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ghostradiodylan · 6 months

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Thirst Games

Kaitlyn threw up a three-finger Mockingjay salute. “May the odds be ever in our favor, you’re the gay Peeta Mellark to my Katniss Everdeen and these are The 74th Annual Thirst Games.”

“Me as Peeta kind of ruins the whole love triangle thing though, no?”

Kaitlyn shrugged. “Love triangles are tired.”

“Yeah, agreed.” Dylan nodded. They both recognized the irony here but refused to acknowledge it.

———————————————

Ryan was dutifully rinsing down the canoes outside the boathouse when he noticed a tall figure approaching out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see Dylan loping toward him from the direction of the lodge.

“Ryan, hey! I brought you something for your next campfire!” Dylan reached into his pocket and produced a small zip-top bag full of white powder. He handed it over to Ryan, who eyed it suspiciously.

“Dylan… is this cocaine?”

“Yes. Definitely. I’m giving you cocaine for the campfire with your 10 year old campers. First one’s free. That’s how I get you.”

Ryan looked at him blankly. Dylan sighed.

“It’s coffee creamer, you absolute narc. If you toss just a little in the fire, it flames up and you should get some cool sparks. It’s the magic of chemistry. The kids’ll think you’re a wizard. I thought it’d enhance the vibes for your ghost stories!”

“Oh, wow, that’s… actually really cool.” Ryan’s face broke into a grin. “Thanks Dylan!”

“Don’t mention it,” he winked roguishly, “I like you Ryan, but not enough to share my cocaine with you.”

Ryan chuckled at this but as he watched Dylan saunter away toward the radio hut, he had to admit that he really didn’t know if he was joking or not. Ryan was often sarcastic himself, but he also had a habit of taking things others said a bit too literally. He figured Dylan probably was not doing lines in the little shack where he worked over the schedules with Kaitlyn and made his announcements, although if he had been that would explain some of his more colorful broadcasting choices.

———————————————

Dylan was alone in the radio hut waiting for Kaitlyn. He had his back to the door, fully absorbed in trying, unsuccessfully, to unstick a stuck button on the ancient PA system, when he heard the door open.

“Sup Kaitlyn?” He called without looking, “you won’t believe what Ryan said today!” An unexpected warm bass voice came in response.

“What did I say?”

Dylan’s head whipped toward the source of the sound so violently that he nearly toppled out of his chair.

“Uhhh something very wise and cool, obviously,” Dylan fumbled, his hand flying to the back of his head disarmingly as he took in the handsome sailing instructor he’d just been all too ready to gossip about.

“Smooth,” was Ryan’s only reply. He was wearing one of those inscrutable smiles he seemed to favor, the ones that drove Dylan crazy, for better and for worse.

“Sorry, I was expecting Kaitlyn.”

“Yeah, I gathered that. So, what were you saying about me?” Dylan could feel heat rising in his cheeks. He felt like he’d been caught in a transgression, but Ryan didn’t sound angry or even suspicious, he merely seemed interested.

“Oh, just about you mistaking the coffee creamer for cocaine. I thought that was pretty cute.”

Why the hell had he said that last part out loud? Did he forget his Adderall again today? “I mean,” he quickly continued, “I just hope you didn’t try to snort a line or whatever. Woulda' been disappointing to get a nose full of French vanilla and no head rush.”

This seemed to put Ryan at ease. He laughed softly.

“Anyway, what brings you to my humble radio station today, sailor?” Dylan put on what he hoped was a winning smile, “what can I do you for—um—do for you?”

“I was actually thinking more about what I could do for you.”

Mysterious. Cryptic. Intriguing. Why was Ryan like this? And why did Dylan like it so much?

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“Birthday present for you,” said Ryan, “I talked to Mr. H and he finally agreed to let you guys take the van tonight since I’m going too.” Ryan pulled a set of keys from his pocket and twirled it on his index finger before tossing it to Dylan.

Dylan had to concentrate very hard to actually catch the keys hurtling toward his face, but he managed to do so and was incredibly thankful he hadn’t beefed it in front of Ryan.

“Hey, sweet, thanks dude!” Dylan was actually touched. Ryan hadn’t had to do that, but he was glad he did. Ryan thought the van was the present but Dylan wanted to tell him his presence was the only present he needed. Fuck, that was corny. Being in love made him so corny. He refrained. “I’m really glad you decided to go.”

“Sure thing. I could use a night away from the kids, honestly.”

Dylan and Ryan were grinning at each other when the door burst open again.

“Honey, I’m home!” Kaitlyn called to Dylan before noticing that Ryan was there. “Oh,” she raised an eyebrow at Dylan, “am I interrupting something?” Ryan answered her.

“I was just letting the birthday boy know I secured the wheels for this evening.”

“Oh, cool beans! Can’t wait for our wild night out clubbing in North Kill, the the city that never wakes, with three entire businesses that are open past 7 pm!”

“Hey, we’ll make our own fun,” Dylan promised her, “we always do.”

“Well, it’s almost time for rowing lessons,” said Ryan, by way of excusing himself, “see you guys when you get off tonight.”

Yeah, definitely gonna see you when I get off tonight, Dylan thought lewdly, I usually do.

“Later Ry-guy,” said Kaitlyn.

Once she was sure Ryan was out of earshot she wheeled around on Dylan.

“Oh my god, your face when I came in just now,” Kaitlyn tittered as Dylan’s cheeks went slightly pink, “Dude. You’re so whipped. You look at that boy like he’s the moon. Like you’re stoned out of your mind and he’s last bag of Cheetos on earth.”

“I knowwww,” Dylan groaned dramatically, dropping his head onto the desk, “I’m so obvious, it’s painful.”

“Well, you’re obvious and he’s oblivious so that’s an interesting combination.”

“I keep flirting with him thinking he might be flirting with me too, but it’s so hard to tell.”

“I can’t get a read on him either. Of course, I haven’t tried to flirt with him. I let men come to me. Or not. It’s whatever.”

Dylan snickered lightly at this, “I don’t think either method is getting us anywhere but, hey, may the odds be ever in our favor.”

Kaitlyn threw up a three-finger Mockingjay salute. “May the odds be ever in our favor, you’re the gay Peeta Mellark to my Katniss Everdeen and these are The 74th Annual Thirst Games.”

“Me as Peeta kind of ruins the whole love triangle thing though, no?”

Kaitlyn shrugged. “Love triangles are tired.”

“Yeah, agreed.” Dylan nodded. They both recognized the irony here but refused to acknowledge it.

“Aw, shit,” Dylan continued, “you would look hot as fuck with a bow and arrow.”

Kaitlyn gave a small bow of acknowledgement indicating that she did not disagree. “Well, if things go sideways, I’m not frosting myself like a cake,” he shot her a wicked grin, “might let Ryan do it though.”

“Oh my god!” She laughed in disbelief. “That is so wrong.”

“You’re right, if we’re sticking to the bakery metaphor, it’s really more of a glaze.”

“EW! You repulse me, Lenivy. I’m out.” Kaitlyn waved a hand dismissively and turned to leave the radio hut.

“Shut up, you love me. Hey, wait up Short Stack!”

"Catch up, Stretch," she shouted back.

Dylan scrambled after her. He did catch up pretty easily since her little legs were like half as long as his. They were heading to the boathouse for their Monday ritual of watching Ryan row across the lake in a tank top. Their ostensible purpose was to act as lifeguards in case any of the kids fell out of the rowboats, but Ryan hadn’t lost one yet so they mostly just chatted together and ogled him shamelessly in the highly flattering golden hour light.

Dylan was gazing at Ryan through a pair of binoculars, watching Ryan’s toned arms and shoulders flexing and releasing as the propelled his boat across the lake. Happy Birthday to me, he thought smugly. Of course, it would have been sexier if Ryan hadn’t had to wear that bright yellow life jacket that obscured the rest of him, or stop to shout instructions at a bunch of middle school kids through a megaphone every few strokes as they screamed and flailed and invariably dropped their paddles into the lake, but Dylan would take what he could get.

He heard someone approaching him from behind but couldn’t imagine that whoever it was could possibly be more interesting than Ryan’s biceps, so Dylan kept his eyes right where they were until he felt a hand firmly grasp his ass.

“The fuck—?“ he yelped, jumping and nearly dropping his binoculars.

“Happy Birthday, babe,” said a smooth voice in his ear. It was Nick. Dylan swatted Nick’s hand away, tsking in disapproval and kicking backward, halfheartedly, at the other boy’s shin.

“I swear, Nicholas, if you don’t stop sexually harassing me you’re gonna end up sucking my dick. And that’ll be so embarrassing for you when I get drunk off my ass and tell everyone about it at your and Abi’s wedding. Which I’ll be DJing, obviously.”

“I see no reason that I should be embarrassed by any such boyish transgressions of my bachelor days.” Nick shrugged affably, taking a long drag on the joint he’d brought to the boathouse with him and slowly releasing the smoke through his nose.

“Oh my god, get a room you two.” Kaitlyn held out her hand expectantly, her binoculars still pressed to her face and trained on Ryan. She’d smelled the weed without needing to see it. Nick passed her the spliff and she took a hit.

Dylan had no interest in getting a room with Nick. The tall, wavy-haired guy was certainly attractive enough (plus, who wouldn’t go a little weak in the knees the first time they heard that accent?) and Dylan had made a few earnest passes at him before settling on Ryan as his summer crush, but he was pretty sure Nick was straight, or at least mostly straight. He flirted with Dylan in a joking way, sometimes he even crossed the line a bit, like he had just now, but the way he looked at Abi, the deference with which he treated her, the way he got all cute and fidgety when she spoke to him, that felt more like the real deal and Dylan shipped it. He was trying his best to get Nick to make a move, but thought he was pretty hopeless. Which was maybe a little hypocritical of Dylan since he couldn’t seem to make a move on his crush either. But tonight, he thought, that could very well change.

Anyway, it hadn’t taken long for Dylan to realize he only had eyes for Ryan. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. His heart and other prime real estate was reserved for Ryan alone. His eyes however were free to wander over Nick’s bare chest and abs at the pool if they so desired, and it often turned out that they did. But Nick was a follower and no amount of abdominal definition could make up for that in Dylan’s opinion. He was pretty sure the only reason Nick kept flirting with him was that he was mirroring Dylan’s playfully flirtatious energy back at him. He did the same with Jacob, becoming a meathead obsessed with ‘getting chicks’ if they hung out one-on-one for too long.

Ryan, on the other hand, was his own person through and through. He was into the niche little things he liked, black metal, ghost stories, cryptozoology; he didn’t care who knew it or what they thought. And while they generally had a friendly repartee, Ryan challenged Dylan if he thought he was wrong and, as much as Dylan hated for anyone to think he was wrong, he admired the backbone it took for Ryan to point it out, even when he disagreed.

Nick offered the joint to Dylan, who considered it for a moment and declined. “Nah man, Ryan’s coming tonight. I gotta be straight.”

“I feel like you’d want to be anything but straight in every possible way if Ryan’s coming,” Nick chuckled.

“You know what I mean,” he brought the binoculars back up to his eyes in time to see Ryan frantically fishing yet another lost oar out of the lake, “I have to focus.”

“Are you really gonna be straight edge on your own birthday?” asked Kaitlyn, still not taking her eyes off of Ryan. “BOR-ING!”

“No way, I’ll definitely be drunk later,” Dylan assured her, smiling.

“Good,” said Nick, “because I have a handle of vodka in the walk-in with our names on it.”

“Perfection. I’ll stick with that. I just don’t wanna get paranoid around Ryan. He already puts me on edge. Plus, your stash is of a questionable strain if you ask me.”

“Hey!” Nick protested, “It is not! This is perfectly good bud, just because you were convinced that your head was physically fused to the futon last time we smoked, doesn’t mean it’s a quality issue. Didn’t happen to anyone else, did it? That’s the fault of the partaker, not the product.” Kaitlyn was giggling.

“Either way, you guys better get rid of that before Ryan gets finished with the lesson because he will FUH-REAK if he catches you smoking on the property.”

“Ugh, he’s such narc,” Kaitlyn’s eyes were obscured by the binoculars, but Dylan was pretty sure she was rolling them.

“I told him the same thing earlier. I guess we are technically supposed to be ready to jump in the lake to save someone at a moment’s notice, so, maybe he’d be justified in wanting us to not be compromised. For once,” Dylan granted.

“Yeah, well, good thing you aren’t partaking so you don’t become one with deck while one of the campers drowns.” Nick smirked. Dylan kicked him in the shin for real this time.

———————————————

Happy Thirst Games Thursday, have some pre-canon Hacketteer camaraderie.

This is a WIP inspired by Dylan's birthday being right in the middle of camp and Ryan's line about vodka bringing people together. It's either going to be a one shot posted on my AO3 or it'll get folded into Particles & Waves as a flashback, I haven't yet decided which.

I love these jerks. 💕

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peachbear88 · 3 years

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The Greatest Love Story

A/N: Inspired by this lovely image I saw. I'm making this into a high school angst AU that takes place in like the 1900's. For the record, I know Steve isn't a bad person but this is an AU and I need one of those... You know, guys for this story so.... Yeah! Sorry! BTW, the second poem is not written by me, it's written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning and I stole some quotes from Shakespeare.

Warnings: Angst, homophobia, swearing, character death.

Word Count: 3.2k

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader

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You scale the ancient wooden stairs of your small school. avoiding eye contact with anyone. The stares you receive from others are painfully obvious as you speed walk towards the library, seeking shelter from the judgmental glances from your peers.

"Hello dear," the kind librarian greets you as you walk past her towards your corner of the library.

You don't respond, quickly ducking behind the massive shelves, hoping to spend as much time as possible in your safe space before the classes start. Placing back your old books, you scan the shelves, until a particular title catches your eye.

"Love Poems by Women?" You murmur, flipping through the worn pages.

----------

A giant dusty book lands on the librarian's desk, making her look up.

"May I take this out?" You ask, your tone emotionless, cold yet tentative. The librarian smiles gently at you handing you back the book.

"Of course dear. Happy reading." You give her a small, thankful smile before dashing out of the library door. The halls are partially empty, save for the kids that skip class, hanging around in the hallways and dark alleys after school.

You duck your head, avoiding eye contact as you pass the group leaning against the lockers, most importantly, the hazel eyed beauty that could snap your neck in half, Yelena Belova.

"Hey!" Your head snaps up. Big mistake. You lock eyes with the famed blonde and you drop your head immediately, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Y-Yes?"

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." She snaps. You peek at her from the corner of your eye, her sleek dress pants catching your eye.

"Interesting outfit choice," you note before you can stop yourself.

"What did you say?" She demands and you gulp, backing away.

"N-nothing." She slowly steps towards you, backing you into the lockers.

"Get to class. And don't ever let me see you again идиот (idiot)." You hurry down the hall towards your classroom, tripping in the process as you repeatedly look over your shoulder, watching as Yelena turns back to her friend group.

---------

"She was cute," Natasha points out as Yelena reclaims her spot leaning against the lockers. "Why do you feel the need to tease her so relentlessly?" Yelena rolls her eyes, grabbing the flask of vodka back from her sister.

"She's annoying. I don't like her." Natasha smirks.

"Sure. Whatever you say."

---------

You let out a sigh of relief when the bell rings.

Your classmates flood out of the classroom, jostling each other aside in their rush to get home. You quickly sprint out the door, eager to get home, safe and sound when a hand grabs you by the arm and pulls you into a dark alley behind the school.

"Hello there girly..." A deep voice says. You gulp. The boy steps into the light to reveal Steve Rogers. One of those people that take pride in hurting others, a bully, your tormenter.

"W-what do you want?" He smirks, stepping closer to you.

"Well, a little birdie told me that someone had an encounter with a specific blonde this morning." You flinch when he grabs you by the throat, pinning you to the wall. "You wouldn't happen to be... I don't know, one of those dykes would you?" Your eyes widen and you shake your head vigorously as he laughs. "Oh man," he sputters, choking through his laughter. "Wait till the school gets ahold of this-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence because a fist connects with his face, sending him reeling backwards.

"What the-" A strong hand wraps around his throat, pushing him backwards till his back connects with the wall.

"Listen to me you маленькое дерьмо (little shit), if you ever even think about coming near her again, I will sneak into your house at night, gut you like the fish you are and paint the school with them." Yelena warns in a surprisingly calm voice. Steve's eyes widen and he nods his head frantically until she lets go.

"Crazy bitch!" He spits, backing away quickly. You shuffle your feet, looking down at the ground as she watches him run.

"T-thank you." You mutter, not daring to look her in the eye. She sighs.

"This better not become a daily thing Y/L/N." You nod feebly. "Get out of here." You quickly pick your bag back up and sprint out of the alley, leaving Yelena by herself,

---------

"I'm home mom!"

"Welcome home sweetie!" Your mom pokes her head out of the living room.

"How's your book going?"

"As great as a woman writing a book can be." She chuckles forcibly. There's an awkward silence before she continues. "Your father came by today." She pauses as you swallow, feeling like something lodged itself in your throat.

"And what did he want?" She frowns at your tone.

"Sweetie, I know you don't like him but he's still your fa-"

"I don't have a dad," you growl, picking up your bag. "My dad died when he chose to abandon us." She watches as you climb up the stairs, sighing and rubbing her temple.

---------

You flop onto your bed, dropping the thick dusty buck onto the bed. You spend the rest of the afternoon reading through the poems until your mom calls you down for dinner.

It's an awkward dinner, quiet, only the sounds of dishes, chewing and utensils filling the room.

"I'm going to bed." You say after washing the dishes, not bothering to wait for a response.

That night, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling of your room.

"Love poems by women." You mutter, an idea popping into your head. You quickly sit up, flicking on your lamp and pulling out the book and a pen.

----------

"Good morning dear," the librarian greets you like she does every morning.

"I'd like to return this book." You reply coldly, passing her the book once again. She smiles gently at you.

"I hope you enjoyed your reading." She says while passing you, returning the book to its original shelf.

-----------

"Hello hon, can I help you with anything?" The librarian asks the dirty-blonde haired girl.

"No, thank you." The girl sends the librarian a tight lipped smile before returning her attention to the shelves. A ripped leather cover catches her attention. Love Poems by Women. She smiles, pulling the book from the shelf. Flipping open to the title page, a neat cursive catches her eyes.

Love flows between beings Gift from the gods Curse from the demons The missing part of every person Destined to be opposites Love is flexible Yet some seek to objectify love Love is not for the weak willed. - Aristophanes

The blonde haired girl hums, pulling a pen from her jacket's pocket and discreetly writing in the book, right next to the poem.

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

Terrible.

That's the only way to describe your day. You received your essay back, ecstatic to see that you had received an A. Steve on the other hand had absolutely flunked. Instead of dedicating his time to studying, he decided to beat you up as a way of taking out his frustration.

You ended up limping out of the women's toilet, your leg flaring up whenever you moved, tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

"Hi sweetcheeks," the librarian murmurs, her eyes trailing down your injured leg.

"'Ello." You quickly duck behind the shelves, pulling out the book you were looking for. Your brows scrunch together in confusion as you see a messier scrawl next to your handwriting.

Reality hits hard

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

- Orpheus

You smile letting a light laugh slip from your lips. A sweet titter revealing the little girl underneath your cold, traumatized exterior.

Quickly, you grab your pen from your pocket and begin scribbling.

-----------

The air is knocked from your body as your back makes contact with the floor.

"Listen here dyke. I don't like you alright," Steve growls into your ear as Tony cracks his knuckles. "So here's what's going to happen: Everyday you're going to meet us here and," he pauses, cracking his neck. "Help us relive some stress." He smiles wickedly before punching you in the stomach, making you double over in pain.

Your eyes flutter shut as they deliver blow after blow 'till they finally stop. You tentatively open your eyes to see Yelena tackling Steve to the ground as Tony stares at them, eyes wide.

"I. Told. You. To. Leave. Her. Alone!" She screams, pummeling Steve with her fists. He groans, unmoving. You watch in terror as Tony picks up a trash can lid, sneaking up behind her as she punches Steve in the face.

"Watch out!" You scream, taking Tony as well yourself by surprise. She looks up to see you slamming into Tony sending him flying into the nearby wall of the alley.

He crumples, unconscious.

"Are you okay?" You mumble, limping towards Yelena, who's clutching a blood gash on her arm.

"'M fine,' she grits out. You shake your head, grabbing her wrist. She flinches but doesn't push you away.

"You're not okay. Let me help you." You plead. She stays silent and you quickly take her silence as a yes, leading her to the front steps of your home. You rummage through your back pack, finding a large wrap of bandages that you kept after your daily beating from Rogers and his friends.

She winces as you wrap her wound swiftly.

"Gentle!" She growls and you stare back at her defiantly.

"Well maybe if you would stop moving, it'd hurt less!" You retort and she shuts up, staring off into the distance. You dab the cut with a small bit of alcohol before wrapping the bandage all around her arm.

"Thank you." She whispers, giving you a small smile. Reaching out, she gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as you flinch back. You quickly, shovel the bandages and medicinal alcohol back into your pack, not noticing the hurt look on her face.

"No problem. The least I could do since you saved me." You reply bluntly, swinging the bag over your shoulder and slipping through the door.

"Wait-" She sighs as the door slams shut in front of her.

You exhale, leaning against the door as you try to catch your breath.

-----------

Yelena sighs exasperatedly, tugging at the collar of her dress shirt.

"What's wrong little sis?" Natasha smirks, plopping down next to her.

"I got hurt and Y/N patched me up." Natasha jumps up, eyes wide.

"You stained your new shirt?" She groans shaking Yelena violently. "God I'm going to kill you!" Yelena grabs her sister, stopping her.

"You're missing the point!"

"Oh yeah? And what's that?" Nat challenges, flopping back down on to the couch.

"She patched me up!" Nat's eyes widen.

"Oh. Oh." She inches closer to her sister, nudging her playfully, much to Yelena's dislike. "So are y'all like," she winks at her sister insinuatingly. "A thing?" Yelena scrunches her brows in confusion.

"A thing?" Nat rolls her eyes, sidling closer to her.

"Yes. A thing. An item? Lovers?" She shrugs, missing the way Yelena blushes.

"In her dreams," Yelena snorts, leaning back into the couch.

"If you say so..."

-----------

"Morning pumpkin!" The librarian chirps.

The blonde girl ignores her, breezing past her towards the the shelves at the very back, peeking over her shoulder quickly before pulling an old, leather bound book from the shelf.

She flips the leather cover aside to reveal the title page. Next to her messy, distorted scrawl was a neat, distinctive cursive once again.

Speak low if you speak love

- Aristophanes

She smiles gently, chuckling as she shakes her head.

"Shakespeare of all people," she whispers, her accent thickening. Pulling a forgotten pen from the shelves, she begins writing,

-----------

The highlight of your day became going to the library and reading the little messages scrawled in between the margins of the book by Orpheus. Like:

If music be the food of love, play on

Her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love.

They made you smile on a daily basis, sometimes even eliciting a rare light laugh.

"Good morning sweetpea." The librarian greets you, not expecting a response. To her surprise and yours, you muster a small smile and a wave.

"Hello." You can feel the librarians shocked eyes following you as you round the bookshelf corner to find Steve, eyes wide, mouth open in shock as he stares down at something in his hands.

Your heart plummets. A book with a soft leather cover, yellowed pages. The book of poems.

You lunge for it but he step sides you swiftly, raising the book above his head.

"Speak low if you speak of love huh? I'm not surprised you know Shakespeare, you're such a nerd." He sneers, waving the book above his head.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." You stutter, backing up. He grabs you by the collar of your shirt, lifting you into the air.

"Don't fuck with me!" He growls, dropping the book and kicking it to the side. "Who's Orpheus?"

"G-Greek hero. Musician." You stutter and he slaps you, hard. You can feel your cheek swelling under his fiery gaze.

"Don't even try me. Who. Is. Orpheus?"

"I don't know, I swear!" You mutter, wincing when you accidentally bite your cheek.

He drops you, watching as you scramble to your feet, backing away.

"This isn't over you little shit. I'll be back for you," he warns, giving your book one last kick for good measure before storming out of the library with Tony and Bucky on his heels.

You fall to your knees, silently sobbing as you crawl over too the book, dusting it off and hugging it to your chest.

Yelena sighs, her heart breaking as she watches you curl around the book protectively, lying on the floor.

-----------

"Where are you going?"

Yelena turns to find Nat, leaning against the school stairwell doorway, watching her.

"Just up to the roof. Need some fresh air," she lies, avoiding Nat's gaze. Nat lifts Yelena's chin up, staring into her eyes, boring into her very soul. Yelena squirms under her gaze until she finally lets go.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." She smiles sadly at her little sister. "Just-" Her voice cracks as she pats her sister's shoulder. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Don't worry. I won't." She gives Nat a brief hug before hiking her pants up and starting up the stairs.

-----------

"Ah, well look who decided to join the party!" You look up from the ground to see Yelena, your eyes clouded with pain.

"No..." You croak but Steve pays no attention to you.

"Come to save your love Yelena?" He sneers, dropping you to the ground. "Or should I say... Orpheus?" Your eyes widen as you watch him advance towards her, pushing her closer to the edge of the roof.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She deadpans and Steve chuckles.

"Sure. If you won't admit, I'll just have to settle for destroying you from the inside out instead." He grabs her by the arm. "I haven't forgotten what you did to me." He points at a long thin scar along his jawline.

You watch as Tony sneaks up from behind Yelena, striking her with a metal bar. She crumples, falling to her knees.

"Hold her." Steve directs and Bucky dutifully grabs you by the arms. He holds Yelena's chin in between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. "Now you watch as I destroy the one thing you love the most." Tony tosses his the metal bar and Steve prepares himself before swinging it like a baseball bat.

There's a sickening crunch followed by your scream as the bar makes contact with your ribs.

"Stop!" She struggles, her eyes never leaving your broken body as he hits you over and over again. "Please! Leave her alone!"

Steve smiles evilly, locking eyes with her before swinging the bat again. Another scream. Blood trickles down your face from your nose.

"Is that right? Did the famous Yelena Belova just beg me?" He smiles cruelly before pushing you down on your back, his foot on your chest. You scream as he increases the pressure, your broken ribs digging into your lungs.

Yelena screams, kicking Tony's legs out from under him before punching Steve in the jaw. She grabs the iron bar before it hits the ground, clobbering Bucky in the stomach before kicking Steve in the stomach.

"ты сука (you bitch)!" She steps on his face swiftly, taking satisfaction in the groan of pain he emits before turning to you, gently cradling your face.

"Wow... That was pretty badass," you mumble and she laughs, tearing up. You reach out, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Don't cry." She frowns.

"I'm not crying."

"You are too." You smile, wincing in pain. "I didn't know you knew Shakespeare."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let this happen." You frown, caressing her face, forcing her to look at you.

"Hey, hey. It's fine. Don't worry. I'll be fine." You attempt to smile reassuringly but it comes out as more of a grimace. "Listen, if I don't make it-"

"Don't say that! You can't leave me!"

"Shush, listen you thickheaded poet. If I don't make it, go back to the book." You instruct her. She frowns but you can her off. "Promise me."

"But-"

"Promise me."

"I promise..."

"Good." You smile at her, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, your eyesight blurring. "Wait for me okay?" Your eyes flutter shut.

"No! No Y/N! Come back!" She shakes you roughly, sobbing when you don't respond.

----------

Yelena watches as your body is carted off under a white sheet. Nat stands to the side, watching as her sister stares off into the distance, all life drained from her body.

Go back to the book.

She stands, slowly trailing towards the library, her eyes bloodshot, cheeks caked with dry tears.

"Hi dear," the librarian greets her, discreetly wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. "What a shame. She was a lovely girl."

"She really was the best." Yelena agrees quietly, giving the librarian a small, comforting pat on the back before moving to the back of the library where she finds the book, lying on the floor.

Yelena,

I believe that we are the greatest love poem ever written. I love you always,

Y/N

A choked sob escapes her lips as she stares at the page. You knew. You knew the whole time and you didn't even say anything. A pair of soft arms wrap around Yelena's stomach as she lets go of the dam, her cries echoing throughout the library.

"I'm sorry..."

I'm sorry...

----------

Taglist: @username23345 @musicinourlips @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @trikruismybitch @ima-gi--na-tion @nicole-rayleigh-hot @olsensnpm @peabrain112

#yelena belova x reader #yelena belova x you

145 notes · View notes

ficcrimes · 3 years

Text

junctures

Fandom: Helluva Boss Characters: Blitzo, Stolas; mentions of Stella, Octavia, Moxxie, Millie and Loona Ship: Stolas/Blitzo A/N: this is my piece for the Stolitz zine, Seasons, over on twitter! My bit’s finally been released, so I can publish this here now! Summary: To everything, there is a season.

——————————————————————————

i. summer

It was supposed to be a one night stand, and nothing more than that.

When presented with the opportunity to get his hands on that one particular grimoire, Blitzo didn’t think twice about worming his way into the Geotian Prince’s bed. What was one hot night with an ancient, entitled demon? Of course, he hadn’t stopped to question just why it had all happened the way it had, either. Whatever made Stolas not only agree to but pursue this whole lewd affair was really none of Blitzo’s business. Maybe he had a thing for imps, or some sort of weird, classist fetish. It really didn’t matter. At a glance, and that was all Blitzo had allowed himself to take when it all started, it seemed simple enough.

But it didn’t quite turn out that way, did it?

What started as something that had been meant to be short and sweet and fleeting turned into much more than Blitzo had bargained for. It’s nothing he can’t handle, of course, but Stolas calls on him frequently and comes on incredibly strong. It’s a little jarring, to say the least, but Blitzo can’t bring himself to outright turn the advances away.

He needs the book, after all. And, all things considered, this isn’t the worst possible thing he could have been doing to keep it. This is what he tells himself, anyway.

It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that, for all the fuss he puts up whenever Stolas calls, at least Stolas makes him feel… something. Wanted. Needed. Even if it’s only physically. Even if it’s only temporary.

But then Stolas makes the once-a-month arrangement with him, and an already hazy situation becomes a little hotter and a little heavier. Their meetings are no longer quick and to the point. Suddenly Stolas wants to have fun with it; he incorporates games and costumes and silly little things into the affair that Blitzo’s not above or below doing. He’s a performer, after all - and at least Stolas seems to be enjoying the act.

He spends the night and wakes up in Stolas’ bed more times than he’d like to admit. Most of the time, he’ll leave before Stolas wakes up. But there are some days when he wakes up to Stolas propped up and leaning over him, all four of his red eyes heavy-lidded and bleary with something Blitzo pretends isn’t there.

He also pretends the rush of heat that surges up his spine isn’t there, and that it doesn’t count for anything.

As sleazy as it all is, it’s a good business deal and he wants to milk it for all it’s worth while it lasts - because he’s sure that it won’t. Nothing that burns this hot for too long is meant to last.

ii. fall

There is something so incredibly and unconventionally charming about the little imp.

It’s not every day someone like Stolas came across someone like Blitzo, and he’d been intrigued almost immediately by him. He was crass and rude and didn’t seem to think twice before speaking whatever happened to be on his mind in the moment, and Stolas found himself liking that more than he should have.

So, when Blitzo made his interest in the grimoire known, and it was evident all he had to offer in exchange for it was his own body, Stolas didn’t put up much of a fight or fuss. He knew he shouldn’t have been traipsing about behind Stella’s back and closed doors, but the supposed-one-night-stand promised to be the most exciting thing he’d experienced in a long, long while.

That first night with Blitzo had been unlike anything Stolas had ever had before, with his wife or otherwise. The sheer amount of skill the little creature had was surprising, and the way Stolas’ body had ached for him after he’d gone spoke in volumes.

Maybe it’s not in his best interest, or even in good taste, to start calling on Blitzo whenever he feels himself craving what only the imp can give him. And maybe he should learn how to properly manage and articulate the desperate desires he feels, instead of going off on long, unfiltered, filthy rants.

But Blitzo never explicitly tells him to stop, and so he doesn’t.

There’s a part of Stolas that understands Blitzo seems to merely put up with these antics so he can continue to use the book, and that’s alright. For a while, anyway. The more Stolas finds himself thinking about that, the more he can feel something creeping up on him, slow and steady. The ache he feels for Blitzo starts to change, and it’s not just his body that needs him.

He doesn’t really notice at first, continues to mistake the desperate need for the imp’s attention as something carnal and older than even himself. How silly to think his entire foundation could be shaken after so, so long, and by such a small and silly creature. And yet, eventually he catches himself drawing silly little caricatures on important papers of the two of them. Or he finds himself staring longingly at his phone when he can’t seem to get a hold of Blitzo.

By the time he’s suggesting they make their meetings a little more frequent and planned, Stolas realizes he’s in over his head. Or, perhaps he’s just head over heels. There’s really no difference here.

The whole situation is a little messier and more complicated than he would have liked it to be, but Stolas tells himself it will be worth it in the end. Until then, though, even if it’s only once a month, he feels like his walls can come down and he can be himself while Blitzo shares his bed.

He doesn’t mind when he wakes up to find the imp’s already left him. He understands. But it’s when he wakes up to find Blitzo still in bed beside him that makes his heart swell with something unspeakable.

He thinks, if things were just a little different, he could have this feeling always.

But Blitzo always leaves, and Stolas is always left with the weight of this feeling that’s too big for either of them.

iii. winter

Blitzo is right in thinking that things couldn’t stay so simple forever.

An already complicated situation gets that much worse when things like feelings and wives and daughters get caught up in the mix.

When Stolas calls him up out of the blue one day and says, very quietly, very seriously, that they “need to talk,” Blitzo almost wishes it had been one of his usual calls. Something cold and dreadful shoots up his spine by the time the call ends, and he’s already preparing himself for the worst. His mind is already racing, torn between coming up with some other lucrative back up plan and trying to persuade Stolas not to do this.

However he chooses to define ‘this’ in the moment, he doesn’t spend too much time thinking about it.

Stolas is quiet as Blitzo lets himself into his office space, book tucked under one arm. There’s no coy smile tugging at his beak.

Blitzo knows, and so he drops the book onto the desk that separates them. “I figured it’d only be a matter of time before you called this shit off,” he says through a sneer.

Stolas winces, and draws the book just a little closer to himself, fingering the crescent moon. He can’t bring himself to make eye contact.

“It’s not - You wouldn’t understand,” he sighs quietly.

“Oh, you’d think so, huh?” Blitzo replies, because he understands more than Stolas thinks. Stolas doesn’t know anything he doesn’t want him to know - and maybe this is happening because of that. Maybe if he’d been just a little less guarded and a little more obvious, things could have been different.

However… None of that would have changed the fact Stolas was a Prince, with a wife and child. And Blitzo understands that, too.

“No, no. I get it,” Blitzo starts, and waves Stolas off with one hand. “You got your weird royal bird shit to do, and fucking an imp on the side’s getting in the way.”

Stolas wants to say something else, Blitzo can see it in his eyes when all four finally meet his, but what actually comes out of his mouth is a quiet, “...that’s one way of putting it, I suppose.”

“Yeah, yeah. Quit looking like some sort of kicked hellpup. It’s not like you’re losing anything by taking the book back.” Blitzo almost regrets those words the moment they leave his mouth, but decides maybe they’re for the best. If Stolas is angry instead of just sad, it will make this easier.

But Stolas doesn’t get angry; he just looks all the more hurt. He sighs and steels himself. “I’ll see what I can do about loaning you my grimoire in the future, Blitz,” he says, “but for now, I can’t allow it.”

Hearing Stolas call him by his name instead of ‘Blitzy’ is what turns that cold trickle into a flash flood of ice. Something cold and hollow fills him, and Blitzo wishes it didn’t sting the way that it does, wishes he could feel anger instead of this.

“Sure thing, Your Highness,” Blitzo mumbles back, flipping Stolas off with one shaking hand. “If that’s all you got me penned in for today, I’ll see myself the fuck out. Thanks.”

Blitzo slams the office door on his way out, and Stolas can hear Stella screaming after him as he leaves. It’s only a small relief to hear Octavia chime in, telling her mother to leave him alone.

“At least he’s leaving,” Stolas hears her say, and he wishes she were just that little bit older so she’d understand this situation better. He had ever slept with Blitzo because he didn’t love her, but because he’d long since fallen out of love with her mother - but a royal marriage was not so easily left behind.

He sinks back in his seat and sighs heavily, pinching the bridge between his eyes. His heart no longer feels airy and light; instead it feels heavy, like it’s sinking into the pit of himself and weighing him down.

iv. spring

It’s weeks later and well into a work day when Blitzo emerges from his office. The first thing he notices is that his employees all seem to have disappeared, though he doesn’t have much time to wonder about that. His foot catches on something, and he stumbles forward, barely catching himself on a nearby desk. He twists around to look at the offending object that he knows should not be there, and sees that it’s a package of some sort. Brown paper-wrapped and addressed to him, and distinctly book-shaped.

He groans inwardly and hefts it up, the weight familiar, and the scent clinging to the wrapping even more so. Not that the break had been clean, but of course Stolas would have to go and try and make things complicated.

He doesn’t know if Stolas dropped it off personally or had it specially delivered, but he understands why the others left when it got there. Had he been in their shoes, he probably wouldn’t have wanted to risk it, either.

There’s no call or warning before he shows up at Stolas’ mansion, book in tow. He doesn’t use the front door, because he knows other, quicker ways to get to Stolas personally. And, surprisingly, none of those ways have been deterred or altered. It’s almost like Stolas had hoped he wouldn’t actually stay away.

It doesn’t take him very long at all to find Stolas, in his bedroom and lounging about as though he hadn’t just tried to lay some sort of intricate trap. It says something that the Prince’s surprise is entirely feigned, and there’s a grin tugging at his beak as Blitzo kicks the bedroom door shut.

“Ooh, what a surprise~” he coos, and Blitzo rolls his eyes.

“Cut the crap,” Blitzo mutters, dropping the book heavily onto the bed.

Stolas smiles and shrugs his shoulders. The robe he’s wearing slips from one lithe shoulder, and he doesn’t bother to adjust it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. That,” he gestures to the book, “is just a gift. Circumstance aside, I’d hate to see your business fail.”

Blitzo snorts and grins in a way that shows his teeth. “Don’t you worry about I.M.P. We’re doing just fine without your borrowed little magic tricks.”

For just a moment, Stolas seems to falter, frustrated - not with Blitzo, but the situation itself.

“You really couldn’t think of any other way to get my attention, besides throwing me your scraps?” Blitzo presses on, crossing his arms over his chest, one brow raised.

“I didn’t think you’d return a call, or want to see me,” Stolas admits, and makes a vague gesture to the mansion. “And inviting you back here seemed… uncouth, at the very least.”

“Never stopped you before, did it?” But now Blitzo’s grin seems a little less antagonistic, a little more playful.

Stolas lets out an airy, half-laugh. “You’re not wrong.” He finally adjusts the shoulder of his robe, and rubs a hand against the back of his neck. “I’ve just spent a lot of time thinking about… Well, us. And I was thinking that, maybe we could… I mean, to start, we never should have - but…”

He sighs, and offers Blitzo a weak smile.

“I’ve missed you, Blitzy.”

It’s short and sweet and simple - just like this whole mess should have been from the start. But it’s not, and it never will be, because those three words and that sickeningly sweet rendition of his name coming out of that horrid bird’s mouth send that familiar warm rush right through Blitzo’s entire body.

“I see what you’re doing,” Blitzo says quickly, narrowing his eyes.

Stolas chuckles, shrugging. “I’d like to try again. Only no strings attached this time.” To make his point, he raises one hand and urges the grimoire over to himself, letting it hover between the two of them. “You’d be free to use this whenever you like, and though I would greatly appreciate your… company, there’s no need for a strict schedule.”

Blitzo eyes the book for a moment, and then shoves the magically aloft object aside. “And what about your ball and chain? You sure you wanna put up with her conniption fits?”

“You let me worry about Stella,” Stolas waves the thought aside. “A very serious discussion is long overdue, anyway.”

“And your kid?”

“Via will be okay. She’s young, but getting old enough to understand, I think.”

Blitzo looks the owl demon up and down, then shrugs a little himself. “Not the freshest start of the ages, but I’ll take it.”

Stolas smiles and breathes a sigh of obvious relief. “I’m glad,” he says quietly and moves closer. He lets one hand wander admiringly over one of Blitzo’s horns - and, for the imp’s sake, pretends he doesn’t notice the way he leans in to the touch.

“I have to wonder, though,” Stolas says after a moment, before the quiet becomes too much too soon, idly stroking the inner curvature of the horn, “how did you manage to keep I.M.P afloat without my grimoire?”

Blitzo leans away from the taller demon, and he grins again, wide and sharp. “I copied the spells out of it ages ago,” he admits, shrugging one shoulder. “Just in case this whole shebang went down the shitter.”

Stolas stares at him, a grin of his own tugging at his beak. “Oh, you clever little thing,” he muses, reaching out and taking Blitzo’s face into his hands. One thumb moves gently over where white meets red.

Blitzo has a nasty habit of speaking before he thinks, and Stolas has to wonder if he realizes what he’s admitted to. If he’d had the pages copied this whole time, either he’s a very dedicated actor and didn’t want to tip Stolas off - or, perhaps, it was all just a very convoluted excuse to keep coming back.

A blush starts to bruise the bridge of Blitzo’s nose. Stolas smiles.

“And here I thought you’d needed the book,” he says. “How silly of me.”

#helluva boss #stolas #blitzo #stolitz #fanfic

43 notes · View notes

makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 278: MOMO IN CHARGE

Previously on BnHA: Deku and Kacchan were all “SIR, THAT’S OUR EMOTIONAL SUPPORT SENSEI” and got really ferocious and made a very passionate attempt to blow Tomura up and it was great. It basically did nothing, but it was still great. AFO was all “COME HERE LIL BRO”, and Tomura was all “silly Sensei, you can’t just take over my mind and body just like that”, and he was very confident of this despite there really being no evidence to back it up, but okay! Gran was all “time to make the fandom mad at me” and grabbed Tomura by the collar and yelled at him about Nana a bit, and then Bakugou and Endeavor made an even MORE passionate attempt to blow up Tomura, which may or may not have done some actual damage. The chapter ended with Gigantomachia battling Mt. Lady, just kinda out of the blue, which is FINE, but she had better be all right, though!

Today on BnHA: Everyone is all “WAUGHH IT’S GIGANTOMACHIA” and running around freaking out about it. The U.A. alums all kick some ass, and pretty much everyone else not from U.A. does jack fucking shit. Mt. Lady, who I plan on naming all of my future children after, does her best to stop Machia but he keeps flinging her aside. Kamui Woods is all “here I come with Midnight to put Gigantomachia to sleep!” and is PROMPTLY FUCKING MURDERED!? by Dabi because he’s a flammable tree man, and so Midnight falls all the way to the ground and is badly injured. So then she’s all “well I better call the most competent person I can think of to fix this mess” and dials up YAOYOROZU FUCKING MOMO, who proceeds to take charge LIKE THE BOSS SHE IS, and mobilizes the rest of the kids. And honestly I have more faith in them than in any of the adults at this point, so yeah, you know what? Let’s do this.

so I am possibly a bit spoiled on this chapter because I did a “top five predictions” post earlier this week, and someone replied to that yesterday on Thursday saying that they were mostly correct. I don’t know exactly how close to the mark I was though, and in any case most of the predictions were just “so-and-so shows up, probably”, so it’s not too bad. we’ll see how it goes!

OH THANK GOD MY BABIES ARE SAFE

I mean, CLEARLY they’re all about to be in horrible danger, seeing as Jirou is about to inform them of the whole “THE BIG GUY EVERYONE WAS AFRAID ABOUT WAKING UP WOKE UP” thing, but in the meantime at least Kami and Toadette and Honenuki made it back to the group safely

also Kaminari’s use of “Jirou-Jack” here is fucking inspired and I want him to teach a class on nicknames. isn’t he the one who coined “Yaomomo” as well? this boy has a gift and it needs to be appreciated

so Jirou is all “SOMETHING REALLY BIG IS COMING”, and actually she says “INSANELY HUGE”, which if anything is still an understatement, hard as it is to believe

WOW

“A BAD GUY IS HEADING THIS WAY?? SOUNDS LIKE IT’S TIME TO ABANDON THE CHILDREN IN THE WOODS” kjlfakh okay you know what?? fine!! you weren’t even going to do anything anyway so let’s not pretend!!

holy shit it’s like Mt. Lady isn’t even there

look at those speed lines!! goddamn. I just felt this huge rush of empathy for Mt. Lady though. like can you imagine growing up with this super-destructive quirk, and managing to become a hero with it against all odds, and having to put up with the manga making fun of you all the time just because sometimes you have a tendency to DESTROY A LOT OF STUFF, but it’s not like you can help it!! but the upside has always been that when your quirk is on, you are fucking UNSTOPPABLE though. so even though it’s been a hell of a rough ride for you, it’s worth it because you’re a complete badass and the number of people who can beat you out in terms of sheer physical strength is probably in the single digits. and you’re working really hard too, and lately you’ve been moving up through the ranks and actually becoming a damn fine hero if I do say so myself (and I do), and it’s like, about time though?? like finally, finally it is all starting to come together for you. and then this snarling trashrock person suddenly comes stampeding along and you put your all into trying to stop him, and it doesn’t even do a damn thing. like, holy shit. that’s just not fucking fair and YOU DESERVE BETTER, MT. LADY

anyway so she’s still hanging in there for now though so let’s check in with our villain squad riding on his back

lmaooo they’re all “I don’t even understand what is going on here”

YOU GUYS, THIS IMPLIES THAT THEY WERE ALL PLUCKED OFF THE GROUND BY THE SCRUFFS OF THEIR NECKS AND THEY HAD ABSOLUTELY NO SAY IN THE MATTER OMG. like I’m picturing Spinner being held by his cape pinched in between Machia’s thumb and forefinger, and awkwardly trying to lecture him like a mom with his hands on his hips all, “BAD GIGANTOMACHIA! NO! NOOOUAGH -- !” and cutting off with a yelp as he’s dropped onto his back

and I am glad they got Toga some clothes! I like to think Gigantomachia grabbed those for her as well. so thoughtful

wow Skeptic actually wants to go back to Re-Destro??

color me legit impressed. I underestimated your loyalty my dude. and let me also just take this moment to extend my gratitude toward Horikoshi for leaving the rest of the MLA out of it because good fucking riddance to them, goodbye forever hopefully!!

I guess they’ll be needing Skeptic’s quirk down the line for some reason? maybe he is meant to be like a new, less out-of-control Twice. smdh y’all out here trying to replace your dead buddy like a pet goldfish

who is this “they” Dabi is referring to

do you mean the heroes? lol yeah I guess they’re pretty distracted by the literal fucking kaijuu you’re currently piggybacking on

SIGH

“the Jakku team must’ve made a mistake” BOY, I’LL SAY. you know what, don’t even talk to me about that yet. it’s still too fresh. suffice it to say that your suspicions are correct and things in Jakku are not very daijobu right about now

anyway here’s a closeup of this bubble person just cuz

they are everything and I want them to be my friend. also there’s a squid person a few paces behind them who can probably do anything a squid can do. or they might actually be a shark person, actually. I don’t know. either way I love them

GETEN PLEASE GO AWAY

WE ARE PHASING OUT THE MLA!! MOVING FORWARD IT’S ORIGINAL LOV ONLY!! I’M SORRY BUT YOU DIDN’T MAKE THE CUT. we already have an ice character so shoo

OH DAMN MY MAN CEMENTOSS HAS HAD ENOUGH OF HIS NONSENSE TOO AHHHH YESS

1) hey so Cementoss is legit terrifying who’d’ve thought

and 2), did Cementoss always have a mouthful of gigantic perfect teeth each the size of a slice of bread, or is this just something I’m only noticing now because I’m behind the curve. either way, let me just say sincerely, DKJDLKFJLSKJG

RE-DESTRO YOU GO AWAY TOO!!

@waywardfacegarden you asked the other day which are the characters I actually dislike, and this is one of them lol. he’s just a big ol’ prick, and on top of that has the audacity to not even be interesting in any way so as to balance it out. anyway so apologies to any Re-Destro stans out there but I basically spend every panel he’s in hoping that someone will punch him in the face hard enough to finally make him shut up

anyway so my man Edgeshot is here though, finally!! but of all the people for him to fight! this is a real predicament for me. the most soothing character in the series contrasted with the character who grates my nerves the most. Edgeshot’s sexy ASMR voice is gonna be drowned out by all of RD’s punching and self-important ranting in the anime and I’m lowkey devastated but I’m gonna pull myself together and read on

SPEAKING OF SELF-IMPORTANT RANTING

Edge, if you can liberate us from having to put up with his insufferable ass once and for all I will be so grateful to you. can you do this. please. for me

and it looks like some other boring MLA villains are following along behind Machia so I’m gonna need someone to kick their asses as well. please

-- YESSSSSS

okay so now I see what that comment on my prediction post was referring to lol. I did indeed have my fingers crossed that these two would show up again, and sure enough! THE GANG’S ALL HERE YAY

and Mt. Lady is being sumoed aside!

anyone want tonight’s lotto numbers. during this brief fleeting moment of having my predictions be actually credible, I would just like to say that Hagakure is the U.A. traitor. thank you and goodnight

OH NO KAMUI IS WORRIED

HE LOOKS SO PANICKED?? OUT OF THE BLUE I SHIP IT SO MUCH?? I keep forgetting they’re on the same team and stuff and wow, I need to calm down

LOL MIDNIGHT IS ALL “NO TIME FOR SHIPS!!”

I wonder if her quirk will actually be enough to take him down? this is something I’ve been itching to see for a long time, actually. just how powerful is she? we know her quirk is more effective on males than females, but is anyone actually capable of resisting it? imagine if she really did just knock Gigantomachia out after all of this buildup. that would be some god-tier shit omg, DO IT

(ETA: I am just going to assume that since Horikoshi had to go to elaborate lengths to take her out of the fight, this means that her quirk really was capable of knocking them all out. another tragic case of Too Badass For The Plot. y’all better respect Midnight.)

YESSSSSSSS

is she stripping. you know what -- don’t think about it. I won’t let you ruin this for me Horikoshi. Midnight’s gonna be a badass because the ladies are fucking ruling this arc and that’s all there is to it

NOOOOOO

DABI GET BACK HERE I JUST WANT TO TALK!!

oh thank god, she’s all right. BUT KAMUI ISN’T THOUGH DLKJSFLKSJDG??!

did Kamui Woods just... die

(ETA: okay but for real, is there an actual curse in effect on the Billboard Top Ten right now, though?? did one of them accidentally disturb the tomb of some ancient king??)

...

( ･ั﹏･ั)

oH MY GOD!?!

NOOOOOOO WHY ARE YOU SO QUICK TO SLEEP ON MAJESTIC, LET’S SEE IF THEY CAN DO IT!! GIVE US MAJESTIC GOD DAMMIT

(ETA: Horikoshi is seriously just yanking our chain at this point. when Majestic finally does show up, he or she better have the coolest fucking quirk of all time, that’s all I’m saying.)

okay how badly injured is Midnight here, though?? she just fell all that way?? DO I NEED TO BE REALLY MAD. I CAN WORK MY WAY UP TO IT PRETTY QUICKLY, JUST SAY THE WORD. I’M ALREADY HALFWAY THERE HONESTLY. WHERE’S KAMUI WOODS

!!!!!!!!!!!

AND JUST LIKE THAT MY ANGER EVAPORATES INTO THE NIGHT, YESSSSSSSSS!! MOMOOOOO

holy shit. “a quirk that can stop that thing,” she says. and goes and calls YAOYOROZU FUCKING MOMO y’all I am barely holding myself back from SCREAMING right now I...

you guys

you guys. if Midnight and Yaomomo team up to take down Gigantofuckingmachia using some sort of MOMO MADE A MACHINE TO SPREAD MIDNIGHT’S QUIRK strategy, or whatnot?? I will fucking die on the spot. you can end the manga right there. Kacchan you can keep your quirk I don’t even care

“IT MIGHT BE AGAINST THE LAW” lmaooooo insert John Mulaney “WE’RE WELL PAST THAT” gif here. holy shit. listen, that is fine. if anything it’s even better

WHAT THE FUCK

DO I NEED TO START GETTING REALLY MAD AGAIN!?!?! FUCKING WHIPLASH, IS WHAT THIS IS, BUT YOU JUST TELL ME WHAT SORT OF OVER-THE-TOP REACTION IS NEEDED HERE AND I’LL GO FOR IT

(((( ;°Д°))))

[GRABS HORIKOSHI BY THE COLLAR] listen, you. if you only just now, for the first time ever, gave us a lady hero actually mentoring another lady hero, which we have somehow NEVER HAD BEFORE in almost three hundred chapters, only for you to then KILL OFF THE MENTOR IN THE MIDDLE OF HER GODDAMN SPEECH TO THE MENTOREE, I will... there’s... I’ll... okay, listen. DON’T. THERE WILL BE A RECKONING. CAPSLOCK SUCH AS THIS WORLD HAS NEVER WITNESSED!!

ヽ(#ﾟДﾟ)ﾉ┌┛

I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO REACT TO ANYTHING IN THIS CHAPTER AND I’M LOSING MY MIND OVER IT

so the other kids are all “what the fuck” and “so Momo’s in charge??” which, YES!!! IT’S THE ONE GOOD PART ABOUT ALL THIS SO DON’T YOU DARE QUESTION IT

MOMO NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE CRIPPLED BY YOUR ANXIETY, YOU CAN DO THIS GIRL I BELIEVE IN YOU

hell, it’s not even just an “I believe in you” thing, because it’s not just belief, it’s fact. you motherfucking can do this, you are the most capable and brilliant student in 1-A, you just gotta have faith and let yourself shine!!

so now there are some more panels of Machia running and the villains and heroes fighting, blah blah blah. and Momo screwing up her face as she makes her decision...

YESSSSSSSSS

my baby girl is all grown up and TAKING THESE MOTHERFUCKIN REINS and MOMO I WILL LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU JUST SAY THE WORD!!

lol she’s all “Jirou use your ears and scientifically calculate how long it’ll take him to get here”, and Jirou is all “I can literally fucking see him, he’s gonna be on top of us in like two seconds” WELL OKAY THEN

thank god there are no adult pros left to fuck this up. is that weird that this is a real and honest and completely sincere thought that just ran through my head? like, at this point if any of the adults were around I’d just be afraid of them dying honestly. but with the kids I actually feel real hope that they’re somehow gonna do this. of course it helps that unlike the adults they’re pretty safe from being killed off

also! way to represent the entirety of class 1-B there Honenuki lulz. sorry, The Rest of Class 1-B

OH MY GOD

MT. LADY I WILL LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU AS WELL!! YOU HAVE MY LOVE AND FEALTY!!

I’M STANNING HER SO HARD I’M GONNA EXPLODE SOMEBODY HELP!?!

JIROU SAYS THAT MACHIA HAS SLOWED DOWN!! YOU GUYS I’M ABOUT TO GET “MT. LADY FOR PRESIDENT” TATTOOED ACROSS MY FOREHEAD

lmao at Shouji using his power of “putting some extra eyeballs on my arms” to inform everyone that Gigantomachia is Right Over There and Very Big

good job Shouji

oh my glob I have so much love for Momo right now that it can’t even fucking be contained. brb wildly flailing my hands around a little to try and release some of this excess excitement

maybe Momo can be president instead and Mt. Lady can be the vice president

NO THE CHAPTER IS ENDING I’M NOT READY

AND JUMP IS ON BREAK AGAIN NEXT WEEK TOO, FML!!

okay!!

Kaminari is so fucking brave right now I just want to crush him in a hug?! we know he’s still scared!! look at his eyes!! and he was freaking the hell out earlier too, and now the situation is much worse! but he doesn’t give a fuck because his friends need him! he is ready to be a hero, my little baby boy is all grown up and I’m so proud??

Mineta’s face in the bottom right corner is everything. I know, I know, boooo Mineta, but that’s still the best face anyone has made in the entirety of this manga

Tetsutetsu’s out here all “I humbly request to also represent class 1-B” and Momo is all “okay fine I guess we can have two of you guys”

can we all just stop for a moment to appreciate how KamiJirouMomo is alive and well. like, we had interactions between all three of them in this chapter, in all possible permutations? do you know how happy this makes me?? I am vibrating with joy??!

I really can’t stress this enough -- I have no clue at all what these little soda can things are (anesthetic, I guess??? you know, like how you sometimes buy cans of anesthetic at the supermarket?? what do you mean you don’t do that??), or what they’re gonna do with them. I have like negative clues. but DAMNED IF I GIVE ONE SINGLE FUCK. the next chapter can be them all fucking hurling them at his face for all I care. THE DETAILS OF HOW SHE KICKS HIS ASS DO NOT MATTER!! GOOD MORNING TO YAOMOMO AND YAOMOMO ONLY!! MY MOMO ACADEMIA

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thecasperanfamily · 3 years

Note

Can we get a sock monkey part two? Maybe taking place in the present?

(Link to Part One)

I am sooooo sorry about the delay on this one. First I had a solid week of ADHD Brain Doing Its Thing, then a dentist appointment, then my bedroom flooded, then a migraine...ANYWAYS I hope this was worth the wait!

~~~~~

They say that behind every great wizard, there is a great witch. Whether or not this was a universal truth or just a nice-sounding sentiment someone came up with to discourage squabbling between witches and wizards, Lin couldn’t be sure. But he did know that it was true in his father’s case, if nothing else. Hisirdoux Casperan was an immensely powerful wizard in his own right, capable of feats of magic unlike anything seen since the age of the great Merlin Ambrosius. But he was also what Lin’s mother liked to affectionately call “a mess. An absolute disaster. Gods, it’s a marvel you’ve survived this long.” To which Douxie would inevitably reply with, “The only marvel is you, my love.” And Lin would always immediately leave the room because he had no desire to witness whatever came after that. But Douxie did have a point, albeit one that felt a bit lost underneath all the sap and sentimentality. The fact of the matter was that Master Wizard Hisirdoux Casperan likely couldn’t be a Master Wizard without his wife. Archie could protect Douxie in battle, Nari could heal and encourage him, but Zoe was their last and strongest line of defense. Be it a desperate struggle against an ancient and horrifying monster or simply keeping the household running, when all others fell, she continued to stand, often pulling them back up and keeping them on their feet with her own strength. Douxie once said that he could face his own fears because he knew Zoe was standing fearless by his side.

In hindsight, he really should have chosen his words more carefully. Because when Lin handed his mother his oldest, most beloved toy from childhood and asked her to repair it, “fearless” certainly wasn’t what came to mind when beholding the look of intense discomfort on Zoe’s face as she eyed the offending object.

“...It looks normal to me,” she said stiffly.

“It....there’s a massive rip on her side?” Lin replied hesitantly. “That’s not supposed to be there. And Comet tore off one of her eyes, too.” The boy shifted awkwardly, still cradling the abomination in his hands, since Zoe had refused to touch it. “I-I mean, I know it’s stupid, but Georgina--uh, I mean, this old thing...it means a lot to me. Been with me for a long time, and all. I just--”

“Fine, fine, I’ll patch it up for you,” Zoe blurted, snatching the cursed thing from his hands. “Now go get ready for school. You’re running late as is.”

“...It’s Saturday,” Lin reminded her.

“Then go bother Archie or something. I can’t fix this thing if you’re breathing down my neck the whole time. Restorative magic requires concentration.”

“...I’ve seen you piece a broken mug back together in five seconds flat while also fighting the endgame boss of War Dudes 7.”

“Out, Lin.”

“Alright, alright!” He raised his hands placatingly and swept out of the kitchen, calling back over his shoulder “Thanks, Mom!”

The moment he was out of sight, Zoe pitched the sock monkey as hard as she could against the opposite wall. It landed on the counter with a sad little flop, looking no less abominable for its current state of disrepair.

“I hate you,” she told it quietly. “I know you know I do. I can see it in your one remaining eye. I’ve endured your mockery of me for the past seventeen years for Lin’s sake, but this...” She raked her fingers through her bangs furiously. “...Oh, get a grip, Zoe,” she muttered. “It’s just a stuffed animal. It’s only ever been a stuffed animal. It will never best me. I’m one of the greatest hedgewitches of my time. I am Zoe Casperan, I am she who remains when the masters have fallen, I am--”

“Introducing yourself to someone, are you?”

Douxie was very fortunate that he did not touch Zoe when he spoke up from behind her, because the pulse of electricity that surged through her veins would have certainly laid him flat on his back for at least a week. As it was, Zoe’s wand was pointed at his throat before he could so much as blink, a few angry pink sparks spitting from the end.

“Woah, woah, okay, nope, bad time for jokes, I got it! Take it easy, love.”

“Don’t do that!” Zoe hissed, stuffing her wand back into her belt as her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “I could have hurt you.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware,” Douxie replied, taking one of her hands and pressing an apologetic kiss to her knuckles. “I didn’t mean to startle you, I’m sorry.”

“Stop being sweet.” Zoe grumbled. “It’s distracting.”

“Distracting you from what, exactly?”

“Lin wants me to patch up that...thing that Barbara gave him all those years ago.” She flapped a hand at the sock monkey sprawled pathetically across the counter.

“I didn’t even realize he still had that,” Douxie remarked, taking in the damage with a critical eye. “Mm. She’s certainly seen better days.”

“I want it to see worse,” Zoe seethed. “...But Lin still loves it, gods only know why.”

“Bit of a moral conundrum, eh? Take your vengeance on your worst enemy and break our son’s heart, or grant her mercy for Lin’s sake.”

“This isn’t funny, Douxie.”

“It is, just a little bit.”

“You know I can’t stand even looking at that reject voodoo doll. How am I supposed to cast a restoration spell when all I want to do is douse this thing in gasoline and throw it on a bonfire?”

“Attempting a restoration spell with that mindset would likely end very badly,” Douxie agreed. “My feelings towards the lady in question are far less hostile. Perhaps I should take this one for you.”

“No! No, I-I...” Zoe sighed and ran a hand through her bangs yet again. “...I don’t want this thing to get the better of me. I’ve never backed down from a challenge before, and I definitely don’t want this to be my first time. Besides, you’re pretty sloppy when it comes to restoration magic. Lin will know right away who performed the spell just by looking at it, and I don’t want him to feel like I let him down.”

“With the utmost respect, Zoe,” Douxie replied hesitantly. “I think Lin would prefer a messy patch job over the many ways this spell could backfire if you’re the one performing it. You do understand that swallowing your pride isn’t the same as cowardice, right?”

“Pride or not, I will not let my son experience the shame of knowing his mother was defeated by an ugly stuffed animal,” Zoe countered. She stalked up to the counter and arranged the bedraggled sock monkey carefully, nose wrinkling in disgust as she ran her fingers over the material.

“Zoe, darling--” Douxie tried to protest again.

“Shush. I need to concentrate.”

“I really think you ought to let me--”

“I said shush, Douxie. I know I can do this.” She brandished her wand and, with a few quick motions, guided her aura to surround the sock monkey, which began to float a few inches off the counter. She pushed back against the wave of revulsion that crashed over her as her spirit made contact with the cursed object, and managed to spit the spell out through clenched teeth. “Refectio.”

The moment the spell was activated, Zoe knew she had made a mistake. The feeling of disgust she had tried so hard to stifle refused to detach from her aura. Her magic flowed out of her in a hot, angry rush, and the sock monkey writhed and contorted as though possessed.

“Zoe!” Douxie pulled her back from the counter, arms wrapping around her as his own aura flared defensively. The sock monkey gave one final shudder, then flopped back onto the counter.

“It’s fine!” Zoe insisted. “Look, see? It’s fixed.” Indeed, the sock monkey appeared to have been restored to mint condition. The rip had closed, the missing eye had returned from wherever Comet had hidden it, and the old stuffing had softened and puffed out again. “I told you I could do it.”

“That could have been a disaster, Zoe,” Douxie scolded.

“Any spell has the potential to be a disaster,” she argued. “But I had to try. And I feel so much better now that--”

The sock monkey twitched.

Douxie’s arms tightened around her, and Zoe instinctively brandished her wand again. The toy twitched again. Then it shuddered. Then it flopped over. And then, like a phantom from a nightmare, rose to its feet and slowly turned to face them, black button eyes cold and lifeless.

“...Okay, yeah, this is a disaster,” Zoe breathed. The sock monkey hovered in place for a moment longer.

Then suddenly, it was zooming across the kitchen. Douxie shoved Zoe to the side, but the vengeful toy didn’t seem to notice her at all. It gleefully slammed into the Master Wizard’s head and began wrapping itself around his face. He stumbled back and fell against the counter, sending a few dirty dishes crashing to the floor as he clawed at the soft little demon that was attempting to suffocate him.

“NO!” Zoe screeched, and before she could think twice, there was a blinding flash of bright pink light and the crackling snap of a thunderbolt. The sock monkey exploded into a cloud of stuffing and fibers that fluttered to the floor and dissolved into ash.

Zoe dropped to her knees, wand still outstretched in her trembling hand. Douxie leaned back against the counter, sucking in huge gulps of air.

“...Well,” he wheezed. “At least you finally got your revenge.”

“...No. Oh, no no no,” Zoe whimpered, dropping her wand and burying her face in her hands. “Oh gods, what have I... Lin is going to... Gods, Douxie I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” She emerged from her hands to see him giving her a thumbs-up and a sympathetic smile.

“The only damage done was emotional,” he assured her. “...At least where I’m concerned.” His gaze drifted across the floor, taking in the ashes scattered all over it. Silence hung between them for a few long minutes. “...What do we do now?”

“...Do you have your phone on you?” Zoe asked. Douxie nodded. “Give it here.” He pulled the item in question out of his pocket and tossed it over to her. She scrolled through his contacts list until she found the name she was looking for, then pressed call. Douxie pulled himself to his feet and began searching for a broom. There was a click on the other end of the line.

“Barbara Lake speaking.”

“Hey, Barbara? It’s Zoe. ...Yeah, I’m using Douxie’s phone. Long story short, we’ve had a bit of an accident and I need to know where you got Lin’s sock monkey from...”

*****

“Hey, Lin.” Lin looked up from his sketchbook to find his mother standing in his bedroom doorway. “Catch.” She tossed a familiar grey and white figure at him.

“Wow. She looks like new,” he observed, turning the sock monkey over in his hands. “...Very new.”

“Yeah. That’s...why it took me longer than usual to fix her. Take good care of her, alright? I don’t want to have to fix her again any time soon.”

“Yep. Thanks, Mom.” He watched her leave, then looked back down at the toy. “...Huh. I don’t remember you ever having these tags, Georgina...” The sock monkey smiled up at him benignly. “Weird.” He shrugged and sat the stuffed animal up on his desk before bending over his sketchbook once more.

Meanwhile, Zoe went to brew herself a very strong cup of herbal tea.

A very special thanks to @poetryinmotion-author and @rikalovesrice for helping me with this one, and to @dreamsarelikedragonflies for beta reading. ✨

#tales of arcadia #toa #the casperan family #douxie #toa zoe #zouxie #lin casperan #fic #niki answers

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enviedear · 4 years

Text

that damn american ᵒⁿᵉ

do you respect yourself?

DESCRIPTION ⌙ in which y/n l/n meets draco malfoy on the first night of the transfer. she decides she doesn’t enjoy him much after he asks her if she respects herself.

PAIRING ⌙ draco x fem!reader

WORD COUNT ⌙ 2k

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four

aaaa okay first chapter i’m so excited lets just jump right in :) you should note this a modern au without voldemort.

your first thought as you exited the hogwarts express was ‘holy shit, i’m literally a sea away from my mom right now’.

you genuinely couldn’t believe that, one, she agreed this and two, that you were here.

well, of course she agreed. so long as your brother, quinn came as well. that took a lot of convincing since he’s dead set on becoming a professional quadpot player. after the school confirmed that quadpot matches would also be held at hogwarts, he had no choice.

“i really gotta learn how to pack. this backpack is heavier than me, i’m killing my shoulders right now, y’all.” april fusses, thick southern accent dripping off her words.

“jesus christ, i can hear you complaining over my music. i didn’t sign up for conan gray featuring april everson.” sophie snides, turning the volume up.

april gives her an annoyed look and begins walking toward the carriages, you and sophie trailing after the tall girl.

“ah, are you the transfer students?” a scottish voice asks.

you look to your side and spot an older woman.

“yeah, well, some of them. i think the rest are still on the train getting their stuff.” you respond, thinking of your brother and the other remaining fifty something students.

“in that case, the three of you can go ahead and get into a carriage. but when you get to the castle, wait in the lobby please. i’ll be with you shortly.”

the three of you nod and hop onto an awaiting carriage.

“they’ve really got the whole ‘old wizarding school’ vibe down pat.” sophie says, staring at large castle.

“for real. ilvermorny seems so modern compared to this place.” you add.

“well girls, i think we should go in instead of waiting out here. i wanna see more!” april shouts, throwing her hands up at the castle and sprinting inside.

“last one in is a pukwudgie!” sophie laughs, running inside.

you roll your eyes and walk in, “sophie you are a pukwudgie.”

the ginger shrugs, “whatever. i didn’t come up with the phrase. but check out this decor.”

you look around the castle lobby and see the numerous amounts of stone statues and portraits of old wizards. it’s vastly different from ilvermorny. your school decorates its lobby and school with art from the students, quadpot trophies, famous wands, and banners of the graduated students. it’s much more, lived in.

“i like it but it’s kinda remindin’ me of narnia,” april smirks, “wonder if i’ll meet my very own peter pevensie.”

“i’d much rather meet my very own plate of dinner. even though dad said british people can’t cook.” sophie says.

“what if they don’t have pie! as the president of the ilvermorny pie fan club, i will cause a scene if i don’t get pie.” april jokes.

“april they eat beans on toast here. i think you’re going to have to ask your mom to send you pie.” you giggle.

the woman from earlier walks in, your fellow ilvermorny students following behind.

“ah, we’re all here,” she says, walking to the staircase in front of you. “my name is professor mcgonagall, head of gryffindor house. now, you’re all going to be sorted. the first years have just finished. and i must remind you that where ever you are sorted, you will remain. the point of this program is to have you meet new young wizards and learn about hogwarts. i understand that you had more leeway at ilvermorny choosing houses, but the sorting hat never makes a mistake. now, follow me.”

sophie whispers to you, “i heard that the house rivalries here are enemy like.”

at ilvermorny the only real rivalry is between your house, wampus, and april’s, thuderbird. but it’s more of a sibling rivalry, no actual bad blood.

you quite enjoyed the competitiveness of your house, which you shared with your brother. the both of you loved sport, just in two different ways. he was his best out playing quadpot while you enjoyed cheering him on with the wampus cheer team.

entering the dining hall is a wild experience. the hogwarts students are looking at all of you with a mix of impressed and curious faces. when you all reach the end of the hall mcgonagall lifts a hat from a stool and calls out a name, “taylor allen.”

you watch the horned serpent get sorted straight into ravenclaw and clap along with everyone else. the names continue on until april is called.

she smiles up on the stool and awaits the sorting hat’s decision. after a full minute the hat shouts, “SLYTHERIN!”

april looks surprised but her smile doesn’t fade as she sits down at the slytherin table.

next is your brother who seems to be basking in female attention more than the experience of the new school. you can’t blame him though, he seems to gain fans where ever he goes.

the hat barely touches his head before again, shouting, “SLYTHERIN!”

you furrow your eyebrows at this. you didn’t expect the both of them to end up in the same house, and it leaves you worried that you might be left in a house all alone.

after more names are called, most of them going into hufflepuff or gryffindor, you hear your name.

“y/n l/n.” mcgonagall says.

you make your way to the stool, ready to hear what the hat has to say. the moment it touches your head it begins speaking, scaring you only slightly.

‘ah, competitive like your brother and a will to succeed like your friend. you could do good in hufflepuff, you’re loyal to your core. or maybe gryffindor with that daring attitude. you’re just too complicated for that though. i know, better be, “SLYTHERIN!”

there is no way.

you slowly walk to april and quinn, who look equally as suprised.

“now, y/n, i know we’re friends but i don’t think we’re too much alike to be getting sorted into the same house,” she looks at quinn. “you said they based this off your personality, didn’t ya?”

your brother scratches his neck, “well yeah, that’s what i thought.”

“well whatever, at least we get to be together!” you smile.

“yeah but what about sophie? it would be a bummer if she doesn’t-” april is interrupted by mcgonagall calling, “sophie yates.”

you give april a worried look and she returns it.

sophie however looks utterly content with the tattered hat upon her ginger head. she’s got an amused smirk on her face, and throws the both of you a wink.

“SLYTHERIN!” the hat bellows.

sophie rushes toward the table and sits beside quinn who has a bemused look on his face.

“how in the world did we get so lucky?” you laugh, grinning at your friends.

quinn sighs, “how in the world did i get so unlucky. i’ve got three snitches around me at all times now. it was bad enough being in wampus with just y/n.”

april rolls her eyes, “quinn no one is going to snitch on you. unless you pull another stunt like you did in fourth year.”

“i’ve told you like ten times! i didn’t mean to give you the damn puking potion.” he groans.

“you shouldn’t have been trying to give it to anyone. you’re lucky i only told mom. if headmistress wilma would have found out you would’ve been straight off the quadpot team.” you point.

your conversation is interrupted by a deep voice. in the front of the room behind a podium, stands an absolutely ancient man. headmaster dumbledore.

“i’m so happy to welcome our first years and our ilvermorny exchange students. i know you’ve all been waiting to eat so i’ll make this short. this is the beginning of a new school year, and i can’t wait to see what it has in store. now,” the man raises his arms, “let us eat.”

dinner was good. but nothing like an ilvermorny dinner. there were no burgers, quesadillas, pie, or salmon. you were going to miss all the diverse food back home, but the slytherin common room sure made up for any complaints.

the room was dark and brooding, but it somewhat reminded you of the wampus common room. instead of the windows showing a jungle, the habitat of the wampus cat, the slytherin common room is underwater.

“dude this is baller.” quinn say to his friend and fellow teammate, sebastian.

sebastian grins, “i can’t wait to take pictures down here. i bet i could make a dope album cover.”

sophie laughs, “yeah so long as you actually finish a song.”

the boy makes a face at her before walking toward the boys’ dorm with quinn.

“having them both here is going to kill me.” you say, eyes narrowed as you watch them walk up the stairs.

“oh who cares! whatever trouble they make is on them. enjoy your year y/n.” sophie says, sitting down on the green couch.

you nod and take a seat on the rug, facing her and april. by now, it’s only the three of you in the common room, everyone else flooding to the dorms.

“speaking of enjoying things, i made us all a new playlist on the train ride.” sophie smiles, pulling out her phone.

“if you put any weird shit on it like you did the last one i’m going to kill ya. there was no reason to add ‘i beat my dick today’ to a playlist with lorde on it. it was disgraceful.” april teases

you laugh and grab the phone out of sophie’s hand. you look at the playlist titled, ‘the time they went to hogwarts’, and notice it has only one song on it.

“there’s only one song soph.” you state, confused.

“exactly,” she says snatching the phone back. “we’re going to add the rest over the course of the year. i want it to tell a story.”

“what’s the first song?” april questions.

“doin’ time by lana. because it’s still summer, we have to represent ilvermorny, and the song hits.” sophie says, drawing out the last word.

“well, go ahead and play it. we might as well break in the new common room with april’s shit dancing.” you joke, sticking your to tongue out at her.

she flips you off as sophie starts the song.

the three of you dance around the common room and sing off key, aside from sophie, who has had plenty of practice in the thunderbird choir.

you’re leaning on a desk, ‘seductively’ swaying your ass against april as sophie records the two of you, when you hear a throat being cleared.

april and you spin around, making eye contact with a tall platinum blond.

“what in merlin’s name are you doing?” the boy sneers.

you chuckle, “dancing. why? do british people not dance?”

“of course we dance. but usually we respect ourselves while doing so,” he looks at sophie who’s still recording. “and what is that? how did you get music to come out of it?”

april’s eye bulge, “you mean the phone. honey, i knew y’all weren’t a fan of muggles but you have to be lying about not knowing what a phone is.”

the boy still looks both confused and irritated.

“and what was that little comment about respecting yourselves? are you trying to suggest something?” you say, eyes cold.

“i’m merely asking if you respect yourself. i’ve never met a decent woman who dances like that.” he snides.

“you’re a dick.” you say, simply.

“and you seem to be a bint.” he huffs,

you furrow your brows, “what the fuck is a bint?”

sophie calls from behind her phone, “i’m guessing whore from context clues.”

the boy smirks and grabs a book from the coffee table, “i’m draco. draco malfoy, and if you’d like to not be called a bint i suggest you refrain from grinding against other people in a public area.”

“well, draco malfoy, you’re a little fuck and i could care less what you call me. suck my dick.” you smile sarcastically.

you hear sophie mutter a faint, ‘worldstar’, which causes april to break out in a fit of laughter.

the boy makes one last disgusted look at the three of you before walking up the stairs.

you turn to your friends, beaming, “looks like we’ve already made a friend.”

#—myfics !#draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x y/n #harry potter #draco x you #draco malfoy series #draco malfoy x slytherin #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x american! reader #draco x ilvernmorny! reader #draco x poc! reader #draco x black!reader

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i-love-side-characters · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Sophie Foster/Biana Vacker Characters: Sophie Foster (Keeper of the Lost Cities), Fitz Vacker, Biana Vacker, Alden Vacker, Grady Ruewen, Tiergan (Keeper of the Lost Cities), Other KOTLC Characters Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Human, Blood and Violence, ahem- gae Summary:

“Older men declare war. But it is youth that must fight and die.”

― Herbert Hoover

Tag List: I might be missing some of you, I’m sorry!

@bronte-deserves-better @councillor-bronte-is-best-boy @cadence-talle @an-absolute-travesty @bookwyrminspiration @keefeinnit @mallowmeltz @ultralazycreatorfan @everyonehasthoughts @mistythegenderqueermess @imaramennoodle @rainbowtay-11 @we-need-more-empathy @catboyruy@we-wont-dissapear @we-have-no-bananas-today @loverofallthingssmart @a-lonely-tatertot @never-ever-too-many-fandoms @enbies-and-felonies @xonar-verse @beautifuldaysahead @jadenightthewriter @alabestrine @sunlight-in-a-bottle @illavarasi @completekeefitztrash

Other:

This is really important to me because my “friend” really messed me up, and I really was considering not writing anymore so thank you guys <3333

This is chapter 3!

Read under the cut as well!

It was far too easy to slip out of the castle.

My feet thudded against the ground as I flew over the damp cobblestones. It had stopped raining, mercifully, but it was still dark. Perfect for a very illegal meeting.

I pulled my hood low over my head, peering out at the empty courtyard. Wind rustled the trees bordering the stone square. Water rushed in the fountain basin, the only noise in the quiet. I crept along the edge of the courtyard and slipped through the shadowed greenery.

“Who are you looking for?”

I spun around, drawing my dagger. It was hard to keep a straight face as the boy smiled at me as his periwinkle eyes glowed in the dark. It was an unconscious move, our hands twisting into a handshake perfected over years of our friendship.

He laughed quietly, punching my arm. “How are you?”

“Good.” It wasn’t a lie. “You?”

“Alright, I guess.” His eyes darkened slightly. “Rex didn’t make it.”

I couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped my throat. Rex, sweet Rex, was dead. Another body on the king’s head. I glared back at the castle, my hands shaking. “I’m so sorry, Dex.”

He shook his head. “You’re good. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It wasn’t, Miss Foster.” I hadn’t even noticed the tall man under the willow tree. He stepped out, his dark blue eyes filled with sorrow. I bit my lip, shaking my head. “You’re wrong, Leto. If I’d―”

“You can’t change the past, Sophie.” His voice was soft and caring. He patted my shoulder, looking up at the tall spires of the castle. “So?”

Metallic blood filled my mouth, my teeth cutting a tear in my lip. “Everything’s going fine. I can kill that so-called ‘king’ anytime, General. Just give me the word.”

“Not yet.” He sighed, leaning back against the tree. “Tiergan― that is, King Tiergan to you― doesn’t want you making any moves against Eternalia. And certainly not King Alden. It’s not the time.”

I could feel my blood boiling. He had killed so many of us, and our king wanted to spare him? “You― the king― sent me here, to Eternalia, to kill King Alden, and how he doesn’t want me to? Doesn’t he see what pain Eternalia has caused us? What they’ve done?” I spat out my words, each word coated in venomous rage.

Leto’s lips twitched into a smile, a rare sight for the old general. “You mistake Tiergan’s motives, Miss Foster. He wants you to wait, because he has a plan. However, it’s not time to act yet. Which means that you need to stay put and keep your head. I can already see you losing your cool. Control yourself.”

I glared at him, turning to Dex instead, his expression telling me that this was the first he’d heard of the change on plans as well. “You’re okay with this?”

“Absolutely not.”

The words were surprisingly comforting, but I still wasn’t satisfied. “Why do we need to wait? I can finish this.”

“Because the king said so.” Leto replied calmly.

My jaw tightened.

Dex frowned slightly, kicking at the loose earth. “I think we should listen to him, Sophie. If anyone knows what they’re doing, it’s King Tiergan.”

“But―” I started, then bit down on my tongue. Dex was right. So was Leto, which I found rather hard to admit since I’ve been doing my best to annoy the stately general ever since the day he chose Dex and I to be his apprentices.

“So?” I sighed, turning back to him. “What does Tiergan have in mind?”

“King Tiergan, Miss Foster.” His dark eyes twinkled softly in the dark. “And he has a very interesting plan. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Winnowing Ball?”

I frowned and nodded. I had heard about it, actually. From what I’d caught from snippets of conversations, the ball was an annual event in Eternalia. The highest of highborns attend, with King Alden himself present. Basically every snobby person in the kingdom comes to compete on how high they could stick their noses in the air.

“That’s when we’ll attack.”

I blinked. “What?”

“That’s when we’ll― or you, I suppose― will kill the king. And others. Hopefully.” Leto repeated slowly.

“But that’s… so simple.” Dex stammered slightly.

“Simple plans are often the best.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, tapping my foot against the cobbles. Shadows shifted around the courtyard, clouds obscuring the bright glow of the moon. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll wait until the ball.”

Wind rustled the bushes as Leto stared around the shadowy courtyard. “We should leave. I’ll send you more instructions soon.” He gaze fell onto me. “Remember, Miss Foster. We see. We listen. We hear. We serve the king. We are the King’s Blade.”

I shivered slightly, nodding. Dex offered me a slim grin as he pulled me into a tight hug. “See you soon, Soph.”

“Yeah.”

I was vaguely aware of watching their silhouettes slip through the streets, vaguely aware of running back to the castle and stealing back through the servants hall. Moonlight paled the deep red carpets and cast gorgeous coloured lights through the stained-glass windows.

I hurried through the hall, my footsteps dulled against the carpets. My breath came out ragged as I skipped up the stairs, light on my feet. I frowned. Every hall looked the same. I frowned again and, and went right.

“Your Majesty?”

King Alden looked haggard, dark circles around his eyes. Behind him the old wooden doors to the king’s rooms where slammed shut, small rays of light shining from under the door. Fitz looked just like his father, his own sleepless circles darker than the king’s.

The king scowled slightly, looking me over. “What are you doing awake, little girl?”

I pursed my lips and dipped into a bow. He didn’t even remember me. I was just another servant to him. I gritted my teeth and straightened. “I was feeling a little under the weather, Your Majesty. I just slipped out for a breath of fresh air.”

The king nodded, his gaze gliding over me. He seemed distracted, almost. I shot a look at Fitz, who shook his head and held out his arm. “I’ll escort you back to your chambers, Miss.”

He nodded again and ran a hand down his face, watching as his son pulled me out of sight.

“Fitz, what’s―”

He shook his head, dragging me down the hall. Cool wind hit my face as he pulled me outside, around the courtyard, behind the castle. Green vines were draped all over the ancient marble statues, flowers and ferns shooting out of cracks in the ivory stone.

“Where are we?”

“Royal Gardens.”

I glanced at him, taking in his rumpled tunic and red face. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s― Nothing.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that.”

He bit his lip, looking back at the tall spires of the castle, the same way Leto had looked at them earlier that night. His eyes were filled with tears, dripping down his cheeks and onto his shirt. “My mom― The queen―”

I raised my eyebrow. I knew the Queen, if only from her brief meeting with my own king. “What about her?”

“She― She’s dying.”

“What?”

“In battle. The Battle of Oblivionmyre. She was stabbed―” His eyes sparkled with tears.

I remembered that battle. I didn’t fight, but I remember the cheers that echoed around the palace that night. But he couldn’t know that. He was his father’s son, and his father was a monster, and his father was the one who hurt my people. “What happen?”

Almost as if a switch had been flipped, the tears were gone from the young prince’s eyes. They blazed with anger, his fists clenched, knuckles white. “Them. It was them. King Tiergan’s soldiers. They did that to her. They’re monsters, and murders.”

Blood pounded through my head. “What?”

“They’re monsters.” He spat, glaring around the garden. “That’s all there is to it.”

I opened my mouth and closed it again. “I― I have to go.”

“No wait― Sorry.” Fitz ran a hand down his face, sitting on the marble ruins. “I just get so angry. They’ve hurt my kingdom so much. I hate it. I wish this war would just end.”

“Same.” My words were a whisper, gently carrying on the wind.

Fitz smiled sadly, kicking around the pale stone debris. “And if this war doesn’t end soon then... I suppose,” He swallowed hard. “I’ll be king. And then, well I don’t know.”

He stared up towards the twinkling sky, sighing deeply. His eyes were pricked with tears again. “I don’t know whether she’ll survive.” He whispered. “But I don’t what I can do except end this war.”

We both watched the stars shimmer brightly against the dark night sky, the wind ruffling in our hair. After a few minutes, a creak of a door echoed through the night, accompanied by the soft sound of feet on grass.

It took me a second to recognize the general from the day before, he was out of armour and wringing his hands as he held out his arm for the prince. “Your Highness, your father asked me to come get you. It’s late.” He smiled at me, if only a little sadly.

Fitz nodded and pulled himself to his feet. “Thank you General Ruwen. I’m so―”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He assured him quietly. He dipped his head to me and gestured towards the castle. “If I could escort you back, Miss?”

I shook my head, gazing at Fitz. “I think I’ll stay out her a little while longer.”

Both men dipped their heads into polite bows, walking back to the shadowy palace. I watched them leave, brushing the dirt off my dress.

I thought the prince was different.

I thought that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be as blind as the rest of his people.

My eyes narrowed as I watched soft candlelight go out in the castle windows.

Oh well.

Like father, like son.

#my ao3 #my writing #all is fair in love and war #sophiana #sophiana fic #kotlc

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dorizardthewizard · 3 years

Text

The Revival of Akillian: Chapter 11

Prologue / Chapter 10 / Chapter 12

11. SNOW KIDS VERSUS WAMBAS

Located on the edge of the marsh, the Jungle Stadium seems quite primitive from a distance: all in wood, poles and bamboo, covered with large hanging plants, crossed by a walkway formed from vines and flexible rods, accessible only by bridges of vines. Its technical tower, which supports the press and trainer pods, also made of wood, is adorned with a waterfall around which several plants flourish; curious decoration... but make no mistake: like all stadiums in the Galaxy, it is equipped by Technoid: synthetic memory turf filled with sensors, electromagnetic barriers, communication pods, referee terminals at high speeds, impact memory nets, exclusion pods, flying stretchers, giant holographic screens and so on…

In the dressing rooms, rustic but air-conditioned (a very attentive consideration from the Wambas for their guests, who have come from the cold), where a spherical screen suspended from a long bamboo pole shimmers, Aarch’s disconcerted team observe Thran, who is writhing in pain on the bench, hands on his stomach.

- Poor Thran, you really didn’t look at what was on your plate! - notes Micro-Ice.

- Please, don’t remind me… - Thran moans, pale and sweating.

- You have to be really stupid to eat that dirt! - criticizes Sinedd contemptuously.

- They invite us to eat, so we eat, it’s normal! - D’jok retorts. - It’s called politeness. Another thing you know nothing about!

- Tasting it was polite... oh... (Thran grimaces, doubled over) On the other hand, taking more was not a great idea!

- No way! How many times did you eat it?

He painfully raises three fingers.

- Well done, Thran! – scolds Rocket from the middle of the locker room. - You all heard Aarch: we absolutely have to win this match. And for that, we will need everyone!

- You think you can tell me what to do, new guy? - Sinedd barks. - Who do you think you are?

- Let it go, Sinedd! - warns D’jok.

- Thank you but it’s okay, I can defend myself. - assures Rocket.

He glares at Sinedd as if to say, “One more word and I’ll clobber you”, when Ahito wakes up with a start.

- I’ve got it! The Snow Kids!

They all stare at him, confused.

- What, weren’t you looking for a name for the team?

- Yeah, about two days ago! - Micro-Ice smirks. - You’re pretty quick on the uptake, Ahito!

- Yeah, the Snow Kids… I think it sounds good. You take Akillian… the snow, the sports… you put it together… you get the Snow Kids!

- Yeah… - muses D’jok. - It’s not bad at all. So who’s for?

All arms go up - even Thran, who manages to let go of his stomach. Only Sinedd does not participate in the vote.

- Me too, - says Aarch, who had just entered the locker room with Clamp.

- That’s fine with me, - approves the latter.

- You really like it? - Ahito is surprised, happy to have had a good idea.

- Yes, but a name alone is not enough. You also need...

-… beautiful brand-new football kits! - Clamp completes, his arms loaded with said jerseys.

- Oooh! Wow! Awesome!

He puts them on the table, and everyone rushes in to unfold their jerseys. They are blue and white, with two purple stripes on the arms, and the back is decorated with a large white number in a red circle. The same number is printed on the chest, but smaller, at the level of the heart.

- Awesome! – exclaims Ahito excitedly. - These are the same outfits that our players wore in Akillian’s heyday, can you imagine?

- It really does something to you… - sighs Micro-Ice, moved.

D’jok is quick to take off his T-shirt and put on the jersey.

- With this, we’re a real team now: the Snow Kids!

- That, we’ll judge on the pitch. - tempers Aarch.

While the Snow Kids rave about their outfits, Clamp, with a multi-function remote control, activates the spherical screen that displays a 3D football field.

- Alright! These will be your positions. - says Aarch. - Ahito in goal, Thran and Mei in defense, Tia and Rocket in midfield. Finally, the two strikers will be D’jok and Sinedd.

As he indicates each position, miniature figures of the mentioned players appear on the field.

- But what about me, sir? - asks Micro-Ice.

- You will be a substitute.

Sinedd laughs. Aarch turns to him.

- Something wrong, Sinedd?

- Ah! Uh, rhm… no no, nothing at all. Just something stuck in my throat… rh-rhm!

- But sir, I’m feeling on fire today, I swear! - Micro-Ice pleads. - Let me in and I’ll score three goals for you, minimum!

- Listen, Micro-Ice, being part of a team also means respecting the manager’s decisions. So, don’t argue!

- Yes, sir… - sighs Micro-Ice, lowering his head.

His disappointment is painful to see: for a moment, Mei could almost take pity on him.

***

On the pitch and under the burning sun, the waterfall which tumbles down from the top of the technical tower reveals all its usefulness: misted by a judicious ventilation system, it disperses a refreshing spray over the stadium, which prevents players - especially foreigners - from being overcome by the heat before the end of the first half. Another delicate consideration from the Wambas… with its large masts and canvas canopies, the entire stadium evokes a huge sailboat stranded in the middle of the jungle. A puzzling image, reinforced by the standard Technoid equipment: very incongruous in this natural setting, fixed among the wooden constructions using vines and ropes.

- Are you okay? - D’jok asks Thran, as the Snow Kids move to their respective positions.

- Yes, I feel better… hey! They are even more impressive in their outfits!

Team Wamba has just arrived on the pitch. With their large eyes, pointed ears, hands and feet with three clawed fingers, and slender body with fine and powerful musculature, they evoke the elves of ancient legends. Expressing fair play, they greet their young opponents with a small wave of the hand before taking their positions.

- Focus, kick off in a minute! – announces Aarch, leaning over his control screen in the pod reserved for him, where Clamp and Micro-Ice have also taken their places. The latter sulks, sitting on the floor in a corner. He doesn’t even want to see the game: he no longer cares. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1… 0, ticks the countdown on the monitors.

The ball bursts up from the centre, applauded by the crowd, composed mainly of Wambas. D’jok leaps up, but he is no match for Wouwambou, who starts out using the Roar. Haloed with golden sparks, he retrieves the ball in the air - his clawed foot grips it like a hand -, falls back smoothly on the field and whizzes past Tia and Rocket with a series of hyper-fast twirls.

Commenting on this game is Callie Mystic - she seems to have decided to follow the Snow Kids until the end of their journey:

- Let’s go! This is the first friendly game for Akillian’s new team, the Snow Kids. Immediate recovery of the ball by the Wambas, who lead their first offensive. Wouwambou directly evades Tia and Rocket thanks to his flux! He passes to Lun-Zaera who shoots - a shot blocked by a save from Ahito, the young Snow Kids goalkeeper, who immediately throws the ball to his brother Thran. Thran manages to dribble past two Wamba players and passes to Sinedd, Sinedd passes forward to Rocket, but it’s intercepted by the Wambas, who are on the attack!

Rocket, looking for Tia, does not see Lun-Zaera appear in front of him, shrouded in golden flames. He hesitates for a tenth of a second - enough for the fastest player in the Galaxy to steal the ball from him and storm the goal defended by Ahito, who this time has little time to sleep. Lun-Zaera comes across Mei on her way, who practically sticks to her and, with a skillful tackle, manages to deflect her shot: the ball ricochets against the upper bar of the goal. So much the better, because Ahito didn’t see it coming! His brother catches the ball on the fly, kicking it forward. The ball is picked up by a Wamba player perched on the technical bridge: an unconventional but authorized position, as long as his flux has allowed him to leap that far.

- What a game! - marvels Callie, who sees everything from multiple angles in the media pod. – This is far from a simple friendly match. The Wambas are not holding back, they’re imposing their rhythm in this game!

In a superb triple somersault, the Wamba sends the ball to the feet of a teammate marked by Rocket, who passes back to Lun-Zaera, who once again finds Mei in her way, managing to steal the ball from her this time. She passes to Sinedd, who takes advantage of a gap to attempt a forward breakaway, followed by an unmarked D’jok. Very quickly, Sinedd is stopped by two Wamba defenders, but instead of passing to D’jok, tries to dribble past them. He succeeds, only to be immediately tackled by a third who falls from the sky, taking the ball from him with a pirouette.

- What an idiot! – shouts D’jok, raising his arms to the sky.

- Oh dear, what’s going on? Sinedd seems to be refusing to collaborate with D’jok! – comments Callie. - Aarch will have to work on good cohesion in his team! Sinedd loses the ball, the Wambas quickly move up the field towards the opposing goal...

By a succession of highly acrobatic passes, the ball once again reaches the feet of Lun-Zaera, who whirls and shoots - once again, Ahito doesn’t see it coming: the ball is already in the net while he is still leaping.

- Goal!!! - Callie Mystic yells. - Taking advantage of a clumsy initiative from Sinedd, the Wambas have just scored the first goal!

Thunderous ovation from the crowd in the stands, who applaud as much this beautiful attack of their team as the heroic resistance of the young Akillians. In the pod, on the other hand, Aarch is not celebrating at all:

- What the hell are you waiting for? - he yells into his microphone. – Get the ball to Tia!

Each player, with an earpiece, receives the message loud and clear. Right off the throw, Rocket manages to snatch the ball away from an opponent and pass it to Tia on the other end of the field, in a beautiful, arced shot that draws a hum of admiration from the receiving player. Beset by Wouwambou, Tia has no other way out than to pass to Sinedd, who once again attempts a solo breakthrough. A Wamba tackles him, he dodges him with a jump and continues his charge, concentrated, ignoring his teammates - D’jok especially - who nevertheless signal to him. Good players, or wanting to give their goalkeeper a little work, the Wambas let him run...

- Sinedd is in possession of the ball again! - Callie comments. - He manages alone in front of the opposing goal, he shoots… what a masterful save by Bounzoff, the Wamba goalkeeper!

Despite his stoutness, he performs an acrobatic rear wheel kick in front of the net, magnified by a golden fire. The ball goes back to the middle of the field, miraculously intercepted by D’jok who immediately shoots - another save by Bounzoff, in an elegant somersault. Sinedd snatches the ball and shoots again - this time Bounzoff stops it with a hand. Spinning the ball on the tip of his big finger, he shakes a finger at the two breathless and crestfallen Snow Kids attackers.

- Bounzoff is certainly obstinate, - remarks Callie. - He has decided that today the ball will not go into his goal!

- What kind of play is that? - yells Aarch in front of his screen. – Are you playing football, or pinball?

The Wambas decide that this little interlude is over: from a very tight pass from Bounzoff to Wouwambou, they set out again. D’jok and Sinedd quickly retreat to the rescue of their defenders - overwhelmed by the dazzling attack of Wouwambou and Lun-Zaera, who exchange the ball at a remarkable speed, wiping out Tia and Rocket on the spot and confusing poor Thran, who does not know where to step. Sinedd then resorts to his treacherous blow which has done well on Micro-Ice: he dives forward and strikes the calf of Lun-Zaera, who flies into the air and falls on the lawn. Curiously, the terminal referees did not see the fault - perhaps they are rusty from the constant humidity... Wouwambou, who has already recovered the ball, performs a perilous leap over the Snow Kids defenders - the ball goes crashing into the net. Ahito didn’t have time to make the slightest movement to stop him.

- Gooooooal!!! - yells Callie Mystic. - Despite that foul from Sinedd that I thought I saw, but which the Wambas ignored!

- Sinedd, playing like this won’t get you anywhere! - Aarch shouts, pounding his fist on the table. - This goes for the rest of you too. Push forward, damn it!

- We could make a substitution, - suggests Clamp.

- Oh yeah, great idea! - Micro-Ice stands up.

- No, - Aarch refuses. - I want them to find their feet with this setup.

- Still, it was a good idea… - grumbles Micro-Ice, who sits down in his corner.

The match resumes. Rocket takes advantage of having recovered the ball (he does not quite know how) to pass to Tia while shouting at her:

- Go ahead, Tia! Try your luck!

She takes to the ball at her feet... the more she runs, the more she feels this fabulous energy invade her, electrify her, overflow in blue waves. Suddenly, the Wambas seem slower to her: she avoids one, jumps over a second who has attempted a slow tackle, then passes back to Rocket who, immediately after receiving the ball, shoots it back in a beautiful, twisted angle.

- What’s happening? - cries Callie in awe. - Tia seems to be using the Breath of Akillian, it’s incredible! As you can see, dear holo-spectators, it is indeed the Breath that was believed to have disappeared!

Two Wambas try to retrieve the ball in mid-flight, but Tia takes off in a column of blue lightning, followed by Wouwambou all in golden flames, who gazes at her in admiration - the Breath! She has the Breath! - then falls back, letting her shoot... again, Tia, who is nothing but crackling energy, feels her foot swinging off like a powerful pendulum, hitting the ball which shoots towards the Wambas’ goal. This time it is Bounzoff who isn’t fast enough: despite his lightning reflexes, the ball sinks into the net in a splendid shot.

- It’s a gooooal!!! – exclaims Callie Mystic. - The first goal of the young Snow Kids against the skillful Wambas, thanks to a fantastic shot from Tia boosted by the Breath of Akillian! What a feeling, dear holo-spectators!

Delirium in the stands: the audience cheers this goal as if it were their favorite team that had scored it. So are the Wambas...

The Snow Kids jump around, clapping each other on the shoulder and hugging each other. Rocket would love to kiss Tia but he doesn’t dare, and just hugs her briefly - she pulls away immediately. Only Mei and Sinedd do not share the general enthusiasm: both are jealous - for different reasons.

- Woah!! - Micro-Ice also jumps to his feet, after seeing the nice slow-motion action on Clamp’s monitor.

- There! This is exactly how you should be playing! – Aarch finally rejoices.

- The Snow Kids are back in the match, revived at 2-1 after a spectacular goal from Tia, their young prodigy! - declares Callie Mystic.

To resume play, Rocket decides on his own to place Tia as the third attacker. Receiving no comment from Aarch in his earpiece, he assumes that decision is correct. Tia therefore finds herself facing Wouwambou, who looks at her strangely. He is in the grip of a painful internal conflict: on the one hand, a new respect for this player who masters her flux so well, on the other this “contract” with Artegor Nexus, which he must honor... he closes his eyes and clenches his fists. He would like to be a thousand miles from here, still sick on Akillian... and to never have met Artegor Nexus.

The ball shoots up from the center and the match resumes. Very fast, very physical, very acrobatic: this time the Wambas are no longer laughing, they know that they have at least one challenging opponent ahead of them.

- Tia has already recovered the ball and is moving up the field at high speed, she dodges all her Wamba opponents, it’s incredible! - Callie exclaims in wonder.

In fact, this battle comes down rather to a duel between Tia and Rocket on the one hand, Wouwambou and Lun-Zaera on the other, the rest of the players being reduced to the role of extras. Using the Breath sparingly but with unmatched precision, Tia intercepts balls from her adversaries and controls those sent to her by Rocket, who, even if he does not have the Breath, has precision in his shots down to the millimeter. Callie Mystic notices:

- Tia seems unstoppable! Thanks to a one-two with Rocket who returns the ball to her with pinpoint accuracy, she reaches the Wamba penalty area. She is caught by Wouwambou who rushes towards her, also boosted by the Roar…

As Tia takes off for her famous cannon shot, Wouwambou also tears himself off the ground… he hits Tia on the fly, at full power, at full speed. The shock of the two bodies “doped” by their respective fluxes is equivalent, on scale, to an airplane crash in the air. Both crash to the ground, devastated.

- Foul!!! - shouts Callie Mystic. – An unfathomable foul from Wouwambou, captain of the Wambas, renowned for his fair play! What happened to him?

Wouwambou, more solid and muscular than Tia, is just stunned and gets up quickly. Tia, she remains unconscious...

The two teams come running, alarmed. Rocket exchanges a look with Lun-Zaera, from which he reads a reflection of his own dismay. Angrily, D’jok approaches Wouwambou, but is blocked off by Bounzoff who snaps at his confused captain:

- What’s going on?! What’s the matter with you?

- I… I think I had trouble controlling my strength. I am sorry…

The Wambas do not know how to lie, and there is some truth to Wouwambou’s words: this is not how he intended to eliminate Tia; he just wanted to stop her relentless attack, so the Wambas wouldn’t be ridiculed by this newbie kid. He hadn’t thought Tia’s Breath was so powerful, hadn’t calculated that within him the Roar was at its peak, swollen with anguish over his dilemma. Indeed, he didn’t consider any of this... it was unquestionably a foul. A serious foul.

Resigned, he lets himself be taken by the exclusion pod, which will suspend him for five minutes ten meters above the ground. Through its glowing walls, he watches the flying stretcher carry Tia into the locker room... in any case, he feels he has accomplished his mission, to be even with Artegor Nexus. He wishes with all his heart that Tia, this little prodigy, will recover quickly from her injury...

The gong (a real gong, struck by a lavender-dressed servant) strikes half-time, which is timely. The entire Snow Kids team is in the locker room around Tia, still unconscious. Rocket leans over her and strokes her hair...

- Stand back! – orders Clamp. – Give her some space!

D’jok paces up and down, his anger still with him since Bounzoff had prevented him from telling Wouwambou exactly what he thought of him.

- Seriously, I can’t believe it! Such a serious foul in a friendly match, I find that disgraceful, right, sir?!

- Right now, D’jok, our main challenge is to find a way to heal Tia. Without her, the Snow Kids are no more, you understand?

- Don’t worry, I’ll get her back on her feet. - intervenes Dame Simbai, who appears at the locker room door. She walks over to Tia, carrying a bag of herbs and potions over her shoulder. - Dealing with a shock between fluxes is kind of my specialty, isn’t it, Aarch?

- Simbai, you are a blessing. - he smiles, reassured.

#galactik football #the revival of akillian #lets just keep pretending the white haired guy is wouwambou #hmm mei taking pity on micro-ice? i wonder if the author will do anything more with this sinedd-mei-mice thing

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disorganizedkitten · 3 years

Text

Surprise reminder I am not in fact dead. Happy whatever. I’m brainspewing a bunch of aus, mostly DC/batfam and Harry Potter atm and wanted to share some of my favorite moments from the HP planning sessions. These are... sort of from the same story? It’s evolved enough that I could split it into multiple stories based off which update/version it’s from.

Welcome to my Regulus Black Survives and ends up Raising Harry au that eventually melted into a very fun Twin Au that I hope I finish.

Harry: I CAN DESTROY HORCRUXES BY BLEEDING ON THEM

Reg also sends him with a communication mirror because it's been four or five years, he's not going to be so callous as to deny he loves his kid.

So they, being 12 and dumb, end up going in after her/him.

Upon seeing Riddle leave the diary, Harry and Theo, who were raised by a Black and a Nott respectively, freaked. Theo didn't know what it was for sure, but could tell it was Bad, and Harry saw 75.9% sure it was a horcrux because really. What else can a person materialize out of?

Riddle proceeds to monologue about how he hadn't expected this, Slytherins and Gryffindors working together? And aren't you a Nott? I wonder how your forefathers would feel. Etc. While Harry and Theo dodge the curses and continue to try to destroy the diary.

"How can you be so powerful if you were defeated by a baby?!"

The Basilisk ends up trying to listen to both of them, and then Connor tries to help, and Riddle tries to kill Harry w/ Ukri and Connor tries to take Riddle down, and Theo is darting around and tripping Ukri and Riddle up, while Ron has given up on his wand and is trying to wrestle Riddle, which leaves Harry again to take the diary.

When Sirius breaks out, Harry makes a lot of comments about just… cutting off his left arm. After all, no dark mark, no loyalty to the cause. Crippled, even if he was a loyal follower before. This is also his first elective year, which means that Reg sends him an old prosthetic to unravel for Ancient Runes. Draco screams when Harry gets an arm in the mail.

Also Theo gets kidnapped by Sirius summer of 95 after he runs away to escape becoming a baby Death Eater. It's in broad daylight and causes so much panic

("I was wondering what that unholy shriek was" "a horcrux dying,")

This leads to all sorts of hijinks because due to it being accidental, young, and without due process or practice, Fay is essentially an inferi. Except she still has a soul. It's weird. The necromancy-gone-sideways means that they're bonded.

Neville Longbottom and the Suspicious Letters - the Godbrother letters begin!!

“I thought my brother was supposed to be raising you.” “I can go?” “Absolutely not, someone has to keep you alive.”

Regulus is a panicked box of nerves who accidentally acquired a child who should by all rights be his brother’s, and now he has to keep him

Harry grew up around Reg who has Very Dangerous Magic™ all over the house, and has the time of his life watching things blow up

“Harry you’re going to singlehandedly give me grey hairs”

“Honestly if it wouldn’t get more attention than I need I’d just kidnap you, they’re such horrid guardians. And I’m a Black, so that’s saying something!

(The Black Family Madness isn't inherited, it's learnt)

Adrian is a mortician because I really liked the idea of a murder basement except no one has ever actually died in the basement.

Fay Dunbar vs the natural order

Neville Longbottom and the wallflower society

Charlie and Ginny Weasley are Parselmouths bc it makes me happy

Happy Hogwarts day, Harry! Or should it be Happy Hogwarts Hour, Harry? Since you like alliteration? (I clearly remember Mass-Machete-Murderer). I’m sad there’s no chance of running into you in diagon today, but hey! Hogwarts is coming soon! And then we can hang out whenever, right? Well, maybe not whenever. I guess we’d have to attend classes and make more friends. But otherwise! No more sneaking around! Unless you're a Slytherin. Then there might be some sneaking. But not as much! (Have we talked about that yet? I’m pretty sure I’m a shoe-in for Gryffindor, but… yeah. If you’re not, that’s completely okay!) (^letter between Harry and the Other Potter Twin(tm) )

Hey, Harry. Mum just learned you’re a wizard (forgot to ask how, sorry, I’m sure she’ll tell you later) and has decided you need to come live in the wizarding world with us. I didn’t tell her anything. You and your Axe-bear uncle need to figure something out and fast. I’ll see what stalling I can do. XX, your lovely brother. (On the upside, we get 2 c e/o b4 Spt1!) (^Another actual letter from version 2-3 of this au)

"You know," Theo says to Conner at one point. "It's a bit like Harry was raised by a Black." Conner shrugs. "He was raised by an ex-death eater with one arm. Close enough." Theo does research and pretty much just figures that whenever Harry says he was raised by a dead man, he means legally. Theo puts his money on Regulus Black early on.

Theo’s a very smart cookie

Harry also writes letters to Regulus using a constantly changing code which is really just pop culture references.

We have a bunch of parselmouths this generation. See: Charlie Weasley, Ginerva Weasley. Henry Potter/Peverell. Connor Potter. Fay Dunbar/Black. (Also, Theo Nott, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, and a few others learn it for the sake of keeping up with them). Bry is… one of those groups.

Bryony becomes a Basilisk Breeder

There are five prophecy children bc I can

‘Tuney rushed out “He's not here." No duh, Connor thought but didn’t say. He hoped the adults had a plan for this, because if Harry and Connor had to come up with stories on their own (lie to their parents) there was no way it would end well. Three years of letters and visits and Connor still didn’t have a name for Harry’s adult figure. He wondered morbidly if that was going to change today.’

‘Connor decided with a new thread of despair that yep, the adults were going to be lying to each other for the foreseeable future. Ugh.‘

‘When Reg catches Barty, the only one who does, neither of them attack. "Why, Barty?" "What else can I do?" "Join us?" "That won't be safe. Won't be fair. I'm trying to send one of those boys to their death." "You're also helping keep them alive. Let me get you out." Barty switches allegiances that night. The moment he has a choice.’

There are a lot of people who are willing to step away from Voldemort but don’t know how. They got in over their heads decades ago and now they’re stuck.

That doesn’t mean they’ll sit around and watch their kids make the same mistakes.

#Aus #planning #jaymeow writes #Hp aus #Harry Potter #Chaos and Children #This au is also known as the one where half the cast is dead but everything is good anyways

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zikadraws · 4 years

Text

Okay here we go !

Because it's not right to just shadowdrop a character and say nothing else about him, ladies and gentlemen (and in-betweens), I present to you :

💣Pépé Boutefeu💣

(Sorry about the T-posing lol-)

So his name is Aurel Diggar ! ...Officially. For the reputation he built himself, everyone refers to him as Pépé Boutefeu (it's French, but literally more or less 'Gramps Firebrand').

He's a ghost miner from the Great Gold Rushes who's been digging for gold like the crazy he is through the entire underground since centuries. Never found any gold but grew unhealthily obsessed with finding some, so persevered against all evidence. I'm imagining him to be LM4 boss ghost material, and oooh Luigi sure would have a hell of a time with him, trust me...=v='''

General information :

He's batshit crazy (but I mean really), absolutely feral, paranoid and aggressive/hostile over both mortals and spirits

Swears all the time

Hates everyone

'So Goddamn Pissed Off™' is his default emotion

To go faster in his mining, he uses many explosives, which gave him his nickname and he also made them his fighting style. He can more or less 'summon' them out of nowhere now, and can light them using the threads of his beard, which flame up like dynamite sticks when he's pissed (by that I mean, almost ALL the time)

So many fcking explosions

Will kill you on sight because he automatically assumes you're here for his 'gold' and he's so damn impulsive

Everyone assume it's empty threats when he says he killed someone

He's not joking when he says he killed someone

No seriously stay away from him 'cause he'd totally do that again

May or may not have an entire pit floored with helmets (and yes these are not HIS)

Has this kind of habit (now decide if it's because he's old or because he's crazy) :

Don't know how to take care of himself. Didn't sleep since 1915

He's been digging so much that because of him there's actually (unknowingly to the common of mortals) a HUGE tunnel maze deep under the ground and not only in the Evershade Valley. It's even relying the Mushroom Kingdom to other lands sometimes far away. Tunnels roamed with ghosts who either use them to pass incognito from mortals eyes, even at daytime (without his agreement tho) or are unfortunate ancient mortals who committed the mistake of coming too close for Boutefeu's liking.

Since he's only interested in finding gold, there are many various other precious metals, gemstones, jewels and victims's money scattered all over his tunnels

He's perfectly aware that he has no use for gold nowadays, but he's actually today more obsessed in FINDING gold. So he perseveres.

Don't let your kids around him. Unless you want to see them come back knowing several new curse words (AT BEST)

Don't know what a meme is but damn is he one-

ShIt he sPOTTED YOU RUN FOR YOUR FUCKING LIFE-

More at 11 ^v^ (but all I got for now)

I should probably tell you about his living backstory at some point as well... There's a reason he's crazy, after all. :/ I'll be setting an ask especially for him and the other ghostsona to come for that. So yeah now he's open to questions. Go nuts if you want :)

Alrighty, thank you for your interest and hope you like him 🤗

---

Fun fact I had his concept idea upon seeing the first fanarts of Clem, when I didn't know about him yet... Dunno why, but I was persuaded Clem worked in a mine at first 😅

(No comment, have this^^')

See y'all 🎵

#lm3 #ghostsona #luigi mansion 3 #Pépé Boutefeu 💣#long post #feral gremlin

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foramomentonly · 4 years

Note

So... #75 for the meet ugly prompts? I’m thinking that maybe Alex occasionally calls Maria if he wakes up in the middle of the night given her late hours as a bar owner, but this time he accidentally dials a wrong number (Michael’s) instead.

Author’s Note: This is a heavier one, but hopeful.Thank you, @aewriting for giving me the chance to love on Maria and Alex!

CW: PTSD, nightmares

Prompt: I’m an insomniac who calls my best friend at 3am except I misdial on my landline and I tell you all about my nightmare before letting you talk and now I’m mortified but you don’t hang up Alex wakes with a shout, trembling so hard his teeth knock together, and he reaches instinctively for his cordless receiver. He doesn't keep his cell phone in the bedroom; he has enough trouble sleeping as it is. Barely glancing at the numbers as he dials, he concentrates instead on breathing in deep through his nose for a five count and exhaling loudly through his mouth for seven, an old breathing exercise courtesy of his very first counselor at the VA. It's going on 3:30 a.m., but he knows Maria will still be awake, probably just now getting home from closing The Pony. Even if she was in bed by 10p.m., though, Alex knows she'd want him to call.

Maria is home to Alex, always has been. He'd touched her body, kissed her soft lips when they were 15 years old, and even though it hadn't set fire to his fingertips the way everyone said it was meant to, holding her had felt a lot like love, like the only right thing to do. Her friendship had given him comfort when his house was his own personal hell, had fortified him while he learned to embrace his own desires, and had given him a safe space to return to when he followed his battle-ready heart into literal war.

Now he's home for good—back in Roswell and back to daily contact with someone who sustains him not out of obligation, but unwavering affection. And while war couldn’t possibly have damaged him more thoroughly than his childhood already had, it had offered an opportunity for detachment and disassociation. Now, safe in his warm bed, Alex is dreaming again. Dreams that drop him right back in the eyes of the worst hurricanes of his life, that force him to relive hurts and reopen wounds he thought he’d licked clean years ago. It feels like ancient scar tissue burst open, raw and bleeding again like new. And after every nightmare he reaches out, grips his phone like the lifeline it is and calls Maria, let’s her soothing voice and her slow, even breathing over the line ground him.

Alex hears the line connect and doesn’t wait for a greeting.

“I-it’s me,” he whispers. “I had another one. A bad one. I-I was in the shed and he was there, but he l-looked, he didn’t look like—” Alex pauses, takes a wet, ragged breath. “He was just a shadow, just air, but he was everywhere, in my lungs, I couldn’t breathe, I—fuck.”

He falls silent, listening to the deliberately slow, even breaths on the other end of the line and matching his to them, absently wondering why Maria’s breathing sounds deeper than usual. Was she climbing the stairs to her apartment? When he’s finally taking steady breaths on his own he sighs, and a deep, quiet voice asks, “That better?”

The voice is absolutely not Maria’s.

“Uh,” Alex stutters, “i-is Maria Deluca there?”

The voice on the other end of the line sounds amused, but kind as it answers, “Don’t think so, unless I’m much drunker than I think I am.”

Just the mention of a drink makes Alex’s skin tingle; he longs for the harsh burn of whiskey down the back of his throat, for the numb haze of a solid buzz to cloud his mind and chase away the clarity of his nightmare’s lasting visions. This is why he doesn’t keep alcohol in the house.

“Shit, sorry,” the voice says in a rush. “You’d probably kill for a drink right about now.”

“Who is this?” Alex asks.

“Michael,” the voice replies. “Michael Guerin. I work over at Sanders Auto?”

Alex knows the name and the man; he’s at The Pony often enough to be considered a regular, but behaves too well to be labeled a drunk. He’s a tall, rugged cowboy type with long legs in well-fitting denim, kind hazel eyes, tan skin, and golden curls. Distantly, Alex remembers Maria might have dated him for a few months a couple years back.

“Right,” he replies, slipping deeper into humiliation with every passing second. “And what number is this?”

Michael rattles off seven digits and, yup, that’s two switched digits away from Maria’s phone number.

“Shit,” he mutters. “I’m so sorry I woke you.”

“It’s okay, Alex,” Michael says, and Alex stiffens. “I was up.”

“How—”

“Caller ID,” Michael explains, sounding pleasantly apologetic. “This is my cell.”

“Of course it is,” Alex breathes, shaking his head.

“And, uh, not for nothing, but I’d know your voice anywhere,” Michael admits. “It’s sexy as hell.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex spits, “I call you by mistake basically having a panic attack and you’re hitting on me?”

“Yeah?” Michael freely, shamelessly admits. “I mean, I’ve seen you at The Pony, but it’s not exactly safe to cruise there. You calling me in the middle of the night needing to be grounded kinda feels like the best shot I’m gonna get.”

“How did you know how to do that?” Alex asks, thinking of the research and guides Maria has bookmarked on her laptop for these very instances.

“Personal experience,” Michael says. “In the form of shitty foster placements and years of therapy.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex replies softly.

“I’m just glad you called my wrong number,” Michael says, and his tone is tender, sincere.

“Me, too,” Alex breathes.

“So, next time I see you at The Pony,” Michael begins, a hesitant smile in his voice, “I should buy you a drink?”

Alex rolls his eyes, but he bites his lip and calls up a memory of Michael leaning against the bartop at The Pony, body long and lean, denim hugging his toned ass.

“Yeah,” he says before he can stop himself. “You should.”

“Okay,” Michael agrees, his tone satisfied, almost chipper despite the ungodly hour.

“And, hey,” he adds, voice sobering, “if Maria doesn’t pick up one night, you’ve got my number now.”

“I do.”

“Don’t be afraid to use it.”

Alex laughs a little self-consciously.

“I’d say I’m not afraid of anything, but you know that’s not true.”

“I do,” Michael replies, “and I think you’re brave.”

Alex sighs, but a small smile tugs at his lips.

And I think you’re a little crazy,” he says. “But thanks.”

“Anytime,” Michael replies. “Like, literally.”

“Night, Michael.”

“Good morning, Alex.”

#malex #malex fic #aewriting #alex manes #michael guerin #meet ugly prompts #rnm #rnm fic #maria deluca is a good friend #cw: ptsd #cw: nightmares

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gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

Text

Jim’s Best Friend

Chapter Nineteen - Mambo No. 5

Word Count: 3694

Author’s Note: Quite glad that the last chapter was short, because these next chapters are longgg. There’s a whole big flashback sequence here, which I haven’t really done before, so hopefully you guys like it. Yeah, Chapter Twenty will be coming soon, I want to get it perfect, so expect two-three days from now.

WARNING: none.

For previous chapters click here.

September, 2007.

It rained the day Pam was assigned to Dundie Duty.

Her required job one day a year had come round once more as Michael prepared for a final Dundies before he left for New York's corporate building, the man so confident the position was his that he was arranging to sell his condo despite the staff warning him to do otherwise. Still, Pam quite enjoyed Dundie Duty, getting paid overtime to make sure notes were taken and all the videos watched. She was tracking recipients of past awards, musical numbers Michael had performed, any sections of the tapes that received more applause than the normal. Her boss was desperate to outdo himself every year, and had even managed to agree that the Dundies would once again be part of the office's budget before he and Jan broke up.

As Pam stood up from the conference room's comfiest chair to switch tapes, a knocking caught her attention, walking over to open the door and smile up at Jim, who had coffees in hand. She took a cup from him and beckoned him into the conference room as she pushed in the next tape. Jim needed the break, needed a bit of fun amidst the boredom of his work. With Karen out on a sales call with Dwight, he had absolutely no one to talk to or torment, and spending time with Pam was a fine alternative.

He had been dialling down the time they spent together, they both had, though not for a lack of friendship. It just... It felt weird without Y/N there, it felt wrong to make memories without her. From day one of his job, Y/N had been by his side to help him, guide him through the office despite being younger than him, and she had done the same for Pam. And without her, the office felt empty, like the sunshine had disappeared and replaced by gloom and rain showers. Everybody in the office was a little off about the whole thing, they had been for a while. Even Dwight was missing her in spite of the reveal that no-one in the office was working against or for the CIA.

Pam took a seat beside Jim, both turning their attention to the television as Pam pressed play. The picture was black to begin with, with loud chatter coming out of the speakers. A moment later, Michael's face appeared on the tv, seemingly handing over the office camcorder as a certain song began to blare over the din.

"Toby, Toby, you have to record this." Michael pleaded, and Toby panned the camera to show Scranton's one and only semi-decent nightclub, Chases, only the footage depicted the club from at least five years ago. Toby said something that made Michael, looking a lot younger, laugh as he ran out onto the dancefloor, joined by a young woman, the pair taking centre stage.

"Wait, is this really?" Jim asked, moving closer to the screen to be sure. Pam nodded fast in his peripheral, a bright smile on her face as the song began, Michael and Y/N beginning to perform along to the Lou Bega hit, Mambo No. 5.

September, 2002.

Jim really wasn't expecting to be invited to the office party that night, and a part of him begged for his brain to make up an excuse, any excuse, to get out of the dreaded situation. He wasn't planning to stick around this office for much longer, the last thing he needed was attachments to more people before he got out. But, Michael had insisted, as had Dwight, Pam and Y/N. So as the clock hit 5 that night, he helped set out chairs in the conference room for some sort of team building exercise called 'The Dundies'.

Michael, Dwight and Y/N had refused to tell either him or Pam about it, and Jim couldn't deny that the vague answers and whispers had him intrigued about the whole thing. He had only been in the office for a few months, yes, but by the way the team around him spoke of The Dundies, it was an ancient ritual or something, and he should be honoured to attend.

"If you keep flexing those muscles Halpert, Michael will move you down to the warehouse." A voice spoke up from the doorway, and Jim turned from placing down a table to see Y/N leaning against the door frame, a smirk on her lips as she teased him. Jim looked down at his arms and laughed a little, fixing the last few chairs into place. The rest of the office was finishing up, and it seemed that Y/N was the first.

She had been the first face he saw on his first day, the pair becoming desk buddies with Dwight. And what Michael gave too much of in bravado and lack of personal boundaries, Y/N had cancelled out with friendly tips and pranks on Dwight to calm Jim's nerves. She ran him through the phone extensions, the computer systems, helped him settle in with the rest of the employees at Dunder Mifflin. When Pam came in a few weeks later, she had repeated the process, and the three had become quite close in the past few months of working alongside one another. Y/N had even showed them how to get free candy out of the new vending machine in the breakroom.

"Y/L/N, you know we need a strongman in the office." Jim posed, making his colleague giggle. The pair were remarkably close for the short span of time they had known one another, finding that someone to confide in, someone to be friendly with both out and inside the Scranton Business Park buildings.

"We've got Stanley." Y/N quipped back, and Jim held a hand over his heart, feigning hurt. She sent a wink his way, turning with a flip of her hair and skipping back out onto the main floor, encouraging everyone into the conference room, where free food and booze were waiting. Jim had to move out the way as Stanley, Kevin and Meredith all rushed in, and he found himself a seat with Pam and Y/N in the front while the rest of the Dunder Mifflin team filed in.

"Is it ok that I'm scared?" Pam asked him in a whisper, letting out anervous laugh. Jim smiled back, taking a second to admire the receptionist's beauty before answering.

"I think if you weren't, there'd be a problem." Jim responded, the pair sharing a grin. He looked back, seeing a few of the warehouse team. and frowning a little. "I thought Roy would be here..." He commented, and Pam sighed, shrugging a little. The pair had been dating for a while, before Jim knew her, but Roy was yet to make an appearance at any work event Michael had hosted. The look on Pam's face told him not to bring it up again, and he gave her hand a squeeze. "You, me and Y/N. We'll do something fun after this." He suggested, glancing to Y/N for confirmation. Y/N nodded quickly, taking Pam's other hand in a show of support.

"Chases, we'll head over in a hour, get some early evening drinks." Y/N suggested, her coworkers nodding.

"Ladies and gentlemen!!" A voice boomed from outside the conference room door, the lights going off and causing Stanley to grumble at not seeing his crossword. Dwight walked in first, flashlight in hand that he shone on Michael, who entered with a strut, dressed in a magician's cape. "Welcome to the fifth Annual Dundie Awards!" He announced, and Y/N began cheering, trying her best to boost the atmosphere of the room. The rest of the team gave in, beginning a round of applause that Michael bowed to.

"Let us begin with our history..." Michael stopped, looking to Dwight with wide eyes. Dwight muttered to himself quickly, running behind the boss to turn back on the overhead lights, then scooting back to his position by the office's only laptop, already set up with a powerpoint presentation Pam was made to work on. Michael sighed as Dwight scurried, tapping his foot impatiently before continuing. "I started the Dundies in '97, my first year as Assistant Regional Manager of the Scranton Branch of Dunder Mifflin as a thank you to all you folk. And now, the Dundies are truly a historic event in Scranton!" Michael ended the brief history with a holler, and Y/N whooped. Jim watched her leave her chair for the back of the room where snacks and drinks were, coming back with thre red solo cups. Jim took two from her, handing the second to Pam, the three cheers-ing as Michael continued to ramble.

"Drink up..." Y/N encouraged, taking a gulp of her own and shivering. "Makes it all much more fun." She assured, and Jim shrugged, following her lead. He brought the cup to his lips, taking a swig and coughing hard as he swallowed, his throat on fire. It sent Y/N and Pam into a small fit of laughter, and Jim did his best to hide his embarassment.

"So, our first award goes to the Number Cruncher... Oscar!" Michael held up a miniature plastic trophy, Jim realising he had seen a few similar scattered around Michael's office and the main floor. He had thought it was just a vanity thing. Dwight tapped the computer, Oscar's name and award appearing on the screen behind Michael. Oscar came up, taking his award with a smile and nod before disappearing to the back of the room.

The night continued on, and only after Creed's confession that his using the women's bathroom wasn't a mistake, making his 'Most Embarassing Moment' award redundant, Michael placed the last three awards on the table.

"Now, the past few months we have been blessed with the presence of three new employees in the office, sort of. So, to start of with, the old new girl, Y/N." Michael gestured to Y/N, who laughed along, taking another sip from her solo cup. "For you, we have the Hangover Cure Award. Because no matter how many nights a week you go out, you always seem to be completely fine the next morning..." Michael handed Y/N the award, who stood up and pretended to wave the adoring crowd, getting a few laughs from the team.

"I just..." She looked at the plastic in her hand and pretended to wipe a tear away. " I want to thank my body. For, first, processing alcohol fast enough to avoid a hangover, and second, for getting me the dates that lead to aforementioned alcohol consumption in the first place." Her false sincerety made Jim laugh loudly, and he gave her leg a nudge with his own as she sat down.

"You've jinxed it now... Hangovers will haunt you from now on..." Jim teased, and she rolled her eyes playfully, resting her head on his shoulder and Michael moved on to Pam's award.

"For our new receptionist, Pamela, Pam Pam, we have the Hottest in the Office Award, mixed with the Doodler Award. Accept it with grace, and preferably with cleavage on show." Michael announced, a few audible sighs coming from the crowd as Pam stood and accepted her award with a quick smile.

"And finally, Slim-Jim... James Halpert, you receive the award of the Jim Halpert Award." Michael handed over the award, Jim raising a hand as the team let out a small round of applause. "For being, for just being you, Jim." Michael said with a dazed look in his eyes, and Y/N smiled up at the red cheeked Jim.

The team began getting ready to go, heading back out to their desks to collect bags and the like, Y/N taking a few extra moments to perfectly place her Dundie on her desk. Jim walked over to Pam's desk, pulling on his jacket and taking Y/N's off the hanger for her.

"You guys looking forward to Chases?" Jim asked a little too loudly, and Y/N hushed him as he spoke, but the damage was done. Michael appeared out of thin air, and waved his arms frantically to get the attention of the office.

"What did you say about Chases? We're going to Chases? Ok, people! Mandatory trip to Chases, drinking is on the company tab." Michael announced. "If you don't come you will lose out on any sort of Christmas bonus!" He added, giving no one a choice but to join the three barely legal newbies for a night of boozing.

As Jim walked over to Chases from the office, the bar just across the road, he wondered how bizarre the sight must have seemed. The age range of the shuffling employees ranged from 21 to 50 plus, a mass moving along the sidewalk towards the flashing lights of Chases. He and Pam shared a look, wondering how this night might end up turning out, but their worries were dismissed upon seeing the smile on Y/N's face.

The idea of the entire office coming on a night out appealed to her despite her initial protests. These people she worked with her more than friends, and she was sure it could be a fun night if everyone gave in to the situation.

After a few questionable looks from the bouncers, the team made their way inside and settled down a a few booths and tables in a corner of the club, Michael ordering a round for the team of shots and alcoholic beverages of choice.

"Everyone is going to enjoy tonight. That's an order." He called out, but it wasn't like anyone would speak up against the man buying them drinks. Jim found himself seated with Pam and Y/N, Angela and Dwight across from them, and Michael parading between their table and where Phyllis sat with Kevin, Oscar, Creed and Meredith. As drinks were sat down, Y/N raised her shot into the centre of the table, prompting the others to follow suit.

"Come on Angela! One night of fun is the least you could allow yourself." Y/N pleaded when Angela refused her drinks. "Even Dwight is joining in." She urged, looking over to Dwight for help. The man nodded and smiled as wide as he could at Angela.

"... One drink couldn't hurt..." The blonde said slowly, lifting the shot glass and drinking with the rest of you.

Twenty minutes later, the girls had left for the dance floor, Angela actually having fun for the first time since Jim had known her. To his left, Dwight sat with a fruity cocktail in his hand, watching Pam, Angela and Y/N dance on the club floor before them.

"She's pretty..." Dwight muttered, and Jim couldn't help but follow his eyeline. There was Pam her head thrown back from a joke Y/N had made as they bounced along to the music. She was stunning, and Jim took another drink of his own cocktail, sighing with a goofy smile on his face.

"Yeah, she is." He responded, the pair clinking glasses and watching the commotion of their employees. The customer service girls were chatting with Phyllis and Meredith, sharing a pitcher of Sex on the Beach at one of the booths, Michael going round and filming everything he could. Toby stood with Oscar and Kevin, all drinking beers and quietly mumbling in a far corner, Creed had disappeared, and Stanley was sat nearby, doing his crossword.

It took a few moments for the DJ to switch the songs, but when he did, Jim watch Michael force the camcorder into Toby's hands, yelling at him to catch 'it'. Jim recognised the song, sure, it was Mambo No. 5, but he couldn't quite understand why Michael and Y/N were looking eyes, squealing like girls at a boyband concert, and rushing into the centre of the dancefloor as the opening beats began. Jim excused himself from Dwight's side, heading over to Phyllis as he finished his drink.

"What... What's going on?" Jim asked over the pulsing beat, and Phyllis laughed, Michael and Y/N beginning some sort of energetic dance routine. It looked like something he would watch on dancing with the stars, a jive step kick thing and lots of shimmy-ing.

"The pair went to a dance class last year... The can't hear this song and not dance." PHyllis chuckled, taking a sip of her martini and cheering the pair on, prompting those surrounding her to do the same. The floor cleared for the pair to perform, sliding their way around the room, pretending to drive a car. When the lyrics came around, calling out, coincidentally, the names of the girls in the office, Angela, Pamela, Sandra and Rita were all beckoned onto the dance floor by Y/N, who seemed to take lead as the music continued.

She was electric, and Jim felt a stupid grin tug on his lips as she began pulling more and more of the team onto the floor for the second verse, taking a position with Michael in front of almost all of the rest of their team, the pair leading the through the next section.

"Jump up and down, and move it all around, shake your head to the sound and put your hands on the ground." Lou Bega's voice hollered, Jim now stood alone watching the events unfold. He never really danced, but by the wink Y/N sent him, and the continuous eye contact as she salsa stepped in a circle with Michael, he knew it was only a matter of seconds. As the second chorus began, she rushed over to him, taking his drink and setting it on the table behind him.

"I don't dance, Y/L/N." Jim began to protest, reluctantly being led onto the dance floor, much to the joy of his fellow employees.

"You dance with me." Y/N replied, Toby circling around the as the pair fell into hold, beginning a bouncy two step , Jim's hand holding Y/N close to his body. He spun her under his arm, the pair joining by the hands next, Y/N leading his movements with her body. He did his best to keep up, encouraged by the cheers from the girls nearby and Michael.

"I do all to fall in love with a girl like you." Jim and Y/N sang along with the final lyrics of the song, Y/N catching Jim off guard and spinning him under her arm. His head caught, the pair crashing to the floor in laughter as the song ended.

It was a moment of complete joy, for everyone involved, and for a second Jim hoped he could be frozen in time.

"Wow..." A voice interrupted Jim and Pam's viewing, Michael having slipped into the room unnoticed at some point. "I looked so young... We all did it's..." He chuckled to himself, Pam removing the video tape and holding it to her chest, wanting to keep in contact with the fond memories just a few moments longer.

"The night that inspired Dwight's and your recorder cover the next year." Pam said with a giggle, sharing a look with Michael that made Jim frown. He had missed something they both saw.

"What?" Jim asked, taking a final sip of his coffee, grimacing at the lukewarm fluid in his mouth before swallowng. Pam looked over at him, trying to figure out if he was kidding or not, before rolling her eyes.

"You really didn't see it? The way she was looking at you, the way you were looking at her. I don't think I've seen you dance like that since, Halpert." Pam was straight to the point, and Jim felt his cheeks flushing. "It's pretty clear why she decided to kiss you in April."

"We're friends, Pam... We've always been just friends." Jim tried to defend himself, and Michael scoffed.

"You're delusional Jim, and you know it." Michael muttered, though neither he nor Pam would say the truth outright, Jim being with Karen and all. But the three of them knew the unspoken reality of the situation:

Jim had been in love with Y/N for years, and her him.

And now, she was Lord knows where and uncontactable. Pam had been trying to get a response for weeks, but Y/N's phone had been switched off, every call going to voicemail, every message going undelivered.

Jim sat there, elbows on knees, he and his colleagues all looking out at the desk Y/N had sat at, still empty. Michael had refused to hire anyone else, and the seat had become a sort of shrine. When Dwight had tried to steal Y/N's old chair because his own had begun squeaking, Michael had caught him red handed and demanded he pay penance for his crime: Dwight had been washing Michael's clothes for a month.

"So, are you both ready for the interviews next week?" Pam asked, changing the subject as she gathered up the tapes and tidied the away, the clock nearing lunchtime. The men drew their gaze away from Y/N's desk and back to Pam, Michael being the first to speak.

"Yes ma'am... Leaving early Friday morning." Michael nodded as he spoke, giving Jim one last look before leaving, a sigh escaping his lips as he headed back to his office. The kid had no idea, and it was probably too late to fix it now.

The two friends stood in silence, Pam moving the watched videos over to the table. She stopped for a second, running her fingers over the casing backs, a sad smile on her lips.

"You know, when you leave for New York... That'll be it." She spoke up, and Jim looked up at her, his expression asking for an explanation. "It's just, you'll be in New York... And if everything goes well, I'll be up in Albany with the design team by Christmas... Scranton will be a memory." The words were sad to say, but someone had to say them. They had to move on, once more, to better things. And be happy for each other about it.

"It wasn't meant to end like this..." He said, finally voicing his own opinion, and Pam shrugs. What could they do? She left the room quietly, heading towards the kitchen to pick up her lunch, and leaving Jim to think everything over properly.

Because, when all was said and done, the finale followed.

Tags: @imsuperawkward @poppirocks @rosie2801 @onceuponahuntersrealm @aziggya @suitelifeofafangirl

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jenoptimist · 4 years

Text

prompt:

Person A: “Why exactly is an ancient vampire following you around like a lost puppy.”

Person B: “....It’s a long story.”

—

It was Donghyuk’s fault that you were in this mess, you mused as you stared at your surroundings in the evil lair you were currently being kept in. It was somewhere near a body of water of course, because duh kelpie, and you were deep inside a cave that was full of moisture, moss and weird insects. The ground that you sat on was wet, cold and just overall uncomfortable especially because your wrists and ankles were bound with worn out, itchy rope. If Donghyuk hadn’t messed with that stupid kelpie (of all things a kelpie) you wouldn’t have been kidnapped. But oh no. Donghyuk just had to antagonize the guy didn’t he and because of that, you were his lunch.

Inwardly you cursed him, hoping he got a papercut in the near future.

You shifted your gaze from the wall to the to the figure laying awkwardly on your left. The brunet stranger looked extremely, in kinder words, worse for wear; sunken cheeks, skin paler than any you’ve ever seen combined with a willowy looking body. If this was your enemy’s first meal, no wonder he had grabbed you because the guy was barely a snack. There was no way the fiend would be satisfied. The other kidnapee was there before you and hadn’t made a move since you had arrived. In fact if you hadn’t inspected him for as long as you had, you definitely caught the micromovements of his chest as he breathed, then you would have presumed that he was already dead. Fortunately for you, he wasn’t.

The coven was probably working on tracking you but they sure were taking their sweet time and you were getting impatient–it had gotten just a bit darker and you hadn’t seen the kelpie since he threw you in the damn cave. A sigh that echoed loudly escaped your lips as you folded your legs so that they came up to your chest and slid your bound arms over them.

The kelpie was clearly a dumbass for not tying your arms behind your back. What, was he a newbie at kidnapping? Had he not watched any movies for references or something? Although you were thankful that for his rookie mistake because your toes were expertly working on the rope. There was something to be said about the kelpie’s skill when you could undo his work in under twenty minutes but you supposed that also meant that you were too used to being kidnapped.

Tossing the rope aside, you quickly undid the binding on your ankles and finally, finally, you could stand up and stretch.

With one last stretch, you made to leave. That was until you caught sight of the other victim through your peripheral vision. You glanced towards the dim light, just about able to make the shape of the entrance, and decided that if the kelpie were to burst in mid-escape that at least you would have died doing a good deed. Walking up to the stranger, you harshly poked his leg repeatedly. No dice. Your mouth twisted into a frown but you quickly undid the rope around his wrists and ankles. You tried waking him up again but nothing worked. Left with no other option, you grabbed one of his arms and pulled him up. It concerned you how easy it was but you made sure that you had a tight grip on him as you started making your way to the exit.

Getting back to your apartment was no easy feat; the extra weight meant that it took you double, or maybe even triple, the amount of time to walk back to your destination. Any other person would bring the unconscious man to a hospital but you thought it was best to avoid it since you didn’t want to answer any questions that they would have, especially considering that you didn’t even know him. Besides, Taeyong and Doyoung could just do their healing mumbo-jumbo so everything would be just fine.

Once you saw the beautiful sight of your door, you heaved a sigh of relief when you saw your friends surrounding it. Jungwoo was the first to spot you and immediately rushed over to help you carry the man while the others opened the door quickly gathered inside.

“We should get him in the shower,” you said. You hadn’t grown accustomed to the stench that he emitted the entire way back. “While we do that, Taeyong and Doyoung, could you check if there’s anything wrong with him please?” They hummed an affirmative and you smiled gratefully at them as you and Jungwoo, with the help of Johnny and Jaehyun, placed the unconcious brunet inside the tub and turned on the water.

“You should get in too, y/n, you reek!”

In a flash you glared at Donghyuk. “Oh yeah? And who’s fault is that, exactly?”

“Okay, okay. I shouldn’t have kept pranking him but the guy just made it so easy! And I didn’t know he was a supernatural!”

“I miss Sicheng,” you said with an exaggerated sigh as you stepped into the tub as well, your feet on either side of the man’s legs. “At least he would’ve been able to smell that it was a kelpie.” Your werewolf friend was trying to recruit a pack down south to be the supernatural counterpart of your coven and unfortunately wouldn’t be back for three or four months, which was a total bummer because it meant that your Swimming Sundays were on hold. You would go on your own but it felt like you were betraying him and the one time you did try, it was too lonely without him.

“I’m sorry.” Donghyuk pouted at you as you scrubbed shampoo into the stranger’s hair, taking extra time to massage his scalp. You had to repeat it numerous time to get all the dirt out.

“I’ll forgive you if you buy me and this guy dinner tonight.”

“Deal.”

“Okay we’re good.”

Taeil snorted. “You two are idiots.”

After the both of you had showered and Yuta magicked some clothes for the guy, you allowed the others to lay him on your bed as you got changed in the bathroom. You were pretty concerned for the guy because he was super malleable while you gave him a bath, not even a twitch or anything.

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong with him?” You asked the two healing type witches, your forehead creased due to your furrowed brows, to which they shook their heads.

“His body is building up some strength so he’ll probably wake up on his own at some point.” Doyoung replied as he eyed the figure on your bed curiously, his head tilted.

You hummed. “Alrighty then.” You spun around to face Donghyuk who was leaning on your door frame, “time for food!” You chirped.

As the day stretched into night, your friends started leaving one by one but not before charging up the protective wards that they wove around concealed areas of your apartment, bidding you goodbyes with sweet smiles as they made you promise to call them if anything was wrong.

After taking care of your night routine, you stood at the edge of your bed with your arms folded, debating on whether or not you wanted to hop into bed with a complete stranger. Sure, he looked harmless with his boyish features but everyone was harmless when they were asleep. After a few more minutes of standing there like an absolute moron, you decided that you would bite the bullet and just get into bed. It was yours after all and you reasoned with yourself that there was no way this guy would do anything to you since you literally sheltered him. With that in mind, you closed your eyes and drifted off to some well deserved sleep.

You woke up to a face hovering directly above yours and immediately screamed, causing the figure to scramble away from you in a panic. You backed up against the headboard as you kept your eyes on him which started a staring competition. As soon as you felt your eyes drying up, you blinked as you shook your head however you could still his gaze boring into you.

“Sorry for screaming at you,” you apologized as you began to get off of your bed, “I completely forgot that you were here. Honestly though, I thought you were dead but I’m glad you aren’t.” He said nothing, just watched as you fixed your duvet and fluffed your pillows. “My name’s y/n, by the way, just in case you were wondering. I got you out of that nasty kelpie cave because, hello, I couldn’t just leave you there knowing that you were alive. Do you know what that would do to my conscious?” Again, he said nothing, just trailed behind you as you walked into the kitchen. “Well, anyways, you aren’t, like, a vegan right? ‘Cause I really want scrambled eggs.”

“What’s a vegan?” Came the hoarse voice of your guest just as you took four eggs from the fridge. You decided to pour him a glass of water while explaining to him what a vegan was, somewhat confused that he wasn’t aware of what it was, and found yourself smiling amusedly as he downed it in one go. “No, ‘m not a vegan.”

“Awesome! Hey, what’s your name by the way?”

“Mark.”

As you began to work on your eggs, you started rambling to fill up the silence because your guest didn’t seem too chatty at the moment, which you totally understood.

“Well it’s nice to meet you Mark! I wish we could have met under different circumstances, but oh well nothing we can do now. Actually I’m sorta glad that I got kidnapped ‘cause then I got to help you get out of there, like, you looked so rough. It was pretty terrible.”

Mark cleared his throat. “Thank you, uh, for saving me.” He mumbled, “anyone else would have just left me there.”

Tutting in response at the thought while you plated up the food, you responded with, “you’re absolute right there. People can be such assholes. I remember another time I was kidnapped and tried to help this girl and she totally was unappreciative, which, like, sis you clearly aren’t. People are just too prideful.”

You startled slightly when you spun around, one plate in each hand, as you caught Mark staring at you intensely with his innocent, wide eyes. He immediately jumped up from his high seat on the other side of the counter and grabbed the plates from you, briskly placing them on the table and pulled out a chair on one side immediately afterwards. He looked at you expectantly as you slowly made your way to the seat, smiling at him in thanks.

“Yeah,” Mark agreed as he sat on the seat across from you. You dug into your food, relishing the taste. There was nothing like a scrambled eggs in the morning, you should have toasted some bread as well. “But they probably wouldn’t have helped, y’know, since I’m a vampire and all.” That had you choking on your food.

“Geez, give a little warning before you drop something like that!” A vampire. Of course he was a vampire. Nothing in your life was ever easy, it seemed. Whatever. You could totally roll with the punches because there was no way you could leave this guy to fend for himself, he just looked too innocent–vampire or not. You were curious about his kind anyway, since your coven hadn’t had any run-ins with them. In fact vampires were among the rarer supernaturals to spot because they preferred to stay hidden from society which was something you could totally get behind. Sometimes society sucked.

“Sorry, y/n! Are you alright?” His brows creased, tone colored in concern.

“Yep! All good! Just, you know, a little surprised is all.”

Mark’s expression shifted into one that was a mix of curiosity and anxiousness. “You didn’t know?” He asked quietly, seeming to melt into his chair.

“Uh, no? But listen, it’s totally cool with me! Promise.” You examined him once again; he definitely looked better after drinking that glass of water and eating his portion of eggs. He finished them pretty quickly, so he was clearly famished. You racked your brain to think of what food you had readily available when a thought occurred to you. “You-” you paused, slightly nervous, “you need blood don’t you?”

Without meeting your eyes, he nodded. At that point you already knew what you had to do. Sure, the thought made you a little bit queasy but Mark? Mark looked so dejected, as if he thought you were repulsed by him. Which, hello, it wasn’t like it was 1932 where people still condemned the supernatural. People were generally much more accepting these days. Maybe where he used to live wasn’t? You frowned at the thought.

“You can feed from me.” Mark’s head snapped up as quick as lightning, opening his mouth but you gave him no room to refuse your offer. “Clearly, you need it. And if it’s something that I can give to you that can help you then I will. You need the strength, anyways. I’m sure you’ll get some color back as well, cause there’s no way vampires are like those stereotypes, right?”

Mark looked unsure. “What if I’m a bad guy?”

You snorted. “That’s highly unlikely. I’m part of a coven, well, I’m not a witch or anything, more like their human moral support system. But anyways, my friends have warded my house so no harm can come to me, so if you were a bad guy you wouldn’t have been allowed in in the first place.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh, now how do you want me?”

Mark seemed flustered by the question, which was completely adorable, but answered the question anyways. As you gave him your wrist, he said, “you know, you shouldn’t just go around offering blood to vampires.”

You waved a hand nonchalantly at him, “I appreciate your concern Mark, really, I do. But,” you made sure to look him directly in the eye so that he wouldn’t mistake your words for anything else but sincerity, “I trust you.” He was clearly taken back by your statement, his doe eyes making an appearance once again. “What? Don’t look so surprised. You’ve had plenty of opportunity to maim me or whatever but you haven’t.”

“Yeah because I’m not a monster.”

“Exactly! Now, get on with it, please, before I really start to freak out.”

Mark obliged. It wasn’t as bad as you thought it was, the puncture just felt like a little pinprick which was totally manageable. You could tell that he was being gentle by the way he was holding your arm with the smallest amount of pressure and the way he took little breaks in between. Once he had taken his fill, he surprised you by licking the area but you figured that it was regular vampire behaviour.

“Thank you.” Mark said as he released your arm.

You smiled at him and you were brilliantly surprised when he returned one of his own. “No problem!”

Almost a week had passed and Mark was still staying with you. The two of you had a routine by that point; eat, let him feed from you and then do whatever you wanted until he needed to feed again, which was about an additional two or three times. It was honestly kind of scary how easily he slotted himself into your life, however, you found that you didn’t mind. You liked his company. Ever since you had let him feed from you the first time around he was quick to warm up to you and it was quite endearing to see him do cute things to please you.

You were currently playing a game of Guess Who when your phone rang. You scrunched your nose, smiling at him apologetically before picking up the call.

“She’s alive you guys!” Johnny’s voice bellowed in your ear.

“Well hello to you to Johnny boy.” He laughed good naturedly at your nickname for him. “And, rude, Of course I’m alive!”

“We haven’t seen you since forever ago, y/n! Do you not like us anymore?” Doyoung whined, dramatic as always.

“Is it because of Donghyuck? ‘Cause I’ll get rid of him if you want.” Yuta offered which was followed by a ‘hey!’ by none other than Donghyuk himself, causing you to giggle.

“Sorry, I’ve just been spending some time with Mark.” You explained as you met the vampire’s gaze, who smiled goofily at you when you did. You couldn’t suppress the smile that made its own way onto your face.

“Is that the guy you saved?” Jungwoo asked you and you hummed an affirmative. “Okay. Is it alright if we go there and formally introduce ourselves then?”

You heard Yuta mutter something suspiciously like, ‘yeah and threaten him.’ But you said nothing. “Sure,” you replied to Jungwoo, “see you here in half an hour?”

“Perfect!” And with that, he hung up.

“Looks like we’ve got some cleaning to do.” The apartment wasn’t particularly messy but because it could get pretty rowdy with a group of boys, you always moved the more vulnerable items just in case anything were to happen to them. Mark trailed you, copying whatever you did and glanced at you for your approval.

Within no time at all, the boys had finally arrived, barging in like they owned the place as they usually did. They greeted you one by one before turning to Mark, who had taken comfort in pressing into your side the minute everyone else stepped in and started shooting laser beams at him with their eyes. It was Taeyong who started asking Mark various questions before he deemed the man safe enough to have around. All of them got along like a house on fire and it warmed your heart to see the coven accepting him easily like you did. They even invited him to movie night, which was great since you were going to anyway even if they didn’t because you didn’t want him to be left alone.

“They’re very nice.” Mark stated as you closed the door on your last guest. “Very kind and friendly, just like you.”

You beamed at him, “you really think so?”

Mark nodded as he grabbed your hand, ready to lead you to bed just as he has been doing for the past week. “Yeah, I really like them.”

Pleased with his answer, you swung your interlocked fingers wildly in the air and began humming happily.

Three months later, Mark was still staying in your apartment. Nothing much changed in your dynamic other than you two getting closer to each other. You knew a lot stuff about him at that point like how he loved the smell of coffee but hated the taste of it, that he loved eating watermelons and tried feeding from deer because he saw it in Twilight. You knew what made him laugh, smile and what little things irritated him. You even knew what he looked like when he was mad, all because of that time he and Donghyuk got into an argument so bad that they refused to talk to each other for about a month and a half. Nobody spoke about That Incident anymore but sometimes you noticed that the others were prepared just in case anything escalated to that level.

Mark seemed to be attached to you, actually, trailing you like a little duckling at all times. You sure were lucky that you worked in the magic shop that the coven owned because there was no way any other work places would have tolerated how he barely strayed a few meters behind you, unless either of you needed to go to the bathroom. The other boys ribbed you about it, teasing about how he must have imprinted on you exactly like a baby duck would their mother but you just rolled your eyes and shoved whatever warmth you felt down into the depths of your mind. There was absolutely no way you were going to expose the massive crush you had developed on Mark because they would never let you live it down. Especially Jaehyun and Donghyuk.

“Have you ever thought about moving out?” You asked Mark out of the blue as you cooked dinner for the two of you. You were curious because any other person would have moved on already and yet there you were, three months after the kidnapping and he hadn’t gone away.

You imagined that he was wearing his confused facial expression, the one where his head would tilt to the side slightly, eyes squinted as he said, “no, why?”

“Just wondering.” You replied with a shrug.

“Do you want me to move out?”

You pretended to think about it. Sneaking a look at his face, you weren’t entirely surprised to find him just a feet or two away from you. The vampire was staring you with those cute wide eyes that you couldn’t resist, eyebrows raised in horror. You rolled your eyes fondly at him and lightly petted his cheek. In turn he placed his hand over yours and leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. You studied him for a moment, soaking in how at peace he looked before turning your attention back to your one pot pasta–your hand being held hostage as you willed your heartbeat to calm itself down a notch, fully aware that he could hear the strong uptick of your heartbeat.

“No,” you replied as you turned off the stove, turning to face him. “You can stay as long as you like.” You said simply, losing yourself in his eyes.

Mark slowly lowered your hand from his cheek, averting his eyes away from yours, fiddling with your fingers in his. “And,” he licked his lips, “if I asked to stay forever?”

Heart pounding vehemently in your ears, you cleared your throat. “I’d say: of course you can.” You inhaled sharply as he slowly started crowding into your personal space, nervousness filling his eyes which were mapping your face like they always did.

“What if I asked for more?” He whispered shakily, raising a hand to caress you cheek.

“Like what?” You could hardly breathe with the way he was looking at you; like you were the answer he was looking for all this time, like you were everything he’d ever wanted.

“You know what,” you did. Of course you did. It was clear in his eyes what he wanted however you said nothing, waiting for him to continue. “I want everything.” He answered truthfully, “everything that you’re willing to give me. Anything I can get.”

Part of you wanted to say a joke. Say something stupid like, ‘that desperate for me, are you’ or, ‘I didn’t know you wanted me that badly’ but you refrained yourself from doing so. You knew how much courage it took for him, could see how anxious he was, because it probably wasn’t easy for him to do this.

“And if it’s my heart?”

Mark leaned in closer to you, his face a few inches from your own. “I promise I’ll take care of it.” And with that he gently pressed his lips onto yours, kissing you slow and sweet. Your hands found themselves around his neck and you could feel him smile into the kiss.

When you pulled away to catch your breath, his smile rivaled the sun with how bright and warm it was. It made butterflies erupt in your stomach and there was nothing you could do but return it.

“I trust you.” You told him giddily, like it was a secret that only the two of you knew.

With a boyish smile, he said, “I trust you too.” Then followed the statement up with another kiss.

It was Sicheng’s welcome back party and your boyfriend hadn’t once let go of your hand since Taeyong informed the coven that the pack that Sicheng successfully recruited would be joining. The other witches snickered as Mark wandered around with you as you greeted everyone and chatted with a few people here and there, hand attached to your own as it always was.

Eventually Sicheng couldn’t contain himself anymore and gestured you over with an incline of his head. Once you reached him, Mark in tow right behind you, he immediately asked, “why exactly is an ancient vampire following you around like a lost puppy.” You snorted, of course Sicheng and his super senses would figure out what your boyfriend was.

You dragged Mark to stand beside you, flashing him an adoring smile before replying to your friend. “It’s a long story.”

Sicheng muttered, ‘only you’ but you chose to ignore him in favor of staring at your boyfriend tenderly as he kissed your hand, returning your stare. You figured that you should thank Donghyuk for getting you into that mess because if it weren’t for him you wouldn’t have met one of the most loveliest people on earth.

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cassandrium360 · 4 years

Text

Holding Out

Hey! Here’s a bit of a mirror to Reaching Out you absolutely don’t have to read that though exploring Varian’s emotions after Once a Handmaiden..., hope you guys enjoy!!

Varian let out a shaky breath. Each powerful beat of his heart against his chest steadily sending a twang of guilt through his body. His eyes burned, yet no tears appeared as he stared down at the cloak in his hands. His gaze was distant, him not really registering anything in front of him, too consumed by his own thoughts.

The guilt rushed over him almost immediately after everyone had evacuated the kingdom. Or perhaps before, everything after Cass being trapped in the amber was a blur to him. One fact rang clear in his mind, the only one he was able to focus on. He did this. When Eugene had come to him seeking to protect the kingdom... he had agreed to create a weapon. To use on Cass. Using the substance that had nearly torn his life apart.

What had he been thinking? He hadn’t realized the weight, one seemingly tugging on his racing heart at that very moment, that would come with seeing her slowly overcome by the clear orange substance. It could have happened within a matter of seconds, and honestly probably had, but it felt like a lifetime to Varian. He should have done something... anything! Ran to help her, told Eugene to stand down...

But his limbs and mind had frozen. Every instinct that should’ve told him to run, move, do something had gone numb. A fear he hadn’t felt in years clawing at him for a moment until he saw her break free of the substance he created.

She had reached out to him. And he had done nothing. Hadn’t helped when she’d been hurting. And he hated himself for it.

Tears finally came to his dry eyes, a single one unconsciously slipping on the fabric he was clutching in his hands. He had sworn to himself he wouldn’t stop fighting for her. Would keep reaching out for the girl he knew was still in there. And he hadn’t. He had turned to fighting her.

This situation felt oddly familiar to Varian, though Varian now seemed to be on the other side of it, as if he was now looking into a window rather than out of it. And the pain that came with the realization he was now turning his back on Cass... just as Rapunzel had done to him, seemed to knock the air out of his lungs.

He breathing became more shallow, faint sobs shaking their way through as he ran his gloved fingers over the faded white seam of the cloak he grasped in his hands. It was the last piece of her he still held onto. The last one he could reach.

No, he couldn’t allow himself to believe that. He could reach her, as long as he never stopped fighting. He just... he needed another chance with her.

He turned the rough grey fabric in his hands, wondering what kind of material it was made of. He forced his mind to focus on the science behind the seemingly magic object rather than... than any of the crushing thoughts in his brain.

When Cass has worn it... she had appeared as someone else? He couldn’t have been sure, but it had seemed another maid was standing beside the princess before Cass had appeared. If that was the case, it could be used to seek into the palace.

Varian’s head was clear enough to know she wouldn’t let him, nor anyone else near the castle (and, in all honestly, wasn’t sure the princess would let him anywhere near the palace either), but perhaps she’d trust the one person working alongside her?

Varian visibly shuddered at that thought. The only one Cass had at the moment was an ancient warlock bent on destroying Corona. Because he and the others had given up on Cass.

He flicked a stray tear off of the grainy fabric, his hands trembling as he threw the cloak over his shoulders, the weight of the leather like substance placing an unfamiliar weight across them. The cloak was too big on him, providing much possibility for a fall, just as the situation he faced.

“If I don’t apologize, I’ll never make this right.” He whispered to himself, “She’ll be lost... forever.” He resolved, feigning as much courage in his soft voice as he could muster. He was terrified. Rapunzel had spoken of the creature Cass had been working with, and that, plus the legends gave him only one fact about what he would be facing. It wouldn’t end well. But... if he could be in that much danger then what of Cass?

His thoughts began to race, the guilt of everything happening coming back full force, causing Varian to practically sprint over to the door of the restaurant they had taken heed in, desperate to get away from them.

He shoved the door open, the cool evening air providing a welcome distraction as it clashed against his skin. He took an uncertain step away from the battered wooden threshold of the restaurant, he had no plan for when he reached her. He just needed to see her, to apologize, to fix the aftermath of his actions.

He stepped forward again, more confidently, more urgently as he continued to put space between him and the warmth of the Snuggly Duckling. If he didn’t reach her now, it might be too late.

“Varian!” A concerned voice called from the restaurant. Varian froze, his shoulders drawing closer to himself under the weight of the cloak as he heard his father. He couldn’t speak to him, not right now. Quirin would refuse Varian’s plan in an instant, words he had heard many times echoing in the back of his mind. Dangerous. Reckless. Impulsive.

And he would be lying if he said each one didn’t burn.

And to be honest... even if he turned around now, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to meet his father’s eye. After all, the substance that had nearly killed him.... Varian has willingly made more of it. Had used it against Cass, even if he hadn’t meant to. How could he face him after that? If Quirin knew what he had done... Varian was sure he would never forgive him.

Varian picked up his pace into a run, throwing himself behind one of the trees marking the beginning of the forest, his back pressing hard against the painfully rough bark. His heart was slamming against his chest, his breathing shallow as he tried to keep is as silent as he could. He couldn’t be caught. This was his only chance to fix all he had done. To... to make up for his past.

“Zhan Tiri.” He breathed, his voice trembling as he spoke her name, throwing the cloak’s hood over his head, hoping he would be able to use the magic, if he didn’t, he had no way of reaching the palace.

Varian wasn’t sure if he was relieved or terrified as a wave of magic seemed to course over him, a quick glance down showing a black lace dress and pale grey skin where he was sure had been some worn brown pants and scuffed black boots a minute ago. He pushed himself off of the tree, surprised his arms still had the strength to do so with how much they were trembling.

He could hear his father’s footsteps and concerned calls steadily getting closer.

Hands sweating and heart shaking, Varian ran deep into the woods, in the direction he knew would lead him to the palace.

——

Varian fought back a wince as his footsteps echoed off the imposing castle walls surrounding him. They towered over him, harsh blue shadows glinting off the rocks present all throughout the castle. The moonlight shone softly through the window, illuminating off the ragged black spikes and casting their discrepant shadows over him as he continued.

Under any other circumstances, Varian might’ve even called the soft moon’s glow in the lack of torch light gorgeous, but now it only sent a hollow feeling up his spine.

This wasn’t right. The last time he had seen the normally warm and welcoming interior of the castle this lifeless had been all those years ago, when the blizzard had nearly destroyed Corona, when he… The last time he had made a mistake this grave.

He felt himself shiver at that thought, pulling the cloak closer to his shoulders, in a vain hope it might provide him some sort of comfort. He couldn’t allow himself to focus on that, not now. He had to focus on reaching her, that was the only way he could save Corona, could save her.

His shoes connected with the floors more harshly than he had imagined, them now riddled with cracks from the out of place rocks penetrating them. Varian passed another cluster of them, a distorted view of his reflection making an appearance in the dim lighting, starting him a bit as he was met not with his familiar black hair and blue eyes, but rather a, what could only be described as creature, with a much too wide grin. He forced his eyes to the door at the end of the corridor, giving him a solid goal to force his mind to fix on, the melancholy sound reverberating in his ears once more.

The painting on the walls, ones of the royal family, seemed to judge him as he walked by. He was sure the king’s berating glare could only be fixed on him, despite the slight tear in the painting where a single rock had barely scraped the paper. And a feeling Varian couldn't shake told him he deserved this. Deserved their stares, their judgement. He couldn't even bring himself to meet the green gaze of the princess, sure his resolve would crack if he did.

If not for him, they wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. He never should've agreed to create that machine, never should've suggested they use the amber. He hadn't been thinking at the time, only stupidly focusing on restoring his own name in Corona. Yeah, he had done a great job there.

He stopped only at the last frame, allowing himself to look up at the now empty space. His heart sank. He knew which picture used to hang in its’ place. It had been one of Rapunzel and Cass, the day they had almost won the Contest of the Crowns. He had noticed it during one of the first times he visited the castle, remembering how Cass’ eyes had lit up when she had told him the story behind that painting. “Yeah, so maybe I lost a job, pretty sure I got something better though.” her soft words still seemed so fresh in his mind.

He reached up, his now much shorter arms not quite reaching the bottom of the golden frame, now empty of the memories it had once held. He felt a few tear prick the bottom of his vision, “Oh Cassie, I’m so sorry.” he whispered, speaking only to himself.

She was still in there. He believed that, and this time he wasn't hollowly convincing himself of that fact. And even if she would’ve done all of this anyway, he never should’ve turned from her. The best he could do now was make things right.

He scrubbed his hand over his eyes, with a newly found resolve as he shoved the door to the large throne room aside.

There Cass sat, looking oddly small on the throne where the princess had once sat. A few fragments of rocks seemed to be providing a guard around her.

Her gaze flicked up towards him, pulled from where it had been resting on absolutely nothing. She immediately set her feet on the ground, her heels colliding harshly with the floor as she moved them from where her knees had been curled into her chest mere moments ago. She sat rigid, her eyes filled with pain, and a sudden spark of anger as she seemed to process just who exactly was standing before her.

“You. I told you to leave me alone.” she bit, and the emptiness of her voice startled Varian more than the anger he had heard in it previously ever had. She looked… lost. Hurt. Betrayed.

Varian shook the shock off of himself, remembering why he had been there in the first place as he saw what he couldn't quite tell were tear stains trailing her face. The dim light casting only shadows over her pale skin. His heart felt heavier than it had a moment ago, though he hadn't thought it possible, a sinking feeling resting in him as he saw just how wrong he had been to think it was too late for Cass. This was her standing before him, even if she didn't quite know it herself.

He immediately pulled the hood of the cloak, breaking the spell lying over him immediately, revealing him standing where it had appeared Zhan Tiri had been a moment before.

“I’m sorry.” he chocked out, any words he had planned out forgotten as he shut his eyes, a single tear which had been brimming on his eyelid making its’ way down his cheek. “I’m so, so sorry Cassie. I never should’ve built that machine, I didn't know what I was thinking… I was so wrong to give up on you, I never should’ve—.” he rambled, his voice breaking more often than he would’ve liked it to, his eyes remaining shut as a few more tears escaped him. He trailed off slightly, managing a shaky breath before forcing his weak voice to continue, “And then when it fired, you must’ve thought we were attacking you, and… all of this is my fault.” he said, the weight of the fabric he thought he had adjusted to on his shoulders all too much all at once.

Cass’ throat felt too dry to speak, his words slamming against her heart almost as roughly as it was against her chest at the moment. The moonstone began to throb painfully in her chest, her pressing her hand firmly against in in hopes of quelling the pain. She shut her eyes, forcing the only clear words in her mind to formulate, “You… didn't fire it on purpose?” she asked, mentally berating herself for how desperate she sounded.

She should get a grip, after all, just look at the mess that had happened earlier because she couldn't control her emotions. She should be furious! With herself, for allowing a small piece of her heart to believe what he said, with him for showing up after all that had happened, with the kingdom for… she wasn't sure she could call it attacking. She wasn't sure of anything in the fog of the day’s events anymore. All Cass knew is that she was tired. She was so tired of facing herself to feel what her head told her she should. Tired of having to keep fighting a battle she no longer believed in.

Yes, at first it had been about her destiny, about grabbing a shot, any shot, for herself. But… where she was now? This wasn't herd destiny. This path had no future. She had stolen it. And she didn't know why she kept fighting. Perhaps it was fear, knowing no one could forgive all she had done. Or maybe she had convinced herself that a stolen, lonely, lost destiny was better than having no plan at all.

She wanted so desperately to trust him. To make all of this stop. To run, to forget all she had done.

She watched as he shook his head at that, scrubbing his teary eyes, “No! No, I would never! I don't know what happened, I was so caught up in the moment, I just… I never should've held it up but… it fired anyway. It must’ve malfunctioned. I’m so, so sorry Cassie.” He said, voice hoarse in the room they found themselves in.

Cass felt something in her heart shift, and she trusted him. Any rational part of her brain reasoned it was a trap… but maybe she really hadn't been all that good at being rational lately. She had forced her emotions aside in the name of finding her destiny, and while she had been convinced it had been for the best… maybe it’s what had brought her here in the first place. Even if she would regret it later, she couldn't hold it all in. Not anymore. This was wrong. The power of the moonstone thudding in her chest didn't belong there. This room, this castle, were not really hers.

She stood on shaky legs from the throne she couldn't call hers, not anymore, taking the few steps down to stand level with him.

And she fell to her knees, bowing her head as the sobs she had forced to quell for so long all crashed over her at once, her chest and heart trembling as hot tears fell from her faintly glowing blue eyes. “I’m so sorry. This… there’s no one else to blame for this. For me.” she managed to choke out, unsure he heard her. It hadn't been his fault.

The next thing she felt a pair of warm arms were wrapped around her shoulders, him shaking as much as she was as they held onto each other in the middle of this disaster.

Hope you guys enjoyed that!! I wanted to expand on the episode a bit, having Varian try a little more to reach out to Cass.

#tts #tangled #rta #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #cassandra #varian #cassarian #once a handmaiden

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intobarbarians · 4 years

Text

part eight to this

They’ve drugged him, which is nice. The only drawback from Kuwabara’s perspective is that he can’t pick up the nearest object at hand and throw it straight into Yusuke’s mouth. That guy is loud.

“What the fuck happened out there?” Yusuke’s been shouting for as long as Kuwabara’s been semi-conscious. He’s got absolutely no respect for the healing process. “Anybody wanna explain the creepy crawly from hell that bashed in my best friend’s skull like a piñata?”

Yeah, Kuwabara’s a bit curious about that himself.

“B’valan is an ancient beast that was last seen in the Northern Reaches centuries ago. It burrows in the mantle and rarely ever surfaces.” Of course Kurama knows the answer. He always does. “We didn’t consider the possibility it would attack so close to the tournament grounds--Kuwabara has paid dearly for that mistake.” He sounds furious with himself.

Kuwabara wishes he could hug Kurama and tell him that it’s nobody’s fault but his own dumb self. He made the choice to stay and fight B’valan. His friends must have showed up and saved his skin like they always do. How else could he still be alive?

“Will it come back?” Great question, Keiko. If B’valan wants a rematch then Kuwabara is going to stay in bed.

“It’s unlikely. We probably won’t hear from B’valan for another three or four hundred years.” Whew. Kuwabara will be dead long before that happens.

“So it was just a random fluke?” Yusuke laughs. “Kuwabara, do you hear that? You were almost worm food for no reason!”

But it wasn’t random. B’valan tried to kill Hatori, and when it was done with him, it wanted someone else, someone-

Fuck, his arm hurts.

Machines beep in warning. “What’s going on?”

“Relax, Yusuke. Kuwabara just needs his next dose of medication.”

Somebody presses a button. Relief rushes through Kuwabara’s veins. They’ve got great painkillers on Makai. Real stand out stuff.

“Get some rest, big guy. The next round has been postponed for a couple of days, but no one’s expecting you to fight after you went toe to toe with Godzilla, but if it were a bug.”

No fucking way. Kuwabara’s competing. No one believed for a second he’d come this far, and he knows he probably never will again. He’s going to drag his ass into that stadium so Hatori can knock him out with one hit like a man and that’s that.

Wow, he’s sleepy.

Before the darkness pulls him under, he begrudgingly corrects himself.

One person might have thought he’d come this far.

***

A chair pulls up next to his bedside. He’s starting to recognize Mukuro’s energy, the soft, red glow of it, haunted and healing, he thinks.

“You seem to like stories,” she says. She clears her throat. There’s a hint of shyness in the sound. “Before the gods cursed him into becoming the legendary beast that eternally tunnels the earth, B’valan was a legendary mercenary, a warrior of unparalleled strength. Now, you might hear this and think that he is a respected figure in our culture--demons love power. We seek it at great cost. But that couldn’t be further from the truth: B’valan is almost universally reviled, save by the followers of the Waste King, the god of fortune and the god of lies. To them, B’valan is a testament to their god’s cunning and power.

“Many of the old gods are neither good nor evil; they’re worshiped by peacemakers and murderers alike. A single god can grant favor to a child escaping the destruction of their home as well as to the arsonist responsible. They are fickle, and see no hypocrisy in their actions.

“Nevertheless, the gods demand fealty. When you choose a god to serve, you serve them forever.

“B’valan swore an oath to the Violet Queen to be her champion. You recognize the name? We demons hold her in high regard. She is said to have mothered the first of our kind. The Violet Queen is the closest thing we have to a ‘good’ goddess. Her myths largely center around the preservation of demons. Her heroes are tasked with forestalling the end of our world. She loved us so much she lived among us--until B’valan.

“B’valan loved money, you see. It’s no great sin among our people to kill, even for petty reasons, but the Violet Queen abhors mass death. She created the first demon, the ancestor all of our kind shares. Through the first demon, the Violet Queen considers herself the mother of Makai.

“In spite of the Violet Queen’s tenets, B’valan wanted to sell his services in war and slaughter without hesitation. He knew it would displease his god and incite her wrath, so B’valan bargained with the Waste King for an armor that would hide him from her gaze.

“The thing about bargains with the Waste King, however, is that they never go well for the bargainer. While he indeed provided B’valan with the armor he requested, it came with a price. The longer B’valan wore it, the more it would dig into his skin and become impossible to take off. B’valan found this agreeable...at first.

“B’valan went wherever he was paid to go. He would fight silently, so that his voice would not give him away to anyone who might hear it and expose his identity to the Violet Queen. He cultivated a merciless reputation for exterminating whole villages, even the young and the weak. He did not once think of his oath, nor did he notice the way his body began to gradually change.

“The deaths enraged the Violet Queen. She searched for B’valan desperately; not as the demon responsible, but as her champion she would send to stop him. When she could not find him, she chose another warrior whose name is lost to history.

“The warrior engaged B’valan in battle. He pushed B’valan back before landing a blow across B’valan’s face, causing him to cry out. The single sound of pain alerted the Violet Queen to his identity. Heartbroken, she gave her new champion her blessing to kill the old one.

“B’valan, however, escaped. He thought the armor would grant him protection from the warrior, but he realized too late one of the Waste King’s tricks: the armor shielded him from the Violet Queen’s sight, but not her new champion’s. When B’valan tried to shed his armor in favor of a new disguise, it would not be torn from his skin, no matter how he pulled and bled.

“He ran and tried to hide for years but always the warrior found him. Always, the warrior came close to defeating him in battle, and always, B’valan was forced to run again. He hunted the Waste King to his lair. ‘Remove this armor from me!’ he demanded. ‘I cannot hide from the Violet Queen’s champion as long as I wear it.’

“The Waste King laughed. ‘You do see it, don’t you? You are already becoming something unrecognizable.’

“B’valan looked down upon himself and noticed the many legs he had grown, the pincers replacing his hands. ‘What have you done to me?’ he cried.

“‘I have not done anything. It is the armor obeying your wish to flee from the Violet Queen’s reach by giving you these legs and hands. If you wish it to stop, you must kill the source of your fear. You must kill the Violet Queen herself.’

“B’valan, upon hearing the Waste King’s pronouncement, went utterly mad. The transformation completed itself and he no longer killed for money, but for hatred of the goddess he formerly served.

“The Violet Queen saw she had no choice. As B’valan threatened all of Makai with his endless terror, she and her champion went deep underground to draw him into the mantle and away from her people.

“That’s what B’valan is looking for, Mr. Kuwabara, why he digs across the demon realm. He is looking for the Violet Queen, the mother of demons. That is why we hate him, because he forced her into hiding, and we have been without her love and protection ever since.”

Another alarm. More painkillers.

Is that you, Hatori? Kuwabara thinks. The guy in the story. Are you-

He dreams.

***

A presence creeps into his room.

Maybe an hour passes. He doesn’t make a sound.

Kuwabara doesn’t know why he’s disappointed when Hiei leaves. He ought to be used to it by now.

#yyh #my fic #hiei x kuwabara

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