#& although it’s unfortunately very normalized it is wildly fucked up to try to take this AND expect the other party to thank you for it

[quicktimeeventfull]

tbh i think a lot of people fail to understand that being allowed to share in the difficulties and pain your friends are experiencing is a gift. it’s something that is being offered to you & it involves a great deal of vulnerability on the part of the person who is experiencing the difficulties. there are a lot of reasons it’s a bad idea to send invasive and concern trolling messages to strangers but one of them is that it’s an attempt to take something important and precious which has not been offered, often with the implication that doing so is somehow a favour. it’s grotesque and it feels deeply, deeply unpleasant to get messages like these. don’t do this! it’s fucked up and weird. also frankly basically no one who sends patronizing & concern trolling messages to strangers is ever right bc no one with the emotional intelligence required to be helpful would do this in the first place.

[xjulixred45x]

Choso and Little Sister! Reader

This was the Request of a lovely Anonnymous, i hope You enjoy it sweetie!(sorry if it's a little short!)

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: female

Warnings: MANGA AND ANIME SPOILERS SPOILERS!!!, READ UNDER YOUR OWN RISK!!mentioned death, Kenjaku is a Terrible father, but Choso is a sweetheart. I think nothing more. Fluff.

you were another of Noritoshi Kamo's experiments.

You were the only girl, Noritoshi wanted to see if maybe using a female container would finally create something "interesting" to his liking.

but unfortunately (or fortunately) you did not meet his expectations in the slightest, even if you were more stable and humanoid than most of your brothers.

He wasn't disappointed, but he definitely wasn't surprised.

Choso, Kechizu and Esou tried to encourage you at the time, since they had all received similar treatment to you at the time and they wanted to help you not take it to heart.

Choso especially with his big brother complex had a great pleasure in comforting you, not only because of his burning hatred towards his father, but because in general he found that he liked the feeling of being loved by you.

You loved all your brothers, Kechizu and Esou also protected you a lot from Kamo.

They all had a certain special attachment to you, being the only girl, they felt like they had to protect you, you never felt excluded with them unlike with your father.

but eventually everything went upside down.

and then you were sealed with your brothers, for a long, long time.

but then you woke up.

and your first impulse was to see your brothers.

Fortunately (at the time) Kechizu, Esou and Choso were fine, but everything had changed drastically since the Edo Period. everything was so modern.

and humans were...well, normal. You knew you wouldn't have the chance to have a normal life being what you were. You weren't human or curse completely.

Choso had that same line of thinking, so he allied himself with Geto. I thought that this way they would have a better chance of living. a world for you...

but then Kechizu and Esou died...

and you could feel it very vividly when their lives ended...

and you felt horrible.

Choso did everything he could to comfort you, he would do what he used to do when they were young, end whatever had hurt them.

This Yuji Itadori and Nobara Kusigaki killed their brothers and hurt you, they will not come out alive.

Now it was just you and Choso. so he became considerably more clingy and protective of you.

nothing invasive, he simply did things like always go with you or not leave you alone with Curses that he considered "untrustworthy" like Mahito (rightfully so).

If someone (for example, Jogo) directly seeks a physical fight with you, Choso will practically teleport in front of you to cover you and HE will be the one to threaten him with Violence.

Nobody fucks when it comes to you.

You are someone curious, so you try to learn some things from humans, as part of you wants to be like them. Choso understands this and supports you 100% (although he sees it more as a way to "know how the enemy thinks").

HE IS SO GENTLE WITH YOU, if you insist on wanting to develop a cursed technique, he will teach you his Blood technique, but don't expect him to teach you more of the Theory (of the little he knows about his own technique), Choso will be breaks my heart at the thought of hitting YOU to train🥺

He just doesn't see it necessary at first because "why would you need to fight if I'm always protecting you?" But in an innocent way. He's just a little Paranoid and scare to let you on your own knowing what happen to your brothers.

Also, if he goes somewhere on his own, he brings you things that he considers "cute" or "girlish" (because he is still used to having only one younger sister), such as flowers, accessories, decorations, toys, etc.

Wildly protective, even over small things, you can't blame him after what he went through with his brothers. If you get into a fight with Jogo or Mahito, Choso-nissan is about to have a "talk" with him if you know what I mean.

If you manage to have a cursed technique useful enough to send you into combat, Choso will always be near you, without exception. And always with the same "it is my duty as the older brother to protect you"

Although the more experience you gain and the better you are at fighting, you and Choso develop an almost impenetrable joint fighting style. so he relaxes a little. not much, but a little.

If we go further into the story, you two were separated by the time he went after Itadori, although it wasn't exactly by choice, "Geto" said it was unfair that you both went, which is why you were originally going to take on Kugisaki.

but you got lost.

Now, I can honestly see Choso not letting you participate in the Shibuya massacre mostly out of practicality, so when you saw the amount of deaths they had caused, it really came as a surprise.

but when you felt something strange...

the same feeling as when they killed Kechizu and Esou...but this was not Choso...

You went to look for him, and when he explained the situation, it was a shock to say the least.

actually "Geto" was Noritoshi Kamo...

your father...

and Yuji Itadori was your younger brother....

It was a lot to digest.

but they didn't waste time going to confront him, after all Choso almost killed his/your brother!

(You definitely wanted Yuji to call you "One-chan"/"One-san" even just once, because for once you weren't the youngest sibiling).

(If, similarly to Choso, you are having visions of false memories where everyone is a happy family, this feeds EVEN MORE that need to hear it directly from Yuji. You want your cute little brother back :( )

With the addition of Yuji to the mix, everything becomes more chaotic, but in some ways, happier.

Now you feel like you finally have a responsibility, taking care of Yuji like a good big sister, so you constantly ask Choso for advice on doing so, which makes his heart MELT.

For Yuji it would be quite strange at first, but unlike Choso you don't seem older than him, but eventually he gets used to your presence, and since you didn't try to kill him, he warms up to you much faster.

If Yuji calls you "Onee-san" either to say that you're "something like his Big sister" or by accident, the boy won't let go of your hug (and additionally Choso, because he LOVES your hugs) for at least an hour. .

Choso continues to watch you like a Falcon. Even if you have Yuji now, he doesn't neglect you in the least. He tries to be aware of your emotions, especially with the losses that occur at that point in the story.

As I said above, one way in which you and Choso express affection for each other is through hugs, he is tall, so he gives the BEST BEAR HUGS IN THE WORLD and even though you are smaller than him, you give strong hugs, for so they use this as a great source of comfort.

It is a habit that you have had since you were "born" after all.

Yuji tries to teach you and Choso basic normal human things, which is pretty fun because it's like teaching an adult baby how to walk again🤣😅

(If you see The Human Worm you will definitely end up crying, you can't help it, you identify a lot with the main character)

Now that you have the chance, Choso is fine with you experiencing as many "normal" things as you want! whether interacting with other humans, having friends, having hobbies, etc.

He is happy to see you every day being happier yourself :,)

definitely big on preventing Kenjaku's comments from sticking in your head, he assures you that you are interesting and unique in your own way (and that Kenjaku is shit, so his opinion doesn't count).

I also think that at this point Choso would be more open with you with his insecurities, even if he wants to maintain the big brother image, he knows that you have the right to think for yourself and have your own point of view, and it feels WRONG to hide things from you.

He already feels bad enough for having taken the "easy way" due to the fact that humans wouldn't accept them, and that's why he left Yuji alone, and dragged you with him... dragged you to a life where you killed people, REAL humans...

but fortunately you were able to see things in a similar way to Yuki, yes, you are not human as such, but you two feel, you can suffer, you can be happy, you can empathize, isn't that enough to be human?

A part of you didn't understand. But you were there for you brother.

In general, Choso is a very loving older brother, who loves you with everything he is, he will do ANYTHING to protect you from everyone, Sukuna, Kenjaku, it doesn't matter, there will be no one to harm you, not with your older brother with you.

He loves you very much.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

Thank You for the Request ❤️

[kehkr]

i keep coming up with ideas for new fics but i really just need to update the fics i already have......

SO ANYWAY the fic idea is that kai is now an adult and ceo of hiwatari enterprises but he STILL doesn't give a shit. he goes through secretaries like they're fast food because he has unreasonable standards yet he skips meetings and important reports because idk- he's too busy jumping off the side of mountains for fun??? enterting back alley beyblade tournaments???? even tyson has moved on to taking over mr d's job but kai, nooooooo, he just rocks up to the tournament in a terrible disguise and expects tyson to not realise its him.

"kai you're too old for this!"

"fuck you!!!!!!"

anyway!

kai is a meance and his secretary, isobel, has to essentially plan his whole life, do his job for him and make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble whilst also trying to impress upon him the importance of acting like a normal responsible human being. it just so happens that isobel is just as insane as he is.

WELL I GUESS IM JUST GONNA WRITE SOME OF IT HERE? SOMEONE RESTRAIN ME

Isobel grinned, feeling an overwhelming sense of satisfaction as she opened up the calendar that she shared with her boss. Who cared what Voltaire wanted, he had stepped down from the company three years ago, this was really none of his business. After all, her job- in her opinion- was to make sure her that boss was happy, not Voltaire. He better appreciate this, thought Isobel as she typed in the schedule that she had come up with for the next week and pressed the update button. She reclined in her office chair, glad for at least a few moments of rest. Unfortunately, it did not last long. Within minutes her phone was ringing. The name on the screen flashing up, Kai Hiwatari. A feeling of dread spread through her chest. Maybe she had been wrong. "Hello?" she answered. "Why have you added a helicopter ride to my schedule next Friday?" he demanded coldly. Isobel tried her very best to be patient, taking a deep breath in before responding. "If you look at the next thing scheduled-" "Yeah, skydiving? Into…" he trailed off. "The arena…" he sounded confused. "You've scheduled me for the beyblade match?" "Of course, the only way I could fit it in was if you get the helicopter from the landing pad, the roads are so busy that time of day," she said curtly. There was a long pause. "But why did you schedule it in the first place?" "Did you not want me to? I'm very sorry Mr Hiwatari, if you'd rather I cancel the beyblade match-" "No!" he snapped, although Isobel was sure she heard an amused huff of air zoom down the phone. She smiled. "If you would also take note of the practice session the day before- we don't want you falling to your death. That would be a lot of paperwork for the firm and I don't think your Grandfather would be too pleased." "Yeah…" "Undoubtedly you will defeat your opponent in a timely manner," she continued smartly, "which will allow you time to get in the car that I have scheduled at 19:00 to take you to dinner with your fiancée, followed by an evening of drinks at the rooftop whiskey bar with your colleagues." "I- right. What's the little glasses emoji you've put at the end of the battle for?" "Mr Saien will check your beyblade over after the battle. I've also scheduled myself to meet him on Monday to give your beyblade a check-up before the match." "You contacted Kenny?" "I did." There was silence on the line which Isobel assumed could only mean that Kai Hiwatari could not find one thing to complain about. "Right. Well, uh. Good. I would have preferred not to have to go to the dinner and drinks-" "I believe it is essential to appease those who do not approve of your beyblading pursuits." "Eh- right." Her boss let out a long sigh. "Mm. Yeah. Good job Olgivy," and the phone went dead. Isobel span wildly in her chair. Kai Hiwatari had said she had done a good job! He had never said that to her, ever, in her whole entire month of working for him! Maybe she would be good at this after all!

(can't help but feel that this would suit a KaiXHil fic too lol)

[sarasapen]

Among the Blues and Greens

Another installation of the Little One series.

Summary: Meditation often allowed for Jedi to discover and learn about their thoughts and feelings, aiding them in solving their problems. This meditation session unfortunately reveals more than you’d like.

Or the one in which Obi-Wan’s Padawan realises she loves him.

Warnings: Language, meditation, slow dancing, yearning, revelations, forehead kisses, Past Obitine relationship mentions

Word Count: 3k

Star Wars Masterlist

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 You were a fraud.

 Whenever you felt particularly emotional, you meditated, as any good Jedi was supposed to do. Before daybreak, the gardens at the Sundari Royal Palace were relatively uninhabited, at least by people. You didn’t mind the plants and animals. Their energies were soothing, incorrupt, they just were. That’s how you find yourself there, for the third day in a row, trying desperately to calm the tempest that’s seen fit to take up permanent residence in your mind.

 Why were you a fraud? A fake? A poser?

 Because here you were, years of training under your belt, pretending to meditate. Fraud.

 It was an old ‘trick’ that young Padawans- very young Padawans, you added- resorted to when they were made to meditate. Sitting there with your eyes closed, trying to keep your breathing even. No actual self-exploration or deep diving into your mind, just putting up a facade that any force insensitive being wouldn’t see through.

 Unfortunately for you, Obi-Wan Kenobi was Force sensitive.

 “You’re pretending,” He muses, lowering himself beside you and crossing his legs, assuming the same position you were in. You keep your eyes closed, forcing your breaths to remain even as if he hadn’t even spoken. He sees right through it, amusement weaving into the deep blues that were his signature.

 Oftentimes you wondered what it was like, to be in the middle of all that was him. Observing one’s signature from the outside was very much different than actually experiencing it. Each individual’s signature was different, and his signature was always so wonderful… You wanted to learn more about it, about him. But you knew you wouldn’t ever dare to be brash enough to even brush your signature against his, let alone delve into him fully.

 His signature morphs, from the vibrant, rich hums to a gentle, soothing wave. He’s meditating.

 You scowl.

 He’s barely been sitting down for a minute, and he’s already accomplished what you’ve been trying to do for the past three days.

 “Focus your thoughts on something,” He suggests quietly, sending out a wash of calm over your prickling irritation. He’s guiding you, as he used to do years ago when you were a young and distractible little thing, and you let him.

 You’d let him do anything.

 You’re swept backwards into the deep abyss that’s your mind, and you fall freely, watching Obi-Wan’s signature withdraw slowly from yours. It’s like watching waves upon the shore, gently sweeping backwards and away, taking with it such tiny, essential parts of you while simultaneously shaping you into a thing to behold. It was always, before anything else, soothing.

 He didn’t like studying others’ energies too closely. It was a common trait amongst blue sabers, whilst reading people's energies were crucial for the Jedi, studying them at great lengths could often prove to be uncomfortable. But yours, he had said. He wouldn’t mind spending days traversing the inside of your mind if you’d let him.

 When you were younger, you’d asked him what your signature looked like to him. He said it was a mass of shades of green that were so beautiful he doubted the mere names of the colours or any other descriptive words would be able to do them any justice.

 Beautiful, was the word he’d always use.

 And he was…gentle, and kind, and smart. You exhale slowly, no longer stiff in your posture. He’s always been so patient with you, even with his occasional sarcastic comment. The perfect Jedi.

 Even as a youngling, you’d hear exaggerated stories from Padawans slightly older than you, or, at least, he insisted they were exaggerated. A few years into your training with him, you began to think that maybe the far-fetched stories weren’t so far-fetched after all.

 You’re so lucky, younglings would say shortly after you had become his Padawan. After all, Master Kenobi’s previous Padawan was the Chosen One. You’d have to be something special to attract his attention.

 And you were lucky. But not for the glory and the awe that sparkled in people’s eyes at the mention of his name. It was for his undivided attention on you, his genuine interest in the things you enjoyed, his efforts to shift your training to aid in what you wanted to specialise in, even if it was wildly different from what he was good at.

 Not that there was much he wasn’t good at.

 You loved the way he carried himself, not with arrogance or pride (both of which you thought would have been deserved), but with a humble sort of almost shyness. You loved that he pushed to do better, to be better, not for himself but for you and Anakin. You loved the way he conducted himself with people, even those considered to be the lowest of the lows, he treated them with so much respect and kindness.

 Perhaps it was just that he was a decent human being, but that didn’t mean you loved him any less.

 You loved the way he’d throw in a sharp remark when facing an adversary, or the way he’d stand tall even in the face of-

 Hold on.

 You loved him.

 You loved him. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

 “What are you thinking about?” Obi-Wan calls from beside you, his voice no louder than a low murmur, and it still makes you flinch. “You’ve grown tense.”

 Play dumb. You could do that. Just… blurt out something random and leave it at that, and then you can-

 “She seems nice.”

 FUCK. Not that fucking dumb oh stars above you were so fucking screwed-

 “She… The Duchess?”

 “Yeah, your Duchess.” Oh kriffing hells, if you could just. stop. talking.

 “Duchess Satine is not my Duchess,” His force signature dips suddenly, as if he’s reeled everything back into himself. It pulls you along with it, and you can no longer pretend that you’re meditating. Not with the way your Master turns to face you, studying your features with a concerned curiosity. You tense up again, keeping your eyes trained on a lone tree, a distance away. There’s a caterpillar crawling on one of the branches, and you focus on that. You can tell that he can tell. He’s always been so good at reading you.

 “You…” He starts, but stops himself, straightening and regarding you once again.

 “Sometimes I find myself having to meditate more than usual. Even up to a few times a day, if I’m…” Obi-Wan’s gaze flickers down from your eyes for just a split second, a movement so quick he doesn’t even realise he’s done it. “Distracted.”

 There’s a stutter in your signature, one you try to hide by slamming up your walls, but the brush of Obi-Wan’s hand against your arm has you faltering. The waves of him approach slowly once again, waiting patiently beside the storm that’s your signature.

 “What’s gotten you so tense?” He probes gently, the weight of his hand against your shoulder mirroring the gentle reassuring taps of his signature against yours.

 “Do you love her?”

 You know what. There’s a ledge. Right there. You could just jump off. If you were dead you wouldn’t be facing this amount of embarrassment.

 “...I used to,” Obi-Wan reveals, and his admission surprises himself more than it does you. Not that he wasn’t aware of what the extent of feelings for Satine used to be, but admitting it, out loud? It was something he had never done before.

 “Used to?”

 “It was a lifetime ago, when I was still a Padawan.”

 It’s strange. Neither of you want to continue talking, to keep delving into dark and murky uncharted territory, between the blurred depths of what’s allowed and what’s forbidden. It scares you. It scares him too. 

 “So… what? You decided to give her up?”

 He should say something about the way of the Jedi, that attachments were forbidden, and that had anyone else known, they would’ve expected him to leave Satine. If it were anyone else asking him this, he would’ve said it, accompanied by a deserved lecture on subtlety and manners.

 But you’re the exception.

 You’d always be his only exception.

 So, instead, Obi-Wan says, “The Duchess, while a remarkable woman, has a very different outlook on life than I do, even back then.”

 There's a stretch of silence that he feels like he needs to fill. “Besides, it gave me the chance to meet people even more remarkable.”

 “Not many people can compare to the Duchess of Mandalore,” You mutter, closing your eyes to block out the sight of him when he gets to his feet.

 “No,” Obi-Wan agrees. “Although the Duchess couldn’t come close to comparing to you.”

 And with that heart-stopping revelation, he leans down and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

 “Focus,” Obi-Wan whispers in your ear, and then he’s gone.

 Now you really couldn’t concentrate.

——

 “Breathe,” Obi-Wan had instructed you, sitting beside your fidgety body with his own long-since perfected form.

 It was the second week into your Padawan training, and it had taken Obi-Wan twenty three minutes to get you to sit still. Not including the sixteen minutes it took to get you past the normally three minute walk from library to your room, or the seven minutes it took for you to pad over to him and sit beside him. Not for your lack of trying, Obi-Wan mused, watching you fidget once again.

 Your eyes fly open at his words.

 “If I stop breathing during meditation will I die?”

 Yeah, okay, that one was on him. It takes a lot of control for Obi-Wan not to choke on his overwhelming surprise at your words.

 “Meditation can only occur when you stop speaking, little one,” He hints, keeping his posture straight. Thirty two minutes now, he’s been sitting in this position, not meditating, but focused on your wild little signature.

 “Oh, yeah,” You concede, shifting again and screwing your eyes shut.

 Master Kenobi, the whisper-shout in his head very nearly startles him, and Obi-Wan can’t keep pretending his focus is impeccable. He turns to regard you with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. If I stop breathing during meditation, will I die?

 Again, to your credit, you weren’t exactly… speaking.

 Perhaps that’s why, with a self-indulgent smile, he sends back a quick no.

 Okay, you accept happily, shifting again in your seat. Your early days were so much like Anakin’s. Both of you, filled with a curiosity and outlook on the world that only children could view, and it baffled him to no end that both of you viewed him in exactly the same way.

 You just accepted everything he said without much thought, readily eager to believe that your Master was always right, because what else could he ever be? It was perhaps that specific period of time during both his Padawans’ training that Obi-Wan was the most stressed. The first few years were the years he felt as though he could disappoint you the most, to fail to protect you and teach you and nurture you.

 He didn’t fail. He didn’t even come close. You’d tell him if you could. Anakin would tell him too. But it just wasn’t a conversation Jedis had.

 And…there.

 You’re not meditating. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to say something, but the words die in his throat when he feels you oh so carefully reach out your signature. He follows along at a distance, careful not to alert you, and he watches as your signature gingerly approaches the plant situated outside your apartment door.

 The plant. You were connecting with the plant.

 You’re calm, he realises. Nearly ridiculously so, if he didn’t know any better he’d think your signature was that of a fully trained knight. The spurts and bursts and branches that were usually your energy flutter gently down, acting obedient and serene.

 It’s… for lack of a better word, beautiful.

 So with your thoughts centered around that little plant outside, all Obi-Wan has to do is give you just a little nudge that blocks out all other distractions for you- maybe it’s cheating, but he wants to see what will happen.

 And then you’re meditating.

——

 “It’s the first time I’ve worn a dress!” Swishing the fabrics of the skirt around you, you’re easily entranced by the movement. It’s a pretty dress, courtesy of the Mandalorian court, floaty and airy with barely there off-the shoulder sleeves. It reveals more of you than Jedi robes would ever, but you’re so enraptured with such innocent curiosity that Obi-Wan doesn’t even try to suppress the affectionate smile he gives you.

 “You look lovely,” He responds honestly, pushing himself off the couch and taking slow steps towards you.

 “I feel like a… like a…” You pause, glancing up from your skirts to fix your eyes on him, mind racing.

 “Like a?” Obi-Wan prompts.

 “Like a cloud!” You settle for, twirling around as if to emphasise your floaty feeling.

 “A cloud?” He confirms, voice laced with amusement. He takes your hand, twirling you around once more through your giggles.

 “Yeah.”

 “Well, you’re the prettiest cloud I’ve ever seen,” Folding his hand over your own, he steps into your space mid-twirl, his other hand coming to press flat against your back. He doesn’t know what propelled him to do this, to press you against him and pull you into little steps around the room. The giggles he gets from you are enough to diminish any second thoughts he gets, so he hums softly, pressing his cheek to the top of your head.

 Your little impromptu dance session is made to end as quickly as it started, a knock on his door reminding the both of you the reason for such fanciful dressing.

 A dinner.

 It was exciting to you, as most off-world mission events were, so different from the usual routine of your life on Coruscant. Your excitement is blindingly obvious, and yet Obi-Wan, who’s long since tired of having to accept invitations lest the Jedi be perceived as discourteous, Obi-Wan says nothing at all. He gives you a warm smile and gestures for you to move towards the door.

 And oh, what a dinner it was. The food was marvelous, the company a little less so, but the moments you’d glance up at your Master to find him already watching you made up for it. If only he weren’t seated so far away… and so close to the Duchess. You don’t turn your head in their direction again.

 Apparently a royal dinner on Mandalore was not just dinner, so after an hour of sitting at a table several seats away from your Master and surrounded by boring politicians, you’re ushered into a ballroom. Several ask for your hand to dance, but you turn them down with a polite smile and even politer excuse. You want to dance, you do. Just… not with them.

 Then you see her.

 She had changed her dress, and she was gorgeous. Elegant and beautiful and carrying herself with such grace even on the dancefloor, she looked every bit the Duchess she was. You sort of hated her.

 “The prettiest, huh?” You mutter bitterly under your breath, taking a moment to try to calm yourself. You take another breath when you turn to face Obi-Wan, expecting his eyes to be on her. Everyone’s eyes were on her.

 He’s looking at you.

 You immediately curse yourself out for the snide comment, hating that you’ve revealed yourself, your insecurities, that he’s going to admonish you for a silly little comment that just slipped out.

 Instead, he holds his hand out towards you, and bends down a little in a bow.

 “If I may have this dance, my dear?” The words come out as a low murmur, and even with the loud applause of everyone around you signalling the end of the Duchess’ dance, you hear him perfectly. Your cheeks are flushed and you’re trying impossibly hard to keep your breathing even as you slide your hand into his, letting him lead you to the middle of the dance floor.

 It’s strange, you think.

 The two of you have been in arguably far closer quarters than you were in now, with a decent amount of space between your bodies, joined only by your hand in his and his other hand on your waist. You’ve trained together, sparred together, been forced into close confines in the middle of missions and on occasion even slept in the same bed together.

 Obi-Wan’s grip on your hand tightens, the tips of his fingers skimming up your back and brushing tantalisingly against the skin that’s uncovered by the dress.

 No, this… this, in front of a whole room of people from all over the galaxy, this was far more intimate than anything ever before. It’s almost as if you’ve been transported back in time just a couple of hours ago, when it was just him and you in the privacy of your quarters.

 “The prettiest,” he confirms, voice low in your ear. Your breath hitches at his statement and all its implications. “It’s not even a competition.”

 Good things, as all things do, must eventually come to an end. Obi-Wan guides a slightly tipsy and very giggly you back towards your room, laughing despite himself when you trip over your own two feet. The last thing he wants after a successful mission is for you to get concussed by falling.

 He bends and effortlessly sweeps you into your arms, letting you swing your legs in the air. It’s not the first time he’s been in this position with you. Perhaps he’s carried you like this a little too often. His thoughts don’t linger on that topic for long.

 You change out of your dress and sit cross-legged in front of him, letting him brush out your hair and pull it back into a braid for you to sleep in, actions so practised that they’re not even spoken about.

 And on the floor of your room, discarded almost carelessly at the end of the bed, lay two weapons beside each other, one green, and one blue.

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The next one will be Obi-Wan’s revelation ;)

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Obi-Wan taglist:

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[tipsydipsydo]

Der Geliebte

Pairing: Jungkook x artist! Reader

Gender of the Reader: female

Word Count: 6.4k 

Rating: 16+

AU: non idol! Jungkook x artist! Reader AU!

Genre: strangers to lovers AU; friends to lovers AU! (idiots to lovers AU!); love at the first sight! AU; soulmate to lovers! AU (kinda?); unbelievable amount of fluff; a little angst (fluffy angst!!,); tiny amount of smut (one paragraph xD)

Warnings: tiny bit of smut/some sexual tension between both of them; Jungkook is a poor shy thing and is fucking nervous around the reader all the time; teeth rotting fluff; both are so in love with each other that they’re getting stupid to not realize it; both are insecure that they’re not meant for another... just fluff, fluff, fluff and painfully obvious pining over each other! 

A/N: Hallelujah, I finally did it! After I made Sibi @borathae​ wait over three months for her Christmas + Birthday Fanfic I finished it two weeks to late for my sweetest Darlings Birthday! I am so incredibly sorry that I made you wait for such a long time and really, Sweetie, you have all the rights to be still mad at my stupid ass! Nevertheless... I love you so goddamn much and I hope the fic made at least a little bit up for it... Love you!!!! 💕 💕 

Summary: You and Jungkook met right at the first day you opened your own atelier in Seoul after you had to leave your old home behind you. You love paint canvas with landscape motives, other people just roll with their eyes when they hear that you choose such usual, almost boring things to paint. Not so Jungkook, he seems to be different than most of visitors. It’s almost like he can read your feelings through your paintings...

Status: Edited (I am sorry for any still existing errors in here!) 

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「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

* Jungkook’s POV * 

"In what are you getting yourself into, Jungkook?"

 I quietly ask myself as I get rid of my clothes behind the paravent and throw the dressing gown over his body which you laid out for me. My hands are sweaty, they tremble slightly and my heart beats wildly, as if it wants to jump right out of my chest. Excitement spreads throughout my body, leaving a faint feeling in my stomach and a certain blush rises in my cheeks. I still can't believe what I've gotten myself into . But... you looked at me so pleadingly with your dear and downright innocent eyes that I would have done anything for you with that look of yours. I want to make you happy, see that happy and contented smile on your lips, which always makes a whole horde of wild butterflies break out in my belly. 'Normally I was the shyness and silence in person and with you... with her, I feel for the first timesomething like peace and security. Especially when I consider how shy I usually am around women.', I ask myself and I don't really know the answer to that. But what can I do against my feelings? I don't really know, on the one hand they scare me, on the other hand they feel so exciting and new that I don't want to eliminate them at all.

I don't even know exactly when the whole thing started. In which moment my feelings for you grew, when I felt more than just fascination and admiration for you and your artwork. Six months ago, a small studio had opened in my district, your own studio. On the day of the opening I simply went to it of pure curiosity, I had always had such a weakness for art and photography.

I can still remember exactly how I stood in front of one of your works and was literally speechless and overwhelmed by this picture and all his small details. This painting represents a classic image of the countryside, which was often to be found everywhere. But this work was different. So full of small details and ornaments. It was so much more... As a viewer you can see a beautiful clearing, which is surrounded by trees and protected from too many curious eyes. The ground of this clearing is overgrown with dense and lush green grass, which from the incoming sunlight almost invites you to let yourself fall into the grass. It reminds me instantly of my carefree childhood, when I rolled in it without overthinking my actions too much and those times when I playfully wrestled with my best friends around until our clothes had grass stains all everywhere. I could almost smell the scent of wild, untamed nature. The longer I look at the picture, the greater the longing became. Maybe I could visit this beautiful place one day, together with my partner, my significant other. Playing around with each other, chasing your beloved one until you fall into the grass breathless laughing and cuddling. Maybe we could have a picnic there and feed each other with homemade sweets? 

I didn’t know that such a "simple" landscape painting could touch and awaken so much more in me, in my soul. Suddenly, such a wanderlust came over me that I gasped for air and a heavy lump formed in my throat. My whole body was tingling and my heart was literally screaming to get away from this dreadfully grey and monotonous daily routine of my boring single life, for at least some weeks. I want to go to this place, where I could draw the warm and fresh, natural air could deep into my lungs and pamper myself with homemade delicacies. Just to let the soul dangle and don’t stuck with my closely clocked work life. Maybe sleep until 10 o'clock in the morning and then maybe have a nice nap later. Enjoy the warm nights and hear the crickets chirping. This longing was... irrepressible. This particular wanderlust for nature, just to be out of the city, this longing for exactly this abandoned and untouched forest clearing literally overwhelmed me. What was it for an artist who could trigger such feelings and emotions in me?

I had been so absorbed in the artwork that I had not even noticed that a person step next to me. "Do you like the work?", asked a soft melodic voice, which spoke perfect Korean, but was pervaded by a light accent, which I could not quite assign. I flinched a little, but this bright, happy laugh gave me a tingling goosebumps all over my body. What a beautiful laugh... I turned to the person who was the owner of this beautiful voice. I was startled when I realized that the artist and owner of this studio was standing in front of me personally. I recognized her again, as I had seen a small photo of her in the newspaper article that drew my attention to this beautiful studio in the first place. Already in this picture she had radiated something so strong, colorful, cheerful and lively, which caused an excited flutter in my stomach. 

I admit, I already laid an eye on her just by her appearance. Unfortunately I always had a hard time getting to know people ever since, let alone to talk to women. And now having you, Y/N, personally standing right in front of me, made me feel fluffy and excited in my stomach. Nothing is left of this otherwise so sassy and self-confident  man that I used to be. Only a nervous and stodgy twenty-three-year-old idiot, who did not know what to say or wanted to say, now stands in front of this stunningly pretty and intelligent woman.

Her eyes sparkles like jewels, full of joy, struck me with interest and a playful smile lays on her lips. "Did you not understand my question?", she asked kindly, but nobly reserved. Immediately a rosy puff settled on my cheeks and I stuttered nervously: "Y-Yes, excuse me! I... I was just somewhere else with my thoughts and was completely surprised that they were addressing me personally.... Your works are truly unique! They still show such ‘usual’ motifs and yet they are so special because of these finely elaborated details and this passion with which this work of art was painted. They really are... Unique artworks that you do not forget so quickly. Even for untrained eyes as my owns, I can see that a talented artist has worked on it. I am very impressed by your work, especially this work here!" You could hear the honest admiration from my voice and my heart leapt as she reacted bashful to all of my compliments.

"Thank you, really, thank you so much! I really appreciate to hear such nice words like yours, even if it is rare. I am often criticized for my ‘lack of creativity’, caused by my chosen motives. I just love the rough, almost untouched landscapes of my hometown, I try to depict the ‘normal’ as something beautiful, unique. I would like to ‘really see’ what we already take for granted again. As a wonderful creation, a work of art. Nature is a wonderful example of this, or the architecture of buildings as well. Architects are also artists, although unfortunately they are not seen as such. I just want to offer the obvious things a more meaningful space again.... People like you have become rare. I have observed how you have recognized the true meaning, this beauty and aesthetics in such a ‘usual-looking’ motif. And this pleases me so much that you can read 'between the brushstrokes'. Oh... Excuse me, I always talk way too much when someone shows an interest in art or music, my personal passions. Besides that, I have not introduced myself to you yet, I am Y/N! I was obviously so pleased to see your understanding, empathetic look at this work, if you understand what I mean... Anyway... I can guess that you knew my name already, don't you? What about you? May I know your name?", asked you, beautiful artist, with her really stunning smile.

I swallowed nervously, never before had a young lady mixed my emotions so much in me. Even the picture of her in the newspaper article, which I had read out of boredom in one of my lectures, got me so emotionallyconfused. I didn't want to say it in front of my teasing friends, but I had been really excited when I set off this Friday night. And now the creator of these works of art stood before me and seemed to want to have a longer conversation with me. My heart beats to my throat and I got sweaty hands from this nervousness in my poor body. Honestly, as soon as I wasn't surrounded by my clique of friends, I automatically turned into a nervous, slightly abashed blushing and stuttering guy who behave like an inexperienced teenager. 

In private life, without my best mates by the side, I am not so confident and daredevil. After all, I always had someone who could cover my back when things get tough, while I am on my own without anyone I know. You could usually only believe and trust, not control. That's probably why I struggled with interpersonal relationships. I always overthink too much and have some struggles with my self-confidence.

And now this attractive young woman looked at me with such interest and joy, just me. I was actually the reason for her interest. A joyful and blissful tingling seized every pore, every fiber of my body. Yes, in fact it was just me! Not my best buddy Seokjin, whom I have known since childhood and always sought the attention of everyone. It was no exaggeration to say that he was perhaps a little narcissistic, but only to cover up his own insecurities. Never would I have thought that someone would manage to get this personification of self-love under control. I admired his wife for standing up to Seokjin and keeping him and his dad Jokes at bay. Believe it or not, she of all people had the pants on in the house and knew how to deal with my best friend.

My gaze glided over the figure of the person in front of me and once again I took a sharp breath. I was so nervous to face her personally, a person I already deeply admired and had quite a respect for. I simply did not want to do anything wrong, even if this charm of hers was almost tangible and paralyzed my entire brain with its function. I can already picture how my mind waved wildly goodbye to myself and went to the summer holiday in the Caribbean.

This carefree smile and these beautiful eyes harmonized wonderfully with your complexion. Your features were awake and alive, seemingly always a slight smile surrounded the corners of your mouth, which provoked almost paradoxical reactions in my body. Your smile awake countless butterflies to flutter around in my stomach, which made me quite nervous and at the same time you radiated such a sense of security and calm, as if there was no reason not to get a word out of shyness. My gaze, which I hope examined you unobtrusively enough, wandered to your hands. You had long fingers, I could really imagine how they elegantly held the handle of the paint brushes and worked on these small details extensively in such a calm behavior. Which satisfied and concentrated calmness you possibly radiated while doing that...

A small, noble clearing of your throat again tore me out of my fantasies and speculations. God, what was I today but inattentive! How rude I must have seemed to you...

"Oh, sorry... I... I have not been able to keep my thoughts together all day..." I lied to seem at least a little more credible. Nervously, I pulled on the knot of my tie to loosen it up a little before I have a circulatory collapse. Before I went here, I thought for a long time about what I should wear for this occasion. Jeans and T-shirt were out of the question, too casual and almost an insult for your atelier. A complete suit, however, seemed too overdressed to me and so I decided for a black dress pants and a dark blue dress shirt.Understanding, Y/N nodded and gave me a cheering smile, which made my body tingle again. This woman drove me half crazy alone with his friendly gestures. How could it be that this polite lady got me confused right away?!

And somehow, it gave me a frenzy to leave my secure, anonymous side as a visitor to her exhibition and irrevocably reveal my true identity to you.

"My name is Jeon Jungkook."I answered in a slightly trembling voice, hardly daring to look into her eyes and rubbing my neck unobtrusively.

* Jungkook’s POV *

If only I had guessed what would change in me, how you changed me. That so much more would develop from a pure interest and a simple formal business contact... that you want to make me one of your artworks.

I take another deep breath before I dare to step out from behind the dark red paravent. It is pleasantly warm in this room, I should not freeze, if I am already so freely clothed. My gaze wanders through the small room with the huge, floor-to-ceiling window, which floods the entire room with light. The walls of the room have been painted in a dark orange and red colors and dark wooden planks lay out on the floor. It looks so comfortable due to the warm, dark tones. The orange-yellow evening sun dipped everything into something so cozy... sensual. Somehow into even a little erotic?

Y/N wants to work a lot with the light of the evening sun in this painting, which could be a little complicated if it is not suitable or if it is cloud-covered. But if you have put something into your head, especially in relation to your art, then you do everything you can do to go through it! Also the changing forces of nature cannot stop you from trying to realize your idea. Sometimes, you’re  someone who is quickly frustrated and dissatisfied with yourself as well, especially when something doesn't work as  you wants it to. Nevertheless when it comes to your passion, drawing and painting, you don’t let your idea go away, if you want something, you’ll find a way to make it happen. These are qualities that I know all too well of myself and thus my fascination about you only grows even more. The more time we spent together and I get to know more and more sides of you, the more attracted I became to you.

Your art means a lot to you and you’re quite tough in this respect, can not be overcome by the reproaches and the crushing criticism. That’s exactly what I admire so much about you, having the courage to stand up for personal passion. When I get criticized, all too often I think about really giving up on it, so that I don't have to endure all this criticism anymore. And then I look at you. How focused you are in this moment and carefully prepare for your next project. How you adjusts you easel to the right height, let your self-stretched canvas snap into place, spreads brushes of all sizes and shapes on the small side table next to you and prepares youracrylic colours. I swallow again, as I watched this happen. I am about to become one of your next artworks.

A little uncertainly I walk towards Y/N, the thin dressing gown tightly drawn around my body... never before have I felt so naked and vulnerable. This here is something else. I feel something about it... I feel something for you. For this pretty lady, who sprays her cheerfulness around her and could conjure a smile on the lips of even the most grumpy person. This joy almost kills you, completely engrossed this person and gives you the feeling of floating. You will get the feeling of being welcome at Y/N. To be accepted, with all the flaws and weaknesses that one has. She just smiles at you so gently and lovingly and just says, it's okay. It's okay to be the way you are. Imperfect.

"It is precisely this imperfect, this contradictory and also unpredictable thing that makes us human. That makes us an individual and also interesting. If we were really all as we are expected to be, it would be boring and monotonous. The surprise is only a real gift. Each of us is a very individual gift to a very specific addressee, who is the only one who can truly appreciate this gift. Only then did the recipient find the right person as his gift... Well, if the recipient knows about his gift...", Y/N once said with such a certain look at me, when we went out to dinner together in a restaurant in the evening to clarify some details. I wanted to help her find good contacts in Seoul and help her sell her works.

I can still remember it exactly... it was a quite... extraordinary evening. I was of course once again incredibly nervous and excited. At that time, I did not want to fully realize how much I already like you. Secretly, I had observed my opposite. Your positive and friendly disposition had turned my head all around... and in addition, this beautiful body and her elegant fingers, which already haunt me in the most erotic way unintentionally in my dreams. 

I could not prevent my dream pictures from shooting through my head, which is why my cheeks turned dark red in embarrassment. These fucking fantasies in my head! My eyes stare at the cutlery as if it were incredibly interesting because I didn't dare look up. There were scenes in my mind that made my ears turn red and I would’ve loved to hide behind the menu card. Your body, which made her look like a Greek goddess.

Naked, body covered in sweat, your body shook in lust, you sit up with a wonderful moan... You are on top of me, I could admire your beautiful, almost divine body as you sat on top of me... and rode me. This breathtakingly beautiful distorted face of yours, as if all this pleasure you feel is carved in marble... lids closed, your lips, swollen from all the kissing, are slightly opened which let    your lustful whimpering escape. This grace and elegance, as you rose from me and  then lowered yourself again... as your hands glide erratically over my stomach, searching for support... you suddenly threw your head back and clenched even more tightly around my length. The addicting sounds you’ve made... it’s like the most beautiful melody in my ears... squelching noises and even more of yourjuices gushing out of your sweet, so sweet pussy when you came...

An all-too-familiar laugh tore me out of my extremely indecent thoughts, which quite relieved me at first. Until I raised my head and not too far away I recognized no one but my best friend Kim Seokjin, who made very questionable hand signals in my direction. Oh my God, no! I knew that he had recently changed his job and got accepted for a position as a chef in a new restaurant... but not in this Restaurant! He will never let me life after he found out I was on a “Date” with a woman...

Even though Seokjin was on the other side of the restaurant, I could almost feel his smirk on my own skin. Fuck it, just pretend as if you do not know each other and hit him really hard tomorrow morning in the gym where we meet up for our work out. I quickly turned all my attention back to the person sitting opposite me and tried to ignore Seokjin as best I could.

It was only at the end of the evening, when I had said goodbye to Y/N, that I realized that this meeting had much more of a date than a "business dinner". How familiar we had talked with each other... how much I had thought about licking Y/N the drop from the chocolate sauce of her lava cake from her lips... how it would be... to kiss and touch you...

A noticeable blush has settled on my cheeks as I attended our first meeting together... or even Date in this Restaurant thought back. Four months had passed since then and I suffered from longing for you. You would never see me like I saw you. The reason you wanted to draw me was simply that she needed someone as a model. In addition to landscapes and cities, you want to devote herself gradually to more other motifs. And since I have been the first inquired. Your pleading eyes made me say yes. But I know that for me you have  no more than the feelings for a casual friendship. It hurts to see how you flirt  around so casually with all those other people. I would never be the gift for you as you are for me. If only the recipient would notice that there is a given heart laying in your hands...

"Ah, Jungkook! I’m glad that you're ready!", your cheerful and melodic voice cuts through the silence of the room and you’re walking towards me with excited shining eyes. "Come~," you say and lead me to the chaiselongue, which is placed in front of the large window. The soft, orange light of the evening sun falls on the wine-red fabric of the restored chaiselounge in baroque style. The upholstery has frames covered in gold and also the lion feet on which this historic furniture stands are gilded. Everything was decorated with so many Details, it looks so incredibly elegant and luxurious. On the left side there are some cushions in the same color and an elegant design is carved on the backrest, literally inviting to get used.

"Surely you know the movie 'Titanic', right? Do you remember the scene where Jack used charcoal pencils to draw an nude coal picture of Rose as she laid on the sofa? I would like to draw you in a similar position. I hope it's okay for you if I look at you more closely without a dressing gown... i want to get an overview of your body proportions.", you say, looking me straight in the eye. I notice that you’re very concerned about my privacy and does not want to overstep any of my personal boundaries without my consent. I nod slightly at first until I get a clear yes over my lips. She looks at me silently for a few seconds before reassuring me once again that we can always stop at any time if I feel uncomfortable. Especially your patience and mindfulness of my boundaries shows me how important it is for you as well and how I actually relax noticeably. Y/N smiles cheerfully at me and I slowly loosen the belt of the dressing gown and let the last garment slide to the ground. I feel her in-depth look at me... he is not uncomfortable... only... exciting... in a few different ways.

I swallow again and lie down on the chaiselongue as instructed. You correct my arm and leg position, also rearrange all of the cushions correctly. To my own relief, you put a red cloth over my crotch area. Not that I am ashamed of anything, I am more than comfortable with you already... I just have some worries that I will get a visible problem if I constantly feel your look on my bare skin.

 "It should be able to guess something, but not be allowed to see everything right away...", she whispered with a smile, before her fingertips unintentionally glide tenderly through my happy trail. One of your last smiles are... not really to interpret. Then you return to your easel.

* The Reader’s POV *

Carefully you sit down on your old painting stool, already quite worn out on the edges and stained with the most different types and tones of colors. It had originally been dark brown. You smile dreamily when you think back that you’re used to dangle your legs around when you were a little kid because it was way too big for you back then. For eighteen years now you have exactly this stool and this easel. They had been a gift from your grandfather for your fifth birthday. He had awakened the passion of painting and drawing in you and passed his talent on to you. A certain melancholy seized you when I thought back to how you used to paint your first real picture on canvas with your new easel in the old music room in your grandfather's country house. 

It had been the old, dusty grand piano, which must have been more than a hundred years old at that time. How the country house survived all these wars unscathed, you ask yourself to this day. Perhaps there had already been something magical about it at that time, which should remain untouched. Perhaps the small estate should remain an inconspicuous symbol of hope, the hope that at some point the sun and peace will return when the unbearable suffering and sorrow of this cruel time is over. When the wars were over and all those seeking protection who had fled to this country house were able to return to their own homes again. This house, this estate you can explain your childhood with a single word. Home.

You lift your thought-lost look from your empty, folded hands and look to Jungkook. He takes your breath away every time you see him. He is so special, such a wonderful and yet you firmly believe that he has not been chosen for you, such an ordinary woman as you are. He would belong to someone else with whom he would be happy, although he is the only one who was able to understand and read your works, the language in them. It... it had been such a beautiful moment when, six months ago, he stood in your newly opened studio, so absorbed by the painting of the forest of your childhood. All the other visitors had only looked at it briefly and smiled wearily at the fact that it was again only a landscape painting, but did not grasp what the story behind this work was. Why the artist chosed this very motif, to see, to feel what the creator wanted to communicate through the work. 

But Jungkook had been different. He had given the work, your personal heart, a chance to unravel the true meaning behind it. He did it slowly, bit by bit with his eyes... grasped with his whole mind and heart and finally let himself be influenced as a whole. You could tell from his body reactions that he felt exactly what you had felt when you painted it last summer. Longing. Infinite Longing. Mixed together with melancholy, a little homesickness and sorrow to a unique emotional color. The day you painted it was the last time you saw the house in your official possession. Your grandfather had left it to you. But unfortunately you lacked money, you had to pay some debts and with the best will you could not earn the money in other ways. So you had to sell it with a heavy heart. Your beloved birth and childhood home and the associated lands, you had to sell your true home away. The picture is the only thing left of it. And Jungkook was the only person who understood what you wanted to express with the painting. Longing. My Homesickness.

When all these sensations came upon him, he involuntarily clenched his hands tightly, his chest lifted and lowered quickly, his Adam's apple hopped repeatedly. His eyes were glassy. He experienced your longing as directly as you did. He... is so special. So infinitely amiable. He... he is the only person who’s able to read your true feelings in your works. He is able to read between your brush strokes.

So today you will try him... to paint a confession of love with this act. Maybe he could read... what you feel for him. Even if you know that you will probably never see him again. Because you would not be the recipient of his love and affection. He's just too... too... gifted for a simple artist like you. He would never be your gifted person.

Your gaze glides tenderly and caressingly over his body. Trying to absorb every little detail of his body, his charisma and his character into you and let it flow into the painting. Every birthmark you want to put on the canvas and hold on. You want to show Jungkook how beautiful he is. How godlike he lies before you on this majestic chaiselongue, how masculine and muscular he is, as if he wanted to embody an Adonis. You want to paint every muscle, even the smallest visible muscle, on the canvas in a realistic manner, you want to capture the strength and security that he conveys to you over and over again and make it visible to him. And yet... his gaze often corresponds to that of an intimidated, insecure fawn, which does not dare to want to get up on his legs on his own. The fear of falling again is too big. Through this painting you want to show Jungkook what he really is, what he represents for you and what you feel for him. He is... so contradictory. He is strong, godlike, powerful... and at the same time, so infinitely uncertain, vulnerable... almost pure.

Silence enters your little studio, only the regular breathing of the other and the muffled noise of the busy world outside the door could be heard. Here... here, it feels like time is standing still for a moment for the two of you. Your shared eternity had begun.

To your happiness that it is summer right now and it stays bright for a long time. Today you take more time than usual to mix colors. You want to mix a shade that perfectly matches his skin tone. You want to get the exact color of his black hair down onto the canvas, and the perfect brown for his beautiful eyes. The evening sun and the leaves of the huge treetops in front of the large window conjure up the most beautiful patterns on his immaculate body. A game of light and shadow. It seems to you that Jungkook's body, every single pore of his body has a tiny diamond, so that he begins to sparkle in the sunlight like an infinitely precious jewel. The evening sun warms him, lays a thin layer of sweat over his body. Every detail you try to bring to the canvas, every feeling, every movement of my heart, everything you feel for him, you want to bring to this canvas. You want to make him a masterpiece. Because for you, he is the most beautiful specimen, the only true crown of the human creation.

Some black strands have come loose from his manbun and have fallen on his forehead. It looks stunning, to see him like that. I had never seen him with a messy or even completely open hair... but even now these strands loosened from the braid make his facial features look so much softer and more relaxed. In it, the adult and strong man united with a young, vulnerable, shy boy. The result is... infinitely beautiful. He possesses both sides, so he makes the seemingly inexhaustible divine human being.

His eyes, drawing his eyes with that expression in them, cost you a lot of nerves. Too often you misunderstood this infinite longing that you find in his dark, brown eyes. Again and again you have to restrain yourself, not just to get up, to go over to him... and to kiss him.

This longing look you misinterpret is as longing as you own... according to your closeness, your touch, your affection... according to your love. Because you love him. You love everything about him, his sheepish laugh, the way of rubbing his neck shyly, the way he speaks and explains his point of views about things, how he smells... just everything... every blemish he blames on himself, you think it’s like an artwork on him. He is so perfectly imperfect that you just fell in love with him.

The sun has already set and only the last pink and purple streaks could be seen in the sky, with which the past day says goodbye to the world. One last time you can hear the velvety stroke of the brush over the canvas before you finally put the brush aside. It is finished. You have given everything that is in your power, used all of your artistic abilities and knowledge to the utmost and you have incorporated everything that you feel and think about into this artwork. And what you see put a smile on your lips, but also makes your pulse rise. What will Jungkook say when he looks at it? He will see it... can he read what you feel for him in it?

With a trembling voice, you call Jungkook and look at him one last time. The last time the sight of this male beauty was granted to you. One last time.

After Jungkook has wrapped himself in the dressing gown again, he slowly comes towards you and your easel. Your heart is throbbing as if it really wants to fearfully flight and jump out of your chest. Your body gets hot and cold at the same time and suddenly your hands get sweaty, the dried color on your skin mixes with the sweat to a uncomfortable mess in your palms, which somehow makes you even more nervous. Then he stands next to you. Looking at the canvas for the first time himself. The last brushstroke is still drying.

Once again there is silence, which makes you incredibly nervous and with every second that passes, you want to follow your instinct to escape. Jungkook's pupils are dilated and blown out, whether with bewilderment or horror, you can not recognize. One of his hands shoots up his mouth, he trembles all over his body. Suddenly you hear a suppressed, throaty sobbing. Surprised and a little appalled, you look at Jungkook, who has shut his eyes tightly and presses the palm of his hand even harder on his mouth, as if he wants to muffle every sound. Tears escape the corners of his eyes. This is a reaction... which you would not have expected...

Gently, mindful of any kind of resistance, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't sob, he doesn't whimper. He just cries. Tenderly, consolingly you hold him, without wanting to distress him. He literally presses his face into the crook of your neck. Salty tears drench your blouse, but it doesn't bother you. The reason why he had such an emotional outburst, you just don't understand. But still... it's okay. It is valid.

As he slowly calms down and his breathes becomes regularly again, he carefully lifts his head out of the crook of your neck and wipes the last tears out of his eyes dry in slight embarrassment. He slowly releases himself from your embrace until you finally stand silently in front of each other.

"What title you’ll give this artwork?", he asks softly, in a rough, throaty voice. You swallow . "It shall be called 'Der Geliebte'. ...it is german and translated it means... ‘The beloved’ ", you say barely audibly and lower your head. After this confession, you can no longer look him in the eyes.

Jungkook takes a sharp breath in and you're actually just waiting for a devastating response from him that would be like a death threat. But nothing of this happened. Instead, your chin is suddenly raised by his fingertips and you look into Jungkook's beautiful eyes. He bites his lower lip a little uncertainly,his own gaze falls on your pretty shaped lips. 

"Do you... do you allow me to kiss you?", he asks quietly... barely audible for you even though you’re standing so close to each other. He doesn't dare to look you into the eyes after such a question, he is too afraid that you deny his request. But you can hardly believe your luck, a high pitched ‘yes!’ flew over your lips and before you can control yourself, you press your own lips right onto his. They are incredibly soft and kiss you back in such a delightfully and endearing insecure and shy manner as no other could ever have done it.

Your heart beats full of joy and bliss and in your belly, the butterflies fly somersaults of all different kinds that your whole body began to tingle. Your mind cannot get a grasp of all this yet, but this... you don't need any more of it at this moment anyway.

The kiss is tender, shy and somewhat uncertain from both sides. Jungkook is very insecure and shy, but before he can escape like a frightened deer again, you put your arms around his neck and let your hands rest in the nape of his scalp. Again and again you detach yourselves from each other only for the fraction of a second to get a breath of air into your lungs in order to find each other lips again... until you stopped for a few seconds.

"I like you... I like you really, really much, Jungkook... I even dare to say that I fell on love with you.", you mutter softly against his lips. His shy, happy smile was too much for you, so you immediately kiss him again. Perhaps because of the sheer joy and maybe of the certainty that he feels the same for you, the next kiss turns into something more passionate than before...

[pillage-and-lute]

Pins and Needles: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

———- 🌷 🐺 🌷———-

The butter yellow of the awning of the new tattoo shop carried on inside. The color scheme was classy, though. 

During Geralt’s mostly misspent youth, he’d been inside his fare share of tattoo and piercing parlors. He’d never gotten a tattoo, and his piercings had mostly been his own work, but still, the culture seeped in. He had learned to expect a lot of red and black and exposed brickwork. There was nothing wrong with that look, but he considered the interior of Pins and Needles to be much more friendly. 

The walls were a deep blue, denim, if he had to name it, or perhaps Prussian Blue. It was on all the walls, and the ceiling, with the floor in a dark, smooth wood. He wasn’t sure if that was kept from the last shop or was newly installed. The counter was in the same polished, dark wood, so he supposed it was new. All the accents were dandelion yellow, or yellow brass if they were metal. His leg brushed up against a velveteen chair, something of a vintage style, and of course, in that same buttery yellow. 

The waiting area had the chair, a matching loveseat, and a high-backed chaise lounge in a teal color. It had more green to it’s color than the walls, and was in a lighter shade, but it was adjacent to the color of the walls, and a pleasing focal point. Overall, Geralt was impressed. The blue and yellow color scheme could have easily been overdone, but it was masterful, and clearly completed by someone with an eye for color. 

Ciri was delightedly pouring over a piercing display. Geralt was startled to realize he owned the exact display box. It was, in fact, a large glass terrarium, the metal that same shiny brass. The shelves of piercing were cleverly angled and set within the case so that they were all visible. 

“Nice display case, isn’t it?” 

Geralt turned, and there was Jaskier. He had a BB8 coffee mug in his hand, and a shimmery teal shirt unbuttoned low. It framed his sternum and the peaks of color visible through his chest hair and pointing down in a tempting arrow to--

“urk,” Geralt said, choking on his own tongue. 

“Priscilla found it on the side of the road one day, the legs were scuffed to hell and one was missing, but the glass was intact, so she took it back to her house and fixed it up.”

“I have the same one,” Geralt managed, the tips of his ears reddening.

“Oh, as a display case?”

“Um, it’s a terrarium.”

“Is it really?” Jaskier beamed and Geralt felt like he was dying. “I always thought it was a funny shape. It makes such a lovely focal point along that wall though.”

Ciri was beaming as well. “Dad keeps succulents in his. Is Priscilla the lady that does piercings?”

“She is,” Jaskier said, tilting his head so that his hair flopped and Gerald got a better view of his undercut and dangling chain of a cuff piercing on his ear. “Are you in the market for a piercing, miss...”

“Ciri,” she said, sticking her hand out to shake. “And my dad might get a tattoo sometime, but he’s being a baby about it and doesn’t know what he wants.”

Jaskier shook her hand and levelled a devastating grin at Geralt. “Well, some things aren’t to be rushed, but if your dad ever want’s a tattoo, I’ll give him anything he wants.”

Geralt desperately tried to reel his thoughts in from the absolute trainwreck that that statement illicited. Obviously Jaskier was just trying to sell his craft not offer...anything else. 

“Are you taking walk-ins for piercings?” Ciri asked. 

“Absolutely,” Jaskier said, turning and shouting. “Priscilla?” Down the hall of the shop where, presumably, the actuall tattooing and piercing rooms were. 

“YEah?” came the response. 

“Got a consult for you!”

She poked her head out of a room, smiled quickly, popped back in for a second, then emerged. “Hiya, sorry, I was just doing a little sketching, how can I help?”

“I’d like an industrial piercing please,” Ciri said. 

Priscilla tilted her head, eyes squinting slightly as she, apparently, assesed Ciri’s ears. “That’ll suit you well, left or right side?”

“Left.”

“Cool,” she looked to Geralt. “I’m assuming you’re the dad?”

“Uh, yes,” Geralt said, feeling wildly out of his depth. 

“Great, and does she have your permission for the piercing?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, absolutely.”

“Cool,” Priscilla said, digging behind the counter. “I’ve got paper work for both of you, and then we can get this lovely lady poked full of holes.”

Geralt’s stomach flipped over. Despite how many times he had actually stuck a fucking sewing needle through his own ear as a teenager, he couldn’t stand the thought of normal piercing needles. 

“It’s okay, Dad,” Ciri said as they were handed paperwork and pens. “You don’t have to hold my hand or anything, you can wait out here.”

“Great,” Geralt said, looking at the paperwork. Pretty standard stuff, parental release, aftercare papers, all that. He signed quickly and returned the relevant documents, keeping the aftercare instructions. 

“Thanks very much,” Priscilla said, checking for signatures before smiling at Ciri again. “Got any jewelry picked out?” They walked over to the case as Ciri gestured to some. 

Jaskier was looking at Geralt assessingly over the top of his coffee mug. “You know,” he said. “Most dads aren’t this cool about piercings.” He licked a bit of foam off of his lip and Geralt tried very hard to pretend that he hadn’t seen the flash of a tongue piercing. 

“I, uh, I’ve got plenty of bad ones, I’d rather she got her’s done professionally.”

“Bad ones?” Priscilla’s head jerked up. “Can I see?”

Geralt nodded as she was already bustleing over. He brushed the strands of hair that escaped his ponytail back so she could see his ears. 

“Amatur work for sure, although no lasting damage, where’d you get these done?” 

Geralt flushed. “I did them, uhm, way back.”

“Oh god, you didn’t buy one of those cheep piercing guns, did you?” Priscilla asked, poking gently at Geralt’s ear so she could look at the back of the piercings. Jaskier smiled at Geralt’s probably confused expression. 

“No, I used a needle.”

Priscilla pulled back, eyes wide. “A sewing needle?”

Geralt shrugged guiltily.

“Yeah, okay,” she said quickly, turning to Ciri. “Hold out your pinky, you have to make me a promise.”

Ciri’s brow furrowed, but she linked pinky fingers with the excitable piercer. 

“I promise,” Priscilla said, gesturing with her other hand for Ciri to repeat after her.

“I promise,” Ciri said. 

“Not to pierce myself.”

“Not to pierce myself,” Ciri said, smiling.

“No matter what my dad did.”

“No matter what my dad did,” Ciri finished. “I won’t, don’t worry.”

“Good,” Priscilla said, releasing Ciri’s pinky from it’s hold and sending a theatrical shiver of disgust toward Geralt. “A sewing needle, yikes. C’mon kiddo, we’re gonna stick a needle through your ear, and I’ll show you how a real piercer does it.”

She hurried Ciri into the back room, grabbing a couple sealed packages on the way, needle and jewelry, Geralt presumed. 

“Don’t mind Prissy,” Jaskier said. “She’s just very big on piercing safety.”

“No, I agree,” Geralt said. “I was a really stupid kid back then.”

Jaskier smiled and came out from around the counter a bit, leaning against the side, hip jutting in those ungodly tight leather pants. “Ciri seems pretty smart though, does she get it from her mother?”

“Um,” Geralt said, the sight of those long, leather-wrapped legs making his mouth weirdly dry. “I suppose? Her dad was pretty smart, too.”

“Ah, so you’re not her biological dad?” Jaskier said, leaning forward. Geralt wondered for a second if he was fishing, but surely not, pretty tattoo artists didn’t flirt with frumpy guys like him. 

“No, uh, but I’ve been her guardian since she was just a baby so...”Geralt trailed off, unsure how to finish.

“That’s very cute.” Jaskier’s eyes trailed down Geralt, then back up. To his shame, Geralt realized he hadn’t even removed his apron. 

“You know,” Jaskier said, conversationally. “My dad would have never even thought about letting me get a piercing.”

Geralt looked over the form in front of him, piercings in each ear, more than one, even, a nose ring, and that ellusive tongue ring, as well as the colorful tattoos that swarmed over his skin. “That worked out well for him,” he said without thinking, then blushed.

Jaskier, though, laughed, head back, shoulders shaking. “Indeed,” he said at last. “I shrugged off my father’s wishes rather fully, I think.” 

The bell rang as another person entered the shop and Geralt stepped aside as Jaskier went back behind the counter. He sat on the yellow chair and watched Jaskier’s lips--and that hint of silver on his tongue-- as he made the young woman a tattoo appointment. 

Jaskier’s hands, full of rings and swirling ink, were so quick on the computer keys, and when he talked with them, they were so expressive. 

Geralt wanted to hold one. 

Unfortunately, by the time the young woman was gone and Geralt could have possibly had Jaskier’s full attention again, Ciri was all done. Geralt paid, thanked both Jaskier and Priscilla, and went over the care instructions, before he and Ciri crossed the road. 

It felt very much like a retreat. 

———- 🌷 🐺 🌷———-

Tag List!

@jaybeefoxy @sweetiepieplum  @holymotherwolf

[gwynrielendgame]

Nyx and Isa part 4

I am feeling very uninspired these days yall. Good news though, I got a job 🥳🥳 woohoo.

"You two can go wander through the gardens now, if you'd like. Violet why don't you go with them? Someone needs to keep them out of trouble."

It was as much a dismissal if Nyx ever heard one. He rolled his eyes, but stood to leave anyways.

"I would actually like to listen in. If I am to be high lady some day, best I hear it all."

Nyx's parents shared a look. Whatever they wanted to discuss with Tamlin and the rest of the family was not information they wanted his daughter to know. Must be something about her.

"Very well. Nyx could you check on your sister, Velaris? I haven't heard from her all week."

Nyx was annoyed that he was being dismissed once again to check on his oldest sister, of all people, even though Isa was allowed to stay. She was much less trustworthy than him. He turned to leave with his younger sister in tow, but a snicker from Isa made him send a quick glare in her direction.

"Yes, run along now. Like the good little prince you are."

The sarcasm might as well have bit his skin. The entire room stopped their small talk to re-assess the situation before them. The last anyone had heard, Nyx and Isa had resolved any conflict from the recent fight they had. Although neither of them had spoken since Isa had revealed what she gave to protect Nyx.

"Stop this, Isa. Petty arguments do not become you."

"Oh look at prince Nyx. Once again taking the moral high ground. Shocker considering who your parents are."

"Did we...miss something?" Lucien interjected, clearly to lighten the mood which had zero effect on the arguing pair. They continued their banter as if Lucien never even spoke.

"You want to talk to me about my parents? What about yours? Your father abused my mother, only to impregnate, who I can only assume by your own standards, is a vile, evil witch."

She sucked in a harsh breathe. She told that to him in confidence and now he was throwing it back in her face. His anger fueled harder than his guilt. Nyx had walked back to the table at this point where he stood, glaring at his friend.

"Once again you stand on some moral high ground. The world is not black and white, Nyx. Your mother would like to convince you otherwise though, no? Must be her savior complex."

Her accent was much heavier with how vehemently she was talking. Feyre decided it was best to intervene.

"Okay, why don't you two separate and cool off. Obviously, emotions are running high."

Once again, the pair ignored anyone else speaking to them.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Isa. I am not the one that sold off my unborn first child, so of course, you do not have many moral qualms." Nyx threw back at her. She rolled her nose up in disgust.

"Would you have rather I let you die?"

"I am glad I am not dead, but what you were willing to give up for me is not something I would be willing to do for you." He crossed his arms. She scoffed.

"Maybe you should have mentioned that before you had sex with me!" She threw a roll from her plate at him. He let it bounce off his head with a roll of his eyes.

"Oof" Violet muttered while glancing anywhere but at the pair sparring off at the dinner table.

"Do not act as if I tricked you into that! I have been crystal clear about us. I am waiting for my mate, which you are not."

"Nyx," his mother tried to interject once again, but Isa stopped her.

"How do you know that? How do you know I am not your mate? The bond is hard to sense before it has snapped into place." Everyone recognized the desperation in her voice. She was pleading with him to love her in the way that she loved him. Unfortunately, it was also clear to everyone that Nyx was rather indifferent towards Isa as a romantic partner.

"Come on Isa! Be realistic. Our parents did not work out for a reason." He tried to reason. He thought they had just been having a bit of fun. Must have meant much more to Isa than she had been admitting to him.

"Perhaps you do share too much with your mother. Your self-righteousness is certainly straight from her handbook." She lashed out. Nyx recognized her feelings were hurt and that was the reason she was saying the nasty things she was. That did not mean it kept him from getting just as angry.

"Well, I am not the only one who takes after my parents. You are exactly like your father." He spit at her.

Nyx was tired of listening to her discuss his parents in such a way. She wanted to play rough? Well then he would play along.

"What is that meant to mean?"

"You are an entitled bitch who does not seem to understand when someone does not love you back. That's what I mean."

She flinched at his harsh words and he automatically wished he could take them back. She retook her seat, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. They both remembered what she accidentally admitted to him and the words he had not said back. He was breathing heavy from his own vehement yelling, but now as he looked around, he felt regret. It felt wrong to air out their grievances among family and friends, especially when he threw so much back in her face.

"Yikes..." Violet unhelpfully broke the awkward silence that had engulfed the room. Nyx noticed at the same time as everyone else that the table was shaking. It started to shake so much that he thought an earthquake was hitting Velaris. It was not until Tamlin spoke up that everyone realized who, instead of what, was making the table shake.

"Calm down, Isa."

She took a slow shakey breath. One lone tear fell down her cheek which she roughly wiped away. Nyx wanted to wrap her in a hug and apologize, but he stuck in his spot as her tattoos began to glow. They often glowed when she was using her witch magic, but never like this. This was bright, almost blinding when her normal glow was a light luminance.

"I am trying." She spoke softly. "I just want it to stop." Her hands went to her head and started clawing at her temples.

Nyx was not sure what she wanted to stop, but one glance around the room told him that this meant trouble. He wanted to help his friend, but no one moved a muscle and his father sent him a look that kept Nyx from speaking. Tamlin's reaction was even worse. He looked scared. Whether that was for his own life or because his daughter was in danger, Nyx would never know.

"Isabelle, stop."

"I can't." The word broke off at the end as she finally opened her eyes. They were glistening with tears and her expression would haunt Nyx until his last days. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Tamlin propelled forward, over the table. He wrapped Violet in an embrace as they fell to the floor.

And then a gust of power broke every piece of glass in the room. Every window, wine glass, and vase shattered. The power from Azriel's siphons reached out at the last minute and protected Nyx and Lucien from the blast of power. Nyx was still thrown into the wall from the sheer force of it. He managed to look over at his parents to see his dad protecting his mom. Tamlin must have known what was going to happen before it did because he reached Violet a second before it happened.

"Knock her out!" Tamlin yelled. "Before her eyes change."

Nyx looked up to see that Isa was still crying, but a swirl of power encircled her. She had sunk to her knees on the floor at this point and she still gripped her head as if it hurt. The power was unlike anything he had ever seen, so he assumed it must be her witch power. He knew he should get up and talk to her, but he did not want to make it worse. He watched as Lucien attempted to physically get to her, but the gust knocked him away. Both his parents tried using their daemati powers. Nyx was afraid of what would happen if that did not work. Tamlin shoved Violet behind a couch before approaching his daughter.

"Isa, you can control it. You have done it before. Focus."

She began shaking her head wildly.

"Get out of my head!" She screeched.

"I can't get in Tamlin. Whatever is happening is too powerful." Nyx wondered who was inside Isa's head if not his parents.

"Use your Night power to knock her out." Tamlin gritted his teeth as he slowly inched his way toward her. It was a physical feat unlike any other because the wind was powerful enough to keep Nyx on the ground.

"I can't. She's disarmed our fae magic."

Nyx tried to conjure his own magic, only to realize his dad was right. He did not think it was possible without the use of faebane. Isa had mentioned being able to temporarily disable fae magic, but she claimed the cost was too high for witches to use it often. He was worried she would end up killing herself before the night was over.

"Isa!" He started. As soon as he spoke, the power surrounding her intensified. "I am sorry. I did not mean it." He took a few tentative steps towards her even after his dad called out a warning. It was difficult due to the wind, but he managed to get close enough that his shouts were heard by her.

"I was lashing out because you hurt my feelings." The power started to ebb as she raised her head from her hands. "You are my friend and I did not mean to hurt you."

She looked at him for a second, her guard dropped, and when she blinked, her eyes opened again, completely black as the finest spun silk in all of the night court.

Fuck is all he could think.

Tamlin used the split second she was distracted by Nyx to make his move. She was in his grasp and being winnowed away before anything else could be said.

"Shit." His mother muttered from her spot on the ground.

"What the hell was that?" Azriel looked to Lucien for answers as he stood from the ground. It appeared everyone had been knocked to the ground from the force of her magic. Lucien wiped away blood from his forehead that kept pouring into his one good eye.

"How many witch, high lord children have you heard of?"

"None." Azriel grimaced. If he had not heard of it before, then it was likely few and far between that held that same heritage.

"Emotion is a highly sought after price by the spirits. Not many witches are willing to trade their emotions for the aid of the spirits. They feed on it which is why the children are so dangerous. They are one tantrum from killing their entire coven. Why do you think their numbers dwindle?"

"She's had how many years to get this under control?" Rhysand quipped back sarcastically only to get a withering look from Lucien.

"No amount of time prepares you for your first heart break. Especially when the cause of that embarrasses you in front of another court by declaring he does not love you back." Lucien gave a pointed look to Nyx with narrowed eyes.

"Not my finest moment." Nyx cringed as he thought back to all he said. Nyx walked back to Violet to help her up from behind the couch.

"The spirits feed on her emotions. She let her guard down, but they cannot take without giving. They gave her too much power to control with her emotions as tumultuous as they were. The more negative the emotion? The more all-consuming and dangerous that power becomes." Lucien explained. Although it hardly made any sense to Nyx.

"How can they feed if she does not call on them? Why do they not feed on our emotions?" Violet asked as she wiped dirt from her dress.

"The tattoos, a price she has paid for a past use of witch magic, acts as a tracking device. Much like you build mind barriers to keep other Daemati out, Isa needs to keep her barriers in place to prevent the spirits from taking freely. The tattoos call to spirits when they glow and the loss of her mind barrier allowed them in without her permission. As for the reason they do not feed on our emotions? Unsure. Isa jokes that regular fae emotions must taste bad." Lucien finally grabbed a napkin to press to the wound above his eye. He muttered an apology to Feyre for ruining it.

"Why did she not kick them out once she realized?" Feyre asked instead of responding to his apology.

"She probably did not realize she was giving her emotions freely to the spirits. They rewarded her with power. Mix in some fae magic, shape shifting abilities, and boom you have an uncontrollable dangerous cocktail in the form of a small female."

"The eyes?" Azriel quietly mentioned with raised brows. His shadows were moving erratically all around him.

"That is not up for discussion along with her mother." Lucien sent Nyx a glare.

"I know it was a low blow." He admitted. He would apology as soon as he was allowed.

"Isa loves her mother very much. You can love a person and despise their actions. Right Feyre?" It was an accusing statement. Everyone could see what Lucien was insinuating. His mother at some point or another loved Tamlin even if she pretended she never had. Feyre only rolled her eyes, but Rhysand sent a glare of his own back to Lucien.

"I should apologize. I do love her." Nyx felt the need to admit to everyone. "Just not in the way that she wants." He threw himself down on the couch. Violet followed his lead and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Not now. The reason witches do not readily offer their emotions is because it leaves them numb. It is a very unpleasant feeling and will be like talking to a wall." Lucien grimaced. Nyx assumed Lucien was thinking of the last time it happened.

"Has this happened before?" Azriel inquired.

"When her mother died. That's it." Lucien shrugged and dropped the napkin.

"I didn't know. I never meant to hurt her." Nyx felt the need to explain himself, but found there were no words to do so.

"If I know Isa, all she wanted to hear was that you care for her in some capacity."

"She knows that." Nyx insisted. He rested his head on top of his sisters. He was suddenly overcome with exhaustion unlike any other.

"Does she? Cause you had me fooled otherwise tonight." Lucien quickly winnowed away after that. A look around the room showed disapproving looks from everyone.

*****

"Thank you for coming." Tamlin shifted awkwardly in his chair. The Night Court inner circle looked on from their respective chairs in what Nyx assumed must be the formal sitting room. His parents, himself, and his sister squished together on one couch. Azriel took an arm chair to the left of Tamlin and the last chair remained unclaimed. Nyx stared at the chair as if he could make her appear simply from his stare.

"How is she?" Rhysand cleared his throat to ask. Tamlin gave a tight smile.

"Fine." He paused, debating whether he should say the next thing. "We lifted the ward on this room. If things should get out of hand today, you may winnow away."

Feyre narrowed her eyes at him.

"I thought you said she had it under control."

Tamlin sighed heavily and slouched in his chair. He rubbed at his temples as if this entire meeting exhausted him.

"You will see that you are in no danger. It is just a precaution."

Azriel went to say something, but stopped and looked towards the door. It was utterly silent. A few minutes later, Isa walked through the door with her head down. She looked...bad. In the kindest way possible because Nyx knew she had been through a lot mentally. It had clearly taken a toll on her physically. She shuffled to the last available seat without making eye contact. When she finally looked up, Nyx's heart lurched. She was pale with dark circles under her eyes. Her cheeks had sunken in from weight loss, leaving her looking like she consisted only of skin and bone. It was jarring considering how solidly built she had been previously. She had always been muscular; now though, he saw no hint of it. Her dress must have been fitted to her recently since it fit her well. It was a light green color similar to her eyes and flowed around her like a wedding dress. She might look beautiful if she did not look so sick. Nyx made eye contact with his sister's wide, shocked eyes. A quiet gasp left his mother's lips. Isa tried a small smile, but Nyx noticed her fingers nervously traced the new tattoos on her other hand.

"I apologize for my little display last week." She started. "I thought I had a better grip on my powers. Obviously not. I have spoken with my coven on the matter and I will be returning home for additional training."

Nyx contemplated whether he should speak or not. Last time they only exchanged spiteful words. He did not want those words to be the last she heard from him. He cleared his throat.

"Does your coven know about the first born debacle?" He felt it was a neutral enough of a statement. Isa replied simply.

"No."

"It is best if that is never discussed aloud." Tamlin interjected.

"How long will you be gone?" Violet asked. They had become friends as well and his sister looked sad at the prospect of her leaving.

"Until I need to claim my position as High Lady." Isa stared at her hands as she spoke. Violet gasped at the information.

"But that could be hundreds of years!"

Nyx frowned. He thought it might take Isa a few months to lose interest in himself and then they could return to just being friends. This seemed extreme, but perhaps they could still visit each other every once in a while. Isa only shrugged. Nyx felt dread at Isa's lack of emotional display. She had been rather devoid of anything else. The effects of the spirits must be taking more of a toll than anyone else assumed.

"That will leave you unprepared for your role as high lady. You do not have many allies or friends," Azriel started what appeared to be an oddly placed reprimand. "You should use all the time you have to form relationships with the other courts and possible emissaries."

"Lucien said he would help me when I first take over."

"That is not enough." Rhysand agreed as him and Tamlin shared a look.

"You will help me, no?" She asked.

"We may not have the time to devote to helping you run your court." Feyre said. Isa's eyes slid past Nyx's and landed on Violet's.

"I could help." His sister offered with a smile that looked so similar to their mother's.

"It would be very much appreciated." Isa tried to give a smile of her own but it only succeeded in showing how miserable this past week has been for her.

"You may want to consider marriage." Azriel felt the need to mention. "You will be at a disadvantage when you return, but a well aligned marriage could work. The prince of the Summer Court is unmarried, but you may find yourself at war with Amren over him. There is a princess of the Summer court that may be interested." His shadows tucked in tight to him.

"I shall consider that. Thank you for the advice, spymaster." No hint of her accent could be heard. Nyx realized she was focusing on disguising the accent in order to focus her attention. Her eyes kept wandering around the room as though she could not keep focus on the current conversation.

Tamlin appeared to nudge Isa subtly. He gave her a stern look before she turned back to look at Feyre.

"I apologize for the things I said about you." She said barely above a whisper. Feyre gave her a soft look which must have urged her to keep going. "Sometimes I feel angry at you because I see a life I could have had. With you as my mom. It is not fair, but it is true." Nyx could see tears in his mother's eyes that she quickly blinked away.

"I understand that sometimes we say things we do not mean. Right, Nyx?" Feyre gave her son a look. She was giving him an opening to say his piece while simultaneously avoiding responding to Isa. He should tell Isa that he did not mean it.

"Isa, I do love you. Just not in the way you are wanting." He tried to make eye contact with her so that she knew he was speaking the truth, but she did not look up from her hands.

"Okay." She gave a simple shrug.

Nyx felt his eyes brows furrowed at that. He was not sure what he expected her reaction to be, but something more than that. It made him feel something he was not ready to admit. And at this point, would never admit.

"Okay?" He asked with raised eyebrows. Isa was still refusing to look up at him, so he look towards his father who kept signaling with his eyes to go and comfort her.

"Yes, I understand I cannot make someone love me." The bland delivery of the words encouraged Nyx to move towards her. He kneeled before her in her chair and grabbed her hands, forcing her to look at him.

"I do love you." He emphasized. He did not want this to get lost in the mess of everything else. Something about that seemed to spark something in her eyes though. The sight of it made Nyx relieved.

"Not in the vay I vant to be loved. Not in the vay I dezerve to be loved." Her accent was extremely heavy and she began to grip his hands back just as strongly as he was holding hers. Tears gathered in her eyes but they did not fall.

"I vill no longer give you more than you dezerve, Nyx." And with that declaration, the last of her fight left her. She softly pulled her hands away and stood up. Her eyes were blank once more.

"I apologize once again for putting your lives at risk. It will not happen again."

And then she was drooping back to her room with slows steps.

"That went...well." Violet offered unhelpfully. "Right?"

[cant-blink]

Half-Life, Ch. 8

Summary: The final chapter of the story. Ghidorah is in a fight to the death to decide his ultimate fate. Can he finally be free from Gigan’s terror, or will he fall to mind-control once more?

-

There’s nothing much that he loved more than a good fight, and seeing the golden dragon across from him was bringing back memories of his old life, back when he was with his Masters.

He remembered seeing this dragon for the first time, with the sole purpose of subduing him to be brought into Nebulan captivity. He remembered the thrill in his chest as he went to make his first strike. He remembered the burning sensation in that same chest when the hydra retaliated with a Gravity Beam point-blank. Gigan has never fought an opponent with such a wild lust for blood and death, and to this day, it remained the greatest battle he’s ever engaged in.

This moment, however, threatened to dethrone that. Because so much more was on the line here, and Gigan knew that there was to be no holding back for either of them. What’s worse, he was in no condition for a drawn-out fight and this could very well be his last stand. But perhaps...

His eye was still fastened on Ghidorah’s middle head. Perhaps he can sneak a strike as his first blow, end it fast and easy. He certainly had the means to pull it off, a technique that Ghidorah was unaware of as far as he knew. He's never displayed it in front of him, so he would have the element of surprise on his side. But such a move would take a large portion of his energy; even at full strength, it was not something he could do with reckless abandon. In a crucial state like he is in now, it was certainly not something he can afford to screw up...

The silence between them was thickened, as Ghidorah opened those three jaws slowly and deliberately. As if testing to see what Gigan would do. Now or never, here goes nothing! 

Gathering his energy, he took a split-second to tell his system where he wished to go before lunging forward to lessen the distance. He saw the lightning erupt from Ghidorah’s jaws just as Gigan’s body deteriorated. Not a split-second later, he reappeared behind the dragon, and he wasted no time lunging for him with his claw raised...

And he connected with the wrong head, as Ghidorah’s necks flailed wildly and one of them got in the way of his attack. Although the dragon was clearly taken by surprise, he recovered quickly and his tails slammed into him, knocking him aside. 

He fell back to the ground, luckily on his feet but he was inwardly cursing himself. That was a complete waste of his energy and now he had to be even more conservative about how he spent it. It’s okay, it’s alright. He can settle on good ol’ fashion claw-to-tooth combat. Something he knew Ghidorah was no fan of.

But getting close enough won’t be easy as the Gravity Beams were relentless, blasting the air and ground around him in erratic hard-to-predict fashion. The very embodiment of chaos, this dragon, and he loved him for it. Too bad it had to come down to this.

Seeing he won’t be getting closer without getting hit, he shot a Cluster Beam towards the hydra, the red laser colliding with a Gravity Beam to result in an explosion. The cloud of dust whipped from them, blocking the view; normally, Gigan would switch to his thermal vision, but he knew this was pointless against Ghidorah’s cold hide. Instead, he’s forced to go in blind, lunging forward and managing to connect a blade across Ghidorah’s chest.

A snarl erupted from the recoiling dragon, who responded by fanning his wings and flapping them strongly. A powerful gust blew away the dust and began pushing Gigan back. But he kept his footing, leaning against the hurricane-force winds and leaving furrows in the ground. Such power in those sails, he LOVED it! His own sails flattened against his back to help reduce catching this wind, and his claws swung down to stab into the earth.

Ghidorah did not relent and only began flapping faster and harder.

He was blown back far enough and still secured against the increased gale, Gigan shot another laser at the dragon. It was weaker than the last few blasts, as his energy reserves were getting low, and it didn’t make as big an explosion on impact as last time. But it was enough to stop the dragon, and those six eyes glaring towards him seemed to glow through the smoke.

Trying to keep his breaths steady and discreet, Gigan stood back up, his claws crossing in front of him defensively. But the dragon doesn’t push his assault further, yet, and they found themselves in another stand-off.

“Sure you want to keep going with this, Ghiddy?”

No sooner did he say that than the dragon shoots another trio of Gravity Beams directly at him without the wild flailing, and he jumped back out of the way. With a focused blow like that, it seemed like Ghidorah really did not like being called ‘Ghiddy’. Well, he should’ve thought of that before calling him ‘half-life’. He lets out a chuckle at the childishness of it all, trying to ignore the pain slowly starting to creep through the adrenaline.

“You haven’t even seen half of what I can do, babe,” Gigan continued, only somewhat bluffing to buy time to re-coop the energy lost. “It’s not too late to run.”

Ghidorah still doesn’t respond verbally, as he lets loose another round of Gravity Beams directly for him and Gigan jumps into flight to avoid it once more. So damn predictable. But what he didn’t expect was a massive chunk of rock rising from the site of impact, far larger than the boulders Ghidorah had lifted before. It was far too big to get out of the way of, and his visor widened as the wyvern swung it towards him. He grunted at the impact and, knowing the hydra’s intention to crush him under it, managed to salvage enough of his energy to blast it to smithereens just as it almost hits the ground. He’s still subject to its momentum though and he grunted again as his back hits the earth. Fuck, that was way too close but at least he wasn’t flattened.

Power at 10%, his system flashed onto his visor. Retreat to the mothership now. But he had no time to reprimand his system that there was no mothership to retreat to. No, Ghidorah has leapt and those talons dig into his arms and shoulder pads, keeping him pinned onto the ground.

At once, he lifted his tail to stab into him, but alas, he was painfully reminded that his stinger was gone. Really, any movement from his tail brought unbearable shocks of pain through his system. Fuck. He glared up at the dragon; he didn’t have enough energy for another laser blast, and he could see the Gravity Beams building up in those throats.

But he wasn’t out yet, and he opened his own beak and flames erupted from his throat. He knew it wouldn’t do much in way of damage as he really only used this on weaker creatures and their flammable structures. Nonetheless, it served its purpose to startle the dragon and he felt Ghidorah’s weight shift back off one of his arms. He took advantage to swing at the hydra with his freed claw, stabbing into the scales of Ghidorah’s side. 

A shriek escaped those throats and the dragon jolted back off of him completely. 

The flames escaping his beak petered out, and he pushed himself back up. The two locked eyes and Gigan can see small embers fading off from Ghidorah’s manes. As he expected, the flames did little to actually hurt the dragon. 

On the contrary, he took notice that his own vision has grown dimmer, as the generator ran low on the energy needed to keep his mechanical parts functional. This wasn’t good; he needed to stall again lest he starts fighting blind.

Unfortunately, Ghidorah has made it clear that he was not going to entertain another conversation with him. He really should run; both his system and his own organic instincts screamed at him to flee, but instead, he took the offensive and lunged forward recklessly. In response, Ghidorah rose his middle head higher and his two side heads slammed into him.

Dammit...

He was getting slower and the pain was really starting to take its toll, and hearing the snickering from the hydra, he knew Ghidorah was taking notice.

RETREAT! RETREAT! RETREAT! His system flashed onto his visor. Fuckin’- If it would stop wasting energy telling him to run, maybe his weapons wouldn’t take so long to get back online! Or how about using that energy to bring his vision back to normal, that would be great!!

But neither his instincts nor his system were backing down, and after another moment of a stand-off, Gigan lunged forward once more...

... before he leapt up last minute to avoid a Gravity Beam and kicked Ghidorah in his chest, forcing him down onto his back. He leapt off again before any retaliation could be made, his flight-devices activating to let him fly upwards into the clouds.

He knew Ghidorah will never let him get away, but perhaps he can stay hidden in the disorientating haze long enough to recuperate. 

Then round two can begin.

-

The second the half-life flew off of him was the second Ghidorah knew he was winning. Damn coward always tried to run when things turned bad and expecting him to stick around to finish this to the end was apparently too much to ask. Unfortunately for this pathetic excuse for a kaiju, Ghidorah wasn’t one to let things go so easily.

Righting himself, he glared up towards the retreating cyborg and he shot a Gravity Beam. The half-life glanced back and weaved off to the side to avoid it before disappearing into the clouds. Very well, then. His wings fan open and he takes flight after him.

If the half-life thought he can escape, he was even more stupid than Ghidorah gave him credit for. He will chase him to the very ends of the universe if he had to!

Entering the pink cloud of space dust, he lets out a few more Gravity Beams at the half-life’s silhouette, one of them managing to strike one of those sails and causing him to drop a bit. He was flying slower than usual, Ghidorah noted. Normally, both their top speeds were the same; he knew that from past experience when trying to escape the cyborg’s attention in vain. But here, the half-life was so weak that the dragon was actually starting to catch up to him.

A smirk grew on all three of his mouths, his wings giving one last downstroke and his talons rushed forward. 

His prey must’ve felt the rush of air and spun around with a shriek, a claw swiping for him and his buzzsaw going off. Ghidorah pulled up at the last second to avoid getting struck and the half-life veered off to try and lose him in the thickest parts of the cloud.

Did he not realize that Ghidorah didn’t need to see him to know exactly where he is? His tainted life-force was faint, but it was still there for his crests to sense.

The impulse to toy with this creature was strong, but he resisted it. The stakes were too high for such games. 

Instead, he dove straight towards the cyborg’s life-signature, claws at the ready and wings folded to reduce his own presence. This time, contact was made as his talons latched onto those sails, and his jaws surged forward to tear the membranes. The half-life gave a surprised cry and Ghidorah’s momentum and weight brought them back down to the ground at reckless speeds. The impact was brutal, and it was satisfying feeling the creature’s body take the brunt of it beneath his feet.

He gave the half-life no time to recover as, still latched onto his opponent’s back, the dragon gave a powerful downstroke of his wings to lift them up... before smashing him back onto the ground under his full weight. He did this again, and again, each time getting another ever-weakening cry from the cyborg. He can see more blood escaping the half-life’s mouth, and felt each labored breath the creature struggled to take. He does this one more time before finally stopping, his victim now completely limp. 

Stepping off from the cyborg, he glared down at the half-life. That visor was dim and giving the creature a kick onto his back, there was no response. Unconscious again. His impulse to continue the torture was strong, but once more, he disregarded it. He really should end this here and now while he has the chance; he wasn’t keen on finding out whatever other ‘tricks’ this cyborg had up his sleeve.

His left head lowered to grab the creature’s neck, his right head soon following. If he gathers all his energy, he should be able to blast this creature’s head from his body, ending this whole thing once and for all. But as he starts building the energy in his throat, the half-life suddenly gave a jolt out of nowhere and Ghidorah felt a terrible pain in his middle neck. 

He knew immediately what happened.

The half-life was only feigning unconsciousness and in a last desperate bid, has stabbed a claw up into his neck. So deep it was that energy from his Gravity Beam escaped from the wound, causing even more pain and damage to vulnerable flesh. It was too late to bring that energy back into its organ, try as he might.

“I’m so sorry,” he heard this strained whisper from the half-life. He felt the creature’s legs and tail wrap around him to bring their bodies together before more horrific pain coursed through him. The chest-saw has gone off, ripping through his scales and flesh and going down to the bone. In retaliation, his two heads that were fastened to the creature’s neck let loose with every ounce of EVERYTHING the dragon had.

The half-life couldn’t even scream. 

The buzzsaw came to a halt and in that same split second, something shot out from the creature’s chest and sliced through the remainder of the middle head’s neck. 

An explosion resulted from the two Gravity Beams meeting in the center of the half-life’s neck, causing the hydra to release his hold and stumble back. A huge cloud of dust whipped up around the two combatants, and it took time for it to clear and reveal the results of that exchange. 

The half-life’s head has been blasted right off, and the now-two-headed Ghidorah felt his heart lift with elation as he watched the creature stumble forward clumsily. One step, two, before he fell to his knees, then onto his side to the ground. The body twitched, claws raking the ground and metallic silver blood spilling out from the remains of his neck. The buzzsaw went off one more time before slowing to a stop.

The rest of the half-life’s body followed suit and fell still. His life-force was so faint to begin with that Ghidorah couldn’t tell if his crests even rewarded him for the kill. 

Didn’t matter. The sheer joy coursing through him, knowing he was finally free, was enough to make up for it, and to mask the pain for a blissful moment, before...

His vision began to darken on the edges and his legs felt weak. He fell to his own knees but despite knowing his fate, he lets out a cackling laugh in his remaining two heads.

The half-life was dead; he’s done it! Even at the cost of his own life, his last few moments spent in freedom was well worth it.

But it wasn’t over yet.

Whatever it was that shot out of the half-life’s chest had boomeranged back; he heard them before he felt them, slicing through the base of one wing where membrane met scales and causing it to sag limp to the ground. Still Ghidorah kept laughing wildly, even as his other wing is almost severed in the same fashion. The pain continued as more of his flesh is sliced into before it finally stops in his chest. Looking down, he saw there were razor disks now embedded in his body. To the bitter end, the creature still had surprises. 

But despite all of this, the sight of his disemboweled belly, and the loss of his wings, the maniacal cackling from the dragon persisted, only softening as Ghidorah’s twitching blood-covered body finally collapsed to the ground.

A few more chuckles escaped him before fading into silence. His glassy eyes remained locked on the body of the half-life, both their growing puddles of blood meeting between them. 

The pain has numbed, and the feeling of irrational happiness overtook him. He recognized this, and he doesn’t fight it as his muscles relaxed. As his vision went black and his crests gave him that massive dose of blissful euphoria for the final time, familiar words played in his mind.

Your name is Ghidorah. You were created to be the ultimate weapon.

The Universe is a terrifying place. It’s filled with violent races that seek to destroy those who only wish to live in peace. You will be the savior that fights for those innocents, that cleanses the universe of those dark forces. 

You will make it safer, for all of us.

Safer. He finally understood now. 

Every race that dared to use him for their nefarious deeds, extinct by his own vengeful claws. 

The half-life, the most despicable creature he’s ever had the misfortune of knowing, dead.

His own life drawing to a close, Ghidorah can rest in peace knowing that he’s succeeded.

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

Possibly a big ask to get just out of the blue but: what are your Supernatural season opinions? Which one is your favorite? Least favorite? Did you watch long enough to have showrunner opinions? If yes, which showrunner is your favorite and which is your least favorite? If no, which season that you haven't seen most tempts you to get back in the Supernatural trenches? Answer exactly as many of these questions as you want to. Carry on.

You know, I am not sure how long this Ask has been sitting here, because my Tumblr notifications are borked -- I hope not long? If long, I apologize, I wasn't ignoring it on purpose!

Okay, so I have more than the average number of Supernatural opinions, probably, but I'll try to keep this to a dull roar! Inside Me There Are Two Wolves: one of them believes that only the original five seasons of Supernatural are worth defending in any way, the other really, really loves seasons 11 and 12. The Kripke Era had a lot of problems, particularly in its treatment of women as bodies without agency and its treatment of Black men as literal predators, but also for all its flaws, it had a kind of coherence and narrative drive that comes from being the product of a dude who obviously cared about it and had something to say. Taken on its own, seasons 1-5 are a brutal and compelling story about the traumas of being men in a universe that's been absolutely destroyed by its Fathers: on almost every level, it's about these abandoned and brutalized boys discovering that their entire reality is the product of an abandoning and brutalizing God, populated by authority figures who are universally demanding and arrogant, but also completely fucking useless. It's quite literally about Sam and Dean trying to hang onto their souls and their own agency when everyone around them wants them forced into shapes formed by conflicts that fell into place at the beginning of time. It's hard to remember, but back then even the Lucifer plotline was about that! It was about the damage fathers inflict on sons! Things were about things, in the Kripke era!

Then we get to the Gamble era, and. Woof. I actually -- don't hate 6 and 7? Like everything Sera Gamble touches, those two seasons are kinetic and memorable and funny and weird and hit some really, really great emotional beats. There are Some Problems, but Gamble was saddled with a pretty dire job, trying to find a way forward after everything about the series really had effectively wrapped up in Swan Song, and I think she did an okay job. People got mad at her for killing Castiel, but you know, damn, I give her this: that was a storyline. Like, this character who was fresh out of the cult he was raised in becoming disillusioned by how messy normal life is and deciding that maybe people need better authoritarianism instead -- the way he's driven to take too many risks by the fact that he's abandoned and desperate -- Crowley as a legitimately scary villain while still being charming af -- and the tragic resolution of Castiel being torn apart by both his hubris and his heroism. It's actually really good. I understand why people didn't want what Gamble was serving up -- and I'm able to like it because it was undone later, you know? -- but she really did commit to a full season of character arc and saw it all the way through to an earned ending, and I gotta respect that.

I genuinely hate seasons 8 and 9. I think everyone is a dick, particularly but not exclusively Dean, to the point where I just find it a bummer to watch. I mean, you get Benny, and I love Benny. You get, I dunno, bits and bobs of decent episodes, but overall they are very fucked up seasons in my opinion. So Carver era is on thin fucking ice with me, but I do think you start to get a rebound in season 10 with the Mark of Cain stuff, although I wish they'd managed to keep Cain around longer. All the really good Claire stuff starts happening, which is nice because Claire, but also because for once the show is really letting itself go back and deal with the mess these protagonists leave behind them constantly. Castiel and Claire have maybe the most interesting non-Winchester relationship on the show. Oh, and Rowena shows up around here too, right? Love her. So the back half of Carver, 10 and 11, are starting to really gain traction for me. The world is building outward, secondary characters are starting to be genuine characters in their own right, the politics of Heaven and Hell get a little richer and more interesting. The show is really starting to feel like it takes place in a universe, which is great because we love the Frigging Winchesters, but they shouldn't be the only thing going, right? We have 15 seasons to get through! Season 11 is basically bracketed by what are probably my two favorite Supernatural episodes: Baby and Don't Call Me Shurley. (I think I'm the world's only living Metatron fan; I fucking love that little dude.)

Dabb takes over in 12, and I really, really, genuinely love season 12. I fucking love Mary. There are so many episodes I adore -- Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox is a special favorite of mine, and I remain pissed off that the Banes twins never made it to recurring status, bluntly that feels wildly racist to me -- probably the best three-episode streak in the show is Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets to Regarding Dean to Stuck In the Middle (With You), three just almost perfect episodes. So I was poised to really love the Dabb era. I wanted to! My body was ready!

And I do really love the first chunk of season 13, the Widow Winchester arc. Obviously I'm a romantic, love that for me, but it's just also really good? The acting, the writing, the psychological complexity of Dean wanting Jack to be Bad so he has an outlet for his anger and Sam wanting Jack to be Good so he can retroactively parent himself and raise a Lucifer-tainted child who isn't crippled by self-loathing. Billie's great, and it looks like she's going to start being one of the major powers of the universe. Unfortunately -- with the occasional exception of this or that solid episode -- that's kind of the end of Pretty Good Supernatural. Season 13 kind of unravels; season 14 always feels like it's looking for itself (which is a bummer, because I wanted very much to care about Michael); season 15 is, idk. Idk about any of it, it's all pretty pointless. I feel bad complaining on some level, because the show's been on for like fourteen years at this point! It's kinda justified in feeling a little worn out. But the reality is that the later seasons systematically undo all the expansion that had excited me earlier -- the Wayward Sisters crew pretty much vanishes when the spinoff isn't picked up, Naomi and the angels stop doing anything, Crowley's gone, Mary's gone for much of it. We're just kind of futzing around with monsters who don't seem to matter (very much including Lucifer, who hasn't mattered in ages) and a lot of Jack, who. I try not to shit all over, because I know he's a popular character, but I find him just ungodly boring. Everything in the last two and a half season just feels like it's headed nowhere in particular, and also it bored me. The Empty deal is just sadness porn; it doesn't have any resonance or meaning in terms of Castiel's character, it's just him agreeing to die for his kid, which is okay, it means he's a loving dad, which he is, but there's no conflict there, ergo no real drama. It's just mean; it happens because it'll make us sad, and no other reason. Rowena is the only strong secondary character left, and her ending also doesn't feel particularly relevant to her, it's just a generic Sacrifice to Save the World. Everything just feels like they're autogenerating plotlines, rather than letting the actual needs and drives of the characters shape the narrative. So while I have this weird split personality with Carver where I either hate what he's doing or I love it, most of the Dabb era is just. There. It doesn't make me feel anything except kind of tired and embarrassed. Which is a bummer, because I have an inexplicable fondness for Dabb, probably just because of how much I love s12. I wanted to love his seasons! I did love his first season! I feel like maybe something happened when the CW rejected Wayward Sisters? I know that was kind of his darling, and it feels like maybe losing that kind of sucked the joy out of him, and he's kind of checked-out by the end. That's genuinely just my guess, however.

That's Professor Milo's Intro to Supernatural Studies, don't forget to fill out your course survey on the way out!

[falcon-eye]

Another ficlet featuring Cat OCs which will eventually become a part of a bigger story from @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU! This one kinda got away from me, Idk. I wanted to include a little more info on my Cats but after a while I felt like I was rambling. I also feel like the tone is kinda all over the place. I like what I wrote, but Idk about how I wrote it, if that makes any sense. And I’m not satisfied with the ending. I also hope the “deal” makes sense too. Idk. I’m just generally sorry for how weird this one turned out. Any questions, even if they’re just about the characters, please shoot them my way! Hope you enjoy!

-

The Law of Surprise had never steered Veko wrong. Well, ok, that wasn’t exactly true. It had never fucked him over, anyway. Well...

Ok, see, many, many years before the White Wolf began his reign, Veko and his twin brother Hamra had been traveling with the Cat School’s caravan. They always had, ever since becoming Witchers, although they sometimes broke off for hunts either alone or with each other. Siblings were rare among Witchers, twins especially, and identical twins even more so. Plus, Hamra was... gentle—for a Witcher anyway. He hardly made eye contact and often didn’t talk until absolutely necessary for days at a time, often using signs when he didn’t want to (or couldn’t) speak. Veko was used to it, often either being able to decipher his brother’s signs and gestures, or filing in the blanks himself. This also meant he was frequently his brother’s “translator” of sorts. Despite mostly taking hunts together though, Veko, like everyone else in the caravan, needed a break from time to time. Especially from his brother’s guilty looks.

It’s common knowledge that Cats are the more... emotional of all Witchers, prone to mood swings, rages, and the occasional bloodlust. It’s just how the mutagens made them, as much a fact as the sky was blue. Didn’t make it any easier on any of them, though. Veko knew this all too well.

Although Hamra was quiet, generally incredibly awkward and painfully shy, he too could and had been taken over by his emotions. And unfortunately, Veko was always in the line of fire—literally. The fight had been... stupid. Probably. Now, years later, neither twin can remember what the it was even about, and none of the other Cats were paying enough attention to care. Hamra was too enraged to remember what happened and Veko. Well, Veko, whether he was trying to calm Hamra down or was truly fighting with him, took an Igni to the face at basically point blank range. Sure, the smell of cooking monster was one Witchers eventually got used to, but as it turns out, the smell of your own brother’s flesh burning from his face and neck snaps you out of a rage pretty well.

Veko was out of commission for quite a while, by Witcher standards. The left side of his face, from under his eye down his neck, and disappearing beneath his armor, was a permanent web of tight, puckered scarring. It wasn’t bad enough to lose his ear or anything, thankfully, and no actual holes in his skin, but it was big and grotesque enough that there was no possible way to hide it unless he covered his entire face. So Hamra had to look at his greatest mistake every time he looked at his brother, and Veko had to deal with the sour smell of guilt pouring off of his brother almost every waking moment.

So, yeah, he needed a break and a solo hunt every once in a while.

This one was about as basic as they get; bunch of drowners terrorizing a local village, no problem. Veko took them out with ease. Or so he thought. Going back to the village to claim his pay, he heard an old man crying for help and realized one of the drowners had broken off from the others. Just great.

The old man and the drowner both were stuck in thick mud, a pathetic sight as the man frantically tried to free himself as the drowner clawed at him. Veko literally walked up next to the creature and decapitating it, yanking the old man out of the mud while still in mid swing.

“Witcher!” the old man cried, his knees nearly buckling once he was on solid ground. “Oh thank you Witcher! How could I ever repay you?!”

Sheathing his swords, Veko chuckled. “I mean, coin never hurts.”

As Veko wiped the mud from his face, revealing his burns, the man paled. “I-I don’t... I-I don’t have any money on me,” he said. “Please, sir, there must be something else I can give you!“

Veko sighed. “Not a problem,” he said. “How about this—first thing you see when you get home, I’ll take that. I’ve got to get my pay from your village anyway. Why don’t I stop by your house in the morning?”

The old man nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes sir Witcher!” he exclaimed. “I live on the edge of town, just a little farm, the one with the blue roof.”

“Blue roof,” Veko said, squinting at the old man. “Yeah, it’s suits you.”

The old man looked confused, but Veko waved him off and walked back to the village with him. Luckily, the alderman didn’t scrimp him over on pay, but it still wasn’t a great amount. However, despite actually being paid the amount he was promised, the local inn just so happened to be completely full. Whatever, you win some, you lose some. Pocketing his coin, Veko led his horse a little ways out of town and reluctantly set up camp.

Veko’s horse was a dun gelding, one of the several Law of Surprise claims and other non-coin payments Veko had made over the years. Once, he’d gotten a literal chicken dinner from a family (which he shared with them, godsdamned his bleeding heart). Another time, an old woman he’d saved from a werewolf offered him and Hamra her home for the night, and taught Veko how to knit when he couldn’t sleep. The horse was relatively new, having picked him up from a farmer with a bad wolf problem, and didn’t give two shits about the Witcher. Which was fine by Veko. He wasn’t close with his horses like some Witchers were. This was his eighth horse, appropriately named Eight.

Eight was a bastard of an animal, constantly biting at Veko’s fingers, clothes, weapons—really anything he could reach. He’d also literally kicked Veko in the ass a few times, and once right in the balls, to the entire caravan’s delight. Eight was also a particular fan of loudly chewing the bark off of whatever tree he was tethered to, which made trying to get peace and quiet a bitch. Not-so-secretly, Veko was hoping whatever the old man saw when he got back to his house was a different horse. It was too expensive to buy another one, and despite the fact that he and Eight hated each other, he’d never wish harm upon the animal. He just wanted to be rid of him, that’s all.

But when he arrived at the old man’s home the next day, horse, chicken dinner, knitting lessons—none of it came even close to what was waiting for him.

A petite woman in a pale blue dress covered in splatters of paint slammed the front door open as he approached. Her hair, brunette, was up in an approximation of a bun, but it was hard to tell as it was so messily put together and curled wildly where it escaped.

Veko saw the exact moment she saw his burn scars, but to his surprise, only faltered for a moment. “Witcher!” she shouted, marching right up to Veko and poking a paint-stained finger to his chest. “You can turn around and leave right now!”

Veko blinked down at her. “Uh, excuse me,” he scoffed, “I came here to get my payment. Who the hell are you?”

“Your bloody payment,” the girl hissed, throwing her arms out. “Surprise!”

“Eloise!” the old man Veko had saved came rushing out of his house, taking the woman’s hands in his. “Please, Eloise—“

“What in the hell is going on here?!” Veko exclaimed, making the old man flinch but the woman—Eloise—stood her ground.

“You asked my father to give you the first thing he saw when he came home, right?” she snapped. “Well I answered the bloody door, Witcher.”

Veko took a step back and raised his hands in surrender. “Ok, ok, so this is just all a misunderstanding, I get it. I’ll just—“

“No, no!” the old man exclaimed as Veko turned back to his horse. “Please, Witcher, it’s the Law of Surprise, it’s destiny!”

“Fuck destiny,” Eloise spat. Veko had to agree. But the old man was frantic now.

“To-to go against destiny—“ he continued, before breaking off into a hacking coughing fit that actually had Veko concerned the man would drop right there.

Eloise calmed her father down and held him until his coughing subsided. “Please, papa, you’re going to overwhelm yourself.”

“Eloise, my darling,” the man choked out, “this is all my fault, but please, you cannot go against the Law of Surprise!”

Veko watched the two for a moment before clearing his throat. “Maybe—maybe we can work something out,” he said. Obviously the man was only getting more and more worked up as the conversation went on.

Eloise glared at Veko for a moment before crossing her arms. “It’s ok, papa,” she said, still glaring, “I’ll talk with the Witcher and sort this whole thing out.”

“Y-yeah,” Veko said. “Um. Do you wanna...?”

Eloise grabbed him—actually grabbed him, the balls on this woman!—by the arm and dragged him behind the house, towards a small stable and paddock where a few goats were housed.

“Alright, Witcher, listen,” Eloise snapped. “I don’t believe in all this ‘destiny’ bollocks. The Law of Surprise is bullshit.”

“Hey, I’m with you there,” Veko said. “I normally get like livestock or food or stuff like that.”

Eloise sighed and bit at her nail, staring out across the paddock. “My father believes in all of it,” she said. “My mother died when I was young. Destiny, papa always said. It’s garbage. But my father... he’s very old. I need to take care of him. Whether I believed in all that shit or not, Witcher, I cannot come with you.”

“And I don’t want you to!” Veko exclaimed. “I can barely take care of my horse properly, let alone a human. You’d get killed or something. Why would I want you to come with me?”

Eloise scoffed. “I can think of one reason,” she said bitterly. Veko rolled his eyes.

“Oh please, I’ve got two hands and enough coin set aside for that.”

Eloise actually cracked a tiny grin. “Regardless,” she said, “my father isn’t going to let this go. And I don’t want this to work him up anymore than it already has. I’m afraid for his health.”

“What do you suggest?” Veko asked.

Eloise thought for a moment. Veko’s scar started to itch. It always did at awkward moments, or at least it seemed to anyway, and this was about the most awkward situation Veko had ever been in. This woman was actually... strangely intimidating! Veko turned away to scratch at his face, which seemed to break Eloise out of her thoughts.

“Do you... want something for that?” she asked. “We have some salves in the house just... in case we...”

“No, no, that’s fine,” Veko said as she trailed off in thought. After another moment, Eloise suddenly clapped her hands together.

“I’ve got it!” she exclaimed. “I know how we can appease my father and still make this work.”

Veko nodded awkwardly. “That’s... good, yeah. Um—“

“This will be your home,” Eloise interrupted.

“I don’t follow.”

“Simple,” Eloise stuck a finger in the air. “You’re a Witcher—you travel. So you must spend a lot of the money you earn at inns and on food and things.”

“Or I just sleep outside,” Veko cut in. Eloise waved him off.

“We could tell my father that the Surprise you’ve claimed is the right to come here and stay whenever you’re in the area. Or rather, the right to my home as your home.”

“How does that factor you into it, though?” Veko asked.

“Technically my father saw the house before he saw me,” Eloise replied. “Plus, we could say that I’m a part of the house, that I keep it for you. Or that the house and I are a package deal.”

Veko crossed his arms. “Do you think he’d buy that?”

Eloise crossed her arms back. “He will if you say it.”

Veko ran a hand through his hair and blew out a puff of air. “This is crazy,” he said.

“You claimed the Law of Surprise, Witcher,” Eloise snapped, “not me.”

Veko started scratching his scar in earnest now. “Ok, but what about the village? What are they going to say about you being ‘claimed’ by a Witcher?”

“Frankly I don’t give a damn what they think.”

“What if you want to get married someday?”

Eloise guffawed. “See, that’s the other thing,” she said. “I don’t want to get married. Ever. Having a Witcher ‘claim’ me as his would get every man in town to leave me well alone. This helps all of us.”

As Veko thought on it, Eloise slapped his hand away from scratching his face again. At his shocked face, she merely glared back.

“You’re something else, you know that?” he said. Eloise grinned.

“Why, because I’m not afraid of you?” She laughed. “You bleed just like the rest of us, Witcher. So what do you say?”

Eloise held out her hand and for a moment, Veko actually hesitated. Not because of the deal itself, but because this woman was truly unafraid of him, of seemingly anything, and it made him feel... vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to. After a moment, Veko gently took her hand—and wow, she had a hell of a grip for a human woman, too! “Deal,” Veko said.

“Now to tell my father,” Eloise said, already starting to drag the Witcher back around the house.

As it turned out, Eloise’s father was thrilled with the idea. Eloise could stay with her father, destiny would be satisfied or whatever, and Veko would get free food and lodging whenever he was around (which probably wouldn’t be for a very long time anyway). The only problem was that Eloise’s father seemed to take Veko “claiming” his daughter and home as... well... essentially Eloise settling down with the Witcher “to start a family”. Veko was mortified but Eloise just smiled and nodded, going along with what her father said until he looked away and giving Veko a look that meant under no uncertain terms would that ever be happening.

A few details still had to be hashed out, but Veko wanted nothing more than to get as far away from this town as possible. How the hell had a drowner contract produced this much trouble?

Later, Veko reunited with the Cat caravan and Hamra. His brother chuckled softly at whatever look was on Veko’s face, and when Hamra signed asking how his hunt was, Veko groaned.

“Took out some drowners,” he said. “And... and Ham, I think... I think I got fucking married.”

Hamra actually burst out laughing, the first time the smell of surprise and amusement replaced the sour guilt that hung to his brother like a cloud, and Veko couldn’t help but join him.

Fuck the Law of Surprise, Veko thought. Never using that again.

[casshasfangs]

don’t ask me where i’ve been

Everyone else on tour seemed to enjoy their days off. They were few and far in-between, but the others still counted down, drew circles on calendars and made plans with their roommates. Not Cass, though. He spent the days by himself, mostly in bed or fiddling with his guitar. The further North they travelled, the more their fans sounded like his Dad, the harder it was for Cass to fight through the depression that always seemed to hang off him like a bad smell. Today, missing him especially, he was waiting for a response to a letter he’d written to Pomonia.

Something had changed in him since Henry died. Maybe it had been longer- Cass wasn't sure. It could have started the night of their first gig. Perhaps it was that night in the Hospital Wing, watching Rhett rock Shosh under the shower, as blood pooled on the floor beneath them. Maybe he had been changing from the very moment he laid in that bed on Hogsmeade, frozen with fear and guilt and anxiety, Pomonia dozing next to him. And he'd met Sonder some time in between- or had it been before? The timeline of when the dazzling boy came spinning into his life was mingled with the traumas he'd endured in the meantime. 

 All Cass knew, was that he couldn't talk to Sonder about Henry. He hadn't known him. Robin had a skewed view of the vampire, and while Shosh had a closer idea than most, she hadn't known him for long. Tami knew Henry. But any positive memories of his ex-best friend were tainted by her betrayal, which almost ran deeper than Pomonia's. 

 Pomonia. 

 He missed her.

 It gnawed at him almost nightly, because he didn't just miss her familiarity. He missed the way she knew him, the comfort and structure she'd provided him, the way he knew exactly what was expected of him. 

He missed her arms, her hands, her lips, her whispered whiskey breath and her scent, her blood, her muted voice and the creases in the corners of her eyes. And nights like this, when he received letters back from owls, magically marked as undeliverable, he wished he could see her. He wished he could curl up in her lap, like he did when he was small. He wished he could stand in front of her and scream at her till his throat was hoarse and bloody. He wished he could cry with her about Henry, and then she would hold him and rock him and she'd whisper something that would make it better. Cass folded the letter and placed it in his pocket.

He heard Piper approaching behind him- she always stopped just short of him. Cass always wondered if she felt the same way he did, around veela descendants. Tami and Cass had always been intense friends, they often remarked that their abilities enhanced around each other, that Tami felt ill or tired when they spent too much time together. Piper was too polite to comment on it.

 He heard her shallow breaths and realised, ashamed, that she was probably affected by his angsting. "I'm just going out for a drink." He murmured lowly, turning to look at her. 

 The concern was written all over her face. It was a normal part of being on the road- both Cass and Shosh were working overtime, he couldn't feed from her as often as he needed, neither of them had the blood sugars to sustain it. He needed to supplement. But Piper wasn't concerned about that. 

 In a rare gesture, Piper took a deep breath, then reached out to place her hand on his shoulder. "I know. But you don't have to go out alone. I could come with you?" Cass just raised his brows, and the blonde sighed in response. She shrugged, letting her hand drop, "Just.. Remember you have people who care about here. It's about more than the band." 

 "Yeah," he did his best to pull himself together, the corner of his lips pulling up on one side. He tried. "I'll be back before rehearsal." Unable to handle the further emotional burden of affecting Piper a moment longer, Cass stepped back and apparated away.

He was genuinely surprised to not have splinched himself on arrival, given how all up in his head he’d been. It would’ve been embarrassing. Cass put his hands in his pockets and kept his head low as he strolled into Caro.

Cass ordered his usual drink, and headed for a booth. This early in the day, Caro was generally quiet. Most people were there to drink or socialise rather than dance the evening away. Cass just wanted the familiarity. If he couldn’t be with Pomonia, he at least wanted to be somewhere she’d been.

He was just about to pull a book from his coat pocket when Penny approached, all dolled up as usual. “Well, I’ll be- the rockstar himself, back at home. I thought you were on tour, young man!” He barely looked up at her, but saw the way her manicured fingers sprawled where her hands were resting sharply on her hips.

Cass sighed, looking up at her. “Do you always have to do this? The lecture thing?”

“I’m Southern, honey,” She invited herself into his booth, clasping her hands together atop the table, “Lecturing is how I show love.”

Cass caught himself before he rolled his eyes, but put his book on the table. He pulled his drink over, having a sip. “We’re still on tour. We just have a day off.” Cass allowed.

“And you couldn’t go to one of the other million social spots up there?” She raised a brow so high, it almost mixed into her bleach-blonde high ponytail.

“I’m trying to track down an old friend. She’s not responding to my letters, and it’s not like I can just up and leave during tour.” He said, pushing his hair out of his eyes as he sucked petulantly on his straw.

“You mean leave, like you are doing right now?” Penny hummed. “Who’s the friend? Maybe I can ask around.”

Although Penny and Bobby were new to the high-society vampire scene, Cass knew things had shifted since his Dad died. His Dad had never been top-dog, but he was well respected, and people were bickering about who played what role now. Bobby was well suited to step up in behalf of international covens, which meant Penny was automatically stepped up too, in the secretive social world of donors.

Cass hesitated- then remembered that news of his abuse hadn’t been made public. “Pomonia,” He said, hoping his voice didn’t falter. “She didn’t come to Dad’s funeral. And all my letters keep coming back. She’s probably mad I took on Shosh as a donor, I just wanted the chance to explain.” 

His voice trailed off in the face of Penny’s reaction- which was stern, at first, a deep rivet in her forehead. Then all of her edges softened, and she reached out to place a gentle hand over his own. “Honey...”

He knew that tone.

No. 

Not allowed.

Cass felt ill, and he pulled back, shaking his head. “Nope. Someone would’ve told me, she-”

“Cass, honey, she’s been gone for months. There was a trial... It was closed, no one knows what happened, but... She didn’t walk out of it.” Her voice was echoing in his head, and it seemed so quiet, so distant.

A booth in Caro in the middle of the day. A conversation with the Minister for Magic in the Headmistress’ office, late at night. No difference.

Cass placed a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing, and then placed the other on his stomach, trying to calm it as his head lolled, processing the information. He knew why there’d be a trial. He knew why she wouldn’t respond. His fault. His fault. His fault.

He blinked, then pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, leaning against the table until his eyes ached. And then he pressed harder- anything to distract from the rolling nausea of his stomach, from the weight of Penny’s hand on his shoulder, from the sound of her reassuring words.

Cass’s knees wobbled as he pushed away from her, stumbling out of the booth and the bar, gripping the walls outside to try and stay upright. There wasn’t enough oxygen- he couldn’t breathe- He was-

Cass was sick then and there, both hands clutching his stomach as if he could squeeze everything out. It splashed against the wall and Cass shook his head, looking about wildly. What did- Who- What did he do now? Where did he go?

Pomonia was dead. It was his fault. His fault. His fault.

Cass’s phone buzzed in his pocket, he barely had the mental energy to read the screen but he pulled it out anyway, blinking drearily at it and then putting it back in his pocket. He hadn’t even been gone for a fucking hour. 

With no better option, Cass sunk to the ground next to the wall, wrinkling his nose at the acrid smell of sick. He put his head between his knees, desperately trying to breathe. His hands came up to his head, gripping his hair and tugging.

Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. 

He rocked side to side, gently, trying to soothe himself, trying to process. And he stayed like that for a solid hour, curled up outside, alone, next to his own vomit. He stared at the floor, tugging his hair, until he saw a pair of feet stop short of him.

“C’mon, kid. Let’s go home.” He frowned at her voice, shaking his head. He didn’t want to go with Robin. Bitch. “No isn’t an option. C’mon.” 

She leaned down to take his arm, pulling him up- and unfortunately, her vampiric strength won out against his noodly arms. Cass tried pushing her off weakly, but it didn’t work. She pulled a key from her handbag, which Cass knew to be a portkey, but before he could pull away from her and run, she gripped it, and they went spinning away, landing harshly inside their front sitting room with an almighty crash. 

Cass was more prepared for a portkey landing than Robin, and immediately tugged away from her, taking out his wand and pointing it at her. “Fuck you!” He shouted, shaking his head. “You had no right-”

“Put that thing away before you take my eye out.” Robin snapped, dusting herself off and folding her arms. “Now, I don’t know what’s up with you, but you sure as shit can’t go around like that. Go upstairs and take a bath. I’ll get dinner sorted.”

“But-”

“Did I fucking stutter?” 

Cass mashed his teeth together, glaring, and then tore up the stairs, sticking his middle finger up at her as he went.

[queenof-literature]

A Sick Wild Child - Chapter 4

Warning: Vomiting and Panic Attack

Wild belonged with nature, it was in his name. He loved the rustling of the leaves, the singing of the grass, the - oh, someone was calling his name.

“Wild! How many times do I need to call your damn name?” Time snapped, and Wild realized he was only inches away from his face. He took a tiny step back in fear and confusion. Time almost never cussed...

“Wild get your head out of your ass and pay attention!” Wild looked back up to see Twilight beside Time, glaring at him.

“U-um I’m s-s-sorry.” Wild stuttered out, hand twitching to lift his hood over his head and shrink within it.

“O-oh? Y-y-you’re s-s-s-sorry?” Legend mocked in a high pitched voice. The rest of the group chuckled while Wild flushed and finally pulled his hood up. They knew he didn’t like it when he stuttered out words. The scars on his neck made it hard to talk sometimes, especially when he was nervous, they knew this. They had never made fun of him like this. Why the sudden change of pace? And whose Hyrule were they in? Wild thought they were in his but he recognized nothing.

“Hylia you’re such a fucking coward Wild.” Warriors scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You can’t even handle a little teasing.” Now that one stung. Wild looked up to Warriors in many ways. They were both trained knights, and Warriors became a captain at such a young age. He had conquered armies, learned from his mistakes and moved on, and had saved his friends...

“Hello? Wild? What the hell is wrong with you today?” Wind snapped up at him. That was certainly odd, Wind was very expressive, but it took a lot to get him to show his anger. Oh, Hylia, what had Wild done to piss off even Wind of all people? Why did he always have to mess everything up?

Wild felt his throat close up, and raised shaky hands to try to apologize once more. But the rest of the group only seemed to laugh and continue mocking him relentlessly for not even talking anymore. He couldn’t breathe. His vision was blurring and the trees were spinning around him. Distantly he could recognize that this was a panic attack, but all he felt now were the glares and mocking calls of the group around them.

A hand poked Wild’s shoulder and he lashed out without even thinking, wildly shoving away what his muddled brain could barely recognize as Hyrule, who stumbled and landed on his back with a look of surprise that quickly turned to anger. Oh no.

“What the fuck, Wild?” Hyrule yelled in outrage, as Four helped him up, also glaring at the scarred teen. Hands grabbed his arms and Wild fought against them, kicking and bucking away from them. A sharp jab to his stomach had him lose all the breath in his body and collapse to the ground. He saw the strong build of Twilight through blurry eyes filled with tears.

“The fuck did you do that for you little freak?” Twilight was a lot bigger than Wild, and it was situations like this that reminded him of how intimidating he could be. “You do that shit to Hyrule after we let you travel with us? A mission from Hylia or not we should have left your broken body in your ruined Hyrule where it belongs. On second thought, your Zelda doesn’t deserve to put up with your fractured pieces. How about you just stay in this Hyrule and die? It’s what you deserve.”

“Twilight is right.” Sky stated, normally gentle voice stiff and emotionless, “I forged the Master Sword only for you to come by and disgrace its legacy.” Sky began to walk away, along with some others in the group.

Panic filled Wild. They couldn’t leave him. He could do better! He would never talk again if that’s what they wanted. He didn’t want to be stuck in an unfamiliar Hyrule forever. Not again. He couldn't get left behind again. No matter how selfish it was, Wild wanted to stay with them. Wild needed to stay with them. He thrashed to get out of the hold he was in. He thought they were his family. Was a family supposed to treat you like this? Is this tough love? Wild didn’t know but he wanted to. He wanted to keep traveling with them. He thought he could hear voices calling his name, but Wild couldn’t breathe. Soon it all faded to black.      

~

The morning passed with smaller amounts of chatting than usual. Four was making simple omelets for the group and seemed to be arguing with himself in a quiet murmur over how long to cook the eggs for. Sky and Warriors were playing cards with Wind, who was definitely cheating in some way or another. Legend and Hyrule were content with just watching and seeing how long it took for him to get caught. And Twilight and Time were whispering and glancing at Wild, who had his head cradled in Twilight’s lap.

Wild seemed to be twitching and murmuring in his sleep. His face looked troubled, fingers clenching and unclenching at Twilight’s pelt, breaths coming at an uneven pace.

“Is he having trouble breathing again?” Legend called out from the tree he was leaning against. “Yes, but we don’t think it’s the sickness.” Time called back. He sounded gruff, but the rest of the group could hear concern lacing his voice. The group put away their cards and crowded around the three as close as they could without scaring Wild if he woke up.

“‘M sr’y.” Wild let out in a pitiful moan.

“Sorry for what cub?” Twilight leaned down and brushed Wild’s hair out of his face. But it only continued like that.

“‘M sr’y.”

“Don’ leav’.”

“I kno’ ‘m broken.”

“I’ll do better.”

“Promise.”

“‘M sr’y.”

“‘M sr’y.”

“‘M sr’y.”

The entire group could only feel the grip of horror wash in as they heard their little wild child begging not to be left behind. Wild has always had abandonment issues he tried to hide, though it was obvious to those who knew him. Nervous eyes always darted around camp whenever he went to sleep, worrying that when he woke up they would all be gone. It broke all of their hearts, and they all tried to help their own ways.

Time by being a solid rock of advice and encouragement.

Twilight by giving him warm hugs when he could handle it.

Warriors by telling him stories, either of his epic tales or silly exploits in the taverns.

Legend by teaching him of his many items (And letting him use them when no one else watching).

Hyrule by taking them exploring with no map.

Wind by teaching him sea shanties.

Sky by letting him sit near his napping place and simply exist in comfortable silence.

Four by telling him jokes in the back of the group some days, which ranged from lighthearted and goofy to teasing and full of fire.

All of them tried to show Wild that they were there and never leaving and giving him pieces of themselves for him to keep close. To hear him talk the way he was, broke every single one of them.

“Shh Cub it’s okay, you're okay, you’re safe. I’m right here.” Twilight lifted up Wild and cradled him to his chest. Wild started to struggle, hands lifting to clutch and scratch the scars on his neck and face, the way he did when he was having a panic attack. Out of pure experience, Four grabbed Wild’s hands as gently as he could and held them to his chest, exaggerating his breathing while hoping Wild would subconsciously follow it. Wild didn’t like to be restrained, but if they let him he would keep scratching until he bled. They sadly had a lot of individual experience with Wild's attacks. He would apologize and go silent every time, feeling like a burden, but that was getting slightly better as time went on.  

“Wild, wake up Cub it’s just a dream. Wild, c’mon buddy.” Time spoke as he rested his hand against Wild’s forehead to give him something else to anchor him. Wild was completely sobbing and delusional at this point. Repeating the phrases under his breath and struggling and thrashing out of their hold. He was apologizing to every single one of them by name in a slurred voice.

“Wind get me a cloth soaked in cold water please.” Hyrule spoke, not taking his eyes off of Wild. Wind, although obviously hesitant to leave his friend’s side, dashed off without complaint. Meanwhile Twilight was still talking into Wild’s ear, desperately hoping that he could hear it through his nightmare.

When Wind came back with the cloth, Hyrule began to wash Wild’s face without wringing it out. They needed to shock Wild awake, but Hyrule didn’t want to be as harsh as a slap or a bucket of water when they had other options on hand. Wild gasped and jolted awake, teary eyes looking all over the group, then back up to meet Twilight’s.

“Hey, buddy.” Twilight said softly. And with that, Wild once again started sobbing, still slightly delirious from his infection.

“Don’t leave Twi. I know I’m broken but I’ll do better. I promise!” Wild dug deeper into Twilight’s chest as he began repeating the same things he had in his sleep.

“You are not broken.” Time said sternly. “Nothing about you or your adventure makes you broken.”

“Wild you’re one of the bravest people I know.” Wind stated quietly. Wind loved the older boy and their adventures together, he hated to see him suffering like this. He had suffered so much and Wind just wanted him to be happy.

Wild continued to sob into Twilight’s chest, which was obviously only agitating his bruises and illness. Twilight continued shushing him and rubbing soothing circles into his back, but the sobs wouldn’t die down. Unfortunately, Twilight could tell where this was going.

“Warriors! Bucket!” Twilight commanded. Warriors darted off to get the bucket Legend had brought out for Wild just in case extreme nausea came with his infection. Just in time, Warriors got the bucket under Wild’s chin.

Wild began heaving and hacking all of the contents of his stomach into the bucket, which wasn’t much after not eating breakfast. Even after all of his dinner from last night had come up, his body continued spasming as Wild dry heaved.

Warriors winced, he knew how painful throwing up was, especially after there was nothing left. Warriors grabbed Wild’s hair, much of it out of his ponytail at this point, and held it away from his face as Twilight whispered calming words into Wild’s ear.

Eventually, Wild’s body finally stopped, his dry heaving turning into small spasms and his sobs turning into hiccups. He kept apologizing under his breath for unknown reasons, though Time figured now it was for throwing up.

Legend took the washcloth from Hyrule, who didn’t like being anywhere near throw up, and gently cleaned Wild’s face. Twilight went to lay Wild back down on his bedroll, but the teen whined and burrowed into Twilight’s chest once more, still wrapped in Twilight’s fur pelt. Time chuckled and discreetly gave Wind a look to take a pictograph.

“We’ll have to talk to him about his dream when he’s more awake.” Sky stated sadly. The rest of the group didn’t want to mention how horrifying that had been for them, let alone how horrifying it must have been for Wild.

“Yeah, I know.” Twilight looked down at his cub’s flushed face with tear tracks staining his cheeks. This was going to be a long day.

[breakingsomething]

the fall - part five (here we go again)

basic summary: both naomi and marvin talk to some old friends. meanwhile, jackie clears some stuff up with henrik and chase. chaos ensues.

trigger warnings: explosion, panic attack

"so what do we do, exactly?"

naomi, sitting on the bed where anti should have been and staring into space, wasn't sure how to answer that question. she bit her lip and let out a sigh, suddenly feeling very tired.

"i don't know," she murmured. "i guess i - i got to get a doctor from hecate, if i can. i know someone who knows someone, so i can maybe do that. would you mind looking after him while i call?"

lucas hesitated, curling his legs up from his perch on the windowsill. "uh, sure, i can try," he said uncertainly, and naomi flashed him a grateful smile. she hadn't mean to get lucas so thoroughly involved, but she was glad she had help. she'd have to take him out for lunch or something later to thank him.

"you're the best," she grinned. lucas stood and smiled back before standing and walking over to where the man had passed out again, slumped against the door. naomi couldn't even imagine the amount of pain he was in, drifting in and out of consciousness between fits of confusion and anger. what could have actually happened to him?

she watched lucas press a hand to his forehead, wincing. "he might have a fever," he murmured. "he's all hot and sweaty."

"sure you're not a doctor yourself, lucas?" she joked, trying to lighten the mood. he shook his head, snorting.

"my brother was. a non mag, of course." lucas wrapped an arm around the man's chest, trying to carefully lift him up. "anyway, not important. go call your friend. i'll be ok."

she paused as she left the room, suddenly worried. this day had been a lot more stressful than she'd planned.

marvin had mentioned this brother before, of course. he'd never said his name until today - fuck, what was his name, andy? - but he'd mentioned his glitching, and what he'd done to his brothers. never specifics, but it wasn't hard to imagine. naomi wondered why marvin was helping him after all he'd done to them. she wasn't a revenge driven person herself, but she knew her friend usually was. then again, this was his brother. whether that changed things, she really didn't know.

she went down the steps to the store and sat at the bottom, calling a number she hadn't intended to ever call again. fuck, the things she did for marvin… "hello?" she said cautiously as the phone finished ringing.

there was a brief silence on the other end of the line. "naomi?" kai said softly. he sounded like he was on a train or something. "uh… i thought we agreed to… never speak again?"

she covered her face with her hand. fuck, this was so much worse than she'd wanted already. "ja, we did," she mumbled. "but, uh… i need a favour. are you still friends with char?"

she heard him take a breath, licking his lips. she cringed at the sound. "i am," he said. "why - wait, let me guess. a doctor?"

she nodded, although kai couldn't see her. "my… friend's brother is hurt, he needs a magic doctor and i don't have enough connections in hecate to get one. so -"

"- you called me," he finished. "yeah, that's cool, i get it."

she closed her eyes, a pit of guilt roiling in her stomach. "i'm sorry -"

"don't be!" he said, far too cheerily. "i'll call her up. are you at your shop?"

she made a noise of confirmation. "mmh. listen, kai, i'm -"

"nai," he said, and he sounded so defeated. "it's cool. you don't have to call me again if - if you don't want."

"ok," she murmured. "thanks."

kai hung up without another word.

naomi stared at her phone for a long moment, feeling sick. she wasn't sure how long she would have sat there feeling angry at herself if it weren't for the loud scream upstairs. a scream that could only have come from one person.

she scrambled to her feet, racing up the stairs two at a time and throwing open the door to the spare room. she was greeted with the sight of lucas, flat on the floor, and andy sprawled out next to him. lucas pushed himself away, coughing and grabbing at his neck. his face had three long, bleeding scratch marks down it. "he tried to fuckin' kill me!"

andy wheezed, shakily pushing himself back up. he was extremely pale, and trembling badly. despite that, he fumbled next to him on the floor and grabbed a book that had fallen from one of the boxes. naomi crouched next to lucas, holding both hands up to show she meant no harm as andy lifted the book threateningly.

"hey there, andy, we're all - we're all friends here," she said, trying to keep her voice level. andy growled, attempting to make what naomi could only assume was meant to be a threatening sign with the hand that wasn't holding the book. however, he seemed to have forgotten about his broken wrist and hissed in pain, pulling his legs up to his chest and curling into them.

"he jumped me!" lucas cried, voice higher pitched than usual. "he was pretending to be asleep or something, he tried to strangle me!"

naomi turned her attention to andy, who held the book up again in warning. "andy, we're with marvin, he - he helped you, didn't he? we're going to help you too. we'll help fix up your arm, you'll be safe here."

lucas sat up behind naomi, and andy promptly began glitching wildly, his eyes flickering from colour to colour. naomi smiled reassuringly, very slowly moving closer. "andy, it's ok, it's ok."

"i think, uh, his name is anti?" lucas said, thankfully getting the hint and moving further away. "is that right?"

the man's chest rose and fell rapidly, and his body twitched for a moment. then he gave a tiny nod. naomi's heart leapt. "ok, ok, i got it," she said. communication was finally happening. thank the gods.

"ok then, anti," she said quietly. anti's eyes darted back and forth, arm shaking as he held the book in front of him. "listen." she threw all caution to the wind. "i - i hear you have an interest in hecate, our international network of magic."

anti's eyes widened for a brief second, but he was silent. naomi waited, and when there was no response, she kept talking. "i can't tell you everything, of course. i don't even know everything. but if you go lay back on the bed and - and don't try and, you know, kill anyone…" she hesitated. "i'll tell you some things."

"naomi -" lucas began to protest, but she shook her head without turning round. anti glitched, face filled with anger and frustration and pain. he was very white, and looked like he might pass out again.

eventually, he gave a small nod, and naomi smiled in genuine relief. "ok!" she said, overjoyed to have handled the situation. "ok, good!"

her phone rang from inside her pocket. both she and lucas jumped, and she pulled it out to answer it. "hello?"

"nai," came marvin's panicked tone. "fuck, nai, they're not here, there's nothing but mess and missing clothes and - and everything smells of black magic, naomi, he must have another magician helping him, my brothers are gone!"

-

the ceiling fan spun above them, letting out a consistent hum that henrik tried to focus on. if he didn't focus on anything else, he'd be forced to think about the two green bots floating on either side of the fan, monitoring their every move.

always there, always watching.

he felt something nudge his side. he turned his head very slightly, just enough to see chase's face out the corner of his eye. he gave the tiniest nod to show he wae listening, trying not to act suspicious in front of the bots.

chase raised his eyebrows and flickered his eyes downward for a second. henrik glanced down too, watching as chase oh so casually moved his jacket, revealing… henrik gasped, and chase shook his head, covering himself again.

"a gun?" henrik mouthed, careful not to actually speak the words aloud. he held his fist in front of his mouth to hide what he was saying. "where the fuck did you get -"

"doesn't matter, ok?" chase mouthed back, also covering his mouth from view of the bots. "i thought we were gonna have to deal with anti, so i took it. i don't know if i should - should we try to jump him or something?"

henrik shook his head. "bad idea. he has - he has proper magic, chase, we don't."

chase rubbed his eye, scrunching up his face. he didn't respond for a moment. then - "are we sure he's not being possessed by anti? i mean, the black eyes -"

"can't be that," henrik mouthed. "i know what being possessed by anti looks like, unfortunately, and it's not that. this is something different. it must be that necklace he's wearing." he paused, glancing at the bots. "where do you think he got it?"

"black magic like that… i don't know," chase admitted. "i don't know as much about the whole magic aspect of this world as you guys do. jack only told me so much, and even he didn't -"

the door suddenly swung open. both of them jumped, before resuming their previous positions, trying to act as natural as they could.

jackie came in, the black having disappeared from his face and hands and now looking just like their normal brother. henrik couldn't see the necklace anymore, so he assumed he had tucked it under his black hoodie. jackie swallowed and sat down on the end of the bed, not blinking or taking his eyes off his brothers.

"what were you talking about?" he asked softly, calmly. too softly. too calmly.

"wh-what the fuck's it to do with you?" chase spat, failing to hide the trembling in his voice. his palm was sweaty against henrik's. "we don't have to t-tell you anything."

jackie blinked, and henrik let out an embarrassing squeak of fear. jackie glanced at him, his dark blue eyes full of something henrik didn't recognize.

"i should explain," he murmured. "i never meant to hurt you."

"you - you threw me into the goddamn air and slammed me into the floor!" chase cried, voice high. "you absolutely meant to hurt me!"

jackie shook his head, just slightly. "you don't understand, chase. i'm trying to protect you."

"then explain how," henrik said, and they both turned to look at him. they were the first words he'd spoken aloud in close to an hour. "explain to us, and we'll listen. we won't interrupt." he turned to his little brother. "right, chase?"

chase looked torn, but he nodded. "sure, whatever," he mumbled. jackie gave a shaky sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

"ok," he breathed. "ok. i'll explain everything."

-

marvin didn't bother heading back to the shop.

he'd already explained his plan to naomi as he was leaving his family's empty flat, where the tv was still showing a pause screen for a video game and the bedrooms were covered in clothes that had been hastily thrown out of closets and drawers. "i'm going straight to hecate," he told her. "i can't find my brothers myself."

"but - pye, fuck, hecate can't help you!" naomi exclaimed, distressed. "you left the organization! what do you expect them to - marvin!"

marvin buckled himself into the car, dimly thinking that a car crash would absolutely be the last thing he needed right now. "i was their best goddamn mage, naomi," he said confidently. "they'll let me back in. and if they refuse to help me - well, i have something they won't be able to refuse."

naomi immediately understood. "you - you can't just give that up."

marvin took a breath, starting the car with steady hands. "i don't have a choice," he murmured. the book he'd put in his jacket dug into his chest. "look after anti. he can be a bit unstable, just don't talk down to him or anything and you should be fine."

"i - yeah," naomi said softly. "good luck. and be safe."

hecate golf club was on the other side of town.

it only took about fifteen minutes to drive there. from the outside, it looked completely normal; a dark brick building next to a large green field, surrounded by a tall blue fence that marvin knew was warded to keep out unauthorized intruders. the sky was just beginning to darken, and there didn't seem to be anyone around that he could see. he stopped in front of the locked gates, glaring before climbing over it, swinging himself to the other side. he was sure he was attracting attention from inside. good. let them try to stop him.

the front of the building was lit up, pale orange lights glowing on the path to the red double doors that marvin promptly knocked on, three times as loudly as he could. he rubbed his arms, shivering in the cold air. fuck, he hoped his brothers were alright. he hoped he'd be able to find them before something bad happened.

would jackie hurt them? would he? marvin didn't like to think so. but then again, marvin had never thought jackie would kidnap and torture his older brother, either. he didn't know anything anymore.

the doors opened, a tall, dark skinned woman wearing a black vest answering the door. marvin didn't recognize her. "if you've left something inside, we can go and retrieve it for you," she said, bored. "if you're looking to apply for a membership, you'll have to wait 'til morning."

marvin felt his eyes spark. "fuck off with that shit," he spat, and the woman's eyes widened. "just ask the goddamn question so i can come inside."

the woman blinked, clearly taken aback. maybe she was new. "have… have you heard of argus s. litvak?" she asked, almost timidly.

"'i believe magic lives in every spirit, lurking, hungry, for those who deserve the knowledge to free the mind and body,"' marvin responded, titling his head up. "i need to see kazuki kamata."

the woman shook her head slightly. "i'll need to contact my supervisor, it's after hours and i have to see your records -"

marvin slammed his fist into the wall, startling the woman. "do you even know who i am?" he shouted, desperately trying to stop his voice from shaking. "marvin "the fucking magnificent" mcloughlin, one of the greatest mages hecate has ever seen?"

he was starting to panic as the woman shook her head again, faster this time, and began to close the door. "wait, please, please, i need help, i can give you rare spells!"

he pulled the book from his jacket, waving it in front of her. "these are all the spells i've ever discovered, some of them are rare and shit, please, this is all i have. i have to find my brothers!"

the woman looked startled. without looking away, she reached up behind her ear and tapped, a small device there lighting up. "miss kamata?" she murmured. "there's a man named marvin mcloughlin here, he wants to see you. says he has rare spells in exchange for your help. no, i don't know either. yes, i'll - are you sure?" she paused. "ok, we'll be right up." she sighed and opened the door fully. "come inside, we'll -"

the second the barrier spells were down, marvin raced through the door, running past the woman despite her cries of protest. "sir - sir, come back, you're not allowed to run off unattended!" he didn't listen. he never did.

he knew exactly where he was going. there were several protection spells that he immediately broke, darting down the brightly lit halls and ignoring the open mouthed stares of various other magicians. he didn't stop until he reached a door at the top of a long flight of stairs with a golden plaque reading "kazuki kamata - please knock before entering." he threw the door open and practically fell inside, gasping and panting. "kazuki -" he started, before realizing there were about ten other people in the room apart from her. he must have burst into a meeting. every one of the sharply dressed magicians was staring at him, eyebrows raised. his cheeks burned, but he averted his gaze from them and instead focused on the woman sitting at her desk.

marvin had always found her to be intimidating. he couldn't help it. she was about six feet and wearing heels to make her even taller, with white jeans and a matching jacket. her black hair was let down to her shoulders, framing her soft face. even from here, her blue eyes bore into marvin, immediately making him regret running all the way up here.

"always the rulebreaker, even after leaving our organization," she said, a smirk forming on her face. "you must have been really desperate to see me."

the other magicians tittered softly. marvin refused to look at them. "kazuki, i need your help," he said, straightening his back. "please."

she tilted her head and stood, her hair floating upwards as she rose into the air and over her desk, landing gently just in front of marvin. "we didn't do our usual alliteration joke. this is a serious issue?."

he let out a shuddering breath, trying to keep control. "my - my brothers are missing, taken by someone magic. i need your help in finding them. please." he looked at her with pleading eyes. "just this one last favour. then i'll go and i won't bother you again."

"would you like me to escort him out, miss kamata?" said a man with frizzy black hair and a casual black suit who was slouching against the wall, arms crossed.

marvin glared at him. "raymond."

the man nodded at him curtly. "marvin."

"ok, come with me." kazuki beckons him to the door and marvin wasted no time racing after her, face burning as he left the room of sniggering magicians behind. the woman walked down the hall, opening the door to an empty room filled with shelves of books. marvin immediately began talking, furious.

"why do you keep that bastard around?" he said angrily, sitting himself on a desk in the centre of the room. "he's such an asshole."

"he's useful," kazuki said. she folds her arm. "teleportation isn't common, you know."

marvin spluttered. "he - he tried to steal my magic books, he cheated on me, i'm pretty sure he tried to kill me at one point -" he was going to continue when he suddenly remembered why he was here, guilt slamming into him. "fuck, my brothers!"

kazuki folded her arms, waiting. marvin began to explain, suddenly panicky again. how had he forgotten, how had his anger gotten the best of him again? yet another strike in the "asshole marvin" book. "kazuki, fuck, my brothers are missing - two of my brothers, one of them is sick, the other one took the other two, i don't know where, i don't know -"

"slow down," kazuki said calmly. she held both hands up and brought them down, like that would make marvin any less panicked. "something is wrong with your brothers?"

marvin couldn't believe what he was hearing. "i - yes, that's not - did you hear what i said?" he rolled his hands in a circle, trying to find the words to explain. "they're missing, ok, i have brothers and they're missing!"

"explain quickly," said kazuki. "and i'll see what i can do."

marvin did, trying his best to make sense. once he'd gone through most of the main details, kazuki nodded, clearly evaluating the situation in her head.

"i see," she said. "a rogue magician. and you think he has a black magic magician with him because…"

"the house fucking reeked of it, kaz, there's no way -"

"you will refer to me as kazuki if you must call me by my first name," she said firmly, and marvin's heart sank. he nodded rapidly.

"ok, ok, ok sure, whatever. can you help, please?"

she narrowed her eyes. "you broke many of the protection spells on the way in here."

"i'm sorry," marvin said, suddenly feeling extremely small.

kazuki pursed her lips. "you also tried to steal from me. or have you forgotten?"

to his horror, marvin felt tears well up in his eyes. "i never meant to hurt you, i'm so, so sorry. please, fuck, i'll…" his breath hitched. "fuck, i have my book, ok? the one you wanted? i'll give you all of it." he pulled the book from his jacket, handing it to a surprised kazuki. "this is all i have. i'm fucking begging you, kazuki, i've never begged for anything in my life but i'm begging now. i can't find them myself. i can't risk them g-getting hurt!"

he scrubbed the tears off his face, embarrassed, and when he looked up again, kazuki had softened. "i see clearly how much you care," she said quietly. marvin just looked to the floor.

after a pause, kazuki spoke again. "fine," she murmured, and marvin raised his head in surprise. "i'll get some of my best on it as soon as i can. if the situation gets bad, i'll call a friend from crawley to help."

marvin sobbed, covering his face with his hands. "fuck, kazuki, thank you, thank you -"

"and then you don't contact us for help again," she said. marvin didn't really expect her to say anything different. "i've saved your ass too many times, marvin mcloughlin."

she silently handed him a tissue from her jacket pocket, and marvin took it, avoiding her eyes. "thank you for everything," he mumbled. "and sorry for being an asshole."

she didn't reply to that. he was grateful all the same.

-

they were both sitting fully up on the bed now, henrik still holding tightly to chase's arm. he didn't mind. he held him and ran his fingers through his hair, waiting silently for jackie to start.

jackie was sat cross legged across from them, hands twisting in his lap. "suppose i should st-start from the beginning," he muttered. his stutter was starting to come back full force, and he was staring at his lap instead of looking them in the eyes. chase couldn't believe this was the same person who'd tried to throw him into a wall.

"everything was going wrong," jackie began. "henrik had b-been kidnapped and k-kept in that fucking basement for so - for so long. chase's k-kids went missing and you went to jail and came back t-two or so weeks later as a suicidal wreck. jamie… left." he suddenly shook his hands out, biting down on his lip. "anti - he was getting in my head. in my d-dreams. trying to fuck with me. i wasn't gonna let him - wasn't gonna let him hurt us anymore. i was s-so scared, guys, fuck." he covered his face with shaking hands, and chase suddenly felt a rush of warmth for him. he was about to reach out and pat his shoulder when henrik made a small noise, reminding him of what was happening. he sat back again, feeling guilty.

jackie shuddered and continued. "i knew marvin had left hecate cause they - they wanted his b-black magic, they wanted all his spells and shit and he didn't want to give it to them. he was too much of a p-pussy to use the magic he found. but i knew he must have been finding this b-black magic from somewhere. i decided to… to use my own skills to find out."

he meant his talent with computers and hacking, chase knew. he nodded slowly.

"i found… some kind of fucking small or-organization thing. they said - they said they'd sell me some magic i could use to protect you lot." his hand flew to his chest, touching the necklace underneath his hoodie. "b-but it was at a cost."

he paused. chase narrowed his eyes. "the cost of what?"

jackie's lip trembled.

"marvin didn't even notice," he said, very quietly. "he didn't know how p-powerful those spells he had were. neither did i. but it wae good enough for them."

chase's eyes widened, heart pounding. "jackie - you, you - you gave marvin's spells to a random black magic dealing organization?"

"just a few!" jackie protested. "i tore a few pages out of his book, i'm sure marvin has a c-copy somewhere -"

chase covered his mouth and let out a long groan. "oh my god. oh my god."

"but it worked," jackie said, and his grin was back. "the magic worked. it's… it feels like a fucking drug. i'm so… i'm p-powerful. so much more powerful. it goes far beyond my photokinesis. it's like -" he waves his hands around, small sparks of darkness falling off of them. "it's incredible."

he suddenly went quiet.

"i hunted anti d-down," he murmured. "he was all alone in those waterworks, the p-pathetic bastard. really, there was no p-point in him wasting away there anyway. and he - he thought it was just another easy f-fight for him." he gives a sharp laugh. "you should have seen the look on his face when he realized. by then it was too late."

realization dawned on chase. he immediately felt sick.

jackie kept going. "he fought so hard those first few weeks. k-kept sassing me, fighting me. so…" he trailed off. "i m-made sure he would never do that again."

"you killed him?" chase said, voice extremely high in pitch.

jackie shook his head, eyes glazed over. "no."

he didn't elaborate. just continued talking. "it was exhilarating, watching him get q-quieter and fight less. i think it was the lack of elect-tricity that was subduing him. still, he t-tried - tried to - kept t-trying to -" jackie made a choking sound. "marvin found him. anti's in his head." he looked up, eyes wild. "d-d-don't you agree with me, chase, henrik, my brothers, don't you agree i was doing the right thing?"

"you tortured him?" henrik whispered. his voice was hoarse. jackie's face twitched, his eyes changing from blue to black to blue.

"he tortured you," jackie said. "wouldn't you like to know he got what he deserved?"

henrik was shaking. "you're the same as him," he choked out. "how would i know you would not torture me too?"

jackie made a noise of shocked disbelief. "henrik - henny, hen, schneep, i'm your brother!" he tried to reach out to touch him, but chase slapped his hand away, rage suddenly replacing his fear. jackie looked at him, surprised.

"anti is… our brother too," chase said. "like it or not. he's terrible, he's a fucking bastard of a person and he's done horrible things and i will admit, the sound of him suffering doesn't greatly upset me. but by blood, he is our brother. your family bullshit doesn't mean anything."

jackie stared at them. and for a moment, there was no brother in front of them. just a stranger. a stranger with fully black eyes and a disgusted scowl that chase couldn't have ever imagined on jackie's kind face.

"you don't get it," he said.

"you've said this," chase replied.

"i'm trying to protect you," jackie insisted.

"you sound like a broken record," chase said. "over and over. what would you do if we tried to leave? would you torture us too? you've already thrown me with your new magic. why would i trust you not to do it again?"

jackie's mouth opened and closed. he looked like a fish out of water, a man completely out of his element.

he was spared from having to answer when someone began to pound on the front door.

"open up!" came a booming, authoritative voice. "this is the police, and i would recommend opening this door!"

-

it didn't take them long to find him. of course it didn't. they were hecate, the most powerful magical organization in the world. normally, marvin hated them. today, marvin was grateful. he didn't know what he would have done without them.

"we've located a huge magical spike in new romney," kazuki told him as they quickly walked down a flight of stairs to the front doors. "a motel somewhere - dark magic, magic we haven't seen the likes of in years. there is…" she went quiet for a moment. "i'll talk about that later. we've sent magicians out there already, through portals"

"i can do portals," marvin said quickly. despite being several inches taller than kazuki, he was struggling to keep up with her pace. "please, let me -"

"i was going to advise you took us there anyway, mr mcloughlin," kazuki interrupted smoothly. marvin raised an eyebrow.

"oh, i'm mr mcloughlin now, am i?" he said with a laugh. then he played back what she'd said. "wait, you're coming too?"

"of course i am." she sounded almost offended. "this is unknown magic. whoever your brother has with him must be powerful."

they opened the doors and stepped out into the chilly night. several other magicians were racing around, back and forth into the building. "what kind of magic are we talking?" marvin said. "i've seen black magic. why so much fuss? i mean, of course i'm grateful, but -"

"you don't - i'll explain it all later," she said, sounding stressed. "also, that book you gave me? your magic book? a bunch of the pages are missing. i hope you weren't thinking i wouldn't notice that."

marvin stopped walking. "wh - no, they're not!" he spluttered. "i swear, i swear, i wouldn't risk doing anything that would harm my brothers!"

kazuki stared at him suspiciously for a moment. then she glanced away, shaking her head. "whatever. we'll deal with it later. come round here, don't tell me you've forgotten the portal spots!"

there was of course a premade portal path in every branch of hecate; that was just common sense. "i've never been to new romney before," marvin admitted. "this might be hard."

"just focus." and for a moment, kazuki smiled, and she was just marvin's old friend again, real warmth in her eyes. then it was gone. "and be quick about it, these are your brothers," she snapped.

finally, marvin felt at ease. he was contributing. he knew what he was doing. at last, he was able to help with something.

he closed his eyes and prayed, for jackie's sake, that his brothers were ok.

-

they were all very quiet.

"police," jackie mumbled under his breath. he'd gone very pale. absentmindedly, he began to tug on his hoodie strings. "fuck, ok, ok."

jackie had been afraid of police ever since he'd gotten arrested for getting in a fight with some guy. he'd spent three hours in jail, waiting until marvin came to collect him. he hadn't spoken for hours afterwards. chase guiltily wondered if they could use that fear to their advantage. his hand touched the gun in its holster on his side, loaded and ready to be used.

the banging continued. "if this door isn't opened within the next ten seconds, we're breaking it down!"

jackie was on his feet in an instant. immediately, the darkness returned to his eyes and face, inky blackness being summoned to his fingertips and forming a whirlwind in the air. the chest of drawers underneath the window was ripped from its place on the floor and slammed against the door, blocking the exit. more furniture around the room followed it, barricading the window as well and preventing anyone from getting in. once he was finished, jackie stepped back, eyes melting back to their usual blue.

"ok," he said, shaking with panic. he turned on his brothers, who were both still holding each other on the bed. jackie's pupils had dilated to small pinpricks. "ok, so we're gonna go out the -"

the door exploded.

one second there had just been silence. then there was a fist of burning fire tearing though the room, bursting through everything stacked in front of the door like it were paper. chase instinctively grabbed his brother at the same time as he grabbed chase, and the force of the blast blew the two of them onto the floor, slamming into the wall. they cowered there against the roaring, thunder like boom of the blast. at one point chase's hearing gave out completely, leaving nothing but a ringing like a constant tinnitus spike from hell. he didn't open his eyes - he couldn't. all he could do was hold his brother close and hope the pain would disappear.

-

they were outside the motel when the inside of the building blew up.

the journey through the portal had been fine, as kazuki had reassured marvin it would be. it was always slightly disorienting getting used to being in a completely different place, like stepping out of a lift in a building you've never been in before, so when the explosion went off, it took a moment for it to register.

once it did, everything seemed to slow.

"chase!" marvin screamed. his legs were suddenly moving faster than he thought possible, leaving kazuki in the parking lot. "henrik!"

there were magicians, so many of them. magicians, and nonmags, too. he could almost sense the difference in them after having been around both types of people so much. so much blurry movement, screams and panicked cries, racing away from the spot on the second floor where everything was burning. marvin was running towards it. "chase, henrik, jackie, jackie!"

there was so much happening. marvin couldn't even compute everything that was going on at once. he could see a water based magician trying to put out the flames, he could see a woman being thrown back, a man screaming in pain, flames, flames, sparks of coloured magic flying -

and darkness. pure and black, in coils of thick, inky looking magic. it was taking over the fire, but the magicians were fighting back. without looking, marvin relit some flames in his hands and pushed through the smoke, searching, terrified out of his mind. "chase, henrik!" he screamed again, desperate for anything, anything.

a face appeared through the blackness. it took marvin a moment to register who it was, because his face was so filled with dark shadows that he was almost unrecognizable. but marvin would recognize that reddish brown mess of hair anywhere.

jackie. black eyes, black veins, streaks of obsidian trailing down the skin of his face and neck. tendrils of sharp charcoal emerged from his body, wisping into shadows that dissolved to nothing at the ends. when marvin looked at him, his eyes flickered back to blue, fear instantly sparking in them.

marvin had never felt such paralyzing shock in his life.

"it was you," he breathed. the flames hissed in his hands, dying down to embers on his skin. "you were the black magic signal they saw."

jackie just stared.

marvin could see two men helping his brothers in the background, and his heart leapt. they were ok. that was something. that was something.

"i didn't mean for this to happen," jackie murmured. the darkness began to retreat into himself, his body returning to normal.

and before either brother could say anything else, there were disembodied chains of silver wrapping around jackie and he shrieked, spikes of pure black reappearing and attempting to tear through the magic, but there were more magicians upon him and he roared, panic shot through his voice, and there was one second in which marvin could see his blue, blue eyes, burning brighter than any flames or magic he'd ever seen.

"marvin!" jackie howled. "marvin, help, please!"

he just watched. it was all he could do.

he was almost grateful when the flames became too much and he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

-

what had happened was this.

someone had blocked the door from inside. the group of five magicians who had gotten to the motel first, under the guise of police, had tried to bust it down, but the door couldn't be opened. one of them had the brilliant idea of levitating the furniture from the other side in one fell swoop, vanishing it and reappearing it in the parking lot, and then opening the door. which, in theory, might have actually worked.

but the combination of jackie's unrestrained black magic and the simple levitation spell happening at the same time in such a small capacity had been too much pressure for the tiny room. the explosion had knocked out chase, henrik, jackie and all the magicians for a brief moment, but the blast had cleared the door enough for them to get inside. after marvin had collapsed, kazuki told him, jackie had gone completely off the rails, not holding back before escaping from the chains and vanishing completely. he had killed one magician. two others were injured.

marvin had listened to this whole thing from a hospital bed, where he'd been taken after inhaling so much smoke. once kazuki had finished telling him, he'd rolled over and stared at the wall. he couldn't summon words anymore.

"i'll leave you to your grief," was all she said before gently touching his hair and stroking a strand behind his ear. he'd almost sobbed at the contact, but didn't cry. he still hadn't cried. he didn't think he'd accepted any of it yet.

the nonmag's were convinced it was a gas explosion, and no one was going to say anything otherwise. no nonmags had been hurt. there was something to be grateful for.

chase and henrik were alright. marvin hadn't yet seen them. but raymond - yes, raymond, that bastard - had come to tell him that chase said he was sorry for not realizing and for being a dumbass. normally, marvin would have laughed hearing his ex say those words. today, he didn't say a word.

anti was ok too, apparently. naomi and lucas had been marvin's third and fourth visitors, and had sat on either side of his bed to talk to him. "my friend's friend who's a doctor came over and helped settle him, fixed his arm up as best she could and got some food into him," naomi said. "miss kamata herself later came round to see him, when she told us about the explosion - why didn't you tell me you were friends with her, by the way? i mean, kazuki kamata!"

she was joking, but it just felt like more guilt being stacked on marvin's shoulders. he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly tired. "i don't know. 'm sorry."

naomi seemed to pick up on his mood. "ok, well. anti is in here too, a few rooms away. he's still… pretty sick. luckily, i think the wounds in his mouth were dealt with almost immediately after it happened, or he would have choked on his blood. jackie must have -" she flinched at the look on marvin's face. "sorry. i'm… marvin, i am so sorry."

"me too," lucas said, reminding marvin that he was still there. he took a breath, looking uncomfortable. "i… i'm sure your brother was a great guy."

"he's not dead," marvin snapped, and lucas's shoulders shot to his ears. he cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses awkwardly.

"yes, of course," he mumbled, cheeks burning.

"maybe we should go," naomi said loudly. she jumped to her feet, eyes wide as she nodded towards to the doorway. lucas got the hint and raced out like he was on fire.

naomi turned back to him, a soft sadness on her face.

"i'm sorry," she said quietly. "please, don't blame yourself. i know you, marvin magnificent, and i know that's what you're doing. but… this couldn't have been prevented."

marvin nodded numbly. he could barely hear her anymore.

naomi leaned down and very gently pressed a kiss to marvin's forehead. then she straightened, blinking like she couldn't believe what she'd done. "see you," she said quickly, before following lucas out the room.

marvin touched his forehead gently and felt warmer.

when he turned back to look at his bedside table, a bouquet of multicoloured freesia flowers had grown out of it. they were the most colourful thing in the room.

no one knew where jackie was. his signal couldn't be tracked anymore, which could mean anything from he'd taken the necklace off or he'd died. marvin didn't believe it could be that last one, though. he'd know if jackie was dead. he wasn't sure how, but he'd know.

marvin knew everything about his brother. or he thought he had, once. he wasn't sure if he knew anything anymore.

end act one - beneath the music shop

[ineffable-endearments]

Spoken Affirmations

Rating: Explicit Words: 2462 Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley A short story about a praise kink. I will add the AO3 link to the comments.

=

The erotic dimension of their relationship is still quite new when Crowley accidentally discovers just how much Aziraphale loves to be complimented.

It starts when they’re fooling around, and things aren’t decided - they could end up fucking wildly for the next eight hours or they could end up snuggling the night away at this point; they’ve only got to the kissing-and-petting part yet. The windows in the bookshop are covered and they’re on the couch in a one-armed embrace, their other arms crossed over as each puts a hand between the other’s legs in an effort to out-tease through their clothes and figure out what they’re in the mood for tonight.

And though it’s a bit early to tell, considering what’s going on in their pants so far, it seems they’re both up for a long cunt-stroking, perhaps with several climaxes each. The human parts they’ve manifested this time are known for being able to do this, no miracles required.

The lights are low but Aziraphale has a bright twinkle in his eye anyway, because he always does. He’s all wispy gold, warm shadows, soft lips. And he is so, so happy. Crowley is blissfully overtaken at being in the center of such joy. After seeing, over and over, the felicity they’re allowed to share, Crowley is shedding defenses he hadn’t even realized were affecting him. It’s like letting Aziraphale see his naked soul when he’d once hidden it even from himself.

Maybe this is how such sentimental words slip from Crowley’s tongue.

“Angel.” Crowley is enthralled, murmuring dazedly in the presence of Aziraphale’s grin in this brief, heady space between kisses. “You’re just incredible. So lovely...”

At a wide-eyed look from Aziraphale, Crowley realizes he just said that out loud.

“Ah! I mean-- Hmm. Was that a bit much? I don’t have to...”

“No, no!” Aziraphale says in a hurry. “Don’t apologize! I very much enjoyed hearing you say that.” He gives Crowley what is certainly meant to be a reassuring smile.

“Is...is it good?” Crowley asks, hoping. Aziraphale is looking at him in a way he normally does much later in the proceedings, with flushed cheeks and an open mouth.

“Well, yes, of course,” Aziraphale breathes. “Extremely. Obviously. Very good.”

Crowley frowns a little. “Are you alright, then? You seem startled.”

“I suppose it’s just,” Aziraphale whispers, “when you said that, it hit me rather hard. In a very nice way.”

“Oh.”

“Ah. Yes.”

“...Oh.” Crowley, inspired with a wickedness that has nothing to do with Hell, lowers his voice to something more roguish. “Have I never given you a proper compliment before?”

“Certainly, you have,” Aziraphale says, “but so forthright, and like this? With your hands on me?”

Crowley supposes that must be true. Although he’s always tried to show his love, he could never, ever state it outright before Armageddon, and even since, it’s been hard to shake off the anxiety of putting his feelings into words after being under Heaven and Hell’s thumbs for so long. Speaking of Heaven and Hell, though, knowing how badly Aziraphale has always wanted to be good and how utterly approval-starved he must have been with the bullying arseholes in Heaven…

Well. Crowley isn’t going to bring their rancid vibes to his lovemaking sessions with Aziraphale. But he thinks he understands. He blinks slowly, deliberately, working away from the cold mood Heaven always puts him in, reaching for Aziraphale and his warm soul.

“Guess lounging around with you all the time is just giving me a bit of extra courage lately,” Crowley says casually, hoping his voice doesn’t waver with emotion, because even though Aziraphale would just love that, he’s about to embark on an effort that will require a bit of composure. He employs his “tempting” inflection. “Would you like me to...keep going?”

“In what way?” Aziraphale asks, wiggling with perhaps a bit of excitement and a bit of nervousness. “Are you saying we just...sit here? And you say nice things about me? Surely that would be awkward?”

They’ve still got their hands on each other, stilled from all the chit-chat.

“I’m sure I can come up with something else,” Crowley says, willing the tone of his voice to be like dark red velvet and hoping his ability to wax poetic kicks into high gear pronto if Aziraphale says he wants this. “I could keep touching you, too, during. If you’d like.” He swallows, a nervous tell.

Aziraphale strokes Crowley contemplatively, driving him quietly out of his mind, as he ponders. “I know I would enjoy it, as long as you promise me that you would,” Aziraphale answers.

“Oh, trust me, I’d love it.”

Aziraphale gives Crowley that shy, radiant smile that means he’s done something right. (Unfortunately it also makes him want to shut up and fuck immediately, but they’ve got all night.)

Crowley goes back to what he was doing before, rubbing Aziraphale’s body through his trousers, but kisses into his neck instead of his lips as he searches for ways to begin talking.

“You know, I never did compliment your cologne,” Crowley starts, pushing that confidence through despite feeling it’s a rather weak start.

“Oh?” Aziraphale breathes. At least he doesn’t sound like he thinks Crowley’s words are weak.

“Yes.” Bless it, how do you make it sexy to talk about smells? “It-- it’s earthy, I like that. And a little sweet, because of course. It’s you. And that, ah, slightly spicy overlay, you know, because...because it just suits you. Earth with a hint of sweet and a dash of spice.”

Aziraphale nudges Crowley’s head until he’s at the right angle for stealing a kiss. “Really,” he says. “Spicy? Me? The one you complain about sitting around all day reading?”

“You know I’m teasing you,” Crowley says. “Fun to get a reaction out of you. Anyway, yeah, you got that spark to you. You won’t even admit it, but it’s there, being stubborn like the rest of you.” Crowley swallows, still not entirely over his nerves. “Kind of inspiring, really.”

Aziraphale, the blush in his cheeks deepening, lets out a tiny gust of laughter, eyes closing in apparent pleasure as Crowley increases the pressure with his fingers. His smile gives Crowley an idea.

“Your lips.”

“Hmm?”

“They’re-- well, they’re lovely. D’you do that on purpose? Such a bright, kissable red.”

Aziraphale leans forward, bashfully hiding the big grin on his face against Crowley’s neck. His breath is all tickly. “Oh, no, it’s not on purpose.”

“Sexy as fuck when you’re going down on me,” Crowley adds, smirking into Aziraphale’s curly locks.

“So that’s what it’s about,” Aziraphale teases through a whisper. His fondling of Crowley has stilled again, too busy making little cadenced advances toward Crowley’s fingers with his hips, though he’s still offering neck-kisses. Crowley misses the pressure on his own clit, but it’s a very good sign that Aziraphale is too consumed by arousal to focus on anything else.

“No, that’s not all there is to it, of course not. No, even if I never got to touch you again with any part of me, they’d be just as lovely.”

Aziraphale makes a high-pitched groan from the back of his throat. He’s hot and humid between his legs, and despite the thickness of those trousers, Crowley would like to believe it’s more than just sweat from his own hand causing the wetness.

“But also,” Crowley murmurs into Aziraphale’s hair, “please don’t stop going down on me. You’re very good at it.”

“I don’t believe you need to worry about that,” Aziraphale says, lingering with his tongue on a kiss to Crowley’s throat. “You like my corporation? Are there other things you like about my corporation?”

“Well of course there are other things. Your eyes, for one.” Ah, great, he’s chosen the most clichéd body part imaginable.

“My eyes?”

“If I were some kind of romantic,” Crowley says, “I’d compare them to, perhaps, a line of poetical nonsense like…” He remembers he’s trying to pleasure Aziraphale, and that Aziraphale actually enjoys hearing these things from him. “...Like the ocean when the sun comes out for the first time after it’s been raining.” When Aziraphale looks up and the eyes in question widen with wondrous skepticism, Crowley adds, “That’s honest. I mean it.”

Aziraphale takes a deep breath, chest heaving against Crowley’s. “This is wonderful,” he whispers. It is not lost on Crowley that he pushes his hips up to press yet harder against Crowley’s fingers.

“Alright, you know what? You’re entirely beautiful. There’s a softness about you. You're lovely to touch. And you're so comfortable to hold.” Crowley squeezes Aziraphale tighter, closer (as if that were possible) with one arm. He also subtly increases the pressure into Aziraphale’s lap with his other hand.

“Ahah,” Aziraphale pants, rolling his hips forward; Crowley increases the speed of his rubbing. There's a smile in the middle of Aziraphale's kiss. “You know my body is essentially whatever I choose for it to be…”

“Knowing it’s part of what you’ve chosen just makes it even better,” Crowley says. He lifts his hand, pulling a needy whine from Aziraphale. “Mind if I…?” he asks, brushing at the button along the waist of Aziraphale’s trousers.

Aziraphale pulls back to look Crowley in the eye again. “Please,” he says desperately, and does not wait to help push his trousers down.

Finally brushing his hand through the curly, golden hair Aziraphale has between his legs and getting to touch his labia almost discorporates Crowley. “Oh, you feel incredible,” he moans, drawing his finger lightly along the soft cleft of Aziraphale’s slit. He’s practically dripping, slick with arousal. It may have been painted on his face before, woven in his voice, playing in the saline taste of his skin, but this is something else.

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale whispers. How doesn’t he know?

“You’re very soft and warm and-- and really, really wet, oh, fuck, Aziraphale.”

“It’s good for you?”

“Yes. Fuck yes.”

“How? How do I...how do I please you, just by sitting here, aroused?”

Okay, Aziraphale is no virgin - they’ve been messing around for a little while now and his understanding of the pleasures of the flesh is well-established. But he wants to hear it, and Crowley is here to please. “It’s because...because I can feel how much you want this. It’s one thing to be told. It’s another thing to feel it.”

“Yes, I do, I do want,” Aziraphale very nearly whimpers, thrusting upward once. Crowley obliges, letting his fingers slide between Aziraphale’s soft labia. Crowley himself finds his hips restless, craving relief, something to rut against; he, too, is soaked, the slick feeling in his pants almost a distraction. Almost.

To be fair, Aziraphale is kind of trying. He fondles lightly between Crowley’s legs; he’s just busy being indulged.

“You’re-- oh, I have to say it, angel. You’re good. You’re so, so good.”

“Thank you, thank you, Crowley, oh--”

Crowley fingers Aziraphale’s hot entrance, careful, listening to his angel’s hitched breathing. Aziraphale is soft and open, slippery and ready. Crowley slides a finger inside, catching Aziraphale’s clit with his thumb.

Aziraphale fixes Crowley with that particular lusty gaze from beneath his eyelashes, the one he’d brought out early the first time Crowley complimented him this evening. “Please do go on,” he breathes. Slowly and with care, Crowley adds another finger, positioning his thumb so he can keep rubbing Aziraphale’s clit while he beckons forth an orgasm from deep inside his cunt.

“You’re radiant,” Crowley whispers. Being deep in this moment, deep in Aziraphale, gives him the courage to bear himself in ways he never can outside. Still, his voice trembles. “The way you enjoy living and all the experiences of this world. It just pours off of you, your whole presence. I could never imitate it, even when I had your corporation.”

“Mmmmmmmm,” Aziraphale hums. “Crowley, you-- oh, you’re so brilliant...” He tries to kiss Crowley again but manages only to brush their lips together, his head tipping back as he focuses too much on his pleasure to properly kiss.

Crowley won’t ruin the mood by using Heaven’s name right now, but privately, he thinks this is what Heaven would be if it really was the best place in the universe. Aziraphale offers a louder noise, a crooning of Crowley’s name, as Crowley nips playfully at Aziraphale’s earlobe and finger-fucks him vigorously, whispering to him, whispering things that he hopes will help push him to his climax.

“See, watching you enjoy yourself is-- it’s divine and decadent, exquisite in a way I can’t describe.” Crowley rubs his own thighs together. Perhaps he could describe it better in a moment of clarity, but right now, he’s hazy with love and lust for Aziraphale, for his catching elation, for his heaving chest, for the gasp on his ruby lips. “The love you have - for everything,” Crowley clarifies, “the way you enjoy existence, it’s contagious.”

“Please, please keep going, and thank you. Absurd, it’s absurd how wonderful you are…” Aziraphale trails off with a honey-smooth moan.

“I’m supposed to be the tempter here, but you’re the one who taught me about pleasure.” At this, Aziraphale bites his lip and splays his fingers to clutch at Crowley through his trousers, never letting go of that one-armed embrace. “Oh, you sweet, lovely hedonist, just by inviting me to indulge with you,” Crowley murmurs. “Showing me the pleasure of fine food and drink, entertainment and,” he lowers his voice to something more lascivious, “fine company. You gave me the world, angel.”

“Oh, Crowley, you...you spoil me. It’s you who gave me…oh, oh goodness...”

Words are hard to find, so caught up is Crowley in the desperate desire to share Aziraphale’s orgasm and so fascinated is he by the way Aziraphale smiles just a little bit when he’s about to come. Nonetheless, he does manage to articulate a thought as Aziraphale finally spends the tautness in his body, reaching his completion with a happy sigh and the telltale fluttering pulse of his cunt around Crowley’s hand.

“Listen, you deserve this,” Crowley hisses. “You’re so, so good, you deserve an eternity of orgasms, if that’s what you want.”

Aziraphale takes a few deep breaths, starting with a gasp, smoothing himself into a calmer respiration, the roses in his cheeks splotchy with spent energy, sweat on his brow. He kisses Crowley lazily, humming his satisfied bliss. Crowley has the thought that he’s going to spontaneously combust if he doesn’t get to come soon when Aziraphale puts his hand to work again, still looking a bit tranced but beaming with mischief all the same.

“An eternity of orgasms?" he asks flirtatiously. "My dear, I hope we can take breaks for tea and biscuits in between.”

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 5

Chapter title: Liam

A/n: Anyway yeah I did the ‘infinitesimal’ :) Also I hope you enjoy PLEASE LEAVE ME COMMENTS.

First | Previous | Next

words: 4125

summary: An unexpected figure from Pattons past returns...

pairings: Eventual logicality, eventual prinxiety, platonic demus

warnings: Murder mention, child murder, implied abuse, swearing

Ao3 Link  

“So” Virgil slams the files onto the table, pulling up a chair “You've been busy, huh?” He scoffs, almost spitting on the man sitting in front of him. The man doesn’t look up, he eyes the files but ultimately he just sits.  Virgil nods, eyeing the glass behind him. “Ok, you don't want to talk” He shrugs. He flips through the files wincing as he picks out the murder photos. He slides them in front of the man. “Look familiar?”

“Yeah, I killed them” The man confesses. The calm oozing out of his voice made Virgil shudder. He shook his head feeling himself loose control.

“Why does Patton want to defend you?” He murmurs to himself. Pure unadulterated loathing seeps into the room.

“I don't know...He really shouldn't. I'm guilty” The man says again, something shifts. Virgil turns angrily to the man. The fiery pit in his stomach grew, he stares at the man sitting in front of him. He feels an overwhelming need to punch him or strangle him. Either works for Virgil.

“So you're just confessing like that? No fight, not begging, why? Why did you even accept Patton's help in the first place? You seem so adamant to go to jail, why make it harder to get there?”

“Guess it's more fun this way” The man's voice remains still, monotone. As if he's a robot. “Plus, who could say no to Patton?” Virgil bites his lip, point to the murderer. He fondly recalls another man sharing the same feelings about a certain lawyer.

~~~

“I'm sorry, are you saying you might actually agree with Patton on this L?” Virgil asks practically scoffing. Logan shrugs. “You never agree with him!”

“Patton is rarely wrong, it would be silly of me to ignore the facts. I'm just saying that maybe the man isn't so bad” Virgil squints trying to read if Logan is serious.

“How is he not the worst?” Virgil begs. “He's a murderer”

“He likes Patton, and Patton believes in him,” Logan says as though reciting a routine. Virgil knows he's kidding...right?

“That can not be where the bar is” Virgil declares, voice becoming desperate

“Figurative or Literal bar, I trust Patton,” Logan says as they push open the doors to the cafe “Always have and always will” Virgil shakes his head, hiding a smirk

“Fair enough” Virgil resigns, defeated. Although, Logan does make some good points

~~~

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Virgil spits, his temper boiling over. The man laughs, finally raising his face so Virgil can meet his menacing eyes.

“I just enjoy killing people, what’s wrong with that?” He shrugs, Virgil’s feels himself recoil, suddenly wanting to hide.

“God you’re sick” Is all he can manage

“No, no… I’m not” he paused, suddenly a smile appears upon his face, unsettling Virgil even further “But your son Damian, he is right? Stomach virus… shame”

No

Virgil feels his stomach drop below his feet as if something inside him shattered. He could feel his breath shaky, clutching onto the table.

Weak

“We are done here,” Virgil says standing up. He closes the case files and signals something to the people behind the mirror. He glared once more at the man, don’t give him the satisfaction.

“Ah, but we aren't are we? Not even close Detective Tormine. Because I’m going to destroy you, I'm going to ta-

“Oh my god” Virgil moans “Shut up, It's literally just me and you in here? Who are you monologuing for?” He smirks as silence falls on to the man, he takes the files leaving the room, shutting the door briskly behind him.

~~~

“But why Dada?” Remus whines in Logan's arms, both of them becoming quite comfortable in each other's embrace. Patton turns to him, holding a sleepy Valerie. He pouts at his son and Logan can't help but imagine having that look at him every day. Wanting to make it go away, fix whatever made his face like such.

“Because Logan is a very busy man, so he can't come over to play” Patton explains delicately, Logan appreciates the softer tone flowing from the man's mouth. Logan could listen to him talk all the time, it's one of the reasons the man gets so excited to go into a case against Patton. That and winning of course.

“Romans busy and he comes over all the time” Remus insists, driving his bargain. A sudden wave hits Logan at Remus’s words. His instinctive nature pounces once more, wanting to do what the judge did and more. He furrows his brows considering this, thankfully saved by an eager intern.

“Mr.Tolentino! There you are!” Reeve shouts from across the foyer. He makes his way over to the pair, looking between Patton, Logan and the kids. “Oh! Im sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything.” Logan tilts his head, glancing over to Patton.

“You did not interrupt Reeve, how can I help you?” Logan inquires, unconsciously adjusting Remus in his hold. Reeve looks down at his notes, then to Patton, finally settling on Logan.

“Sorry, just looked like you and your husband were heading home” He mumbles, writing something down in his notes. Logan freezes feeling a deep blush rise and spread quickly through his face. He darts his eyes over to Patton expecting shock or a look of pure disgustion. However, Patton stands there smiling sweetly, clearly stifling a giggle.

“Oh, no silly! Lo and I aren't together” Something shifts as Patton says this, Logan ignore this “He was just helping me out with the kids!” He secures Valerie with one hand extending the other out to Reeve “Im Patton, by the way, Patton Hart” Reeve shakes back nervously, the shade of red matching that of Logans.

“So not only are you two not married...but your his rival” Reeve manages, feeling very faint. “Oh my god…” he murmurs to himself. Patton looks over to Logan, smirking.

“Rival?” He says coyly

“Shut it” Logan finally speaks, not wishing to further this discussion

“Am I your rival Lo?” Patton questions sweetly. Logan curses himself for telling Reeve anything. Remus giggles in Logan's arms, looking between the two men. “I thought I was...hmm what was it? ‘Too emotional’ for you” Never, you're never too much of anything.

“Remus here is clearly getting tired, you should return home,” Logan says, his face returning to its normal color. Remus folds his arms cross, pouting, matching a similar expression used earlier by his father.

“Am not” He says curtly, Remus turns to Patton “Dada! Please, can Logan come over?” He begs once more. Patton sighs shaking his head, Logan feels something pull inside him. He wants to scream, he wants to speak. Yes, I can! I would love to!. He tries to shake away these thoughts, overcoming him. Patton goes to speak but is interrupted by a voice calling behind him. He spins to face the source, taking two frantic steps back meeting the person's eyes.

~~~

“That was hot” Roman comments as the moody detective exits the interrogation room. Virgil glares at him pushing past him to make way for his desk.

“Which part?” He starts “The part where he said he enjoys killing people, or the part where he knew my son's name?” He looks up curiously at Roman yawning, who now shares the same silent face of the man. Roman nods awkwardly to the sound of Remy's uncontrollable laughter.

“I-im...Im sorry Virge” Roman says shyly, Virgil shakes his head, waving him off.

“It's whatever” he mumbles, he spins his chair turning towards Remy  “Hey I wanna follow up on a lead, check it out with me?” He asks, Remy considers recovering from his fit, he nods.”Kay just gotta go grab Damian, Emiles got some patients so I gotta drop him off”. Remy gives him a thumbs up grabbing his things. Virgil stands grabbing his jacket and pushing past Roman again, he smirks feeling the judges silent shock. The judge manages a quick goodbye standing still by their desks. Remy shoots him a goodbye before making their way towards Emile's office. Once they are out of earshot Remy turns to Virgil, He glances up at him both erupting into laughter.

“You are cruel” Remy insinuates, Virgil nudges his partner feeling comfortable. He sighs relieved at the normality returning after the past few weeks. “God, are you ever going to give the poor judge a chance?” Remy asks as they make their way further through the dark, restrained halls of the precinct. The halls echo the tragedies that had occurred that day.

“Oh absolutely not,” Virgil says, almost disgusted. Both detectives decide to ignore the blush rising on Virgil's face. “It's too late for this anyway, im exhausted. I just wanna follow up this lead, solve this case, then go home and chill with my son” He sighs, covering up another yawn.

“What's it been? Like...8 years?” Remy recalls as they reach an opening, a reception area. Chairs lay empty, waiting for their next client.

“Longer...so much longer” Virgil moans, recalling his past with the precinct, the judge, the lawyers. He shakes his head suddenly exhausted. He reaches Emile's door, knocking politely. After a moment the door creaks open revealing a smiling, purple haired, cardigan wearing man.

“Virgil!” Emile exclaims happily, he ushers the two detectives inside, immediately greeted by a hype Damian.

“Papi!” Damian hugs his dad's legs, Virgil laughs picking up his son. He hugs him, tickling him sweetly. “I had so much fun with mister pickle!” He explains, gesturing wildly. Virgil stifles a laugh, unfortunately, Remy doesn't.

“And you're feeling better?” Virgil turns to Emiles, a knot forming in his stomach “How was he?”

“Virge, he was great” Emile smiles looking at the little boy.

“M-mister… pickle! Oh my god” Remy’s laughing now, he turns to Emile whos struggling to keep a smile. “B-babe, can I please, for the love of all that is holy, call you pickle?” Remy gasps for air, recovering from his 4th laughing fit this week. Emile bites his lip, shaking his head,

“Absolutely not, keep laughing and you're sleeping here, on the couch” Emile responds, Remy smirks. Virgil clears his throat raising his eyebrows, Damian remains bouncing his father's arms ignoring the current conversations. “Righto then, I do have a patient so, as much as I love hanging out with the little guy…” Emile ruffles Damian's hair much to his delight. Virgil nods and thanks him before the detective makes his way back out.

“See you in a sec, imma talk Emile real quick” Remy notfies, turning back to Emile. Virgil moves on, making his way back to his desk.

“Oh Roman! You're still here, perfect!” Virgil rejoices in seeing the judge standing idle by the captain's office. The judge perks up, instantly smiling as he sees Damian. Damian sharing the same feeling pushes against his father, making grabby hands at Roman. Virgil sighs but gives in handing Damian off to Roman carefully. The judge takes him with absolute glee, securing him safely. “What are you still doing here, by the way?” Virgil's inquires as Damian plays with his father's hands, Virgil allows this feeling a sense of calm. Roman coos at the young boy before turning to Virgil.

“I wanted to discuss the case with the captain, I just want to make sure I know everything I need to know” He whispers, Damian remains oblivious. Roman makes a funny face at the boy further serving his joy. Virgil nods understand Remy clears his throat walking up behind them. “Detective Remington” Roman acknowledges, not looking up from the young boy babblin in his arms.

“We gotta go Virge” Remy advises, Virgil nods knowing he's right, hesitant to return back to the cruel world of murderers and terrorists.

~~~

“What on earth are you doing here Liam?” Patton spits coldly. Logan is taken aback by the tone, something in the puzzle has broken. Liam simply laughs maliciously, an ear grating sound to the people present. Patton shakes his head looks back towards Logan. “Lo, will you please take Remus and Valerie to the car?” His gentle voice returns, as his eyes plead to Reeve and Logan. Logan doesn't hesitate immediately securing Valerie in his other arm. Reeve helps by taking Pattons and the children's things, he scurries out. “Thank you” He whispers to Logan, who simply nods still ever curious. Logan stays.

“Patton? I think we should leave” Logan advises, his concern growing noticing a familiar pale look on the lawyer's faces. The smaller man doesn't respond keeping his eyes on the one called Liam. “Patton?” Logan tries once more, his tone soft as ever. Remember, please remember.

“Got yourself a new boyfriend Patton?” Liam condescends, he takes a look at Logan scoffing. Logan tightens his grip on the twins whose faces are now riddled with scared confusion. The man takes one look at them and they hide away burrowing their heads into Logan. Liam tries to move forward but Patton moves quick creating a barricade between them. “Oh? I'm not allowed to say hello to my kids?” Logan feels an unexplainable disappointment, my kids? Why was this so upsetting? Logan knew these were Liams kids, to whatever extent. Logan knew that these were not his kids, he knew that he didn't go home every night and feed them, bathe them and take care of them. He knew that that was not his job, but...I would not mind it. He shakes his head focusing his attention back to the twins. Patton asked you to do one thing, so do it.

“Why are you here Liam?” Patton begs, his voice remains unattached. Liam tilts his head, smirking. Logan doesn't believe in the concept of truly good or truly evil but this man. Let's just say, gun to his head, Liam's name might be at the tip.

“For you, Patton” He responds, Logan almost believes him. “For you, and the kids” Patton scoffs, a sound that should not ever come out of his mouth. He balls his fits, trying to ground himself, Logan watches.

“Oh yeah? Where were you for the last 4 years then?!” Patton erupts, a volcanic explosion, Logan feels the twins nestle further. He can feel them shaking. Patton mocks a happy smile, a finger pointing up, mimicking a lightbulb. “Oh, that's right! You were out cheating on me, sleeping with anything that passed by.” Liam goes to speak but Patton's not finished “Were you as cruel to them as you were to me? Did you hurt them if they didn't listen to you, Liam? I'm curious, did you hurt them before or after you adopted two wonderful kids with them?” Patton finishes, he mocks fake interest, stroking his chin. Suddenly Logan’s blood is boiling, a fiery sea of anger erupts towards this man, the same one he felt all those years ago. A small whimper escapes from Remus, this catches Patton. He turns quickly facing the twins, instantly Logan recognizes his friend. Remus looks up at his father, watery pools lining his eyes.

“Dada, I wanna go home” He pleads, reaching out to the fatherly man. Patton frowns sadly, disappointed in himself. He walks over to Logan, taking Remus delicately, embracing him. “I-im scared” Remus mumbles through his small tears. Patton shushes him stroking him lovingly.

“I know crabcake, im sorry” He whispers, the quiet foyer freezing. Logan looks around, gifting Patton the privacy he deserves. Patton turns back to Liam, a certain fury returning to his eyes. “You will leave, do you understand?” He commands firmly, both Logan and Liam are taken aback by the sweet man's tone. Logan nods impressed, deciding to mimic Patton's comforting technique on Valerie. Liam tries again but Pattons been through the wringer before. He won't be gracing Liam the chance today. “Goodbye Liam” Patton turns back to Logan nodding, he understands following the lawyer out of the courthouse. Neither turn neither gives Liam the satisfaction of being recognized.

~~~

“What a total bust!” Virgil groans, lightly kicking a trash can as they walk back to the car. “God! I feel like anytime I get anything..” He purses his lips tightly, he gestures something zipping by “Nothing! Then I'm back to phase one” Remy listens, that's all Virgil needs. “I don't understand” He mumbles sliding into the car, Remy does the same.

“Go through it” Remy suggests “Tell me everything, act as if I don't know anything from the past 24 hours” He starts the car, squinting through the foggy layer that had set over the city. Virgil exhales slowly, nodding.

“Ok,” He shakes his head “I don't understand! All of our security measures, including cameras clear him. He was at the jail all night, no one in, no one out. Then 2 murderers happen, both following his style, following with the previous ones. Then he confesses, just like that, but there is no evidence linking the two.” Virgil ponders annoyed, he slams his hands on the dashboard, Remy remains, he's used to it. “It doesn't make any sense Rem” His partner admits. Remy bites his lip, something unsettling him, Virgil notices. “What is it?” Remy turns confused.

“Hmm?” He hums keeping his eyes glued on to the road.

“I know you have a thought, you have the look” Virgil glances at Remy's hands “And you do this thing with your hands.” Watching his partners clutch on the driving wheel. Remy scoffs.

“Oh, do enlighten me” Remy mocks, Virgil shrugs.

“You do this thing with your tongue, pushing it around your mouth. You tap incessantly on the wheel, always to the tune of a lullaby, creepy by the way. Then your eyes, they don't move, they stay planted furiously at one spot. As if you were to move your eyes, you would lose the channel of thought. And finally your nose, it flares, like really weirdly” Virgil finishes, as if reciting a long memorized monologue. Remy relaxes immediately, releasing the tension he feels. They really are detectives. “So...what is it?”

“Ok fine” Virgil claps victorious, Remy rolls his eyes “I was just thinking, why is he so adamant to be put into jail? His record has been spotless, perfectly clean. He has solid alibis for every murder but insists he did them? What if…” Remy trails off, biting his lip. “What if… he's being framed? Or threatened? I mean, Patton has never been wrong.” Virgil throws his head back. “What? I'm sorry, it's true, look Emile might be a therapist, and we might be detectives but Patton just...he has a way with people.” Virgil tenses, knowing Remy was right “The man rarely loses a case… I mean why do you think he's highly requested?”

“But could he be wrong? Just this once?” Virgil tries again, he wants something more, something to go off on.

“It's possible, it's always possible. Look, Virge, let him talk to the client, but this time watch him” Remy advises, his voice serious as they pull into Virgil's parking lot. He parks the car, then turns to Virgil. Virgil watches intense, hoping for a smidgen of anything. “Listen to everything they say, analyze everything, leave absolutely no stone unturned. You can get something out of him, Patton can do that. Let him talk to the client” The knot in Virgil's stomach returns.

“So I'm using Patton?” He responds, feeling a bitter taste settle in his mouth. Remy makes a face. Virgil shrugs “That's what it sounds like”

“No...no! Look you're doing your job, Patton is not a cop, you are. Your job is to find the perpetrator and bring him to justice. But this will allow you to see if you can get anything more, for or against his case” He pats Virgil's back “But hey, you're the lead, it's up to you. Whatever ever you choose, I gotchu partner” Virgil knows its a light tease, but he smiles gratefully. “Now go! Damian’s probably sick of Roman at this point.” Virgil chuckles, he says his farewells making his way inside. Damian better be asleep, or Roman will be calling in sick to work tomorrow. He bites his lip, reminding himself that he has to thank the judge for all his help.

~~~

“Patton?” Logan approaches slowly, he closes the door carefully having secured the twins into their seats. Patton leans outside the door, gazing off into the cloudy night. Patton smiles sadly knowing its not just him, knowing he's not the only one who just can't seem to think clearly. Logan tries again “Patton? Are you...are you alright?”

“You know, I used to try and count the stars when I was little... “ Patton starts, Logan remains silent taking his place next to the lawyer. “It was a distraction but after a while it became routine. Every time my parents fought, I’d count.”

“Well that's highly unrealistic” Logan notes “There an infinitesimal amount of stars in the sky, you wouldn't be able to count all of them. And the probability that you counted the same star more than once is highly likely, your data would not be accurate” Logan finishes, Patton tries to hide a creeping smile. “What?”

“You said infinitesimal” Patton snickers, Logan's face drops, horror glazing his eyes. Patton goes to talk but Logan quickly cuts him off.

“I made one mistake Patton, no need to overreact,” He says adjusting his glasses “It's an uncommon occurrence, I rarely make mistakes” Patton smiles wildly, oh no.

“So I guess you could say, the amount of mistakes you've made is…” He ponders mockingly, lighting up excitedly. “Infinitesimal?” he says placing his two fingers together. Logan groans quite audibly, rubbing his temples. Patton giggles and Logan feels a strange tightness in his chest. They simmer down, the surrounding darkness accompanying them.

“But truly Patton, are you alright?” Logan queries trying to keep his concern under control. Patton physically sighs, his shoulders relaxing.

“I don't know... “ He admits, he glances at Logan. “Lately, I just can think or see clearly” Logan nods, urging him to continue “Guess that's why I need glasses” He chuckles resigned. Logan debates whether to reprimand his joke, but the sad tone it took Logan feels his own depressing feelings. Suddenly, desiring the return of the witty puns he so despises. Patton notices the almost scolding look upon Logan's face, he continues. “Am I doing the right thing with this case? I mean every time I think that I’m right something comes along and proves me wrong. What if I’m just defending a…” He pauses faltering, he tries to stop the sniffles “A murderer?” He chokes back a sob. Logan becomes more alert, his posture becoming less relaxed. He watches the usually cheery man struggle against his own emotions, something sets in Logan.

“Patton, you are the smartest person I know” He starts, Patton lazily returns his attention to Logan.

“You must not know a lot of people then” He tries lightly, failing. Logan purses his lips almost in shock. He shakes his head, much to Patton's interest. “What?” Logan decides easing into this will not work.

“Has it truly been four years since you have seen Liam?” Logan jumps right into it, Patton exhales sharply.

“Yes, it has” Patton's voice takes on a chilling tone “See, after he cheated on me, multiple times, and hurt me for years I didn't really want him in my life anymore” Patton snaps, he immediately bites his lip, recoiling away. “I'm sorry… I don't mean to..”

“Don't apologize, Patton” Logan reassures “I did not like him” He admits, a more relaxed tone. Patton giggles sadly.

“Yeah, I know. You, Roman and Virgil made that clear” Patton jokes, Logan nods, inhaling the cold air. A minty feeling gracing his lungs.”I should have listened to you all the first time around, but...I was so desperate to be...” He trails off, Patton's voice has never sounded so defeated, Logan scrunches his brows, desperate? “Thank you, Lo, for helping me out” Logan turns to him.

“Always Patton” He takes another look around “I should go, and so should you. It is getting quite late” He smirked slightly “I wouldn't want my rival to be too tired to argue, now would I?” Patton giggles once more, nudging Logan. Logan doesn't even try to hide his clever smile.

“No we wouldn't” Patton faces Logan, smiling into his eyes. “Goodnight Lo, I'll see you in court” He leans forward placing a quick, soft peck on Logan's cheek before turning away and into his car. Logan raises his eyebrows, resisting the urge to feel his cheek.

“Hm,” He simply hums, a light dust of pink rising on his face. “See you in court” He murmurs, making his way to his own car.

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[vierschanzentournee]

1 and 3 for the bookish questions? 🥰👀

hayley i have literally no idea when you sent me this sorry but THANK YOU SM!!

1. What is your favourite book and/or book series of all time? 

Okay I have two (2) favourites series and I could literally talk abt them all day so like. Sorry in advance.

They’re both by the same author, Sebastien de Castell (who’s releasing the first book in a new series... soon? July, I think!), who I clearly owe my entire life to!

The first is the Greatcoats series, which was his first, and has four books - essentially, the Greatcoats were once travelling magistrates who enforced the King’s Law in the nation of Tristia, until a bunch of assholes (the Dukes) rise up against the King, overthrow and execute him, and leave the Greatcoats a) unemployed and b) hated and reviled throughout the country. They’re narrated by Falcio val Mond, First Cantor of the Greatcoats, and also the world’s stupidest man, who somehow manages to be both incredibly endearing and supremely irritating, and for whom I would absolutely give my life if he wasn’t so keen to die all the time. Before his execution, the King (whom Falcio absolutely adored) gave each of the Greatcoats a special order (there were 144 of them, so I’m not sure how he had time, but whatever) - Falcio’s is to find one of the King’s charoites. Unfortunately, he has no idea what the fuck that is, he’s broke, his best friends Kest and Brasti aren’t even sure why they stick with him anymore (actually, that’s unfair to Kest, Kest is extremely loyal to Falcio above all else for the whole series), and THAT is where the first book, Traitor’s Blade, begins! (SPOILERS from here onwards!) Falcio finds his charoite about halfway through the first book in the form of a 13-year-old girl called Aline - the same name as Falcio’s wife, who was brutally raped and murdered by a local Duke when they were 20. At the end of the book Falcio realises Aline is in fact the King’s daughter (although, to be fair, Brasti realised it first) and the rest of the series is essentially Falcio trying to protect Aline (major spoiler: this does not work and she dies halfway through the last book and I cried SO HARD) and fighting back against various groups that threaten Tristia and the Laws he worked so hard to uphold back in the day. Along the way, he gets a girlfriend (who becomes Saint of Mercy in the third book and was, somehow, once possessed by the memory of his dead wife Aline), reunites with various former Greatcoats who hate his ass to varying degrees (but like, lovingly, for the most part), has extremely cute emotional bonding moments with Kest and Brasti (like the time Falcio was poisoned and was paralysed for longer and longer every time he woke up and Brasti decided to put a coffin over him one morning for funsies! I love him very much), and collects, by my count, at least 4 children (or at least people he cares for in a Very Paternal Manner).

The second series is called Spellslinger, and it has six books because life is good and SdC writes fast (side eyes @ Scott Lynch). The premise is this: Kellen comes from a people called the Jan’Tep, whose entire society essentially is built around the magic they wield. When Jan’Tep children turn 16, they must take their trials to become mages - if they fail, they are sent away from their family to become a part of the Sha’Tep, who are pretty much the Jan’Tep’s slaves. Kellen’s problem is this: he’s, like, two days away from turning 16, and he has pretty much no magic. All Jan’Tep have six “bands”, representing the different elements of magic: iron, silk, sand, breath, blood, and ember - there’s a seventh element too, shadow, but Jan’Tep children are not banded in shadow, as it’s considered evil. Sparking a band basically means you’re able to wield the element of that band - to pass your mage’s trials, you need to have sparked two. At the start of the first book, Kellen still hasn’t sparked any. His father is a powerful clan leader, his mother is a talented mage, and his younger sister Shalla is a prodigy with unheard-of talent, and yet Kellen, despite everything his parents have tried, has little to no magic, and seems destined for a life among the Sha’Tep. The book opens with Kellen’s first trial, his duel, which he’s just about managing to bluff his way through until Shalla (fucking Shalla) realises he’s cheating, and, in some wild attempt to make him find some power or something, literally stops his heart. He’s saved by a mysterious red-haired woman called Ferius Parfax, who speaks with the equivalent of a Southern drawl and is just kind of wildly competent at pretty much everything. I’m now at risk of literally just rewriting the entire first book here so: Kellen spends more time with Ferius, although it’s discouraged, continues to fail his mage’s trials, uncovers a Sha’Tep rebellion conspiracy fuelled by a rival Jan’Tep clan leader, and, crucially is counterbanded by his parents - that is, his parents fill his bands with molten metal and magic sigils which mean he’ll never be able to spark them. This is a horribly painful process, emotionally and physically, to which Kellen never agreed, and he’s literally strapped down to a table for days - he discovers that his grandmother banded him in shadow, a strictly forbidden practice, and that he has the shadowblack, considered a terrible affliction which probably hints at some terrible inner darkness, although throughout the first book the main effect for Kellen is just some dark markings around his left eye. With the help of a violent squirrel cat, with whom Kellen can somehow communicate and whom he freed from a Jan’Tep cage several days ago, he manages to escape before his parents counterband his breath band, and he sparks it - it turns out that he was actually as powerful as Shalla, but the things his parents made him take to “cure” his weakness were in fact suppressing his power. Long story short, the counterbanding and the shadowblack kind of... end his hopes of a normal life in Jan’Tep society, and so he runs away with Reichis (the squirrel cat) and Ferius (who, as it turns out, is Argosi - a traveller who kind of... not quite predicts things, but notes the likely course of events in the world around her) to become an outlaw - specifically, a spellslinger, an outlaw mage who has a little magic, a few tricks, and their hopefully sharp wits to live by.

Tragically, Kellen’s wits are not very sharp, and he spends the next five books being kind of terrible at being an outlaw, crying after every single fight he’s in (verbatim, “I always cry after a fight”), developing a very sweet mentor-student/parent-child relationship with Ferius, reuniting with his childhood crush Nephenia (who had to leave the Jan’Tep for... reasons), becoming best friends with the squirrel cat, getting separated from Ferius for two books, and tearfully reuniting with her in the final book, after which she prompty nearly dies.

So. Uh. I’m super sorry, I was UNAWARE of exactly how much happened in Spellslinger (like, the first book, which is also titled Spellslinger) in particular, and I just really love talking about them! I’m an absolute sucker for found family dynamics and characters learning to appreciate both themselves and the people around them, and both series are absolutely full of that!

3. What is the oldest book you have ever read? (Based on its written date) 

I’m currently reading the Odyssey for my school’s epic reading group (as in, a group for reading epic literature, not just... it’s really cool), so I suppose it’s that!