Good morning to everyone, except Netflix who keeps cancelling perfectly good shows for no fathomable reason. Fuck you in particular actually.

Ryme City Gengar

This is Kati

She's my Gengar partner.

DISCLAIMER: The following is my account of how I came to own my Gengar, Kati. It is a true story, however, I have falsified names and omitted the direct address of relevant parties in this story for their “protection.” Please do not seek these people out or harass them. They are not worth your time or energy. This is not a happy tale, especially if you like Ghost-types, are a Hex Maniac, or have a shred of common decency. Now, without further ado.

Consider the Gastly.

Gastly is one of the most well-documented, well-known, common ghost types across the regions. It’s in Oak’s original Pokedex and even shows up in Laventon’s old field journals. Its body is 95% gas, and it’s one of the lightest known pokemon in the world, to the point where a stiff wind will make the thing vanish (it’ll re-materialize later just fine, though). The remaining 5% of it is somewhat less clear. It could be argued that this 5% is undoubtedly what gives the Pokemon its Ghost typing. Some believe it is the souls of those its gas has killed, others believe it’s the ghostly essence of graveyard grievances, or forlorn memories of departed people or places.

All Kati remembers is waking up in front of the grave of a girl named Catherine.

I was backpacking through Galar at the time, I had the clothes on my back, the spares in my pack, some few thousand Pokedollars, basic Pokemon care and healing supplies, a phone, and my Eevee and Zorua, Vivi and Aka, respectively. I was looking for a place to crash for the night and wound up at a village in the southern edge of the region. Extremely quaint, very lovely, and I ran into the residents of a very old chateau, whose family had lived there for generations. They were trust fund kids, basically. The husband, who we’ll call John Doe, lived in the estate with his wife, Jane, his parents - his father being the local (and, if you’ve been following my Chatotter, a certain) reverend - and his grandparents. I met John and Jane at the town's only pub, and they were utter sweethearts; to this day, I still wish them well and the best for them. Upon telling them I was the son of Pokemon Rangers, and an Arceist, they asked if I could help them with an issue they’ve been having at the chapel.

Now, to a normal person, this probably would’ve set off every red flag in the universe. Supposedly rich family is inquiring about an outsider for “help”? Boi they’re about to steal your Pokemon and lock you in the basement. Turns out, something being locked in the basement was the issue. I initially declined, but then John made an offer to pay me a… moderately life changing amount of Pokedollars, provided I could solve the issue, which- er, piqued my curiosity enough to at least humor the couple. I figured I had Aka with me, and if things become sketchy he could use a clever illusion to help bail me outta there.

This village I went to was absurdly secluded, they hardly ever received tourists or travelers. The local authorities were in the back-pocket of John’s parents, which he was quick to explain as he led me to the estate. Once we arrived, he played me off as a guest of his wife’s side of the family, and I was introduced to this man’s elders.

I know the saying goes to respect your elders, but one look at this man’s family told me everything I needed to know about why John trusted an outsider with this. These were the most miserable, leery-eyed, snobbish, conservative-ass, “only polite because I have to be” motherfuckers I have ever had the discomfort of meeting and breaking bread with. The bread was the only good thing about their dinner as well, come to think of it, with unseasoned vegetables, beans, and… ok, the shepherd’s pie was alright, but still.

Later that night, John led me out as if to politely escort me off, but detoured around the back of the mansion to the village’s church, where we went through a cellar entrance.

And that’s where I would meet Kati for the first time.

As he opened the door, I saw paper talismans on the interior side. Cleanse tags. Prayer tags. The like. They dotted the stairwell down, to a locked door, which my escort unlocked to reveal a room, lined - wall-to-wall - with tags. And sitting, suspended in a cage, also laced with these tags, was a Gastly.

Cleanse Tags have long been a staple item for the traveling trainer, useful in helping ward off unwanted wild encounters, if a little uncomfortable for most pokemon to hold. A ghost type can handle holding one for the sake of their trainer.

An entire basement lined with them is torture of the highest order. Especially for a ghost.

This Gastly was well and truly trapped. Being locked in stasis inside a Pokeball would’ve been a kinder fate. Everywhere in this room that she could look, she saw searing wards and condemning reminders that told her in no uncertain terms that she was an unwelcome monster. She could not escape this place, the talismans well and truly suppressed any and all ghost energy she could even try and muster. No phasing, no vanishing, no shrinking or morphing, nothing.

John wanted her freed.

I was quick to agree.

It was clear the man was wrestling with the idea of freeing her for a while, and, when I pressed him about why the poor thing was locked away in the first place, he explained that the Gastly had been locked down here for generations, his late great-(great?)-grandfather had apparently caught the thing at the local graveyard, “communing with Giratina,” if you believe such malarky. So his family took it upon themselves to “catch” the ghost and seal her away in their church to cleanse or contain the sin within her, to the point where it’s become an obsession for the family, and they’ve never known peace since. So it was, she remained down there for something to the effect of over eighty years. 

At least three generations of Does is apparently what it took before one realized “hmm, maybe this Gastly down here is fine???”

So of course because things had to be dramatic, we heard the upper cellar door open the moment I tore enough tags off the cage to get the Gastly out. John told me to get my Zorua out and hide as he’d go distract whoever it was. I did so and told Aka to blend us into the wall. John went up, tried to tell his father the Gastly had escaped, and when he angrily came down to verify, well.

The Gastly didn’t like seeing the old man’s face.

She gassed my face to break free and immediately went for the old-timer. The illusion broke and I now had an angered reverend cursing my name, breaking every rule of engagement, since “the next coming of Giratina” was on the line as he threw his entire fuckin’ team at me. A “prize” furfrou, a machop, and a houndour. 

Trying to remember the fight as best I can, Vivi was strong enough to take out the Houndour, but the Machop made quick work of Aka. My new Gastly friend managed to poison the Machop in turn, but a bite from the Houndour nearly took her out instantly. Vivi weakened the Furfrou and Machop with a quick Swift, but, well, at the time my two team members were both weak to fighting, so the Machop was quick to take him out as well.

It was at that point I discovered the Gastly knew will-o-wisp as it cursed the Machop with its flames, taking it out, and I had an idea.

It was time to run from a trainer battle.

I kicked the Houndour in the face (sorry pup!) and told Gastly to set the remaining tags on fire. With the ones I had already desecrated, she had strength enough to set the room ablaze, which freaked out the reverend father and his pokemon enough that I was able to throw an empty pokeball at the Gastly to “catch” her, lob her out of the cellar as she struggled to break out, and get the absolute hell out of there.

John was waiting in a car outside. An extra broken-and-lobbed pokeball later to get the Gastly away from the reverend, we were driving from the estate and I had a very angry Gastly I was trying to calm down in the backseat of a speeding vehicle. It took a while, but she calmed down when it became clear we were tearing her away from that awful place.

John dropped me off at a graveyard, presumably (and, I would later find, purposefully) the best spot he thought to release the Gastly, - cliche, I know, - he wired me the money, and sped off. The Gastly tore itself free from me, and hovered at one particular grave. It was an old headstone, weathered and faint, but I could just barely make out the name “Catherine” on it. I sat near her as she stared at it. And we stayed there for a while; long time. Appropriately, I think we left at about midnight, when I offered her one more Pokeball and the chance to travel with me, safely, and see the world she was locked away from. Gave her the name “Kati” then and there, both as a shortening of her old name, and because it translates to “Pure.”

We beat feet from that village and never looked back. 

My backpacking journey was a lot more comfortable after that, I’ll say that much. Dude gave me bank.

But, here we are, me and the reverend, locked in something of an awkward stalemate where if either of us try and report what happened, we have to inadvertently confess to crimes we ourselves committed. Pokémon Abuse for the Does. And uh, Arson and Pokémon A&B for me. Trainer Disengagement too, but that’s a misdemeanor more ‘n anything. The fact that both of us have a decent amount of influence, should things get legal, doesn’t help either. Haven’t been back in or extradited to Galar since, and it’s basically been something like a 10 year cold case, so I’m not too concerned about this actually biting me in the ass, but the Reverend Father Doe sure is getting spicy with me on Chatotter.

He can rot for all I care.

Kati’s mine.

And she can burn through any holy tag you throw at her, now.

A complex and many-layered thing

But Harry’s anger at Snape continued to pound through his veins like venom. Let go of his anger? He could as easily detach his legs. . . .

This is the first Occlumency lesson. Harry is right, of course. Feelings don’t go away because you want them to. To let go of them when they’ve not been addressed or validated can be as hard as detaching a leg. And yet, it’s what Dumbledore asked Snape to do, and it’s what Snape had to do to survive the first war as Dumbledore’s spy. You have to ask yourself… how?

Trapped animals chew off their own legs to escape. It’s a sacrifice they make to survive.

If there’s one thing in a fic that turns me off it, it’s the idea that Occlumency shields are a thing, that Severus was so gifted at it because he’s got some power like Second Sight or being a metamorphagus. I always preferred to think of Occlumency and Legilimency as skills that can be learned, even if some have more aptitude for it than others.

Severus entered Hogwarts with the kind of life experience that primed him for developing these skills, and left it with even more. Occlumency is magical dissociation, a post-traumatic coping mechanism, and Severus has C/PTSD. More under the cut; tw: just general angst.

To survive, he would have had to develop a knack for telling how explosive and unpredictable people feel. Over his life, he faced at least two egregious examples of what Pete Walker, author of “Complex PTSD” calls “the Charming Bully”.

Especially devolved fight types can become sociopathic. Sociopathy can range along a continuum that stretches from corrupt politician to vicious criminal. A particularly nasty sociopath, who I call the charming bully, probably falls somewhere around the middle of this continuum. The charming bully behaves in a friendly manner some of the time. He can even occasionally listen and be helpful in small amounts, but he still uses his contempt to overpower and control others. This type typically relies on scapegoats for the dumping of his vitriol. These unfortunate scapegoats are typically weaker than him. […] He generally spares his favorites from this behavior, unless they get out of line. If the charming bully is charismatic enough, those close to him will often fail to register the unconscionable meanness of his scapegoating. The bully’s favorites often slip into denial, relieved that they are not the target. Especially charismatic bullies may even be admired and seen as great.

These would be James Potter and Tom Riddle, who are distantly related, I might add. Harry inherited the tendency to default to the fight response, but since he grew up the scapegoat and not the golden child, he never becomes quite as appalling, and after all, a fight response is normal when they are after you. Even so, Harry, who has both James and Voldemort inside him, triggers Severus to no end. It’s not a coincidence that the memories Harry sees when he is with him are largely horrible, and vice versa. There had to be happy or at least neutral or even boring moments, but these two detest each other, and they know they detest each other. Negative emotions and associated memories are so close to the surface they can’t be contained. This is the purpose of the Pensieve in this context - to contain the emotions. Since Severus knew what was in there when he pulled Harry out, my theory is that you don’t suddenly forget the memories you placed there, but rather you make them less fraught with emotions.

“Get up!” said Snape sharply. “Get up! You are not trying, you are making no effort, you are allowing me access to memories you fear, handing me weapons!”

Harry stood up again, his heart thumping wildly as though he had really just seen Cedric dead in the graveyard. Snape looked paler than usual, and angrier, though not nearly as angry as Harry was. “I — am — making — an — effort,” he said through clenched teeth.

“I told you to empty yourself of emotion!”

“Yeah? Well, I’m finding that hard at the moment,” Harry snarled.

“Then you will find yourself easy prey for the Dark Lord!” said Snape savagely. “Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers! He will penetrate your mind with absurd ease, Potter!”

A lot to unpack here.

“Memories you fear,” “weapons”, “easy prey”.

Fearing your own memories, viewing your own lived experiences as weapons to be used against you, being easy prey… Severus could not be speaking louder of himself here. He is the one whose mind had been penetrated with absurd ease, he is the one who handed weapons to Voldemort, and he is the one who had to do the psychological equivalent of detaching his own leg – again and again – to survive.

I’ll argue that Severus developed a fawn response and a flight response, as fighting had never really worked out for him if it was possible at all. He had at least two more people I’d describe as bullies in his life, Tobias and Lucius.

Again from Pete Walker:

These [fawn] response patterns are so deeply set in the psyche, that as adults, many codependents automatically respond to threat like dogs, symbolically rolling over on their backs, wagging their tails, hoping for a little mercy and an occasional scrap. Webster’s second entry for fawn is: “to show friendliness by licking hands, wagging its tail, etc.: said of a dog.” I find it tragic that some codependents are as loyal as dogs to even the worst “masters”.

Remember what Sirius called him? Lucius’s lapdog. Bellatrix called him Dumbledore’s pet, Dumbledore said he dangles on Voldemort’s arm, the narrative compares Snape to a rabbit in SWM and Harry compares the Half Blood Prince to a beloved pet who had gone feral (yes, this does mean a lot to me on a personal level, yes my username is not a coincidence).

His unconscious fawn response might have been his undoing, drawn as he was to figures like Lucius and Voldemort. As an adult, I think he utilized the skills he had developed to survive in order to stitch these people up, and involuntary dissociation and fawning became Occlumency, which to me, is his signature magic. Harry needed only to banish Voldemort from his mind; Severus could not settle for this. He had to give Voldemort something, and knowing how to fawn meant knowing what to give him and how to draw himself in such a light that Voldemort would believe it. We see how he wanted to be seen by the Death Eaters: a self-serving coward who sought to hide behind Dumbledore’s apron, playing his pet. But that’s Pettigrew, not Snape. Imagine the self-immolation, the self-violation, it must have taken to convince everyone that you’re an ersatz Wormtail! Snape is a man and a prince, and the text recognizes this as Harry calls him, in the end, Dumbledore’s man, the bravest man, and as that chapter is called “The Prince’s Tale”. Voldemort thought Snape was nothing more than a “good and faithful servant,” and that his last words were “My Lord”.

But Severus had an unequaled gift for Occlumency, specifically against Voldemort, because Voldemort could not legilimens what he couldn’t feel; and he couldn’t feel love, grief, guilt, and remorse. This was Severus’s secret weapon, which would not have worked against Harry - who can feel these things, and who is also Lily’s son. I can prove it. The first time Harry gets the hang of Occlumency is after Dobby dies:

His scar burned, but he was master of the pain; he felt it, yet was apart from it. He had learned control at last, learned to shut his mind to Voldemort, the very thing Dumbledore had wanted him to learn from Snape. Just as Voldemort had not been able to possess Harry while Harry was consumed with grief for Sirius, so his thoughts could not penetrate Harry now, while he mourned Dobby. Grief, it seemed, drove Voldemort out . . . though Dumbledore, of course, would have said that it was love. . . .

Harry learned to dissociate, though fortunately in a healthier way than many of us ever get to.

Of course, Snape was a good and faithful servant… to Dumbledore, which brings us to the flight response. The chapter wherein he escapes after killing Dumbledore is called “Flight of the Prince”. He should be fighting, he had just proven that he can cast a killing curse, and yet he flees. He can literally fly, in fact: He, Lily, and Voldemort are the only ones we see pulling this off.

As a child, we see this too: He copes with his home situation by reminding himself “it won’t be long and I’ll be gone.” He is thrilled when he imagines Hogwarts, his escape; he follows Lily out of the carriage instead of confronting James and Sirius head-on (which might have saved them all a lot of pain eventually). But this doesn’t work out, we see that in terrifying detail. The next attempt at an escape is joining the Death Eaters, but this too doesn’t work out.

He can’t flee anymore.

“Severus, you cannot pretend this isn’t happening!” Karkaroff’s voice sounded anxious and hushed, as though keen not to be overheard. “It’s been getting clearer and clearer for months. I am becoming seriously concerned, I can’t deny it —”

“Then flee,” said Snape’s voice curtly. “Flee — I will make your excuses. I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts.”

Shortly thereafter:

“Severus,” said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, “you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready . . . if you are prepared . . .”

“I am,” said Snape.

He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

He was ready, and he was prepared. He didn’t fly; he walked toward what might well have been his end with open eyes, armed only with the strength of his mind. Before Voldemort killed him, he looked pale, again, and terrified.

“I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick. I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore.”

And now Snape looked at Voldemort, and Snape’s face was like a death mask. It was marble white and so still that when he spoke, it was a shock to see that anyone lived behind the blank eyes.

I ask myself if this was the moment he realized he had been betrayed, that by giving Dumbledore a painless death he had secured his own. Maybe he wasn’t pale because he was scared; maybe he was pale because he was shocked. He was at his absolute limit, Occluding with all his might when he could have easily saved himself. The dam is about to break. All the memories he feared, all the weapons, the entire content of his heart is about to spill through - literally.

He fawned for Voldemort, the worst of all possible masters, but in the end, he was Voldemort’s undoing. All the ways in which he was weak and powerless against Tobias, James, Lucius, et al., proved to be part of goodness and source of his power. It doesn’t surprise me in the least that Snape is so loved. I’ve never actually seen such love for any other fictional character. He represents a kind of courage that many of us need to get by, lest we simply become evil or give the fuck up (“I wish I was dead”). A kind of courage rarely celebrated. The more time I’ve spent in the fandom in general and in the Snapedom in particular, the more I am convinced of this.

***Magnus and Alec are husbands. Yes, this needed to be said because CAN YOU BELIEVE? :’) But also, yes, it’s really been that long since the latest Malec fic rec. I’m sorry. It’s... yeah. Although if you also miss Malec every second of every day, reading fanfics at least helps a little. 

I tried to collect a nice mix again so I hope you will enjoy this 9th (!!!) edition of my Malec fanfic rec posts. As usual, I enjoy making them and rec’ing you fics but these posts take a looooot of time so please, please, please reblog, like and spread the word so that I see you enjoy these and these posts are helpful. It motivates to do a new one in the future if y’all are interested. Thank you

And now, have fun discovering, reading, and loving those Malec fics. And leave a kudo and comment for those authors while you’re on it. We all love appreciation and need validation. :)***

previous Malec fic recs:             1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

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42 NORTH 71 WEST by @lecrit​ [ M | AU | 62.1k | complete ]

Alec sometimes wonders why he ever decided to pursue a career in politics. Magnus sometimes questions whether pursuing his dream of becoming an actor was worth it.

Those two facts are not necessarily mutually exclusive.

THE SHOW MUST GO ON by @unrestrainedlyexcessive [ E | AU | 21.3k | complete ]

Alec pulls up to the gold intercom positioned at the enormous front gates. Like everything owned by the obscenely wealthy, they’re proportioned for both for giants and giant egos.

He’d hoped this would be easier, less gut-churning work than protecting diplomats and foreign dignitaries, some guilty of truly terrible things, but being a bodyguard for a coddled popstar who can’t even be bothered with basic safety isn’t his idea of a good time.

---

Magnus is a popstar and Alec is his reluctant bodyguard. The bodyguard au in epistolary form. Image-heavy.

HIGHER THAN THE BIG TREES by @carmenlire​​ [ E | AU | 242k | complete ]

Alec loves his job. He’s been touring since he was sixteen. He’s stayed in dozens of countries over the years, learned enough of their languages to get a beer in his hand and a man in his bed. The road is as much his home as the townhouse on the Upper West Side. He’s as comfortable in cheap hotel rooms with scratchy linens and glaring lights as he is in his penthouse that overlooks Central Park with its silk sheets and the constant hum of the city that never sleeps. Alec works hard and that hard work has paid off. He just finished his latest sold-out world tour and by all rights, he should be on top of the world. But the mental pressure of celebrity is getting to Alec and he doesn't trust his footing. He's stuck where most people would kill to be and he just wants to know what his next move should be. Enter Magnus Bane. A history professor at Columbia University, Magnus is content with his friends, his classes, and the occasional warm body in his bed. But he's been feeling stagnant, looking for the next chapter in his life to begin. If only he knew what Alec would bring his way.

THE SECRET OF THE SECRET SANTA by @notcrypticbutcoy​​ [ T | AU | 12.7k | complete ]

As busy doctors with busy schedules, Magnus and Alec have danced around their feelings for each other for years, much to the chagrin of their friends. This Christmas, Simon decides it’s time for an intervention-in the form of a shamelessly rigged secret santa.

Or: In which Simon rigs the secret santa, Magnus and Alec flirt over nerdy doctor things, and are both a little bit oblivious.

RUMOR HAS IT by @lecrit​​ [ M | AU | 12.9k | complete ]

Magnus widens his eyes at him, silently asking him to just give him this one. Alec simply curves one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows in response, a simple gesture that carries the weight of a call for challenge. “Looks like you’re gonna have to postpone your wedding for now,” Maia giggles next to him. Magnus huffs, flexing his jaw. “Oh, it’s on, Lightwood,” he mouths at him.

.

Or the one where Alec and Magnus are both after the same guy, but end up falling for each other instead.

CIGARETTE by j__writes [ T | AU | 3.1k | complete ]

His relationship with Magnus Bane had been nothing short of frustrating.

Frustrating in the worst of ways. Frustrating in the best of ways.

ABSOLUTELY ABYSMAL by @aemiliafawn​ [ E | 4.8k | complete ]

The first time Alec sees Magnus wearing lipstick he wants to do filthy things to him. Magnus isn't exactly opposed to this.

A ROYAL AFFAIR by j__writes [ M | AU | 38.8k | complete ]

Prince meets professor and it's love at first sight. Lucky (or maybe unlucky) for him, the beautiful professor doesn't know his boyfriend's a prince.

HEAVEN IS A TASTE ON EARTH by @alittlebriton​ [ T | AU | 20.7k | complete ]

Making a birthday cake for the renowned chef Magnus Bane is a hard enough task – made harder still by the fact his girlfriend doesn’t seem to know Magnus’ likes or dislikes at all. Alec Lightwood, maker of some of the finest cakes in Brooklyn, is up to the challenge, even if he can’t take his eyes off the birthday boy. But as Alec and Magnus grow closer, could it be that the missing ingredient is true love?

LOVE & OTHER DRUGS by @la-muerta​ [ E | AU | 2k | complete | Semi-Charmed Kind Of Life #1 ]

Rising rockstar Magnus Bane’s life is all about sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll - it's an old cliché, but sometimes the clichés are true. And Alec Lightwood, a bassist from another band, is a drug Magnus can't get enough of - even if he knows that like any drug, he's sinking deeper with every hit he takes, and that this is killing him slowly and painfully.

Because this is just about sex, and Alexander doesn't love him back.

OUR LOVE IS A HARSH CHORD by @la-muerta​​ [ E | AU | 21.9k | complete | Semi-Charmed Kind Of Life #2 ]

Magnus lives in two worlds: one of blinding stage lights and the thunder of the adoring crowd stomping its feet to the rhythm of his music; and one of the darkness offstage, a blur of lonely hotel rooms, one-night stands, drugs, and the sting of whiskey.

Magnus lives in two worlds, both of them stark, bleak, empty - until Alec Lightwood comes along, and everything falls apart.

MELTING MOLTEN by @raininginadelaide​​ [ E | 4k | complete ]

The training scene in the show was their second attempt. The first time, Alec showed even less restraint.

SUPPORT SYSTEM by @bytheangell​​ [ T | AU | 122.8k | complete | Support System #1 ]

When Alec's favorite show gets cancelled and he takes to messaging customer service repeatedly to show his support, he doesn't expect to connect so well with the support representative he keeps getting paired off with.

PAGING DR. LIGHTWOOD-BANE by @carmenlire​​ [ not rated | AU | 4.4k | complete ]

Alec scowls. “I’m not on rotation this weekend-- I’m not even on call-- and we decided to make the most out of it.”

“We,” Maia asks, brows inching towards her hair line. “Who’s we?”

“My husband and I,” he mutters and he rolls his eyes as it's like a bomb’s been detonated in the middle of the table.

Simon screeches, “What,” and even Jace and Isabelle are looking at him with wide eyes.

“You’re married?”

Or, the one where everybody finds out

TRUTH OR DARE? by @atowncalledmalec​​ [ E | AU | 4.5k | complete ]

Two small-town cops, partners, Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane, have somehow pulled desk duty on the graveyard shift. Bored out of their minds and finding a lie detector machine, the chance of winning a $50 bet and being able to ask the questions they've always wanted to ask is too good of an opportunity to pass up. Alec gets a little more than he bargained for though when the machine betrays him at every turn. And so does Magnus.

EVERYTHING I DIDN’T KNOW I WANTED FOR CHRISTMAS by @la-muerta​​ [ T | AU | 4.5k | complete ]

Alec got his Christmas shopping done months ago - but he should have known that Jace would mess it all up for him. Now he's out braving the crowds on Christmas Eve trying to find a toy that's sold out everywhere for his son, and as it turns out, he's not the only desperate single father out there who will stop at nothing to get his hands on that last toy in the shops.

CERTAIN PERKS by quill_and_ink [ E | 5.5k | complete ]

"You never have to prove yourself to me."

Shadowhunters are being murdered and mutilated. The Clave is getting desperate to find the culprit, but Alec has to believe there's another way. He won't let this end his relationship with Magnus - he refuses to accept that, and he'll do whatever he can to protect them.

Based on the dialogue and actions from "Shadowhunters" Episode 2x13: "Those of Demon Blood"

THE TRUTH UNTOLD by @carmenlire​ [ not rated | 4.4k | complete ]

Magnus closes his eyes and leans into the feelings that wrap around him. They’re two of the most powerful men in the New York shadow world. It makes his chest ache sometimes, the knowledge that they may never be able to take their relationship public, that he won’t ever be able to kiss Alec on a sunny day in the city, that they can’t hold hands as they walk through Central Park, that whenever they do see each other in public it’s always in an official capacity and they’re relegated to formal greetings while their eyes try to say everything they can’t.

He’d still take this over not having Alec, though. That Magnus knows without a doubt.

ANYTHING YOU SAY by @milominderbindered​​ [ M | AU | 117k | complete ]

Detective Alec Lightwood likes his job. He likes the order of it, likes helping people, likes that he gets to work with Jace and that Izzy is always right downstairs in the morgue too. He's wanted to be a cop ever since he was a kid, just like his parents before him, and now he's living that dream. His life should be perfect.

There's just one problem. Their precinct has just gotten a new forensic expert -- Magnus Bane.

And honestly, he's so cute that Alec's kind of losing his mind.

EMISSARY OF SIN by @insiemes​​ [ M | AU | 97.6k | complete ]

Alec Lightwood, the Clave's top protection agent, is called upon to guard the life of his mortal enemy - one of the world's most notorious hitmen, Magnus Bane.

SHOOT TO KISS by @dantes-wombat​​ [ M | 5k | complete ]

As far as dates go, this one's a bit more weapons-centered than Magnus expected - but also a lot sexier.

IF YOU’VE GOT THE MONEY, I’VE GOT THE TIME by j__writes [ T | AU | 73.4k | complete ]

Alec has made plenty of questionable choices, as Izzy likes to so kindly remind him. Asking Magnus to be his fake boyfriend and then offering to pay him? That, right there, he doesn’t know what the fuck he was thinking. And he wasn’t. But Magnus is really nice and really fucking hot, and if Alec gets to pretend to be his boyfriend then… win - win, right?

ANONYMOROUS by @superficialpeasant​​ [ E | AU | 10.6k | complete ]

When one of Clary’s art exhibition performers drops out last minute, Alec steps in to help. Unfortunately that also means he’ll be having sex with a stranger in public.

DATE NIGHT by @unrestrainedlyexcessive [ G | 562 | complete ]

“Look, it’s no big deal,” Alec says. “The angles in pool are just like archery. I have a natural advantage.”

“Pretty sure I beat you the first time we played,” Magnus says, taking a sip of his martini. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so relaxed, so at home in a relationship.

That is, until Alec started winning.

HARDER THAN THE LIQUOR I POUR by @carmenlire​​ [ not rated | AU | 6.5k | complete ]

The bartender considers him for a moment before holding out the hand that was over his just a second before. “I’m Magnus, bartender extraordinaire. While I certainly wouldn’t mind calling you pretty boy for the rest of the evening, I think it only fair that you share your name, too. Don’t you?”

Slowly, Alec reaches out and grasps Magnus’s hand in a poor imitation of a handshake. He meets Magnus’s eyes and knows they both know that this is a mere prelude for what’s to come.

“Alec,” he says slowly and watches as Magnus’s smile deepens.

“Well, Alec, my shift ends in an hour. Wait for me?”

CREAM by @ohfreckle​​ [ E | 3.4k | complete ]

Sometimes Magnus likes to wear panties.

“Are you kidding? You look amazing!” Alec wishes he were more eloquent, that he could miraculously find the words and praise to express how fucking hot Magnus is with his little panties on.

SAY IT by @ilovealeclightwood​​ [ E | 4k | complete ]

“I want you,” Magnus pressed his lips to Alec’s neck, the sensation of his lips against the deflect rune making Alec shudder again.

“To admit,” Magnus continued, pausing to run his tongue over the length of the rune, sending sparks of pleasure through Alec and making him try to jerk his hips up again.

“That I was right.” Magnus pulled away from his neck to look down at him and it took a second for what he meant to click with Alec.

---

Or, Magnus and Alec solve petty arguments in a sensable, responsible manner

ALL NIGHT (OR A HUNDRED YEARS) by @hourglassmermaid​​ [ T | 4.3k | complete ]

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Raphael,” Magnus chastises. “You know I take care of my friends.”

Friends. The word stings more than kuri venom; it lingers far longer than any demon attack ever could. It lingers in Alec’s mind when he’s tossing and turning at night imagining what they could have been if Alec hadn’t been such a coward all those years ago. It lingers in his heart whenever they’re alone, and Alec swears he sees a glimmer of those feelings Magnus must have buried long ago. And it lingers in his soul whenever they work together as allies, as leaders, as partners, because they really are compatible in all the ways that count.

But none of that matters, because they’re just friends.

---

Alec and Magnus are colleagues — maybe even friends. Definitely allies. Alec's content, with his life, his career, and even his (lack of) relationships, but sometimes when Magnus sits beside him, Alec may or may not cease to function. It's okay; he's okay.

I SAW PAPA KISSING SANTA CLAUS by j__writes [ G | AU | 3.3k | complete ]

“I heard a noise and so I snuck out. He didn’t see me but I saw him. I saw Santa and then I saw Papa and he kissed Santa, Raf.”

LIKE NOBODY ELSE by @carmenlire​​ [ not rated | AU | 3.7k | complete ]

Simon’s been Alec’s assistant for the past three years. Alec was a hard ass, no doubt about it. He had exacting standards, a perpetually sardonic expression, and Simon had literally never seen the man smile.

Lightwood had exploded onto the scene ten years ago and in that time, he’s made a name for himself that no one else could rival. He might not be well liked but everyone-- even his enemies-- respected Lightwood.

Or, Simon is Alec's secretary and doesn't realize just how little he knows about his boss until he solves a mystery.

SEXY SNAPSHOTS by @tobythewise​​​ [ E | AU | 2.8k | complete ]

“Anything interesting on there?” Alec asks, a teasing note in his voice as he nods at the camera. “Anything sexy?" “Not at the moment.” Magnus raises his brow. “Wanna change that?” OR The one where Magnus and Alec explore what it's like to have sexy times while snapping sexy pictures of each other.

PUNDAMENTALS OF OFFICE RIVALRY by @bytheangell​​ [ T | AU | 3.8k | complete ]

When Magnus and Alexander get off on the wrong foot at the start of their internship, Magnus takes it upon himself to annoy Alec at every turn.

WORSE THINGS THAN BEING IN LOVE by @aemiliafawn​​ [ E | 4.6k | complete ]

Their wedding was everything they had ever dared to dream of. But perhaps their wedding night was just as special.

CRYPTIDS OF BROOKLYN by @alexanderlightweight​​ [ M | AU | 2.3k | complete ]

For all the rather redundant and overused jokes made about lawyers and sharks, never was such a comparison or joke made concerning Alec Lightwood, as there was one glaring difference between the two ruthless predators.

Sharks smiled, Alec Lightwood didn’t.

ZERO COMPLAINTS by @aemiliafawn​ [ E | 3.3k | complete ]

Usually when someone wakes Magnus up before sunrise they'd have to face his wrath – however since Alec decides to make it actually worthwhile for the exhausted warlock, Magnus finds he doesn't mind making an exception just once.

HAHA JUST KIDDING... UNLESS? by @carmenlire​​ [ not rated | AU | 2.5k | complete ]

"You know Magnus wouldn’t joke about boning his best friend just to do it. You mean too much to him and we all know how gone you’ve been over Magnus since, like, eighth grade.”

Alec sighs and it feels like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “I can’t get my hopes up, Jace. I’ve been in love with him for years but he doesn’t feel the same way.”

Groaning like they’ve gone around the block about this a thousand times-- because they have-- Jace facepalms. “How many times do I have to tell you-- Magnus feels what you feel but you’re both too stupid to get past your own hang-ups to talk about it.”

TAKE IT EASY by @la-muerta​ [ E | AU | 18.2k | complete ]

Alec signs up for a session with a professional male dominant, just a one-time thing to satisfy his curiosity. It most definitely doesn't end up being just a one-time thing.

THE LONELY HEARTS HOTLINE by @unrestrainedlyexcessive [ E | AU | 40.6k | complete ]

“Hey there,” Alec says in the lowest, sexiest voice he can manage. It sounds vaguely disinterested but some people get off on that.

“Hi,” the voice says.

“Ready to have some fun?”

The voice makes a small, sad noise.

“Or not?” Alec tries hastily. He gets paid regardless of what they're talking about. “We can just chat for a while.”

“What’s your name,” the voice says finally.

“Uh, Chad,” Alec says. He was drunk when he picked his name, just as he was drunk when he answered the job wanted ad. He should have picked something sexy like Tristan, but he’s forever Chad now, the douchiest phone sex operator in history. He balances his bowl of macaroni carefully on his stomach and sneaks a quick bite.

“You don’t sound like a Chad,” the voice says doubtfully.

“Why the hell not?” Alec says before he can stop himself, mouth full of pasta.

“--are you eating?”

“No,” Alec lies and swallows.

---

Alec is a bored phone sex operator. Bafflingly, Magnus just wants to talk about music.

BRIGHT LIGHTS, SMALL TOWN by @lecrit​​ [ E | AU | 104.3k | complete | To Build A Home #1 ]

When Magnus gets to Nashville, Indiana to handle his late mother's will, he doesn't expect to be forced to stay there for six months. Six months away from New York and lost in the wildness of the countryside.

It quickly appears that he is going to go through six months of living hell.

The fact that he hates the local veterinarian on sight isn't helping.

BRIGHT LIGHTS, SMALL TOWN: EXTRAS by @lecrit​​​ [ E | AU | 12.6k | complete | To Build A Home #2 ]

A combination of extras for Bright Lights, Small Town.

EARTH’S MIGHTIEST HEROES by @lecrit​​​ [ M | AU | 141.9k | complete | Avengers Assemble #3 ]

The thing is… Their plans have a history of not going accordingly so when they finally do, maybe they build a confidence a bit too quickly. Breaking Magnus out turns out to be indeed a formality. Selling the ruby, too. So what could possibly go wrong now?

In which our team of misfits has to deal with the consequences of messing with a dangerous man and again, everything goes according to plan. Or not.

COLOR ME BLUE by @carmenlire​​ [ not rated | AU | 18.8k | complete ]

Christmas is his favorite time of the year but Alec has barely had time to buy presents let alone enjoy the holiday season. December seems to have lasted the blink of an eye and Alec's shoulders hunch as he realizes morosely that most of this year is a blur of emergencies and rounds and consultations.

His gaze snags on a bakery display as he walks past. The window is dressed with multicolored lights and garland wrapping around the edges. The display case is full and Alec’s mouth waters just at the sight.

Without conscious thought, Alec is reaching for the door to Bane's Bakery, eager to see if the interior is just as whimsical and welcoming as the outside.

ao3 this is 4.1k of a couple times dean wanted to say it, and the one time cas did. warning for: crypt scene

The first time Dean wants to say it, they’re standing on a street in the middle of nowhere. 

Cas just pulled him out of some weird future universe, and Dean lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He turns his head and sees Cas, and has to fight back a smile.

“That’s pretty nice timing, Cas.”

Castiel’s face morphs into something that’s almost a smile. It makes Dean’s chest warm in a way that he wasn’t expecting.

“We had an appointment.”

It’s so stupid. It’s such a stupid, stupid thing to say and it knocks the wind out of him. Dean smiles, huffing a laugh as he sets a hand on Cas’ shoulder.

He’s had a thing for Cas for a while now, as much as he hates to admit it. He doesn’t understand it, he feels weird about it - he’s a fucking angel, for Christ’s sake - but he does. 

Dean wonders, for just a moment, what Cas would do if he said it. If he just said something like, ‘I think I love you. I think I love you and that scares the hell out of me, man.’

Instead, he squeeze’s Cas’ shoulder and stops his other hand just short of touching Castiel’s cheek.

“Don’t ever change.”

                                                          🖤

The next time Dean wants to say it, he’s fighting back tears looking at Cas trapped in a ring of holy fire.

He hears his brother say, “Did you bring me back soulless... on purpose?”

Dean’s chest aches at the way Castiel’s face contorts. 

“How could you think that?”

Sam sneers a little, his own way of showing his betrayal, “Well, I’m thinking a lot of things right now, Cas.”

Castiel looks equal parts angry and devastated. Dean wants nothing more than to reach across the flames and grab his hands.

“Listen. Raphael will kill us all. He'll turn the world into a graveyard. I had no choice.“

Dean hears his own voice before his brain registers that he’s speaking.

“No, you had a choice. You just made the wrong one.”

Castiel looks at him, hurt written all over his face, and Dean’s stomach churns at the sight of it. 

God, this right here, this is why Dean doesn’t do relationships.

“You don’t understand.” Cas’s voice sounds tired, “It’s complicated.”

Dean wants to laugh.

“No, actually, it's not, and you know that.” He wants to yell and scream, angry at the world and angry at Cas for pulling this shit. “Why else would you keep this whole thing a secret, huh, unless you knew that it was wrong? When crap like this comes around, we deal with it... Like we always have. What we don't do is we don't go out and make another deal with the Devil!”

He might be yelling now, but he’s desperate. 

He wants to yell that he would have done anything to help Cas, that it isn’t Castiel’s job to protect Dean anymore. That they’re a family, they’re a team, and they protect each other. He wants to yell something stupid and cliche like, ‘I love you, you idiot!’ 

Castiel’s face looks like he might be able to read Dean’s mind.

“It sounds so simple when you say it like that. Where were you when I needed to hear it?”

That practically knocks the wind out of him, the sincerity in the question.

Dean huffs a breath that’s maybe supposed to be a laugh, maybe not.

“I was there. Where were you?”

His brain keeps pulling up clips from every stupid romcom he’s ever watched. Every desperate love confession flashes before his eyes and it just makes Dean want to throw himself into the fire.

“You should’ve come to us for help, Cas.”

Castiel sighs, “Maybe,” and looks like he wants to reach out for Dean.

A loud whirring noise engulfs the cabin they’re standing in, a cloud of demon smoke heading straight for them.

“It’s too late now. I can’t turn back now. I can’t.”

Dean feels frantic with it, the desire to drag Cas back to safety, “It’s not too late! Damn it Cas, we can fix this!”

We can fix this together, you idiot. I love you Cas, please. 

“Dean,” Castiel yells as the wind gets louder, “It’s not broken! Run. You have to run, now!”

                                                         🖤

The third time Dean wants to say it, wants to tell Cas, it feels like he’s talking to a stranger.

“Thanks for the lift.” 

They’re standing in a barn looking at the end of the world and Cas isn’t himself. He doesn’t want to fight anymore, he wants to watch the bees. He looks like Cas, sounds like Cas, but it isn’t - 

“Dean...” Castiel follows him for a moment and stops a couple steps away.

Dean turns to look at him, tired as hell and without the energy to hear it anymore. “Cas, we've been over it. I get it – you can't help.”

He’s not mad.

He might’ve been, for a while, but he was more angry with himself than anything... ok, he was mad at Cas too, just a little bit. He was pissed that when Dean needed him, really fucking needed him, he was broken. 

And he knows that’s not fair, truly he knows, but it’s hard to not be angry when the world is probably going to end and the one person Dean thought he could always, always count on just isn’t... himself. 

Castiel kicks the ground in front of him, not quite meeting Dean’s eyes when he asks, “If we attack Dick and fail, then you and Sam die heroically, correct?”

Dean looks at him, confused, and just kinda huffs something that’s maybe a laugh.

“I don’t know. I guess.”

Cas sounds a little bit more lucid than he has today, but still not quite like himself.

“And at best, I die trying to fix my own stupid mistake. Or... I don't die – I'm brought back again. I see now. It's a punishment resurrection. It's worse every time.”

Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes, taking a half step towards Cas, “I'm sorry. Uh, we're talking about God crap, right?”

This time Castiel meets his eyes, “I’m not good luck Dean.”

And that’s just not true.

It takes all of Dean’s control to not grab Cas by the shoulders and tell him just how much that isn’t true.

“Yeah, but you know what? Bottom of the ninth, and you're the only guy left on the bench... Sorry,” Dean shrugs, making sure that Cas doesn’t look away from him. “But I'd rather have you, cursed or not.”

His heart skips a beat when his brain realizes what just came out of his mouth.

He shifts a little, uncomfortable with the slip, “And anyway, nut up, all right? We're all cursed. I seem like good luck to you?”

Castiel is staring at him like he knows what Dean wanted to say.

He screws up his face a little, trying not to sound as defensive as he feels. “What?”

Castiel might be smiling at him. Maybe.

“Well, I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but I detect a note of forgiveness.”

He doesn’t have the energy to deny it any more.

“Yeah, well, I’m probably going to die tomorrow, so...”

Dean stops himself from saying something stupid like, ‘so there’s no point in me lying to you anymore, Cas.’

“Well,” Castiel squares his shoulders and looks away for a moment before meeting Dean’s eyes again. “I'll go with you. And I'll do my best.”

And if that isn’t just the damndest thing.

Dean’s lungs seize for a moment, his throat closing on a confession neither of them need right now. He’s overwhelmed with something that he thinks is equal parts grief and contentment, for just a brief moment. 

And you know, in all the time they’ve known each other, Cas just has this way of saying things sometimes that take Dean’s breath away.

And maybe that’s dumb or cliche or hell, embarrassing even, but it’s true. 

He just told Cas, this Cas who doesn’t want to fight anymore, that tomorrow he’s going off to die. He’s going to sacrifice himself to save the world. 

The fucker didn’t even blink. Didn’t have to think about it for a second. 

Dean would be shocked if he didn’t know that if their roles were reversed, he would’ve said the same thing. 

Instead of saying any of that, he offers Cas a small smile. 

“Thanks.”

Castiel bounces a little on his feet, his voice going a little melodic, “So... Can I ask, the plan?” 

Dean wants to kiss that stupid look off his face.

                                                         🖤

The next time, Dean almost says it.

He breaks through the brush first and sees Castiel kneeling in front of the stream. His knees feel weak with the relief of seeing that god awful trench coat.

“Cas!” Dean yells before he can stop himself, before Benny can either.

Cas looks up from the stream, like he doesn’t know if that voice is real or not, “Dean?”

Dean walks quickly down the bank and over to Cas, Benny on his heels.

He hasn’t felt this much relief in years. Seeing Cas turn to face them feels like a million pounds has been lifted from Dean’s chest. 

“Cas,” he laughs a little bit as he pulls his best friend into a tight hug. “Damn, it’s good to see you.”

He steps back finally after a moment, the grin on his face already making his cheeks hurt. He reaches out without thinking about it and brushes a hand over Castiel’s new beard, “Nice peach fuzz.”

Castiel looks a little bewildered, like he’s not sure if this is real, “Thank you.”

Dean gestures back to Benny, afraid to take his eyes off of Cas, “You should meet somebody. This is Benny. Benny, this is Cas.”

Benny raises a hand in acknowledgement, “Hola.”

Castiel spares him a glance for a moment before turning to look at Dean again, “How did you find me?”

Dean huffs a laugh, “The bloody way.” He moves his axe as if to show it off before asking, “You feeling ok?”

“You mean am I still...” Castiel points to his head, making circles with his fingers.

It shouldn’t be as endearing as it is.

He’s still grinning when he says, “Yeah, if you want to be on the nose about it, sure.”

Castiel huffs, “No. I'm perfectly sane. But, then, 94% of psychotics think they're perfectly sane, so I guess we'd have to ask ourselves, ‘what is sane?’”

Dean lets himself look over Cas again, warmth feeling his chest that he hasn’t felt since before they got themselves thrown into this godforsaken land. 

“That’s a good question.”

Benny’s voice breaks through the haze for a brief moment.

“Why’d you bail on Dean?”

Dean’s head snaps over to glare at his friend, incredulous, “Dude -”

Benny glares at Dean, impatience rolling off of him in waves, “The way I hear it, you two hit monster land, and hot wings here took off. I figure he owes you some backstory.”

He rolls his eyes a little, annoyed to have this conversation with Benny again.

“Look, we were surrounded, okay? Some freak jumped Cas. Obviously, he kicked its ass, right?”

He looks over at Cas, smiling and motioning for Cas to tell him.

“No.”

Dean feels like someone punched him. “What?”

Castiel swallows, “I ran away.”

“You ran away?”

“I had to.”

“That's your excuse for leaving me with those gorilla-wolves?”

“Dean –”

He’s seething now, any relief he felt before quickly evaporating. “You bailed out and, what, went camping? I prayed to you, Cas, every night.”

Castiel looks down, ashamed. “I know.”

Dean feels like he might throw up. “You know and you didn't...” 

The words get caught in his throat, no longer angry and just hurt. “What the hell's wrong with you?”

Castiel looks determined, but he still won’t meet Dean’s eyes for longer than half a second. “I am an angel in a land of abominations. There have been things hunting me from the moment we arrived.”

Dean laughs bitterly, “Join the club!”

“These are not just monsters, Dean. They're Leviathan. I have a price on my head, and I've been trying to stay one step ahead of them, to –”

Castiel takes a breath and looks up at Dean again, this time meeting his eyes.

“To keep them away from you. That's why I ran.” 

Again, there he goes again, saying shit that just knocks the wind out of Dean.

“Just leave me, please.”

Benny nods and readjusts his own weapon on his shoulder, “Sounds like a plan. Let's roll.”

Dean reaches out to stop him, not taking his eyes off Cas, “Hold on, hold on. Cas, we're getting out of here. We're going home.”

To his credit, Castiel looks apologetic when he says, “Dean, I can't.”

The self-sacrificing idiot makes Dean’s chest ache with the urge to kiss that look off of his face.

“You can. Benny, tell him.”

Benny sighs in the most put upon way that Dean’s ever heard from someone that isn’t Sam.

“Purgatory has an escape hatch, but I got no idea if it's angel-friendly.”

It doesn’t even register with Dean that this isn’t a foolproof plan.

“We'll figure it out. Cas, buddy, I need you.”

He opens his arms as if he’s going to hug Cas again, but just ends up gesturing vaguely so he doesn’t do something stupid like kiss his best friend.

Castiel looks pained, like he can read Dean’s mind, “Dean...”

Something in Cas’s voice fills Dean with some renewed hope, that he might be breaking through to him.

“And if Leviathan want to take a shot at us, let ‘em. We ganked those bitches once before. We can do it again.”

He wonders briefly if he sounds as desperate as he feels.

Dean’s been running through purgatory for god knows how long looking for Cas, scared that he was gonna lose Cas - and now he’s here. He’s in front of him, and Dean feels like it’s worse than wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Castiel sighs, looking away for a moment, “It's too dangerous.”

Feeling brave, Dean steels himself to say, “Let me bottom-line it for you. I'm not leaving here without you. Understand?”

His heart his hammering so loud in his chest that it’s all he can hear. 

He wants to say that he’s sorry for the last couple years. He’s sorry he wasn’t there to protect Cas. He’s sorry he didn’t tell him sooner, that he didn’t tell Cas how much he loves him. How he gets it, why Cas worked with Crowley, and he can’t even find it in himself to be mad anymore.

Castiel’s answer surprises him, “I understand.”

Sometimes Dean wonders if Cas can hear his thoughts.

                                                         🖤

The next time, Dean does say it.

Or at least, he tries to say it.

Castiel isn’t himself again. 

Dean’s known that for a while now, but he’s been too scared to admit it to himself. 

It’s kind of hard to ignore it now as Castiel’s fist connects with his face again.

“Oh,” he grunts out, choking a little bit on some blood. 

He can’t see anything out of one eye and he reaches out, trying to stop his hands from connecting with his face again, “Cas.” 

Dean misses the first grab, feeling weak, and tries again, “Cas.” 

He’s terrified but as fucked up as it is, he’s not scared for himself. He’s scared that Cas is going to kill him and Dean won’t be able to tell him that it’s ok, he knows it’s not Castiel’s fault.

There’s more blood in his throat now so the words come out more as a gurgle, “I know you're in there.”

Cas raises his angel blade up, ready to strike, and Dean resigns himself to it.

“I know you can hear me,” he tries again. “Cas...” He hears his own voice break with it and Dean knows that he’s begging. If it was anyone else, for any other reason, he’d rather die than beg but this is different. “It's me.”

Dean tries to open the eye that’s swollen shut as he meets Castiel’s empty eyes, one of his hands finally landing on Cas’s wrist. “We're family. We need you...”

There’s so much he could say. He could tell Cas that he knows this isn’t him, that he’s sorry he hasn’t done anything to help him yet, that he’s sorry he’s been avoiding him. He’s just been so fucking scared to lose him again.

Dean’s known that he’s been in love with Cas for years, but he didn’t realize how much he needed Cas until they got back from purgatory. 

He wants to say it. He should say it.

“I need you.”

Shit.

All at once, it’s like Dean can see a flip being switched in Cas.

Castiel drops the angel blade and Dean finally lets himself fall forward with the pain and relief of it all. A bright light fills the room for a moment and Dean briefly registers it before looking up again.

“Cas?” His voice sounds like he’s been gargling glass and fuck, Cas doesn’t look like himself quite yet. 

Dean tries to take a full breath and can’t, his ribs hurting too much, “Cas?”

Castiel reaches towards him and Dean hates himself for it, but he flinches, seeing his life flash before his eyes for a brief second.

“No. Cas. Cas!”

instead of a final blow, Dean just feels Castiel’s hand rest on his cheek and the familiar warmth of his Grace flowing through him.

“I'm so sorry, Dean.”

                                                         🖤

After that, there’s plenty of moments where Dean feels like this might be the right time to say it. Maybe.

He thinks about saying it when he’s in that hospital church, praying for help.

He thinks about saying it when they find Cas in that apartment, human and dead.

He thinks about telling him when he picks Cas up from babysitting his boss’s daughter. 

He thinks about telling him on every phone call, every text, every email they send.

He thinks about saying it when they find Cas with an army, and Cas chooses Dean over his family.

Even when he was a demon, there was a moment where Dean almost called him to taunt Cas with the knowledge that once upon a time, Dean loved him more than anything. 

He almost tells him one morning when they’re eating at a shitty roadside diner and Sam gets up to go to the bathroom.

Eventually, Dean just accepts that maybe they’re not supposed to have this.

Castiel can’t technically read his mind, but there’s no way in hell that he doesn’t know how Dean feels. And Dean reasons that hey, if Cas doesn’t feel the need to say it, maybe he doesn’t feel the same way.

Maybe Charlie and Benny and Jody have all been wrong, and it really is as one-sided as Dean’s always suspected.

Castiel? An actual angel of the lord, no matter how poor of an excuse for one Cas thought he was, love Dean? Dean Winchester?

Now, that, that’s crazy. 

So when Cas opens his big stupid mouth and says, “I never found an answer because the one thing I want, it’s something I know I can’t have.”

Dean’s heart just stops working. 

His brain feels like a record that gets caught on one skip for too long because the words “can’t have” keep repeating over and over and over.

Castiel smiles a little bit, and he’s crying and Dean feels like he’s back in that cabin again, looking at Cas through a ring of holy fire.

“But I think I know now, happiness isn’t in the having, it’s in the being. It’s in just saying it.”

Dean knows that happiness isn’t in the having, because even when he’s had Cas, had him in his bed or in the Impala or even just in the bunker, it’s a very empty happiness. It’s a happiness that’s underscored by the desperation of knowing that it’s ever-so fleeting and temporary. 

He hears himself say, “What are you talking about, man?”

And there Cas goes again, just knocking him off his fucking feet like it’s nothing.

“I know how you see yourself, Dean. You see yourself the same way our enemies sees you. You’re destructive, you’re angry and you’re broken and you’re Daddy’s blunt instrument.”

Dean’s stomach lurches because of course Cas thinks all of that, but he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve that. He doesn’t deserve Castiel giving him the benefit of the doubt, not when they both know that it isn’t fucking true.

"You think that hate and anger, that’s what drives you, that’s what you are.” Castiel offers him a smile and it kinda makes Dean want to die.

“It’s not.”

It is, though.

Castiel’s crying more now and Dean’s reminded of purgatory, of that desperate need to grab him and fix everything but he can’t. He can’t and he doesn’t and he hasn’t felt this helpless in years.

“And everyone who knows you sees it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love.”

Dean feels like his skin is crawling but he can barely focus on that when he can see how upset Cas is. He’s desperately trying to reach out but his hands won’t move no matter how hard his brain is yelling at them.

Castiel takes a breath, ignoring the background noises getting louder, “You raised your little brother for love, you fought for this whole world for love, that is who you are.”

That is not who Dean is, and he wants to scream it. He’s a coward. He’s a fucking coward who has been in love with this big dumb idiot across from him since that moment in the green room all those years ago, and he’s never fucking told him. 

He’s a selfish coward and he doesn’t deserve any of this.

“You’re the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless loving human being I will ever know.” Castiel looks at him like he can read Dean’s mind.

Briefly Dean wonders if he’s imagining things, or if he really can feel Cas’ grace right now.

“You know ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of hell... knowing you has changed me.”

If he didn’t know what Cas was doing, Dean would laugh at that because God, Castiel has changed so much about Dean. He’s given him so much and he doesn’t even know if he ever told Cas that, if he ever said thanks for that, or if he even knows. 

“Because you cared, I cared.”

And oh, Dean’s chest hurts. Oh, fuck it really hurts.

“I cared about you,” Cas looks at him like he’s second guessing himself. “And I cared about Sam, I cared about Jack - I cared about the whole world because of you.“

Dean doesn’t know how to tell Cas that he’s the only reason Dean’s been able to fight for so long. 

“You changed me, Dean.”

He swallows a little bit, scared that the wrong thing is going to coming out of his mouth.

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

He knows what this is, knows what the dumb fuck has been doing this whole time. He was just kind of hoping that if he played dumb, he might be wrong. 

“Because it is.”

Dean shakes his head, swallowing back the tears he can already feel threatening to spill.

He wonders, briefly, if he yelled I love you loud enough, would it stave off Death herself?

Cas beats him to it.

“I love you.”

For a brief, spectacularly dumb moment, even for Dean, he hates Cas.

He hates that Cas is infinitely braver and better than Dean has ever been. He hates that Cas got the big dramatic confession scene. He hates himself for not saying it sooner, because Cas deserved more than this. Cas deserves the world, not Dean being terrified to open his mouth.

“Don’t do this, Cas.”

Don’t say it before me. Don’t leave me again, please, I’m no good without you. 

The Empty opens up behind him and Dean feels desperate with it, desperate to stop everything from happening.

“Cas -”

Billie kicks the door open and Dean can’t breathe.

Castiel’s smiling at him and the fucker looks content. 

He feels Castiel’s hand on his shoulder and for a brief moment, it burns like the handprint never left.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Everything happens so quickly after that, as Dean watches the Empty take the love of his life and Death herself. 

He can’t help but stare at the wall, the last place he saw Cas.

His phone rings and Dean looks just long enough to ignore the call, but he can’t see straight, can’t think straight. He’s crying, apparently.

“I love you. Fuck.”

‘Weeping Headstones - Prologue’

The beginning of a Doctor Who AU I’ll never finish: Tommy and Tubbo are all set to hang out and go stargazing when- Well, they never can get a bit of peace, can they? Feat. some suspicious statues in the shape of Weeping Angels...

It promises to be a beautiful starry night. That’s what Foolish apparently told Tubbo earlier that day as he hung around Snowchester. Tommy doesn’t know how he knows that or how far he trusts it to be true, but if he’s right, he’s glad Tubbo’ll be here to spend it with him. It’s been a good week or so since they’ve had the chance to go stargazing; between bad weather, Tubbo’s responsibilities in Snowchester, Tommy’s new hotel project and yesterday’s nuke test, they’ve both been rather busy lately.

Just the thought of it makes him clear his throat on reflex, and it brings a smile to his lips. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have radiation poisoning. Like, eighty percent. Okay, maybe he should’ve been more careful, but since he and Tubbo emerged from Dream’s creepy-ass vault with their lives Tommy’s been feeling rather indestructible. Not to bring Hamilton back into it, but he couldn’t seem to die. Besides, they had medicine, he hadn’t been accidentally hit by a nuke, and Dream was in the prison. Nothing could possibly pose him any threat right now.

As if to immediately prove him wrong, there’s a sharp ‘TWANG’ from only a few feet behind him, accompanied by a sharp whistle of air. Tommy’s reflexes from fighting a dozen wars and never knowing who to trust kick in, and he sinks down on the bench as an arrow sails through the empty space where his head just was. He has no armour and only a random sword on him: on the other hand, it’s just a skeleton. He draws his sword, dropping to one knee using the bench as a shield. The skeleton stands on the path outside his house, nocking another arrow on its bow. Tommy takes advantage of that brief moment, vaulting the side of the bench to run at the skeleton. He lands one hit on the wretched thing’s shoulder when he hears a familiar hiss from behind him to the right. He lets out a cry of surprise and swings in a wide arc, striking the creeper that had also snuck up on him and sending it back a couple metres or so. He scrambles back in the direction of L’Manberg, watching as the creeper shuffles forward and the skeleton fires a lazy shot to the side of it.

“You okay?” Tubbo sticks his head out of Tommy’s doorway, obviously alerted by Tommy’s surprised squeaking. “Nothing I can’t handle.” He says quickly, darting forward and delivering a second strike to the creeper, sending it reeling back again. Tubbo appears to disregard his statement, levelling a loaded crossbow at the skeleton and pinging a bolt off its skull. It makes a dull thudding sound and leaves a sizable dent. Tubbo reloads again, but the skeleton shoots first. Tommy doesn’t even need to dodge, as the arrow sticks in the creeper with a sound like someone stepping on a stick of TNT - don’t ask how he knows what that sounds like. There’s another hollow thud as Tubbo cracks another bolt off the skeleton’s body, and the magic holding its bones together disintegrates along with its form.

“We can call that one a team effort.” Tubbo shoots him a wink and goes to retreat back inside when he’s stopped by a small gasp from Tommy. He turns back, “What is it?” The blonde boy is sifting delicately through the pile of ash left by the creeper, revealing a round of black shellac like a palaeontologist uncovering a precious fossil. Neither boy can suppress the grin that forms. “Which is it?” Tubbo asks, and Tommy lifts up the disc to show the red centre. “Blocks again.” He leans back and gets to his feet. “You want it?”

“Sure.” Tommy passes it to Tubbo with a gentleness reserved only for discs and injured friends, and Tubbo gives him a genuine smile as he goes to put it in his ender chest. As he carefully puts it away, a warm feeling spreads through him. Contentment. He keeps an ear out for any more Tommy mishaps.

The boy in question is currently messing with the jukebox, resetting Cat since it had stopped playing since his encounter with the skeleton-creeper duo. The familiar synth melody begins to play, and Tommy’s about to recline back on his bench when he hears a series of small crashing noises, like someone’s dropped a frying pan down a flight of stairs. Furthermore, the noise came from the opposite direction to his house. He looks in the direction of the downtown SMP but sees nothing- No, wait.

Sticking just above the footpath is the top of a head. Someone’s crouched on the Prime Path stairs up to his house, and they’re watching him. Tommy maintains eye contact while getting up, going for a staring contest to psyche them out, whoever they are; he hasn’t figured that part out yet. They’ve got grey hair and a very stony gaze that turns his stomach over, but apart from that, he can’t make out anything since their body is out of his sightline. He makes his way over, head whirling with thoughts. Is this the apparently infamous Addison Rae??

Tubbo’s communicator buzzes unexpectedly. He yanks the microphone down to his mouth with two fingers, hands full of cr*p from Tommy’s chests. “Tubbooooo…” From the sound of Tommy’s voice, he’s making a regretful face and has just done something stupid. “On a scale of one to started a war, how bad is it?” A loud sigh is transmitted through the headphones in regrettably crisp quality. “Different scale. This is like that time I mistook a scarecrow for an attractive woman.” Tubbo sniggers. “What happened?”

“I feel like a foolish man, Tubbo.” “What did you do?” “I thought someone was watching me from the stairs, right? But it’s just this creepy-ass statue.” He plows through Tubbo’s giggles, kicking the statue with his foot in irritation. Part of its arm goes with it. “I’m being trolled with an oversized garden gnome.” “Weird. What’s it look like?” “It’s- It kinda looks like it belongs in a graveyard actually. It’s an angel, but its hands are on the stairs and everything, like it crawled up here to get me.” “Ah yes, angels. The most terrifying of monsters.” “I’m gonna ask Foolish if there’s a family relation-” “Oh god don’t-” “Or if I can kick it off the stairs like the other one. There’s a broken one down there.” He relayed, peering down at a pile of grey limbs and ash on the ground far below.

“I say pay it no mind. I’m nearly done.” Tubbo passes on, dumping an armful of saplings into a corner of the appropriate chest, inventively named ‘nature sh*t’. “How long does it take to find drugs in my chests? If it’s that hard, we have a serious problem, and not just with your eyesight.” Tommy complains, putting on a show of frustrated gestures to no one as he makes his way back to the bench. He flops down, ignoring the acute feeling of being watched sourcing from the statue on the stairs. “Tommy, looking in your chests is like trying to find the button in Pogtopia.” The blonde boy sits up straight, his back cracking in several places. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy can hear the smile in Tubbo’s voice the next time he speaks. “Lot of stuff that looks about right, but none of it actually does what you want it to.”

Tubbo hears the beginning of a reply masked with an undignified splutter, and he’s about to shoot something back first when the scream rips the sarky comment out of his mouth. He sprints up Tommy’s stairs and throws himself out the door, crossbow levelled… But there’s nothing there. Also, there’s no Tommy.

Panic starts to rise. He scours the immediate area, peering over the edge of the hill, along the path towards the hotel, all the way to the stairs down to L’Manberg, checking the houses opposite Tommy’s and down the stairs where Tommy said the angel statue was. And while there’s a broken pile of stone far below as he described… Whatever Tommy saw on the stairs is gone. 

There’s no time to worry about that.  “Tommy!”  His thoughts race. What could’ve happened?  The wind starts to pick up, and it brings a whirring sound only just obscured by the dying strains of Cat.  “Tommy?! C’mon man, this isn’t funny!”  It can’t have been a mob, there was nothing there. There’s no one else in the area; even so, Tubbo loads his crossbow and keeps it handy. He hasn’t been killed: there’s no blood and no body.

Could Dream have escaped the prison?

The thought sends a chill through him, rivalled only by a frigid Snowchester morning. Tommy hasn’t told him, properly, about his exile yet. There’s still a lot of leftover feelings involved for both of them. Even so, it’s plain to see: Dream hurt Tommy in ways neither of them had dealt with before: ways they should never have to deal with. If Dream were to get out of Pandora’s Vault and then go for Tommy before anyone could warn them…

Tubbo has his phone out and is halfway through typing Sam’s number when a small noise behind him causes his danger sense to start blaring like a nuclear siren. He turns, standing near Tommy’s door again, just in time to see a figure pass overheard, leaping from the roof of Tommy’s house and landing ahead of him. The figure makes a beeline for the bench, or more accurately the jukebox, and Tubbo watches dumbfounded as the figure lifts Cat from where it’s playing with practised ease and places it into their coat. The mystery thief is facing the wrong way for Tubbo to see their face, but he does take note of the pink hair tied back in a small ponytail, the ruby-red, fur-lined cloak and the sturdy boots leaving tread marks in the grass before they hop over the edge of the hill. He runs forward to perhaps get a shot in as they escape, only to be met with an empty landscape and the beginnings of a very pretty sunset.

He drops his phone to his side, jaw slack and nerves shaking. Someone’s trolling him and Tommy by moving an angel statue around. Then Tommy suddenly vanishes with a scream. And the icing on the absolute disaster cake: a possibly very powerful enemy’s just made off with one of the discs.

“Oh, f*ck me.”

Fanatics 82

The Battalion help someone with a ghost problem.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

Ghost Hunters

           Colton walks down the crowded halls of his school. He keeps his head down and his eyes clued to his phone, trying to stay out of everyone’s way.

           When he reaches his locker, he opens it to find a folded piece of paper fluttering out of the door. He picks it up, looks around curiously, and unfolds it.

           ‘Meet me in the math room after school’

           Colton stares at it questionably, constantly rereading it. It doesn’t say who it’s from. School ends after just one more period. Should he go?

           After school, he ends up going. The classroom is empty and dark, except for one person sitting near the window. She stands up as Colton enters.

           “Cassandra?” he questions.

           Cassandra Keaton is the most popular girl in Colton’s class and in the three years they’ve been classmates, she has never once acknowledged his presence.

           “Oh man, am I about to be punked?” Colton asks, backing away fearfully. “Is a bucket of pig’s blood about to fall on me?”

           “No,” Cassandra snaps, “listen, I need your help.”

           “Then why did you leave that note? Why meet me after school?”

           “Because I don’t want anyone to know about this,” she explains, “look, you talk about your friends who fight ghosts all the time. I need their help. I’m being haunted.”

           “For real?” Colton asks suspiciously. “How do I know this isn’t just some elaborate scheme to humiliate me?”

           “It’s true!” she barks and grabs her phone. “Look, I have proof.”

           She shows him a video she recorded. It’s of her kitchen. Everything seems quiet at first but she’s clearly trembling as she peeks around the corner. Then a mug flies off the counter seemingly by itself and smashes into the wall next to her.

           “Did you see that?” Cassandra questions frantically, “that’s not the first time that’s happened either! There’s a ghost in my house and it’s been trying to kill me and my parents!”

           “Okay, that was kinda creepy,” Colton admits, “even though it could still be a fake video.”

           Cassandra growls at him.

           “Alright, alright, I’ll believe you,” he relents, “but…look, I’ll introduce you to my friend, Squee, but I can’t guarantee he’ll help you. He’s been having a…rough time lately.”

           “Just let me talk to him,” she insists, “I’ll convince him.”            “Fine,” Colton sighs, “we can walk there together.”

           “No,” Cassandra snaps, “I can’t risk us being seen together. I’ll meet you at your house later. Where do you live again?”

           “Grave Road.”

           “Oh. Right…”

           “Not all the rumours are true.”

           “Fine, whatever,” Cassandra sighs, “I’ll meet you there in an hour. Now wait ten minutes for me to leave the school before you leave.”            “Alright,” Colton grunts.

           She leaves without another word and Colton leans against the wall to wait for his turn to leave.

           “The things I do for a pretty face,” he sighs.  

           Later, Colton waits outside his house for Cassandra. She shows up right on time, eyeing the surrounding houses warily as she approaches him.

           “People say all these houses belong to serial killers,” she says fearfully.

           “They aren’t…entirely wrong…,” Colton murmurs then clears his throat. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Squee.”

           They cross the yards to the neighboring house and Colton knocks on the door. Squee answers after a couple seconds. He looks tired. He blinks with surprise at Cassandra.

           “Hey, Squee,” Colton says, “this is my classmate, Cassandra. She uh needs your help.”

           “My house is haunted,” she explains, “and Colton says you fight ghosts. I need you to get rid of it.”

           “Uh,” Squee croaks, speechless before clearing his throat. “One second please.”            He grabs Colton’s shirt and yanks him into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

           “You talk about me at school?” Squee questions.

           “Sometimes,” Colton shrugs.

           “Could you not?”

           “Look, if you don’t wanna help her, you don’t have to,” Colton says, “all I said is that I would introduce you. Besides, it could all be a fake trick.”            “You think so?” Squee questions.

           “I don’t know,” he admits.

           “Okay, well, I really don’t wanna help her.”            “Then don’t.”

           Squee opens the door, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Look, Cassandra. Uh, I’m sorry about your…predicament. And I don’t know what kind of stories Colton tells at school, but I don’t fight ghosts. In fact, I actively try to avoid them.”

           “So all of Colton’s stories were lies?” Cassandra questions, “you didn’t battle a poltergeist in the graveyard?”

           “No, we did do that,” Squee admits.

           “Or fight a bunch of demons with water guns full of holy water?”

           “We did that too…”

           “Or trap a bunch of powerful poltergeists in a notebook?”

           “That’s also true…b-but I only did those things because I had to.”          

           “So you only look out for yourself,” Cassandra snorts.

           “Exactly,” Squee nods.

           “Please,” she begs as she grabs his hands, sending a tremendous shiver up his spine. “I can’t take this anymore. This ghost is trying to kill me and my parents. How can you, in good conscience, make me go back to that house without even trying to help me?”

           “Well…I don’t really know you…” he mutters.

           “Please,” she says again, “you’re my only hope.”            Squee groans and hangs his head. “Fine. I guess Dib wouldn’t be very happy if I said no. Now, please release my hands.”            She lets him go and he wipes his hands on his shirt. “Alright, I’ll call up my friends. Just give me your house address and we’ll see you there later.”

           Thank you,” Cassandra squeals. She quickly writes her address on a piece of paper before leaving.

           “Are you sure about this?” Colton asks.

           “No,” Squee sighs, “but I guess we can at least check it out.”

           He sends a text in the Battalion group chat about the situation. Everyone agrees to drive to Cassandra’s house together in the Epic.

           Cassandra answers the door quickly when they arrive, looking a bit more frazzled than when she met with Squee less than an hour ago.

           “Good evening,” Dib says jovially, “I’m Dib. This is Zim, Gaz, Tak, and Pepito, and you’ve already met Squee. We’re the Battalion.”

           “Right…” Cassandra replies with uncertainty.

           “You did the right thing in asking us for help with your ghost problem,” he continues, “we are old hands with this kind of thing. Squee and Pepito are both powerful clairvoyants and I am an expert at all things supernatural.”

           “What about those three?” she questions, nodding to Zim, Tak, and Gaz.

           “We’re pretty much the muscle,” Gaz replies.

           “Alright,” Cassandra grunts and holds open her door. “Come inside.”

           As they enter, Dib turns on a voice recorder. “We are now entering the subject’s house.”

           “You’re recording this?” Pepito questions incredulously.

           “Of course!” he replies excitedly, “this is the first time a stranger has ever asked us for help. I have to document it.”

           “Now.” Dib clears his throat and faces Cassandra. “Please state your name for the record.”

           “Uh Cassandra Keaton,” she replies.

           “When did this ghost start bothering you, Cassandra?”    

           “About a week ago.”

           “And do you know why?”

           “Um…no. It just randomly showed up.”

           “That’s odd,” Dib muses, “most spirits don’t lash out unless antagonized. Can you describe how it started and how it’s escalated?”

           “Well, at first it was just like footsteps in the hall or something,” Cassandra explains, “creepy but harmless. And then it turned into loud banging. And now it throws stuff around, sometimes right for me or my parents.”

           “Speaking of which, where are your parents now?” Dib asks.

           “They’re both still at work.”

           “Good, they won’t be in our way.”

           “Dib, can we hurry this up please,” Squee demands.

           “Oh, sure,” Dib nods, “go ahead.”

           “Okay, let’s get this over with so I can go home,” he grumbles as he and Pepito progress deeper into the house.

           “Wait, what’s the plan?” Cassandra asks.

           “Like I said, Squee and Pepito are both clairvoyants,” Dib explains, “they can see and communicate with spirits. So they’re gonna find your spirit and try to convince it to either leave or live here peacefully. Should that fail, we’ll have to resort to more…forceful means.”

           “You mean you can kill it?”

           “Well, ghosts are already dead, but in a sense, yes.”

           “Then why don’t you?” Cassandra demands.

  ��        “I have to agree with the annoying human on this one,” Zim says.

           “Look, if we can settle this peacefully, then it’s better to do so,” Dib insists.

           “But I don’t want a ghost in my house, peaceful or not,” Cassandra snaps.

           “Why not?” Gaz questions, “it’d just be like having an invisible roommate.”

           “Because it’s my house!”

           “For all you know, the ghost was here first,” Dib points out, “which would make you the interloper.”

           Cassandra scoffs, insulted.

           Meanwhile, Pepito and Squee explore the house, on the lookout for the ghost.

           “It’s quiet,” Pepito observes.

           “Yeah,” Squee agrees, “maybe Colton was right and she is lying.”

           “The others wouldn’t be happy about that.”            They peek into what must be the parents’ bedroom. They barely catch a glimpse of a figure crouching in the middle of the floor when a picture frame flies at them. They duck out of the way, standing on either side of the doorframe.

           “I think we found our ghost,” Pepito says.

           “Uh huh,” Squee nods.

           “Hey!” Pepito calls out, waving his hand in the doorway. “We come in peace. We just wanna talk.”

           “It…hurts…” a pained voice replies.

           The boys look into the bedroom. They see the ghost curled up in the middle of the floor, doubled over and gripping his head. A misty aura is swirling around him somewhat gently but every couple seconds it seems to get agitated. The ghost peeks at them through his arm.

           “I’m Squee, this is Pepito,” Squee says as they cautiously approach. “What’s your name?”

           “Leonardo,” the ghost replies.

           “Why are you here, Leonardo?” Pepito asks.

           “I was called here.”

           “Called?” Squee questions.

           “Yes,” Leonardo croaks. He’s clearly in great pain and the aura around him is getting more agitated. “That girl and her friends called to me. So I went to them. Now I can’t leave.”

           Pepito and Squee look at each other in surprise and confusion.

           Back downstairs, the rest of the Battalion and Cassandra have moved to the living room. Zim, Tak, Dib, and Gaz are sitting patiently, but Cassandra hasn’t stopped pacing.

           “What’s taking so long?” she asks.

           “Pepito and Squee have likely found the ghost and are talking to it,” Dib replies.

           “Oh, great,” she scoffs, “I’m glad they can have a nice conversation with the thing that’s been trying to kill me all week.”

           “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” he says reassuringly, “most spirits are harmless. Unless it’s devolving into a poltergeist. But that only happens to spirits under great distress.”

           They suddenly hear rapid footsteps coming down the hall before Pepito and Squee slide into the doorway, looking furious.

           “You lied!” Pepito barks, pointing accusingly at Cassandra.

           “Wh-what?” she questions.

           “You said you didn’t know why the ghost was here,” Squee snaps, “but you called it here! You and your friends used a Ouija board and called Leonardo here. But then you didn’t allow him to leave, and now he’s stuck here! And the longer he’s here, the more unstable he gets. That’s why he’s been attacking. It’s not his fault, it’s yours!”

           “Is this true?” Dib questions.

           Cassandra trembles beneath everyone’s accusing glares. “Alright! It’s true! My friends and I used a Ouija board to talk to a ghost. It responded and my friends got scared and left. I didn’t think it would stay.”

           “You didn’t give him permission to leave?” Dib asks.

           “Permission?”

           “When you call a spirit to the living world, you have to give it permission to leave,” he explains like it’s so obvious. “That’s séance 101. Now it’s stuck here which is probably causing it tremendous emotional distress, which would make it devolve into a poltergeist. That’s why the spiritual activity has been escalating and it’s started attacking you.”

           “This is why I hate helping people,” Squee groans, rubbing his forehead.

           “You have to help me!” Cassandra begs.

           “This really sounds like a ‘you’ problem now,” Tak says.

           “She’s right,” Dib nods, “unfortunately, only you can solve this. You and your friends gotta use a Ouija board to give the ghost permission to leave. That is, if it’s not too late.”

           “Can’t you just kill it?” Cassandra questions.

           “No way,” Pepito snaps, “this isn’t Leonardo’s fault, it’s yours.”

           “Yeah, if anyone should be killed, it’s you,” Squee agrees.

           “What?!” she squeals.

           “Relax,” Dib says, “we’re not actually gonna kill you.”

           “Aw,” Zim sighs, disappointed.

           “And if we can avoid destroying the ghost, we will,” he adds, “now call your friends over here so you can allow it to leave.”

           “Ugh, fine,” Cassandra groans and grabs her phone.

           A few minutes later, Cassandra’s friends arrive- Brett, Mitch, Laney, and Brittany. Everyone gathers in Cassandra’s bedroom; she and her friends sit on the floor around the Ouija board while the Battalion stand by the door.

           “First, call to the ghost and make sure it’s made contact,” Dib says.

           “His name’s Leonardo,” Squee points out.

           “Sorry. Call to Leonardo and make sure he’s made contact.”

           Cassandra and her friends rest their hands on the planchette. “Um, we call to the ghost haunting this house. Are you there?”

           The planchette slides to the word ‘Yes’, making Laney cry out with surprise. Pepito and Squee can see Leonardo standing over them. His aura is much more agitated now and his face is twisted up with pain.

           “Okay, now you all have to say ‘thank you for visiting. You may leave. Goodbye’,” Dib orders, “all at once now.”

           “Thank you for visiting,” Cassandra, Brett, Mitch, and Brittany say but Laney just whimpers fearfully.

           “You all have to say it!” Dib demands.

           “Laney, come on,” Brett insists.

           “Is…is anyone else cold?” she questions fearfully.

           Leonardo’s aura has gotten bigger and has started swirling around him angrily. His expression cannot be seen as he’s doubled over, clearly in great pain.

           “Hurry up and say the thing!” Pepito barks.

           “Laney, come on,” Brittany says gently. Laney nods and they all look at the Ouija board.

           “Thank you for visiting,” they say simultaneously.

           Leonardo’s aura suddenly knocks pictures off Cassandra’s wall, startling all of them into letting go of the planchette.

           “Don’t stop!” Dib orders.

           “Just hurry up and finish it already!” Zim barks.

           “He’s getting worse,” Squee observes.

           Leonardo falls to his knees, crying out in agony as his aura grows bigger and bigger, sending all loose objects flying about. Cassandra and her friends all scream and try to run, but Zim and Tak block the doorway.

           “Let us go!” Cassandra begs.

           “Not until you say the thing!” Zim barks.

           “How can we in all this?” she questions, gesturing to the tornado of flying objects.

           “Hang on,” Pepito says and sticks out his hands. He creates a bubble of black energy around Leonardo, containing his unstable aura. All of the flying objects drop to the floor.

           “His darkness is growing,” Pepito warns, “I can’t hold him for long. Hurry it up!”

           Cassandra and her friends quickly kneel around the Ouija board, placing their hands on the planchette.

           “Thank you for coming,” they say simultaneously. Pepito groans with exertion as Leonardo’s aura pounds against the bubble, threatening to break it. “You may leave.”

          The bubble shatters, making Pepito cry out in pain as the aura spreads throughout the room, picking up all the objects.

           “Goodbye!”

           Suddenly, everything stops. All the items float motionless in the air for a second as Leonardo’s aura just sort of shimmers. Then they all drop to the floor as it shrinks down until it’s just cloaking his figure. He looks up in surprise, all the pain gone from his expression. Then he stands up and smiles at Pepito and Squee.

           “Thank you,” he says as he disappears. “Goodbye.”

           “Bye,” Pepito smiles as he and Squee wave.

           “Is it…is it over?” Cassandra asks.

           “It’s over,” Dib smiles.

          “Cassandra?” Everyone turns to the voice and sees a man and woman looking into the room.

           “Mom, Dad,” Cassandra says.

           “What’s going on?” her dad questions.

           “Um…the ghost is gone,” she replies.

           “Oh, honey,” her mom sighs, “we told you, there’s no such thing as ghosts.”

           “Okay, we’re done here,” Dib grunts, “if I wanna hear a parent’s disbelief in their kid, I’d hang out with my dad. Let’s go.”

           “Expect a bill in the mail,” Gaz says as one by one, the Battalion leave the room.

           “Don’t summon anymore ghosts,” Pepito adds.

           “I’m never helping anyone again, never,” Squee swears.

           Zim and Tak both huff in annoyance.

           After they’ve left, Cassandra’s parents look back into the room.

           “You better clean up this mess,” her mom orders.

           “But Mom! A ghost really did this!” Cassandra insists as she follows them down the hall. “I had to talk to a bunch of nerds to save us!”

           Brett, Mitch, Laney, and Brittany look at each other.

           “Let’s never mention this to anyone,” Brittany says.

           The others nod. “Agreed.”

Waiting for Roses

Pairing: Dean x Reader... kind of 😏

Summary: Fridays are special. He waits for her on Fridays... and he waits for her with roses.

Warnings: mention of major character death, Dean’s daughter being cute and sad, Daddy!Dean, overall bittersweet sadness :)

Word count: 2.1K

Extra notes: Dean has a daughter here. Her name is Joanna. He calls her Jo or Joey. Also, I didn’t describe a lot of Jo and Y/N because I want you, the reader, to imagine yourself and the little girl in whatever shape or form you want. Dean loves you both with all he has.

This fic is based on the song “Rosas” by La Oreja de Van Gogh. You can listen to it here!  

So, this is my first angsty one-shot here... and if I may say so, I’m pretty proud of it! I hope you guys like it! :D

Special thanks to @percywinchester27, @flamencodiva and @superfanficnatural for beta’ing this little fic. I cannot thank you enough <3

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He’s done the same damn thing every Friday for years now and he’ll do it for years to come. Though, there is a rare occasion when he doesn’t follow through with it, and it’s more likely for him to have no plans on a Friday evening because of this little thing. It’s incredibly stupid (he always takes that thought back) and some days he finds himself swearing that this Friday would be the last, that he should’ve stopped doing this a long ago, but fuck it. It’s more of a tradition now rather than a bitter memory. 

A young girl is sitting beside him on the park bench, a bouquet of pink roses lying on her lap. She looks at the matching bouquet of roses in her father’s hands as the people in the park come and go on this particular grey friday. She’s wearing small jeans, a colorful shirt and a pair of light-up tennis shoes that took months of begging on her part, until he gave in and bought them.

“Dad, can we play now?”

Dean takes a deep breath as he takes in the question, eyeing the now almost empty park in front of them. He has to admit, ever since Jo asked him to take her with him on his Friday outings, they’ve become a little less sad, a little less heartbroken and a lot more, dare he say, enjoyable.

He knows how much his daughter likes their Fridays now. She’s made sure that he does more than sit on this very same bench, with no other company than his spiraling thoughts, every fucking Friday until it’s time for the next destination. So he turns to look at her, takes the roses gently from her hands and lays both bouquets down on the bench before he smiles complicitly, “Pit stop at the swings?”

Joanna Winchester wastes no time in dashing out of the bench, “Last one to get there is a rotten egg!” she screams back at him.

Dean has to fight a knot that begins to form in his throat at her little taunt. So much like her mother.

The one thing he can still do at the moment is run, so he does. Dean screams exaggeratedly and loudly, telling his daughter, ‘it’s not fair! You're too fast and I’m too old for this!’ 

Her giggles in response are music to his ears.

Dean groans in defeat once more as he watches her take a seat in a swing and wave her arms and legs in a little dance, whooping and claiming victory.

He makes a show of falling to the ground, holding a hand to his chest and panting, “One day I’m gonna win, bug. Mark my words.”

Joanna giggles again, teasing him about being a sore loser. 

They spend the next hour playing and goofing around the park. Both Winchesters keep looking back at their bench, making sure the roses are still there, beautiful and unharmed.

“Dad, can we go to Mom now?”

Her father stops dead in his tracks as the laugh dies right away. With a quick look at his watch, Dean nods, “Yup, time to go to Mom, bean.”

Bouquets in hand, they start walking out of the park and towards Baby. As soon as Jo has her seatbelt on, they’re out of there.

Dean checks on her every few seconds. She’s caressing the roses delicately, even playing with a few of the petals to open them up a little bit more. She has questions. He braces himself for a bomb.

“Dad, why do we always sit on that bench?”

“What bench?”

“The one at the park. Our bench.”

He has to clear his throat a couple of times as the memories flood back, “That’s where Mommy and I used to meet. For our dates.”

“Really?” her little eyes widened in wonder.

“Uh-huh,” he confirms. “I used to wait for her right on that bench with roses ready for her. Every time. We liked to go out on Fridays.”

Joanna stares down at the roses in silence for the next few moments. The next time he looks into the rearview mirror, his little bug is sniffling and he catches sight of a little droplet falling down her face, “But then Mommy had to go,” she sniffles.

“Mommy had to go,” he croaks in agreement. “But, she loves her roses. And I like waiting for her.”

“You don’t hate that I come with you?”

“Joey, there is nothing that could be better than waiting for Mommy with you.”

“Okay,” another sniffle.

“Bug, look at me,” he pleads softly, giving his daughter his best smile once she does. “I love you very, very, very much, alright? And there is nothing I would rather do than be with my wonderful little ladybug.” Dean takes the last turn, getting into the parking lot of the cemetery. With trembling hands, he kills the engine, takes his bouquet and gets out of the car to help Jo out of the backseat. As she steps out, he gives her a big hug, careful to not ruin her bouquet, “Okie dokie, Joey?” he mumbled to her ear.

Her little fist tightens in his shirt as a trembling and small ‘okie dokie, Dad’ is mumbled back. 

They stay there for a few more seconds, clinging to each other with all their strength before stepping away to look at the gate that leads to the graveyard. Taking a hold of Jo’s free hand, Dean smiles down at her as tears begin to run down his face.

“Let’s go, bug. We can’t miss Mommy’s birthday.”

It’s fairly easy to spot that particular grave. It’s unmissable to both of them by now; the path is so familiar that they could find it blind. The funeral was the second worst day of his life, with a trembling six year old Jo clinging to him as she cried, an uncharacteristically quiet Sam, a crying Castiel and the few friends (more like family) they had left. He’d fought tooth and nail to not give her a hunter’s funeral. 

Burning her was a point of no return and he couldn’t imagine how he’d live knowing that he’d completely closed the door on the possibility of her coming back. Back then, he’d reasoned that if she ever came back, (if he found a way to do it) she’d need her body.

But no demon ever agreed to bargain, no matter what he did. Angels were dicks, like always. Billie had gone on about balance and how the Winchesters couldn’t go around avoiding death forever, no matter how much she’d respected Y/N back when she still breathed. Rowena, Castiel and even the Winchester brothers themselves couldn’t find a spell strong enough to bring her back (or maybe Dean hadn’t been told if they ever did). She was gone. After two years, he still wasn’t okay with that, but fuck if he hadn’t learned to brace himself and be there for Joey.

Dean feels Jo squeeze his hand tighter when they’re only a few feet away from it. Her grave is simple, typical gray stone engraved with a name, a date and a quote in front of a large patch of grass where the coffin had gone down. There used to only be one vase for the roses he brought in weekly, but a second one had been added after Joanna began to ask her father to let her buy Mommy flowers, too.

They dust away any leaves or dirt that may have made its way onto the stone. Dean takes out the now dead roses from last Friday before setting the new flowers on the vases either side of the grave and sitting next to each other in front of it. Dean lays one arm across his daughter’s shoulders and takes a hold of one of her hands with the other. 

“Happy birthday, honey,” he croaks.

Joey has begun to sniffle again beside him, “Happy birthday, Mommy.” 

Dean screws his eyes shut at the way her voice cracks and turns to kiss the top of her hair, whispering how he’s here and mommy’s here as well, and that it’s okay, before looking at the stone one more time. 

“We got you your favorites,” he smiles softly. “Most beautiful roses we could find. Joey thought you would be in a mood for pink roses.”

“I’ll try to find white ones next time,” the girl promised.

“I’m sure she’ll love them,” he chuckled sadly. “We miss you, babe. A lot… but we are doing good lately, don’t worry. Joey’s doing great at school. You’d be so proud of our little ladybug; she’s super smart. Like, super duper smart. Just like you. We learned how to properly bake cakes a few days ago, so we can surprise uncle Sammy next year on his birthday,” a little poke on his stomach has him rolling his eyes playfully, though the tears won’t stop coming. “Alright, and so we can also bake Joey’s birthday cake in a few months instead of buying it from ‘the creepy lady’ bakery.”

The kid is quick to defend herself, “I don’t like how she always grabs my cheeks!” she complains. “Dad and I had a flour fight when we made cakes. He even let me watch the Lord of the Rings!”

“She loved it, by the way. I’m telling ya, our kid is super awesome!”

The talks are the best part of every Friday most of the time. Both Winchesters get wrapped up in whatever ducktales they had during the week, or plans and aches and such and they tell her everything about them. Sometimes they stay for hours, sometimes mere minutes, but they visit most Fridays without fail. If they really try, it feels like she never really left. Dean can still hear her laughter, her jokes and puns and all the love she used to give him and their daughter. Joanna told him once that sometimes she gets scared because she can’t remember her clearly, but he’s quick to solve that with a quick trip to the living room in their house –where the photo album lives– and as many anecdotes he can tell her about.

They stay by her side for about half an hour. 

Reluctantly, they get up and once again, they tell her they love and miss her. Dean promises they’ll be back next Friday and Jo is quick to confirm it. By the time they’re back in Baby, both Winchesters’ smiles are not so wobbly, not so sad. 

Halfway home, Jo breaks the comfortable silence, “You really think mom would be proud of me?”

“Oh ladybug,” he huffs. “I know so. She’d be incredibly proud of you.”

When they get home, Dean feels lighter and he knows his ladybug is feeling better, too. 

Fridays are special.

So he claps his hands together and proposes a movie marathon, followed by board games tomorrow morning. Jo’s excitement at the sole mention of the plan has him taking out popcorn and setting it in the microwave. She runs to the living room to pick out the movies they’re watching and get some blankets as well as changing into her pajamas.

Treacherous thoughts begin to invade his head: how he misses Y/N, how he wishes she could enjoy Fridays like always. All the big and little things that used to make this house a home (they couldn’t risk anything supernatural happening to Jo). Dean shakes his head. No. She is gone, but this house is still a home and their family is still loving.

Hunting is thousands of miles behind him; something he never thought could be possible. Joey will grow up. More important than that, he’ll be there for their daughter. He’ll do whatever he can to make sure she has a future and he’ll do it for Y/N, because if she can’t see it then damn it, he’ll be there to raise their little lady bug.

As the microwave lets him know the popcorn is ready, he makes his way to the couch in front of the TV, and Dean finds peace. He can do this. He’ll wait for as many Fridays as he can, with roses in his hands and love in his heart and all the cheesy things Y/N used to love.

He’ll wait to see his wife again even if it means it’ll take decades for that to happen. 

Dean passes the popcorn over to Jo as the opening credits for The Princess and the Frog begin and he lays an arm over the back of the couch. 

He has hope that next Friday will be good as well.

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I really hope y’all liked it! Please lemme know what you think, whether it’s with a reblog, an ask, everything and anything is welcome! :D

Tags: @katehuntington @winchest09 @emoryhemsworth @talesmaniac89 @whatareyousearchingfordean @deanwanddamons @maximumkillshot @malfoysqueen14 @flamencodiva @superfanficnatural @percywinchester27​

Here we go again with my recap ramblings! Had to do a bit of nip/tuck for this one, it’s a bit lengthy.

My opinions, as I've stated before, are based on my limited knowledge of the Star Wars universe. I have NOT seen anything outside of the movie franchise, so please bear with me...

- First off I would like to express my appreciation for this episode going balls-to-the-wall with Ashoka, instead of spending an unnecessary amount of time working towards her introduction. Considering we spent two episodes just GETTING to her, the fact that it was like "BAM! There she is!" was very refreshing.

- Also I would like to thank Filoni for establishing her badassery UP FRONT, instead of having her do some sort of "Surprise! These are my special skills!" maneuver. The concept hit home on the first try, and it hit HARD.

- I know people are iffy with Rosario Dawson (I'm not that caught up on her to know the details myself), but she does bring a certain......presence, I guess......to this episode, but just as the character, not really HER specifically.  She seems more powerful when she's silent, versus when she speaks, her portrayal of the dialogue seems kinda monotone for my taste honestly. (I think it's worth mentioning that, while I understand people wish for Ashley, it would involve "black face" makeup on some levels to achieve Ashoka's skin-tone, I don't think it would've worked, no matter how skilled the makeup artists are)

- The ghastly forest makes me think of the lighting technique they used for The Half Blood Prince film

- As I've said, I have not seen the Clone Wars series, so I'm not familiar with Ashoka's animated fighting techniques, but I do love how practical she is with the lightsabers in a dark setting, turning them off to avoid too much attention, and only turning them back on right when she's ready to attack to really take her enemies off guard

- Din narrating to the baby has me in my feels a bit, this dude is really going through the motions isn't he? He's trying so hard to keep it together, acting like he's fine that his whole world is about to change in a way he's not fully prepared to handle.

- Can we take a moment to discuss how observant the baby is? He may not know about circuitry to help with ship maintenance, but he has the wherewithal to know when he's headed to a place that's potentially harmful. Episode 7 in season 1, when Din mentions going back to Nevarro? The baby immediately tries to adjust the ships trajectory to avoid going to a place of which his only memories consist of him being experimented on and possibly almost killed. And NOW? Now he recognizes that the name of the planet Din is taking him to will be where they separate, so OF COURSE his first instinct is to, not only avoid leaving Din's side at the pilot's seat, but to also seek out one of the few tangible objects that brings him comfort: THE METAL BALL FROM THE LEVER........baby boi is so smart, we do not give him enough credit

- Baby REALLY didn't want to leave his papa.......also DIN LET HIM KEEP THE BALL PLS

- Din walking through the town reminded me of the Two Towers when the party arrived at Rohan and Gimli was like "You'll find more cheer in a graveyard"

- I have to wonder what was going through Din's mind upon seeing the prisoners in the electric cages. I'm sure he was disgusted, but everything presented in this series is VERY deliberate, ergo Din was meant to see this to IMMEDIATELY establish that this magistrate was someone he wouldn't want to be allied with, a feat that could've been established with the intro into the town alone, but it seems that the best way to really drive home just how terrible these people are is voyeurism.

- The town versus inside the magistrates gated home? Night and day. The contrast is intriguing, how "dead" the town looks but inside the second gate there's life, somewhat flourishing.

- If Din KNEW that the magistrate was referring to Ashoka, than he basically tricked her into helping him find her under the guise of making a deal. If not, than he figured it out during their first fight upon seeing how she maneuvered around him. Either way, we stan one smart cookie.

- Lang reminds me of Number Two from the Austin Powers series

- BATU BATU BATU BATU

- I love the fact that Din is including the baby in his bounty hunting process, not just telling him they've reached the coordinates, but also letting him know to start looking, IT'S BRING YOUR SON TO WORK DAY......(but like EVERYday for him tho.....)

- Okay but like LOGICALLY I KNEW THAT BESKAR CANNOT BE DAMAGED BY A LIGHTSABER BUT MY HEART STOPPED FOR A SECOND

- DIN PACING LIKE A NERVOUS DAD IN THE DOCTORS OFFICE, POOR BABY

- I have to wonder how the baby "talks" via the Force, is it full "sentences"? Clipped "sentences"? Or is it kinda like Renesmee from Twilight where she "inserted" visuals into another person's head? I know they can "feel" each other's thoughts, but I've always wondered exactly HOW they "feel" them...

- I understand people are a little put-off by the lekku, and that cosplayers have done it "better", but we have to remember that cosplayers aren't doing (multiple) fight scenes, the head-piece has to be practical in its design, as well as authentic. There are stunt-doubles, and having to create multiple versions that not only can withstand constant movement, but also won't break easily. Not to mention when you try to do a live-action based off an animated series, it almost ALWAYS looks "wrong" on some levels (live-action anime? it's awkward af, no matter how hard you try...)

- About the Grogu controversy: I'm on the fence, but will most likely come to love/appreciate the name. Is it within the realm of what I was expecting? Nope. Is it possible that we are ALL projecting our own ideas of what name the baby "should" have had, so much so that almost ANY name they would've given him would've sounded "wrong"? VERY distinctive possibility......this is Star Wars after all, names are meant to sound "weird".  Grogu sounds like a Star Wars kind of name, in fact it's kinda fitting for a species that looks reptilian-ish

- THE BABY HEARING DIN SAY HIS NAME FOR THE FIRST TIME, THE WHIPLASH IN THAT HEAD-TURN, BUT LIKE.....I love the slight parallels to Grogu's and Din's name-arc: They both went DECADES without hearing their own names, and the reveal's are so contrasting, Din hears his name during a time when he's in danger, the baby hears his while having a heart-to-heart. I'm curious about how Din was feeling in this moment, thinking about how long Grogu must've gone without hearing his own name, and how Din longs to have someone say HIS name with an almost reverent tone

- YODA NAME-DROP.....but also Grogu looked at Ashoka when she said the name, I wonder if he knew Yoda

- Some people have mentioned Ashoka's lekku not being long enough for her age, I'm wondering if they compensated with the "wrinkles" in it? Can lekku have wrinkles?

- Grogu trying to be good for his papa, but also NOT wanting to use his powers because he KNOWS it would mean that papa has to leave him (and Din's little head tilt to get him to cooperate) I JUST....I CAN'T

- Ashoka telling Din to connect with Grogu, and Din shifting around all like "LOOK ITS BAD ENOUGH I HAVE TO LEAVE MY SON WITH YOU, CAN YOU NOT MAKE THIS HARDER FOR ME???"

- FATHER AND SON GAME OF CATCH AND DIN'S EXCITEMENT WHEN GROGU CAUGHT THE METAL BALL, MY OVARIES CANNOT TAKE THIS MUCH FLUFF

- Subtle Anakin reference, given what happened to the younglings after he went dark, it's a good thing Grogu was taken.......but by WHO???

- Din calling the lightsabers "laser swords" and Ashoka's little grin like, she WANTED to correct him, but she was enjoying Din's dorkyness???

- Din trusted her enough to let her borrow his pauldron??? I HAD A MOMENT

- DIN GUNSLINGER DJARIN

- Did my eyes fucking DECEIVE ME?? DID ASHOKA CUT THE SPEAR IN HALF????? Like this is the second time I'm watching this, the first time I noticed it I was like "No fucking WAY", but I'm seeing it AGAIN, IT WASN'T A TRICK OF THE EYE....so beskar is only lightsaber RESISTANT??

- Lang vs Din was like Johnny Ringo vs Doc Holliday, "You're no daisy!"

- More name-dropping. Did Ashoka kill Elsbeth? They never show her after the exchange.

- Din could've jetpacked his way back to the ship, but chose to walk instead. The way he avoids actually waking up Grogu at first, holding him for a bit, then taking the time to get him ready. Din baby who are you fooling? You're not ready, and you never will be.

- DIN STICKING HIS FINGERS OUT TO LET GROGU HOLD HIS HAND

- Ashoka knows okay?? She KNOWS that Din and Grogu are meant to stay together

- Din calling out Ashoka for trying to weasel out of the deal vs calling out Bo-Katan for changing the deal: No malice in his voice, he barely put up a fight, then sounded relieved after she gave him an alternative, one that could lead to the baby deciding NOT to become like the Jedi and instead choosing to remain with this buir

Metanoia - Chapter Eleven (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 4.2k

Warnings; swearing, mention of murder and torture

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

You run your fingers over the white cotton sheet, trying to ignore the fact that you’re currently inside of the training center. You’d be able to recognize this place with your eyes closed. It’s made out of concrete with all the newest technologies. The people that are walking around here--especially the avoxes--have the same clothes and designs as the people inside of the training center.

Of course, the avoxes change clothes, but the things they wear are still outstanding and degrading to differentiate them from everyone else. They still look as best as they possibly can while also looking like a servant. That doesn’t mean that they can’t re-wear clothes though, which is exactly what’s happened.

The avox that stands in the corner of your room wears the same black and white plaid outfit that they wore during the night of the interviews. It’s a terrifying outfit, really. You absolutely hate it, which is another reason why you’re avoiding eye contact. You’d ask them to turn around if it weren’t for the fact that she has to keep an eye on you.

The doors to your “hospital room” are glass, you can see right through them. Which also means that you’re able to watch the doctors that come in and out of rooms. Some push carts, others don’t. It doesn’t really matter, all that does is that there’s brief moments where someone isn’t in the hallway.

They all look so rushed, as if they’re working on some sort of deadline. How fast they’ll move…

It’s almost as if there’s something going on out there. Or they don’t want you catching on to what’s happening.

“Huh.” you push yourself up from the bed, impatient at the lack of attention that you’re getting, compared to whatever is going on out there.

As soon as you get too close to the glass, the avox jerks forward and grabs a hold of your arm. It’s not a tight grasp, she just pulls you back a little, and then lets go. Hell, from what you can see, she’s fearful. Like you’ll blow up on her or something.

“Is someone coming, then? Soon?” you ask, and she nods.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you take a seat on the bed again. This time, you find something to occupy yourself. Firstly, there’s no cut on the back of your head anymore, it feels like. No bump, no dip, it might be completely healed. It really just means that you’ve been here for a couple of days.

As for everything else that has happened to you--it’s gone. No more scabs from the man-eating spiders. Your skin is smooth, but that doesn’t excuse every single little scar that it’s left behind. 

Your heart twists, you hold your arms out in front of you, seeing the fresh scars. Next are your legs, which are even fresher. They’ve still got that bright color to them, not yet blending into your skin tone. And it’s probably because you didn’t pay as much attention to your legs as you did your upper body.

Which was because your upper body was being televised. For the rest of that day, you were only in a sports bra. There really wasn’t a point in your eyes to just strip down the bottom half of the suit to apply ointment that wouldn’t even stay put. No one would be seeing it anyway.

The scars are fixable, you think. It’ll cost money, but you can get clear skin again--’polished’ as they say. It would have to come before the rest of the tattoos, though… and the old tattoos would also have to be fixed in that case. A lot of money, and you’re not too fond of fixing those tattoos. They’re memories, keepsakes.

You could always just get the rest of your body fixed, and leave your arms alone to avoid all the fixing stuff. It’s your best bet.

You look to your left wrist to see the soulmate words. You rub your thumb over them for a moment, and then scowl.

They left you behind. They left you with Johanna and Peeta, which was the worst thing that they could have done.

They didn’t even wait. Or even try with you standing there--it’s not like they couldn’t have seen you! You were standing right fucking there beneath their noses. And with how everything had gone down, you’re sure they could have afforded one more drop. There was more than enough time.

The glass doors slide open, making you look up.

You can’t help the amount of rage that shoots through your veins instantly.

“And so we meet again,” the words are bitter out of your mouth, you press your lips together in a thin line.

President Snow.

He motions the avox out of the room, and she listens without hesitance. With that, Snow sits in the chair--that you hadn’t even noticed was there--and crosses his legs.

“Yes we do.” he says.

You clench and unclench your teeth while you stare at him, trying not to have an attitude, since this man can kill you with the snap of his fingers and not even feel remorse for it. However, it all goes out the window because he’s sitting right in front of you with a smug look.

This motherfucker has ruined your life over and over and over.

Before your first games, you had it good. You had a big, loving family. You had two sisters and three brothers, and a pair of parents that would do anything to protect you all. Your grandparents, aunts, and uncles, and cousins were all alive. You had big gatherings during the summers, and cried when they had to go home.

And then you volunteered for the games, as you were instructed to do. You won your games, and at the end of your so-very-rich victory tour, he presents you with the worst fucking offer you’ve ever heard. Sell yourself for more money. Money, jewels, riches, clothes, love--adoration. 

Except, it wasn’t an offer, he was telling you. But what he wasn’t telling you, was that he was picking off those cousins, those aunts, uncles and grandparents. Next were those siblings of yours, and when you said no for the final time, your parents. You came home to a fucking massacre in your childhood home.

Everyone looked like they were frozen in place. They were shot, beaten, bruised and bloody, but they were right where they had been when it had happened. Your father was still in his armchair, your mother face-down in dirty sink water, your siblings playing in their rooms, reading books, sleeping. 

It was all the same for the rest of your family too.

And when the first fucking check with your victory money came through, you used it all to put them in the ground. You basically had your own fucking cemetary. 

The worst part is that you agreed after all that. He had killed everyone, and yet you still went through with it, as if you had anything else to lose. Your family was the only thing that you had left. It wouldn’t be the same if he killed friends, because it’s not you who would be grieving anymore, it would be their family.

While you were touring the Capitol on President Snow’s order, you got the tattoos done. You had the flowers done first for your family, every name had a flower that reminded you of them, and at your wrist would be the soulmate tattoo. You had your left arm done first so that the Capitol people would think that you were being sweet.

Then you had the graveyard done. And along came the graveyard, came the nastiest fucking attitude any of them had seen. It only took a week before Snow basically packaged you up and sent you back to District Two. He has to admit that it was smart of you to do that. And for fucksake, you’d do it again.

The attitude is a defense mechanism to keep the people who are too weak-hearted and manipulative-looking away. Only the ones who don’t care, stick through it. And they tend to be the more understanding type on top of that.

The last time that you saw President Snow--other than on tv or in person as the tribute parade--was when he tried to convince you to allow Tanith to be sold around the same way you were.

You felt so fucking smart then, for picking her out specifically. You basically told Snow ‘good luck’ with trying to find anyone she cared about to kill off. She’s a fucking orphan, and back then she didn’t really like you very much. So, he couldn’t get to her by attacking you.

With Zavian, he just wasn’t desirable.

“Stop staring and get to it already.” you snap, lowering your chin a bit as you bite your cheek.

Snow laughs, “Never was one for small talk.” he pauses for a moment, his face becoming more serious, “What do you know about Katniss Everdeen and her plan?”

Well, this can be a very easy answer, or a very hard one. 

Technically, you don’t know anything. You don’t know any part of the plan that they had going on, except for the fact that they had to keep an eye on Katniss and Peeta the entire time. Just to make sure that they wouldn’t get hurt, killed or ran off. The only thing you had the slightest clue on, was the fucking time on when you guys would get out. And even then, it seemed like that was unplanned.

But at the same time, you know a lot more than you’re supposed to, thanks to that talk with Finnick before the interviews. His question of whether or not you were a loyalist was an immediate click. You knew in that exact moment that he was planning something with the others.

You look over Snow’s face, he’s studying you, waiting patiently. It’s only been a couple of seconds. 

You can’t play dumb, you can’t say anything stupid or he will know and be on your ass almost as quickly as you knew of the plan.

“You want the truth?” you ask him, he motions for you to get started, “I didn’t know anything, I wasn’t told a single thing--I put the pieces together myself, and it wasn’t very easy to do. Which means, I could be completely wrong.”

“Tell me what you think you know, then.” 

“I thought that Finnick, Katniss, Peeta, and Johanna were in an alliance, and that they were all getting along.” you lean forward, “I was wrong. Katniss wanted to kill Finnick in the cornucopia until he showed her some dumb bracelet that belonged to Haymitch.

“I only stuck around them inside of the arena cause Finnick and I are soulmates.” you hold up your wrist for Snow to see, “I wouldn’t have dreamt of doing it otherwise.”

Snow squints at you, ignoring your arm, “What else?”

“Finnick and I had a conversation thirty minutes prior to the interviews.” you lift your chin a little now, trying to recall the entire conversation, “The basis was an alliance between him and I, at least. I chose to ask because of the scores that they had all gotten, thinking that it would be better to be on their good side. I didn’t want to be hunted.”

Snow watches you hesitate, and you know that there’s no way you can avoid this now.

The thing is, you’re trying to not get anyone in trouble, while also saving your own ass, and it’s hard to do. Because you don’t owe any of them a single thing, but there’s something in your chest telling you to do it anyway. 

You feel… anxious. And it’s your own emotion.

Your voice is quieter, “Finnick had asked me a peculiar question just before the conversation was over, and I still don’t know what it means.” Snow won’t be able to tell if you’re being truthful or not, “He asked me if I was a loyalist.”

Snow hums, rubbing his white beard, “That’s not it.”

You shake your head, “That’s it. Finnick knew that I had wanted to be in their alliance to be able to kill him and the others. He said that he wouldn’t let me in because of that, and then he asked me if I was a loyalist. I told him I didn’t know what he’s getting at.” you draw your eyebrows together, “That’s when Haymitch came around the corner, must’ve heard us talking or something. He said that the interviews had started, and the conversation ended after that.”

“Which hallway?”

“The uh--first hallway to the left if you’re standing in the main corridor. In the direction of leaving the backstage area.” 

Snow nods now, standing to leave.

“When do I get to go home?” you ask, sliding off the bed to get to your feet too. He’s not going to leave the room until he gives you an answer.

“Soon. I want to show you something first.” Snow says, “Get dressed.”

He takes a step out, leaving around the corner. The avox comes in with some clothes, nicely folded in her arms. The doors don’t offer much coverage, but it’s not really anything they haven’t seen before.

You strip, pulling on the new clothing carefully, afraid of hurting your newly healed skin. It’s a pair of black skinny jeans, and a pink shirt with a breast pocket. The avox then holds out a pair of black tennis shoes for you to slip on after that. And when you’re done, she leads the way out of the room.

You follow her down the hall, passing by everyone who’s moving so quickly. When you get a glance through the windows into the courtyard, you can see that you’re on the base floor, and the building towers over you.

The hallways wind confusingly, but the avox manages. She has this place memorized as if there’s a map in her mind. For a while, you’re confident and unaware of your surroundings, until you pass through a hallway with cages. Only then do you get apprehensive.

Snow is in the next room, which is a corridor of white. The avox backs off, standing in the corner, and you take it upon yourself to approach Snow by yourself. He’s in front of a particular door, staring through the window in the door.

“Katniss Everdeen, Finnick Odair and Beetee Latier have been taken to District Thirteen, did you know that?” Snow asks, he looks at you briefly, before back through the door.

There’s a sick feeling in your stomach.

“No, I didn’t.” You don’t want to see what’s through that window.

“But you knew that they were taken out of the arena.”

Just thinking about that night gives you a goddamn headache, especially with all that happened afterwards.

After the hovercraft had left, you stared for what felt like forever. Feeling dejected and betrayed, especially with all the time that had been left over. No one came for you, so it was up to you to decide what would happen next.

When you had finally gotten over your feelings, you went ahead and found Johanna, who was right next to a panicked Peeta. Screaming in her face about how all of that was her fault. Johanna took it like a champ, with her mouth sealed shut and everything. But the second that you were there, Peeta turned on you like a rabid dog.

You tried to take a page from Johanna’s book as you calmly explained to him that Katniss, Finnick and Beetee were taken by a hovercraft. 

Peeta didn’t like that, and with him getting in your face, an anger was rising from your stomach to your throat. Like simmering grease, only you’re not supposed to let grease simmer. Because it gets dangerous, begins to pop and burn the skin, and that was exactly what had happened.

You tried to get Peeta to back off, because you didn’t want to make a huge mistake with Johanna standing two feet away. But he kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing so you swung. He fell, and when he tried to get back up, still running his fucking mouth, you lost it.

You hadn’t felt that angry since you found out that your entire family was dead. You did everything you could possibly imagine to harm Peeta in that moment. The first kick to his ribs was the weakest, but the second definitely left some sort of damage. Then Johanna tried to come over, and you knocked her out without a second swing.

Peeta would have gotten the absolute shit beaten out of him if it weren’t for the second hovercraft that had shown up. Only, this one dropped peacekeepers, and you knew instantly that you were in huge trouble. With the arena falling apart, the fire eating at the forest around you, the lack of Katniss, Beetee and Finnick due to an earlier hovercraft, and the fact that you were clearly grouped up with the two morons.

Johanna was an easy grab, Peeta fought relatively hard, and there was no struggle from you. The only thing you actually remember is getting a sedative inside of the hovercraft, and that was it.

“Yes, I knew that they were taken out of the arena.” you answer Snow, blinking a bit to refocus your eyes, “And that means that Peeta and Johanna are here.”

Snow moves aside for you to see inside, and with the pucker of your lips, you move over to see inside. You clench your teeth, expecting the worst, and when you do finally look in, it’s… you can’t put it into words.

Peeta is strapped to a chair, malnourished, purple eye bags that are see able even from this distance. He looks nothing like he did before, he looks gross. Like a…

Like a boy that would have to file for tesserae to eat for the next year. A kid from the Seam.

You swallow thickly, “What the fuck?”

“If I find out that you aren’t telling the truth--” His voice is measured, but there’s an underlying tone, anger, you think, “--then I will bring you back from District Two. And I will be getting the real answers.”

If this is what they’ve done to Peeta--sack of flour, absolutely harmless--you can’t imagine what loudmouth Johanna looks like.

“I’m telling the truth.” you tell him, your eyes flickering back to Peeta.

He’s spotted you now, and the two of you stare at each other, eyes locked and neither of you move. With the look of you, he relaxes. It’s strange that the sight of you gives him so much peace, even though you would have killed him if the peacekeepers hadn’t come. But he must see something in your face, because he draws his eyebrows together, like he’s asking a question.

“How long have I been here?” you ask Snow.

“A couple of weeks.”

You look at him now, “I’ve been in a coma?”

“Medically induced. Those spiders weren’t just flesh-eating, they were venomous too.”

Not to mention your head injury, and everything else that had occurred inside of there. You might as well be lucky to be alive.

“I want you to do something for me, when you do get back to District Two.” Snow says, you look at Peeta again to see that the glass is blocked.

“Which is?”

“Show them that you are a loyalist, and get the rebels to calm down.”

One word spirals up in your mind, strong and stubborn that you struggle to hold down; No.

They have Peeta strapped to that chair like he’s an animal. They’re starving him, they’re depriving him of sleep, and that window is blocked because they’re doing something to him. 

“I’m not agreeing to that until I get to see Johanna and anyone else you have here.” you tell him, “Only then I will try to get two to settle down.”

Snow smiles a little, “You’ll have two weeks.”

You nearly laugh in his face right then, but manage to hold it back, “I don’t have much of a choice, I’ve already agreed, haven’t I?”

Snow nods approvingly, before leading you right next door. In this chair is Johanna. Her hair is shaved, she’s soaking wet, and she’s thrashing against the restraints without control. You take back what you said about Peeta, this is an animal. Doing this to Johanna is like putting an angry lion inside of a small cage. It’s only a matter of time before she gets out and explodes.

She looks just as hungry and tired as Peeta does. But Peeta isn’t getting nearly as bad as tortured as she is. She looks like she’s been through hell and back, as if she’s seen the devil himself and laughed in his face. 

In this case, Snow would be the devil, and she would be the exact fool to do something like that. 

Johanna spots you the same way that Peeta did, by the off chance that her eyes glance over the glass. The second that she has, she relaxes for a moment, and the window is covered almost immediately after.

The both of them had the same reaction upon seeing you. You can’t think of a reason why, until it hits you. They have to be thinking that you’re here to save them. You’re seeing the state that they’re in, and they’re hoping that you’ll relay the message to tell someone of their condition, you’re sure of it.

Snow grabs your arm, yanking you along to the door across from Johanna’s. When you look into this one, you’re a little more confused.

“Annie Cresta wasn’t inside of the hunger games.” you place your hand against the glass, “Why--”

“Leverage.” Snow says simply, “Who would she belong to, Miss Rosecelli? Who would tear the world apart to get to her?”

It dawns on you then, and you nod a little bit. Finnick, obviously. This is Finnick’s girlfriend, the one that you told him to keep. 

“What’s the point of having her if you’re not starving her like the rest?” you ask.

“I do have morals.”

‘Not very high ones’, you think.

“I’m surprised,” you look at Snow, “Considering all the other shit you’ve done, you still have a heart.”

Annie is healthy, that’s all you have to say about her. She’s got rope to twirl and knot, she’s got books to read, food to eat and a nice bed. She’s not strapped to anything, it looks like she has medication, and she’s content. You can’t help but to wonder if she’s secretly going insane or plotting her escape, though.

“One more room.” Snow ignores your comment, ushering you to the door to the right of Annie’s.

You shuffle over, thinking that Snow couldn't have possibly taken anyone else that would matter. Beetee’s girlfriend--or whatever Wiress was to him--is long gone. There’s no leverage to have against her.

“Take a look inside.” he’s smug.

You stare for a moment, before following his directions.

Tanith.

Your hand flies up, going to grab the doorknob, but Snow stops you, a tight hand on your wrist, “Just in case you thought that it’s only your life on the line.”

He’s threatening to kill her.

You clench your teeth together, not removing your eyes from Tanith. She looks almost as bad as the other two do. Except, Tanith is a few days behind. Snow didn’t start the process on her until recently. It won’t take long until she catches up, because he could make that happen at the snap of his wrinkly fucking fingers.

“I understand.” you grind your teeth.

She’s not awake to see you, Snow was anticipating this visit. He had her knocked out so that she wouldn’t try and fight against the restraints. She’s smart enough to slip out of them, it makes you curious if Snow knows that too, or he just wanted to see your reaction to having her unconscious. Like he’s trying to trick you into thinking she’s dead.

“The avox will take you to the hovercraft.” he lets you go, “Two weeks.”

Snow has just made the biggest mistake in his life.

Let's go wide and predictable... Tell me about the different WoD incarnations for Shaw. :>

OK SO First thing I am glad you are also a nerd for this so I don’t don’t to explain all these terms. Secondly wow I need to be better about tagging/organizing, I couldn’t find all the other posts on this I was SURE I wrote. SO HERE’S A BIG FAT POST, RIP YOUR EYES

VAMPIRE Lasombra: This is the clan I typically default to in answers for him AS YOU HAVE NOTICED. I mean, they’re dark aristocrats who are all about Social Darwinish, preying on the weak, and the strong reigning. They primarily enforce this subtly through political games, but they have NO PROBLEM throwing an elegant Potence-backed punch. While one would think that these proud predators demanding sniveling obedience---and one would, in a way, be right---they certainly don’t RESPECT it, and it can even induce violent rage in them. Fits Shaw to a T. Sure, the Catholicism/Church control and Spanish origins and attraction to the sea and Abyss mysticism aren’t for him, but hey, he fits the outlook of the Clan perfectly aside from the religious aspects, and no one fits EVERY stereotype of a clan anyway.  Most Lasombra are Sabbat, and he could be too, but he would be in it for personal power, not true belief in being the Sword of Caine. I can equally easily see him going antitribu for the political power and stability of the Camarilla.  My other choices for him are VENTURE which is pretty obvious, but also Gangrel, which sounds counterintuitive but I HAVE A REALLY GOOD ARGUEMENT FOR IT! WEREWOLF Shadow Lord. Total Shadow Lord for pretty much all the same reasons as Lasombra. Like just LOOK AT THIS QUOTE: “ The Shadow Lords are a fictional tribe of Garou (werewolves) in White Wolf Game Studio’s Werewolf: The Apocalypse role-playing game.   […]  The Shadow Lords’ lives are like a daily game of chess and a constant struggle for power […] Shadow Lords respect power and condemn weakness, any cub who’s not strong enough in their eyes is banished from the tribe [… ] None of the other tribes like them very much, or at all, but even the ones who hate them most don’t question their ability to get things done. […] perhaps the largest camp, the Lords of the Summit tend to be the stereotypical Shadow Lords - power-hungry, manipulative, ambitious, and arrogant. This by no means makes them less dangerous foes.” And like. . . .they focus on political and intellectual power FIRST, and that sort of character is typically physically weak. But as with the Lasombra, nope, the Shadow Lords had bodily power too; they’re described as looking more like over-muscled pit bulls in lupine form than wolves. So....yeah, that’s perfect. Because Shaw does fight “smart” first, he ideally never touches his opponent, but when he has to? BOY CAN HE PULVERIZE. So, Shadow Lord Shaw is a Homid, probably an Ahroun but maybe a Philodox, and he has a lot of Glass Walkers following him as well as fellow Shadow Lords; he finds great use in their technological talents and ability to adapt to an urban environment and OWN it (rather than just SURVIVE in its fringes like a Bone Gnawer, as he sees it) and they organize themselves in a corporate-like structure where he takes a natural lead.  While the Shadow Lords are stereotypically/traditionally Eastern European, they can be of any race today. Shaw’s dad is English, but since we never see his mom in canon, for this version I’m saying his mom was a great big Eastern European Shadow Lord, and that’s why he never knew her, because the Garou aren’t typically raising their own young. He’s just. . . .big brutal wolf boy. And has like a billion puppies/Kinfolk kids. I DREW HIM FERA Ok, so I picked a BUNCH of Fera for Shaw, and you know why? I could. Literally just because I could. I don’t have a DM to tell me no! I even picked extinct ones, BECAUSE I WANTED TO! Cat-wise, I like him as a Khan or a Khara. Are the Khara extinct? Yes. Do they really suit him, the way they’re described less as warriors and more just secret-gatherers? Not at all. I picked them because I just like the idea of him turning into a massive, massive black smilodon. Because I think it’s cool and I don’t have to respect canon here. He can be the last of the Khara and not fit them at all if I say so. And hey, he LOOKS like a prehistoric man already! As for the Khan. . . .of the extant Bastet, the Simba and Khan fit him best. And if I am being honest? The Simba probably are a better fit for him. And I’m fine with that. I’m fine with Shaw as a big ol werelion with a black mane. But I also just really, really like the Khan. And as I have made clear, I am running this show. So my first choice for him that isn’t a Shadow Lord, is a Khan. They’re most typically Indian, Chinese, or (due to breeding with colonizers in India) English, so he could be one of the English Khan, and hey, fighting the Wyrm gives him a good outlet for. . . himself. Their human forms are also typically tall and HUGE, upwards of 300 lbs, and they’ve sired some of the most beautiful kittens and powerful bloodlines. T “ The Simba may declare themselves nobility, but the weretigers fit the title. Regal hunters and warriors, these Bastet evoke the respect the lions demand. From the snowy mountains of Asia to the cities of India, the weretigers hunt the spawn of Asura and defend the last of their Kin. They’re solid, dependable, smart and strong. Their weaknesses, such as they are, come from being too trusting or too sure of themselves. Khan are straightforward and action-oriented, not clever schemers. Whatever a Khan does, he does full-tilt — fighting, romancing, hunting, studying, even contemplating. These Bastet throw themselves into all tasks with vigor and passion, and their bodies, in any form, bristle with vitality. Most Khan love company; though few of them can stand the presence of another of their kind for long, they often enjoy companions. And who would deny a tiger’s friendship? It’s said the Khan were brought forth to battle demons, and many of them take that charge literally. Vampires, Asura and fomori have few enemies more relentless than a tiger. Perhaps that’s why the Khan have been brought to the verge of extinction: They made too many of the wrong kind of enemies.” “ The tribe’s traditional cultures stress honor and obedience. The treachery of Nagda was worsened by the stain it put on the tigers’ pride. While solitary in nature, most Khan establish protectorates where they defend a given family or land against corruption. The fact that “defense” occasionally includes killing certain people doesn’t detract from the tribal purpose. The Kahn were created to war against demons. Those who court the darkness must die “ “ While many Khan tend to be bad-tempered and aggressive, others love company of all kinds (and are powerful enough to demand respect). “ So, is that ALL Shaw? No. He’d be a particularly nasty, scheming Khan, in fact, a little unusual for his breed. But that’s hardly unheard of. After all, the famous English Khan named Lord Clouster “had cobras for a heart; he tossed his own kuasha beneath the wheels of a train, fed his wife to a suttee fire by pretending to be dead, then killed his children when he found they did not carry the Changing Touch.” And another Khan, the Indian sultan Nagda, got into a feud with another Khan and “ taken over by his rage, the Sultan Nagda betrayed his race and used a tribal secret. During an eclipse, his assassins struck all over Asia, slaying nearly 100 Khan and many Kinfolk outright.” So, Khan can be bad too.  But not as bad as the Simba. “ “The Lords of Sunlight.” That’s what they call themselves. Like the blazing mane around the heads of their kings, werelions liken themselves to the sun. All things have a place and an order and rebels must be reminded of this fact. The real fact, of course, is that the other tribes dislike the lions; the Simba may call themselves “Lords of Sunlight,” but many other cats give them another name: “The Dark Kings,” an unflattering comparison to the Khan. The Simba aren’t villains; they’re magnificent lords, slayers of demons. Things are simply out of order. When the balance is  restored, when the humans know their place and the cities become graveyards, the lions will be proven right. The demons of the modern age can be traced to the end of the Impergium and the laxity of the Changing Breeds. The Simba mean to put things in order, and if that requires bloodshed, so be it. Warfare is the sport of kings” “ Werelions value strength and order. Despite their bloody reputation, Simba adore their loved ones, and watch their Kinolk closely. Children and kittens are raised within the pride and must constantly prove themselves to survive. “ “ Each pride has one Mtolo (“father”), or dominant male, and several Kirii (“wives”) and Anwana (“young hunters”). Small prides defer to larger ones, and may owe allegiance to a Chakuva (“High King”) like Black Tooth. “ So, Simba are very patriarchal, very hierarchal, and want to run everyone else and feel they’re entitled to do so by birthright,  and the more I talk the LESS it sounds like Shaw actually? Like don’t get me wrong, he’s proud and power-hungry AS YOU KNOW, but what sets him apart from Apocalypse or Magneto or Xavier is that Shaw has never sought to have mutantkind follow him. He has his own ideologies, but he has never sought to lead others or enforce it on them. So really, the Simba mentality of “we should be in charge because it’s us” DOESN’T work for him, nor does the idea of being entitled to do so, as Shaw’s “power first” mentality is all about EARNING your position, not deserving it automatically. It’s all very Fabian though! So I’ll leave that here as a bonus for you instead of going back and deleting it lol. yEAH HE’S A BAD KHAN, BASICALLY And his Pyrio, no matter what cat type he is, would be Night.  Each Bastet has a “Pyrio” meaning a classification of their general personality and what fields they’re likely to pursue and be talented in. “Like the Dark Father Cahlash, the favor of the Night indicates a sinister or hidden nature. Most Bastet with this Pryio tend to withdraw from others, concentrating on their own business unless interrupted. Although they might not be actively malignant, they have short tempers and quiet ways, and fiercely guard their privacy. Night Bastet prefer occupations such as assassin, scholar, scientist and dark mystic. In the wilderness, the Night cats are hidden hunters and man-eaters, with nasty dispositions and an eerie reputations. These are the cats whose deeds are told around campfires for years to come. If you’ve got a disposition toward the Night, activities that cause others discomfort, reinforce your private space or protect some valuable secret from outsiders can refresh your Willpower.” So yeah. Shaw is a night kitty.  Rats are not the type that fit him the MOST, but I drew him as a RATKIN WARRIOR anyway. Because rats. Also while I drew him as a Warrior, he could also be an Engineer or a Plague Lord (specifically sylphyllis; every Plague Lord contracts with a disease spirit and embodies its most horrific symptoms and I just love the idea of this hideous terrifying syph-ridden Shaw) And hey, he can get into the “culling humanity” and “survive so that you may breed” deal! Most wererats also have very little kindness towards the weak either, despite being the underdogs of the Fera themselves. Likewise, hyenas aren’t the breed that fit him the most but I kinda dig the idea of him as an Ajaba? Their role was choosers of the slain, tasked with culling the sick, dying, and unfit. They were called rainmakers because of the tears their task brought to others, and they did not spare even their own. Then, the Simba came to their lands, and enacted genocide against them. They left Africa and spread across the globe, now breeding indiscriminately to survive and can be any race. What holds them together now first isn’t any duty, but the desire to simply stay alive. And both those things---culling weakness, and being knocked off his pedestal and now forced to fight for scraps in the shadows to survive---seem fitting for Shaw. The philosophy is obviously what he’s always had, and the degraded position reflects where he currently is in canon. He’s not usually the underdog, but he is here---but doubtlessly a brutal one, the Fera equivalent of a gang leader, recruiting  Also they’re matriarchal and I kinda like the idea of him having to deal with that, as....that kind of fits too? Shaw was the only MAN of note in the Hellfire Club. All the other most iconic, powerful, threatening members were women, and Shaw’s never really had a chance (or tried to fuck with) any of them. He’s USED to being around a ton of badass ladies who are calling the shots, that’s just TUESDAY for him.   Finally---FINALLY-- I could see him as the odd human-born Rokea. A Great White, of course. Again, it was probably his mother who was the Fera, some monstrous creature who came on land and mated with his human father, only to spawn this boy while still out of the water. All Rokea are ugly in their human state, but Shaw looks better than most due to being born on land and as a human, and he is also able to move through---and thrive---in human society. Since he is seen as a Betweener---one of the Rokea who “betrays” the Sea by living on land instead---stepping into what should be his natural habitat is always risky for him, as other Rokea WILL kill Betweeners on sight. And the single-minded nature of sharks leaves little room for explaining oneself.  Oh did I say finally SURPRISE I HAVE ONE MORE. The peaceful, matchmaking, extinct Apis don’t really fit SHAW aT ALL, and they’re EXTINCT, but I love the idea of him turning into a HUGE BLACK BULL. So here’s my explanation. The deal with the Apis is that when their numbers reached the single digits, a last handful of young Apis called Last Hope went into the Deep Umbra and haven’t been seen since. The “hook” in the 20th anniversary Changing Breeds book for their return is that maybe they finally came out the Umbra and back to the physical world. My idea is that he and HAVEN are mebers of Last Hope who have re-emerged in modern times to bring back their kind---something that rests entirely on SHAW’S shoulders, since Haven’s womb was cursed by the Wyrm. So it’s up to him to just breed with as many women and cows as possible. So he’s got an excuse! And as for why he’s so un-Apis, my explanation is that the trauma of their species being wiped out and the time that was allowed to fester in them during their long sleep in the Deep Umbra, drove Haven and Shaw to two extremes of Apis behavior. Haven took on the gentle caretaker side to the extreme, becoming so pacifistic she can’t fight or defend herself. Shaw went the other end, becoming so enraged and resentful that he’s become more like a bloodthirsty predator himself.  Eventually, they both fall to madness after re-emerging, but in the opposite ways that everyone expect. It’s the sweet gentle Haven who ends up Frenzying other of control in a berserker rage, rampaging across the city in massive bovine form, causing untold death and destruction until she’s put down. . . .while the cruel violent Shaw falls to a “cow version of Harano” sinking into a depression so profound he goes catatonic up until Haven’s own loss of sanity, at which point he throws himself on her horn. The story ends with the last of the Apis truly dead, but with a new hope for the species living on in Shaw’s children, who are showing signs of being Kinfolk or Apis themselves.

FF7R: The Cloud Narrative

While in the middle of one of my replays that involved making different choices for Cloud to get other stuff, I started thinking, “What would Cloud choose?”

And that got me thinking some more about the fact we say it's all what Cloud would choose, but really, it's what we pick to get the best story that suits our preferences.

And since I'm that kind of dork, I decided to replay and let Cloud's personality and development lead me to make the choices so I could try and see what Cloud would've chosen if he had autonomy. It makes for a slightly different game than the one I usually play, but it was fun really thinking over the options and deciding how Cloud would react to every situation and whether he'd choose to engage with it or not.  

I didn't actually remember to grab every screenshot of my playthrough, so some of these are from Youtube, but the decisions I say I made are the ones I made because why would I lie?

Ok, let's mosey...

Spoiler warning for ppl who haven’t played – do I still need to do this? Eh ok, (I tag FF7R spoilers as final fantasy 7 remake spoilers) and it’s gonna be long.

The opening decision is in Chapter 2 when we first meet Aerith. None of these decisions affect anything within the game to do with the resolution, it just makes either girl react differently to Cloud.

I'm sure some people would argue he'd buy it because Aerith, but he doesn't know her, has no obligation to be nice to her – especially compared to the Avalanche crew who he needed to rely on back in the reactor and he was a dick to them – he's in a rush and has no reason to buy flowers unless people want to assume he already had Tifa in mind the moment Aerith mentioned it. If we do choose the option to buy it right away, Aerith flirts a little and slots the flower into Cloud's shoulder strap over his heart. We get none of the extended dialogue if we choose this option. For those people who say the more someone talks is a sign of canon, this would make the “how much” option the non-canon choice because it contains the least amount of dialogue and time they spend together.

If we choose “I'm good,” then we hear Aerith insisting he takes it by saying, “When was the last time you saw a real one,” and adding that “it'll make your girlfriend's day.”

Then we get the automatic line from Cloud that happened when we originally chose “how much.”

After some more dialogue from Aerith another choice occurs, one which can make Cloud sound like a royal shitbag or not.

I think everyone would agree that Cloud purposely pissing off a total stranger is out of character, and if you choose the second option he doesn't actually speak and Aerith goes straight into her line about how “lovers used to give these when they were reunited.”

For my choices as Cloud I said, “I'm good,” and then when she insisted, I agreed to take it because to me – and this is how I always answer – it feels the most Cloud kind of answer.

Chapter 3

The next choice Cloud's presented with is during chapter 3 when Tifa offers him a drink. No matter which choice you make he calls Tifa beautiful as the outcome.

By answering “something hard” Tifa goes into her cocktail making routine before pouring Cloud a drink that looks suspiciously like piss, but is actually meant to represent the colour of his hair. Hard and bitter. Like him. He doesn't like it. Colour me shocked. She then goes on to make the red drink that's a representation of her eye colour. This is when Cloud raises the glass and makes the “beautiful” comment.

If you choose the refuse option, Tifa replies that “if you were in the mood” and then goes into the same drinks making routine as the first option, with the exact same dialogue and outcome between them. (And now I know it's almost identical I wonder why the devs did it? It seems like a straw man option tbf. There's no real choice or changes to the dialogue and it's like it's been put there to give the illusion of it being optional).

Since Cloud is secretly into Tifa I figured he'd choose “something hard and bitter” as a way to try and show off how tough he is. However, it’s worth noting that Cloud isn’t a big drinker and only drinks when he’s in a low mood. He’s pretty happy here, so I’d say in general he wouldn’t drink, but because he’s only recently reunited with Tifa he still wants to impress her. So yeah, to drink.

The next chance for Cloud to have a choice concerns the chapter 3 side quests that open up the alone at last which goes towards choosing a dress for Tifa later in chapter 9. If you don't finish the quests or miss alone at last you always get Tifa's blue dress and moon charm earring. That is her canon outfit.

The quests for chapter 3 are all monster related apart from one – which I'll get to in a minute.

Chadley's report involves scanning monsters for data and killing them. Rat problem comes from the item vendor and involves killing doomrats.

Nuisance in the factory involves killing drakes.

On the prowl involves going after a shinra dog thing

Just flew in from the graveyard involves a larger drake.

These are all the type of job that Cloud would accept without thinking about it too much. He's a merc, he's getting paid to kill monsters. It'll show off his skills and build his rep and as Tifa says, the better his rep the more he gets paid. These five quests are ones Cloud would take because that's the type of person he thinks he should be. The monster slayer.

As for quest 4, lost friends, I initially said that Cloud would avoid this because it involves two things he isn't good with: kids and animals. Now, I've heard from people that by AC Cloud is actually pretty good around kids, and I agree, he's got a lot of love from them by this point. But that's at least two years away from now and he's not even slightly good around kids and actively avoids them. Cats seem to have a grudge against him, too, at this point in the game – though Wedge's cat mellows towards him after he helps out. These were my reasons for deciding to avoid this quest because Cloud just wouldn't do it. Then, once I got to it, I realised the reason why Cloud would do it.

Tifa.

Tifa likes kids and animals. Now, as a respectful type of girl, she doesn't usually push Cloud to do things he doesn't want to. She's always considerate to his feelings and to others too. In this case, though, she's not focused on Cloud and if he'd want to do this job, but on helping out a little girl. Cloud's been running around doing jobs all morning, so Tifa's related him to the task of finding the cats.

Usually Cloud would refuse to something that's so obviously beneath his skills, but because it's Tifa who's asking, he agrees.

Alone at last triggers and we get to view a moment between Cloud and Tifa that ends in him choosing a dress for her. Alone as last is narrative canon whether we choose to see it or not because of other hints in the game that refer back to the conversation they had. While they talk about the past we get an above view of the rug that has a reunion flower pattern on it. Tifa and Cloud both take steps towards each other during this scene, which symbolises their closing the emotional distance that's between them.

This choice changes nothing about the game and only matters if you want to go for the dressed to the nines achievement.

If you choose the top option – for her canon outfit, Tifa replies “Yeah, I guess we aren't kids anymore.” If you choose the second option she says, “That's not much different to my regular style.”

If you choose the exotic outfit she says, “really?” and acts a little awkward about it.

She then asks Cloud to dress to match her. The dresses he wears during wall market all have a similar style to Tifa's options, showing he did dress to match her. The narrative canon choice for which dress Cloud eventually went with is something I'll be bringing up later.

By choosing the canon outfit option and getting Tifa's canon dialogue we get a reference to the fact they've known each other for a long time. This ties into the conversation they had which also touched on their shared history. This is a background development scene between them, but isn't necessary to know because we get other info about them over the rest of the game. This extra bit of dialogue is to increase our knowledge of Cloud and Tifa, both separately and together.

Chapter Four

Jessie’s bike ride, which isn’t optional in the sense you can choose how it goes. The result depends on how good you are at the minigame. However, since there’s three endings, this is a choice based result.

Are you, Cloud? Really? When did you get that SOLDIER mandatory training? Of the three optional endings, the narrative canon that makes the most sense is Cloud being really bad at it. This is his first time doing any of that, but it gives him the crash course he needs for later in the Shinra building when he does all those fancy moves. Cloud owes Roche some props for observational bike stunting. 

Chapter Five

And our next canon narrative choice is between making Cloud look incompetent at his job or choosing to have an intimate moment with his one true love. Well, seeing how the cloti roll is in the ultimania we know this is the correct narrative choice.

Chapter 8

There's a long gap between chapter 5 and the next option we get for Cloud. Once we meet Aerith again and get her back to Sector 5, we go into her side quests and optional discovery. Aerith's side quests are tied to what dress she later wears during chapter 9.

The side quests for Aerith's chapter are split into groups of 3. This means that by unlocking one, you get the further quests on that branch. One branch is more of a Cloud oriented style set of quests, while the other involves the thing he doesn't do well around: kids.

Kids on patrol → A verified hero + Angel of the slums

Weapons on a rampage → Paying respects + moogle merchant.

If you don't complete kids on patrol first then the other two don't unlock. One of these further quests involves more kids and playing with them. Not really Cloud type activities and unlike with chapter 3 where he'd do something because Tifa asked, he's not got that type of relationship with Aerith that he'd be willing to do stuff that he doesn't want to just to impress her.

Breakdown of sidequests in sector 5 and NPC background dialogues.

Weapons on a rampage is more his style of quest, which leads to the NPC who set it to ask a further favour. This links to the next quest where you have to pay respects for the old man. The thing is, he doesn't have the graveyard key, which leads to the next quest where we have to go buy it off Moggie. This is the only kid related quest on this branch and it's over in moments. Cloud has the minimum amount of contact with Moggie and doesn't show any kind of tolerance towards her while he's talking. There's also no apology for his behaviour – unlike when he said to Tifa he was doing his best when she scolded him for being rude.  

The way these quests are set out in blocks of three and the fact one half is heavily reliant on child interaction – which Cloud wouldn't do at this point in his development or association with Aerith – leads me to believe he wouldn't agree to these quests. This means the language of flowers discovery doesn't trigger and Aerith ends up in her second option dress – which I've theorised is her canon outfit because of its design similarity to the OG version, her reaction to the dress, the fact that in OG, Aerith chose her own dress, the hairstyle and accessory match the OG style and Cloud's reaction is a very Cloud reaction to have, compared to the other two outfits – the bad dress has dogs and rats following her and the red dress is so ott she's swarmed by fans, a red carpet and so on, but also her accessories don't fit her symbolism theme of flowers because she's wearing stars.

With all of the above in mind, I surmised Cloud would do the monster hunt branch of quests and quit while he was ahead.

Chapter 9

Where before we had a few choices happening, once we hit Wall Market we're inundated with options that affect Cloud's outfit later on. They also showcase what kind of morals Cloud has. Either way, it's canonically easier to get Chocobo Sam's pts higher than Madam M's, leading me to believe he is the canon narrative choice for this section and that Cloud's black and blue corset dress is the one he ends up wearing.

This contradicts my previous theory about the ultimania in which Cloud is shown very uncomfortable in the loli outfit, which led me to believe that was the one he ended up in if he made the choices in Wall Market. I now believe it's because if you pick this outfit it's his “bad ending”, worse than if you don't make any effort and get the plain black and grey dress.

The maximum amount of pts you can get from Chocobo Sam's options is 6.5, compared to Madam M's 5.

There are several people who offer you options during Wall Market.

The love hotel owner (not a Nojima self-insert lol).

Johnny (discovery) + before the first coloseum match – there's a bottle on the table and the choice is to drink or not.

Madam M x2

Sam x2

The first option you get in Wall Market happens before you've even entered the place. Sam asks you what the girl you're searching for looks like. No matter which option you choose, Sam says that Cloud has a crush on Tifa – which he doesn't deny.

If you choose the first option you get 1pt with Sam.

If you choose the second option you get 0pts

If you choose the 3rd option you get 1pt with Madam M.

I chose the first option because Cloud's a guy, with eyes, and the other two choices don't offer anything in the way of a physical description and if he's describing her to someone then he needs to actually describe what she looks like in some way. This is the only option that does that. It's also the only option that gets a different reaction out of Aerith, whereas the other two options have the same reaction from her.

This is the second option we can choose from and it's the love hotel guy (still not a Nojima self-insert). If you choose “no thanks,” this gets you 1pt with Sam and Aerith flirts with Cloud.

If you choose “how much?” you get a surprised “Cloud!” from Aerith and 1pt with Madam M.

If you choose “back off” you get 0pts and Aerith apologises on his behalf.

Of the 3 choices, I picked “back off” because it's the most Cloud appropriate choice.

Next, we have the Johnny discovery when he literally runs past you as you try to go to Don Corneo's for the first time. By following him to the Honey Bee, we get a lecherous dialogue from him and then a question about Cloud's own preferences. Would he go into the Honey Bee? If he agrees with Johnny, we get a slightly self-loathing assumption of a reply, whereas if we disagree, Johnny says that Cloud hasn't experienced anything yet. Either way, he runs off once he's finished.

By agreeing with Johnny you get 1pt for Sam.

If you don't agree you get 0pts.

I chose to disagree because Cloud isn't a lecherous pig and is actually pure af with no experience.

We learn from Leslie that the only way to get into an audition with Corneo is through the trio. Andrea Rhodea has a 3 year waiting list, so we don't even see him. So, we go back to Sam.

This is a hint that the following event with Sam is a load of bull. Johnny telling Cloud – if you interact with him – that he should've followed his gut is a hint that Cloud should trust his instincts. It’s also confirming that while Cloud is a total cheapskate who doesn’t do anything for free, he’s also a betting man who’ll think little of dropping 1000g on a sure thing (why 1000g? because that’s the amount he says to Barret in chapter 6, showing that while Cloud appreciates having money, he’ll also spend it.) Then it's around the corner to where Sam waits. Who, despite having already endorsed Tifa, says he's willing to help Aerith if she can guess the result of a coin toss.

Ofc it's rigged. But if you choose to gamble, it impresses Sam. You get 1.5 pts for choosing heads or tails. If you refuse to gamble then you get 0.5pts.

I believe the narrative choice is to pick heads, like Johnny suggested because he is the inner voice of Cloud and gives us hints as to real Cloud’s feelings at different points in the game. Either way, Cloud gets the coin and says he had a hunch about the result.

After this it's away to Madam M's and the most hilarious choice I've ever seen! I have to wait until the room's clear before choosing because it's a watch from behind a cushion moment lol

Madam M won't help Cloud unless he agrees to a massage. Since our SOLDIER boi doesn't like being forced into decisions and has issues around touch and intimacy, not to mention he's stingy af and wouldn't drop 3k on a massage when he's previously hounded people for a lot less money. But, he also doesn’t stop to think about spending money if it’s worth this while. 1000g doesn’t seem like much of a big deal to him, if it’s his standard amount of bet on a sure thing. He wants to save Tifa, so he’d likely go with the standard course. The other one alludes to him being a cheapskate like Aerith accused and there’s no reference to the luxury course anywhere in the game except here. This isn't something he's doing for pleasure, he's in Wall Market to save Tifa, so the things he's doing are a means to an end.

If you pick the luxury massage you get 2pts with Madam M.

If you pick the standard massage you get 1pt with Madam M

If you pick the poor man's massage you get 0pts.

I chose the standard course massage because I believe that's what Cloud would choose just to get Madam M to agree to help them.

The next choice comes right off the back of the massage at Madam M's and involves Cloud giving an opinion of Aerith's outfit.

If you choose the first option it gets you 1pt with Sam and a pleased reaction from Aerith.

If you choose the second option you get 0pts and an angry retort from Aerith.

If you choose the third option you get 1pt with Madam M and a middle of the road comment from Aerith. No matter which you choose, Madam M scolds you.

Since by this point in the game Cloud and Aerith are friendly enough for him to pass comment on her outfit, I could see him answering with the second choice, but not the first since he doesn't even notice what anyone's wearing let alone have an opinion on it. The third option sounds the most Cloud-centric choice, so that's what I picked.

The last option is for Cloud to drink an unknown substance or not while waiting for his match to start at the coliseum. Johnny gives the explanation of what it is, who it came from and what it potentially does.

By choosing to drink the mystery substance you get 1pt with Sam.

By ignoring the drink you get 0pts.

Since Cloud is the last person to put weird shit in his body I went with not drinking it.

The final tally for the options that Cloud gets set him on Chocobo Sam's side quests for the blue corset dress that matches Tifa's canon outfit – she said dress to match, remember? It's also the one that in the ultimania Cloud looks the most at ease in.

Chocobo Sam's sidequests are the ones that I got as a result of choosing the options I did. I believe this is the canon narrative that Cloud would take if he were choosing. After several playthroughs I did waver on whose quests seemed more the narrative canon. I began thinking Sam's were, but then the ultimania illustration of Cloud embarrassed in the satin dress led me to think Madam M's were the narrative canon. After playing both sets of side quests, I've come to the conclusion that Sam's would be the narrative choice if Cloud were making the decisions.

Having Cloud's choices result in Sam's side quests we get burning thighs (appears in both), the party never stops and a dynamite body.

Burning thighs is the squats contest that echoes the OG storyline. We meet Andrea's little brother, Jules – who is totally not staring at Cloud's ass through the entire minigame while encouraging him.  This side quest touches on egos and being cocky – which Cloud can be. It's a humble pie moment, which is another life lesson that Cloud needs to learn also.

The party never stops features the return of Johnny, who appears as we leave the dressmaker's son who's the originator for the quest. We're sent over into the bar, where we can collect the Midgar Blues single for the cd achievement. This song is canonically Cloud and Tifa's romantic theme in Advent Children. Once we meet the dressmaker, we're sent over to the materia guy who wants “the sauce” in exchange for “inspiration”.

This sidequest is a bunch of tongue in cheek dick jokes and it's hilarious! It's also alludes to the fact that Cloud has zero experience since he had a crush on Tifa until he left the village, spent his time pining for her as a grunt, then got stuffed in a test tube and was in a coma for five years. Ofc he blusters his way through it, handling his balls and making comments about how he doesn't need lessons on “whipping it out”. Oh you poor sweet boi.

Once we get the sauce – fun fact there's no picture in the inventory of it when you get it – and we hand off to the materia guy (unintentional pun but I'm leaving it in now I've done it – and that one) we head over to the next weirdo on the list. The chef. Who literally poisons all of his customers. I suspect he and the pharmacy guy are in cahoots. He poisons people, the pharmacy guy cures them and they both get rich.

The chef asks Cloud to help fix the problem with his kitchen – but from npcs around it sounds like it's just his cooking that's the issue. It doesn't matter which option you pick, Johnny still gets food poisoning. Even if you max your materia, nothing changes. Cloud doesn't even offer the options, Johnny does the talking.

Once we're done with the killer chef, it's over to the pharmacy guy, who asks Cloud to go and deliver medicine. If you maxed your cleansing materia you get 3 packets of meds. The only one that matters is the guy in the pub bathroom since that moves the side quest along. The others are optional, but increase Cloud's rep about town since he's helping more people.

The pharmacy guy gives Cloud a Honey Bee Inn VIP pass, which is the dressmaker's inspiration. Once that's handed back, Cloud chats to the dressmaker's son, who caps the side quest off with the below screen.

This is a reference to the dream that Cloud had during chapter 8 where his mother mentioned he should have a mature girlfriend. This is the contradicting opinion that balances that. The dressmaker's son saying age doesn't equal maturity is referencing Tifa – since these quests are the ones that get you the matching dress to her canon one. This is the same as the Midgar Blues playing in the pub. These are Tifa centric quests, which is the entire reason Cloud's in Wall Market to begin with.

The last quest is a dynamite body, which comes from Sam. Tifa has a bomb bracelet on her default weapon that is part of a matching pair with her chocobo bracelet. Tifa is represented by “da bomb” and everyone knows Cloud’s a chocobo head. This quest is referencing cloti, and a comment from the announcer using a mixed metaphor mentions putting on shades. 

Afterwards Same tries to hand Cloud his cut of the prize money and Cloud says he's there for Tifa, not money. Sam replies that Cloud has changed since his arrival and could likely storm Corneo's place all by himself to save Tifa. He also mentions that Tifa is a bombshell and Cloud goes to confront him by taking a step forward and saying “Hey.” This is Cloud stepping up to people sexually objectifying Tifa.

Once the quests are done, it's back to Corneo's where Cloud considers breaking in – like Sam suggested – but Leslie uses Cloud's feelings for Tifa against him by saying Corneo could hurt her if he does anything he shouldn't. This isn’t the first time Cloud’s emotionally blackmailed in Wall Market. 

Cloud backs down, but is now operating under the sense that Corneo is a lot more dangerous than he first thought, and he's sending Aerith in. Aerith. Who's useless in a fight. He's now thinking that he'd have to go in and save them both, which is why he says to Aerith that he's not letting her go alone.

We've now reached the point where Cloud's earlier refusal to do kid related quests gives us the result with Aerith's dress. Her theme has been given a slightly rock vibe, which is SOLDIER Cloud appropriate, and the design is something that she has chosen – this is in line with her OG dress which she chose herself. She also has a large hair bow, similar hairstyle to OG and her flower symbolism throughout – compared to the red dress which has stars that haven't been associated with her at any point. The straps on the pink dress – which is her signature colour – also match the straps on the OG design. Johnny’s around throwing cherry blossom petals, which match several of her abilities and are a reference to Zack. Aerith wore this dress for Zack. This is her Zack date dress. This leads me to believe that this is her canon narrative outfit.

The accompanying blocking to this scene is also more realistic than the other two.

Cloud's reaction to the dress is suitably Cloud. His jaw drops a little and he gets a bit soft voiced when talking to Aerith, though it's a quick moment that ends when he asks why she left Madam M's.

And now we're at the point where Cloud has to impress Andrea Rhodea. As long as you get 112pts in his dance sequence (great = 2, good = 1) then Cloud will wear the earrings with his dress, no matter which one it is.

This is the last choice you have and it's the tie breaker between the two girls if you chose to do all of the side quests for them. By choosing Aerith you get her resolution later in chapter 14, but in the meantime you get a short dialogue and then Tifa wakes up.

If you choose Tifa, this goes towards her resolution in chapter 14, but in the meantime you get a longer dialogue concerning the imminent dangers in sector 7 and also she questions Cloud about his relationship with Aerith. This is referencing all of the strange things about Aerith from her initial touch to Cloud’s wrist letting him see the whispers, to the whispers attacking them later in sector 7, to her not letting him leave sector 5, to her crying and wanting to go with him. Tifa’s question makes Cloud suspicious. It’s not romantically motivated on her part because her focus is on saving sector 7.

Cloud doesn't get a chance to answer, as Aerith wakes up.

Chapter 12

Technically not a choice -- in fact it implies the opposite -- because if you run the timer out in chapter 12 at the top of the pillar nothing happens. This is a message that all previous timed events were optional because that’s what the players wanted. This is saying that no matter if you try to choose to ignore Tifa or Barret or any of the plot, that the game will wait for you to move. There are no consequences to running this timer down because it’s implying that the time for optional choices has passed. Narrative canon only will commence from this point on.

The last optional choice in the game comes a lot later with the stairs and elevator, so anything that Cloud says or does between then is canon. All of the resolutions are canon, but we're only able to view one at a time because of how the game operates. Cloud is the witness to the resolutions because they’re Barret, Tifa’s and Aerith’s resolutions.

Barret's resolution is first because the lighting is much brighter indicating it's earlier in the night.

After that comes Tifa's resolution, which is much later in the night, but well before dawn.

The last resolution is Aerith's and she indicates that it's almost morning at the end of hers.

All resolutions are canon

Aerith's resolution is hinted at by Mirielle during the lost wallet and Kyrie sidequests.

Tifa's resolution is hinted at by Tifa, through Leslie in the chapter 14 intel gathering main quest where you hunt down Don Corneo. Tifa relates Leslie's fiancee's necklace to a symbol of reunion. Since the necklace has a reunion flower on it, that she's seen, and the only time she mentions learning about the meaning of that flower is during her resolution, this is the confirmation of it having happened. Also, the fact that Cloud was about to mention the meaning, then stopped because he thought it might embarrass Tifa – who'd been in a vulnerable state at the time – shows that he was aware of both the meaning and the resolution and Tifa's feelings.

Chapter 16

Last choice in the game and it’s between the stairs and the elevator. And as much as I love the stairs, Mayor Domino tells us later on that the stuff in the elevator is what happened. 

Feel bad for Cloud having to confront his claustrophobia with Tifa there. He’s not happy at all by the time they reach the top.

In Conclusion.

Playing as though Cloud were the one making the choices was a lot harder than I thought. I tend to choose things either as he would, or close enough in most cases, but there were some choices that had me stopping to debate which was the right choice. Cloud's character development is a slow process and even though I know he's got a whole kid army in AC, I couldn't resolve that with his current personality, so that led me to avoiding the kid quests. This revealed that Aerith should have worn her pink dress in the narrative and the scene between them when she reveals it feels a very narrative canon type of scene.

Tifa's dress is the same no matter what. I also believe she'd be the narrative choice in the sewers over Aerith because of the content of her dialogue and the fact real!Cloud has a crush on her still. He often checks in with her to make sure she's ok and he has an overriding urge to support and comfort her even when he doesn't know how. The way she lands in the sewers is echoed later in several other falls, but there’s one in the opening of chapter 13 where she’s got her arm under her head. This is because Cloud positioned her that way after she got knocked out. This shows he’d go to her if he saw her hurt.

All of the events, options and side quests culminate in Tifa's resolution being the main narrative option we see, with Aerith and Barret as a second and third option through replay choices, though all three do happen. From Cloud’s pov, though, the important one is Tifa because that’s the person he cares about the most. You only get Barret’s resolution by being a closed off asshole and Aerith’s if you act out of character and more like Zack, which is what Aerith wants. The quest dialogue with Leslie shows the resolutions happened, which makes them narrative canon.

People can disagree with this, but I found the narrative canon a really enjoyable way to play – once I got over messing up in wall market with the dress and had to start again (the choices are hard lol). Seeing events through Cloud's eyes, instead of being like some puppet master telling him what to do so I could get the story I wanted to see, was a really fun way to play. I definitely recommend it!

Dukexiety on Halloween?

Ooh, this sounds cool!

Dukexiety, Halloween

TW: Death, blood, at least one demon

-Let’s start off with the assumption that ghosts can cross to our world on Halloween. 

-Enter Virgil and Remus, two young ghosts looking to have some fun.

-A little background information: Virgil was murdered in an unsolved case thirty years ago, and no one knows how Remus died because he has a gorier story every time. They do know that there was a fair amount of blood.

-They’re dating, but a relatively new couple (still, Remus has like 3,573 nicknames for Virgil). 

-More background information: Halloween is the time when ghosts can cross over to the land of the living, but it’s not the “ghosts and ghouls running wild” that it used to be in the old times. 

There are rules and regulations! Tickets to be purchased, tour groups to join, and gift shops to be set up in the graveyards! I went to the land of the living, and all I got was this lousy engraved lamp.

-Remy is a tour guide. He’s also a demon. He’s also 100% done with the tourism business. His job is to make sure the spirits of the dead stick to their approved areas.

-Remus and Virgil are determined to not stick to their approved areas. Halloween only comes once a year, and it’s their first time haunting the world as a couple! Virgil’s weirdly insistent on not staying with the group. But they’ve been planning for this. They execute their master plan (which also contained a fair amount of blood) and escape from the tour group into the evening.

-Now we have a main plot of Remus and Virgil haunting this small town, and a subplot of Remy trying to Stop Them.

-The couple decides to go make a haunted house more...correctly advertised. 

-The haunted house, by the way, is run by the resident troupe of theater kids, led by Roman and Janus. It’s very low budget, but everyone’s trying their best.

-Virgil clouds several rooms in darkness and lets his eyes glow from the corners. Remus tears off his own arms and waves them around. Stuff like that.

-The theater kids are all really freaked out because they’re in charge of the acts and this was not on the list. They’re all ready to abandon the project, when Janus points something out: This is AMAZING for business! The buzz of satisfied customers is spreading down the hills, attracting more people!

Finally, finally, THE DRAMA DEPARTMENT WILL GET FUNDING!!!

-However, Virgil and Remus have gotten a little bored and are ready to move onto the next thing. So off they go, laughing and still trying to reattach Remus’s arms. It’s Virgil’s turn to choose what to do, and one of the things he missed the most about being alive was going to the movies.

-The drive-in is showing Beetlejuice that night, so they go to that. 

-Logan runs the local drive-in movie theater. He can see ghosts, and he’s made some payoffs to the demonic higher ups to keep the spirits of the dead out of his business.

-But Virgil and Remus are just teenagers, and they’re being total dorks, and they’re doing that thing where you rest your hand close to the other person and the ever so slowly take it....god, it’s adorable. So, Logan turns a blind eye to it and continues making popcorn, resolving to only kick them out if the bloody one starts making a mess.

-Meanwhile, the theater kids realize that their ghosts are gone, and business is starting to decline again. Janus decides desperate times, desperate measures, and starts summoning.

Roman: Do we really need to make a Faustian bargain to get funding?

Janus: In this economy? Yeah.

-Remy had been hot on the trail of the duo, and almost caught them before they got into the drive-in. However, he feels his form being yanked across town like a worm on a string. He’s been summoned by the theater kids. 

-He doesn’t even stop to bargain because this night has been LONG and he needs COFFEE. He just kind of possesses Janus and runs back towards the drive-in.

-It’s towards the end of the movie when Remy gets back, and Virgil’s head is on Remus’s shoulder at this point. Remy’s about to catch them when Logan spots him.

-Logan doesn’t want the spirits of the dead in his drive-in. He paid to have the spirits of the dead not be in his drive-in. There is not going to be a demon in his fucking drive-in.

-He grabs some popcorn salt and smiles. There won’t be one for long.

-Fight scene! In one corner, we have “Remy without his morning caffeine”! He is full of spite! In another, we have Logan! He has worked concessions long enough to know which foods have high salt levels!

-The fight ends in a stalemate when Remy notices that the sounds of “Jump In The Line” have long faded, the credits are over, and the boys have escaped to god knows where else.

He is so fired.

-For the next thing, Remus wants to go classic and haunt a house. A house of someone sweet and a little lonely preferably.

-Patton has just finished giving out candy to the little trick-or-treaters. His house is semi-famous to Halloween candy seekers for the wonderful snacks! He closes the door and decides he’s going to go read something nice.

-Before the duo go in to scare Patton, Remus notices that Virgil seems nervous. He asks him what’s wrong, and Virgil eventually admits that he heard through the underworld grapevine that his little sister, now in her thirties, just had a kid. He really wants to get a glimpse of his niece, but he’s worried that something will go wrong or something will prevent him from getting there or-

He’s just kind of freaked out.

-They go in to scare Patton. Virgil peers with glowing eyes from corners while Remus rattles the furniture. Patton barely reacts.

-Here’s the thing about sweet and a little lonely people: a good deal of them own a lot of cats. 

-Patton is immune to eyes in the dark, loud bumps in the night, far away screams, scratches on the walls, blood stains on the carpet, heads rolling across the floors, cold spots, the fireplace suddenly roaring to life, and levitating figures (he has some weird cats).

-Remus and Virgil try more and more ridiculous things to get Patton to pay attention to them, until they’re both (figuratively) dying of laughter.

-MEANWHILE Roman arrives at the drive-in on the verge of tears. He knows that Janus was headed vaguely in this direction. He also knows that Janus is possessed oh god no this wasn’t how this night was supposed to go. Logan finds this teenager wandering around and panicking, and asks him what’s wrong. Roman tells him that that his friend (who he totally doesn’t have feelings for) is possessed and has he seen him?

-Logan has, indeed seen a possessed teenager with a ridiculous bowler hat. He just emptied popcorn salt on his head. Lo agrees to help Roman search and possibly exorcise.

-Back at the house, Virgil is literally levitating Patton and he isn’t noticing. After all, you can never know when you’re being haunted when you have cats as weird as his.

-The doorbell rings. Patton opens it, not noticing the drop to the floor, and expecting a trick-or-treater up far too late. He was not expecting a sixteen year old in a bowler hat and sunglasses to barge past him, empty a bag of coffee grounds into his mouth, and start yelling at thin air that it almost got him fired.

-Remus and Virgil say something along the lines of, “Oh shit, Remy” and run. But Remy contains coffee now, and nothing will stop him.

-They realize that they won’t be able to both escape. Remus lets himself be caught so Virgil can escape and see his sister and niece. 

-Virgil’s sister is at a Halloween celebration in the world famous corn maze. Yes, this town has a world famous corn maze. Virgil searches the maze, still equal measures worried for and in love with his boyfriend. 

-Remy (still possessing Janus) isn’t that far behind him, but he’s slowed down immensely by Remus’s superpower: being the worst travel companion ever when he wants to be. Remy oh so desperately wishes he could kill dead people and that this night was over.

-Roman and Logan track Remus and Virgil because if you can see ghosts, it’s really easy to know where Remus is, due to the near constant trail of blood. They ask some questions to Patton, who still blames everything on his cats, then keep following the trail towards the corn maze.

-Virgil eventually finds the center of the maze. And there’s his kid sister, who isn’t a kid anymore. He wonders if she kept up playing piano and who she married and what her life was like after he left it. And the baby! It’s like a loaf of bread with eyes!!!

-Virgil’s calm, for once. He starts to move toward the exit, when he bumps into Remy (Remus is clinging to Remy’s leg and lying on the ground to try and slow him down. It isn’t helping much, but it helps a little). He sprints in the opposite direction.

-Virgil’s chased by Remy, who’s chased by Roman and Logan, and they’re all very, very lost in this world famous corn maze.

-Remus is continually yelling at Remy, who tries to explain that he’ll lose his job if he doesn’t do this. Remus’s pleas are kind of effective, however, and Remy is starting to feel like a terrible person demon. 

-Virgil reaches a dead end in the maze. All parties round the corner and stand in the same dead end (except Patton, who’s at home reading his book).

-An exorcism is attempted. The exorcism fails because Remus’s blood trail ruins the salt circle.

-The exorcism gives Virgil the time to climb up a corn stalk and begin running across the corn.

-Once the exorcism fails, Roman is desperate. He takes Janus’s hands and confesses everything, asking him to come back.

-It works! Whether that’s because of the power of love or the demon feeling socially awkward is anyone’s guess.

-Remus also escapes, scales the corn, and runs across the stalks. Virgil and Remus run like the wind across a world famous corn maze.

-Remy considers catching them. He probably still could. But...he can probably think of some excuse to not get fired. Or something. He’ll think of something, and lets the boys get away.

-Virgil and Remus, grinning from adrenaline and an amazing night, walk back toward the graveyard together, hand in hand as the sun comes up and drives away the shadows.

Thanks for the prompt!

I might end up changing that names and making this an original thing one day

This was really fun to write!!!

Some highlights and trivia from the Misfits series 1 scripts that no one asked for (extremely long post ahead):

Episode 1

- Jeremy feels somewhat more manipulative and selfish. It’s nothing new that he’s the reason Louise kicked Nathan out, but there’s a deleted scene where he comes in immediately after Louise has booted Nathan, Louise is crying, and he just tells her “You’re doing the right thing. We need this.” And I dunno. I get it, but somehow seeing it just makes the whole situation feel scummier. I could be biased.

- After getting her powers and losing her fiancé, Kelly cries all night. Again, no surprise, but it hurts getting confirmation. :(

Episode 2

- The old woman Nathan pushes in a wheelchair does in fact roll out the door when he lets go. RIP Joan. Some say that if you listen carefully, you can hear her still rollin’ to this day.

- The old “SHE’S STEALING YOUR PENSION” war vet is named Stan. Stan has some serious PTSD. Please protect Stan.

- Alisha thinks Sally is lesbian. 

- Simon’s wardrobe is inspired by Joy Division’s Ian Curtis. I’ve never seen Curtis dance, but apparently Rheon incorporated some of Curtis’ dance moves into Simon’s character.

- There’s a deleted scene where the gang finds Nathan in the community centre, staring sadly at a photo of Ruth which has been put up in her memory. Robert really keeps playing the same characters, doesn’t he?

Episode 3

- When Kelly and Jodi are fighting, Socha accidentally headbutts Mojekwu for real. Whoops.

Episode 4

- The athletic segments are filmed at the Crystal Palace Athletics Stadium. 

- In a deleted scene, Kelly calls Simon a “good-looking bloke” and tells him he should get a girlfriend. She also says that “loads of girls like sweet, quiet guys”. Simon is touched by this and immediately asks if she’s single.

- Nathan was only supposed to kiss the bowling ball. Of course Sheehan had to be weird and lick it instead. Disgusting.

- Simon’s jerk friend, Matt, sounds a little less like a jerk in the script. He’s actually guilty and feels more sympathetic. Doesn’t make him embarrassing Simon in front of everyone any better, though. 

- The original plan was for Simon to turn against the main cast and evolve into a supervillain by the end of season 1, which is one reason why Simon is so horribly creepy in S1 (namely perving on the girls). 

- Confirmation that Simon is excited by vulnerable / unconscious girls. #yikes

- Nathan’s dad, Mike, is named “Gareth” in the script. “Gareth” canonically thinks Nathan is an “inconvenience”. 

- Tony’s surname was originally “Warren” instead of “Morecombe”.

Episode 5

- There’s a note in the script that says “Curtis’ rap during his self-assessment therapy with Sally is the only improvised dialogue in the whole of Series 1“ and I’m not entirely sure, but I think that’s probably a typo. Either we missed out on Curtis’ special hidden talent for rapping, or that should say “Nathan” and Sheehan adlibbed the Ruff In The Jungle Business. I think the latter is more likely. 

- Sally tells Simon in a deleted scene that she was teased as a child for being fat. 

- Simon, while talking to Sally at the pub about trying to burn Matt’s house down, has a wave of guilt about peeking up Kelly’s skirt outside the club in the last episode. 

- Confirmation that Sally begins to have genuine feelings of attraction toward Simon. #yikes yikes

- The scene with Nathan picking up the baby took over half a day to shoot because the babies kept crying.

- Kelly originally snaps Nathan out of Finn’s hypnotism by pushing herself into his thoughts. Which I think is fascinating because I don’t remember her telepathically communicating with characters before.

- The BMX footage that Simon shows Sally is supposed to be Superhoodie. Hello, plot-holes and paradoxes.

- In a deleted scene, Nathan says he’s jealous that Kelly has “two powers”; being able to hear other people’s thoughts and talk to people telepathically. Seriously sad that this ability was removed in the final cut.

- In another deleted scene, Simon suggests that maybe their powers are changing. Kelly seems to agree. Rachel and a lot of Virtue symbolism also appear early; the gang unknowingly disrespect Rachel by sloshing water on one of her Virtue banners and walking over/on it as they pass.

- Yikes. Deleted scene that alludes to Nathan’s possible alcohol problem with a shot of the community centre’s kitchen and all the empty bottles. 

- In another deleted scene, after Kelly questions Nathan about his dad, Nathan complains (revealingly) about Kelly getting in his head. Things get a little flirty, Kelly teases him and serves potato letters with the chicken nuggets. She spells “PRICK” out on Nathan’s plate. It’s really cute.

- Not only was Simon supposed to be the supervillain, but he was supposed to die at the end of season 1.

Episode 6

- “Virtue” was originally called “Respect”, but had to be changed because a political party used the same name. 

- The girl in the opening scene, the one Alisha knew from school, is Ellie. Presumably the same Ellie Alisha mentions in episode 1. 

- The two other Virtue members that pass the gang are named Danny and Lucy.

- This deleted scene was too good not to write out. Simon, Kelly, and Nathan are discussing how to solve their Virtue problem and save Curtis and Alisha:

NATHAN relents, thinks a moment, has an idea...

NATHAN: Okay. How about we spike them?

KELLY’s exasperated.

NATHAN: We get them off their tits on acid. They’re hallucinating so bad they puke. When they come down, maybe they’re back to normal.

SIMON: D’you think that���ll work...?

NATHAN: Hands up who has a better idea.

Neither SIMON nor KELLY put their hand up. 

NATHAN: Then I’ll call my dealer...

NATHAN whips out his phone.

Cutting to a character that was revealed in another deleted scene that I didn’t list, Chewy. Massive stoner, surrounded by a variety of pills, yada yada. Chewy’s phone rings, he answers.

NATHAN: Chewy? It’s Nathan. Can you sort us out with some trips?

CHEWY: I don’t deal drugs any more.

We now see that CHEWY is using his other hand to comb his previously unruly hair into a neat side parting, which looks utterly ridiculous...

CHEWY: Nathan, mate. I’m telling you, drugs are bad news.They lead to a life of crime, mental illness and prostitution. 

NATHAN’s horrified by the response. He quickly ends the call, looks at KELLY, who can see there’s something badly wrong...

NATHAN: (appalled) They’ve got to him... Chewy... That boy’s been stoned every day since he was twelve. (angry, jabbing a finger) She’s gone too far this time. She has crossed the line.

- When Simon and Nathan are being surrounded by Virtue, Simon was supposed to punch Nathan instead of push him away.

- In the original script, when Simon was supposed to be evil, he kicked Nathan to the ground then battered him bloody with a baseball bat. In the storyboards, it looks like Simon intends to kill him. Nathan barely manages to escape thanks to Simon being interrupted by Virtue. 

- Superhoodie was originally introduced in a series of short online films recorded by Simon.

- In a deleted scene, Nathan takes refuge from Virtue in a place called Bar X. The scene was meant to be set up as a reference to The Shining. It’s empty. Nathan gets drunk and starts to reminisce with the bartender, James, about underage drinking, pulling girls, and how many times he’s gotten sick in the toilets there. There’s some odd tension in this scene between Nathan and James and I’m not sure what it is, but it’s amusing. 

- Nathan’s scene with Kelly in her flat is longer. There were some funny lines about her track suit and a lot more awkward fumbling as he tries to compliment the chav look. 

- There was supposed to be a Vegas Baby-esque montage of Nathan “arming” himself and getting dressed to infiltrate Virtue. We were ROBBED. 

- Kelly was supposed to stroke Nathan’s hand affectionately after putting his iPod in the coffin with him. R O B B E D .

- The graveyard scenes were filmed at Kensal Green Cemertary.

- Many of the people in the club after the funeral are Virtue members. 

Winds Of Winter (1/2)

This is my entry for @youngmoneymilla​ 15k challenge (Congrats lady)

Prompt: The Winds of Winter – Ramin Djawadi (Game of Thrones)

Summary:  A stranger from a rival kingdom comes to your throne for a favor. (Fantasy AU)

Pairing:  Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings:  None in this chapter.  Part two is gonna have some war/death and smut.  

A/N:  You don’t need to have seen Game of Thrones to follow this. It’s not GOT fanfic, just fantasy, but heavily inspired by the mythology.

Words: 3k

                 The stranger’s footsteps echoed across the throne room and you held your chin high as he approached.   Stranger wasn’t the right term, though you’d never set eyes on the man you knew who he was the second his presence was announced.  

                 When he arrived in front of you, his blue eyes scanned your face before he dropped to a knee, the coat and wardrobe he wore not nearly enough to survive the raging winter outside your castle’s door.  

                 “Your majesty,” Steve Rogers began speaking but you felt your jaw tighten at the formal title.

                 “What do you want?”  It wasn’t very regal of you to interrupt but being treated this way by someone whose people referred to you as Queen-of-nothing was almost disrespectful.  

                 “My name is Steven Rogers.”  He stood.

                 “I know who you are.”  You gave up trying to hold your tongue.  “I didn’t ask your name. I asked what you wanted.”  

                 “You know who I am?” He looked shocked.  

                 “I am well within my rights to have you beheaded for showing your face here.  Neither you, nor your people are allowed beyond my gates.”  You rolled your shoulders back.   “After all, it was your ancestors who banished mine here.”  

                 Steve bit his lip.  He was choosing his words wisely.  

                 “The banishment of your family, your people.” He shook his head.  “I took no part.  I wasn’t born, even a thought yet.”  

                 “Neither were any of the people who reside here.”  You rose from your throne.  “Yet, we honor the treaty.  We do not cross into your lands and you keep out of ours.”

                 It was a prison of ice.  The sentence passed on for your grandfather’s rebellion against the crown.  Everyone knew the story.  Everyone expected your family to wither and die in the harsh north, but instead you’d survived.  Your people tougher, stronger because of it.  

                  “I will ask you one more time before I summon an executioner.”  You took a step toward him.  “Why are you here?”

                  “I need your help.”  The look of defeat on his face made it clear you were his last choice. “The kingdom is at war, its chaos. My home is occupied by an enemy.”

                  “Yes, a lesser house than your own. Correct?  House Rumlow.  I heard they murdered your family in a revolt.”  You walked to the window. “And that the crown supports them.  Who sits on the throne in the South now?  House Romanov?  House Stark?  House Quill? Or is it House Parker now?  I can hardly keep up the way you fight each other.”

                  “I don’t care about the throne.”  Steve’s desperation started to show.  “I don’t care about any of that.  I care about my people, my lands, the ones I am warden too. Rumlow will see them tortured, murdered with glee.  He is dangerous.”  

                 “You say you care nothing about the throne, but who is your allegiance to?”  You spun to face him, your sky blue cloak sliding against the stone floor.  “Because it certainly is not to me.”  

                  “I understand ancient grudges.  But you seem well versed in the present times, more so than expected.  My home, the estate of Brooklyn, is the farthest North of the great houses.   You think he won’t want to expand his lands? Come for you?  Maybe not be as lenient about your spies passing through our towns?” Steve’s voice echoed across the walls.

                 “You expect this Rumlow to expand into my, what do you Southerners call it, wasteland?”  You folded your arms.  “What I think, is I should sit it out.  Watch all of you destroy each other.  Do my part to contribute by ending your life right here.”

                  “You won’t.”   Steve pushed out his chest.

                  “What has you so sure of that?”  You did not like him questioning your authority.

                 “Because there are rumors of you.  The Queen beyond the kingdoms.  Who has aided her people, grown them in numbers, united other banished here.  Stories of kindness, and love for her people.  A stunning beauty who would…”

                 “STOP!” You held your hand up, not wanting to hear any more flatteries or acknowledge the rush of adrenaline.  “I do love my people.  I love them so much I will not consider sending them to their deaths for a fight that is not theirs.”  

                 There was only five thousand living under your command, though all were trained fighters and stronger than ten southern. Even the youngest.  

                 “I am not asking for your people’s assistance.” Steve gulped and rang his hands in front of him.  

                 “Oh?”  You smirked. “Well I suppose you never answered my original inquiry.  What do you want?”  

                  “There’s other rumors.”  He glanced around the hall, your guards still at the door.  “I saw the red comet in the sky, I remember it vividly.  Four years ago.”  

                  “Celestial matters bare no influence on my decisions.” You walked back to your throne.  

                  “I know what that means.  Your bloodline, your family.  Stories, pictures of what once was.  They’ve returned.  To you.” Steve kept his eyes on you.  

                  A laugh left your mouth as you sat in the chair and shook your head.  

                 “Whatever you’re implying, you are mistaken.”  You leaned back.  

                 “I believe.  I believe enough I came here alone, unarmed, knowing fully well you could chop my head off.”  Steve took a step forward and your guards reacted.  

                 You held a palm up and shook your head.  This man was no threat.  

                  “Because I have faith.  I have faith that you are as kind and noble as the rumors say. That something unbelieve, magical is happening in your land, and that you are good and just and will not let any more innocent lives be lost.”  Steve dropped down to his knees.  “Please. Help me.  I have an army of two thousand, going to take on an army double that size.  I need you. I will welcome you and your people into my kingdom in return.”

                  “As a guest?”  You rolled your eyes.

                  “No.”  Steve brought his hands in front of him.  “As a Queen. I have dropped to my knee twice before you.  Once you help us win back Brooklyn, I will do so again.  In front of all my people, and recognize you as the one true leader. Then I will help you get what you really want.”

                  “And what is that?”  The promise made your blood pressure rise.  

                  “The throne.” He stood up again.  “You are correct in the waring houses.  The Kingdom needs unity.  The North will support your claim.”

                  “The North?”  You snapped as you stood up from the chair.  “You think you’re the North?  You know nothing about the dangers my people endure.  The harsh conditions.  Winter, snow, ice.”  

                 “Then accept my offer.”  Steve watched as you walked back toward the window.  “Take them to your ancestral home. Away from here.”  

                  “I intend to.”  You spun on your heels.  “Without your assistance.  My original plan still stands.  I’m going to let you kill each other. Once you’re all a sea of graveyards we will return home, without shedding a drop of blood.”

                 “Tomorrow.”  Steve’s eyes danced on your face, taking you in, making your skin crawl.  “The battle is set for dawn.”

                 “Tomorrow?”  You smiled. “What makes you think for a moment I could assist you in that amount of time.  Assembling my troops, readying the horses, making the travel.”

                 “I’m not asking for your troops.”  His eyes flashed.  “I believe you will help me.  Because you know it is right, and my offer is fair.”  

                 “Trusting your people’s offers is what landed my people here.”  Steve started to back away.  “I will not make the same mistakes as my ancestors.”  

                 “That is what I am counting on.”  He bowed.  “Dawn.”

                  “You will be severely disappointed.”  Part of you wanted to chase after the Southerner, enjoying your argument more than you had realized.  

                  “I have faith.”  He stood again.  “In you.”

                  The words made you unsettled.  So much so that you did not get another word out before he left the throne room.   Your guards escorting him out.  Maybe you should have decapitated him, it would have aided with the pain in the back of your neck he had caused.  

~~

               Steve left the stone building and looked behind him. That was their castle, it was barely a quarter the size of his own.  The rest of the buildings in the tiny town were made from wood.  They looked more like huts than houses.  

                  His eyes scanned the people.  They wore rich, heavy furs.  Of course, they were for protection from the elements, not fashion statement.  

                 Every one of them stopped what they were doing to gawk at him.  His way of dress made him stand out, but that wasn’t it.  Steve had always prided himself on being tough, strong like his father.   But these people, even the youngest were much stronger, faster, harder.  

                 He saw a little girl no more than ten stare at him, a look on her face angry enough he thought she might try to slit his throat.

                 None of these people had done anything wrong, none rebelled, none fought wars, but they lived here in the frozen lands because of choices their earlier generations had made.  The banishment was meant as an extinction, but somehow by some chance they’d survived.  

                 “Pity I was really hoping the Queen was going to chop your head off.”  One of the guards shoved his shoulder as they neared his boat.  

                  “Aye.”  The other shoved his back.  “This one has some meat on him, would’ve made for a fine stew.”  

                 “Stew?”  Steve looked over his shoulder.

                 Both men started laughing, their shoulders bouncing up and down with each chuckle.  

                 “That’s right pretty boy.”   The just got a foot in the boat when hard hands hit his back, his shin caught, and he fell forward into the wood.  “We eat each up out here.  Raw and bloodied.”  

                 The man flashed his teeth at Steve and made a crunching noise.  

                 “Tell your friends.”  The other brought his boot up on the boat and kicked him off into the water.  “You pretty Kingdom folk our are favorite dinner guests.”

                  Both men chuckled as they licked their lips. Steve knew they were joking, or at least hoped as much.  He picked up his oar and began to row across the sea.

                 Soon the village vanished from view.  Steve tried not to think about the icy waters below him, the danger in the small boat breaking, drowning into the cold abyss. He knew coming out here was a risk, but he had no other option.  

                 That was his first time seeing the ice-queen. He’d heard her described as exotic, plain, short, tall, feminine, manish, dark, light and every other possible descriptor.   Nobody south of here had ever really laid eyes on her.  The warring descriptions were an enigma.  She was an enigma.  

                 He saw the red comet, he knew what it had meant. Nobody believed him and insisted it was folk lore.  But Steve was always a believer.  

                 She may have rolled her eyes, chuckled a little, but she wasn’t on the floor in hysterics at his suggestion.  That comet meant something that night.  

                 By the time he reached the other side of the water, the rise in temperature was noticeable.   His horse remained untouched.  Steve didn’t bother dragging the boat, the weight would slow them down too much and it was still a several hour ride to his encampment.  

                 “I have faith.”  He rubbed his horse’s neck as he untied her from the tree.  “She will help us.”  

~~

                 “The pansy boy is gone.”  Bucky, your guard and second in command came back into the room.

                 “You’re not really considering giving him aid?” Sam, your guard and third was close behind him.  “The nerve of him, walking in here like the two of you are equals.”

                 “I’m no better than anyone else.”  You crossed your arms.  “His proposal was interesting.”  

                 “You look beautiful by the way.”  Sam looked you up and down.  “Like a true queen.”

                 “It was my mother’s.”  You smoothed down the thick light blue gown, the matching cloak over your shoulders.  “I should change.”  

                  Your scouts spotted the visitor long before his arrival.  You wanted to look the regal part but were much more used to dressing in the same manner as everyone else.  

                 “You should have killed him.”  Bucky was never one for pleasantries.  “I would’ve done it.  Taken his head back to his men myself.”

                 “We’re not barbarians.”  You smiled at your men.  “Besides, he let some rumors slip. If we are going to take back the kingdom we may need ally’s.”

                  “That’s not the plan.”  Bucky made a fist.  “We let them battle each other.  Swoop in and take out the tired victor.  It’s days away.  All the troops are ready.”  

                  “Did that man strike you as an oppressor?” You walked toward the door.  “One who wishes to keep us locked up here?”

                  “He struck me as desperate.”  Sam added.  “And a bit delusional.”  

                  When the winter winds hit you, you tightened the cloak.   Bucky and Sam walked behind as your greeted a few of your people on your walk.  

                 “You look stunning!”  A little girl yelled.  “A true queen!”  

                 “Delusional?”  You waved and shook some hands.  “What makes you say that?”  

                  You arrived at the ice cliff that protected your village from further elements, walking around the edge to the opening in the mountain side.  

                  “The promises he made.  Does he really think his people will bend the knee to you?  Recognize you as their leader?  It would never be that simple.”  Sam and Bucky followed you into the darkness of the cave.  

                  “Thor?  Loki? Hela?”  You walked further.  “It’s alright.  You can come out now.”

                 You stopped walking, deep enough it was pitch black.  

                 “No.  It wouldn’t.” You sighed.  “But he confirmed they know we’re plotting our return.”  

                 The dark began to fade as red filled the area, the crawling almost shaking the mountain.  

                 “I am so sorry you had to hide.”  You went toward the giant head, putting your hand on Thor’s nose when he came into view.  “It seems more people are aware of your existence than I imagined.  But that’s alright.  I think it’s time we introduced you three to the world.”  

                 There was a low screech from Hela as a shot of fire came out of her mouth.  You saw Bucky and Sam in the glow, getting better at hiding their terror, but not so much you couldn’t see it on their faces.  

                 “Just think.”  You walked around to Thor’s back, climbing on board as he dipped his wing. “You two look that scared and they’re on our side.  Just imagine what the enemy will face.”  

                  “Scared?”  Sam sounded shocked.

                 “Me?  Scared?” Bucky scoffed.  “Never.”  

                 “Right.”  You leaned down to Thor as he began to crawl forward.  

                 You were certain Steve Rogers was out of view. Thor raced through the cave until the daylight came and then moved to flight.  You held on as he took you up, up, up.   Loki and Hela right behind you.  

                 Your people were used to seeing the dragons and paid no attention to your little flight.  

 You’d always planned on taking your them south, but forever envisioned it as a hostile trip.  Never once anticipating an invitation, let alone the opportunity to be seen as a savior.

                 Thor dipped down into an ice cavern, flying along the frozen rivers.  Loki and Hela screeched at each other behind you.  

                 The dragons, your people, you, none knew what it felt like to feel warmth surround them.  Always living in the snow and ice.  You wanted more for them.  Maybe Steve Roger’s welcoming was the start.

                 Thor shot up in the air and you held on tighter, bracing yourself to his back as he flew up the side of a glacier.  

               Then again, maybe Bucky was right.  You were heading down either way. Who was Steve Rogers to deserve your trust?  

Graveyard: Chapter Three

Smoke and Mirrors

Summary: Memories are a dangerous, dangerous thing.

Pairing: Loki Odinson x OFC

Warnings: Sexual language, implied intimacy, physical altercation

A/N: Flashbacks are italicized. Ella is going THROUGH IT, and we finally begin to realize how strong she’s going to have to be to survive.

The news about what Loki had done on Midgard shook the Asgardian people. Sure, Loki was mischievous and loved a good mean-spirited prank, but this was different.

This was lunacy and malice. This was murder for his own personal gain.

This was evil.

When he’d arrived back to Asgard, Thor had taken him to the Allfather himself. He was sentenced to live out his days in the dungeons. Exile of the worst kind—one where you’re forced to bare witness to what you’ve lost.

Shortly after that, the God of Thunder had come to see you.

“Thor...” you cried as you hugged him.

He looked mournful, “Ella I’m sorry, but there is nothing that can be done.”

The hot tears fell down your cheeks as Thor hugged you, attempting to console you. “I need to see him. Please, Thor. He can’t be gone—there has to be some...some good left. Some him...”

Thor sighed, “Don’t do that to yourself. Seeing my brother this way will only bring you torment. You should remember him how he was, not what he’s become.”

You grasp Thor’s hand, “Please.” You beg.

He gives your hand a small squeeze. “I cannot help, but perhaps Mother can. Odin is likely to forgive Frigga of anything.”

A sob escaped you, “Thank you, Thor. Thank you.”

The two of you make haste through the halls of the palace. Heading for the drawing room, you round a corner following swiftly on Thor’s heels when he stops abruptly.

“Mother.” He says simply. As you peek around his massive frame, you see Frigga, looking almost as if she’d been waiting for him.

“All-Mother.” You say, bowing to her.

She laughed delicately. “Rise, child. You think yourself in trouble?”

You nod, and Thor speaks. “Mother...Ella, she needs—“

Frigga put her hand up. “I know. I was raised by witches boy, I see with more than eyes and you know that.”

Thor stepped aside, revealing you fully. Your gaze is locked on the ground in front of you as the All-Mother steps forward.

She watches you for a moment, before placing a hand on your cheek. “Oh my dear,” she coos, “this is love, is it not?”

Your tears return quicker than before. You nod, “Yes,” you feel your lip quiver, “but what he’s become...I know it’s wrong, I do.”

She smiled softly, “You love my son. That is no crime.”

“May I see him? Please, no matter how small the moment. I need to try to help him.”You beg.

Frigga sighs, and nods. “The All-Father will be cross as ever, but I will deal with it. Come.”

Looking to Thor, you mouth a quick ‘thank you’, and follow Frigga to the dungeons

Before you could descend the stairs, she stops you. “Be warned, Ella. He is not himself, his mind has been made undone.” You nod, and she gestures for you to go ahead.

You approach his cell, it’s the first on the left. He’s stood in the middle, with his back to you.

“Loki.” You call quietly, shocked you were able to muster the courage.

He spins slowly, and your heart breaks at the sight of him. The circles under his eyes, the cold, clammy look to his skin. He looks like a man possessed.

He smiles, and for a split second, he looks like himself. Then the smile turns crazed, almost sinister. “Hello, my love.” He croons. “I’ve missed you.”

You swallow the ball of emotion working it’s way up your throat. “Loki, I thought you dead...how could you do this? To me?”

He laughs, “Are you not proud? You would have been my Queen; we could have ruled Midgard together. Just the two of us, as fate intended.”

Loki walks closer to the cells walls, and you instinctively take a step back. His face falls, and for a moment, you see the sadness in his eyes.

“They’ve made you afraid of me, too.”

You shake your head, “What you’ve done...this isn’t you.”

“But this is me!” He yells suddenly, causing you to jump. “This is me in all of my glory, giving truth to the lie I’ve been fed my whole life—I was born to rule.”

You can’t keep the tears back any longer. “You’ve killed so many people—children, Loki!” You shout. “and for what?! Look at where you are!”

You wipe your face, and take a careful step towards him again. “I loved you.” You speak softly, voice trembling. “Through every battle, every new conquest, every scheme and trick. I loved you in death and when I was certain I’d never see you again, but now...” you point to him, “This man—this monster you’ve become, I cannot love you this way.”

You watch his face carefully, searching for any sign of remorse, but he remains unchanged...a master at emotional anonymity.

“And I loved you. Though I was told you were beneath me...a half-breed. That you weren’t worthy of an Odinson because of your bloodline. That I was to be rid of you in favor of someone chosen by the All-Father.”

You swallow hard, as he looks you in your eyes. “Odin was right, you’re tainted flesh. Worthless.”

His words slash through your heart like a knife. “You don’t mean that—“

“I, what?” He mocks, “You don’t know me at all, Ellaria. I’m the God of mischief...of tricks..of lies. I have played with your heart for my own amusement, and now you believe yourself worthy of my affections?”

The tears in your eyes cease for a moment, “Loki...stop this.”

He runs at you to the wall of the cell, “Get out of my sight you vile, little halfling. I never wish to have you in my presence again.” He seethes though clenched teeth.

Your eyes widen at his words, and you run. You run as far and as fast as you could.

That’s the nightmare that wakes you. Remembering how you’d come to hate and be hated by Loki invades your dreams for the first time in years.

You jolt awake, inhaling a sharp gasp of air.

“What were you dreaming about?” He asked calmly.

You jump, nearly forgetting he was actually here. “N-Nothing.”

He scoffs, “Liar.” He takes his thumb and swipes your cheek, showing it to you. “No one cries in their sleep over nothing.”

Feeling your cheeks, you quickly wipe away the pain from your nightmares. The chance Loki knew what you dreamt of was high. He always had the habit of reading your thoughts—both awake and in slumber.

“I’m starving. How long did we sleep?” You ask, brushing off his question.

“You slept for three days.”

“Three days?!” You cry. “Why didn’t you wake me?!”

Loki stood from the bed, grabbing the pitcher of water and pouring you a glass. “For one, I got a break from your attitude, and two, you clearly needed it. No one sleeps for three days if they’re feeling spry.”

You scoff as he handed it to you, “I guess.”

Loki watched as you drank it, “Eat and dress quickly,” he says, “I’m to meet with the Grandmaster for a tour of his fleet. He plans on showing me his impressive collection of ships.” Loki smirked.

Your eyes rolled, that tone said it all. Loki has a plan; one that would surely involve you in some way, shape or form.

You stand, “Fine.”

The trays of food smelled delicious. Your stomach had been so empty, you could feel it ache as the delightful aromas hit your nose. Once your plate is full, you sit on the bench near the bed, and roll up your sleeves to dig in.

“What is that?” Loki says suddenly.

Butter knife in hand, you ignore him, smearing some jam on the toast you’d grabbed.

“Ellaria, I will not ask again.”

“What is what?” Following his eye line, you realize that he’s staring at your forearm.

“Oh that? That was a little welcome present from you, your highness...” you snark,

His face goes cold. “I hadn’t—I didn’t know I’d grabbed you so forcefully.”

You pause your meal yet again. “You never did know your own strength, Loki. Don’t worry, I’ll heal soon enough.”

He stands abruptly, “Speak up for Norn’s Sake next time, Gods know you open your mouth about every other blasted thing.”

“You’re blaming me? It’s my fault your abusing me?”

Loki froze, “Abusing you? I’m the only reason you’re still alive. You ought to be thanking me, but instead, you’re forgetting your place.”

You stood, angrily pushing away your plate. “My place? My place is Asgard. My place used to be the safest haven in the universe, and now I don’t even know what’s become of it.”

Loki stepped closer to you, not speaking, just watching you.

“This is all because of you. You’re arrogance in thinking yourself above everyone. Odin and I may have had our differences, but at least I could say with honesty that he cared for his people.”

The fire in Loki’s eyes at the mention of the All-Father could not be extinguished.

“Differences? Is that what you’d call what he did to us? What he did to you?”

The volume of his voice made you tremble. Loki was known for his composure, and when he lost his temper, things often escalated quickly.

You took a step back, bumping into the coffee table and nearly falling over, but his arm caught you. Loki set you straight on your feet, hands running smoothly down your sides, prickling your skin, before resting on your hips.

“That old fool took everything from me.” His face was inches from yours, so close you could feel the heat of his breath on your nose.

His emerald eyes roamed your features. “I will return to Asgard and claim my throne. I will be the King I was raised to be, and so much more than Odin ever was. If you want to go home, you will help me in doing this.”

Loki released you finally, but remained close to you. “If people need to think me a monster, so be it.”

Your breathing heavily when he steps away from you, not realizing you’d been holding your breath.

“Dress, you have 5 minutes.”

“Oh, and this one...” Grandmaster gestured to a large blue and white ship. “This one holds hundreds—maybe even a thousand passengers. I’ve never needed to use it, but imagine the fun we could have on it.”

Loki feigned interest, “Your collection is, by far, the widest and most impressive in the Universe, Grandmaster. Which would you say is your favorite, though?”

“Ah!” He shouted happily, “Right this way.”

You trailed behind them, making a mental note of what ships it looked like you could figure out how to fly.

“The Diamond Swinger...” he gestured.

It was a beautiful ship. Perfectly aerodynamic, and had plenty of on-craft blasters.

That’s the one. You think to yourself.

“My, my she’s a beauty...” Loki praised.

GM giggled, “isn’t she? It’s my fasted ship—sturdy too. Blasters, shields, the whole shebang.”

You rolled your eyes. This guy was playing right into Loki’s hands and he didn’t even seem to realize it.

“Sir, we’ve got to head to the tower. The contest will be starting soon.” Topaz said monotonously.

He clapped his hands. “Of course, of course! You will join me, won’t you King?”

The GM bit his lip, waiting for Loki’s answer. You can’t help but laugh, of course this guy would fancy Loki.

He cleared his throat, “I would be honored to attend. Pet, what do you say to the Grandmaster for being so hospitable?”

You look at him, almost in disbelief.

You’ve got to be absolutely joking, I’m not thanking this lunatic! You shout with your mind.

Loki steps behind you and nudges his knee into the back of your own, knocking you down.

“What do you say, pet? He seethes into your ear.

Your proper up on both knees, and raise your head high. “Thank you, Grandmaster.”

It’s not much, but it’s all you can force out of your mouth.

Loki backs up, allowing you to lift yourself up. “Well done. She’s still learning, I’m afraid. Her manners need some reformation.” He said with a smirk.

You’re walking now, back towards the exit of the garage. “You know, Loki. A good dose of behavioral therapy is my Contest of Champions. Have you ever considered entering her? She seems quite feisty.” GM said, not bothering to look at you as he walked.

“Feisty she may be, but she’s also very weak. I doubt she could last more than one round before we’d be carting her off to the dump.” Loki didn’t look at you either, he just kept walking with his new bff.

“Oh I don’t believe that, she’s a fighter. I can see it in her eyes. I’m telling you, one round against one of my champions and her attitude will change course.” The GM laughed.

You clenched your fists so hard, you’re sure your nails were drawing blood. You needed to start working on your own plan. Killing Loki and getting the hell back home.

Not necessarily in that order, but hey, ya work with whatcha got.

“If I find she’s displeases me again, I may do just that. Until then, I wish no harm to my new pet.” He pauses by the doors while the Grandmaster enters the codes. Loki turns and looks at you longingly, before he strokes your jaw, “She’s quite special, that mouth is certainly a gift from the God’s.”

Heat fills your face like fire—angry fire.

“I will dress for the occasion, then.” Loki held his hand out to you, and you walked past him. He ignores it, for now. “Grandmaster, we shall meet you in your suite in a hour.”

Back in his rooms, you’re quiet. Uncharacteristically so.

If Loki notices, he doesn’t say anything. Besides, if he really wanted to know, he’d have no qualms about poking in your head.

Your stood by the window, tossing an apple—or what looks like an apple, in the air. The city is aglow, but empty. Most of the citizens had gone to the arena for the contest.

While you’ve come to realize that most of the buildings were made from the trash spewed out by the portals above, it didn’t make them any less beautiful. In fact, if you were being held here like a prisoner, you’d think the planet was quite lovely.

You’re lost in thought when you feel a hand on your shoulder. Out of pure instinct, you spin and strike with your right hand and swoop with your left. When your fists make contact, you swing your leg and knock the person to their knees.

It’s a combination of moves that happens in seconds. Swift and powerful blows blur together, and your brain is suddenly on auto pilot waiting for a new battle. When it doesn’t come, you look down and see Loki on his knees in front of you, wiping the drop of blood from the corner of his mouth.

Your eyes widen, shocked he’d been susceptible to such an attack in the first place.

He let his guard down.

“I forgot just how skilled you were in combat.” He hadn’t come off his knees, but his green eyes were locked on yours. “Surely it was time I’d been reminded.”

Loki’s voice always had the strangest effect on you. Ever sound and syllable washed over you like a blanket, surrounding you in comfort. The way he painted his thoughts with words was something that was never lost on you.

“Next time speak up.” You say, echoing his words from earlier.

He hasn’t moved, he’s still on his knees, his face level with your waist. Somehow, even though he’s the one kneeling, you’re the one who feels vulnerable.

“Get up, Loki.” You feign irritation.

He smirks, “I suppose I should, after all it’s been quite some time since you’ve had me in such a...compromising position.”

Memories flood your mind, visions of the two of you tangled amongst his emerald sheets. Skin coated in a post-intimate glow, nothing but pillow talk between you.

“You’re perfect.” Loki croons as his fingers trace lines along your bare hips.

A fierce heat fills your cheeks, and you laugh. You were naked in the Prince’s bed and yet it is his words that embarrass you.

“and you, Loki Silvertongue, are just sated.” You avoid his eyes, not wanting to fall anymore than you already have.

His strong hands find your cheek and grip it gently. “While that may be true, it doesn’t change anything. You’re flawless, an absolute goddess in every way.”

Loki kisses you. It’s unlike the ones just minutes ago; these kisses aren’t raw and hungry, but soft as passionate. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think they were full of love.

“Loki...” you whisper. You hated this part, sneaking away in the middle of the night in fear.

He doesn’t answer, he simply pulls you close, holding you against his glistening chest.

“Loki, I have to go.” Your voice is strained, on the verge of tears as always.

“No.”

It comes out far too quickly. “No? What do you mean no?” You ask.

He’s holding you, still. “I mean no. I wish for you to stay here, in my bed, with me. I wish to hold you while you sleep, and watch you as you wake in the morning’s first light. I wish to make love to you as the sun is rising and the swallows chirp. I wish to love you properly and without fear.”

Speechless. Loki never fails to leave you speechless. He looks down and see’s the tears welling in your eyes.

“Ellaria, my heart. I love you, and I don’t care who knows it.”

Shaking your head, you’re brought back to the present, the memory alone bringing the familiar sting to your eyes. “Stop it.” You strain.

You know Loki is putting the thoughts in your mind on purpose, messing with you consciousness in an attempt to weaken your resolve.

...and you’re terrified he’ll succeed.

Loki runs his hands up your legs, “How long has it been, Ellaria?” When your name fell from his lips, you shuddered. “How long has it been since you’ve been touched? Was I your last? Heaven’s know I was your first.”

You step back, “Enough, Loki.” You don’t look to see if he gets up. Instead you move back to the window, folding your arms and praying he’ll get the memo to leave you be.

Nope.

You feel him before you hear him, the heat from his body has never matched the coolness of his skin. “Was I your only? Could that be why fate has bound us together this way?” His hands find your waist for a moment, before tracing up your arms.

You don’t answer, you refuse to give him the satisfaction.

Loki chuckles, the deep, rumbling sound in his chest echoing in your ear. “You were mine, once. It seems as though your body still is.” His delicate fingers sweep the hair off of your neck, revealing you goosebump covered skin.

Growling, you spin around with one of Loki’s daggers in hand; you’d grabbed it from his belt whilst he was talking.

The tip of the blade touches the soft part of his neck, right under his chin. You hold it there with firm, but shaking hands. For a moment, no words come out. That’s when you realize your eyes were unable to hold the tears back any longer.

Loki’s hands are up in surrender as you step forward, keeping the blade to his flesh.

“I...am not...yours.” You croak. Your throat so strained, you were sure the ache would never subside.

He watches you for a moment, always observing before acting. Loki slowly lifts his hand and moves the blade away with one finger.

“Then why do you cry for me still?” It comes out as nearly a whisper. For a moment, his eyes look familiar. They look like a place of safety; gone is the empty and cold darkness.

You shake your head. He’s not the same, Ella. Don’t let him fool you again. It’s a mental pep talk, one that would save you from being vulnerable.

“My tears are not for you, they are my own for being so blind. My blade, however, that is something I intend to use on you and you alone.” You’re deflecting, he knows you are. You can tell by the smirk now gracing his lips.

“I’ve no doubt you’d try to kill me if you thought you’d make it out of here alive. The sad truth, my dear? You need me just as much as I need you.”

His eyes are back to normal; dark and unchanging. You keep his dagger, and shove it into your waistband.

Stepping around him, you walked to the bathing room. The moment the door clicked shut, you let out a shaking breath. Why were you letting him affect you so much? Hadn’t you moved on from this by now?

He’s manipulating you, Ella. Just like before.

Splashing your face with cold water, you attempt to gather your nerves. You did not need Loki, and you intend to prove just that.

Not only to him, but to yourself.

Tagging:  @jessiejunebug @babyboybucky @classyunknownlover