#//Now that I think of it; him getting a Harbinger promotion would make more sense as him taking Signora's place. But wanting a diff name

[dutybcrne]

Okay, decision made:

He almost primarily uses his Abyssal abilities, and near exclusively in the way a Cryo Abyss Mage/Cryo Herald would, and had relied upon them alone, up until he was given an Anemo Delusion once he'd become of age.

[thundertide]

"You and I think alike on that, old friend. There's no way she wasn't the key to everything, especially with the records she left." Rather poor records, Kagota would admit if asked; reading them had been an exercise in patience, and she still hadn't gotten through most of them, leaving them tucked in a desk drawer back at the house her family called home for the time being. They were out of order, hastily written, contradicted one another... On top of that, they were also sprinkled into other reports on the town itself - Or rather, the former town, given the records stopped right before they'd seen it wiped clean, leaving Kyros's next mention to be in better kept records after he'd been passed to a unit under Dottore's command. Making sense of them was difficult to say the least, and she didn't dare ask Kyros or Childe to lend a hand with this one.

Even asking Kaeya for information was a gamble at best. As a Knight, he had no reason to help her; he could return to Mondstadt and have her name put on a watch list for snooping through their business. He could claim her a threat against the alchemist he'd come with, or demand custody of Kyros on the spot - Things her intuition said wouldn't happen given thir friendship, yet the thoughts still lingered. Much of her job had been scouting and information gathering since she was 15, and while she relied on instinct and her bonds to get that done even now, there was no holding back the fact those 'what ifs' still existed, and would linger in the back of her mind until they parted, even if she truly knew better.

This was her family, and she would sooner throw herself in the line of fire than let anything happen to them.

"Many of her reports are contradictory, or she throws them in in reports about the town as a whole. Her name's even been redacted on more than a few of them, but from what I've gathered, she was a spy sent into Mondstadt at the time she 'rescued' him. She never reported into her superiors about leaving whatever job she had there, either - She just showed up in town and started reporting in about Kyros. I don't know what the details of her mission were, either... I may be the wife of a harbinger, do his job for him half the time, and got a promotion, but there's still some records I'm banned from. All I know is the ass was stationed outside the city itself... Near the winery."

In, around, near... She wasn't sure. The sole record she'd found on the woman's station had said 'winery area' rather than an exact location, and given she just filled the shoes of Tartaglia and wasn't truly a harbinger herself, there were only so many arms she could bend before things turned troublesome for Childe as her superior. No matter how much she wanted to dig further... Just where had Kyros come from? Were they still tracking him? And the caretaker... What had happened to her when the town had been wiped out...?

Her fingers curled against the tabletop, forming a loose fist she wanted to swing into one of the training dummies back home. Information gathering had never been so frustrating like this before-! "I don't know which winery. She went into hiding after the town was wiped clean. Apparently abandoned him once he could stand on his own as a fatuus."

Diluc Ragvindr. She knew that name - He'd been listed as someone to keep an eye out for while she'd been stationed in Mondstadt years before. A former Knight, he ran his family's winery and practically led the alcohol industry in Mondstadt, watching over the nation's various goings-on with eyes sharper than an eagle's. If anyone was to pick up on Fatui plots, it would've been him... But in her experience, it had been Kaeya who caused them the most trouble, leading to the relationship the two now shared.

But for all the intelligence she'd been given on Mondstadt before her mission, nothing had ever mentioned his deceased mother, that Kaeya was adopted... Or that they'd had a younger brother, lost just like their mother. She'd kept her distance from the Angel's Share and thus had very little clue to how Diluc looked, but if Kaeya was right on this one... Either that boy was in that grave, or...

Another sigh slipped free, laced with a myriad of emotions; heartache, apology, regret for prying and for pushing so hard... She hadn't meant to drag up old memories for him. Kaeya joked and occasionally it was morbid and toed the line, Kagota knew that far too well; how was she supposed to know this time he wasn't kidding? "...I'm sorry. You don't need to tell me more about that. I'm not in the business of harming those who don't deserve it." Never had been and never would be, which was why her family had only grown since they'd last met.

Slowly, the Operative's posture eased to one more relaxed, crossed arms easing down to rest her hands on the tabletop, instead. A favor for a favor - It was only fair she opened up a little more after he had, and for a moment, she let her gaze drift back to the picture. He was trustworthy; he wouldn't use anything she said against them without reason, but this was Kyros they were talking about, too. He'd been through too much, seen and heard and lived more than anyone needed to, and she refused to make things harder on him than it already was and had been.

"He was named Kyros by his caretaker," Kag started, picking and choosing her words carefully. "How he came into her care is contested by her own reports, but not where he was raised: A village up by the border of Snezhnaya. Completely man-made - It was supposed to be a resupply point for those who needed it, and a rest stop for men returning home. She kept him there under close watch. Had him trained, too... He was supposed to be a fatuus."

Her shoulders shrugged. "Shit went down and got covered up. Everyone's wiped out. So he got swept up into shit with the Fatui - It's all he knew. Damn shame though... Couldda had a normal damn life. But he's got no clue when his birthday is or just how old he is exactly, though we figure 20, maybe 21. Childe saved him from a death sentence and brought him home before we left Liyue. He only remembers the caretaker... Not that she was much of one. Records say she was in Mondstadt before refusing orders to go up to that border village."

[thescribeoflostmemories]

At your service, my Harbinger

( requests: closed)

(Oiran/Geisha/Maiko! Reader x Fatui Harbingers) {Yandere is available)

Note: did some liberties to at least make it some sense why or how you’ll get promoted to Oiran if anyone asks for it. This ain’t accurate. Also, do note that this is for people at least 16 of age or above if it gets too serious. To request, please refer to my pinned post or the service menu that would be at the bottom of this post.

The first meeting

" Are you nervous, my lady?" You tried to help and get your master ready for her procession this evening. Tying her Obi to the front of her body, arranging her headpiece like an artist being too conscious of which sides fit the best. You are but a high ranking Maiko who will soon be a low ranking Geisha.

“Goodness gracious, ____. I thought I told you: you didn’t have to do this. We have the other girls to help.” Mada Fuuka, the Tayū who took you in at a tender age of nine (9) years old. You tried to plead to teach you more so you could help around the establishment but got rejected.

House Wong, a Liyue lineage, moved to Inazuma to branch out connections. It appears to be working as the family began to adopt the culture of the nation as if they were no strangers. From brewery to inns, the heart of their blood and silver would be this very building you work in. Soon you and a few others would have to pick up your guest before nightfall.

“I know, but you need to be dressed the most, Mada.” You wanted her to look as perfect as it is, she is the star of the show not a lowly worker like you. If anything the competition for the top ranking is rather stiff and toxic within the Entertainment hierarchy. Witnessing many backed out once at a coming age, bought and or ended themselves of their misery. It is not exclusive to yours but to rival establishments as well. 

“Call me Fuuka when we're alone together, hú dié.” Doing her makeup as well. She has been a parental figure to you, not allowing you to get pushed around within the work circle. You had a small circle of fans for yourself, thankfully the nicer ones than the others. Shuddering at the thought of them being so intimate.

"Yes, Fuuka." She hums at your answer while you try and perfected her hefty wig.

"Shingo won't be alone this time. So the parade would be bigger, befitting at least eight people." You looked up at him, you knew Shingo is wealthy but not to accommodate all of them including himself. Whoever is he trying to please, is certainly a big shot. Which pushes you further to perfect your walk to them.

To spend even a night or two hours of our time with all of them would roughly bill them a few weeks later, more than a million nothing less than that. All to show off their connections and wealth. If you weren't working here, you'd think this is all a waste of time.

Fuuka helped you get dressed too, painting your face with a cold white foundation, applying red lipstick on you. "So adorable." She smiled at the blooming child, clothed in bright and colorful patterns. Hair left in a natural state, though combed and placed hair ornaments well.

"Let us depart, Fuuka." A servant came in to notify us. And so the show begins.

In the streets, the progression of the parade is a slow process. One or two hours prior is needed to arrive on time, depending on distance. Last time it took five hours of walk time to even get there. With every step you take, your shoes make an endearing chime from the small bells inside of it. The sun beating down on the group as people gather around to see the top Tayū and her servants walk so elegantly, it is also good for business. To be shown off as one of the ideal ladies in Inazuma.

There Shingo and his company are, each person unique from each other. Now it makes sense why Mada had chosen an open space instead of the usual indoors. You have heard about these people, each more sinister than the last.

“Lord Shingo. Greetings.” Fuuka let go of the hachi monji’s shoulder to bow so elegantly, that too followed by the apprentices, geishas/maikos, servants and of course, you. Being very familiar with people gawking, but with the Harbingers is very suffocating. You pray that you won’t end up messing up with who you’re servicing with.

With the introduction made, you all went to the pavilion. Mada Fuuka, Shingo and what you assumed is the first Harbinger talking while the rest talked amongst themselves while waiting for dinner to be served. Looking at Mada Fuuka who gave you a wordless gesture to entertain at least one of them. But who? Whoever it is, you’d best pick fast or else your master would lose face if you’re too slow.

Guest Available:

Shingo

Pierro

Dottore

Columbina

Capitano

Pulcinella (*Platonic)

Scaramouche

La Signora (?)

Arlecchino 

Pantalone

Sandrone

Tartaglia

Services available:

"Flower set"- Pouring drinks, sing, dance, talk, play games, tea cer.

Pour drinks

Dance and sing (solo) / (Group)

talk

Tea ceremony

Noh theater

Familiarize customer- Not available right now, rank still Maiko. Reach higher rank (Oiran) and earn at least 3 visits from customer.

Add ons service (+18)

Lovelorn set

Flower:

Giselle's calla Lily

Circlet:

Burning passion.

Plume:

Giselle's Pinion

Sand:

Wedding bells

Goblet:

To be or not to be

Weapon: Kudoku (there's no going back)

"Any additional services, questions and or modifications will be talked through pm, comment and or askbox, possibilities of combining all is possible but difficult. Though, you all know me, bubbles. I do my best. We will wait patiently for your orders." - Scribe

Ps. Not sure if I should add La Signora to this since she’s dead.

How to order

hú dié - Butterfly

Navigation:

Love? (Yan!Pantalone x Geisha) {Pudding}

All I want is to be loved! (Yan Capitano x Geisha! Reader x Yan! Pantalone) {Pudding}

One hand, one heartbeat (Scaramouche x maiko reader) {Mild dessert}

Star-Crossed Lovers (Pierro x Geisha reader)

tag: @youyue , @mellowwillowy

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: We’re starting Sam’s installment but this weekend I’ll probably only be catching up on my headcanons and drabbles because I’ve been a lazy bitch and I’m sorry to those who have been waiting.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: I've got a job, I explore

💀💀💀

The sleepy town of Birch was awake. 

In those last weeks, the arrival of outsiders had roused the attention of many once passive residents of the timeless territory. Those brick buildings unchanged by the tick of the clock inlaid into the old tower above the library that chimed every hour on the hour. They still stood with only chips in the mortar but the air tasted different. The frost was more bitter and the sky more grim. An omen of something no one could predict.

It was the perfect setting for a screenplay. The isolated town with its unsavoury secrets and the visitors who threatened to bring them to the surface. It was inspiring to you, to imagine what was hidden behind the stern wrinkled faces of the town elders and under the jackets of those men who wore the cut of the local club. The bikers ruled the town covertly but everyone knew that Bucky Barnes’ palm was lined with the map of Birch.

As a bystander, an unnoticed observer, just another ant in the hill, you watched from the side and amused yourself with the drama of others. It was like a soap opera or another HBO hype machine. Those things you aspired to when you could be free of this ho-hum town.

The snows added to the natural gloom of the place. The deep heaps smothered the noise and harkened back to those days of colonial settlement. Forgotten, desolate, fearful. 

You ventured down in your heavy boots that stretched to your knees and pushed your chin down into your scarf. As a child, you ran and jumped in those piles, now you were out of breath just trying to walk past them.

You stopped in the bakery that doubled as the only café, a place where the owner, Babs, tried to to intimidate the last caffeinated trends. She was always a few seasons behind but you didn’t mind so much. 

You ordered the salted caramel mocha and waited patiently as the quiet woman fought with the steaming machines. She was older than you but you’d work with her for one summer during high school, only five years ago. She had the eyes of a child still, but there was something worn in her. As if she’d been exposed to far too much in her three or so decades in that place. She was a harbinger of what you didn’t want to become.

You thanked her for your drink and set out once more into the billowing winds. Birch winters were never kind but this one was crueler than most. Your teeth chattered as you blew the steam away from the lid and hugged it with your mittened hands.

You stopped short as you heard the familiar ding of the diner door across the street. You recognised the mechanic who kept to herself and once growled at you in the grocery store. She stormed across the street, followed closely and quickly by a black-haired man you’d only seen once before. He was one of those outsiders who came to deal with the club men.

You sped up as you sensed chaos brewing and pulled out your phone as you balanced your paper cup in your other hand. You flicked your camera on just as you got to the front of the shop and the man grabbed the mechanic. You let out an ‘oop’ as she turned on him and you aimed the lens at the couple as they fell into the snow, the man’s shoes giving little traction to his steps. 

You moved closer, stunned by the scene, and kept your cell phone rolling as you found a better angle around the snowy walks. As she choked him on the ground he elbowed her and she coughed as she rolled away. She snarled as he clamoured to his feet, slipping and sliding as he marched away.

You killed the recording and watched the man cross the street again, nearly wiping out as he did and when you looked back to the mechanic, she was gone behind the clattering door. You chuckled to yourself and tucked away your cell. It was prime footage for TikTok; with a bit of editing, it would be comedy gold.

💀

You stomped up the steps of your grandmother’s house, this time through the front door as you heard her chair rocking in the front room. You usually took the stairs in the back as you paid her to live on the upper floor of the duplex. You checked in with her daily, she didn’t get out much more than the occasional trip to the grocery store when you couldn’t or you dragged her out to join you for a tea at Babs’.

“You’re late,” she grumbled as you set your cup down and unzipped your coat.

“For what?” you scoffed.

“It’s after noon and you don’t even come down to say hello? A ‘good morning, nan’,” she harrumphed.

You chuckled and hung your coat before shoving your boots over on the mat. You grabbed your mocha and leaned on the doorway as you watched her crocheting in her chair, reruns of some court show playing from the boxy television.

“I was working,” you said, “sent in some stuff for review. Hopefully not much work to be done.”

“I don’t know how you make money on that interweb,” she bemoaned, “I don’t trust it.”

“Maybe you’d trust it more if you used the Netflix subscription I got you,” you crossed your arms, “then you wouldn’t have to watch trash daytime TV.”

She shrugged and muttered under her breath. She could be crotchety but you liked her sense of humour. Your aunts and uncles never came around because they just took it as spite. You were the only one who knew how to handle the jaded old lady.

“Maybe you coulda looked out the window,” you snickered, “quite a show going on in town.”

“Hmm, what’s that?” she stilled her needles and reached for her tea stained cup.

“Just a fight. You wouldn’t believe it, that lady mechanic beat the shit--”

“Language,” she huffed.

“Anyway, she had this guy in a chokehold. It was awesome.”

“What guy?” she squinted at you over her glasses.

“I dunno. Some out of towner. Remember I told you about that burly dude hanging around the library?”

“There’s more?” she sucked on her teeth, “those bikers have never been good news and now they’re bringing in more.”

“Yeah, well, what’re you gonna do?” you sniffed as you took out your phone and rewatched the scuffle with the volume down. You shook your head and opened up your TikTok. 

“I don’t understand why you’re always on your dang phone,” your grandmother pestered.

“I’m not always on my phone,” you smiled at her smugly, “there are those time when I’m listening to you prattle on or you know, making you tea, oh, and cooking you dinner. What was it I did last week? Oh that’s right, I got Pippin out of the crawlspace.”

“I’m too old to be chasin’ that cat all around,” she huffed, “where is he anyway?”

“He’s your cat, I don’t know? Last time I saw him, I sent him back out the window for shredding my charger.”

“He knows you need to give it a rest,” she laughed to herself, “got your nose to that screen too much.”

“And what do you do, old lady? Crocheting doilies to put where exactly?”

She gave you that dry smile, the one that said watch it but carried a hint of humour still. You hit post and put your phone away as you waved off her irritation.

“Well, you know what, I sit all day at my computer, doing who knows what and you know what it got me?” you taunted, “a large mocha!” you sipped as you sat on the sofa and grabbed the remote, “and it’s paying my rent and putting bullet points on my resume.”

“Mhmm,” she scowled, “just remember, real life ain’t online. Those videos you’re always laughing at like hyena, that’s not reality. You forget it and it’ll come back and bit you. ‘Specially with those bikers.”

“Oh, nan, you know too well, don’t you? Didn’t you have a fling with one back in your hippie phase?”

“Two, actually,” she raised her brows, “I was young and stupid. Not like you, but still.”

“I love you too,” you chirped and sipped from your cup, flicking the station to Jerry Springer, “that’s more like it.”

💀

Your usual TikToks were sarcastic and dull complaints about your small town life. The response was less than pleasing but it gave you an outlet to vent. You liked to goof around and document the very specific type of weirdos that resided in Birch. But the video of the fight in the snow blew up your phone and made it difficult to ignore the buzzing as you went back up to your room to eke out the last of your captions for the ad agency.

When at last you could call your day hard-earned, you logged off and sent in your hours to the agency. Social media promotion was easy enough but the working gigs for a thousand different companies was tedious. You hoped you could build your portfolio enough to manage a single corporate page as you continued to chip away at your creative outlets.

You picked up your phone as you waited for Netflix to load on your tiny smart tv and flopped onto your bed, not two feet from your desk. You hit the icon in the upper panel of your phone and scrolled through the notifications, pausing to turn on another episode of the cable sitcom from ten years before. You snorted as you read each comment but the number under the video made your eyes round. The thing was bound to go viral.

As usual, you went down to help with supper. Pippin, the orange tabby, returned to cry at his dish and you fed him too. Your nan peered through her glasses at a crossword as she tasted the tangy pasta sauce. 

“More basil,” she snipped.

“Well, I asked if you wanted to help,” you muttered, “I think it’s good.”

“Hmmp, I need milk,” she jutted her chin out, “for my after-dinner tea.”

“You couldn’t say something like three hours ago?” you blinked.

“I could have but I didn’t,” she snickered. You rolled your eyes and she took another forkful of penne and filled in another line on her puzzle, “ah, no hurry, girlie, you know I’m patient.”

“Patient? You?” you chuckled as you took your plate and shoved it in the microwave to keep it warm. The ancient thing had a dial and the door stuck, “I’ll just go get it over with.”

“Don’t forget your mitts,” she called after you as you tramped into the front room, “it’s cold.”

You pulled on your knitted cap and matching mitts. You zipped up your parka and shoved your feet into the deep boots. You grabbed your wallet and buried it in the spacious pocket. You bounced out the front door and down the steps as the sky sent down another coat of powder for the night.

You went up White Forge Street and through the short path behind the diner that led to the main road. You glanced over at The Asp, the beacon of the dull town, and turned towards the grocer. Like anywhere in Birch, the store was outdated and stuffy. It felt like stepping into another time with the paper bags and chunky tills.

You went down the center aisle and stopped at the fridge to search through the frosted glass. Your nan only drank whole milk and the last time you carelessly grabbed skim, she whined that even Pippin wouldn’t drink it. She was particular but that was just her nature. You couldn’t say you were any less fussy in some instances.

You grabbed a jug and the door slapped closed against the worn rubber seal. You headed up the candy aisle and brushed your woolly thumb over your chin as you considered gummy bears or Reeses’ Pieces.

“Hard choice?” The deep voice jolted you.

You snatched the box of chocolate and looked over at the man in leather, his chin tucked down behind the collar as snow dusted his shoulders.

“Sure,” you said as you brushed past him.

The cut of the leather told you he was better not entertained. While you thought the men amusing, you weren’t stupid enough to engage with them. You rarely listened to your grandmother but she was wise in her own way. 

You knew a girl in highschool, she was fucking around with one of the club men in her junior year, she ended up with a baby and no support. You didn’t think he was into you that way but he could hardly have innocent intentions.

“How’s the old lady?” Clayton asked as he rung in your order at the end of the belt, you moved along with the groceries and pulled out your wallet.

“The usual, you know? She’s tryna quit again. Don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll keep a carton aside for her,” he kidded as you felt your phone vibing in your back pocket.

“Don’t encourage her,” you swiped your card and punched in your pin, “although I don’t know what’s worse; the smoke or her sucking on those mints all the time.”

“Oh, it’s not the bitchin’?” he laughed.

“That, too,” you scooped up the paper bag and put your wallet away, “have a good one.”

As you came to the end of the first counter, you were nearly cut off by the club member as he swept around from till two. His own purchase of a car magazine and jerky was tucked under his arm.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiled, a sparkling smile, almost charming.

“No worries,” you continued on and he followed close behind.

“Those mitts look real warm. ‘Specially in this weather,” he said as you pushed open the door.

“Uh huh,” you kept on as your boots crunched out into the snow.

“You know where I can get a pair. Leather isn’t exactly thermal, you know?”

“These? My nan made ‘em. I’m sure Clayton got some hung up back there,” you looked across the street as you stepped up onto the ledge of snow between the sidewalk and the road.

“Am I bothering you?” he asked.

You looked at him dumbly and almost laughed in his face. You glanced back across the street then down towards The Asp.

“Sorta,” you answered.

“Make you a deal. Leave ya alone for your name.”

You eyed him. He was older than you like many of the Commandos. At least a decade, likely more than that. You chewed on your hesitation and cradled the bag more firmly against your side. His eyes strayed as he tried to see through the thick layer of your coat.

“Nah, I’m not s’posed to talk to strangers,” you said and hopped off onto the road.

You heard him behind you as he struggled to follow and as you came up to the other side, he came parallel with you and kept stride with you easily.

“I know you’re young but you’re not a kid,” he intoned, “what’s the harm in a name?”

“It’s a small town,” you stopped short of the end of White Forge, “I think I know enough about you to avoid you.”

“Oh ho, is that it? Well, I’m Sam, I’m not a stranger now, am I?”

“Not interested, Sam. Sure there’s women your own age over at the bar,” you nodded behind him.

“You wanna come see? Maybe have a drink?” he gave a crooked grin.

“You don’t give up, do you?” you shook your head, put off by his forwardness.

“Well?”

“Not tonight, Sam,” you turned around and headed down White Forge.

“Then what night?” he asked but you didn’t answer and he didn’t follow.

You turned down onto your street and refused to look back in case. It would be best not to mention the run-in to your nan, she was paranoid enough as it was. Besides, you’d forget about it by the end of next week.

[philliamwrites]

killing me softly with his song | (Childe / Reader) [chpt.1]

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Childe / Reader

Tags: #fem!reader, #from childhood friends to lovers, #reader is a fatui agent, #slow burn, #unresolved sexual tension, #mature language, #forbidden love

Words: 2k

Summary: "Lybuov zla, polyubish i kozla," sighs your sister as she wipes off the table, but that makes you feel even more miserable. Falling for a goat might save you from an actual heartbreak by Tartaglia's hands.

____________

Loosely connected chapters about you and Childe finding happiness. Maybe.

Notes: Part 2

Masterlist

***

childe? what a problematic asshole i hate him i- *trips* *thousands of pictures of childe spill from pockets* fuck those aren’t mine i swear i’m just holding them for a friend i- *slips on a pile of pictures* fu ck no they’re not mine i hate him i just- *more pictures fall out as i fall to my knees, desperately trying to pick them up* hang on a sec jUst LISTEN

Chapter 1

     A cold gust of icy wind drives you deeper into the sheets and you swear by the name of Her Majesty Herself once you get up and find Alexei, you’ll smother him with a towel for leaving a window open in the middle of the night.

    Somewhere outside, a rooster crows. Fine, not dead of the night then, but no one cares for technicalities like these when sleep is involved. Especially after a night like this one, when Alexei fucked you into oblivion and back, you need every minute of shuteye you can get before another day of exhausting missions in the Chechnaya Taiga of Snezhnaya claims your last strand of sanity.

    It’s peaceful mornings like these that make it all worthwhile though—the quiet during the early golden hour when people slowly wake up to a brand-new day and get ready to do their chores, their factory work. The sheer number of possibilities stretching out before their hands, and hope rekindled every morning despite the harsh cold waiting at their doorsteps. You love how everything stands still, how even the uncaring universe seems to grant people a sliver of peace, allows them to be soft and vulnerable. To be kind to themselves by indulging in a freshly brewed cup of coffee or tea. Nothing can spoil this for you, nothing and no one—

    An awkward cough sounds from the door. You close your eyes, willing him to disappear by simply ignoring him, but his eyes burn into the back of your head like two smouldering coals and eventually, you turn around to see Alexei standing in the door frame, shifting from left to right. “There’s someone out there who wants to talk to you,” he says.

    Turning around, you try to disappear into your pillow. “Whoever it is, I’m sure they can wait until it isn’t such a damn unholy time.”

    Alexei clears his throat. “It’s uhm … it’s someone from the Fatui.”

    Your eyes snap open. Suddenly the warm, cosy blankets feel like a snake’s tight hold around your body, and you struggle out of its grip, grabbing for the dressing gown you carelessly threw around the back of your chair last night.

    The sun hangs low in the east, painting the city of Kerch that stretches outside of your window a sheen of dusky gold. When the red-brown bricks of the dacha cottages come into view, you think of the gingerbread houses you used to make as a child every year in celebration of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa of the Zapolyarny Palace.

    Cold already seeps into your bones even though the robe is tight around your body. You hiss when your bare feet hit the icy floor but can’t find your slippers. Time to die like a woman.

    You brush past Alexei, who’s scratching his head, still just in his underwear and you think him crazy for walking around half-naked like that even though it’s minus 58F outside and the heating systems inside your barracks only start to work once outside temperatures drop to minus 75F.

    Maybe what they say is true. People from around Noyabrsk in the north of Snezhnaya regularly dip into frosty rivers and you do remember him mentioning ice swimming is his hobby. It was one of the few things you thought attractive about him. Actually, it was the only thing you thought attractive about him.

    Light streams into the floor from the kitchen, flickering once, twice in dangerous foreboding. It’s time to switch the lightbulb. Tomorrow. Tomorrow for sure, because that isn’t important right now. What’s important is Tartaglia sitting at your table, leaning back in a chair, both feet crossed on top of the table, and eating your leftover mayonnaise sandwich you saved up for breakfast.

    His eyes slide lazily toward you, taking in your form—barefoot, shivering even though the fur from your bathrobe is of the finest white wolf fur obtainable on the market.

    Tartaglia finishes your sandwich, smacks his lips and licks mayo off his fingers. He doesn’t even like it, and you know from time to time he can’t handle dairy all that well. He just eats it because he knows how it infuriates you.

    “Alexei, huh,” he says in lieu of hello. “Didn’t know you’re into himbos.”

    Behind you, Alexei makes a sound like a kicked puppy. You glare at him over your shoulder, then jut your chin towards the front door. “Out. Now.”

    He doesn’t wait for you to repeat yourself. Surprisingly fast for a guy this big, he bolts into your room, gets dressed in record speed and leaves your little one-bedroom apartment without so much as a Goodbye or “We’ll hear from each other,” and you prefer it that way. It saves stuff from getting messy.

    Speaking of messy, you really wish Tartaglia would have sent you a note before coming. The smell of icy wind and snowy forests clings to his clothes. He must have come straight from a mission, not unusual in the slightest, yet in most cases he sends a message your way just to make sure he doesn’t run into one of your one-night stands and it doesn’t get ugly.

    Like right now.

    “I thought you had a little more class than that,” he says nonchalantly. His feet keep wobbling from left to right until you make your way over and push them off your table. Not that you actually sit there to take your meals, no. But this is your home, you have to assert dominance.

    “Well, I’m not picky,” you say, taking the empty chair opposite from him. “The nights of Fyrva’snezh are really fucking cold.”

    “I’m sure Fire-Water will do the same trick.” He’s sulking, yet he has no right to it and knowing Tartaglia, that’s why he sulks even more.

    Your relationship can be summarised with one word: complicated. Which is funny, because besides martial arts classes (taught by a teacher that is a real ball of sunshine who could easily snap your spine like a twig) and infiltration tactics courses (led by a grumpy teacher who once woke you all up in the middle of the night to do a spontaneous quiz about infiltration steps and everyone who failed or fell asleep had to run a marathon through the forest in their underwear) you had to take at the Fatui military school of Zapolyarny, they also teach mathematics and molecular physics, and that shit was complicated.

    Growing up in a small seaside village—bless little Morepesok; how much you miss babushka Katya’s refreshing botvinia soup—with only a handful kids your age, gravitating towards Tartaglia was the natural development. He loves ice-fishing, you love eating fish. You gag just smelling solyanka, he wolfs it down like it might be his last meal on earth. Opposites attract each other, as they say, and how true it is for you two—you, the morning person and he, the night owl; his will of iron and your nerves of steel. Your bow, his sword, even though Tartaglia is a masochist who likes to make it hard for himself by trying to switch weapons solely because you’re better at it than him and he is a sore loser.

    His worship of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa, your fear of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa.

    “I don’t think you came all the way here just to call me a slut,” you say. He is in no position to do so anyway, because Camilla from the ptychy’moloko shop down the road that leads to the Sarov church didn’t shut up about blowing him for weeks until you sent her a liver of a pig and claimed that was the leftovers from the last girl that thought she could put a leash on the Eleventh of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. Camilla quickly moved on to an inconspicuous merchant who sells matryoshka dolls for a living and all is well that ends well.

    “What do you want?”

    Tartaglia starts tapping a gloved finger against the wooden table, a nervous tick you don’t know he’s aware of.

    “I’m leaving for Liyue first thing tomorrow.” His tone is low when he speaks, his earlier nonchalance replaced by a sense of urgency.

    “Okay.” It isn’t the first time he’s leaving Snezhnaya by order of the Tsaritsa, but every time he does, something inside you leaves with him. “So, you want me to keep an eye out for Teucer and the others?”

    “He’s really unhappy I’m leaving again already.” Tartaglia doesn’t mention the reason he was sent away just a couple of months ago to Inazuma was because he accidentally blew up an artillery factory belonging to a nobleman that secretly shipped orders to Fontain. The fallout from that was easier to handle with him not being anywhere nearby. Tartaglia is like a pair of hot tongues; no one is sure where to put him or how soon he would cool off, but if they just drop him, he might light the world on fire. Kid gloves are put on and a careful perimeter marked out.

    “And what excuse did you make up this time?” You knock your foot into his leg, lingering on his calf just a second too long before withdrawing again. “Another business trip to promote your toys? You can’t hold up this charade forever, you know.”

    “Why, your eyes feast on Snezhnaya’s greatest expatriate toy seller, now extending to the Liyue Branch of our Institute for Toy Research.” Tartaglia’s eyes have taken on a playful glint, and he leans forward as he speaks. “You wouldn’t be so cold to break a little boy’s heart. That’s not you.”

    You want to remind him that you have no problem to put an arrow between a man’s eyes, or rip out his fingernails, one by one, to get the information that you want.

    “You owe me, toy man.”

    “Put it on my tab.”

    Tartaglia looks like there’s something else he wants to say, but as always, he decides to swallow those words even though they must hurt like swallowing needles. You know that feeling, and so you help him sort out his tightly entangled yarn of emotions by figuratively pushing him off the cliff.

    “Don’t forget to bring condoms. I hear the women of Liyue are beautiful.”

    Tartaglia goes a sickly grey colour, like the ashes of a dead fire, but he’s been the leading role of this play too long to fall out of character now. He gets up and stretches like a cat getting comfortable in a spot of sunlight. His jacket rides up, showing a stripe of skin, and you quickly turn your head away before giving into leaning over the table and mark him with your teeth.

    Patting his left pants’ pocket, Tartaglia says, “I’m always prepared.” He carries a grin that is dry, humourless, and for a brief moment, you two lock eyes, trading a look that feels like a dare. You allow yourselves to imagine how he picks you up and carries you to your bed where you two would proceed to fuck without abandon through the whole day and the following night, leaving the bed only to get food until Tartaglia leaves for Liyue and you’d send each other love letters until his return. What an idea. What an utterly stupid, naive, wonderful idea.

    “Well, lucky ladies,” you say, not bothering to hide the jealousy in your voice because jealousy is easier to handle than regret.

    “Lucky indeed,” he agrees and dons his easy-going smile, one that he’s perfected after hours upon hours in front of the mirror until it accomplished what he wanted: to mock people, infuriate them.

    On his way out, he stops to ruffle your hair in an affectionate way, one typical for childhood friends, but the distance between you is like the ocean separating Snezhnaya from Liyue.

    It was on the very first day of your conscription into the military organisation, Number Six of the Ten Laws that the Fatui abide by: Any physical or romantic relationship between Fatui agents is prohibited. As thou would not exchange flesh with thy brother or sister, so thou shalt not with your comrade, for he or she is thy brother or sister in arms.

    And everyone knows Her Majesty the Tsaritsa’s word is law, and though the law is hard, it is the law.

__________________________________________________

please drop by my ko-fi if you enjoyed my writing!

[wrenhyperfixates]

Love Poison

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: You plan to take extreme measures to catch Loki’s eye. Unfortunately, things backfire terribly. Can something good come of the mess? Warnings: use of a love potion (putting this here because in case that bothers some people) but I think that’s it A/N: For @tom-hlover​. Thanks for requesting and hope you enjoy!

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant​​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @lokistan​ @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs​

Disclaimer: Picture not mine

You glanced out the window of Tony’s lab. In the week since you’d been promoted to his personal assistant, you’d seen more of the Avengers than you had in your almost five years of working at the Tower. In fact, you’d seen all but the one you’d really been hoping to. Loki. You had a little crush on the god, you would admit, but you had no hope of getting to know him if he never stopped by the lab. You considered asking your boss about him, but decided that the embarrassment wasn’t worth the risk. So, instead, you kept on waiting.

Your lucky break came one day when Tony sent you to the kitchen to get him some coffee. A large part of you wanted to suggest sleep instead, since he’d pretty obviously been up since you’d left the Tower last night. But you were still too new to the job to be so bold. You were in the middle of pouring Tony’s drink when a certain raven haired god came rushing in, snickering to himself. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed you.

“Who are you?” he asked sharply, as if he had been caught in the middle of something. Judging by the box of glowing vials he had with him, you supposed he might be. “How did you get in here?”

“Oh! I, uh, I work for Tony. I’m his new lab assistant,” you responded shyly, telling him your name.

“Ah, I see. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Loki of Asgard. That doesn’t happen to be Stark’s drink in your hands, does it?”

“Actually, yeah, it is. May I ask why?”

Loki peered over his shoulder before turning back to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. You were almost certain your heart would beat out of your chest if you stayed in this close proximity to him any longer, but he finally began to explain himself.

“I was hoping to slip a potion into it. I had been planning on just dumping it into the coffee pot, but it would much easier if you could help me sneak it into the cup. Do not worry, I will not let you get into trouble. I will gladly take full blame. And, before you ask, it is completely safe.”

You contemplated for a minute trying to choose between your new job and Loki. The choice was pretty obvious, though, as you always tended to think more with your heart than your head. Maybe this could even spark a friendship between you and the god.

“Ok,” you nodded. “What’s it going to do?”

“It will make him burst out into uncontrollable laughter,” Loki explained as he set a few vials on the island, looking for the right one. “A harmless prank, really, but all I can get away with these days.”

A few moments later he was saying goodbye and hurrying off to enact his next prank. So much for that friendship you were hoping would bloom. Except, he’d left a potion behind. Maybe you could return it to him, and at least get another conversation out of it. But then you looked at the label and got another plan entirely. It was a love potion.

Ten minutes later you were staring at the bottle of glowing purple-pink liquid. Tony had run out to yell at Loki, knowing immediately who had been responsible for his sudden laughter. There were blueprints to be working on, you knew, but you’d had an idea, and it was proving nearly impossible to get it out of your mind. If you could just see Loki again, find him again, you could give him a drink with the potion in it. Not a lot, just a drop. Just nudge him into having feelings for you. Then once he got to know you, maybe the potion would have worked its way out of his system and his feelings would be real.

Almost without knowing what you were doing, you were pouring some of the contents in a cup of water. You poured yourself a cup of water, too, suddenly feeling very anxious. Was this right? You hadn’t technically stolen it or anything. But deep down, you knew that wasn’t the issue. This was crazy. It was manipulative. Everything about your relationship will have started out as a lie. Maybe you just needed another sip of water to calm down.

“Shit,” you whispered to yourself as you realized you’d drunk out of the wrong cup. Your mind went into full panic mode before focusing solely on Loki.

You skipped through the halls of the Tower, looking for your otherworldly prince. He said your name in a question as he almost collided into you. Immediately he knew something was off, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It would bug him until he could.

“Did Stark send you after me?” he questioned. “I do not suppose you would be willing to help me out a second time?”

“Tony didn’t send me,” you brazenly replied. “I’m here to ask you on a date, Loki.”

“And why,” he said in a sharp laugh of disbelief, “would you do that?”

“Because I’m in love with you.”

His eyebrows shot halfway up his face. Not only was that an outrageous thing to say because you hardly knew each other, it was unbelievable because he was, well, him. Plus, you seemed a lot more bold than you had earlier. He almost didn’t believe it was the same person. Maybe you had a twin running around. Or maybe it was drugs. But no. He’d seen the effect drugs had on Midgardians before, and this was different. Still, he could not figure it out.

“That is lovely, but-”

“He would love to!” Thor cut his brother off as he appeared from around the corner. “How about you get some coffee? You like coffee, right brother?”

“No.”

“It’s perfect considering how we met,” you giggled as Loki grimaced. “I know a place that has coffee and tea, if you like that better.”

Loki desperately wanted to decline, but it was the last thing he needed for his image. Besides, he was pretty sure Thor would drag him there even if he said no.

“Very well. I shall meet you in the lobby at seven.”

“See you later, Loki,” you giggled as you waved goodbye, leaving to go doodle his name in your notebook.

“Well, well, brother,” Thor said. “I had no idea you had finally realized what an eligible bachelor you are. Good for you, putting yourself out there.”

“I suppose you were not at the same conversation I was,” Loki said wryly. “You put me out there. I was about to say no.”

“Come now, it will be good for you. Why do you seem so dismayed?”

“It does not make sense that they like me. No, they said love, actually. For one, I hardly know them. For two, I am me, don’t forget. Harbinger of destruction in the Battle of New York. Something is not adding up.”

“Just enjoy this, brother. Someone has realized how wonderful you are and asked you out. It is just how things work on Midgard.”

“Perhaps,” Loki mused, wracking his brain. “But I must do some research. There may be magic involved.”

“You know what,” his brother sighed, “I am going to help you just to prove this is real.”

“If you must.”

The search proved fruitless, but Loki was determined to comb through more of his enchantment books later. Right now, however, he had to meet you. For a date. The whole thing still sounded absolutely absurd. Though, he would admit you did look rather adorable bundled in your coat, ready to go out in the cold night air. Being the gentleman that he was, he offered you his arm, which you excitedly took as you giggled. That was another thing, why were you suddenly so bubbly? It was a far cry from the shy, easily flustered person he’d met earlier. He added it to his mental list of possible symptoms of whatever was afflicting you.

About an hour later, the two of you were still seated in the small café you’d brought him to. Loki was, surprisingly, enjoying himself. He had to keep reminding himself that this was not real, that he shouldn’t get too attached, for he was sure he’d figure this out sooner or later.

“Really?” you laughed as he finished his story.

“Yes, the entire chair just gave out from under him,” he recalled, telling you of one of the many times he’d pranked Thor in their youth. “After all, he’d just said to stop gluing him to it. Everything else was fair game. The best part was father never could prove I was behind it.”

“I wish I was clever like that. Or could do magic.”

“Well, I’ve never heard of a Midgardian working seiðr before, but I suppose nothing is impossible. I fear I may not be the best teacher, though. I lack the patience a good teacher should possess.”

“You seem plenty patient to me. Loki, you’re...” you said, nervously casting your eyes down to the floor, “well, you’re amazing.”

He blushed at your words, but accepted them with a small thank you. You’d calmed down considerably throughout the course of the evening, now seemingly fully captivated in your conversation with Loki. And he even found himself thinking that he didn’t mind your company, a rare thing indeed. Maybe Thor was right after all. Maybe this was real. As much as he wanted to believe that, deep down, he still knew something was very, very wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki took you out again a week later. After a dinner out in the city, he had nervously brought you back to the Tower for a movie on his couch. It had been Thor’s idea, though he seemed to have been hinting at something else by suggesting Loki bring you back to his quarters. But, thankfully, you didn’t seem particularly interested in any of those things. Rather, you were content to just sit with Loki and let the movie play. You were curled into his side, cuddling him. It took someone actually wanting to be near to him to make him realize how touch starved he actually was. It alarmed him at first, to have you so close, but he relaxed as you began methodically braiding and unbraiding a few locks of his hair. A small smile played at his lips as he thought of the domestic simplicity of it.

“Hey, Loki,” you said. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“I am too. And to think, it all started with a simple prank.”

Loki suddenly stood up from the couch, accidentally pushing you off him. He apologized as he rushed over to his bookcase. Remembering how you’d first met had made him think of something; he’d been searching for an enchantment, but he’d never considered it being the effect of a potion. Reading the page in the book, he realized you were exhibiting all the symptoms. He sighed and checked his potion box, hoping against hope that he would find nothing missing. Unfortunately, he did.

He’d packed up his things so quickly that he must have left one behind and, one way or another, you’d consumed it. And of course it had to be that one of all the options. It was more love poison than love potion, he thought to himself as he scoffed. He sat down and plopped onto the couch, burying his head in his hands.

“Loki?” you hesitantly asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, my darling, I am so sorry. It is all my fault,” he apologized, taking your hands as confusion sparked behind your eyes. “It may take a little time, but I will fix this. For now, you should go home.”

“But, Loki,” you sniffled. “I don’t want to. What’s happening? Can I see you tomorrow?”

He hesitated. He really shouldn’t let this continue, for both your sakes. “I... Yes, I will you see you tomorrow. Do not worry about what is going on, I will take care of it.”

You sniffled some more, but acquiesced. After placing a kiss to his cheek, you set off towards your flat, leaving the unfinished movie playing in the background. Loki immediately started preparing the antidote. It would take nearly a week to fully brew, and he tried to figure out what to do with you in the meantime. He feared that if he kept seeing you, you would hate him when you came to. But, if he rejected you now, you might become violent and unpredictable. Better to keep you safe. And, if he was lucky for once in his life, maybe he could have a chance with you once you were in your right mind.

As soon as the antidote finished, Loki prepared to give it to you. He’d found the bottle of love potion hidden in Tony’s lab and concluded you couldn’t have used more than a few drops. He even dared hope for a second that you hadn’t used it, after all, but then he noticed the seal had been broken. The small dosage must have been the reason he didn’t recognize the side effects as belonging to it right away. The larger the dosage, the more intense the effects.

“Hi Loki,” you greeted as he opened the door for you.

“Hello, darling.”

“Is something wrong?” you asked, cupping his cheek. “You seem upset.”

“I am fine. May I interest you in a glass of water? Tea? Anything to drink, really.”

“Oh! I guess water sounds good. Thanks,” you smiled.

He handed you the cup and waited while you took a sip. The effects were almost instantaneous, filling him with both joy and sadness at the same time. You gazed around the room with a dazed look on your face. Loki helped you to a chair as you regained your senses.

“Oh my gosh,” you gasped. “Loki, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what, darling? I am the one who left the potion lying around.”

“Yes, but,” you started, wondering how much you could get away with. You decided it was just best to come clean. “I should have returned it as soon as I saw it. Not... not try to give it to you. Serves me right that I accidentally took it myself.”

“You were trying to give it to me?” Loki inquired with furrowed brows. “What would you do a thing like that for?”

“Because,” you gulped, “I really do have a crush on you, Loki. I was desperate, I guess. But that’s no excuse, so yeah, I’m sorry. I should go now.”

“Wait,” he called after you before you could run off. You were rather charming, he thought. And he did believe that he got to know a bit of the real you through the potion. Besides, maybe Thor was right, and it was time he put himself out there. “I know we did not start under the best circumstances, but I would like to take you on a real date if you will allow it. Say, tonight?”

“Really?” you squeaked in disbelief. “I would love to, Loki.”

“Just do me one favor, darling. Stay away from potions, please.”

“Believe me,” you nervously laughed, “I plan on it.”

You scurried away to text your friends about the crazy turn of events. Loki smiled after you before destroying the rest of the love potion, happy that some good was able to come out of the whole mess. But there was one thing he knew for certain; he’d be swearing off potion making for quite some time.

[amethystroselilith]

Intertwined Fates (Chilumi/Zhonglumi) - Chapter 1

Can be read in ao3 here

This chapter has a really small bit of mentioning ScaraMona (While I don’t ship them that much, I like how people write their little dynamic)

SUMMARY: After 5 years, Lumine had finally adjusted to her new life...

5 years…

5 years ago when she lost Zhongli

5 years ago when her world shattered

Lumine slowly opened her eyes as she felt an insistent poking on her cheek, vision blurry until her golden eyes met with wide magenta eyes.

“Qiqi, what’s wrong?” she asked sleepily, judging from her surroundings it’s still in the middle of the night. 

“Can’t sleep.” she simply said, “Mama, play. Let’s play.” she pouted as she tried to shake her mother awake.

The blonde woman sighed, glancing at the digital clock on the bedside table, 2:30 am.

“Qiqi, it’s a bit too late for playtime, why don’t we sleep and play in the morning? Mama has no work, so we can play all you want.” Lumine smiled, however, regretted it when Qiqi’s eyes grew more excited.

“Then play now! More time to play with Qiqi.” the purple-haired girl awed, “Mama, please, Mamaaa…” 

“Qiqi, please… Mama’s still a bit tired.” she sighed, guilt filling her immediately when sadness glazed over her daughter’s eyes.

Lumine was about to give in until she felt a pair of arms snaking around her waist, warmth on her back, and ginger hair tickling her face, “Hm? What’s happening here?” he tiredly asked though she can feel the smile on her face.

“Papa! Mama’s gonna play with Qiqi.” the young girl smiled.

5 years ago when Ajax started picking up the broken pieces…

“Isn’t it a bit late, princess?” Ajax chuckled as he sat up to pick up the child and settled her on his lap, “Mama’s still a bit tired though, and it is way past your bedtime and way too early for you to be up.” 

Lumine rolled over to watch the most important people in her life.

2 months ago when she fully got herself back together to start a new chapter with Ajax together with their daughter.

She watched Ajax convince Qiqi why they should go back to sleep, words didn’t really register in Lumine’s brain for it had gone to wander on the memories from the past 5 years.

~~~

“Lumi, it’s time to eat,” Ajax said as he entered the room carrying a tray of food.

“Not hungry,” Lumine answered, unmoving and staring blankly at the wall.

The man sighed, “Lumi, please.” he said as he placed the tray on a nearby table before walking to the bed, “You haven’t eaten much earlier.” 

“Just leave me alone,” she said, voice cracking just like her heart.

It was three days after the funeral and Lumine can barely take care of herself, her twin and Ajax had mostly been taking care of her, Aether being the one responsible for the formal papers related to Zhongli’s death as well as running their bakery, together with his brother in law, Xiao, who is also grieving for losing his only kin.

Lumine can’t help but admire how he could still function while she barely even have the energy to move from her current position. And that thought just made her feel worse.

“Lumi…” Ajax called quietly as he watches the familiar trembling of her shoulders. 

And that’s how it usually goes, Ajax climbing next to her and hugging her tight, giving as well as seeking comfort as he quietly let the tears slide down his own eyes.

A month later, Lumine began taking care of herself again, telling herself that she needs to take proper care of her unborn daughter, their little Qiqi, the name was random, to be honest, she and Zhongli are trying to come up with a name by blurting out random names they can think of. The name came from Zhongli, it was a completely random name, but it was the one that grew on them as days passed by trying to name their daughter.

Qiqi came a bit earlier than they expected. Lumine was in their bakery, trying to fall back into a routine without mourning for her husband’s death. Aether and Xiao have provided a good support system at work, even Ajax stops by during his break from work. 

Ajax, who had also picked himself together, even getting promoted in a powerful and influential company called Fatui, as one of the 11th Harbingers, the youngest who had been given the position. 

Ajax, who stayed true to his word by being Lumine’s side, supporting her in every way he can.

Ajax, who freaked out so much when Lumine’s water broke, Aether had to slap him to get him to focus.

Welcoming Qiqi to the world, was life-changing for Lumine. She expected that to happen, but with all the tragedy the transpired, it just felt so different. It’s as if she was reborn with new hope and dreams. 

So she worked hard for them. Worked hard until their bakery, Emergency Sweets, gained popularity. She won’t lie, she has a huge feeling Ajax pulled some strings, but customers don’t just stay for pretty words on an article, they stay for the twin’s speciality; Pie Mon, a fairy shaped dessert that would magically satisfy your sweet cravings. 

Lumine’s life was bright again as she raised her daughter. 

And so is Ajax’s…

He didn’t know why, and he certainly doesn’t even have to, but he never stopped himself going straight to the twins’ place where Aether had welcomed her sister back, every after work. 

Never stopped himself helping Lumine raise Qiqi.

Never stopped falling in a domestic routine with Lumine.

Never stopped the feelings growing back in his chest.

Never stopped himself leaning into a kiss after a particular emotional dinner.

They had a fight months ago before they got together, they don’t even remember what it is nowadays but Ajax could remember how he never stopped deepening the kiss.

Or how he never stopped the night from going to be one of the most passionate night he ever had.

It was wrong, it felt all so wrong, but at the same time felt right. 

For the first time in forever, Ajax felt like he had finally come home.

The day after that was a flurry of emotions for them, the guilt loomed on them. Both distancing themselves for a while until Ajax just had enough. 

It felt fucked up, but Ajax can’t help but crave for that feeling again. The feeling of being in her arms, the feeling of sharing and receiving something so intimate, the feeling of being loved back by the woman who had always been so close yet feel so far.

Ajax was mad at himself for having feelings for his best friend’s wife. But what can he do? He’s tired of wanting something he can’t have, and now that it looks like he has a chance, it was hard to control the desperation in his heart. 

It felt fucked up, but Ajax knows he can take the responsibility well. That he can give them the best life they could ever want, that he’ll protect them with all his life.

It felt fucked up, but Ajax selfishly gave in the thought. 

It wasn’t all easy on Lumine’s side. 

Her feelings are a mess, guilt from sleeping with someone else but Zhongli, but at the same time her feelings coming into terms that Ajax is also someone very special to her.

She had been feeling something different every time she sees Ajax. The same fluttery feeling she felt when she sees Zhongli before, the same feeling of longing when he’s gone.

Aether had felt something was off, he is her twin after all. He listens as Lumine poured her heart out, wiped the tears she shed, just like he always had, and always will. 

And like the great brother he is, he lifted Lumine’s chin to look at him, he smiled, “Let your heart lead you to your happiness, Lumi. I’m sure Zhongli would want to see you happy.” 

And so she did.

It took a bit of time but eventually, they fell back into their old domestic routine.

Ajax will never forget the night he had finally come back to the twins’ place.

“Papa, you’re back!” 

~~~

Lumine snapped back to her senses when she felt Qiqi settling down beside her, yawning before her eyes closed. The blonde smiled before tucking her daughter properly under the blanket, fingers gently caressing the child’s face to lull her further to sleep. She stopped and watched Ajax settle back down himself.

Blue eyes met her golden ones, he smiled before taking Lumine’s hand and giving it a soft kiss, “Are you alright? You seem to be lost in thought.”

“Just thinking,” Lumine said, her finger moving to gently caress her lover’s cheek.

Ajax leaned into the touch, “Something wrong? You barely moved until Qiqi’s laid down and that took 30 minutes worth of story, you know.” he chuckled quietly.

Lumine smiled, “It’s nothing bad, just late night thoughts, I guess.”

He hummed, “And may I know what these thoughts are?” 

Ajax may already have a feeling about it, there’s only one thing that makes her zone out like that. 

Their relationship was received with different reactions, Aether threatening him if he hurt his sister he’s dead, their friends happy for them and demand he showers Lumine with all the happiness in the world… Xiao, however, didn’t take the news well, only leaving them with a cold glare about betraying Zhongli.

It upset Lumine, but she hides it from their friends, even if Ajax offered to have a talk with Xiao. They decided to give him some space first, let him slowly warm up to the idea that feelings are unpredictable and that his brother is not being replaced and will always have a place in their hearts.

“Just… I love you.” 

Ajax froze, eyes widening at Lumine’s smile. It was unexpected, he thought Lumine will shrug it off as nothing and he’ll be left with anxious thoughts of Lumine being unhappy again.

He was the persistent one in pursuing their relationship, helping Lumine became comfortable with her feelings and accept the fact that she loves another man now. 

And while Lumine had finally given up and freely chose to fall in love again, there’s still a bit of insecurity at the back of Ajax’s mind.

Even if they moved to a new home, spent passionate nights together, and Qiqi being a huge Papa’s girl, Ajax still can’t help but feel insecure about his standing in Lumine’s life, did he push her too much? Forced and chained her with him?

Those words rarely leave Lumine’s mouth, only answering it back when Ajax started it, but now that Lumine finally said it first, Ajax can’t help but feel his eyes water, nonetheless, he said it back, “I love you too.” with another kiss on her hand.

~~~

“What is she doing?” Lumine asked curiously as she helps Ajax clean the dishes by wiping the rinsed ones and placing them back on the rack.

Ajax hummed before looking at where Qiqi was. The little girl was crushing some of her animal crackers in a little bowl by the window. 

“Oh, well, the other day we were watching the animal channel and it’s talking about birds, Qiqi seems fascinated by the finches it seems and wonders if they would like animal crackers. I’m assuming she’s trying to lure them.” Ajax chuckled.

Ever since moving together, Ajax had decided to start working from home, not just it’s more convenient, but he also thought it’ll help Lumine, who used to bring Qiqi with her to work. While her uncles don’t mind watching over her, their work environment isn’t the most ideal for children. Being separated from each other wasn’t as easy as she thought, well it’s harder on Lumine; the first day away was spent with her calling Ajax every hour to see how Qiqi is doing. Qiqi, on the other hand, is actually fine being left behind with Ajax, which still baffles her cause she could never leave her with a babysitter before. But then she remembers how Ajax is part of Qiqi’s life ever since she was born. He’s always been there enough for Qiqi to think she’s her father. 

While Ajax certainly didn’t mind the title, instead, welcoming and taking the role seriously, Lumine wasn’t comfortable at first and had tried to subtly make Qiqi call him something else instead. Ajax respected her wishes, even helping her introduce Zhongli as her father. 

Qiqi can’t quite grasp the concept yet, how can this man on the picture be her Papa when he’s not there to tell her stories about the Legendary Cocogoat and tuck her into bed and kiss her forehead? 

Ajax and Lumine had explained in a sugarcoated way that her Papa is in a better place now but he’s always watching over her.

It still didn’t make sense to Qiqi, nor thought it was a big deal due to her age and would continue to call Ajax as her father. 

Lumine was already considering researching about explaining life and death to Qiqi, but Ajax had expressed discomfort, explaining that a child’s innocence should be preserved. Lumine stated that Ajax won’t be able to protect Qiqi forever, but she did agree that it’s a bit early.

They gave up at one point since it’s starting to upset the child as well, claiming that Ajax doesn’t love her and her mama is mean even if she was just gently correcting her. 

It broke both of their hearts, causing them to apologise and just let Qiqi be, besides, isn’t Ajax basically another father for her anyway? They’ll just save the talk again once she’s at the appropriate age.

“When do you think she’ll start asking for a pet?” Lumine chuckled.

“Hm, I mean it wouldn’t be bad getting her some finches, they’re actually low maintenance birds. We can buy a spacious cage in our garden and appropriate food for their diet.” Ajax considered, “I think it’s perfect for Qiqi since she’s more fond of observing than petting animals.” 

Lumine hums, thinking about the time where Qiqi was fascinated by her Auntie Xiangling’s pet panda, Guoba. The little girl was in awe as her magenta eyes followed whatever Guoba is doing. Pretty much squealing in delight when Guoba does something silly, only daring to approach and pet the animal when Xiangling’s holding the animal to avoid any unexpected accidents.

“I think it will be good, I’ll ask Aether about it as well though,” Lumine said as she placed the last of the dishes in its proper place. 

“I’m pretty sure he’ll suggest getting a dog instead.” Ajax laughed before drying his hands and pulling Lumine in his arms, nuzzling his face against her neck, “I mean, I’m not opposed to that idea as well.” 

“Well, maybe we can ask Qiqi what she thinks, though I’m pretty sure she’ll choose the finches,” she said leaning back and sighing to his touch, he had always been a touchy lover, but Lumine doesn’t mind it one bit.

“I have that feeling as well.” Ajax chuckled.

“Anyway, don’t you have work to do?” Lumine asked as she turned around facing Ajax and poking his cheek, “I’m pretty sure I saw Scaramouche threatening you in your messages. Have you been slacking off your work, Mr Tartaglia?” she teased, the phrase coming from their college days where Ajax isn’t too keen on finishing an individual paper from a minor class.

Ajax rolled his eyes, “The midget is threatening me to go along with his story that the Tsaritsa made him stay overtime to work on a report about our branch in Inazuma, how he was so desperate to go home but his phone died and he couldn’t message his wife, instead of him actually being too focused on work he forgot their anniversary date.” 

“Hm, I feel like Mona will know either way.” Lumi said as she thought about it, “She always does.” 

“And she probably will still murder him even if I went along with it. His fault and not my problem.” Ajax shrugged.

“I’m pretty sure he’ll do the same when you’re in the same situation.” Lumine snickered.

Ajax gave her an offended look, “How dare you, I’ll never forget such an important date.”

Lumine raised an eyebrow, “Yeah? Well, when’s ours?” 

“November 11, at 4:22 pm if you wanna be specific.” Ajax grinned at Lumine’s surprised face, “Told you, ojou-chan~” he used his special nickname for her before kissing the tip of her nose.

Lumine was about to retort back, but Qiqi had walked into the kitchen with her an assortment of toys, “Mama, Papa, play with Qiqi now?” she asked hopefully.

They both smiled warmly before untangling themselves from each other, “Papa will just make a call then I’ll join you and Mama, yeah?” he said as he knelt down to Qiqi’s height.

“Okay.” she smiled brightly before Ajax left to his office, she turned to her mother with a smile, “Mama, let’s go! Qiqi thought lots of games to play with Mama.” 

Lumine smiled before letting her daughter drag her to her playroom. It’s been a while since Lumine had taken a couple of days off from their bakery, though she comes home at 6 pm every night, Qiqi would complain that she was gone for forever and missed so much playtime with her and while she loves her papa so much, she misses playing with her mama as well.

As Qiqi continues to talk about what they’ll do, Lumine can’t help but feel happily content with how her life is now.

~~~

White… Everything is all white...

He doesn’t exactly remember where he was, nor how he got there.

Hell, he doesn’t even know who he is.

Nor who the golden-haired girl is that sometimes appears in the distance.

All he knows is that if he finally reaches her, 

He’ll be home.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 268: Please Don’t Tap on the Glass

Previously on BnHA: Dabi revealed his true identity to Hawks! His real name is actually [sound of semi truck horns blaring]. What’s that? You didn’t hear me? I said it’s [sound of dolphins chattering]. You really need to listen better. Anyway, so Dabi set Hawks on fire a bunch of times, and Hawks had some flashbacks indicating that Endeavor saved him when he was a small child, and just when it was starting to look like we might get our second tragic death chapter in a row, Tokoyami showed up to defend his mentor! Meanwhile in Jakku, Miruko remembered that even though kicking ass is fun and she’s really good at it, she still had a job to do, so she sped off toward Ujiko’s little hideaway, getting stabbed and impaled a bunch of times along the way and losing an ear and shit (I very much look forward to the cyberpunk robot-limbed Miruko 2.0 that we had better fucking get once this arc is over). Fortunately Endeavor showed up to help her out! Anyway, so absolutely no one was talking about this last week, but the chapter totally ended with Miruko about to bust open Tomura’s bacta tank with a badass roundhouse kick, so, uh. Shit might be about to go down you guys.

Today on BnHA: Shit does indeed go down, but at a very languid pace. Ujiko apparently built Tomura’s holding tank out of Nokia phones and kevlar, so even though Miruko gets a few good kicks in, she ultimately doesn’t do more than just crack it. So now the tank is just standing there leaking ominously while Ujiko sobs for no reason and we all ponder whether or not a 75%-charged Tomura will be any less doom-harbinging than the full-fledged deal. In the meantime we’ve got Girl Noumu thinking strategic thoughts and chucking acid at peeps; Crust still doing absolutely nothing; Endeavor not doing that much better to be honest; and Mic and Aizawa ready and raring to go kill the old man who turned their dead buddy into a sentient Einstein-Rosen bridge. Obviously I’m all in favor of this last bit, but I’m also on team “Mic and Aizawa not dying horribly” though, so. I do have some concerns here.

full disclosure, I’m very sleep-deprived for various reasons related to various things which can be broadly summed up as Just 2020 In General. so anyway, I’m dealing with it, but I’ve noticed that my rate of typos and errors and such has shot waaaaay up in this past week or so, so I’m just putting that out there that you may find some weird shit in this post! maybe I will write the same sentence maybe I will write the same sentence multiple times, or or the same word twice in a row by mistake, or use the completely wrong word. you are more than welcome to point this out and I will not take any offense and will indeed be grateful because I’ve apparently gone blind to it all! anyway so how are you I hope everyone is well

anyway! the chapter is early (god for all I know it’s been out for hours already. HOW FAR BEHIND AM I) so I’m recapping it early so that I will have more time to play Animal Crossing and fish and craft all of my troubles away. speaking of which Horikoshi, you had better not bring me any troubles this week, I am not in the mood do you hear

good fucking lord

is all of that Miruko’s blood??!? god, she’s even better at bleeding than everyone else. now hold up all you excited vampires, you all can get in line, I was here first

by the way Endeavor, I gave you a pass last week because your entrance was so fucking raw and you saved my girl’s life and that was really neat my man. but now that I’ve recovered from my shock and awe and am ready to be sarcastic once more, I just want to say... welcome to the party, guy. did you stop for drive-thru on your commute from the other side of the planet. were you simply not immune to the bizarre 5th dimensional time-stands-still effects of March 2020. are you curious at all how your son has changed during these past 20 years, and by “son” I am referring not to Dabi, but Shouto. are you looking forward to meeting all of Shouto’s children. are you excited to be a granddad. anyway thank you so fucking much for finally making your way down to this lair with all the speed and haste of a federal appeals process

and I see Crust is still fighting this guy after six decades

(ETA: I would be more upset about the scan quality here, but let’s face it, nobody actually cares about seeing this in HD. I’m sorry Crust.)

and we’re really expected to believe this is the very next ranked hero below Miruko. could it be that the hero ranking system is actually flawed. don’t tell me. I’m just as shocked as you are

seriously??

are we really going to stop and chat with Geriatric Hero: Crust over here. really. far be it from me to tell you how to do your job, Number One. but I’m just saying, I’m pretty sure he does still have... let’s just check... one... two... yep, two arms. not that I’m saying your system for prioritizing which of your fellow heroes to help out should be based off of the number of arms they have. but also I am saying that

OH SONNY BOY

is that a two-page panel of Aizawa Hatake Kakashi Shouta and his loyal husband Screaming Man leaping into the fray to take on some high end Noumus with their bad and sexy selves. I think that’s exactly what it is. are we blessed or are we blessed. Aizawa I’m pleased to see you haven’t aged a day and are looking just as fine as ever in this the year 2045

oh wow Endeavor I thought you had incinerated it

why wouldn’t you incinerate it. please incinerate it. did you not learn your lesson. please don’t start taking your cues from Dilly Dally Hero: Crust over here

oh wow

and yet Miruko was kicking all of their asses like they were made of plywood. really though guys. only number five. okay

Aizawa’s shouting that he wasn’t able to erase that last Noumu who was impaling Miruko because his vision was obstructed. that’s okay Aizawa, that’s why Endeavor is hopefully about to incinerate him

oh snap here we go

again, one has to wonder what kinds of interactions with rabbits Horikoshi has had in his troubled young life so as to influence his writing of Miruko’s quirk in such a way. did you at some point get rabbits confused with... I don’t even know. polar bears?! not that I’m fucking complaining holy shit

anyway, so just a friendly reminder that if Miruko dies here I will in fact push the button which triggers the hidden ejector seat built into Horikoshi’s office chair. he will be missed. but he had a good run

ho lyyyyyyy shit

so... Miruko I love you but... then why would you break the fucking vat apart with your moon-powered legs. Miruko. Miruko are you listening. oh shit she’s missing an ear I forgot. oh shit. oh shit

MIRUKO I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BUT WHY THE FUCK DIDN’T YOU JUST KICK THE BALD MAN IN THE LAB COAT INSTEAD goddammit well it’s been nice knowing y’all

well then. so this is happening. this is really happening. at least she saved us all from having to face the 100%-charged world-ending Tomura somewhere down the line. instead all we have to do is face the 74%-charged Tomura right fucking now. so that’s. ...I wonder how Tokoyami is doing

holy shit!

leave it to Girl Noumu to be the smart one. for a minute I thought maybe Ujiko had given her Ragdoll’s long-lost quirk. but then I realized that this isn’t a quirk at all, this is just her being smart and using her Big Noumu Brain. anyway so I’m preemptively sorry for having to root against you, Girl Noumu

so now she’s pondering how to disable Aizawa’s quirk. meanwhile I just remembered that we haven’t seen her quirk yet I think. please let it be something good

oh snap she ran away and made it out of Aizawa’s sight range oh fuck

the fuck is up with this thicc fucking Girl Noumu page I can’t tell wtf is going on

LOL OH SHIT

NOT TO WORRY GUYS SHE’S JUST SHOOTING BIG GIANT GLOBS OF ACID AT EVERYONE. can anyone tell if Endeavor has incinerated this Noumu yet down in the middle panel on the left. what is the fucking holdup

and now there’s a big double page of Miruko shattering Tomura’s Noumu Vat, and I can’t quite tell, but it looks like her eyes might be rolling back in a way which I decidedly do not like

(ETA: nah on closer inspection we’re good.)

didn’t she just do this like four pages ago. and how the hell did Tomura suddenly jump from 74% to 75% in like .2 seconds

oh thank god she’s still awake. but now she’s being dragged back now by the Noumu’s bone appendage things because Endeavor SERIOUSLY CANNOT GET HIS FUCKING ACT TOGETHER LONG ENOUGH TO FUCKING LIGHT ITS BRAIN TO ASHES ALREADY, LIKE SERIOUSLY THOUGH. WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL OF THAT TALK ABOUT THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING FAST AND THE DIFFERENCE A SPLIT SECOND MAKES

Miruko if we make it out of this alive, I’m promoting you to number one. Fatgum will be number two. the only two pro heroes in this arc who have actually impressed me at all. shame on the rest of you. shame

so now somehow or some way Miruko is being flung into Endeavor at the speed of light

I don’t understand this at all. did the Noumu retract those bone whips back into its body superfast while dragging Miruko back with them and somehow it managed to avoid being hit by her projectile body but Endeavor took the impact straight on. this doesn’t make any kind of sense to me with my admittedly rudimentary understanding of physics. but then again it is a fucking manga so I’m not about to call NASA and ask them if this could really happen. so this was a waste of a paragraph I guess!! my bad!!

swear to god this is like the fifth panel of Ujiko just screaming. please just stop. what do you have to be worried about anyway? although if Tomura suddenly went crazy upon awakening and just straight up killed you for no reason, that sure would be delightful! that wouldn’t happen, though. or would it

WHAT IS THIS FUCKING FISH TANK MADE OF

IS THIS A TUBE OF GLASS OR A FUCKING FALLOUT SHELTER

ENDEAVOR I’M GLAD YOU’RE CONCERNED ABOUT MIRUKO BECAUSE I AM TOO, AND ALSO IT’S ALWAYS NICE TO SEE THAT YOU DO HAVE A HEART, BUT ALSO MAYBE JUST LEAVE HER FOR NOW THOUGH, SERIOUSLY??

though on the other hand it’s already too late to stop this inevitable tide, so maybe at this point they should all just get the fuck out of there instead. at least Miruko did her fucking job and saved you all from having to face the invincible unstoppable version. that’ll be a real comfort to everyone when he’s out laying waste to the countryside, I’m sure. but still

-- oh no

the boys heard that. listen you guys, I want Ujiko to die as much as anyone, but I’m gonna need you to not go anywhere near Shigaraki fucking Tomura now or ever. please. do you hear me?? you two still have both of your ears goddammit I want some acknowledgement

-- NO!!!

(ETA: is that. a fucking Tomura dialogue bubble. something stirs in the east. a sleepless malice. the eyes of the enemy are moving.)

THE MANGA GIVETH AND THE MANGA TAKETH AWAY nooooo from 20 pages last week back down to the usual 17. I got spoiled. I expected too much. sob

so now we settle in to wait two weeks to see if Mic’s piercing tones can shatter this fucking adamantium tank like a wine glass. I’m not sure I’m ready for the Noumuraki Tomuracalpse you guys. then again by this point I’m braced for just about anything though so bring it

[coteriesrp]

– ADDY HAS BEEN ACCEPTED WITH DIVYA (AS NEELAM GILL)! CONGRATULATIONS!

You really went above and beyond on the character extras, holy shit. The app stands incredibly well on its own, providing a crystal clear image of your take on the character, your beautiful writing style, and nailing the vibe I had in mind absolutely perfectly; and then the extra work you did on establishing a background for her that really grounds her in the world provides such a tasty icing on top. Really looking forward to how much she and Dizzy are gonna get on each others’ nerves.

         — KIT

I love your writing, first off. It's the first thing I noticed, reading your application.  I was immediately taken by your portrayal of Divya, hard and ambitious and as Ventrue as Ventrue can be, pre- and post-Embrace. But the bit that really, really caught me was: "She still remembers the warmth of his blood staining her palms and fingers, and the way he tasted so foul. One thing became clear – her curated palate had no taste for the greedy." Do I really need to say ANYTHING beyond that? I'll just let your writing there stand on its own.

        — GHOST

You’ll be sent a link to our Discord shortly and have 24 hours to accept the invite or your role will be reopened.

out of character info.

ALIAS › addy

PRONOUNS › she/her

AGE › 23

TIMEZONE › gmt -6

in character info.

CHARACTER › divya patil

GENDER & PRONOUNS › cis woman ; she/her

APPARENT AGE › twenty-five years old

DISCIPLINE › auspex

DEMEANOUR ›

The unbridled thirst for power that courses through her veins is an unparalleled hunger; it permeates the very core of her being, multiplying into each cell, each nucleus, until the buzzing desire to control anything within her grasp consumes her in its ravenous flames. Her obsession with the concept of perfection has yielded a woman who abhors error in any form; those who have been cursed with the misfortune of her extended company are forced to reckon with her nit-picking, for Divya would never tolerate anything less than first-rate results. She’s quick to criticize, quick to undermine anyone who dares to stand before her. A cold, glacial exterior keeps her vulnerabilities locked tightly within. A part of Divya is foolish enough to believe that forcibly tearing her demons into small, bite-sized pieces and pushing them into the deepest, darkest crevices of her untouched mind may take away her weaknesses altogether. She speaks with hardened resolve, clinical and business-like at certain times & haughty and enraged at others. Her easily-ignited temper is the product of years of trauma, abuse, and mental degradation. Divya is and always will be the embodiment of power – from the way she holds her head high to the corruption she breeds in her heart.

JOINING THE COTERIE ›

Divya’s very existence has always hinged on the ability to step on others to lift herself up from her own ashes; as the daughter of one of New York’s most powerful influences perched upon the throne of Wall Street, she learned quickly that any and every man around her would come for blood if it mean subjugating her into nothing. Her aching desire to prove herself fostered the urge to join ranks with the most powerful forces around her. She often gravitated towards royal-esque entities, hoping to glean even the slightest bit of their golden-hued aura for herself – so to be offered the prestigious opportunity to join the ranks of generational power un her unlife felt almost like a reward for her trauma. To be bestowed with this chance – this gift… it felt right. Like this had been her destiny all along. She joined with arms outstretched, unbeating heart twisting at the ability to finally embrace a coterie that fitted her ideals of absolute perfection.

(UN)LIFE’S PHILOSOPHY ›

Her transition into the life of the Kindred allowed Divya to embrace the ravenous hunger that had always gnawed at the pit of her stomach; to be able to fully embody the petulant desire to tower high above others was a natural inclination that seized her almost immediately. Christened by the Clan Ventrue, Divya and her refined palate find a certain level of carnal pleasure in using the dimwitted Kine to her advantage. She had always been a bit exclusionary in her mortalhood – and now, as one of the undead, it feels only natural that she view vessels as nothing more than toys, devices, and forms of nutrition rather than as sentient, separate viewings. She views her new unlife as a transition for bigger and better things. The ability to pervade the senses, thoughts, and perceptions of the Kine bring her much joy, an adrenaline-induced power trip often following suit. Her philosophy surrounding her new state of being is what it had been when she had been a weaker, sniveling human fool – become greater than anything anything anyone has ever seen and then some.

THOUGHTS ON HUMANITY ›

Foolish, dimwitted sheep; Divya views nothing more disdainfully than she does her own time as one of the Kine. Humans had always been so painfully ignorant of their own capabilities, slaving away to graves of their own making – and now that Divya has been reborn as one of the Kindred, she sees them for what humanity truly is. A plague. Her archaic beliefs are abnormal for someone born in such modern society, but they linger nonetheless, dwelling in the hollows of her black heart until all she can see in humans is whether they are worthy of her finicky palate or would be better off left dead.

LIFE EVENTS ( tw: physical abuse. ) ›

manhattan, new york city, ny / 2013 – She was 23 years old; under her belt was a masters in business analytics from Columbia University. Divya had foolishly thought that such a fleeting accomplishment would earn her father’s good favor – but she learned quickly that not even exemplar grades and a prestigious institution would be enough to prove that she was worth her salt. She stood idly in the entryway to the large, sprawling penthouse her father called home, perfectly-manicured fingernails digging ever so slightly into the smooth surface of her iPhone. Dark hues watched with thinly-veiled anticipation as her father’s large figure paced intermittently in the wide living room. There was an air of impending doom sinking deep into her skin, burrowing into her bones and making a home in her marrow – but then again, it always seemed as if a deep sense of foreboding followed her wherever she went. All Divya had asked was whether her father had decided to appoint her to the position of CFO or not, as he had promised he would upon the completion of her degree. She had spoken calmly, measured tone far from minced, and had her head held high. Such an act, however, had been easily misconstrued as defiance. Heresy. She clenched her teeth together tightly as her father came to an abrupt halt. Her heart raced angrily in her chest, beating wildly against the confines of her ribcage, as she watched him turn then slowly make his way over to her. Divya didn’t dare speak; if she wanted her moment of glory, wanted her moment of appreciation, she would have to bide her time. When she looks into her father’s eyes, though, she sees nothing akin to pride. Instead, there was a look of disappointed rage. The fire lighting up her insides dimmed and before she could part her lips to ask what concerned him, his hand came sharply down against her cheek. Head snapped to the side and the dull throb of angry pain singing her face was nothing compared to the shame coiled deep in the pit of her stomach. She lowered her gaze, swallowing back the protest balancing at the tip of her tongue. “Never ask me again for something outside of your league,” her father warned, baritone growl low and menacing. “When you finally show promise worthy of anything more than a lowly intern position, then I will consider it. You think your Masters makes you any more qualified? Please.” His patronizing scoff crawled under her skin and twisted her insides. “If you want power, you’ll have to work harder than that.”

brooklyn, new york city, ny / 2016 – Two years of fighting tooth and nail for every promotion, every acknowledgment, every little success left Divya with jaded disgust regarding every little surrounding her; having every move she made analyzed so relentlessly by the tyrant who helped birth her proved to push Divya to maddening extremes. She had successfully taken on the role of CFO of her father’s company, ousting each and every person that dared to gaze upon her for a fraction too long – and her agonizing temperament left her with few friends and far too many enemies. She was unwavering, a beacon of pure mental fortitude – and soon enough, her name became associated with the harbinger of figurative death. Women like her were never meant to be dainty. She was as jagged as a blade, sharpened teeth ready to destroy anything that came too close… and such a tenacious attitude won the favor of her soon to be sire. A chameleon Kindred from the Ventrue Clan had discovered her blazing flame of potential like a diamond in the ruff, spotting her at a Fundraising Gala with the astute sharpness of a hawk. When he approached her, Divya immediately fell into the dangerous habit of sizing up her supposed prey – though little did she realize that the man before her was an apex predator to the nth degree. It was not a sordid love affair nor was it anything romantic in the slightest; the bond Divya developed with her future sire was one of mentor and mentee. She learned how to control her surroundings in a way that her father never could – and soon, she became filled with the thirst for more, to become so much stronger than she already was. The initiation into her unlife came both suddenly and slowly. The culmination of her sessions with her sire came in the form of a singular offer – would Divya like to become the strongest there ever was? It felt rhetorical; she had laughed at first before finally, she said – “Of course I do.” It was the clarity of her voice that won her sire’s confidence. She would make for a strong Kindred. The Embrace and her sire’s careful protection produced a fledgling with stone-faced potential. She learned the ways of her discipline carefully and diligently until she was able to take on her most coveted task – to take out the man that had turned her into the monster she was today. One year after her Embrace, her Sire made it clear that she was ready for her Becoming. But to prove herself one more time, Divya had to embody her most carnal desire. When she slipped into her father’s penthouse, the man was sleeping soundly in his bed. She stood idly at his bedside, head cocked and dark hues intent. When careful fingers slowly drew the blankets back, he stirred with a tired groan. It was the last sound he made before Divya let the Beast spill free, unbridled and fueled by rage. She still remembers the warmth of his blood staining her palms and fingers, and the way he tasted so foul. One thing became clear – her curated palate had no taste for the greedy.

EXPANDING CONNECTIONS ›

dizzy / Vapid, air-headed behavior incites the most ragged of violences from within Divya’s core; she had never taken kindly to those who take everything they have for granted and Dizzy’s painful bubbliness easily falls under this category. Perhaps, though, Divya’s obvious distaste for the girl stems from a place of vague jealousy. What is it like, to live so freely and free of shackled chains binding one’s ankles? Will she ever know, or will she always be a slave to her own work ethic? She has not a clue and perhaps that is exactly why Dizzy’s dizzying personality pulls at Divya’s desire to snap uncontrollably at the drop of a hat. Maybe one day – she can learn from the other. But only when the tension is finally relieved from her bones.

harel / Respect is not a sensation Divya gives out freely; to earn her respect is a game of whether you can bear the brunt of her heavy gaze or not – but somehow, Harel has managed to tear down the expectations Divya so often holds. Their quietude and ability to bear what feels heavier than humanly – or Kindred-ly – possible puts her in a state of silent awe. She dares not admit this, though, because that would be weakness. Instead, she studies them suspiciously in hopes of one day besting them. It does not sit well with her to feel so small and meager compared to another and so, she persists. Uncomfortable, begrudging respect has left her with no words to say.

angel / Rapt attention has always so childish – but it’s a sensation that cannot be helped when her eyes fall upon Angel. Their strange ways interest her and she can’t help but feel as if they are the only being in this coterie that understands her in a way beyond superficial. She chides herself often on the fact that perhaps her fascination is childish – like a schoolgirl crush – but it does little to quell the fact that the lingering desire to treat Angel not only with respect, but as an equal, continues.

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LAST WORD ›

hewo! i hope you guys enjoy reading this application! only thing i wanted to ask if you guys are open to any alternate fcs? an idea i had is neelam gill! it’s totally oaky though if you’d prefer keeping the current fc over an alternate! just thought i’d ask! thank you guys!

[trevorbailey61]

The Flaming Lips

O2 Academy, Birmingham

Saturday 12th August 2017

I’ve never been to Newquay. In fact I can count the number of times I have visited Cornwall on the fingers of one hand meaning that it remains to me a place of mystery; I have spent more time in California and Cape Town than I have in this remote part of England. Our family holidays never ventured further into the south west than Devon and a trip to Ilfracombe before my parents decided that the beaches of South Wales provided the seaside experience at a much shorter distance. This faith proved to be misplaced when a week in Amroth was spent sheltering from the rain that relentlessly poured down for the duration of our stay; the outcome being that the following year we headed to the med for our first foreign holiday. Since then I have made two visits to St Ives, one a work trip where, typically, it rained all the time, one to Padstow and a few nights staying at St Anthony’s lighthouse near to Falmouth. Four visits, therefore in over fifty years; as a county only Kent has received such scant attention. Wayne Coyne, however, has visited Newquay and it is an experience he is keen to share with us tonight. He tells us about the young audience he played to, the screams of the teenagers whose uninhibited joy of the show he found exhilarating whilst also laying down the challenge for us to do better. It is a theme he will return to at times during the show, the liberating effect of letting go, something we lose as we get older and become more constrained by social conventions. It worked; the face of the man standing next to me, who had remained stern and static during the set by Public Service Broadcasting, was suddenly alight with joy as Coyne elicited louder and louder cheers and screams during the build-up. Mostly, however, this monologue was to buy time, a thirty minute changeover is pushing it for most acts but the complexity of both PSB and the headline stretched this to the limit. Thus while Coyne was holding our attention with tales from the South West, his long-time foil, Stephen Drozd, was frantically connecting leads to the gizmos and effects boxes that were stacked up on the stand in front of him. Happy that they were almost providing the sound he wanted, he departs to put on the cape without which the effect would not be complete, returns to shake the hands of everyone else on the stage and then takes his place behind one of the two drum kits. Finally, we are ready.

Later in the show, as the band were preparing the next assault on our senses, Coyne takes the opportunity to explain the band’s philosophy. Whilst their sound is wild and eccentric, their music does not shirk the real life problems and challenges we all face which adds an underlying sadness to many of their songs. There will be many there, he points out, who will have their own burden to carry or who are having to face up to the challenges and tragedies that life can throw at them. For ninety minutes, however, they want to forget all that and be carried along by the surreal exuberance of a show where no opportunity to heighten the experience of the songs is missed. The last time we saw them there was the fear of millennium bugs and planes falling from the skies, the uncertainty of what a new century would hold for us. They were still relatively unknown then but with the music press lapping up “The Soft Bulletin” and “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots”, they had built up the reputation to play to a sell-out crowd at the old Academy. It seems fitting, therefore, that it is during another period of uncertainty about the future that we should be seeing them again. The journalists may have moved on but the loyalty of the fans hasn’t and the glitter, face paint, flowers and costumes worn by those around me make my own concession of a flowery shirt seem pathetic in comparison. As a context, we have the threat of nuclear obliteration, the Lucifer heatwave as a terrifying harbinger of global warming and angry white men openly displaying swastikas and making Nazi salutes in an American city making you wonder why we managed to get so worked up about a minor computer glitch. If ever we needed an escape from the real world, it is now.

With four taps of drum sticks to count us in the escape arrives. With his back to the audience, Coyne orchestrates both band and audience through the opening chords until the pressure can be contained no longer. Then the release, “Race for the Prize” explodes in a blaze of white light, a shower of confetti, smoke bursting out of vents across the front of the stage and huge balloons being thrown out into the audience. It is difficult to think of anything else that could be added but they find it, more balloons, this time spelling out “Fuck Yeah Birmingham”. Amidst all this, a song was being played during to which my hitherto motionless friend was bouncing up and down without a care in the world, I was probably doing the same. I don’t think I have ever found the start of a concert so overwhelming but that was merely the beginning. During “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Part 1”, Coyne becomes the title character as a giant pink robot, what else, is slowly inflated behind him and for “There Should Be Unicorns” he rides around the audience on the back of, yes, a unicorn. The latter is one of only two songs from their most recent album, “Oczy Mlody”, the other “How?” shows that even a Flaming Lips universe of unicorns and rainbows offers only temporary refuge from the real one. As we listened to its message of understanding and tolerance, a torch lit parade and a car being driven into those protesting the open display of far right imagery showed just how fragile the values we think our society is built on can be. Its slow pace and sombre tone showed that amidst all the mayhem, there is always a serious message contained within their music.

With its relatively restrained setting, “How?” did provide a momentary respite but any notion that all their ideas were used up in the first three songs was quickly dispelled. For “Pompeii Am Götterdämmerung”, Coyne strikes a gong that blazes into light with every beat, he performs “The Yeah Yeah Yeah Song” wrapped up in foil and beams of light bounce off a mirror ball for “Are You a Hypnotist??” songs that have been part of the set for nearly two decades so that everything that could be thrown at them has been. The staging of “Space Oddity”, something that began as a Bowie tribute but has now found its regular place, is audacious even by their standards. Coyne climbs into a plastic ball that is inflated around him, enhancing the sense of isolation, alone amongst the stars that are picked out as specks of light behind. The first part he sings from the stage but then with a cue he is lifted over the barrier and is carried around the hall by the raised arms of the audience. Since his death, many have turned their attention to Bowie’s work but few have pulled it off with the panache shown here whilst remaining true to the spirit of the song. “The Wand” sees him flanked by two stage hands dressed as giant eyeballs before the dying embers of the stars are extinguished through unearthly splendour of “A Spoonful Weighs a Ton”. Then, finally, “Do You Realize?”, a song that manages to be unbearable sad and joyously uplifting at the same time and forms beautiful and emotional end to the evening. It reminds us that the theatrics, the spectacle, the over the top effects are rooted in music that is not afraid to show that it has a heart which is why, of course, it all works so well. Phenomenal.

I first saw Public Service Broadcasting at Latitude about three years ago while they were promoting their previous album, “The Race for Space”. Their use of archive footage and cut up dialogue from documentaries and public information films was certainly entertaining but offered little depth or insight to the space race. Ignoring the cold war context that provided a backdrop to the premature attempts to put people on the moon, the comfortable nostalgia instead looks back to hopelessly optimistic information films of the 50s that saw us all flying around in mini space ships. The gimmicky nature of this was exemplified when a model Sputnik descended onto the stage leaving those around it uncertain how they should react to this arrival, as someone said to me, a Spinal Tap moment. The wilfully eccentric names remain, J Willgoose Esq and drummer Wrigglesworth, but the gimmicks have been toned down in keeping with the theme of their latest venture, “Every Valley”.  After the previous show, I speculated on how they could develop such a narrowly contained niche but in “Every Valley” they have found a subject that allows them to broaden their approach and engage in a more thoughtful way with their subject. With the resonant tones of Richard Burton setting the scene, the story of mining in South Wales is developed from the unrealistic promises used to attract workers to the valleys to the abrupt decline about a couple of decades later that saw the communities they had built destroyed. It doesn’t always come off, there still tends to be a frivolity in the music that clashes with the seriousness of the theme, but when it does, the effect can be intense and moving. In particular, “All Out” shows the brutality that accompanied the demise of the coal fields as the ranks of the uniformed state line-up against the miners outside the Orgreave Coking Plant.

Forming the middle of the set, the music from “Every Valley” adds substance and indicates that the format has a lot more flexibility than it appeared to have when I last saw them. Alongside this, they present what is very much a festival set, picking up on the lighter and most immediately engaging moments from their previous work. “Theme From PSB” displays their Kraftwerk influence most obviously with the electronic vocals being repeated rhythmically over thumping drums and rumbling bass. “Go” rejoices in its speed, a fast, energetic and infectious salute to the first moon landings and for “Gargarin”, the first man to leave the planet is celebrated with funky horns. “Everest” uses clips of the 1953 documentary about the first ascent of the mountain to bring the set to its close, again a show I thoroughly enjoyed but one that still leaves me thinking that whilst the idea is brilliant, they are still yet to get to the point at which the music works seamlessly with the story they are telling. Appearing a little earlier, Amber Run inform us that they  had recently reached the point where they saw no future in music, as the singer explains, “the money’s crap and the girls … well I never meet any”. They managed to carry on, however, and have an album that they hope may attract some of us there for the acts on later. As a more conventionally guitar orientated band, however, they may not pick up too many converts but they were generally well received and their singer has the rather scruffy lived in demeanour of a life spent on the road. Listening to what was said later, however, the best I heard was, they were alright but then that might be as good as it gets for an act third on the bill.

Forming part of a series of concerts called Inner City Live, the original intention was to use an outdoor venue at the Rainbow in Digbeth. Problems with the licence, however, meant that at what appeared to be the last minute, it was relocated to the more conventional O2 Academy. Whilst it may have been nice to be outside on what this year is a rare warm summers evening, I can’t help but feel the change to a darkened room worked to the advantage of the two bands with a strong visual element to their performance. The change certainly didn’t use the Academy to its capacity with only the other bands being allowed onto the balcony but the tightly packed audience of the most devoted fans made for a warm and lively atmosphere. Through this we became thoroughly immersed in the wild spectacle, a world or sunshine, rainbows and dancing unicorns, all we needed was the will to make it happen. At the back of the hall, t shirts carried the words, “make all drugs legal”, but whilst Coyne and co may have ingested more than their fair share of hallougenegenic stimulants, for the rest of us, the show itself needs no enhancement or heightened perception. Outside is terrifying but here “all we have is now” and it was brilliant.

[morewritingforourcharacters]

The Promotion

“Rubix.” A voice shattered the unpleasant dreamscape that Roger had been wandering - the clicks and whirs of mechanical nightmares on the edge of a dark haze disappeared in a blink. The words from his cohort hit the sleeping genius with a peculiar effect, starting his body like a jolt which compelled him into an upright position.

“W-Who died?” The young man stammered, before crashing gracelessly into a sprawl halfway on the couch; the suddenness of his movements causing a swirling vertigo.  

“Died? Don’t be an idiot, Rubix. Projects can’t die, and if anyone was dying- no one would call you.” Anderson sneered in disgust, straightening up from a defensive recoil- his shield the impenetrable clipboard that served as his only companion. Roger blinked stupidly up at Anderson, sleep still clinging to the coils of his brain as he tried to catch up. Why was Anderson in his house? And why hadn’t one of his robots tazed him to death? Why was Anderson’s voice like a death knell in the wake of a massacre?

Oh. Because he’d fallen asleep at the commonwealth- in the public break-room- he didn’t have answers for the other questions, though. Roger sniffed as he assessed the stiff commonwealth bench that had served as his bed- then eyeballed a passing scientist that he didn’t recognize. “Fine. Go away.” The young man said curtly before curling back up on his side to sleep again. Anderson prickled. “Rubix! Get up and back to the lab! It won’t let me in unless you’re there…” His voice trailed off bitterly as his gleaming lenses flashed with annoyance.

Roger sighed and flopped over on his back, eyeballing Anderson placidly before finally rolling up into a sitting position. His long limbs stretched out like quivering toothpicks before he got to his feet. “I thought you got promoted. They still don’t trust you alone with anyone? What’d they promote you to? Head Toddler?” Roger yawned in Anderson’s general direction while he started off toward their lab. “Actually-” Anderson started out in his matter-of-fact tone. “I was Promoted to Senior Junior Surgeon.” There was a haughtiness to his tone that indicated a level of arrogant dissatisfaction with the minor promotion- though it mixed in with a heavy helping of pride at being rewarded for his dutiful service over the years. Roger scoffed, unimpressed. “Wow they made up a new title just so you wouldn’t get a real promotion. Again.” It was common knowledge to everyone- except Anderson.

“Don’t mock things you’re tiny brain can’t understand.” The man sniffed, his delusions unthreatened.

Roger and Anderson headed up to the lab, bickering disinterestedly all the way up to The Project’s lab. The younger man of the two unlocked the door with his keycard and stepped inside, head brushing the top of the strangely short door. They were immediately hit by the scent of flowery perfume - a harbinger of the indomitable local botanist, who was standing inside the lab common.

Her bright eyed face swiveled up like an excited puppy, pleasant smile widening at the sight of her two greatest pleasures: The handsome young Genius, Roger- and her Best friend in the whole Commonwealth, Andy-Pandy.

“Roger! Andy! Good morning!” The woman chirped, as if the sun had just arisen in the form of a slovenly teen and a serial killer. Roger grunted and made to shuffle around her - though Anderson was paralyzed like a bespectacled deer in the headlights of Samantha’s perfectly shaped brown eyes.

“G-Good morning, Samantha. How did you get inside the lab? I couldn’t unlock the door…” Anderson asked; though he was compelled to ask far less important questions - like how her morning had been so far, and what shade of red she had painted on her luscious, kissable lips; but he was a pragmatic, logical man, that demanded to know how she was able to slide past the protocol that he had been forced to obey. “Hm? I just used my keycard and walked in, silly!” She said, her tone indicating that she was certain he was trying to pull the wool over her eyes in some clever sciencey, smart-guy joke. Anderson’s face dropped its amorous melting for prickling indignance, opening his mouth to object to this absurd notion - in which he would blatantly mention his promotion as evidence to why this was some mistake.

However his mouth clapped shut when Samantha turned away towards Roger and plucked at his labcoat gingerly. “Roger-” She started, but the pluck had induced an effect in Roger that was quite familiar to them all: the jump, stumble and glare.

Roger leapt out of his skin, scrambled his long legs away from Samantha and swiveled around to stare daggers into Samantha for the offense.

“What!” Roger snapped, patting off his coat where she plucked at it as if it had something fowl upon it. Samantha frowned at his prickly nature, her body slouching. How could she ever get close enough to run her painted fingers over his chest if he insisted on not being touched? It was a question she asked herself every day- but more important things were afoot… She couldn’t let her girlish fantasies get in the way.

“Sorry… I just wanted to tell you that Abby wanted to see you this morning.” She started, her cheerfulness coming back in an instant. “What’s new?” Roger spat back defiantly, turning back to go start his usual routine of scavenging something illegal to ingest before actually working. Samantha frowned again and fumed- Roger was so irritating sometimes!

“It’s important!” “... Why?” Roger pricked up at the insistence, immediately suspicious that something was afoot. Could this be schemes from villains in his past life? A shadow organization looking to bait and trap him with Samantha- the stupidest woman on the continent? Now that he was thinking about it… She was suspiciously stupid. Roger narrowed his eyes on the barbie doll of a woman just as Anderson stepped up. “What business could The Project possibly have with one of us? It’s privileges are making it spoiled.” Anderson chimed in, which had the effect of gaining a disappointed glance from Samantha and seemed to visibly relax Roger. While Samantha was ruminating sadly on the fact that both the men in her work life were flawed, Roger turned back around to continue walking- deciding that there was no plot against him if Anderson wasn’t excitedly eager to make him fall for some trap. He would go and see what Abby wanted, to avoid any further obligation later in the day. “Fine, I’ll see what she wants.” He confirmed as he disappeared through the door to the observation room. Meanwhile, Samantha smiled brightly and wrapped her arm around Anderson’s - ignoring how he seemed to tremble and turn red at her touch. “Come on, Andy! Help me with this-!”

-

Roger had looked through the observation room window before stepping inside - he didn’t know why he bothered with it; though, the lights were off and the only light switches were inside Abby’s room so he couldn’t see anything. It was a stupid design decision that made no sense for a maniacal evil science organization, but they had proven themselves incompetent in various ways since he’d been here… so he wasn’t all that surprised. The surly youth opened the door and slunk in, Shimmying along the wall until his hand felt the edge of the lightswitch consol. He flicked the switch. But nothing happened. Roger grunted and tried the other switched- then slam! The door he just came through slammed shut, bathing the room in darkness. Roger immediately panicked - He knew it! This was a trap! They were coming to get him and drag him back! The young man squealed like a terrified little girl and scattered away from the wall, mind racing. They would expect him to be by the lightswitches - he had to find the bed squeeze himself under it. His long fingered hands clasped over his mouth to disguise his frantic breathing. Eyes that rolled tried to catch any particularly dark shadows in the complete blackness. Then something touched his knee and he went screaming out from under the bed and back into the dangerous darkness. He was foaming at the mouth, stumbling on long legs to find an escape, the location of the door lost in a daze of pure terror-! KLONG! Roger’s head impacted with something hard, metal and mostly hollow - then he crumpled to the ground in a heap like a dead spider, a high pitched wheeze eeking out of his open mouth. The lights flickered on again, blooming the whole room in stark white.

Rafi floated just above the young man, electronic concern tingeing his mechanical features.

“Oh dear, Miss Abigale! I fear I have miscalculated… It appears as though we have frightened Master Roger into a frenz-” “Roger! Oh, ROGER!” Abby’s girlish shriek easily toppled Rafi’s electronic voice, her body scrambling out from under the bed where she had previously tried to grab him into a hug. She scrambled on all fours towards Roger’s fallen body and threw herself on him, lamenting the very day she had been born.

Rafi looked mournfully between the two, then descended and poked one of his taser claws into Rogers neck. The young man started and flailed wildly, hair tousled wildly over his face, which was drenched with blood from the laceration on his skull caused by the impact with Rafi’s chassis. Abby was tossed off in the wild undulating, in spite of her efforts to cling on like a leech.

Roger managed to flip over on his back and look around, his eyes rolling wildly. “What happened?! Where am I?” He spat venomously, slinking away like a very tall goblin.

Rafi sighed remorsefully, “Oh master Roger-” “I MADE YOU A CAKE, ROGER-” Abby sobbed loudly, pointing over at the bed, whereupon sat a horrible mashing together of every vending machine food that Abby could reach… even the pork rinds and cheddar crackers.

Roger looked at it with a mix of awe and disgust, mouth agape, too stunned by this new information to process any real questions. Just then, the door flew open again and drew everyone's attention. Samantha pushed Anderson in the room ahead of her. The spectacled man looked both annoyed and concerned, holding one end of a folded banner while the smiling Samantha held the other. “Roger!” Samantha called, blind to the horror of blood and tears before her. She pushed Anderson all the way to the other side of the room before separating from him and unfurling the banner. In rainbow letters, the message “CONGRATULATIONS, ROGER!” was drawn ostentatiously on it in vibrant, scented felt pen. Roger and Anderson both blinked at this banner in utter confusion as Samantha repeated the phrase on the banner with all the pep of a cheerleader. Abby also repeated these words, but her incessant sobbing made it sound more like ‘Gun-gradu-ashun, Wah-ger’.

Anderson was the first to speak, piqued at this celebration for the wicked and evil genius boy. “Samantha- what are we congratulating him on?” Anderson asked, incredulous to the point of dropping the banner. Samantha gave Anderson a hard look, still totally unaware of the scene of chaos before her. “Andy! Didn’t you hear? Roger got Promoted - to Senior Junior Surgeon. Me and Abby spent all night preparing for this! The least you could do is join us!” There was a flicker of boyish heartbreak in Anderson’s cold eyes at Samantha’s words. He hesitated a moment, trying to decide if he should say anything at all. “Uh… Samantha… The Promotion was for me.”And then silence followed, Samantha clapping her hands too her rosy cheeks in despair. “Ohh… Whoopsie doopsie…”