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dyavania · 4 years

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Alucard x Reader — Haunted Part 2

Request: “Could u do a part 2 of haunted? Where he confesses what had happened to him?“

Here you go anon, hope you’ll like the result, and thank you for the request!

Warnings: somewhat heated scene at the beginning (good T rating, nothing explicit), spoilers for season 3, discussion of past sexual abuse. Seriously that’s most of this so I advise against reading it if that makes you uncomfortable.

Part one

When you saw the door move, your first thought was that it was a draft. You were already moving to close it when you saw Alucard standing in the doorframe. He seemed hesitant, and he stood there for a while, his hand lingering on the wood as he looked at you.

“Is there something wrong?” you asked, and you thought you saw him flinch, but those words seemed to push him to move.

He walked towards you and sat on your bed. You watched him, studying his expression. You couldn’t tell what was going on in his mind. It wasn’t the first time he had come into your room at night. He’d done it once before when you’d had a nightmare, and once because he had baked a cake and wanted to share it with you, but it clearly wasn’t what motivated him now.

“Ad—”

He kissed you without a warning.

It took you a moment to even understand what was happening. His lips were featherlight against yours at first, and you didn’t hesitate before pressing yourself against him more. He let out a satisfied, somewhat relieved sigh as his arms moved around you. Everything about it was soft, gentle, careful. Almost fearful.

He felt himself melting into you completely. You were pressing warm kisses against his mouth, pulling his lower lip between your teeth playfully, and your hands were running over his shoulders, setting his body aflame. He could have simply lost himself in you, and he did want to, but he’d— done that before. And it hadn’t exactly ended well for him.

He knelt on your bed, using his height to tower over you, still kissing you, and you let him push you onto your back. He took a second to look at you, to admire you. God, he loved the way you looked, loved the blush on your cheeks, loved the desire in your eyes.

But also, you looked like he probably did, that one night.

He kissed you, desperately trying to push the thoughts away. Some other time, you might have picked up on his reactions, understood something was wrong, but you were too focused on the sensations he was giving you to notice. He was kissing your neck, his fangs grazing against your skin deliciously, and his hands were moving up and down your body, over your chest at first, then caressing the inside of your thighs as he parted them gently, slowly, making you arch into him, then tantalizingly moving up to—

Then suddenly, his contact disappeared, his weight above you was gone, and your eyes, which you had closed in pleasure, snapped open.

“I can’t do this.”

You didn’t think for a second when you pushed yourself up and wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. He was shaking, and you tightened your embrace, doing your best to ground him into reality, into this moment.

“It’s okay,” you said gently, settling your chin on his shoulders. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Adrian, it’s okay.”

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I want this. I want you. I just— I just can’t—”

His voice broke, and it was like your heart had been shattered into a million pieces. You couldn’t stand the pain he was in. You ached for him, and when his soft sobs filled the room, your fingers dug into him a little. You were angry, you were in pain, you felt utterly powerless. You wanted to help, but you had no idea what to do.

It didn’t last long, and he soon calmed down. You knew he didn’t like expressing sadness around others, whether it was you or other friends of his, and you could guess he wouldn’t be happy about it. Normally, you wouldn’t have pushed it, but you feared that you wouldn’t be able to broach the subject if you let it go just now.

“Talk to me,” you said when he pulled away, placing your hand on his cheek so you could meet his eyes.

He winced, and avoided your gaze, but you didn’t let go. After a few moments, he lifted his hand to place it on yours.

“There were two— persons, before you came here.”

Your mind immediately went to the bodies outside of the castle, and your breath caught in your throat. Surely—

“That’s— probably what you’re thinking about,” he said sadly, like he’d been reading your mind, though you guessed it was probably written on your face. “Taka and Sumi. They— I thought they wanted to learn about vampires so they could fight them better. I started training them, but— I… was selfish. I didn’t want to be alone here and I— maybe I tried to keep them here longer than—”

“Adrian,” you interrupted him, watching with horror as he seemed to shrink, shying away from you as he rambled about his guilt. “I know you. I know who you are. I cannot believe you have any responsibility in whatever happened to you.”

His eyes softened, and the saddest smile you had ever seen curved his lips.

“Of course you’d think that.”

You hated that. You hated that he couldn’t see you through your eyes, couldn’t really know how wonderful you thought he was.

“What happened?”

You didn’t want to press him for informations; you would have much preferred if he had told you himself, but he seemed reluctant to do that, and you didn’t think you’d be able to help him if you didn’t know.

“They— came into my room. They made love to me.” Your throat tightened. You had expected to feel jealous, but you didn’t. You were just horrified at the thought of what was to come. “They used silver bracelets on me to keep me from moving.”

The scars, you understood suddenly. You had always assumed they were from the fight against Dracula.

“They said I was lying to them. That I would betray them.” He swallowed. “They were going to kill me. So I killed them instead.”

There was a heavy silence when he stopped speaking, and breaking it was almost painful.

“Your sword?”

He nodded.

“I took two lives to save my own.” Then he had a bitter chuckle. “I didn’t have to kill them. I could have just incapacitated them, but I didn’t— think about that until later. A better person would have—”

“No!” you protested, with more energy than you’d meant to. He looked at you in surprise, and it made you feel a little awkward, but you couldn’t let him say that, or even think that about himself. “No, no, no, Adrian, you can’t— say that.” You lifted your second hand to cradle his face. “You must have been terrified. I don’t know how you even thought about calling for your sword.”

He removed your hands from his face, but he kept them in his.

“I acted to preserve my life. First, I killed my father, and then I did what he did. I murdered humans.”

You wanted to tell him that you didn’t care, that all that mattered was that he was here and alive now, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to hear that.

“Their lives had been so horrible,” he whispered. “Used, abused, toyed with and lied to by vampires. I should have known— I should have thought—”

“You shouldn’t have anything,” you said, trying to muffle your anger. It killed you that he blamed himself like that. “You’re a victim here. They should not have done that to you. It was horrible, and wrong, and…”

“That doesn’t mean they deserved to die.”

“Well neither did you.” You brought your hands, which he still held, to your lips, and kissed his knuckles. He tensed, briefly — the hands of a killer — and then his shoulders relaxed. “I’m sorry, Adrian.”

“I’m sorry, too,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to be with you for so long, and I just—”

“It’s okay. Really. I can— wait, if you want me to wait, and if you don’t want this, it’s fine too. I understand. I just want to help you.”

He sighed and pressed his forehead against yours.

“I don’t deserve you.”

You shook your head.

“I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. You’re probably the kindest— the best person I know.”

“Can I— stay here with you tonight? Even if we don’t—”

“Of course.”

There was another silence. Neither of you moved. Your arms were loosely wrapped around his shoulders, his hands were on your waist, and you didn’t want to move away, not just yet.

“Can I kiss you?”

His voice was barely more than a whisper, strangely strangled, and you were surprised to see he was blushing.

“You don’t even need to ask me for that,” you said with a genuine smile.

He leaned in and his lips brushed against yours. It wasn’t as feverish as before, but there was something very sensual about it, especially when his lips parted and his tongue slid in your mouth, exploring it with restraint. You resisted pulling him back for another kiss when he moved away from you. This was about him, and you would be doing it as his rhythm.

“Thank you,” he said.

You laid down, and he did the same next to you. This would take time. It wouldn’t heal miraculously, but you wanted to be there to help him, every step of the way. You moved to rest your head on his chest, and his arm very naturally wrapped around you. That brought a smile to his face. A small one, but a smile nonetheless.

Little by little, he believed he could fight his demons, with you by his side. Reconquer the space they had taken away from him. Until, finally, he would be able to hold you the way he wanted to, until guilt stopped eating him inside, until he could stand on his own without having to lean on you.

But for now, he simply wanted to enjoy the way you felt in his arms.

He closed his eyes.

He would get through this. Step by step. And he hoped he would be able to catch a glimpse of what he was like in your eyes.

#alucard #alucard x reader #castlevania #castlevania netflix #adrian tepes #castlevania spoilers #requests #my writing #angst #hurt/comfort #tw: past trauma #tw: past abuse

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syndianites · 4 years

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The After; The Athar: Chapter One

Chapter 1/?

Chapter 1 [Here] - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. The crew finally land back into the world after the events of Ruxomar. That should be a good thing, right? But Wag is feeling the burden of everything that has happened to him, and he didn’t even get his magic back to boot.

It’s hard to be happy when life has been so shitty.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: I’ve been working on this since September? of 2019! I have 5 chapters done and still going. I wanted to wait to post this until I was done with it, but my impatience has gotten the better of me.

@the-moon-pal I’m coming for your crown king >:)

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They’d made it home a couple weeks ago, to the land of Mianite. It’d been such a relief. They got to meet the rest of the alts, got to watch Dianite meet the other gods- and cringe at the tension that crackled between them- got to find all their homes again. For once, in the past-however-long, there was peace. They could relax.

So why did Wag feel like utter shit?

Right. Because he literally got the worst part of the deal.

He thought his powers would come back when they got home. And they did, for a few hours. Not the full range, but a lot of it. It felt good to be full of magic again. It felt like he was himself.

But then things started to fall apart. Martha grew distant. His powers fell away in fits and bursts. He realized that the rest of FyreUK had moved on after they made amends in Ruxomar. They found their way on. Without him.

Nothing was the same, he realized, as he spent more time around the place they had called ‘home.’

Spark had done what he did best: built a city. Well, more like a village. What had once been a place of buildings thrown about at random and mostly open plains was now sparsely populated. Neatly arranged shops and a few houses took up the space next to the beach. New people had even begun to show up.

Everything was changing around him, yet he was stuck holding onto the past. Holding onto his wizardhood, to his brotherhood, to a partner that was farther now than ever, and- worst of all- he was still holding onto the hope that everything would just… go back. To how it was.

To when he was important.

Well, like fuck is he was going to sit around and loathe his existence. He could at least try to do something. Swear to Athar, he wasn’t going to turn into a lump of depression just because he couldn’t handle change! He’d rather be a walking mass of depression! That way he could at least pretend he was being productive.

Potions or spellbooks? A question as old as time. Potions were a staple in his life. If there was one thing that would never leave him, it was his ability to make fucking potions. Like, fucking make potions. Not potions to help people fuck. On the other hand, the more he poured through spellbooks, the more likely he was to get closer to finding out how to get his powers back.

Maybe his powers left when FyreUK left, taking all the glory of Athar with it. But that was too terrible of a thought, so that got chucked in the ‘not-today-bitch’ bin. Which was a handy dandy mental bin that stored all of his worst problems.

He never could fit himself in it, though.

So potions it was.

Now that he was out of the business of magic, most of his money came from his potion making. He had made yet another little wizard- alchemist? Potion master?- tower. Plopped some advertisements in el Pueblo de Spark and took orders to pass the time. He had to fund his botany experiments somehow. Someone had to introduce weed into this world, that might as well be him.

If he was going down in history for something, that wasn’t ‘Word Renowned Wizard Extraordinaire’, then ‘The Guy who Made Weed’ would sure as hell work.

Wag pulled up his log of orders. Luck, luck, dexterity, healing, luck, love- yeah, those didn’t really work but he’d make it anyways-, strength, luck, yadda, yadda, yadda. Lots of luck. He could probably get away with making a batch or two of luck potions, then work through the rest.

He spared a glance outside. Spark’s little hut-square town was beginning to develop into a pleasant little fishing hole. Surprisingly- or not, given how deep the waters were nearby- the place was actually a fairly hot place for single fish to mingle. Warm waters, nice and deep, lots of cover, and not much human interference. Until now, anyway.

Either the fishermen were starting to get a fair amount of revenue going or they really needed help. Luck potions were among his most expensive. The ingredients were hard to acquire regardless of how you made it.

Rabbit’s foot? Morally and physically hard to get a hold of. Rainbow trout? Terribly rare. ‘Star-light Fruit’? Not even confirmed to exist.

His method was a little more straightforward. A butt load of four-leaf clovers, a tiny bit of alcohol, and a fuckton of glitter. Clovers for the magic, glitter for the look, and alcohol for the feeling of being lucky.

It was a very bullshit potion.

It took forever to find the clovers, let alone collect them.

Athar give him strength.

Giving one last look outside, he tucked his log book in his cloak. Then he went and rummaged through his chests.

Monotony here he comes.

~~~

Wag was halfway through his second batch of luck potions when a distant knock came from his door, followed by the sound of bells. If not for the bells he’d have ignored the knocking. With a stretch, he putzed down the stairs. The many flights of stairs.

He missed being able to make elevators.

Opening the door revealed one Mr. Sparklez, hair tousled but otherwise neatly groomed. He was relaxed, if not a little winded from his trek up the hill Wag claimed as his own.

Wag smiled. “Hey Sparklez, what brings you up to my tower of terror today? Here for a chat or a swanky danky potion?”

He gestured for Jordan to head inside and get comfortable, but the man waved him off. “Actually,” Jordan started, “I was wondering if you’d seen Martha? I needed to ask her something and I haven’t seen her all day. Figured she’d be with you.”

Ah, so Jordan wanted to find Martha.

Ouch.

Doing his best to ignore the squeeze in his chest, Wag kept his smile firmly in place. “No, I don’t think I have. She, uh.” He paused, going for a nonchalant shrug. “She doesn’t come around the tower all that often. I’d ask Spark instead. She tends to hang around him more. Her good ole pops and all, y’know. They do have a lot to catch up on.” Wag tried to ignore how weak his words sounded. He didn’t want it to sound weird that Martha wouldn’t come around, but instead he just sounded pathetic.

Great.

Jordan gave Wag an awkward smile, seemingly uncomfortable with the sad display. “Ah, alright. I’ll ask around for Spark.”

He turned to leave but caught himself before he was fully turned away. Jordan chewed on his words. “Are you-” His eyes swept over Wag. “How have you been? We don’t see you as much anymore. Other than Tom, I guess, but it's hard to get rid of Tom once he decides you’re friends, y’know?”

“I’ve been,” Wag wanted to laugh, but pushed through the sentence, “swell, thank you. I would get out more, but I’m always so busy potion making. Gotta pay the bills somehow.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. It wasn’t the exact truth, but he did spend a lot of time on potions.

Letting his shoulders settle, Jordan gave a small laugh. “Who would press a wizard to pay bills? Someone who wants to catch on fire, I’m sure.” He opted for a friendly smile. “If you ever want to hang out or something, let me know. I’ve been getting kind of bored between Spark telling me how to be a better champion of Ianite and living in an actual, peaceful society.”

Wag waved after Jordan as he began his descent. Yeah, a wizard. A frown tugged at his face while he shut the door.

A real fucking wizard.

~~~

Making potions was rather methodical. Each step took a certain amount of time, each item had certain effects, meshed certain ways with other items. It was like following a recipe, but with bigger consequences for messing up. Cooler results, though.

Wag had just finished melting down the clovers he’d gathered and extracting the essence- which is to say he lit it on fire after sprinkling a generous amount of blaze powder on it- when Jordan had stopped by. Which was convenient, since he needed to wait for the weird half-liquid half-slime to cool off enough to move it. The awkward potions, glitter, and alcohol were already prepped. Now all he needed to do was mix shit together.

Oh joy.

At the very least, it was satisfying to roll the clover essence into little balls to plop into an awkward potion and then watch them dissolve. The clover gave the essence a natural, healthy green color while the blaze powder, which clung to even the most thoroughly washed slime, gave it something of a yellow highlight. Golden glitter gets dumped in to make it feel like you were about to drink something special. Yes, the glitter was edible. No, most people didn’t realize he put glitter in this shit. Then the alcohol was for that background buzz. It was meant to dull the senses just enough to trick people into believing, wholeheartedly, in whatever god-forsaken abomination he just made.

Sorry. What ever divinely crafted, totally safe potion he’d just made.

Sure, he didn’t test it himself, but it seemed to work well enough for the people he gave it to. So where was the harm?

It was fine.

The next part was perhaps the most boring. And he’d spent all day yesterday crawling on the ground looking for four-leaf clovers.

Tagging and packaging. Writing names on slips of paper, tying them to the potion, putting it in a small, padded box to prevent any breaks. Rinse, repeat. It was annoying, wasted money, all that jazz, but it helped the look. Who wants to be handed a regular old potion, by hand, when you can get it in some majestic looking box to really add some sparkle to your magic?

Maybe Ruxomar rubbed off on him in a bad way.

In any case, the look was important, and by Athar was he going to make it look fucking fantastic.

Unfortunately, this task was also terribly, horribly monotonous. Worse yet, it left room for thinking. And thinking was Wag’s least favorite pastime since floating in the Void. Especially since floating in the Void.

It lead to him thinking deeply about himself and Athar knows that most of his life problems could be traced right back to that. His mistakes, his fuck ups, his shortcomings, all of it came back to him thinking way too hard about himself.

Gross.

Instead, he tried to run over potion recipes in his mind. Or any recipe, really. All the different ways to make a fire resistance potion when you don’t have magma cream. Counting how many potions used lemongrass. Figuring out what potions would make it more likely to catch fish. Literally anything. As long as it was potions, it was fine.

Not about himself, not about Athar, not about wizards, and not about… Martha.

Yeah, that last one would be a one hit k-o.

But now that his mind had touched on the subject, it dug in. Sunk it's claws into the delicate stability of his mind. Dramatic, he knows, but that’s how it felt. It was like the more he tried to get the thought out of his mind, the further it burrowed into him. Awful, painful, and not even worth the effort.

Martha… clearly didn’t care about him anymore. Or, well. He winced at the thought. She didn’t love him like she used to. If she, uh. Did in the first place. But this was old news. This was something he pondered after she seemed to avoid him like the plague, seemed to grimace when she looked over and saw him and not him.

Steve.

The name sat heavy in his head. They hadn’t meshed well, ‘specially where Martha was concerned. But they managed, for her, because they loved her.

Wag felt guilty, looking back on it now. For stealing their time together, for messing with their relationship. They hadn’t gotten to be together enough, had lost too much time before-

Yeah, he didn’t like thinking about Steve more than he didn’t like thinking about Martha. Wag didn’t feel like he deserved to think the name, let alone put himself up against his image. Steve was a hero. He rebelled against Helgrind in a cunning, intelligent way, he was selfless in more aspects than any of the heroes that appeared in Ruxomar, and he was the one to sacrifice the most. To sacrifice it all.

Where did Wag stand against that?

Honestly, it was no wonder Martha couldn’t stand to look at him. He was just a reminder of Steve, a reminder that she didn’t have Steve. That she had him instead.

Had she ever loved him?

That wasn’t the point. The point was that Martha was hurting, trying to pick up the pieces of what she left behind in Ruxomar. What she had lost. And Wag wasn’t doing anything to help. He was stuck up in his tower, making potions, trying to forget about everything that he wasn’t.

He should try to look for her.

But the last time he did, he got turned away. She was “catching up with her father.” She was “busy settling into the new world.” She was “trying to get a grip on her new goddesshood.”

Wag was persistent, but even he could get the hint.

By Athar, he got the hint. “I don’t want to see you.” “Don’t come near me.” “You can’t help me.”

He wondered if Spark was doing anything to help her or if he was also caught up in everything that had happened. From what he had learned about the man in Ruxomar, he was devoted to his wife. No, he gave everything for his wife. Learning she was dead after working up everything to see her again?

He had played it well. When he heard the news, Spark kept strong, only letting his tears show. If he had gone home later after parting with Martha, who had her own grief and guilt, crumbling on the inside no one would know. And if he had locked himself away and let everything loose, let himself break, none would be the wiser. But they could guess, they could give him a passing glance, a thoughtful frown.

Wag wondered if he still carried that grief around with him.

Spark had taken to trying to discipline Jordan to be a better champion of Ianite. It had made the man uncomfortable with getting told he could be a better follower and all. Or rather, having it implied that he wasn’t the best follower. Spark was stubborn in ‘training’ the champion of Ianite to be a full fledged follower.

Still, Jordan didn’t appreciate the sentiment.

Wag understood. Having the husband of the very goddess you watched die get on your case about being a better follower? When the crushing weight of guilt hadn’t fully let off your shoulders? He wondered if Spark hadn’t taken to coaching Jordan to make himself feel better, to remind himself that he would have kept Ianite safe, that he would have fixed the world before it broke out from under them.

It sounded like torture.

But it helped settle Wag. Call him selfish, but he felt better knowing other people had real problems, real grief, to deal with. Sure, Wag had his hang up with Martha. Yeah, he had his issues with being-a-wizard-yet-not. But he wasn’t as close to neck deep as Spark was. Like Martha was.

He wished belittling his problems made them feel less suffocating.

Martha. Martha was still pushing him away. And he was letting her. What did that say about him? About their relationship?

A sigh heaved out of his chest. It was like someone stuck a large rock right in his rib cage, tucked neatly between his lungs. Hard, heavy, and an all around burden. Potions. He needed to think about potions.

His hands betrayed him with a subtle shake. How many names did he have left to write? How many boxes did he have left to pack? Fuck if he knew. He had to keep counting, to find a way to wrap up all his issues, his panic, his fear, into a nice little package and tuck it away like a forgotten gift.

Athar help me, Wag tried to control his thoughts, I might drive myself insane by the end of the year.

As if on cue, another knock at his door broke his thoughts. He tried not to feel relieved to rush away from his potion packaging. He was fine, cool as a cucumber.

Throwing open the door, he came face to face with his second visitor of the day. Tom.

Tom was standing in front of his door almost uncertainly, like he wasn’t quite sure why or how he got there. He took one sweep over Wag’s unhidden face and a determined, focus look set in on his own.

“We,” Tom looped his arm around Wag’s in a sudden movement, “are going out somewhere. No if’s, and’s, or but’s.”

Eyebrows shooting up, Wag let himself be dragged from his house with an aborted motion to close the door behind him. He mournfully watched his door stay ajar. Hopefully no one else ventured up the hill today, otherwise he might be down a few potions.

“Why?” Wag turned his attention back to Tom, who was resolute in his intention of pulling Wag away to Athar knows where.

A grin was shot in his direction. “You look like you need to get out of the house. Also, I’m real fuckin’ bored and you’re clearly in need of some company.”

A wry smile snuck on Wag’s face. “Oh lucky me. We should get some tea, live up to our trademark.”

Tom nodded. “Absolutely. Let’s hit town. Fuck it up. Flaunt our hero-ness and get shit faced.”

“Let’s not get shit faced, and especially not get kicked out of town for making a ruckus.” Wag fondly rolled his eyes. “I do quite like living here and it’d be a shame to have to follow you around to make sure you don’t die.”

Tom gave a mocked offended gasp, free hand coming up to his forehead as he leaned away. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I’d never die if I didn’t live in a community. I’m a rogue, don’t you know.” He sniffed. “I can easily hold my own in the dangerous wilds.”

“Without anyone to pester and annoy?”

“I can pester anything!”

Wag bit his lip to stop a laugh. Tom always brought such energy with him. It was refreshing. Maybe he was right, he just needed some company.

He wouldn’t say that to his face, though.

“I suppose so,” Wag continued, “You are rather persistent. I bet you could annoy the sun into setting early.”

“Nah, I’d blow that fucker up instead.” Tom winked, snuggled back up to Wag, effectively trapping his arm. “I still think we should get shit faced. Drink our sorrows into the drain, throw them up another day.”

Wag mock gagged. “I’d rather keep them down the drain, thank you. Besides, what a waste of alcohol. If I’m drinking, I’m drinking to keep it down. Not!” He quickly cut Tom off, “That I want to go out drinking.” He eyed the sky, giving a disapproving look to Tom when he saw that it was still early afternoon. “No one should be getting drunk before the sun touches the horizon.”

With a pout, Tom leaned into Wag’s side. “Lame. I suppose,” he drew out the word, “we could go get some good old fashioned tea. Call it a pre-game without the game.”

Wag rolled his eyes. He wasn’t looking to out game his issues. That wasn’t a solution. It’d just make him turn into a sad drunk and give him a headache in the morning.

This is why he needed weed back.

But also, he didn’t want to develop another problem. Gotta keep it clean. For now.

Tom still had his own plans, alcohol or no alcohol. “I find when I’m feeling down that doing something batshit stupid makes me feel better. We should go fishing with our bare hands- no, with only our teeth- and no shirt on. Attract ladies and gents to us alike. Are they looking at our finely chiseled chests or our daring courage? Who’s to say.”

“You are far from chiseled my friend. Try soft.” Wag poked Tom in the stomach jokingly. “And who said that I’m feeling down?”

“Hey!” Tom swatted his hand away. “I’ll have you know I’m more ripped than you’ll ever be!” He huffed, squeezing Wag’s arm. They walked in silence for a moment, now upon the town. After wandering the street for a second, Tom spoke again, quieter. “I had this feeling.” Wag eyes him. “It was weird. My gut was telling me to check in on you. And then when you opened the door it was written on your face. Even I’m not dumb enough to miss that.”

Wag heard the unspoken I was worried carried in Tom’s words. Talk about soft. He squeezed Tom’s arm back. “Oh wow, a gut feeling?” He teased lightly, “I think it was just you missing my magical presence. It is hard to go too long without seeing me.” If only that were true. “But I’m here now, and we can go do something absolutely stupid, just for you.”

They share a smile, a quiet thank you floating between them.

Tom gets a glint in his eyes. “Does this mean we can go catch fish with our bare hands?”

“I suppose so.” Wag drawled. “How else are we going to show off our toned figures?”

That got him a laugh, one concerningly maniacal, and he was dragged between houses.

Yeah, he might regret this.

Tom turned and gave him a smile that was all teeth and no common sense. He paused next to the shore, a little ways off from the docks. Shucking his clothes, one Tom Syndicate stood proudly in his underwear, unconcerned about the effect of sunlight on zombified skin. People gave them a look of distaste.

Oh, he was definitely going to regret this.

~~~

Soggy was one way to describe how Wag felt. Wet as shit was another. All in all, he was rather pleased with himself and the rather large, shiny fish sitting in his lap. The fish which so happened to be a fair amount larger than Tom’s.

“Oh fuck you.” Tom spluttered around a mouthful of fish, laying down an arm’s length away. He had gathered quite an amount of fish, a solid number for catching something with your mouth alone. None of them were that large. In fact, most were an average, if not slightly below, size.

Wag eyed the pile smugly. He may have only caught two, but damn if he didn’t go big.

“Well, it seems that I’ve caught myself a winner.” He tried not to look too pleased. The look on Tom’s face told him he failed.

Tom scoffed, letting the fish fall to the sandy floor with a wet fwop. “You got lucky! Clearly, quantity wins the game here. Sure, you caught one big, old, dumb motherfucker, but I caught a dozen other dumbass fish! I should get the win.”

“Wasn’t size the goal here?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do.”

Before Tom could fire back, a voice from behind interrupted him. “I think the two fools sitting in their underwear soaked to the bone are both losers.”

Wag tilted his head back to see Tucker standing with his hands in his pockets, back slouched, and an easy smile on his face, standing just where the sand turned to grass. Next to him was one lovely fox lady, Sonja herself, and one Sparkle butt, Jordan.

Nice to see the gang all here.

Tom sat up. “How dare you! I’ll have you know we are the best fishers on the island!”

Tucker raised a single eyebrow. “Really now? Are all the other fishers out at sea today?”

“Well excuse you, Mr. Boner. I’ll have you know we caught all of this,” Tom sweeps his arm across their score. “And I think that’s quite the haul.”

“How long did it take you?”

“Fuck you.”

Tucker snickered, moving closer to poke his foot into Tom’s side. “That’s what I thought.”

Wag, meanwhile, was carefully moving his prize to the side so he could stand up. Brushing the sand off himself, he exchanged a smile with Sonja and a nod with Jordan. Sonja gave him a good natured headshake. “And here I thought you were smarter than this.”

Jordan’s eyes trailed down Wag’s chest before flittering away. “Right down to your boxers? Tom must have gotten you good.”

“Well, I was fairly set on getting a nice cup of tea and walking across the beach, hand in hand like real lovers, but Tom was far more intent to go all macho and catch fish with his mouth alone.” Wag leaned in with a hand against his mouth to give a stage whisper. “Between you and me, I think he’s trying to step up his oral game.” He winked.

Jordan groaned, giving Wag what he thought to be a rather dramatic eye roll. That wasn’t even the worst he had to offer, and he’d given him such an easy setup! Sonja waggled her eyebrows and giggled when Tom butted in. “It’ll never be as good as yours dear.” He batted his eyelashes mock innocently.

The group burst into laughter. Tucker stepped closer, swinging an arm around his vaguely damp shoulders. “Hey, it’s nice to see you out and about man. It’s been a hot second. Almost thought you’d drank the wrong potion and kicked it or something.”

Wag nodded seriously. “Quite the real possibility. Why, just yesterday I almost drank real glitter! The kind you’re not supposed to eat.”

“Been there,” Sonja added, “I thought I was going to die when I did. Just gave me a very colorful trip to the bathroom.”

Tom grinned as he moved to elbow Jordan in the side. “I bet our good ole Captain here wouldn’t know the difference. How else did he get his namesake, right Mr. Sparkley Butt?”

“Hardy har,” Jordan gave Tom a fondly disgusted look. “The name’s Captain Sparklez, that ‘namesake’ came from you giving me a stupid nickname.”

They fell into more chatter, giving Tom and Wag the time to put their clothes back on, Tom not caring that he was still wet as he put his suit back on, while Wag just slung his cloak over himself. No point in putting pants on over wet underwear.

The group, all now clothed to some extent, began to wander back towards town. Wag was more than content to listen to Tom ramble on. He would get interrupted by Tucker when he said something ‘incredibly stupid’ and, more rarely, by Jordan, who would correct some technical thing that Tom clearly did not give a shit about.

Sonja drifted next to him, giving Wag a conspiratorial smile. “You’re looking mighty fine in just a robe and boxers. Is this the bedroom Wag special? Or is that sans boxers?”

“The bedroom Wag special is whatever you want it to be.” He winked. “It’s magic all around.”

They exchanged a laugh, falling silent again.

Wag knew that wasn’t what Sonja really wanted to talk about.

She looked back at him, a warm look in her eyes. “It’s nice. To see you out. Been a while, y’know?” Sonja stretched her arms out in front of her. “It really has been a bit since we’ve talked. And since you’ve left the house. But honestly?” Her tail swishes behind her. “I could have made a few more treks up that damn mountain myself.”

Shaking his head, Wag elbowed her side lightly. “It is a fairly tall hill, but I think mountain is a bit of an overstatement.” It was, in fact, a bitch of a climb, but Wag didn’t think it was that bad. He’d put the tower just on the other side of the Glowstone Forest, across from the Priest’s house. (What was it called again? Forest of the Void? Abyss Forest? Obsidian Trees? Yeah, he didn’t know or care).

Left unsaid was a ‘That’s okay, you don’t have to go out of your way’.

He received an eye roll. “Please, the only trek worse than that is up to where Tucker’s first house was. I was so happy when we moved it down the mountain. Well, into.”

It’s no trouble, her words left hanging, I don’t mind.

Wag huffed. How dare she be considerate. “You know what’s worse than a trek up a mountain? A trek up a mountain to get some rare flower, only to be spited by the universe and have not a single flower growing up there. Honestly, I could use some help from someone so used to climbing mountains.” A smirk pulled at his face. “Or maybe just send someone up there for me.”

We could always hang out when I’m playing master botanist. If you’d like.

Sonja smiled at him, but couldn’t resist getting a dig in. “Aw, did you skip leg day? Have some chicken legs over there? That’s alright, I’m sure someone,” she tilts her head, eyes sweeping past the buildings around them, “would be willing. Get a nice little lackey so you can rest your old bones at home and complain about how the cold makes your joints stiff.”

“How dare you,” Wag sniffed, hand held up to his heart. “I’ll have you know, my joints are just fine in the cold! Some of us just aren’t made of the cold, little miss fox.”

Sonja, ever so mature, stuck her tongue out at him.

They kept up some conversation, occasionally stopping to listen in to whatever Tom was saying. Wag, for a moment, realized that he had missed this. Missed them. That even though he wanted to avoid all the new things in this world, he’d always have his friends.

A quiet, hopeless voice asked if they’d leave him too.

~~~

There was nothing quite like hiking up a hill, in only your boxers, a little buzzed, during the night time. The pure amount of skeletons that had sniffed around looking for a cheap shot alone was bad enough, but the fact that his legs already hurt from struggling to fish with just his mouth without drowning? Yeah, it felt more like he was climbing up a mountain that was near vertical.

Fuck gravity.

A pit of warmth had settled in his chest a couple hours ago. Whether it was the alcohol that Tucker, of all people, had got the group into drinking or just the effect of being with friends for a while, Wag felt content. Not a common feeling in recent times. It was nice.

Really nice.

Upon reaching his door, his mind scrambled to figure out why it was left slightly open. He shrugged. As long as nothing was missing or stolen, he didn’t really care.

He made his way inside- making sure to actually close the door behind him- and wandered over to the stairs. Ah, his mortal enemy. Between being a wizard way back when and the magic rampant in Ruxomar, he had gotten way too used to avoiding stairs. Now it was a chore to move up and down the tower. But his bed was upstairs and he was not sleeping on the crappy couch he shoved into the lobby for guests or customers again.

So stairs it was.

By the time he got halfway up the stairs, he wanted to quit. Why, in Athar’s name, did he put his room on the third highest level? Stupidity, that’s why. The view was so not worth it.

When he actually made it up to the correct floor, he pushed the door to his room open, chucked his clothes to one side, and collapsed in bed. Now this, this was worth it. Soft, plush, warm, and very much without skeletons.

The less arrows being shot at him the better.

A soft chuckle caught his attention. Or rather, killed the peace he had wrapped around himself mere hours earlier.

He didn’t move. Not because he was scared. No, he knew who was in his room. He just wanted to pretend, for a moment, like this was something he was used to.

Like coming home to his lover being home wouldn’t surprise him.

The bed dipped beside him and his robed and boxer-ed glory. A hand ran through his hair. Wag tried not to tense.

“Seems like you had a good night out.” Her voice was like silk, soft and pleasant on his ears. “Hopefully they didn’t hassle you too much.”

Wag breathed. His chest was tight, emotion punching at his ribs. “Yeah,” he said, “It was nice to have some time with them again.”

All of this felt so forgein, now. To have her here. Was she here? Or did he drink more than he had originally thought. Shit.

Martha scratched his head. “I do have to say, I’m surprised that you actually left the tower. You’ve been holed up here for so long I thought I’d have to drag you out.” He could hear the smile in her voice. Or maybe he was imagining it. His head was a mess and he wasn’t quite sure what he was making up and what was real.

It was kind of pathetic.

He laughed. “Yeah, Tom showed up and dragged me out. Not complaining though, I had a lot of fun. It was nice to take off from work. Making potions gets boring.”

So did sitting in your own depressing thoughts, but that was more exhausting than boring.

“Oh,” Wag turned his head to face Martha, looking up at her. The darkness made her hair stand out. It looked like a halo around her face, bringing out her lovely lilac eyes. She was just as beautiful as the last time he’d seen her. But there was something heavy in her eyes that she tried to wipe away when his own reached her. “Jordan was looking for you earlier. Did he ever find you?”

Martha blinked and the heaviness was gone. Ish. He knew it was there. Somewhere.

“Ah, no.” She frowned. “I’ll have to see what he needs tomorrow.”

He nodded. To be honest, Wag wasn’t convinced Martha was actually sitting here with him. Which was kind of sad. Very sad.

“I can come with, if you’d like,” Wag rushed out, trying not to sound desperate. “We haven’t had much time together, which is understandable with your dad being around and all the stuff you need to do. And, y’know, it’d be nice to walk with you for a bit.”

Oh, he sounded so desperate.

Yikes.

A smile graced Martha’s lips. “Sure, I’d love that.” Wag let out a breath. “We’ll take a stroll, get a nice scenic view of the beach as we go, call it a date-” She cut off. The heaviness came back to her eyes. Wag knew what she was thinking. Who she was thinking about.

It hurt.

“I’m going to go take a shower before getting ready for bed. You can go ahead and sleep, if you’d like. I know you’ve had a long day and you’re probably tired. Don’t force yourself for me.” Martha stood as she said this, fingers trailing in his hair. Then she left.

Reluctantly, Wag got up to do just that. Changed his boxers and hung up his cloak. Buried himself back into bed, under the covers.

Yeah. It’d be a date.

~~~

Martha didn’t like to get up early. Neither did Wag. Normally, this lead to them sleepily cuddling until one felt so inspired as to get up. Normally.

Ever since the group returned to the land of Mianite, Martha didn’t sleep as well. Between nightmares, being a fledgling goddess, and the… absence of certain people, she found herself waking earlier and earlier.

Wag had his fair share of sleep troubles. Where sleep troubles stopped Martha from sleeping as much, it led to Wag sleeping more. The less he slept the more exhausted he was. The more exhausted he was the more he slept. It was a vicious cycle and actually the reason Wag didn’t leave the house as much.

Nonetheless, both found themselves getting ready to leave just after dawn. Martha moved like last night didn’t end awkward and uncomfortable. Bright, cheerful, and painfully affectionate with Wag. Like she hadn’t been avoiding him for the better part of their stay here.

The worst part was that this wasn’t the first time she came back like nothing was wrong. It was almost like she could tell when he was starting to doubt their relationship. Except, he was constantly doubting their relationship. Even when things had been going well. But this time, it was like she knew when he was thinking about how much of a relationship they didn’t have.

Which was concerning if she actually knew what he thought.

Wag, on the other hand, moved like a zombie. Tired, groggy, and barely awake. The picture of early morning beauty. It wasn’t far off from how he used to act, but now it was like someone had chained weights to his feet.

Damn, he was tired as shit.

Martha had set about making some breakfast from the little food he had. Some eggs, some- thankfully not spoiled- fruit, and milk. Wag was pretty sure he didn’t have milk, but he wasn’t going to question it. She was the more magical of the two, now, so it was within reason that she could get milk in the few minutes he’d lagged behind her in getting out of bed.

He, on the other hand, was on the task of making coffee. Coffee was something of a luxury here, since it was so new to the land. It wasn’t grown naturally on the island and Wag wasn’t sure if it was imported from some far off place or if it had been introduced by the earlier dimension hoppers that still hung around. Spark, for sure, seemed to run on the stuff.

That didn’t really matter to Wag, though. He had a plant of it in his garden, for ease of access, but more importantly to see if it could be used to help crossbreed weed into existence. No far off land had procured the plant yet, so he would still strive to be the maker of weed.

Not the best plan in the world, but that wouldn’t matter once he actually made the plant.

He really shouldn’t be encouraging substance abuse.

Surely, coffee would wake him up. Then he could go on a walk with Martha and do that thing they seemed to do where they avoided those topics and pretended like everything was fine. And maybe, just maybe, they’d enjoy the conversation. Maybe they’d feel something again, feel whole for the brief moment where they let themselves forget about the person who was missing, the person that clearly held more place in Martha’s heart for it to have torn so much when he-

Maybe Wag would get his shit together and let things die between them.

Maybe he’d decide that fighting an uphill battle wasn’t worth it.

For now, though, he was content to pretend things were the same. It was better than being entirely, wholly alone. And, deep in his heart, he still loved her. So, so much.

Enough that he knew it would hurt no matter what he did.

They chatted over the food Martha cooked. She complemented his coffee, the beans from the plant he owned, and he told her that the cooking is just as good as it’d always been.

Neither mentioned that it was usually Steve, not either of them, that did the cooking.

They tossed little affections at each other with ease. Like it was second nature. A brush of hands, a quick smile, a peck on the cheek. It was like a dance. As though they were trying to make a show of how much they still cared, how much nothing had changed despite the fact that everything had changed.

Hands loosely held together, they left the house as a unit, holding up a conversation with ease. If either of them tripped up in their speech as they avoided that topic or this word, neither called each other out for it. For all that everything was off and wrong, they made it work. They found a way to shove a cube into a round hole.

Whether it was because they wanted it to work so bad or because the hole was a giant chasm with space for miles was up to debate.

The beach was calm in the early morning. Fishers were stocking up their ships to start up on their daily trip, tightening a rope here, making space there. Few people walked about the town, the kids either asleep or getting hassled to eat breakfast. With so few people out, it felt like they were on the outskirts of life, just the two of them. Like viewing the world through a painting.

That illusion was helped by the sheer height of Jordan’s tree. It was still there, despite the damage it had received when Tom got to it. If he looked closely, Wag could see the remains of burn marks and grooves held in the thick bark. He had heard that, after the heroes had left, Ianite had nursed the tree back to life in honor of her lost champion.

He ignored the fact that Ianite had sent them into the void in the first place.

Wag himself had left before that, called on to help the heroes that he had watched over as a distant wizard. Even now, he wondered if it had been worth it. To lose everything because he was asked to. In his weakest moments, he wondered if it hadn’t been the gods’ way of throwing him out.

That thought hurt the most out of everything in his life and he never let it linger.

It wasn’t long before they made it to the base of the hill that Jordan’s tree- sorry, Jerry’s Tree- sat beside. They weren’t that close to getting inside yet, but it was a milestone.

As they climbed the hill, massive roots stretching out below them, Wag started up some conversation about the different species of trees. He never once mentioned apple trees. It was part of his botany, after all, and important to keep track of. The types of trees, not apple trees. Apple trees were just one of those topics and therefore something they made an unspoken agreement not to talk about.

He pondered, during his ramble, that Martha could have just flown up the tree. She could do that, after all. Wag couldn’t. Not anymore. The worst part was that he’d help build this tree, or, well, make it. Way back then. That was a sore spot to think about, but even still he was in awe of the tree. Not because of the fact that he's contributed to it- no, he had felt a sense of pride for that a long time ago. Rather, because of how it’d regrown.

Ianite’s gentle hand had turned it from merely a large, enchanting tree to a behemoth of divine wonder. Its branches had spread further, with more room between them and the tips reaching towards the heavens. The leaves had shaped up and gotten fuller, surely the size of a full-grown adult by now. Fireflies could be seen lazily hovering about clusters of leaves, giving the tree a pleasant, natural lighting.

Many more platforms and walkways had been built, new buildings having been added on top of that. They stretched from one end to the other. The most daring teased the edge of a branch, hung firmly along the length of it. The walkways were either long rope bridges made of braided vines that shimmered a faint purple or ramps made and reinforced by the same wood the tree was made of, the bottom featuring fancy swirls alongside the support beams.

Other vines, flora, and bushes lined the branches and platforms. Though they looked like they were leeching off the tree at first, a closer inspection- granted you were on the tree to get an inspection- showed they were delicately wrapped around the branches and sneakily planted in hidden pots for a more natural look. The flowers ranged from all sorts of purples- fitting. Buddleias enclosed doorways, Hyacinthus were wound along lanterns strung along pathways, and an abundance of Jacaranda could be found wherever space was made for flora.

The more he looked the more nature there was to see, the more connecting walkways there were strung along, the more everything there was. It felt like the whole world was home under the canopy.

The tree had gone from the house of a solitary man to a city of nature.

It didn’t feel like the same tree.

Wag pushed aside the nagging thought that it was better than anything he could have ever made. Ianite was a full fledged goddess, Wag was- had been- a mere wizard with the idea of godhood in his head. What he made had been incredible for mortal standards, and was still incredible for the standards he had held himself to. It would do no good to compare himself to Ianite, especially when all she had done was repair what was already there.

As they made their way up to the crest of the hill, following the path from the town to the tree as it curled around Jordan’s old home, Wag spared a glance at the birch and quartz house. It was simple, sleek and minimal. It suited Jordan. Of course, Jordan himself had made it, so why wouldn’t it?

Compared to Jerry’s Tree, though, it seemed rather dull and insignificant.

Actually.

Wag spared a closer look at the smaller home. It looked lived in. A frown pulled at his lips. Was someone living there? Who else, other than Jordan, would?

Martha had picked up the conversation now, adding in details about trees that she had seen in her travels long ago, ones he’d never have had the chance to see. There were many interesting species, some magical in the same sense as Silverwoods, some as plain as a simple oak tree, but all more than enough to satiate Wag’s desire to know more. His mind kept getting pulled back to the Casa de Sparklez, though.

A thought struck him, one he’d had just moments before.

Jerry’s Tree looked and felt so different, now that Ianite had tended to it. Like it was a different tree. Did Jordan think the same? Did it feel less like home, after being away for so long and having watched it burn?

Was Jordan living in his older house because the tree felt so forgein?

Martha was going on about a beautiful tree known for the lights its seeds shone, especially during the night hours. It really sounded like a sight to behold. More than that, the gentle, awed look on Martha’s face pulled at Wag’s heart.

Take care of her.

There was a sour taste in his mouth. Wag decided not to mention what he had just noticed. That was Jordan’s business, not his.

Martha was looking at him now, a small, shy smile on her lips. Wag felt like if he said the wrong thing it’d disappear in an instant. Like Martha was used to having her interests pushed aside, or used to pushing them aside herself when people didn’t seem to care about what she was saying.

Take care of her.

He offered a smile back, a genuine one. He really did love her. More than anything, he wanted to keep loving her. But something told him it wouldn’t work. That what they had had started to decay sometime around the end of Ruxomar, around when he left.

No, around when Martha almost became Mrs. a instead of a Ms.

Bitterness clutched at Wag’s heart. For all the love he held for her, he wondered, again and again, if she held the same. If she ever held the same, if she even held something close to the same.

Take care of her.

Looking up at Jerry’s Tree, Wag remembered what it used to be. He remembered watching it burn, the pain he had felt in seeing his hard work get tarnished, in seeing a friend’s home wither away.

Now, though, it was different. Not quite a home, anymore, but reborn. Alive. And maybe, in the future, it’d be a home again, or maybe not. Maybe it needed to burn for it to become what it was now. Jordan would have never built it up to this, but Ianite had.

Maybe that was the secret, Wag pondered. Maybe you had to let things burn to be able to build them up stronger.

He looked at Martha again, at the softness in her face and the hardness in her eyes. His heart pulled in so many directions. Love, anguish, love, despair, love, hurt, love love love.

Yeah, he was going to have to let this relationship burn.

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golgafrincham · 3 years

Text

The Forest God Ch. 2

Ch. 1 They meet Ch. 2 They meet again Ch. 3 First date

After a morning of tears and stern reprimands familiar to a youngest child, Siv was given a bowl of hot porridge and a lengthy list of chores. It wasn’t until the next day that they were allowed to go and visit the wise woman, on the pretext of delivering some extra food and out of concern for her whereabouts the previous day.

She shook her head. “My child, you have been saved by a benevolent tree spirit. It’s not possible that the god of the forest appeared to you. Ancient gods such as that do not manifest...and not to the likes of us.”

“But...the wolf? His appearance?” Siv insisted.

“Forest spirits have illusion magic.” she turned back to her spinning “you may have dreamed it. Or the spirit may have enlisted the help of another spirit.”

Siv sighed in frustration, but knew it was no use (and disrespectful) to press any further. “Grandmother, you are older and wiser than I. But....if there is a forest god - where is His shrine? Even if the spirit who helped me is not Him, I promised I would...”

This time it was the elder’s turn to sigh. “The old gods were more demanding than the gods of the mountains and rivers” she explained patiently. “They required offerings and feast days, totems and altars. But not the gods of the earth. Their power came from the thing itself - the forest, the river, the mountain. They didn’t demand shrines or sacrifices from us. If such a thing exists, it was consecrated long before the old gods came to our land, and it’s existence is lost to memory.”

“Child, I am sorry. My teacher taught me how to placate the little forest spirits, the trees and rocks, the sacred herbs. If there was a god of the forest, or a shrine to Him, it was more ancient than her knowledge — and mine.”

Siv was beginning to despair. “But surely, Grandmother, if there are ways to find things that are lost, there must be a way to find something that was lost to memory.”

She didn’t respond, but continued with her spinning in silence.

When the spindle was full, she set it aside and picked up another. “You could try a little finding spell. But you would still need something from the owner of the thing...Without that, I don’t see how it would work.” she shook her head “I don’t really see how it would work at all.”

“And what else? Usually don’t you give a dreaming tea to the owner and they see where they left the thing they lost?”

“Mmmm.” she responded absently “If you include a piece of that which is lost, or a piece of the owner in the dreaming tea....and cast the charm on yourself...you may dream of it.”

Siv sat for a bit longer under the dark cloud that had formed as the wise woman spoke until there was nothing else to do but bid a respectful farewell.

Later that evening, after a sullen dinner, Siv was brushing off their boots and cloak before turning in. Amid the burrs and bits of grass and leaves, several long gray wolf hairs had woven themself into the brown wool. Frantically, they searched their cloak for more -- seven.

Siv then rummaged through the little baskets near the head of the bed where they put the herbs gathered in the forest. There it was - in a little leather pouch inside one of the baskets, a piece of mushroom used in dreaming tea. Gathering together all the ingredients, they quietly slipped back into the hearth room and put some water in the little kettle.

By the time the moon had risen past the tops of the trees, the charm and tea had done their work and Siv was fast asleep.

In their dream, the endless blue sky was all around them and the trees were below. They were a hawk flying away from home. They followed the river from the edge of the village until it forked west and tumbled down from the foothills of the little mountains. They circled above a sunny valley with three hills on three sides, on the fourth, the little creek that would become the river flowed south. In the middle of the valley was a clearing and in the center an oak with a trunk as large as a house. The oak’s green canopy seemed to hold up the billowing sky and at the same time, as its leafy branches waved slowly, beckoned down the rays of the sun.

In front of the oak was a large flat rock. The hawk landed, and Siv approached the stone on two human legs. It radiated warmth from being in the sun. They lay down on the rock and started to fall asleep. A cloud passed in front of the sun, but it wasn’t a cloud, it was a huge wolf. The wolf stood over the prone human - Siv could feel it’s hot breath on their neck. They screwed their eyes shut - though whether in anticipation of imminent pain or...something else...it was hard to know. When they opened their eyes again, it wasn’t the wolf, but the forest god towering above them. He bent down and placed a warm hand in the middle of Siv’s chest. The hand grew hot and the flesh and bone of their chest painlessly melted away like ice, allowing Him to reach in. After several breathless moments, pull out a stone, like fishing a rock out of a river. He held it up and said “this isn’t what I wanted.” then promptly disappeared. A strong wind blew through the branches of the oak, raising gooseflesh all over Siv’s suddenly naked body.

Siv awoke groggy and disoriented to their mother tossing back the quilt.

The rest of that day, and the following few days, Siv could only think of how to get there, of how they could explain a sudden winter journey to their parents, but most importantly, what offering they should leave at the shrine.

After much pleading, they eventually enlisted the aid of the wise woman, who provided the excuse for the journey even though she couldn’t provide any help with the offerings.

The day before mid-winter, Siv packed everything they could possibly need in a large bundle - food and water, flint and tinder, and gifts for the fire. They set off with the wise woman to allay their parents’ fears, but parted ways at the river fork.

The next day, as the setting sun was beginning to paint the bottom of the clouds red and purple, they finally arrived in the clearing. Unlike the dream vision of a summer clearing with green grasses waving in the breeze, the flat boulder that served as the altar was surrounded by patches of snow and bare ground. It faced an oak at the center of the clearing which looked as ancient as the rocks of the shrine - its massive trunk supported gnarled limbs that twisted into the sky. Unlike the tree in their dream, this one seemed only half-alive, with bare branches twining among the brown leaves and a huge cleft where one of the largest branches had fallen off long ago.

Siv quickly cleared a space to camp for the night and made the first of the small fires that they planned to surround the rock. All night long they tended the fires, going from one to the other to add fuel, alternating between staring into the jumping flames and gazing up at the stars above them.

As the dawn approached, they kindled one last small fire on the large stone and tossed the gifts they had brought into the crackling flames.

The smoke became a gray veil hanging in the cold morning air. Through it, Siv thought they saw movement near the great oak.

The next moment, the forest god stood in front of them, silhouetted by pink and orange dawn clouds.

“You came a long way.” He said in a low voice, crossing His arms over His chest.

“I promised that I would find your shrine, and light the fires at the changing of the seasons.”

“You did.” He paused and looked down at the dying fire “You brought presents. Mistletoe and yew - a straw ram?”

Siv nodded. “I...wasn’t sure what was appropriate. Even the wise woman didn’t know.”

“No human has visited here for generations. Your people hadn’t even come to this land when the forest shrine last saw offerings.”

“...?”

“Didn’t you know, your people were not the first here?” He shook His head. “Hm, it’s been so long that you’ve forgotten there were those who came before. That’s a long time indeed.” “Though humans seem rather forgetful of their own misdeeds.”

“Do you know what they used to leave for me?” Siv shook their head. “No?” “At mid-summer they would leave a roe deer smeared in honey, covered with pollen from the flowers in the field.” “At mid-winter...last night...they would leave a buck, the largest in the forest, smeared with a bit of blood of their clan’s warrior-king. Unless their harvest had been bad. In which case...they would leave their king, covered in the blood of a buck.” “Do you understand?”

Siv’s face blanched and their heart raced as the tips of their fingers began to lose feeling.

“You are not of those people.” He said gently. “You had other gods. Why have you come all the way here?”

Siv’s dry lips trembled as they licked them. “I...promised.”

“Promises are autumn reeds. I have little power outside the forest - I am not your god of thunder and rain or your goddess of the harvest moon. Why did you bother?”

The sun was just beginning to peek over the top of the oak. The first golden rays caught the edges of His antlers, and even though the sun was behind Him, His face was still illuminated with a soft light.

Why? The question seemed absurd to Siv. “You...are a god.”

“I’m...nothing - even among humans I’m no one. The last child of a family with no surname. You are the god of the forest. The trees, the sacred groves, the birds and beasts of the forest all are governed by you...” Siv struggled to find the words to describe what they felt (he’s just so pretty). Everything around the forest god seemed touched by warm sunlight even when it wasn’t. Even trying to look up into His eyes filled Siv with a mixture of dread...and joy. Their voice dropped so low it was barely audible.

“You are the most beautiful...and terrifying….thing I have ever seen. How could I not?”

The forest god lowered his eyelashes and seemed to smile slightly. If the light had been stronger it might almost have been possible to see a wash of pink on His cheeks. “I understand now why your gods enjoyed interfering in human affairs. How easy it would be to get used to all that…” He moved back a pace and waved away Siv’s awestruck praise with one hand “worship.”

“Speaking of which...did you bring anything else?”

“...” Realizing the god had asked them for something, Siv’s eyes grew wide. “Lord, I am sorry my gifts were so poor - I..didn’t? Bring...anything….I….no?”

“Nothing? Nothing to eat?”

The bag they had brought was on the ground near the altar rock. Siv grabbed at it and began rifling through. “Yes...I have...ah...some bread” they placed it on the rock “and a meat pie…”

“It’s time to eat, don’t you think? Maybe we could share this pie?”

“Lord, it is yours” they held it out to Him.

“No, no, I mean share.” The forest god took the pie and broke it in half, keeping the large half for Himself since he was larger. He sat down on the rock and handed the small half back.

“I am not fond of fire, but it is chilly this morning. You should think of feeding your fire, too.” He suggested helpfully.

Siv nodded numbly and went to fetch some sticks from the small pile they had assembled the previous day. Just as they arranged them on the dying fire the god turned around and, pursing His lips, blew a puff of air which immediately brought the fire back to life.

“This is tasty.” He complimented between bites - it took two. He reached over and broke the bread in half as well, and handed the small half to Siv.

“...” Siv was mesmerized watching the forest god eat - His adam’s apple was as big as their fist. It bobbed up and down with His final swallow.

The god peered over Siv’s shoulder towards his bag. “Ah...anything else in there you would share?”

“I had a turnip roasting in the embers but…”

He looked over to the nearest little fire that Siv had put out just before dawn and casually started rummaging His fingers through the orange-tinged embers. After a few seconds His hand emerged with a smoking, blackened lump. He blew on it and dusted off the charred skin before popping it in His mouth whole.

He chewed thoughtfully for a moment then declared “The meat pie is much better. Your other gifts were fine, but from now on I would prefer meat pies.”

“You, ah, you don’t have anything to drink?”

While they reached for the skin of small ale they’d brought the god continued “Many many years ago I had some honey wine that was left as an offering...it was very nice.” He gave the flustered human an encouraging look.

“I...have ale?” they offered. The god shook his head.

Then they remembered. “I...have one more thing.” They looked down at the ground embarrassed. It’s so pathetic. Why didn’t I bring a sack full of pies?

“...?”

“It’s just a...I noticed that your garland had withered…” they shifted to the flat altar stone. Along one edge Siv had laid out a garland woven of thin pine branches, ivy, and braided straw interspersed with small sprigs of mistletoe. They couldn’t bear to look at the god to see what His reaction was - disappointment? Pity? Anger?

It was none of those.

He moved closer to the self-conscious human and, bending his head, snagged the old garland strung between his antlers with one finger and tossed it into the fire.

Siv looked up with surprise as the god spoke to their inner ear…

Please accept…..

They scrambled to pick up the evergreen garland and drape it across the lowered antlers. “Please accept this humble gift. May the sun return again and again to shine on the forest. Like the pine and ivy are evergreen may the forest grow and thrive, may the god of the forest live forever.”

The ancient forest god’s eyes misted over. Such words. He hadn’t heard such words in thousands of years, if at all. This frail mortal wasn’t afraid, they weren’t asking for anything, they weren’t demanding a favor in return for their gift. Their voice was soft, but also sweet and sincere.

This is how your gods became vain and arrogant - always filling their ears with honey. He thought to himself, but what He really meant was thank you.

He raised Himself to His full height and gave a very slight shake of His head to see the movement of the garland out of the corner of His eye.

“Put out the fires and gather your things.”

#long post #2610 words #my crap #writing #forest god #the only good thing about the illustration is i think i got His expression right

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kyber-kisses · 5 years

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Too Soon (Part 1)

Dean Winchester x Reader

A/n: This is my rewritten/edited part one to Too Soon! Since Season 15 is coming back soon I thought I would go through and edit the chapters. I hope y'all enjoy! ( Also I will only be tagging the spn taglist for the first part, as not to annoy some people. If you want to be updated on this series just send me an ask!)

Warnings: Worried!Dean, character death, season 14 spoilers.

Summary: When the reader is suddenly killed by Jack, a series of events unfolds that leaves both the alive and the deceased stunned.

“Hello Y/N, my name is Jessica.”

The voice was sudden, making you whirl around on the spot, hands reaching for your gun purely out of instinct. Your eyes instantly locked on a lone female before you, eyebrows knotting together in confusion. Just a moment ago you had been talking to Jack.

Now. . .well now he was nowhere to be seen.

“Forgive me for asking but where the hell did you come from?” You questioned, taking a step closer to the unknown woman.

“I’m a reaper. I’m here to lead you to your next life.”As she said it, you could see a gentle smile slip onto her face, for an instant you swore you caught a hint of sadness or pity hidden within her eyes as well. You took a step back, mind reeling with the answer she had just given you.

“That- that can’t be right. Because if that were true. That would mean- that would mean I’m dead. And I-I can’t be dead.” You stumbled over the words, trying desperately to make sense of what was happening.

No. No you couldn’t be dead. That didn’t make sense.

“I’m sorry. I understand that you're shock.” Jessica stepped forward, reaching out her hand, waiting patiently for you to take it, clearly prepared to take you through the veil-- But you didn’t notice. Your mind was trying to piece together what had happened.

Jack. You had been talking to Jack. He was upset and angry and you had been trying to calm him down. He was yelling, god he was yelling so much- and then there was a blast.

Blast.

“Oh god.” Your hand flew to your mouth as your mind caught up to you. You knew deep down Jack never meant to hurt you, but you also knew he could still be unpredictable at times. You felt the burn of oncoming tears in your eyes as your body sunk the the ground, heels pressing hard into the eye sockets.

Fuck, fuck, fuck-

Your head was spinning at a million miles an hour until it hit a brick wall of one solid thought that towered above all the rest.

Dean. Oh no, Dean didn’t know. Neither did Sam or Cas. A choked sob left your lips as the tears finally spilled over your lashes. That one person repeatedly flashing in your mind. Dean. You had known him practically all your life, and loved him for at least half of it. You always told yourself that one day you would tell him. Except now with your current situation, that was clearly never going to happen.

Dean. Dean with his big green eyes, and freckled splashed face,Dean with his dumb jokes and secretly dorky personality. There were so many things you loved about that man, from the way he laughed to the terrible jokes he cracked and everything in between. His rare but big smile and his even bigger heart. You were never supposed to fall in love with your best friend, but its a difficult thing not to do when that person was Dean.

You flinched slightly when Jessica knelt down in front of you, forgetting the reapers presence.

“Don’t worry. He loved you too, and for a very long time I might add.”

You looked up into Jessica’s eyes, your own slightly glazed with confusion.

“How do you know?” the question leaving your lips in barely a whisper as you fought to ignore the hot tears trekking down your face. Jessica stood up, waiting for you to rise to her level.

“I’ve been watching over you and the Winchester’s for a long time. I pay attention.” She smiled. You nodded, immediately seeing that she was telling the truth. She reached out her hand again.

“Are you ready to go?”

Ready to go? That was such a heavy question. You had never exactly feared death. In truth it was just another beginning, right? You paused, thinking it through. There was nothing else for you to do here. You couldn't just stride back into the land of the living and back to your life and family. The only option was to take her outstretch hand.

“As long as you promise to do something for me.” You stated firmly, sliding your hand into hers before rising to your feet with a shaky breath.

“Of course. Anything.” She smiled. You nodded again, finally accepting your fate you reached out and took her hand.

*. *. *. *.

Dean knew something was wrong the moment you didn’t pick up your phone. You were the type of person to always answer no matter what. It was a rarity if you didn't answer. So when the phone went through its cycle of rings eventually getting to your voicemail, he took a deep inhale to calm himself.

“Hello, you have reached the voicemail of Y/N Y/L/N. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your call. I’m just waiting for more important people to call. If I hear your message and deem you worthy or the title “important,” I will think about calling you back, but for now. Bye!”-Beep-

Lowering his phone from his ear, Dean looked down at the screen, your profile picture staring brightly up at him. Your face scrunched as you stuck your tongue out. In any other occasion he probably would have smiled, but instead he just let out a light “Damn it-” before slipping it back into his pocket.

He hated that you had ventured out alone to go find Jack. He should have gone with you. He should have dropped everything and just gone with you. Now you could be in trouble and in need of assistance. What if you were injured . . .or worse?

The Winchester brothers then proceeded to launch into action the moment they agreed something was not right. They had Rowena going through every page of the Book of the Damned looking for a tracking spell, and Cas was trying to find Jacks last known whereabouts.

“Anything?” Dean huffed, momentarily stopping his continuous pacing to look over at his brother, who was currently hunched over his laptop trying desperately to track Jacks phone. They had tried tracking yours earlier, only to find your phone sitting on one of the vacant tables in the library untouched and almost out of battery . He expected Sam to respond with yet another Nope but was surprised when he heard something else.

“Dean, check this out.” Sam swiveled his laptop around to face him, pointing at Jacks icon.

“Wait- is he flying?” The two brothers watched as the icon pinged to another location, and then another before landing firmly on an empty area in Nebraska. After a minute of no change, Dean was rushing towards the door, wrapping his jacket around him and grabbing the keys to the impala.

Sam knew there was no holding his brother back, especially when it came to your safety. The younger Winchester exhaled before slamming the laptop shut and following the fading heels of his brothers boots.

*. *. *.

Dean had practically been white knuckling the steering wheel since he slipped into the drivers seat. He was silently trying to calm himself down, but it just wasn’t working.

You were fine. You were fine. You were safe and alive and completely out of harms way. You were fine.

“Oh crap.” Sam's sigh of frustration yanked Deans eyes away from the road.

“What?” His voice thick with worry as he watched his brother flick through his phone.

“I lost Jacks signal. His phone must have died.”

The older Winchester let out a string of curses before slamming his foot harder on the gas. And with that a two hour drive was cut down to a smooth 45 minutes.

Dean immediately made out your car when the slowly pulled to a stop at the end of the old dirt road the gps had sent them down, the vehcile parked alone in front of an old run down cabin. The impala had barely been put into park before the older Winchester was launching himself out of his seat and running foreword, flashlight in hand.

“You go inside, I’ll check around back.”

“Got it.”

It didn’t take long for Dean to find something out of the ordinary, as he stepped through the trees his eyes widened, jade irises filled with confusion and worry. He didn’t have to call for Sam before he heard the loud footsteps running towards him. No words were exchanged as Dean knelt down, running his fingers along the earth, pulling up ash. The light of their flashlights panning over the charred and blackened earth that stretched out for several yards.

Dean needed to find you, and quickly . . .

(A/N: if you would like to be added to my slowly growing Too Soon Taglist, feel free to send me a message or ask!)

SPN Taglist: (Still Open)

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda @jordangdelacruz @orphiceseum @andthatsmyworld @marvelfangirllll @fandomnerdespressourself @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx @lxstgxrl-ck @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl @totallyluciferr @supernaturalenchanted @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler @heyyy-hey-babyyy @supernaturalenchanted@emptycanvasposts @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo @xoxoaudreymarie @greenarrowhead @mrsjenniferwinchester @mysticalfuncollectorus @brebolin @biahblue @noahandthegiraffe @hhiggs @mila-dans @mrsmaybankhere @malindacath @littleagxs @deanwanddamons @idksupernatural @i-make-questionable-choices

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #dean winchester angst #dean winchester series #spn season 15

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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Jake Reviews Amphibia: Handy Anne and Fort in the Road

It’s finally here... the second time i’ve said that in three days but hey, Amphibia is back! After a years hiatus due to the show being shoved out in a month to get it on disney plus faster (Yet they STILL don’t have wonder over yonder so I can finally watch season 2. God damn. ), one of the best new shows of a year stuffed with them is back! I was excited about this one from the start. A great premise, a gravity falls pedegriee, and the wonderful Brenda Song, who I had a crush on when I was younger despite not really watching the first suite life that much, though I will admit what I saw was pretty decent and had a wonderful cast especially song and Phil Morris as Mr.Mosby.. it was just overshadowed by i’ts two leads being really sterotypical (the cool but dumb hustler and the stick in the mud nerd) and I was more of a nick middle schooler anyway so I barely touched it. Granted if I could go back in time and trade which shows I watched i’d trade it for Zoey 101 in a heartbeat, another show with awful leads but the rest of the main cast was really good concidentally.

Anyways I did watch more of on deck to kill time and absolutley hated it. Seroiulsy the show really sucks: Zack and Cody were turned into basically worse versions of Zack Morris and Ross Gellar, worse because while their just as douchey as those two, Mark Paul Gossler and David Schiwmer can actually act and Cole Sprouse could not yet. I do say yet since Cole Sprouse has grown because he wasn’t half bad in the one season of riverdale I watched. Riverdale, what happens when you have the entire writers room snort a line of coke and then tell them to write the most insane archie fanfiction they can and stitch the results together. Just with Archie alone from what i’ve seen in read he’s started a vigilante posse ala homer simpson, nearly joined hte mafia, been framed form murder, had the local cheerleaders do a number for him while he played prison football, escaped prison to hide in canda from both his former mafia boss whose also his girlfriend’s dad and the cult based on a DnD knockoff, got mauled by a bear and LIVED, and now is a superhero apparently. WHy I haven’t gone back to at the very least review this clusterfuck is a mystery. But the point is the twins were really terrible at the time, and if the fact Dylan’s only major role recently is in the sequel to After, that film based on self insert one direction fanfiction, which somehow got a sequel while Birds of Prey probably won’t because god really does hate me. So it was bad and she deserved better, got better with the social network but hadn’t done much i’d seen, so a new cartoon starting her in her elment and in a great show for once had me pumped. And.. my faith paid off. The show is beautifully animated, ahs a wonderfully morbid and fully fleshed out world, top notch voice acting (including BIll Farmer who is so unreconizable as hop pop I thought he was voiced by charlie addler), great jokes, action and storytelling. Just a slam dunk that left be jonesning for me. And now in one of the best weeks for animation in a while, more is here. I do mean that: 3/4 of disney’s major animated shows returning and close enough finally airing it’s a good time. When we last left our heroes: Hop Pop buired the box that brought anne there and lied to her about it which even a year later I think is a terrible decision.. one made for understandable reasons as he clearly knows something more about it than she does, but one that’s bound ot backfire whens he finds out her new grandpa lied to her and betrayed her. The plantars also spent the season preparing to leave wartwood. Soon after, Anne was forced to finally stand up to her manipulative, if to my utter shock still caring about her and possibly being into her? I mean it’s not like I haven’t seen the “villian whose overcompensating for a terrible past and likes manipualting people redeemed and ending up smooching the somewhat reckless but good hearted heroine” before.

Anyways Sasha ends up nearly falling off a giant tower, Anne tries to save her, with the rest of her new family pitching in, and Sasha, realizing just how terrible she’s been just.. let’s her self fall, only saved because Grime caught her. And just remembering that sequence god dman.. the fact they actually got the rights to lean on me for it really dosen’t help. But the day was saved and while Anne had a huge bundle of trauma, the family was ready to finally set out soon. And now a year later i’ts time. Now i’ve gotten all the personal stuff out of the way, let’s hop to it and see what the new season has to offer. Full review with spoilers under the cut!

Handy Anne

So the Plantars are finally setting off. We don’t touch on the Sasha thing much, just a quick bit at the begining to show that while Anne is insiting she’s fine it really traumatized her. I do like kids shows starting to show more that sometimes heroes just DON’T bounce back after something like this, especially young ones. While it’ isn’t nearly to the extent of Steven Universe spending an entire season having his lack of thearpy and unresolved issues slowly destroy him, it’s still nice to see. But the main thrust of the episode is it’s vacation time brother!

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Yup after a few episodes of build up last season with the valley clear, Hop Pop has bought a suprisingly nice and affordable wagon (As Polly excitedly explains someone died in it) so they can finally set out to hopefully find Anne a way home. Their going to Oregon! I mean To newtopia, the beating heart of Amphibia: a bustling metroplis built on knowledge where they can hopefully find a way to get Anne and friends back home, while Anne hopes to find Marcy. The rest of the kids are also excited just to get out of the valley for the first time. Everyone’s pumped.. but Anne starts to worry when she finds out Hop Pop has asked his friend Chuck, the “I grow tulips” guy from the bug ball episode last season who I forgot about but was reminded why I love him and am glad to have him back, to watch the house as given Amphibia is hard enough to surivive on a good day, let alone if your a stationary building. And Chuck dosen’t insprie confidence so Anne decides to fortify the house. And her reasoning.. is actually really sweet and shows how much she’s grown: Instead of like most times where her impulsivness is the reason shenanigans and life thretaning situations happen here.. she’s hit with the hard relization her new family is basically risking everything, their home, their farm, their chuck, to help her get home.

So Anne decides to armor up the house, getting a fuck ton of shovels and a ton of suplies from the blacksmith guy who suprisngly for once DOES have what she needs for her veggies, to the point his not backtracking weirds anne out, and gives her a tub of goo. This can only end well! Meanwile the rest of the family pack. Polly having maybe 3 possesions gets done quick, Hop Pop is being anal reteitive as always with his ascots (hilariously done and Bill Farmer really is the MVP of this series), while Sprig’s gone half insane just picking out which slingshot to take as he never left, which polly of course exploits. But things natrually go wrong as the goo creates veggie monsters the family fights (with sprig even calling fight time because this is normal to them at this point) the next mornign and then one colosus that destroys the house... and Anne’s anger and heartbreak over it .. awakens something. See something I hadn’t heard about and didn’t notice at the ebgining of the series was anne’s eyes flashing blue while fighting the mantis in the first episode. Many couldn’t tell if it was leading somewhere or just an animation error. Here though her eyes go bright blue in close up with it being clear this is part of her.. the question what is it and why? Just what power does she have now? And will it save the world or destroy it? Questions for later Anne saves the day, an admits she screwed up but Hop Pop is understanding: He’s touched by her actions but also explains their not just doing this for her: their with her all the way and any sacrifice is worth it. And I like that part of hop pop: while he can be overbearing, just see next episode.. he does genuinely mean well and has genuine wisdom, something they sometimes forget with grandparent characters in animation. He’s crotchety and a stick in the mud, but he’s still throughly nice and understanding and it shows here: He’s going to get his daughter back whatever it takes.. almost. Hop Pop calls on chuck who in a whilrwind of tools and tulips fixes the place.. and proves to be every bit the legend I thought him. He sells tulips and he’s great. We’ll miss you chuck. But as they get ready to leave Anne brings up the box and Hop Pop, remembering what he did, hastily says it’s better with their contacts. WHich again just seems short sided: while he is trying to protect her, especially since next episode confirms there was some sort of apocalypse once so odds are her being connected to it might not be the best, he can’t dance around her connection to it forever, and hiding the fact some apolcaypse was caused by it is only going to backfire when some vilian reveals it or anne finds it out for herself. Taking her to a place full of infomration where he’ll now have to work to hide the truth is just asking for this to backfire. Not bringing it is one thing, dangerous people could still get the box and use it for their own ends.. we’ve seen female newt sabertooth in the promos and we’ve met Grime. But not telling her is just setitng himself up for a big and deeserved fall soon. But with that settled our heroes set out!

Final Thoughts I: Overall this was a good start to the season: my one real complaint is the town didn’t really see them off or anything, so the large and loveable supporting cast is just.. absent unless the series returns to wartwood at some point and it would’ve been nice to see them once last time. Even star vs, as bad as season 3 was, knew we wouldn’t be seeing most of the earth cast for a whie and had marco have a meaningful sendoff before he left. But.. given how tight the phacing seems to be this season judging by episode titles alone, and they only had 11 minutes here. I do think it could’ve been in hte next episode, but it dosen’t ruin a decent, fun start to the season really rooted in character stuff. Not the series finest 11 minutes, but still really good and a good way to start us off.

Fort in the Road:

First off your welcome for that episode screencap. Now this one’s also simple, but ends up having a rather sizeable revelation nestled inside. The Plantars are going down the road and while the kids want to you know explore, see places, actually enjoy the trip especailly since Sprig and Polly have never been anywhere else before, Hop Pop, being hop pop, instead just wants them to sit and be quite and follow his rules. I mean it is hte grind but you can at least make it FUN for htem; Just look at this guy.

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It took an episode longer than I thought to refrence the trail to oregon given this season is about a wagon trip, but I’m glad to do it .. and do it again. I will fit pays to be an animal in here somewhere I swear it. WE’ve got time left in the road trip. Anyways this goes down terribly, though some rules like not posing dramatically as it smacks of hubris and never ends well. But understandably the kids are annoyed about it: Anne can’t even compallin because i’ts not in the rules. So naturally as Hop Pop should’ve seen coming at the first opprotuunity Anne fakes being cart sick and they run off to see a weird looking ruin with Hop Pop chasing them and leaving the cart to polly because that can’t end well but he’s on a short time. And this is where the season drops a 10 ton atomic bombshell. Anne being kinda magic in the last episode and it being fully part of things now is intresting and shocking.. but this is miles ahead of it and casts Hop Pop’s actions: Turns out whatever the clamamity box did set techniology in amphibia back to a little above the dark ages. I mean they have full light thanks to lightning bugs, but their still leagues behind.. but were once up to at least mid 2000′s levels of technology. The machine seen requires a disk to stop, but it’s still far beyond what I expcted from this world. Naturally Hop Pop shows up furious, then gets stuck on the assembly line with the kids deseprate to save him, with spirg ending up doing sow ith the rule book. Also we get Anne’s wonderful repsonse to Sprig asking what a disk is: “I don’t know! i’m from another dimension not the 90s!” They surivive, the factory blows up and the kids apologize and agree to go back to the boring way things have been going.. but Hop Pop thankfully realizes he’s been a bit overbearing and actually gives a good reason why: He’s never taken then out of the valley before and simply got overprotective. This is his family after all, all he has left of his kid and all he really has left beside Sylvia and the farm. It’s understandble he’d go a bit overboard. But Hop Pop decides to compromise a bit in a nice moment: while the impalment fields are obviously a non starter, he does get the kids ice cream (Anne even admits at this point she dosen’t pick the bugs out anymore), and they genuinely enjoy the trip while Sprig (in a hilarious bit of lampshadng as he does it repeadtly) wonders jsut what they were making.. and as I spoiled it was robots.. one of whom is now following them. Wether this means new doom or the plantars getting a new robot family member I don’t know i’m hoping for the latter. Everyone needs a vision in their life. Final thoughts II: While having a bit of an obvious conflict with an obvious resolution the character work combined with the MASSIVE plot bombshell really make this enjoyable and I hope to find out more about just what the hell happened and what these robots are for. Just another good solid episode and an excellent duo to start the season. Next week: Things take a turn for the western and Anne learns to hunt and more about the glow. And with the glow you need to grow to glow... until then i’ll likely have mor ereviews on this channel, I recently reveiwed all of season 1 of close enough if your curious, and until next time.. play us out Willie!

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I love what i’ve seen of this throughly stupid movie. Bye ya’ll!

#amphibia #handy anne #fort in the road #season 2 #brenda song #bill farmer #the suite life on deck #disney channel #disney xd #disney plus #anne boonchuy #hopidiah planter #sprig planter #polly planter #sasha #lord grime

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linderu · 4 years

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utakata hanabi. - ch 2/2

characters: khun, bam, rak, shibisu pairing: khunbam series: tower of god / kami no tou ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24567637/chapters/59427784#workskin

takes place season 3, right after bam beats the ranker and khun/hwa ryun spread propaganda through the tower. it’s really fluffy. while also dealing with questions of morality, priorities, the plot itself, etc. also shibisu is best wingman ever.

i want to take writing requests so feel free to send me an ask for khun centric or khunbam centric ideas!

s3 webtoon spoilers.

“How’s Bam holding up?” Shibisu’s voice rang over Khun’s pocket, echoing slightly within the large, empty bedroom he found himself in. Khun, who was lying on his back in the middle of a massive bed, stared holes into the ceiling as he contemplated their current situation.

“The same as usual. You know him, Isu.” He sighed audibly, feeling exasperated. “Taking on too much at once because he feels obligated to, and acting like everything’s fine.”

His plan had been successful. Whether that was a good or bad thing, he wasn’t sure yet.

As they spoke, rumors about a C-rank regular strong enough to take down a ranker were spreading like wildfire throughout the tower. Bam’s single fight in the testing center was what had ignited the flames, acting as a catalyst for the mass movement Khun knew was building. Soon enough, all of their ‘pawns’ would line up like dominoes, ready to fall when Bam gave the signal.

It was the work of his and Hwa Ryun’s scheming. The level of propaganda they built up around the great Jyu Viole Grace was enough to make even FUG elders stir.

He should be excited, playing a main role in designing such an event. Truthfully, all he felt was anxious-- like he was sending his best friend to his death. Not that he would show it around Bam.

“Yeah, I do. But I also know you, and I bet you’re doing the same thing, aren’t you?”

“...” Khun scowled at the ceiling, but didn’t bite back. He was too tired. It seemed like everyone had something to say about how he handled things when Bam was around lately. “What I’m doing doesn’t really take that much effort. Especially compared to what Bam has to face, soon. Leading a battle against Jahad’s army…”

“Well, Bam probably feels like that, too. Like what he’s doing isn’t enough compared to what he really wants to do. Y’know?”

Damn. Shibisu, as always, hit the nail on the head. It was infuriating, having his double standards being pointed out like this.

It wasn’t like he was wrong, though. Of course he understood how Bam felt. That’s why Khun would do everything in his power to support him-- so that when he ran into battle recklessly, he wouldn’t be going alone, or acting as some kind of sacrifice.

Khun had to prepare everything perfectly so that wouldn’t happen.

“Why did you call, Isu?” He asked, annoyance seeping into his tone. “I didn’t pick up so you could psychoanalyze me. There’s still things I need to finish before we set the date.”

“Oi, oi. I’m just looking out for my friends.”

“Well, that’s great and all, but if you have so much free time, you should spend it collecting souls. We need all the help we can get before showtime.”

“Yes, my prince.” Shibisu responded sarcastically. “I’ll get going in a minute. Don’t worry, we’ve already stored a lot. Look, I just think you two should find a way to destress before everything goes to shit. You gotta rest your minds as well as your bodies, you know? Overworking yourselves won’t make this plan succeed any better.”

“... Maybe you’re right…” he was pretty exhausted. Not to mention, ever since that other guide yelled at Bam so harshly, he seemed out of sorts. As in… he was way too invested in training with Evankhell, while also spending his downtime sulking on his own.

Khun felt powerless. Like he could only watch. He was terrible at finding the words to give pep talks, so his only piece of advice had been ‘ignore her and push onwards.’

“Even so. I don’t know what we could possibly do to ‘relax’ in a situation like this…”

“Why don’t you try ‘that’?”

“Huh?” Khun quirked a brow at his pocket questioningly, though he knew Shibisu couldn’t see his face anyway. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Be more specific, Isu.”

“Something mindless and nostalgic. Like sparklers.”

“Hmmm.” Was all Khun replied with, not wanting to give his thoughts away. It was actually a great idea when he considered it, a faint image of a younger, brightly smiling Bam with fireworks shimmering in his eyes flashing in his mind.

“Well, just consider it.” As Shibisu spoke, Khun palmed his face. He wanted to groan, but Shibisu already knew more than enough about how he felt, so instead he rolled onto his side to face his pocket and just frowned.

He wanted to see Bam smile like that again.

“Huh, what’s that, Hatsu? Okay, yeah, I’m coming!” Shibisu’s voice was muffled for a moment. “Hey, Khun. I gotta go. Just make sure you two get some rest, alright?”

“Yeah.” Khun acknowledged. “Thanks a lot for what you guys are doing. It’ll probably... determine whether or not Bam lives through this.”

“No problem. See ya!”

---

Khun knocked twice at the door. No immediate answer.

“Bam?” He called, opening the door anyway. Inside, he found Bam sitting by the edge of his bed, staring at the ground.

“Khun…” Bam finally glanced up to meet Khun’s gaze, wearing a solemn expression that tugged at his heartstrings.

Shibisu’s words preaching about avoiding mental exhaustion echoed in his head, and Khun let out a quiet sigh, stepping over to where Bam sat. Perching beside him, his hand reached into his coat pocket where the box of sparklers was nestled comfortably, but he didn’t quite pull it out yet, choosing to fidget with it instead as he contemplated what to do.

“... Bam,” he started, after a moment of heavy silence. “How’s training with Evankhell going?”

“Fine.” Bam replied, though Khun didn’t miss the way he clenched his fists. “I just wonder… if it will be enough.”

“You shouldn’t worry about things like that before they happen, Bam.” He wasn’t good at giving reassurance, but he couldn’t stand by while Bam worried himself to death. “Are you still thinking about what Soo-oh said?”

“Yeah. She was right. I… was selfish, trying to make people throw away their lives for me like that…”

“It’s not as if they didn’t have their own stake in the battle.” Khun gently reminded him. “They might not want to take this next fight with you, but that’s not a reflection of your person.”

“... I wonder how many people will die this time. If I gathered them… for my own battles… wouldn’t it be my fault?”

“The people who show up will be those who have an issue with Jahad already. They’ll be fighting for themselves. You’re only giving them a chance for revenge that they’ve always wanted to take.”

“What if no one comes?”

“That won’t happen.” Khun’s brows furrowed at the thought, knowing exactly what Bam would do if that were the case. He refused to think about it. “Hwa Ryun and I are tracking everything. Unrest has already started-- people are beginning to move. Probably, in a week’s time, the stage will be set…”

“...” Bam’s face fell, and Khun’s heart sank.

“... Bam,” Khun reached a hand up to gently grab Bam’s shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting gesture. As he thought, this was no time to simply pull out the sparklers and suggest to throw a party. He had to be strategic about how to get Bam to relax… probably, just framing it as a favor he could do for himself would be the best way. “Will you do something for me?”

“What do you need, Khun?” Bam lifted his head immediately, and though his expression still seemed sad, he looked determined to help.

Perfect.

“I need you to meet me somewhere tonight. It’s pretty important.” Khun gave Bam’s shoulder a quick, soothing rub, smiling at him encouragingly. “Can you do that for me, Bam? Do you have the time?”

“I do. What are we doing?” Bam inquired, staring at him quizzically. Khun, who fingered the box of sparklers hidden in his coat pocket, just hummed in response.

“A team activity.” He removed his hand from his coat, and stood up. “To make sure we’re on the same page. Does that sound good to you, Bam?”

“Yeah. That seems fine. If you think it’s necessary, Khun.”

“Great. Outside my room, eight sharp.” Khun winked playfully and turned towards the door, lifting a hand in farewell. He didn’t think too long about the hint of a smile he caught pulling at Bam’s lips before he turned his back to him, in fear he might stick around. “See you then-- get some rest, okay?”

“... You too, Khun. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

Khun hid his grin as he departed.

---

“Black turtle! You’re on time!” Rak dabbed excitedly in greeting.

“Rak!” Bam glanced at Khun questioningly, who stood against the wall with his arms crossed, smirking. “Is anyone else joining us?”

“Nope! Just us three. Is that okay with you?”

“Well, I’m still not sure what we’re doing…”

“I see.” Khun flashed a small smile Bam’s way, unable to help his good mood. After spending nearly the whole day thinking about it, he realized how long it had been since they had a calm, content moment to simply exist. From the second he’d woken up, it felt like both time and series of events were passing far too quickly for his liking.

Sure, they accomplished a lot, but he had wasted two years in a coma. Khun wanted to actually spend time with Bam like he had in the past… especially with their situation escalating in such a scary way.

Who knew when the next goodbye would be their last.

“Do you have the box, blue turtle?”

“Iii~diot. Of course I do. Let’s get going, Bam.”

“Box?”

“You’ll see soon.”

---

Outdoors, the ‘sky’ had already darkened some time ago. Despite understanding it was fake, a synthetic creation of the tower, Khun hadn’t lived his life knowing any different. To him, it might as well be the real deal. For Bam, considering Rachel’s original goals, Khun wondered how the sky looked to him recently.

With a floating lighthouse to guide the path, they walked a little ways away from the building, settling near a hill. A cool, comforting breeze washed over them. Khun was glad he wore a jacket, wondering to himself if Bam was chilly without one.

After a moment of thinking about it, he peeled his coat away, but not before removing the box of sparklers.

“Don’t get sick.” Khun draped the coat over Bam’s shoulders with a small smile. Bam blinked at him.

“Won’t you get cold, though…?”

“I’ll be fine, Bam.”

“But your temperature is difficult to regulate sometimes, right? I don’t want you to fall ill because of me.”

“Oi, blue turtle! Are you gonna light the sticks, or are we going to just stand around in the dark?!”

“Don’t spoil it, you dumb crocodile. Geez… now I have to.” Guess there was no point in waiting any longer. Through the faint glow of his lighthouse, he smiled briefly at Bam in reassurance, pulling out the box soon after and removing a sparkler.

“Khun-- are those…?” Khun didn’t miss the way Bam’s eyes widened.

“Do you mind playing with me for a little while, Bam?” He handed a sparkler over to Rak first with a content smile, knowing he would hear complaints if he didn’t, and took out a lighter.

“But… what about the training…?” Bam gave him a look of concern as Khun handed him his own unlit sparkler.

“This is training. I’m calling it, ‘strengthening your mental fortitude.’”

Khun clicked the lighter, and a flame rose from the tip. Wordlessly, and with an excited grin, he lit the end of Rak’s sparkler, and it burst into a bright, golden show of glitter.

“Is this really okay?” Bam questioned softly, gazing at Rak’s sparkler. Khun carefully watched his expression as it transitioned from worry, to interest, and lastly, to fondness. He could feel the tension leave his shoulders at the sight of Bam lightening up, and he knew right then that this exercise was absolutely the right decision.

“You’re working yourself too hard, Bam.” Smiling his way, he activated his lighter once more, bringing the flame close to the firework in Bam’s hand. It lit up in a flash, coloring the space between them with a soft, yellow glow.

“You are too.” Bam looked over his sparkler at Khun, his brows furrowed as if he had remembered something. “You’ve been working nonstop since I fought that ranker… no, before that. From when you woke up from your coma. Right, Khun?”

“Well…” he tilted his head, expression slightly sheepish. “It was necessary.”

“You’re the last person who should be lecturing me about working too hard!” Bam was almost pouting at this point, and Khun bit back a laugh at the sight.

It was refreshing, to be scolded like this. He pondered over what had changed with Bam’s priorities in the time he’d been missing. Honestly, Khun was accustomed to watching over Bam, and not the other way around-- after all, for the longest time, Bam had his sights set on one person only and it hadn’t been him.

A moment of silence passed. As he looked to the sky once more, thinking about the stars Bam had once been seeking, a wave of nostalgia hit him, and all of a sudden, Khun felt like lighting his own sparkler. Not a minute later and there were three fireworks sputtering, illuminating the dark night surrounding them.

His eyes fell on Bam once more, feeling a strange sense of intimacy undoubtedly influenced by his memories of the past. While watching him, he couldn’t help but remember the Bam he knew from over a decade ago, when they had first met-- staring at his sparkler in mesmerization, simply happy to be alive, surrounded by new friends, and chasing after his goals.

“Hey, Bam…” Khun murmured, his voice soft.

“Hm?” Bam lifted his gaze, and their eyes locked. Khun paused, the cool breeze gently blowing at his hair, tickling against his cheeks. After spending a moment enthralled by the way sparkles darted in and out of Bam’s golden irises, illuminating them in a rich color that made Khun feel like he was home , he finally opened his mouth, and asked--

“Why do you still want to climb the tower?”

It was a loaded question, Khun knew. Although it sounded simple, when unpacked, it held implications about all sorts of things.

How did Bam feel about Rachel? Why did he want to continue climbing the tower if he decided to stop chasing her-- his initial ‘rule,’ his entire reason for forcing the door open in the first place as an irregular? Just what were his motivations, when the journey they currently faced, already challenging to begin with, was no longer simply an ordinary path up?

When every corner they turned further and further endangered their lives, as they pissed off FUG and Jahad alike?

When the people Bam loved were being stripped from him one by one by elite rankers who would stop at nothing to kill them all?

Wars were literally starting for the simple reason that Bam wanted to protect his mentor. It was baffling, yet incredibly understandable, how so many people-- weak and strong alike-- were captivated by Bam; influenced by him into action.

Khun knew he felt Bam’s natural attraction the strongest out of anyone.

“I…” Bam hesitated, staring at Khun with wide eyes. “I just… want the strength… to protect you.”

“Me?” Khun blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise. “Bam…”

Bam’s eyes fell, and a bittersweet smile tugged at his lips. “I realized… when I lost both you and my mentor so quickly, that I was putting everyone I cared for at risk. Pretending to be selfless, running around saving anyone who needed help, while using my friends to chase after Rachel… I was really just being selfish. It wasn’t selflessness at all.”

“So then, Rachel-- …” Khun trailed off. When he had woken up from his coma, he had talked to Bam over the pocket about it briefly, so he kind of understood his thoughts-- Rachel was no longer his primary goal because she had tried to kill Khun.

Even so. It hadn’t clicked until now what that meant in terms of what Bam was putting everything on the line for. He hadn’t simply stopped once his ties to Rachel were cut. If anything, Bam had become more driven, more desperate.

“I want to go up the tower with you, Khun.” Bam smiled affectionately at him. “And everyone else, of course. I just want to be able to protect everyone who means something to me-- no matter what it takes.”

The last of Khun’s sparkler faded, leaving them with no other light but the purple glow of his lighthouse. He was acutely aware of Rak silently watching them, and he felt a sense of déjà vu-- but he also couldn’t bring himself to care.

Bam’s sights were set on him. The thought permeated his mind.

“Let’s go, Bam. To the top.” Khun said abruptly, the words spilling from his mouth. He found himself reaching an arm out longingly, his hand resting on Bam’s shoulder in a platonic gesture-- but feeling it wasn’t quite enough , he took a step in, and slid his palm up to cup his cheek.

Bam sighed quietly in response, tilting his head into the touch; almost welcoming it.

This was uncharted territory for them, but Khun didn’t care.

“I’ll make sure no one ever hurts you again.” Bam promised.

“I’ll follow you anywhere.” Khun murmured his reply, leaning in and pressing their foreheads together. Through the dark, he couldn’t see Bam’s full expression too well, but he knew he wouldn’t be pushed away-- that they both wanted this.

How many years had he spent waiting, pining?

Their lips delicately brushed together, and Khun immediately craved more. It felt so right, and long overdue. Sturdy arms circled around his waist, fingers clinging to the shirt on Khun’s back, and to his surprise, it was Bam who leaned in, reconnecting their kiss.

He felt he could stay like this forever and be perfectly happy. But they had to get back inside.

Pulling away from the kiss, Khun’s thumb smoothed over Bam’s lips, which were slightly parted. They shared a look through the dark, communicating something silently, and then Khun stepped back completely, wearing a serene smile.

“Let’s go back inside, Bam.” He hoped the implications were clear. If they weren’t, he would make them clear once Rak was gone.

“Okay.”

“I’m so proud… of my turtles… as your leader…!” Khun deadpanned, turning around to meet a sniveling Rak. “It only took you ten years, blue turtle!”

“I’m going to kill you, you damn crocodile--!” He immediately moved to kick him, horrified. Bam didn’t need to hear he’d been waiting for that long, dammit! “What do you think you’re saying, huh?!”

“Khun--” he paused, feeling Bam tug on his hand. “Let’s go back. I want to keep talking.”

“... Consider yourself lucky. Your life’s been spared.”

---

“I heard the big event’s going down in a week. How are you feeling, Khun?”

“I think we’re ready.” Khun smirked in the devious way he often did when he schemed. “I’ve done all I can to build up the best army possible for Bam. Whatever happens from here, happens. At the very least, we’ll get out with our lives. At the most… we divide and conquer, squashing their ‘war of attrition’ strategy. They’ll underestimate us. We have to use that to our advantage.”

“We’ve definitely been monitoring the tower’s activity on our end. It seems promising. Good work, captain.” Shibisu said encouragingly. “... You sound a lot more energetic. Did something happen?”

“None of your business, Isu.” He retorted, checking the time. Bam would be done with training soon, he should wrap things up and get cleaned up.

“Ah! I know…” Shibisu’s tone became teasing over the pocket, and Khun glared in its direction. “I understand everything now! To be young and in love… oh, I’m so jealous~!”

“I’m hanging up. Bye.”

#khunbam #tower of god #kami no tou #tog #khunbaam #drabbles

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haveyouseenthis · 4 years

Text

Ranking GO生 Tracklist | Stray Kids Special

GO生 Tracklist:

GO生 (Go Live) *intro

神메뉴 (God's Menu) *title track

Easy

Pacemaker

비행기 (Airplane)

일상 (Daily Life/Another Day)

Phobia

청사진 (Blueprint)

타 (TA)

Haven

TOP *“Tower of God” OP

SLUMP *“Tower of God” ED

Mixtape : Gone Days *Pre-release 1

바보라도 알아 (Mixtape : On Track) *Pre-release 2

Since I’ve been so obsessed with this release recently, I thought it’d be fun to post a ranking for its tracklist the same as I did to hype up for its release.

Just as I did in my SKZ discography ranking, I’ll be commenting here and there on why I like certain songs, but I’ll try to keep it to a minimum as I’ll be talking about this album more soon. Also, just like last time, I will not be including the intro track in the final ranks.

Kasin’s final GO生 Tracklist Rankings:

1.“神메뉴 (God’s Menu)”

This track is everything I didn’t know I needed from Stray Kids - from the kpop industry across the board. Most comebacks and debuts this season have felt pretty bland to me. None of them have really been bad, but none have been good either, you know, T? It’s like all of them just knew they needed to be eye catching, but then became nothing more than that. No real effort was put in on the producing side. Songs like NCT’s “Punch” or “Ridin’” feel like they were produced on an assembly line in the company. A cheap way to get max profit with minimal effort.

“God’s Menu” doesn’t feel like that. It’s not recycled. It wasn’t written on an assembly line or according to a formula. I’d bet money that that is because Stray Kids produces for themselves.

“God’s Menu” is shocking. It’s unique. It’s out there. It’s short and sweet for a title track but somehow it feels like it goes on forever. I never listen to it and go “Oh it’s over already”. I listen and find myself somehow feeling like the 2:47 song was actually 5:00. Somehow 3Racha wrote a song that, while being short, makes the listener think it’s longer. It sucks you in and makes you feel like it goes on forever. I mean, it literally only has two verses - two! So why do I feel like it has so many more?

Well, I’ve thought about it and I think it’s how they split up the parts. Verse one is done completely by Han. It also has consistent sound, changing only once halfway through. Verse two, however, is split up between Felix, Seungmin, I.N., Chan, and Hyunjin, and changes line to line, or part to part. This makes each line become its own verse, making the song seem longer.

I don’t think it would’ve had the same effect if they hadn’t given Han all of verse one, or if they had split up each verse like they did verse two, or even if they had split up the first verse instead of the second. Giving an entire verse to one member right off the bat and then giving that verse a consistent sound, gives the listener’s brain the impression that that is how the rest of the song is going to go. Each verse will be sung by one member and have it’s own sound. So when that changed in verse two, and it gets split between five members and has four different sounds (I.N and Seungmin share a part), the single verse ends up sounding like 4 individual verses back to back.

I don’t want to get too sappy or anything, but the song truly feels like it’s its own little world.

There also isn’t a single break in the track. With many comebacks there will be lulls in the title track, normally two thirds of the way through. This is where raps are shoved into vocal songs for line distribution, or vice versa. It often ends up feeling forced, like the producers were trying to fit a square piece into a circle hole.

My point is, this song is a masterpiece. Every line fits. The beat is gorgeous.

2. “Easy”

This is the best song for them to follow up “God’s Menu” with. It has that same braggy style as “God’s Menu”. It’s like a brother to the title track. You can hear the smirk on their face in their voices as they sing - especially in the post chorus with Lee Know and Han. I.N’s voice also pleasantly surprised me this comeback. He has always had a gorgeous voice, but I’ve always been able to tell it's higher in pitch than the others. He sounds younger when he sings and it feels out of place in some of their previous releases. I think Young K said it best in Stray Kids when talking about how I.N’s stage presence disrupted the serious air the crew had with his cute-ness. Listening to “God’s Menu” there were many times I caught myself saying “wait… That’s Innie?”. “Easy” cemented his new vocals. Confirmed that, “yes, that’s I.N you heard,”.

I think “Easy” could have easily been the title track for this comeback if “God’s Menu” wasn’t a part of the tracklist. It’s still powerful and, while I haven’t looked at the line distribution officially, it doesn’t sound so terrible. Seungmin and Chan probably got the most, being the main vocalists (err, official main vocalist and the honorary one…). It doesn’t seem like Changbin got too much time (his only parts are in verse 3) which is probably a reason they nixed it as the title track, if it was ever in the running. It’s probably doesn’t look too good if you don’t give your main rapper significant time in a title track (*cough* NCT 127 - yes I’m still bitter about Taeyong, shut up.).

3. “비행기 (Airplane)”

It’s so pretty and lighthearted at the same time. When I think of it, it’s with the same fond smile that I wear when I think of ballads, but then I listen to it and remember that it’s light and boppy.

What I like most is that everyone’s vocals get to shine. Everyone in Stray Kids can sing. All of them. It was so nice to be able to listen to all of their beautiful voices.

Chan’s vocals at the beginning are everything I never knew I needed - jesus. Felix’s “Ay, ay, 기다려봐 / 잠깐만 진정해봐 / Ay, ay, 있잖아 나 / 네가 난 너무 좋아”, and Chan’s strong soulful vocal response with “처음부터 넌 / 내 심장을 흔들고 나를 미치게 해”. Lee Know, with his focus being dance, is never the first person I think of when I think of Stray Kid’s vocalists. Seugnmin, I.N, Bang Chan, and Han come to mind, but how dare I forget our main dancer. He may not have many parts in “God’s Menu”, but listening to the rest of the album I find myself not really minding it because he has a lot of vocal parts in the rest of the songs to compensate.

I already mentioned how I feel like I.N’s voice has matured a lot, but now it’s time to talk about Seungmin. I wonder if he’s been training more since being appointed as the main vocal? I love his sound this song, especially during his alternating parts later in the song with I.N, namely “난 너의 피터 팬 나의 손 놓지 마 babe”.

4. “청사진 (Blueprint)”

So. Pretty. I’ll talk a little more about it in my GO生 review, but I don’t have terribly much to say. I just love it.

(Also Chan kills his part around 1:57-2:02)

(And I.N’s vocals are lovely)

(K that’s it)

5. “일상 (Daily Life/Another Day)”

I’ll just save all my thoughts for the main review because I have a lot of them, thank you very much (this is already toooo long~).

6. “Pacemaker”

This almost made 3rd, and there really isn’t a concrete reason why it didn’t besides personal preference. It’s an amazing song, hard-hitting, and sounds like SKZ. That’s actually why I put it after songs like “Airplane” and “Another Day” - because those songs sound different from anything I’ve ever heard from SKZ, and they pleasantly surprised me.

That’s not to say “Pacemaker” is mundane, or sounds just like their previous tracks - it doesn’t. Nothing on this album sounds recycled. None of it sounds like they were uninspired while producing it. “Pacemaker” is a song that stays true to Stray Kid’s hard hip-hop sound, and they spared no expense because of that. There wasn’t less effort put into it because it was another hard track - it demands just as much attention as any other song on this album.

7. “SLUMP”

When “TOP” and “SLUMP” were first released I never really listened to SLUMP. For some reason it slipped my mind that the two were released as a pair, and all I paid attention to was TOP. Maybe it’s because, and forgive me for my sins, I thought “TOP” was “meh” upon release so I didn’t bother listening to “SLUMP”. Or maybe it’s just because “TOP” got most of the hype and I truly forgot about it’s brother track.

Months later, GO生’s release was upon us and I found myself repenting at the altar. How could I have ignored the blessing that is the Tower of God ED all those months ago?

It only has a duration of 2:14, and I’ve seen a lot of STAYs cracking jokes about how the short length is the only bad thing about it. I disagree. I like it the way it is. Something about it being short and sweet makes it better in my opinion.

8. “타 (TA)”

This song feels like old SKZ. I’m not exactly sure why, but it does. This could have been released right after District 9. However, what separates it from their earlier releases is that it sounds more polished. It sounds like an evolved version of their debut sound.

I do like that, with SKZ being self-producing, you can hear their music getting better. Not that it was ever bad, but there is something a little “more” to their more recent songs. You can tell they’ve gained experience. Recently starting around the astronaut era, you can tell they’ve been getting more comfortable with playing around with their sound more, and I like that a lot.

9. “바보라도 알아 (Mixtape : On Track)”

ONE MORE STEP, I WILL NEVER STOP-

Prettyprettyprettypretty

Okay, I admit: I did not like this song when it came out. Like… kind of at all. But then I listened to it again. And then one more time. And then I looked at the lyrics. And then I watched the music video a few more times for good measure.

When I talk about vocals shining I- this. This is what I mean. The chorus, the verses, the everything.

Also, it brings this album’s love song counter up to 4~.

10. “Phobia”

I was hoping to like this song more than I do, but I just don’t. It’s a good song, just not my favorite of the bunch. I had it as 8th, actually, for that reason, but I realised it just didn’t sit right with me. I was ranking it for what I wanted it to be, not what I felt it was.

It’s a solid song, don’t get me wrong. I just favour the above more.

11. “Mixtape : Gone Days”

I’m still not able to make up my mind about this one. It reminds me of the saturated hip-hop sound “Get Cool” and “Awkward Silence” enlist, but somehow it goes farther than either of its predecessors did.

12. “TOP”

If anyone was wondering how close these rankings are, TOP was almost 4th.

Yeah.

I wasn’t sure quite what to think of TOP when it came out. The scythe-y electronic sounds caught me a little off guard. Like “Mixtape : On Track” the more I listened, the more I liked it.

13. “Haven”

I had high hopes for this song, what with its, at least unofficial, namesake being an alternate name for STAY. Meaning-wise it didn’t fall short. It was a song from Stray Kids to their STAY. Telling them this, the music, is STAY’s safe space. It was a message of encouragement and inspiration.

It was a fun song, truly, just not my favorite. However, it still holds a place in my heart for it’s meaning.

Look out for my GO生 review, coming in two parts~, soon. (Pray for T, she had to proofread so much.)

Links:

GO生 on Spotify

GO生 on Youtube

“神메뉴” M/V

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cagestark · 5 years

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Can i request something i dont see enough of, which is AlphaPeter/OmegaTony ? :D Lots of fluffy happy stuff, i love angst too a slong as theres a happy ending - { holographic-starker }

this was a tough one to write, but I enjoyed myself and feel like I learned a lot about myself as a writer, even. Thanks for the request, let me know if you’re displeased

Read here on AO3.

Warnings: ABO, consent issues because Tony is in heat. Alpha!Peter, Omega!Tony. Peter is 18+ though. Explicit.

The thing is, the kid is too polite.

Peter is freshly eighteen when he moves into the tower and begins interning for Tony, spending every last moment Avenging and patrolling and attending online classes. Being thirty years older than the kid, a part of him assumes that he should take on the role of a cantankerous old man complaining about the boorish youth. His knees have certainly taken it upon themselves to method act, protesting hours spent cross-legged on the floor. His hair has obviously been visiting wardrobe and makeup without his notice, because there are more gray hairs there than he remembers there being last year, last season, last month.

All this to say that Tony is getting older, and it is no secret that the younger generations are fucking irritating. Disrespectful, he’d say, channeling Howard or Jarvis through that internal Ouija board that keeps coming back no matter how many times he throws it out. And alright, it’s part of their rite of passage. Find him a generation who doesn’t annoy their elders and he’d eat Cap’s shield.

The one exception: Peter.

The kid has sweetness in his DNA. Authenticity clings to his red blood cells which explains why every bone in his body is genuine and kind. The respect he shows the Avengers is nearly comical—would be, if it didn’t drive Tony up the walls for other reasons. He is firm and gentle, thoughtful and conscientious. There are no valid complaints to be had about him.

The kid, if anything, is too polite.

Which means that he can’t possibly be doing this on purpose.

Peter presenting as an alpha shocked Tony to the core, and he wasn’t alone. “I’ve had him pegged as an omega since he was in diapers, Tony,” May had whispered to him while they watched Peter having his blood drawn by Bruce inside the Hulk-proof enclosure beneath the ground at Stark Tower. Judging by how Peter’s face flushes red, he can hear through the glass.

“A lot people had me pegged as an alpha,” Tony responds, maybe a little too coldly. But maybe it hits a little too close to home—children having their designations determined for them at such a young age. How much of Peter’s upbringing had influenced his disposition? Had he been groomed to be an omega even despite his biology? The thought makes Tony sick. He knows how that feels. He knows. “This doesn’t change anything about him. He’s still Peter.”

But it did change things.

Because now they are playing this game together, and either Peter is a better bluffer than Tony ever anticipated, or the kid genuinely doesn’t know what he’s doing to the older man.

It starts the first day Peter returns to his work in the lab after his rut. They have been putting in hours together working on a new AI, one Peter has affectionately dubbed Saturday, no matter how many times Tony tells him that the key to a good name is all in the acronym). Since it is Peter’s first effort to make an artificial intelligence, Tony is letting him lead. He is bent over the lab table examining a microchip the size of his thumbnail, miniature soldering iron clutched between in his fingers when the door to the lab opens.

He whirls around on the stool, beaming. Peter is dressed in his old Midtown High sweatshirt, the collar of his dress shirt blooming around his neck. His hair is dark from a shower, wet curls clinging to his forehead. He looks—good. Healthy. Strong. Fertile.

They smell each other for the first time.

It’s not Tony’s right to tell anyone to wear scent blockers, though he ingests his own via pill form twice a day, showers with them, has them mixed into the sterilization stations at lab’s exits so he can clean his hands and neutralize any happy-angsty scents that were brought about during the day’s tinkering. Because it’s a polite thing to do. Alphas and omegas are very sensitive to smells. Polite alphas will wear blockers to avoid overwhelming omegas or antagonizing other alphas in public—and when it comes to omegas, scent blockers are like protection, like the nano-tech suit he goes nowhere without. If no one can smell Tony, they can’t look at him like a piece of meat, lust over him, come on to him when all he’s trying to do is walk down the fucking street.

The kid is not wearing blockers. Before he presented, Peter had the blandly neutral scent of a beta, and he would have been incapable of scenting Tony. Peter smells of something fond. It takes Tony only a moment to place it: the mahogany of the bookshelves in his childhood home, the lemon-basil scent that would cling to Jarvis after days spent in the kitchen.

He sees Peter’s nostrils flair, surely trying to take in a scent that for all intents and purposes, he shouldn’t be able to smell. But by the way his eyes go hooded, throat bobbing, he can. The boy’s mouth opens, literally mouths the word wow. Tony feels remarkably like a rabbit caught in a dog’s gaze.

Tony burns himself. “Fucking—fuck!” He drops the soldering iron and it barely misses the microchip.

“Mr. Stark, are you okay?”

Peter comes over to examine the burn, a dark, flushed pink, the skin already raw and shiny. The smell comes with him, each of the boy’s emotions playing out like a symphony for his nose: concern, comfort, anxiety. And yeah, arousal.

Tony pulls away before their skin can touch, jamming his hands into the gloves that he should have been wearing from the start. “Fine,” he says. “Don’t worry about it.”

Peter becomes—distracting. At best. Arousing at worst. Days spent in the lab under Tony’s tutelage are filled with emotions for the young, enthusiastic boy: joy when he solves a problem, frustration when he can’t, the soft melancholic scent of rotting wood on days when his smile is muted and his eyes seem far away. Tony is too receptive to him. More than once, he’s found himself opening his mouth, desperate to ask for the love of God, Pete, will you take a shower? Will you wear something, anything, to come between your scent and my nose? But the kid doesn’t deserve that, and Tony isn’t sure he could stand the embarrassed, insecure scent he’d give off after being confronted. The need to comfort might be too strong to overpower.

Tony does his very best to maintain a professional relationship, but Peter seems determined to cross every boundary.

Next comes the scenting. To be fair: maybe he doesn’t know how incredibly personal it is. Tony knows that it’s common in schools to separate kids by designation and teach them only the information absolutely pertinent to them. Maybe growing up small and thin and soft hearted, pegged O’ from birth, they didn’t teach him what it means when an alpha scents someone who they aren’t related to.

Tony himself doesn’t know what it means when Peter does it. Maybe Peter doesn’t even know, maybe it’s just an itch that needs scratched, and he knows that scenting Tony can scratch it. Some things are just that innocent. But on his dark days when Tony is hunched over at the lab table, back and eyes aching from working through the night, all it takes is Peter brushing by. His steps will stutter just beyond Tony’s shoulders. He inhales—now Tony is trained like one of Pavlov’s dogs, and the relief, the arousal, it often comes right then, even on just the inhale—and then Peter’s forehead will loll forward, soft hair and skin nuzzling at the scent gland on Tony’s neck until their scents are mixed. Until Tony’s body is soft and pliant (except for his cock, which is hard and throbbing).

Then Peter moves on like nothing happened.

What the fuck, Tony sometimes mouths, keeping his eyes on the tablet in front of him, terrified to turn and acknowledge what the boy just did.

It might not be so bad if they weren’t so fucking compatible. Yeah, he can admit it. Tony had spent weeks agonizing about that after the kid first brought his scent down into the lab, he’s come to terms, thanks. It’s a biological fact, one he remembers any time he takes in a whiff of mahogany and lemon-basil. God, he didn’t think a smell could be so comforting and arousing all at once. It makes him ache, someplace in his chest where the arc reactor used to sit, and somewhere lower, deep in his pelvis where he should have grown children, if he’d been a decent omega. If he hadn’t spent so long trying to pretend to be an alpha, frying his biology, cooking his ovaries right to medium-well-done, AKA infertility.

What use would Peter have for him? Tony is old, past safe childbearing years even if he wasn’t barren. Alphas want legacies, they want homemakers, they want everything Howard worked so hard to empty Tony of. Far too often he finds himself maudlin and thinking such thoughts before the futility of them strikes him. His attractiveness is a non-issue; he is determined that he and Peter will never come together that way.

As it is, the scent blockers Tony takes, while being ultra-effective, aren’t as effective for a pair—not a pair. No, they’re not a pair. Just two friendly friends, mentor and mentee, platonic hi there Mr. Stark how are you doing goodness, no knots involved. God. He should not be thinking about the kid’s knot—anyway, the blockers aren’t as effective for people who are as compatible as Peter and Tony are. They are his last defense, and he often burns through them before the afternoon hits, body working overtime to make his scent potent again so that he might have a chance to attract the virile alpha across the room. It’s embarrassing, smelling so badly of pining omega that he can smell himself in the enclosed space of the elevator.

Like he is right now.

Although, it isn’t the elevator. It’s the bathroom.

Tony grabs the hand towels off of the rack and stuffs them at the bottom of the door where the crack is, desperate to keep his own smell in and Peter’s smell out. Then he crawls into the bathtub there and draws the curtain shut. As if that’s going to help.

He looks to the ceiling, wondering why a deity he doesn’t even believe in seems to be punishing him like this. Inside his pants, his cock is aching, and he can’t help but to press the heel of his hand against it, exhaling in the brief relief it gives. Lifting his wrist to his nose he breaths deep and can’t stop the groan that passes his lips. He smells like Peter, their scents combining, lemon and sugar to make lemonade, so sweet his mouth waters and his teeth ache.

When Peter arrived in the lab just moments before, he’d brought with him the scent of fury: scorched earth, and something sadder. His eyes were red from tears, lips pressed thin together. Tony watched him, paralyzed, as he tried three different times to enter his access code to the lab before FRIDAY showed mercy and let him in. Then as soon as there was nothing between them, it was like two oppositely charged magnets coming together.

They collided. Tony’s arms wrapped around him and Peter’s nose buried in that spot between his neck and shoulder, inhaling and exhaling fire on Tony’s exposed skin. Peter babbles away, lips brushing his skin, something about an argument with Ned and MJ, both sides feeling neglected and wronged, long overdue issues just now bubbling to the surface, he’d imagine. He can barely focus on what the boy is saying. It feels like there’s an invisible hand on the back of his neck, tilting him into the perfect position for his alpha to scent and find comfort in him. Tony holds him until all the anger and hurt and helplessness have seeped out of him.

What the fuck, Tony mouths to the ceiling. One of these days, he’s going to ask FRIDAY to create a montage of his WTF moments so that he might literally have concrete footage of how weird his life is.

Then one of Peter’s hands drifts up like he is going to cup Tony’s shoulder, but instead he firmly presses his thumb into the gland there and it’s like Thor has sent a bolt of lightning down. Tony’s entire body jerks and melts, every bone in his body relaxing for his alpha except for the one in his pants, and speaking of, Peter whimpers and shifts and there is no mistaking an alpha’s cock. There just isn’t. It’s veritably huge and hard and how many years has it been since he’s had an alpha inside him, since he’s been knotted—

The scents around them change, thick with arousal. It takes him that long to realize that Peter’s heightened emotional sensitivity might have a biological cause.

He is going into a rut.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter slurs, hips shifting. “You smell sooo good.”

It takes herculean effort to separate their bodies. The sheer heat and pheromones that Peter is throwing off are tangible even when he’s resolutely breathing through his mouth. He must be a sight: eyes wild and terrified, cock stiff, sprinting bow-legged to the bathroom so that he could get just a moment—just a moment to calm himself down and use his brain.

It’s going…about as well as can be expected, Tony thinks, desperately fisting his cock in the bathtub. If he could just rub one out, maybe it will bleed some of the fire from his veins. There is a gentle knocking at the door and Peter’s muffled voice, but Tony can barely hear it. He’s so close, building up to an orgasm so quickly that it should be shameful, but at least there is no one here to see. Wrist pressed to his nose, he inhales Peter’s scent like a man coming up from water, desperate for air. His balls are drawn up tight, stomach twisted into knots—and still he doesn’t cum.

“Mr. Stark, are you alright? Are you hurt?” Peter’s voice is raised, worried. Tony realizes that he has been whimpering, surely loud enough for the genetically enhanced boy to hear.

The pain inside him rises up but never crests, just rests there, aching in his gut. Cramping. Curiously, he reaches down past the petite testicles, down—

He’s wet. Soaked. The touch of his finger nearly brings him to ecstasy. This is what he needs, something inside of him, filling that emptiness that is so acute it aches. One finger isn’t enough. His hole is already loose, taking two easily.

The door breaks down. I’m in heat, Tony thinks numbly listening to wood splinter and hinges break. Maybe there was a slow build up that he missed, but it burned away in an instant in the face of this alpha. That is why Peter went into rut. Because of me. He barely has time to shove his cock back into his pants. For a moment, after Peter wrenches back the shower curtain Tony feels like a woman out of the old bodice rippers his mother used to keep in her bedside drawer. The ones with helpless omegas ravished by alphas who were driven mad by their scents, alphas who couldn’t have stopped their urges even if they wanted to.

The look Peter gives him is certainly aroused enough. He is hard in his jeans, a bulge that looks impossibly huge compared to Tony’s own. Peter’s chest rises and falls so rapidly that the older man is worried for his health. Those dark eyes scan Tony from head to toe and then the boy collapses, knees striking the tiled floor, groaning. He crawls to the bathtub and rests his feverish cheeks against the lip of the tub, mouth open and panting.

“Mr. Stark.” The voice is absolutely wrecked.

It is pure restraint as a result of his years of experience that keeps him from rolling onto his hands and knees to present for this boy, this wet-behind-the-ears alpha who has barely started his second rut and probably never popped a knot in his life.

“Mr. Stark I don’t feel so good,” groans Peter.

Even burning up, cramping, shaking, Tony reaches out to pet at Peter’s head. He hopes to offer comfort, but the boy snatches his hand out of the air in a bruising grip. Then he draws it to his mouth and presses in the fingers that were just inside Tony’s sopping hole. The boy’s tongue slips between the fingers, searching every crevice for more slick, groaning even as he licks the palm tasting only heart-love-life lines. “Mr. Stark,” Peter pants, trying again for words. “Can I have you? Please. Let me have you.”

“Yes,” Tony gasps.

They come together clumsily. It takes a moment for them to realize that Tony is trying to crawl out of the tub while Peter is trying to crawl in. They end up outside of it on the tiled floor, Tony spread out underneath the young alpha. Peter sheds his shirt and there should be violins, there should be mood lighting and a spotlight because the kid is fucking built. He almost has as many abs as fingers, so lithe and strong. He reminds Tony of spider silk, thin and so strong.

“Undress,” Peter says lowly, helping Tony to sit up so that he might pull off his shirt. Yeah, Tony isn’t 18 years old with genetically enhanced muscles but he likes to think he does okay. Peter’s eyes roll, palms flat on Tony’s pecs to drag down and down, over the scarring where the arc reactor used to be, scraping at the chest hairs. It melts the omega’s brain, primal parts of him purring. His body is satisfying to his mate, even if he is older and grayer and harder than any omega has a right to be. “God, you’re so—Jesus you’re hot Mr. Stark.”

“Knot me,” Tony groans. His hips are thrusting up into the hard cradle of Peter’s pelvis. His cock is throbbing, leaking, but it is nothing compared to the emptiness inside of him. The room is small and filled with so many potent scents that he can barely keep his eyes open. All of his senses are consumed by Peter, by what he’s doing with Peter. “Come on, kid. It hurts.”

Peter goes feral at the thought. He tears at their clothes, ribbons of jean and cotton, tennis shoes nudged off of feet. When he is naked as the day he was born, the fever in Tony seems to reach its boiling point. The kid is sculpted; it’s indecent. If there was any doubt he was meant to be an alpha, his cock disputes it. Tony, who has had plenty of fulfilling sexual experiences with people of all genders and designations, is still intimidated. Aroused. Anxious. He knows that his biology has prepared him for this. His body is made to take cocks of that size, but what if it doesn’t? What if he displeases this alpha, displeases Peter?

A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, thumb pressing into that tender part of his neck that has his legs jolting. “Easy,” Peter says, and Tony’s entire body relaxes. That voice drains all the fear and anxiety out of him, Novocain for the soul. Why was he worrying? His head is pleasantly fuzzy like with the buzz of a few strong drinks. Underneath it all is the ache in his cock, the emptiness inside him, but he does not beg. Does not squirm. Because unbearably tender, Peter assures: “I’ll take care of you.”

The tiles under his palms and knees are cold on his feverish skin when he turns over. He lets his back bow to appease the ache inside him until he is presenting fully, cheek pressed against the floor. The sounds Peter makes behind him are wrecked as he folds himself over the omega beneath him, mouth hotly over the skin at the nape of his neck. It makes all the hairs on his body stand on edge—god the only thing better than mating with alpha is bonding with this alpha, bite, bite, please—

“Can’t,” Peter groans. “Can’t bite you. You don’t mean that.”

Tony bucks the boy off until Peter is sitting back on his haunches, cock obscene between his legs, looking more like a confused pup than an assertive alpha. Tony bares his teeth even in the face of his instincts which recoil just at the idea. “I thought you knew what I needed,” he goads.

Peter’s eyes harden. Maybe this polite young man defers to him on most things, but not this thing. He fists a hand in Tony’s hair and wrenches him up until their naked bodies are plastered together from knee to neck. Teeth brush his neck again and it’s like touching a live wire. If he’d jerked any harder, he might have broken skin. As it is, Peter just holds him there, bite firm and bordering on painful until all the fight goes out of him. The boy guides him back down, body lax like all the bones are gone. One hand drifts up and back to run over where the alpha’s teeth were, desperate to feel the indentations.

“Didn’t break skin,” Peter promises, like Tony doesn’t already know. No broken skin, but close. Close enough to have him pliant and purring, the fever in his skin giving him the briefest respite. Then Peter’s fingers dance downward to where the omega is wet and hot and so empty it hurts. Just the brush of fingertips, the promise of pleasure, has Tony groaning into the tiled floor.

Gently, Peter presses in. Attuned to the alpha’s senses, he hears the younger man’s breath catch, turn high and breathy. A second finger joins the first and yes, that’s better, so much better than the gaping emptiness. By the third finger, Tony feels like he could cum from this alone, even if Peter has done nothing but skim his fingers over that spot inside him that’s so good it aches.

Peter hushes him, a hand planted over that fading mark on the back of Tony’s neck. His other hand grips his cock, notching the head where Tony needs it most. The omega takes the first half before he feels full, sated even, but then there is more. Peter makes the rawest noises, and Tony laments not facing him, not being able to see his expression. He can imagine it: the eyes squeezed shut, mouth open, head back. But then there is more cock inside him than he thought was possible, and it burns everything else from his mind. The only thing that exists is that cock, anchoring him to this reality. He can feel the flared base of the alpha’s cock already puffing, desperate to knot.

Content that his cock isn’t going to split Tony in half—though it certainly feels like it from the other side of things—Peter sets a brutal pace. The finesse his fingers might have lacked is overshadowed by his cock which probably couldn’t miss Tony’s prostate if it tried. All he can do is take it, fingers scrabbling to find purchase on the slick floor, body singing, prepared to burn out at any moment.

“To-ny,” whines Peter, drawing the word out obscenely. The next word is softer, said through teeth: “Omega.”

“Alpha,” Tony gasps. “Harder—more. Come on. Need it, need your knot—”

“Then take it,” Peter cries. “Take it! God, you feel so good, you’re perfect, perfect—”

Tony cums, cock spurting onto the tiled floor. Every muscles clenches, cramping, spasming as his orgasm goes on and on, spurred on by Peter’s cock. Tony can’t even take it enough breath to scream, just gapes, cheek pressed to the cool floor. He can feel Peter’s own end coming, the knot growing, the sounds he makes becoming louder and less inhibited.

When Peter finally cums, he howls, crying out the way a man might if he’d just been stabbed only he’s the one stabbing Tony, stabbing him with his cock, forcing the knot past the rim and Tony doesn’t know if he can take it, there is brief pain cresting and then—it’s like it all goes white. His first orgasm was nothing compared to this. This would be painful, if it weren’t so good, if it weren’t exactly what he needed. It’s so much deeper than when he cums from his cock; in a way that feels so external. But this is inside him, deep in his womb, his entire body and being rejoicing at the alpha inside him loading him with sperm. Every spasm of his body is matched a heartbeat later by the cock inside him.

The come-down is slow. Having lost his strength ages ago, Tony is prostrate on the floor, knees and back aching. Above him is a firm, warm weight. The breaths are too ragged for Peter to be sleeping. Still, there is no speaking. Not until the knot inside him deflates and Peter draws back, cum and slick slipping out from inside of Tony.

When he manages to get up on his hands an knees, reaching out to use the sink to brace himself to stand (trying hard not to slip in all the bodily fluids), he sees that Peter is sitting back on his haunches, face buried in his hands, shaking with tears.

Tony nearly flinches at the sight. His heart pounds—alpha, hurting.

“Peter? Pete? God, what is it? Are you—”

“I’m so sorry,” Peter wails.

“Wh—what the hell are you sorry for?”

Peter can’t even answer, he’s so distraught. Tony isn’t good at this. It’s safe to say that most emotional situations have him withdrawing, and hastily. But this is Peter: the young man he’s had a soft spot for even years before the attraction arrived. So instead he lowers himself back down and sits next to the boy, drawing him in. Peter buries his face in Tony’s neck, scenting and scenting. It isn’t hard to exude comfort and warmth, not when he has the young alpha in his arms. Peter’s tears slow and then stop.

Heart in his throat, Tony asks: “What that—not good for you, kid?”

When Peter pulls away, his face is twisted with confusion. “What are you talking about? That—it was—God, Mr. Stark. I’m going to be thinking about that for the rest of my life, probably.”

The omega inside him purrs. “Thanks for the ego boost.”

Peter sighs, wiping at his face. “That’s just so not how I wanted it to happen. When you’re, when you’re in heat you can’t technically consent. You ran from me and I literally—oh shoot, Mr. Stark, I broke down your door.”

“About that—it’s coming out of your paycheck.”

“I’m not being paid, I’m an intern—"

“You—what? You’re not being paid? That doesn’t sound—”

“Can we, like, talk about my pay later?”

Tony’s mouth clicks shut. He nods.

“I just,” Peter sighs, relaxed with his head in the crook of Tony’s neck. They’re both naked, sweat cooling rapidly, but their bodies pressed together are more than enough to keep them warm. “All that effort I put in trying to attract you, trying to treat you right, like an alpha is supposed to treat an omega—then I went and broke your door.”

“Jesus,” Tony mutters. “I should have known you’re too smart not to know what you’ve been doing. Scenting me like I’m going out of style.”

“You’ll never go out of style Mr. Stark,” Peter assures. “I thought I was being subtle. It never seemed to work. Then I got worried that maybe you just weren’t interested. But I can smell you.”

“I’m interested,” Tony says into the younger man’s hair. “Trust me. Interested is putting it lightly. Not to mention, I’m a pretty creative guy. I could have probably stopped you if I wasn’t interested.”

“Even if you could, it’s not right for me to, to just—consent is important!”

“You’re goddamn right it is,” Tony says. He draws Peter’s chin up so they can meet eyes, and even bloodshot and wet, Peter’s are still warm and sincere and painfully adorable. “So, while I’m of sane mind and in between waves, let’s just go ahead and say I’m giving you consent. Enthusiastically. Deal?”

It’s Peter’s turn to melt and then purr, a low growling in his chest, looking like the spider who caught the fly, only more charming and with far less legs thank god. He mouths at Tony’s neck, kissing the gland there to make him shiver, and when he speaks Tony can feel the brush of his lips moving against his skin: “Deal.”

#starker #abo #Omega!Tony #Alpha!Peter

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of-princesses-and-antlers · 5 years

Text

@superhero-forhire 's Sleep Deprived, Boredom Induced, The 100 Hiatus 2019/2020 Fic Rec Masterpost(wow that's a long title)

Ok guys, so for no other reason than it's currently 2:30am and I'm bored and apparently not sleeping, I have decided to put together a list of some of the best fics (in my opinion) this fandom has to offer! And as we are currently at the beginning of what is going to be a very long and excruciating (and our last) hiatus, I figure there's no better way to get through it than with some quality reading material.

(This list will be mostly Bellarke and Clarke Griffin Centric)

So without further ado, here is a (somewhat) complete list of my all time Favorite t100 Fanfics, as they are listed/sorted in my bookmarks

First up

Special Collection:

Reach Out (Touch Me) by ParadiseAvenger

When a hot spring was discovered near the camp, Clarke was excited to use it to soothe her aching muscles and escape from the pressure of holding so many lives in her hands. As it turned out, she wasn't the only one.

Meet Me in the Morning by monroeslittle

“I guess one of us is messed up,” he said, “and it’s part of our hallucination that the other is, too.” He paused. “Seems appropriately hellish that my mind sticks me with you.”

She pursed her lips. “Likewise.”

AU. Clarke is trapped in a stupid time loop, and guess who's trapped with her?

Love is Not a Whisper (or a weakness) by monroeslittle

"There was a strange, muffled snap, and the tentacle around her middle was retracted. The hold on her ankle was gone, and Bellamy was pulling her up through the water. She began to pump her arms, and they broke the surface; she gasped, and coughed.

He pressed a gun into her hand. “If you see a ripple, shoot,” he ordered."

AU. The dropship doesn't land on land. The next seven years are a little bit different.

Sing the Rage of Peleus' Son Achilles by viansian

"I have spent my entire life afraid of men thought to be gods," he finally says. "I'll tell you a secret, princess: these men? The ones who claim to be deities? Their blood isn't ichor. They bleed red like the rest of us, and sometimes they need to be reminded of that."

When the Strong Break by AJRedfern

In which Bellamy Blake teaches Marcus Kane something about desperation, loyalty and unrealised feelings.

(Or the one where Marcus Kane slowly comes to realise what we've all known since season 1)

*Ep. 302 from Kane's POV.*

And Now You're Home by asroark

She didn’t try to muffle the sounds of her crying this time. It wasn’t like anyone was around to hear it, anyway. At least if she was loud, Clarke could drown out the silence for a few moments. She cried for her friends, the ones she had already lost and the ones that might have made it up to space. She cried for her mom and for Kane. She cried for the bodies she found in the valley when she first arrived. And she cried for herself.

She didn’t hear the shuffling behind her this time. She was crying too loud to hear it. But she heard the quiet, “Are you hurt?” rumbling behind her in a deep voice, and it scared her so bad that she almost fell off the ledge and back into the water. But he stopped her from falling. His hand gripped around her wrist, pulling her back onto the ledge as she caught her breath.

Grounder!Bellamy AU where Clarke finds out she isn't the last person left on Earth.

Come Get A Hold Of Me by theinvisibledisaster

Clarke is overwhelmed by the intensity of being around a civilization after six years of solitude with Madi.

She is also very touch-starved.

Bellamy notices.

By Tomorrow We'll Be Lost by WiinterIsNotComing

“I would tell you everything,” he murmured against her skin, “if you asked.”

She swallowed and stared at the ceiling. “Even if it got you killed?”

He pulled away to look at her. “Oh Clarke.” He breathed out. “Being near you is enough to get me killed.”

An Evening I Will Not Forget by theoneinquisitor

It's his last night before deployment, and all Bellamy wants to do is make it memorable. Meeting Clarke? It's definitely something he won't forget.

Canon-Verse/Divergence:

His Arms, Her Crown by beadedslipper

A year has passed since the remainder of the original hundred escaped Mt. Weather and reunited with their comrades. Things are going well for them and they are about to celebrate their first anniversary on earth. But on the ground things never stay simple or safe for long. When Clarke is separated from the group during a routine mission how will she ever find her way back home? And how will Bellamy lead the people who need him now more than ever when all he can think about is getting his princess back?

keep me safe inside (your arms like towers) by glowinghorizons

"Bellamy looks at her, really looks at her, and reminds himself that she’s only just turned eighteen. She’s still a kid, and suddenly he’s aware of how much stronger than him she is. Only eighteen, yet she’s taken it upon herself to make sure these kids survive life on the ground.

“I trust you,” he tells her, and he’s only a little surprised to realize that it’s the complete truth."

season one AU. the 100 are sent to the ground and learn how to survive. bellamy and clarke fight to keep a peace treaty alive when the ark comes down, and find each other along the way.

You're Just Another Recovering Heart by prosciutto

Clarke’s still looking at him when he finally brings himself to turn away, her gaze impossibly soft, but it’s the way she says his name that breaks him, in the end. “Bell.”

He closes his eyes, the motion reflexive. “Letters,” he says finally, sounding absolutely wrecked, despite himself. “They’re letters I wrote to you, while you were gone.”

Bellamy gets into the habit of writing letters to the girl he left behind in the six years they’re apart. But as it turns out, Clarke’s alive, and she’s read them. (Or: the fallout of a love confession six years in the making.)

In My Dreams We Are Always Together by andsowemeetagain

100 delinquents got sent to Earth and battled for survival against the odds. They landed in Trikru territory but that is not where they stayed. After weeks of battle and war, the Sky People finally lost. They were sent to a land far away, where a group of Grounders unlike any they've met waited for them.

as moonlight through the pines by twilightstargazer

The tattoos are Bellamy’s idea.

Clarke has left her kit of ink and needles on their makeshift dining table, next to her paintings that she was letting dry. Harper came in earlier asking for a touch-up and she forgot to put them away.

Now, Bellamy’s eyes land on it and he tugs her towards it saying, “I want another tattoo.”

In the end she draws a minimalistic version of a sunset-- or sunrise, depending on how you look at it-- over the ocean, just a few straight lines for the sea and a semicircle for the sun. It’s very simple, with thick dark lines that stand out nicely from the skin.

“It could probably pass as a clan tattoo,” she says, studying it while she cleans it up. “Maybe we should give it to all our people.”

“I could give it to you,” he says, already reaching for the ink, and Clarke is sufficiently drunk enough that nothing about that sentence sets off any alarm bells in her head. “You’re my people. You need one too.”

She grins and reveals her forearm to him too, already taking a swig from the bottle in preparation. “Okay.”

or, 3 times the grounders thought they were married and one time they actually were

Parents in parenthesis by Ideasofmarch

In which Bellamy and Clarke skip the animosity faze and start straight at co-leaders - and parents, somehow - and things turn out a lot better for almost everyone involved.

or.

The ark's coming down and the council wants to combine camps. The price? Bellamy's head on a stake.

And that's one price Clarke just isn't willing to pay.

The Cure For Anything by enoughtotemptme

Anya said not to approach the Sky People, so he doesn’t. He just watches from a distance as the young, strange people pour out of the mouth of their ship. Many are his sister’s age, but none appear to have a fraction of the discipline Octavia does.

His sister is a warrior, and has been for years.

These people…

These people are children.

Stupid ones, Bellamy notes, as some fall to their knees and kiss the ground perilously close to a pile of deer droppings.

And then, he sees her.

Modern Setting:

regardless of warnings the future doesn't scare me at all by Chash

After an argument with her mother about her unplanned pregnancy, Clarke Griffin ends up back in the small town where her father used to live, spilling her sob story to a sympathetic bartender. And then, somehow, she ends up moving in with the bartender and her brother.

I'll Be Chasing Angels All My Life by grumpybell

“Always. Night, Princess.” He hangs up and finds his mother watching him with oddly clear eyes. He swallows, uncomfortable with the look.

“Who's your princess?” Aurora asks, a smile on her lips. His princess, Bellamy pushes the thought away. Of course it would sound like that to someone who doesn't know.

“She's no one.”

“Now, I know I raised my boy not to lie to his mother,” Aurora says, mock sternly. Bellamy shifts a little, trying to think how to even begin to explain Clarke, what they are and aren't to each other.

Something Always Survives by asroark

Bellamy had been trapped in this place for over two years. He can’t even count how many cellmates he lost over that time, how many times he had to meet a new voice from a person he would never see… And, almost every time, he found himself telling them a story to help calm them down, to reassure them that everything was going to be okay, even when he knew it would never be okay. Clarke had been no different than the others until this moment.

She was the first one to ever try to comfort him in return. So, he whispered, “Okay,” and pressed his ear to the corner.

Modern AU loosely inspired by The OA where Clarke finds herself abducted and caged with four strangers as they all struggle to make sense of their captor's experiments.

Challenge Accepted by insideimfeelindirty

He doesn't even like Clarke Griffin, he's pretty sure he hates how easy everything has come to her. So imagine his surprise when he finds himself at their office party looking through dick pics on her phone.

“You can do better, Princess. In fact, I can do better.”

As soon as she turns to him with raised eyebrows and an open mouthed grin he knows he’s said too much but she’s not going to let it drop.

“Oh really, you think you can do better, Blake?”

And he's never backed down from a challenge in his life.

did you invent the airplane? because you wright for me by FrostedGemstones22

Layovers and plane malfunctions suck. That is, unless you have a sexy stranger to keep you company all the way through your travels...

Or, Bellamy and Clarke join the Mile High Club

when it all comes together by soundtracktomysoul

The four times the delinquents tried to set them up and the one time they didn't need to

The one where Jasper is a die hard Bellarke shipper and makes a group chat.

The Delinquents:

What We Built by elle_stone

What, precisely, it means to be 'Dad,' he can’t actually say. He's something more than a make-believe, playhouse version of a father figure, something less than an actual parent. It's not a role he could explain to anyone, but then, no one ever asks. Outside of their insular group, no one even knows about the old tradition, and as long as the dropship survivors stick to themselves, the status quo remains unchallenged, uninterrogated.

It starts as a joke, this habit the hundred have of calling Clarke and Bellamy 'mom' and 'dad.' But by the time the Mount Weather survivors return to Camp Jaha, it's become much more than that. It's become a way to signal that they're still a family, even as they reunite with their people and integrate themselves into the growing settlement.

One of the Greatest Titles in the World is Parent by jollyrogerjayhawk

“One of the greatest titles in the world is parent, and one of the biggest blessings in the world is to have parents to call mom and dad.” Bellamy and Clarke have somehow quasi-adopted a plethora of children.

Senses by Ghelik

This isn't what Abby expected. She isn't sure what she had expected, but this loyalty to a teenage would-be murderer, this compliance is not it.

It is clear that the children of this camp are in dire need of saving. Good thing that the Ark is here now.

Baby, Let Me Straighten Out Your Broken Bones by chalantness

She's absolutely frightened and he can't fathom it. He can't reconcile the Clarke that's taken care of them since Day One on the ground – that clawed arrows and spears and bullets from their bodies and refused to let them die, that cut open her own wounds in pure protective instinct because she felt like they were in danger – with the Clarke standing before him. She's afraid, not of Grounders, or Mountain Men, or the judgment she'd face as soon as she stepped inside.

She's afraid of herself.

all the kids are talking slang i won't pretend to understand by caramelle

"You told Mo— Clarke?!"

Clarke arches a brow, crossing her arms over her middle. "'Maw-Clarke'?"

Four times the delinquents called Clarke/Bellamy ‘mom/dad’ + One time someone else did

8 times Kyle Wick heard about Clarke and 1 time he met her by a_simple_space_nerd

Wick wonders why Clarke Griffin is so special. He wonders how she could leave. He wonders how people could blame a girl for the way the world was. (This isn't slash, I'm just bad at summaries.)

None of Us is Innocent by amyhanmayari

It was early spring when Jasper went missing and a fortnight after that before he truly returned to Camp Jaha remotely resembling the boy with goggles who fell from the sky with a smile on his face. Whenever anyone asked him what happened during the two weeks when he was gone, he would crack a small, fragile smile and say “got lost, got found.” And that was that.

life in love can never last (everyone becomes the past) by a_simple_space_nerd

“Clarke,” Monty sighs, softly, all his frustration leaving him in a gust. “You’re dead. You in my dream, that’s my subconscious thinking about you while I sleep. That’s all.”

Clarke’s grin turns sharp. “Who says it’s your dream?”

(Grief is a funny thing, and everyone feels it.)

Do Better by juneytunes

Jasper wants to be Clarke's hero. Letting her get some rest in the drop ship is a good enough start. [ Jasper/Clarke FRIENDSHIP ]

Swim by Zaffie

Raven was a little girl who wanted to swim, and screw all those people who say she can't do it.

We Have All The Time In The World by Death_Shapeshifter

They were waiting, of course they were waiting. She was one of them. She was family. They would wait a thousand years for her.

The Griffin-Blake Family:

Lazy Mornings by these_dreams_go_on

Bellamy gets woken up by Madi and Clarke comes looking for her.

it's a chance we'll have to take by killianslonghaul

“You thought the person you loved was dead for six years and then found out she wasn’t. You can’t let that go. Not everyone gets a second chance like that.”

Bellarke reunion after Praimfaya and subsequent feelings

My Heart by QueenoftheWallflowers

Russell and the primes are gone and Bellamy and Clarke try to take a well-deserved nap. Confessions are made and forgiveness is given.

I can see clearly now by melodiousoblivian

6 years after they left Clarke behind, SpaceKru returns to find Clarke alive and thriving. Bellamy doesn't know how to cope.

No eligius, no becho.

little did you know by melodiousoblivian

"Six years later and they were on the ground. Raven saw her first, a flash of blonde hair in the trees, a startled yell, and she was running towards the dead girl. Clarke met her halfway and they collided, falling to the ground at the force of impact. Both were crying, running hands over each others faces to truly verify that they were here. Monty was next, holding Clarke so tight that she couldn't breathe. Harper simply rested her forehead against Clarke's. Murphy let out a rare laugh and embraced the girl he mourned. Echo and Emori greeted her kindly. Bellamy stood behind, frozen.

Monty saw the girl first, standing timidly at the edge of the group. She had hair the color of the night sky, and blue eyes that saw so deeply it was startling. Clarke introduced her as Madi, that she was Clarke's, and that was it."

A Solution by timelordlookingforatardis

Madi’s mouth was set in a thin line as she looked between the two men. Finally, setting on Jordan she announced, "I have a solution for our Prime problem.”

“Thank goodness,” Jordan beamed, moving over to join them as the table. Ignoring Bellamy’s wide-eyed protest, he said, “Tell me more.”

“It involves fire,” She started. Jordan nodded eagerly in front of her, “All -”

“Absolutely not!” Bellamy cut her off, “We are not attacking these people and destroying our chances for a better life!” He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, “They are going to teach us how to survive on this planet and then we are gone. We are not going to be the bad guys here!” He hissed.

POST 6X06 Madi, Jordan and Bellamy talk about what Clarke would've wanted.

My Home is With You by wake_n_Blake (kt_anasi)

When eight-year-old Octavia Blake is brought into the infirmary for her first check-up, Clarke gets the honor... and makes a friend.

Eventually, that friendship leads to a newfound family.

Or, the one where Clarke and Bellamy fall in love while basically raising Octavia on Earth.

Rated T for some crude language. This fic is like fluff on a stick- no angst... just happiness.

I'm Not Crying, You're Crying:

i'm on my knees, you're faith in shreds by stoneage_woman

"Over the roaring in his ears, Bellamy dimly registers Jackson telling Madi to breathe. His eyes are fixed on Clarke. Clarke, who for once isn’t even trying calm Madi down, who is visibly fighting to keep from breaking down herself, her head bowed low and her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

And Bellamy finally understands with an awful, damning clarity exactly how badly he’s fucked up."

Post Season 5 AU. As the last survivors of humanity try to make a fresh beginning on a new, deserted planet, Bellamy tries to find his way back to a lonely, distant Clarke. A life-threatening crisis opens his eyes to a few hard truths. A Bellarke reconciliation fic.

Set The Dark On Fire by theinvisibledisaster

Clarke isn't coping well with peacetime on the Eligius ship, and while Bellamy has woken some of the others (mainly spacekru) and tries to organise a trip to the ground, making decisions and considering all the variables, Clarke makes a choice of her own:

She'll take herself out of the equation.

OR: the post season 5 idea I had to write because all of the unresolved emotional turmoil this season is actually killing me and someone needs to notice that Clarke is in pain, for the love of god.

Monin hou by Ghelik

After Bellamy and Clarke negotiate with the grounders, they decide to share the bunker equally. 100 spots per clan. That marks the start of 5 years of forced peace in which mortal enemies have to learn how to live with each other.

Shit goes as expected.

Blanket of leaves by Ghelik

Madi tells the story of her life: from the moment mom found her to the descent of the Seven Heroes from the sky castle

Not Yet by Ghelik

Clarke finds Madi's body in their home.

Something in the Water by Youremyalways

“You know I love you, right?”

——

Clarke is supposed to die for killing Josephine, but things go wrong at the last second. Nobody is more equipped to help Clarke deal with losing a mother than Bellamy Blake.

This is How I Leave You by Africana123

Clarke decides to take her life after the events of season 6. Right as she's getting ready to do so, Jordan finds her. But it's not what you think.

Clarke Griffin Deserves Better:

Mighty Fine Shindig by theinvisibledisaster

An idea I had while rewatching Firefly, kinda based on the episode Shindig, but you definitely don't have to have watched it to read this, because I really took this in its own direction.

When they touch down on the new planet, the leaders throw a ball in their honour, which involves Clarke in a dress getting all the attention she deserves, Bellamy being very jealous and doing a terrible job of concealing it, and possibly getting into a fight over Clarke, so... everyone's fantasy?

Just mine?

Cool.

The Bruise Won't Heal (the stain stays put) by theinvisibledisaster

“What the hell is your problem, Clarke?” And this time, the tone was so disgusted, so bitter, than something snapped, deep in Clarke’s chest.

Fuck it.

“What’s my problem?” She asked, incredulous. “What’s my problem? You’ve got to be kidding me, Raven. I died. I died, paralysed and alone, and then I died again, and both times, the only person who cared was Bellamy. Kane died, my mother died, my daughter almost did- and you have the audacity to ask me what my problem is?!”

After they save everyone - again - they actually have a moment to rest.

And Clarke has had ENOUGH.

Hear me now (like you never heard me then) by evening_skies

A rewrite of Raven and Clarke’s scene in 6x04. Wherein Clarke does not regret the choices she made, and Raven wonders if the Clarke Griffin she remembers really did die in Praimfaya.

“Raven, I am not a leader,” Clarke said, and Raven’s words lodged in her throat. “I barely remember how to be a friend. I am a mother before all else, and you—you are the people that put monsters in my child’s head and threw her into the middle of a war.”

I accept that you may never forgive me. That’s okay. I don’t forgive you either.

Other Pairings:

In Darkness More than Light by lilybeth84

In the aftermath of the destruction of Mount Weather, with Clarke gone AWOL, his parents dead, and Jasper not speaking to him, Monty finds comfort in the dark forests beyond the walls of Camp Jaha.

One night, while in the grip of despair, he can't help wonder if life is worth living anymore. But his thoughts of death are interrupted when Clarke emerges from the woods, and he is forced to make decisions that will either save her-a woman he cares more deeply for than he ever realized-or lose her, and with her, a reason to survive.

Paradise Found by DAgron01

Octavia can't get enclosed again. Never again. She won't let them put her in cryo-freeze, but at least she's not alone...

Fix it fic--spoilers through season 5 finale! Canon-divergence

Love is Strength by DAgron01

Octavia Blake knew she was at least a little broken. She didn't plan on Clarke Griffin fixing her so thoroughly.

Canon compliant (and spoilers) through "Exit Wounds." Takes place immediately following when Madi officially becomes part of Wonkru.

Saving Clarke by btvscharmedgirl

Nearly a year after the hundred landed on the ground, Octavia watches Clarke struggle with all that happened and tries everything she can to help her in anyway she can.

As Galatea to Pygmalion by apolloadama

Clarke leaves Camp Jaha and rebuilds herself. Octavia and Lincoln help.

The Ties That Bind by Ofseaandsky

With more time to plan before the Death Wave hits, Clarke and Roan need to find a way to get the Coalition to work together and save more people to from the second Praimfaya. What will it take to get the 13 clans to work together and find a way to survive together as life on planet Earth rapidly approaches it's end?

and i'll love the world, like i should, for all the time that i never could by a_simple_space_nerd

And it’s now, of all times, that she lets herself finally, finally think: they’re up in space and I’m down on earth and even if I can survive this they’ll be up there for five years at minimum. I’m alone here.

It’s not as awful as she’d expected the revelation to be. Maybe it’s because she’s in the middle of the apocalypse but suddenly she doesn’t feel the need to curl into a ball and cry for days. Maybe it’s also the fact that she isn’t dead.

She’s still struggling not to get blown away, even sheltered as she is the ruins of some bank or something like it, the building creaking and groaning as the roaring typhoon thrashes its foundations. There’s dirt and grit flying everywhere, the dust so thick Clarke has to squint. The storm is taller than the highest skyscraper in the ruins, reaching down to the ground and back up to the sky for more fuel, thunder and lightning and everything in between all at once.

In this moment there is just Clarke and the storm and the end of the world and her uncertain future.

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lovehugsandcandy · 5 years

Text

Who Killed Jason Shaw? Chapter 3: Toby (RoD, Colt x MC)

Summary: Ellie’s investigation heats up as Toby gives her new information and new questions.

Rating: R (discussions of death, violence, dead body)

Pairing: Colt x MC, RoD

Length: ~1900 words

Ellie felt the sun’s rays hit her face; she rolled over and was about to slide back into her dreams when her brain jolted, remembering the events of the day before. Her eyes flew open.

Colt was still sleeping next to her, hair mussed, mouth slightly open, one hand curled protectively around her hip; she took a moment to watch him sleep, the one time he seemed perfectly at peace, looking younger than ever as his brow softened and jaw relaxed, before rolling out of bed and fishing her clothes off of the floor.

The only thing she could think was that she had to protect him. She had to protect them all.

When she wandered down into the shop, she had to smile; even though it was early, the telltale sound of metal banging against metal echoed across the concrete. She followed the noise to where Toby was under a muffler, his laptop perched next to him play what appeared to be an endless loop of GoT.

He jumped up when he saw her, barely missing banging his head on the bumper. “Ellie! Long time no see!”

Her grin was strained. She had seen Toby that weekend. Eyes still bleary from her cross-country travels, she had been running errands in Inglewood when he almost walked into her as she left a shop; at the time, he made her promise that she would stop by to see him. Neither of them had thought it would be under these circumstances. “Hey, Toby. Listen, I need to-”

“Wait, hold on!” He knelt to pause the video and then his arms circled her shoulders, tightly, wiry muscles holding her close.

“Hi, Toby. Hi,” she wheezed. “I love you but…I need…to breathe.”

“Oh, sorry, of course.” He stepped back but the beaming grin on his face didn’t dim. “I know I saw you the other day but I missed you!”

“I missed you too.” Her smile faded. “But I need to tell you something.”

“Oh, I need to tell you so much too! I finally finished Game of Thrones but I decided to watch from the beginning again because Ximena’s not caught up yet so when she finally gets to season-”

“Toby!”

He blinked at her behind thick glasses. “Sorry. Sorry. What did you have to tell me?”

“Jason Shaw’s dead.”

His mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Yeah, car accident. “

“Wait, what?” He slowly lowered himself to the ground.

“He got into a car accident late Sunday night.” She sighed, a heavy burst of wind through her lips. “My dad thinks it wasn’t accidental.”

Toby only stared up at her, head in his hands.

She crouched to the ground to look at him, straight on. “Toby, do you know anything?”

“About this?”

“My dad thinks it was someone in the crew.”

He shook his head, vehemently. “You’re asking if I killed him, aren’t you? No way. I was playing D&D with some friends on Sunday and we were on a massive raid to save the princess from a tower but we didn’t have all of the weapons we needed to we needed to go to the ice palace to get special armor and then-”

“This sounds like Zelda, but ok, I believe you.” She stood, frowning. “I didn’t think you would do it anyways, you know.”

He only blinked up at her. “Ellie, how do you know he’s dead?”

“What do you mean?” Her heart stopped. He was dead. Wasn’t he? He had to be dead, going that fast, and the massive fire. Right?

“I don’t know…he’s wily. What if it’s not true? What if the cops faked it?”

Ellie blinked at him, suppressing the retort on her tongue. Luckily, it was that moment that she heard footsteps behind her. She turned to see Colt heading out to the floor, grinning as he wrapped an arm around her waist to whisper in her ear.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, yourself.”

“Nightmares?”

She sighed, nudging his chin with her forehead. “Never with you.”

“Hello?” Toby’s voice made her turn. “I’m still here, you know. And, I thought of something.”

“What?” She raised her eyebrows.

“I think I can help in your investigation.”

“Ok…”

“I mean, I’m not sure, but I think that I can and if you think it would be helpful-”

“Out with it, Toby.” Colt stared at him, voice barely masking his annoyance.

“I can get his phone records.”

Ellie’s stomach dropped. “Seriously?”

“I think so. Give me a second.” He pulled over his laptop and started typing, feverishly. “You see, when I was trying to break into the school AV system, I accidentally got into the cell tower somehow and it was pretty simple from there to break into the-”

“Toby?” She stared. “Are you telling me you accidentally got access to all of the cell phone records for all of LA?”

He blinked up at her, fingers still flying over the keyboard. “Yes?”

“I don’t understand how that’s possible…”

“You don’t need to.” He turned the screen to them with a flourish. “Because here they are.”

Her eyes widened and she dropped to the ground, Colt following, to stare at the screen.

Toby continued without missing a beat. “This is it. All calls he made, all calls he received. And it’s a lot. Local, out-of-state, all here.” He hummed as he examined list, scrolling up and down. “Huh. Weird. This little P next to the number means a pay phone. For something that is basically obsolete, he sure got a lot of calls from them, like here, Sunday afternoon, from the Pavilion. Lots of calls out of state; this local one happens a ton, you should look up what that is.”

Colt scoffed. “Probably his lawyer.”

Ellie watched the dizzying array of numbers piling up on the screen. “Can you print these for me?”

“Sure, no problem.” He hit a few keys and stood up to head into the office.

“Wait!” Colt shouted after Toby’s retreating back. “Can I get a copy, too?”

“Sure, bossman.”

Toby disappeared through the doorway as Ellie looked blankly at Colt. “You playing detective, Kaneko?”

“Don’t you want to know who killed him?”

She bit her lip. “Not really, to be honest. I just don’t want any of my friends in jail. I don’t care who did it, as long as we don’t go down.”

“I care. I want to buy them a drink.”

“Colt…”

“Seriously. I want to buy them a drink. Hell, a whole bottle, whatever they want."

"Colt!"

"Ok, ok. Fine. You’re the detective here. I can be your sidekick.” Colt shot her a wink. “But you’d look better in spandex.”

She just rolled her eyes as Toby returned, bouncing triumphantly, handing the pages over with a flourish and settling on the ground again. “You know, with a little work, I could probably get bank account details too.” Toby’s eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at the screen.

“What?”

“That’d be amazing!” Colt’s eyes were wide as he turned to her. “Ellie, if we had those…”

Ellie had to hold up her hands. “Are you sure, Toby? I don’t want you to get in trouble…”

“I think I can do it. Give me a day.”

She sighed. The last thing she wanted to do was to drag the crew into this. “Ok. Fine. Thank you.” She looked at her phone. “Crap. I need to get back for breakfast with my dad. Let me know if you find anything.”

“Will do.” Toby didn’t even look up from the laptop. She smiled and gave him a wave as she turned to her car, Colt following. He grabbed her hand as they walked.

“Hey, you ok, Ellie?“

"Yea. I’m just worried. And I want you as far away from this as I can get you.” He quirked an eyebrow but the sinking in her stomach was appeased when he pulled her in for a gentle kiss, waving her on her way as she started the engine of her dad’s old cruiser.

But, the entire drive, she worried on a thumbnail, sneaking glances at the phone records inside her bag; all she wanted to do was protect the crew. What if this was just involving them further?

Thankfully, she made it home in time to have breakfast with her dad; however, she couldn’t focus on cooking or eating or the conversation. The entire time, Toby’s words echoed in her head. She knew he was dead. Jason Shaw was dead.

Wasn’t he?

Once her dad padded up the stairs for a nap, she headed for door, trying and failing to slow her feet, to stop the shaking in her hands. They shook the entire way there, all the way to the parking lot, where she turned the key and stared at the imposing doors of Reagan UCLA Medical Center.

With a deep breath, she strode through the lobby, finding the stairs and heading down as far as she could go. She had done far worse things in her life. She could do this.

She walked through the halls with her head held high but didn’t see anyone, her feet echoing on empty tile. She followed signs for the morgue, stopping in front of a sterile door. After peeking in, making sure it was empty and she had some privacy, she pulled open the heavy door and slid inside.

It was cold, colder than she expected, and she shivered as she looked around, eyes falling on the metal coolers in the back of the room. She had to take a deep breath, lungs rebelling at the chemicals and solvents in the air, and headed over to check for names. And there, right there, in the middle row, second column on the right, in thick black marker: Shaw, Jason.

Another deep inhale of caustic air and she pulled open the cooler, latch clanking as she pushed the door to the side. She half-expected him to leap up from under the sheets, to attack her, claim his revenge but it was silent, still. She let out a slow breath and pulled the shelf, sliding it out so the sheet and the mass underneath lay in front of her.

“I can do this. I can-” Her whisper gave her strength and, before she could reconsider, she pulled the sheet off and gasped. “Oh my God.”

He was burned, burns everywhere, scorch marks on his chest, the right side of his face, cuts and scrapes and marks covering him, but it was him. Gruesome, ruined, destroyed, but him. And he was dead, undoubtedly, skin blue and cold where it wasn’t burned black and red and inhuman.

She was shaking, staring at the man who haunted her nightmares, who tried to ruin her life, her body trembling so hard that it was vibrating the sheet still gripped between her convulsing fingers. Was it the cold? Fear?

She bit her lip, looking around the room. Or was it anger? She strode over to a steel tray and grabbed a scalpel, clutching it in a tight fist before she returned to his side. And, before she even knew what she was doing, before her common sense could kick in, she moved, hand slamming down, embedding the knife directly into his chest, killing him again.

His heart had long stopped beating. There was no blood welling up from the cut, just a small gash; it was just another injury on this lifeless body.

“You fucking asshole.” The words came to the surface along with the tears and she had to shake her head. A year ago she didn’t swear; now, she was dropping curses after desecrating corpses. “You fucking asshole.”

She hurriedly dropped the scalpel in the sharps container before replacing the sheet and shoving his worthless body into the cooler again. She hazarded a look back, one last glance at the rows of coolers, before striding out of the room.

Oh well. She had committed worse crimes anyway.

#amy writes

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seventeencelcius · 5 years

Text

Coffee Shop! Joshua

after a horrible first paper that kicked off your finals season, you headed to your regualr coffee shop to continue studying after the closing hours of your college library

“17 Celcius” was the place you fondly regarded as your second home since you spent most of your time inside

especially when you needed a space to escape from your noisy rommates in the cramp dorm you were staying

you usually went there just before your 8am classes to receive your morning dose of caffeine or for any project discussions, but it was probably a first for you to arrive at this hour

you couldn’t really blame yourself because every time exams was round the corner, you automatically became a zombie by staying up all night studying and crashed in the afternoon while powering your night with additional zcoffee

while it was not unusual for you stay up late, your roomates had an issue since you were the one the kind who acted up as they studied,

which was sort of creepy to listen to when someone was trying to sleep so they ‘unofficially’ kicked you out of the dorm unless you were actually back to, you know, sleep

luckily for you, this place was opened 24 hours with the owner’s intention to attract college students who had a messed up sleeping schedule

or even to those who had their hearts broken at an odd hour and needed some warm hot chocolate to mend their soul

it was the cafè’s one and only policy to serve any customer without any questions asked regardless of the time and their appearance

having a sweeter tooth, you usually leaned toward drinks such as a caramel latte and a mocha

however, you already had a shitty enough day from pretty much flunking your test despite how much you had studied the week before and the stress from seemingly not being prepared enough for your other subjects

with those thoughts constantly running through your mind, you had forgotten to grab your wallet you had left on the library table

you could only pray hard that you could still find it in the morning since it was already closed by the time you remembered

you only had a few loose change to spare after digging around your tote bag but thankfully, it accumulated enough to get you the cheapest beverage on the menu - a black coffee

butter drinks weren’t exactly your favourite but you had to suck it up

you desperately needed that fix of caffeine to continue studying or you would have collapsed from fatigue in no given time

furthermore, the environment from the cafe was much better than the silent library

with the occasional sound from the coffee beans being grounded and roasted made it lively even with the lack of customers

you barely paid attention to the cash register as you dropped the amount to the cashier’s hands and muttered out your name

exhaustation was evident on your face and your mind was genuinely worn out from the amount of things you had to memorize for your upcoming tests

whoever was in the college exam board, you hated them with your entire heart, mind, body and soul

geez who in their right mind thought it would he a great idea to schedule all your exams back to back?!?!

pulling an all nighter for the last few days was seriously driving you mad and you felt that you couldn’t even hold a proper conversation without spitting out some theory in between

to add on to your frustration, none of yourlecturers were being helpful whenever you took the liberty to email them questions

what came back to you was usually “check the previous slides” or “I’m taking a break, contact me again at xxxx”

you couldn’t wait for finals to be over so you could be a normal, functioning human being again

a notification from your phone caught your attention and by the time you skimmed the first few lines, you were on the verge of a mental breakdown

you were close to hyperventilating as your palms become clammy

it was an email from the college board to notify all full scholarship holders that should they not reach the minimum requirements of 3.5 GPA for finals, their scholarship will immediately be revoked

you really didn’t need to be reminded by this constant nightmare and it felt as if your demons were closing in one b-

“Here’s your order. Enjoy!”

for a moment you panicked since it was accustomed for the barista to call your name and for you to collect your order, yet here this person was bringing it all the way to your secluded corner where your tower of lecture notes seemed to be covering your frame

“i didn’t order any of this???? Wasn’t it supposed to be a black coffee?”

glancing downwards, a chocolate chip cookie deocrated your table along with a drink that was clearly too milky to be a black coffee

also definitely more than $3 you paid for

you begin panicking when you looked up at the barista because were you THAT sleep deprevied that you somehow gave the wrong order??

your pupils dilated even more when your line of vision moved upwards, immediately distracted by the person infront of you

this was totally the worst day of your life

here was the probably the most handsome person you had ever laid your eyes on and you looked like you haven’t sleep in days with your panda eyebags and the hoodie you slept in

if looks could kill, you would probably be death by now

& wow if you were still alive, you were going to put a drink recommendation in the suggestion box called: Death by chocolate cause those eyes of his were more than just mesmerizing

considering you were a regular gere, thsi worker was most likely someone who only worked the midnight shift,

you guessed you needed to bug your friend who also worked here, Seungcheol, to know of his name

“oh, you looked like you needed it. don’t worry, it’s on the house. have strength and just endure a little more!”

you never deemed yourself as a particularly emotional person

sure there was the occasional outburst when you watched Hachiko or when Peter K. confessed love to Lara Jeans in To All The Boys I’ve Lived Before

but this, this was something else.

you didn’t know what struck you but you started crying

you would like to think it was because this situation too much for you to handle since you weren’t familiar with kindess during this bleak period of time known as exam season

yes, crying in an empty coffee shop at 1:15AM with the cute as heck barista standing right next to you

you had your fair shares of meltdowns in public before but most of the time, the crowd would just ignore you, with the belief that everyone goes through a hard time anyways so there wasn’t a need to pause their lives just to comfort a complete stranger

truth to be told, you thought the cute barista would just bolt through the entrance and call 911 or be like everyone else by giving your the cold shoulder treatment

to your surprise, you felt a warm hand patting your head before moving down to gently stroke your back in a rhythmic yet tender movement

“you will feel better after crying it all out.”

hearing his voice gave you more than just confort but you sought solace in both his words and presence

“i’m sorry *sniffs* e-exams ar-re jut ... so hard right now ..... i’m gonna fa—il and not-ot make it .... in my life ...”

the barista called your name, making you divert your full attention to him and tbh you were wondering how did he even know your name until you remembered you were the one who gave it when you ordered your drink lol

“you’re doing fine and I know you’re trying your best right now. That’s what most important.”

those words were all you needed for a smile to crack up and for your spirits to be lifted up

maybe what you needed all this while was an acknowledgement from others, to know that your hard work wasn’t going nowhere and that someone can see how much effort you are putting

“those are on the house so have faith in yourself and enjoy what you are doing!”

his encouragement had you lifting the corner of your lips to form a smile

sighing, you were sure the barista was only being nice to you because based on the fact that he looked like your age, he probably understood what you were going through and pitied you right from the start

to avoid being a food, you didn’t dare to think much about the encounter when you thanked him at the counter, cheeks reddened from your earlier outburst

you stuttered when you struggled with what to call him because you were rather embarrassed by the nickname of ‘cute barista’ you labelled him

“jisoo, but I usually let the people I like call me joshua so you can call me that.”

his twinkling eyes paired with that dangerously sweet smile of his took you off guard for a second

you had to shyly looked away to organize your thoughts because pray god that you weren’t interpreting this situation the wrong way

thanking him again with his name this time, you told him you will drop by to pay him back so won’t owe him anything

instead, he smiled and asked you to give him a second so he could tell how you could repay your ‘debt’

while you remained confused, joshua took one of the napkins sitting on the counter and scribbled something down before passing it to you

it had his number written neatly with a:

“i only work the midnight shift, you can repay the debt by going on a date with me :)”

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