for the ask game shuichi and kaede 🌹

how do each character react to finding out the other(s) has a crush on someone outside their friend group? do they have different approaches to acting as a "wingman" for their buddy, or do they worry about becoming a third wheel?

oh boy, Kaede is all excited to wingman, Shuichi's biggest worry is probably that she'll accidentally confess his feelings for him, or otherwise put him in a situation he's not ready for because he likes to take his sweet, sweet time with processing his feelings, meanwhile Kaede is a firm believer in pushing him outside his comfort zone. Even if she's... unsure of his taste, she might interrogate this person in order to make sure they'll be good for him, or try to give a shovel talk if they do get together, but she wingmans nonetheless, that is her duty as a bestie and she takes it seriously.

Being a third wheel is just Shuichi's fate, he knew it to be so before Kaede even really caught feelings for anyone, just from the way she would try to flirt with every girl they'd come across when they hang out, and some guys that she could call pretty all the same, he's been on the receiving end of her compliments before, it's hard to tell when she's being friendly and when she's interested in someone. She flirts for the fun of the game, has a habit of stopping to talk to people and not hesitating to invite them to tag along regardless of the company she's already in (or maybe she does ask, but Shuichi never says no), anything Kaede does is an open invitation group activity, maybe it's just that she loves everyone a little bit and everybody loves her. But once she falls for realsies, it's s e r i o u s, it's an emergency. She is dragging her moral support anxious wet dog bestie around to "casually" walk into them, and hang out together, and she makes schemes to get closer to them that she just needs Shuichi's help with (Kaede, why are all of these group activities? Kae-please, wouldn't it be for the best if you spend some time alone with them? -Nuh Uh, it'll be fun and we'll strengthen our bonds, it's a perfect plan, Shuichi!), and it's unfair that he won't "investigate" (it's called stalking, Kaede) to find out what they would like so she can win them over with that.

Bonus: If they crush on the same person [I rub my hands evilly] Shuichi tries to hide his feelings and help Kaede with her schemes anyway, but since those require him to be so involved... she notices the chemistry and creates a new scheme without telling him and on the next hang-out she switches from walking in the middle to the third person being between them and starts asking them unsubtle questions like "Don't you agree Shuichi is looking great in that jacket?" or even straight up "What do you think about polyamory?" and Shuichi probably spits out his drink as she does. She's just like, so my bestie likes the same person as I do... that's great! If we both date them then instead of cutting into our time to hang out, it'll increase it. Stonks B)

For the ask game, how about Hansel & Gretel?

Afo & Yoichi are the innocent kids and the evil witch is...

All Might.

Ooooh, Evil Might. >:)

The twins grew up with normal parents who were dentists. So, AFO isn't that bad since he had good people to guide him. Unfortunately, their dentist parents are very strict and don't allow them any sweet treats whatsoever.

Yoichi gets fed up with it and decides to rebel by running into the woods and trying to find some honey to eat, because he wasn't allowed any despite it being one of "nature's candies" (he has more dietary restrictions thanks to his sickly stature). AFO, worried about his brother tags along and leaves a trail of pebbles so they can find their way back. Unfortunately the wind blows them away and they're lost.

Eventually, they find a house made entirely of candy. Cue the montage of them eating it and getting stuffed. (Yoichi was hesitant but AFO convinced him) Then, a kindly old wizard steps out of the house and offers them some more food, saying they must be hungry. The twins are to overwhelmed by eating candy for the first time in their lives to think of it being suspicious. They just want more candy.

Evil Might keeps feeding them and they get tired and weak. But Yoichi, with his small stomach, stops sooner and goes to sleep. His brother always felt a duty to watch over him, so he stayed awake and EM invites him to take a walk to digest faster. It was a trick and AFO gets shoved into an oven. You see, EM looks like his skinny might form to lure in children, but eats them to get stronger, which allows him to take on his muscle form.

Yoichi wakes up feeling better and goes to look for his brother, only to see EM laughing evilly as his brother pounds on the oven wall. He asks EM to let him join his brother, as there's no way he can fight off the witch. Surprised, but too arrogant to think otherwise, the man agrees, and when he opens the oven, AFO jumps out and Yoichi pushes EM inside. They turn up the heat and run away as the house catches fire behind them.

This was a fun role reversal. Or should I say, bed time story that AFO told his brother to keep him from trying to leave.

Something that got me into a fight about the musical is that the director kept the ending from the 2010 version, because IT IS the same director. Many critize the ending since it didn't humble Riliane when... the original plot from mothy's blog doesn't cover it in the slightest? She's meant to be regretful about Allen yes, but it doesn't elaborate about how she feels about the people she sent to their deaths. Why take offense over something not even the author himself thought about then? (cont.)

Riliane wasn't humbled until Shiro no Musume (which came AFTER the musical) and mothy himself wouldn't expand on his own story until the novels, which came MONTHS AFTER the musical. People forget the novels are an expanded version of the 2010 musical. If the director wants to keep an ending with a hardened Riliane so she can defend herself after the people who wants her dead, I'd say just let him. I don't see mothy bashing any version of the musical, so why should we?

For the record, I searched Japanese blogs from people who attended the 2010 version of the musical and I can assure you the ending is the exact same one. And when I think about it, if someone you've never met before traps you inside a church, sets it on fire, and then tries to stab you after escaping from said church… I would've acted the same as Riliane did in the musical.

At the risk of sounding a little contrarian, in defense of the detractors, this adaptation makes at least a pretense of novel accuracy. Many of the character designs are based on Ichika's work, all the named characters are directly from the novel, and it makes references to broader Evillious plot points that (presumably) were not in the original, such as the Seven Deadly Sins. So while I think it's entirely up to the director's discretion that he wants to keep many elements from the original, it's undeniable that he changed many others to line up with mothy's later story to draw in people who were fans of it, thus setting them up for disappointment when it became clear this was only partially followed through.

I also think people took issue with Clarith attacking Riliane at all, not just Riliane's reaction to it. Essentially the contention was that it resulted in them having static characters with no demonstrable growth at the end (I say this as someone who likes the novel's narrative better, but given that the musical is a one-shot there's not anything actually wrong with keeping the characters static, it is meant to be a tragedy after all).

Otherwise, yeah, agree. Riliane being humbled or not is just a different story decision, it's not necessarily better or worse as long as it works with what's being told, and given how often adaptations differ from the source material, change is not a bad thing in and of itself (especially in this case as it wasn’t a change so much as a decision not to change something).

Start culling humans instead; they're far too many of them, and of the wrong type!

By Stanley Collymore Big game hunting equals sick people, and it's essentially humans who are really the beasts, not the elephants, who are exceedingly intelligent beings. And what a distinctly, undeniably truly asinine suggestion; to really promote that instead of focusing on simply catching the poachers and then handing out very harsh court sentences and undeniably evidently burdensome, financial penalties similarly both to them and their killer backers; to deter   and also lawfully force them to   stop we toxically have purblind pernicious and unconscionable pillocks like Sue Reid, a literally fatuously, braindead Daily Mail hack upholding trophy hunting. That's like suggesting that you should effectively, actually leave the doors of your private residence unlocked at all times, so that essentially every   perspective burglar, wanting   to generally, make a call at your home will effectively   cause less destruction to your individual property as, and when, they opt to generally break in.   Or just as idiotically suggesting that we might all as well either agree to or stupidly acquiesce in the heinously, vile slaughter of elephants by humans, truly   for fun because basically, the alternative is poachers killing them anyway, for profit. What a ridiculous and odiously sick suggestion evilly put forward, as a supposedly very sensibly sound, and ethical argument! (C) Stanley V. Collymore 16 June 2023. Author's Remarks:   How about instead, actually hunting vile columnists at rags like the Daily Mail and its like-minded media who quite evilly and supportively for sick avariciously financial gain, perniciously and rather malevolently egregiously occasion much more damage societally? A distinctly better and far more conscionably undertaken enterprise is very currently rather difficult in these evidently odiously and very tiresome circumstances to essentially contemplate. And rather frankly, there is no shortage of machetes in London to effect such a task! Generally we do, after all, rather earnestly wish for a much better world don't we, and how much better to undeniably, effectively and realistically attain this vital endeavour, than by literally weeding out our trash!   Elephants are quite well known, by those who genuinely care, to be highly intelligent beings with an irrefutable capacity, which they constantly use, to naturally socialize in their own respective communities just as humans do in ours; and therefore, are thoroughly capable, and something that they customarily do, of effecting this when they unfortunately lose one of their own either through natural causes or barbaric circumstances at the hands of predatory so-called human beings, and consequently have a natural instinct for revenge, I prefer to call it justice, just as humans invariably do when crass and barbarous ill-treatment, or worst still malevolent death, is callously meted out to just one or actually several of their own. So why do we mourn the death of Sarah Everard or those that were quite recently and also most callously killed in Nottingham if we're then going to equally and callously likewise deprive elephants, and wilfully so, most wantonly and rather arrogantly of their lives in the same brutal and egregious fashion? Elephants have an inalienable right to live on this Earth too, and human beings are no more entitled to land, on our essentially borrowed planet Earth than elephants and other creatures, who we share this Earth with! And the arrogance of the human race to think otherwise is quite mind-bogglingly astounding. Bearing in mind also, that we have humans breeding like cancer, while there are those among our own race who want to push these intelligent animals to extinction; just as the UK has already done with over 400 species, actually within the last two centuries. So please, stop trying to put a positive spin on what is effectively a most barbaric and rather abhorrent activity. And to claim that elephants occasionally go on the rampage and therefore that’s a viable excuse to kill them; if someone, even with our supposed human and essentially basically ostensibly legal and judicial systems rather callously murdered people related to or personally close to you, you too would naturally want revenge; and as I said earlier elephants are exceedingly quite highly intelligent beings and do know the score where humans are concerned. And if they’re constantly being subjected to having their natural habitats callously wilfully and wantonly decreased essentially for western privateers and their rather absurd and acquisitive financial lust masquerading as viable and thus essential necessary conservation, or else to provide locations for obviously an ever extending local population when the right emphasis in such cases should quite essentially be on educative contraception, what exactly are these elephants supposed to do other than strike back. And why is it OK for those in the UK that very avidly support elephant slaughter and so-called big game hunting, egotistically for animal trophies, are the same individuals who both vociferously and adamantly insist “Not in my backyard”  - the so-called NIMBY’s Syndrome – when they, with their class entrenched reasons, don’t want those whom they perceive as outsiders and therefore not like them, or any constructive development that they similarly abhor and do regard as infra dig to their own perceptions of the good life, intruding on them. Isn't that hypocrisy and most rampantly so? And I’m quite absolutely sure that I’m not the only person who has actually noticed that trophy hunters are always on the right and invariably so the extreme right of the political spectrum. Hardly surprising then that the hereditary titled owner of the Daily Mail, for example, his rag and the plethora of full time and also part time hacks that the Daily Mail employs are all supportive of this bestial activity towards elephants and effectively other forms of so-called “conservation” game hunting. Predictable really, as the Daily Mail actually staunchly supported Nazism, Fascism, Adolf Hitler and the Third Reich during World War II, as well as the vile barbaric slaughter of those myriad numbers of very exceedingly rather hapless and diverse victims; and not just white Caucasian Europeans per se, who among that lot were primarily Zionist but likewise also and attendantly as well their biological kin who were practitioners of Judaism; even though they were clearly all of them exactly of the identical Khazarian ancestry and ethnicity with irrefutably not a drop of Semitic blood amongst them or actually coursing through their respective veins! Never mind however, that they were still mercilessly slaughtered in presumably what was “civilized Europe’s” death and concentration camps; so intelligent folk who can and do think for themselves don’t need any dishonest, disingenuous, outright lying or evidently, rather perniciously and self-serving lectures and/or admonitions from the likes of the Daily Mail. Incredibly, and most insultingly, the Daily Mail has done a 360 degree turn for the full benefit of itself, its manipulated trolls and the surfeit of idiots across the UK, and as well the so-called West, to get them on side; and similarly pretend that the Daily Mail, like numerous others among the UK’s hereditary lot, including members of the British monarchy, were all of them rather unswervingly patriotic and unquestionably British during World War II. The irrefutable truth is, that distinctly they weren’t! And in that regard, were no different from Das Deutsche Freikorps, actually comprised of white Britons, white Canadians, white Irish, white New Zealanders and likewise white Americans who were all of them staunch members and avowedly wholly committed VOLUNTARY MEMBERS of this Third Reich created Waffen SS Unit, which operated in close affinity with the South African Boer one and, as well, the Ukrainian Waffen SS; and whose specified areas of operations were in the European death camps and as assistants to the German High Command. Nazis and outright white supremacists, all of them, who when the war finally ended badly for them ought really to have been  tried and executed for their treason as the Americans and the Russians wanted them to be, but Winston Churchill intervened on their behalf saying that it would look bad on the Allies; so they weren’t. However he had no compunction to William Joyce, aka Lord Haw Haw being very illegally tried for treason, as he wasn’t by any means British and never was, and international law then, as now, stipulates that you can’t be tried for treason by a country doing so, and of which you aren’t or weren’t ever a citizen. But that’s British hypocrisy for you! And quite obviously William Joyce was tried in essentially a kangaroo court by British judges; sentenced to death for treason and executed; while the real British and their kin traitors walked free.   Likewise, hypocrisy and double standards both raised their heads after the end of World War II and are still ongoing in 2023. When the war ended, and a situation as is clearly still ridiculously going on in 2023, came into force with a defeated Germany enforcedly made to make war reparations or compensation, call it what you will, to the victims of its undoubtedly European inspired holocaust, once again the West stepped in hypocritically, and instead of all genuine victims being compensated, just the Zionists and bogus Semites plus their "descendants" were, and are evidently still the only ones so treated. Nothing for the Gypsies or the quite insultingly referred to as the Rhineland Niggers: genuine French citizens of mixed French Caucasian and French African ancestry; and while these preferred white folk who asininely claim to be Semites, when they’re quite absolutely nothing of the kind either biologically or in ancestral terms, simply that they follow a religion, those who do: since most of them are Zionists and anti-religion, in the same way as white Christians likewise follow a Semitic religion; so by their obtuse logic is the Archbishop of Canterbury or the Pope similarly Semites because they're both of them Christian and as it happens are the Heads of their respective churches? Surely not! The term Semitism essentially and as well accurately stems from the fact that all three so-called Semitic religions: Judaism, Christianity and the Islam Faith's, were all formed by genuine Semites, people related to the Palestinians and quite significantly too the Falasha of Ethiopia: undoubtedly the oldest Jewish sect on planet Earth and who’re quite authentically Semites. While European Jews, precisely so like European Christians are converts to their respective religions and simply aren’t biologically, or in any way, ethnically genuine Semites. But they get away with it, because they’re white, and it likewise deflects from the vile and quite stinking hypocrisy of the western leaders and their people, and likewise also masks the toxic and verminous actions of several of them, who wield power in these countries, that they have acquired through blood ties, family associations and as well evidently societal connections with those traitors who claimed they were fighting for and defending Britain but clearly had their other foot firmly planted in Nazi Germany. And for those like David Cameron and his wife, they not only receive compensation for the loss of their ancestors “chattel” – property – slaves to the likes of  you and me, in the Caribbean although these said ancestors were massively compensated and in today’s terms those sums run into billions, while the slaves, their children and their descendants to this day haven’t got a single penny; but significantly when it suits David Cameron and Samantha’s farcical as well as repulsive fancies they can also call themselves "Jews"; despite, I would argue, not evidently knowing what the inside of a synagogue does look like, and also benefit thoroughly handsomely, from the German Weidergutmachen Compensation Scheme which compensates simply “Jews”. But I’m quite sure the intelligent among you won’t be surprised to also know, that David and his wife who clearly lost no relatives in the European holocaust, since their forbearers were already well entrenched British, and so were they both subsequently since they were both born in the UK post World War II, see no convincing reasons why Caribbean Niggers as they perceive them, should ever be compensated for the evil, Transatlantic Slave Trade. Who do we pay this money to David once asininely questioned? Adding, that no one living today was involved in the slave trade or owned slaves as it all, in his biased mind, happened quite long before they were ever born. So why is he and as well Samantha receiving compensation for slaves they never had? Why also no such worries on his part when any Zionist from Russia or regardless of wherever they hail from in the rest of Europe literally can and does claim most routinely and likewise too on the Weidergutmachen Scheme? The Daily Mail has similarly got away with murder and is still doing so, with its racist, evidently white supremacist and distinctly, irrefutably, purposely divisive propaganda quite clearly masquerading as news; and through its clickbait regime solicits both financially and ideologically from the likes of all you intellectually challenged morons just what it needs; an agenda, which is no different from its World War II one; and the hacks who likemindedly do work for it, and the evidently rather similarly indoctrinated,  without principles of any kind morons just like yourselves are equally as distinctively criminally complicit as the Daily Mail itself. So fully cognizant as I most undoubtedly am that despite being as highly intelligent and resourceful as they are no elephant if left alone will instinctively become a killer beast, unlike the so-called civilized human beings that rather, quite regrettably infest this Earth with their evil, vile and evidently toxic and absolutely verminous presence but who couldn’t be any further from being any such thing, as these beautiful, literally graceful and highly intelligent beings are, that unquestionably, most wholeheartedly, emphatically and quite unapologetically I’ll side with the elephants every time!

Out of the general belief that fandom discourse shouldn't play out in AO3 comments, I'm not starting a fight, but I did just see the stupidest list of Guy/Thomas red flags I've seen yet and I have to vent about it. Because in addition to the usual "he'll be a servant" point (which was rephrased three times and listed as separate points), other red flags apparently include:

Thomas would be paid to sleep with him

WHENCE are you getting this idea, my good sir? Was it from the scene where Guy told Thomas that their relationship could be whatever Thomas wanted? and just out of curiosity, have you ever met a couple where one person was a stay at home spouse, and did you tell them that their relationship was #problematic because the working partner was paying the other person to sleep with them? or did you recognize that relationships are complex and often involve some sort of power imbalance and that healthy relationships can still exist within that dynamic, and often involve attempts to mitigate the actual impact of income disparities?

Guy is older, at least 50

okay first of all cool it with the "at least"--Dominic West was 51 at the time of filming, and we don't even know if Guy is supposed to be his age. (RJC was 44 at the time of filming and most people agree Thomas is younger than that.) and secondly, Thomas is at MINIMUM 32. like, absolute minimum, like I'm basing that on the fact that he was able to join the military in 1914. but that would make him 16 at first appearance, so... he's not 32. the suggested year that seems to come up the most for Thomas is about 1890, making him 22 at the start of the series and 38 by the end of the movie.

if you think a 38-year-old is inherently too young to be in a relationship with a 50-year-old, you're just a dumbass. like I'm sorry. the man is a fully grown adult. and not to be blunt, but if Guy had deliberately wanted to take advantage of a much-younger man, he didn't need to find an almost-40-year-old Englishman for that. There were (are tbh) PLENTY of attractive 20somethings leaving their family and going for Hollywood who would jump at a relationship, even an unhealthy one, that would get them closer to stardom.

Guy used a moment someone was vulnerable to take them away from everyone they know and like

Guy used a moment someone was vulnerable... hm. hm. just checking, do we even once see any suggestion that Thomas has told Guy about Richard? do we have any reason to believe he would have, prior to their conversation in Thomas's office? how can Guy evilly, manipulatively use Thomas's vulnerability against him when he has no knowledge of it? are we not allowed to hit on people who might possibly in the recent past have suffered a possible breakup? honestly the worst we can say is that he noticed Thomas seemed generally unhappy at Downton, and "hey you don't seem to like it here, would you maybe like it somewhere else?" isn't manipulative.

I also think it's dumb to paint anything as ~Thomas's vulnerable moment~ or whatever when it's been a month at LEAST since he's received Richard's letter. like yeah, if Guy had barged in the same day Thomas received it and demanded an immediate answer, that's a vulnerable moment for Thomas. but a month is enough time to-- if not "get over" the end of a relationship (if that's what the letter even was, which we don't know for sure), at least to come to terms with the fact that it has ended. Guy makes the offer, tells Thomas to let him know when he's decided, and then leaves. Thomas had time to thinnk it over. He already had the Downton job, he knows all the pros and cons, he can weigh his own options, and if he turned down Guy's offer, there would be zero repurcussions for him.

in conclusion: if you don't like the implications of Thomas working for his lover, if they're not your cup of tea, that's fair, I'm not going to convince you otherwise. but don't be a fcking dumbass about it.

one shot where zuko knows how to play a fire nation instrument and the swt wants to hear him play and he plays a song his mother taught him

i love this idea! this takes place in between ch14 and ch15, aka Just Before Everything Went To Shit :)

final word count: 1.5k words

“I have something but first I need an emotional declaration from you.” Tomkin said suddenly, and Zuko peered over his shoulder with a frown to see the other boy approaching him, grinning evilly, Nanook at his side looking just as incriminating.

“An emotional declaration of what?” Zuko asked, suspicious. Nothing good ever came of Tomkin and Nanook scheming like this. He'd only gone outside for a breath of fresh air. They’d left Weihai yesterday, sailing towards Gaoling where Hakoda planned for them to make camp properly for a while. Zuko couldn’t help how much he was looking forward to it. All the ice and sailing made him claustrophobic and for once he just wanted to feel real, normal land beneath his feet. The thought of it had grated at him as he tried to sleep that night, and suddenly, the infirmary felt far too small, the air far too sharp. He knew a few of the warriors were sat outside on deck, chatting into the night and laughing loudly every now and then, but strangely, that wasn’t something that dissuaded Zuko anymore. He felt safe around them, and when something felt wrong, he almost felt... drawn to them.

So he’d sat silently with them up on deck, pretending to listen to whatever ridiculous story Chena was telling, and no one commented on it, and Zuko could just breathe.

Until Tomkin and Nanook showed up, that is.

“You have to say that I’m your best friend over Nanook, otherwise I can’t give it you.” Tomkin said seriously, and Nanook shoved his shoulder.

“Hey,” he hissed, “that’s not what we agreed.”

“No? What did we agree?”

“What is this even about?” Zuko asked, exasperated, but there was a hint of fondness there, and he didn’t hate himself for it. He'd been with the Water Tribe for over three weeks now, and they’d all been through so much together. Zuko had grown, and hurt, and healed, and he... he thought he might be happy here. He thought that maybe he could stay, even if it was only a childish daydream.

Tomkin grinned then, before pulling something large and wooden from behind his back with an excited ‘ta-da!’.

Tulok cocked his head curiously. “Is that a tautirut?”

“That’s what I thought when I first saw it,” Nanook said, looking at the object with a smile, “but the salesman said it’s a pipa. It's Fire Nation!”

Zuko didn’t miss Chena’s mumbled ‘why the fuck-’ cut off by Aput’s elbow in his gut, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the object in Tomkin’s hand. It was an instrument, about the size of an arm, a deep wooden brown and with strings over an oval middle, and it was so achingly familiar that Zuko felt his heart sink.

It was a Fire Nation instrument on a Water Tribe ship, and that should have been enough to make Zuko feel this way. Nanook probably bought it in Weihai yesterday, maybe while Zuko was suffering through that horrifically awkward conversation with Chena. For such an instrument to even be sold in the Earth Kingdom... Zuko wished it was uncommon, but he’d seen it a lot while on the Erlong. Fire Nation ships would sink, and belongings would wash up on foreign shores, memories of crewmen who once held music nights. The pipa in Nanook’s hand had been cleaned and refurbished; someone had loved it, even after pulling it from a wreckage. It should have been enough. It should have been the only reason Zuko felt this way.

But his heart was tugging in his chest, and there was more to this than a reminder of the bloody war they sailed through.

Zuko remembered his mother, years and years ago. She had loved music, teaching Zuko easy beats on djembe drums and humming lullabies when he woke to nightmares. This memory was sunkissed, a large room of smooth stone and floor to ceiling windows that drenched every inch of the place with golden light. The room used to be used for parties, dances, but it had hardly been touched since the war started. And one day, Zuko couldn’t have been older than five or six, and Azula was a toddler who still held his hand when she walked, Mother took them to the room of sunshine.

“Come on, Zuko.” Mother had smiled at him softly, and she looked so carefree, a little out of place with the fogginess of the memory. She walked them to a corner of the room where the floor rose into a platform, instruments sat discarded and so fascinating to young fingers. Azula had giggled, reaching for a pipa that Mother quickly plucked out of her grip before she could start pulling the strings apart.

“Can you play it?” Zuko asked, looking at his mother with wide eyes. She was looking at the instrument in her hands fondly, deep in thought. She did this from time to time. This was something Zuko remembered clearly. Mother disappeared sometimes, deep into her mind, into her memories, thinking of moments of her past before it was all snatched from her.

“Hmm, well,” she said, flashing a mischievous grin as she swept aside her long robes in order to sit on the platform step, “let’s see shall we.”

And then she began to play, a fast tune, fingers moving quickly and creating a beautiful melody, and Azula clapped happily as the music filled the room. It made Zuko want to tap his foot along to it, to smile, to move, but that wasn’t proper, and Father had yelled at him only a few days ago for fidgeting too much at dinner.

Mother gave Zuko a reassuring smile, understanding, before turning to one of the servants that were never far. She said something quietly to them, something Zuko couldn’t remember, and the memory faded out of focus here, before sharpening when the music started again, this time his mother stood with him. She picked Azula up, cradling her against her, and Azula smiled happily, small hands framing Mother’s face. Azula used to love being held like that.

“Prince Zuko,” Mother turned to Zuko, grinning as she moved Azula’s weight to be able to hold out a hand to Zuko, “will you dance with me?”

It felt stupid and immature and Zuko said so much, but the music was so lively and Mother looked so happy, and Azula began to laugh when Mother swayed her, and Zuko couldn’t remember taking Mother’s hand, but the next thing he remembered was spinning with her around the room, a grin on his lips and something light in his chest.

Zuko had forgotten that, until now.

“Can you play it?” Tomkin asked eagerly, and Zuko shuffled awkwardly. His mother had taught him a few basic tunes, but Father said Zuko was too disappointing at firebending to be wasting his free time on such frivolous pursuits. Zuko had always loved the instrument though, even after Mother left.

“No.” Zuko said apologetically, because he wasn’t about to find out if he remembered how to play in front of everyone.

“Liar.” Kanut said breezily, not even looking up from the book he was reading when Zuko glared at him. It was dark out; how was Kanut even reading anyway?

“Tui and La, you can play!” Tomkin beamed when he saw the way Zuko was gradually flushing.

“Play something for us!” Nanook joined in.

“Just one song.” Hakoda goaded with a knowing look.

“Come on, brat.” Even Chena was grinning evilly now, and Zuko mentally cursed them all, which wasn’t at all effective, because the next thing he knew, a chant of ‘Zuko! Zuko! Zuko!’ filled the deck as everyone else joined in on causing him misery.

“Alright!” Zuko snapped after a few seconds. “Fine. One song, and then you have to leave me alone for the rest of the night.”

“No deal. Here.” Tomkin said, handing the pipa to Zuko, and Zuko glared murderously at the other boy before sighing, taking the instrument. He was such an Agni-damned pushover.

It was a familiar weight in his hands, despite all these years, and the pads of his fingers remembered the firmness of the strings, the tune each was supposed to make. Zuko forced himself to ignore the way everyone was staring at him, instead focussing on what he could remember. There was one song he’d always liked, one he had once been able to play from muscle memory alone. He wondered...

His fingers began to move and the silence was broken by the soothing sound of a lullaby. It was slow, soft, and it melted against the sound of waves caressing the ship, stars twinkling down above them as if they were leaning in to listen. Zuko chanced a look up, blushing as he continued to play, and saw Tomkin and Nanook looking at him with soft expressions, eyes warm. The song was one for children, to calm them, and between each pluck of a string, it sung of family, of belonging, of love. Zuko had never truly understood how that was supposed to work; how could a simple song convey something like that?

But that night beneath the stars, listening to a soft melody as they drifted through the ocean, Zuko understood.

October 1st

word count: 1,241

prompt: chase

summary: sapnap and dream do practice for manhunt every once in a while. but today, sapnap has an interesting plan in mind for if dream gets caught.

THIS EVENT IS FINALLY HERE AAAAA HOLY SHIT!!!! as one of the organizers, i’m super excited, and plan to write as much as i can for it!!! i can’t wait to see what everyone else has planned :D

warning: this is a sfw tickle fic! don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable :]

“Ooooh, Dream! Get back here!”

“Leave me alone, Sapnap!”

“Better run faster~!”

“Nohoho!”

Dream raced through the forest as fast as his legs could take him, making sure to not trip over any rocks or branches. Everything was on the line right now. He had to run, or else, he would meet his demise.

Okay, maybe he was being a little bit overdramatic. But hey, when your best friend comes up to you and says he wants to do “Manhunt practice,” you know you’re in for it.

Dream was running through the trees, twisting and turning throughout the wooden maze. He had no plans on losing his friend’s challenge. He had fallen victim to Sapnap’s consequences; it would not happen again. All he could hear was the sound of his own footsteps, stepping in front of one and other.

He didn’t hear any more of Sapnap’s calls and teases, and took a quick look behind him. The hunter wasn’t there. Dream stopped running, letting out a sigh of relief and catching as much breath as he could. If Dream was seemingly alone, he was going to take it as a chance to breathe.

The speedrunner looked up, exploring his surroundings. He had run so far, he was in an unfamiliar area. He was in a small clearing among the forest, and a small pond was nearby. Of course, a small rest wouldn’t hurt. Sapnap didn’t seem to be around, maybe he had lost him.

Dream knelt down next to the pond, splashing water in his face and taking a small sip of it. He watched a couple of birds fly high above the treetops, and the rest was definitely a well needed one. After a couple of minutes, he decided to keep moving. If he had stayed in one spot for much longer, Sapnap would definitely find him. Just as he was about to exit the clearing and start moving again, a blur of black and white fabric flashed in front of him from above.

“Boo!”

Dream yelled, unsettled and frazzled by the sudden scare. He was ready to start running, but Sapnap was quicker, tackling him to the grassy ground before the other could get a chance to run.

“Dude, you should not have let your guard down like that. I was sitting in the trees the whole time, and you were just relaxing like no one was around!” Sapnap chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah, so I rested up a little.” Dream rolled his eyes. “Round’s over, you caught me. Can you get off of me now?”

“Ohoho, don’t think you’re getting away that easily.” Sapnap scoffed. “I mean, of course, you haven’t forgotten about the punishment we agreed on for when you got caught, right?”

The punishment.

Fuck.

How did Dream forget about the punishment?

“W-Wait, nohoho, Sapnap!” He shook his head back and forth, eliciting a chuckle from his friend.

“Oh my god, you did forget! And here you are, remembering it and getting all nervous!” He laughed softly. “Hmmm… there’s so many ways I can start with this… what do I do first?”

“How about you do nothing?” Dream sassed.

“And how about I ignore you?” Sapnap chuckled. “Come on, you agreed to this! A deal’s a deal.”

The blonde sighed, looking over at a nearby tree to avoid eye contact with his best friend. “Just- promise you won’t go for super long, okay?” He asked, feeling his face start to warm.

“Oh, of course not, man. I’ll only go for a few minutes. That’s as much as you can handle, anyway.”

“Just get on with it, dude!”

“That eager, huh? Well, if you say so!”

And with that, the punishment for getting caught started. Sapnap wasted no time in squeezing up and down Dream’s sides, and Dream wasted no time in letting his giggles spill out.

“Duhuhude, nohohoho!!” Dream giggled, trying to squirm away from his friend.

“Wow, you’re already so giddy!” Sapnap giggled a little himself. “What’s wrong, Dream? Nervous?”

“Nohoho, I’m nOHOhot!” He squinted his eyes shut as he felt Sapnap’s fingers skitter and spider up to dance along his ribs. He twisted back and forth to try and shake Sapnap off, but nothing was working. Eventually, he resorted to trying to push Sapnap off, smacking at his hands.

“Oh, that’s just rude.” The fiery friend responded, holding Dream’s wrists above his head with one hand. Dream’s giggles quickly escalated, becoming more nervous by the second.

“What’s wrong, Dream? Why are you so nervous?” Sapnap asked, reading his best friend like an open book.

“Ihi’m nohohot nehervohouhus.” Dream lied, shaking his head.

“Really? Doesn't it make you nervous when I do this?” Sapnap grinned evilly, hovering a free hand above Dream’s exposed armpit. The other tried to glare at Sapnap and intimidate him, but the smile on his face said otherwise. After more anticipation, he dug in and scribbled around, causing his friend to kick and squirm.

“FuhUHuhuck ohoHOFF!” Dream swore, high-pitched laughter escaping him.

“Wow, rude.” Sapnap smirked, moving his hand to Dream’s other underarm.

“Duhuhude, ihit’s sohoho baHAHAD!!” He laughed, wriggling around. “Ahahare yohou ahAHALmohost dohOHne?!”

“Almost! I just have a few more things planned!” He smirked, letting go of Dream’s hands and digging fingers underneath both arms now, watching him immediately throw his arms down. He quickly blew a raspberry on his neck, the slight stubble on his face making it more tickly. Dream let out a high pitched shrill, giggling like mad.

“Holy shit, dude! Did you just squeal?!” Sapnap asked, excitement in his eyes.

“I did nohot squeheal, fuhUHuck ohoff.” Dream lied, his face quickly growing pink.

“Yes you did, you liar! You shouldn’t lie to your best friend, Dream. In fact, I know exactly how to handle that.” Sapnap’s eyebrows raised up, and his hands quickly moved from under the arms to the stomach. When both hands unexpectedly moved, Dream shrieked at the sudden change.

“NohohOHOHO!! SAHAHAPNAHAHAP!!” He flailed around, shoving at his friend’s hands.

“Wow! This must be a bad spot!” He said, pretending to be shocked.

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUP! DUHUHUDE, SHUHUT UHU- SHIHIHIT!!” Dream cackled, trying to move away from the wiggling hands. Sapnap would only continue, poking, squeezing, and scribbling. It tickled like hell, and both of them knew it. It wasn’t until Dream started wheezing when Sapnap finally pulled away.

“I can’t believe you actually forgot.” Sapnap chuckled, standing up. “Like, we both agreed on it beforehand!”

“Shuhut uhup.” Dream took a few breaths, a few hiccups spilling out as he stood up and dusted dirt off his clothes. The two of them laughed softly as Dream recovered from the sudden attack. “Ahalright, you’ve had your fun.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Sapnap raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, come on now. The best part about manhunt is when I get to track the hunters down and kill them on my own!” Dream smirked upon noticing that his friend’s expression was now a nervous one. “So, naturally, we should get a chance to practice that, right?”

“Uh-” Sapnap’s voice cracked a little, and he tried to pass it off as a cough. However, that wasn’t enough to fool his best friend.

“Better start running~!” Dream teased, taking a few steps forward.

A chuckle came from Sapnap. If it was a chase he wanted, it was a chase he would get. So, he started running, Dream dashed after him, and a new round of manhunt practice had begun.

Hi hello

because the n in nct stands for nicotine, i will now read you what kind of smoker aura each of the boys in neo city has, as the chain smoker that i am. no one asked for this and i don't care, i just wanna see how many people agree with me lol.

(this is all for shits and giggles, don't take this too seriously, i am but a simple moron in this fandom of clownery)

taeil: tried to hit on a female woman once at some small get-together or smth, she offered him a cig, he took one drag to get on her good side and violently coughed his lungs out rip

taeyong: i feel like he smokes weed on his own every once in a while, purely to have a cathartic cry session

johnny: king of tobacco and weed, tell me i'm wrong. he is the reason all this crap started, he's that one chaotic evil friend who just offers you to try shit at parties. has made his own bong and loves it the way you'd love your family pet. cackles evilly when stoned and plants stupid ideas into everyone's heads, teaches everyone how to blow smoke rings

yuta: he buys a pack every now and then, prefers to smoke in company rather than on his own. loves a good old cig after sex though (as the triple scorpio that he is)

kun: doesn't smoke, but if he did let's face it he'd chainsmoke like a motherfucker from all that yangyanghenderychenle induced stress

doyoung: this man is so done, he doesn't give a fuck anymore. smokes those ultra thin mom cigarettes and holds them real bitchy. try to fight him, he dares you

ten: doesn't smoke. doesn't like the smell sticking to his hair

jaehyun: jeffrey y'all... we ain't even gonna talk about him smh... weed/vape combo that's all i have to say... dumbass fried half his braincells off lmao screwdriver lookin ass

winwin: doesn't smoke, lowkey judges people who do

jungwoo: confirmed he smokes, knows he looks hot while doing it. looks like he rolls tobacco but can't be sure. if he does, props to him because tobacco kicks industrial cigarette ass. king shit

lucas: also a confirmed smoker, 100% does it to look cool. doesn't hold the smoke in his lungs long enough and immediately blows it out but who cares, he looks sexy as shit. holds it all manly cause he likes it when bitches look at his hands

mark: i feel like morky mork didn't smoke at first but then he debuted 4 fucking times and was just like eh fuck it. my manz loves weed and has this weird aura of highly functioning stoner. has weird ass flavoured rolling papers. will bum a cig off of someone if he's stressed

xiaojun: doesn't smoke, never really wanted to

hendery: listen if you told me this boy tried crack i'd believe you. do i believe he smokes weed, of course i do. makes excellent brownies and that's all he can do well in the kitchen

renjun: this one has a level of rage within himself that can only point to marlboro red touch, i don't care. takes really aesthetic pics of himself while smoking to show how "artsy depressed" he is

jeno: doesn't smoke. is the friend who cleans out the ashtray when it gets too full god bless him

haechan: he's the guy who tries to prove to everyone that he smokes like a boss even though he isn't a smoker, better at holding in smoke than lucas but has no idea how to hold the damn cig in his hand, wants to impress johnny his devoted father

jaemin: rarely smokes weed but when he does it has to be in a big circle with all his friends, calls it "bonding time" and uses the excuse of being stoned to kiss and cuddle everyone despite their refusal, makes up really weird topics to talk about, at one point will just zone out and stare at the ceiling for 10 mins

yangyang: haechan 2.0, everyone thinks he's a stoner but he isn't, peer pressured into it every time but doesn't mind 'cause he thinks it fits his street cred

shotaro & sungchan: can't tell, i don't know much about them

chenle: johnny's number one student and you can't tell me otherwise. has like 7 "guys" around town he's on first name basis with. fucking weed connoisseur, can roll a perfect blunt in less than a minute. fuck i wanna smoke with him sooo bad, he'd be so much fun. wants to do stupid shit when high, not allowed access to the kitchen or the balcony for that reason. prefers tobacco over industrial cigs 'cause he's the main character

jisung: wants to try smoking weed but too anxious to actually do it. loves watching everyone else get stoned though, thinks it's hilarious

thank you for coming to my tedtalk

dear herbie, do we have any thoughts/hcs on Imperial laws regarding omegas?

For you, my darling Tali, we have a dozen.

I think we can all agree that Skeevy Sheevy isn’t a champion for Omega Civil Rights. Omegas have a place in his Empire, sure . . . but not a glorious one. There’s no job an Omega can do that a droid couldn’t do better, according to the Empire, except for satisfying Alphas.

Omegas are used mainly as incentives. Rewards when a soldier pleases their superiors. Most lower-level Imperials are given suppressants to prevent their ruts, but in the rare case that someone truly excels enough to be noticed, they get a night with a trained Omega servant.

Where do these Omegas come from, you ask? Good question — very few young, upstart Omegas are lining up outside their local Imperial Academy to be an on-board breeding bitch. Many of them, sadly, come from slave trades, profitable deals made with the Hutts to exchange young, fertile Omegas among other things. Many of the Omegas found in Imperial barracks were stolen from their homes; some believe it to be the inevitable fate of all Omegas born under this regime.

The truth is actually worse. Many Omegas come from slavers, yes, but most of them are actually farmed. The same is true of Palpatine’s Alpha soldiers: he replaced the clone factory with an Omega breeding station, where baby Alphas are taken to be trained as soldiers, and baby Omega are kept to be trained as livestock.

Some high-ranking Imperials, especially the Moffs and Grand Moffs, have Omega attendants who accompany them most of the time. The only place Palpatine truly forbids them is in his throne room or in meetings; he doesn’t want his subjects distracted while he’s monologuing evilly at them. Otherwise, anywhere you can find an Imperial of importance, you’ll find their personal Omega servant at their side.

Or sometimes, at their feet. PDA isn’t a thing when Omegas are involved. It isn’t abnormal to find the Admiral of a ship directing orders to his crew while an Omega kneels between his legs, obediently servicing him. It’s what they live for, after all. It’s their primary function. No one bats an eye at the sight of a terrifying, imposing Grand Moff commanding his fleet while a keening, desperate Omega bounces in his lap.

Discipline, also, is almost expected amongst Imperials. A well-trained Omega will let you pull its legs apart to inspect its genitalia, or pry its mouth open to look at its teeth and tongue, or fondle its chest or ass as though testing the integrity of a piece of equipment — they are taught to accept, and in most cases, even enjoy such conduct, even when someone is showing them off like a show pony.

But some, stubbornly, do not. They will flinch away, or snarl, or whine and snap at the hands invading their personal space. Some Officials enjoy these untamed pets — they’re more fun when you break them in yourself. But of course, that means they need to be disciplined, swiftly and mercilessly after every infraction. It’s not uncommon to find an Omega thrown over someone’s lap, or a flat surface, being spanked or belted into submission.

It is also not uncommon to find them stationed in punishment stocks as part of their training/discipline. In the barracks, occasionally, you’ll find an Omega bound on their knees, a blindfold over their eyes, a spider-gag keeping their mouth open and ready for use. Sometimes you’ll find this same setup in the refresher or the officer’s lounge, but the best method of breaking an Omega’s ornery spirit is with volume — the more they’re used, the happier they’ll be.

Mated Omegas, however, are different. If an Omega has been claimed as a mate, they are treated as any other husband or wife — though of course, depending on what kind of relationship they have with their spouse, they may still be expected to “behave” as good Omegas should. Alpha soldiers can’t bring their mates to war with them just like Betas can’t bring their wives and children — if they’re not being used to satisfy the needs of Imperials, they have no place on board their spacecraft.

If an Omega who is not a breeding slave or someone’s personal attendant goes into heat, they’re strapped into a breeding bench and left “up for grabs” until their heat passes, somewhere well-ventilated and out of the way. Sometimes Betas will join in on the fun just to have a quick, messy, easy lay — which is usually hell for the Omegas, who end up begging for a knot they can’t have. Beta-fucking is a common and terrible punishment for Omegas, and sadly, many Imperials happen to enjoy it.

When an Omega who is someone’s personal attendant goes into heat, and their owner doesn’t feel inclined to share, they’re either expected to remain in their owner’s private quarters, using toys or drugs to satisfy themselves, or their owner will take time off to breed them properly. Having an Omega in heat loose on an Imperial ship is just asking for trouble. Very few Imperials would have the commanding presence to get away with such a spectacle.

Bonus: Vader is absolutely one of them. 😘

was thinking thinky thoughts today (prompted by @jeannemarythefourth​‘s excellent post) about the phenomenon of male faves. it is the dirty secret of fandom (or rather, the elephant in the room) that fandom’s favorite characters-- with the most fics, art, and discussion centering around them-- are always the guys. The ladies tend to fade into the background, and if you’re looking for content about nonbinary characters, you’re really out of luck.

now obviously a fair piece of this is due to sexism on the part of fans, both internalized and otherwise. but after reading Tamsyn Muir’s excellent Locked Tomb trilogy (which has eaten my brain) I started thinking about how much of this might be due to choices by the creator. 

I think (I hope) that we’re past the stage where female characters exist in a story mainly as sexy arm candy and props for the main (male) character’s story. Women are often written now as competent and complex. In other words, as real people. 

But are female characters written as cool?

No. 

And this is where Gideon the Ninth comes in. Yesterday, I read a post (ironically) suggesting that people acquire male faves from the Locked Tomb series. And, reader, this was a deeply weird concept to encounter. Male... faves? like, the series has male characters! it has several excellent male characters! (of which Sex Pal-- Palamedes Sextus-- is one). but honestly it would never have occurred to me that any reader would have picked one of the guys to center, given how much that the male characters are overshadowed by the awesomeness of the ladies. 

And the fandom, as much as I’ve seen on this here hellsite in the last week or so, agrees with me. 95% percent of fannish content-- at least-- is centered around Ianthe, Harrow, and Gideon Nav. 

So what has Gideon the Ninth got that most other fandoms don’t have? um. um, this:

(this is Gideon Nav, if you didn’t already know)

COOLNESS. Do you not ADMIRE her? do you not FEAR her?? DON’T YOU WANT TO BE HER??? All three of these ladies are intensely cool. or at least can be reasonably interpreted as such from the canon. 

and this was, at least in the case of Ianthe, done deliberately by the author. Ianthe is-- I quote-- Muir’s interpretation of the “Draco in leather trousers trope.” meaning she gets to sulk around evilly and erotically, with immense coolness. Muir has very deliberately taken tropes that produced a fandom’s (male) darling ten or so years ago-- and with incredible panache, she’s applied them to a female character.

and, result? the same tropes that made Draco Malfoy fandom’s darling ten or so years ago, when applied to a female character, make Ianthe one of the characters in the Locked Tomb fandom. success!

authors, I’d like to see more of this. let your ladies be cool. not just competent, but outrageously awesome.

Wei Wuxian, worst supervillain: part 2

Full series here.

-

“Wen Ning,” Wei Wuxian, with the urgency of a doomed man. “You gotta help me.”

“What’s the problem?” Wen Ning says immediately.

“Absolutely not,” Wen Qing says, without looking up from her book.

She’s sitting comfortably on the single couch in Wei Wuxian’s so-called villain lair. In reality, he couldn’t afford anywhere else, and the Burial Mounds are rent-free and neighborless. She still made Wei Wuxian buy the red couch, and it remains the only splash of color in the whole complex.

Wei Wuxian pauses, his palms still slammed down on the creaking table in the center of the room. Wen Ning continues mixing his tea. “Okay, first off,” he says, mortally offended, “you didn’t even know what I was going to say. And second, I wasn’t even asking you!”

“I’m answering for A-Ning,” Wen Qing says calmly.

“Wen Ning is a free man!” Wei Wuxian argues. “He can make his own decisions!”

“What do you need help with?” Wen Ning intervenes, dragging Wei Wuxian’s attention away from the argument.

“I’m not being taken seriously!” Wei Wuxian wails.

Wen Qing snorts. “Why would I?”

“I didn’t mean you,” Wei Wuxian says, once more mortally offended. “I mean the superheroes! They’re not taking me seriously as a villain! Last time I robbed the national bank, they just sent Lan Zhan, and we didn’t even fight!”

“Right,” Wen Qing says drily. “You just debated philosophy for two hours.”

“He had some interesting points,” Wei Wuxian mutters sulkily. “What was I supposed to do, just not debate him?”

“Yes,” says Wen Qing.

“I can’t just ignore Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says belligerently. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be concerned? If the superheroes don’t take me seriously, how am I supposed to secure the safety of your family? If I just rescue them the government will never stop hunting them!”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “It’s not my fault you chose the stupidest way to go about it. Now both of your siblings are mad at you.”

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to retort and then pauses. “Okay, but,” he tries, “it’s too late now! After last Friday–”

“There were easier ways to explain to Meng Yao where he got his psychic powers from,” Wen Qing notes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Both Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning flush bright red.

-

“–the truth, Meng Yao,” the Yiling Patriarch said melodramatically, and his black coat billowed out behind him as he stalked towards Meng Yao.

The young man scrambled backwards over the rubble of the destroyed convenience store, his honey eyes wide with fear at the sight of the masked supervillain loomed over him. He was the communications director for the superheroes before all this happened, but during this fight Wei Wuxian had noticed his fledgling psychic powers and looked at the young man, who happened to look eerily similar to Jin Zixuan, and realized what was going on.

“They never told you what happened to your father,” Wei Wuxian continued, easily cornering Meng Yao.

Back in the Burial Mounds, Wen Ning leaned towards his computer like he could merge into the scene. His fingers flew across the keys, as he suddenly remembered some quote about a father that would be perfect for this situation. If only he could get to his list of villain phrases fast enough–

Wei Wuxian paused as the line flashed in front of his eyes, projected by his mask. Without registering the words, he read it out loud. “I am your father!”

Meng Yao stopped cowering.

The Yiling Patriarch stopped stalking dramatically. “Ah, fuck,” he said, his pointed finger drooping. “Wait–I meant–”

Two superheroes landed on the pile of rubble beside Meng Yao.

“Darth Vader, The Empire Strikes Back,” Hanguang-jun said confidently.

“How are you so fucking stupid,” Sandu Shengshou said, almost wonderingly. Bright purple lightning crackled around his fingertips.

“Shut up, I don’t know you!” The Yiling Patriarch cried. “I meant Jin Guangshan! I meant Jin Guangshan!”

-

“I think Zewu-jun’s handling it,” Wei Wuxian says evasively.

Wen Qing snorts. “Sure.”

“The point is they’re not taking me seriously!” Wei Wuxian insists. “Wen Ning, what can I do to make them take me seriously as a villain?”

“Do something only a villain would do,” Wen Ning suggests.

“Well obviously,” Wei Wuxian says. “But what?” He pulls out the chair across from Wen Ning and plonks himself down in it. They both ponder this question.

“Maybe you could kidnap a hero?” Wen Ning suggests.

Wei Wuxian brightens. “That’s a great idea! But who?”

“Oh my God,” Wen Qing mutters from her comfy seat on the couch.

“Not Jiang Cheng, he’d kill me,” Wei Wuxian muses. He props his chin up with one hand. “And I don’t want to kidnap someone who’d get actually scared…Lan Zhan! Perfect. I’ll kidnap their precious Hanguang-jun. Then they’ll have to take me seriously!”

"Kill me now," Wen Qing groans.

-

When Lan Wangji wakes up to see the Yiling Patriarch looming over him, he thinks he’s still dreaming for one embarrassing moment. He’s glad he recognizes his mistake, or he would’ve said or done something mortifying that he prefers not to think about.

“Good morning, Lan Zhan!” The Yiling Patriarch says, grinning evilly. “You are in the lair of the Yiling Patriarch.”

Lan Wangji sits up. He’s on a soft red couch, wrapped in at least three blankets. Other than that, the large room is rather sparse; the walls are plain stone, as is the floor, save for a threadbare rug on top of which a rickety old table sits, with four chairs of varying styles situated around it.

“How does it feel to know you’ve been kidnapped by your worst enemy?” The Yiling Patriarch says gleefully.

He leans closer, and Lan Wangji swallows, his throat dry. It seems that the Yiling Patriarch forgeos his high-collar black coat when he’s at home. He’s currently wearing a baggy black shirt and black ripped jeans, which means that when Lan Wangji looks up, he’s looking directly at his collarbone, then up at his jawline, and then at the bottom half of his face. As he leans in, his lips curve in a wicked smile, and no, Lan Wangji not thinking about his forearms, or those beautiful, slender hands–

“How does it feel knowing you’ve been rendered powerless?” The Yiling Patriarch continues. His silver eyes track the movement of Lan Wangji’s throat. “Are you uncomfortable?” He asks worriedly. “This place has no heating–you know, free rent, that’s how it is–and I didn’t have anywhere else to put you, but I thought I brought enough blankets. Do you want tea? I can make tea!”

And the Yiling Patriarch bustles off, throwing a “Be right back! Don’t go anywhere!” over his shoulder.

Lan Wangji pushes the blankets off. “I am quite comfortable,” he says to himself. Perhaps he could’ve said it earlier, but he wasn’t going to dissuade the Yiling Patriarch from making him tea.

The Yiling Patriarch returns with two cups of jasmine tea, and invites Lan Wangji to take a seat at his table.

“Sorry about the chairs, they’re kinda falling apart,” the Yiling Patriarch says. “I got them at a yard sale. Well, four different yard sales, so none of them match.”

“It is fine,” Lan Wangji says.

“Right, right.” The Yiling Patriarch clears his throat, and pushes one teacup towards Lan Wangji. “Anyway. I thought it was time I proved my worth as a villain, don’t you think?” He leans back in his chair. One of the chair legs squeaks.

“You could always retire,” Lan Wangji suggests.

The Yiling Patriarch’s casual smile drops. “Not until I’ve done what I set out to do,” he says seriously. He pulls up his villain smile again. “Though I’m sure you heroes must be eager for me to retire, hm?”

“I am worried one day you might be seriously injured,” Lan Wangji replies.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” the Yiling Patriarch says, shaking his head. “The tragedy is not to die, but to be wasted. I have so much–”

“Hannibal Lecter,” says Lan Wangji.

The Yiling Patriarch scowls at him. “Stop doing that. As I was saying, I have so much to do, and so little time on this earth. If I must turn to villany to accomplish my goals, then I will. You cannot debate me into giving up my pursuits.”

“Why must you turn to villainy?” Lan Wangji asks. He drinks his tea. It’s over boiled, but still the best tea he’s ever had.

“Because otherwise, nobody listens,” the Yiling Patriarch says. “You think I didn’t try the proper way first?”

“No doubt you tried,” says Lan Wangji. “Nevertheless: what are your goals? Why do you hide your face? Who are you protecting?”

The Yiling Patriarch slams his teacup down. “You want the truth?” He pauses. “You can’t handle the truth!”

Lan Wangji sips his tea. “Colonel Nathan Jessup, A Few Good Men.”

“Stop doing that!” The Yiling Patriarch cries. He stands up and shakes his finger very threateningly at Lan Wangji. “You seem to have forgotten that you have been kidnapped, Lan Zhan.”

“I have not,” Lan Wangji says. The location leaves something to be desired, but other than that he thinks it’s a very fine first date.

“Then–! Don’t forget who holds the power in this situation!”

“Mhm,” Lan Wangji agrees. He sips his tea again. “Thank you for the tea.”

“O-oh, of course,” the Yiling Patriarch says, thrown. He sits down again. “You seemed like a no sugar type of person.” He pauses. “I mean, if you want sugar, I have some in the pantry. I think. Unless we ran out.”

“No need,” Lan Wangji says. He is, in fact, a no-sugar type of person.

“That’s good,” the Yiling Patriarch says. He smiles at Lan Wangji, who almost smiles back, heart set aflutter by the gentle smile on the Yiling Patriarch’s face.

“What is your plan?” Lan Wangji asks.

“My plan?” The Yiling Patriarch echoes, thrown once more. “I mean, my villainous plan! Uh. The one that I have.”

“Is this all for your image?” Lan Wangji presses.

“Of course,” the Yiling Patriarch says immediately. “You know me. Vanity, definitely my favorite sin.”

“John Milton, The Devil’s Advocate.”

“Shut up! I can’t believe you memorized all these quotes,” the Yiling Patriarch bemoans. “Lan Zhan, you’re ruining all my fun.”

Lan Wangji sips his tea again. “I am quite capable of research.”

“I’ll say,” he mutters.

“It is not too late to turn back,” Lan Wangji says, trying for once to put the turmoil of emotion he feels into his tone. “We can still put old wounds behind us. I can help you.”

The Yiling Patriarch slumps against his table. “Can we?” He asks, subdued. “After all, our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real.”

“Hannibal Lecter again,” says Lan Wangji.

“Fuck you! Hannibal Lecter is a good villain!” The Yiling Patriarch swells belligerently.

“And you,” Lan Wangji says calmly, “are not a very convincing villain.”

“What do you mean?” The Yiling Patriarch demands. “I kidnapped a hero! Only villains do that!” He sweeps one arm across the situation, gesturing at the hot jasmine tea and the pile of blankets on the couch behind them, and at Lan Wangji, seated primly on the old wooden chair provided for him. “This is a kidnapping!”

“Hm,” Lan Wangji says.

“I am a supervillain!” The Yiling Patriarch insists. “There’s no coming back from that. I destroyed a skyscraper last week. I’ve cost the government too much money for them to ever forgive me. There’s no way for you to redeem me!”

“There is nothing to redeem,” Lan Wangji says sharply.

The Yiling Patriarch flinches. When he stops, his expression is scraped raw. “R-right,” he says shakily. “O-of course–”

“I meant there is nothing to redeem, because you are already good,” Lan Wangji says hurriedly, realizing the misinterpretation of his statement.

The Yiling Patriarch pauses, mouth half open. “Lan Zhan, there’s no way for you to know that,” he croaks. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I do,” Lan Wangji says quietly. “And I don’t need to.” He hesitates, then reaches for the Yiling Patriarch's hand. He grips it tight, and the Yiling Patriarch lets him. “You are good.”

The Yiling Patriarch draws in a shaky breath. “Wei Ying,” he blurts. “Courtesy Wuxian. That’s. My name.”

Lan Wangji can feel the corners of his lips curve into a smile. “Wei Ying,” he repeats. “Wei Ying, you are good.”

Learning to Be Loved

Chapter 4

This is a TICKLE SERIES!!! If you aren’t interested please keep scrolling.

You could not believe what you just heard. 

JARVIS had alerted you that you had to go to the living room and when you did you saw everyone sitting there. You picked up some tension in the room and your brain immediately went to you doing something wrong and now you were going to get kicked back out on the streets. 

You nervously sat down no the couch in a tense position, Bucky noticed it and wrapped you in a hug helping you nerves slightly. 

“Okay, Y/N we have some news to tell you.” Tony said seriously making your nerves spike up again. 

“There is a mission we all have to go on for a couple days.” Steve informed you. Wait all of them? Who was going to keep you company, Peter was gone on a school trip so you were going to be all by yourself in this huge compound you now called home.

“We’re sorry Y/N but we just found a few hours ago.” Bucky whispered in your ear causing you to giggle a little bit. “Are your ears ticklish too?” Bucky whispered again and then blew in your ear causing you to squeal. Thankfully he didn’t continue because you weren’t really in the mood to be tickled so he just snuggled you closer.

“So we decided to spend the entire day unplugged and as a family. So what do you want to do Y/N?” Nat asked you putting you on the spot. You didn’t want to pick something someone didn’t want to do.

“Nothing you pick is going to upset anyone.” Bucky assured you rubbing you arm up and down, but you were still to nervous to say anything in fear of upsetting someone else. 

“Wanna have a water balloon fight?” Tony says hoping to get you to agree to something someone else picked and plus New York was going through a little heat wave in the beginning of September. You smiled and nodded your head. “Go get changed then.” You bolted off the couch clearly excited to play you changed into a swimsuit but changed into a larger t-shirt to cover your swimsuit.

Once you stepped out into the yard you were quickly splashed with a water balloon hitting you in the shoulder. You screamed not expecting to get hit that quickly, also understanding that the Avengers didn’t show any type of mercy when it came to games like this. Although you’ve learned the Avengers as a group were really competitive. 

You heard what could only be described as a battle cry and suddenly Steve was in front of you, like a shield and wrapped an arm around your waist and picked you up. “No I must protect Y/N at all costs.” You giggled at his childishness. The other thing you loved about living here was how playful everyone could be. They knew when to be serious but more often than not it was super light hearted and playful around the compound. 

Steve carried you to safety and handed you some water balloons. “Give ‘em hell Y/N.” He smirked and then ran off to drench people with water. You saw Nat run by away from Clint and you went to toss a water balloon at her, thankfully you hit right on the mark and she made eye contact with you. You squealed and took off running from her, which then lead you getting hit by another water balloon from Tony.

This fight was becoming an epic battle and you were getting a little tired from all the running around and from throwing all the balloons. Then you had a genius idea to probably win the entire war, you had to be sneaky though otherwise you didn’t think this plan was going to work.  You made your way to the side of the compound with the water hose, you quietly unraveled it and turned the crank the knob and aimed.

Everyone screamed as you soaked them all with water from the hose, you laughed at their reaction and you continued to spray the hose back and forth making sure that you got everyone. You noticed you didn’t see Steve when suddenly you were wrapped up in a bear hug, you screamed from the surprise and from the coldness from him being soaking wet with water. “You little cheater and to think I helped you.” 

Then you saw Bucky slowly walk toward you with an evil grin on his face. You knew what was coming and tried to get out of Steve’s arms but you stood no chance. “We don’t tolerate cheating here Y/N, you must be punished!” Bucky said as he quickly grabbed your foot in his metal arm and dragged his finger down your foot. 

“Bucky!” You screamed then burst into laughter, you tried to kick your leg but Bucky held it firm and your other leg wasn’t going to help you. Then you felt Bucky grab one of your toes and you screamed louder and you were now trying to kick your other leg to make Bucky let go. 

“You never run out of ticklish spots do you bug?” Bucky smiled at you at his nickname for you, he was the one who found out you liked to cuddle, gave you the nickname Cuddlebug but when everyone else started to call you that, he had to come up one that was just for him so he shortened it to bug. Once Bucky played with all of your toes on one foot, he grabbed your other one, “we can’t have the other feel left out can we?” Then started to tickle your toes on that foot causing the same reaction as before, finally he got to playing with your last toe. 

You also started to feel the arms around you loosen but you were being gently put on the ground and you were looking up at Steve and Tony. “Even though we found a new spot there are some old good ones.” Steve smiled at you and went straight for your sides causing you to giggle sweetly and try to twist away, even though you really didn’t want to. One hand was poking rapidly up and down while the other was massaging your side. The two different sensations were incredibly ticklish.

“Yup still a good one.” Tony said, “But so is this one,” as he inserted his face in your neck and started to rub his beard around everywhere. You squealed louder and started to laugh more frantically.

“Tohohohony!” You cried trying to squish his head out of your head but that only opened up the other side for him to torment. 

“Yes pipsqueak?” He whispered in your ear flowed by a small puff of air. You also choked on your salvia from the scream that worked it’s way through your throat, but it also didn’t help that Steve also moved his hands to the bottom of your rib cage. 

“Now Y/N, Queens told me you have a pretty good ticklish spot on your ribs, wanna tell me where it is?” Steve teased you evilly but you were laughing to hard to answer him. “Okay, I just I’m going to have to find it myself.” He started to vibrate his fingers all over your rib cage frantically and quickly to try and find the spot he was talking about. When he finally found it you let a loud scream. “Oh, Queens was right this is fun.” Thankfully, Steve had some mercy on you not wanting to get too carried away and he let you breath for a little bit. But because Steve was still sitting above your waist you couldn’t see Sam sneak over. 

You suddenly felt someone squeeze your knees, you screamed again, and let out your favorite deep laughter. “SAM!” You yelled before you were kicking your legs in every direction you could with Steve still hovering above you. It didn’t take long for your laughter to become silent causing Sam to stop.

“Sorry rugrat, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity.” He said with a quick kiss to your forehead. Tony let you go and Steve got up as well. You were still laying on the ground recovering from your tickles but then you felt two hands under your arms, which caused your Tickle Me Elmo giggles to come out but it was just Tony helping you stand back up. 

“Pizza and a movie sound okay there pipsqueak.” Tony asked you and you were still giggling from early so you just nodded your head. He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead, “Go on and get cleaned up. We will be in the movie room when you are done.”

———————

After the chaotic water ballon fight and the torturous tickles you received you all went your respective ways to clean yourselves up before the pizza came. You all met up in the movie room, which you found both of the large sectional arranged in a U shape that all of you could fit on. You went to curl up in one of the corners but Tony sat next to you and pulled you away from the corner to curl you up in his arms with a kiss to your hair. 

“Kay, pipsqueak what movie do you wanna watch?”

“Can we watch the Parent Trap?” You asked boldly yet still quietly, you then heard a loud groan from Steve, you instantly curled into yourself a little more and felt bad. Steve probably hated that movie and you had just picked that for him to sit through. 

Tony instantly picked up on your change of mood. “Hey, don’t listen to Cap. He doesn’t know a good movie that isn’t from the 40’s.”

“No, it’s okay we can watch something else.” You said quietly picking at your fingernails, but you were a little disappointed because it was one of your favorite movies.  

“How do I burn the toast. EVERY. TIME!” Steve yelled from the kitchen. You started to giggle at Steve’s constant ability to fail at doing something as making a piece of toast. He walked into the movie room and you giggled slightly as you saw his facial expression of annoyance. He gave you a look knowing that you were in trouble, you clung tighter to Tony in hopes that he wouldn’t be able to get you but you were easily snatched from Tony.

“Is my misery funny to you Y/N?” He whispered in your ear while starting to claw at your tummy. You began to giggle sweetly and weakly try to bat his hands away from your tummy. “And you think your funny trying to get away?” He put his nose into your neck and started rubbing it all around causing you to break out in laughter trying a little more desperately to get away.

Tony grabs you away from Steve. “Leave my baby alone.” Tony pulled you tight into his chest and wrapped his strong arms around you. Suddenly you felt fingers brush through your hair, that was something new but you loved it, it was so relaxing and comforting. Soon you were quickly asleep halfway through the movie cuddled up in Tony’s arms. 

———————

“Y/N wake up.” Bucky gently shook your shoulder. You groaned not wanting to get up and face saying goodbye to everyone and being left alone. “Come on, we have a surprise for you downstairs.” You could hear the excitement in his voice but it still didn’t make you want to get up. “Fine, I’ll resort to other measures.” He quickly blew a raspberry in your neck you squeal and tried to bury yourself under your pillow and blankets.

Bucky laughed at your reaction and yanked your blankets off you causing you to whine at the sudden coldness. He quickly squeezed your ribs a little making you try to squirm away while giggling adorably according to Bucky. “Come on, we have a really good surprise for you downstairs.” He stopped tickling you pretty quickly but continued to sit by your side. “I’ll give you a piggyback ride downstairs.” 

You smiled and quickly nodded. Bucky stood up and you launched yourself off your bed onto his back, he grunted at the sudden impact but started his way downstairs. “You pack a real punch Y/N, I’m gonna have to teach you how to fight soon.” 

He took you to one of the rooms that supplied all of the Avengers gear and uniforms for the missions. Everyone was eagerly waiting for you, you could tell Tony was the most excited because he couldn’t stop moving. 

“Sorry I’m a little late, someone didn’t want to get out of bed.” Bucky teased with squeezing the back of your thighs by your knees. You instantly belly laughed and started to kick both of your legs until he set you down on your feet. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry that we have to all go on a mission the same weekend Peter’s on a school trip but we don’t want you to be alone so we got you some more company.” Tony explained. You looked around the room confused when you didn’t see anyone new in the group. “Go open my locker.” He smiled nodding in the right direction.

You were a little nervous it was some kind of practical joke but when you opened the locker a little ball of fluff attacked your lower legs. You squealed and dropped down to the floor letting your new companion lick at your face.

“You got me a puppy?” You were shocked and so happy because you always wanted a puppy. 

Especially a golden retriever puppy.

“Well yeah, we can’t have you worrying about us day and night can we?” Steve chuckled at your reaction.

You were giggling as your new puppy kept licking your face and neck and it sort of tickled too further adding to your giggles. 

“What are you going to name him?” Tony asked clearly happy at your reaction to the puppy. 

You thought about it for a while as you got the puppy to stop licking your face. He was now cradled in your arms as you were giving him belly rubs. “Solider.” 

“Perfect.” Steve exclaimed giving you a kiss on the head. “I don’t wanna ruin the moment but we really do have to get going.” 

Everyone gave you a hug or kiss goodbye before making their way to the jet. Tony wanted to make sure that he was the last one to say goodbye. “See you later pipsqueak, everything little Solider needs is in the closet next to your room. If we can we are going to try FaceTime you at night but I can’t promise anything. I love you.” Tony said before he gave you a longing kiss on your forehead. You watched the QuinJet fly off into the distance but before you could get too lost in thought Solider let out a little yip.

“Okay boy, what should we do?” You set him on the ground and watch him clumsily try to make his way further into the house, having him would definitely keep you occupied until your family came back.  

It's Part of The Contract

A/N: Mid sized Duncney fic, kinda a small scale rewrite of world tour, mostly in the pov of Duncan.

Btw thank you @juniper-berries for the idea 😌. Bestie knows what's up.

"Wait… what." Duncan said in an almost breathless way. "I- how can you put that in MY contract?"

Chris laughed in an almost, evilly pleasured way. "You have to cheat on Courtney, dude. Unless you want to be an intern and uh I promise you don't want that." He said "and hey Gwen's hot. You'll live, bad boy."

The contract stipulated that if he was to form a relationship, commited or otherwise, that he specifically would have to cheat on her or him.

"I'll be an intern, Courtney and I have come too far to be seperated because of your stupid drama." He said firmly.

"It's your funeral."

Courtney and Duncan had had time in between season two to work it out. He found out about her severe anxiety disorder and a lot of other things.. She told him in no uncertain terms that TD was destroying her mental health and during Action she was having a prolonged mental breakdown.

He CHOSE to forgive her. He CHOSE to not let her actions during her lowest point ruin them.

So everything about him leaving was staged and ready. He hated making Courtney think he was mad at her, but it was well.. Better.

There was a slight break taking place for the cast, so Chris was planning on testing out some challenges.

"Man this bi-" mid complaint he looked up. "Chris what the hell man." He said as he saw him sitting in a chair beside a rotator.

"Get in, it's part of an obstacle course challenge we are thinking of." He said with a laugh.

Duncan sighed and climbed in. They spun him for fifteen minutes, FIFTEEN. Then..

"Chris!" He yelled faintly. Covered in his own puke and tears.

They left him there for ten hours, and when they came back he was passed out and had to be rushed to the ER. His stomach was pumped and he nearly died.

It was late at night, and he looked out the window. "I'm.. I'm sorry Courtney.." He groaned.

So he agreed, he'd cheat on Courtney so he wouldn't be subjected to another near death experience.

He was brought back the minute he recovered, for the filming of "I see London.."

He scaled down a wall and the first thing he heard..

"Duncan!"

Courtney..

She had raced into his arms and he embraced her, knowing it would be the last for a while.

"I missed you.." She said in an almost purr.

Duncan held her back. "I missed you too." He saw Chris and he got a thumbs up, he saw Gwen looking at them and he looked back. He felt sick.

Later that day..

Chris had pulled him aside after all the challenges, he tried to spend his last moments with Courtney but it was.. Practically impossible.

"Gwen's in the confessional. Go get 'em tiger!"

Duncan looked at him "I won't let you get away with this, I just want you to know that McClean." He said before walking in.

"Uh.. A little busy." She said, looking at him. Duncan put on a faux smirk. "Hey uh today I felt like we had a real connection y'know?"

Gwen looked at him. "I mean.. I thought you were flirting with me.." Duncan approached, she walked in too. And they.. They kissed.

And in the back, Tyler saw.

Several days later..

Duncan felt awful. Like pure shit. And then, Alejandro started. "Tell Courtney, now."

"I saw Duncan and Gwen kissing!!!"

Everyone gasped.

Courtney looked at him then her. "H.. How COULD YOU!?!?" She was held back "Gwen I thought we were friends, Duncan you lying motherfucker you said you'd accept me!" She screamed, she was clearly having a panic attack. It hurt.. So bad.

Duncan feigned an uncaring attitude but in reality he was ready to cry. He couldn't help it. He. He loved her.

The rest of the season was.. Hellish. He couldn't just avoid Gwen so he faked it all the way through.

When he got booted off he was honestly relieved. He didn't care enough about the final but he was there anyway.

Seeing Courtney hurt too. But he just. Ignored it. He felt like a coward. He hated himself.

Sometime after season three..

He stayed with Gwen for a bit but.. When he heard Chris was arrested. Oh god. He dumped her without hesitation. He got in contact with a lawyer and well..

He was going to find her.

It had taken a few months to get everything together but he did.

He was at her doorstep. He inhaled and knocked on the door.

"He- YOU!" Oh god she was pissed.

"YOU FILTHY LYING SON OF A MOTHERFUCKER, HOW COULD YOU!?" Tears started welling and she hit her head. "You.. You said you loved me. You said you.."

"Courtney, I do love you. I love you so much. Just."

Courtney was looking at him, holding herself.

"Chris forced me to do it."

"Yeah sure Duncan. Is that really all you wanna say?"

"I can prove it." He pulled out a paper and handed it to her.

She started reading it.

' Duncan Jackson will, if getting into a relationship, serious or otherwise, will cheat on said partner for entertainment purposes or he shall be made to do intern work for as long as the show airs. '

Courtney looked at him then re-read it. "I want to speak to your lawyer.." She said faintly. She, she didn't know what to think.

They sat on the porch and called up the lawyer who confirmed everything.

Courtney looked up to him. "So.. You really tried to intern.. For me?"

"Yeah princess.. I would have kept doing it too if he wouldn't have nearly killed me on the first day." He said with a sigh.

"Dunkie.. I."

Duncan cupped her cheek and they kissed.

"I'm never going to mess up again princess, I promise."

👑See Me In A Crown👑

Masterlist ✨ Requesting Rules ✨ Song Inspired Oneshots

Request; DABI x READER: YOU SHOULD SEE ME IN A CROWN- BILLY EILISH. THATS A BADASS DUO AND NO ONE CAN TELL ME OTHERWISE

A/N; True true, I highly agree, this is a gender neutral reader btw. Also, i took mega inspiration from the see me in a crown music video. Rock and roll buckeroo!

Pairing; Dabi x Villain!Reader

Warnings; manga spoilers, blood, semi gore, swearing, anime s4 spoilers

{gif is not mine}

“L/n, Y/n. Quirk: Nightmare. They can make one’s deepest nightmare come true. Villain name: Darkness.” A raspy voice spoke as a h/c haired person stood behind Dabi. That was you. You had a twisted smirk on your face, peaking from behind. “Scary huh? I was dismissed as a hero. Now I’m here~” You hummed. “Why did you bring their police report here?” The blue haired man asked, examining your figure from behind Dabi.

“Because he just broke me out of course.” You said in a monotone voice and stepped out beside Dabi. “L/n, bite your tongue.” Dabi commanded, you just stuck your tongue out and bit it. “You’re Tomura Shigaraki, yes?” You smirked and walked over to him. “You’re plan to finish off all of the heroes is failing yes? You let go of you’re chance to work with Kai Chisaki, he was very powerful, but you aren’t.” You smirked and leaned forward.

“I will kill you, L/n.” Tomura growled, you just laughed and then his hand went around your neck, pinkie lifted of course. You gave him a twisted grin as your eyes darkened to complete black. “Do it. Why aren’t you?” Your voice had gotten deeper as you invaded his mind, looking for his worst fear. “Y/n.” Dabi said in a warning tone. “Saved by the bell eh?” You smirk and grab Tomura’s wrist, ripping it away from touching your neck. “Try some lotion sometime, it might do you some good.” You whisper in his ear before retreating back to Dabi’s side. 

Your comment towards Tomura made a blonde girl giggle but she quickly shut up. “They’re strong-” Dabi started, “They are cocky and disrespectful.” Tomura cut him off. The man beside you sighed deeply and crossed his arms. “They are strong, level headed, and can talk anyone down in seconds. They’re perfect for the League of Villains since we got rid of Chisaki.” You smiled and nodded happily. “Fine. They are your responsibility, scar face.” Tomura huffed and left the room. And so it begins.

Dabi thought, instead of wasting a Nomu, he would send you to deal with Endeavor and Hawks. “Dabi, that’s boring. Stupid Number One hero will kill me.” You whined to Dabi as you both sat in an abandoned parking garage. “Bite your tongue and bide your time. He won’t kill you, baby. You think I would let that happen? He’ll simply kill his fear.” The man across from you answered as you sat across from him. When he called you baby always made your heart flutter.

“Dabi, you don’t understand. The nightmare would be an extension of myself. If he does kill the nightmare, I’ll take awhile to recover.” You say, a small hint of fear in your voice. “I’ll be completely vulnerable.” “Then I’ll come get you. Don’t worry okay baby?” You sigh and nod. “Yeah okay.” You say, before smirking evilly. “I’m gonna run this nothing town.” Dabi grins at that statement and kisses you. “You’ll look great in a crown.” He smirked.

The time came and you sat in the same restaurant as Hawks and Endeavor. A table maybe ten or fifteen feet away. As a villain, you couldn’t always rely on your quirk, just like heroes couldn’t. You sat in the corner with a baggy black cloak on, messing with a Queen of Hearts card in your hand. Like a card trick of sorts. “Y/n, are you ready?” Your boyfriend’s voice rang through your small earpiece. “Yeah yeah.” You mumble and looked at the marble wall behind you as the waitress came up. “Would you like-” Her voice was cut short.

Count my cards, watch them fall, blood on a marble wall.

You smiled when you saw the blood on the wall and turned around to see everyone screaming and the two heroes looking at you. You grabbed the card that you threw that was now stuck in the wall and covered with blood. You licked the corner while smiling. “Oh yes! Keep screaming please!” You turned to the now standing heroes.

“I like the way they all....scream.” You smirk while licking the splattered blood from your lips and wiping your face with your sleeve. “Damn, and here I thought you were kinda pretty.” Hawks said, glaring at you as you grabbed more cards, one between each finger. “If you think I’m pretty, you should see me on a crown. I’m gonna run this nothing town~”  You grin and threw more cards but Hawks deflected them with his feathers. “I’m not after you anyways, bird boy.” You hiss and take your hood off, grinning now.

“Tell me, Mr. Number One Hero, which one is worse? Living or dying first? Sleeping inside a hearse? Don’t worry, you’ll be in one soon!” You laugh as your eyes turned black. “Shit, Endeavor that’s Darkness! They broke out yesterday!” Hawks warning before you conjured up Endeavor’s worst nightmare. You let out a low chuckle before shooting through the roof.

There were certain levels of a fear, simple, mild, darkness. You started off simple, any hero’s fear would be innocent people dying. You conjured up black smoke that cut through the building you were just in. “Enji Todoroki eh? Seems you have a lot of fears.” You taunt as the Hell Flame hero dodged at you. You were able to dodge each of his attacks. “Ah, it seems you are afraid of All Might. Perhaps because he will always be stronger than you?” You laugh

Your black smoke took the form of All Might, now fighting Endeavor for you. Dabi let loose the grey Nomus to keep other Pros in the area occupied along with Hawks. “How’s everything up there?” “Perfect Dabi.” You hum back into the comlink before returning your attention to Endeavor, whom was just thrown to a rooftop. You grinned as you heard screams from down on the ground. “This is wonderful...ACK!” You held your stomach as you started to cough up blood.

You looked over at Endeavor who was now on the ground, though he landed one good hit to your nightmare, it was still okay. You huff and glare at the unmoving hero and threw a card at his eye. That woke him up, his painful scream echoing through the worthless city. You laughed and wiped your mouth from the blood. “Ah, you are weak. Shouldn’t be Number One after all eh?” You taunt with your voice coming through the nightmare All Might. You sent the nightmare after Hawks until you started to cough up blood again.

“What the fuck?!” You scream as you see a fireball crash into the city, like a meteor. Your entire body went limp from your nightmare being destroyed. Your body went flying to the ground until a hero caught you. Damned Hawks. When the two Pros were together again, you in Hawks arms, Dabi finally decided to show up. “Give them back.”

You were still semi-conscious so you heard the raw emotions in your boyfriends voice. “Who-” Endeavor started before Dabi started a whirlwind of blue fire. You took your chance to use the last of your energy to run to the man. “I’m sorry Dabi, I should’ve been better.” You said weakly but was quickly soothed when he kissed your forehead and picked you up. “I will kill you next time, Number One.” He hissed before disappearing.

Later that day you sat in the same parking garage, but this time on a bed, rubbing your skinned knee and stabbed thigh with rubbing alcohol so it wouldn’t get infected. Outside the door you heard yelling. “I told you to send a Nomu, not your fucking sidekick.” A man hissed at who you assumed was Dabi. “They had to prove themselves to the League, I thought this was their chance. It still go the job done, didnt it? Hawks?” Dabi smirked before going back to you. Hawks? Why was Dabi talking to a hero?

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away, so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal. If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 4,369

Chapter Warnings: swearing, references to past child abuse (regarding c!Tommy)

Chapter Summary: In which Schlatt is his own brand of irritating, Wilbur and Tommy talk a bit but not about everything, and they make their way to Dream’s prison cell.

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Five: hide your soul out of his reach (i)

“You’re stalling.”

“I’m what?”

His response is automatic, comes spilling out before he truly registers that someone has spoken to him, much less who it is. So when he looks up and locks gazes with Schlatt, the annoyance bubbles up quickly. He’d been sitting quietly, in a relatively secluded area near Tommy’s house, thinking about nothing in particular and everything all at once, and he’d felt settled. Peaceful. His mind quiet.

So much for that.

“I thought you’d fucked off somewhere,” he says.

“And deprive you of my company?” Schlatt shoots back. “You wound me.”

“I wish I could,” he mutters. He glances away, staring off into middle space, hoping that maybe, Schlatt will go away if he pretends very hard that he doesn’t see him. No such luck, and he sighs. “What am I stalling about?”

“Dream,” Schlatt supplies. He strides closer, then kicks off into the air, drifting aimlessly in a seated position. The sweater still looks odd. Too soft, when the man in front of him is anything but. “You said you were gonna go see him.”

“And I am. Just not yet.”

Schlatt snorts. “What’s keeping you?”

He frowns. Meets Schlatt’s eyes again, and finds no sympathy there. A bit of hard amusement, at best. Not that he was expecting anything else.

“Tommy’s going to want to come with me, when I go,” he says. “But I don’t want him near Dream.”

Schlatt makes a sound that’s more mocking than understanding. “Right, Tommy,” he says. “Where is the kid? I’m surprised he left you alone in the first place.”

“Tubbo went back to his town. Snowchester, I think they said it was called.” There is an undefinable melancholy that fills him at the thought. Even now, after everything, they are still trying to make a home. Still trying to carve some corner out of the world and make it theirs. Or Tubbo is, at least. He’s no longer quite sure what Tommy wants. “Tommy went with him.”

“But you didn’t.”

He shakes his head. Tubbo said that there were other people who lived in Snowchester, when he asked. Jack Manifold, for one. Maybe a couple of others. Captain Puffy, maybe? Either way, to go with them would have been to invite the possibility of meeting people, and every cell in his body cringes away from that idea. He’s not ready for that just yet. If ever.

(you’ll have to face them eventually, will have to stand your ground against the hatred in their eyes, burning and so well-deserved, shattered fractals of a people you used to belong to and did your best to destroy)

(you’ll have to face them eventually, and yet you hide)

“Tommy said he’d be back later,” he says. “He doesn’t live there. In Snowchester.”

“So here you are, waiting for him.”

“I suppose.” He frowns, shifting in place where he’s sitting on the ground. He brushes his fingers against the grass, absently pulling up a flower or two. “It’s not as if there’s not time. We can wait until Tommy’s not quite so—” He trails off here, not quite sure how to finish the sentence. Not quite so what? Not quite so traumatized? Trauma doesn’t work like that, doesn’t go away within the span of a few days or weeks. He knows as much, though he used to be content enough to ignore it

(when he was the one causing it)

back in the old days, when there was no choice otherwise, when there was no chance of rest.

“Well, aren’t you considerate,” Schlatt says, and Wilbur looks at him sharply, because that was definitely snide. Schlatt stares right back, brows lifted, smirking. “Waiting for your little brother to be a little less broken. How kind of you.”

He bristles. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“I’ll talk about him however I want,” Schlatt says. “What are you gonna do, shout at me? Play some shitty music? Please. But all I’m saying is that a few days isn’t gonna make a difference, and you know it. You’re stalling to make yourself feel better, to try and convince yourself that you’re better now, that you’re not gonna hurt him anymore.”

His mouth goes dry. “I’m not—” He shakes his head again, as if trying to dislodge the idea. “It doesn’t matter right now, anyway,” he says. “He’s in Snowchester. He’s not here. There’s nothing to do until he gets back.”

“Oh my god, just comm him,” Schlatt says. “Tell him you’re going over to the prison. Do it now, and you can leave before he decides to go with. Win win.”

“I don’t—” He furrows his brow. He doesn’t have his comm. He’s not sure where his comm is. Except—

For the first time, he thinks to check the pockets of his coat. The first couple turn up nothing, but then, in the third, his fingers wrap around a sheet of thin, hard plastic. He freezes for a moment, and then draws the communicator out, holding it loosely in his hand. A tap on the screen, and it lights up, just the way he’s used to.

It doesn’t make sense for him to have this.

Schlatt leans over his shoulder and whistles.

“Daddy’s worried about you,” he says, and Wilbur blinks, pulling up his unread messages. There shouldn’t be any, shouldn’t be any at all, because he can count the number of people who knows that he’s back on one hand. And yet, there is one, and perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised at the identity of the sender, but he is.

Philza whispers to you: don’t mean to be pushy but could you let me know you made it to smp lands safe?

He has to read the message several times before its meaning sinks in, and once it does, he’s not sure how to feel about it. It doesn’t particularly read like Phil wrote it; it’s too hesitant, too apologetic. But Wilbur remembers what Phil looked like, standing in that kitchen, wingless and so very cautious, flinching away from his words as if they were physical blows. And in the end, letting him go, even though it was plain as day that he would have liked nothing more than to keep him there.

He’s angry with Phil. For a lot of reasons. But then, he’s angry at the world, too. Angry at himself, most of all.

(and there is so much of him that just wants someone else to swoop in and fix things, just wants his dad to make everything better in a way that he hasn’t since he was a kid and the first fracture formed, splitting their family apart, and as much as he is angry there is a large part of him that just wants to go back to that house and sink into his father’s arms and learn how to call a place home again)

“You gonna answer?” Schlatt asks.

He ignores him, checking the timestamp. It was sent a few hours after he left the tundra. So, a couple of days ago, now, and there have been no messages since. Perhaps it’s no longer relevant.

He hesitates, eyes tracing over don’t mean to be pushy.

It feels so strange, for Phil to qualify a sentence like that. Like he’s unsure of his welcome. And perhaps he’s right to be.

You whisper to Philza: I’m safe.

“Touching,” Schlatt says dryly. He scowls, trying to bat him on the arm or push him away or do something, but his hand goes through, and Schlatt just smirks some more for his efforts. “Now do Tommy.”

He puts the comm down on his lap, turning to face Schlatt fully. “Why are you being so fucking insistent?” he demands. “You’re a ghost, you can go by yourself. Through the walls and shit, since apparently you get actual ghost powers.” Ghostbur didn’t get ghost powers. He recalls that very clearly, because Ghostbur was immensely disappointed by this. For once, he agrees with the shade.

“And do what, look at him? Like it’s a fucking zoo? Watch him twiddle his thumbs and chuckle evilly to himself? Not exactly my idea of a good time,” Schlatt says. “I don’t know if you forgot, but nobody can see me. Hell, for all you know, I’m not even real. You could be making me up.”

He tries to brush the comment off. It hits just a bit too close to home

(whispers in shadows and enemies around every corner, people watching and staring and plotting against him, and no one else can see, Tommy can’t see, but that’s alright, he sees enough for both of them, and he will have his victory, and if he cannot have that, then nobody can and there is laughter, laughter, laughter)

for his comfort.

“If I were making you up,” he says, “I would simply stop.”

“Cute,” Schlatt says. “Do you wanna know what your problem is? Your problem is that you’re scared of people seeing you for what you really are.”

His hands clench.

“You say you don’t want to hurt Tommy? Fine. I even believe you,” Schlatt continues. “But don’t act like you’ve come back to life and suddenly you’re some saint. You’re fooling yourself, Wilbur. People like us don’t change. You can put on as much of a shine on the outside as you want, but scratch that paint off, and you’re still the power-hungry asshole who blew up a city as a hissy fit.”

His mouth works for a second, wordless.

“Fuck you,” he snarls, and scoops up his comm again.

You whisper to TommyInnit: I’d like to visit the prison today

“Was that so hard?” Schlatt asks.

“Fuck you,” he says again. “And fuck off. Or I swear to god I’ll figure out a way to exorcise you.”

“Please do,” Schlatt says. “I’d thank you for it. But sure, have it your way.” He shrugs, looking completely unconcerned. “I’m never too far.” Then, he disappears, and there is a shimmer of blue in the air, and even that fades away, and Wilbur is left alone and feeling no better for it.

“It wasn’t a fucking hissy fit,” he says to the empty space. There’s no one left to hear him, no one left to justify himself to, but

(it wasn’t a hissy fit it was desperation and fear and wild abandon and a surging, terrible victory and a fire in his chest driving him onward and he relished in it, relished in the freedom and the power and the control and he was the villain, he was the villain and he was good at it, he was the villain and he loved it, he was the villain and everyone else paid the price and he didn’t pay at all so what happens now, what happens to the villain back from the grave what happens)

he’s not wrong. Not about this.

TommyInnit whispers to you: ok

TommyInnit whispers to you: i’ll be back soon

TommyInnit whispers to you: dont leave without me or your a bitch

He doesn’t leave without him.

He should. Should venture on to the prison by himself, to spare his brother the effort. But in the end, he can’t bring himself to do it. Can’t bring himself to go it alone. Perhaps it really is pathetic, but he wants to have someone by his side when he starts revealing himself to the rest of the server.

It’s certainly selfish. But he’s never claimed not to be.

They don’t meet anyone on the way. Wilbur doesn’t understand why, not when the sun is shining brightly and they’re walking the established path, matching each other stride for stride,

(there was a time when he would have walked behind you, would have trailed on your coattails, would have looked to you for direction and guidance and look at him now, look at who he has been made into, a child who should not have to be as grown as he is but there is no changing it now and he really is someone to be proud of, isn’t he?)

but they run into nobody, and those vines are fucking everywhere.

“Why hasn’t anyone cleared these?” he asks, more to himself than anyone else. “They’re a fucking eyesore.”

Tommy snorts. “You don’t need to tell me,” he says. “They’re ugly as hell. But there’s this Egg thing, see, that BadBoyHalo and a couple of others are all constantly going on about, and those vines come from it, I think. I don’t see what all the fuss is about, personally. I mean, it’s just an Egg. Can’t be all that great. But BadBoyHalo swears by it.” He pauses. “Well, he doesn’t swear. He says muffin by it, I suppose. Still can’t get him to swear.”

“An egg,” he says, and then frowns. “An Egg,” he repeats, and there’s a difference in the way he’s saying it, in the strange emphasis that implies the capital letter. “That’s—vines don’t come out of eggs. They’re not—vines don’t hatch, and eggs aren’t fucking plants.” And then, he remembers— “Techno told me about an egg. Said he thought it was some kind of cult. He didn’t know much else.”

Too late, he realizes what he’s said, and catches the way that Tommy stiffens.

“You’ve been to see Technoblade, then,” he says, and his voice is far too casual to actually be casual. He winces.

“When I—woke up,” he says, “I was really near the tundra. And I remembered where he lived, from when Ghostbur would visit. And I thought that maybe—”

“I mean, you don’t need to explain it,” Tommy interrupts, but his tone of voice tells Wilbur that actually, he really does need to explain it, because there is undoubtedly a note of hurt there, and that won’t do.

“No, no, I do,” he says. “I know you’re not exactly good with each other right now. I’m not really good with him either. But I woke up and it was raining and I didn’t know what the fuck was going on, and I made a list, see? And number one on that list was to get to you. But I was cold and wet and I had no idea what was happening in the SMP because Ghostbur’s memories are patchy as hell, so I thought that Techno could tell me some things so I wouldn’t go in blind and walk into—I don’t know, a nuclear war or something.”

Tommy makes an odd sound at that, like a cross between a cat having a hairball and someone choking on water gone down the wrong pipe. “Nuclear war,” he repeats, in a voice that’s a bit strangled, and his words seem to trip over each other in his rush to get them out. “Right. Yeah, no, none of that here. Nope. No way that could ever happen. Uh, yeah, no, that makes perfect sense.” He stops, and Wilbur is about to ask what the actual hell that was about, when he speaks up again. “Is he—I mean, how is he? Still a fucking crazy arsehole?”

Wilbur looks at him. Tommy does not look back. In fact, he seems to be making a point of looking straight ahead, avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Still an arsehole. Same old Techno, you know him. Phil, too.”

He doesn’t think he imagines the way Tommy’s shoulders relax at that, just fractionally.

“Right, yeah,” he says. “Good to hear.”

“Tommy—” he starts, and is saved from having to figure out what he’s going to say, because suddenly, he sees it. The prison. There’s no way that it could be anything else. And he has to stop and stare for a long moment, because he’s never seen a build like that before. Not on any server he’s ever lived on. He’s seen some impressive buildings in his life, and he’d like to think that he’s made a few himself,

(walls to keep them safe to protect them and hold them dear and he hasn’t seen Fundy yet, has he?)

but nothing compares to this.

“Who built this?” he breathes. He feels claustrophobic just looking at it, dark walls towering over them, looming, intimidating.

“Sam did,” Tommy says. “He’s the warden, too. But Dream commissioned him, which is what makes it so fucking funny.”

He feels a grin spread across his face.

“Wait,” he says, “Dream’s locked in his own fucking prison?”

“Dream’s locked in his own fucking prison!” Tommy whoops, and just like that, he’s laughing, and they both are, and maybe he can do this after all. He follows Tommy’s footsteps as he leads him to the doorway, to an empty room with a portal frame, and he’s sizing it up, trying to figure out how they’re supposed to get through, when Tommy steps forward.

“Sam?” he calls out. “You here?” And then, to Wilbur: “Sam’s kind of a dick when he’s got the whole warden thing going on, but he’s pretty nice when he’s not working. He’s been a good friend, you’ll like him. Later, I mean. When he’s not being a dick.” And then again: “Sam? Sam, we want to visit Dream!”

“You don’t need to yell, Tommy. I’m right here,” someone says, and there is another person in the room, and every muscle in Wilbur’s body tense because he didn’t see him come in. “I wasn’t expecting—” And then the man stops, staring right at Wilbur, and Wilbur is left to size him up and rack his brain as to whether or not he’s formally met Awesamdude before. He’s been on the server for a while, he knows. Was around for L’Manberg, was a part of the Badlands, was neutral. He’s met him before. He’s almost certain he’s met him before. But there’s no spark of recognition in him, looking at this man, with his full netherite armor and the mask covering the lower half of his face and the green patches that dot his skin.

“Wilbur Soot,” Sam eventually says. “I would assume? Not Ghostbur?”

He regains himself. Inclines his head. “You’d be right,” he says, and then he steps forward, taking his place at Tommy’s side, and he extends a hand. “Sorry, I’m not sure that we ever really got the chance to meet.”

Sam takes his hand, showing only a bit of hesitance. His grip is firm.

“I’d say it’s a pleasure,” Sam says. “I’m not sure if it is or not.”

“You know what?” Wilbur says. “That’s fair.”

“Hm,” Sam says, and it’s hardly approval. But Wilbur is very aware of the fact that they’re standing in the entrance of a prison, a prison that is supposedly inescapable, and that he has definitely, by the standards of the server, committed at least one crime. And what’s more than that, he doesn’t particularly regret it. Not the act itself. The effects it had, maybe. The pain it brought. But in his heart of hearts, he is glad that L’Manberg is gone.

So really, the fact that he isn’t being arrested is a win.

(he thinks, he wonders, what would he do if he was, if he was locked away in the dark and the walls loomed all around him and the sun was a distant memory and ah, he thinks, no, I would rather die, and then the imagined prison becomes Pogtopia, shadowy and dank and every sound echoing off the stone, melancholy and abandoned, and he wonders what it looks like now, now that there is no life in it at all, and he wonders if it is haunted with the ghost of who he used to be, if he left some important part of him behind to shrivel into dust)

“So, I assume this is a recent development?” Sam asks. He’s being very calm about this, which Wilbur appreciates. But then, they were never close. Were never connected personally. The real tests still lie ahead.

“Couple of days,” Tommy says cheerily. “We’re taking it slow.”

“I didn’t know you knew how to do that,” Sam says, and Wilbur blinks, because it’s a joke. Someone feels familiar enough with Tommy to make the comment, and likes him well enough to make it playful.

That’s—good? He thinks it’s good? Probably? Yes. Good. Tommy has friends. Good.

(he doesn’t need you. not really. he wants you, for some godforsaken reason. but he doesn’t need you)

“Oi, I can be slow,” Tommy says. “I can be the very slowest. I am excellent at being slow, I’ll have you know.”

“Well, that explains a lot,” Wilbur says, and Tommy gapes at him, looking back and forth between them with a dawning expression of betrayal.

“Oh no you don’t,” he says, stabbing a finger at both of them. “I didn’t introduce you so that you could go ganging up on me. That’s just not right. I changed my mind, Wilbur, you’re not allowed to like Sam. None of this bullshit.”

Wilbur laughs, and for a moment, it’s like nothing has changed at all. He’s ribbing his little brother, and there’s even someone else here for support, and it’s not Techno, but that doesn’t seem to matter so much. The motions are familiar, the words an old pattern.

“You’re here to see Dream, right?” Sam says, and just like that, the illusion shatters. And the smile is gone from Tommy’s face.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, we are.” He hesitates. “We can both go in together, right? Because I’ll tell you right now, nothing else is going to work. We’re a package deal, me and Wil are.”

Sam tilts his head. “No one’s ever tried to visit with someone else,” he says. “I don’t see an issue with it, as long as you both pass security.”

This is relieving. But Wilbur’s a bit more concerned with the way that Tommy’s hands have begun to shake. Just slightly, barely enough to see.

“Good,” Tommy says. “Wilbur, there’s so much security, it’s honestly ridiculous. There’s a bunch of checkpoints and lava and you have to put all your stuff in a locker and get splashed with potions, and oh! There’s wavers, too, you’re going to have to sign a bunch of shit.”

“Great,” he says. It’s not great. It sounds nerve-wracking, in fact. But if Tommy can do it, so can he; he’s just a bit worried that Tommy can’t do it. Or rather, not that he can’t do it, since he’s done it before, apparently. Just that maybe, he really, really doesn’t want to do it. That maybe, it will not be very good for him to do it. That maybe, he’s putting himself through this for Wilbur’s sake, and hasn’t Wilbur just established that he doesn’t want to hurt Tommy anymore?

(but the past echoes forward into the future and there’s no way around it now)

But they’re here, and he’s not going to be able to get Tommy to turn back, and he’s not sure that he would even if he could, because his nerves are all shot and he doesn’t want to be in this dark prison without an ally. So Sam guides them through the checkpoints, and there are indeed a lot of wavers, and a lot of splash potions, and Tommy has to put all of his things in a locker. Wilbur pulls up his inventory, certain that he doesn’t have anything on him, still, but he’s not entirely right about that; he must have kept the flowers he was pulling up earlier, because he’s got about five cornflowers in one of the slots.

He puts them in a chest, and ignores the startled look that Tommy shoots him when he sees. He’s not sure what that’s about. They’re just flowers.

The walls are too close. The shadows too dark. The crackle of lava too near. Tommy is putting on a front, chatting at Sam more than he is with him, and to his credit, Sam puts up with it with easy acceptance. But Wilbur knows that a front is all it is, because his smiles don’t reach his eyes, and he knows how Tommy sounds when he’s talking for the sake of hearing his own voice.

This may, perhaps, be a mistake.

(you can’t let him near Tommy don’t let him near Tommy not after what he did to Tommy don’t you know can’t you remember how can you be letting this happen after what he did Tommy shouldn’t be anywhere near here but now he is and you brought him and what kind of a brother are you)

But he has questions he needs to ask. And he hasn’t forgotten his list. His goals.

If there is anything he can do on this server to make it better, after everything he’s done, let it be this.

“Alright,” Sam says, “call for me when you want to leave. Make sure to walk with the bridge.”

And then the curtain of lava falls, and there is a moving platform, and Tommy is deathly still by his side, and there is the cell, and there, in the cell—

Dream.

He’s wearing an orange jumpsuit. A prisoner’s outfit. But he’s kept his mask, stark-white and smiling and laced with spiderweb-thin cracks. His mouth is visible, canting upward into a slight smile, one that mimics the black paint. He stands at their approach, and then they’re stepping into the cell, and Wilbur lets his hand land on Tommy’s shoulder, to steady him and to steady himself.

“Oh, fuck,” someone says, and it’s not him, and it’s not Tommy, and it’s not Dream, and it sounds faint and far away. The living aren’t the only ones in this cell, then. He hopes that Schlatt has the good sense not to be too distracting.

Dream takes a step forward. Under his hand, Tommy stiffens.

“Hi, Tommy,” Dream says. “It’s good to see you.” It’s directed at Tommy and Tommy alone, like Wilbur’s not even there at all, Dream’s mask tilted toward toward him, toward the kid that he manipulated and abused, and Tommy is trembling and Dream has no fucking right to address him like that, so soft and friendly, and Wilbur—

—sees red.

Back To The Future PT8

Pairing: Hvitserk X Reader

Summary: Ivar pursues his own plans he has with Y/N, while Hvitserk is the last one to find out about Y/N’s return.

A/N: Thank you all so much for your kind feedback and I hope you’ll enjoy the 8th part of this series as well. 🤗🧡 As always, I’d appreciate any kind of feedback. Feel free to leave comments or reblog.☺

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9

Almost like a statue I was standing there speechless and not moving any part of my body. Shocked I stared at Ivar recalling what he just said.

“Certainly! Hvitserk told me everything about your little secret and considering your reaction I suppose it is true, isn’t it?”, he took his crutches and stood up from his throne, moving slowly in my direction. Why did he tell him? Ivar of all people. If he already knows everything how far would I come with denying? If I say no, how am I going to explain my sudden disappearance if it’s not due to time-travelling?!  “It’s true!”, I said, knowing I had no other choice but to agree. So, what now? Nervously I watched Ivar getting nearer.

“He also told me you coming here out of all places was just a mere coincidence, how about that?”, he asked sounding unconvinced. I was about to nod as Ivar suddenly gave a laugh: “Do you really think I would believe that?!”, he watched me, and I looked at him irritated. “Come on, we both know why you’re really here. You’re not just here to check out my brother, are you? You can be honest with me. If he’s just a part of your plan, tell me.”

Furrowing my brows, I spoke up: “With all due respect, but I don’t know where you’re going with these accusations. Before I came here, I didn’t even know this place existed and the same goes for Hvitserk. I came here randomly.”, I assured him, but he still didn’t believe me. “Don’t try me! Why are you really here and I warn you, don’t lie to me!”, he threatened me. He was now standing right in front of me and angrily staring down at me. “As I already told you…”, he interrupted me talking. “Are you spying on us? Who are you working for? Tell me and I might spare your life!”. I looked up at him clearly frightened but even if I wanted to, I couldn’t give him the answer he wanted. I could only try to convince him to believe me. “I’m not working for anyone or even with anyone! As I said, I didn’t intend coming here! I myself don’t know why I’m here!”, my own voice grew louder as I was defending myself. “Is that so, huh?!”, Ivar looked in my eyes searching for a hint of dishonesty before he made an offer: “Proof yourself! Proof your loyalty by helping me gaining the upper hand in battle. Since you’re from the future you should know my enemy’s strategy and therefore you can help me prepare for it.”, he grabbed my chin with one hand. “If you refuse, I have no choice but to get rid of you since I can’t trust you! So, do you accept my offer?”.

How on earth should I know? My knowledge was limited. All I knew were the basic facts I picked up in a book, which won’t satisfy him but what other choice did I have?! Somehow, I just have to buy time until I find a way to go back to my time period. “I’ll do it!”, my words made him grin satisfied. “Good!”, with his fingers around my chin he moved my head harshly to the side before he turned around. “Get her somewhere she can’t get distracted and most importantly she can’t run away!”, he looked back at me once more. “Keep an eye on her. It would be too bad if we’d lose her to the future!”, he laughed.

And there I was, sitting on one single fur spread out on cold stone floor. I was brought into a room without any windows or even furniture. All I had were an old oil lamp, which’s only purpose was to provide the man who had to watch me good visibility of me and my doings, and two furs, one to sit or lay on and one to keep me warm just so I wouldn’t freeze to death too soon. If only Hvitserk was here. I sighed, leaning against the wall.

Hvitserks POV

I was almost the last one leaving the port. Most of the men were already with their wife and family. Unlike them, I had no one waiting for me so I took my time not rushing myself, what for?! No sooner had I found love than I lost it again. It seemed like love wasn’t meant for me.

I grabbed my fur which protected me from wind and weather but didn’t quite warm me up like Y/N's warm embrace could. “I have to stop thinking about it!”, I sighed making my way back to my room. As I entered the hall, I came across my brother Ivar, who was currently enjoying his dinner. While he chewed, he noticed me and gave me a nod. Furrowing my brows, I nodded at him before I went further to my room. Okay, is it me or did he look strangely happy? Shaking my head, I threw the fur on my bed and laid down on it. Exhausted from the long journey and overtired because of all these thoughts which sometimes won’t let me sleep, I immediately fell asleep, but I didn’t sleep well. I went to bed with an odd feeling, thinking it would be gone by the time I would get up again but on the contrary, it worsened. Still tired but unable to continue sleeping I left my room straightening my clothes since they were all crumpled. From looking out of the windows I knew it was in the middle of the night. Everyone should be asleep by now but to my surprise I found Ivar sitting in his throne flipping through book pages. “What are you doing there, Ivar?”, I asked him confused but instead of answering me clearly he asked me a counter-question: “Do you speak her language?”. “Who’s language? What exactly are you talking about?”, his words made no sense to my still sleepy self and I couldn’t grasp the meaning behind them. Curious I went to him, looking at the book he was holding I his hands. “What is this and where did you get this from?”.

“I should ask her myself then!”, Ivar closed the book and was about to stand up as I spoke up loudly: “Who is “her”? Ivar, what is going on?”. I felt my heartbeat quickening. Is he talking about Y/N? “That’s non of your business, brother!”, he hissed, grabbed his crutches and stood up. The book he’d clamped under his arm.

I watched him disappear in his own room wondering what might went into him. Does he know more than I do?  “Excuse me!”, I turned around as I heard someone’s voice coming from behind me. It was one of the maidens. She looked at me eager to tell me something but at the same time unable to utter a word for quite a while. I was about to leave her standing there as she suddenly spoke up: “Follow me, please!”. That’s all she said but I followed her anyway. My gut told me I would’ve regret it if I did otherwise.

She went down into the basement continuously making sure no one was following us. “What exactly are we doing down here?”, I asked as we were standing in front f an old rusty door. “Y/N is locked up in here by command of Ivar!”, she told me. Recalling what she said I was looking at her all confused and surprised at the same time. Y/N is back, and Ivar locked her up?  Eager to enter the room I grabbed the handle and desperately tried to open the door, but it was locked from the inside. “I’m Hvitserk, Ivars brother! Let me in immediately!”, I shouted so whoever was on the opposite site of the door would hear me. At first no one reacted but as I was starting to bang against the door, the door opened. “I can’t let you in!”, the guard planted himself in front of Hvitserk trying to stop him. “Oh, I think you can or do you want to mess with a son of Ragnar Lothbrok?”, I asked him, moving a hand to my weapon. “You know I could kill you in the blink of an eye!”, as I hoped he stepped aside and let me in. As soon as I stepped inside, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There she was, sitting on nothing but a single fur. She was about to stand up as she saw me but even before she was all standing, I already pulled her inside my embrace. I fully inhaled her sweet scent and intuitively pulled her body closer to mine, wrapping her in my body warmth. “I can’t believe you’re back!”, I whispered relieved, not willing to pull back so soon. Still holding her near I listened to her explaining how it came to her leaving. No one could imagine how relieved I was to hear she didn’t leave me on purpose. “I waited for your return but before I could welcome you Ivar already summoned me and before I knew what was happening, I ended up here.”, Y/N told me which made me pull back staring at her in disbelief. “Why did he do that?”, I asked not expecting the answer coming from Ivar, who was slowly entering the room.

“You are the one who gave me the idea! If you hadn’t told me about her secret in the first place, I would have never known how precious your little girlfriend is!”, he grinned evilly.

Thank you so much for reading! Stay safe!😇🧡

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