about to do (my body count is WAY too high at this point, but a niche is a niche I guess, right?) CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 |

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If pain and suffering were library books, Syverson was way past due.

Despite all the extra work he’d put in, Sy slept fitfully. Sasha's presence had more than once awoken memories of his past and now, without his consciousness to act as a filter, his mind was having a field day as it dragged him down memory lane. He tossed, turned, murmured and finally cried out in sheer terror as the most horrific image of his life came back in full, breath-taking force.

Syverson sat bolt upright as the moment played out, his body covered head to toe in sweat, eyes wide and wild as he reached for a gun that hadn't been there in years; not since the incident with the window.

He couldn't catch his breath, couldn't block out the image, and even though he looked awake, Sy was still very much caught in the grips of his nightmare; the tears streaming silently down his face and his mouth locked open in a hoarse scream were proof enough.

Though Sasha had taken a bit to get comfortable in a new bed, she’d fallen asleep without much issue once she settled. After only about two hours’ worth of sleep, Sy’s scream jolted her awake, startling her badly until her mind was able to make sense of what was happening. Wearing only the t-shirt she’d grabbed from his laundry and not bothering to put on the shorts, Sasha dashed across the hall, opening the door to find Syverson awake, but not at all present.

She’d never seen a man look so terrified in all her life, and while most would find it emasculating to be so scared, Sasha knew better. This was no ordinary fear; this was a haunting, one that had probably been with him for years. Her heart broke for him as she approached slowly, seeing the tears pouring from his blue eyes.

“Sy, sweetheart. Can you hear me? You’re having a nightmare, babe. Wake up.”

Being careful about where she stood, Sasha slowly reached out and smoothed a hand over Sy’s curls, willing that her touch would bring him back to reality.

Her voice and touch, so calm and soft in the midst of all the violence and screaming in his mind, snapped Syverson out of his nightmare and he took a gasping breath, looking and seeing her as if for the first time. Shaking his head to clear it, Syverson quickly wiped his eyes and tried for a smile to assure her he was okay.

"Hey, sorry. Did I wake you? I'm really sorry," he whispered, sniffling as he opened his bedside drawer and grabbed the black leg brace he hadn’t needed in a few weeks. Syverson's hands shook violently as he strapped the appliance around his leg, everything in his posture screaming of fear. He needed his pills, but they were down the hall and that meant attempting to walk. Syverson felt like kicking himself for being so stupid; the first time he had company in ages and he forgot to prepare the most basic of necessities in order to keep the night quiet for them.

"You should go back to bed, mama. Get some rest. I'll be fine, just need to grab a glass of water, then I'm back to sleep," he added, his eyes pleading with her to accept the bold-faced lie; it was the only area of his life that Syverson ever hid from anyone and he was certain he'd be able to hide it from her as well.

Sasha didn’t wait for Sy to continue telling his version of the truth and instead grabbed his water glass and made her way to the upstairs bathroom, filling it up with ice-cold water straight from the tap. Despite feeling like she was overstepping her bounds, she searched through the medicine cabinet until she found a prescription bottle with a valid date and Sy’s name on it. Relieved that it was Tramadol and not something stronger, Sasha returned and handed both over to Sy, her eyes holding the same sadness his had earlier in the day.

“You need anything else?” She asked, cupping his face with her hand and trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. Sasha felt like a chump for opening up to him about her past when it was clear he was unwilling to do the same and felt the need to hide so bad that he would lie about it just to pretend all was okay.

Her hand on his face caused a hitch in his breath, Syverson nearly losing his composure once again at the gentility of her touch. He fought tooth and nail not to lean into it, rest his head on her palm and just let go as she had earlier; he was a man, and a soldier to boot. Soldiers weren't supposed to cry and they certainly weren't supposed to talk about how they felt or what they'd seen and done in far away countries.

Sitting there with Sasha, Syverson felt like letting it all spill out, laying his soul bare, and facing the consequences head on. His brain got the best of him however, and he kept mum. No use in terrifying the poor girl; she'd done nothing to deserve hearing about the atrocities he'd witnessed and done overseas.

"N-no, you just go on back to bed. No use in stayin' awake on my account," he murmured, the words sounding almost like a mantra; in fact, he had said them on more than one occasion to his own family. They'd all just looked at him with sad eyes, shaken their heads, and left the room. Syverson wasn't sure, but it didn't seem like Sasha would be so easy to shoo off.

His further distancing only opened the fresh wound in Sasha’s heart a little further, making her feel miniscule and stupid for being as candid as she had. It was an age-old double standard, one she’d thought would bypass her interactions with Sy, given how open he’d been all day. Whatever it was that plagued him, the walls he’d built to protect himself were high and steadfast. Sighing, she stood, raking a hand through her hair as she met his gaze.

“If we’re going to pretend that this never happened, that you don’t look like you’ve seen a ghost, then fine. But don’t expect me to open up about anything else in my life, if you’re unwilling to do the same. I’m not a little girl, Sy. I can handle whatever it is you seem so keen to hide away from the world.”

Turning on her heel, Sasha gripped her stomach, ignoring her baby’s kicking as she began to make her way back to bed, wishing Sy wasn’t so stubborn.

It was the same old song over again and frankly, Syverson was tired of being the one to press play. His face crumpled and he let out a sob without being able to hold it back. When he spoke, his voice came out tinny and weak, but the desperation in it was as clear as the word was simple.

"Sasha!"

Syverson hoped it was enough, hoped she'd turn back and let him apologize, let him give in a little and let go the way she had. It wasn't easy for him to relinquish the control he usually kept so tightly bound on the subject, but he'd seen how his pushing had hurt her and Syverson didn't want to be the reason she walked out the door in the morning, never to come back.

She’d never heard her name called with such need, such distress before, and it stopped Sasha in her tracks. Born with a touch of a stubborn streak herself, Sasha had only planned on standing in the doorway to hear him out, but one look at Syverson’s tear-strewn face, the pleading in his eyes, and she moved as though being pulled by a magnet, sitting at his side in a matter of moments, all thought of being bull-headed forgotten.

Syverson's tears subsided as Sasha sat down, his eyes red-rimmed and still filled with fear as he took her hand and held it in both of his.

"I'm sorry. I'm not used to havin' people around, especially for this crap. It's not somethin' I like talkin' about and people don't like hearin' it, so I was tryin' to spare ya. Didn't mean to push you away, sweetheart," he sniffled, his thumbs rubbing circles over her knuckles before he kissed them gently.

“Were you dreaming about whatever happened that sent you to the VA? I saw the album downstairs,” Sasha confessed, her free hand stroking through his curls, her face dipping to catch his gaze as Sy lowered his head, shaking it.

“Nah, that was just an IED that I had the misfortune of drivin’ over. It’s why I still have a prescription and a rod in my leg,” he answered, Sy clearing his throat before shaking his head once more, clearing the persistent whispers from his mind that told him to shut up and not talk about it any further.

“My nightmares are only ever about one thing. One little girl, actually. Her name was Zakiya. She was the sweetest lil’ thing. Big bright eyes, so expressive, she just put a smile on yer face immediately.”

Sitting back against his headboard, Sy held Sasha’s hand a little firmer, his own trembling, although whether from pain or anguish, Sasha couldn’t be sure.

“We used to drive through her village every time we left the wire. Back then, we always carried candy bars and extra MREs with us, mostly for the kids, but for people in need too. She’d come running every time she saw us comin’ through, like we were the ice cream man or somethin’. Anyhow, she took a shine to me. Would always ask for me to hold her, ‘cause I was taller than anyone in the village and she liked seeing out over the horizon.”

Sy blew out a breath, his body beginning to rock back and forth as tears shimmered in his eyes once more. Sasha’s concern grew, her other hand covering the one already gripped in her palm.

“We didn’t speak a lick ‘a each other's languages, but we somehow made it work. She always had a smile and a big ol’ hug for my neck. She wouldn’t let go until it was time for us to move along and even then, she stayed behind wavin’ like it was her favorite thing to do. She couldn’t ‘a been more than five or six.

“One day, we get there and she’s not there, waitin’. Instead, she’s in her father’s arms. He was a village elder ‘a some sort, and for whatever reason, had got it in his head that his wife and Zakiya had both dishonored him by being nice to us. Just for being nice, friendly...normal. By the time we got there, he’d already killed his wife...But he was waitin’ for us to show up before he killed Zakiya.”

Sasha’s own heart clenched, knowing what was coming would be horror on a level she never hoped to experience first-hand, her sympathy and respect for Syverson going up exponentially as she steeled herself for the end of his worst nightmare.

Sy kept his eyes on the mattress, his free hand picking at a loose thread in the bedding, terrified that after he told her everything, Sasha would never see him as the same man again.

“I got on my knees for that man. Took off my helmet, my plates, everything. Told him to take me instead of her. I begged like the world was endin’ and I needed one more day. Our poor interpreter could barely keep up with me, I was talkin’ so fast.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Syverson let out a noise akin to a dying animal, folding himself in half for a moment before taking several rattling, deep breaths.

“You know that famous shot of Jackie trying to catch Kennedy’s brain? He dropped her like a fuckin’ sack ‘a potatoes after he blew her head open, and all I could do was h-hold-”

As a longing wail loosed itself from his lungs, Sy felt himself wrapped up in the fiercest hug he’d ever received. Sasha cupped the back of his head as her own tears slipped down her cheeks, unable to fathom how Sy had managed to go about his life with that sort of weight in his heart; she’d known men who’d taken their own lives for less.

“I’m so sorry, Sy,” Sasha whispered into his curls, her heart breaking at the way Syverson clung to her as though he were drowning. In a way, he was, Sasha wishing there was more she could do to help ease his suffering, though she wasn’t sure if anyone had ever even gotten this far with him before.

“What happened to the elder?” She asked as she heard his breathing calm some.

“I emptied a mag into his face.” Sy said resolutely, Sasha hearing no remorse in his voice, though she couldn’t blame him, given the circumstances.

“No one in the village ever complained, not even his older kids. Think they were all afraid of him. We did them a favor. You don’t kill kids. Especially babies. You give ‘em kindness, compassion, love. That’s it. End of story. You hurt a child, you murder a child in cold blood like that? I put you in the ground, plain and simple.”

She held onto him, stroking his broad back, carding her fingers through his hair, letting him take the pain he’d held onto for so long and finally let some of it go. Though she knew he’d never truly recover from that day, Sasha hoped that finally talking about it to someone who wouldn’t judge or pity him, would make a small difference.

His breathing slowed and Sasha gave him another squeeze, realizing something she hoped would help ease his pain further.

“For what it’s worth, Sy? If nothing else, you brightened that little girl’s day each time you saw her. You gave her a smile just like she gave you one. You were with her at the end and that’s what counts. She didn’t die alone. In a perfect world, she wouldn’t have died at all, but in the horror that was her final moments, she knew you were there. She knew.”

#henry cavill #captain syverson #syverson x ofc #captain syverson fic #fic #deathonyourtongueoriginals #willow run

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thecleverdame · 4 years

Text

This Is Not A Fairy Tale - Two

Alpha!Prince!Sam x Omega!Reader

Story Masterlist

Summary: You’re a suppressed Omega who is forced into servitude after the death of your father. Your stepmother Naomi is a heartless woman who forces you to do the cooking and cleaning, while she tries to marry off her own two daughters, Alex and Claire. But your life takes a wonderful and dangerous turn when you meet the charming Prince Sam who also happens to be an Alpha.

Warnings: ABO smut, abuse, death of parents, magic

Beta: ilikaicalie

*This story is complete and posted on Patreon. Become a patron for a monthly pledge of $2.50 and get access to all my Patreon content.

“What is wrong with you?” Dean watches his brother with a skeptical eye. “You’re this worked up about some girl you met in a field?”

“It’s more than that.” Sam looks around, ensuring they’re alone. “She’s an Omega,” he whispers.

“What?” Dean scoffs, then chuckles at the absurdity of it. “Now you’re just making things up.”

“I swear to you.” Sam is earnest, breathing fast and sweating as he looks Dean head-on. “I’ve never felt anything like it in my life.”

“You’re serious…” Dean inspects his brother. “How do you know?”

“Because I could feel her. Like how the air is alive when there’s lightning in the sky. And her scent was incomparable. No Beta has ever come close. And when I touched her, it was-”

“Touched her?” Dean smirks, then whistles. “Things progressed quickly I see.”

“You had to be there to understand, the attraction was consuming.”

“It must have been for you, a crown prince, to fuck some servant girl in the middle of a field.”

“My God.” Sam rolls his eyes. “I didn’t take her dignity there in the dirt. We just...touched.”

“I don’t need to hear any more details.” Dean raises both hands in caution. He shakes his head and pours them both a drink. “How can you be sure she was really an Omega? We’ve never met one before.”

“If you had smelled her, felt her, you’d know. She was breathtaking. I have to find her, Dean.”

“I can’t believe you let her run off.”

“She was out of sight before I could get to my horse and give chase.”

“Why would she run?”

“Any number of reasons.” Sam has given this a lot of thought. “Perhaps I was too forward. She seemed scared of something.”

“Well, any Omega tucked away in some country home is quite the secret. How old would you say she was?”

“I can’t be sure. Twenty-five, maybe older, perhaps younger.”

“Twenty-five? How the hell has she managed to keep herself hidden for that long?”

Omegas are sought after, snatched up by powerful, wealthy Alphas as soon as they come of age. While Dean has never met one, he’s heard the stories. It’s unbelievable that an Omega would make it past her fifteenth birthday without being claimed, forget twenty-five.

It would, however, make you a perfect match for his brother. Sam has just turned thirty-five and the older he gets the more he suffers. Alphas are meant to pair off, and he should have chosen a Beta long ago. He almost did, several times but couldn’t quite bring himself to make the final commitment. As he’s aged his ruts have grown more intense. If he doesn’t mate soon he’ll begin the descent into something darker, more feral. A primordial throwback to their ancestors and their parents will never allow that. The pressure has been on for some time for Sam to find a wife.

And you, well, once discovered you wouldn’t have much of a choice in the matter. All Omegas end up as mates to royalty or someone with powerful connections. Out of the options you might have, Sam is the best-case scenario. That goes without saying.

“I hate to say this, but has it occurred to you that someone has been keeping her? A duke or baron has been using her for their own. It could be the reason she ran.”

“I don’t know.”

Sam’s stomach goes tight at the very thought of someone else touching you, hurting you. He can still see your face, those shining eyes, and shy smile. There was an inherent innocence to you, the way you responded to his touch, the way you looked at him.

“I know she was terrified of being in trouble. She said she needed to get home before someone returned.”

“Well, let’s go find her.” Dean shrugs, tipping back the final vestiges of his drink. “We’ll start at the tree where you met her and search all the houses in the area. Shouldn’t take more than a day.”

Dean’s plan was a good one, with one exception; Sam can’t find his way back to the spot where he met you.

His rut is days away but in preparation he often goes for long rides to clear his head, leaving at dawn and not returning until after the sun has set. He rode for hours and hours that day, taking every side trail and galloping across meadows. He only stopped when he came across the willow tree because he was starving and needed to eat.

He found his way to you by chance and now he can’t retrace his steps for the life of him.

“Which way do you think you would have gone?” Dean asks. “Use your instincts.”

The brothers sit side by side on horseback. The trail ahead of them forks off in half a dozen directions.

“The far path to the right I think...no wait...I’m not sure.” Sam runs a hand over his face.

Being with you for such a short time only to be ripped away feels like a simmering panic. He has no idea how it’s possible that he wants someone he hardly knows with this passionate desperation, but he does.

“Maybe we should ride back from the castle. Do you remember the way you took to get home? We could backtrack.”

“I don’t think I can.” Sam balls his fist around the reigns. “I rode looking for her for an hour and then came back. I was so worked up, I don’t remember which way was which.”

“Well,” Dean nods, a hand on his hip as he thinks. “Why don’t we go home and talk to our lovely mother. She’ll be thrilled at the prospect of an Omega for you. I’m sure she’ll have a few ideas on how to find her. She always does.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Alex snips, tapping at the shell of her boiled egg.

“Nothing,” you murmur, snapping out of your daydream.

“She’s more melancholy than usual.” Claire gives you a smarmy little grin and butters her toast.

“Is there something wrong?” Naomi asks, resting both palms on the table. You shake your head no and pour hot water for her tea.

“Just a bit tired.” You force a smile.

The truth is you feel like death. The herbs you’re forced to drink have always sucked the life from you, but after that afternoon with Sam, it’s only gotten worse. Yesterday you could barely stay awake through lunch. You’re not ignorant. While you don’t know all the ins and outs of what you are, you understand the basic mechanics. Being around an Alpha has awakened something inside you that’s been fighting to get out for some time.

There’s a ring of the bell at the front door and you hurry to answer it. The courier is a young boy. He hands you a message and blows a sweet little kiss before scampering away. You bring the carefully rolled parchment to Naomi.

The royal seal gets her attention. That signature gold melted wax can only mean one thing.

“What is it?” Claire asks.

“Tell us what it says!” Alex chimes in, smacking her fists on the table.

“Shh,” Naomi hushes them as she unrolls the paper and scans the message. A wide smile blooms across her face. She looks up at her daughters with bubbling excitement. Sitting up straight, she’s unable to contain the terrifying grin across her face as she reads aloud. “King John and Queen Mary cordially invite you to a royal ball in honor of Prince Samuel. Every eligible woman in the kingdom is expected to be in attendance.”

“A ball!” Alex’s eyes light up.

“Can we pick our own dresses?” Claire asks. “I shall wear my red velvet with lace trimming.”

“Do either of you realize what this means?” Naomi hisses, slapping an open palm on the table to silence the room. “They are holding a ball in honor of the prince. They’re looking for a suitable wife. It’s about time, he should have been married off long ago. But other’s poor judgment is our good fortune. My daughters, I need you to understand, you are both excellent candidates, with your background and unmatched bloodline. You are both beautiful young women. A man of his age would certainly be happy to have either of you in his bed.”

“Oh, do you think so?” Alex claps her hands together in excitement. “Well, I shall wear just a simple skirt but put my coat with the golden flowers over it and, of course, there's always my diamond necklace, which is really rather special. I imagine a prince would appreciate understated elegance.”

“Oh my God,” Claire giggles placing a hand over her mouth.

You’re frozen, hearing the sound of chattering voices but absorbing none of it. Two opposing thoughts are swimming in your head.

You let him put his hand up your skirt under a tree in the middle of a field. Any woman with any self-respect would not have invited a stranger to touch her in such a way. You came on the ground like a whore in the streets. A Prince, a man of his social graces would never want a woman who was so willing to offer up her body to the first man that came along. Sam, a man of a certain age, who needs to marry sooner rather than later. Perhaps you were a meaningless little fling before he’s expected to settle down for good.

But there’s also the other possibility. What if he were willing to overlook your scandalous encounter because of what you are? What if he’s expecting you to attend? What if this is his way of looking for you? You can scarcely stand that thought without feeling lightheaded. You felt what he felt, the charge in the air when you were near and the wild excitement when he scented you. Perhaps this is how every Omega responds to an Alpha, you wouldn’t know, but it felt like something special.

“Every eligible woman in the kingdom?” you ask and their voices go silent. The three women stare at you and Alex bursts out laughing. “I just, I’ve never been to a ball. I would like to go.”

“You?” Claire sputters, joining her sister. “Covered in muck and soot! What would you even wear?”

“She’d leave a trail of cinders behind her,” Alex snickers.

Naomi knows the gravity of your question. She understands the power of what you are even when you don’t. Any Omega, despite her title or appearance, would certainly be the first choice for an Alpha prince. And if Sam rejected you there’s a chance the King and Queen would consider annulling the marriage of their oldest son to pair him with an Omega of childbearing age.

She wants this prize for one of her own daughters and she’ll do whatever she needs to ensure you stay as far away from the royal family as possible.

“Y/N, dear,” she offers a sad little pout and extends her hand toward you. “The invitation said all eligible women. You are far from eligible. Look at you, coated in ashes and little more than skin and bones. We wouldn’t want to disrespect such a generous offer by bringing a scraggly little thing such as you, now would we? And I certainly can’t ruin your sister's chances with the Prince. This is serious.”

She only refers to Alex and Claire as your sisters when she wants to make a point.

You nod in silent understanding, holding back tears. It’s likely you will never see your handsome Prince again and you only have yourself to blame. But he’s better off with you. You’re a broken, withering woman whose life has been coming to an end for some time. You were condemned to a lifetime of misery the day you buried your father.

For two weeks you live the hell that is preparing Alex and Claire for the ball.

All they talk of is dresses and hairstyles and what other women will be their competition for the Prince’s attention. You try to cover up your disappointment but it gets proportionally more difficult as the date approaches. The longer you’re away from Sam the more the memory of his face fades away, and the less you can remember the details of what he felt like as doubt creeps in.

By the night of the ball, you’ve convinced yourself that you made up some preposterous connection to a man who was hoping to bed a servant girl in the woods. You’ve romanticized a man’s basic urges and created reciprocity that simply cannot exist.

“How does it look?” Alex inquires, reaching for her hand mirror and holding it up.

You slide the last hairpin into place and hold up another mirror for her to inspect your work.

“Oh, it’s actually good.” She eyes herself, pursing her lips in a practiced pout. “Not bad for someone who’s hands won’t stop shaking.”

“I’m glad you like it.” You brace your hands together, subduing the tremors.

“I’m next!” Claire runs into the room, pushing her sister out of the chair before taking her place. “Make it quick, we need to leave soon.”

“I’ll work as fast as I can.” Your eyes are heavy. You scrubbed pots and cleaned floors all day. Naomi picked today of all days to give the house a proper cleaning from top to bottom.

“Y/N,” Claire looks at her sister and fights back a chuckle. “Would you like to go to the ball yourself?”

“Please don’t make fun of me.” You whisper. “There’s no way I could go.”

“Quite right too: everyone would laugh to see Cinderbritches at a ball.” Both girls break out in a fit of laughter and you try to focus on her hair, instead of the sorrow swelling up inside you.

“I hate it when you call me that,” you tell them softly.

“Always so sensitive.” Claire rolls her eyes. “Hurry up! I want to get there!”

Once the girls are styled and polished Naomi loads them into the carriage and returns to the kitchen to find you.

“Have you forgotten something?” you ask, wiping your forehead of sweat as you clean a pot.

“Only one thing.” She lifts her chin, mouth in a tight grimace. “Come with me.”

You follow her down into the basement, to your makeshift room amongst the clutter.

“Over here,” she moves to the corner, bending down to pick something up. Once it’s in her hand you realize what it is. A metal chain with a cuff attached to the end.

“Don’t, please,” you panic, stepping back. “I beg you, don’t chain me up.”

“I’ll take the switch to you here and now if you don’t do as I say.”

You could run or fight, but you don’t have the energy for either so you walk over to her and watch as she kneels down and locks the metal around your ankle.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask. Tears stream down your face as you let emotion overtake you. “Please, it’s too tight. It hurts.”

“We both know what a sneaky thing you are. I remember what you were like as a girl.” She rubs her hands, looking satisfied.

“I can’t reach the fire from here, or my blankets in the corner. Will you hand them to me?”

“You’ll be fine for one night.” She sneers, looking at you as if the sight of you offends her very senses. “Take this time to think about what and who you are. Knowing her place is the best attribute a woman can have and you are nothing more than a mistake.”

She kicks the toe of her shoe into your stomach with enough force to knock the air from your lungs. You lie on the stone, writhing in pain and sobbing in despair as the sun sets over the horizon.

You wake up to a small squeaking sound. When your eyes flutter open it’s dark. But after you adjust you’re met with the sight of a small white mouse nosing his way around your hand. There are plenty of nasty rats that chew holes in nearly everything, you hate those little beasts, but this small mouse has been coming to you in the evenings for a year now.

“Hello my friend,” you whisper, lying limp on the ground as a fresh tear slides over your temple. “At least I’m not alone tonight.”

You watch as the mouse cleans his tiny face with a pink paw, smiling softly at the sweetness of such a simple thing. If you die down here, at least someone will miss you, a rodent but it’s better than simply vanishing and leaving no trace.

“Hello?” A musical, airy voice calls out from somewhere upstairs. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

Wiping your nose you gather your strength, propping yourself on one arm.

“Who’s there?” you yell back.

“Where are you?” The voice asks, getting closer. “I’m looking for Y/N.”

“I’m here.” You wait as soft footsteps descend toward the basement and a petit redheaded woman emerges from the dark with a flickering candle in her hand.

“What in the world are you doing down here?” She looks around and you move to sit as the chain rattles. Her eyes dart to the metal around your ankle. “Now, now, what do we have here?”

“Do you think you can help me?” you ask. “I think my stepmother keeps the key upstairs, in a jewelry box in her room.”

“Don’t be silly dear,” she crouches down, offering a genuine smile. “We don’t need all that.”

She snaps her fingers and sparks fly. In the same instant, the metal cuff falls open. You look at her in astonishment and she just smirks.

“Nothing a little magic can’t fix.”

“What are you?”

“There are many names for what I do, but I don’t like any of them. To you, I’m Rowena, your Godmother I suppose. A sort of, fairy godmother.”

“I don’t understand.” She offers her hand to help you up.

“I’ll explain. Let’s go upstairs to the fire and warm you up.”

Rowena makes you tea and explains that she knew your mother well. They grew up together in Scotland and stayed in touch throughout the years but grew farther and farther apart as time went by.

“I thought it was time I paid you a visit. I never dreamed I’d find the daughter of Ellen and Robert Singer chained up in a dirty coal room.” She pours you another cup of special tea. She insisted you drink it and as you have, the more you perk up, energy building for the first time in a long time. “Where is the lady of the house?”

“At the ball.” You sigh, looking down at the mug in your hands. “Every woman in the Kingdom was invited. The prince is expected to find his wife tonight.”

“Why are you here?”

“Look at me,” you snort. “Sam wouldn’t want to so much as look at me in this state.”

“Sam,” she coos, eyebrows wiggling. “Do I hear a hint of familiarity?”

“We met. It was only once but he was...wonderful.” You blush, swallowing the rest of the tea.

“Well, you must get you back to your prince.” Rowena spreads her arms wide. “We can’t have you sitting here dreaming of a future. You have to go out and make things happen. Take what you want from life.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Look at me? What would I even wear? I couldn’t even borrow a dress, they would hang off me.”

“Don’t you worry about that.” She smiles, patting your shoulder. “I know a trick or two.”

*This story is complete and posted on Patreon. Become a patron for a monthly pledge of $2.50 and get access to all my Patreon content.

#sam winchester x reader #alpha!sam winchester #alpha!sam x omega!reader #sam winchester smut

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scarlet-it-was · 3 years

Text

folklore for evermore: the ruby x christina edition

combining two of my favorite things: taylor swift and fandom. here are the lyrics and headcanons that are giving me life from the summer/autumn sister albums; reylo & msr editions to follow

cardigan

you drew scars around my stars

but now i’m bleeding

but i knew you

stepping on the last train

marked me like a bloodstain

i knew you

tried to change the ending

peter losing wendy

...you put me on and said I was your favorite

I’d be remiss not to include this as the first in the list considering I’m writing a fic and using specific lyrics as the fic name and chapter titles. If you’re interested, you can find it here: You Drew Stars Around My Scars

my tears ricochet

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

You turned into your worst fears

When I think of the...distinctly disappointing end of the series, these last lines come to mind. Even though I don’t really believe that Christina killed Ruby—but if she had, she definitely turned into her worst fears, which was ultimately being as much of a failure as her father.

this is me trying

I've been having a hard time adjusting

I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting

I didn't know if you'd care if I came back

I have a lot of regrets about that

Pulled the car off the road to the lookout

Could've followed my fears all the way down

And maybe I don't quite know what to say

But I'm here in your doorway

Headcanon: Christina has been resurrected in some fashion, perhaps by the Mark of Cain, or a secondary magic trap she set just in case things went to hell. This finds her regretting her choices, contemplating her next steps, if she even wants to take them, but ultimately, ends up finding Ruby.

And my words shoot to kill when I'm mad I have a lot of regrets about that I was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere Fell behind all my classmates and I ended up here Pouring out my heart to a stranger But I didn't pour the whiskey

Headcanon (cont): Ruby proved time and time again in the show that she knows exactly how to cut right to the center of a person with her words, and I’m sure over the years, she’s said some regrettable things to her sister (not that they were undeserved). Ruby also put in the effort to take the classes and make herself as an attractive candidate as possible for her ‘dream job’ and when she finally is ready—she finds a thin, light-skinned Tamara has been hired. And the rest of the story in the little bar scene—she and William didn’t stay strangers for long.

mad woman

And there's nothing like a mad woman

What a shame she went mad

No one likes a mad woman

You made her like that

And you'll poke that bear 'til her claws come out

And you find something to wrap your ***** around

And there's nothing like a mad woman

Really applicable to both parties who were both oppressed by patriarchy (both) and whiteness (Ruby). I censored one of the words because I’m not comfortable using that word in reference to a POC, but the Swifties know what it is. Anyway, you end up with two women who are willing to ‘go the distance’ so to speak to get what they want and not be interrupted because of the bodies and skin they were born in.

peace

But I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm

If your cascade, ocean wave blues come

All these people think love's for show

But I would die for you in secret

The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me

Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Headcanon: In spite of her money and magic, there’s a certain amount of peace that she’ll never be able to give Ruby in part because she can’t (and doesn’t want, nor does Ruby want) for her to take away her blackness. The flip side is that Christina’s ambition will likely always put them in harm’s way to an extent. But at the end of the day, in spite of Leti’s accusations that Ruby is being used, Christina is the only one who is up front with her 100% of the time regardless of how it comes out. She always comes through for Ruby.

Hoax

My best laid plan

Your sleight of hand

My barren land

I am ash from your fire

Stood on the cliffside screaming, "Give me a reason"

Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in

Headcanon: a sadder and more cynical take on if Ruby had betrayed Christina in the finale (which I still don’t think she would have, but it wasn’t my show and I didn’t write that ending) which did in fact wreck her best laid plans with Ruby’s bait and switch of seducing Christina in her natural body instead of William’s—leaving Christina dead at the end of the series.

willow

Life was a willow, and it bent right to your wind

They count me out time and time again

Life was a willow, and it bent right to your wind

But I come back stronger than a '90s trend

Including this lyrics specifically because it reminds me of one of my favorite AU fics, Leave It To The Davenports – if you haven’t checked out this WIP, it is a ride you don’t want to miss.

gold rush

Gleaming, twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships on waters

So inviting, I almost jump in

I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipatin' my face in a red flush

Walk past, quick brush

I don't like slow motion, double vision in rose blush

I don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bone crush

Everybody wants you

But I don't like a gold rush

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominoes

I see me padding across your wooden floors

With my Eagles t-shirt hanging from the door

At dinner parties, I call you out on your contrarian shit

Headcanon: The last line specifically reminds me of Ruby snarking at Christina about being late and in return being called demanding. But also, overall, it captures the feeling of Ruby initially being distrustful of William’s affections towards her specifically when there are any number of women he could be with.

no body no crime

Headcanon: The whole damn song is my murder wives anthem.

happiness

Past the blood and bruise Past the curses and cries Beyond the terror in the nightfall Haunted by the look in my eyes That would've loved you for a lifetime Leave it all behind And there is happiness

I can't make it go away by making you a villain

I guess it's the price I paid And I pulled your body into mine Every goddamn night

There'll be happiness after you

But there was happiness because of you Both of these things can be true There is happiness

In our history, across our great divide

There is a glorious sunrise

Dappled with the flickers of light

Headcanon: Misleading song title in a way. This is what I’m dealing with in chapter 3 of my fic in the wake of Christina’s death and the process of Ruby moving on and finding happiness on her own. The writers Lovecraft Country tried really hard to make Christina a hateable villain, and I suppose through the lens of straight up hating white people, they may have done that for some viewers. They failed to give her any real Big Bad qualities though outside of manipulation and apathy—which while those aren’t shining character traits for her, it doesn’t make her the best (worst?) option for being the overarching antagonist. We had villains literally chopping people up and sewing them together, but Christina was the bad guy? Nah, I think not

long story short

Fatefully

I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me

Misery

Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep

And you passed right by

I was in the alley, surrounded on all sides

The knife cuts both ways

If the shoe fits, walk in it 'til your high heels break And I fell from the pedestal

Right down the rabbit hole

Long story short, it was a bad time

Pushed from the precipice

No more keepin' score

Now I just keep you warm

No more tug of war

Now I just know there's more

And my waves meet your shore

Ever and evermore When I dropped my sword

I threw it in the bushes and knocked on your door

And we live in peace

But if someone comes at us, this time, I'm ready Long story short, I survived

Headcanon: based on the idea that Christina survives, but does in fact have her magic stripped from her and is reflecting on the time period and going forward how she will protect her and Ruby’s relationship going forward by critics (like Leti) who would make Ruby choose between them.

Evermore

Hey December

Guess I'm feeling unmoored

Can't remember

What I used to fight for

I rewind thе tape but all it does is pause

On thе very moment, all was lost

Sending signals

To be double-crossed

And I was catching my breath

Barefoot in the wildest winter

Catching my death

And I couldn't be sure

I had a feeling so peculiar

That this pain would be for

Evermore

And when I was shipwrecked (Can't think of all the cost)

I thought of you (All the things that will be lost now)

In the cracks of light (Can we just get a pause?)

I dreamed of you (To be certain we'll be tall again, if you think of all the costs)

It was real enough (Whether weather be the frost)

To get me through (Or the violence of the dog days) (Or the violence of the dog days)

(Out on waves, being tossed)

(I'm on waves, out being tossed)

I swear (Is there a line that we can just go cross?)

You were there

And I was catching my breath

Floors of a cabin creaking under my step

And I couldn't be sure

I had a feeling so peculiar

This pain wouldn't be for

Evermore

Headcanon: Specific to You Drew Stars Around My Scars and Ruby’s grief in the early chapters and how she feels that the grief is impossible to move past when she thinks back about the months that the two of them spent getting to know each other as friends and lovers. She uses magic to connect with Christina even when she’s not there.

#text post #long ass text post #ruby x christina #lyrics #tswift for every occasion #all my problematic ships #we could have had it all

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xsparklingravenx · 4 years

Text

dying light

Title: dying light

Fandom: Xenoblade Chronicles 1 / 2

Characters: Zanza, Meyneth, Klaus, Galea

Rating: T

Word Count: 5,244

Summary: On the shoreline of a dying world, they meet again for one final time.

Klaus and Galea. Major spoilers for the entirety of Xenoblade 1 and Xenoblade 2

AO3

In the dying light of a cross-shaped sun, a woman awoke.

From horizon to horizon stretched a boundless sea, the sky above scorched in red, green, and lilac tones. She drifted amidst the trembling waves, carried along by its easy caress as it handled her as careful as a mother with her child. With no direction, no obvious right way to go, she was at its mercy as it carried her across its surface, no clear destination in sight wherever she looked.

So instead, she turned her thoughts, and her gaze, back to the sky. Such an unusual sunset, she thought as the sun dipping halfway beyond the horizon. The colours were more akin to a borealis, an amalgamation of odd, contrasting tones that she was certain held more in common than their appearances would have her believe. After all, it was nothing like she’d ever seen in any natural world. Nothing like what she’d ever seen from her perch upon the Mechonis, or in any other world before that.

She continued to drift, letting the ocean take her on whatever path it deigned. She was content to simply be the passenger; there was no need to be fight it, or to try and dictate the way the waves rolled her. This was her afterlife, or, so it seemed. Surprised as she was that there was one, she didn’t question it. There were so many things she didn’t understand, and so many things she had to accept. In a very long line of oddities, this was hardly the strangest she’d ever experienced.

And yet still, the shape of that cross-like sun as it continued to dim—she’d seen it before, years and years and years ago, countless millennia gone by. It had been burned into her mind, the final thing she’d seen before her life changed irreversibly, illuminating the figure of the man she loved as he dammed them both. There were many things she’d forgotten from her life before, but that would never be one of them.

Closing her eyes, she let the darkness be a comfort as she fell between the ocean’s waves, moving, moving, her body still, the air silent. In the moments of calm, she dreamt, of the Homs girl who had leant her a body, of her final moments clashing against a megalomaniacal god. War had been forever seared into her bones, into her genetic makeup. She had been born into the world fighting, and so she had left it too. Battle was all she knew, had been all she’d known for too long. Now that there was a moment for peace, she was all too glad to take it.

“This breeze. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t really considering it, but now you’ve said, I can see the appeal—”

Echoing words, voices she could hardly untangle, her own, or the Homs girl, his, or the Heir to the Monado. Memories she’d shared had become integral to her being, feelings she’d absorbed from the girl who had melded with her heart. The woman was a goddess, but she hardly felt powerful now. Lost in the ocean, she pulled herself apart and pieced herself back together, over, over, a machine replacing its own circuits, a woman searching for her own soul. Thousands of years’ worth of experiences were layered over her past like sediment, burying the truth and all that she had known with it.

So caught up in herself was she, that she barely noticed the waves depositing her carefully on a shoreline that had not been there before. It was only when she felt sand beneath her fingers that she realised she was no longer at one with the sea, but instead, on the surface of a wet, grainy beach. Surprised at the sensation, the woman sat up, looking at her hands in mystified silence.

She stared, turning her hand to look at her palms, then back to look at her knuckles, grains of sand falling with the movement. Then she flexed her fingers, clawing them, spreading them, making a fist with her hand. Tendons moved, and she noticed veins too, as faded as they were. It was not the movement that surprised her, but the fluidity, the colour, simply how normal it looked. She had grown so accustomed to her metal skin, to her silver tones, that the uneven, peach tone of her flesh stunned her into silence.

“It is horrifying, is it not? To be returned to our own flesh and see ourselves for what we truly were?”

Her breath hitched. The voice that came from behind her was one she knew intimately; though he and the Heir to the Monado shared it, she knew it was not the boy who she would find if she turned. Taking a moment to steady herself, she stood, wet fabric clinging to her body, sleeves of a white lab coat tight around her arms, drenched strands of silver hair falling past her face. The garb of a human. The garb of someone she might have once been.

She didn’t turn. Not immediately. Fists clenched at her sides, staring out to sea, she said, “I see this is not the afterlife after all.”

“What would make you say that?”

How sad he sounded. She knew it for the lie that it was. “You are cruel beyond words, Zanza. Those children, tell me, did they fail? Is this how you would remake our world? You would drag me back after you won to do war once more?”

Silence. Only the dreamy sound of the rolling waves punctuated it, her anger not matched by that of the atmosphere. Those Homs that she’d entrusted the world to, they’d had so much hope for their future. She’d given her life to make it happen, to save the boy who would save them all, yet once again, she and Zanza had been brought back to their beginning.

Zanza said, “I understand if you would hate me, but you misjudge the situation. This isn’t that world reborn.”

There was no other explanation. It was as empty as it always was at the start. As the Mechonis, she had borne witness to a world made of nothing but endless ocean, her own body and his the only habitable spaces. They would eventually give birth to life once more, and then they would divulge into needless violence. It was their cycle. It was their way. Zanza forced her into battle and she had no choice but to fight back, only ever for her people, never for herself.

“I no longer wield a Monado,” the woman said. She loosened her fists, the tension leaking out of her as she realised the futility of it all. “You saw to that. I know not how I stand here before you, but our battle is over before it begins this time. You will sacrifice everything all over again, and there is nothing I can do to stop you. This world will be yours for the taking. Is that not what you dreamt of all along?”

“Perhaps a part of me did,” Zanza said. “But in truth, there’s something else. One other thing I’ve been dreaming of all this time.”

She closed her eyes, angered tears welling in the corners. Her remorse, for everything she’d failed to do. Her guilt. Her grief. The Heir to the Monado deserved no such fate as to be obliterated. His friends deserved to defy their passage of fate, not submit to it. “And what is that?”

“To finally face you again, Galea.”

The name struck her like an arrow through her back. Finally, she turned, the breeze catching her hair as she did, her voice stuck in her throat. Her eyes took a moment to adjust, to focus on the hazy sight before her. Hands in the pockets of a lab coat matching her own, a faint smile on a familiar pair of lips, eyes as blue as the ocean she’d borne witness to for millennia.

Those eyes widened as he laid them on her, his lips parting a fraction. For a moment, she wasn’t there, on the shoreline, but instead a hundred thousand years ago, stood in the faded memory of the gardens of a research facility, seeing him for the first time below the low branches of a weeping willow tree.

The new professor was quite unlike any who had come before him. Galea had overseen several who wanted to crack open the secrets of their newfound Conduit, but none had managed to even scratch its surface—until this young man, or, so Galea had heard from her colleagues, anyway. Brilliant, alert, and yet incredibly elitist, he had apparently driven away every other assistant who had been assigned to his side.

“He has to do everything his own way,” said her friend, who waved her hands in overdramatic gestures when Galea chose to ask after him. “You’re gonna have your hands full with this one, if you even last five minutes with him.”

Galea was next in line for the role, having been begged by the higher-ups to take over the role of assistant as their last one threw in the towel. It was a mistake to say yes, and she knew it—her mother had always told her to never take a job position if she’d been passed over as the primary candidate in the first place. But she was young. She didn’t have all the time in the world to make a mark. If there was an opportunity in place, she had no choice but to grab it with both hands.

It was in the base’s gardens she found him, stood beneath a tree with one hand resting on the trunk, gazing out across the tranquil lake that bisected the grassy land in two. The ends of his white, standard-issued coat fluttered in the wind, blond strands of hair picked up and thrown about his head. Putting on her best smile, she linked her hands behind her back and went to stand next to him.

But, in her haste, she hadn’t prepared an opening statement. Unknowing what to say, she floundered for words, desperately searching for something to introduce herself with. In the end, all that came out was, “This breeze. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

He turned his head in surprise, eyes a fraction too wide, his mouth downturned a tick. “I wasn’t really considering it, but now you’ve said, I can see the appeal—” his gaze travelled downwards, and she considered retracting her comment until his line of sight snagged on her nametag attached to her breast pocket. “—Galea.”

Above them, quietly, a war raged on. Humanity had taken their conflict higher, beyond the stars themselves, but down on the earth, it was peaceful, quiet. “Yes. And you are Professor Klaus, are you not?”

He nodded, facing back towards the lake. “Am I right in thinking that you’re to be my new assistant? I recognize your name, but this would be our first meeting.”

“Our first meeting, yes, but I’ve already heard a lot about you.”

“Have you now? None of it good, I imagine.”

“I don’t tend to believe in idle gossip,” Galea said, still smiling. “I judge men on their own merits, not on the hearsay of others. As they say, seeing is very much believing.”

The breeze caressed her skin, calm and gentle. Klaus didn’t reply immediately, and when she turned to look at him, she found him still staring out at the lake. “Might I ask what you’re looking at?”

“Nothing in particular,” came his quick response, one of his hands dipping into his coat’s pocket. “I do my best thinking in the quiet, though that pursuit is ruined now, given that you’re here now. Judging men on their own merits, you said, and refusing to take part in gossip? Well. You must be fun at parties.”

“As must you, given how quick you are to turn.” Galea crossed her arms against her chest as he turned to face her once more. He was, in her view, terribly beautiful, his hair golden, his eyes soulfully blue, like if she looked too hard, she might see galaxies shining within. “Let me guess; the reason for your rudeness is because you want nothing more than to examine the Conduit by yourself. My presence is only a hindrance because of that reason—but tell me. Why? What is it about the Conduit that draws you in?”

Klaus laughed then, a bitter sound in his throat. “I want to save this world, Galea. What else? That thing, it emits so much power, if only we could access its full potential. Nobody has the acumen, the knowledge, to figure it out. But I do. I will unlock its secrets on my own, with no-one to stand in my way. And when I do, the Saviourites will fall by my hand.”

“I see,” Galea said. “So it is trite heroism that drives you.”

“Trite—!”

“But here is the issue, Klaus,” Galea cut him off, raising a finger to quieten him. “I can hardly believe in a man who I know nothing about. Your words right now are just that—words, and I haven’t seen what you can do. For all I know, I will find the path to humanity’s survival in my own research.”

“You have a lot of confidence, don’t you?” Klaus scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t need you. Or any of the others who they’ve tried to partner up with me. You’re all the same, eager to please, desperate to make some kind of mark. I don’t need that kind of overenthusiastic uselessness holding me back.”

“Uselessness? Such a strong word, considering you don’t know a thing about me!” Galea couldn’t help but be offended, planting her hands on her hips. “Well, you won’t find that ‘eagerness’ to please in me, Klaus. I’m not playing the role of your assistant to make-nice with the higher-ups, I’m doing it because the Conduit interests me, because it has so many secrets hidden within that I must know. Desperate to make some kind of mark, you say? Well. Aren’t you also? Isn’t that what you just said?”

“That’s what you took away from this conversation? That I’m ‘desperate’?”

“Indeed. But maybe you could show to me that you’re wrong, if you work hard.” He tried to speak over her, but Galea raised her finger again, cutting him off soundly. “No, you’re listening to me right now. This is my proposition to you; I will be your assistant, and you will prove to me that you are as good as you say. Then, and only then, will I have faith that perhaps you could save us all. That you could be the hero that you seem to be dreaming of being.”

Klaus’s eyebrows drew together, but he didn’t seem displeased. After a moment of what seemed like pure shock, he began to laugh, genuinely. Frowning, Galea said, “I don’t see the joke.”

“I’m not the only one they gossip about in this base, you realise,” Klaus said, shaking his head. “But perhaps they were wrong, or simply shallow. I heard you were cold, stony, even. Some even called you robotic in your methods, but from what I see now, that it is untrue. You wish to share the Conduit with me? Then you need to prove something to me also. Prove to me that you’re just as worthy, and perhaps I might consider the idea that we could be able to carve out a path to a new future together.”

Galea looked back across the lake, so still, so quiet. The sun sat in its lofty throne, perfectly circular, a beacon for their earth. A sign, she thought, of better days to come. “So it is to be a challenge then, one to another? Your arrogance is as they say.”

“Arrogance?” She could hear the smirk in his voice. “How amusing. I heard many use the same word to describe you. Perhaps we’re not so different as I first thought.”

“Give it time,” Galea said. “You will see the difference.”

“Will I? I can’t say I’m disinterested. But, for now, I think it’s time for me to go.” Klaus turned, drawing her attention back to him. He retreated away from the weeping willow, his back to her, giving a careless wave goodbye as he left. “I will meet you again, when it is time for us to do our work. You’ve spoken a big game now, so, don’t let me down, Galea.”

“The same to you, Klaus,” she replied. The lake rippled in the breeze as she looked back to it, tucking a lock of silver hair back behind her ear. Their war was one they had to win, competition or no.

Alone, or together, it mattered not.

He looked at her like he had that day, as if he was laying his eyes on her for the first time all over again. Blue-on-blue, human-to-human, flesh-to-flesh. He was gold, and she was silver, contrasting colours on the wheel of their world, opposite sides of the shoreline, opposite sides of their war. Her tears threatened to fall, but she did not let them.

Not yet.

“You would call me that, after everything?” she said. “I cast that woman out to sea as you so carelessly abandoned your past to rot. Do not invoke that name now, after I tried so hard to reach out to you. Do not speak to me so plainly, when you tore it all from me. I offered you peace, and you ripped it apart with your own hands.”

“Then you would prefer ‘Meyneth’?” Zanza asked. He looked so out of place, standing there like that in his human guise. The last time she’d seen him, his expression had been twisted with mania, his voice warped with delusional hatred. “You do not look very much like her to me, though.”

Something was wrong here. She searched him for any hint of a Monado, but there was no such weapon in sight. “This is treacherous, even for you. Appearing as you are, speaking to me this way—you revel in the fact that you’re breaking my heart.”

“That’s not true.” Zanza cast his gaze downwards, taking a single step across the sand. She took one backwards in response, and then another, her heels burying themselves beneath the grains as she wrapped her arms around herself. “Listen to me, Meyneth, Galea, whoever you wish to be in this moment. This is not your world, or mine, because those children you believed in succeeded. Your wish has been realised. They remade the world with their own desires, they cast out my twisted form and denied all gods.”

“How can I believe you?” Meyneth asked him. “When all has come to pass before, when you forced me into battle against you again and again, why would I believe a single word from your mouth?”

He stopped in his approach, closing his eyes. “I understand if you would hate me, for everything I’ve done.”

Hate? It wasn’t the right word for the way she felt. There was no word that could quite encapsulate the spectrum of emotions that she felt whenever Zanza entered her field of vison. They had clashed for lifetimes, sword against sword, collision in a thousand forms, a thousand conflicts.

“If what you speak is truth, then prove it.” Meyneth said.

“As someone once told me, seeing is very much believing,” Zanza said. He made a grand gesture towards the dying sun in the sky, a sweep of his arm. “The Conduit is gone. That boy, Shulk—his actions saw it so. What we are now, I couldn’t tell you, but we’re no longer the gods we once posed as. I believe—I believe that we’ve been reborn anew, one last time, in response to our own wishes, but that is mere hypothesis. I only know what my wish was, after all.”

She looked up at the sun. It did look like the Conduit, and it burned as brightly as it once had in the laboratories. “So if I am to believe what you say, then you are not Zanza. Is that it?”

“It would be easier to say yes,” Zanza said. “But it would also be a lie, and I can hardly hide from the blame that I deserve. I am recomplete. That day, when I made my decision, when I pressed that button, the Conduit tore my soul in two. Some of me ended up with you, in that world. I only regret that it was the worst of me.”

“Stop this,” Meyneth said. “You speak of another world? That you could possibly have—”

“It is a gateway. A gateway that will take us to an entirely new world!”

“You were right,” Zanza was looking up towards the Conduit-shaped sun for himself when she turned back, bathed in its light. “A meta-universe manifold. That was what you called it. And it was. It opened up so many possibilities, but I never should have done it. I awoke in pieces on the floor of the Rhadamanthus, half of me lost to your world, half of me still on that station. My decision was wrong. I know that now.”

She remembered the day she awoke too, the day she turned to the man she loved and saw only that crazed look in his eyes. “You never wanted peace,” she said. “First, you wanted heroism and glory. Then, you wanted immortality and devotion. You chose that over everything, even when I tried to stop you! You chose that over me.”

“I never forgot,” Zanza said. He approached anew, and she didn’t step back this time. “I never forgot your voice, how you shouted that day, how you told me to stop. I never forgot how frightened you sounded, or how tightly you held onto me. And part of me, the worst part, Zanza, he used that to fuel his hatred towards you. But me…”

“But you?” Meyneth stepped forwards now, the distance between them getting smaller. “Speak, Zanza. Respond to me.”

“My name is Klaus,” he said. “An arrogant man who thought he could change the future. A lonely fool who awoke to the knowledge that he’d sentenced everyone on the Rhadamanthus to death, a pathetic god who screamed your name over and over, hoping you would come and find me. I could see you through the link I shared with my body in your world. I knew everything he was doing, and I couldn’t stop him. He was me. I was him. And yet I could do nothing but wait and hope that someone would put us down. I carried the guilt of what I did for a millennia, waiting, waiting, constantly dreaming that I could one day see you again for myself.”

He closed his eyes, head ducked down low, hands in fists at his side. The Conduit’s sun grew dimmer still, the colours of the sky fading. What happened when it went out? Would their brief meeting come to an end?

Their lives were linked in the light of the Conduit. It was through it they had been reborn, been changed, been shaped. Klaus and Galea. Zanza and Meyneth. The same souls, different aliases. Humans and Gods, what became of them when there was nothing left?

Her voice would not come to her. Her mind would not work. It grew dimmer, and dimmer, and yet she didn’t know what to do.

In the light of the Conduit, brilliant and blinding, they kissed for the first time.

There was nobody around to see them, nobody around to interrupt. Most of the Rhadamanthus’ staff were tucked away in their dorms, and it was only Klaus and Galea left in the lab. One thing had led to another, and now she had her back against the window of stars while their lips chased one another in hungry desperation.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pushing further into him. He pushed back, his arms around her waist, their bodies pressed so tightly together that they were almost one. The solar system was their single witness as they abandoned their work for only each other, desperate and passionate. Planets watched, their legacy to come remembered by them and them alone.

Her hands found his hair. His held onto her hips. She’d never intended for things to go this way. What had started as simple rivalry had progressed into friendship, into late-night drinks and research. Travelling to the station beyond the stars had intensified things, their quarters now closer than ever before, their time spent mostly with each other.

For what felt like hours they simply existed to express their love, surfacing for air only to return once more. She was starving for him as he was her, and it was only later, when they finally tired, that she said, “I want to be with you, Klaus.”

“When the war is over,” he said, holding her close. “When we’ve unlocked the secrets of the Conduit and saved humanity, then we can do this right.”

“Are we not already?” she asked, touching her fingertips to her swollen lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than this moment. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier than when I’m with you.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Klaus rested his forehead against hers. “I want to take you to dinner, or to make you dinner. I want to take you home and sleep in the same bed as you. I want to be yours, to make a thousand memories with you.”

“We can start now,” Galea said, looking directly into his eyes, drowning in the depths. “Right this moment. I don’t want to be apart from you, not now, not ever. I want to hold onto you forever, not just in my memories. I want to do something fun. Can we dance?”

“Dance?” Klaus blinked, his surprise endearing. “But we have no music.”

“We need no music.” She pulled back from him and took his hand. “Sweep me off my feet. Prove to me that your head isn’t only for science.”

Ever one to rise to the challenge, Klaus took the lead. Clumsy as he was, he was enthusiastic, the two of them clasping hands in a not-entirely dreadful imitation of a ballroom dance. Around and around they went, momentum shared, joined in a union of movement that had her grinning, that had his eyes focused on her like she was all that existed in that moment. Perhaps they were all that existed. In her wildest dreams, she imagined a place for them, and them alone, untouched by war and fear, untouched by death and destruction.

“So do you believe in me now?” Klaus asked as they continued their duet, lab coats drifting with their movement. “That my head isn’t only for science?”

He dipped her low. She looked up at him, smiling. “I see it for myself, don’t I?”

So they went. So they carried on. And if she’d dared look away, dared catch sight of herself in the window’s reflection, she might have seen a future echoed in the mirror, illuminated by the Conduit itself.

A god dressed in golden tones dancing with a goddess made of steel, hand in hand, face to face. Their lips touched anew, and in the window, conflict sparked; but for Galea, all she knew in that moment was love.

“This burden is mine to bear,” Zanza said. “Everything that happened to our world. Everything that happened to you. Everything I put the innocent through.”

Meyneth turned her head, looking behind her to where the sea continued to roll on in. How unassuming it was, to not know of the conflict within her heart, to not understand and respond to her thoughts, her feelings. The sky had morphed into dusky tones, violets and emeralds and scarlets. She had the feeling they were running out of time, but she couldn’t explain why.

“You said you have a hypothesis,” she said, still looking out over that deep blue. “You believe the Conduit granted us one last wish each?”

“It is what I did for the world I came from,” Zanza replied. “After I had given up hope, a boy came to me with his friends and showed me there was still more to life than death. Perhaps the Conduit took pity on us. I for one know I’m pitiable.”

Such fascinating words coming from the mouth of the god who had decried anything that came beneath him. “Then what was your wish?”

“Have I not already told you?” His tone spoke volumes of his surprise. “It was to see you one last time, Galea. To beg your forgiveness.”

“Prove it to me,” she whispered. “Prove that you’re not him. Prove to me that you’re Klaus, not Zanza.”

“Done,” he said, and she heard his voice shatter on that single word. “I love you, Galea, more than the earth, more than the stars, more than anything. And I was wrong to choose the Conduit over you, I was wrong to submit us to destruction, and though I know forgiveness is out of reach for me, I needed to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Finally, her tears ran free. She blinked hard as they ran down her cheeks, and, cruel illusion or no, she could hold it back no longer. He was right there, the man she’d searched for in the eyes of a crazed god, looking at her like she was the world, and it broke her in two. She ran to him, arms outstretched, and he caught her as she collided with him. Together, they went down in the sand with a whumph, a flutter of coats and a mess of sobs. He pressed his lips to hers, and she let him in, responding lightly, her hands shaking as she clung to his back, his fingers gripping the back of her coat just as tightly.

“I searched for you within him for so long,” she said as they broke apart, as she buried her head into the crook of his neck. She shook off Meyneth like a snake shedding skin, searching deep within herself for the woman she might once have been. “Take me back to the start, Klaus. Let us begin again.”

“I would give anything to do that,” he said. The sky darkened further overhead. “But I fear this is all the time we have left.”

“No,” Galea lifted her head to look him in the eye. “If we are to be reborn again in the light of the Conduit or not, know that I will find you, no matter what it takes, because I never stopped searching, not even in our darkest hours.”

“And I will find you, Galea,” he said, one hand brushing against her hair. He closed his eyes and smiled. “This breeze. It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Breathless, tearful, Galea found it in her to smile; genuine and true. Her words echoed his of countless years ago. “I hadn’t noticed—but now you’ve said, I can see the appeal.”

The sun continued to die. The sky grew darker still, the colours fading from sight one-by-one, yet it mattered not to the lovers who had reunited in their final moments. They remained amidst the grains of sand, hand-in-hand, awaiting the end.

#Xenoblade Spoilers #Xenoblade Chronicles #Zanza #Meyneth #Xenoblade #My Writing

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solheira · 5 years

Text

MAIN VERSE.

❀ v; best intentions. (MAIN)

Eighteen years after her disappearance, Rapunzel manages to find her way back to Corona and is quickly embraced as the lost princess. However, not long after her return, unrest outside of Corona forces her father to take arms to help neighboring kingdoms. The kingdom is placed in the hands of the queen and Rapunzel takes the chance to throw herself into her new role as princess.

Six months pass and word from the king ceases to arrive. A small army of men lead by the newly enlisted Cassandra, daughter of the Captain of the guards, are sent to retrieve the king.

In a way to keep up spirits, it is decided that Rapunzel would officially be crowned princess, and her Coronation preparations commence. Although excited about the coronation, Rapunzel was worried her father’s disappearance, the war, and the fate of Corona were somehow connected to her return.

When she admitted her feelings to Eugene Fitzherbert, the now reformed thief, he assured her that she had nothing to do with the issues outside the walls. Even still, Rapunzel couldn’t help but shake the feeling but kept her doubts to herself.

On the day of her coronation the ceremony was disrupted by a band of criminals under the leadership of Lady Caine. Lady Caine wanted revenge on the kingdom for having sent her father away for a petty crime after Rapunzel was kidnapped.

Rapunzel, Eugene, and Maximus fought back the raid with the help of the Royal Guards. During the raid, Rapunzel noticed one of the attendees had also joined in the fight, and once Lady Caine was defeated she offered her gratitude. He introduced himself as Andrew, a scholar and adventurer, who had come from far to meet her after learning of her adventures.

Andrew’s admiration had not gone unnoticed by Eugene. Once the coronation was concluded, Rapunzel was crowned princess, and the festivities were done Eugene warned Rapunzel about Andrew. As the future heir, all sorts from all places would try to get close to her in hope of getting close to the crown. Rapunzel promised Eugene that he had nothing to worry about and reminded him of who truly held her love.

A full year since her return and there is still no word from the king. The small group in charge of finding him loses contact as well and the council began to discuss passing along the crown to the next heir, Rapunzel. The queen argues that she is still too young, just barely turned 19, and would fail to rule on her own. Her argument backfires, and it is decided that Rapunzel must wed within the following months.

Word spreads and soon enough, all sorts of men from all over begin to offer themselves to the princess. The idea of marrying a stranger frightened Rapunzel more than being queen. She was already in love with Eugene and had hoped his good behavior would win the hearts of the Council but they reject the notion that an ex-con could ever be king.

Eugene urged Rapunzel to run away with him, leave the kingdom behind so they could be happy, but Rapunzel declined. Her home was Corona and although she loved him she had a duty to her father and mother. She promised to make this right, to fight the rule and make it so they could be together.

He believed her and for weeks Rapunzel and her mother went back and forth with the council. At the same time Andrew, who had stayed behind after the Coronation, tried to come to Rapunzel’s defense. Rapunzel couldn’t take the role of queen if the former king was not proclaimed dead. With nobody there was no proof and with no proof there was no case. The argument work, for a while, but it only hushed the storm not ended it.

At the same time, Andrew went up to Eugene without Rapunzel’s knowing and stated the facts. Rapunzel fighting for Eugene was alienating her from her people and would bring more harm to her than good. If he truly loved her as he said he did, he would leave Corona peacefully and let her go. Eugene wanted to argue, but he had seen firsthand that Andrew was right but when he tried to bring it up to Rapunzel he couldn’t. He decided it’d be better to break her heart completely than amicably part ways. So, after sharing one final night with Rapunzel, he packed his belongings and left without saying goodbye.

The heartbreak was almost too much to bare but no matter who she asked and how many men she sent out, Eugene was nowhere to be found. Rapunzel quickly spiraled into a despair but was pulled out of the worst of it with the help of Andrew. There was still the matter of a betrothal to deal with and it would do nobody any good to see the future heir so distraught. He proclaimed to her that he had loved her since the Coronation and would not be denied as a candidate were she to agree to marry him.

He promised he would not impose on her freedom and did not want to be king, only wished that she was happy. He stated that he knew that she did not feel the same but that the marriage would please the council and bide them more time to find the king and Eugene. With that hope in mind, Rapunzel agreed to the arrangement, for is she was to marry at least she’d be marrying a friend.

Andrew and Rapunzel married in a grand spectacle of a wedding to reignite the spirit of the kingdom. Although it was a marriage of convenience, Andrew was kind and showered her with praise and love at every turn. Little by little her heart grew fond of him and she began to love him in return.

Yet, the queen noticed a change in her daughter. Rapunzel seemed paranoid and secluded herself during most of the day. When she asked Andrew he claimed to see no difference in his wife’s attitude and chalked it up to mother’s worry. The few times she was able to ask Rapunzel proved for naught.

Worried for her daughter and having received no help from the princess herself, Arianna began digging into for a solution. Andrew’s demeanor changed as well, he’d be gone for days and return late in the night. It was obvious that Rapunzel’s shortness with her and uncharacteristic actions were tied to Andrew’s strangeness.

The queen wrote to her sister in the hopes that Willow could help her shed some light. With the help of Willow, they came to the realization that Rapunzel was being controlled to silence by Andrew using an amulet with the crest of Seporia, a kingdom governed by Corona.

Willow was able to pull Rapunzel away long enough to break the amulet’s hold on her and Rapunzel was able to reveal to her and her mother that she had found out that Andrew was a part of the Separatists of Seporia and was not the man they believed him to be. When she confronted him, he had put her under the spell of the amulet and kept her silent. He warned Rapunzel that if she exposed him her father would die, admitting that the war had been started by the Separatists when the word of her return reached their ears. Rapunzel had been trying to keep the queen a way in fear that she’d be in danger too.

With her mother’s support, Rapunzel found her voice again but legalities still tied her and the kingdom to the marriage. If they wanted her father returned safely, they would have to find the Separatists hideout and hope they were not too late.

Unknown to them, Cassandra, the leader of the rescue party sent out two years prior, had finally managed to uncover the coup on her own and had found where the king was hidden and had managed to rescue him. He returns in secret and once he’s back, Rapunzel and the Queen and king expose Andrew for his treason. In an effort to keep the rebellion as under wraps as possible, they fake his death and lock him away in the castle’s underground prison. Rapunzel was able to annul the marriage and finally be free once again.

The return of the king silences the Separatists and they go back into hiding, and though their threat still looms overhead, the kingdom finds peace once more.

Now at twenty-three, Rapunzel has turned her cheek at the prospect of love and instead focuses on becoming the princess the kingdom had hoped her. Though her reputation has taken a hit, no one can deny that she is not only beautiful and soft-hearted girl but also intelligent with a spark of wit and untapped potential. Currently, she has begun to pick up more responsibilities within the kingdom, making both her parents proud and her kingdom eager for her reign.

❀ v; beloved by all. (QUEEN)

Adult Rapunzel / Queen // As the Princess ages, she gains popularity through her sweet disposition and strong personality. Time heals the wounds of the heart and she finds happiness in her role and herself. She becomes queen at the age of 35 and rules her kingdom with the Grace and Wisdom of her ancestors before her.

❀ v; and then that moment it ended. (IMMORTAL)

Immortal Rapunzel // They failed to tell her that with age comes death and soon, everything she learned to love was taken by hands she could not touch. Rapunzel tried her best to keep her loved ones with her and used her hair to offer them an extended life, a good life. But it was not enough.

Unfortunately, the magic that had been given to her by the sun was hers forever, and cutting her hair had done nothing to end her life and so she could never join her family.The problem with living forever is that you will eventually find yourself alone. When those she loved decided to leave this life in peace Rapunzel was left alone to wander the earth. She saw her kingdom go into legend and myth. The princess with the golden hair, with the power to heal, adapted into movies, theater, songs, art.

After a couple of years, Rapunzel made peace with herself and continues to try to see the world for what it is, a beautiful place with endless possibilities.

NOTES:

Unless stated otherwise, all ships and threads exist in their own bubble. There is a possibility of verse merging depending on the situation but the base backstory stays the same.

SHIPS:

Prince Phillip / @travmsoldat / Sleeping Beauty Luxord / Rould / @verumace / Kingdom Hearts Prince Eric / @seapriince / The Little Mermaid

#❀ text;#❀ v; best intentions. (MAIN)#❀ v; beloved by all. (QUEEN)

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jennycalendar · 6 years

Text

many kinds of magic

ao3

You can find magic anywhere if you look hard enough, but Tara doesn’t think she’ll ever find another Willow. Not anywhere.

yeah so i was trying to write soft fluffy giles/jenny and somehow it turned into a soft fluffy jenny-helps-pining-tara-with-her-crush-on-willow fic? not even i could have predicted this plot twist and i was writing it.

anyway i’m happy with this...i’ve missed writing for the buffyverse...please read

Jenny Calendar falls in love on a Sunday.

It’s straight out of a rom-com, because she and Rupert were out getting supplies to make a cake for the staff party and he tripped on the sidewalk and everything broke. There were a bunch of eggs in there (Rupert had promised he’d teach her how to bake a proper cake, and he said it in that adorable British way) and they end up smashed to bits in between the milk carton and the sugar and everything’s a soggy mess on the ground.

Jenny’s expecting Rupert to dissolve into an apologetic mess, and she’s already preparing herself to comfort him when he looks at her, looks at the groceries, and steps straight on the bag.

“There,” he says. “If I’m going to make a mess, I’m going to damn well do it properly.”

And shit but the wind gets knocked out of her when he looks up at her, because he’s got this proud, self-satisfied smile like he knows he’s just said something really funny (even though it really wasn’t that funny) and it’s the sweetest thing she’s seen (even though they’re out thirty-seven dollars and they’re going to have to buy more eggs) so Jenny stands on tiptoe and she kisses him on the sidewalk, feeling a wonderful rush as she winds her arms around his neck.

Like she said. Straight out of a rom-com. The worst kind of mushy romance you could find.

ii.

Tara Maclay falls in love next to a dumpster.

“Oh no,” Willow’s saying, her voice a pained whine. “Oh no oh no oh no we’re going to be in so much trouble what time is it? Is it midnight? Because I bet someone’s going to start looking for us at midnight because Buffy gets worried if I don’t get back to my dorm on time and no one knows I’m out here and Giles will be so upset if he finds out I stayed out late looking for Miss Kitty when it’s my fault that—”

Tara isn’t all that good with words, usually. But she knows what touch can do. So she slips her hand into Willow’s, soft and quiet, lacing their fingers together. A reminder.

Willow breathes out, almost a sob, and presses her cheek into Tara’s shoulder. “She’s such a tiny little kitty,” she mumbles, sounding thoroughly exhausted, “and I didn’t mean to leave the window open, and I thought—maybe she’d go to the trash, because cats like trash—is that dogs? Tara, I’m so tired.”

Tara still doesn’t really know what to say. Willow’s the composed one, the brave one, the one Tara’s always been so in awe of. But then she sees Miss Kitty, sitting on a nearby windowsill and washing a tiny white paw. “Willow,” she says with soft relief. “Willow, I-I found her.”

Willow’s head snaps up. “Oh—oh, Tara, thank you!”

Tara’s eyes are on Miss Kitty, so she doesn’t see Willow move forward and kiss her on the cheek. But she feels it, long after Willow pulls away, and she finds herself thinking oh no.

iii.

“No it’s a mess it’s a mess it’s a mess—” Tara’s sobbing very hard over the phone, and Jenny casts a worried eye toward Rupert to make sure he’s still asleep. “A-and I’m sorry I’m so sorry I just I didn’t know who to call and Willow she always says you listen and I’m s-o sorry—”

Jenny feels very out of her element. But the trick Rupert taught her back during the kids’ senior year (when she was so convinced that she wasn’t enough of a mentor for Willow) is that sometimes it’s best to be honest about not knowing what to do. “What do you need?” she asks, trying to sound gentle and maternal. She hopes she pulls it off; Tara deserves nothing less.

“She’s just—” Tara hiccups. “I don’t—I—Ms. Calendar—how d-do you stop loving someone? Like—if you know it’s never going to work out—”

Oh, thinks Jenny. She winds the phone cord around her hand, knowing that what she says isn’t really going to be what Tara wants to hear. “I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t think I was ever able to.”

iv.

Willow kisses Tara for the first time (on the mouth, not just a cheek kiss; those happen in frustrating abundance) outside a small café near campus, this tiny little place that barely anyone from UC Sunnydale goes to because everyone’s always at the Espresso Pump. Willow held Tara’s hand all through the dinner, and even though it’s never once happened before, it felt to Tara like an inevitability that they would kiss at the end of the meal, enough so that she’s not surprised when they do.

It’s not electric, like it is when they’re doing spells together. It doesn’t feel like there’s the same kind of magical energy, not to Tara, but that’s what makes it so wonderful. Everything about Willow is magical and sparkly from a distance, but holding her this close, all she is is Willow. You can find magic anywhere if you look hard enough, but Tara doesn’t think she’ll ever find another Willow. Not anywhere.

Willow’s eyes are half-closed when Tara breaks the kiss. She doesn’t say anything, just traces Tara’s cheek with a fingertip. Tara’s afraid that she’ll breathe wrong and break the spell.

“What is this?” she says, even though she doesn’t want to.

“I don’t know,” says Willow, which is strangely comforting to Tara. I don’t know means there’s something of a chance.

Jenny enters the room, hesitating by the door, not sure if Tara wants to be left alone. Tara’s sitting on the couch, holding a cup of tea that’s almost certainly gone cold by now, staring down at it without really looking at it at all. “Sorry I called you a few nights ago,” she says, and she sounds too tired for a girl that young. “That was probably—out of line. Or something.”

Jenny is reminded of the way it felt to kiss Rupert on a sunny sidewalk, the dizzy elation that comes with knowing you can hold the person you love. A well-guarded secret with no danger to it. “No,” she says. “It’s okay. Are you going to tell her?”

Tara half-shrugs.

“That’s okay too.” Jenny crosses the room and sits down next to Tara, staring straight ahead.

There’s a photo hanging on the wall opposite them, one of Jenny’s favorites. It’s one of the candid shots from the yearbook; Willow and Jenny are standing at the front of Jenny’s classroom, teaching a lesson together. The picture’s snapped in the middle of one of Willow’s contagious laughs, and Jenny’s got a proud smile on her face.

“I think she’s the closest I have to a daughter,” says Jenny. “Weird how things happen. You show up in Sunnydale thinking you’re here for one reason, and you end up staying for another.” Her eyes drift to a photo of Rupert, soft-eyed and smiling. “Two others.”

“What are you saying?” Tara asks softly.

“I’m saying—” Jenny isn’t sure if she’s ready to look at Tara. There’s so much pain and hurt in that girl, so much she wants to fix and can’t. “Willow thinks she knows her reasons,” she says, “and you think she does too. I don’t think she’s really found herself out yet, even if you do.”

“You’re being kinda cryptic.” Tara sniffles, then laughs a little. “I guess I get why Willow says you’re a good listener. It’s, um, it’s hard to tell what you think about things.”

Jenny hesitates. “I think this is something you should figure out on your own,” she says finally. “I don’t want my perspective to color the decisions you make.”

“That makes sense.” Tara settles back into the couch, taking a sip of tea. “It tastes nice cold,” she says thoughtfully.

“Don’t tell Rupert that,” says Jenny, smirking, “he’s still not okay with the whole concept of iced tea.”

vi.

Willow kisses Tara and kisses her and kisses her in her dorm room, fairy lights illuminating them both and adding a golden glow to Willow’s hair. Willow’s sweater is thrown to the floor and Tara stops kissing her for a second so that she can gently place Willow’s sweater on a nearby chair.

“What—” Willow kisses Tara, smiling against her mouth, and pulls away to continue, “—do you need my sweater on a chair for?”

“I don’t want it getting wrinkled,” says Tara with serious concern, and that’s when Willow knows.

And she almost stops kissing Tara, then, almost turns and runs out of the dorm, leaving her sweater behind. Because Tara’s so beautiful and so kind and Willow’s just this big mess who’s never thought to think beyond kissing Tara, holding Tara, being with Tara, never thought to think hey, maybe I’m in love with this girl.

Willow’s cried to Tara about Oz, too, before they started kissing and holding hands all the time (that sounds so obviously romantic, now, but Willow kept on trying to label it as confusion and experimenting because that seems like the kind of thing her mom would call it), so, so has Tara just thought all along that experimenting is all they’ve been doing? What does Tara think? Why hasn’t Willow once tried to think about what Tara thinks?

Suddenly, Willow’s hesitant.

“It’s okay,” says Tara softly. Tara always seems to know when Willow’s upset, even though in this case it doesn’t really seem like she knows why. “You’re—you’re with me, and—it’s okay.”

Willow unbuttons Tara’s shirt, a familiar action. She wonders how and why she hadn’t known she was falling in love with this girl, wonders if she’s brave enough to love someone when it feels as big and scary as this.

vii.

Willow slips out of Tara’s room, after. Pulls on the sweater, notices too late that it’s backwards, leaves anyway. She knows where she has to go.

viii.

The part that Jenny always leaves out of her beautifully romantic story is that after she finished kissing Rupert, when she pulled away from him and his hair was a mess and his eyes were so soft and adoring, she realized she was in love and she ran. She ran back to her car and drove back to her house and locked herself in her room and hugged her leather jacket to her chest and tried to make herself stop loving him, because there was no way anything between them would end in anything but disaster. She hadn’t come to this town for love. She wasn’t supposed to find it here, or now, or this much of it.

And then Rupert showed up at her door with the completely destroyed bag of groceries and thirty-seven dollars and said he wouldn’t destroy any more of her eggs and sugar if it upset her that much, and Jenny was still so afraid, but something about the way he was looking at her made her feel like they’d figure things out together.

Willow, small and forlorn in her backwards sweater, says, “I don’t know how to be in love. How does anyone just—just love someone without being scared?”

Jenny thinks about Rupert, cracking their only unbroken egg against a bowl. “Maybe you’re always a little bit scared,” she says. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

ix.

At first, Tara’s afraid when she wakes up and Willow’s not there, because Willow always stays. But then she remembers that Willow always studies in the library every Saturday, and so Tara brings her a coffee at noon. They sit together and hold hands while Willow writes and makes flash cards and Tara listens to music on an IPod Jenny gave her a few weeks back. It’s full of techno-music sung by girls with loud voices, which isn’t really Tara’s kind of music, but she doesn’t mind. She likes thinking about Jenny sitting and listening to this. She likes knowing that this is a small part of someone who cares about her.

Today, Willow spills her coffee. It gets all over the flash cards and her skirt and even a nearby book Willow had borrowed from the very library they’re sitting in. And Tara’s expecting Willow to make her sad-puppy noise, but Willow looks at the coffee with a funny expression and says, “Tara, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” says Tara, not sure where Willow’s going with this. They’re still holding hands. Tara wonders if Willow will pull away to clean up the coffee.

Willow doesn’t. She says, “I—I don’t know how I’m supposed to say this. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Tara feels a spike of panic. “Is this—do you not want to see me anymore?”

“No,” says Willow in a high, panicky voice, “no, oh my god I’m really messing this up, okay, here goes,” and kisses her. Full on the mouth, in the library, and this is very different from a café that no one goes to or a walk at night or in Tara’s dorm room where no one will see. Tara’s pretty sure that the guy studying at the table near them is in her chemistry class, and there’s a group of people from Willow’s dorm studying two tables away.

Tara kisses her back. She wants to say that she feels giddy, that she recognizes this as some kind of big step, but kissing Willow is always a world within itself. She breaks the kiss and says “What is this?” only now she thinks that, if she’s really lucky, she might know the answer.

“See, that’s the thing,” says Willow. There’s a brightness in her eyes, and her smile wobbles in that way that says I’m-so-happy-I-might-cry. “This is me in love.”

“You owe me twenty dollars,” says Jenny to Giles when Tara and Willow tell them both. “Pay up.” Then she makes them sit through this mostly-pointless story about the first computer she got while Giles makes everyone tea. Tara isn’t listening to most of the story; there's something much more wonderful about watching Willow’s reactions and the way Jenny moves her hands.

Jenny catches Willow at the door. “Take good care of her,” she says, loud enough for Tara to hear. “This one’s a keeper.”

#fic #i feel so weirdly insecure abt this...it's been so long since i've written anything #consider this me attempting to come back #probably write some femslash #anyway #calendiles #tillow

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