#'pearl never left the tower' bitch I never left the tower

[iridescentis]

i have so many mental illnesses. Because of them

[smut-anarchy]

Own Me - Prologue

Summary: You accidentally broke a priceless relic and got caught. The Slytherin heir himself, Mattheo Riddle, makes it simple: you do what he says and no one finds out; the catch is, he owns you now and he'll do whatever he wants with your mind... and your body.

Tags: Dubious Consent, Dom!Mattheo, Gryffandor!Reader, Cursing, Blackmail (More Tags Later)

Rewritten As Of: 12/26/2024

Word Count: 1,917 Words

A/N: Years ago I watched Ouran High School Host Club (iykyk) and then this past weekend I finished the amazing @iniquitousyearning (formerly @slytherinslut0) Beg For Me Series (seriously go read it) and I was totally inspired by the two, thus Own Me was born! I've never written smut before so be patient with me. All my love and I hope you enjoy! XOXO - Angel

This was such a stupid fucking way to die.

Okay, maybe you wouldn’t go that far. But as a Gryffindor, sneaking into the Slytherin common was still one of the worst things you could do, right along with standing under the Whomping Willow blindfolded or wandering into the nearby Acromantula den. Yet still, you were here, stupidly, because Daphne Greengrass had taken your wand. 

“Little mudblood lions who don’t know their place don’t get their wands. I think it’ll look great collecting dust in one of the Slytherin vases.”

Bitch. One could argue that prior to her theft of your wand you had been stoking the fires of her ire by callings her an “inbred wretch in pearls with the intelligence of a toadstool” though you’d found her more than deserving after catching her picking on a small group of second years. I mean seriously, what kind of asshole picks on a bunch of twelve year olds?

So now, here you were, sticking your face through every fucking vase in the Slytherin common room, desperately searching for your wand before any Slytherin happened upon you. Dinner in the great hall would only last another twenty minutes so if you didn’t find it in the next ten minutes your only options were to somehow hide from every Slytherin until everyone was asleep and search then or leave and tell Snape, and telling Snape meant house points deductions and surely some ridicule and detentions. Between the options of hell no and fuck no your panic was rising, making you feel jittery and unbearably stressed. Why the fuck does Slytherin have this many vases in their common room?! They don’t even have flowers! 

There was only one vase left, it had to be in there, unless Daphne was a liar, which wasn’t completely off the table either. Regrettably, it was the largest vase, towering a good foot above your head. It was jade green, with intricate gold details, and for whatever reason it seemed to give off an ominous feeling, as if it was watching you. With how tall the vase was you had no idea how you were going to get your wand out, but the clock was ticking and you only had about two minutes before you absolutely had to get out of there or risk being found. If my wand is in there I am going to hex the shit out of Daphne.

The vase sat between a bookcase and the fireplace, so as carefully as you could you used the bookshelves to leverage yourself up just enough to peek into the vase. And there, at the bottom of the vase was your wand. Climbing further up the shelves and using the stone mantle to support your body, you lowered your top half into the vase, stretching your arms in an attempt at reaching your wand. You were nowhere near being able to reach your wand, so you figured you could slip in further, grab your wand, and then use the fireplace and bookcase to pull yourself out. Good plan!

Using a small amount of force to propel your lower half from the book case you clumsily tumbled into the large vase, your body folding in half at the bottom of the vase. Unfortunately, due to your focus you neglected to hear the click of the common room door opening. 

Your body’s ungracious fall in the vase rocked it back and forth, swirling you and your wand at the bottom, before it tipped too far right and toppled to the ground, shattering it and releasing you and your wand. 

Your head was still dazed from your plunge into the vase, but you opened your eyes to behold your wand in front of you. 

“Fuck yes! I did it!” You cheered. Although a hollow victory, since you destroyed a Slytherin vase, but you’d promised to reparo it before you left and no one would be the wiser.

No one, that is except the owners of the eyes on you. You’d looked to your right and there, sitting stunned on the common room couches were the worst five people who could have witnessed you: Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Enzo Berkshire, Theo Nott and Mattheo Riddle. 

Fuck. 

Not one word was uttered. You looked between the shocked boys, you were in direct line of the door. If you’d went around the couches they’d surely grab you or have time to get in front of you and stop you, but if you went right down the middle, using the table between them to leap off you’d make it to the door and sprint so far away before they’d have time to catch you.

No time to think about logistics you’d lept up, grabbing your wand and ran towards them, leaping on the table and dashing across the surface, using the end to spring towards the door. 

“Oh no you don’t! Incarcerous!” 

While you were mid-air ropes wrapped around your legs and wrists, bringing you dropping to the ground with a painful “oof”. 

You rolled over, seeing Draco as the caster of the spell, wearing a smug grin on his face.

“Hey boys,” you squeaked, “This is all just a misunderstanding! Let me out of these ropes and we could talk, yeah?”

“I forget, do misunderstandings usually have the accused running away from their crime?” Theo questioned amusingly, his face holding an interested smirk.

“Listen, one of your housemates stole my wand and threw it in there and I was just trying to get it back, okay? I didn’t mean to break it and I would’ve repaired it and slipped out before anyone knew I was here.” You attempted to shimmy your wrists out of the ropes but to no avail, their tightness giving you a slight chaffing burn on your delicate skin. 

The boys stared at you puzzled, before jeering smiles cracked onto their faces and they burst into rowdy laughter. 

“You have no idea what you broke, do you little lion?” Enzo teased, his eyes alight with mischief and cruel enjoyment.

Their laughter and amusement was stirring an unsetting feeling in your gut. These boys had a reputation of being completely sadistic to those who crossed them, having them mock you was filling you with unease and panic. You shook your head at them, trying to display a neutral reaction to their taunts. 

“You broke an enchanted vase, lion. It can’t be repaired.” Blaise snickered.

Oh no. Fuck. Fuckitty Fuck.

You called upon all of your strength to not let your dread show. You steeled your mouth into a hard line and glared your eyes. 

“Okay fine, so I broke an ugly, big, magical vase. I’m sorry. Can I please leave now?”

Enzo and Draco were laughing in full on howls now, with Blaise and Theo sniggering to each other, sharing silent jokes between themselves. You made eye contact with Mattheo, who oddly had not said a word and was not sounding his hilarity like the others. His face held a mocking sneer, but his eyes, those obsidian black calculating eyes, stared at you, as if he was curious of this lion who had wandered into their viper den.

“You don’t sound sorry.” His voice cracked through the laughter, the other boys sounds dying out at his voice. 

“It wasn’t intentional and like I said, I was here because my wand was stolen and I-“

“Funny you should say that,” he interrupted, the edge in his voice seeping into your bones like ice, “I’m sure not a single Slytherin would admit to doing such a thing. So really, all we know for sure is that you broke into our common room and broke a thousands of years old enchanted relic from Salazar Slytherin.”

Your mouth dried up, anxiety going haywire throughout your body. On the one hand, your pride did not want to apologize to this absolutely smug, antagonistic Slytherin group, especially since it wasn’t your fault you were here to begin with. On the other hand, you broke a priceless, unfixable treasure from the fucking founder of Slytherin, if Snape found out he’d take you to Dumbledore, you would get expelled. 

A cold sweat covered your body, fear clawing your throat and your eyes building up water. “I-I didn’t know, I swear. I would never sneak in here to do something like that on purpose. Please, I’ll do anything to make up for it.”

Mattheo’s intense gaze twitched in interest, “Anything?” You nodded your head earnestly, still feeling the nervous panic tingling through out your body. 

“Untie her.” Mattheo snapped. Enzo and Blaise were the first to come out of the fascination in watching you and Mattheo, getting to work quickly on your ankles and wrists. Upon being freed from the binds you rubbed your wrists, slightly raw from the scratchy rope. You stared up at Mattheo, worry etched into your face. 

“Seeing as I’m the heir of Slytherin, I think I’ll see to your punishment. And if you take it like a good little lion, no one will ever know about this.”

Mattheo’s words only further plunged you into terror. Whatever he had planned for you, you already knew it would be unbearably painful for your mind, spirit and body. Still, trying to maintain your Gryffindor courage, you nodded in understanding. 

“From this moment on, I own you. If I ask you to come, you will, immediately. If I ask you to do something, you will do it, no questions asked and to my satisfaction. If at any point you defy me, every single shard will be on Dumbledore’s desk faster than you can say ‘Godric’, do you understand?”

Utter sorrow wracked your body, your freedom for as long as you were at this school was trapped in the hands of a vicious sadist. Merlin knows what he’d have you do, thinking on it alone filled you with remorse so deep it would echo into your bones long into the night. But this was the only option, expulsion meant no more Hogwarts, no contact with your friends, no future in magic. You somberly nodded, not able to verbally confirm without choking on the words. 

“No. Use your words, pet.” Your anger roared inside you at the title, how dare he reduce you this low? To strip you of your autonomy and independence and then demean you with such an inferior name. Your inner lion burned to disobey, to unleash the full extent of your temper on this arrogant, immoral devil of a man who goaded you with such humiliation. 

“Yes, I understand.” You bit out, not bothering to hide the venom in your tone. Mattheo almost preened at the bite in your voice, clearly amused by your fury. 

“Good, now get out before someone sees you. Meet me in the outside of the common room at precisely 7AM, not a second after.”

Your eyes glanced back at the other Slytherin boys who had been captivated by the whole interaction, your eyes begging for some kind of help that you knew you weren’t going to get.

You gathered your wand and sprinted out the door as fast as you could. You ran as far as you could away from the treacherous dungeons where you’d lost so much more than you gained. And when you finally made it to your dorm room, after your lungs burned and wheezed, you finally let yourself cry. Your wrath and despair melting together to cocoon you against the horrible truth: Mattheo Riddle owned you.

[stigmvtas]

TALES OF HOLLOWAY — ASTER DAHLIA.

welcome to marina, ASTER HOLLOWAY ( nonbinary, they/them ) ! they are a TWENTY EIGHT year old WITCH (CRADLE) who resides in TOWER HILL. They work as a BOTANIST / MAGIC DEALER and are said to look a lot like LIV HEWSON. People around the island find them to be SAGACIOUS and MAVERICK, but also DOMINEERING and SPLENETIC. what do you think?

CONTENT WARNING FOR WILDFIRES, PARENTAL/FAMILIAL DEATH, GRIEF, ILLNESS, AND (MAGIC) ADDICTION.

profile.

full name — aster dahlia holloway.

nickname(s) — n/a; no nickname required - is anti nickname & will not respond to anything other than their own name.

date of birth & age — april 1st, 1996. twenty8.

gender / pronouns — nonbinary. they/them.

sexuality — gay<3.

typing — witch ( cradle ).

occupation — botanist, potioneer, & underground dealer of plants both of magical and poisonous properties. owner of narcissus' den under pseudonym of same name. opium harvester. girl fucker.

astrology — aries sun, virgo moon, capricorn ascending.

interests — plants of all nature. potion crafting. sudden strokes of genius. finance books and keeping a tight grip over what is theirs. revenge, vengeance, retribution, spite, etc.

aversions — cops. cop - adjacents. "i can fix them" motherfuckers. overfamiliarity in intimate moments. industrialists. fleeting moments of doubt and a guilty conscious.

next in queue — officer that's not mine! by sorry mom; the scratch by 7 year bitch; moaning lisa smile by wolf alice.

notable features — a full - freckled face and a permanently set frown. wiry red hair that's possibly never been brushed. toned arms and skin littered with miscellaneous scars.

general disposition — a held high head that screams insane levels of arrogance, sneers instead of smiles.

last known location — up and personal with a burlesque dancer from pearl's in the alleyway outside their dressing room, mouths red and hands firmly gripped along thigh - aka being a slut.

scrying mirror & kindred — billy butcher ( the boys ), dr. gregory house ( house, md ), steven hyde ( that 70's show ), ruth langmore ( ozark ), april ludgate ( parks & recreation ).

brief history.

born to dahlia verbeck, a local botanist, wildlife conservationist, and volunteer firefighter who was very known in marina's environmentalist scene alongside her twin brother, darius. the two were a team together, witches and scientists who sought to preserve marina's flora and fauna from the destruction of their environment.

aster's father was rarely in the picture - dahlia married at 19 to a man near twice her age, a local cop who never understood dahlia or her passions and left once he realized that there was no controlling her, or their child - who'd grown up to become a splitting image of dahlia.

they never minded maverick, their father, being absent - dahlia was enough of a parent to fill in the "gaps" and aster never wanted anything more except to follow in their mother's footsteps - she'd always been their idol, the one person they could look up to.

wildfire / parental / familial death; when aster was 12, dahlia and darius embarked on a trip into marina's woodlands to observe local flora, collect samples, and conduct a few of their own experiments when seemingly out of nowhere - a wildfire broke out. it took four days and the entire fire department to stop the fire before it spread - and no sign of dahlia or darius except for his wedding ring, and the burnt remnants of their campsite.

maverick took no interest in taking in aster after that - consumed in his own grief despite the abandonment - and darius' wife took aster in instead. she, elaine, convinced she could not grieve under these circumstances - took aster and her daughter, myra, and moved to california. as far away as she could think to take them - away from all the pain of the past.

she tried to occupy their time with the same extracurriculars and hobbies that she had put myra in since early childhood - but aster wasn't graceful like their cousin; and they clashed time after time again.

aster ran away when they were seventeen - after years of tension and arguments, and feeling more isolated and alone than ever. myra could adapt to the situation - could adapt to anything life threw at her, but aster missed home. missed their mother. missed marina.

upon arriving to marina for the first time in years - aster was broke, a high school drop out, and fending for themselves with nowhere to go when they met mother aveira, the coven mother of lune di ecate. she lured aster in with promise of power - of retribution and strength, and aster listened to every word. passed every trial - saddled themselves right besides mother aveira and would've followed her every word.

but it wasn't what it seemed - the coven; and with the more power aster gained, the more energy they felt seeping out of them. the sicker they felt - drained at the expense of the magic flowing through their veins. an argument ensued - and aster broke their contract with hecate - or was it mother aveira? - and left the coven after five years.

now - after years of working under questionable figure to questionable figure and doing anything in their power to find strength of their own - aster's made a career and name for themselves in a few ways. involving a secret "underground" greenhouse, potions and poisons, and their own lucrative drug business. but they're still mad - still angry. still looking for answers.

facts & temperaments.

a cradle witch - aster was born into a long bloodline of witches: the verbecks. like their mother, aster's magic focuses on organic life - mostly plants. mostly.

illness; their father's sick in the hospital, but they've yet to visit him. he has a new family now - and aster can't bring themselves to feel pity. he left them - not the other way around.

(magic) addiction; after years of overusing their magic as a means of survival - aster's now heavily reliant on it. the less they use their magic, the more severe the effects of it seems to be, leading to constant use and constant exhaustion. their magic - once strong - is slowly waning and losing its potency, and aster feels sicker by the day.

they inherited dahlia's estate after her passing - but they reside in tower hill and still haven't been able to go back to their childhood home. it's been untouched ever since - except for the greenhouse, the only place aster dares to escape to and the secluded place where they grow their plants and supply.

strong environmentalist - cares more about the state of marina's flora and fauna than actual people and it's obvious in the way aster regards others.

a naturally harsh, brutish person who doesn't bother with formalities or beating around the bush. painfully honest and doesn't care much about the problems of others unless there's a chance of something benefitting them.

passionate about what they love - sometimes to the point of possessiveness but overcritical towards those they don't have a high regard for. thinks mundane problems are above them and tends to look down on other people.

has a pet tarantula named stevie nicks. <3

they opened narcissus' den only a few years ago because they needed a way to both fund their work and gain intel about the important people of marina. it's essentially their very own gossip hub. blackmail auto farm<3

aster's just kind of mean without prompt. doesn't care much for others and is rarely in a committed relationship - likes to keep things casual and at arms length.

but they're smart<3 always thinking ahead. constantly drawing maps out in their brain, always has an idea of what to do next. doesn't do well with idleness and is extremely arrogant.

has gotten top surgery, doesn't bother to hide the scars and thinks they're sexy ngl.

[dreamerwriternstargazer]

Late response to Flash Fiction Friday.

TW: graphic violent imagery, torture, suicidal implications

————————————

Star-Broken Fantasies

Snap!

A thread of string remains, looped through lock and keyhole

Another arm breaks, off the twelve-star brooch

Three left like the hands of a clock

Two ready, five to midnight has struck.

Crack!

As joints strain

While I tighten the corset of chain

“Do you know what they did,”

I hiss to the broken nymphette,

“to heretics and blasphemers?”

Her ripped hair hangs, mutely it shakes.

“Crucified in iron bounds, feasted on by ravens outside the Tower.”

Clink!

Metal clashes

Steel hooks stabbing

Into Galaxy-bruised skin

Crimson clots collecting

On torn, wine bandages

She weeps like her pus-soaked sores

The frozen trunk thunders and roars

Unlocking behind the cold cellar door

The celestial jewellery glimmers dimly

Self-reckoning rushing quickly

I watch her mouth gape in silent screams, her cries

Emotionless,

“Let the bitch die”

I yank ropes between her steel bodice

Gaps where there’s maroon flesh

Her stomach a pit of lava

Heavy, hot rock boiling over

She doubles up as the rough rope burns her

Unable to breathe, senses consumed by molten geodes

Hardening around us into a guilt mountain as I become fossils

My torturer, my basement monster

My pearl-necklaced nymphette prisoner

Trapped in a never-ending suffering

Forgotten by time, never to be found

Frozen, five minutes to midnight, as the astral clock never sounds.

- A starry-eyed dreamer

[youreyeslookliketheocean]

Watch Me

art by @chewwypepsicola (viewable on twitter with the link above)

ao3 link

In the mad scramble to get away from Dream, Tommy had lost his bandana.

It’d been through a lot. It was tattered and torn, frayed at the corners, and there was a stain of something—maybe milk?—on the back. Over the years the forest green fabric had lost its rigid newness and gone soft, sliding fuzzy and tender beneath Tommy’s scarred fingertips. At some point during Pogtopia, when he was learning to sew, he’d stitched Tubbo’s name into one corner with blue thread. It was the color of l’manberg uniforms; the only color he’d had.

The stitching was awkward and haphazardly done. When he’d finished, Tubbo’s name looked more like “TVBDO”—a weird combination of jagged letters. But it was a little piece of Before—before the wars, before the fighting—and to Tommy it was like a piece of home. It felt like safety tucked under scarred and war-torn hands. A security blanket he’d somehow managed to bring with him through all his trials and tribulations. He didn’t know how it’d survived.

Then again, he’d survived. Somehow.

“Oh Tommyyyyy!”

Tommy struggled frantically with the knot on the back of the bandana. Dream kept using it to tug him backwards, like a dog on a leash. Tommy was not a dog. No matter what Dream said this time, he would not heel.

“Please!” he cried out, stumbling over a rock that jutted from the prairie’s earth. “Leave me alone!”

He needed to get out of here. This area was too flat, too open.

Spotting a tiny cliff and the distant shimmer of snow to his left, Tommy switched directions. His feet slammed against grass as he ran, his heart pounding faster and louder than he could ever remember it doing before. Actually, scratch that. He could remember it pounding louder only once—the time he’d trapped himself on top of a dirt block tower, seven hundred fifty feet in the air. He’d been scared, then. Terrified. Because as much as death had sounded like the better option then, some part of him still hadn’t wanted to die. He supposed it was the stubborn bit. The bit that clutched the bandana around his neck and thought back to Before.

Tommy heard the “vwoop!” of an Ender Pearl behind him, and instinctively leapt left, dodging Dream’s teleport just in time.

“Stop it!” he screamed, voice hoarse. “You’ve done enough to me, Dream! You’ve done enough! Please!”

“Oh Tommyyyy!” Dream repeated, louder. “Come here, Tommy! You’re going to pay for putting me in that prison! You’re all alone out here! It’s just like exile! Except, this time, you’re not getting out!”

Something grazed the back of Tommy’s bandana again, and he shrieked, yanking himself away. Dream cackled behind him.

“Come onnnn, Tommy! I thought we were friends!”

The tiny ledge up ahead was closer. He was almost there, almost to the snow. Just past it, a white-capped mountain crested the sky. Hidden behind it, Tommy knew, was Technoblade and Philza’s cabin.

He knew they wouldn’t want him there. They might not even protect him. But where else was he supposed to go? He couldn’t keep running much longer. Past the ledge was another snowy hill he could probably jump to. Then, if he scrambled over the side fast enough, he could potentially lose Dream just long enough for him to make it to Techno’s gate.

“We were never friends!” Tommy spat, picking up speed as he prepared to jump. “You wanted me to die! You were just waiting for it, like the sick, sadistic bastard you fuckin’ are! All you came to do was watch me!”

Watch me scramble for your appreciation. Watch me wake up drowning. Watch my hands, cracked and broken, bleed while mining ore. Watch me sob into your shoulder. Watch me eat rotted flesh. Watch me tower up. Watch me jump down.

He’d only come to watch.

Watch me jump now, bitch, Tommy thought to himself. He took a running bound forward, pressed the ball of his foot flat into the ground, sprung upward, and—

Something tugged on his neck, abruptly snagging him backwards for half a second before the pressure disappeared. Tommy, unprepared for the jolt, startled and missed his jump. He tumbled to the ground below, hands and knees sinking into snowy ground as he tried to catch himself. When he stood back up, because he always stood back up, the wind prickled at the back of his neck. Something was missing.

He whirled around. Dream stood on the ledge above him, Tommy’s green bandana clutched between his hands. Dream held it up, letting it wave in the arctic wind like a pitiful, milk-stained flag.

“You missed that jump,” he said.

For a second, neither of them moved. Tommy stared as the last piece of himself wavered in the wind, threatening to fly away.

He couldn’t keep running forever. He couldn’t keep living in fear like this forever. One day, he was going to have to do something about it, and his options were severely limited. But was the answer really one hundred and fifty seven blocks high? Tommy didn’t think so.

“Fuck you,” Tommy whispered, shaking his head slowly as tears bubbled in his vision. “Fuck you. You won’t kill me. Not this time.”

A smile, slow and crooked, spread across Dream’s face.

“Watch me.”

[pillage-and-lute]

Prompt: fake realtionahip/marriage, whoever you like!

Ooohoho! This has been chilling as a draft for ages, now I have completed it. *mildly evil laughter*

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The funny thing about Geralt, Jaskier thought as he did up the buttons on his best doublet, was that he really didn’t lie. He said things that weren’t true, but they were usually things he believed, or thought he believed because he was tired or grumpy. Sometimes he told half truths. He didn’t lie though.

It wasn’t even as if he didn’t have a poker face, Geralt’s face was all poker face, he just hated lying. Normally it wasn’t an issue, but tonight, Jaskier reflected, it wouldn’t be ideal.

Jaskier had heard through some whispered words at a pub that a bunch of Nilfgaardian nobles were having a gala, and the temptation of finding out what political secrets they could was two strong for their odd little family. So Geralt and Jaskier were going undercover.

There had been quite a bit of debate about that. Jaskier was obviously going. He’d grown his hair longer and had a bit of scruff going, and to be frank, all a bard really needed to disguise themselves was a new name, people saw the clothing and heard the music, but rarely remembered the face. Yennefer would have been the ideal partner in crime except for a crucial thing.

When Yennefer had been changed by magic, her eyes had been left the same. Somehow, the transformation had solidified them, and no spell would change them. Her eyes were too distinctive, and so she would stay behind with Ciri. That left Geralt, and since the ball was only for the nobility, he would be the fiance of Julian Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove.

Damn.

See, Geralt didn’t lie, and that was bad enough. Jaskier wouldn’t be able to rely on Yennefer’s in-depth knowledge of the nobility and that was worse. Worst of all though, was the fact that Jaskier would have to spend a night full of wine and dancing pretending to be in love with, and engaged to, Geralt. Who he loved.

And who had, not three months ago, blamed Jaskier for every bad thing in life.

Since then Geralt had caught up with him half-way down the mountain and there had been some grumbled words about how Jaskier ‘wasn’t actually, exactly, a total curse’. Not a glowing review, but then Cintra had fallen, and they had Cirilla and they’d found a wounded Yennefer and it had all gotten so very busy.

Jaskier cast a last look in the mirror as the door to his room creaked open. He turned, expecting Geralt, but it was Yennefer.

“I suppose,” she said, eyeing him. “That this is as good as you get.” It could have been said cruelly. A year ago it would have been. Now, though, the words were fond. 

“I like the kohl, it goes well with the wrinkles at your eyes,” she winked. He smiled. There were no more wrinkles now than had been twenty years ago, and they both knew it.

“I wasn’t sure about the eyeliner,” Jaskier said, trying to sound haughty. “Overdramatic eye looks are your thing.”

Yennefer chuckled and sat on the end of the bed. “A tiny smudge of eyeliner is hardly overdramatic.” She studied him approvingly, then looked at him. Her expression was frighteningly soft.

“Have you told him that you love him?”

“Never,” Jaskier said, fiving his cravat in the mirror.

“Why ever not?”

“It would only be the mountain all over again,” Jaskier sighed. “I tried, you know. I spent years trying, and then on the mountain, I thought I was being clear...”

“What did you say?”

“I asked him to leave it all, just for a little while, with me. I thought we could go to the coast.”

“The coast,” Yennefer said from her spot on the bed. “As in Lettenhove? You wanted to show him where you grew up?”

“Partially. I could explain the immortality business easier if he met my sister, but mostly I just thought it would be peaceful.”

Yennefer snorted. “With Geralt? Peaceful? He’d spend the whole time fighting drowners and telling you not to write about mermaids because they’re vicious.”

Jaskier smiled wanly. “That’s pretty peaceful for him.”

“But he said no?”

“He didn’t say anything,” Jaskier said. “Then he, well, you know, he spent the night in your tent.”

“Ah,” Yennefer said. “For what it’s worth, I hate that it happened too.”

“He doesn’t though!” Jaskier cried, whirling around to face her. “He wants it to happen again! And you! You don’t want him but he wants you while I want him!” The frustration of the whole situation and nerves for what was to come were overwhelming. “And you’re here, trying to help me,” he said more quietly. “Why?”

“Because I like you,” Yennefer said, simply, standing from the bed. “And I like him. I also never, ever want to kiss him again. The djinn is sitting, somewhere in my chest, telling me I love him, but the feeling is...sick. It feels like love, as well as I can remember, but it’s poisoned and twisted and I want no part in it.”

Her purple eyes pinned Jaskier to the floor.

“And that poison pales in comparison to how much you love him. He deserves that.”

She swept out the door, tossing a “Sort it out,” over her shoulder.

Well.

The next knock at the door was Geralt, Ciri in tow. Jaskier hoped the witcher hadn’t heard any part of his and Yennefer’s conversation, but he suspected that no one overheard conversations that Yen didn’t want them too. 

“Dandelion!” Ciri said, leaping at him and using the name she’d first met him under. “You look nice! Like a prince in one of your stories!”

Jaskier blushed and thanked her quietly as he scooped her up and tossed her, laughing, onto the bed. 

He looked at Geralt for his opinion.

Oh he looked so good too. Yennefer had charmed him so that anyone else would see a different man in Geralt’s place, but to Jaskier he looked just the same. But he was wearing white. 

A white chemise, the collar and cuffs with fine red embroidery, with a cream colored cape, half length so it fell just to Geralt’s hips. It was embroidered too, green and pink and so many other colors, despite being overall still mostly cream. The pants were the same creamy fabric with a stripe down each side. Dark boots and a wide, decorative, dark belt completed the look.

“Wow,” Jaskier said.

“Rivian traditional clothing,” Geralt muttered. 

“I thought you’d hardly actually been to Rivia,” Jaskier said,.It was a better choice than the other thoughts in his head, which were half-formed screams about how absolutely skin tight those pants were.

“I haven’t been, but my...character is.”

“Right,” Jaskier said, dragging his eyes above Geralt’s shoulders. “My fiance, Ludomir of Rivia.”

Geralt said nothing.

Jaskier kicked himself for mentioning the fiance thing.

“We should go,” he said.

And they went.

The lord’s castle was small, as castles go, and the guards at the gate didn’t even bother to check their invitations. With all the other lords and ladies streaming past, no one would guess that the pair were out of place. Jaskier and Geralt enterred the ballroom and Jaskier felt his stomach drop straight through to his shoes.

The walls were positively lined with Nilfgaardian soldiers. Geralt’s shoulders stiffened too, but they steered themselves to a feast table as if nothing was wrong.

It took them almost a full circle of the tables to find the two little cards for ‘Viscount de Lettenhove’ and ‘Guest’. Getting onto the guest list had been laughably easy, and Jaskier just sent up a silent prayer of thanks that the stupid title was finally useful for something.

They sat in their places and guests populated the seats around them. There was a lady next to Jaskier who already smelled of the strongly alcoholic sherry that was being served. Her hair, probably a wig towered, and was strung all over with so many pearls and little tiny golden ornaments that when she stepped outside she must surely be attacked by magpies.

“My lady,” Jaskier said, as chivalrous as he could around a mouthful of her rose perfume. “I’m afraid we haven’t had a chance to be introduced.”

“Oooh,” she giggled, “You’re sweet, I’m Dame Au’Vigne, and I can see by your card that you are the Viscount de Lettenhove, I knew your father.”

Yes, Jaskier thought. I remember, he turned down your proposal. Jaskier had been a lad then, barely eight years old, but he remembered through a child’s eyes a mountain of lace and perfume who had offered to marry his father while actually at his mother’s funeral.

“It’s a pleasure,” he said. Heinous bitch, he thought. He remembered rumors too, which are always a bard’s stock and trade, that Dame Au’Vigne’s husbands were always wealthy, usually handsome, and all of them had shockingly short lifespans. 

Rumor also had it that she was backing Nilfgaard financially and had been playing the shipping stock with insider knowledge of their movements. A very good person to be seated next to tonight. 

“May I introduce my fiance, Ludomir of Rivia,” Jaskier said, gesturing to Geralt. Geralt nodded and hummed, somewhat politely.

“How handsome,” Dame Au’Vigne stage whispered. “Where ever did you find him?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Jaskier said.

The lord of the castle stood up and gave a droning speech. It was full of euphemisms about ‘upholding standards’ and ‘fostering strong relations’ that boiled down to ‘I’m an untrustworthy bastard who believes that allowing the deaths of my people en masse is fine so long as I make money.’ It was depressing, too, as Jaskier looked around the ballroom to see so many people nodding in agreement. 

Traitors and bastards, the lot of them.

Geralt’s face hadn’t changed even an inch.

“So,” Dame Au’Vigne said as the appetizer course was served. “You two aren’t exactly in a honeymoon phase, are you?”

And she was right, for a couple, newly engaged, Jaskier and Geralt hadn’t acted the part yet at all.

“I’m afraid,” Jaskier said, inventing wildly. “That we’re both just a touch nervous, the engagement is so new, you see, and this is our first event,” he took Geralt’s hand, above the table, so Dame Au’Vigne could see. “As a couple.”

“Oh how sweet,” she said airily. “You know, they’ll have dancing between the courses, it’ll be a great way for you to wet your social feet. Sir Erdin and the lady in the lavender dress,” she pointed across the ballroom. “They’re newly engaged as well.” She lowered her voice.

“Sir Erdin is very supportive of the cause, word has it he’s in with the very inner circle,” Dame Au’Vigne giggled, as if being in the inner circle of a murderous group of intruders was as delightful as a recent engagement.

“How interesting!” Jaskier said, affecting a jealous and impressed tone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Geralt’s eyebrow twitch, the way it did when he was listening hard.

“Oh yes,” Dame Au’Vigne said. “And Lord Snapcase, in the corner, he...” and she went on, was the marvelous thing, she couldn’t seem to help herself but gossip about everyone. And she had all these details about how they were helping ‘the cause’. Destiny must have finally decided to throw Jaskier and Geralt a bone.

Then the appetizer course was finished and Jaskier felt much less lucky. Dame Au’Vigne was ushering him and Geralt out of their seats to dance. It wasn’t one of the quick, hopping around, switching partners dances either. No, the band seemed insistent on only slow, romantic music. 

Awkwardly, Geralt slid one large hand around Jaskier’s waist and they turned in slow circles on the dance floor. The witcher’s face looked like a thunderclap.

“Try and look like you’re having fun, darling,” Jaskier said. Please don’t look at me as though holding me is torture, his inner self begged.

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. Jaskier leaned in.

“Really dear heart,” he leaned in even closer, lips almost touching Geralt’s ear. “People are going to suspect something,” he said in the barest of whispers.

“Let them,” Geralt hissed back in the same fashion. “We’ve got the information, we can leave.” 

Jaskier, keeping up appearances, tossed his head back and let out a delighted shriek of laughter, as if Geralt had just told him a joke or, perhaps, made a wonderfully indecent proposal.

“Later, perhaps,” he said, stage-whispering for the sake of those around them. Leaning in again he whispered for real, “We can’t leave until the party’s over, no one else will, they’d send some of those soldiers after us for sure.”

The music changed, and Geralt and Jaskier’s slow circles changed speed with it. 

Geralt hissed in his ear again, “I don’t see why I had to be your,” this close Jaskier could see Geralt’s jaw working with distaste. “Lover.”

“Fiance,” Jaskier said, trying not to let his heart sink. It couldn’t possibly go any lower. “There’s a difference.”

They said no more to each other, and after the second dance, declined the third to sit back at their seats and await the arrival of the soup course.

The man sat beside Geralt was some old military man, mostly mustache and the rest of him was a rather musty and very old fashioned uniform. It had gold braid and a colonel’s insignia. The hat that sat next to his chair had a plume. 

He leaned over to Geralt and said, rather loudly, in a voice that implied tone deafness, to both volume and social situations, “Just marrying him for the money, eh?”

People to both sides of Jaskier and Geralt looked around. Dame Au’Vigne looked at them askance.

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. It was a negative answer to the colonel’s question, but the man didn’t take it as such.

“Often is the way,” the man nearly bellowed. “My missus hated me right up to the day she died.”

Jaskier curled in on himself. The role of Viscount wasn’t a big one, mostly administrative and, these days, completed by his sister Rowena, who was better at sitting behind a desk. Still, argued a battered part of his long ago but still proper upbringing. The name of Pankratz was being dragged through the mud. Lots of these people would know the name too, these sour, vindictive, unpleasant, murderous people. And they’d know the gossip, would have taken part in the gossip about ‘Young Julian running off to be a bard,’ (this generally said with the same tone as is usually leant to slave trader) and how ‘he’ll never find a good marriage now,’ how he was ‘a disgrace to the name.’ 

And here was their long awaited confirmation. Jaskier-Julian, couldn’t find a good marriage, was being wed only for his money. Of course, more than half the pairings here were only in it for the money, but to have it said, so loudly too, and before the wedding had even happened, it was social condemnation.

Jaskier looked down at the table cloth, his face hot. He’d faced social condemnation before, of course, he’d survive. What hurt was that Geralt wasn’t really protesting, Geralt couldn’t even pretend to like Jaskier, not for a single evening. Twenty years he’d done a good enough job of acting to convince even Jaskier, mostly, apart from the punches and the insults and...maybe Jaskier had been a little blind to the truth but still. 

It was ruining their cover though, so he protested quietly. “Not just for the money,” he said, patting Geralt’s hand where one fist wrapped around his goblet. “My fiance is just shy, that’s all.”

The damage was already done, but the old colonel hiccupped. “Well lad,” he said, giving Geralt a slap on the back. “This ale’s pretty good so drink up. Got me through three years of happy marriage, strong ale did.” The man took a slug of his own drink. “And fourty seven more unhappy years.” He guffawed hugely and unpleasantly, little drops of ale flinging from his mustache. 

Wherever the soul of the unpleasant man’s dead wife was, Jaskier felt sure she was happy to be away from this miserable old drunk.

Geralt, however, was looking at Jaskier. Their eyes met. Jaskier knew he probably looked as hunted as he felt, and his cheeks were probably still burning from the embarassment. Still, it seemed as though Geralt was about to say something. His golden eyes were full of emotion, but Jaskier couldn’t parse out what kind. 

Whatever kind it was, it caused Geralt to take the colonel’s advice and drink like there was no tomorrow. 

Great. Jaskier had driven his companion to drinking. 

He felt a little like doing so himself. 

The soup course was good, hot and savory, but underspiced. Geralt slurped it up gratefully. Jaskier knew that rich food was usually too much for his senses if it was spiced to Jaskier’s taste.

More dancing. Jaskier didn’t stand, at first, assuming that Geralt would rather sit and drink more. There were some snickers as people judged him. Geralt stood though, and he offered a hand and led Jaskier to the dance floor.

“You need to act drunk,” Jaskier whispered in his ear. “If you were a normal man you would be.”

“I am acting,” Geralt rumbled.

“You’re very steady for a drunk,” Jaskier sniffed.

“You said I was shy, now I’m less shy,” Geralt whispered. “And I’ve been drinking. So...drunk.” It was torture, being held like this, having that voice in Jaskier’s ear. That hand, so warm cupping his own. He wanted to cry.

A couple whirled past them. It was the Dame Au’Vigne, gossiping to some new dance partner. A snippet of her words caught them.

“-de Lettenhove. Entirely loveless of course. Unlovable, his father said once, of course as a bard-” then the tide of conversation and other dancers stole the rest of the words.

Jaskier sagged. His father hadn’t been a nice man, and unlovable wasn’t the worst of what he’d been called in his life, but now, with Geralt so close and so disgusted by the prospect...well, it hit a little close to home. 

“Laugh,” Geralt whispered in his ear.

“What?” Jaskier hissed.

“Like before, laugh like before, but...more so. Pretend I said a dirty joke.”

Jaskier did, heads turned as he pretended to laugh, half scandalized and half delighted at something Geralt said.

Geralt even chuckled along with him. Then his hand crept down Jaskier’s back to his hip. It wasn’t dirty. It was just so,so spine tinglingly close to dirty.

It was almost worse. If Geralt had gripped his ass that would have been bad, but this, Jaskier was left to speculate. He had a very active imagination. The couples next to them were giggling and tittering, scandalized, but not too much, at the pair.

They danced all three dances. During the second dance Geralt spun Jaskier out and then back in flashily, dipping him over one arm like a dainty maiden. Jaskier, who was no dainty maiden, knew the strength that elaborate dip must have taken and his head spun. The third dance was slow, and once again they simply held one another and turned in slow circles. Except Geralt pressed their cheeks together in a way that was so intimate that Jaskier finally gave in. Just tonight he had Geralt, all of him, his attention, his warmth. 

There was only so much a bard could take, and Jaskier gave in to the fantasy.

“I wonder how Yennefer is,” Geralt whispered. “And Ciri.”

It was like having cold water poured all over him. Jaskier’s fantasy shattered as soon as it had formed. Of course Geralt wasn’t enjoying this, of course his mind was elsewhere. He had a beautiful sorceress to think of, even if they weren’t sleeping together. Geralt and Yennefer and Ciri made the perfect, happy family. Where did Jaskier fit in to that?

He pulled back a little, already missing the warmth of Geralt’s cheek against his own. They finished the dance stiffly.

Back at the table, squished between Dame Au’Vigne and the colonel, the main course was awful. Jaskier couldn’t judge it on the food, which he barely tasted. Dame Au’Vigne and the colonel, however, had apparently come to the conclusion that Geralt or, Ludomir, rather, was marrying Jaskier for the money and the sex. They tittered, loudly and drunkely, to those around, and Geralt leaned in.

“Surely we can leave after this course,” he whispered.

Desperate to be rid of the charade, Jaskier thought. To not have to be engaged to me. “Can’t,” he whispered. “Have to stay for dessert and more dancing, else it looks suspect.”

“Hmmm.” It was a displeased hum.

“And, there will be small talk, with dessert. You need to say something, people will think you’re mute.”

“You two twitter into one another’s ears all the time,” Dame Au’Vigne said loudly. She was fully drunk off the sherry and very loud. “But not one kiss,” she lowered her voice, as if trying to be discreet. It didn’t work. “Is it truly as loveless as they say? I know you aren’t waiting until marriage.”

As who say? Jaskier thought. The only person quite that invested seems to be you.

“Not loveless,” Jaskier said. It seemed weak even to his ears.

“Surely you’ll join the dancing again, then,” Dame Au’Vigne said. 

“No,” Jaskier said, fiddling with his napkin. “I’m feeling quite too full to dance, ate too fast, I’m afraid.” He hoped she was too drunk to notice he’d picked at his plate. It seemed she was.

“Lovely little veranda, get some air there,” said a man who, according to Dame Au’Vigne, was shipping weapons to Nilfgaard behind the backs of multiple heads of state.

Jaskier nodded,stood, bowed, and made his escape. He sighed, but wasn’t surprised to find that Geralt had followed along behind. Of course he wanted to escape the party too, but Jaskier wanted to escape...him.

To his shame and surprise, he found tears in his eyes. The pressure of sitting in a room chock full of people who wanted to kill him, combined with the fact that every last one of them reminded him of being bullied in school, and add to that that he was supposed to be fake engaged to Geralt...it was too much. Fake engaged and even in their fake engagement Geralt didn’t like Jaskier. 

Jaskier’s rational brain knew that Geralt did like him, mostly. He just didn’t love him.

Jaskier leaned his elbows on the railing, overlooking some moonlit gardens, and felt the tears roll down his face.

“They think I don’t like you,” Geralt said quietly.

“Yes,” Jaskier said. He knew Geralt could smell the salt of his tears or whatever, but still turned his face away so the witcher couldn’t see.

“I danced with you though.”

Jaskier chuckled wetly. “Nobles dance with people they hate all the time.”

Geralt was quiet for a minute then, very gently, he took one of Jaskier’s hands. “I don’t hate you.”

It was too much, Jaskier started crying in earnest, sobbing.

“C’mon, Jaskier, I like you. A lot.” Geralt was, for him, panicking clearly. Jaskier almost smiled. He was so bad at dealing with other people’s emotion. And his own.

“You’re my friend,” Geralt said, a little stuntedly. “You know I’m not a good liar.”

Too much. Twenty-two years and he finally said the word ‘friends’ and Jaskier wanted more. He whipped around to face Geralt.

“Tell me the truth, then, Geralt. Tell me you love me, it doesn’t have to be the truth for forever, but can you love me just for a night? Can you make it the truth for tonight?” Jaskier’s tears were ugly and blobby and drying up fast but he continued.

“Because I’ve loved you so long I don’t know any other truth,” He leaned forward and planted his forhead on Geralt’s collarbone and sniffled through the last of his tears, curling one, shaking fist into Geralt’s lovely pale cape as he cried. “Just this one night, Geralt, love me back.”

He hadn’t meant to say any of it, was half expecting Geralt to toss him off the low balcony into the bushes below. 

Instead Jaskier was lifted by two strong arms and sat down on the railing. Warm, delightful lips pressed against his and suddenly he was being kissed within an inch of his life. 

“The truth, you want,” Geralt said, pulling back and panting. “Is the only one I can give. I can’t pretend to love you.” Here Geralt looked into Jaskier’s eyes, like being struck by lightning. “I only love you, no pretending, I swear it.”

“But-” Jaskier was cut off.

“They think I don’t like you,” Geralt said, furiously. “I think you think I don’t like you, Jaskier I like you, I love you so much I don’t know what to do and I’m...I’m not good with words. Or emotions.” Geralt’s shoulders dropped a little. “I just am, and the way I am is... The way I am is better with you.” 

Geralt’s face screwed up with anguish. “And I’m the reason you think I don’t like you, it’s my fault and that feels so...so bad. Yennefer’s been working with me on the feelings thing and always says ‘bad isn’t a feeling’ but I can’t tell you what all the feeling is.”

Jaskier was staring, mouth open, as frustrated, stilted, fumbling words left Geralt’s mouth. They sounded angry, but only at himself. Geralt was looking up at him as if seeking benediction.

“Tell me you love me again,” Jaskier said.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again.”

Jaskier giggled as Geralt lifted him and spun him around before tucking him in close and kissing his forehead.

“I,” he said.

A kiss to Jaskier’s nose. “Love.”

A deep, breathtaking kiss to his lips. “You.”

There was nothing left for Jaskier to say except, “wow.”

Geralt smiled, that lovely warm little smile he saved for special times and offered his arm to Jaskier. “Shall we?”

They paraded back into the ballroom and danced the final dance of the set. Geralt whispered a suggestion of what he’d really like for dessert and this time Jaskier didn’t have to fake the scandalized giggle. “Back home, perhaps,” he said.

Dessert meant more conversation with Dame Au’Vigne, which was of course unbearable. There was plenty of Champagne though, which was pretty good, and the bubbles seemed to fill Jaskier all the way up. He took pleasure in picturing the downfall of all these horrible people when Nilfgaard was finally defeated for good.

He especially enjoyed sticking it to her gossip when he fed Geralt a strawberry with cream from his fingertips and recieved a kiss in thanks. Geralt was clearly enjoying himself too. He had a sweet tooth, and that certainly helped, but his hand that never left Jaskier’s under the table was a much better clue.

They walked back to the inn, flushed and warm in the cool night air, bidding farewell to the other drunken lords and ladies all filtering to finer inns or grand coaches. 

Then they were alone on their path back, Geralt’s witcher senses confirming their isolation. Then, Geralt, who never told lies, whispered sweet nothings into Jaskier’s ear the entire way home. Jaskier believed every single one.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s done, this one’s quite long and I loved writing it. Geralt is useless at playing pretend, but very good at loving Jaskier in his own way. I imagine his emotion lessons with Yennefer must have been rather intense. 

[tothemeadow]

Serendipity [Chapter 2]

Chapter 1

When the kingdom of Ainamoryp falls, a motley crew of unlikely allies must come together to save the country.

warnings: swearing, mentions of death

words: 3.5k

(a/n): All characters range from 19-20. Reader insert, reverse harem.

-

Chanswell Forest, Ainamoryp, May 3rd, 492, 18:30

Off in the distance, the sun begins its descent, bathing the sky in splashes of oranges and pinks. It’s somewhat hard to pinpoint through the thick canopy of the forest, but the last sunrays of the day still poke through the trees. The ivory steed Shouto rides upon walks at a comfortable speed; poor thing had spent most of the day galloping past farmlands and numerous villages, all in hopes of taking the prince to safety.

There’s a watchpoint south of here, hidden away in the woods. Get there, seek for help. The soldiers there will lead you to safety.

That’s what the one palace guard had told Shouto right before he took off. Chances are the guard is long dead by now, much like the rest of Endeavor and the royal court of Dinton Keep. A bitter taste lingers on his tongue, paired with a dull ache pounding at his temples. Bastards, the whole lot of them! If only he stayed, he could’ve saved more lives. It’s his duty to protect the people of his land, to ward off any potential dangers, no matter how big or small. Better yet, he has no idea why the northern land of Nialliv invaded in the first place. As far as he knew, the political relations between the two nations were perfectly fine. While they weren’t the best of friends, they weren’t enemies, either.

“Dammit all to hell,” Shouto seethes under his breath. Whatever the cause of the invasion may be, he had to figure it out – and fast.

As the sun continues to set, the forest darkens evermore. Like his father, Shouto was born with excelled magical abilities, unlike most of the mortals in the land. It was a miracle that both his mother and father passed on their traits, granting him the power of fire and ice. They serve him well, make him quite the formidable opponent when it comes to battle. He creates a flame in his left hand, casting a bright glow around him and the horse as they continue their trek through the forest. Judging by the way things are going, he might have to come to a stop and find some sort of shelter for the night. He hadn’t suspected that the watchtower be so far away from Dinton Keep.

Perhaps it’s the work of the gods or a simple miracle when he spots torches in the distance. Drawing closer still, the dimly lit watchtower comes into view, standing tall and proud. Large, weathered stones make up the walls, iron torches bolted into their sides. It’s an impressive tower, to say the least. A lone guard stands out front, swinging back a lambskin flask and chugging down its contents. He sputters as Shouto’s horse comes forth, its greeting whiny loud through the forest’s silence.

“Aye, bloody hell-“ the guard cuts himself short once his eyes land on Shouto’s face. They grow to a comical size, nearly bulging from the sockets as his jaw falls lax. “Your highness!” he croaks. “You… You…”

“Who’s in charge here?” Shouto demands, voice sharp. “I need to speak with them immediately.”

The guard nods dumbly, scrambling over to the horse and taking a hold of its reins as Shouto hops off its back. “Chances are the main chambers,” he blabbers. Now that he’s up close, Shouto can easily smell the alcohol on his breath. “Somebody inside oughta show you the way.”

With a curt nod, Shouto sidesteps the drunken guard and stalks his way inside. Iron candelabras hang from the ceiling, thick white candles steadily burning away and illuminating the hallways. A duo of guards walking in his direction come to a sudden halt upon seeing him. Like the one outside, a look of surprise dawns upon their faces, yet they still fall to a singular knee, head bowed in clear respect.

“Your highness,” the one on the right says, “what a surprise. How may we be of service to you?”

“I need to speak to whoever’s in charge,” Shouto says simply. “I presume they’re in the main chamber?”

The same guard clears his throat. “Sorry to trouble you, your highness, but Sir Rengoku took off earlier this morning – said there was something of extreme importance that he must tend to.”

Muttering under his breath, Shouto presses a hand to the lower half of his face, heaving a great sigh as he drags it downward. “Is there anyone I can speak with?”

“Prince Shouto! What brings you here, your highness?” a new voice calls out.

Turning around, Shouto is met with another man; unlike the other guards, this man’s armor is built different, the iron plates bent into sharper, more intricate shapes. A set of wings are built into the shoulder pieces and the sides of the helmet, giving the suit a mystical appearance. A plume of bright red hangs from the crown of the helmet, swishing around much like one’s ponytail does. No, this isn’t a regular guard – this is a knight of Endeavor.

The knight tugs off his helmet, revealing a friendly face inlaid with dark red eyes and a burst of burgundy hair. A pair of earrings hanging from his lobes swing as he nods his head in greeting. “Allow me to introduce myself, your highness. I am Sir Tanjiro Kamado, a proud knight of Endeavor.”

Odd – why would a knight of such high status be positioned so far way from the capital?

Straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, Shouto perceives Tanjiro with a hard look. “We need to have a talk – immediately.”

_______

Dinton Keep's dungeons, Ainamoryp, May 4th, 492, 05:23

At the first few rays of dawn, you begin to stir awake. For a moment, you wonder why you don’t feel the rock of your ship, but then the previous day’s events suddenly hit you. Ah, that’s right, you think, Endeavor got fucked over and I was put into a cell.

Off to the side, there’s slight murmuring. You recall the freckled boy you met yesterday – the healer, Izuku. What, has he resulted to conversing with himself like some sort of madman? Shifting onto your side, you crack your eyes open; immediately, you spot Izuku standing by the window, elbows propped on the sill. Although the light is still somewhat dim, you can spot the dark circles under his eyes, the sharp curve of his frown. Now that you think about it, he didn’t get any sleep last night, did he? You can’t say you blame him, either; he was present when Nialliv attacked and took over the city. Gods know the horrors he witnessed, the terrifying sounds of people screaming and helplessly being slaughtered.

“Did you find out anything?” Izuku whispers.

“No,” an unembodied voice says. It takes you aback – by the mere sound of its rasp, it’s obvious that Izuku isn’t speaking to himself. “Endeavor’s crawling with Nialliv guards, the royal grounds are bloody as hell, but that’s about it. I haven’t really seen any patrols in the surrounding farmlands, but that’s bound to change here directly. We oughta get going now before we miss our damn chance.”

“Izuku?” you drawl, voice heavily riddled with sleep. “What’s going on?”

Turning to you, Izuku flashes you a soft smile. “Good morning, Captain. We didn’t wake you up, did we?”

Shaking your head, you sit up and rub the tiredness away from your eyes. “I usually get up at dawn anyway,” you tell him.

“Oi, who the fuck is that?” that same, unfamiliar voice speaks. “Who are you talking to?”

Izuku throws an irritated look out the window. “Really, Kacchan? Do you really have to say it like that?”

“Answer the damn question, Deku.”

Izuku sighs. “It’s a pir-“ he stops, then, quickly glancing back to you. Clearly, he remembers the little outburst from yesterday and your reaction. Clearly his throat, he tries again. “A friend. She’s the captain of The Pearl Lady.”

“Kacchan” whistles, long and slow. “Gods, Deku, befriending pirates now, eh? Nice to see you finally have a backbone.”

Annoyance twinges your insides. Whoever this Kacchan is, he seems like an asshole. Scrambling onto your feet, you brush the stray pieces of hay off your clothes and stalk over to the window, taking your place next to Izuku. You forgot how tall he was, your head just barely coming up to his chest. Looking through the iron bars of the window, you’re finally met with this mysterious “Kacchan”; the first thing that catches your attention is the mop of wicked blonde hair, then the piercing red eyes training on your face. His expression is stern, nearly tiptoeing to the point of becoming angry, but he’s handsome, undeniably so. A large pair of clawed earrings stick out from either lobe, and numerous strands of beads hand from his thick neck. Whoever this guy is, you’ve never seen anyone dressed like this before.

Kacchan unashamedly scans his eyes over you, an eyebrow quirking up his forehead. “Captain, huh? Sure as hell don’t look like one to me.”

You scoff. “Excuse you, Kacchan. You look like you rolled out of a barn and mount donkeys for fun.”

His eyes narrow into slits. “What did you just say to me? Fucking brat, I’ll kill you!”

“Hey!” Izuku whisper-yells. “Keep it down! We can’t alert anyone!”

“Fine,” Kacchan spits. “I’ll deal with this bitch properly once you’re out.”

Your mouth opens, ready to rip him a new one, but then Izuku promptly yanks you away from the wall, slamming his large hands over your ears as the wall suddenly explodes. It’s not a large explosion, not in the slightest, but it’s enough to create a hole for you and Izuku to crawl out of. However, you’re guaranteed that somebody had to hear it.

Once the dust cleared away, your heart nearly stops beating within your chest. Kacchan didn’t come alone – no, he sits upon a dragon, a brilliant beast a fiery red, its glorious scales practically glowing in the early morning light. You blame your tiredness for not noticing it earlier.

“Well?” Kacchan says, looking unamused. “Are you going to stand there all day and gawk like an idiot or are you gonna get on?”

Immediately, Izuku crawls through the whole; turning around, he holds out a hand for you to take, a determined gleam in his eyes. “Well, Captain? Are you?”

For a moment, you hesitate. Here are these two men – two complete strangers – busting you out of prison, and for what? Normally, you’d tell them both to fuck off, but there’s something about the look in Izuku’s eyes that makes you think differently.

“I think it came from down there!” a distant voice shouts. Shit, it’s one of the guards!

Without another thought, you take Izuku’s hand and crawl through the wall. A gust of wind strikes your face once you’re outside. Glancing down, you notice how your cell was sitting at the edge of a cliff; the sea slaps at the jagged rocks, almost taunting you to take a fall. Your head feels oddly light, vision beginning to swim the longer you stare at the water. Squeezing your eyes tight, you feel Izuku pull you into his chest, the smoothness of the dragon’s scales as you land on its back.

“Alright, let’s blow this joint!” Kacchan exclaims, cackling wildly as the dragon takes off into the sky.

“Wait, wait, wait!” you shout.

The wind blasts your ears as you pick up speed, your clothes and hair flapping wildly. Kacchan only continues to laugh while you throw curse after curse at him, telling him to slow the fuck down before all of you get killed. Izuku’s chest rumbles as he chuckles, his thick arms tightening around your waist to keep you still.

Gods, you’re really flying on a dragon. They were meant to be creatures of legend, be told through tales of old and new. They’re the work of dreams and imagination, not reality. But no, here you are, zipping through the sky with nothing holding you back.

And by the grace of the gods, you want to be let down.

________

The outskirts of Levalon, Ainamoryp, May 4th, 492, 09:03

“I take it that you don’t get to travel very often?” Tanjiro speaks, tone light. Together, he and Shouto ride side by side on their horses; unlike Shouto’s beautiful ivory mare, his is a simple russet brown in color. It’s nothing to brag about, honestly, but his horse is strong.

Shouto hums in response. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid. My father often kept me busy with royal duties and studies. I hadn’t much of a chance to visit the surrounding villages.”

“Well, then hopefully you’re in for a treat!” Tanjiro chirps. “Levalon is nothing like Endeavor, but it’s a sizeable town! I’m positive you’ll like it.”

“You know,” Shouto says, glancing at Tanjiro from the corner of his eye, “you’re pretty optimistic for a knight. It reminds me of a great friend of mine.”

“I’m glad.”

Up ahead, the stone wall surrounding the town of Levalon comes into view. The bray of a donkey echoes as it passes through the archway carved into the wall, the wagon attached to its harness rumbling away over the pebbled path. It’s such a strange sight to see, this level of normality. There’s a group of kids playing tag in the grass, their carefree giggles carrying through the wind. As Shouto and Tanjiro draw even closer, the chattering coming straight from the market streets is already loud and frantic.

“It pains me to know that this town won’t be like this for much longer,” Shouto comments. Tanjiro remains silent; he knows Shouto is right, but it’s a hurtful thing to even think about.

As the two trek into town, they’re met with hustle and bustle of everyday life; people come and go from the market streets, either rough spin sacks over their shoulders or a wicker basket in their arms, children running down the street, a shaggy mutt following close behind, a hidden figure in a cloak snatching an unsuspecting person’s coin purse-

“Wait a second!” Tanjiro calls, hopping off his horse and hitting the ground with a metallic clank. The hooded person spares a single glance Tanjiro’s way before they take off at a breakneck speed in the opposite direction. Again, Tanjiro yells as he gives chase after him. Sighing, Shouto looks to Tanjiro’s horse; it stands where he left it, shaking its mane and looking around. Ah, so it’s devoted to its master – how lovely. Shouto respects the notion no matter the creature.

The horse whinnies as Tanjiro returns, face flushed and eyes wide. “Dammit, that thief is fast. No matter – I know where to find him.” Cocking his head, Shouto peers at the other inquisitively. Tanjiro merely grins, a finger reaching up and tapping the end of his nose. “Would you believe me if I told you that I have a good sense of smell?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it in the slightest,” Shouto replies.

Tanjiro’s smile grows, his eyes crinkling. “Thank you kindly, your highness-“ Immediately, his smile drops as his nose twitches; oddly, it reminds Shouto of a hound when it’s attuned to a kill, to the fresh scent of spilt blood. Tanjiro cranes his neck to the sky, his mouth falling lax. Following his line of sight, Shouto looks up, his own jaw dropping as well.

Amazingly enough, a dragon flies far overhead, its bright red belly twinkling in the morning light. Shouto’s heard tales of dragons ever since he was a young boy still feeding from the wet nurse, of how they conquered great lands, of how saved the lives of their worshippers. While it’s a common tale that dragons allegedly went extinct, it’s perfectly clear that they haven’t.

“By the gods,” Tanjiro mutters, voice full of wonder, “a real live dragon. Do you think it’s heading towards Dovahkiin?”

“There’s only one person I know who’s of Dovah descent,” Shouto grunts. “Why he’s here, I don’t know.”

“It wasn’t part of the attack on Endeavor, was it?”

“No. The fires weren’t caused by such a beast – they were created by monsters.”

Tanjiro hums. “Well… Wouldn’t you want to ask your friend for help? If you’re planning on taking back Dinton Keep-“

“I refuse to ask him for help,” Shouto interrupts, a scowl pulling at the corners of his mouth. “In fact, I’d rather not see him at all.”

________

In the skies, Ainamoryp, May 4th, 492, 09:10

Kacchan sneezes.

“Ugh,” he drawls, shaking his head. “Some idiot’s probably talking about me.”

“There’s not much to talk about,” you say offhandedly. Izuku snorts in amusement, but it quickly turns into a cough to cover it up.

Kacchan jabs a finger in your direction. “If it was up to me, I would’ve thrown you off a long time ago, sweetheart. Don’t press your fucking luck.”

After flying in the air for a few hours, you’ve grown used to the feeling of the dragon’s muscles flexing underneath you, the strong gusts of wind continuously hitting you in the face; however, you refuse to look at the trees and fields dotting the land below. You’ve also grown used to Izuku’s and Kacchan’s presence, although the latter is a bit too sour for your liking.

“Whatever you say, Kacchan,” you bluff. You actually wish that he won’t, but you also refuse to admit that as well.

“For fuck’s sake,” Kacchan hisses, “it’s Katsuki. Only that dumb Deku calls me Kacchan.”

Furrowing your brows, you look over your shoulder at Izuku. “Katsuki? Why didn’t you tell me that?”

Laughing awkwardly, Izuku scratches his cheek, an embarrassed flush blooming on his freckled face. “Well, like he said – I’m the really the only one who calls him that, and it’s been that way for years…”

Katsuki rolls his eyes. “Yeah. So.” Training his vivid eyes on you, he flashes you a sneer. “You’re a pirate, right? How the fuck did that even happen?”

“That’s Captain to you, boom boy. Ever hear of The Pearl Lady? Yeah, that’s mine. And, if you don’t watch your tone, then I’ll happily show you a close up of what a cannon looks like when it’s going off.”

Katsuki laughs, then, a wicked smile curving his lips. “You’re a feisty one, I’ll give you that. I like ‘em feisty.”

You scoff. “Damn hog,” you grunt. As much as you’d like to curse him out, he’s similar to Izuku when it comes to size. Katuski is tall – even more so than Izuku, you reckon – and he’s huge, a singular bicep almost the size of your head. He could easily toss you off the side of the dragon if he truly wanted to.

“We should take a rest stop,” Izuku offers. “Plus, we need to figure out a way to get in touch with Shouto-“

An animalistic growl rumbles in Katsuki’s throat at the name; he snarls at Izuku, even lashes his teeth.

“Gods,” you start, eyes going wide, “what the actual fuckis wrong with you?”

“I won’t do anything with that icy piece of shit,” Katsuki snarls. “How do ya even know he’s alive, huh?”

“There wasn’t a body,” Izuku presses, expression going dark. “Besides, I’d think they would’ve bragged more if they killed both the king and prince in one foul swoop.”

The prince? Like the prince of Ainamoryp? Gods, if he truly is missing-

“That’s our only chance, isn’t it,” you say, voice flat. “If Ainamoryp is to stay alive, the prince is needed to take the throne.”

“Yeah,” Izuku tells you, “that’s exactly it.”

You inhale sharply.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Katsuki spits. “I’m not even from this damned country. It’s not business whether it burns to hell or not.” With a shrug, he crosses his thick arms over his chest.

Anger roars in the pit of your belly, climbs up your insides and encases your heart. How dare he say such a thing, especially to yourface? You’ve crossed the seas, visited the lands, but this is your home. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t, but you had to do something. Shooting forward, you grab onto the straps of Katsuki’s cape, snarling as you lean in close.

“Born here or not, you don’t get to say anything, you bastard. Lives were taken for no damn reason, and I wasn’t even able to walk around my own hometown without being thrown into a cell. If you hate Ainamoryp so much, kindly drop me the fuck off and get bent.”

Katsuki’s eyes are large as you push away from him, settling back in your spot before Izuku. Surprisingly, neither say a word; instead, Katsuki turns around, shuffles up the dragon’s neck, and takes the reins in hand. With a simple yank, the dragon is making a sharp turn, heading back towards the town you previously flew over.

“If you want to find that stupid prince,” Katsuki shoots over his shoulder, “Levalon’s the best chance you got.”

======

Time for the first choice in this "pick your own adventure" piece! Will you stay behind with Katsuki or go into Levalon with Izuku? Voting closes on June 6, 2021.

[obsidianfr3sk]

The Origins (Chapter 2)

Summary:  Before the Renegades put an end to the Age of Anarchy, they were six kids trying to survive day by day in a city ruled by chaos and desolation. Is there a space for hope and kindness somewhere in Gatlon City? Maybe.

AO3link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123756/chapters/61113496#workskin

Today’s protagonist is... GEORGIA RAWLES, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. I think you can alredy tell that I am kind of pairing the OG team with each other (not in a romantic way, I swear) so those two member’s stories will be totally realted, but all of them are interconnected in one way or another. Next chapter will be from Kasumi’s perspective, then Evander’s, Tamaya’s, and last, but not least, Hugh’s.

Also, Grammarly is a bitch, so if anyone can recommend me a good english grammar checker, I will be forever greatfull.

And, guys, thank you so much for the support! Every reblog and every like means the world to me <3 

The world that we design

Age of Anarchy

Year 3

Her mother had been very clear to her. Georgia couldn't tell anyone what they were going to do Saturday morning at the Rae house. She couldn't tell her classmates, her teachers, or the gardener with whom she got along so well. If she told anyone, her mother promised that she would burn each of her mystery books and all of her dolls in the fireplace. Georgia knew that her mother was not one to make promises that they would not keep. It was not worth the risk.

After making her swear that she would keep the secret, she told her to choose a toy or a book that she wanted to show Tamaya Rae. Georgia let out a startled cry and started asking hundreds of questions: What was Tamaya Rae like? Had she seen her? How old was she? Was she as pretty as Mrs. Rae, or did she have Mr. Rae's hideous nose? Why did she never leave her home? Was it because of her allergy to the sun? How can you be allergic to the sun?

Her mother lost her patience and sent her to her room.

"Young girls should not bother their mothers with so many questions," she exclaimed.

Georgia tightened her jaw. If her father had been there, he would have defended her. He always let her ask all the questions she wanted.

On Saturday, before leaving, she looked in the huge mirror they had in the living room. With her pink dress and pearl hair clips, it was almost as if Ace Anarchy had not taken over the city three years ago.

Were they poor? No. Georgia went to a private school, her house was in a decent area, and they could even afford to have a maid and a gardener. She knew they were rich. But they used to be even richer.

As soon as they arrived, an employee opened the door to the garden of the Rae house. It used to be prettier, but they still had those roses that she liked so much. That, and the small tower that protruded from the ceiling, gave it an enchanted castle look, perfect setting for the scandalous murder of the king's lover.

"You're right," her mom laughed. “Just don’t tell Tamaya you said that.” And she rang.

Georgia looked out into the garden once more. There was a space where a car would fit perfectly, but there was no car. She didn't think it was because they didn't have one. She had seen the Rae arrive at the church in a dented (but elegant) black car.

Before she can ask her mother, Mrs. Rae opened the door.

"Hello Tara," she greeted with a smile on her red lips. "Good morning Georgia. Come in, come in."

The Rae family had managed to keep their most beautiful things. The ones that caught her attention the most were the chandelier, an old piano, green velvet armchairs, and an antique porcelain vase. Mrs. Rae was talking to her mother when Georgia asked:

"Where's Tamaya?"

Her mother seemed shocked at the interruption, but Mrs. Rae was very light about it.

"Oh sure," she whispered. "Come, follow me. Tara, my dear, why don't you go ahead in the kitchen? Tea should be ready by now."

Tara gave one last look at her daughter before leaving.

Mrs. Rae guided her to the second floor. There was a hallway full of doors, but one stood out from all of them. It was silver with carved emerald details. Behind it, there was a large circular room, with five-meter bookcases covering her even higher walls and a larger bed than Georgia's, covered in cushions with too much lace.

She was watching how the tower was on the inside.

It would be a much prettier room if it wasn't dark.

"Tamaya, your friend has arrived."

Mrs. Rae turned on the light. As soon as her eyes managed to experience the new lighting, Georgia understood why Tamaya did not go to school with her.

Sitting around a crowd of dolls, sipping tea among them, Tamaya Rae looked at her with those amber eyes, identical to her mother's. She wore a green floral dress and her dark hair fell gently over her shoulders. She would have looked angelic, if not for the satiety in her gaze and the huge black wings that came out of her back.

"Tamaya, this is Georgia," said Mrs. Rae with a light push, "Tara Rawle's daughter."

"Hello…”

Tamaya did not change her expression.

"Well, have fun," exclaimed Mrs. Rae after ten seconds of awkward silence. There was too much joy in her words to be true. "Tamaya, behave yourself."

Georgia believed that when Mrs. Rae left, Tamaya was going to pounce on her and rip the skin off her face. Fortunately, that was not the case.

She did nothing.

Literally nothing. She just kept watching her in complete silence.

“Hi Tamaya," Georgia said a little more confidently than before." I'm Georgia. "

"I know."

"Um…"

Tamaya lost interest in her and returned her attention to her dolls. They were drinking real tea.

"Can I join your tea party?" Georgia asked.

"It is not a tea party," Tamaya snapped annoyed, "it is a gathering of the Gatlon City Detective Department."

"Can I join the Gatlon City Detective Department meeting?"

"I'm afraid only those who are part of the department can participate. It is a very important case. I'm sorry."

From her tone of voice, Georgia doubted she was sorry. But she liked that game.

"What do I have to do to join the department, then?"

"We have no openings at this time."

Georgia took a doll with golden curls and said in an extremely shrill voice:

"I quit, Detective Rae, I can't take it anymore."

She dropped the doll onto the bed. To her surprise, Tamaya was unimpressed by a magnificent imitation of a doll's voice. What's more, she looked more fed up than ever.

"You can't join the department. It's my last word."

For some reason, those words hurt Georgia more than she expected. But, as her mother said, it was not worth staying in a place where they did not want her.

"Well, I didn't even want to join anyway," she spat, clutching at her purse.

"Perfect. It looks like we're both on the same page."

"That's right! And playing with dolls is for little girls. I'm already a woman. I had my first period two weeks ago."

"I had mine three weeks ago," said Tamaya. "And frankly, you're not behaving like a woman right now."

Georgia knew she couldn't go out and tell her mother that she already wanted to leave. But she would no longer stand to be with a girl as rude and cruel as Tamaya Rae. Therefore, she decided to fly off and sit on one of the wooden beams that supported the roof of the tower. She took her book out of the purse and began to read it, willing to stay there the rest of the two hours they were going be in that house, without speaking to Tamaya again.

However, she immediately noticed Tamaya was looking at her, with her jaw dropped to the floor.

"What?" Georgia asked from the wooden beam.

"You can fly," Tamaya stammered.

Georgia shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

"You are a prodigy."

She didn’t answer.

"But then why do you look so...?"

Suspense.

"So what?" she asked. Curiosity was going to kill her if she didn't ask.

"So normal?"

Georgia frowned.

"What do you mean normal?"

"My mom says prodigies always have something that gives them away," she replied. "An unusual eye color, hands too big or ... well, you know."

"Wings."

Tamaya nodded. Georgia had never heard anything so stupid. (Or maybe she had, but she was too upset with Tamaya to remember.)

"Well, your mom is a liar."

Tamaya threw a marble at her with such force that it hit her knee.

"My mom is not a liar!"

"Sorry, but prodigies are not too different from other people," Georgia replied. "What she told you is untrue. How do you call that? I will tell you: it is called a lie. Therefore, your mom is a liar. I rest my case.”

For a second, Tamaya's expression seemed sad.

"But I am too different."

That was when Georgia understood it. It was not just any lie; it was a white lie. Of those that she constantly said. "That dress fits her very well, ma'am." "Oh, but of course I like the bean stew, sir." "Yes, I have studied for the exam, teacher."

"A lie is still a lie, Georgia," she imagined her father reminding her, "no matter what the intention."

"You're not that different," said Georgia.

"Now you are the liar."

"I am not a liar," she defended herself.

"Tell me then. What makes me not that different?”

Georgia thought she would have to use all the skills she had in telling white lies. She stared at the girl below her for a good ten seconds, before realizing there would probably be no need to lie.

"You have pretty hair," said Georgia. "And your dress is beautiful. It shows you have an excellent sense of fashion."

Tamaya smiled.

"You also have a good sense of fashion. I can tell because of your underpants."

Georgia flushed and crossed her legs.

"Tamaya, you creep!”

Tamaya laughed out loud, and Georgia soon joined her. She had to admit it was funny.

"I hardly like wearing dresses," she explained. "They are very uncomfortable to use when I fly."

"I don't like dresses at all," Tamaya replied, "but my mom says I look prettier with them."

“Well, mine says true beauty is within. Wear whatever you want.

"Do you wear whatever you want?"

Georgia nodded.

"What do you use for flying?"

"When I fly, it is at home, when my mother is not around," he explained. "Pants are the most appropriate clothes for flying. What do you use to fly?"

"I do not know how to do it."

Georgia pretended to pass out from the shock.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. My dad won't let me," Tamaya explained sadly. "He thinks I should keep my feet on the ground.”

"Literally."

"Literally, yes."

"That’s unfair.”

"He doesn't know you're here either."

Georgia almost passed out, but this time, for real.

"How so?"

"Yes. My mom invited you because she thought it was a good idea that I talk with someone who doesn't have a head made of plastic," Tamaya explained. "But my dad didn't want to."

"Your dad sounds like a bad guy," she snapped.

For a second, she believed Tamaya would throw her another marble. Instead, she shrugged and muttered:

"He probably is."

"And what did you want?"

"About what?"

"Did you want me to come to play?"

"I didn't care," Tamaya replied. "My dolls have been my only friends in these twelve years of my life, and they have never disappointed me. They could have remained my friends for much longer."

She did not believe it. If she had to be locked in a room, with the dolls as her only company, she would probably go crazy. Of course, she loved her dolls, but not that much. Also, she did not want Tamaya to go crazy. Although her teachers told her that she had a strange ability to drive crazy everyone who ran into her. However, she was sure they used "drive crazy" in the good sense of the word.

She got off the beam and took the doll she had left on the bed.

"What did you say?" she asked the doll. She brought her face close to her ear like the doll was telling her a secret. "Are you sure that's what you want? Okay, I'll let her know." Tamaya looked puzzled. "Detective Egerton says she is very sorry that things ended like this between her and the Detective Department. She knows she cannot fix her mistakes, but she has chosen me as her replacement." She looked at the doll once more, wiping the fake tears from her cheeks. "Oh, you don't know how honored I am, Stella. I promise I'll make you proud."

"Molly," Tamaya corrected.

"Oh, you don't know how honored I am, Molly," Georgia repeated. "I promise I’ll make you proud."

"Okay, Georgia, you can join the team," Tamaya agreed. "But with one condition."

"What is that condition?"

Tamaya slightly flapped her wings. She had a spark in her eyes.

A spark of madness.

"That you teach me how to fly."

Georgia did not stop to think about the problem she would have with the Rae if they discovered she was teaching her daughter to fly. She also didn't remember she had no idea how to explain Tamaya the rules behind the flight. She didn’t even know the rules behind flying. The only thing on her mind at the time was how cool it would be to have a prodigy friend with a power similar to hers and was as much out of her mind as she was.

"I agree. Now, what case are we working on?"

Tamaya poured her a cup of tea.

"Do you remember Mayor Everhart's first wife?" Georgia remembered and nodded. Her mom had mentioned her, yes. "She went to the hospital when she was about to have her baby, nine years ago, right? She came back, but the baby didn't. Supposedly, he was born dead. Two days later, Mrs. Everhart appears dead in her own home. The cause? Suicide… But, was it really suicide? "

Again, that suspense... And now, mystery. Georgia's two favorite things in one person.

[mooneyedandglowing]

I'm not a "no" sort of person, at least not when it comes to work. I know when I must draw the line and I do it, but I always wish to be some tireless machine - always want to be more computer than human.

But nonetheless, I'm less wary to speak weakness. A mistake being made is always worse than powering through. And mistakes have consequences, and so the "yes" girl becomes the "yes but tomorrow" girl.

I like immediacy though. I always will. But I've internalized time in a way healthier than before. Yes, it's all urgent, everything about this life is time sensitive because I will die, but I'm trying to make it mean more and I'm trying to produce quality always without being discouraged by the time it takes. I'm trying to be gentle to myself in this world that has rarely been gentle to me.

No one close reaches out. If I am to be touched, it's of my own action.

Some tower.

I was thinking in the bath about feeling on this fringe of mental health. When you are labelled as "high-functioning", it's common. My ADHD means my reality is not typical. But my trauma is "resolved". I've been let go by so many therapists for the same reasons: "You're where we'd want you to be," or even, "I don't think you need to be here," or when one told me, "There's nothing wrong with you," as if there is something wrong with any of us. It left some imprint on me - those experiences have. Instead of pride, I feel neglected and rejected wholly even by those who I'm paying to listen. I've scraped alone to this state. I've dragged my own body up the hill. I shouldn't have had to. I shouldn't have to. I have a lot of anger because of it - because of that aloneness. And I had no other choice to survive.

Am I listened to? Professionally, yes. And I run a household. And I give advice that people take. And my best friend never minds if I rant. But any space beyond that is so often limited.

A friend talked to me for 45 minutes the other day. Primarily about themselves - their growth, plans, emotions. This is how they are with me (with me, not everyone). Primarily about themselves. They don't really seem to care what I think, what I feel. It's like being a vessel others put things inside of because You carry. I'd like to talk about things with them. Interesting things. I'd like to be asked something. All of that is not impossible but it also isn't going to happen.

Sometimes I think to ask about something I care about even if I've asked in some past and say, "Tell me again. I wasn't listening before." I think about that and then I remember every failed attempt, every moment of their withholding an answer. I think about that and very quickly put an end to those thoughts. Fruitless thoughts. It never mattered. And this shallow way of keeping people in a life merely to have them there and yet gain nothing meaningful has never interested me. Never will.

To me, it's awful.

It only reminds me of my separateness - the aloneness that sends me to rage. The neglect that wounds. And I have no more use for those feelings. I don't need to pick at the scabs of a lifetime.

Once they said they didn't have "the space" in their life for "intense" conversations with me. The tone was harsh, sharp, cruel. I remember my surprise. I remember my hurt.

They were dating a woman they only spoke of with me at the end of their relationship. And so I didn't know where their words came from. I didn't know why it was so awful to speak to me or why they were on edge. The conclusion always remained a vague assumption. But I asked for what I wanted. And I was told no. So why then would I ever ask again?

But like a vessel, I carry what they said: an angry refusal to give me anything I'd want.

Some people think if they do something, then the thing they want will happen. But I was raised by cynical women. And I became a cynical woman. And I was taught that there was nothing special about me or anyone. I have none of the egoist fantasies some people find comfort in. I'd like certain things. I even demand certain things, but I'm no more deserving of them than anyone.

I don't know how to daydream.

You will have to provide for yourself what you need.

My brother told me I was the least sentimental son of a bitch. But I hold on to nearly every present I'm given. Some items mean the most. My hamsa necklace. My grandmother's fake pearls. The bead necklace made for me by a resident of the care home. The saccharine signs about a father's love. I remember losing some items of sentimentality years ago when I left a relationship. She gave them to a friend who never shipped them to me. And it made me less sentimental. I suppose a bit out of necessity. I had to accept the impermanence of the material just as much as the impermanence of the mind. If I look at it too long, it will destroy me before I'm finished. That goes for so much.

Life is continually making us until it no longer does. But this is the first night where I feel that I might sleep well. And I want to end on that feeling. This feeling. The cat asleep on my belly. And me accepting everything.

[littlesliceofmarvel]

Back To The Future

Request/Synopsis: Tony and the reader have been friends forever, and the reader is related to Peggy Carter. Something goes wrong in the lab one day and the two of them are sent back to the 40s, and they run into a couple familiar faces. Along the way to get back home, they discover their feelings for each other.

Warnings: Swearing (ofc)

Pairings: Tony x Reader

A/N: As always, Gif isn’t mine. I know that originally the request was to have help from Howard Stark, but I changed it slightly. Also, I have no idea when this takes place in the timeline of the MCU, but oh well. I also don’t remember much about the first Captain America and the timeline of that, so ignore any mistakes I’ve made. Enjoy! xx

Being one of Shield’s scientists came with major responsibility and unpredictability. One second you could be doing an upgrade on Thor’s phone, which to him was rocket science, or you could be doing actual rocket science. You worked with NASA for countless years, and when they teamed up for a task with Shield five years ago, Fury was captivated by your skills and got you on board right away. You took the job without a second of hesitation.

You got used to the insanity of this job fairly quickly with the help of Tony Stark, who happens to have become one of your best friends. He was there to help you when it came to stuff you didn’t fully understand, like most extraterrestrial technology that came through the lab. You had become one of Shield’s most trusted scientists, and you were always the go-to person when Stark was out of town. You did love your job, and working with some of the toughest people in the world really helped motivate you to be the best at everything you did.

“(Y/N),” your thoughts were cut off by Fury’s voice, booming over the conference room, “Do you think you can handle this?”

Unfortunately, you had been paying no attention to what Fury had been saying, and you wanted nothing more than to sink back into the big black leather chair when everyone’s eyes faced you. 

“Of course,” you gave Fury a forced smile, to which he nodded, telling the team you had it covered. Your face flushed as you felt the humiliation settling in of not paying attention to Fury and getting yourself roped into something.

“It’s settled,” Fury clapped his hands together, “Dr. (Y/L/N) will handle the Infinity Stones.”

Oh, boy. You were screwed.

-

After accidentally agreeing to be the one to dissect the Infinity Stones, you found yourself in the lab, facing three glowing gems. One green, one purple, and one red. You were told they were the time stone, power stone, and reality stone. You were supposed to look into them to see what they possessed, what they could do, and how they worked. It was something you never expected to be doing. You had heard of the Infinity Stones in the past, having dealt with the tesseract and Loki’s scepter during his 2012 attack, but you wanted nothing to do with them.

“Ouch, son of a bitch,” you let out a small yelp when you lifted the time stone, a small burn mark left on your fingers. You turned around and grabbed a pair of gloves before turning back to the green gem. You placed it on a small stand, picking up a giant magnifying glass and letting it sit in front of your face as the gem showed up on the large screen. 

“THE TIME STONE, ONE OF SIX INFINITY STONES” the file read as you zoomed in on the image of the stone, analyzing its structure. There was a microscopic bead of light on the outside of the stone that caught your attention, and you zoomed in on it to see what it was. A small hole on the side of the stone led straight to the middle, the natural light it was producing leaking out of the tiny hole.

“How’s it going in here?” You jumped, facing a grinning Tony Stark who was munching away on a bag of raisins. You shot him a death glare for scaring you, turning back to face the green item.

“Not as bad as you’d think,” you grinned, showing Tony the screen that sat in front of you, a close up shot of the Time Stone catching his attention.

“What’s that?” he pointed towards the small hole that caught had your attention, offering you a raisin as he did so. One thing you couldn’t understand was how often this guy ate, and in the lab.

“Why are you eating in my space?” You crossed your arms, facing him.

He gave you a sassy look, placing his hand on his hip, “You’re actually in my space.”

You rose an eyebrow, “Ok, Mister Boss Man, whatever you say.” Tony gave you a glare and pointed to the stone once again.

“What is that, though?” he closed up the bag and placed it on the desk behind you, eyes not coming off of the screen as you picked up a tiny pair of tweezers, pointing to the Stone.

“Don’t ask me, I don’t know,” you shrugged, slowly moving to pick up the Stone with the tweezers. Tony turned his attention to what you were doing, watching as you carefully picked up the stone with the tweezers, and before you knew it, everything went green, and then black.

-

You woke up, your head pounding out of your skull. Your eyes felt swollen shut, but once you forced them awake, you were greeted by sunlight. You could feel grass between your fingers and on the back of your neck, indicating that you were laying down. It took you a few seconds to adjust to the brightness, your mind swirling with what just happened.

The Stone.

You jumped up, looking around for where you were, trying to find the lab and the stone. You remembered Tony, and your eyes immediately scanned around to find him. You looked around for indications of what happened and where you were, finding nothing but an empty field, a dirt road going through the trees.

“What the hell?” You mumbled, breathing heavily as panic started to set in, realizing what might be happening. The Stone, the Time Stone. Time travel. 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Tony!?” You called out, brushing your hair out of your face as you started speed-walking towards the dirt road, “Tony Stark, where are you?!” 

“(Y/N)?” A quiet groan came from the long grass and you rushed over to where it came from, your heart nearly exploding when you saw Tony Stark laying in the grass, struggling to open his eyes, reaching his hand out so you could help him up.

“Where are we?” He asked, voice coarse from the passing out of sorts. You looked around, hoping to find some sort of a clue. And that’s exactly what you got. A vehicle passed on the road, a small Buick passing by on the road and turning into the trees, both of your eyes locked on it before you both exchanged a knowing look. It was a 40′s model.

“Shit, please tell me we didn’t go back in time,” you mumbled, grabbing Tony’s arm and looking in his eyes.

He kept his eyes on the road which the car disappeared on, “Oh, you want me to lie. No, we haven’t gone back in time.”

You let out a frustrated groan, throwing your head back and running your hands through your hair, tugging aggressively. How could this have happened? It was all your fault. How did the Stone send you back in time without you having done anything? And why to the 40′s?

“Tony, what the hell do we do?” You asked, eyes almost watering at how panicked you were. Tony turned his attention back to you and placed his hands on your shoulders, steadying you.

“Ok, first of all, stressing out isn’t going to help.”

You pushed him off of you, “Sorry, but we’re currently in the 40′s! Tell me what part of this I should be calm about,”

He rolled his eyes at you, “You know what? Be lucky we got thrown back to the 40s, we know people here.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, waving your arms, “Sorry, who the hell do we know here?”

“My dad, Howard Stark, pre-pubescent Steve is probably running around here somewhere, and your aunt, the one Steve loved what’s her name again?” Tony put his hands to his temple and everything clicked in your head.

“Peggy!” You shouted, a smile on your face, “Of course, this all makes sense.”

“Sorry, what part of this makes sense to you?”

You smiled at him, “Ok, the stone can connect to DNA, right? When you come in contact with it, you feel it as much as it feels you. So, when I somehow triggered a reaction from it, it threw us into time, in general. It connected the two of us to DNA from here, of course!” The Time Stone was one of the only Stones that could feel human connection, and it only made sense that once you touched it and opened a portal of time, you and Tony’s DNA got jumbled and matched it to your relatives in the 40s, Howard Stark and Margaret Carter. 

“I’m not following,” Tony gave you a blank stare, “but cut the enthusiasm, we still need to get back to where we came from.”

“Do you think they would know a way?” You asked, and Tony nodded at you, pulling your hand and dragging you down the road. 

After a long, long walk, the two of you pulled up to a small gate, and behind it looked like a military boot camp. You heard drill calls and groups of men running and you immediately thought that this is probably where Steve trained. There was a small circular looking building near the back, which clearly led to underground.

“So, this is the base where they’re all at, huh?” You asked as Tony used FRIDAY to hack into the card ID holder, letting the gate open wide.

You looked around, taking in the sights. Men walked around in old military gear, which to them was modern. Talks of German attack forces and the attack on Pearl Harbour two years ago would make this 1943. Your head swirled at the idea of wanting to take in as much history as you could, but you knew you needed to get back home. In the distance, you could see the faint outline of the old New York City, the Stark Tower obviously not being there made the seriousness of this situation feel so much more real.

You turned around to look for Tony, but a small body came crashing into yours, almost knocking you over. You looked down to face a familiar face, your heart getting caught in your throat.

“Rogers?” You asked, Steve’s blue eyes looking into yours questioningly. He looked like a child, his head almost looking too big for his body. You knew that Steve used to be smaller, but this was more than you had expected. Seeing him like this, knowing he didn’t know you at this moment made your eyes water.

“Do.. Do I know you?” He asked, his helmet falling into his face, practically making it disappear. You wanted to tell him, but you couldn’t. This was all too much for you. You had no idea what to do.

“C’mon, punk,” another voice came up from beside you, “You’re falling behind, it’s embarrassing.”

You turned to see Bucky standing next to you, smiling down at Steve whose cheeks turned slightly pink. You knew Barnes was a Sergeant, but something about seeing him here caught you off guard, as the only times you had come in contact with him was when he was the Winter Soldier. From the corner of your eye, you could see Tony’s mouth hanging open, taking out his phone to quietly take a picture of little Steve. 

Steve nodded at Bucky and turned away from you as your heart shattered. 

“Tony, we need to get out of here, now,” you spoke shakily, looking back to Bucky and Steve, who seemed lost in their own conversation. You couldn’t process everything that was going on, you just wanted to wake up and have this all be a dream. Tony pulled you in for a hug, soothing you, and somehow, it pulled you away from the chaos around you, and you found yourself sinking into his arms, your heart rate slowing down.

He pulled away and looked into your eyes, “Hey, I promise I’ll get you home safe.” You nodded, feeling the impact of his words hit you harder than anything this man has ever said to you. 

“Let’s go home,” you whispered, staring right into his warm brown eyes.

“Let’s get to my dad, then.”

-

Tony led you through long hallways, flashing a card that said M.I.T VISITORS to grant us access into certain spaces. The two of you checked all the doors to find the one that belonged to Howard Stark, and you figured Tony had found it when you came crashing into his back, notifying you he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Tony, what the hell, move your feet,” you groaned, regaining your balance.

You turned to see what had caught his attention and you were right, a large glass door with the words HOWARD STARK stood in front of him, making your mouth drop slightly.

“I can go in if you don’t want to face him,” your soft voice broke Tony out of his trance as he turned to face you, a little paler than he was a minute ago.

He shook his head, “No, no, it’ll be ok, maybe I’ll ask him for sushi or something.”

“Tony-”

“It’s fine,” he cut you off, turning back to face the door, knocking loudly. You didn’t think twice before looking over to him and sliding your hand into his, interlocking your fingers together, giving his hand a small squeeze, to which you saw him visibly calm down. He took a deep breath as a figure walked over to the frosty glass door and swung it open, and before you stood Howard Stark.

Tony’s hand went limp in yours as you took in the man in front of you. He had groomed brown hair pushed out of his face, a moustache of the same colour sitting right above his lip. If you didn’t know he was Tony’s dad, you would have very easily deciphered it. The two looked quite similar, although oddly enough, Tony looked older than his father. Which technically at the moment, he was. But he also wasn’t born yet in the moment. 

“How may I help you two?” Howard’s voice asked kindly, yet firmly, confirming his position of authority. You looked over to Tony who looked too gob-smacked to speak, so you took over.

“Hello, Mr Stark,” you smiled, sticking out your hand to which he shook, “We’re from M.I.T, and we needed more credits so we were told to come speak to you, actually. If you’re not too busy.”

He looked between the two of you and nodded slowly, moving out of the way to let the two of you in. His office was quaint, a large wooden desk sat in the middle with chairs lining the sides, a large window looking over the field where boot camp was installed.

“Take a seat, do you want coffee or anything?” He asked, and you shook your head, Tony still not fully being able to speak.

“So, what are we supposed to talk about, exactly?” Howard pointed to the chairs in front of his desk to which you and Tony took, as he sat in the seat facing the two of you, arms on his desk. This almost felt like an interrogation.

“Sushi,” Tony muttered, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Sorry, he’s a little slow, he didn’t eat lunch,” you gave a fake laugh and kicked Tony’s foot lightly under the table as to say ‘smarten up or he’ll get suspicious.’ You understood this was overwhelming for him, having tragically lost his parents when he was much younger, but right now, the two of you needed information from Howard.

“We actually are doing a presentation at the moment about time travel,” you smiled kindly, leaning forwards slightly, “Do you believe in such a thing?”

Howard squinted before leaning back in his chair, “I do.”

Both of your eyes widened, giving each other a knowing look.

“That’s - That’s great, why do you believe in it?” Tony regained his brain and tried to get the information you guys needed.

Howard smiled slightly, “Is this going in your presentation? It’s kind of top secret.”

You shook your head, “Of course not, Mr. Stark, we don’t want to reveal your secrets.”

“What she means is ‘please tell us,” Tony stated bluntly, causing you to snap your head in his direction. Howard chuckled, looking between the two of you.

“What are your names?” 

Tony took a deep breath, “I’m, uh, Tony St- Tony (Y/L/N), and this is my wife, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” You thanked God that he caught himself before he let Stark slip out of his mouth.

“Well, Mr and Mrs (Y/L/N), I believe in time travel because I’ve seen some wild things in my life, this isn’t some ordinary United States military camp,” he gave you two a knowing smirk, causing you to look at Tony, who held a smile on his face.

“Can you show us? Or, tell us I mean?” Tony asked, shaking his head to show that he made a mistake in the first question, but I knew he wanted to see what he meant, it could lead us back to home.

“I can’t, guys, I’m sorry, that’s way past confidential,” he gave you a sad smile and you exhaled a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to find out what he was talking about. 

Tony dropped his head, “Alright, thank you, da- I mean, Mr. Stark.”

Howard asked if you guys needed anything more, and when you both said no, he let out out of his office, and once the door was closed, Tony let out a deep breath he had been holding, clutching the wall.

“Tony, are you alright?” You placed a hand on his shoulder, steadying him as he struggled to breathe. He shook his head and you placed your hands on either side of his face, causing him to look straight into your eyes.

“I know, that was a lot, I’m proud of you for being able to do it, Tony,” you gave him a sincere smile, your heart picking up speed at how intensely he looked into your eyes, “We’re going to get through this together, I promise you, okay? We just need to find-” You were cut off by the sound of yelling behind you, and when you turned around, two men came running down the hall in your direction, gunshots firing.

“Change of plans,” Tony grabbed your arm and pulled you down the hall and down a long staircase, the sound of the men following you close behind. Tony continued leading the two of you down at least five flights of stairs, the footsteps becoming louder, signalling that there were probably more people chasing the two of you. As you reached the bottom of the stairs, the door was locked. 

“Really? Every other fucking door was practically calling us in but this one’s locked?” Tony cursed, wrapping his arms around you as the sounds of the footsteps got closer. You knew they had weapons, so you shoved your face into Tony’s chest, his heart beating against your ear.

“Any chance you can become Iron Man?” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Sorry, sweetheart, left the tech at home,” he placed his face in your hair, silently placing his head in the crook of you neck, making your breath hitch.

“I got em!” A voice shouted and you heard a gunshot go off, making you jump and squint your eyes leaning further into Tony’s chest as you braced for impact. Why they had been ordered to shoot you, you couldn’t say, but you knew the two of you seemed suspicious from the get-go. Maybe asking Howard Stark some pretty invasive questions set off some sort of alarm, raising attention to the two of you being here. 

You didn’t hear anymore gunshots go off and your heart stopped, fear that they had gotten Tony made a tear slip down your eyes as you continued holding him tightly, your breath picking up. No more bullets came, and the silence was taken over by a small chuckle.

“Send them back in time and they become one person,” a familiar voice said, causing one of your eyes to open. You pulled away from Tony, your eyes scanning the all-too-familiar surroundings. The Time Stone sat in front of you, along with Natasha, Steve, Bruce and Rhodey, who looked at the two of you in confusion.

“Oh, my god,” you choked out, relief flooding through your entire body. To say your mind was jumbled was an understatement, but seeing that you were back home sent your body into a wave of comfort and your shoulders relaxed instantly.

“Tony, we’re back,” you pulled away from him slightly, noticing his eyes were still shut. He opened them and his face instantly relaxed, realizing that the two of you were safe and back home. 

“It’s about damn time you guys noticed we were gone,” Tony scoffed at the team, “I mean, honestly, we were stuck there long enough. After I saw your pre-serum body, Steve, I was ready to run back to the future.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Shut up, Tony.”

“How did you guys bring us back?” You asked, looking between the four Avengers. If you had been totally honest, although you had made a terrible mistake with the stone, you had been infinitely grateful to have Tony there, and you felt a special connection with him now, having shared this together.

“Well, after the stone sent you guys back, a flash of green went off and we knew something had gone wrong,” Natasha explained, “So, Bruce rushed in here and managed to figure out a way to reverse what it had just done.”

You let out an exasperated sigh and leaned your body over the table, laughing slightly when Tony’s bag of raisins caught your eye. What a day it had been. You pinched yourself repeatedly to see if it was real. You couldn’t believe the things you saw today. Steve, Bucky, Howard, it was a lot. You had secretly wished to see your aunt Peggy, but something told you that she would have suspected a lot more out of you than Howard did. 

“Well,” you started, “All I can take from today is that I’m now craving sushi,” you winked at Tony who gave you a smirk.

“How bout you and I go get a nice sushi dinner?” Tony approached you, “What do you say, sweetheart? I think we deserve it.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks when you remembered the rest of the people in the room, but you nodded up at him and his face broke out into a massive smile, and you felt more relaxed than you had been in a long time.

Maybe going back in time wasn’t so bad. After all, now you have a date with Tony Stark.

[dianamargolis]

{ emmy rossum ♔ twenty-nine ♔ she/her } well, well, well if it isn’t diana margolis running around peach hollow. legend has it, they come from tangerine towers and have lived here for one week. if you’re wondering what they’ve been up to, i hear they’re a bartender at cloud nine for a living. they have been known to be temperamental but empathetic. a word of advice to them, always look over your shoulder. you never know who is watching. { ellie ♔ 24 ♔ cst ♔ she/her }

If someone were to ask Di if she liked labels, she would tell them that she didn’t on principle but could still see their use. Labels are restrictive, closing the wearer in a small box until they suffocate. However, labels also hid the complexity of a person’s past and experiences, reducing them to a few words.

So, Di will happily inform someone that she is an Aries, a hot-headed brawler, a nomad, a party-girl, a solid 4 on the Kinsey Scale, and a sarcastic bitch. What those labels hide are anyone’s guess, as she opens up to people so rarely. There is a softer side of her that few get to see. If she loves someone, she will take care of them and defend them to the ends of the universe, but she never allows anyone to care for her deep, secret wounds.

Peach Hollow was just another stop on the road. She plans to stay a few months, just long enough to pay her way to the next town. It’s been this way almost half her life. She assumes this quaint Georgia town will be just like all the others, but she has no idea the hornet’s nest she has stumbled upon.

B A C K S T O R Y

tw: suicide, domestic abuse, child abuse, violence

▼ born in the Bronx, NYC as Pearl Isaacson ▼ father: Malcolm Isaacson (Italian/English) || mother: Joanna Margolis (Ashkenazim) ▼ sister: Mia Isaacson (six years younger) ▼ Her mother committed suicide when Diana was just seven years old, leaving her alone with her baby sister. She knew why. She had peaked through a crack in the doorway to see the continents of bruises on the map that was her mother’s body. ▼ It didn’t take long for Malcolm to turn to the next punching bag. It happened to be Diana. ▼ Child services stepped in when Diana was nine, Mia three. For the next six years, the two of them bounced around foster homes. Sometimes they were put together, and Diana was able to protect her little sister, but sometimes they weren’t. Some families would foster a sweet seven year old but refused to take in an unruly teenager. ▼ Her father remarried to a woman who could nearly rival his cruelness. Every once in awhile, he would convince the courts to let him try again. Fool them all by putting on the perfect show of a happy family. No one listened to her, what she had to say. ▼ There came a moment when she couldn’t take it anymore. She needed out. She begged Mia to come with her, but she wouldn’t. So, she fled. ▼ She lived on the street for awhile before stumbling upon a group of young punks at the skatepark. She fell right into the group, joining all of them. She learned how to have fun, how to skateboard, and, most importantly in her eyes, learned how to fight. Often, an argument would result in a left hook and then someone on the ground. A few times, an entire brawl had broken out. With every busted lip and bloody nose, Diana grew stronger. ▼ Artemis - Missy - was among this group The two instantly clicked. Missy would sneak her in through the window at night, letting her share her bed. She still remembers her first kiss with the girl: the window cracked, letting in the November chill, the smell of her strawberry shampoo, black-tipped fingers tracing circles on her hipbone. She was her first love. But after a year together, that young love fizzled, hardening Diana yet again.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

▼ Myers-Briggs: ISTP ▼ sun:  ▼ sexual orientation: bisexual (4 on the Kinsey Scale) ▼ Diana isn’t necessarily “mean”, but no one would ever make the mistake of calling her “nice” either. She isn’t the easiest person to get along with, especially when she’s in a mood. ▼ She’s all about vibes, and if she senses someone has a bad vibe, she is very likely to be closed-off, if not down-right rude. ▼ DO NOT piss her off. She is ruthless, but not in a cold and calculated way. She is brutal and merciless. She is looking to scratch that itch and put her fists to use, so it’s probably best not to give her an excuse. ▼ She tries not to get in anyone’s business. People are drama, and she has enough of that on her own. Somehow, though, she seems to always end up somewhere in the middle. ▼ She can be funny and flirty when the mood strikes her, but that is a mask. It all is. She falls in love every once in awhile, but it always ends in heartache, so she never lets anyone get close to her, to really know her. When she loves someone though, she protects them fiercely. 

A P P E A R A N C E

▼ curly, messy hair that is often thrown into a bun ▼   often seen in thrift-shop clothes ▼ tattoos: silhouetted birds in flight wrapping around left forearm, crescent moon on right middle finger, band of intertwined barbed wire and rose thorns on her right bicep ▼ scars: faded scar across eyebrow, small scar on upper lip, trio of small and well-faded round scars on left tricep, broken nose ▼ usually has at least two or three bruises in different states of healing, and will sometimes show evidence of her fights (i.e. busted lip, scuffed knuckles, etc.)

M I S C .

▼ She owns a ‘78 olive green Gremlin that she cares for and maintains like it is her child. She won it in an underground fight. ▼ She participates in underground fights on a regular basis, whenever she is feeling agitated. Often she’s the underdog and can make decent bank betting on herself. For awhile, at least.

[tubb0]

stream liveblog: tommyinnit 8/22

I woke up literally a minute before he started so thats cool

he’s in a mood

he says he’s going to spend more time editing his videos (and upload less)

he also says his plan is two smp videos and then ‘something cool. something you might recognize’ 👀

oh so someone is building a tesck to compete with walmart. good.

theres a nether protal in tommys tower. he is not pleased

I just woke up idk whos been doing stuff but they’ve been quite busy

tommy is upset that tubbo was streaming with someone who ‘stole his brand’ (wearing a red t-shirt)

chat says his name is also tom

now hes in call with tubbo, yelling

‘you’re not just gonna go speak to this guy with more red in his shirt than me’

oh he hung up on tubbo

shippers will have a fierld day with this one (I desperately hope they don’t exist since these are children but yknow I’m sure they do)

you can see the corner of tommys bed when he fullscreens his facecam. he doesn’t have sheets or a mattress cover on his bed. do what you will with this (unless its weird then please dont)

tubbo_ has joined the game

tommy says he will ghost tubbo

also hey its fine to have a crush on tommy if you’re around his age but you dont have be weird and pushy about it

tubbo is doing the sad walk and tommy shot him

tommy: best friendship ended with tubbo. jack manifold is my new best friend

tubbo_ has left the game

chat is babying tubbo again :/

tubbo_ has joined the game

<tubbo_> sorry

tubbo_ has left the game

‘I always knew this day would come. thats why I was always mean to tubbo. I knew he would rob me.’

tubbo_ has joined the game

he left again... his spaghetti is ready

tommy is thinking of ways to but tubbo to work in order for them to earn back his friendship

wait did ponk steak tommys horse? I thought bbh did

anyways retrieve horsechamp

chat says niki lost ylyl because of tommy

wilbur was not pleased that she finds him funny (joking of course)

anyway niki is so pretty

it has just clicked for tommy that the horse is in fact his horse

oh hes on the run

tubbo has returned from eating his poggers spaghetti

tommy is stuck in a hole

tubbo: you know the pope? anyway heres my bee box!

tubbo keeps talking about the pope

tubbo has decided he doesn’t need tommys friendship and left the game

tommy says hes ‘like dream. his only friends are the numbers.’

he called tubbo and theyre both yelling now

tubbo claims to want more mature friends than tommy

tommy is accusing tubbo of being on drugs

the pope returns

‘this is like a divorce’ ‘yeah except I dont care’

they spent a second questioning catholicism

tubbo please why do you keep talking about the pope

tubbo brought up death and tommy shut that down real quick

tubbo out here with definitions

dream has joined the game

dream is only kind to tubbo and yet wont follow them back on twt

there something so endearing about hearing someone moving further from the mic when they laugh

chat is talking about the vlog gun so tommys watching wilburs stream

tommy: *upset about wilbur trying to break the vlog gun* tubbo: does this mean we can be together for mmc??

tommy hit tubbo of his balcony and now tubbo is regretting coming back online

tommy just murdered dream by hitting him with a minecart

ah fuck chat lost it and my streams starting to lag

skeppy is threatening to burn the doscs to avenge dreams death

tommy to tubbo: our friendship really hold this server together

did he lie?? absolutely not

deals are being made

well not really. tommy is trying to get a disc in exchange for dreams stuff

some pvp may occur

stream title has been changed to ‘war’ things are getting serious

tubbos wifi is failing us

oh the boys are fighting

a few thing happened in so little time but to summarize the way that tommy and tubbo trust eachother and silently cooperate is very cool. I aspire for this friendship.

for some reason its always so weird to me when I hear just dream talking to tommy and tubbo

I think its because drram is so stubborn and assertive but tommy does not care or put up with it so no matter what dream always seems to have the lowerhand which doesn’t happen often

I’m confused why is chat making such a big deal about wilbur ending his stream

ah a confrence with president soot

the other day everyone was afraid the server was dying but this seems like the start of another war

wilbursoot has joined the game

do you ever get so caught up in the drama of these stream and then it hits you that these are just a bunch of losers playing minecraft

wilbur... to be fair tommy didnt mean to kill dream... he warned him too

oh?

wilbur whispered to tommy to run while he was negotiating with dream and I think he told tubbo to kill dream but tubbo might also just be doing that for fun idk

dreams bringing up server rules... do it. ban tommy. your server will die immediately.

wilbur has scolded tommy and now tommy is ignoring him to plot with tubbo

sapnap!

I like the dynamic between tommy, tubbo and sapnap very much

sapnap has joined the game

oh my god I have to pee

lmao dream said tommy scams him often and tommy went 😬

‘everyone will call you bream for bitch dream’

tommy gave him his stuff

oh but some was never picked up

yikes dream is actually mad

damn tommy and skeppy are really going at it

chat says skeppy had the sword that dreams mad about uh oh

hehe tommy is very funny

tubbo is bargaining for tommy since dream killed him and is threatening his cow

if chat is right and skeppy actually has the sword hes pretty good at kying because I believe him but also I don’t know him well so

tommy is telling tubbo to kill skeppy now

aw skeppys stream sniping thats no fun

but anyway was that not the sword dream was looking for that tommy just showed in the chest????

so is sapnap on their side now? I think I missed something

no chat seems just as confused as me so

sapnap about betraying dream: it just seemed interesting idk

I think hes lying

chat has a point... I cant tell if tommy doesn’t realize or doesnt care that dream is watching his stream

wait that was cool

dream pearled away from sapnap but tommy saw the pearl and waited there so he could attack

ok but anyway while theyre chasing eachother around how did the minecart kill dream?? I’m pretty sure it does no damage and if I’m wrong dream was still in enchanted netherite and I doubt he was running around on like half a heart... unless he just did a /kill on himself for the drama??

tubbo broke all the ender chests and put them inside one... hes so smart

oh ok so tommy doesn’t care if dream is watching

fuck a bug flew in my eye

ponk and skeppy just reading the deaths in chat and making small comments lol

tubbo what

sapnap please

I’m very glad dream isnt in vc anymore because I bet he’s very upset and he gets scary sometimes

dont get me wrong I love him but yknow

oh no sapnap dont :(

tommy is getting so nervous about tubbos wifi going out because then itll be him against everyone else online lmao

tubbo: our relationship cannot be toxic because I am not in love with you :))

no tubbo not the pope again

tubbo please my head hurts

woah tubbo just killed tubbo while dream started killing him

oh he logged out and now dream is killing tommy

at this point dream is purposely not communicating with tommy and I’m getting nervous

oh hes back

go tubbo go

yknow what a man can do with 55 sticks?

tubbo accidentally locked himself in jail lmao

tommy is calling dream clay

he does not care

dream logged out (unrelated to above statements)

woah wait what tubbo is leading tommy somewhere secret that he cant even show on stream

tubbo you genius what do you have planned

tommy is playing his vlog to entertain stream while tubbo directs him to the secret

wtf tubbo

also they said sounds have to be off so I think the location might be in the nether or something because sounds will apparently give it away

dying is the only way they can leave??? but it cant be the end though right?

cuz like the achievements would show up

hmm

I don’t want to be too much of a snitch in case any of them actually are lurking on here but anyways tubbo is very epic

both tubbo and tommys mothers are teachers?

but they have a point dont skip your classes to watch someone play minecraft!

tubbo is such a good friend

they also say their in a tournament on the 31st so look forward to it

tommy is really throwing shade at shippers this stream. good for him.

oh and lowkey dnf shade too haha

ha tubbo almost leaked one of tommys video ideas

tubbo just wants to play fall guys

tommy is too self aware

but also he has a point. chat always sides with tubbo because they baby him

its kinda weird ngl

ahh my wifis going out :(

they’re watching the sunrise on tommys balcony while listening to blocks

oop tommy ended the stream because chat was being weird

gg tommy

anyway good stream go check it out if you havent already because I left some stuff out either because I type too slow or didn’t want to leak secrets :))

[hunterartemis]

The Assistant: Chapter 10: The Truth Must Perish

Word count: 5207.

Chapter summery: The despair that was brought yesternight have brought a catastrophe that indicates that the Bad must win and the truth must perish.

Chapter Theme: Battle by Martin Phipps : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9KcPmWgllNA

This is the way the world ends...Not with a bang but a whimper.*

There was blood on the floor, the half-drunk soup was stone cold and the case opened aghast, and Newt was sunk on the floor with his Lanvin couture still on him. He couldn’t life any of his present limbs to wipe his nonstop tears, and a sharp jab of pain was constantly pulsing near his diaphragm. When the snowy morning cast a white sunlight inside his apartment, it felt like a cruel mockery. 

In the moment of tomblike stealth, he felt something warm and wet upon his face that wasn’t his ever drenching tears. A blunt and flat beak was nipping at his face—he turned and saw his niffler snuggling upon him, of all his intelligent and brilliant beasts, his crafty little bugger, the niffler broke out of its cage, just to comfort him. Upon the despair, the presence of the creature brought a smile upon his face.

“So it’s you niffy...”  Newt took him in his arms and started to pet him, and watched how it’s nostrils quivered and it’s beady eyes blinked in a certain inquisition, as if to ask ‘what’s the matter with you?’ Newt blinked with a saddened smile, trying to reply to the silent question, but he couldn’t—he couldn’t tell himself what he needed to hear, then how will he do that to this creature.

‘She is gone niffy... she will never come back.’ Newt’s callous hand tried to caress the small fluffy back of the niffler, and he could feel the rejection of the small creature under his palm; as if its skin was creeping into its own skeleton. Suddenly with a jerk the niffler crawled of and dived into the case and with a fine chink something shiny fell out of its pouch.

The diamond necklace dazzled in faint blue, pink and yellow under the pale morning light, its incredible beauty wasn’t marred even though a speck of viscose blood stained its side. It lay there like some shiny outer skin, newly shed by a dark creature. It was tangled within in its own strings of pearls and panels of silver, as if trying to comprehend what it was to do other than to grace the beautiful neck of the duchess.

What is diamond without a beauty?

What is a beauty without diamond?

What is a diamond without dazzle? It is cold, hard and impenetrable.

“She just lost her sparkle that’s all...” Newt mumbled.

Suddenly a gust of wind and a crisp slap landed on the back of his head. Newt who was quite unnerved and exhausted in both mental and physical manner, landed on the floor, hitting his face really hard. And with the gust of effect, his case also snapped shut.

“Tell me you’ve answers...” a female voice angrily snapped. Newt pulled up his face with immense difficulty, and saw a pair of skinny ankles wearing light blue flowery pyjamas and looked up to meet the tall stature of Tina Goldstein towering over Newt with her face flushed with immense rage. As his vision settles he saw, she was clutching a newspaper in her hand. She didn’t look well, it wasn’t the puppy faced disappointment she had when she met him in Paris, nor was it the despair of yesternight. It was pure rage and fear that sent sparks in her beady dark eyes.

“Tina you...” then his eyes fell on the heading of the paper. Without standing up, he straightened his back and took the paper from Tina’s hands, and as soon as he read the headlines, cold sweats started to form on his brows. He threw his unkempt bangs slightly and intently looked at the bold black lines, scrawled across the parchment; like some gruesome bruise on virgin skin.

NEWT SCAMANDER, WANTED FOR THE UNLAWFUL SEDUCTION OF THE NEWLY ENGAGED DUCHESS OF CROY.

The midnight pain in the diaphragm that plagued Newt all night came back and slowly he found it very difficult to stay straight “What time it is?” Newt mumbled with immense difficulty and tried to wipe his face. In an attempt to stay calm, he slowly looked at his wall clock he whispered “it’s 7 in the morning; the Daily Prophet isn’t released until nine... where you got that?”

“Pinched it from the press itself” Tina replied agitatedly, “Actually no--” Tina tried to concentrated, “the junior editor called me up fifteen minutes ago in my dorm--”

“In your dorm? Where is your dorm--”

“Under the Atrium building you bub... don’t you know there is a reserve dorm for the office holders and guests—anyway, this Junior editor, well—I saw him for a couple of month when I heard about your engagement with Leta—but anyhow, he came to my room and gave me this, apparently someone followed you or Maxine--”

“Me or Maxine?”

“would you stop interrupting me--” Tina exclaimed angrily, “anyway, someone followed you and got this footage and suddenly all the ministry went outraged and there was a Wizengamot session at three-o-clock and all this mess—long story short, an arrest warrant has being issued under your name--”

“What did I do? She was drunk and seriously ill when I found her... I didn’t detect anyone; there was no one in the building--”

“WELL APPARANTLY THERE WAS!” Tina bellowed, “I knew from the moment I saw her... I knew she was a bad news--”

“Don’t be ridiculous Tina--”

“Ridiculous?” Tina picked up the paper from the ground, “is this look ridiculous to you? You committed High Treason against British Ministry, this is worse than Queenie joining Grindlewald... I swear to Isolde’s hair, you are a complete idiot!”

“I didn’t commit anything... she is my employee and I was just helping her--”

“Employee?” Tina folded her arms sarcastically, “which part of the official records says she is your employee? She is a Duchess by birth and her father, the French Diplomat can skin you alive. And besides, Theseus told me, you cannot defend yourself since you have illegally employed her.” Tina huffed in exasperation, “she never submitted her official End of Service notice, and therefore she is still under the protection of Article 51A, and you just became a felon by law.”

Newt had nothing to say. He felt like he was being trapped into an acromantula web and the head of the hollow was coming for its flesh. He tried to breathe slowly after sitting on the couch. Tina was still fuming and pacing throughout his living room. Her nervous pants echoed throughout the room like a sound in a claustrophobic space, magnifying everytime.

“Theseus is trying to minimise the press... he is trying to convince the editor not to print this in the paper, because his job is on the line too—but your warrant is ready to be released—Newt think of something, what you can do to defend yourself, is there anything you can do, or call anyone for that matter?” her cheeks and nose glowed red in agitation and her voice grew more hoarse. Her tall figure, to Newt’s ken looked grim against the morning light. Newt’s blue-green eyes went vague and glassy, his mind was swimming and for that he couldn’t respond to that, he remained quiet for a long time. After that Tina started to break down, “that’s it... you are gone—nothing can save you! And with you, I will be gone too--”

“Why would you go? You didn’t do anything?” Newt tried to comfort her, but there was no comfort in Tina’s eyes. She looked up from her hands that hid her tear stained face, “I may not have do anything, but I won’t leave you anytime soon, knowing that the reason you are in this position is the bitch--”

“It is a misunderstanding Tina, and I WON’T ALLOW YOU TO BADMOUTH HER LIKE THIS--”

Tina stood up from the sofa, looking at Newt with disbelief, her face was livid and tear stream was running across her face. But suddenly, the fireplace blazed in lurid emerald flames, Newt and Tina stood back in surprise as a head started to appear in the fireplace.

“Theseus has been arrested, they are coming for you... quick, do what you--”

Before they could recognise the person, Newt and Tina heard several whoosh of apparating wizards around their house, and then Newt happened to notice what was exactly wrong with him, and the realisation almost petrified him, as if there was a basilisk standing in front of him. He slowly recalled everything: Tina was inside, and yesterday Maxine disapparated from his room, so clearly the anti-apparation charm was failing. There was plenty of danger if a ministry wizard came in: first of all, his case, which they would have confiscate in a matter of second on a minute excuse, second was his basement which was enhanced with undetectable extension charm, a deed that was against the law of Wizarding Property and Magical Enhancement; Maxine did warn him about this, but Newt never thought that it would happen so soon. 

His mind was divided in two places: firstly protecting his beasts and their whereabouts, it wouldn’t be pleasant if the New York incident happened again, and then he steadily wondered who and how delivered this obvious false piece of news to the ministry. There was a high chance that someone from Maxine’s family or the French ministry charged against Newt, but the possibility of Anatole Malfoy stalking Maxine’s steps did not completely vanished from his mind. Moreover, Maxine was very afraid, in fact exceptionally afraid around Anatole, and she did admit that it was for him she left her Auror’s job—but why Newt and Tina? There was a mystery that wasn’t adding up. If Theseus is arrested then their last line of defense is gone—Anatole must be behind this and he was operation out of sexual jealousy.

The footsteps outside grew closer and closer; both of them felt themselves surrounded. From the corner of the eye, Newt saw Tina fondling her golden locket that preserved a picture of her and her mother. Suddenly, her hand slipped from the golden locket, and firmly held onto Newt. He could her voice; it wasn’t fumbling with nervousness, there was a desperate calmness in that tear drenched voice that can only come to someone when their backs are at the wall, “You must not let them reach the basement... now listen to what I say--”

“Newton Artemis Fido Scamander... by the Order of the British Ministry, you are charged with a matter of Illegal affair with the Duchess of Croy, Maxine Adrienne Odessa Valois--” a sonorous voice called out from outside of the door. At first Newt wondered why they were calling him when they could have rammed the door or just directly apparated inside, but then again, he understood that an anti-apparition charm was already on effect.

“—They’re here....” Tina’s voice firmed up even more, and Newt felt a small pressure before the battalion march of the Aurors stopped at the doorstep—any moment now.

“—on the count of three, we will come inside, do not attempt to resist or retaliate--”

“Tina... I think you should leave now--” Newt took his mouth to Tina’s ears, but instead of scampering back, she smiled at him, and her hand firmed even more upon his, if Newt wore the cuffs, so would she.

“I may have not danced with you Mr. Scamander, but I will sure wear the same cuffs and hear the same sentence as you--”

After the agonising three seconds, like the army of death, the ministry wizards rammed Newt’s front door. The one at the front had an awfully familiar face. “Mr. Charlemagne?” Newt asked in a flabbergasted manner, and the wizard looked at him with a queer eye. As if he wasn’t in his will to do this, and it terribly saddened him to arrest Newt. After a brief pause, an unwilling smile graced upon his lips, framed with a Papillion moustache, “how strange are the circumstances Mr. Scamander that we are meeting this way... Clement Charlemagne sir, and it’s a pleasure to finally meet you--”

“Please Mr. Charlemagne, don’t do this... we are innocent, we know nothing about this--” Tina implored to Clement in a most desperate manner, but his honest eyes showed that over his personal opinion, he placed his duty towards the ministry, and in a reluctant manner he cuffed the hands of Tina and Newt.

“You are Newton Artemis Fido Scamander? And you, Porpentina Esther Goldstein?” he asked solemnly, as they both nodded. “Good... you will be identified by your superiors Mr. Abernathy and Mr. Augustus Worme furthermore. I hearby arrest you on behalf of the French and British ministry--”

“Wait what--?” Tina asked abruptly, “What do you mean by French and British ministries--”

“There are many things Miss Goldstein, which are better not be revealed. Trust me it will break your heart--” Clement came dragging them both out of the flat, ready to be apparated to the designated spot where they could go to the Atrium. But before they could leave, Newt desperately sought after the question Tina just asked.

“Who ordered our arrest Charles--” he used the name Maxine called him last night, “who have such a power to arrest us both?”

“The Duchess...”

...

Across the sea, in the middle of the Seine River, in a tall stone chamber, Maxine’s eyes fluttered opened into a nearly unfamiliar scene. Her compact London flat had somehow whirled into a lavish golden-and-pastel baroque room which may have awestruck any commoner, but sent a chill in her bones, suddenly she felt an old fear creeping in her heart and with that all the remaining traces of drowsiness left her eyes. She looked outside the window and the views confirmed her fear; she was in the most infamous place in the whole of France, not only known by the wizards but also muggles: the Conciergerie, a place that stood against everything that was human, the royal prison, and this place was ‘acclaimed’ by the Valois when the last queen of France Marie Antoinette was beheaded in the guillotine. Conciergerie*, the Paris estate of the Valois is the place where Maxine spent all her childhood, and underneath this exact room, a muggle queen was stripped all of her dignity and pride to be set an example that she was nothing. Conciergerie, what better place to bring Maxine Valois to remind her of her status? Her head hurt really badly, as if she had rammed her head several times on cold hard marble, and her body felt incredibly light, warm and fuzzy, as if there was something cloudlike all over her body.

She shook off the satin futons from her torso and looked down to see that she was no longer wearing that murky, stout and warm corduroy dressing gown that was soiled with vomit, blood and her own defeat, but in pink fur that smelled of gold, pride and status. As if a vacuum created in her heart and the turbulence of her blood set in, she remembered that the unknown shore she was swept in, that dressing gown was the only anchor to her previous world. Now it is gone, there is no chance of seeing it again. That soft lacy pink of that fur felt like cannibalising flesh upon her very skin and for the first time in a long time, her blood remembered the old feudal rage that burned many, and destroyed many. She jumped from her bed and slammed the giant wooden door open and started to stomp across the massive medieval corridors in such a tremendous force that all the house-elves that were working disillusioned themselves and the human attendants made themselves scarce in case they are trampled in her fury.

“c'est quoi cette merde?” (what is this shit?) Maxine drawled after slamming herself into the breakfast parlour, where three women were having tea and gossiping with silvery laugh. At Maxine’s arrival they cast a brief patronising look at them, and the oldest of the three put her cup gently on the short table and put on a forceful smile.

“And good morning to you...” she said in a pleasant voice.

“Ah... Saint Marguerite, haven’t see you in a while” Maxine replied with a cruel smile and sauntered towards her. Supporting herself on the glass top table, she leaned on her and asked, “how is your cousin...oops, your husband--” and gave a satisfactory smile when she cringed at her, “so nice to see you when you’re not sucking my old man up.”

“Mademoiselle Maxine...” Marguerite stood up, pulling her entire Bell-epoch authoritarian figure to the fullest extend and her neatly arranged red hair high, as if to stand against the unjust that Maxine was causing, “do not forget that he is your father, and I am your mother.”

“Oh please... do forgive yourself for a moment” Maxine waved her words around, “you are the very reason that I was born. It’s your fault that my father went with my mother, because he wasn’t happy with you know—fucking his sister.” Maxine paused and enjoyed the conflicted look on Marguerite’s matronly face that oscillated from humiliation to rage, and Maxine did no effort to hide her delight.

“Sometimes I am so glad that you grew up to be so observant, but Maxine, do you happen to know why your mother left you alone?” Marguerite asked with composure and watched Maxine’s smile disappearing.

“Don’t speak to me like that old hag, you are just a--”

“If you speak another word again maman, I cannot guarantee that your dignity will not be violated--” a reddish blonde woman with very pale skin and Slavic feature stood up against Maxine, and her icy blue eyes glowered towards her.

“Hello Sveta, didn’t notice you were there—and how’s the marriage going with Lance” Maxine straightened up and smirked. It felt more like a greeting than an insult, because the next moment Sveta, or Svetlana, Maxine’s older sister-in-law drew a smile upon her uncannily symmetrical Slavic face, and came to kiss Maxine.

“Bonjour Masha...” she gently grabbed her face and gave her a glowing look. Svetlana had this habit of calling Maxine ‘Masha’, a Russian diminutive that queerly sounded both affectionate and condescending. Out of the three Maxine had patience only for Svetlana because she had a no-nonsense attitude and cared less about being ‘ladylike’. Svetlana smiled again to praise Maxine, “glad you are taking the drinking business seriously--” Sveta shook her head in such a manner that from under her waved tucked in bob, the pearl droplets caught the morning light. And in that smile in her face, Maxine sensed something out of the normal. She knew those earrings, those were her grandmother’s the Duchess of Croy, whose title she was given. Those precious baroque pearls were now dangling on Sveta’s ears, and it was an indication enough to convey that her position was reducing on the Valois estate already.

“What drinking business? It’s been eight hours in a weekday... isn’t that normal for a human being, and besides I had always had the stronger stomach--”

“—more like seventy-eight hours...” another voice spoke from the couch, and looked at Maxine with her protruding gray eyes that had dark shadows underneath it. She was giggling to herself, barely managing to keep her posture correct with her enormous stomach. After an episode of giggling and fondling her stomach, she cast a glassy look towards her sister-in-law as if to assert a new level of patronization upon her. Maxine returned that look with her usual crooked smirk that wiped the smile off the pregnant woman. Elena de Orsini, the younger daughter-in-law of the Valois, after two miscarriages and a trip to the Hopital de Dymphna, she was finally able to get pregnant, and now she was silently conveying Maxine that with the true heir on board, she will usurp her position.

“Oh darling...” Marguerite mused with concern which sounded like mockery in Maxine’s ears. She turned towards her stepmother quickly with the word, and the intensity of her expression put caution in Maxine’s face, “didn’t anyone tell you?” Marguerite asked plainly. She waited for Maxine to reply, but nothing came out of her mouth. Marguerite’s brows crinkled in worry and she started to shake her head, “oh dear, o dear... you sincerely do not know?”

“Can you cut the chase and come clear now St. Margaret, before I slap your parchment face?” Maxine snarled and Marguerite came a little closer to her and told that she has been unconscious for nearly three days. Marguerite received a call from someone at very early in the morning, and Lampito, her elf brought Maxine in the Conciergerie, crossing all the portkeys.

“And do you know the best part, dear sister?” Elena stood up with difficulty, straightening her sheath-like dress and her protruding eyes glowed with a covert excitement, “your very good friends and benefactors got arrested—oh, what was the name, Oh yes—Scamander and—Scamander” Elena’s giggles that followed poured like hot lead in Maxine’s ears. She carefully screened the faces of the three women that were sitting in front of her, all of them held a peculiar look, as if they were looking at her with a condescending eye, for not knowing something she should have known already. Elena again continued, “I think the order of the universe is finally restoring, don’t you think maman, I mean—it’s a shame that our sister used to work with the filthy lowbred auror when she could have had—anything in the world, and now when she is getting married with the Malfoy family, everything is back in order—I think they should bring back the guillotine and put an end to all those audacious muggles lives--” Elena paused in her musing and veered her ghostly eyes towards Maxine “It still a mystery to me—how come that beast hunter managed to seduce you? But, I don’t blame you ma chere... I mean you cannot really ignore your true nature—you know what they say, like mother like daughter--”

Before Elena could finish, Maxine was pointing her ivory wand towards her sister-in-law’s full belly, and in reaction Svetlana raised her wand up on Maxine’s throat and Marguerite looked like as if she Maxine just murdered someone. With the corner of her Maxine inspected Svetlana’s wand tip and her anger came out in a whispering vapour of poison.

“You should be careful Hélène... there is a long way from the womb to the world, and anything could happen between the two” Maxine’s eyes were getting redder with every passing moment, and her ferocity reduced Elena into a whimpering mess, “if you spew any more lies about me or any of my friends, I not sure I could be a model aunt for that unborn child of yours--”

“She’s not lying...” Marguerite replied with regained composure, and fearfully picked up the paper from underneath the tea-table. With caution she handed Maxine Les Temps Magiques* where it was clearly said that “The Duchess of Croy, Maxine Valois gets Newt Scamander, the celebrated beast hunter arrested for unlawful seduction. Auror and brother Theseus Scamander is also apprehended in suspicion--”

“What is this?” Maxine thundered after throwing the paper across the room, “what is this joke?”

“Why don’t you ask your father?” Marguerite said in a reserved tone.

“Oh believe me, I would--”

Maxine then threw away that fur robe she had been wearing, and in the pink underrobe, she strutted across the hall and into Hrothgar’s chamber in full rage. The pain she had felt after losing the corduroy robe was worsened into something that told her in her face that she had now lost the only good people she knew in her life. When she opened the door, Hrothgar lifted his face and looked at her as if he was already expecting her.

“Viens, ma chere... guess you’ve found out” he said with such an ease that it Maxine’s blood boil, she stomped her hands on his large oak table and looked at her father, who looked back at her with an indifference and a mild annoyance as if he was an employer and Maxine an employee who was out of her limits, he cast a brief glance upon her and smiled his usual well rehearsed cordial smile, “consider this a wedding present.”

“Wedding present? Oh, I didn’t know that I was being married—I thought I was brought here so that you could prepare me for the execution--”

“Maxine—do have a care with your fiancée.” Hrothgar expressed with a mild annoyance, “he is a pureblood and of good family, and he expressed to me how much he is in love with you. Besides, I know about your little liaison with that Theseus Scamander. It wasn’t hard to understand that he was in love with you--”

“What—what did you say?” Maxine’s face changed its course from turbulent anger to a surprise. She couldn’t believe what her father was saying to her. It could not be true—Theseus Scamander of all people, loved her? This can’t be true—it was always infuriatingly one-sided, it was Maxine who pined for him always, and he was the one who disregarded her. He didn’t understand her feelings and never acknowledged her—she was the winner when she walked away from him, moving on and saving him from Anatole’s poison—no, no her father must be lying. But was he lying? Rothbart Valois is never wrong when it comes to people—that’s what makes him so very infuriatingly good. Her eyes felt unusually foggy and burning, her jaw slouched and every rib in her chest started to contract, to squeeze every ounce of breath out of her lungs, but her ears heard Hrothgar speaking, “—it wasn’t just cordiality that he couldn’t mention that you no longer work for him anymore. Even in the dinner table, he kept staring at your direction; his eyes moved every direction that light from your diamond necklace shone... I know that look, and I know what mayhem it can bring--” Hrothgar looked meaningfully to his daughter, “you must not make my mistake Maxine--”

Her senses were numbed already, but despite that a sense of shame was washed upon Maxine, “do you mean my mother then, Monsignor? Then you must think that me being alive is a mistake--”

“I never said it like that--”

“Then end my life My Lord—end the job you left twenty years ago—the one you procrastinated with your mark—do it, end my suffering--” Maxine screamed in agony,

“Calm yourself--” Hrothgar snapped irritably in such a patronising way that not only it belittled Maxine, but also made a fool out of herself, “—but why his brother, monsignor, what did he do?” Maxine straightened up, struggling to gather herself from the humiliation of expression pain before an unfeeling listener, “why him—what did he do? And why take my name to announce the good job? Always the saints aren’t you, you and Marguerite? Never getting your hands dirty and making me the angry fool... ”

“He was simply in the way--” the veil of decorum finally fell from Hrothgar’s face, and the person who was looking at his daughter was a cruel Machiavellian who thinks people as pieces on a chessboard “Newt Scamander—shame on you Maxine Valois! Lying to me through your teeth while you were stirring scuts with that lowly beast hunter—the time when you should be feeling proud that you showed the people like him and his example of a brother their rightful places. I have dug them deep, some place from where they cannot escape—and you are blaming me? I did everything for you—I gave you everything, despite everything--”

“It is my sovereign right sir that I am aware of the actions that are committed under my name--”

“YOUR SOVEREIGN RIGHT WAS TO BE DISGRACED AS A BASTARD OF A MUDBLOOD--” Hrothgar’s screamed on top of his lungs and the force of that voice threw Maxine off her foot. But then, she wasn’t someone who would just take anyone’s lip—she always faced times like this, and she learned to evoke who she was after so many trials and errors that her pretence of being unaffected was almost natural.

“Where have you put them Monsignor? The bottom cells of Azkaban with hoodless dementors to suck their soul instantly” Maxine’s eyes were full and her voice shook with despair with tears filled to the brim.

“Don’t be a nincompoop...” Hrothgar answered with the same indifferent irritability, “they are the property of French Ministry now--” Hrothgar put his quill down and looked at Maxine’s tearful bloodshot eyes with a subtle victorious look, “I am happy to announce that they are currently in the Geôlier of Tour de Silence, and if you have exceptionally good luck—a trait you have inherited in birth, you would be walking down the aisle upon their graves”

With that news Maxine stood breathless for a moment, and then her despair surfaced with sudden howl. That brief bellowing of grief wasn’t only a representative of how the greatest people in Maxine’s life was stripped away from her, and will be soon from life, but it was also an outburst of rage that concealed itself covertly in grief. Maxine put her hand away from mouth that was clamped tight to stop her from whimpering and then she looked at her father with the same expression with which he looked at his daughter few minutes ago.

“Let me remind you sir--” Maxine said in a low and threatening voice, “you are committing a mistake that would cost you your biggest this time. You’ve sold your queen to the wrong knight, and it’s the matter of time that you would be pawned and sold like a brood mare, like you are doing to me now” Maxine slammed the door shut behind her as she stormed out the rooms of her father. The daylight upon her face and the fading bustle of Paris seemed like the gossips of the aristocrats against the unfortunate muggle queen that walked these doors. Maxine never thought she would relate to her muggle roots so much—so this is how must have her biological mother felt when she walked through the halls of the Châteaux d'If*, this is how must have Marie Antoinette felt when she was dragged for her execution, in all humiliation and hopelessness. She started to walk away from that awful corridor to someplace quiet—someplace where she could bleed in quiet, where she could laugh at her own tragedy, the mistake that made her lose the one thing she cared most for. She walked right into Anatole’s trap, and this time she lost Theseus and Newt together.

Tags: @my-current-fandom-is

This is a chapter that exposes how privilege and power can corrupt and usurp good people. I intend to present a part of Maxine’s family here, and I seriously do not condone any questionable action Maxine does in here. take the characters as impartially as you can.

This is how the world ends... : lines from T.S. Eliot’s poem, The Hollow Men.

Conciergerie: a castle in the ‘Isle of the City’, Paris, formerly a prison but presently used mostly for law courts. It was part of the former royal palace, the Palais de la Cité, which consisted of the Conciergerie, Palais de Justice and the Sainte-Chapelle. Hundreds of prisoners during the French Revolution were taken from the Conciergerie to be executed by guillotine at a number of locations around Paris. From 1914, it was opened for public and tourists with a great deal of the buildings sealed off (Medieval parts). I imagine that the places that are ‘out of order’ for muggle public, are used as a wizarding residence by the Valois. It was made during the Capet dynasty (parent house of the Valois), so I guess Valois will use it as house. I specifically wanted this place to be portrayed to show the parallels between Newt and company’s imprisonment and the imprisonment of Maxine in her own home.

Hopital de Dymphna : Dymphna is the patron saint of madness and insanity, and Hopital de Dympha is a medieval style asylum that I imagined for the French Wizards, where the victims would be tortured out of insanity.

Les Temps Magiques : The Wizarding Times, a French Equivalent of The Daily Prophet

Geôlier of Tour de Silence: Jail of the Tower of Silence, I have taken the terms from different places, “ Geôlier“ is the French term for prison Vessel, the kind you see Jean Valjean was kept in the Les Miserables, and the “Tower of Silence“ is the Zoroastrian ‘gravesite‘ where the Zoroastrian people leave the dead to rot in open sun and rain up on a high tower. They believe that dead body is the house of evil and by aquamation, burial and cremation they would respectively corrupt the water, earth and holy fire (which they worship). I intend to write elaborately on the French Wizarding Prison in the next chapter, and reveal its history.

Châteaux d'If: The Château d'If is a fortress (later a prison) located on the island of If, the smallest island in the Frioul archipelago situated in the Mediterranean Sea about 1.5 kilometres offshore in the Bay of Marseille in southeastern France. It was the place Maxine was born, and it is a reclaimed property by the Valois family.

[shinneth]

Gem Ascension Tropes (Peridot-specific: A)

There’s one of my new arts - GAverse Peridot in the house! If she looks a little taller and leggier than normal, she’s supposed to be. I find it kind of fascinating that for nearly every design deviation the canon characters in GAverse have, it’s practically a spoiler to even show it because it pretty much spells out the twist for you. But eh, it is what it is, right? 

So... these following tropes (see here for the first post for the general tropes for backstory on why the hell I did all this, and if you wanna see it in its entirety, see it on Google Docs)

Because Peridot is the actual protagonist of the GA continuity and my favorite character overall... her specific trope listing is the biggest overall. It easily towers over the general tropes I just posted. So this here’s the actual biggest hurdle. Let’s see if I can even fit A through B in this. Wow. I was fucking kidding, but nope! Adding A and B makes the links not work! Hooboy, what does that say when I’m already starting out restricted to post one letter at a time to avoid breaking the post?

I make a point not to copy+paste tropes already on her canon character page unless they’re relevant to GA specifically. I went out of my way to use the SU trope page as little as possible overall, really. So while there will be overlap, rest assured it’s there for a reason. 

So, assuming you’re that interested to see just how much I have to say about Peridot with all the headcanons made into a massive storyline, just keep in mind there’s no marked spoilers and have fun, I guess!

Peridot (Facet-2F5L Cut-5XG)

A Taste of Her Own Medicine: When Peridot tells Steven how the promotion she worked so hard to get ended up putting her in the same position as her previous victims, as she couldn’t get away with bullying or disrespecting gems above her in the caste system (which was literally almost everyone) and ended up being the one targeted for bullying due to her lowly status, Steven mentions this trope verbatim to sum up the situation.

Academic Alpha Bitch: Her Pre-Earth Homeworld persona; the Passive-Aggressive variant.

Accomplice by Inaction: Regarding Jasper’s abuse of Lapis when the pair was originally teamed up with Peridot. Considering Lapis was (albeit unwillingly) suffering Jasper’s abuse so Peridot wouldn’t have to, the fact that Peridot not only forced herself to mentally repress these moments as much as she could in order to live with herself – but actively did nothing to help Lapis even when she was witnessing the vile acts Jasper inflicted on their informant – has been one of her greatest sources of guilt and self-loathing. Peridot herself admits even when she had the means to at least offer some comfort or sympathy when Jasper wasn’t present, she refused to do it. Granted, Peridot’s inaction is largely justified; not only was Jasper’s abuse of Lapis deemed legal by Homeworld law, but Peridot herself – her kind being so low in the caste system – had no right to interfere or prevent any of this. It was actually illegal for Peridot to inconvenience a gem above her rank for any reason, and the gap between herself and Jasper was wide. This was also before Peridot’s Character Development; despite Jasper breaking her down well enough to eliminate most of Peridot’s absolute worst traits as a Homeworld gem, she was still far from being the gem who presently would have done everything in her power to fight Jasper and protect Lapis. This guilt (as well as feeling indebted to Lapis for saving her from Jasper) is the leading cause for why Peridot was such an Extreme Doormat to Lapis in canon.

Achey Scars: One of the last significant blows Peridot sustained courtesy of 9FC in Chapter 4 of Act I is a punch to the face. Since 9FC had limb enhancers, this punch left a nasty mark on Peridot’s cheek and greatly pained her (although she doesn’t realize she even has this injury, as she never sees how she looks after the No-Holds-Barred Beatdown – and her three nearly-crippled limbs are a bit more attention-grabbing). Thankfully for Peridot, it doesn’t plague her for long, as it’s the first injury Steven heals in the following chapter.

Act of True Love: The mission that plays out during the entirety of Act I is undoubtedly this. While Peridot genuinely wants to save everyone else and worries for them individually, it’s the realization that Steven is no longer with her that makes Peridot jump into the action. It’s her love for Steven that makes Peridot stay the course and see her mission through to the end, no matter how often she screws up or breaks down. Even when Peridot is struck with a persistent concern that she won’t come out of this mission alive, she’s not the least bit deterred and readily accepts death if it means Steven can live and be free. Peridot herself states that life doesn’t make sense and that everything is confusing if Steven isn’t with her, so she’s desperate to save him and bring him home where he belongs. This is an amusing case where all of The Four Loves are in play here.

Action Girl/Girlfriend: Comes with Taking a Level in Badass and becoming a Hero Protagonist. The latter trope is in effect as of Chapter 5 of Act I.

Adorkable: Per canon, and still in effect in GA. Very prevalent whenever the topic of Steven comes up, and especially when she and Steven directly interact. Peridot’s full of this when she actually spills her heart out to Steven in Chapter 5 of Act I.

Affectionate Nickname: Peri and Dot by many friends, P-Dot and Dottie-P by Amethyst, Tiny by Bismuth, Twilight by White Diamond.

Aggressive Submissive: Proves to be this in It’s a Birthday, Yes It Is. Whether or not it has anything to do with the submissive instincts that come naturally with Peridots is debatable. This is Who I Am establishes that such instincts were completely benign in Peridot’s case (likely due to emerging as an Unwitting Test Subject) until a certain Near-Rape Experience woke them up with a vengeance.

Alone with a Psycho: From the end of Act I to Chapter III of Act III, Peridot’s only company after being stranded on Homeworld was White Diamond. For six days, Peridot endured White’s wide variety of torture methods before she was rescued.

Ambition is Evil: When Peridot developed this during her life as a Homeworld gem, she became determined to achieve her goals, no matter what she had to do or who she had to hurt to succeed. This quickly made her The Dreaded of her kind. As time passed, Peridot herself became progressively more sinister and sadistic to assert her dominance.

Amnesiac Dissonance: Once Peridot and her team land on Homeworld, just seeing things Peridot is familiar with starts to abruptly jog memories of her Homeworld life that she thought she had discarded. Reuniting with 9FC made Peridot remember how horribly she treated her own kind to get ahead. This triggered a domino effect the longer the mission went on, though in some instances it was beneficial, such as when Peridot remembered what pallification was after being in close proximity to White Pearl.

Angst Nuke: Once Peridot has a moment to think after Pumpkin’s death, this happens. Deadly lasers fire from her gemstone and inadvertently causes an atmosphere-shredding wind storm that accelerates Homeworld’s destruction. Once she Involuntarily Shapeshifts into Chartreuse Diamond as she cries endlessly, the level of destruction is upped to Brown Note levels.

Armor-Piercing Question: Falls victim to this twice, both times by White Diamond. Both times, Steven is used to expose Peridot’s weak spot, which leads to the birth of Chartreuse Diamond and Celadon Diamond.

Armor-Piercing Slap: Gives one to Lapis in Chapter 8 of Act III, after Lapis invokes an Ironic Echo in reference to Pumpkin’s impending demise. She means well by it, but Peridot is too far into her Heroic BSoD to not take offense to her own words being used against her. Even when it’s justified.

The Atoner: Peridot considers herself eternally this after her redemption arc. Even after doing many good deeds, making friends, earning forgiveness, helping people, and saving Earth itself, Peridot still feels she could do more. When she regains her memories of how awful she used to be when she lived on Homeworld, Peridot doubles down on this role hard. She verbally confirms this in This is Who I Am.

Attack its Weak Point: Proposes this strategy to fight the pallified Blue Diamond. More specifically, to find its weak point with herself and her teammates scattering to the most likely place a weak point might be in hopes of striking the right spot.

Attacking Through Yourself:  When Peridot and Steven are stuck fighting each other’s dark selves in a duel to the death (where the dark/light counterparts feel each other’s pain and will perish should one side be killed), Peridot’s duel with Dark Steven quickly escalates into a scenario where Dark Steven is in the midst of choking to death – not by Peridot’s hands, but by her dark counterpart’s, who is well underway killing the Light Steven. Peridot can’t do anything to make her dark self stop this, as the two fights are separated between different dimensions. That is, there’s no way Peridot can make her counterpart stop killing Steven without inflicting damage on herself to disrupt her efforts. Unfortunately, 5XG (the Dark Peridot) retains Peridot’s lost ability to endure pain ridiculously well, so the only way Peridot has any chance of saving Steven is to inflict life-threatening levels of damage to herself. Having virtually no time to think of a better plan, Peridot goes with her instincts and uses a jagged piece of the arena’s floor tiling to lodge directly into her forehead, piercing her gemstone. This does work in forcing 5XG to release her hold on Steven – simultaneously saving both forms of him in the process – but it very nearly cost Peridot her life (and 5XG’s by proxy). Thankfully, the always-merciful Light Steven was there to quickly heal 5XG’s injury while the Dark Steven, having developed a begrudging respect for Peridot (and not wanting to be indebted to her for saving his life), also healed her injury as soon as he recovered from his life-threatening situation. With both Stevens worn down and vulnerable from nearly having their throats crushed and both Peridots too weak to actively continue fighting after sustaining deep, direct damage to their gemstones, both deathmatches ended in a No Contest, which yielded the result Light Peridot hoped to achieve: a scenario where she and Steven come out of this alive.

Ax-Crazy: In Chapter 6 of Act III, Peridot slips into this when she sees White Diamond’s neck and is immediately triggered due to the PTSD of the torture White put her through earlier in the act. Peridot ended up with a Slashed Throat from that (nonlethal considering she’s a gem, but it did shock her into unconsciousness and led to her being manipulated into ascension), so she finds herself intensely obsessed with returning the favor to White now that she has the opportunity.

[monkey-network]

Change Your Mind

Steven: Connie, have you ever watched Shrek?

Connie: I have actually. Pretty good movie, though the sequel is admittedly better but not by much.

Steven: What do you mean?

Blu D. Minnd, entering: Pink, what the f-

Steven: Hold up, we only have one f bomb this episode.

Blu D. Minnd: Right, sorry. Pink, what the feldspar happened? How dare you soil our family name like that?

Steven: What family?

Blu D. Minnd: I mean... you ca... I don't li... my god. My god, you're right.... this isn't a family. And I haven't been a real parental figure. I don't even know what a parent is. *sigh* You deserve better, Steven, you and your friend here, better than Homeworld.

Steven: Earth did change me in more ways than one.

Blu D. Minnd: I can see that, and as harsh as I may have come across, I did want what was best for you. I wanted you to conquer ruthlessly, but you have different ideas now and... I should respect that. Come. I'll get you two out of here and back to the Pussy Wagon with the others you had.

Steven: Can we stop by HomeMcDonalds first?

Connie: Yeah, we're pretty hungry.

Blu D. Minnd: Well I prefer White Diamond Castle, but sure. Real quick.

Steven & Connie: Best dictator mom ever!

-------------------[LATER]-------->

Blu D. Minnd: Here are your friends, Steven, and the rest of my fries. The salt hurts my figure.

Yellou D. Mond: You could've asked for no salt... Blue. What in the fluorite do you THINK you're doing?

Blu D. Minnd: Steven has the right to choose her path. And if she wants to be a liberal arts student on Earth, then who are we to stop her?

Yellou D. Mond: *chuckles* Blue. Blue. Blue. Liberal arts degrees are for fools who think eating soy makes you better than everyone. Computer Science is where Pink SHOULD be attending. Technology is where Pink should look into.

Blu D. Minnd: Computer Science? Putting stress into typing random fixtures and algorithms just to make a letter move one pixel to the left? That's laughable. I'm sorry, Yellow, Steven and her friend is leaving and is becoming an artist. *charges up*

Yellou D. Mond: I'll possess a human's third leg before I let that happen.

Steven: Can you two stop?! I'm not getting a Liberal arts or Computer Science degree. I'm going for Music Theory.

Yellou D. Mond: That... *charges up* is just as bad.

Narrator: And then a fight breaks out between Yellow and Blue while their Pearls look on with beers in hand. Yellow gains the upper hand, then Steven intervenes...

Yellou D. Mond: What're you doing? Diamonds must show no weakness and abide to such pathetic ideals for the future.

Steven: Says who?

Yellou D. Mond:....................Huh, never thought that far. Okay, I give.

Connie: Really, that fast?

Yellou D. Mond: Yeah, I'm a damn towering giant with electrical powers and a doctorate in Bio-Engineering. I'm powerful enough and breaking down my comrades to get stronger *helps up Blue* is not the logical way to go. Besides I was clearly winning anywa--

Blu D. Minnd: *gut punches Yellow* Oh Yellow, you were always the cocky one.

Yellou D. Mond: And... UHNNGH... you were always the strongest. *the two laugh together* Now it's time for you to head home.... Steven.

-------------[LATER AGAIN]------------------->

White Pearl: You're not going anywhere, darling.

Diamon D. Whit: It's high time you know your place.

Narrator: Suddenly the Yellow and Blue fistships came and fists White's mech right through the center, taking the ship down.

Yellou/Blu: What the hell?

Bismuth: What indeed?

Peridot: Indeed as we came, we saw...

Lapis: And we kicked ass.

Steven: You guys! Now I think it's time we talk to White.

Connie: But Steven, we have to protect the Crystal Gems.

Steven: Don't worry, I think I finally know how to wake 'em up. Amethyst, if you're listening. *inhales* SWEEEET CAROLINE! BUM BUM BUUUUM *fuses*

Smokey Quartz: Good tiiimes never seem so good! DA DA Daaa DA *unfuses*

Steven: IIIII've been inclined BUM BUM BUUUM *fuses*

Rainbow Quartz the 2nd: To Belieeeeve they never would but now I

Steven: Oooone, touching ooone... Reaching oooout, touching me, touching yooooooou *fuses*

Sunstone: SWEEEET CAROLIIINE! BUM BUM BUUUUUM! *hugs Pearl and Amethyst* Good times neeeever seem so good!

Sunstone, Pearl, Amethyst: IIII'd be inclined! *fuses together*

Obsidian: To Believe They NEVER COOOULD! *jumps to White's mech*

Yellou D. Mond: What even happened?

Blu D. Minnd: I suppose this is studying music theory?

Yellou D. Mond: I like it... Let's go.

*The two vault to White's mech*

--------------[ONE MORE LATER]------------------>

Steven: White Diamond! We demand audience.

Diamon D. Whit: Tch, fuck you. *Blasts everyone except Steven and Connie* Do you not fathom how I got to where I am now? I was built from the stars, goddammit. I came from nothing and I practically built everything you see here... from SCRATCH! I made Yellow and Blue from my faults. I basically built your "friends" from my damn sweat. You ain't shit, Pink. *Grabs Steven* This game has gone on far enough. *Pulls out his gem*

Narrator: Steven's body falls and Connie catches him in time. His gem reforms to become Pink Steven and once it reaches the ground, it head towards human Steven.

Diamon D. Whit: What the? Pink, what is this? Look at me when I'm talking to you.

Pink Steven: Bitch.

Diamon D. Whit: E-excuse me?!

Pink Steven: I said.... BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITCH!

Narrator: The room echoes and quakes heavily, everyone stumbles.

Steven: Please, get me to him.

Narrator: Connie carries Steven to Pink Steven. White was too stunned in fear to do anything. The two Stevens embrace each other.

Steven: You know what?

Pink Steven: What?

Steven: I think this'll count as selfcest.

Pink Steven: Heh. Heheheheheheheheh HA HA HA HA HA You're right. *laughs heartily*

Steven: *laughs along, slowly fuses back into one* Hahahahahaa... *feels his stomach* You're right.

Connie: STEVEN! *hugs* Are you... you?

Steven: That's the beautiful thing, Connie, I've always been me.

Diamon D. Whit: Impossible. How does this work? What sense does this make?

Steven/Connie: Who cares?

Diamon D. Whit: But uh... It should.... it just..... you know what, fuck this! *stabs the kids with her nails*

My Friends: Dude. Come on.

Narrator: Okay. Okay. Just wanted to add that.

And so, White backed down and understood Steven's logic. She and the Diamonds agree to cure the corrupted gems. Amethyst and Jasper reconcile. Lapis learns the power of reefer. Sadie and Padparadscha make out. Marty died in a car crash. White begins to drink after her entire worldview got crushed. Blue and Yellow give Steven funding for his college tuition before the three leave Earth. And the Crystal Gems finally got to live peacefully for once in their lives.... until Steven Universe 2.

[eerythingisshaka]

Wakanda Got Y’all Pt. 2

[Black Panther x Insecure Mashup]

Word Count: 2.7K

Part 1

Issa stands in front of the mirror.  Her hair still fresh and moisturized, skin glowing, outfit popping (as much as it can for business).  She takes a deep breath to commence her final touches.

Listen here, sweetie, ain’t nobody got time for this.

You either gonna be down, or you can walk, sis.

Bald head, bad ass bitches don’t phase me.

They don’t know nothin bout this Westside, we brazy!

Don’t be expecting no rose petals for ya feet.

Soothe your sole with this heat and hard ass concrete.

But once this meeting done, don’t run off, thinkin we through.

I’m tryna see, daddy, what the fuck up with you?

Call me Hogwarts Express, cuz I need 9 ¾

Your cousin too, my pussy been on Hoarders.

“Issa!!  If you don’t bring your ass on!”  Molly calls out from the living room.  Issa snaps out of her rap, cursing under her breath.

“Shit, why you so damn loud!”  Issa takes out her lippie stick, applying a subtle nude color to her lips.

“Bitch, I heard your whole damn concert in there.  Quit wastin’ time.   This baddie turns back into a potato with a quickness.”  Molly polishes off her pregame drink and digs through her purse for her compact.

“Aight, granny.   How I look?”  Issa does a spin.  Navy blazer, hip hugging pencil skirt, with a white crop top that covers her midsection just enough.

Molly leans back, giving a look of surprised approval.  “Mk!  I see you!  Perfect business to play outfit.  Cuz that blazer can come off, roll that crop top up a little, and pull that skirt down a touch, and you clubbin!”

Issa sticks her hip out, pointing to Molly, “You know it, bitch!  Aight, let me pour a drink and we can be out.”

Molly looks at her phone, waving Issa down, “Uh uh, we ain’t got the time, come on.  Kellie waiting for us.”

“Wait, what?  Why is Kellie there?”  Issa asks.

“She down there for happy hour with her co-workers, so she glad we can water down the whiteness around her.”  Molly says as she opens the front door.

Making their way to the bar, Issa gets a text from Frieda.  “Ok, Molly, I’ll see you in a bit.  Frieda already has a table with the guys.”

Molly nods, “Ok.  I’ll hang with Kellie then you just give me the cue for me to stumble on y’all with the ‘Oh my God!  I didn’t know you’d be here!’ shit.”  She says with the emphasis of a hair flip.

Issa sucks her teeth, “Girl calm yourself down.  I got you.”  

Issa sees Frieda with T’Challa and Erik, waving excitedly, “Hey Issa!  You made it!”  

T’Challa stands up, still wearing his trademark long coats with embellishments.  “Thank you for coming.  You look lovely.”

Issa smiles a little too goofily, “No, you look really great.  They have a coat check, you know where we came in at?”

Erik laughs into his drink, “I told yo ass you overdressed.  Wassup Is?”  He leans back, flashing his golds, chain gleaming.

Issa sits down.  “I didn’t mean it like that, I just-”

T’Challa waves his hands, “You don’t have to apologize.  I know you meant well.  I have not caught up with American fashion outside of jeans and hoodies yet.”

Erik chimes in, “And you just askin for a stop and frisk with that one, cuz.”

“We actually had a talk on police involvement with minorities in the community.”  Frieda says smiling.

Erik turns to her glaring, “And how’d that work out for ya?”

Frieda smirks tucking a hair behind her ear, “I say it went pretty good.  The dialogue got a little rowdy but I feel like the police chief really heard our concerns and-”

“‘Our’?  Oh, they your concerns too, Farrah?”  Erik asks.  T’Challa places a hand on Erik’s shoulder to signal him to ease up.

Issa continues to clean up Frieda’s words, “She means the concerns of We Got Y’all as a program that helps minorities in a majority of the time.  And though the talk was thought provoking and engaging, it still has yet to be seen where police reform has begun.  A kid just got arrested last week.  A guy got shot before that and was charged for assaulting the officer when his camera so happened to be off; and the cop was never charged.  So…”

Erik nods, waving down a bartender.  “That’s real.  Whatchu drinkin, need to lighten your mood up.”

T’Challa looks at Erik sideways, “Issa is talking about things that you never stop talking about.  What is the problem with that?”

“Listen, are we trying to promote police reform or teach these kids to read and give em some food?  Like, we hella left right now.”  Erik says tossing his toothpick.

Frieda nods, “Erik is right.  That is why I brought some samples of our programs brochures listing our services to keep us on track and you all can add or ask about what is there!”  The waiter comes over to get a drink orders for the table.

Over at the bar Molly is sipping, waiting for Kellie to break from her crowd and join her.

“Can I get beer please, whatever is on tap is fine.”  A deep voice orders beside her.

Molly looks up and sees a tall, thick, chocolate shake towering at the bar.   She looks away, eyes bucking with excitement as she smooths her hair and sits up a little straighter and turning her body towards him a little and accidentally bumping his leg.

“Oh, sorry about that.”  Molly looks at him expectantly.

He looks down at his leg and back at Molly, “It’s alright.  No harm done.”

Molly twists in her seat smirking, “None at all.  No harm in hearing that voice speak again either.”

He nods looking smug, “Ahh, you are good, I see you.”

Molly offers a hand, “Good to be seen.  I’m Molly.”

“I am M’Baku.”  His hand envelopes hers completely.  

She shivers at the thought of them gripping her up but keeps it cute.  “Ohhh, you are M’Baku!  My friend Issa is supposed to be meeting two guys here for work.  They mentioned you.”

M’Baku’s beer arrives and he sits down.  “Right.  I was drug along to just experience some of the town more than for business.  Though I support T’Challa’s cause.”

Molly nods to seem intrigued, “Yeah, of course.  And Issa is lucky to be working with an international monarch such as himself to help the community here.  It’s crazy.”

M’Baku chuckles to himself.  “A monarch, like he is the only one.”

Molly furrows her brow.  “Well, he is King of, what is it, Wakanda right?”

M’Baku sips his drink breathing deeply in thought.  “Technically yes.  It just takes some getting used to since he is so new to it.  He has a lot to learn, and I think I have something to do with that.”

“Are you one of his secondhand men?  I don’t know what you would call it, but you help him?”  Molly plays with her drink.

M’Baku clears his throat, putting more bass in his tone, “Second to no one,I lead my own people and represent them in order for Wakanda to keep some humanity within itself for its diverse tribal set.  It can get lost on them that we are not all the same, thinking the same.”

Molly warms up to M’Baku’s critical thinking, “That is a good point.  Wow, you are so-”

“GIRL!  Those white folks would NOT let me GO!  Being the only Black always makes you the life of the party and shit I’m tired.”

Molly looks to her other side to see Kellie ordering from the bartender.  “They wear you out, Kels?”

“Somehow I am more tired from boredom than I ever been having fun.  What gives with that?” Kellie’s drink comes through and she downs it.  M’Baku sits up, leaning to look over at Kellie.  “How are you this evening, Miss?”

Molly clears her throat, “Oh, Kellie, this is M’Baku.  He is one of Issa’s work associates colleagues.”

Kellie pauses giving M’Baku the once over, “Where you from, sounding like the leader of a free world I want to move to?”

M’Baku flashes a smile bigger than Molly has seen yet. “I am from Wakanda.  Have you heard of it?”

Kellie screws her face up shaking her head, “Mm-mm.  I ain’t ready for the Motherland yet.  I can’t handle them many marriage proposals at once.  I know y’all like ya women plump to pump.”

Molly’s eyes widen as she turns to Kellie embarrassed.  “Kellie??  What the fuck.  Stop throwing around stereotypes like that!”  Molly turns to apologize to MBaku but he is gone.  Looking back to Kellie, she sees he is next to her now.

“Stereotypes aside, you are not far from the truth with me, umhle.”  M’Baku takes Kellie’s hand, eyes smoldering as he kisses it.

Kellie clutches her pearls turning to Molly, “See what the hell I’m talking about?  These curves are catnip!  Ugh, my curse, but oh well!  M’Baku, was it?  Do you have a social standing where you are from?”

M’Baku stands a little taller with pride, “I am leader of the Jabari tribe.  Wakanda’s fiercest warrior, unmatched.”

Kellie grabs her purse, “Ok, Baku, come on.  Let’s walk and talk about this a little bit.  Molly, it’s been fun.  This cat bout to try and get stuck up a tree.”

Molly sits there. Mouth agape, “Kellie!  You not really-”

Kellie looks back at her, arm hooked with M’Baku’s who is looking down at her with admiration, “I can, and I will until this trunk is demolished.  M’Baku, you don’t mind a little forestry on your women, right?”

As they walk out, Molly is at the bar alone yet again as she orders another drink.  This broken pussy phase just won’t leave her.

Issa looks back at the bar to see Molly chilling by herself and gets concerned.  The meeting with everyone is looking like it’s about done.

Frieda collects her brochures satisfied.  “We covered quite a bit today.  Thanks T’Challa for the budgeting advice and Erik we will consider some of your program ideas.  I’ll try my best for the gun range trip but I can’t make any promises.”

Erik shrugs, “As long as it’s you talking to another you, I can’t see how it’ll fail.  Just don’t say it was my idea and you got this Felicity.”

Frieda smiles, “It’s Frieda but thank you for the vote of confidence.  Issa I’m going to call it a night, are you all sticking around or….”

Issa looks to them and to Molly, “Yeah, we probably won’t be long but I think we’ll be here.”

Frieda says her goodbyes leaving Issa with T’Challa and Erik.  T’Challa looks at her with warmth, stirred by the alcohol, whereas Erik is sitting back wide legged just waiting for an opportunity.

“Hey um, Erik, can you get order me something from the bar?  I haven’t seen a waiter in forever.”  Issa asks trying to get alone time with T’Challa.

Erik plays with another toothpick in his mouth, “You got legs don’t you?”

Seeing his smirk, Issa busts an eye roll.  T’Challa says, “And people think I am the heathen for where I am from.   I could get it for you, if you would like?”  As T’Challa goes to stand, Issa puts a hand on T’Challa’s, shook by her own actions, “No!  Uhhh.  It’s fine.”  As T’Challa sits back Issa texts Molly the SOS to come through.  Molly comes over and sits with a depressed plop.  “Hey, y’all.”

Erik takes notice of Molly.  “Who are you?  This ya girl, Is?  Steppin out on me?”

Issa clicks her tongue, “I’m not gay, Erik.  This is Molly, my best friend.  What’s wrong with you, girl?”

Molly shrugs, “I thought I had something to lockdown with one of they little friends.”  Molly waves her hand lazily toward T’Challa and Erik.  “But Kellie swooped in on him.”

T’Challa looked at Molly incredulously.  “M’Baku came out of his shell that fast, eh?”

Molly snaps her fingers, “Soon as she sat down he was enraptured.”

Erik looks at Molly, leaning back and to the side to check her out under the table. “I understand the feelin.  I never introduced myself, I’m Erik.”  

Molly takes his hand hesitantly, “Nice to meet you.  So, y’all cousins but don’t sound like you all from the same area.”

Erik shakes his head slowly, “Nah we ain’t, princess.”

Molly leans over to Issa, “Princess?  He forget my name already?”

T’Challa cuts in, “That is just his signature name for girls he is interested in.  It usually just annoys them at first mention.”  He says while side-eyeing Erik.  “Whereas I can actually make someone a Princess, so it is much more appealing.”  T’Challa takes his drink looking at Issa, who looks away nervously at the implication.

Erik sucks his teeth, “Aight, enough with that royal bullshit.  I just know what a future Queen looks like when I see one.  Respectable and shit, what you do for a living?”

Molly wags a finger, “Nah nigga, list your credentials first.”

Erik sits up chin pointed toward Molly, “Aight then.  Naval Academy grad, double majoring in Physics and Mechanical Engineering. Special Ops in the Navy, taking a break from that though now.”

All Molly heard was ‘engineer’ and benefits.  “You know what, as a lawyer, it couldn’t hurt for you to have my number in case of anything.”  She digs out her business card, writing her cell on the back of it.

Erik takes it, kissing it. “Got you.  Never know.”

T’Challa turns to Issa, “Can I walk you out?  Unless you were staying, I’m about to head out.”

Issa shakes her head emphatically, “No!  Not at all.  Molly’s my ride though so….”  Issa looks to Molly.  Molly give Issa a look pointing her head at Erik.  Issa looks at the card she gave Erik and a stern look.  Molly  rolls her eyes getting up.  “Uhhh yeah, long day at the office tomorrow so…”

Erik comes around to her side of the table as she stands up.  “Ain’t nothin wrong with work hard.  Builds character...and a sweat.”

Molly gets a full view of Eriks physique and height and has to fight back a Joker smile.  “You know that’s what I am known for; my stamina.  No matter how big the job, I don’t give up until it is done!”

T’Challa looks between Erik and Molly confused.  Issa takes notice.  “All right!  Hard workers in the house, woooo!  Let’s go!”

Walking outside, the group makes it to the car; Erik and Molly on the driver’s side, Issa and T’Challa on the other.

“So, let me thank you once again for taking on this task with me.  I feel less like a fish out of water with you here.”  T’Challa says sincerely.

Issa looks at her feet, “No problem!  You guys are giving me fresh ideas and of course the funding is mad important so it couldn’t grow without input!”

T’Challa smiles, the apples of his cheeks pooping out so definitively.  Issa can’t help but smile back.  “Until next time Miss Issa.”  T’Challa holds out his hand shaking hers and holding it firmly.  Issa feels electric with his hand in hers as they look at each other, not sure how to move on.

“Aye!  Y’all done, let’s go!”  Erik is walking down the parking lot as he yells for T’Challa.  

Breaking the trance T’Challa waves goodbye to Issa and Molly.

Issa gets in the car, where Molly airs out her thoughts.  “Now you never said, they were that damn fine.”

Issa shrugs trying to sound cool.  “What am I supposed to say?  I don’t need a workplace harassment claim on my hands.”

Molly smiles shaking her head as she peels out the lot, “I still can’t believe Kellie swooped in on guy like that.  I thought we were connecting!  But Erik cool too.  He seem a little headstrong but-”

“Long as that HEAD strong, you good, right?  That’s what you were gonna say?”

Molly looks at her stone faced.  “And I did just start a new vitamin regimen to boost my levels.  I’m just missing one…”

“HE WANNA GIVE ME THAT VITAMIN D!”  they say in unison.

Part 3

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