#of course it’s etcetera aloud

[tumbwr]

do u ppl *think “etic” or “eee tee sea” **in your head when u read this? -> etc.

#it’s etic to me #like i’m talking about what do you Think when you Read it now read it aloud #of course it’s etcetera aloud #i’m saying. what goes on in ur brains #ya ​goofs #edited og post for clarity

[lou-struck]

Operation: Stay Away Cupid Pt. 3

OM Brothers & Datables x reader

Featuring: Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor

Still in the dark about the details of Solomons prank you continue on with your Valentines dates with the brothers. But after awhile you begin to realize that there is something they are not telling you.

Part 1

Part 2

a/n: wow this has taken awhile! My bad!

Part 3 ~

Mammon’s feet have never moved so fast as he rushes back to the House of Lamination to find Lucifer. He swears he saw Cupid’s arrows fly by your head. 

If it had hit you, would you really belong to someone else? 

It makes him feel sick to his stomach, and he hopes that this cupid thing doesn’t get its hands on you. 

He bursts through the doors to Lucifer’s study, only to find Levi already there. The Otaku is panting even heavier than Mammon is despite being in the office longer.

“Wh… You…. MC…” he pants out, doubled over from the overwhelming amount of cardio he has done today. 

“Sit down, Mammon,” his elder brother says, gesturing to the vacant seat next to the frightened Otaku. 

“Sit down? The Great Mammon will not sit down.” he breathes, puffing out his chest, ready to face off against his older brother. Typically he would’ve just sat to save his own skin, but today, if different, you are in danger. Something is out there trying to steal your heart.

“Mammon,” his brother says sternly. His eyes glanced down at the seat next to Levi as one final gesture before the Avatar of Pride truly loses his patience with his younger brother. “Solomon tricked us; it was only a prank.”

“A prank?” I saw one of those damn magic arrows fly past mc’s had at the races.” Mammon argues, still feeling very worried about you running off into the sunset with some strange magic baby thing.

“An illusion, I’m sure,” Lucifer replies. “Leviathan saw enchanted floating hearts during his date and almost fainted.”

“That true?”

Levi nods, too tired to speak at the moment. Looking to Lucifer to continue the explanation.

“When Mc and I were having our Valentine’s Date, they talked about some human world traditions for the holiday and brought up Cupid themselves. They mentioned that they don’t exist, and we continued on with our romantic date, kissing, chocolates, dancing, etcetera.” Lucifer didn’t have to mention that last part, but it fills him with pride to know that he was the first one to have your lips that day and Mammon knows it.

“Wh- you mean that I ruined a perfectly good afternoon with MY Human because of a little prank?” Mammon stammers, clenching his tanned fist so tightly he is surprised they haven’t fallen off yet. “That shady sorcerer has another thing coming.”

“Yea, Mc and I are going to have to redo our isolation date,” Levi whines at last, his amber eyes blazing with envy. “We didn’t even get to finish our milkshake.”

“That is true, but so far, the two of you haven’t ruined their day; in fact, it’s quite the opposite.” Lucifer hums, “Our dear human, for some reason, loves the chaos you create and will find something to enjoy no matter what. Solomon, of course, will have to reimburse the two of you for any expenses you incurred during your dates, but for now, we shouldn’t tell the others.”

“Operation Stay Away Cupid is still a go? Levi asks. “But why?”

“Damn stupid name for an operation,” Mammon grumbles, picking at his armchair. 

Lucifer laughs, swatting his brother’s hand from the upholstery. “Because it makes sure the six of you keep your eyes on Mc during your date. The others will figure it out soon, but I have a feeling a few of them have caught on to this little ruse of Solomon’s.”

“Like who?” Mammon wonders aloud…

~

Satan ~

Surprisingly, you haven’t seen anything of the Avatar of Wrath today. Surely he would’ve tried to do something to interrupt your date with Lucifer.

After running across the Devildom on your strange yet enjoyable dates with a Mammon and Leviathan, you excitedly head to Satan’s room for a change of pace. The gift you had prepared for him tucked neatly under your arm. Not bothering with knocking, you let yourself into his room as the gentle smell of paper and earl gray tea reaches your nose.

“Is that you, Mc?” his voice calls from somewhere behind the mountain of books near the wall. “I’ll be right out.”

“I’m here.” you smile, stepping toward the center of his room. “I know I’m a bit early, so there is no need to rush.”

“I’m almost ready,” he calls, are your ears pick up on a faint rustling sound. He must be ignoring your previous statement. It’s only a few seconds until you see him come out from behind the book wall wheeling out a little cart with a peaceful smile on his face as he meets your gaze.

“Oh, what’s all this?” you ask, setting the gift down onto one of the many stacks of books that must be older than your grandparents, a step closer to looking at the contents of the cart. It is filled with a strange assortment of art supplies, including thread, glue, thick blank sheets of cardboard, and various paints and stamps.

“Just a little activity for us to do.” He explains, bringing the cart to a stop and walking toward you, holding out what looks to be a gold-leafed book without its cover. “I heard book binding was getting quite trendy in some areas of the human world, so I thought It would be fun if we could decorate the cover of one of your favorite novels.”

“That sounds amazing; you are so creative when it comes to things like this.” you beam. “I think we will have so much fun, but I have never done this before, so you may need to help me.”

“I would be delighted to,” he hums, glancing back at the window. 

‘Has it always been boarded up like this?’ you wonder before the handsome Demon recaptures your attention.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, MC,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms almost protectively around your waist. When you hug him back, you swear he starts purring like a cat.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you giggle, scratching the top of his hair and messing with his blond strands. “I have a gift for you too.” You pull away just enough to grab his present, clad in the cheesy kitten-themed wrapping paper you found while in the human world. 

His eyes widen when he notices the adorable wrapping, and he takes it from you, holding the gift gently as if it is made of the brittlest of glass. “Thank you so much,” he murmurs, undoing the ribbon with an even pull. 

“You can open it faster, you know,” you point out as he carefully slices through the tape, not tearing the paper in the slightest. 

“But then I would rip the paper, and I cannot bring myself to ruin such perfect paper,” he says defensively at last opening the gift. 

On the outside, the cardboard box is modeled to look like a book, but on the inside, there are different themed chocolate truffles that are set to match some literary classics from the human world. When you say this at a small bookshop, you know this would be the perfect gift for Satan, and judging by the elated grin on his face, you realize you were right.

“This is wonderful,” he breathes, reading the little key on the top of the box. I believe I will have to try each chocolate while I reread the novels they are inspired from.

He looks so excited at the excuse to spend even more time reading it makes you giggle. “I’m so happy you liked the gift. It’s then you notice a bright pink stack of paper and other reading materials on the little side table next to his usual reading chair. 

“Oh, how cute, it’s Cupid,” you say, picking up the image of the winged baby on the glittery card. “I didn’t realize you guys had him down here.”

Setting down his present Satan comes up behind you placing his head on your shoulder as you read the card. “We don’t; these are from the human world.”

“I see; then how did you end up with these cards?” you ask cautiously, features falling slightly, “You don’t have other valentines from the human world, right?”

“No!” he says much louder than anticipated, “you know you’re the only one I feel this way towards. I just bought these for research purposes.”

“Research? About the holiday?” You ask, raising a brow. Strangely, you feel like you had this conversation with Lucifer only a few hours ago. 

“Y-yes, the holiday. He replies simply, a pink blush settling on his cheeks. What you don’t realize is that Satan’s mind is currently processing the fact that he had been tricked by the sorcerer. You had never been in any danger. “You humans certainly have wild imaginations when it comes to magic.”

“That we do,” you say proudly. As the two of you begin your book binding date. 

In the back of your mind, however, you are beginning to realize that there is something suspicious going on with the Brothers.

Asmodeus~ 

Asmodeus looks even more handsome than ever as he giddily leads you down a cobblestone pathway to the river. “Just wait until you see the romantic date I have planned for us, Hun.” he purrs, looking at you with such intensity your knees wobble slightly. 

You may be immune to the charming effect of his eyes, but the Avatar of Lust never fails to fill your stomach with butterflies.

“I can’t wait,” you say earnestly, giving his ringed hand a little squeeze. After some of the strange encounters, you have had with the others today, a cutesy, stereotypic Valentine’s date is just what you need to give you a sense of normalcy. And maybe a little PDA, but come on, this Asmodeus we are talking about here, PDA is normal.

“He flashes you a brilliant smile and takes you on to a lightly stained wooden dock overlooking the river. “Alright, surprise.” He gestures to a white-painted rowboat with the cutest little bucket of demonus placed perfectly on the seat. He looks a bit nervous as he looks back at you with pink cheeks. “D-do you like it?” 

“I love it,” you say, allowing him to eagerly guide you into the little boat that magically does not rock at all, “This setup looks like it came right out of Devilgram.”

At your praise, his smile gets just a bit sweeter. “I’m glad you think so, darling. I want this little date of ours to be as romantic as possible.” he coos, sliding into the seat next to you; closing the little space between the two of you is second nature to him by now, and you love his teasing little touches with all your heart. 

Without even touching the oars, the boat begins to move on its own, riding the rapids and carrying your lovebirds farther and farther from the dock. You look to Asmo with confusion as you wait for him to give you an explanation. 

“Nothing to worry about, hun; the boat is enchanted to steer us through the river safely. Think of it as an enchanted lazy river ride.” he giggles, popping open the cork of the bubbly demonus and pouring the light pink liquid into the heart-shaped flutes. 

“You certainly were made for Valentine’s Day, Asmo.” you giggle, accepting the flute from his freshly manicured hands. “Oh, before I forget, I have a gift for you.” reaching into your bag, you pull out a long parcel adorned with the biggest pink ribbon you could find and give it to him. 

“For me?” he asks seductively. “Doll, you know all I really want from you is a bit of alone time.”

Your skin heats up at his not-so-family-friendly insulation, but you compose yourself quickly. “True, but I think you deserve something else today as well.”

“Oh, aren’t you a tease.” he laughs, carefully opening the gift, The sweet specialty cologne in the gold and crystal molded rose bottle. “This is lovely,” his eyes shine in wonder as he spritzes a bit on himself. 

The scent is even better than it was in the department store you found it in. “Smells good. Do you like your gift?”

“I love it,” he purrs, leaning in close. Just as he is about to take your lips with his own. A single white feather floats between your faces, tickling your nose slightly. 

“That’s strange; I haven’t seen any birds out.” you hum, turning your attention to the feather that floats down the river further and further away from you. 

You may not have an inhuman smell, but there was something familiar about the smell of the feather. Perhaps Asmo knows where it came from.

“It looks like someone has been bad,” you hear him mutter darkly, the statement pulling your gaze from the water and up at the Avatar of Lust.

“Asmo?” you ask, taking in the annoyed expression on the Demon’s face. “Is something wrong?”

The dangerous expression melts away once he looks back at you, and it is replaced with a deep and genuine smile. “Not at all, dear; that little feather just smelled like a friend of mine; it put me in a sour mood thinking about them at a time like this,” he replies, waving the whole thing off. 

“A friend?” you ask curiously. “What did they do to make you so angry with them?”

He gives you a soft smile and cups your cheek. “Oh, nothing, then just lied to me about something rather important.”

Beelzebub~

The Giant box of chocolates you are hauling to Beel’s room strains your muscles, but you are determined to get it to him in one piece. It takes far longer than you had anticipated, but you are now outside the double door leading to the twin’s room, where your sixth Valentine’s date of the day awaits. After the first five dates, you are definitely feeling a bit peckish and hope whatever Beel has planned for the two of you involves some food. 

How on earth are you going to let yourself into the room? The heavy box in your hands has you quite occupied. Just as you are about to try and open the door with your foot, it swings open to reveal the massive physique of Beel on the other side.

His eyes light up when he sees you, “Oh Mc, you’re here. I thought I heard something.” he smiles cutely. “Do you need any help with that box?”

Too out of breath to answer with your words, you nod urgently. He takes the box and walks further into the room with it as if it were as light as the wight feather you saw while out on the river.

“Thank you, Beel,” you breathe, “Your gift was too heavy for me to carry on my own.”

His cheeks turn a deep crimson color as he stares down at the massive heart-shaped box curiously. “This is all for me?” 

“Of course it is,” you laugh, “I think you have the biggest sweet tooth out of everyone.”

“Can I open it?” he asks shyly. He looks like he is holding himself back from tearing into the gift for your sake; it’s too cute, so you nod.

He pop’s off the lid quickly to see the layers, and layers, and layers of human world Valentine’s Day chocolate. 

“Ohh, more human world treats,” he hums dreamily, licking his lips.

“More?” you ask curiously, looking to him for an explanation.

“Oh,” he sighs with chocolate already in his mouth, “Those heart candies Solomon gave everyone earlier were delicious; I wonder if he has an~” he pauses and looks as if he had said too much. “N-nothing, Mc. I don’t know what I am saying.

“Oh?” you frown as you try to figure out if this little meeting supposedly everyone had with Solomon has something to do with how strange everyone had been acting today. 

“Oh right, I still have to give you my gift,” he says, changing the subject with an absentminded smile. “It’s in the kitchen. Will you come with me?”

It’s not fair to waste your time with Beel playing detective, so you agree happily, but as you start to follow him, you realize that your legs are still tired from hauling his gift up the stairs.

“Are you tired?” he asks, “I can carry you.”

Before he can even finish asking, you hold out your arms so it is easier for him to scoop you up. “Yes, please.” you giggle as he does just that. You feel so safe and secure in his arms as he walks the familiar path toward the kitchen. 

The kitchen is unusually clean as he sits you down on one of the tall bar stools next to the island. On the counter lies a big bowl of freshly washed Blood Strawberries and smaller bowls filled with various kinds of melted chocolate and sprinkles.

“It’s not much, but I heard Chocolate covered strawberries are popular for people who like each other to share during Valentine’s Day,” he mumbles. “I asked Lucifer to enchant the doors earlier so I wouldn’t be able to come in here without you, so I wouldn’t eat it all.” 

Beel waited to eat?

The sweet sentiment makes your heart skip a beat as you look at the range-haired Demon affectionately. 

“This looks delicious, Beel. Let’s start making some; I hate to steal your line, but I am really hungry right now.” you tease, grabbing one of the berries and taking a well-deserved bite.

Belphie ~

This little Valentine’s date marathon you have been on today is far from over, but after making and eating your fill of chocolate-covered strawberries with Beel, you are beginning to feel a bit fatigued from the whole thing.

 With Belphie’s little gift bag secure in your arms, you walk up the long spiral staircase to the observatory for your date; you wonder what the Avatar of Sloth has planned for you and if he will act with the same mysterious cautiousness the others had had throughout the day. The doors part for you as you enter, hitting you with a gentle breeze that carries the smell of lavender.

The room has been completely cleared out of all furniture safe for the telescope; now, two easels adorned with black canvases and a cart full of silvery paints stand proudly in the center of the room, along with what looks to be a fairy lumpy mattress. 

It’s strange; the little mattress seems to be moving slightly. Your feet tread lightly across the ground so as to not disturb the breathing lump of blankets and pillows.

“Don’t tell me you fell asleep without me?.” you call teasingly, looking down at the drowsy brother, Belphie stirs and pokes his head out from under the pile and rubs his eyes. Shifting to a more comfortable position on the mattress. He smoothes out the ruffled blanket on his lap and gives you a big smile.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles. “I just wanted to make sure our spot was comfy.”

“And was it?” 

“Very,” he hums, sinking into the pile of pillows, “would you like to try it out?”

“I do, but first, I have to give you your gift,” you say, holding out the light purple gift bag eagerly. So far, all of the brothers have loved your spin on valentines Day gifts, so you hope that he will appreciate the thought you put behind his as well. 

He sits up straighter and eyes the bag curiously. “You got me something too?”

“Of course I did,” you beam, watching as he crinkles the tissue paper. “But if you don’t want it, I can take it back.”

“Hmmm, sorry, no take-backs.” he laughs, pulling the paper out of the bag. And pulling out the foil-wrapped chocolate bars. “Oh, these look different than the treats you brought back from the human world last time.”

“I’m glad you noticed,” you chuckle, “These are special chocolates that are made to help you sleep. It’s a good nighttime snack that can calm you down and hopefully give you good dreams.”

His eyes widen as he reads the back of the packaging. “They really can help me sleep?” he asks. “We should try them right away.”

You briefly glance back at the prepared date supplies before looking back at him. Your tiredness wins over your curiosity. “I could use a rest; I’ll share a piece with you.”

He gives you a smile of soft victory and breaks off a piece of chocolate. He then breaks the large square in two.

“Here you go,” he says, holding out the larger half to you. “My brothers must have thrown a lot at you today; you should get the bigger piece.” His words send memories of the past couple of hours flashing through your brain as you taste the rich and creamy treat. The light hints of chamomile soothes your taste buds as the chocolate melts in your mouth. 

“Mmm, this is good,” he hums. “Thank you so much for giving them to me; you must have put a lot of thought into this.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” you say, cheeks heating up at the praise, “I just saw them when I was out shopping, and I thought you would enjoy them. If you ever want more, I can bring you some.”

Why is Belphie acting so normal? He hasn’t seemed irritated or paranoid at all? If something was up with him, wouldn’t you have realized it by now?

“Come on, Mc.” he beckons, opening his arms, “Come and take a nap with me. We both need it.”

You give him a look of soft affection that you seem to only have for him. “Well, how can I refuse when you ask so nicely?”

“What’s with the easels?” you ask, snuggling deeper into his arms and feeling the soft material of his lavender-scented cardigan. 

“Oh, never mind that,” he yawns, wrapping his arms and legs around you like a koala bear. “We can do that later; for now, I don’t think opening any of the windows is a good idea. We might let something in.”

“The windows?” you murmur, looking up at the sealed glass ceiling of the observatory, “What would come in?

“Just that stupid Cupid thing,” his voice barely escapes his mouth, and his eyelids are so heavy it’s a miracle he hasn’t fallen completely asleep yet. Just before he dozes off leaving you with more questions than answers, he speaks again, “Mn’ don’t wanna lose you…”

#obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me scenarios #obey me x reader #obey me #obey me headcanons #belphegor x reader #belphegor fluff #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #omswd x reader #satan x reader #asmodeus x reader #asmo x reader #beelzebub x reader #beel x reader

[randomwritingguy]

The Myth of Y/N (Korra x Reader) Part 37

Y/N ALONE - PART TWO

Y/N’S POV

The unrolled scroll sprawls across the wooden table like an infinite river of knowledge. The words are halfway into fading into nothingness, emphasising the ancient energy emitting from them.

So much knowledge from one mere text.

Ever since I became an airbending master, I have realised just how many responsibilities there are to be a leader of a nation. I am now responsible for teaching students and future Air Nomads who will go on to teach the next generation and etcetera. It can be overwhelming.

However, there are perks to being a master.

I was pleasantly shocked when Tenzin told me I was allowed to access and read the books and texts from his office. Normally, only he’s allowed to be in his office (for obvious reasons) and to have a look at the stuff he has collected over the years. But, like I just found out that Jinora is allowed to have a look too, he said I have his permission to go through and expand my knowledge on our culture.

And, right now, that is exactly what I am doing and I have learned that, despite being a master, I still have much, much to learn.

This scroll, in particular, is for a special research project I have had in mind for a while now. And, as I read its contents, my intrigue is amplifying as I learn more about the infamous site that tormented me:

The Fog of Lost Souls.

Over two years ago, Jinora and I were trapped in the desolate place by Unalaq’s dark spirits. While Tenzin was able to save us, including Bumi and Kya, the memories of what happened in the fog itself were almost entirely erased. We were able to recover bits and traces since then, the overall experience is an empty spot in our minds.

But I know something happened there. The last few thing I can remember in the fog was Jinora and I being separated after running away from something. After that? Blank.

I asked Tenzin about the Fog of Lost Souls and he told me that apparently, from the contents of the text I am reading right now, that it is actually a spirit who infects the minds of its prisoners, imprisoning them in their own darkest memories and driving them to insanity. Overall, a fate worse than death.

I didn’t think much of it at the time but, a few days ago an idea came to mind. A very intriguing but dangerous idea.

A light knock on my bedroom doors brings me out of my thoughts.

“Come in.”

I hear the two doors slide open and I turn to face the visitor.

It’s Tenzin, dressed robes of red and yellow that makes him look awe inspiring.

“Y/N, I hope I am not intruding.” The older airbender asks in a gentle tone.

I smile at seeing my mentor and gracefully rise from my chair. “Of course not, Tenzin. Is there something wrong?”

He walks closer into my room and gives me a smile of his own. “No, nothing wrong. I just have a task for you, if you don’t mind.”

“What is it?”

“I’ve heard from reports that there are pirates stealing supplies from ships travelling in-between the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom. From what I’ve read, the United Forces have not been able to capture them. I was wondering if you would want to assist them.”

My eyebrows raise slightly in interest. Pirates, huh?

“Of course, I’ll get everything ready and head out as soon as I can.” I tell him. “Besides, it will give me an excuse to stretch my legs and have a change in scenery. I’ll fly by the Fire Nation once I’m done to see if there’s anything I can do there to help. I’m sure Fire Lord Izumi would appreciate it.”

At the sound of my agreement, Tenzin’s smile widens in gratitude. “I suppose she would.”

I then see his eyes move slightly to behind me and I know he is looking at the scroll sprayed out on the table. “I see you have already started your reading.”

I nod. “I’m researching about the Fog of Lost Souls.”

That clearly wasn’t what the wise master expected as his jaw drops slightly. “That’s an odd starting topic. Is there a specific reason why?”

I nod again. “Yeah…”

“What is it, Y/N?”

I swallow aloud. Tenzin is really not going to like this.

“It’s been nearly three years since I had my vision, Tenzin. Nearly three years and I still remember nothing except “Only justice will bring peace.” Despite the countless meditations and techniques, we’ve tried, I am still nowhere close to remembering the rest of it, let alone what it actually means. I was fine with being patient but then…an idea came to my mind.”

Tenzin’s left eyebrow rises slightly. “What kind of idea?”

Well, here it goes.

“I remembered what you said that the Fog of Lost Souls forces you to relive your darkest memories. I can’t remember what I saw in there but…what if the fog showed me the rest of my vision?”

As soon as the question leaves my lips, I know I made a mistake. Tenzin’s eyes widen in horror as he realises what Im proposing.

“No.”

Dammit.

“Tenzin-“

“-Y/N, it’s too dangerous. Do you have any idea how crazy this sounds?“

“-Yes, I know, but-“

“-I barely got you and the others out last time. I don’t want any unnecessary risks.”

“-But-“

“-Even if you were able to escape the fog a second time, can you even be certain that the rest of the vision will appear to you, let alone you being able to remember them?”

“No! No, I’m not. But, Tenzin, its been nearly three years and I’ve made no progress! The Fog of Lost Souls could be the key to learning the truth!”

“But at what cost?” He asks gravelly and then places his hands on my shoulder. “Y/N, listen to me. I know you are frustrated. I know you are still concerned about your vision. But risking the chance of eternal suffering for answers is not worth it.”

“But-“

“-No buts.” Tenzin says with a new found sterness, hard as steel. “You will not go to the Fog of Lost Souls. Promise me.”

Frustration grows within me as I clench my hands into fists. He’s talking to me like I’m one of his children. Normally, I’d love that but this concern is holding me back from learning more!

I don’t say all of that, though. I don’t want to cause a heated argument. Besides, with everything that’s happening I need to stay here. I can’t risk being trapped for eternity and leave my family.

So, as much as I am angry, I have to follow along…for now.

I concede.

“Fine. I won’t go.”

Tenzin lets out a relieved sigh and let’s go of my shoulders. “Good. I know you are frustrated, and I know I’ve told you this countless times but the best course of action is to be patient. The answers will come in due time.”

I nod melancholy. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Besides, sometimes the answers we seek come from the most unlikely of places. Perhaps, you will find more about your vision when you least expect it.”

As Spectre finally leaves the blanket of clouds, I spot it immediately. From a distant, it looks more like a giant claw, ready to engulf anything in sight. The mountains that are ontop of the sharpened claw make it look armour that rises to touch the sky.

Kyoshi island.

We have arrived.

“Attaboy, Spectre!” I tell him encouragingly. “We’re finally here.”

I freeze when I spot them.

There, by the lagoon, are airships which I recognise are from Kuvira’s fleet. Terrific.

What could Kuvira possibly want from Kyoshi Island?

Spectre growls at the sight of them and I gently smooth him. “Easy, Spectre. Just get us to its village without them spotting us, okay?”

Luckily enough, we pass over them without them even spotting us. At least, I think we went by undetected. Hopefully.

Soon enough, we eventually make it and, surprisingly, despite some banners and flags there are no troops anywhere. Just…normal people. And the village itself looks…fine. Normal, in fact. It looks fairly rural, built from simple wood. And yet, it looks far cleaner and well-off than the previous village I was at. Maybe Kuvira doesn’t have much influence here?

As we land, I see that people have noticed us and ever so slowly a small crowd of people being to edge closer and closer to the bison and I, curiosity overpowering them. When I get off Spectre, a lanky middle-aged man with black, and a hint of grey, hair walks past the crowd followed by…

By Kyoshi Warriors!

The descriptions, drawings, and images I’ve seen on the books I’ve read do the female fighters zero justice. As with their tradition, their armoured kimonos and white as snow with a hint of red face paint was designed to make them all look spitting images of Avatar Kyoshi, to intimidate anyone who dared stand in their way. And a dozen of them are behind this man, who now appears to be the village’s leader.

“You are an Air Nomad.” The man simply states, his voice gruff and tough which contrasts his rather stick-like figure.

I nod in confirmation. “I am Master Y/N of the Air Nation. It is an absolute honour to meet you. And you are?”

“I am Muyang, the leader of this village.” He replies. “Why are you here?”

I raise an eyebrow slightly at the tense tone of the man’s voice. What has been going on here? Maybe he’s just on edge from something?

Still, I can’t just say it out in the open. The last thing I want to do is cause panic on the small island. I need to discuss this alone.

“I wish to discuss this in private, if you don’t mind.” I tell him.

Muyang frowns for a moment but then relents. “Very well. Come.”

I quickly turn back to Spectre. “You stay here. Just move into the woods and stay there so Kuvira’s men don’t spot you. And…try not to cause any trouble, okay?”

I walk off without giving the bison any time to respond and follow the village leader, with Kyoshi Warriors surrounding us in a rough circle. We do not utter a single word throughout the small journey but eventually we make it to what I presume is Muyang’s house. It is slightly bigger than the other ones, with a triangle shaped roof to mark its uniqueness.

When we finally enter, we all stand still like statues.

“You have your privacy.” Muyang tells me sternly. “Now, tell us why you’re here.”

Here it goes.

I straighten my back and clasp my hands behind me. “I am conducting a search on Avatar Korra. She has been missing for six months.”

“The Avatar is missing?” A rough feminine voice emits from the right, and I see one of the warriors walk up to the side of the middle-aged man. Perhaps she’s the leader of the other fighters? “How?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. The last person who saw her was her father, Chief Tonraq of the Southern Water Tribe, when she left to travel to Republic City. She hasn’t been since.”

“That still does not answer my question.” Muyang reminds me. “Why are you here?”

“I had a vision.” I tell him cautiously. “I saw Kyoshi Island. I…I assumed it was a clue to Korra’s whereabouts.”

As I speak it out, I realise how silly it sounds. A single image of an island and I immediately link it to my search for Korra? There’s little to no evidence that the two are even connected.

But it had to mean something, right? What else could it have meant?

“I see.” Muyang says hoarsely after a few moments of silence. “Well, I’m sorry to say but Avatar Korra is not here. We, nor the other villages, have seen her.”

My heart shatters at his answer. No…

“Are-Are you sure?” I ask him.

“I’m sorry, but I’m sure.”

Worry, panic, and frustration boil in my stomach as I clench my hands into fists and swallow an ocean’s amount of saliva.

So, Korra isn’t here. But why was I given that vision? There HAS to be a meaning behind it. Maybe it has something to do with Kuvira’s fleet?

“Now with that business is over with, you are free to lea-“

“-What are Kuvira’s army doing here?”

The Kysoshi Warrior, who had a neutral expression throughout the conversation, scowls. “What they are probably doing with the rest of the Earth Kingdom: Seizing control.”

“I was under the impression the Kyoshi Warriors supported what Kuvira was doing.” I slowly say, trying not to offend anyone. “I’ve heard how Kuvira was awarded the Kyoshi Medal of Freedom, the highest honour of the nation.”

“That was before we found out who she really was.” She angrily replies. “By the time we realised we were tricked, it was too late. She ordered some of her men to stay behind to make sure no-one enters or leaves. They robbed us of our communications so we couldn’t contact the rest of the world.”

I curse under my breath. Dammit! I knew Kuvira has gone mad. I guess this explains why everyone was so tense earlier when I arrived.

“I’ve been warning President Raiko about Kuvira for months and he didn’t listen once.” I say. “I have a feeling he will soon realise just how wrong he was to ignore me.”

I then realise something and point to the direction behind me. “Why are they all at the lagoon then? When I swooped by, I saw an airship and the troops there.”

“For their own supplies, no doubt.” Muyang grunted.

So…what? They just leave them for a bit and they…do nothing?

I turn back to what seems to be the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors. “And you just…let it happen?”

That seemed to tick her off as she snarls and glares daggers right in my eyes. “You think we want this? What choice we have? If we fight back, more of Kuvira’s men will arrive and punish everyone on the island. I will not allow that to happen.”

I…I guess she has a point. But still just doing nothing feels…wrong. These are definitely not the Kyoshi Warriors I have read about in the books.

“Which is why you have to leave.” Muyang says sternly. “If they spot you, you could put our whole island on jeopardy.”

No way I came all the way here just to immediately leave. There has to be a reason why I got that vision. Maybe…Maybe I was given that vision because of Kuvira’s fleet? Because I am supposed to be here when whatever happens, happens? Spirits, this is so confusing.

“I can’t.” I tell him. “Not yet anyway. I was directed to here for a reason. Just give me a day at least and I’ll leave in the morning. Please.”

The leaders of the village and the Kyoshi Warriors exchange looks that, while appear to last for seconds, makes it feels like I’m waiting for centuries. Their expressions are unreadable, but I can tell they are silently arguing.

Eventually, Muyang turns to me.

“Yukari will take you to the Kyoshi Shrine and watch over you. You leave first thing in the morning. Do you understand?”

I nod frantically. “Of course. Thank you so much.”

The Kyoshi Warrior Leader, who I now know is named Yukari, walks up to my side. “Let’s go.”

The journey was long and silent, not a single word uttered between us. Its clear to me that Yukari isn’t that much of a speaker.

After who knows how long, we arrive.

And it is definitely not what I had expected.

I have seen and read pictures and descriptions of the Kyoshi Shrine and what it was like during the Hundred Year War. From the books, they described it as a small village temple within a small stone floor.

But now? Now, the shrine looks revamped. Its much wider than its predecessor and in front of it has statues of Avatar Kyoshi in fighting positions. It emanates a mere fraction of the power the Earth Kingdom’s Avatar had.

Yukari must have saw my shock as I can hear her chuckle to my side. “Not what you expected?”

I silently shake my head. “Not at all. The books I read made it sound…smaller.”

“That was what it was like during the Hundred Year War.” Yukari says as we approach closer to the temple. “It was badly damaged when some pirates and bandits attacked. My grandmother led the warriors to victory and after the battle thought it would be wise to revamp it to further praise and honour Avatar Kyoshi.”

I hum in acknowledgement. “Your grandmother sounds pretty cool.”

I then freeze to stone as I begin to connect the dots.

Grandmother…

Led the Kyoshi Warriors…

No way…

I stare at the back of Yukari’s head. “Was your grandmother Suki by any chance? Like, the Suki?”

The Kyoshi Warrior stops in her steps and drops her head with a heavy sigh. “Yeah.”

My jaw drops to the ground.

NO WAY!

“You’re Sokka and Suki’s granddaughter!” I exclaim excitedly. “Wow! It’s an honour to-“

“-Stop it.” Yukari interrupts with a harsh tone. “Don’t make a big deal about it.”

Oh…

That…wasn’t what I was expecting.

“I-I’m sorry. I just-“

“-Excited to meet a descendant of the heroes of the Hundred Year War? You’re not the first one.”

Oh…

Wait a second. If she’s Sokka and Suki’s granddaughter…

“Aang and Toph’s kids never mentioned you.” I pointed out to her as we finally reach the entrance to the shrine. “I just assumed Sokka and Suki never had kids.”

“They had one. My mother, Kanna.” Yukari says quite quickly. Its clear she doesn’t like talking about it and is trying to clarify the confusion as fast as she can so I won’t ask any more questions. “She was the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors before me. I took up the mantle. The reason you’ve never heard of me probably stems from the fact that I cut ties from the rest of my family.”

My eyes widen in shock. Why would she do that?

“Why?”

She then glares at me full of annoyance. “If I answer, will you please shut up about it?”

I nod frantically.

“If you really must know, I cut ties with them because I was sick of it all.” She says with a hint of venom. “The expectations, the fame, all of it. It was what ruined my parents’ marriage and drove my mother to an early grave. I didn’t want a single reminder of where I came from. So, I said goodbye and burned my bridges. Kyoshi Island is my home, and the people here are my family. Nothing else matters.”

She glares at me again, her brown eyes piercing into mine. “Does that answer all your questions, Air Nomad?”

The acid in her voice makes me mute. All I can do is nod and in response the tension in Yukari’s body releases slightly. “Good. Now, since you’re going to be here and I’m supposed to watch over you like a good babysitter, I might as well show you around. Follow me.”

Before I can even respond, she walks inside. I stand there for a few seconds, processing everything I have just learned.

I…I had no idea things were that bad. I’m used to being recognised and I have some sort of popularity, but I never really considered the bad sides of it. I’ve seen Korra get her fair share of critics but most of the time she didn’t really let it bother her. And I haven’t really got that much at least when compared to her.

But with Yukari…it seems like she suffered a lot because of it.

“Air Nomad, come on!”

Snapping out of my thoughts, I rush into the Kyoshi Shrine and my eyes wide in awe as I see the interior. So many artifacts used by Avatar Kyoshi including her fans, boots, and headpiece. Not just that, but there are also little sections of writing that detail bits and pieces of her life.

“Wow…”

“Impressed?”

“Definitely. Then again, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Avatar Kyoshi lived for over 200 years, right?”

“That’s right. She’s the longest living Avatar in history.”

I can’t imagine living for centuries. There is so much you can do in that time. Roku was left for dead by Sozin, Aang died at sixty-six. Could Korra perhaps live that long?

Yukari shows me each and every bit and piece of artifacts and texts of history of events the Avatar participated in. I recognised most of them, one of them being the creation of Kyoshi Island and the death of the infamous Chin the Conqueror.

But then, as she’s explaining the details surrounding some other event, I notice something at the very end. I lean slightly forward and squint and when I read the text my eyebrows raise in surprise.

That’s interesting. I’ve never read anything like that before.

When I zone back in, I can hear Yukari still talking.

“And that was when Avatar Kyoshi established the Dai Li and-“

“-What’s the Kyoshi Civil War?”

My interruption freezes her rambling and before she can ask, I walk up to the stand and see what it says. I am a bit disappointed to see that there isn’t that much detail compared to the others.

“That…was probably the darkest period of Avatar Kyoshi.” Yukari reluctantly says as she comes up to beside me. “It happened during the twilight years of her era.”

“What happened?”

Yukari sighs heavily, the tension in her body returning. “Are you aware of the beliefs Avatar Kyoshi had?”

I do. All too well.

“Only justice will bring peace.” I recite. “That’s what she believed. She was willing to bring balance to the world by any means necessary.”

She nods in confirmation. “Yes, she was. And when she began the Kyoshi Warriors she taught us to be protectors of our homes and those in need. She taught us the same beliefs she had. And, for the majority of the duration of her era the organisation had little issue. However, near the end, there was a…friction.”

“Friction?” I echo, titling my head in confusion. “What kind of friction?”

Yukari sighs once more, clearly finding the topic difficult to talk about. “There was one warrior who believed we and Avatar Kyoshi weren’t doing enough, that we could be doing so much more. She witnessed corruption persisting in the world despite our efforts. And so, she believed we should increase our numbers and expand and increase our influence and control on all nations to eradicate the scum of the Earth. The Avatar disagreed, claiming that her beliefs were dangerous and could lead her down a dark path that will bring more harm than good. At the time, they all thought that was the end of it. Little did Kyoshi and the rest know was that the warrior was conspiring and plotting against them in secret and growing an army of her own followers.”

My mouth part slightly, stunned at how this one warrior was able to this right under the nose of an Avatar. She must have been really skilled at deception.

“What was this warrior’s name?”

Yukari takes a deep, long breath and clench her hands into fists. After a long, tense exhale she utters two words.

“Lady Yuchin.”

I frown in concentration as I try to remember if I ever heard of that name before but…nothing. Blank.

“I’ve never heard of her.”

“I would be surprised if you did.” She chuckles without humour. “The Earth Kingdom used to have more history of her but most of the knowledge was lost during the Hundred Year War. What you see is all we have.”

Spirits…so much information was lost because of the Fire Nation. So much.

“What happened after that?”

“Eventually, she and her followers were discovered.” Yukari continues. “It is unknown what happened specifically, but they somehow escaped and hid. Then, after a short period, Lady Yuchin returned to public light and disowned her loyalty to the Avatar and the Kyoshi Warriors and begun her own organisation, declaring that they will not rest until they take control of the world and eradicate the corruption from within and anyone, even her former allies, who dared to stop them will suffer.”

Spirits…

“And what was this organisation’s name?”

“We don’t know.” Yukari simply says, shrugging nonchalantly. “That bit of information has been lost. However, after she was killed in battle her followers renamed their group after her to honour her memory: The Yuchin Order and its followers, the Yuchin Knights.”

She was killed?!

“How did she die?”

“The Kyoshi Civil War lasted for five years. Lady Yuchin died in the Battle of Shamu during the third year of the war, killed by the Avatar herself. The Yuchin Order’s numbers were growing very fast and so did the Kyoshi Warrior’s to combat them. Many lives were lost. But after Yuchin’s death was when the tide turned to our favour. Without her leadership and guidance, many of the Knights desired to take the role of the order’s master to fill in the power vacuum. Sources say that many of them betrayed and backstabbed one another to achieve authority. In the end, the Yuchin Knights’ worst enemy were themselves. Eventually, Lady Yuchin’s apprentice, Konrok, eventually obtained leadership and did achieve some success but, by then, it was too late. In desperation, Konrok launched one final attack on Kyoshi Island and, from what I read, it was an absolute bloodbath. Total carnage. Casualties were extremely high and most of the island was badly harmed. However, in the end, it was clear who had won. When the fighting stopped, all of the Yuchin were destroyed. None of them survived. And, after five brutal years, the Kyoshi Civil War was finally over.”

As she finally finishes the story, my jaw drops slightly.

Spirits…an entire civil war full of death and suffering and I had no idea it existed. I knew Avatar Kyoshi wasn’t perfect and experienced her own challenges and failures, but a full civil war?

Wait a minute…

“Why is it called the Kyoshi Civil War, though? Shouldn’t it have been the Yuchin-Kyoshi War or something?”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you? But no. Despite the philosophical differences, the majority saw the Yuchin as rogue Kyoshi Warriors. The Avatar was heavily criticised for the conflict after it ended but thankfully it didn’t tarnish her reputation. The Civil War prompted her to reduce the quantity of the warriors to prevent such a betrayal from happening again. And, thankfully, the group has experienced nothing but peace amongst its members.”

We stay silent for a moment as we feel the weight of the story. Just from hearing it I feel nearly crushed by the Civil War’s intensity. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to actually live in the Earth Kingdom during that period.

A new thought enters my mind, and the intensity amplifies.

Is…Is it possible that this was what my vision was about? About the Yuchin Order? If that is the case, why? To teach me some valuable lesson? Or, more terribly, to warn me about its return?

No. No, that was impossible. Yukari said herself that all of the Yuchin Knights were killed in the final battle of the war. There was no way they could come back.

I look up at the board and see a rough drawing of Kyoshi Warriors and Yuchin Knights engaged in a deadly battle. While the former were all women and were dressed to look spitting images of the Avatar they worship, their enemies were a mixture of male and female and dressed in golden yellow with night-sky boots. Some wore bulky armour, others wore mere robes, and others wore a combination of the two. They all wielded sharp silver swords tainted with blood, some wielding one and others wielding two.

“There are women AND men in the Yuchin.” I point out, filling the silence. “Why is that?”

Yukari hums in acknowledgement and deep thought. “I am not entirely sure because of the lack of information. But from what I gathered it seemed as if Lady Yuchin believed that the eradication of corruption was a task for all, not just for one specific category.”

Hm. Interesting. I look at the drawing again and I spot her. At the very back of the army is one female warrior elevated standing on some sort of platform to make her above the rest, marking her importance. Unlike the others, she wields a double-bladed sword and is using it to direct the charge against the Kyoshi Warriors, all the while her red cape is blowing along the wind.

This must be Lady Yuchin. To think, she was once a Kyoshi Warrior herself until her desire to eradicate corruption consumed and transformed her into becoming the very thing she despised. I have seen this with my own enemies over the years. Amon and Tarrlok despised their father and yet became just as bad as him, and now it seems like the same is happening with Kuvira.

“Yukari!”

The shout or, more accurately, scream of the Kyoshi Warrior Leader’s name startles both of us as we turn to the entrance. There, just outside the door, another of the female fighters is there but is shaking badly with…fear.

“What is it?” Yukari asks as she rushes over to her comrade and takes her in her arms. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Kuvira’s troops. More of them have arrived and are planning on taking complete control of the island!”

WHAT?!

Dammit! Since I’ve been gone for a while, the coronation of Wu has no doubt already happened. And since Kuvira’s troops aren’t standing down it means that their leader hasn’t given up her power.

Of course, she hasn’t. The power has gotten to her head and now she’s taking control of the entire Earth Kingdom. I shouldn’t have been surprised.

I was right. I was right. I. Was. Right.

The Kyoshi Warrior continues, and her words shake as much as her body. “Her men are calling Kyoshi Island and its people the property of the Earth Empire. Any resistance will have severe consequences.”

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

And that's it!

I hope you enjoyed it! What did you think of Yukari so far and the lore behind of Lady Yuchin and the Kyoshi Civil War?

Feedback is appreciated!

See you all in the next chapter! :D

#korra #the legend of korra #legend of korra #avatar the legend of korra #avatar korra #avatar korra x reader #korra x reader #TLOK #avatar: tlok #avatar tlok #original character #reader #tlok x reader #reader insert #x reader #Self Insert #alternate universe #fanfiction #fanfic #angst #Avatar Kyoshi #kyoshi warriors #kyoshi island #friends #best friends #bestfriends #childhood friends #friends to enemies #unrequited love #unrequited

[thebadfilmsideblog]

ooh baby we're back in business for sure

so after my rage-fuelled obsession with the movie had died down i kind of forgot about it for the most part. (that is a lie. i am lying.) but one day i somehow discovered that it was based on a BOOK and set out to read said book out of morbid curiosity. (i expected it to be just a novel version of the movie, and i wanted to see how an author could create something so empty using words. i was wrong of course, but that's not the point.) i figured it would be at the secondhand bookstore, but i looked there to no avail. i did, however, find another novel by the same author (walter tevis); the steps of the sun. i flipped to a random page and it appeared to show the protagonist whining about how his testicles don't work. this was unpromising.

i then read the man who fell to earth on internet archive, where it is available entirely for free. you just have to make an account and then while you're reading you have to click “renew” once every hour. it took me somewhere around 4-5 hours to read i think. and it was really good.

genuinely. it was a fantastic book. (i ended up later buying it from the regular bookstore because it turns out that walter tevis also happens to be the author of the queen's gambit, that book about chess which has a show based on it, so all his books got a new life thanks to one of them being adapted.)

the book, much like the film, follows an alien called thomas jerome newton who comes to earth to save the few remaining people on his planet, except that this planet has been ravaged by nuclear war. it's also got a name: anthea. a minor issue with the novel is that it contains a lot of info-dumps, even right from the start, but compared to the unexplained torrent of bullshit in the movie, this is a fucking relief. after the pawn-shop scene which plays out pretty similarly to the movie but with more fun, relatable anxiety about being an alien and having to talk to service workers, we get some fairly unimportant and rather strange information about the alien's biology, which is also very silly and kind of fun despite being unoriginal and making no sense. remember, the year was somewhere around 1963 and the man who wrote the book was an english professor at a university. for example, antheans don't have an appendix, or wisdom teeth, or fingernails. don't ask me why. they're basically just humans but taller and thinner and with a lot of parts missing. (i like it though, it's silly.)

the rest of the book actually has a plot, similar to the vestiges of a plot in the film, wherein newton becomes fabulously wealthy, moves to the middle of nowhere with the main girl, builds a rocket-ship, hires nathan bryce who suspects him to be an alien, unrelated to this gets captured by the government, etcetera. these things are actually explained as they happen, and make sense without you having to read a guide alongside the book. in addition to the plot, there are also characters with distinctive personalities. i read the book partly aloud to my friend, and gave the characters actual voices (something i never do when reading aloud). the characters have noticeable changes throughout the novel, and each of the main trio forms a connection with the others. there is no romance plot whatsoever, which was lovely. the characters are very human, very relatable, and very ordinary, despite one of them literally being an alien. they have mundane struggles with life, work, relationships, and addiction, which are not, in my opinion, romanticized or used for spectacle. there are also themes, mainly those of isolation and alienation. it may not be the most thrilling book, there may not be a mystery or a romance or action, so if that's what you want, go read james bond. (the movies are even good, for the most part.) but while walter tevis may not have written an epic spy thriller, or a murder mystery, or an erotic romance, he did write a very beautiful little book about humanity. PLEASE READ IT IT'S SO GOOD PLEASE—

so the thing about the book is that while it is a fantastic, genuinely quite well-written (though dated) sci fi novel with a plot and honestly very likeable characters and themes that make you think instead of pretending to make you think, it does have one problem. it puts into high relief just how absolutely fucking awful the movie is, worse than i could have thought, worse than the world could have known. it is my sincere belief that the screenwriter HEARD of the book from a friend and then read it in it's entirety…during an acid-fuelled fever dream. (not as unlikely as you'd think honestly.)

but the problem with that theory is that that upon rewatching the film, there are several incredibly specific elements from the book which somehow ended up in the movie. this includes the painting of the fall of icarus and its accompanying poem, the hundreds of identical wedding rings which newton sells in the beginning to make enough money to meet with the lawyer, the shiny fingernails??? (sidenote i feel like bowie just kept putting on more nail polish as filming went on, his nails seem to get shinier every scene), the fucking oatmeal cookies (why), and probably others. this means that the filmmakers read the book and decided to replace all the themes and metaphors with surface-level spectacle, all of the plot-relevant internal monologue with shots of characters staring at one another or into space, and all of the dialogue with sex. (and everyone else was too high to argue, i suppose.)

this is such a tragedy that i can hardly comprehend it. there are even flashes, within the film, of what it could have been if nic roeg hadn't been entirely absorbed in making a cheap-looking, disjointed, “artsy” pile of garbage with an r rating slapped on to garner some kind of reaction. i would call it a porno, but that's an insult to porn directors. instead i will call it what it is, which is pathetic.

in one scene which appears to be entirely original wherein the two main characters (because nathan bryce is a sidenote of a sidenote in this movie and serves only to make bowie look prettier than he is in the ending scene) are hanging out in the hotel room and mary-lou (in the book she's called betty jo but they changed her name and aged her down about twenty years so that they could make her have sex with the main character) asks what newton does for a living and he replies, “oh, i'm just visiting,” and mary-lou, delighted, says “oh! a traveller!” and newton (bowie) gives this sweet smile and for a moment i could pretend that everything was going to be fine, except it wasn't, and the girl immediately begins blabbing again. i just wish that they had included more lines like these, more actual fucking dialogue, because it was the part of the book which i liked the best, along with the possibly-unintentional comedy.

one final thing to note before i close out this chapter is that in the book newton is constantly described as being incredibly fragile, with bones like a bird's, barely able to withstand earth's gravity (that being 3 times the gravity of his own planet, which actually checks out scientifically, and interestingly implies that anthea is slightly smaller than earth) to the point where even being bumped into would probably injure him. being bumped into. so like. if he had sex like he does in the movie he would genuinely probably just fucking die.

stay tuned for more, hopefully i don't lose this manic pixie dream bitch energy by tomorrow morning.

#the man who fell to earth (oh dear god don't send the fangirls after me) #rambling #ooh baby we're back in business for sure

[firesoulstuff]

Buddie + look, i know this is fake and all, but the fact that you’re on a date with someone else is really making me jealous, and now i’m sitting here, in my apartment, watching bad television while eating KFC wishing you were Next to me

"What am I supposed to say?" Buck asks, hoping to end his and Maddie's little 'discussion' as soon as possible. "I know this is fake and all, but the fact that you’re on a date with someone else is really making me jealous, and now i’m sitting here, in my apartment, watching bad television while eating KFC, wishing you were next to me?"

Maddie doesn't respond right away to that, thank god, because Buck isn't sure he can take any more of her pleading and 'tell Eddie how you really feel' crap.

Yeah, tell his best friend with a history of only dating women that he's in love with him. Yeah, that'll go over well.

Of course, he had tried saying exactly those words to Maddie, and what had she come back at him with?

"So you've told him about Andy?"

No, for the record, he is pretty sure he has never mentioned to Eddie his boyfriend from freshman year of high school. Why would he? They were only together three months.

He'd told her that too.

"What about Connor?"

He hadn't been interested in Connor, but the poor kid was a closet case with no reason. Not anymore. He deserved a confidence boost.

He hadn't wanted to get into that with Maddie.

"Any of the guys in Peru?"

And that brought them here. To "What am I supposed to say..." etcetera, etcetera.

"Ok, maybe now isn't ideal." She admits, sinking down next to him on the couch. "But Buck you have to tell him at some point, soon, otherwise you're never going to be happy."

He knows that, but again, what is he supposed to say?

"He's not on a date." Christopher's voice suddenly interrupts and Buck whirls around. Chris is staying with him while Eddie's out tonight.

"Hey Buddy, you're supposed to be in my bed." He says, and in reply Christopher shrugs and starts making his way to the couch.

"Lily's from the army, and married." He says, plopping himself down between Buck and Maddie. "Dad just wanted to catch up with her."

"Yeah buddy-"

"He's gonna tell you at the wedding." Christopher says, and that silences Buck.

The wedding is Maddie's, and Chim's, and the very one Eddie is posing as his boyfriend at for the dual purpose of pissing off his parents and warding off their potential setting him up with the daughter's of family friends'.

"What?" He finally asks.

"If he doesn't lose his nerve." Christopher continues with a laughing grin, "He's gonna tell you he loves you, and he wants to date you for real. He told me."

"Huh."

"Huh?" Maddie asks, "That's all you've got to say about that?"

Truthfully, Buck hadn't realized he'd said it aloud.

#911 fox #buddie #fic rec

[lord-explosion-baku]

Our Love Is God pt. 2

Dabi x Reader

Warnings: mentions of noncon/somnophilia, abortion, dark themes, yandere characteristics, dabi just being a rat tbh

A/N: so like I said that I’d get back to this fic when I got bored or other, more important things were a drag to write and, well, I got bored/other,more important things were a drag to write. TW for talk of abortion. Dabi doesn’t take things lightly and thinks certain things that may make anybody who has had an abortion or has deep feelings about abortion either really guilty or really angry, but that’s not the point. The point of this fic is that he’s a bastard and not a savior. This is pretty short! And yes I plan on writing more, but that’s when I get bored or other, more important things are a drag to write!

Dabi found himself panting when he finally lifted himself up onto your balcony. It had been, what, almost two months since he’d last snuck into your room? Too long, but you hadn’t called him, and he had been busy to see what the hell was up with you. Now he had a couple days to himself, and he couldn’t shake the pestering feeling of wanting to spend them with you.

The door to your balcony was unlocked, thank god; he really didn’t want to have to burn the knob off—why make a reason for you to get pissed at him already? Dabi smirked. You were fucking cute when you were angry, but he wanted his return to be at least a little pleasant.

Unsurprisingly, you were passed out underneath that ugly-ass, pink canopy, snoozing away peacefully and unexpecting. Your bed was built for a princess, but with you sprawled out on your back with your arms splayed apart, your tank-top rising up to expose your soft belly, and your blanket tossed down so only one of your feet were covered, you looked nothing short of a cavewoman. Still hot though, and Dabi missed you.

That was it. Dabi missed you. He never really expected to miss anybody he fucked. He made plenty of girls mad in the past, so when you last kicked him out, it shouldn’t have been any different. He’d gotten used to a routine: sleep with some chick, piss her off, do crime, then forget about her. But since the night you’d kicked him out, he couldn’t get your bratty fucking face out of his damn mind. Was it that you were stubborn? Or was it that you came across as such a lil do-gooder, daddy’s favorite princess and all that bullshit, when you were really just a filthy slut on the inside?

“What is it about you that makes me crazy, baby?” Dabi asked aloud, tracing a finger up from the hemline of your pajama shorts to your bare ribs. He watched goosebumps appear on your tummy and flattened them out with the palm of his hand.

Your only response was a soft snore. Dabi scoffed.

The first time he fucked you, you had been asleep. Or at least, you were asleep when he began. He visited you a couple nights after he and Twice tried to loot your father’s safe. He’d thought you were a cute little shit, and just wanted to see your frightened face again. He climbed in through the balcony and found you asleep in your bed like you were now, only you were laying on your stomach. After sniffing around your room a little, he couldn’t help but crawl into your bed. He wanted to hear you scream, but you stayed asleep, even when Dabi’s hands inevitably started exploring your body.

Dabi couldn’t forget how deliciously wrong it felt to pet your pert little ass while you slept, how exciting it was to rub a knuckle over your clothed slit, how incredibly hot it was for you to cry out when he plunged two fingers into your sopping wet pussy. Yes, you cried, but you also moaned, and Dabi felt you clench around his fingers when he wrapped his free hand around your neck, pulled you back, and whispered to you, “I’m gonna fuck you, and you’re gonna love it, babydoll.”

Dabi made good on that promise that night. You took him so well, and it really didn’t take him all that long to get you to sing for him. You liked being taken advantage of, and Dabi learned that the more aggressive he was with you, the easier it was to make you cum. And oh, baby girl, it was just too easy to make you cum.

He was hard now, and he wanted to fuck you, but he wouldn’t. Even though you snored, there was something peaceful about watching you sleep. Of course, that didn’t stop him from palming your breasts, if only just to see your nipples pop against your tank top.

“Why haven’t you texted, huh? Was I really all that bad to you?” Dabi’s voice was soft against your neck as he placed gentle kisses along your warm flesh. He nuzzled his nose behind your ear and inhaled deeply, taking in the aroma of your washed hair. “You know I could be real good to you if that’s all you want from me…”

Calloused fingers brushed across flowery lips, the vast contrast between him and you burning a hole into his chest. He leaned over to see your mouth part subtly, invitingly. Dabi took the initiative and planted a light kiss on you. He whispered, “there’s no way you haven’t missed me a tiny bit.”

At this, you hummed, and Dabi felt tension melt from his shoulders. That was an affirmation if he’d ever heard one, which gave him permission to run both of his hands down your sides to take their sharpened places at your hips. He pulled you against his hardened groin and let himself grind his strain courteously into you.

“You know how hot you are, babe? You know how much I missed having you wrap around my cock?” God, he wanted you. He wanted to be inside of you. He wanted to kiss you, and mark you, and love you, and-

You let out a little, “uhh,” from the very back of your throat. Dabi could have damn well nearly melted into you from that tiny noise. He could only imagine what squeaks and squeals you had saved up from him when you woke up.

For a moment, he thought that he would break his resolve to not fuck you—you wanted him to anyhow—and honestly, he probably would have, had it not been for your phone lighting up, snapping his attention to your side table. It buzzed twice, which he could have ignored, and then two more times, which made Dabi grab it, reading the I.D. tag, ‘Daddy.’

Dabi scoffed and used your thumb to unlock your phone. He found that it was your father that texted you, asking about a visit to the doctor’s you made. Dabi kicked back on your bed and decided to dive into the depths of your phone, check your social media PM’s, calls you’d made, etcetera.

There were quite a few messages from boys in there. Some of them were coming on to you, others were asking when they’d see you again. Dabi’s jaw clenched when he read those messages, but he was pleased to see that you’d left all those jagoffs on read, even the ones who were more persistent. Dabi would be lying if he said he didn’t go out and sleep with a couple chicks while you were there ignoring him. You couldn’t blame him. He was a man with needs. But he never called them again. None of them mattered like you mattered, and by the look of things, it seemed like you felt the same way.

Dabi checked your photo album, finding nothing more interesting than the racey selfies you took of yourself, probably trying to feel good about yourself (Dabi sent those pictures to his own phone, before deleting the evidence). Then he went to your search history, smirking at the very specific websites you visited.

“You’re absolutely filthy,” he chuckled in the middle of watching a video you seemed to frequently visit. He couldn’t wait to try this out on you—a little make up sex surprise. In response, you turned in bed, throwing your arm around Dabi’s lap, your elbow just a few centimeters from his erection. Dabi frowned down at you, and clicked out of the video, knowing that it was just gonna spur him on. He decided to look back to see what you searched when you’d last saw him—see if you looked up anything close to ‘sex with a villain’ or the like. But he didn’t find that. What he found was weird. What he found made a pit form in the bottom of his stomach.

‘how to deal with heartbreak’ first caught his eye. Dabi thought that this could have been about him but this was about seven weeks after he’d last seen you. As he kept scrolling, it only got worse.

‘depressed after termination’

‘how to stop the pain without taking medications’

‘best ways to clean blood off of linens’

‘discrete doctors near azabu’

‘should i tell the guy im not dating about pregnancy?’

‘is there anything i can eat to not be oregano?’ (Dabi couldn’t even sneer at ‘oregano.’)

‘top 10 signs you are pregnant’

Dabi’s chest constricted. He nearly dropped the phone on your arm, but that would definitely wake you the hell up. “Pregnant?” He whispered out loud. It only made sense. Dabi never wrapped himself up with you like he did with other girls. There was something so fucking dirty about you taking him raw when he knew you didn’t want to. He knew you were clean because you didn’t fuck around—at least, not before him, which made his frown deepen.

Fuck. Despite the unusual shattered feeling Dabi felt deep in the pit of his stomach, he was still so fucking hot for you. He turned you over so that you were on your back again so he could examine your belly. He kissed you below your navel, wondering that if you hadn’t been ‘depressed after termination’ would there already be a little bump there?

There was a brief flash of a little hand pressing against the swollen stomach of a white haired woman, but Dabi quickly shook that memory away.

“Why, babe?” Dabi kissed your stomach again. Seriously, why? Did you think Dabi would be a shit dad? He probably would be! But he’d still be a dad, if he were raising a kid with you. Did you not know that? And it wasn’t like you didn’t have the funds to raise a healthy child with everything it could ever want and more! You were a spoiled brat and you would’ve raised an equally spoiled brat, and Dabi would’ve loved the hell out of the kid! What the fuck?!

Dabi’s mental fit was interrupted from a little bleep! chiming from your phone. It was from Snapchat, of course, because you were a little social media whore. Not even caring how it could look once you woke up, Dabi opened the snap to see a picture of city lights taken from high above with a little tag that read, ‘wish you were here.’ The user who sent it was nicknamed ‘K’ and their username was something indecipherable. Probably just another one of your rich-bitch friends, showing off the view from their penthouse apartment.

Dabi discarded your phone on your bed and brushed his hands through his spiky hair, cursing softly. He decided to leave then. He needed time to think and reflect. He’d have to bring this up to you sooner or later...if not, he’d figure out a way to work himself back into your life. You probably hadn’t called because you were feeling guilty, rightfully so. That didn’t mean he didn’t want to have you anymore. In fact, he wanted you more than ever before.

Jumping out of your window, Dabi decided then and there that he’d be back. He’d make you talk. And he figured that if he could get you pregnant once, he sure as hell could do it again. Easy peasy. He’d have you calling him daddy again in no time.

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING (CLOSED): @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten @rubycubix​ @zellllyyyy​@sarcastictextstuck@kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow@wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn@im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai@eggpienutbuttercroissant@usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya x reader #bnha x reader #yandere x reader #yandere bnha #bnha yandere #reader insert #bnha reader insert #x reader #yandere!dabi #yandere!dabi x reader #olig

[maxbegone]

It’s Stevie-centric this week for quarantine headcanons! 

Stevie’s fine. Well, she’s as good as she can be in the given situation.

The motel pretty much cleared-out over a month ago. When the last guests checked-out just as the pandemic was cresting over Schitt’s Creek, she did a solo deep-clean of all of the rooms. She made haste remaking all of the beds after washing the sheets, making sure the toiletries were well-stocked, vacuuming, etcetera. 

She did it all partially because it was the right thing to do, and partially because she needed to work out all of her anxiety.

Maybe she found a joint in the bathroom in room three, maybe she didn’t, and maybe it was something other than pot but who knows. Stevie did, however, spend a little while cracking up as she laid on David’s old bed in room 7 on the phone with him while she was high, and he made fun of her the entire time.

On her second day of stress cleaning the motel, Patrick dropped off lunch for her like the very good person he is. When she opens the bag, he even included her favorite bottle of wine and a few things from the store (which was definitely curated by David).

Even after the cleaning is done, Stevie still goes back to check up on the motel, just to make sure things are orderly. No squatters, no burst pipes, you never know. 

Rosebud Motel Group is fine, Stevie realizes, and the idea of everything collapsing around her isn’t as imposing as it was in the beginning (long before the pandemic). It’s not haunting her at all hours of the night. This town is oddly good to her, and the motel will still be there at the end of it. 

Mr. Rose is in California with Mrs. Rose, which means he’s handling everything on the West Coast; logistics, numbers, managing. They still hold their weekly meetings, granted they’re online now. Mr. Rose insisted on learning how to video chat, so that involved two hours of Alexis and Stevie’s time separately to try and teach him to operate Zoom on his laptop. Roland’s always there, too, of course, but sometimes he’s not wearing a shirt (Stevie swears that if he stands up one day and he isn’t wearing pants, she’ll scream). 

She still sees Roland around town because he’s actually not awful at his job as mayor - he goes around ta few times a week to check in on the residents of Schitt’s Creek. It warms her heart a bit. 

Stevie won’t admit it aloud, how much she misses the Rose family being a constant source of entertainment for her, but it really makes her happy knowing that each of them is healthy and safe. Actually, she’s pretty sure Mr. Rose figured that out awhile ago. 

She gets a text one afternoon from Mr. Rose saying that he wants to have their meeting that night around 5:30 instead of the next day at their usual mid-morning time. She thinks nothing of it, goes about her day, and logs on at the proper time. 

Roland isn’t there, though. 

Instead, she sees Alexis and David and Patrick, along with Mr. and Mrs. Rose. Mrs. Rose, who is still ever extravagant, is wearing some absurdly-patterned black and white...something. Dress? Blouse? Coat? Stevie doesn’t know, but it comforts her knowing that some things really haven’t changed. 

“I thought we could all have dinner together tonight!” Mr. Rose announces cheerily through the screen, and Stevie is suddenly a little self-conscious that her dinner is the tail-end of a stale bag of pretzels and instant ramen. 

“We miss you all very much,” he continues, and Mrs. Rose is nodding alongside him. 

Alexis perks up at that, hands fanned-out under her chin and says, “Aw, we miss you, too!” She’s back in Schitt’s Creek, having rushed back to town the minute she was able to in order to be closer to her brother. Not to mention, New York is a hot-spot right now and it was better if she didn’t risk it. She rented a little place on the edge of town for cheap. 

“A big, socially-distanced online dinner seemed long overdue to me,” Mr. Rose continues, and he’s certainly proud of that statement. “One big dinner as a family. We missed our kids. All of our kids.” 

Stevie can tell he’s looking at her specifically, knows that Mr. Rose is making her feel welcome and at home with his family like he always does. She’s not tearing up. She’s not. 

When Stevie gets a text later that night from David with three side-eyeing emojis and a “you’re an honorary Rose,” she responds with a middle finger. 

But it really does make her happy. She’s not alone, there are people out there who care about her. It took some time to see that, but then came the Roses, who have since taken her in with open arms. They’ve become her found-family, and Stevie thinks that’s pretty fucking great.

That’s enough sentiment for her for one day. Now, where did she put that wine? 

#sc headcanon #heacanon tuesday #schitt's creek #schitts creek #stevie budd #david rose #alexis rose #johnny rose #moira rose #patrick brewer #my post #my hc #sc hc #sc quarantine headcanon #quarantine headcanon

[lawdtl]

You're gonna live forever in me

Bechloe one shot (ANGST)

Read on Ao3

Summary:

Chloe is getting married and beca has no choice but to attend.

Based on John Mayer's song 'you're gonna live forever in me'

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A great big bang and dinosaurs

Fiery raining meteors

It all ends unfortunately

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It was on a wednesday evening when she sees an elegant envelope sitting inside her mailbox, a wedding invitation.

She swallows nothing but air and it does nothing to her dry throat, she sees the names on the letter and it almost makes her fall to the floor, feeling as if the world decided to stop spinning and a part of her wants it to

maybe if it stops spinning then maybe i get to rewind everything back to where it began

It's her fault, that's what beca repeats to herself, that maybe if she had the courage to actually acknowledge everything she felt before then this isn't how her evening would be going, that maybe she doesn't have to attend a wedding she knows she doesn't want to see

But then again, it's Chloe's. It rattles her spine and it leaves her heart wounded seeing the names chloe and chicago side by side, asking her if she could come to their special day

I couldn't, but you would never forgive me if i didn't go.

Of course she's going to attend, of course it will hurt her to see chloe and remember their times together but she'll be there even so, even just to give her a smile when she walks down the aisle

But she isn't walking up to me.

Maybe it's for the best,

Maybe this will allow me to finally move on

It's been almost four years since they've been apart from that new york apartment. Starting new lives once again, but those few years in that little place were the memories  she could never let go of and it keeps her awake at night, wondering if chloe cherishes those times as much as she does

Some people told her that maybe it wasn't meant to be, some say maybe someday they'll find their chance at love but it never came so she guesses she lands on the wasn't meant to be option

Of all the people in the world she had to fall for chloe, actually no, why did she have to fall in the first place anyway

Love's a bitch. It wasn't something that came so easily for beca, it was a foreign feeling that made her feel scared, love never welcomed her with open arms, that is until chloe showed up in her life

––––––––––––––––––––––————

But you're gonna live forever in me

I guarantee, just wait and see

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Chloe taught her how to be happier, to live in the moment, to be unapologetically her. Chloe had managed to break down the walls she built up ever since she felt the sting of pain brought by other people to her and at first she hated it, thinking how one person can suddenly change how she lived

That's chloe beale for you

It was what she deeply needed though, someone in her life to make her feel okay, and chloe did that, made her feel more than okay. Chloe made her feel so special, even in the slightest of things she had beca wrapped up tight on her fingers.

From the start you already had me falling

She valued chloe, valued all her opinions, all her advice, anything that chloe told her, beca has memorized them all. She holds it deeply in her heart the way Chloe manages to tell her how her music is perfect but still not afraid to let her know when it needs a little change here and there

You always knew what to say when i need you the most

All those years, constantly falling but never landing, why?

The question irritates her, why wasn't she able to tell chloe that she loved her, that she loves her. Why did she let her go without letting chloe know how much she meant to her. Why was she such a coward?

The months pass quickly for beca, she has a busy life that keeps her on the ground, letting her mind stay sane in the midst of chaos, she's thankful she loves her work, being tired because of it doesn't take a toll on her as much she thinks it should

Amy messages her a week before Chloe's wedding, asking her if she's okay, constantly reminding beca that the bellas are going to be there for her too and she wonders, asking amy why does she need to be taken care of on an event that doesn't really involve her and amy replies "beca, it's okay. we know and we're here" a line that wasn't supposed to feel like a knife but it still cut her deep

She hates herself sometimes for losing in touch with the bellas, they promised each other that nothing would change but she realized in the long run that promises were only a thing people made to keep themselves from breaking when there's an unstable moment ahead

"I promise chlo, I'll call every week"

The thing about change is that you can never stop it and most of the time, you shouldn't. Beca changed, constantly and it makes her feel good since that change let's her grow but it also makes her eyes feel heavy because chloe had a big part on that change

You made sure that i was on my way to be the best version of me before anything else

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Parts of me were made by you

And planets keep their distance too

The moon's got a grip on the sea

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No matter how many twist and turns her story gets, chloe will always be a part of it all because she never would've reached her life today without chloe beale telling her to go ahead and reach for it

She stands in front of her mirror at the hotel she's staying at, all dressed up for a wedding she feels weak to attend to, her mind constantly debating if this is something she'll allow herself to go through, the knock on the door wakes her up from her thoughts, she looks through the peephole to prepare herself on the intrution

I need air, alcohol and a little more time

Amy automatically gives her a hug once she opens the door for her, asking her once again if she is okay and ready for the day ahead "as ready as I'll ever be"

A couple more minutes and three more bellas reached her hotel room. Emily, stacie and cynthia rose, all giving her a sad smile. Beca hates it, sure this day sucks for her but this is the first time she's seeing these people after a long time and she doesn't need their pity.

Beca tells them she's okay, repeatedly so because the first few times didn't really make a lasting impression but once they've let her be, things started to feel normal, as normal as things can get for them again

They reach the wedding venue and she sees a couple more familiar faces, waving hi to the former bellas then her breathing becomes shaky again and when she feels stacie's hands on her back, guiding them to their seat, a sense of belonging she thought she lost made its way back to her and it comforts her

Maybe I should've gone to her before the wedding to make things less awkward

While seated on the pews, amy and stacie kept her busy as they asked how her life has been, the so called fame and etcetera, she answers them all with pure honesty but with quickness as well. She stops them for a second when she asks them if she should go and see chloe but even before they can let a word out the music starts

Timing's a bitch

She only recognizes flo and jessica from the entourage, a painful reminder that she and chloe have definitely gone their separate lives now. She sees chicago walking up the to the front and her blood starts to boil, and if the music were stopped maybe people can hear how her heart starts to break into millions of pieces

She sees Aubrey next, so make it three people. She figures she's the maid of honor since she's walking alone and when she looks at the door there's no one left behind to follow and like a bandaid being pulled she sees a white gown, red hair, and a familiar set of eyes that makes her heart beat faster

––––––––––––––––––––––————

And you're gonna live forever in me

I guarantee, it's your destiny

––––––––––––––––––––––————

The look that chloe gave her made her crumble, it was like returning to a favorite chapter from an old book that she kept ages ago. Beca knows that look, it was the look that  she knows chloe gave to her only, a warm smile with eyes telling more than a thousand stories

I don't think i can take any more of this

Beca feels her body shutting down and when she hears "speak now or forever hold your peace" her mind goes to places, millions of sentences filling it, her heart asking her to stand up and to profess her undying love for chloe, to tell the whole world how she was a coward then but she's ready to give in now

She wants to stand and to shout how much chloe means to her and that even though they've been lost from each other the past few years there was never a day chloe left her mind but instead, she chooses the poet's choice, the choice to sit down, the choice of memories instead of what may be because Chloe's happy, she sees it in her smile and it hurts her because it makes her happy that chloe is happy, just not with her

She's been at the reception for an hour now and she's catched up with the bellas, she had a talk with aubrey, it surprisingly went well, she avoided chloe in numerous occasions, and now she's looking at her watch, thinking that maybe it's time to go

This is much better, this way we don't have to say things that we don't mean and by we, i mean me

Beca says her goodbye, she calls her driver to pick her up and he tells her that he'll arrive in a couple of minutes so she goes to the garden at the back of the reception venue, wanting to breathe fresh air and to feel something other than constant hurt

She looks around and sees she is alone so she lets out a loud sigh that she's been holding back for hours and breathes in all the air she can "how do i let you go chlo?" she let's the thought out, surprised it was said aloud but what surprises her more was the voice from someone behind her

"Beca?"

The ground below her feels like ice, it's solid and slippery and if she moves a little, she'll fall and hurt herself, it freezes her.

––––––––––––––––––––––————

Life is full of sweet mistakes

And love's an honest one to make

Time leaves no fruit on the tree

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"Beca, What do you mean?"

beca's forming words in her head that sound ridiculous now, somewhere from admitting the truth and complimenting Chloe's choice of flowers for the wedding

"Oh uhm hey, i didn't see you..i just...just getting some air.. congratulations by the way, everything was lovely'

Is it possible to burn from words, or to burn from lying? Beca thinks to herself, thinks that maybe she should just run now and never look back

"Thank you and thank you for coming..i know how busy you are these days"

Beca grins at the answer, immediately imagining herself answering "do you though?"

"Of course, wouldn't miss it for the world chlo. Anyway i uhm, i'm leaving.. I'm just waiting for my driver so uhm thanks..for having me"

"You're leaving?, Already?"

There's that pull chloe has on her, the sadness in her voice that beca feels the need to be alerted to

"Yeah i have an early flight tomorrow"

"You were gonna leave without saying goodbye? You've been avoiding me the whole night"

"Well I'm saying goodbye now, and in my defense you're pretty busy so i didn't want to disturb you"

"Stop it, stop making excuses beca"

––––––––––––––––––––––————

But you're gonna live forever in me

I guarantee, it's just meant to be

––––––––––––––––––––––————

This is it, the moment she's been avoiding, the moment where Chloe's hold on her tightens and at the same time will be forced to let go

"I don't know what you mean chloe, i guess...i just didn't know what to say, I can't exactly come up to you and say hey right? Our relationship never worked that way, i never worked that way"

"What is our relationship?"

"What was"

"Okay then, what was our relationship?"

"God chloe! I...i don't know, you tell me"

"This could've been ours, you know"

"What are you saying?"

"Just a minute ago you were asking, how to let me go, I've asked myself that question about you for so many times but i never got the answer"

It all feel surreal right now, beca feels relief that they're finally talking but talking will lead to an end, and she's not sure if she's prepared for that right now

"It clearly looks you found the answer to that question"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"We're here on your wedding day, chloe! That's what it means"

"You don't know how much pain i went through getting over...this"

"At least you're over it, while I'm still hanging"

"Beca you left, you moved on with your life, i tried to stay close with you but i felt you slowly wanting to go away, what did you expect me to do!?"

"Because what was the point chlo? What could we have done to make this work?"

"Everything beca. I would've done everything"

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And when the pastor asks the pews

For reasons he can't marry you

I'll keep my word and my seat

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Heavy. Draining. Painful. Just a few words on top of beca's head that describes everything right now and the voice in her head mocks her, reminding her that she could've avoided this if she just didn't go or maybe if she could've just said how she felt before but she's here now and it's time to be honest. It's time to let go

"I was scared. It means nothing now but i want to leave you today knowing that you know how i really felt, how i love you, how ever since that day on that stupid fair you are the one who kept me going, our memories in new york, our days as bellas, i will always hold them near me, i always ask myself how do i move on and i think in this moment I'm finally going to be able to do it, because seeing you happy with him, it hurts but if you're happy then I'm happy...just..just tell me, how. How do i stop loving you?"

"Beca, i never stopped loving you...but as time passed the kind of love i had for you changed, the day i realized that, it hurt me, because it ultimately meant losing you and that scared me but it was there and there was no more point of delaying what was inevitable"

"I'm sorry. for being a coward"

"I know, but in a sense, i guess we both were"

"Does he make you happy?"

"He does. He really does"

"Then I'm happy. I'm happy for you Chloe...maybe someday I'll get to love again too"

"I know you will, who wouldn't want to be in love with you"

"So i guess this is it"

"Thank you beca"

"Thank you chlo, for everything"

She gets in the car that just arrived after their hug at the garden, the hug that lingers right now through her body, the hug that will last her a lifetime. Beca looks through the window and sees chloe one last time, and beca feels like smiling, no more were the feelings of scared and sadness, they've all been replaced with hope and relief. It's time for that change. She lets out a sigh, a less troubled one unlike before.

"goodbye chloe"

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But you're gonna live forever in me

I guarantee, just wait and see

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#bechloe #one shot #angst #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect

[somekindofseizure]

When the Ink Dries Part X

<Conclusion. Rated for adults. Thank you @icedteainthebag, @gazeatscully and all of you for your help and support over the years (wtf?!!) it took to finish this. Hope you enjoy.>

*

Chapter 26

Stella had been bracing herself to enter a courthouse with the two of them for three years, ever since Scully had delivered news of their engagement. Self-preparation for this had involved two phases. One: fuck all of London for about six weeks and two: settle into the rationalization that nothing would really change. Mulder and Scully were a couple before any sort of documentation, and they would be after. Stella had made peace with it, anticipating that they might spring the actual event on her any time, that every time she came to America, it might be the one. But that had not happened.Scully didn’t have a dress. No one spoke of dates and no one had given her the address to a courthouse...until today.

“Why don’t you sleep over,” Mulder stage-whispered, leaning in beside her. He smelled of whatever he’d been chewing on the car ride over - almonds? - no, seeds, those fucking confounded seeds. “You haven’t been to our new place. It has a guest bedroom.”

“Hotel is fine.”

He hesitated, hovered over her shoulder in a particular way that men generally did not have the temerity to do. Luckily she liked him more than other men, still liked him, even if he was poised to marry the only person for whom she’d ever considered unravelling the tightly wound spool of her existence.  Thankfully, circumstances had not allowed her to make such a mistake. She reminded herself to be thankful often. Forcefully.

“Why?” he pressed.  He was eager to keep her close, Stella knew.  On her better days she believed it was because he cared for her, was her friend. It was also possible he only wanted to be forgiven for winning.  Most days, when she was feeling her cheerfully doubtful self, it struck her as strategic. One distances one’s wife’s female friends at one’s own peril, particularly if said wife has had sex with said female friend.

“I’m not sleeping in your guest bedroom,” she declared in the hushed voice required of their environment.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not your great aunt,” Stella said, her eyes firmly rooted on the hulking shoulders of the man in front of her in the light grey prison uniform. Mulder righted himself beside her, took a sharp inhale. The air was stiff and stale in the room, tasted of chalk. This must be as frustrating for him as it was for her - watching Scully testify on Jerse’s behalf twenty some-odd years after she’d helped put him in jail. Only fair that Mulder was distracting himself with matters of guest bedrooms. 

Ed was taller than Stella remembered.  Also, less nimble, the kind of man who might lose his balance trying to kill a mosquito rather than someone who had  escaped notice as he escorted human beings to their unwanted cremations.  His tattoos had multiplied over the years behind bars - all the faces of girls, and each one turned out to be meaner than the last. Stella and Mulder had both taken turns judging Scully as she made phone calls over the years to keep him out of or remove him from solitary confinement. But even her (arguably inappropriate) kindness had not spared him. Time had passed for all of them, but it had passed hardest for Ed. A courtroom was a very good argument for the health benefits of freedom.

Funny that Stella had always assumed they’d get married in a court and not a church. Scully was Catholic, after all, but somehow she’d always pictured herself in a skirt-suit set and a plasticky smile watching an uncomfortable hour-plus of Mulder pawing gently at Scully as she stood steel-eyed and stiff-jawed before a government clerk, her favorite skeptic allowing an indulgence of incalculable faith. It was enough of a stretch without bringing God into it, maybe.

She had kept her negativity about marriage to herself, had made a concerted effort not to spoil things. It would be unseemly considering. But she had tried to talk Scully out of this, and Mulder had tried too. But Scully was adamant right up until last night’s spaghetti carbonara; there was an uncommon amount of swearing, flame-freckled seething, tossed crumpled napkins and waiters trying not to look. 

They’d relented - what else could they do?   He was her potential murderer, after all, not theirs, and one supposed she was entitled to a certain amount of possessiveness on that account. Many was the sleepless night that Stella had spent cursing the people who had interfered with her plans for Paul Spector. 

The worst part of hearing about the engagement had not been the news itself but the manner in which it was delivered. Scully’s lowered volume, the gentle lovers’ cadence, lips pressed against the mouthpiece, two hands surely cupping the phone.  The worry, the consideration, the sizzling quiet on the other end of the line as Stella rustled up a response she thought she might be able to live with forever.  The grand poetry of it all, the drama and Scully’s quietly feverish attempts to mitigate it. 

Scully, neatly trimmed in burgundy, hair just so, shifted at the small cafeteria-style table where she sat with the other testifiers.  As someone else stood to speak, Stella saw Scully clasp her hands in loose prayer, gaze resting on her fingernails.  She had not turned to look at them since it had begun. Perhaps she was thinking of the first time she met him, trying to reincarnate the moment when she knew him only as an innocent entity. A memory that had been discounted by such drastic measures lived on uncomfortably, vividly, a spider pinned alive and preserved under glass.  

And what about the day Stella had met him? He’d impressed himself upon her almost by accident. It had been a lark, something to get her out of England and keep her busy, but had turned into something she would never forget, scenes in a movie that only later seemed significant. The heavy stench of fear-twinged anger, the impressive composure of the beautiful ginger-faced detective, the nearly imperceptible twitching of her fingers at the table, the lanky male counterpart’s eventual leap at the killer’s throat.  Stella had felt safe and separate from them all, even the killer; she’d ridden the experience like a seasoned surfer, keeping an eye on the two young kids desperately paddling in the frothy tension beside her. That is how she used to do things before Paul Spector had gotten under her skin. Or maybe it was how she used to do things before Dana Scully had. Sometimes, Stella was unsure which had been the bigger danger.

Stella glanced down at the skin of her bare knees and thought maybe she had unravelled a bit over the years after all.

Jerse appeared to be watching the speaker, but with a slight tilt of the head, Stella could see that he was focused on Scully. The others were guards, cafeteria workers, psychologists - but Scully was something else, someone he’d had feelings for, someone who had known him as good before evil. Mulder must have caught the look in his eye as well, for beside Stella, he gave an angry swallow, widened his legs in macho (and pointless) provocation. Stella knew that Mulder’s concern about today was the physical threat of Ed - what he might do if he were out, how his fixation with Scully might manifest into an act of violence or possessiveness. But Scully could handle her own safety well enough. Stella worried instead about the subtler effects - the nightmares, the guilt she might experience wondering who he was luring in the dusty pick-up joints of Philadelphia. Things you could not fix with a lock and key or a sidearm.

But when Scully stood and spoke, it seemed she was not worried about any of these things. Her voice was steadfast and clinical, though it carried a heartfelt quality that unsettled Stella to her core. Stella had heard the rundown of events before - years ago, when she’d asked as a matter of professionally curiosity and Scully had answered as a matter of courtesy. But now Scully spoke of the invitation to dinner and the subsequent date with a matter-of-fact tenderness. The way he seemed before “the voices” had interfered, her belief in an underlying true nature beneath his mental illness. She had been sparing Mulder the nuances back then. Stella had been just an acquaintance. But inadvertently, she’d spared Stella too. For all these years, Stella had not had to look at the inky snake on Scully’s back and think: she liked him. She’d been spared the pain of identifying with how that must have felt. To have been so wrong about someone.

Scully finished without flourish, smoothed the wool skirt at the hips with two hands and sat - still not looking back at them, seemingly alone in her moment, and perhaps rightly so, for this was her unsupported decision. Stella felt vaguely hypocritical for even attending, but then not attending had seemed wronger. 

Snippets of Ed’s report cards were read aloud, brief and modestly generous endorsements he’d received over the course of the years. Mistakes here and there, but a generally cooperative nature, etcetera - no compliment as persuasive as Scully’s sincerity. They were going to let him go - Stella could feel it the way she could sense a confession coming or intuited a multiple murderer’s next attack before he actually crept up someone’s back flight of steps. 

Mulder’s hand startled her as it descended heavily atop her own and quieted her wriggling thumbs. The weight of him in the lap of her skirt made the mucous in her throat thicken - was he holding her hand or asking for his to be held? He tightened his sweaty fingers around hers. There was no reason to cry. This was not her moment. Not her murderer and not her fiancé. She was in the role she’d always found most comfortable - observer. Someone to put in the guest room.

When it was over, Scully stood, looked at the floor and moved toward them like a funeral attendant in the aftermath of an Irish wake - sad, but relieved - attending to the memory of something she’d long past buried.

*

“That tattoo hurt at all?” he asks with a dipped clefted chin and a gleam in his eye that reminds her of her little performance in the shop.  Scully is not even sure why it happened – the booze or the slow burn of the needle or the way he looked at her. It makes her look away for a second now in shyness - the fact that he’s already seen that face she makes.  But she did not call him up earlier to be shy.  She did not sit in a dirty dive all night with a handsome stranger all night to be shy.  She did not break skin, make permanent marks she might later regret to be shy.   She is too quickly running out of time to be shy.

She steals glances at him standing there across the room with his flop of dark sailor’s hair and suggestive sailor’s tattoo and she stammers through something about feeling different. This is true but she doesn’t mean the heavy handed flashart on her lower back.  She supposes she might feel strange the next time she’s at the beach with her mother.  Supposes, the next time, really, anyone looks there, she’ll probably have to laugh.  But nobody ever looks there.  And that’s why she’s here.  She’s responsible.  She’s a woman of faith.  But she’s human, she’s mortal, she knows that more now than ever, even before the doctor’s appointment, and tonight she wants to act like it.  That is what feels different.

He looms over her as he lifts the back of her shirt to peek and she actually believes he just wants a peek.  He’s enormous by comparison, a monument to masculine threat.  He could crush her.  He will try to crush her.  But she doesn’t know that now.  Has no way of knowing that now as he traces the outline of the snake with his finger and tells her it looks all right.  It actually seems like too much of a cliché to fear someone who looks like him, like flinching when you walk down the street past a Doberman. Every cop knows the scrawny ones can be meaner.

She likes him, has liked him from the moment he spoke to her.  She considers herself a good judge of character and she feels in her soul that he is good, but she’s not looking for a soul mate. She’s in the mood for someone who’ll look at her like she’s a problem, not their problem-solver.  Someone who’s not just handing her instructions and checking in. He is not a slap in the face to Mulder. He’s just not Mulder.

He doesn’t leer and he doesn’t suggest.  He offers to take couches and asks her if things hurt.  He’s aware of his own strength even as he displays it.  It may be that none of this counts at St. Peter’s gate, but it will count for something when she’s letting a man a full foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier fuck her standing up.  It will count when he tries to kill her too, but she has no way of knowing that’s what fate – God?  No, not God, that’s not the God she believes in – has in store.

If she were going to stop him, she would’ve stopped him by now.  But instead, she’s telling him she’s a doctor and nothing turns her on like telling people she’s a doctor.  Instead, he’s holding her wrist firmly in the dance partner position, looking down at her like he doesn’t care about his bleeding infected arm as long as he’s got her.  She has wanted to be needed in this way, has been wanting someone who will trade in their other obsessions for five feet two inches and a few hours of her, and she’s been ashamed of that desire.  Then such a person appeared, offered himself up and she’s accepting.  She feels compelled on behalf of her mortality.  Funny - it’s the very thing he’ll turn out to be after.

It’s a quick rundown of events, some of which she’ll be forced to mention later to law enforcement or doctors or both.  She’ll glare and ask them what that has to do with anything as they jot down her perfunctory details.  There are some she doesn’t give. That she reaches for the hem of her shirt two seconds into the kiss, feels his tongue touch her nose when she sloppily backs away to get it over her head.  That he unbuttons her pants as she runs her hands over his chest and his stomach, makes shapes across it with her mouth.  They look for cause and effect, these medical doctors and detectives - she knows because it’s how she normally thinks too.  But the system is working in reverse. The moment his hands graze her ass over her underwear – simple briefs, work underwear, investigate-the-Russian-mobster-underwear – is when she realizes she’s wet.  The moment she drops his pants and puts her hand over his erection is the moment she hopes she’s wet enough.  Effect is what she notices first.

It’s been a very long time.  This might hurt a bit, she tells herself, and gets wetter.

He takes out the condom of his own will but she insists on being the one to put it on him, stares, buying time, as she rolls it down his shaft. It could stop here, she thinks. She could still wake up tomorrow not feeling a bit of regret or the urge to confess, still go into work and not duck from Mulder’s gaze, but it doesn’t occur to her that she could still avoid waking up concussed in a hospital, and that ought to be a fair oversight.

She brushes the infected pinupped bicep by accident, but when she does so, an evil little smile appears on his lips. Blood as permanent as ink itself smears beneath her hand and there is something beautiful about it or something perverse, something she doesn’t take the time to put her finger on because he’s a very good kisser and he can span the entire width and length of her torso with two spread hands, and now he is lifting her with those hands, tossing her up like a lost princess, starting to carry her toward the bedroom.  Just think - Dana Scully, a princess.

“No, here,” she says and so he backs her into the wall as she squeezes her thighs around his thick body.  He shows her with various little touches that he’s willing to take this step by step, but if he does, she’ll lose the nerve, and if she loses the nerve, she knows how she’ll wake up feeling nothing tomorrow morning, because that is how she has woken up many mornings, and she doesn’t think at the time that it might even be worse than waking up in the hospital.  “Fuck me here.”

And then he gets a look in his eye that makes her not care whether there is a tomorrow, not that she has reason to wonder (no cancer moves that fast, has that glib a sense of timing).  It’s a look that says he’s going to ravish her, take her and at the same time sacrifice himself.  It is the look that will haunt her when she’s bandaged and stitched, when she hears of him going to prison, when Mulder makes his stupid, insensitive quips about ass tattoos.

He fucks her with her bra clasp digging into the wall, her underwear pushed to the side, his upper body curled over her like a cobra as he tries to kiss her neck and stay inside her at once.  She lodges her fingernails in the plates of his back lest he drop her, listens to the sound he makes as they penetrate his skin, feels his dick go so high inside her that she’s sure despite all knowledge of anatomy that he’s occluding the base of her throat.

For the moment, with his cock stiff and wholly inside her, she is the threat, the overpowerer. He’s awed by it, grateful for it, and - she’s sure - fearful of it.

“You can do whatever you want,” she orders, “I want you to.”  She hears but barely feels her shoulder blades bruise the wall, any remaining sense she has left sliding out her ears onto the paint job.   He holds her waist very still to the wall as he thrusts upward into her and she tilts her head toward the heavens to moan.  Her eyes burn and her hips ache and she will laugh in a few minutes when he holds her sweetly and still offers to sleep on the couch after giving her a pounding like none she has experienced.

“Come for me, Dana,” he begs and she clutches at his hair, presses her open mouth to his jaw, uses her tongue to try to reach him when she’s not using it to swear, digs her heels into his backside for leverage, consistently pressing the full weight of his hips into her body and she lets herself slide into the deepest, slickest, hardest home plate she’s ever come across.  Or at least that she can remember coming across.   It has been a very long time. As of tomorrow morning, that won’t be true, but then a lot of things won’t be true anymore.

He’s looking at her like she’s the only thing that can save him but the reason she is doing it is to save herself.

*

The decor was sleek and dripped in silver grey, an unslept-in bed at hip height.  There was a photograph of a naked woman in a carnival mask on the wall opposite, the figure’s seductive pout leering over the edge of a dressing-room-style vanity mirror.  The room looked like it belonged in another home - a distinct departure from the oaky, slightly inexplicably Asian-influenced-Americana couple-who-hikes aesthetic of the rest of the townhouse. Sleek and sexy and cool. Nobody’s great aunt would have slept there.

“Hope this is all right,” Scully said behind her, leaning against the doorjamb with pantyhosed feet piled one on top of the other.

“Fine, more than fine.”

“Thank you for staying.”

Mulder’s sports announcers prattled on in the master bedroom down the hall.  The bedroom Scully should be in, would be in by the end of the night.

“I wanted you to be close tonight,” Scully said, punctuating the statement with the kind of breathy chuckle that stood for self-criticism. The days of their holing up in hotels with platonic devotion for a weekend were long gone. Now, Stella stayed in those places alone and Scully visited for dinner or shopping - a pair of regular friends. Scully no longer came to London - Stella’s request - and she did not generally make admissions, however innocently voiced, of wanting her close.

Stella spotted a bronze-brown silk robe hanging on a hook on the back of the door. 

“Pour moi?”

Scully smiled, nodded and Stella grabbed it, turned her back to Scully as she exchanged her clothes for the robe with as much modesty as she could. There was a brass-edged glass bar cart in the corner, fully stocked with red wine and whiskey - the place was a veritable theme park in her honor.  Stella resisted the urge to tease and instead took advantage, tweaked two glasses in one hand, opened a bottle of Macallan’s and poured. Anyway, there was no way to know if the room had been decorated for her because it was meant to court her visit or because there was no one else’s visit to court. They were solitary people, all three of them. It was part of the reason they had held onto each other the way they had.

Scully stepped fully into the room for the first time, rolling from heels to toes like a soft-footed doll in stockinged feet.

“Sentiment get to you?” Stella inquired as her drink pooled, syrupy, in the bottom of the lightly dust-coated glasses. She lightened her tone to a mild taunt in order to refract any impression of flirtation. “Whenever we visit Ed Jerse together we sleep under the same roof?”

“Something like that,” Scully murmured, untouched by the sarcasm. She had known Stella too long, had developed an immunity to it. Sometimes people could say they meant nothing by their sarcasm; with Stella, something was always meant and yet one had to be able to take it in stride. It was not one of her best tendencies but she had never been able to control it.

She handed Scully a glass sympathetically, gestured for her to sit on the bed. Stella sipped and Scully gulped...

“You all right?” 

Scully’s eyes began to water.  She looked at the ceiling, preemptively tightened the skin near her eyes with her fingers. Stella came and sat beside her.

“Do you think it’s wrong, what I did today?” Scully asked.

“You know I don’t see the world that way.”

“But do you feel like…”

“You’ve a good heart, that’s all.”

“I remember when you first told me I was good, do you?”

“Not really.”

She’d always thought it. It was rare for her. Usually she suspected people of things, even when she liked them. Scully stared at her, chewed her lip until it was practically blue.

It would pass. It would pass. It would pass. They had more practice letting it pass than anything else. But this time, it didn’t. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” Stella said finally and she meant it.

“You don’t really want me to marry him.”

“It doesn’t matter to me if you marry him.”

“You don’t care if it means you’ll lose me forever.”

“What do you want from me, Dana.”

She’d said it quickly, not meaning to, was immediately angry with herself for doing so.  But Scully’s shoulders softened, some long-suffering secret released.

“You sent me back here for my own good, didn’t you? Because you knew about William. Not because you wanted me to go. I need to know.”

That was three years ago and in that time Stella had gotten the hang of her being gone. This was no time to undo that, not with an engagement pending.

“I sent you back because I couldn’t do it anymore,” she said methodically.

“You couldn’t do it every minute of every day-”

“No - not with anyone-”

“But you could do it sometimes.”

“What does that matter?” Stella said, her voice rising into the tight part of her throat like a trapped scream. Fighting with Scully was like fighting with a teenager sometimes - ridiculous and yet impossible to come out on top. Stella always had the urge to tell her not now, you’re tired, you’re emotional, and yet, there was always a devastating honesty to Scully’s behavior when she was being influenced by such feelings. “You want something constant, that is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed. But it doesn’t mean I need everything to be constant.”

Stella’s head ached - she shook it, rubbing her temples, sipped her whiskey.

“I don’t even know what we’re talking about,” she said, sorry that she’d come here.

“I’ll stop,” Scully said. “It’s been a long day.”

Stella drank. Yes, a long day. Scully was tired, emotional, deserved a pass.

“Can I lie down?” Scully asked.

“It’s your house.”

“It’s your room,” Scully said and Stella couldn’t help but smile a little.

She let the Scotch burn the back of her throat a bit as Scully scooted back on the bed, dropped herself into the center of a stack of white linen pillows, put her buttoned-up wrists by her ears.

Stella lay on her back until the remainder of her anger dissipated into the plume of Scully’s perfume. Stella pictured Scully dressing, powdering this morning, pretending to herself it was like any other day. She turned onto her side, placed her hand carefully in the center of Scully’s sternum, carefully avoiding the structured brassiere swell on either side. A warm heartbeat patted at her palm.

“Aren’t you uncomfortable in these clothes?” she asked. 

“Deeply.”

“Want to go change?”

Scully shook her head no.

“May I?” Stella asked as her hand drifted button by button down the front of Scully’s shirt. “I won’t touch you, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” Scully said. 

Stella half-smiled, flicked the front clasp of the bra, dragged the side zipper down Scully’s hip and finally rested her hand dutifully on the comforter next to Scully’s still wool-crepe skirted, nyloned thigh.

“I’m still deeply uncomfortable,” Scully said, face turning toward her, the malted, woodsy scent of alcohol drifting on the air between them.  A forest, an orchestra pit full of string instruments, hollow and waxed and just removed from velvet cases. “I am actually more deeply uncomfortable than before.”

“Sorry.”

Stella held her breath, her nipples hardening against the silk of the borrowed robe as Scully licked her lips at her, breathed with her whole body so that her open blouse slipped from her chest to her sides. 

“Want to kiss me?” Scully asked.

Goddamit.

“He’s down the hall.”

But she was salivating, tasting Scully, the memory of her.  It had been years. Scully slithered out of her clothes, shedding them like snakeskin, looking new as she lay back down on the pillow.

“I dare you,” Scully whispered.

Stella brusquely threw a knee over Scully’s opposite hip, straddling her as the golden robe slipped its knot.  She shook it down off her shoulders, let it fall to her thighs. Her chest rose, naked and weighted by her heart as she dipped forward toward Scully’s face.

Scully caged her ribs with two hands, traced the black and white tattoo on Stella’s body, draping a finger this way and that in the shape of the rose.

The door was open.  He would hear them.  It would be a betrayal greater than any Stella had ever committed. But she could feel her entire body sinking toward Scully, melting at the heat of her. Muscles trembled, spine withered like an end of summer plant, hips rolled, changes Stella assumed would be imperceptible but Scully’s body moved in response to each one.

She reached down, took Scully’s chin in her hand -

And in a flash of Scully’s eye contact, it all made sense.

“He knew you were going to do this,” Stella said, measuring her surprise.

Scully gulped. Nervous.

“You can live in London, come and go as you please...”

Stella tensed, probably would have moved away but in a burst of effort, Scully reached for Stella’s neck, pulled her close so that she could speak directly into her ear.

“I need you.”

Stella closed her eyes, trying to process the enormity of what was being asked of her but paralyzed by the scent of Scully’s skin and hair and mouth so close.

“I don’t know,” Stella said, her pores sucking up Scully’s skin like the air. She was drowning in her.

Scully’s heart beat faster, she’d begun to sweat, and rightly so. She was gambling with her future - all their futures. Stella wanted to be angry with her but it was impossible. Impossible not to lift her mouth to Scully’s, just briefly enough to leave some of her shimmery gloss on Scully’s lower lip. She paused long enough to settle, to let herself enjoy the certainty of a decision having been made. Sometimes she thought this was the best thing about sex - the rare moment of knowledge, of conviction, of committment. She could not agree to whatever Scully was asking of her, some sort of future promise, but she could agree to right now. The moment would come and go, and in a few minutes, when they were having sex, she would have other ideas about what the best thing about sex with Scully was. With other people, this was often not the case.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” she said. “I’m going to make you pant and swear and moan and we’ll see if your fiance will come down the hall.”

“Do you want him to?”

“I don’t know,” Stella said. “But either of you cries, I swear to God, I’ll never speak to you again.”

She covered Scully’s body from the palms of their hands to the tips of their feet, slipped her tongue into Scully’s mouth before either of them could ruin it by saying anything further.

Chapter 27

He wasn’t sure how he’d feel about it until he saw it. He had agreed to it without reservation. It was even possible to interpret it as having been his suggestion. But still, he could not be absolutely sure how it would feel.  And if he was going to live with it, he needed to see it with his own two eyes at least once. It had always been him or Stella, not both. He’d only shared her once - the first time - and the second time they’d tried had ended in disaster. They’d all kept things separate, Scully in her actions - he doubted she had ever been unfaithful to him when they’d been a couple - and he in his mind. He’d approached his memories of that night with the chastity of a priest, resisted even thinking about it until Scully had made this recent proposition. It was not an unpleasant memory to relive but still, it was a memory.

And now he had arrived at the reality. Stella’s mouth suckling Scully’s nipple in a room wreaking of Scotch and women, her arm’s well-hewn muscles spasming as they worked on Scully beneath the weight of her body, four rounded thighs swathed in a pond of flaxen silk. Scully’s skirt and nylons had been discarded near her ankles, and one of her hands was cupping Stella’s jaw, the other raking up her back. He had waited until he could hear Scully from down the hall, which meant that he had waited until things were very near the end, too near to undo - he could not have stopped them now if he begged. It was a scientific experiment, a matter of proving to himself he could handle what he’d feel.

What he felt when he stood in the doorway to the guest room was hard. Superman fucking hard.

He watched for as long as he could stand it, cleared his throat when he couldn’t stand it any longer. Stella pulled back and sat on her haunches with a well-well-well sort of expression on her face, hair whipping like a blonde gauntlet over her shoulder as she held Scully deep-breathing beneath her palm.

“Come here,” Stella said. He stepped up to the side of the bed, resisting the urge to look anywhere but her eyes. They turned bluer when she made love. Of course - he’d only seen her with Scully. He wondered if they did the same when she was just having sex. “I’m very impressed.”

“With my middle-aged hard-on or my open-mindedness?”

“Both. Have a drink, you might need it.”

She gestured at the friendly half empty glasses left gawking and scandalized on the nightstand. Scully took his hand, squeezed Stella’s thigh with the other. She was in no mood for banter.

“Finish me.”

“You talking to me, honey?” he asked with a slow smile. “Or your girlfriend?”

“Both of you.”

Mulder picked up the glass and sipped - just a bit because he was old enough to be negatively impacted by substances at such critical moments - and then he tipped the glass at Scully’s chest, poured it over her body from navel to neck. She gasped, body rolling like pavement over a growing root. He sat on the bed and leaned to kiss the tip of her drunken shoulder.

They settled in on either side of her,  Stella’s breasts nestled beneath her armpit, his dick wedged against her opposite hip. His arm slid under Scully’s back, his hand pinned by Stella’s trembling belly as she arched it into the hollow of Scully’s waistline. Stella playfully hooked her foot over his leg in the space between Scully’s spread calves. 

“So wet,” Scully murmured and he wasn’t sure if she was talking about herself or the stamp of Stella’s body on her hipbone, but either way it made him desperately want to fuck her.  He settled for a kiss, first on the mouth and then the side of her neck the way she liked as she turned her mouth to Stella.

“Shall we make her come now?” Stella asked without looking at him. Scully’s little ovular  fingertips dug into his skull.

“You want to come, honey?” he teased in her ear, and Stella said something similar in the other, each talking to her as if they had her to themselves, but revelling in the knowledge that they didn’t.

Scully gave a feverish nod yes to all the questions she was being asked, hot tears of simultaneous need and something else - relief? - dripping from her tightly shut eyes. This would not just be the conclusion of a steadily built orgasm, but the proof that her love could carry them all, that she could have the life she wanted but feared was too much to ask.

Their arms draped Scully’s body in the shape of a V, two pageant queen sashes - one ivory, one olive - as they reached inside her together. Stella’s finger was slender and deft against his, leading him sportingly as they found a rhythm they could both live with. Scully hooked her elbow around Stella’s neck, put her hand on Mulder’s cock.

“Dana,” Stella whispered. 

The sound of her so-rarely-uttered first name made him ache like a dirty word. He writhed naked against her thigh, and across from him, Stella’s head hung loose toward Scully’s shoulder as though it might unhinge from her neck. Scully held the center with ease, the flexible crux of an unwieldy machine.

“You’re both so incredibly beautiful,” he said.

Stella thanked him in that a spare, sweet tone she sometimes used but which every time sounded like someone else, and Scully told him to shut up in a voice that sounded exactly like her. Everything slid, slithered - the hand he had wrapped around Scully’s waist bathed in their combined sweat, the whiskey sheen tanning Scully’s chest as she curled it this way and that between them, dipped her tailbone to grind against their hands.

“Good girl,” Stella purred, composed enough even as she gripped Scully’s hip tight between her thighs,. “Good -- girl.”

He lowered the hand up between Stella’s belly and Scully’s waist, bent his knuckles to be of use. Stella found them as she rolled her clitoris from Scully’s hip over his knuckles and back down, delivered a soft fuck from her lips. 

Scully liked it too.

“We’re going to -- take such good -- care of you, Mulder,” she said.

It happened soon after that, the two of them in swift syncopation, Scully moaning and swearing liberally as Stella held her breath, her lips frozen open in the shape of an O. There was a rush of tension and release, sore, slick fingers, wet hair sticking to skin like a sacrament, baptizing a long night to come, and maybe, a new reality.

Chapter 29

The sequence of events was not identical but it was close. A questionable interaction with Ed Jerse that she stubbornly stood behind, come hell or highwater. Stella’s seduction (she had, admittedly, played more of a role in that this time), the precise feminine touch combined with the loving enthusiasm of Mulder’s involvement. And finally, waking up in a bed with him, snoring like a Golden Retriever beside on one side, while Stella’s side was a cool evening desert, bereft of the musky morning jasmine scent that should have been wafting over her shoulder.

Twenty years and somehow she had still not got it right. In some ways she felt they had all been through everything, moved the pieces around in every configuration that existed and she’d landed on a new one, one she knew she wanted best, one in which she knew she could make them both happy. But in other ways, she felt as though she’d been standing still ever since that night, learned nothing, come nowhere.

And more than anything, she was angry at Stella for letting her feel that way. The least she could have done was stayed, told her she hated the idea, rubbed her temples grouchily over a cup of inferior tea while Mulder flipped pancakes. Was that really too much to ask from someone she had known and loved so long?

And in place of that tiny bit of consideration, she’d left a little gift box.

“Sorry...xo” said Stella’s haughty half-script on a prismed, torn-off piece of paper she’d turned into a card.

A hasty unwrapping revealed a shiny little ivory-colored porcelain replica of Big Ben. A delicate and expensive version of something you’d get an an airport. Its base stood in the center of a small dish.

“What’s that?” Mulder grumbled, squinting one eye open. He’d lost some of his voice, left it in one or both of their bodies.

“Stella left us a wedding gift.”

“She left it? You mean she’s not here?”

Scully didn’t answer, so he took the object from her and looked closer.

“It’s a ring holder,” he said. “What does that mean?”

Scully slammed it on the nightstand hard enough to get some satisfaction but not hard enough to crack it. She knew that at a later date, she would cherish this object as the only connection to their union that Stella condoned. She had Mulder had not exchanged any rings - she was no more a jewelry person than she’d been when Mulder had first bought her that Elvis thing and then second-guessed himself. But maybe they should, maybe they would. Maybe she had clung to all the wrong ideas she could have about herself, let all the wrong things slip away into the unlived version of her life. She flexed her fingers over her forehead with a groan.

“She’ll come around,” Mulder said gently. “Let me get you some coffee.”

He was only gone a minute when she heard him calling her name from the kitchen. She joined him, expecting to be shown the spectacle of an ant problem or a pretty bird sitting outside the window or a strange neighbor out to get the mail in a funny outfit - he looked hard when he was aiming to cheer her up.  Instead, the presentation involved a brown paper bag on the table, the oven-y smell of bagels hovering, and Stella... leaning against the counter in the rare odd wrinkled t-shirt, lips pursed, arms folded under her breasts. Scully clung to Mulder’s bare back for protection.

“She came around,” Mulder said.

“Isn’t that getting old?” Scully demanded of Stella, stepping forward, and Mulder sat down, pulled the bag of goodies over. He hesitated to open it in a sudden bout of manners, waited for Stella to answer her.

Stella dipped her head for a deep look at the ground, as though checking to see if she’d stepped on something. Her arms did not uncross.

“Yes,” she said finally with the bluntness Scully imagined she applied to a cold case re-opened and placed unwelcomed on her desk. 

“It’s childish, Stella. I asked you a question, all you had to do was answer it,” Scully pressed. 

“You asked me a question while I was taking your clothes off -”

“Because I thought if I combined it with sex, you’d be more likely to unders -”

“You thought I’d be more likely to say yes. Is there any behavior more childish than that?” 

Scully opened her mouth, made a couple of sounds that didn’t turn into words.

“You’re right, Stell...” Mulder chimed, “Is what Scully is trying to say. She has trouble with that sometimes.”

Scully swallowed her pride, realizing only then that she could let go of both her disappointment and her anger. Stella was still there. They were both there.

“Sorry,” she said softly.

Stella nodded matter-of-factly, uncrossed her arms.

“Eat a bagel and re-ask the question clearly and while I have my wits about me.”

Chapter 30

The neighborhood was full of cobblestone and good bones, svelte-faced buildings painted in aristocrat white, noses in the air as people swept past with briefcases, the damp winter wind whipping chilled hair in their faces.  Scully hugged herself tighter in her long black coat and little white dress, swayed from side to side as she picked a wave of red from across her forehead.  She looked too perfect for this stuffy old courthouse. She also looked nervous.

“She’ll be here,” Mulder said. 

Scully smiled close-lipped, dusted the chest of his jacket, tightened his tie and lied to his face.

“I’m not worried.”

*

When she looked at him here on the courthouse steps, she saw him as he once was, young and bitter, eyes that looked perpetually impressed and a smooth-lipped mouth that looked forever disappointed. She saw their son, the short exchange Stella’s cleverness had allowed her to have with him that day in the park. She saw all the close-calls, the times they should have been parted from one another forever and yet somehow found their way back. They were, as a couple, simultaneously inevitable and a miracle. They were each other’s something old and time itself, their something borrowed.

And Stella - though she’d met her just a few years after Mulder - was still her something new - and that’s how Stella liked it. It was part of the allure of her and the problem of Stella Gibson. She liked to maintain the shiny, silvery lacquer of mystery, and Scully knew Stella worried today would tarnish it. She had considered Scully and Mulder’s offer very carefully, very sensibly, then delivered her answer as she tore bread from the inside of a bagel, a calm voice but a tear in her eye, an embarrassed smile, a mellow-limbed embrace - joy. But there had also been signs of anxiety that day and ever since. It didn’t upset Scully, it only worried her that it might upset Stella. Along the way, Stella had become something else besides the shiny new toy, she had been for some time.

She moved in closer to Mulder as they waited, let her nose rest against his Adam’s apple, a small concession to the  robust unflappability she was determined to show off today. She did not want him to feel his presence meant less to her - it was just that, in this current incarnation of her life, she worried less about losing it. He was sturdier these days, took his medicine and jogged and read novels rather than nonfiction and conspiracy theory websites. He less apt to disappear on her or on himself.

“Maybe we should have stayed at her place last night,” she said.  “Reviewed things.”

“All she has to do is show up, what’s to review?” he remarked casually but through it Scully could see he was more concerned than she was. “You tried her phone?”

“Three times.”

Him too.

“I could go to her place, make sure everything’s okay?” he offered.

“No,” Scully said, her face stoic but her fingers slipping up and down his tie.  The gesture brought him back to the moment and he smiled. His eyes were greener than usual here in the English afternoon.

“Are you sure this is what you want, Mulder? There’s no part of you that would be relieved if we didn’t pull this off today?

He took her chin in hand.

“I’m sure, baby. We’ll do it another day if she can’t make it. Something must have come up.”  

*

What he didn’t say was: we could do it without her.  Because he wasn’t sure that he could.  It was almost perfect, him and Scully alone.  Almost, except that at the same time, always teetering on not-at-all.  Stella’s involvement made it possible somehow, even when she was physically apart from them, all the way across the Atlantic Ocean.  They seemed to need her to survive each other. And as stubborn as he was about not needing people, he was also too old, too experienced not to admit when he did.

Suddenly, Scully smiled and he saw Stella getting out of a black cab in a wooly grey dress and the highest heels he’d ever seen. She turned to pay the driver through the window, at first glance betraying nothing but her usual charmed confidence, although upon closer inspection, he could see the way she was gripping her leather clutch with nerve-wrecked white fingertips.

“See? She’s here,” Mulder said and twirled a length of Scully’s hair between her shoulder blades.

She kissed him briefly on the lips and in a moment Stella approached, tapped their cheeks with her own, careful not to smudge her lipstick.

*

“Sorry I’m late.  You look lovely.  What are we doing afterward?”

“We’ll go get you a stiff drink,” Scully said dryly with a tweak to the neckline of Stella’s sweater dress, playing as she’d done moments ago with Mulder’s tie. An excuse for contact, a doctor’s emotional temperature-telling. 

“Drink, yes, maybe several,” Stella said a little more gently, as though she too had merely been awaiting the doctor’s call to feel better. A malady that eased by benign diagnosis. You will not regret this, I will not let you regret it, Scully tried to communicate telepathically as she looked Stella over, but couldn’t quite rein in the eye contact necessary.

“I’m surprised she doesn’t have a flask on her,” Mulder said.

“Who says I haven’t,” and she handed Mulder her little bag.  “Here, just a second.”

She smoothed her dress, checked the backs of her earrings.  Perfume stabbed the air and committed Stella to memory with every flick of her wrist, every twist of the neck. 

“I hate weddings,” she said. “You know that right?”

But Scully was not fooled by the mask of Stella’s comfortable complaints. She busy staring at Stella’s body, trying to place the odd feeling of deja vu and then - 

“I remember this dress.”

And for the first time that day, Stella steadied, really looked at her, let her eyes rest there in the cradle of Scully’s gaze. Her cheeks colored pink a little and her eyes deepened, the greyness of them taking on the hue of brushed denim, the deep hint of indigo. 

There it was, the something else Stella had become, her something blue.

*

It was one of Stella’s great weaknesses that being told she was loved made her want to cry and not in the so happy tears are falling sort of way, but rather in the way of someone falling to pieces. There was only one way she could handle it - in the passive elocution. There were people, mainly men, she’d known over the course of her life who’d somehow learned and observed the rule. One of them had probably taught it to her in the first place.

“You are loved,” her father used to say, or her favorite uncle, or her late-mentor at the academy. “You are missed,” Mulder would sometimes tell her on the phone. But Scully either couldn’t or wouldn’t get used to it. She was restrained in the frequency of her expressions of affection but not in the manner or delivery of them. She gave her love actively, when given.

So of course she remembered the dress, the thing Stella had been wearing that first time.

“Yes, I thought you might,” Stella said, allowing Scully to believe that she’d done it on purpose. She had not consciously thought of that day this morning when she reached for it. But admittedly, there could be no coincidence in such an action. She had dozens of outfits that would have been suitable, in fact two others she’d bought expressly with this day in mind.

“My, you do look lovely, darling,” she added, tingling with warmth as she looked Scully over. More ethereal and yet more solid all at once. “What is it about white that makes a woman look like a new person?”

Actually, all of it was new to Stella except Scully - she was the only thing familiar about this willingness she felt, the generosity of spirit. She was not pretending to be pissed off for having been asked to do this. But really she was self-conscious about not being pissed off. It would have been more comfortable to resent being here, would have felt more herself.

Inside, there would  be waiting to do, the collective and similar but varied anxieties of twenty other strangers pledged to do this same thing this same day. She and Mulder would bicker amiably, tease about who was going to be fucking whose wife later. Scully would hold her head high, pretending to be above it all, threaten them with moving entire affair to a church, but secretly be glad she’d done it here, in the shadow of all the petty tragicomedies of bureaucracy.  They all three were creatures of the system, and they were also its rebels. That included Scully. Sweet, silently subversive Dana Scully, who was sneaking her hand into Stella’s palm, the other already tucked deftly and permanently into Mulder’s elbow.

It had been Mulder’s idea to configure it this way. He’d said it made sense because then she and Scully would be able to visit one another longer. And it would make it easier for her to move to America if she ever wanted to join them there. She had marveled at the breadth of his spirit, his confidence and his love, had been glad she’d fucked him the previous night. But she’d also panicked. She had only just returned from possible escape minutes before.

Scully had hedged when she heard it and fidgeted, twiddled her fingers and smiled shyly as she admitted to approving of the plan. They each took turns making sure Mulder was in his right mind. And ultimately Stella agreed to it because she wasn’t sure any other way would feel binding enough, would serve to remind her that somewhere, someone expected something of her. And if she didn’t feel that, well then what was the point of being involved at all?

Courthouses could be jarring settings for ordinary people but they were familiar to her, and this one in particular. She’d come out of them over the course of her career in all manner of states - furious, indignant, satisfied, vengeful, victorious - all three of them had. When she came out of this one on this day, she would be no more and no less than... married. No one was changing their name. But hers would be a little different because it would be signed on a piece of paper beside Scully’s, with Mulder’s below as the “witness.” 

He would get Scully with his morning coffee every morning. She would get her on vacations, on special weekends, and, somewhere she had never in a million years expected to either get or look forward to getting - on paper.

The law would be involved, black ink and clerks, a mess to undo if needing undone. And the fact of all this did, at moments, make her want to run. But what did Scully deserve if not that?  Her momentary fancies of flight, her panic. That was worth more than her love, it was more than she had ever been willing to entrust to anyone else.

Overhead, a couple of birds scattered noisily from the ancient stony doorway. Mulder and Scully watched them in tandem, eyes arching from here to there with expressions of matching surprise and gratitude. 

“Are those pigeons or--?” Mulder asked, and Scully tightened the lobster clasp of her fingers. “Doves,” she said. “Mourning doves.”

Stella squinted and smiled alongside them in the breeze. For once, for the moment, there was nothing for any of them to mourn.  

The end

#wtid #myfic #stella and scully #xfiles fic #the fall fic #thank you all for being a part of this

[nev3rfound]

cut off : s.r

brief summary: having a quiet date night with steve and having it interrupted drastically 

word count: 1.6k requested: by @teamquacksonholland (I did change a few details ever so slightly but the storyline is still the same!) warnings: none that I’m aware of

thank you for all the recent love on my writing! it means so much and I am working on my little series’ - they haven’t been forgotten just in the back seat for now. 

* requests are open if you have any ideas, feel free to drop ‘em in my inbox or message me. *

“Where you headed looking all comfy?” Wanda walks up behind me, watching as a smile grows on my face in the mirror as I finish packing a few bits into my bag. 

“Nowhere special.” I respond as I zip up my bag, turning to see her smiling brightly at me with her arms crossed. “Wanda? Mind movin’ out the way? Places to be, people to see etcetera etcetera .” I ramble on as she moves aside, allowing me to open my door and shrug the bag over my shoulder.

“Tell Steve I said hi.” She yells after me, making me chuckle as I head out of the compound, off to Brooklyn.

*

Knocking on his front door I can already feel the warmth from his apartment, the sense of being home kicking in before I’ve stepped inside. 

As the door opens my smile grows as he brings me into his arms. “I missed you.” He mutters into my hair as his arms remain tightly around me, refusing to let go as my bag hits the floor. 

“It was only two weeks, Steve.” I joke, laughing against his chest. 

Pulling away he shakes his head as he places his hand on my cheek, caressing it lightly as he leans in, kissing me softly. “Two weeks too long.” He whispers between kisses as he pulls me forward, the door closing behind us.

“How’ve you been managing, Cap?” I walk towards the kitchen, pulling out the bottle of white wine and reach up, grabbing a hold of two glasses as I make my way over to the sofa. 

“Pretty quiet without you around.” He half-heartedly laughs as he sits alongside me and takes a hold of his glass of wine. “Glad to have you back, doll.” He clinks his glass beside mine as I curl up into him as he plays whatever movie he has chosen for us. 

 *

Struggling to keep my eyes open I can faintly see the movie credits playing. Beneath us is an empty bottle of wine, the glasses have long gone as well as the pizza Steve had ordered.

Nudging him lightly I lift my head up. Smiling to myself I admire his sleeping form, so soft, so delicate as he shuts his eyes tightly as his hair covers his forehead. “You big softie.” I whisper as I lean across, kissing his cheek. 

“M not.” He mutters, opening his eyes. “I just missed sleeping with you.” He admits, the shy guy I first met still glimpsing through now and then, but over the course of the past two years, we’ve learnt not to hide these things. “You’re so sweet when you’re asleep.” He reaches down, gliding his fingers along my face, moving along my collarbone and down my arm until his hand reaches mine. 

“Because I’m not being sarky?” I question and he laughs lightly, shaking his head.

“No, but that isn’t a bad thing either.” He smiles and I roll my eyes. “You let yourself go fully, allow your body to relax into mine. I can see every freckle on your skin, the lines you try to hide and the scars that you don’t want to be exposed. It’s beautiful, all of you, you’re beautiful.” 

Smiling up at him I watch the blue in his eyes flicker across my face as he remains in deep thought. “What’re you thinking about?” I whisper as Steve pulls us both to sit upright.

Steve begins to fiddle with his hands and takes an uneasy breath.”D’ya ever think about there being more of us?” He thinks aloud and I raise an eyebrow in confusion whilst his expression remains the same. 

“As in clones?” I question and he lets out a soft laugh, scrunching his face up as he shakes his head.

Reaching down Steve picks up the empty bottle before glancing back at me. “We did share this, right?” He jokes and I roll my eyes before pulling up back up from the empty bottle. 

“Come on, what’re you really thinking about?” I question once again as his smile falters, hesitation rising as his mouth remains slightly ajar. “Steve?” 

“I’ve been thinking about us having a family.” His voice softens as his eyes remain fixated on my hands in his. “And, I know, it’s a big deal, but,” 

Shuffling closer I squeeze his hand tighter. “Hey,” Whispering I watch as he lifts his head back up, his glossy eyes on mine. “I’ve been thinking ‘bout it too.” 

A smile plays on his lips as he opens his mouth to respond, but he stops. 

It all happens quickly. 

The yelling of my name as he forces himself on top of me as the door bursts open, people screaming in a foreign language as lights flash, bullets tearing the apartment to pieces. 

Glass shatters around me as Steve covers my body with his, refusing to let me be unprotected. “Y/n?” He tries to get through to me, but I can’t hear anything. 

Looking down at my stomach I watch as blood begins to seep through my jumper. Crimson staining the lavender, weaving itself into the fabric. “S,Steve.” I mumble as I watch anger cross his face. 

I can feel myself losing consciousness, the urge to just close my eyes becoming too irresistible. 

As my vision blurs I can hear screams, bones crunching and the bullets no longer being fired. 

And then a gentle hand cradling my face. “You’ll be okay, baby. You’re going to be okay.” 

*

Around me, I can faintly hear voices overlapping, anger and panic surrounding me. 

“I’m goin’ kill them.” He spits his words as I listen to him pacing. 

“That won’t do anything Steve.” Bucky speaks softly, trying to calm his best friend with little avail to it all as Steve continues to pace.

“I don’t care, Buck. They nearly killed her. They deserve to die.” Hearing him say such things causes me to scream internally, the need to open my eyes becoming more desperate.

“This isn’t you, Steve.” 

“Oh yeah? Since when would you pass up the chance to kill HYDRA, huh?” Steve quickly retorts, but all I can hear is the silence between them, no more words left to be exchanged.

“Steve,” My voice is hoarse as I slowly open my eyes. 

Blinking rapidly I allow myself to adjust to the bright walls as opposed to his grey ones covered in memories. The sofa I was curled up on now gone, replaced by a hard mattress covered in unforgivingly thin sheets that itch against my skin. 

Steve places his hand in mine as I turn my head, seeing tears welling up in his eyes. “Thought I might’ve lost you for a minute.” He tries to joke, but his words catch in his throat.

“I’m not going that easily, soldier.” I whisper as I glance up, seeing Bucky smile softly before walking out of the room. “Buck?” I try to speak up, but my throat is like sandpaper. Bucky turns around and I smile, nodding to him. 

The small action means nothing, but he nods back, understanding perfectly what I mean. A silent thank you for looking after our best friend. 

“How you feeling?” His voice softens as he shuffles closer, tiredness evident as his eyes struggle to remain open, but stay locked on mine. 

Reaching out I rest my hand on top of his, wincing at the pain on my side as the slight movement spreads through my body. “Tender.” Muttering under my breath I listen as Steve explains what happened.

“Some HYDRA agents got my address. They, they wanted to take me, make more super soldiers. But then you got hurt and I lost it.” He clenches his jaw as the veins in his forehead protrude. 

“Hey,” Placing my hand in his I fight back the tears in my eyes as I try to soften him back up. “I’m okay, they’re gone, Steve. We’re okay.” I remind him as he moves closer but remains on the sidelines. 

“Do, do you remember what we talked about before it happened?” He asks hesitantly and I smile softly, forcing myself to sit upright as he rises to his feet, trying to stop me. 

“Something about clones?” I smirk and he shakes his head. “Maybe about a family, if I remember correctly?” 

“Were you serious about it all?” Watching his eyes searching mine for any sign of falsity or cold feet I simply shake my head. “Cause kids aren’t something we can just get rid of like that dead house plant you got me.” 

“I think we could look after a child, Steve.” I remind him as I think back to his dried up house plant I insisted he have to brighten the place up. “Have a family, live in the country away from all of this.” Motioning around us he hums in agreement. 

“I want our kids to stand a chance at a normal life, one I never got the opportunity to have.” He trails off, deep in thought as I let out a small sigh. 

“Sounds like a plan, Steve.” I interrupt his trip down memory lane as I scoot over, making room for him on the bed. 

Hesitantly he rises from the chair, collapsing down beside me as I curl up into him. “I bet Clint will love having us as neighbours.” He jokes and I laugh into his chest as if we were back in his apartment, an empty bottle and credits rolling on the TV. 

Leaning into his chest I yawn lightly, imagining the sheet covering me is his blanket as he whispers sweet nothings into my ear about our future, about the family we could have. “Just you wait, Y/n, our kids will be badass.” 

#hope you liked it #thanks for reading #thanks for the request #requested #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers writing #captain america imagine #captain america imagines #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel writing #marvel #marvel fluff #avengers imagine #avengers imagines #avengers au #avengers writing #avengers x reader

[kiki-wiccan]

 “Is it fair-?” He asked, finding himself relishing the sensation of her hands against his body. Such an odd sentiment, given that he rarely, if ever, allowed anyone so much as the chance to shake his hand.

            As Kiki hid her face in his chest; the vampire instinctively caressed the back of her head, fingers lacing within her darker locks. Holding her so tenderly, as if she were a fragile doll he felt afraid of breaking. For a moment, he allowed the human to seek refuge within his arms, and hoped that she would continue to do so for a long time.

                His hearing was quite on-point, given his enhanced senses, so Kiki’s muffled voice wasn’t as much of a distraction as it would have been to a human. Listening to her words; Stanislav allowed himself to drink in her comforting scent, lightly kissing the top of her head in one of the only ways he could bring himself to express his ever-growing fondness.

           For a moment, his eyes narrowed as Kiki mentioned having a conversation with Tamryn; to which the vampire king made a mental note. While unsure if it would be worth confronting Tamryn--after all, why had she been so interested in their relationship, he wondered?--he attuned himself into the present moment.

               He didn’t utter a word until the wiccan had pulled back, to which he gazed into her blue hues. For once, his cold exterior seemed to soften--and utterly so--before he gave a slight shake of his head.

             “You smell lovely as always, Kiki. And please, do not compare yourself to others--there is nothing wrong with you, nor your blood.” Emphasizing the last part, Stanislav hoped to ease Kiki’s self-doubts; given how fragile she had been before.

            “Feeding is viewed in numerous lens amongst the undead, however--Miss Reznikov is correct. The majority of our kine believe that feeding from one’s lover is a sign of possession, monogamy, ownership...etcetera.” Pausing, the vampire found himself feeling somewhat nervous, as dull as the sensation was. Never before had he been so attracted to someone, and he had lived for quite some time--this was terrifying in its own right--yet he had divulged perhaps some of the deepest parts of himself with the human he held so tenderly in his grasp.

             “I have not fed from you because I am...afraid of hurting you.” His expression faltered slightly, and the vampire king found himself looking off to the side. “Though you know of my past identity, there are many things I have done. Such things I am not proud of, though I understand I am a different man now. Time moves onward, and mulling over the past is arbitrary. Though if you wish...I would not be opposed to feeding from you.”

              Slowly turning his head, Stanislav looked upon Kiki’s face once more--and he found himself comforted alone by the view. Though he hesitated to speak, knowing he was a man of action rather than words, he knew that he’d have to grow accustomed to such a form of expression. The word he had refused to admit aloud. Had he accepted his defeat, cast aside his dignity? No, this would only invigorate it. Stanislav understood that Kiki felt the same, and there was no denying their mutual attraction. Pulling the wiccan against his chest once more; he caressed her ever-so delicately, allowing the words to leave his mouth.

                    “I love you, Kiki James.”    

“Yes it is fair....at least to me it is and that’s what matters” it was Kiki’s body and wether she chose to accept Stans proposal was her decision alone. Of course she already knew in her heart what her answer was. Feeling his lips press against the top of her head caused her to think back to the night she had gotten wasted. So she hadn’t just imagined it? Thankful that her face was currently hidden so he couldn’t see her red face. They stayed like that for a bit until she felt him pull away.

Knowing that Stan was the brutally honest type she knew whatever came out of his mouth was the truth. Relief washing over her as confirms that there isn’t anything wrong with her scent or blood. Hearing what feeding from a lover meant just made her want him to feed from her even more. Though she still didn’t know where he stood with what exactly he saw her as.

Brows furrowing and a frown forming on her lips as the king admits to the reason of why he hadn’t fed from her. “You’re scared of hurting me?.....” she couldn’t imaging that behind fed from hurt that bad. Since she knew people voluntarily allowed vampires to drink from them. Did Stan view her as weak? Sure she was a human but she wasnt some fine China that could easily break. Maybe he was worried that she would become frightened of him? “I don’t think it’s possible for you to hurt me....and as you said you aren’t the same from your past and it only matters to me who you are now...” she was hoping to soothe any doubts he had, she wanted him to know that she’d never view him as a monster. “I would like you to feed from me....I don’t mind being your food source...” her voice lowered “so don’t feed from anyone else if it isn’t needed okay?” Jealousy was an emotion that the wiccan wasn’t used to. Even back with the few people she had dated and the professor she never found herself feeling jealous. It was an embarrassing emotion in her eyes and to be feeling it towards Stan made her feel ashamed. It wasn’t like he was hers yet, as much as she wanted him to be.

Their eyes locked as he turned back and looked at her. As much as she wanted to know what was going through the vampires mind she couldn’t bring herself to ask. Instead allowing silence to fill the room, she could see on his face that he seeemd to be debating something. Allowing him to pull her back into his chest, she allowed her eyes to close and was about to reach up to wrap her arms back around him. That’s when his words broke through the silence and she froze. A soft gasp escaping her lips as it registered in her mind. ‘He loves me?’ The words that she’d been longing to hear from him, the answer to how he saw her. So he did feel the same way, her heart fluttered as tears filled her eyes. She let her arms now wrap back against the vampire, her vampire.

“I love you too dum dum”

#kikiwiccan #trc:kiki #trch:stan #kikislav nation #mywholeheart

[raybyanothername]

A Song of Semblance & Shards 2 - RWBY fusion

The characters of RWBY in the world of Westeros, with semblances and grimms and the inescapable fight between Ozpin and Salem all accounted for.

Chapter 2: Two Blondes and a Dragon Make a Right, Pt 1

Jaune Arc - not-heir of Storm's End and hater of gravity - has just been named Queen Salem's heir. So~ he's kinda-sorta a prince, betrothed to the literal hottest person ever, and he Still trips over air...

Yang is the heir to Dorne, but now she's been sent to King's Landing to marry the next king of the Seven Kingsoms... and, apparently, teach him to hold a sword.

-.-.-

Jaune stood frozen, mouth agape, before his father. The solar was quiet. All of his sisters had been strick mute by the news as well.

"Can, uh, can you repeat that?" Saffron broke the silence first.

Lord Arc cleared his throat, "Queen Salem, first of her name, blah blah titles etcetera… has decreed that her heir shall be her cousin, Jaune Arc of Storm's End, as the closest living male relative without a title."

"But…Saffron's the oldest!"

Jaune nodded, definitely agreeing with whichever sister yelled that. Saffron was even married and had a baby! Succession secured right there!

"She specified male." His father shrugged. He had no qualms about being passed over himself.

The next few minutes were a frenzy of debate - mostly about the apparent return of patrilineal primogeniture - until Saffron winced visibly. Apparently the baby did not appreciate all the arguing. Jaune seconded that.

"Does it say anything else?" Jaune asked his father. Blue met blue, Jaune could see it the shake of his iris. "There is."

Lord Arc took a breath and then read aloud, "Furthermore, Jaune Arc will be wedded to Yang Xiao-Long of Dorne." There was no silence at the end of that sentence. His sisters had launched into action, shouting orders, drawing blades, all of them ready to march for war.

"Okay." Jaune yelled and his sisters quieted to grumbles, "We're both to go to King's Landing, the Dornish woman and me?" His father nodded. Jaune sighed, "I'll pack my things."

His sisters were right back to shouting over each other once he was out of the room. Jaune decided he would much prefer some peace and quiet so he plopped himself in the center of the Sept, right before the Warrior.

"I don't suppose you have any stray courage around to lend me?" Jaune asked the stone swordsman. Thunder boomed outside and Jaune's whole body flinched at the noise.

-.-.-

"What?!" Ruby screamed when Yang told her. Her sword dropped from her hand as she tackled Yang to the ground, "You better be joking!"

Yang was not, however, joking. She wrapped her arms around her little sister, "Don't worry, Ruby, I'll be Queen of the whole of the Seven Kingdoms some day." She winked, "That includes Dorne."

"But…" Ruby sniffed, burrowing her head into Yang's chest as they lay their on the ground of the training yard. "I don't want you to go. I don't want to be a 'the' all by myself."

"You really think a little thing like distance is going to stop me Ruby Rose?" Yang could feel Ruby shaking her head, even as she cried all over Yang's shirt. "Besides, me marrying a Stormlord will make your life easier someday."

Skirmishes with the Stormlands had gotten old literal centuries ago and Yang didn't really like the idea of her baby sister in a battle. It was half the reason she'd agreed to the Dragon Queen's order.

"It's more fun to fight with the Reach anyway," Ruby chuckled, hiccuping at the end as she rubbed her tears away.

Once she was sat up beside her, Yang ruffled her hair. "That's the spirit!"

-.-.-

"And this is Kevin." Salem gestured to the dragon slumbering behind, and around, her throne as if she were introducing a child. Which was probably the most terrifying part of the whole thing. At least, with the dragon sleeping.

"Why is his name Kevin?"

Jaune's eyes widened as the woman next to him asked her question. Yang Xiao-Long was not at all what Jaune had expected. The dornish had dark hair, seductive smirks, and were suppose to be sultry tricksters who poisoned men with secret potions.

Salem's eyes fell onto the blonde woman with interest. "I read it in a book while warming his egg."

"Oh," Yang nodded to herself, hands on her hips as she smiled big and - Jaune hesitated to say - with sincerity. "I probably would have gone with something like Slayer."

Jaune's eyes could not get any wider.

"That does have a certain ring," Salem mused, resting her arm on her throne as she placed her chin in her palm. Her gaze flickered to Jaune, "What about you, what would you name a dragon?"

"Arctic," Jaune answered on instinct and then immediately clapped his hands over his mouth. "Wait-"

Yang was already laughing. It rang loud and clear as an e ho around the room. "That's the lamest thing I've ever heard!"

"It's better than Slayer!" Jaune fired back, hands on his own hips as he leaned over to glare at Yang. "It's a dragon not a sword!"

Jaune didn't notice Salem's lips spreading into a smile as she watched them bicker. Her chin rose from her hand as she extended her to pet Kevin's head. Her blew out a warmth breath, not unlike a snore, and the bickering instantly stopped.

"Ozpin," Salem called out. The Lord Commander of her Queensguard appeared behind the two blondes. Jaune jumped, but Yang didn't. "Have someone escort my nephew and his bride to their chambers."

"Yes, your majesty," Ozpin bowed and immediately another knight walked up beside him. Ozpin inclined his head as he spoke to Jaune and Yang, "Ser Lionheart, my lord, my lady."

They followed the literal white knight from the Great Hall to Maegar's Holdfast. Jaune had been here twice before, for feasts and such, but he'd never been to the Holdfast. He craned his neck around to look at things as they went.

"I know it's called the Red Keep," Yang chuckled as she turned in circles to do the same as Jauen, "But I think there's a been too much of it, ya know?"

Jaune blinked, "Seriously?" She raised a brow at his deadpan.

"It's too red," Yang shrugged, "I'm just saying what we're all thinking." She crossed her arms behind her head as they finally entered the castle-within-a-castle.

"You have no proof that I was thinking that!" Jaune huffed. He had, of course, been thinking it.

-.-.-

Yang didn't see much of her betrothed after they'd met with the Queen that first time. She'd argue it was because she was busy with the wedding preparations, buuut… She spent most of her time in the training yard with her Uncle Qrow.

"Come on, old man!" Yang taunted the scraggly swordsman as she twirled her spear in her hand, "You're no fun today." Qrow thrust with his sword, spun out of her block, parried, and then retreated. "Lame!"

"Have I ever mentioned just how much you sound like your dad when you fight?" Qrow called out before he came in for another thrust.

Yang snorted, "Only every time we spar!"

Qrow nodded. Thrust. Parry. Retreat. "It's just as annoying when you do it." He spun, side-stepped her, and raised his blade to her throat, "And it means you're just as distracted."

Yang held up her palms in a yield, popping out her bottom lip in a pout as the blade dropped away. "You really are no fun today Uncle Qrow, what gives?"

"Just because you get out of wedding chores, doesn't mean I do?" Qrow groaned, dropping the practice sword to stretch his arms up. "Your sister made me swear I would make your wedding a giant 'explosion of flower power' or she would never forgive me."

"Sounds like Ruby," Yang chirped, bouncing forward on the balls of her feet. "At least you won't have to wear a dress."

"I thought you liked pretty dresses?" Qrow smirked at his niece as she began to spin her spear. Her feet moved through the steps of a form as she whined.

"Yeah! ~Pretty~ dresses." Her voice rose an octave. "Wedding gowns have like a thousand layers!" She'd been pinned twice during her fittings already and they hadn't even got to the top layer yet. "You boys just have to wear a nice doublet."

Qrowin chuckled, pulling his flask out as he watched Yang pace through her diatribe. The spear in her hands spun and swung through the air as she went.

-.-.-

Jaune's rooms were situated just over one of the training yards. If he weren't spending all his time Salem's solar he might even be able to learn how to hold a sword just by watching.

But! The price of being the next king was apparently lots of boring meetings with Salem and her advisors. He was significantly more concerned about their countries military preparations than when he first got to the city, but otherwise nothing else had changed.

As if to prove that to him, his feet slipped out from under him as he was walking past that training yard. And! Further insult, the only person who witnessed it was the only one he didn't want seeing him fall flat on his face.

Yang was boisterous and loud - he mentioned that he was sleeping by the training yards right? - but there was such sincerity and joy in her voice when she spoke. Jaune had recently found himself eavesdropping on her ranting to her uncle. Well, he'd sat by his window, that wasn't ~really eavesdropping.

"Are you…okay?" Yang's voice came from directly next to him.

Oh yeah. He should probably get up. Jaune took a quick glance to his left. Yang was crouched beside him, hair cascading down around her shoulders like waves on the cliffs.

Nope. "I'm fine," Jaune groaned into the ground, "Just dying of embarrassment." Yang giggled - light and full and then quickly followed by a snort.

"You just tripped," Yang poked his shoulder, "Everyone trips."

Jaune rolled over onto his back. Looking up at Yang was not helping his humiliation, but it was a lot easier to ignore when the hornets in his stomach started buzzing.

"My baby sister does it all the time in fact."

"Thanks?" Jaune drawled, "Nice to know I'm only as clumsy as a baby."

Yang laughed again, the big-bellyed one that could fill the whole castle if she tried. It pushed all the air out of her lungs and she fell backwards onto her arse.

"Ruby's not a real baby, dummie," Yang finally breathed a normal breath. She wrapped her arms around her knees and smiled at him, "She's just my little sister."

"Oh." Jaune pursed his lips, "That does make me feel better then." He thought about his sisters for a second, his chest ached a bit as he imagined their faces. "Do you have a lot of siblings?"

Yang shook her head, "Just me and Rubes."

"I have seven sisters."

"Wow…" Yang blinked a few times, "I think I'm good. Seven Ruby's would be a little much."

Jaune snorted, "You're telling me. Sometimes I couldn't even hear myself think!" Yang laughed again, this time the quieter one, the twinkling one where her eyes scrunched up. Yang had a lot of laughs - Jaune hadn't heard one he didn't like yet.

"Do you like it better here then?"

"No," Jaune blew out a breath. "It's too quiet to think here, so I end up rethinking the same thing over and over again."

Yang hummed, "Yeah." She rocked forward and then back, "That's why I like it here, training. It distracts me from the thinking."

"I wish I could do that," Jaune finally sat up. He scrunched up his face as his eyes landed on the spear and sword that Yang had left on the racks. "The training master back home said I was hopeless."

"I could teach you."

Jaune looked at Yang's face. There was no laughter in her voice now. It was serious, maybe even a little nervous if the hesitant smile was anything to go by.

She stood up, offered him a hand, "Come on. Everybody should know how to defend themselves." Jaune looked at the hand for half a second and then grabbed it. Yang hoisted him up onto his feet. The next thing he knew there was a wooden sword in his hand.

#ray writes #fanfiction #fanfic #rwby #dragonslayer #jaune x yang #jaune arc #yang xiao long #asoiaf fusion #asoiaf/got #asoiaf #got #a song of semblance and shards #two blondes and a dragon make a right

[jane-ways]

Of Things Made to be Destroyed, Ch 1

Read it on AO3 and SWG!

Title and description from Fuckmylife666 by Against Me!

*

In fairy stories, the kind he used to tell his nephew, the handsome prince sees the beautiful princess and falls instantly in love. She is radiant, and he, burning with passion, strides purposefully towards her, mind made up to ask for her hand in marriage. They dance, because they are at a ball (these sorts of things always seem to happen at balls), they kiss, and then they are married, and live happily ever after. (“What happens in the happily ever after?” Celebrimbor had once asked. Caranthir, stuttering, had told him to ask his father.)

This was not a fairy story. The first time he saw her, she was little more than a blur covered in blood and filth as he swept past her on horseback. In the back of his mind, Caranthir registered that she appeared to be the person in charge, and after his initial assault drove the attacking orcs back, he turned his horse, searching her out amongst the rabble. She fought close to the front lines, screaming orders to her soldiers above the din of the wind and rain, voice raw with the kind of fury that most often masks fear. (Something in the ragged edges of her words caught his notice, and he heard in them first his father and then himself.) He made to catch her eye and saw he had already caught hers. (Well, Caranthir reasoned, trying not to make too much of it, he was a mighty Elven lord on horseback who had just swept in from the rear with half his cavalry. Eru knew what he seemed like to this mortal woman.) Riding up to meet her, he spared no time for pleasantries and cut straight to the point, shouting the first words of his message even before he had quite reached her. Belatedly, it occurred to him that she might not speak Sindarin. He prayed that by some miracle these people had encountered friendly Avari who might have passed on Thingol’s language.

Luck, it would appear, was on his side. Slashing at an orc who had broken through the defensive line, she shouted back her reply over the howling of the wind. Battle plans thus agreed on, she returned her attentions to the orc as Caranthir charged forward to his soldiers once more, surging into the fray.

*

By the time the battle was over, the storm had subsided to a drizzle, no less damp and miserable but at least less noisy. Picking his way through the uneven ground, Caranthir guided his horse around the bodies of the dead and injured. Mannish and Elvish soldiers alike scoured the battlefield for fallen comrades, either to tend or to bury. The orcs they left. The woman stood a ways off, surrounded by a contingent of other Men, whom he guessed to also be women by the obvious swells of their hips and chests. (He wondered if perhaps that was why Men seemed to take so much stock of whether one was male or female—those being the only two options, as he understood it, although in truth he found Mannish sexual dimorphism, and the extent to which it seemed to govern their genders, their societies, and their daily lives, utterly mystifying.) With Elves he would not have so easily known, but then, with Elves it would not have mattered. Perhaps these women were considered more suitable counselors or bodyguards for a female leader? Or perhaps this was a society governed by women? Had Findaráto or the twins mentioned any tribes of the Edain with matriarchal systems of leadership?

His thoughts thus occupied, Caranthir did not notice when his horse failed to stop completely as he dismounted. Tripping ahead with the forward momentum, his leather riding boots slipped in the wet mud, and he stumbled with an “oomf” directly into the woman’s outstretched arms. Peering down at him, she blinked. For the first time, he could see her face clearly, and he found himself preeminently occupied with the sheen of sweat and rain on her skin, and how it seemed to glimmer as it rose in thin wisps of steam into the cold air.

She coughed politely and he realized with embarrassment that he had been staring. “You, ah,” he stuttered, “you fight well.” Regaining his composure, Caranthir righted himself awkwardly, all the while praying silently he would not slip again. “Thank you.”

“I am Haleth, daughter of Haldad, by right of succession chieftain of the Haladin.” She gave him a once over, flicking her eyes from head to toe and back up. Without thinking, he felt himself stand up straighter. “Who are you?”

“I am Morifinwë Carnistir, called Caranthir in the tongue of Elu Thingol; Prince of Thargelion, fourth son of the First House of the Noldor. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady,” he replied in what he hoped was the correct mixture of grandeur, magnanimity, and pleasantness. First contact protocol was an inexact science at the best of times, and he had met few Edain before—certainly not as the ranking prince in his side of the exchange. And certainly not having just tripped into their arms. Gazing at her again, he noticed the same intensity he had first seen on the battlefield, a veneer of authority with its foundation in insecurity. By right of succession, she had said. Even though her Sindarin wasn’t perfect, that much had come across clearly. So her parent had likely died in this battle, or at least recently enough that she had not been formally recognized as leader in her own right. Dimly, Caranthir recalled the name Haldad from the depths of his memory: a man’s name, he thought, so not a matriarchy—another reason for her overcompensation. Haldad—wasn’t he the one who had united the Haladin? Not a long or well-established line of leadership either, then. A wave of sympathy swept over Caranthir. Poor woman. At least his father, in all the blustering and recklessness of his last years, had been secure in his right of succession by birth and the strength of his line.

All these thoughts came and passed in the blink of an eye. Haleth, too, had been making her own mental review, and now she spoke. “Thank you for your aid, Lord,” she said carefully, picking at each syllable, although whether to better her pronunciation or bide for more time to think, he was unsure. “You have been generous in your help today, and in letting us settle your southern lands,” she continued. Caranthir saw that she aimed to go on, but he interjected, hoping to reassure her (and spare himself further effusive comments, which he found embarrassing—he had had enough embarrassment for one day).

“It is well enough to me that you should be settled there, Lady. My people make little use of these lands and your presence discourages more aggressive invasions from—” In the background, he heard the snarl of a wounded orc who had regained consciousness. There was shouting, more snarling, the clashing of metal, and then all fell silent again. “…More unsavory peoples than yourselves,” he finished pointedly. “In fact,” he found himself saying, in one of those all-too-common moments where he could feel his lips moving faster than his mind, with apparently no ability to control the words coming out of his own mouth, “it would not displease me if you were to remain here.”

“It would not displease you?” Haleth’s tone was unreadable but decidedly lacking in enthusiasm.

“With your own fiefdom, of course,” he added hurriedly. Why am I like this? he wondered mournfully. It’s like dropping something and just watching it fall. “You would be free to rule your people and live as you see fit, with as much or as little involvement in my affairs as you wish. I believe it would continue to be mutually beneficial for us both.”

“My Lord,” Haleth spoke deliberately, choosing her words carefully but firmly. “My Lord, is that not already what we have been doing? Living as we pleased, with as much as involvement in the affairs of Elves as we desired?” That is, Caranthir surmised unhappily, none at all.

Caranthir felt a surge of—annoyance? disappointment?—rise up in his throat. “Yeeess,” he answered slowly, drawing out each sound in an attempt to calm down. “To a degree. But as you have been living on my lands without leave—that is,” he caught himself as anger flashed across Haleth’s face—“without formal, legal documentation, you have also been denying yourselves access to certain special protections, public works and improvements projects, tax benefits, etcetera…” As he felt himself slip into what his brothers called “Accountant Mode,” he stopped and took a deep breath. He did not have the time or patience to teach this woman the finer details of administration. Either she had learned what she needed from observing her father, or she would now have to learn the hard way. And he would be damned if he begged a Man to stay on the lands she had already been illegally squatting on. (Even if that squatting had substantially kept the orcs at bay. And resulted in the land being cultivated and cleared of unwanted flora and fauna. And thus increased its real estate value.) Caranthir took another deep breath and settled himself.

Haleth gazed at him silently, considering her options. He guessed that she was not foolish enough to say aloud that she didn’t need him, and he certainly wasn’t foolish enough to insist aloud that she clearly did. One did not get to be as rich as Caranthir by being that stupid. So, what would it be, then?

“My people need time to recover before we can begin making plans for the future,” she said at last. A non-answer, then. Wise decision, he thought. It would give her time to consider her options while receiving more goodwill aid from his people. He would have helped her anyway, of course—he wasn’t a monster, despite what his tempter and his actions at Alqualondë might prompt some to say—but it was clever maneuvering not make that assumption.  Perhaps she had learned more than he had first assumed.

He bowed and took his leave, remounting his horse and guiding it over to his lieutenant. There was a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t explain, and for some reason he couldn’t pinpoint, his mind was filled with the fairy stories he had once told his nephew, and how when his father had first seen his mother, she had been covered in the soot of the forge.

#caranthir #haleth #caranthir/haleth #tolkien #silmarillion #silm fic #My fic

[poorvioletdraws]

Tom vs. The Underworld

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Chapter 5: Good Thing

I decided to wait until the next day to head out and see Raya again in order to give my family enough time to cool down from the excitement. My Mom seemed especially happy for me but I don’t really understand why. Raya was just a girl. I have many friends that are girls. Her and I just hit it off well. I mean, she cheered me up when I was feeling down and helped me get through some of my problems. Her family was very welcoming of me too; my parents would really get along with hers probably. I also think I just really see myself hanging with Raya more considering how the use of portals were finito and I can’t just run to Echo Creek to third-wheel it with Marco and Star all the time now…

I let out a sigh as I tried shaking the thought from my head. I know I support my best friends finally being together but why do I still feel empty? Am I trying to fill that emptiness by seeking out Raya…? Maybe right now I just want to be around someone who is different than what I am used to. She is someone who is consistent, and her life is normal. I really liked that feeling back in Yomi Town. Maybe I just want some form of regularity apart of my own world again. That has to be it...

As I soared through the sky with my fire blazing from my feet, I took in my surroundings. Was the beach always so lively? I guess I never really noticed since I was so engrossed in my relationship with Star when we were here together. I saw the vastness that was the Lake of Fire and the monsters that crowded the Dock of Unending Torment getting ready to partake in recreational activities that were anything but tormenting--fishing, swimming, sailing, etcetera. The sandy shoreline was just as littered with beachgoers that even all the Skull Ball courts were full. I then came upon Rochelle’s busy shop and saw she was getting rather slammed with customers waiting in a long line that weaved out the entrance and around the back. I bet she misses having her sister around to help. Maybe even as much as I miss her...

Instinctively, as my mind thought about Raya, my hands traced over the necklace we made together around my neck. Why have I been feeling like this about her? I’m not entirely sure but this is how I felt when I first liked Star… Ugh, it’s just because of my recent breakup that I’m still so emotional. I mean, it’s nice being committed to someone... Amazing, really... But I don’t want to use my friendship with Raya as a reason to rush into something serious so soon… Or do I? No, that wouldn’t be fair to her. I would just be selfishly trying to put her in Star’s place… But that’s not what I feel like I’d be doing nor how I feel about her… What am I feeling about her exactly... I need to know for sure.

And with that, I took my flame up a notch and jetted across the coastline of Lava Lake Beach with tremendous speed.

I came to the leisurely beachtown of Lava Shores within no time at all. It was quiet compared to the commotion down from where I started. This was a town where many of the more affluent demons and monsters came to retire to in their old age so there wasn’t much to see. Basically, it was kinda boring. 

I strolled through the streets in hopes of seeing anything that would catch my eye like the gloriousness of Yomi Town, but I was disappointed. There were gigantic dunes making up the landscape behind the lakeside civilization that could have been used for sick off-roading or skeleton horse racing, yet it was fashioned into a golf course for a country club. Lame. There were an abundance of wineries, cigar lounges, and high-end designer stores like Zergdorf Badman and Siks-Six-Sixth Avenue being frequented by patrons old enough to be my great grandfather. Double Lame. I’m sure when I’m much older these kind of places would interest me more, but at the moment they were the epitome of LAME. Just a lot of snooty stuffed shirts too consumed by their own ego to notice their demon Prince casually walking by. 

Before my lame-o-meter could tilt further, I came to a pathway leading out of town with a large gaudy sign pointing in said direction. 

“Madame Morguerite’s Manor for the Magnific.” I muttered the name aloud a little bemused. That definitely sounds like the place Rochelle mentioned, plus the address matches. I can only imagine what I’m in for by heading to an establishment that sounds that cringey. How can Raya subject herself to something like that?

Not wanting to waste anymore time, I blasted off toward the finishing school, accidentally singeing the pompous sign with my fire.  

The school was every bit as showy as the sign leading to it. Everything St. Olga’s was, this institution was not. It was an extravagantly posh chateau as if from a fairytale brought to life with walls made of gold that blinded you if the light caught it just right. It screamed wealth right down to its great entrance door made of marble. I swear I heard trumpets sound and a heavenly chorus sing just from looking at it. 

“This really exists in the Underworld?” I questioned.

I was ready to move toward the building when I heard a shrill, sultry voice speak loudly enough as if to gather the attention of a group. I levitated around the side of the school and hid behind some hedges to observe what was going on.

There was a small assortment of teenagers dressed in school uniforms sitting at art easels in the middle of a flourishing courtyard containing all sorts of vibrant flowers and shrubbery clipped into angelic figures. Their demon teacher, the aforementioned Madame Morguerite, headed the class. She wore a tight floor-length gown made of white silk and a ridiculously long brimmed, veiled hat. Her eyes were covered by ivory cat-eye glasses and she took deep drags from her long cigarette holder in between instructions. You couldn't picture a more perfect headmistress for this place.    

“You darlings will come to find that art is one of the greatest pleasures of the most esteemed Lord or Lady. To have an eye for it, you should first come to understand the work that goes into the creation in order to respect it.” The Madame spoke as she slinked between each student.

I peered at each teenager and tried to locate Raya. It probably would have been easier if the teacher didn’t walk in the way of my limited view from the bushes.

As if on cue with my complaint, the headmistress returned to the front of the class and the demon girl I had been searching for was revealed to me from behind her teacher’s previous position. My heart began to beat quickly seeing Raya again. She was in uniform but had her jean vest and a black beret covering her head as her wild scarlet hair fell down the side of her right shoulder. With each stroke of her brush, she looked quite proud at whatever she was painting.

“That’s why I had you copy this fabulous piece by a famous sculptor in order to give you a better understanding of timeless art.” The Madame gently touched her fingers to a pedestal positioned in front of the class. The figure atop it looked to be an ordinary bowl of fruit made of stone--though it didn’t look like a bowl of fruit to me, more like a bowl of misshapen large rocks.

“What’s so great about that pile of rocks?” I mumbled to myself as I glanced over to the ‘art’ in question.

“Now I will proceed to grade you on what you have completed.” Madame Morguerite announced.

As she inspected the canvases by her students--each one having mimicked the drearily gray figure down to the last monotonous detail--she gave praise and said how “splendid” they had done. Until she came to Raya.

“EH! What is that?” The Madame groused.

I shifted over to the other bush to see what Raya had created on her own canvas. While the other students kept their design simplistic and dull, I recognized the array of colors immediately. There were gradients of oranges, pinks, blues, and purples swirling across the page with half-circles of yellow splotches peeking from cloud-bursts. Raya remarkably recreated the scene of the dimension with a thousand sunsets! It was breath-taking and realistic as I felt the nostalgia coming back to me when we had gone there for the first time. Remembering that day made me want to keep feeling it and other new experiences, with her… That was what I was most certain of now.

“It’s my artwork.” Raya responded with a smile.

“Darling girl, this is not art.” Madame Morguerite snipped.

Raya (and I) looked at her puzzled. She replied, “... I’m sorry, ma’am--”

“Madame.” The headmistress corrected her.

“Oh, um, Madame,” Raya repeated, “I just wanted to paint a special place that I was able to see thanks to a great friend... Not many of us get to travel to other dimensions so I wanted to share this place with everyone. That’s what art should be after all. You know, something special to you. And not copying someone else’s work.”

“Ha, ha! A girl is a comedian, I see.” Madame Morguerite scoffed as she over exaggerated her laugh and began strutting away to the front of the class again. “How can you understand what is special and what is not when you can’t recreate a famous sculpture on paper.” 

Raya began twiddling her fingers as if internally debating whether or not she should respond but then decided to speak up anyway, “Well… I think I know a thing or two about sculptures, being a Stone Demon and all… That’s just a pile of rocks anyone with basic knowledge could do. My sister has created better pieces than that--”

“Do not insult real artists!” The Madame snapped at Raya, turning on her heels to confront the teenage girl again. “Did you come here to waste my time and your fellow students’ time? I suppose we should all just learn from the city girl instead of the professional and accomplished teacher?”

“Madame, that’s not what I’m implying-”

“Your classmates come from Nobles, Lords, and Ladies and aspire to carry on such status. You, Darling Raya, should be more grateful to me for accepting you into my program in order to help you find a proper place in life. Or do you just want to be known as the daughter of any old stonemason and blacksmith?”

Raya grew defensive, “Excuse me, Madame, my parents are not just any--”

“Silence, we’ve no time for your bickering. We must carry on with the next lesson. You may taken upon yourself to now apologize to your classmates for also hindering their success.” Madame Morguerite commanded.

Raya glanced at the faces of her glaring classmates. She muttered an apology and hung her head, looking frustrated as she tried to hold in the creeping tears welling up in her eyes.

I was furious! I felt every sting of the words that the headmistress attacked Raya with as if it were directed to me. How dare that rude crone talk to her like that. How dare she insult her family like that. I can’t just sit by and allow someone to treat those I care about like they are nothing. Not today, not ever again!

Trying to remain hidden, my eyes lit up and I raised my hands to the sky. All of the paint cans by each student began to tremble and rise while they remained mystified in their seats. Suddenly, the cans shot towards the headmistress who was still unknowing due to her back being turned. The students had no choice but to gasp at what they witnessed next.

As the paint dumped onto the Madame Morguerite, turning her all white attire into this muddy mix of colors, she let out a bloodcurdling scream.

“Eeegh! What in the Underworld is this! You little brats, how dare you!” She shrieked while frantically wiping the paint from her face. “Who did this?!”

The students grew worried from being unsure of the culprit so they stayed silent. I on the other hand was trying to hold my mouth shut from busting out with laughter at the new appearance of the headmistress.

“Fine! No confession then no recreation time as scheduled for the rest of the week!” The Madame announced.

The students groaned in unison and tried to protest against her.

“Silence! And no points for this lesson for any of you. You will come to learn that harboring a TROUBLEMAKER is detrimental to your reputation and success. Now clean all this up and assemble in the Great Hall in ten minutes!” Madame Morguerite scolded the class and stormed out of the courtyard.

I saw Raya was trying to keep her giggle from being audible but had quickly changed her composure when she noticed the other students were glaring at her again. I heard them murmur “troublemaker”, “commoner”, and “city girl” as they proceeded to clean up their station. 

Raya grabbed her canvas and took off in one instant, not wanting to hear anymore of her classmates’ remarks.

Maybe I shouldn’t have interfered… But I couldn’t just sit back and let her be talked to like that. Why would she want to go through something like this? These guys don’t know anything. Is this really how the social classes of the Underworld treat each other? None of these snobs are deserving of who Raya is. She’s amazing… Why doesn’t she see that? There has to be a reason behind her wanting to put up with this place and I need to find out.

As the other students began to head into the chateau, I quickly—and stealthily—followed behind them.

As the ten minute deadline passed, I was hiding behind a large pillar in the Great Hall of the school and saw the students were now sitting at long tables with Madame Morguerite walking between them. She was now much cleaner and wearing a high-end white suit with her hair pulled into a tight bun.

There were soup and salad bowls sitting in front of each pupil as waiters and waitresses went around filling them up and placing other dishes to the center of the tables.

“Dining etiquette is very important for the most esteemed. This is a time where you honor your guest and hold conversation about your expertise, business ventures, or entreat partnership with the invited.” The Madame explained.

“Geez, we don’t even do this at home.” I muttered.

“We must give interest to our party first and foremost. Engage them and show an interest in what they have to say because you never know where their status can get you later in life. Enjoying the food comes second.” As Madame Morguerite finishes her statement, the students proceeded to make small talk with each other while occasionally taking small sips from their soup.

Instead of conforming to the same practice as the others, I spied Raya completely ignoring the students next to her. She was gulping her soup bowl down and asking her waiter for more repeatedly. I chuckled at the sight. That girl really can eat.

“What are you doing?” Madame Morguerite asked peeved.

“Eating.” Raya replied between sips of her soup. The Madame shooed the waiter away before he could fill the bowl up for a fifth time.

“Have you not listened to what I have said?” The Madame looked ticked as she questioned the girl.

“Yes, ma’am—I mean Madame. But if you spend your time talking, the food will get cold, or my siblings will usually steal it.” Raya responded between mouthfuls of her salad she now partook in instead of her endless soup. 

I saw a vein pop on the Madame’s forehead as she spoke, “Young ladies of prestige do not stuff their faces like piglets.”

“Well the portions are so small, you have to eat tons more between courses.” Raya complained as she was now gulping down the beverage in her goblet.

“Are you mocking me?” The Madame rebuked.

All the other students stopped conversing with each other and focused on what was going to happen next between the defiant pupil and the teacher.

Raya had been reaching for the dish at the center of the table but, upon hearing Madame Morguerite’s words, immediately stopped feasting to sit with her hands in her lap. She realized what she must have done wrong and told the headmistress, “No, Madame, I’m sorry if you feel that way… I meant no harm…”

The demon girl’s face was flushed with embarrassment again and I could feel myself starting to get angry at the impending backlash she would receive.

“No harm? If such restrictions as conversation with your party—who is someone more important and less gluttonous than your supposed upbringing—are beneath you than by all means, carry on. Eat, darling. A girl must be starving, it’s not everyday you get to consume delicacies as lavishly as this considering where you come from.” The Madame chastised the demon girl scornfully.

Some of the other students began to snicker and make “oink” noises under their breath as they joined in with their headmistress’s ridicule. Raya held her head down slightly with her bangs covering her eyes.

How dare they insult her like that! What kind of teacher is this? How can they be so cruel?! No matter where you come from or what your social class is, no one has the right to treat another so rudely! I had it with this place! I need to get her out of here before it gets any worse!

As I was preparing myself to intervene, the demon girl did something totally unexpected. To her headmistress’s dismay, Raya began to start vigorously eating again despite her classmates taunts. The students all quieted at once and I, now entirely confused, halted my charge.

Madame Morguerite grew agitated and snarled, “What are you doing?!”

Raya stared up at the headmistress with a sophisticated seriousness and replied, “I’m eating. You said to carry on so I intend to do just that and follow your instructions. Food may not be as important to you where you’re from, but for me and my family it is something we are grateful for. And we would never treat the ones we serve with such disrespect.”

I silently cheered for Raya as she stood up for herself; You tell her!

“You insolent girl! I’ll show you disrespect!” The Madame threatened while she raised her hand as if to slap the class troublemaker!

Raya was alarmed and held her hands up for protection but luckily I acted quickly enough before any harm came to her. I used my telekinesis once again to cause all of the bowls on the table to shoot out like an open hydrant and drench the headmistress with their soupy contents.

Everyone in the room was holding their breath as the Madame exploded with rage yet again.

“Eeeeeek!!! You little monsters!” She shrieked. 

But instead of waiting for their headmistress to deliver their punishment, the students all fled the Great Hall with impeccable speed.

“No points for any of you for this lesson! I shall find which one of you brats is doing this, no matter what! With King and Queen Lucitor as my witness, I’ll find you!” The Madame declared.

I doubt my parents would see eye to eye with all you represent, Madame ‘Morgue’. Not their circus, not their monkeys. This is all me.

The rest of the day had kind of calmed down after the incident in the Great Hall. The students were confined to their dorms up until the Madame decided to proceed with the last lesson of the day. I was unable to retrieve Raya since she was in a “Girls Room” and, prince or no prince, my Mom taught me to respect females well enough to not go peeking in their private quarters.

It seems the students were all going to learn something that did actually pique my interest. They now stood in lines listening to their headmistress’s instruction on formal dancing. The ballroom was grand with a small orchestra playing classical music from a theater stage. I positioned myself behind a row of statues and observed once again, waiting for the opportunity to step in when Raya needed it.  

“You darlings should be appreciative of me for giving you a chance at redemption.” Madame Morguerite commanded at the center of the half-circle the students formed around her. She was now less soupy and wearing a white poofy bell-shaped gown that was bedazzled with shining gemstones. “I will reward all points lost as well as the ones for this lesson to those that follow the criteria exceedingly well. Is that understood?”

The students unanimously gave a resounding, “Yes, Madame.”

“Now, choose your partner to complete this lesson. You will not pass without performing the dance together and as accurately as possible from how we practiced over the last few days. So I suggest you choose wisely and begin at once.” She warned while stepping away from the dance floor.

I noticed how all the students glanced over at Raya once Madame Morguerite finished speaking. They quickly separated from the Stone Demon girl and coupled up with those amongst themselves.

Raya was disappointed as the other students began to dance around her. She slowly took the walk of shame to the side of the dance floor where chairs were placed and slumped down into it defeated.

I couldn’t allow this to go on any longer. Wanting to change for the better is all well and good, but she doesn’t need to be treated like this no matter what her reasoning is behind it. And she definitely won’t continue to be treated so harshly with me just bearing witness to it any longer. 

Raya let out a sigh and hunched over her lap with her hands cradling her chin. “Of course this happens… Even here everyone thinks I’m a failure so much so that I can’t even get just one partner to complete this lesson…”

“Well lucky for you you’re going to have a partner that is THE best dancer at the Silver Bell Ball.” I smirked while standing in front of the demon girl with my hand out and finally revealing myself to her.

“T-Tom?!” Raya gasped as she automatically accepted my reach.

I brought her into a closed dance hold and gave a nonchalant “Hey”, though my heart wasn’t as relaxed as I played myself off to be. It began to beat rapidly and the nervousness from before returned; however, the music was steady so the pace I took would hopefully calm my palpitations with each step. Having her in my arms really affirmed how I’ve been feeling about her. I just hope I don’t mess things up between us because of my own desires.

I saw Raya blush once I started to lead. She stammered, “Y-You’re here!” 

“I’m here.” I smiled as I dipped her.

“But why?” She asked as she came back up into position. I noticed a lot of her classmates were now focusing on us, and they were rather intrigued too. Of course, I tend to have that effect.

“More importantly, why are you here wasting your time with this place?” I replied while turning us around in a small circle.

“Oh… um… Well…” She trailed off for a second as I slowly spun her in place. “...I just wanted more training... And lessons in proper etiquette…”

“Uh-huh, and why?”

“Well… You are a prince and I’m just an… ordinary girl from the city… From an ordinary family…” Raya murmured. She now tilted her head away towards the ground and her bangs veiled her eyes. 

“Okay, so what?” I asked as we stopped dancing completely but still holding on to each other.

Raya continued to speak while not meeting my gaze, “I don’t know, I’m just constantly referred to as the black sheep of the Belmontes--a daydreaming slacker with no interest for the family trade… I’m rather unconventional, I guess…”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, you do know that right?”

Raya still looked uneasy as she tried to clarify, “... I just thought this would help me find more direction... But I feel I still can’t even get this right anyway. Everyone is so passionate and... headstrong... and ambitious when it comes to who they want to be. They are the future Lords, Ladies, and Nobles that will serve you one day. You are and will always be surrounded by royalty and all that… I just didn’t want to be an embarrassment if I were ever in your presence again…”

“You would never be!” I blurted out a little shocked at Raya’s revelation. My change in tone startled her but also made her finally lock eyes with mine. How can she be so clueless to what I think of her. I would be miserable if I were only able to associate with people like the ones here for the rest of my life. I mean, if she were to even meet Star, she would understand where I’m coming from and that lofty titles doesn’t represent your personality. 

I gave her a half smile and continued, “You don’t need any silly lessons and you definitely don’t need to try and impress these boring guys. And you and your family are anything BUT ordinary. I think you’re great the way you are. Don’t let some lame stuck-up tell you otherwise. Dance the way you want to!” 

Raya’s soft grasp on my hand and shoulder became firm as if seeking some form of intimate security. Her honey eyes were radiant in the ballroom light while her lips were parted in a way that almost gave off a hint of invitation for me. I probably would have kissed her right this moment if it wouldn’t make it weird. I mean, I haven’t even asked her out yet. But still.  

“What have I done?” Raya said with a sigh as she looked around the room. “I really thought this would help me but it just made me almost lose myself. I mean look at this place. It is boring, isn’t it?”

“And lame.” I added as we both started to laugh. 

Suddenly, I had a great idea. “Hey, why don’t we liven things up a bit!” I suggested while grinning mischievously.

“Huh, how?” Raya asked curiously. 

As if on cue with her words, I raised my head up toward the ceiling and began chanting while all three of my eyes glowed brightly. I slowly levitated both Raya and I slightly off the floor, though I almost lost focus when I felt her press against me surprised from the sudden change in footing. The room began to tremble and shake making it difficult for everyone to keep their balance. The musical ensemble ditched their instruments on stage and escaped from the room as fast as they possibly could. And from the ground where they once stood, a new group of undead musicians took their place as they emerged from the now split surface on the floor. But instead of suits and clean-cut appearances like their previous openers, this group had ripped jeans, leather jackets with studs, spiky hair, piercings still in tact on their rotting flesh, and all sorts of rebellious staples. They picked up the instruments left behind, if they didn’t have any already, and belted out harsh melodies of standard Metal.

Immediately following the spectacle, a great crack tore open on the dance floor as more undead partygoers dressed in Rock ‘n’ Roll attire began to thrash around, causing quite the ruckus. Raya and I on the other hand were jamming out with the rest. It was awesome!  

“What is this horrid display of downright--Gah!” Madame Morguerite tried intervening but was pushed repeatedly aside by the fleeing students. She glanced over to see Raya and I enjoying the entertainment and became furious. She started for us in a mad dash as she screamed, “How dare you besmirch my school, you uncivilized monsters!”

“Hey, thanks for the compliment.” I mocked. I held on to Raya’s hand and led her away from the ensuing commotion.

The undead rockers weaved in between us and the headmistress, grabbing hold of her and tossing her around in the air, now involuntarily crowd surfing.

“Eeeekkkk! You’ll pay dearly for this!” She shrieked.

Raya and I couldn’t contain our laughter as we watched the scene unfold. Justice was indeed served.

Watching Raya happy ignited that feeling once again deep down inside of me. Even though I’ve known her for a short time, this felt right. This is how it should always be. Us together just having fun. Well, just us together doing anything really is fine with me. I know now what I must do. I can’t wait any longer. I need to tell her now. I want her to know how I feel about her. 

I looked over to her and told her, “Hey, this place is the worst. Let’s get out of here.”

Raya smiled back at me and replied. “Alrigh--whoa!”

In an instant, I swooped the unsuspecting demon girl up in my arms as if she were a damsel being rescued by a superhero and eagerly jetted us off toward the nearest window without hesitation. She had her arms instinctively wrapped around my neck for support so I was able to bring out the hand that was holding her back and blast away the glass with my flame effortlessly. We then proceeded to fly away in hopes that this would be our last encounter with Madame Morguerite’s Manor for the Magnific.

We landed just outside of Lava Shores on one of the many sand dunes bordering the town. I knelt down in order for Raya to regain her footing onto solid ground again. But before I could stand up completely, it was my turn to be surprised as the demon girl unexpectedly closed the space in between us and embraced me in a friendly hug. I definitely wasn’t going to complain.

“Thank you, Tom!” Raya exclaimed. She released her grasp, though I mentally objected, and now clutched her hands together excitedly as she spoke, “I didn’t know you could do any of that. So it was you all along, wasn’t it? You did all that with the paint and the soup bowls too?”

I itched the back of my head with one hand and replied, “Yea, sorry for interfering. I just couldn’t stand by and watch how that hag treated you. I hope you aren’t upset.”

“Of course not, that was so wicked cool!” She gave me a genuine smile but suddenly grew concerned after realizing something. So she asked, “Um… Not that I’m not happy to see you, I really am. But what happened? I thought you went back to work everything out with your girlfriend?”

Taken aback by her question, I thought over the best way to answer it without her worrying if the outcome may be a result of the time we spent together in Yomi Town, but there was no need. She helped me reach a decision in a way that benefited everyone. So I just went ahead and told her straight up,  “Yea well… About that… We kind of decided that it would be easier if we… broke up…”

“Oh, no! I’m so sorry!”

“No, no. It’s cool, actually.” I assured, “It was something we both mutually accepted and all that matters is that we can still be friends. All of us…”

Raya raised an eyebrow still unsure and asked, “Are you sure? It still had to have been very important to you and hard to come to such a decision… I’m glad you were able to figure it out but are you really okay?”

“Yea totally. I thought I would be in more pain than what I am, but a lot of… events happened after our breakup and I think it all helped me realize some things about myself. The both of us were just heading to different places in our lives.”

Raya gave me a reassuring smile as her response.

I took a deep breath and continued, “So... It kind of… Brings me to my other reason of… of why I’m here t-today…” 

I started to get nervous as I looked into her eyes. Why am I feeling this way all of a sudden? Am I anticipating some kind of rejection? No, I think we both are on the same page here. It’s going to be okay.

“Tom?” Concern crossed Raya’s face while still waiting to hear what I was trying to say.

I took another deep breath and tried to tell her, “Okay, look, you helped me a lot when I was going through all of that angst and… Um… You see, you’re really--Um… Your family is really…” I couldn’t stop stumbling over my words. Looking into her eyes were weakening my confidence all of a sudden. “Okay, this is rather embarrassing. I knew what I had to say but now it’s not coming out right… Ugh!” I clenched my eyelids together in frustration. Why was this so difficult?!

But suddenly, I felt a warm hand gently cup the side of my cheek. I shot my eyes open to see Raya’s reassuring gaze and felt that strange, indescribable feeling return once again.

“It’s alright… Try to calm down and take your time, it’ll help you gather your thoughts.” Raya spoke in that benevolent voice of hers as she brought her hand away from me. Was it wrong of me to want her to touch me again? It made me feel as if I could do this and tell her what I wanted to say--what I should’ve said before leaving her after our time in Yomi Town.

I cleared my throat and let my courage carry me through as I said, “Okay, if it wasn’t for you, I think I would still be hurting and I never would’ve realized what is best for me right now or for the future of the Underworld. You didn’t have to spend time with me through that moment of crisis, but you did. And I’d like to believe it wasn’t just as a service to me for being a prince but more for who you are as a person.” I took both Raya’s hands in mine and stared at them through half-lidded eyes. “And that is something that I like about you very much. So… I think I want to see where this goes...”

It was hard to tell if Raya understood where I was going from the look on her face. She seemed perplexed by my revelation but had those same dreamy eyes I’ve been falling for. This is it, I can do this.

So I tried to clarify better while looking into her eyes. “What I’m trying to say is… I think we got a good thing going and… I don’t want to see it end...”

“I love that song!” Raya exclaimed happily as she clasped her hands together, releasing our bond.

“Hm?” It was my turn to be confused.

 Raya smiled coyly at me. “D-do you want to... hang out sometime?” she asked.

Yes! She understands!

“I would like that very much…” I grinned as I went in to hold her hands again but this time Raya stuffed her own hands in her pockets as if searching for something.

“Alright! My friends and I are meeting at the arcade, Tartarus, this weekend. You should come.” Raya suggested, completely oblivious...

No! She doesn’t understand… 

“Oh… Okay.” I felt a little let down from her response. Was it not obvious enough of what I meant? Or was she playing as if she were clueless just so we’d stay friends? No this is genuinely her. I need to try harder and show her how I feel about it…And I guess it is best to take things slow and not rush into anything just yet… Sucks though...

Raya took my hand in hers and pulled a pen from her pocket. “Is it okay if I write my address here?” She blushed as she asked.

“S-sure…”

“Alright.” She beamed. “You can pick me up from my home at like noon and we can walk there together, if that’s alright?”

“Sounds great.” I gave her a half smile.  

As I watched her scrawl her address on the back of my hand in cute bubbly letters, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I cared about her. How could she not know? I came back in part to see her again and was upset if she were one of the ones I’d never see again from that incident at the gate. I told my family about her already. She came into my life unknowingly and doesn’t notice how important she has become to me. From all the heartbreak and stressful moments I have been having lately, Raya has become apart of my best days here. If this is how life in the Underworld will be than I’ll gladly accept it. She has shown me things I’ve never known before and I want to see more with her. We have so much fun together and I need her to see that.

So I suggested, “Hey, you want to race back to your sister’s store?”

Raya got nervous and said as she blushed, “Um, I don’t think I would win that race. I’m not fast and can’t fly like you can.”

“Haha, nah, I have a better idea!” 

As the day was drawing to a close, Raya and I galloped across the sandy shores of Lava Lake Beach on skeleton horses. Our laughter and cheers filled the air as we rode on, joining the sounds of all those joyous beachgoers I had seen from earlier. I wish time would just stand still at this very moment. The future of the Underworld was becoming one I could definitely look forward to, even more so now than ever. I hope that it can always stay this way.

But little did I know, an otherworldly being not too far off in the horizon had other plans. While the waves of molten rock growled, so did something from beneath that took refuge lying in wait for its time to strike; recharging its energy after its failed attempt at keeping the gate to the Underworld within the Musty Mountain sealed.

#svtfoe #OC #starvstheforcesofevil #oc fanfiction #star vs the forces of evil #tom lucitor #The Underworld #TomVSTheUnderworldFanfic #TVTU

[miguel-manbemel]

Aspects & Fanfics Ep. 2: The Trouble with Honesty

New entry of the fanfic based on the “Sanders Sides” series created by Thomas and Joan. This is a continuation of the previous entry, “Virgil’s Revelation”. References to that entry appear in the text. Remember that this fanfic ignores any events after “Embarrassing Phases: The Nightmare instead of Christmas”. Also, a new original character is introduced, let’s see if it works out right.

SYNOPSIS: Thomas is having trouble with some friends when one of them tells him something that doesn’t leave the other friend in a good place. When he’s doubting if he should level up with one friend or preserve the other’s privacy, Honesty, a Light Side that Thomas and the other Light Sides already knew from long ago but who hadn’t made an appearance for eight years, suddenly shows up, trying to help Thomas. It won’t help, though, when Honesty learns of Deceit’s recent appearances, as he hates him to death.

WARNINGS: A brief scene of slightly intense horror happens. Mild angst. There are references to cheating, treason and manipulation. Deceit makes several appearances.

EPISODE INDEX

THOMAS: I’m so happy I finally set up a post office box. Now I can receive the things my Famders want to send to me! I asked a friend who has a van to bring the first shipping here.

[the doorbell rings]

THOMAS: [excited] Oh, good! There he is. [trying to calm down] But I mustn’t hold expectations too high. Probably no one knows about the address yet. I’m sure he’s not bringing much…

[While he’s saying this, he gets off-screen to open the door. Then a huge noise is heard and an avalanche of gifts of all kinds, like teddy bears, drawings, photographs, notebooks, etcetera, fills the whole living room from the floor to the ceiling.]

THOMAS: [his voice is faintly heard between the gifts] Help… me…

[intro sequence]

THOMAS: [in a mildly anxious mood] What is up, everybody? Okay, sorry for delivering this video in such a mood but… today has not been exactly the best day, you know? There has been some news today that has got me worrying all day and I’m at the crossroads about what to do.

VIRGIL: [appearing] That’s an understatement. You’re making me work extra hours today, man.

THOMAS: I’m sorry, Virgil. I wish I could feel more chill, but I can’t.

VIRGIL: Wow, instead of blaming me for making you feel nervous, you’re apologizing to me for making me work harder? That’s a first.

PATTON: [rising up] I’m sorry for my share in the issue, Thomas. I’m really affected by the news and I can’t help feeling icky.

VIRGIL: [worried] Are you okay, Patton?

PATTON: I’ve seen better days, Virgil, but I’ll survive, I guess. Thanks for asking, kiddo.

THOMAS: I just wish I knew what to do…

LOGAN: [rising up] The only way to find out is to analyze your options and choose the best solution for this issue… By the way, what’s the issue?

THOMAS: You don’t know?

LOGAN: Sorry, I was in autopilot this morning, I had ordered a new lot of Crofter’s and…

THOMAS: Well, I’ll tell you. This morning I received a call from a friend I had not seen for a long time. They wanted to see me, so I met with them a couple of hours later downtown. You know, in that beautiful cafeteria I like. We talked about how life had been going for them, I talked about how I was doing, and then, after a while, out of nowhere, they suddenly told me something that got me petrified.

LOGAN: What?

THOMAS: I… I don’t know if I should repeat it. It was something related with another common friend that did not put them in a good position, you know? It’s not something I should tell aloud in a video that could be watched by young people.

[Suddenly, an unknown Side rises up in the place between Roman and Virgil’s position, with the TV to his right and the posters behind him, right in front of Thomas. He is dressed in an old fashioned gray suit, with a white shirt and a dark orange bow-tie, wearing a gray fedora with an orange strip and holding an umbrella clinging in his arm that is gray with the handle in orange. Upon seeing him, Patton and Thomas gasp and smile widely, Logan opens his eyes widely, adjusts his glasses and lets go a little smirk, Virgil looks at the stranger in a huge shock]

THOMAS: [happy surprise] Oh, hi, what a surprise! It was about time for you to appear! Glad that you finally decided to show up in one of our videos, Honesty!

HONESTY: [speaking with an old fashioned, marked RP British accent and a slightly posh attitude] Well, you know that I don’t like this kind of stuff in front of the camera, Thomas. I prefer staying in my room in autopilot having a nice cup of tea while you all work out your problems. Hello, Patton.

PATTON: [waving his hand happily] Hi, Honesty!

HONESTY: Salutations, Logan.

LOGAN: Hi, Honesty, it’s good to see you again.

HONESTY: [noticing Virgil’s presence] Now, may you introduce me to your new friend?

VIRGIL: [confused, looking at the new Side] I… I’m sorry, who is this guy?

LOGAN: Oh, that’s right, you two have never met before. He’s an old friend of us, Virgil. He’s Thomas’ honesty. Honesty, this is our friend Virgil, he’s Thomas’ anxiety.

HONESTY: [taking his hat off politely] How do you do, sir?

VIRGIL: [in a more casual manner, still recovering from the shock of his unexpected entrance] Sup.

THOMAS: And what has brought you to us this time, Honesty? I don’t even remember the last time you showed up in person before us. I think it was even before Vine. Have you ever been in my apartment even?

HONESTY: Well, I felt you were having issues relating to honesty, right? I thought that my presence was needed today.

LOGAN: Well, it’s certainly not the first time we’ve had honesty issues, you know?

VIRGIL: [frowning] …or dishonesty issues…

LOGAN: Oofff… please don’t mention him, Virgil.

HONESTY: Mention who?

PATTON: Roman, Thomas and Virgil use to call him Slimy Boi, but his name is Deceit.

HONESTY: [suddenly angry, waving up his umbrella, yelling and startling everyone] What!? That vicious snake has been here!? I thought he was locked down in the dark vaults forever! How did that cursed serpent get out!?

THOMAS: [a bit shocked] It’s… a long story… but calm down, Honesty! I didn’t know you hated him so much!

HONESTY: [still yelling] Of course I hate him! I’m honesty, and he’s dishonesty! He represents everything I hate in this life!

VIRGIL: [smirking] I’m starting to like this guy.

HONESTY: [calming down and returning to his posh attitude, he clears his throat] But you’re right. It’s important to keep self-control and never lose manners, so I apologize to you all. Now, I think we should get back to Thomas’ trouble.

THOMAS: Oh, right… As I was saying, I don’t know what to do about it.

LOGAN: Could you be a little more specific, Thomas? It’s hard to help you if you don’t give us enough data.

THOMAS: Okay, I’ll tell you as much as I can. My friend, let’s give them a casual name… Amethyst, told me something about the other friend, um… Garnet, related to a supposed betrayal of Garnet to another one of my friends who is Garnet’s romantic partner, let’s call them, um… I don’t know… Pearl.

LOGAN: [ironic] I wonder where you get those names from…

THOMAS: If what Amethyst told me is true, that could mean the end of Garnet and Pearl’s romance forever.

ROMAN: [rising up] Did someone say Roman?

THOMAS: No… but anyway, glad to have you here, Roman, even if a bit late today. Look who has honored us with his presence today.

HONESTY: Roman, punctuality is capital.

ROMAN: [happy] Oh, hello, Honesty, good to see you!

THOMAS: Anyway… The crossroads I am at now is about what I should do. [while he says this, there are shots of the different Sides getting progressively lost and confused] They’re all my friends. I don’t know if I should be honest with Garnet about the supposed betrayal, or with Pearl about telling them that Amethyst told me that, because… you know, Amethyst is my friend too and I would be betraying their trust if I uncovered them… and I could also tell Garnet and Pearl together that Amethyst told me that. I don’t know! My mind is a mess and I’m confused!

VIRGIL: [holding his temples] Who wouldn’t be with a phrase as convoluted as that?

ROMAN: [to Patton with a low voice] As I feared, Don Quixote of Thomancha, has gone nuts for watching too much “Steven Universe” and now he thinks the Crystal Gems are real.

PATTON: Nah, it’s not that, I’ll tell you later…

ROMAN: What are you, his Sancho Patton?

HONESTY: Well, Thomas, you certainly have your ideas all mixed up, but the answer to me is cut and dry. Tell the truth always.

PATTON: But that could break someone’s heart, Honesty.

HONESTY: I understand, Patton, but if it’s not Thomas, it probably will be someone else who tells them. Who can assure you that Amethyst hasn’t told the same thing to somebody else already? That, if they’re the only one who learned about that secret in the first place. Sooner or later the truth will probably arrive to Pearl one way or another, and it would be better if it arrived from a friend they trust rather than from another one who may not tell them as pleasantly.

THOMAS: It’s a way of seeing it, but…

HONESTY: [suddenly a bit unsettled] Now that I made my point clear to you, Thomas, if you excuse me, I think it’s time for me to go.

THOMAS: Oh, you’re leaving so soon?

HONESTY: You know I don’t like this camera thing, Thomas. It makes me nervous. It was a pleasure meeting you, Virgil.

VIRGIL: [little smile] Yeah, it was cool to… meet you too, Hon.

[All the Sides and Thomas stare at Virgil]

HONESTY: I beg your pardon?

VIRGIL: Short for Honesty… [after noticing the others staring at him, suddenly anxious] Oh, you thought I called you honey? It wasn’t that, I’m sorry!

HONESTY: Oh… I understand… Well… Having a short nickname is not exactly my cup of tea…

VIRGIL: It’s okay, if it makes you feel icky I won’t use it, Honesty, I’m so sorry!

HONESTY: Oh, don’t worry, everyone among you has some kind of short name, and you too, I presume. I understand that my aspect name is a big word…

PATTON: Well, my aspect name is a bigger word, I’m Morality.

HONESTY: Yes, but I think we were calling you Dad even before you told us your aspect name.

PATTON: True, Hon.

HONESTY: [more unsettled] As I was saying, I’m not accustomed to be called by short names, but I can get used to have one too if you think it can help you save time, for practical reasons… Now, as I said, I really must go.

ROMAN: I hope we don’t have to wait for another eight years to see you again in person, Honesty.

THOMAS: [to himself] So eight years it was… Yep, it’s the first time he sets foot in my apartment.

HONESTY: [to Roman] We’ll see. [sinking down] Good-bye, gentlemen.

PATTON: Byeee!

THOMAS: Well, it was good to see him again… but I feel like I haven’t moved from the starting position here. I’m still not sure about what to do.

ROMAN: So, telling the truth does not convince you completely?

THOMAS: I mean, I want to tell the truth, but I also don’t want to hurt anybody.

LOGAN: This is getting strangely familiar.

DECEIT: [suddenly appearing in the spot between Thomas and Patton, with the window and the coffee table behind him] It certainly isn’t familiar at all.

THOMAS: [yelps, scared] Deceit! What are you doing here?

[Virgil looks at Deceit with a worried face, Patton with a face of slight horror]

ROMAN: [ferocious face and voice] How dare you show up after what you did, you viper!

DECEIT: [with a semblance of dignity] I’m sorry, but you are talking about an issue related to lying. I’m still a Side of Thomas and if he’s considering lying, that’s my job and you’ll have to hear me. Whether you like it or not, you’ll have to deal with it.

ROMAN: [making a gesture of approaching Deceit to punch him] Why you…

THOMAS: Roman, no violence in this apartment, please. Then it would be me who stays here cleaning the stains of blood from the carpet all night [low voice] like the last time…

VIRGIL: [sighs] I’m afraid Deceit’s right.

ROMAN: [surprised] Virgil, what are you saying? This Aliegator can’t be trusted in anything he says!

VIRGIL: Trust in me, then, Roman. For better or worse, I know him very well, and right at this moment, he’s the only one who can be useful in this issue. We need him if Thomas intends to lie, even for the tiniest little lie.

DECEIT: [dangerously sweet voice] That’s right, old friend…

VIRGIL: [angry] Don’t get me wrong, Deceit! We’re not friends anymore, especially after what you did! Stick to do your job and leave me alone!

THOMAS: Okay… If we’re going to do this, let’s do it already. [sighs] What do you have to say, Deceit?

DECEIT: Well, we haven’t already analyzed all the ways to lie before, Thomas, so I’m not gonna add anything else. There is another way of lying we fully covered.

LOGAN: [sighs] Couldn’t you just avoid lying for a little moment, Deceit? At least during the exposition so that we don’t get lost in translation?

DECEIT: I’m not sorry… I mean… [struggling a bit] I am sorry. It’s the habit. I said there was a way of lying we didn’t fully covered: white lies.

LOGAN: But white lies are not a specific way of lying. They are lies of omission, commission or character like the others, only the purpose varies.

DECEIT: Yes… but it is important for Thomas to understand the implications of this type of lie. Sometimes, Thomas, there is no other option but lying. There are times you have to hide the truth to someone in order to avoid hurting them or others.

PATTON: But lying is wrong!

DECEIT: Isn’t hurting someone also wrong if you can avoid it?

PATTON: Well…

DECEIT: If a lie works to avoid a great harm for other people other than yourself, is it still wrong?

PATTON: I guess… it depends on the situation.

DECEIT: So you admit that lying isn’t always wrong.

PATTON: I already said there were some rare exceptions, kiddo, but that doesn’t mean giving Thomas carte blanche to lie. It has to be well justified to be acceptable.

DECEIT: Then the point here is finding grounded justifications for lying, isn’t it? And I suspect Thomas has already found them long before I came here.

THOMAS: You’re right. I think it would be justified to hide the truth in this case. Besides, whatever I do, I’d have to hide the truth to someone, I’m afraid.

ROMAN: So, what will you do?

THOMAS: I don’t know.

LOGAN: Perhaps you should tell the supposed traitor, I mean… Garnet, what Amethyst told you to let them explain themselves, and then act in consequence depending on what they say. You don’t have to tell who told you that, so you don’t have to uncover them.

THOMAS: So you mean I have to tell Garnet the truth and a lie of omission at the same time?

LOGAN: Correct.

DECEIT: [face of delight] Mmm… A truth and lie salad, my favorite…

THOMAS: But what if they ask me how do I know or who told me?

DECEIT: Then I guess you’ll have to make something up. I can help you with that…

THOMAS: Yes, I guess so.

VIRGIL: Okay, Deceit, now you’ve made your point. I think it’s time for you to go now.

DECEIT: [sinking down] All right, but I won’t be back soon…

VIRGIL: [threatening voice] You’re better saying the truth right now.

THOMAS: Well, now I must draw a plan of action. Any suggestions?

LOGAN: If you have their phone number, I suggest that you call Garnet and tell them on the phone. It may make the conversation easier.

THOMAS: It’s an idea.

HONESTY: [suddenly rising up] Where is he!? Where is that poisonous snake!?

THOMAS: Oh, Honesty, you’re back! Deceit has just left.

HONESTY: [shouting] You can run but you can’t hide, Deceit! Sooner or later I’ll get you! I hope you’re not paying attention to anything he said, Thomas!

THOMAS: I’m sorry, Honesty, but in this case I think both of you have part of the reason. There is no possible way I can tell the truth to everyone without causing a huge mess.

HONESTY: [offended] I can’t believe you’re considering…

VIRGIL: I like the idea as much as you do, Honesty. Lying only brings up trouble and… well, anxiety, but sadly there’s no choice here.

HONESTY: Okay, if you’re all decided, then I have no reason to stay here and watch such a pitiful show. Good luck in your dishonest ways, Thomas.

THOMAS: But please, don’t get mad at me, Honesty.

HONESTY: [angry] How could I not get mad when you’re denying me and refusing to pay attention to me?

THOMAS: I do pay attention to you! I always try to be an honest person, so you play a huge part in my life! But, within some limits, I need to pay attention to the other Sides too, if the situation calls for it. Even to those I don’t like so much and even if I don’t like what they propose.

HONESTY: Well, you’re the boss, Thomas, but don’t complain to me if anything goes wrong, which probably will!

VIRGIL: Please, don’t make him more anxious, Honesty, that’s my job and I’m already at full cap.

[Honesty doesn’t answer. He simply sinks down and leaves]

LOGAN: Wow, he’s really got angry.

PATTON: Well, I understand him, what we’re going to do is wrong… or at least it’s not completely right. Gosh… morality can become so complicated sometimes…

THOMAS: Guys, I still haven’t made up my mind about what to do. Honesty has made me reconsider everything again…

LOGAN: This is starting to look like a ping-pong match, Thomas. In the end it’s you and only you who must make the choice about who to tell the truth and who to lie. We’re here to give you the options but we can’t choose in your place.

THOMAS: I know, Logan, I know…

DECEIT: [appearing again] Then if you know, you should get to work right now. The more time you wait, the worse it will get and the harder it will be for you.

VIRGIL: What are you doing back here?

DECEIT: I felt he needed a little extra push to start lying, so I came here to bite him.

THOMAS: What?

DECEIT: I mean… I came here to give you words of courage.

THOMAS: I see… Well, Deceit, I don’t think it’s safe for you to be here right now. Honesty is looking for you and he was especially angry today.

DECEIT: [angry voice, yelling] Oh! That magnificent, wonderful, father of a virgin!

PATTON: I don’t think I want to know what he really meant with all those inverted qualifiers.

THOMAS: Yeah, at least he saved me some time in the editing room with the censor bleep effects and all…

DECEIT: You say he’s been here? No wonder why you lost your will to lie! I’m not afraid of him! I’ll wait for him and we’ll see if he has what it takes to face me!

THOMAS: Again, no fighting in the living room…

DECEIT: Oh, there wouldn’t be any fighting at all. It would be so short no one would even notice.

[Deceit opens his mouth in a grotesque smile and reveals two long fangs covered with poison that looks like viscous green slime]

ROMAN: [disgusted] Eeewww!

VIRGIL: [looking away] Gross…

PATTON: [unimpressed] What? What’s wrong with goo? I like playing with goo.

LOGAN: Would you mind hiding those fangs, and that poison? [mumbling] So that’s why they call you Slimy Boi…

DECEIT: [with the fangs already gone] I think I’m gonna go get him myself first. So he’ll better not be looking for me, cause he’s gonna find me, and he’s not gonna like it!

[Deceit sinks down]

THOMAS: Okay, this is getting me way more anxious than it should, and I was already quite anxious today.

VIRGIL: [with his hood on, and with a demonic voice] YOU BET…

LOGAN: Okay, let’s sum up. You had considered three options. One, tell Garnet what Amethyst told you without uncovering them; Two, tell Pearl what Garnet supposedly did; or three, tell Pearl and Garnet what Amethyst has told you.

ROMAN: So, Thomas, the time has come. No more hesitation and no turning back. You must make a choice. What do you choose? Option number one, option number two or option number three? Man, I sound like Wayne Brady from “Let’s Make a Deal”!

THOMAS: I think I’m gonna let Garnet explain themselves. I’m gonna call them first. And I’ll act based on what they say.

LOGAN: Okay, it’s your choice. Let’s hope it comes out right.

THOMAS: Me too, Logan, me too. Okay, I’ll call him…

[Thomas gets away from the Sides, sits down in the sofa, picks up the phone and calls a number. We can’t hear was he’s saying while the other Sides speak]

PATTON: You know what? I think he chose the best option out of the three. At least he’s gonna give them a chance to defend themselves.

LOGAN: I agree with you, Patton. The less falsehoods he has to commit, the better.

VIRGIL: You know what? Hearing you two is calming me down…

ROMAN: Oh, look, he’s hung up. He’s coming back… Well, how did it go?

THOMAS: [angry voice] I’m so angry now, you guys!

PATTON: Why, kiddo?

THOMAS: Can you believe it? It looks that Amethyst has lied to me! Garnet already knew who had told me from the moment I started speaking. It happens that Amethyst has used me to try and break Garnet and Pearl’s relationship. Garnet even had an alibi, and they sent me a pic to my phone to prove it!

VIRGIL: Wow!

THOMAS: I’m feeling like such a fool! I never considered the option that Amethyst could be lying to me all along! Sometimes I can be so gullible!

PATTON: Wow! You were trying to avoid breaking your friends’ hearts and the heart that has ended being broken has been me! I mean yours!

THOMAS: I’ll have some words with that liar, for sure, but not today. I’m too nervous and I don’t wanna lose control. But Amethyst’s gonna hear from me, you bet they will!

LOGAN: Okay, with that settled down, I think we have another issue in our own hands now.

THOMAS: What do you mean?

LOGAN: Deceit and Honesty. If they find each other, the Great War is gonna look like a game of Battlefield compared to their clash. [sinking down] Let’s hope we can find them before it’s too late.

ROMAN: [sinking down] Yes, I’m going with you.

PATTON: [sinking down] I hope they don’t hurt each other. I don’t want anyone of you fighting, kiddos.

VIRGIL: [sinking down] Well, I wouldn’t mind Deceit receiving a lesson, but I don’t like the consequences that could have on Thomas, so…

THOMAS: Good luck, guys. Okay. If you ever encounter or have already encountered yourselves in a problem like the one today, you must always think carefully your course of action. Thinking carefully about what to do is vital to make the right choices. You may encounter yourself at a disjunction where the many options could feel both good and bad. If that happens, trust your heart, follow your principles, think about all the possible outcomes and act in consequence. Lies, as we already know, are difficult to avoid, and sometimes they’ll be literally impossible to avoid. Be careful in those cases to not take the lie too far away up to a point it would be harmful for yourselves or anyone involved. In the end, the choice about what to do or say is always yours, and I know that being honest may not always be possible, but in my experience, being as much honest as you can and not lying more than what is needed is the best way to live in peace with yourselves. Until next time, take it easy, guys, gals and non binary pals. Peace out!

[end card. Honesty is in a random room in the Mind Palace]

HONESTY: Where are you, Deceit? Stop hiding right now! I can feel you really close right at this moment! I know you’re approaching to me! What? Do you wanna fight? Then you’re gonna… Ugh!

[suddenly, Honesty feels a huge pain in the stomach as if some invisible fist had punched him. An orange cloud then covers his whole body. While he screams, his shadow is seen inside the cloud, and it morphs slowly. The umbrella disappears, the suit turns into a capelet, the fedora into a bowler hat and the cloud color changes from orange to yellow. Then finally the cloud disappears and from the cloud Deceit emerges. He feels a little dizzy for a few seconds, then he starts yelling]

DECEIT: Where are you, Honesty? I can sense that you’re near! Stop hiding! Sooner or later I’m gonna sink my fangs into your heart and you’ll stop being a nuisance once and for all!

[Roman rises up next to him]

ROMAN: Oh, Deceit, there you are. Guys! I found him!

[All the Sides rise up next to Deceit]

DECEIT: What are you all doing here?

LOGAN: We’re avoiding a massacre, of course. You’re not gonna do anything to Honesty. He’s our friend and Thomas needs him.

DECEIT: And what are you going to do to stop me?

VIRGIL: Guys, don’t worry about it. I can take care of this from now on. I know how to stop him.

ROMAN: Are you sure, Virgil? You don’t need any help from us?

VIRGIL: I’ll be okay, guys, don’t worry. You guys, go find Honesty. I know how to deal with Deceit.

PATTON: Well, if you say so. But be careful, kiddo.

VIRGIL: [smirks] Yes, Dad.

[Patton smiles. Then all the Sides except Virgil and Deceit sink down]

VIRGIL: Okay, Deceit, they’re gone now. You don’t have to keep up your act.

DECEIT: Act? What act?

VIRGIL: Come on, I’ve pretended all the time out there I didn’t know who you were, even though I almost messed up the first time I saw you there all so posh. Don’t you think it’s time to stop this nonsense?

DECEIT: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

VIRGIL: Come on, Deceit. I know you didn’t know that I had seen you long ago in the Dark Realm shape shifting to that form but I did. Stop pretending and tell me what you’re up to before I tell the others!

DECEIT: Living in the Light Realm has made you go crazy, Virgil. I… Ugh!

[Suddenly, Deceit feels pain in the stomach and the yellow cloud appears again]

VIRGIL: Oh, look, Brigadier, look, I think he’s changing!

[The transformation happens again and Honesty appears in front of Virgil]

VIRGIL: Well, here we go again…

HONESTY: [after shaking his face a bit] Oh, hello, Virgil. Have you seen Deceit? I can feel he’s really close but every time I approach him, he slips away from me! It’s like I get close and close, almost as if he was facing me, and then the next second he’s gone. He’s as slippery as the snake he is, for sure!

[realizing that Honesty doesn’t know he’s Deceit and Deceit doesn’t know he’s Honesty, Virgil shows a face of huge shock]

HONESTY: What’s the matter? It looks as if you had seen a ghost!

VIRGIL: [talking to himself] Wow… things are gonna get complicated from now on. How am I even going to tell the others now?

#thomas sanders #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides #ts fanfic #sanders sides fic #fanfic #thomas sanders fanfic #deceit sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #aspects and fanfics

[imagine-a-fangirl]

One shot: Happy 100th birthday

A/N: Okay I completely forgot about this xD. I wrote this for the 4th of July, Steve birthday, but I was on my holiday and it didn’t upload so I placed it in my queue to try again later… well it’s later… about a month later.. well hope you guys like it anyway :)

wordcount: 1730

Y/N pov

Being an Avenger was great, really. You travelled all over the world, you were able to use your skills to make the world a better place, but above all you had gained a whole new family. A family that was a bit broken, a family that, contrary to what the outside world might think, wasn’t perfect but you loved each other and that was all that mattered.

As a family you had a couple of unspoken rules, one of those rules being that whenever there was a special occasion, everyone would be present. And one of those occasions was coming up, one that was important to you most of all. The 100th birthday of your soon to be husband was coming up, and that was not going to be pass by unnoticed.

Steve didn’t really enjoy parties, especially not when he was supposed to be the centre of attention. That’s why you and the rest had been planning a special birthday dinner. You were involved in almost every decision that was being made, you picked the restaurant with Tony, decided the menu with Bucky, made a list of people to invite with Sam etcetera etcetera.

Everything went very smooth, until a week before you were called by Fury. He had a mission that was right up your alley, one that needed you to leave as quickly as you could. When you agreed to it, you had expected to be back in time. Hell Fury even promised you, you would be.

But here you were, it was the 3rd of July 5 minutes before twelve. And instead of lying safely and warm in Steve’s arms, you were hiding in the closet of some sort of psycho criminal. You were able to get an apology message to friday who would hopefully deliver it to Steve.

Steve pov

He hadn’t liked it when you left, not because there was a possibility that you would miss his birthday, for all he cared they would celebrate it a month later. But because you were on this mission alone. Ever since you were together he always tried to go with you, or to make sure one of the other was with you. Every time you went alone he would be afraid you wouldn’t make it back, not because he doubted your skills but because he knew it was part of the job.

The week had been slowly passing by, it was supposed to be his birthday in 30, 29, 28… well less than half a minute. “Happy birthday to me.” He sighed as he once again rolled over to your side of the bed. A cold spot, instead of it being filled by you warm, loving presence. Steve needed to get out of his bed, just to get his mind on something else. He swung his legs out of the bed, and made his way to the kitchen. He went through the fridge until he found something good to eat, it had your name on but you probably wouldn’t mind he thought. He sat down at the counter and started swiping through one of the tablets installed there.

“Mr Rogers, may I interrupt for a moment?” Friday called through the tablet.

“Sure, shoot.” There wasn’t really anything that could screw up his mood much more.

“I have a message for you from Miss Y/N, if you press the play button in the corner of your tablet it will automatically start playing.” She announced

“Thank you, friday appreciate it.” Steve stuffed another bite of food in his mouth before pressing the button. The video started playing, it was almost completely dark, he could barely make out the contours of your face. You voice was not louder than a whisper.

“Hi Steve, This is not really the way that I wanted it to go, but for now I don’t really have another option. I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday and apologize for not being there with you. I’m really sorry, I did everything I could to get back yesterday… just know that I love you very much and try to enjoy you birthday a bit will you? We really did our best and…” A loud bang interrupted you “I have to go, I love you.” The video was quickly cut off. Steve knew the video was meant to sooth his thoughts, to let him know that you were doing fine. Yet the abrupt ending of the video did everything but that. “Could you tell me where this video was send from Friday?” Steve asked

“I’m sorry Mr. Rogers, the location has been encrypted by a code. By the time I cracked it Miss Y/N will probably not be in the same spot anymore.”

“Right, okay thank you.” Of course you had made sure you encrypted your location, not only would it put you at risk, but you probably knew he was coming after you if he had your location. Steve decided to take another try of catching some sleep.

Y/N pov

That explosion was exactly what you had been waiting for. Now everything just had to go according to plan and maybe, just maybe you would make it for the final courses of Steve’s birthday dinner.

Steve Pov

Much to his surprise, Steve had been able to catch some sleep. He was woken up by the sound of his alarm. His morning started like any other, a morning run, a shower followed by breakfast. Breakfast is where it all started to be about his birthday. Tony was putting up the final decorations in the room, while Bucky and Wanda were preparing breakfast. “There is the old man.” Tony announced when Steve came walking in “Congratulations.” He said as he gave him a hug “Will you be able to make it to your seat or do you want me to grab your walker.”

“Very funny Tony, but physically I’m still 15 years younger than you are.” He laughed

“Ouch, getting sassier by the years.” Bucky walked over from the counter “Happy birthday Punk.”

“Alright, you guys with all the manly congratulations?” Wanda laughed when she kissed Steve on the cheek “Happy Birthday, Steve. Sam and Nat are on their way. Thor is joining later.” She told him

“Heard anything from y/n?” Bucky asked him, flipping the last pancake on a hot plate

“Yes, she is not going to make it. And the little video she made ended with an explosion… so I’m not exactly reassured that she’s safe.” He sighed

“Don’t worry about to much about her, she knows what she is doing.” Bucky tried

“Location was encrypted I assume?” Tony checked, just to be sure. Steve nodded. “Barnes is right she got this. Now have a seat, I’m getting hungry.”

The day went by fast, once Sam and Nat had arrived they had breakfast together followed by a couple of presents. One being the announcement that he wouldn’t get a fancy party tonight, but a dinner instead. Steve looked up from a package he was tearing open, when Sam’s phone started ringing. He quickly walked away before picking it up “hey, what’s wrong?” He could hear him say before he was out of hearing distance.

“Guys I have to go real quick, I’m back in a minute or 10.” Sam announced before taking his jacket from his seat.

Steve thought it was a bit suspicious, but decided not to pay to much attention to it. Like you told him, you guys had put a lot of effort in his birthday and he was not to ruin that by asking questions.

After the presents they went out to the park and enjoyed a relaxed day just hanging, talking and playing some football. A game that had became rather competitive since Bucky and Sam were the captains. The game was finally cut off by Tony who told them it was time to go to the restaurant. When they arrived Steve could tell that you helped picking out the restaurant, it wasn’t anything to fancy but still special enough to celebrate such an occasion. The courses consisted of everything that Steve liked, just presented in a more fancy way. There were even things on the menu that he hadn’t eaten since the 1940’s. They had gotten to the fourth course when Tony tabbed his knife against his glass, and got up from his chair. “Alright everyone, before we continue to the next course I wanted to say a few words.” “Oh god.” “Don’t worry Cap it’s all good.” Tony grinned “Steve I never really liked you when I grew up, and when we first met my impression of you wasn’t the best. And your impression of me, I assume was just as bad. But the more we worked together, the more I got to know and understand you, the more I started to like you. And know I’m happy to call you one of my closest friends. I hope nothing but the best for you in the future, with a happy marriage to the woman you love and everything else you want. To the next 100 years, to Steve.” Tony raised his glass. “Thank you Tony, I really appreciate it.” Steve got up from his chair to hug him “So before you sit down again, we have one last present for you.” Sam announced “What? No it’s already to much.” Steve protested but got a small box pressed into his hands. “Just open it already.” Steve tore of the paper from the package and inside there was a box. He opened the box where there was a little piece of paper. “So what does it say?” Wanda pushed “Turn around.” Steve read aloud, carefully he turned around being afraid of what his friends had planned for him. But what was behind him was far from scary “Happy Birthday.” You smiled before pressing a kiss on his lips. When he realized that you were actually here, he didn’t know how fast to wrap his arms around you “You made it.” “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

#Steve Rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america one shot #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #marvel #marvel one shot #marvel oneshot #marvel imagine #imagine marvel