#(SHADOW.) “YOU HAVE TO LEARN. YOU DON’T GET A THIRD CHANCE.”

[scientia-rex]

When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”

He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)

I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.

What is your objective?

Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.

I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.

I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.

Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.

Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.

How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?

Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.

Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?

[tojicide]

FRENCH BOYS! ☆ RAFAYEL QI.

summary. when your paintings were featured in the same gallery walk as rafayel’s, he can’t help but commission you with an oddly cheeky request — ❛ paint me like one of your french boys. ❜

warnings. fem!reader. nsfw, mdni, artist!reader, body appreciation, reader paints rafayel in the nude, terms of endearment, oral sex (male receiving), tit sucking, p in v, cowgirl, unprotected but he pulls out, mentions of a ‘next time’

wc. 3.6k

note. i’m a raf girlie and this is me paying my dues to every single rafayel fan out there. i hope you give this a chance even if you aren’t a raf fan bc i’m honestly rly proud of this! see you at the bottom < 3 < 3 < 3

click here for portrait inspo! it’s ai which is very unfortunate but i couldn’t find any good inspo pics :(

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❛ Paint me like one of your French boys. ❜

You feel like you’ve read the line enough to have it engraved into your skull by now. You were still having trouble assessing whether or not the words were actually printed on the page or if you’d somehow misread them a million times over.

After all, who in their right mind would add that at the end of a memo for an art commission? Rafayel Qi, you learned. That’s exactly who.

Rafayel has heard of you in passing, of your astounding professionalism and the unique ways in which you depict your subjects. He didn’t know you personally though. In fact, he’s only ever seen you at the art exhibitions that your promoters put on for you.

And even then, you never truly gave him the time of day. Why should you? In the grand scheme of things, he’s a stranger.

Rafayel has never been the biggest fan of the unknown, which was why it surprised him that he was such a big fan of yours.

Call him crazy, but he wanted to get to know you. He’d even reached out to your studio a few times on the basis of collaborating on an art piece together, but when he was met with the generic excuse of your busy schedule preventing you from meeting with him, he was left to resort to the extreme.

He was quite familiar with the art style that you possess. He thought that your knack for figure painting made you interesting, made you admirable. Paying homage to the Renaissance period was a lost art in and of itself, and you managed to do so with nearly every single piece you created.

Now, here’s why he would absolutely understand if you called him crazy…

He would even understand if you called him self-concerned, if you called him vain—if you called him anything your heart desires, because all adjectives of the like are spectacular words to describe him… especially after he sent you that forsaken commission.

A commission that piqued your interest enough for you to accept, but a forsaken commission nonetheless. He knew that it made him look like an arrogant fool, because all things considered, who commissions a nude portrait of themself?

He tried not to dwell on it, because that was exactly how he ended up here, in your presence. Sure, he was posing nude in front of the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, but at least you were here…

“Soooo… how’s it going?” he asks, desperately trying to fill the silence between you two that only the sound of your paintbrush scraping against the canvas interrupted.

You peek your head out from behind the canvas, catching another glimpse of him sitting on the grand throne that he had custom made just for this moment.

(He was paying good money for this, alright? If he was going to have a painting of his naked body lying around, he wanted it to depict him in his godliest form.)

“Pretty good,” you shortly answer, sweeping your tongue over your bottom lip as you paint the shadow of a particularly sharp line on his abdomen. Seriously, he was absolutely jacked. At least you had that to keep you from growing bored.

Rafayel smiles as you keep your answers to his questions brief. That’s about the third ‘pretty good’ he’s gotten out of you in the last hour, and don’t even get him started on the sheer number of ‘alright’s you’ve given him.

So, he presses on.

“Not much of a talker, are ya?” he asks, absentmindedly tilting his head to the side as he speaks, only for you to quickly lean around the canvas to look at him. “Uh oh. Am I in trouble?” he asks with just about the cheekiest grin you’ve ever seen.

You sigh. “Yes. You should really stop talking.”

Rafayel raises an eyebrow at you, his smirk still tugging on his lips. “Should I? Here I was, thinking that you were enjoying this dazzling conversation of ours.”

That earns an eye roll from you, which is about the most expression he’s gotten out of you thus far. “You’re too expressive when you speak, Rafayel. You’re a horrible subject.”

He huffs at that, knitting his eyebrows together. “Am not. You mean to tell me that this body of mine makes for a horrible subject? Tsk tsk.”

“That body of yours?” you echo with a small breath of laughter. “Please. Am I supposed to be fawning?”

Rafayel gives you a sulky expression. “Puh-lease,” he mimics you, “I have abs, okay? I’m not saying you have to do anything with that information, but if you were to fawn, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“You think quite highly of yourself,” you say, tucking behind the canvas as you stroke the paintbrush over the area that you were currently working on.

He rolls his eyes at that. “Jeez, woman. Sue a guy for being confident.”

When he’s met with your silence and the sound of your paintbrush splashing in a nearby cup of misty water, he sighs. “I’m just joking with you. I’ll—”

“Even when I give you the silent treatment,” you lean out from behind the canvas to look at him, “you still won’t stop your yapping.”

Rafayel furrows his brows, cocking his head to the side as he gives you a deadpan expression. “Lady, please. I was about to tell you that I was going to shut up from now on, but come to think of it, I don’t wanna.”

You found it ironic that your own inability to shut up is what led you to this position. You bite your tongue, shifting to sit behind the canvas again, but his voice is what reminds you that he’s still there.

“Anywho,” he continues. “You’re a hard woman to track down. What made you accept my commission?”

“Good pay,” you deadpan, though a smile curves on your lips. “And the final line of the memo you sent me.”

Rafayel is doing his best to keep his stoic demeanor, but once he finds out that his risky behavior has paid off, he’s internally celebrating. Very much so.

“Tell me,” you continue, peeking at him. “Are you even French?”

He shakes his head, the soft strands of blue hair that hang just above his eyes moving just the same. “No,” he admits. “But my tiny fib got you here, didn’t it?”

You press your lips into a line as his movement ruins the stillness of his pose, but you try not to scold him for it. “Sure it did,” you answer. “Some nerve you have.”

“The nerve,” he echoes through a soft chuckle.

However, the nerves that he’s truly concerned about right now are the ones in his cock that are very quickly waking up. He does his best to not shift around in his seat, but once you disappear behind the canvas again, he does just that.

He really hadn’t thought this through. How embarrassing. Not only is he erect, but he’s erect from purely talking to you. What a mess he is.

The bright side is that there’s a thin layer of silk fabric draped over the lower half of his body, but with the rapid swelling of his erection, he’s realizing that it’ll do very little to help him out.

“Uh…” he clears his throat. His ears are as red as a fire truck, he’s sure of it. “Can we take a quick break?”

You don’t look at him from behind the canvas as you answer. “I’d prefer it if you gave me a bit longer. I’m almost done with this section, I don’t want to disturb the pose just yet.”

He curses himself for hiring such a professional. “Alright,” he murmurs.

You continue working for a few seconds before you speak up this time. “What made you seek me out, Raf? I mean, you’re a pretty good painter yourself.”

Raf. He didn’t think that he’d done enough to earn that level of familiarity to get you to give him a nickname, but he’ll gladly take what he can get.

“I dunno,” he lies. “I guess I just wanted to be the muse for once,” he adds. That time, however, he was being truthful.

He’s always wanted to be the subject, the one in front of the easel, the one who is paid attention to. Call him an attention whore if you must, because he’ll gladly claim that title.

Especially if it’s attention coming from you. He’ll pull out all of the stops to get it, just like he has today.

“That’s almost poetic,” you joke.

“Almost?” he repeats. “Alright, you’ve really hurt my feelings now.”

You shortly hum. “If that’ll get you to stop talking and sit still then I’m glad.”

He huffs quietly, sitting still and silent for a grand total of two minutes. He tried to keep it up, but the silence was gnawing at him.

“What are you currently working on?” he eventually asks.

To answer his question, you’d have to blatantly say that you’re painting his crotch… so instead, you stand up to turn the easel around entirely.

Rafayel takes a moment to gaze at the canvas, his eyes blown wide in wonder. You really were talented, and you’ve managed to make him look absolutely unreal in a way that he believes only you can.

His eyes settle on the section you painted last, judging by how most of the wet paint conjugated in that area. He swallows the growing lump in his throat, studying the way you even painted the faint outline of his length beneath the silk cloth.

“You’re finished with it?” he asks, raising his eyes to meet yours. “That part, I mean.”

You nod, turning the easel around to face you again. “Yeah,” you answer.

Rafayel clears his throat as he glances down at his crotch, which was sporting a full erection beneath the silky fabric. That had changed since you began to paint him, which wasn’t exactly your fault, but he curses his horny brain for what he says next.

“You got it a little wrong,” he tells you.

Your eyebrows raise as you drop your gaze down to the part of the canvas he’s currently correcting. “What? No, I…” you say as you peek at him from behind the canvas.

He shifts a bit under your gaze, watching quite intensely as you eye compare your painting to how he looks right now.

“Hm. I guess I did get it a little wrong, yeah,” you murmur, more so to yourself than to him.

Rafayel nearly smiles at your tone of indifference. “I hear that visual learning is the most efficient,” he suggests, cocking a brow at you. “Gets you well acquainted with the… material.”

“And by visual learning do you mean physical learning?” you counter.

…So yeah, physical learning definitely sounded more appealing to the both of you, which is exactly how you wound up kneeling in front of him with his cock in your mouth.

Your tongue flattens on the underside of his shaft as you sink lower, prompting him to collect a bit of your hair in one of his hands. “Gods, woman, are you trying to kill me?” he huffs, a sly grin on his face as he keeps his eyes closed.

Unsurprisingly, he can’t bear the thought of seeing your beautiful face be made of a mess of. He knows he shouldn’t feel this way, that he’s the reason you’re in this position, but he still does.

His large hand on the back of your head guides your movements as you suck him off, his head tilted back as you use your tongue on him. His stomach muscles are taut, and you’re finding yourself fawning over him after all, because his abs truly are that magnificent.

“Holy shiiiiit,” he pants, finally cracking his eyes open to look down at you. He really shouldn’t have done that, because now he feels like he’s about to cum in your mouth. “Fuck, ‘m sorry, pretty,” he stammers, closing his eyes again. “Can’t… can’t help it. Feels too good.”

You don’t think he has anything to be sorry about, and if anything, you should be assuring him of the opposite. It was one thing to stare at him from afar, but it was another to look at him from this angle—with his eyes screwed shut while his forehead glistens with sweat especially.

He almost feels embarrassed for how loud he’s moaning, his thick thigh tensing as you rest your hand on it to brace yourself. You’re making him feel like a virgin with the way you take him in, the sensation of your tongue making him feel fuzzy.

“Just like—shit—just like that, cutie, yeah,” he babbles, hardly sure of what he’s saying anymore. All he knows is that if he opens his eyes and sees your gorgeous mouth stuffed with his cock, he’s going to cum.

You pat his hand on the back of your head as a means of getting him to guide your movements to his liking, noticing the way he so clearly hesitates with you. You can’t blame him. He doesn’t know you well enough to know that you actually like this sort of thing.

But with the way your mouth feels around his cock, he’s in absolutely no rush to deny you or himself this wish. He pushes your head a bit faster now, listening to the lewd sounds of your spit sloshing around with every thrust he gives you.

“Too fucking good,” he rasps through a moan. He’s almost too lost in you, his lips permanently parting as he lets his vocal cords roll out the most filthy words you’ve ever heard. “Mm-hmm, use that—fuck—pretty mouth of yours, gorgeous.”

As if the sight of him reacting so visually to your mouth wasn’t enough, the words he gives you are more than enough to have your heat pooling between your thighs. You’re both a mess here.

He flings his head back, his eyes shutting even tighter as your nose brushes against the tufts of dark blue hair at the base of his cock. It was safe to say that the curtains certainly matched the drapes…

You gag as he pushes you a bit too far on his length, his eyes snapping open almost immediately. “Oh, honey, ‘m sorry,” he huffs out, releasing your hair to let you off of him.

You shake your head as you cough, pulling your mouth off of him for a brief moment. A thick string of saliva still connects your bottom lip to the base of his shaft, and that alone has his cock twitching right in front of you.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes as he shakes his head, almost dumbfounded by the sight in front of him. He may be out of breath, but he’s still very in tune with his abundant attraction for you. “Come up here, gimme a kiss.”

Rafayel is pulling you and you’re complying, and his lips are slotting against yours within seconds. He holds your jaw in his hand, his other moving to the small of your back to pull you closer until you’re kneeling between his spread thighs.

The kiss is sloppy, the saliva on your face immediately transferring onto his skin, though he doesn’t seem to mind. Not one bit. Instead, he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth, gathering more of your taste on his tongue.

“Don’t think I’m well acquainted enough,” you murmur against his lips, planting your hands on the back of the throne while you shift to straddle his lap. “Do you?”

He shakes his head without thinking. “Nuh-uh. Think you need a little more,” he replies, running his hands along your thighs until they slip beneath your dress.

One of his hands cup your mound while the other rests on your hip, and he nearly moans at the feeling of the sopping wet fabric clothing the needy area between your legs.

“This all for me?” he asks with a lopsided grin, his eyes hooded as he looks at you. You nod your head, a soft whine leaving you as he pulls the fabric to the side, running two fingers along your slick pussy. “Mm, I wanna taste her.”

You shake your head, your hand reaching to stroke his throbbing cock, brushing your thumb along the tip as a spurt of pre-cum leaks from it. Denying head isn’t exactly your go-to, but you can’t help it. You want to feel him inside of you.

He follows your hand down to his shaft before he raises his eyes to meet yours again, giving you the sweetest smile imaginable. “Alright, silly girl. Pussy’s all mine next time though, promise?”

“Promise,” you whisper with a smile.

Rafayel seems pleased with that, so he gives your thighs a light squeeze as he shifts to stand up, only for you to gently nudge him back down.

He raises a brow at you, a smirk quickly growing on his face. “Oh? Pretty baby wants to ride me, is that it?”

His pet names for you nearly make you buckle, and you’re not sure how considering you’re already sitting down, but it almost happened, you’re positive.

“Yeah,” you answer, slowly rubbing the head of his cock along your folds. “Look me in the eyes this time?” you tease.

He’s too drunk on the feeling of your pussy teasing his tip to realize that you’re joking with him. “Huh? Oh right, yeah, cutie, whatever you want.”

If you thought he was whiny there, it was no match for the man he became once the head of his cock pushed into your hole.

“Holy shit, woman, you really are trying to kill me,” he moans, resting his head back. “I was only joking before.”

You chuckle as you slowly lower yourself on his length, feeling the way his girth stretches you out, earning a whine from your lips in return. He smiles at you, cupping your cheek with his hand.

“You feel so good, pretty,” he whispers, his other hand resting on your hip as you begin to bounce on his cock. Up and down, up and down. “Shiiiiit, baby. Fuck me like that, yeah, just like that.”

A smile stretches across your lips as you watch his expression go from one of eagerness to one of absolute bliss, his eyes half-lidded as he watches you.

“Gods,” he breathes as his cock slides between your walls. “Pussy’s so tight—fuck,” he gasps out as he grips onto your hips, slowing your movements. “Gonna want more if you keep doing me like that.”

And by more, he means he’s going to start fucking up into you. He really didn’t want to, not with how pretty you looked riding him on your own, tits bouncing in his face and all.

You whine as he slows you down, and you come to a complete stop for a moment as you sit in his lap, cockwarming him. “Is that not the point?”

Rafayel raises a brow at you, a lazy grin on his lips. “Pfft. Alright, woman, you asked for it.”

You really did ask for it, though when he grasped onto your hips to make you slightly hover over him, you’re quickly realizing that his words were anything but empty.

His cock rams into you before you can even register that he’s moving beneath you, his thrusts hard and fast. You moan nearly every time the tip of his shaft reaches the back of your walls. Without much thought, you lean forward, resting your head on his shoulder as he continues to fuck into you.

“Ah-ah,” he playfully scolds, leaning forward to nip at the neckline of your dress. “Pull ‘em out for me, cutie.”

You do it without hesitation, shrugging the straps of your dress off your shoulders just enough for your tits to be revealed to him. He moans at the sight, leaning in to press a kiss on your perked nipple.

“Such pretty tits, honey,” he murmurs against your skin as he sucks your nipple into his mouth, the pace of his cock pushing into you not letting up whatsoever.

It’s your turn to moan embarrassingly loud now, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel heat pool in your lower stomach. He’s far too preoccupied with sucking on your tits to notice, but once he does, he nips at the sensitive skin of your breast.

“I thought we were looking each other in the eyes this time,” he says, leaning up to press a kiss on your cheek. And when you open your eyes, he smiles. “Thaaat’s more like it, pretty.”

You return the smile, but not for long. Another moan rips through you, your forehead moving to rest on his, though you keep your eyes open.

“I… ‘m gonna cum,” you choke out, earning a chaste kiss from him.

He nods. “Let me have it, baby. Need you.”

And it’s not like you had a choice in the matter. You’re shaking in his lap as your orgasm washes over you, another airy moan leaving your swollen lips as you find your release on his cock.

“So perfect, so beautiful,” he coos, leaning forward to kiss you again, slowing the pace of his hips down as he fucks you through your high. “Mhm, so sweet for me too.”

A soft whine leaves his lips as he pulls out of you. You watch as his hand strokes along his cock, a guttural sound leaving his mouth as he paints his own stomach with thick, white ropes of cum.

He pants as he keeps his eyes on yours, leaning forward to press another kiss to your cheek. You lean into his touch while your other hand threads into his hair.

“Well, won’t you look at that. Guess you’re your own muse after all,” you joke, giving him a suggestive wink. “Y’know, since you painted your own—”

“Mhm, I got the joke, gorgeous,” he deadpans, leaning in to press a kiss on your lips. “You’re just hilarious, aren’t you?”

“…Yeah, I think I’m pretty funny.”

note. helloooooo! i really enjoyed writing this lol, i like the lightheartedness of it all. i might write a pt2 for the hell of it buuuuut i hope you enjoyed reading <3 all interactions are greatly appreciated :)))

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[criibibi]

Synopsis: After losing so much, Spider-woman learns to just keep moving. Only for her to end up somewhere far from home. Her first agenda is figuring out where she is, and how to get back. The only problem is that she ended up somewhere fictional (to her). Playing hero with Batman was not in her bingo cards this year. Hopefully she will be able to make it back home before she catches unwanted attention.

Masterlist: Prev; Next;

Chapter 5 - No Time to Waste

It’s been a week and a half since the last power surge incident and so far everything was quiet. Too quiet for Batman’s liking. It definitely increased his paranoia which in turn causes him to be extra moody. The culprit? Whoever was behind the power surge in the Narrows. They became an anomaly to Gotham. Unwanted, an eyesore in the eyes of Batman.

And the issue is, there hasn’t been any news at all. No sightings, no suspects, nothing. Bruce felt challenged in a way. Something is in Gotham, living in his city and he feels like he’s still so far from discovering who or what it is. For the world's greatest detective is having a hard time solving this case. How frustrating.

With no news of another quantum breach, big or small, nothing. It’s frustrating. What’s even more of a headache about this unsolved case, is another thing that has come to his attention- thanks Jim.

Bruce started hearing more reports of a new ‘vigilante’. But there are no pictures, no camera footage, no evidence, just testimonies, occasional sightings and witnesses. Nothing concrete, nothing solid, just no proof. So frustrating.

And there is a pattern.

What he does know is that they are always quick and efficient, never staying too long, leaving once or before the police arrive, and it’s always low level crooks like muggers or thiefs. Respectful and polite (from those they saved) and they mostly keep to the shadows of the night.

Whoever this new problem is, is trying to stay hidden and Batman doesn’t like that at all. Not. One. Bit. 

Despite the Narrows being Duke’s territory, he is just one person who patrols in the daytime, so some of his sons and daughter help patrol at night. But it seems this newcomer has incredible luck and scurries off everytime they are even close to their location.

But this doesn’t mean Batman will just let it go, oh no. Of course not silly, he’s going to find this new vigilante and see what they are about. He’s going to evaluate them, judge them, and all it takes is one mess up. Just one and he will make sure they are locked up in Arkham.

A bit extreme, possibly. But he will take no chances, not when it comes to the safety of his city. Gotham is his to protect and defend, he’s keeping many eyes out for this intruder. Watch your back.

“Sorry to interrupt your brooding hour B, but I have something I think you want to know. Also you have a message from Commissioner Gordon.” A new voice spoke through his comms.

“On my way.” He replied.

“No, I think it’s best you go with-”

“I am fully capable of handling it myself just fine. I don’t require father’s assistance.” a third voice snapped. “I’m here with Kent, we’re fine Drake.” And the line was turned off.

“Explain.” Batman demanded.

“So you see…”

-

After the failed attempt at contacting Miguel, you spent a couple of all nighters in advancing your beacon. This time, it would require even more energy but now it won’t cause a potential blackout. But it will notify the bats of your location like last time.

You know you have to be extra fucking careful this time. You might have gotten lucky those days ago in not getting caught, but you know your luck is shit anyways and Batman is one paranoid mother fucker. Him and his wards.

You have to be very cautious in where you go and how you will do this. This new connector is a bit more sturdier than the lightweight one you made before, but this time it also won’t require you to be stuck in one place. Actually, your signal will ping in more than one location. It will bounce off the cell towers and throw a fake location. 

This will certainly tip the scales to your favor in avoidance of detection. Now, you won’t have to rely on your (shit) spider luck! 

All you have to do is to connect it to a phone or computer, and connect that to any service in the area and manually set it off- which you can easily hack. There is only one tiny itty bitty problem. Guessed it yet? No? Well it’s simple, the only problem is- YOU DON’T HAVE A PHONE.

You could theoretically use the library computer but with civilians around you is a big major no. You’re also pretty sure the library closes at like 8 or something.

No worries. You have a solution for this baby problem. Is it build one yourself? Pfft- fuck no. You don’t have time to build a phone and even less for a computer, you still have to tweak your god damn watch for fuck sake. So, you’re just going to buy one.

And with what money- I hear you ask. Simple. You’re going to make some. Time to become Spider-woman again.

Only until you have enough for a decent phone- you said. It’ll be easy- you said. Until you were proven wrong.

You spent two days hunting and defeating crooks, webbing the worst ones up, while the not so bad but are making shitty choices were let go (with the promise of hunting them down should they go back to doing bad stuff). Some advice here and there, pickpocketing criminal’s money, you know, the usual shabang.

Can’t forget you’re avoiding all cameras so as to not give yourself away. Though you almost got caught by the police once, haha. You never stick around long enough to get spotted by the bats or the cops.

Until one night, dressed as a normal civilian, you were coming back from a shelter, turning a corner and you were immediately surrounded by a group of thugs wanting to rob you. You literally have nothing, so the only thing they would be robbing is your backpack with extra clothes and your suit. And maybe like two granola bars.

You tried to charm your way out of this situation because first of all, youre fucking tired, two, you don’t have time for baby shit, and three, you’re about to start tweaking. Of course the five men didn’t take your sarcastic remarks lightly and decided that their knives would do the talking.

So you beat them up. All five of them. 60 seconds was all it took. So to recompense wasting a minute of your time, you loot their cash discreetly.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) a well dressed man popped out of nowhere, getting close to you and you warned him you would break his wrist if he touched you- he still came but didn’t touch you. Holding out a black card he presented it to your face.

“You fight well, kid. If you want to make money fast,real money, call me and go here.”

“Um, I’m not a k-”

“You’ll make hundreds.” He cut you off. Rude. ”And if you impress the boss like you did me, you can make more.”

Spider luck?

Oh well that got your attention. Eyes narrowed. “Fast money, how?”

“Did no one ever teach ya about ‘stranger danger’? It’s a fight club, if you will. A tournament if you’re interested.”

Spider luck.

After pondering it for a quick second, here you are, getting a card with a free invite to a ring, probably filled with big, crazy, and most likely wanted criminals, and you get paid to beat them up? Sign me the fuck up. “I’m very interested.” you nod.

The man gave a crooked smile. “Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.”

“I’m not-” The man walked away and inside a white limo car. Fuck you.

So you went the next day. Making sure you wore your normal clothes, just sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and your face mask, you called the guy.

Meeting him was uninteresting, conversations were nothing exciting, just asking you your fighting style, can you take on a big guy, and whatnot. 

Upon entering the place (behind a well known bar) you were led to a ring, two fighters going at it. You watched how one was clearly more experienced than the other, while the other guy was battered and bleeding but still fighting. Blood spraying everywhere with every hit until he hit the ground cold.

It certainly is a sight.

It was that very day that you had your very first fight.

Stepping into the ring with no prep, no bandages, no helmet, nothing, this was a raw fight through and through, you were immediately booed and laughed at. Tough crowd.

Of course you were not going against a stereotypical big muscular guy that looks like he could bench press a tank. No, in fact you were against a young military deserter as your first opponent. Scars and all. Across his neck laid an identification tag (also known as dog tag). Christopher Conner.

The man in front of you sneered, laughing at you. “No way they sent me a kid. I will break all your bones. Don’t start crying too soon.” he cooed.

He taunted you and the crowd loved it. You, on the other hand, were pretty bored and unimpressed. 

“I’m not a kid…” you huffed behind your face mask.

What was able to be seen on your face must have told him that because he didn’t like being ignored. 

So he swung, a clear hit to be a knock out. You swerve.

This time he kicked, you parried.

He did not like that. Soon a game ensued. Hit attacking and you either blocking or dodging. You didn’t even need your spider sense, you got this in the bag, honestly this was quite sad. The crowd went from booing you to insulting Christopher.

“What the fuck man?!”

“Hit the kid!”

“My money’s riding on you dickface!”

“Don’t you dare lose motherfucker, or I’ll shoot you!”

It seems their insults were getting to the man. You on the other hand kinda started to feel bad.

“Stand still you fucker!” Christopher growled, throwing punches.

You scoffed, “My aunt throws faster punches than you Chris.” You can almost taste the bloodlust seeping from his pores. “Hey man, it's been three minutes, surely you can end this, right?”

Chris’s jaw clenched in anger. He was about to explode. A voice called out your name.

“Nada! Stop wasting time and finish it kid. Or you won’t get paid.” What? What a scam! You’re trying to entertain yourself too y’know, guess this will be a way to relieve stress.

Facing the military man you didn’t give him a second to process when you blew him a kiss and then a fist made contact with his chin, effectively knocking him out the second his back hit the ring walls. “I’m not a kid.”

The crowd was silent before chaos broke. Half the crowd booed and threatened the fallen man, while the other half started cheering.

With how unsatisfied most people were, you had to fight three more times. Each time, you won, with no scratches on you (you did pretend to get hit at times for realism). Each victory secures you cheers and hype.

By the end of your last fight, it was dark out and you were walked off by the same man that brought you here. “Good job kid. I know you were the right call.”

“I’m not-” A thick envelope was thrown. Catching it, you opened it up to find money, lots of money. “Woah.”

The man in the suit chuckled. “Like it? You can make more the more you win.”

Still entrance by the stack of green you nodded. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time.” The man walked off and you stared at the money.

“Booyah baby!”

You bought a phone the next morning.

And so it’s been five days since then. You weren’t in a desperate need for money anymore, so you cut your fights down from five to two a day. You still needed time to continue fixing your beacon. Spider-woman sightings have also significantly decreased the more you noticed the increase in security.

You were not taking any chances.

Walking towards the somewhat empty bar, you greeted the bouncer and headed inside to an ‘employees only’ door to meet the guy in the suit. He did tell you his name, but you call him ‘Suit’ in your head regardless. 

“Hey there Nada,” He hears a sigh from behind the mask. “Listen, kid, you’re one of my best fighters, but I need you to lay low for a while. Here.”

Catching a burner phone you tilt your head for an explanation, pocketing it. “Cops?”

“Worse.” he sighs, slicking his hair back. “Bats.”

Fucking spider luck.

Like a bucket of ice and cold water was dumped on you, blood turning cold. You froze in terror. You should have guessed that a hidden fighting ring would not be kept hidden for long. The criminals that you fought and were downright nasty, you made sure they were caught outside and far away from this location. 

And it was random from a list you composed. Enough to make sure you weren’t a suspect. But fuck now you have to erase your presense here. You’re a nobody, Nada, nothing. Guess it really is time to lay lower than low, like a ghost. “I won’t come back then.” Voice serious and cold.

He laughed, pulling out an envelope from his suit's inner pocket. “S’that so?” Handing it out for you to take, his eyes burn into yours. “Then I’ll just have ta hunt you down, kid.”

Taking the envelope (it felt thicker and heavier than usual) and placing it in your pocket you chuckled, cold, fake, calculating. “Try. I’m good at hiding.” Walking away, hands in pocket, feeling both the envelope and the burner phone, turning your body to avoid bumping into a familiar guy speed walking in. “I’m not a kid…” you mumbled to yourself.

You didn’t bother glancing at the man you dubbed ‘Suit’, real name Jacob Sullivan Jones. It seems it’s time for JSJ to have a run in with the Gotham City Police Department. 

It is truly fortunate that Jacob doesn’t know where you're staying. Although he might not know about the warehouse inside the junkyard, he does know you are not a resident with no permanent home. He had stalked you for a bit after the first meeting (the bouncer was so easy to spot really), believing you’re homeless, alone, and a nobody (someone who nobody would miss or look for). You’re using that (somewhat of a mis)information to your advantage.

Leaving the desolate bar, thoughts consumed by the written list of criminals you drafted and plan to anonymously give it to the GCPD. How you got the other criminals caught was simple, you always used a payphone and gave anonymous tips. That won’t work here. At least not fully. Knowing the corruption, maybe you should hand it to the one of the cops you know isn’t corrupt.

Now, do you hack the police and email it? Print it/fax it and send it? Or hand it directly but as spider-woman? Well for starters, the second option is garbage because if the right person doesn’t see it first, it will just get covered up. Hacking into the GCPD and emailing it directly doesn’t sound like a bad idea, the only issue is, if they decided to forward that information to the bats, you’re fucked because then you know they’ll dig in and somehow find out about you.

It seems like going in as Spider-woman is the best bet, but then again, the bats are real close, too close for comfort. Should you take the risk? But if you don’t turn these criminals in, it will stay in your consciousness of letting innocents down. Guess you have to suck it up and do it then.

“This sucks” you mumbled, deep in thought. 

Suddenly you felt your body freeze. Feeling your spider sense go haywire, you looked up and hard swerved to the side, avoiding bumping into a stranger.

It seemed that your sudden change in direction caught the stranger’s attention and the person next to him, both heads snapped towards you.

Hands out of pocket awkwardly waving in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry!” Taking a look at the one you almost bumped into, he is tall, with black hair and vibrant blue eyes.

Taking note of your embarrassment the stranger chuckles, looking into your eyes, “No worries! Nice reflexes though!”

The stranger’s partner scowled in your direction and you could feel his eyes burning you alive. “Watch where you walk, you buffoon.” Venom.

“Don’t be rude, Dame.”

“Don’t call me that. We don’t have time for this tomfoolery.”

Alrighty then, guess it’s time to fuck off. “Yes, thank you- again, so sorry.” You don’t even spare the other guy a glance, quickly scurrying off. Your spider sense hasn’t shut off and you don’t like where this is going. “Good bye.”

“Hey wait a minute!”

“What are you doing Kent? Our priority is there.”

Not turning back, you quickened to a brisk walk away from this nauseating area. This whole goddamn experience is so nauseating. You just wanted to go home. Was that soooooo much to ask? Regardless, you did not want to know what those strangers wanted, and you were taught ‘stranger danger’ and it certainly applied here.

After a certain distance later, your senses dulled into a small buzz as you turned a corner and entered the public library. Taking your usual empty seat, you let out a deep sigh. This was what you were used to since coming into this world. Since being yoinked from another dimension and plopped in this universe, your senses never really shut off. It was like everything in this world was a danger, and it only spiked when reacting to blood lust, danger of a certain radius, and people who are incredibly strong. 

Recalling that one stranger, who looked too innocent enough for it to be bloodlust, just that their presence caught you so off guard. But your senses screamed at you, and it terrified you to an extent. This is why you can never really relax being here, even when you’re alone in the warehouse, you just feel so out of place, and in danger constantly. It was beginning to eat you up honestly.

You miss your innocent youthful days. God you sound old. But you really do miss having a home to go back to. A home where once you step inside, it’s warm, and two people would always greet you like a warm embrace.

Now it’s cold and desolate, barely anything inside, empty and lonely.

But now, you can’t even go there anymore. Even if it was painful to live in the same home that had more members, then reduced to just you, it was still home. 

You can’t even go home.

Remembering the words Jacob Sullivan Jones spoke to you earlier, you fish out the envelope. Taking note of the weight, it was decided to open it and find more than usual.

Picking up a small zip-lock bag, your eyes widened. It was an ID, an ID and a passport. Just what the fuck was Jacob going to do with giving you this? Why did he make this for you? What were his plans? No, you can’t think about that. This is a blessing for sure, and you’ll take it- but, you have to put Jacob in prison. Now.

This is a gift and you know that with criminals, all gifts are never for free. This is a ‘you owe me’ gift. “Fuck, this sucks.” You just want a moment of peace.

Think, you have to think. Now you have an identification, but, you don’t know if you’re in the system, since once again, incase you forgot, you don’t fucking exist here. Whatever Jacob was thinking, you definitely don’t want a part of it. You’re going to put a stop to this now.

Though, recalling the two strangers earlier, you don’t bother with the rude one of the two, more focused on the one with blue eyes. Something about him just stuck out to you. He looked vaguely familiar.

Okay, let’s take this from the top. You felt a strong sense of precaution, thus causing your spider sense to alert you. Your sense only went away when you were a considerable distance away from those two, so you know it’s about the strangers. Bases covered, perfect. What’s next?

 You only really focused on the one who you almost touched, so let’s continue from there. He is tall, a welldefine body, black hair, and vibrant blue eyes. That’s all you remember seeing now for what you heard. His friend/partner/acquaintance/fellow party member said ‘Kent’, this could be his name or surname but the name ‘Kent’ makes your throat clogged. You only know of another Kent and it’s a superhero.

It couldn’t be…right? 

Turning the computer on, you started typing away, fingers trembling, heart thumping loudly, head spinning, and body sweating. Please, please, please, be wrong. You prayed.

The window search lands on a somewhat recent news. Superman and Superboy save hundreds during bridge collapse! By Lois Lane Kent.

In the photo, on the front page was a scene, both Superman and Superboy. The older one was holding a piece of a bridge while the other younger one was using his heat vision. This was Superman’s son. And you came into contact with him.

You were royally fucking screwed.

Fuck- fuck! No, no nono! 

All the anxiety you tried to lock away came like a tsunami. You were reminded of how small you are in this world. How easy it is to find trouble even without looking. You wanted no part in this world but it seems the gods wanted to fuck you over and over again. 

And, as much as you wanted to curse out the Spot for yeeting you far faaaaaaar from your universe, you only blame yourself for latching onto him and getting lost on the way to his next destination.

God this sucks! You wanted to curl up and cry, but you can’t. You’re a big girl and so, you’ll deal with this fuckery later. After all, your best trait was putting your issues to the side and focusing on the bigger picture. This- meeting Superman’s son can wait. After all, you haven’t run into any bats besides Signal- yes you researched him when you had free time (you only knew of him but not really who he was), so for now, your spider luck has been blessing you thus far.

You need to focus on the bigger picture, getting Jacob and the other criminals caught.

Getting to work, you begin to type away your list that you memorized, the location of the bar, the owner of the bar was still a mystery but the one who runs it is Jacob, schedule of the bouncer shifts, and the names and alias of those who you encountered as well as the situation of misguided teens. You type it all, making sure to keep your real and fake identity out, you did put in your alias Nada, as a picked up street kid. Enough for it to be a ‘misguided’ teen situation but not enough to catch someone’s attention unless they were looking for it.

Now that you know you ran into Clark Kent’s son (a deduction), you know you can’t risk encountering him as spider-woman. Knowing that Superman can (somehow) memorize and identify someone based on their heart beat or whatever, so fuck no are you going to parade as spider-woman any time soon.

You swear to god that you will do everything you can to avoid meeting them in both their civilian personas and alter egos.

Calming yourself, you get ready to hack the GCPD, and leave a message.

‘They know. Scatter.’ 

It hits you. The epiphany of why Jacob had an ID and passport made for you. They were moving locations. Abandoning fort, and taking anyone who they wanted. Basically a trafficking ring for those who weren’t onboard, and a new opportunity for those who they saw potential in. 

Shit, you should have stopped this when Jacob found you, but you didn’t know anything then. Now it could be too late. But Jacob did say to lay low, so they’re mostly biding their time. Probably erasing, hiding, and misplacing real and fake evidence.

They need to get exposed now, ‘strike while the iron is hot’ as the saying goes. 

It seems like it’s time to meet the commissioner of the Gotham City Police Department, James “Jim” Gordon, as Spider-woman. How fun… 

Way to contratic your fucking promise so soon. Well, at least it’s a civilian and not a hero/vigilante. “This fucking sucks.”

-

Damian scoffed when Tim wanted to force his father the Batman into his lead. It’s not that he doesn’t want his father, it’s just this is an undercover sort of situation. He got a lead when he went to interrogate a pathetic military criminal. He can handle this mission on his own.

“No, I think it’s best you go with-”

“I am fully capable of handling it myself just fine. I don’t require father’s assistance.” Damian heard Jon chuckle, most likely overhearing this conversation with his super hearing. What a nuisance.  “I’m here with Kent, we’re fine Drake.” And the line was turned off.

“Well that was something. So, what’s the plan that you didn’t want Lizzie to be involved in?”

“Focus, Jon.” Damian explained their stakeout first, before going to don their costumes. Deep in their conversation, Damian caught sight of one of the suspects speed walking past them. He brings this to Jon’s attention. “It's him, the mercenary Christopher Conner.”

“Okay, so this bar is the place. Let me check real quick.” Using his vision, Jon’s eyebrow furrows. “Next door is styled like a wrestling ring, only two exits. From here and from an office. This is the place.”

“Then we’ll change and apprehend the criminal. Watch and hear what he is saying.” Jon followed Damian’s lead when someone jumped out of his way like he was burning them, causing Damian to also turn his head.

“I’m so sorry!” Despite the mask covering their mouth, their voice of this buffoon sounded androgynous, their clothes didn’t help to differentiate a gender either. But what he can see were this stranger’s eyes, and he can’t look away.

It seems neither can Jon as he chuckles and waves off the encounter. “No worries! Nice reflexes though!” Jon makes it very obvious he’s staring hard.

Just what is it about this total insignificant stranger that caught Damian’s undivided attention? From what he can see, they look normal (can’t really tell with that face mask though), but there is just something that has him unable to take his eyes off of them.

Jon has the same issue, and Damian narrowed his eyes in suspicion and scowls. “Watch where you walk, you buffoon.” 

Jon, without breaking eye contact, scolds Damina. “Don’t be rude, Dame.”

Snapping out of this trance, he snaps back,” Don’t call me that.” That’s right, they are on a mission, no distractions allowed. “We don’t have time for this tomfoolery.”

Jon looks at Damian, as he too, regains his focus, eyes staring into each other as if communicating, he nods. They can come back to this after they finish their assignment. 

“Yes, thank you- again, so sorry. Good bye.” The stranger quickly scurried off.

Caught off guard Jon impulsively extended his arm out to grab their shoulder. “Hey wait a minute!” 

Damian acted faster, grabbing Jon’s arm. “What are you doing Kent? Our priority is there.” Pointing towards the bar with his head. This isn’t good, they’re getting sidetracked.

Jon didn’t turn to look at Damian, no he was still staring at the stranger. “I just wanted to ask…” He trailed off as he strained his ears, focusing on their heartbeat, their breathing patterns, anything he could to commit to memory. “For their name.”

Damian, too, side glanced at the retreating figure, dissecting the way they moved, their tensed shoulders, everything until they were out of sight.

Jon wanted to ask their name. Was that weird? Their situation didn’t require him to ask their name. How would he even go about it, ‘Sorry for almost bumping into you, hey can I ask for your name?’ Yea, no.

“Damian, I-” Jon began before getting caught off.

“I know. We’ll deal with that later,” His eyes narrow, glancing at the bar. “Focus.” But he too was entranced. But he was much better at pushing that to the side, but he knows he won’t be able to hold it off for now. The best he can do is rein in Jon’s attention to the assignment.

Moving to a cafe nearby with a good view of the bar’s entrance, they ordered some drinks. This wasn’t Damians idea but he’ll let Jon have his way for cooperating.

Jon nodded, getting back into focus, using his super hearing to overhear the conversation inside the bar.

His stomach tingles at the thought of asking the stranger for their name.

Hand discreetly on his year Damian spoke, “Drake, look into the time of now and send it over to me.”

“Hey- wait-” Tim was caught off guard, “What’s this about? I thought you didn’t ‘require assistance’ for this.” He teased. 

“I don’t.” He shut the comms off. Now, back to work. “What’s going on Jon?”

“This is our guy. He’s getting assigned to deliver a package. This is serious. He’s upset.”

Damian clicked his tongue. “Tt. Follow.”

Jon tunes into the conversation again.

“The police aren’t the issue. It’s the costumes that have been spotted close. We already lost a couple of our men to the cops.”

“And you don’t think that’s suspicious? We have a traitor!”

“You don’t think I don’t know that, Chris? Ever since Sebastian was caught by the fucking commissioner, the others have been getting caught like flies here in Gotham. He’s spilling, so I need to silence him.” 

“The usual?”

“No, not you this time. We’re leaving so I need you to focus on one more thing.”

“Is it about them, the one you want to recruit?”

“Yes, I want them-” a phone rang interrupting the conversation. “It’s the boss. Dismissed, I’ll send ya the rest later.”

“Understood sir. I’ll deliver the packages tonight.” The mercenary walked off, no longer as upset as earlier.

Jon, processing the information, becomes visibly upset. “They’re recruiting, and based on the conversation, it's the runaway and homeless teens that have been reported by the shelters. This is bigger than just Gotham. I think they’re leaving, moving somewhere else.”

“Let’s follow.” Damian’s attention was caught at the mercenary leaving the bar. “There.”

“The guy he was talking to said he would ‘send the rest later’, I think it will be on his phone.” Jon informed.

Damian absorbed the information. “We’ll follow and catch him red handed.”

“What about ‘the package’?” Jon questioned.

“What about them? I’ll forward the intel to the rest. We focus on this guy. The evidence on his phone is all we need.”

“Dame, I can’t with good conscience leave those vulnerable kids on their own.” Stressed Jon.

“And we’re not. The others will take care of it.” Damian replied. “When we apprehend the mercenary, acquire the intel, we go after this guy while the others detain their accomplices and rescue the runaways. They will all fall tonight, Jon, so focus.”

Jonathan Kent wanted to bite back, but he knows Damian ran this plan at least three times before bringing him along. Damian is just that strategic. And he places his full trust in him, god does this leave him unsatisfied. He knows those kids are trapped somewhere and if taking this mercenary and the manager from the bar out gets them safe faster, then he will do as he is told.

Something just feels out of place, this has been too easy so far. “Alright, he’s heading north.”

Damian nods, slipping away to change into his suit.

As if connected, Damian as well feels like things have been progressing smoothly. And when it comes to crimes committed in Gotham, when things are going good, then something isn’t right.

Ever since the first the GCPD have been arresting some low and decent levels of this new crime syndicate, news of some human trafficking organizations have been slowly getting uncovered as if by overnight. It started around five days ago, low level members were caught, and just two days ago, a higher member was arrested.

Ever since his father the Batman (he tagged along) interrogated him, he spilled like a waterfall. Since they have been cracking down on the case, they know this criminal organization is trying to get on the levels of Black Mask or The Penguin.

The only issue is, this was only exclusive to Gotham, now based on what Jon relay to him, this is just a small base, there are others. He refuses to let this go on any further. Not to his city, or his people. Yet, there is this itch in the back of his head. These captures were by far too easy, and these people aren’t sloppy. No, they had been operating for some time, and yet they were getting caught like moths to a flame due to anonymous tips being called in. Someone out there is deliberately getting these scumbags caught.

And Batman believes it could possibly have a connection to the other pressing issue that’s consuming his thought. There has to be a connection to the quantum disturbance from a little over a week ago. It’s just too coincidental for it not to be. 

Something is happening in Gotham, and he will get to the bottom of this.

-

You know, people say to plan for everything, thus making Batman a force to be reckoned with since he is the master of having contingency plans and backup plans for those backup plans. And yet, here you are, with a plan and life just wants to fuck you over and expects you to just deal with it.

No.

After coming up with spider-woman handing the commissioner Jim Gordon a list of criminals and misguided teens, you just needed to go and change. But here you are, running into a situation if you will. 

You see, after running away from Superman's son, and a printed list folded neatly in your pocket as you head ‘home’, you started to feel the icky sensation of being watched. Years of experience and knowing how not to tip off that you know, you head away from your place of operations and head up north. 

Though despite not giving signs of how utterly fucking tense and anxious you are, you rationalize that it can not be any of the birds because you haven’t done anything suspicious. That, and the fact that your spider sense isn’t screaming at you of danger so for now, that’s calming you down.

On the other hand, you still have no clue who is following you. It was like, thirty minutes since running into the super, and no call from the burner phone. This whole ‘being followed’ is a fucking nuisance, putting a wrench in your plans. 

The only good thing is that, since you are technically surrounded by civilians walking about, they can’t really do anything to you, unless they want to cause panic amongst the innocents. Though, that wouldn’t stop someone from shooting you if they wanted you dead. 

Still, regardless if you are wanted dead (highly unlikely) or alive (for whatever reason) you don’t want to lead innocent civilians into this, so away you go! Informing Jim Gordon can wait (not it can’t), you’ll lose your pursuer and then catch them!

Turning a corner, into alleyways, zig zagging, you hear their footsteps pick up. Persistent.

While running away, you form theories. We crossed out the batsonas, you haven’t done or got caught with anything to be on their radar afterall, it can’t be a random crook because for one, you look poor too, and second, they’re chasing you for a reason. Another idea was maybe it has something to do with Jacob. But that doesn’t make much sense since you just got a burner phone. 

Something just isn’t adding up. 

Your spider sense spiked as you turned down a corner. Despite this, you kept going straight, ready to take on whoever was going to appear in front of you. 

With a very good distance between you and your pursuer you took this chance to discard your mask and sweatshirt (thank god for having a tank top) ontop of a parked motorcycle as you turned another corner, there stood a man near the end of the alleyway, tall and (once again) wellbuilt, with black hair just standing there, phone in hand.

Quickly you jogged towards him (he glanced your way) and grabbed his arm, startling him. “Sorry, please play along!” you whispered and pulled him.

The stranger only had one second to figure out what was happening. In that split second though, he heard a plea for help. The next thing he knew, he had his free hand on the wall above your head while the other one was moved to your waist. Back towards the wall and having his big frame engulf yours, you let his arm go and wrapped them around his neck, pulling him towards your face. 

It's only then that you take in his appearance, handsome from what you can see, and your heart dropped. “I’m being followed,” you muttered, noticing the stranger’s eyes roam your face before settling on your eyes. “I don’t know who they are.”

The man in front of you nodded, kept in place as footsteps hastily turned the corner, running past the both of you. Your body tensed up watching the hooded figure stop at the end of the alleyway. Taking the chance to observe the guy, he pulled out a phone while looking both ways before exiting from your view.

While you were distracted the stranger in front of you pulled back, making your release your hold. He was quiet. “Once again, I’m so sorry! Thank you!” You nervously backed away, in the opposite direction your pursuer went.

He grunted, watching you walk back away. He opened his mouth to speak but the phone in his hand began to ring. He glanced down at the caller before looking back up. 

You were already gone, picking up your sweatshirt and mask, donning them on and running away. Your heart was pounding so loud, it rang in your ear. That was Jason mother fucking Todd. You ran into the Red Hood. What the fuck was he doing in the Narrows?!

Recalling the words Jacob spoke earlier, it echoed through your head. ‘Bats.’ That’s right. The fucking bats are intown, and this was too close for comfort. This sucks balls!

“Focus, focus. Officer Gordon, here I come.” To the junkyard you go.

-

Jason watched the very pretty woman leave him with his thoughts. Getting pulled into caging someone against a back alley wall was not in his cards today, but with Gotham, one always has to expect the unexpected. 

Speaking of the unexpected, he let himself momentarily get distracted recalling the bold stranger from earlier. Something about this woman, rendered him quiet. But at the same time, he took note of just how anxious she was. Tensed body, eyebrows furrowed, worried expression, scared eyes, and over all the way she held onto him while losing her pursuer. He wondered just what kind of trouble found her. It seems crime really doesn’t stop during the daylight.

He committed her face to memory, and will touch upon her situation once he finished his current assignment. 

“You still there?” the voice spoke from his phone.

“Yea, I’m still here. I’m in the Narrows, following the lead.”

“Good, while Damian follows the mercenary, you got the manager. I’m seeing some suspicious moments. Turn on your commlink, Bruce is already moody as he is.”

“When isn’t he like that.” Jason rolled his eyes as he walked back to his bike that he parked further in the alley. Before taking off, he glanced in the direction the stranger went. Her actions and the sound of her voice repeated inside his mind like an echo, burning itself in his memory.

Prev; Next;

I realized everything I wanted for this chapter did not happen. So now it's split into two parts- oops. Side note, this will not be a yandere series, though I do think they get 'possessive' sure, not yandere though. I finally know how I am going to end the Act, the issue is the in between that I struggle with.

Yay, you met Jon and Jason. Next up are Cass, Steph, Dick, and Tim the only ones left.

Web Bound Secret Corner!

Spider-Woman had an eidetic memory.

Spider-Woman does not know about the trafficked kids.

Spider-Woman did not notice Damian.

If Spider-Woman had to choose between saving a life and going home, she'd save the life.

Spider-Woman's is bad at grieving and worse with failure.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Has anyone noticed the similarities between Sauron and Gollum in “Rings of Power”?

Deep down here by the dark water lived old Gollum, a small slimy creature. I don’t know where he came from, nor who or what he was. He was Gollum. The Hobbit

Riddles were all he could think of. Asking them, and sometimes guessing them, had been the only game he had ever played with other funny creatures sitting in their holes in the long, long ago, before he lost all his friends and was driven away, alone, and crept down, down, into the dark under the mountains. The Hobbit

They cursed us. 'Murderer', they called us. They cursed us, and drove us away. And we wept, precious. We wept to be so alone. And we forgot the taste of bread, the sound of trees, the softness of the wind. We even forgot our own name. Return of the King (2003)

“What a pity Bilbo did not stab that vile creature when he had the chance!”

“Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need. And he has been well rewarded, Frodo. Be sure that he took so little hurt from the evil, and escaped in the end, because he began his ownership of the Ring so. With Pity."

“He deserves death"

“Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. For even the very wise cannot see all ends. I have not much hope that Gollum can be cured before he dies, but there is a chance of it. And he is bound up with the fate of the Ring. My heart tells me that he has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before the end, and when that comes, the pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many--yours not least"

Fellowship of the Ring, Shadow of the Past

The “my precious” face:

Gollum looked at them. A strange expression passed over his lean hungry face. The gleam faded from his eyes, and they went dim and grey, old and tired. A spasm of pain seemed to twist him, and he turned away, peering back up towards the pass, shaking his head, as if engaged in some interior debate. Then he came back, and slowly putting out a trembling hand, very cautiously he touched Frodo’s knee – but almost the touch was a caress. For a fleeting moment, could one of the sleepers have seen him, they would have thought that they beheld an old weary hobbit, shrunken by the years that had carried him far beyond his time, beyond friends and kin, and the fields and streams of youth, an old starved pitiable thing.” The Two Towers

This is not random, because not only Sméagol was corrupted by the One Ring (Gollum), but he was also captured and tortured by Sauron himself for information in Barad-dûr (Mordor) to learn who had the One Ring, in the Third Age (in the books, Sauron is not a giant eye ball on the top of a tower).

However, Sauron let him go (instead of killing him), which is odd not only by Sauron’s standards, but because Gollum knew Sauron’s plans, and releasing him would be a terrible risk (especially for a being as secretive as Sauron). And indeed it was, because it allowed Gandalf to know that Sauron was planning to use the Nazgûl to get the One Ring, and that he was aware that Bilbo had it, and the Nine Riders were headed for the Shire.

However, that’s what Sauron does. And why? Tolkien himself answered, in the Unfinished Tales: Sauron saw something on Gollum.

“He [Sauron] did not trust Gollum, for he divined something indomitable in him, which could not be overcome, even by the Shadow of Fear, except by destroying him.”

What did Sauron see? We don’t know, because Tolkien does not say. Only that Gollum made him uneasy, and he was not able to discern why.

Some theorize that Sauron might have seen Eru’s plan for Gollum in the creature (he would be the one to take the One and cast into the fire), and couldn’t kill him by “divine intervention”. To me, this theory doesn’t make much sense, because if this was what Sauron saw, why release Gollum, in the first place? Why not keep him a prisoner in Mordor to prevent this from happening?

Others say that Sauron did not trust Gollum but knew he would seek out the One Ring, and he could use this to his advantage, and that’s why he let him go. This is more likely, but still doesn’t explain why Gollum stir something in him.

And it seems that “Rings of Power” might be exploring this angle by giving Sauron some Gollum inspo. Which might mean that Sauron shared a recognition with Gollum. Which makes sense, since the he was corrupted by the One Ring, which holds a part of Sauron’s soul.

This makes me wonder, if we’ll get a scene like this in future seasons:

Frodo looked straight into Gollum's eyes which flinched and twisted away. 'You know that, or you guess well enough, Sméagol,' he said quietly and sternly. 'We are going to Mordor, of course. And you know the way there, I believe.' 'Ach! sss!' said Gollum, covering his ears with his hands, as if such frankness, and the open speaking of the names, hurt him. Two Towers

Frodo's calling Gollum by his true name has opened a door within him that had long been shut. It’s Gandalf that tells Frodo Gollum’s real name in the chapter The Shadow of the Past in “Fellowship of the Ring”.

Gandalf uses the name “Sméagol” in the past, never in the present (he calls him “Gollum”): this establishes a duality between the two names: Sméagol vs. Gollum. Pretty much the same as Mairon vs. Sauron. Sméagol is the “forgotten things” of Gollum’s past; like Mairon the Admirable is to Sauron. Gandalf admits he has hope that “Gollum can be cured before he dies”, meaning redeemed. This was Halbrand in Season 1; the Repentant Mairon.

Frodo, by addressing Gollum as Sméagol, evokes (or hopes to) the memory of these “forgotten things” (like Gandalf told him). Of course, Gollum is far into his corruption (being a ring-bearer to the One for over 500 years), for a mere evocation of his true name to redeem him, however, it could open the door to the hope of.

Indeed Gollum himself makes the distinction between the two: “Don't ask Sméagol. Poor, poor Sméagol, he went away long ago. They took his Precious, and he's lost now.” Or “No precious, no Sméagol”. In Gollum’s mind, “Sméagol” was lost not with the murder of Déagol centuries before, but when he lost the One to Bilbo.

In the Peter Jackson adaptation, this scene translated into this:

Frodo: Who are you? Gollum: Musn't ask us. Not his business, gollum, gollum. Frodo: Gandalf told me you were one of the river-folk. Gollum: Cold be heart and hand and bone, cold be travellers far from home. Frodo: He said your life was a sad story. Gollum: They do not see what lies ahead, when sun has failed and moon is dead. Frodo: You were not so different from a Hobbit once, were you... Sméagol? Gollum: What did you call me? Frodo: That was your name once, wasn't it? A long time ago. Gollum: My... my name. Sméagol....

In Season 2, it was Gandalf who had to earned his name via finding his staff. His character arc parallels Sauron’s in “Rings of Power”, which makes me wonder if his real name (Mairon) might come into play in Season 3.

Especially since we had so many mentions of him having “many names” in “Rings of Power”, already.

Which raises another question: did he, like Gollum, forgot his real name?

But who could come into play in this scene? The character who’s paralleling Frodo and Bilbo, of course: Galadriel.

[dominimoonbeam]

To The Edge - 22

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: scifi romance, hijinks in space, rogues learning to trust, violence, blood, guns, death, explicit language, so much kidnapping,

Works organized and easily found over on the patreon. <3

TO THE EDGE - CHAPTER 22.

“I told you that trick shot idea was stupid!” Rory couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this hard.

“Eventually—” they started to argue.

He shook his head. “No, you did not get it to work eventually. You just sprayed a ton of bullets and managed to hit the target with one.”

“It was more than one!” They waved an arm back in the direction of their target practice. “You know you’re impressed.”

He was tired in the best way, in a way he hadn’t been in longer than he could remember. He was worn out just from having fun. They’d both done trick shots, competed in distance shots, and even done a bit of dueling. “I did so much better than you! I at least nicked the target every time.”

“What should I name it?”

Rory shook his head. He couldn’t believe they were still pretending their backwards shot was worth a damn. “Just admit you can’t do it, Stardust.”

They clucked their tongue in disapproval. “Don’t be sour just because you lost more duels.”

He held up an arm. “Okay, okay, I will admit you won more duels if you admit you can’t do that backwards shot.”

“Never,” they answered instantly. “You wouldn’t even try to be helpful!”

“I’m not wearing sunglasses to help you!” he said for the hundredth time.

They caught his arm. “Let’s just do a few more tries.”

He smiled and shook his head, no matter how tempting that sounded. “No. Even if we weren’t out of paint cartridges, we are definitely out of time.”

Stardust sulked.

“Trust me, you want to be out of here before the sun sets. This moon gets icy at night.” And they were both sweaty and covered in paint. He chanced a glance at them as they walked toward the ship. They were dripping in pink and green. “And really, at this point, I’m not sure if we could tell new paint shots from the old. You are covered. Although, I don’t hate that shade of green in your hair…” He reached out, rolling one paint-soaked lock around his gloved fingers.

They swatted his hand away. “You’re one to talk.”

“What? My hair? Oh shit… Did you have to use so much neon orange?”

“Orange is better than green. This shit might stain…”

“At least neither of us wore the jacket… We’d look like pirates in it if it was covered in all this shit.” And if that stained, it really would be ruined. No one but a pirate wanted to be mistaken for a pirate.

The gravel crunched and shifted under their boots. The wind had turned cold and the shadows long. It was going to feel great to get a hot shower and back into the steady hum of space.

“Cosmic…” they said, voice low, just as he noticed something was off.

He didn’t miss a step and neither did they, still walking that straight line toward their ship. “Fuck.” A figure was leaning against the canyon wall far off to the right, not even hiding. They wore gear for combat and a full mask, their riffle in their arms.

“To the right…” they said.

“Yeah, I see it… Just keep walking toward the ship.”

His heart pounded. They didn’t have any live ammo. They didn’t even have any paint rounds left. “There’s another one to the left,” he said, voice still low and steps measured. And there would probably be a third at the ship if this crew had the time to set up this trap…

“Who do you think they are?” Stardust asked and he heard the strain in their voice—trying to be casual when they too had to have realized how screwed they were.

“Probably bounty hunters… If we can get to the ship…” Two mercs stepped out of the shadows ahead of them and one continued right into their path. “Shit. Shit. Shit,” Rory exhaled under his breath. “Okay, so that makes four. They must have been waiting for us to come back…” he said the obvious to fill the space. This was bad. There was too much distance and open ground. If he had bullets…

“I don’t suppose you have any live ammo left on you?” It seemed worth asking even when he knew the answer.

They shook their head.

“Keep walking. Straight toward the merc in our way. When we reach him, you make a run for the ship. Don’t look back. Don’t stop. Just run for the ship and get inside.”

“What?” The surprise in their voice was a gut punch to his senses. “I-I can’t get in without the co—”

Rory scoffed. “Oh, bullshit, I know you know the code to the door. Why are you arguing? Run. They won’t shoot you if they’re after that bounty.” Stardust was still wanted alive. He checked often just to make sure.

The shooters on their sides aimed, guns humming with life.

Stardust still wasn’t running, keeping slow step at his side. He was about to push them when they suddenly jerked to the side, in front of him and up close. For one delirious second he thought they were going to do their stupid trick shot… but they had no ammo and they weren’t even facing him. Their back pushed up to his chest and their arms spread.

Rory ground his teeth. “Stardust…what the fuck are you doing? Move!” He grabbed at their jacket, smearing paint, and tried to drag them to the side. The ground shifted loudly underfoot in that little skirmish. It seemed to confuse the mercs too.

“You said it yourself. They won’t kill me,” Stardust argued.

His heart twisted in his chest, until it felt like it was literally clogging his throat. “That doesn’t mean they won’t shoot you on accident if you act like a human shield!”

“Just keep walking forward but keep me in the way,” they said, like there was any chance in hell he’d do that.

“This isn’t a fucking game. Run,” he practically hissed in their ear, trying to shove them to the side. Why? Why wasn’t he considering it? Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew this wasn’t the worst idea. The mercs wouldn’t risk shooting a Solinoh. He might be able to use them to get closer. But he couldn’t.

“If I move they’ll shoot you!” they snapped.

Rory was afraid those words and the sound of their voice breaking under the strain of emotion would be echoing in his head for the rest of time. They shouldn’t sound like that. They should have left him standing there and saved their own skin. “So what if they shoot at me?” he yelled and shoved them away from him. “Run for the ship and the guns.”

They stumbled forward, paused for a second and then mumbled, “Okay,” before bolting forward, not at the ship, but at the merc.

“What? No—”

Stardust, unarmed and covered in paint, rushing a fully armed mercenary was enough to surprise everyone standing in that valley. The merc dropped his rifle to swing on the strap around his chest when he reached out to grab the primer coming at him. They twisted sideways, grabbing his sleeve to pull him forward. They used his weight and momentum to unbalance him, press into his side and grabbing his sidearm off his belt. Instead of firing it, Stardust tossed it high over their head.

Rory Atilla had brought down a corporation transport with nothing but mining explosives when he was a teen. He had chased off pirates from his parents’ farm with a nail gun. He had gotten onto a ship and escaped his burning homeworld and been on adventure every day since. But when he darted forward, dropping to his knees to dodge bullets and slide on gravel, arm out to catch that loaded weapon, he thought this might be the best moment of his life.

All the best moments were right on the edge of being the worst.

His heart pounded in his throat, not for the thunderclaps of gunfire or bullets skirting his body, but because in his periphery he saw his Stardust grapple a merc twice their size and go down.

He twisted to the side and shot twice at one of the attackers, having to turn to find the others before he could even see if the one to the right had dropped or not.

“Stardust!” he called through the storm of gunfire, needing the confirmation of their voice but not getting it.

Something hit his chest hard enough to push him back a step just as he was standing but it wasn’t enough to stop him from shooting back, emptying the pistol and dropping the two mercs to the left.

His legs shook when he started forward again. It had all happened in a matter of seconds, from that first shot to this moment. But it only took a second to die.

Stardust was on their back in the gravel under the big merc, grabbing at his arms and shoulders, and kicking at the ground while he slammed his heavy fist down into their face.

Rory closed the distance, ears ringing. Why had they done it? Why had they taken the risk? Why put themself in danger? “Get the fuck off them!” he heard himself roar when he threw his shoulder into the other man, tackling him off of the primer.

The wind screamed through the valley, the sun dropping lower with every second.

He punched him, practically climbing him to stay on top in a mess of a grapple. He had to get this done. He had to make sure Stardust was okay. Were they up? Had they still been moving after that last punch?

Why hadn’t they left?

The merc fisted one hand in the front of Rory’s jacket while the other pulled a big knife.

Rory already had his hands on the man’s rifle, twisting it against the strap to push the nozzle into his stomach. He held the trigger down and a volley of shots competed rang out.

As soon as the man collapsed, Rory unclipped the rifle and put a few more bullets in him before making a quick turn to see if anyone else was standing.

No one was.

Not even his primer.

[xotaemintol]

2MIN x (fem) READER: Follow Our Body Rhythm PT1

“Get up, I don’t wanna fight your shadow”

TWS: mentioning of sex and mentions polyamorous relationships

PRONOUNS USED: She/Her

Word Count: 4168

Part: 1/5

Plot: After three long months of Minho avoiding you outside of sex, you are fed up and decide to make him realize just how badly he’s hurting you, and luckily Taemin who is unaware of your plan is right there to help you do it.

THIRD PERSON

As the morning sun peaks into the messy room you begin to stir in your sleep, you could smell Minho all around you, laced in his sheets and pillows his scent covering every inch of the bed and your body, it had been a while since you've gotten to wake up with him since he's been so busy lately, but after making time to see you he was adamant about you staying the night and eating breakfast with him, and you were happy to take the offer since it's been almost three whole months since the last time you stayed the night after sex. So as you smiled with your eyes still closed and started scooting backward, you expect to feel his body against yours, but as you continue to move back you only feel pillows. Immediately you open your eyes and look back.

"What the fuck..." You groan at the sight of a stack of pillows in the place of Minho's body with a note on top, realizing that once again he had left before you got the chance to see him and left only a note to explain what happened you slowly sit up and cover your naked body with the thin sheets, sighing as you snatch the note and reluctantly begin to read it.

"Sorry, had to step out for a few hours, a few friends asked me to see them and it's been a while."

You almost stop reading there as you become offended by his quick decision to leave you for his friends because it had 'been a while' You wanted to ball the note up, put on your clothes, and leave, but instead, you continue reading despite feeling that he doesn’t care.

"I know I promised that we'd have breakfast together but I really couldn't miss this, tomorrow morning I'll make sure we can have breakfast together."

You scoff and roll your eyes at this, he has been making that same promise for three months now, every time he would invite you over he'd ask you to stay the night so he could spoil you only to leave before you were able to wake up, he hasn't even had the courtesy to call or text, he just leaves a note and promises that next time he'll keep his promise. Instead of getting too upset to finish reading, you decide to read the very last part before leaving.

"I left my card for you, I was planning on taking you out today but unfortunately there was a change of plans, so feel free to spend till your heart's content, it's the least I can do after breaking my promise again, xoxo-CMH"

You exhale deeply and slouch back against the headboard, thinking about if you should just leave without taking his card, you consider that you could probably make him realize how much it hurt your feelings if you didn't even bother to eat and if you just went home and told him that you didn't want to see him tomorrow, but as you consider how careless he's been lately and recall the way he dodges even the slightest bit of affection, hardly texts back, and ignores your calls, you realize like that isn't enough. For a while you think about what would make him realize it, trying to figure out ways to make him see how even if you aren't dating, he can't just promise things and break them, nor should he prioritize something like meeting up with friends over keeping a promise. When you first started hooking up with Minho and learned about his lifestyle you thought that maybe he'd be putting going to the gym or work over you, but every time it's his friends and when it first started he said: "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel that way, I promise that it won't happen again." And you believed it.

But now as you sit naked on his bed with another handwritten note on your lap you think about if he ever really meant anything he's said, you start to think about how when you met his SHINee members and how they jokingly said that he'd probably be spending more time with his friends than you, and now you wonder if it was ever a joke. Your mind swarms with thoughts as your eyes begin to water, what had you been doing the past seven months? You can't tell if you stay because you enjoy the sex or if you stay because you enjoy the lifestyle. You love being able to have expensive things, being able to sleep with someone so caring and sweet, someone who cares about making you feel good, you love being around his SHINee members, meeting Jinki, Jonghyun, Kibum, and Taemin was amazing and getting close to them was even better, but now it seems like you spend more time talking to them than him. Whatever it makes you start questioning if it was worth it, of course, you don't plan to cut ties with Minho, you've found yourself way too attached to him to do something like that. But you still want to do something, anything that would make him value you more, like the way he used to when things first started.

"Maybe I should just drop it, what was I expecting anyways?" You say to yourself, you sluggishly get out of bed and cover your body with the sheet "I mean, it's only been seven months, we aren't dating or anything, it's just sex." Just as you say this your phone goes off, you expect it to be an update from Minho about what he was doing or maybe just a random notification from Instagram or TikTok, but instead, as you grab your phone from the nightstand you're surprised to see that it's a text from Taemin, this makes you laugh a little despite your teary eyes, between the five of them Taemin has been the one who keeps up with you the most, he texts you almost every day, sends you pictures, and will even let you tell him about your problems, surprisingly you’ve found yourself talking to Taemin more often than Minho.

‘You’re still at Minho’s right? I’ll pick you up if you are, just wait for me.'

You look at your phone confused as you wonder how Taemin would know that you were at Minho’s house since you never told him that you were going, nor did Minho to your knowledge, you also wonder why he would want to pick you up, you consider that he may want to hang out with you but it's only 9 am and Taemin is usually busy early in the morning, not only that but when you used to hang out with Minho and Taemin he was more likely to want to hang out around noon instead of in the morning, so you wonder if he had maybe originally planned for the three of you to hang out. It wouldn't be weird if that were the case anyway, the three of you have hung out together plenty of times and it’s never been weird or awkward, especially since he seems to take a strong liking to you, he even flirts with you and buys you things just because. But you can't imagine that Taemin would have made plans without letting you or Minho know beforehand, you know that’s not like him to do so it just doesn’t fit, so you text him back and ask.

‘How did you know I was here?'

Almost immediately he views your message and responds with: 'I just got off the phone with him, you don’t mind hanging out right?' That's when the perfect idea to make Minho realize that he should value you more hits you, luckily for you since Minho is completely aware of the attraction between the two of you it wouldn't shock him or hurt him to see you with Taemin, but it would make him question what made you change your mind when you denied his offer to allow you to do whatever you please with all of them, in your mind you felt that he'd maybe consider that he was doing something to upset you, so you decided to quickly get dressed and text Taemin saying: 'Of course not, it would make me feel a lot better to see you actually.'

Luckily for you even without you and Taemin ever having sex, he's quick to tell you yes and spoil you rotten, so you weren't at all surprised to see a text from him saying 'Im already on my way', instead you just continued to quickly dress and strip Minho's bed from its dirty sheets, as you wait you put his sheets in the washer and replace them with fresh ones, you've gotten so used to doing this for him so you didn't mind it.

TAEMIN'S POV

"Hyung, I thought you said that you were going to spend time with her this morning, what happened?" I ask as I lean back against the seat, it’s been months and Minho is still neglecting to be honest with Y/N, maybe I’m wrong for getting so upset about it but she seems so sad lately, and knowing that it’s over something that could be solved with a conversation frustrates me, he said that he wanted to spend all day with her today and that he missed her so much, saying that he wanted to spend as much time with her as possible today as he smiled and texted her about staying the night, but now he's not even there. "I got nervous, I realized that I can’t keep doing this after last night," Minho says, "It’s not just about sex anymore, I want to be with her, but it’s not that easy." As he says this I sigh, I saw this coming after that first month of them seeing each other, he started to see Y/N as more than just a person he has sex with, it only took four months for him to admit to actually liking her even though it was obvious from the start, but after admitting how he felt he suddenly stopped treating her the way he did before, and now at the drop of a dime he leaves her before she's even able to wake up and see him, he'll even take days to respond to her and leave her wondering what happened.

"Hyung, are you gonna start dating Y/N?" I ask, "She obviously like she likes you too, so what’s stopping you? If you keep waiting and putting space between the two of you and making her feel like it’s just sex then you’ll only make it harder for yourself." As I say this he sighs, I can hear his frustration as he does so, I don't blame him for being frustrated since it's not as easy as it seems to have a fling. "You still like her right?" He asks, "I mean, she likes us both, so if I started dating her then it would make things too complicated" He explains, "I tried to talk to her about it, but she says that she is worried that if she does start dating me that she'll still want you and she doesn't even know that you like her." I sigh myself, he's right, the complicated love triangle between the three of us makes it hard for all of us to decide what to do, even though I've never had sex with her we both still very obviously like each other, I flirt with her openly and she reciprocates openly, so it would be conflicting if they started dating.

"Then what are you going to do? You can't keep dodging her and spending less time with her because you're confused, you'll only hurt her more" I respond, "What if she gets so hurt that she doesn't even want to see you again?" Minho's silence tells me enough, I can tell that it's genuinely difficult for him to decide what to do and even what to say, we haven't felt like this over anything or anyone in years, but as soon as she came along it was like falling into a Venus trap, not only is she beautiful, but she's so kind and caring, she's honest, she's easy to talk to, and understanding. Of course, it's a minor issue that she's attracted to both me and Minho, but how could we blame her for that when we both tried to pursue her at the same time? If she's wrong then so are we. "You're on your way to see her right?" He asks, "Ask her how she feels about you and tell me how it goes, even though I already know the answer I think we should just make sure, so from there we can make a decision."

After saying this Minho ends the call leaving me with a mess of thoughts, I've never been the best at things like this so I don't know how exactly to even ask something like this, should I just outright ask and tell her that we're struggling to decide what to do? Should I admit that I know exactly why he's been so strange lately? Should I cut straight to the chase and ask her if she wants to date us both? What if she gets mad at me for not telling her sooner? What if she rejects the idea and stops seeing us both? I sigh and look out the window trying to clear my mind before we arrived, but as I do I see the outside of Minho's house.

THIRD PERSON

As your phone rings you smile seeing Taemins name flash across your screen, you pick up right away.

"Should I come up to get you? We're outside," He says, the smile you had on your face slowly fades as you notice from his tone that something is off, usually Taemin sounds excited to see you, usually it feels like you can hear the smile in his voice whenever he speaks but now it feels like something was wrong. "No, it's fine," You respond as you make your way downstairs, "I'm coming out now..." After saying this you hang up and make sure to lock up before stepping outside, the feeling of the fresh breeze against your legs makes you shiver despite its warmth, you hadn't even thought about how little you were wearing until now. Your short, low-cut dress hardly covered your thighs and breasts but it was what Minho said he wanted to see you in, and you hadn't left clothes at his house for a while now, so it was all you had.

As you open the door you smile a little seeing Taemin sitting there and his manager in the front seat driving, you expect him to smile back but instead, he just looks at you as you close the door behind yourself and put on your seatbelt.

"Good morning," You say hoping that it'll break the slightly awkward tension in the car, it's never felt so strange to be alone with Taemin, but now it feels like it's your first time meeting him all over again. "Good morning, how'd you sleep?" Taemin asks, you shrug and sigh as you cross your legs, you feel so exposed in front of him which is new, considering that he's seen you naked before it's weird that you feel exposed in front of him while fully dressed. "It could've been better," You respond, knowing that for your plan to work that you'll have to fight any awkwardness, you look at him with a soft smile and say: "I had a dream about you."

MINHO'S POV

After hanging up the phone with Taemin I sigh and lean back against Kibums couch while flipping through channels mindlessly, I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore, it's like every time I see her it gets worse and worse. I have the urge to call it off and tell her that I don't want to see her anymore, but it's only because I want to be with her so badly and the sex isn't enough to hold me off anymore, of course, it's amazing but I don't just want to have sex with her. I want to go on dates, I want to talk about our future, I want to meet her friends and be introduced as her boyfriend, not just a guy she's sleeping with. But I know that she likes Taemin too and I know that Taemin likes her, so I don't want to make things official and then risk one of us being hurt when it could easily be solved by just something as simple as both of us dating her or both of us stepping back.

"Hey! Could you stop doing that?! It's been an hour, either watch something or turn it off, you're driving me crazy," Kibum says as he comes out of his

kitchen with two bowls, "Why are you this upset anyways? I thought you said you were going to just ignore things and let fate decide." As he sits down next to me he hands me a bowl of fresh fruit and spinach, I almost forgot that I even told him I hadn't eaten yet when I got here, he even went outside to pick all of this for us and I was so wrapped up in my mind that I didn't even notice him doing any of this. "Thank you," I say as I sigh, it's been like this every day now, I'm always too distracted by the thought of her to even notice what's going on around me. "If it's bothering you that much why don't you talk to her?" Kibum asks, "I mean, don't you think it's ridiculous to run here every time you sleep with her so you avoid possibly falling in love?"

I shrug and take a bite of the salad, "You know how I am, I mean, I like her but what if things get weird between me and Taemin? She'd be fine since she'd get to have us both, but what if Taemin feels unhappy?" I ask, my concern for his view of a polyamorous relationship isn't just overthinking, Taemin has constantly said that he'd want a girlfriend who only looks at him, although he jokes with fans about getting jealous he does seriously prefer a person who's only going to think of him. "Well, if he's already aware that you like her and that she also likes you, but he's still deciding to see her today then he must not be too upset about it," Kibum explains, "You know Taemin wouldn't do anything like this if he wasn't sure, and he'd be quick to say that he was unhappy or upset if he changed his mind." I nod, he's right, Taemin would speak up if he felt negative about it... "But how do you feel about it? Do you want to try something like that with both of them?"

TAEMIN'S POV

As the shower water starts to run I sigh and sit down on the couch, before she went to shower I wanted to talk to her and ask how she felt but it didn't feel right, how am I even supposed to ask anyways? What should I ask specifically? I huff and pout my lips as I begin to scroll through Instagram again, maybe it's not too bad if I don't ask at all, I could always find out another way since I have a whole day alone with her, even though I don't exactly know what we'll do I can figure out how to find out without asking.

"What should we do anyways?" I ask myself aloud, I look up as I start to think of places that she might want to go, luckily from all of the time spent with her and Minho, I've learned her favorite foods, stores, and spots so it would be easy to just choose from those. But I feel like doing something different would help me get an answer a lot better than just doing things that I know she likes, if it goes well then not only would I have an answer but I would also learn more about her which would be helpful since I only know a select few things that she likes. I smile a little at the thought of finally getting time to figure out how she really feels and it going well, with newfound confidence I decided to start looking for places in the area she hasn’t been to so that everything will go smoothly.

THIRD PERSON

As you step out of the shower you wrap the soft white towel around your wet body you feel like you can hardly relax, and as you walk yourself through your plan to seduce Taemin without making things awkward you only tense up more. In your head it sounds simple to just walk out into the living room and drop your towel, you could easily tell him that you’ve wanted him for a while now, and sit on his then and there without having to put in any effort. But you want to be able to maintain your relationship with both Taemin and Minho and throwing yourself at Taemin right after sleeping with Minho, to you it will just come off as you using Taemin to feel better, which at all what you want to do. So instead you spent your time in the shower thinking of how you'll slowly lure him in, you don't want to make things too complicated but you want to make a point to Minho that if he's going to treat you like you're only here for sex then you'll treat him as if you feel the same way.

As you step onto the mat on the floor you look in the mirror, your reflection blurred by the fog as you sigh and try to calm your nerves while whispering to yourself: "Taemin is attracted to me...he wants to have sex with me, so at least it won't fail..." As you say this though you start to feel a slight sense of disappointment but with no exact reason as to why, you ignore it and try your best not to upset yourself and throw yourself off, so before you can start to overthink anymore you open the door to leave but stop seeing him standing right outside the door with your clothes.

"Sorry, I just wanted to give you your clothes," He says, as you look up at him you fail to keep your cool and become awkward again. Despite the confidence that you have in him wanting to have sex with you it's hard to ignore how intimidatingly attractive he is, not to mention that you have feelings for him, it would be easier to just pull him into the bathroom and sit him down so you could ride him if you didn't have feelings for him, then you wouldn't have to worry about being in the same position you are with Minho with Taemin too, but since you know that you have genuine feelings for him you don't want to make things worse for yourself so you just smile at him and take the clothes. "Thank you..." You say trying to hide the shyness that begins to creep up on you, "I hope you don't mind, but I couldn't decide what to do so we'll just go to a few different places if that’s okay with you." As he says this you smile even more, this is why you love spending time with Taemin, he always surprises you by being spontaneous with his planning but keeping it simple enough for it to be relaxing.

You wish that Minho could be here too since Minho always adds a flare that makes things feel so exciting, while Taemin is more spontaneous and will let fate decide where you go, Minho will plan out multiple different places, and you love both of those things but they are even better when paired together since Taemins spontaneous ideas work perfectly for the hour-long stops that Minho plans. If Minho planned to go bowling and Taemin notices a place to eat that you've never tried before then you get to do both, you love the way they work together and while they are both enough alone, you can't help but become saddened by the thought of Minho becoming less attracted to you which in your mind explains why he won't spend time with you outside of sex.

"That's fine," You respond with a half-hearted smile at the sudden thought, while it saddens you to think of you still want to make him realize how you feel, so instead you tell Taemin that you'll be out soon and close the door so you can get dressed.

[welcome-to-green-hills]

Okay so I know that you said that you want Shadow to be alone at the end of Sonic 3, but do you have another ending that you thought of too?

Ohh yeah! I’ve got one😈

The scene takes place towards the end where Shadow falls to Earth and, supposedly, is on the verge of dying. The day’s saved—yadda, yadda, yadda—but you still have that horrific scene like in SA2. In Shadow’s POV, we see him falling and reach out to a crying Sonic that holds a spare inhibitor ring. Shadow’s vision fades to black and leaves the audience wondering what happened to him.

Seconds later, we see from Shadow’s POV where he wakes up in the Wachowski home on the couch. Everyone is there. They all stayed close to his side and fell asleep waiting for him to wake up. Shadow spends the entire time thinking, “wasn’t I supposed to die? What happened?” It cuts over to Sonic, who’s a bit banged up from the adventure, and smiles seeing him. Sonic welcomes him back from the dead, and sits with him for a bit to chat. I haven’t ironed out those details yet, but it leads them to talking all night. And finally Sonic goes, “can I show you something?”

Sonic helps him up from the couch and takes Shadow to stand outside on the roof top to watch the sun rise. They get a great view of the mountains, the trees, all of nature! Shadow’s moved while watching the world wake up. Sonic’s preoccupied with watching Shadow fall in love with the planet, not people. This is important; Shadow finally understands why Maria loves Earth so much. His query with humans is resolved at a later date.

Shadow finally says, “I’ve got it wrong.” This is also important. This is his way of saying “I’m sorry” without saying the actual word. His actions are enough for people to understand that whatever happened in the third film were not entirely his to begin with.

Sonic gives him a pat on the shoulder and goes, “we get things wrong at times, but what makes us better is that we learn from mistakes. This can be your home too if you want it to be.” Again, it doesn’t need to be these words exactly. That little blurb is meant to convey a mood that Shadow has a second chance.

Shadow and Sonic continue to watch the sun rise over Green Hills before everyone wakes up. We don’t need to have an answer right away to earth being Shadow’s home. It leaves enough wiggle room for the SCU crew to decide whether or not they want to do a fourth film or not.

Shadow needs to be on his own for a while. This would be a good point in time to let him go off on his own and rediscover a few things. When he’s ready, he’ll return to Sonic and his family. But for now, everyone has to trust that he’ll be okay in the long run.

[dujour13]

eros 3 & 4 and philautia 1 & 2 please!!

Thanks Romeo 💕💕

Putting a disclaimer on this again - this only goes for my own little headcanon version of Woljif!

Eros 3

How do they feel about public displays of romantic affection? Does it make them uncomfortable? How do they feel if a romantic partner kisses them in public?

Woljif has a complicated relationship with this. Once he starts getting affection he craves it like a starving man, but it takes him a long while to be ok with public displays. His tough guy appearance is part of his survival gear and getting butterfly smooches from an azata will undermine that pretty quick.

Eventually as word gets out about his relationship with the chief, and he simply can’t keep up a front against Sia’s overflowing affection, he’s more able to take it in stride. That also has to do with finding acceptance over the course of his adventures and not having to be as afraid of looking vulnerable.

Eros 4

Do they believe in love at first sight? Have they ever developed a crush or romantic (or erotic) fixation upon a stranger based on their appearance alone?

Woljif will laugh in your face if you ask him this, and then quickly find something else to do so you won’t see him blush. If you can get him to, he might confide he’s had a couple crushes. In my hc when he was a teenager there was a human girl who sold apples at the market, and although they never had a chance to talk he got a good vibe from her because she didn’t raise a fuss when he stole an apple or two. Coincidentally she had honey-colored hair, not unlike a certain bard. That came to a sudden end when he jumped out of a dark alley to introduce himself and didn’t realize until too late what effect that might have. So no – he doesn’t. It wasn’t exactly love at first sight with Siavash, either. “Hey Dreamboat” was obviously a ploy, even if the bard really was kind of a dreamboat. He developed a crush pretty fast after that and recognized it as such, but still kept telling himself it was because Siavash would make a good business partner.

Philautia 1

Does your OC have a healthy sense of their own worth and value? Or do they see themselves as failing to live up to their original potential? Perhaps they are convinced of their own sinful or inadequate nature?

Oh the killer question for my boy 😭 On the one hand he’ll yell himself hoarse about how unfair a tiefling’s lot is in Mendev, but on the other he’s internalized that he’s inferior by nature. I hc that he’s even a little bit scared of the Abyss within and creeped out by his own shadow. And of course he’s heard nothing but denigration from all sides since childhood, abandoned by his parents, hollered at and neglected by Gran, hounded by Crusaders, and that kind of thing sinks in after a while. His whole arc is learning through the Crusade and his relationship with Siavash that he’s worthy of being loved.

Philautia 2

Does your OC believe that it is important to love themselves in the first instance? Perhaps in order to be able to give and receive love authentically? Or because they believe first and foremost in "looking after number one"?

His obvious answer to the first and third questions is Hells yes, you have to look out for number one. But if you follow up with the second question he’d have a hard time answering, because it’s only at the end of the Crusade that he begins to believe he deserves love, and also begins to be able to give it unconditionally, and I don’t hc him as having much EQ, so I don’t think he could articulate the connection between those two things. He has to believe his heart is worth giving before he can give it, but I think he only knows that on a gut level.

[littlelesbinonny]

The Devil’s Den

Chapter 19: In Which Quiet Confessions Are Loudest

You can read this also on Ao3 at:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

You watched Alcina leave in silence but in your head you were screaming.

She had kissed you with severity; a reverence she'd not shown you before and you wanted to cry.

And argue.

Fight her to stay. The need to keep her close violent and protective.

Holy shit, your emotions were suddenly unsupervised teenagers who found energy drinks and a pile of candy.

They. Were. All. Over the place.

There was a lingering in her eyes in the split second before she vanished, and in that moment you wanted to say it. You wanted to tell her all the things you'd felt for so long.

You wanted to tell her you loved her.

But you couldn't. And didn't.

Fucking why?

In the midst of the barrage of pin-balling thoughts and feelings you watched her depart with such great hesitation you almost jumped out the window after her.

Please don't go. I can buy black out curtains for every window in this apartment; I'll make it sun proof, completely safe so you can stay. We can just hole-up here and forget everything. Stay - just stay with me, stay. Or take me back with you - or even if I can't be in the underground, take me somewhere closer so I can get to you faster, so you can get to me faster, so we're not so far away. I have no idea where you even go when you leave me, but please, don't go. Please just stay. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.

Your mind rambled as your heart kept bursting with some concoction of whatever the fuck you were experiencing.

She vanished into the darkness but your eyes followed an imaginary path until you couldn't any longer.

With an exasperated huff you tore yourself from the balcony and went back inside.

Your bed was a mess. Sheet haphazardly hanging off one side, pillows smushed against the headboard, some on the floor, bedspread... location currently unknown. It gave you a slight smile remembering the fun it took to get it looking this way. Your body was still heavily buzzing with euphoria, so much so you were almost at the brink of overstimulation. You were covered in everything her; smudged lipstick, bite marks, smell, taste, sensation of her hands and fingers and lips and tongue and body pressed into yours - it was dizzying, But, still... elation was heavily leaned upon by a shadow.

And you were pretty fucking sure it's name was Mother Miranda.

Alcina's story was much more vague than what you felt you saw in your head when she told you about the scar. For some reason it seemed as if you had slipped into a dream and witnessed it via third person. Almost like you could smell the cell Miranda locked her in, feel the pain in your own neck from each syringe prick, feel the sluggish tug in your muscles from the exhaustion and hunger she must have felt herself. You still couldn't expunge the images, nor the rage and fire in your chest.

If you ever got the chance to kill Mother Miranda, you'd take it.

Your own death imminent, or not.

Eventually you plopped back on your bed face first. Nuzzling your nose into your mattress that smelled heavily of Alcina. Sandalwood, vanilla, sex and sensuality. It gave you relief. Solace, for a brief time at least.

~

For how long.

Yes. Alcina wondered that too.

That was one thing about being undead, she got to think. She got to think a lot.

All the time in the world to do so many things; travel, experience, taste blood from anyone she wanted, kill, destroy, make, learn, and think.

Leaving you tonight was hard.

Neither of you were safe. But she'd do anything to keep you secret. Keep you safe.

She walked with little purpose, no urgency in her steps, just bearing the load of thoughts and questions with no answers or solutions. At least, none that she was willing to accept.

New York in the early morning before daybreak was her favorite time in the city. It was still dark. Very few people bustling here and there. Something about the deep breath before the chaos of humanity ran amuck was like stumbling upon an undiscovered world only very few would ever know. She felt she could be seen here, in the now; show her face to anyone she stumbled upon and feel safe to let down her walls towering so high. Night owls flocked and mingled silently together without judgement, always.

The few who passed her on her trek to the church regarded her with wandering, curious eyes. And oh how she missed being able to bask in the innocent attention without fear of repercussion. Still, as much as she wanted to feel desired again by any who looked upon her, truly, all she wanted now was to be left alone. She wanted another life. But how many are lucky enough to be granted more than one chance? She had been. Asking for a third was greedy at best.

Alcina met a clergyman as she entered the side door of the church. He took one look at her, stiffened, dropped his gaze, painted an invisible cross in front of himself as if this blessing would save him from her, and quickly scattered off into another room. She smirked. Christians were peculiar folks. Every priest in this place knew about the vampire city underground, their comings and goings from their own church, and still after all these years they treated them as if they were Satan's spawn or Satan himself. So odd. So silly.

But she knew nothing of God or the Devil. Those two were as good as any fictional characters in any book. Her undead life skewed her already tattered view of the world, so who was she to judge their reaction. Her soul was as good as damned in their eyes, which meant nothing to her. She wasn't so sure she had a soul to begin with. As a human, her god was money, her beauty, sex, drugs, alcohol, things that made her feel anything other than pain. As a vampire, her god was time. That's all there was on this side of the fence.

Where was God when her human body was failing and she was dying?

Where was the Devil when she crossed the barrier of life and death to live immortally?

Where was salvation on any end of the spectrum?

The pew creaked as she sat to admire the stained glass. The colors were muted. Nighttime colors. No sun to illuminate the brilliant craftmanship of each hand painted chunk of glass, only the light from the chandelier above to bask in for her eyes to witness.

Mary looked lovely. Innocent. But burdened. The weight of the world placed upon her shoulders.

Alcina sighed.

Somehow, she felt it too.

How scandalously blasphemous, she thought.

She was no saint, no God-fearing woman, not one religious or pious notion about her. How could she possibly compare her woes to that of this woman, this Divine Mary?

Oh my hell, since when did this pretentious bullshit become a part of my subconscious, she scoffed.

"Cutting it close to dawn, aren't we?"

Came a voice that made her eyes roll.

"Spare me," she replied flatly and rose, turning to the familiar priest who was dwarfed by her height in the aisle next to the pew.

He stood there solidly. His white robes starch and crisp like his thin white hair.

His aged face peered up at her knowingly, "if you don't it like here, why do you spend so much time looking at it?"

Alcina didn't bother to hide her unamused facade.

"Does it matter? It's pretty to look at and it's quiet, I like quiet."

"Mmm, perhaps you might remind your... fellow comrades about the quiet factor. There have been several happenings lately that have disturbed my priests into the night."

"Noted," she stated briskly pushing passed him, annoyed already at the news as she waltzed up the aisle.

"Lady Dimitrescu..." he called after her.

Stopping, huffing, and giving the slightest acknowledgement over her shoulder at him, Alcina clicked her tongue, "yes, Father Sullivan?"

"I look forward to our upcoming meeting... and, please remember; all are welcome in God's house. All. Always."

If she could sprain her eyes from rolling them too hard this might have been the moment.

Alcina gave him all but a curt nod and began to leave. Annoyance kicked up the pace of her steps as she rounded the corner and headed for the underground entrance.

'All are welcome.' Please. As if I hadn't tried your ways when I was human. It didn't save me then and it's certainly not going to save me now. How fucking cocky. If it weren't for us vampires this church of yours would've shut down 20 some odd years ago. Our quid-pro-quo is the only thing keeping this place afloat and that's the only reason for your generosity. Our money in exchange for safe passage to our city beneath your feet. Please... you insufferable fool.

Alcina's thoughts continued to scoff and bicker. She hated dealing with the church almost as much as she did city officials. Everyone was crooked in their own ways, and money was always the bending factor. And the vampires? They had plenty.

The underground city wasn't powered simply by accident. When they were found out by an electrician and city official in the early 1900's, Mother Miranda decided to work with the humans. Money for endless power, no questions asked, and no one gets hurt. Alcina hadn't been around when the agreement was set, but as Matriarch the responsibility became hers. She trusted none of them, and it irked her to play kiss-ass to keep the peace treaty.

As she furthered her trek into the city, the more and more she thought, the more and more suffocated and claustrophobic she felt.

She didn't want any of this anymore.

All these responsibilities.

The work. The title.

To live here like a prisoner who was simply glorified by being dressed in jewels and power.

There was no freedom here.

All she wanted was her daughters, and you.

A life far away from here where you could all be free and do as you pleased.

Now there was a thought; the 5 of you living together in a whole new city, perhaps the country, somewhere far off the beaten path so no one could ever find you all. A human and 4 vampires, living a life of pure chaos she had no doubt. Alcina pondered how you and her girls would get on - with very little convincing in her mind she assumed they would be just as enamored with you as she was. Daniela would be nothing but curious and fascinated by you, eager to hear all your stories and wish to take you on adventures with her like a new-found best friend, ready to cause mayhem and trouble. Bela would be intrigued by your depth and views of the world, wishing to philosophize with you and explore books and theories galore. Cassandra... Well, Cassandra might be a little tougher to crack. But the two of you may easily be the most alike; hard on the surface, but loving and protective of those you care about, able to see the bigger picture and each angle to a situation, the ability to play devil's advocate but still hold the highest good in your heart. Alcina knew you two could have a bond very likely stronger than with the other two, if Cassandra would have it.

But then, there might be a slight awkwardness about the fact it was her daughters that caught you in the first place to be killed at the club that night.

She pursed her lips at the scenario to stifle her laughter.

"Is something quite amusing?"

Salvatore's voice instantly sent her lighter mood diving off a cliff into a ravine of pissed off.

She stopped dead in her tracks on the cobblestone, tongued her teeth and turned her head slowly in his direction.

He was standing so matter-of-factly in the nearby alley, leaning on the side of the building with his hands in his blazer pockets. Face, smug but tentative as to the fact he knew he was poking a bear that not only bit but killed at will if provoked just enough.

Alcina's eye glinted as they narrowed and she feigned a dangerous smirk.

"Is it any business of yours?" she asked, her voice low with a hint of sourness.

He shook his head gently and shuffled on his feet but didn't move, taking a hand mindfully and running it over his thinned greasy dark hair, fingers tracing his mustache thoughtfully before he took in the sight of her better.

"I see you're out and about again," he mused, "now that Mother Miranda is gone, your feeding schedule is back on track?"

He was awfully cocky for her liking right at the moment, in fact she didn't care for his sudden change in demeanor at all. Salvatore was always sheepish, shy, very mild and weak-mannered, especially around her. It was rare the man ever addressed her directly at all, not in passing or in council, so this, this was new.

Alcina felt the fire in her chest stoke at his questioning and she stepped towards him slowly, watching him calculate his standing as she moved towards him. She could smell the tension puff off around him.

"Perhaps I shall reiterate; what business is it of yours what I do at all?"

They were face to face now. Alcina staring down at him, eyes alight with temptation, begging for a reason to slice his throat and be done with his sniveling, groveling, sneaky, fake ass-kissing bullshit.

He swallowed.

"S-simply making conversation," Salvatore expanded gently, "Mother Miranda takes a lot out of all of us when she visits -uh -" he swallowed again, "you seem to be rebounding well, that is all."

More games. What the fuck was he after with this conversation?

Her eyes narrowed once more.

"I do believe I discussed this with Mother Miranda the day she left... I recall explaining to her that if you gave as much effort to things that mattered, as much as you do sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, you might actually accomplish something of importance..." Alcina took one more step closer and lowered her voice even more, "as it stands, I will not give you another warning; mind your own, Salvatore. You don't give a shit about me or my well-being, and I wouldn't give a fuck even if you did. Take your fake sincerity and nonsense 'conversation' elsewhere."

Straightening her back, Alcina studied his well manicured facade of stability and sneered.

"Now, if you'll excuse me I have to get home to my daughters."

She bade him no good day and left him standing there with quivering knees.

She didn't like that exchange one bit and stewed on it the rest of the walk back to the manor.

Whenever Mother Miranda visited he found some semblance of a cocky attitude that was always out of place. But this felt a bit too different.

Too exhausted to care much more about it Alcina made her way to her chambers and began turning in for the day.

She needed sleep just as much as she needed you there beside her in her bed. Unfortunately she'd have to settle for thoughts and dreams about it instead.

-

Saturday felt unusually alive for you. It was around noon when you woke but you were energetic and starving.

Mmm. Good sex will do that.

You grinned as you shuffled out of bed smelling your lover as if she was still there with you.

Taking a quick shower and donning some comfortable clothes you headed out into the city to find something to eat.

Odd thing was, nothing really sounded good.

Greek? Nah. Indian? Meh. Pizza? No. Bagels? Mmm... nah. Ethiopian? Nah. Sushi? No.

You walked for a couple blocks until you came upon a little market vendor full of fresh fruit and veggies.

Score.

Filling up your backpack with your favorites you paid and tipped the kind old lady, she winked at you and you meandered off back home with a bag of giant plump red grapes in your hand, munching away to your hearts delight in the warm summer sun.

A muffled ruckus caught your attention as you walked passed an alley and as you peered down it you noticed a group of crows bickering and fighting over an old beat up pizza box. The contents of it's old, moldy crusts and who knows what else was being picked at with attitude. You knew bread isn't great for birds to be eating and you looked down at your beautiful bag of grapes with a sigh.

Two crows began to really get into it with each other as both thought the biggest left over crust should obviously belong to the one of them, and you hollered down the alley.

"Now that's enough of that," you called as you slowly walked your way towards them.

Instead of scattering the group simply regarded you as you approached, shuffling back and away a little before you knelt and gently tossed a large clump of grapes their way.

"Listen, lay off the carbs, I know its addicting but I'd rather you not die of malnutrition or whatever... I'll share, how bout that?"

Yeah. You were talking to birds. So what.

As you stood and began to walk away they all converged on the fruit and ate with pleasure.

You smiled and made your way back home. Good deed for the day, done.

You couldn't help your thoughts as they wandered while you walked; you wondered what Alcina was really like as a human, what your lives could be like if you'd met back then, all the time you could spend together and all the things you would do. Thinking about walking hand in hand with her through the city, catching an opera at the Metropolitan Opera Theatre, adventuring through Central Park, maybe traveling the rest of the world like she had always dreamed... maybe the two of you would have found the perfect flat, or cottage, or penthouse to settle down in, get a cat or a dog or have a farm with a horse or two and just... be together for the rest of your lives.

Somehow the glee and lightheartedness of the thoughts turned somber as you walked through your door.

The rest of your lives.

You were human, she was immortal.

Shoots that concept in the face a little, doesn't it.

Unless...

Noooo, no, nope. You weren't sure you'd make a very good vampire. You liked the sun and food and freedom to live in the day and night and stuff.

But then again, if you were with Alcina, maybe it wouldn't be so bad? Maybe you could get used to being on the arm of the Grand Matriarch of the vast vampire underground. It would sure give you a lot of time to learn all the things you wanted to learn, read all the books you wanted, never have to have a 9 to 5 job ever again. Ooo... that idea you liked a hell of a lot.

But truthfully, the thought you liked the most was being with her, forever.

~

Evening was settling in fast as the sun started to tuck itself into bed. You plopped your beanbag chair out on the tiny balcony and lounged while reading another book, patiently waiting for your Lady of the Shadows to join you.

When the sky turned too dark to read you simply leaned back and emersed yourself in the night. Listening. Smelling. Feeling. Closing your eyes and being completely present in the now.

You were so immersed in the zone you almost thought you could sense Alcina near. Could smell her perfume on the gentle wafting breezes like so may times before, only now you felt you could hear her heels clicking softly on the sidewalk as she approached, hear the inaudible splitting of the atmosphere as she leapt through it to scale your building and gracefully climb up onto your balcony -

"Draga mea."

Her voice startled you and your eyes shot open.

Alcina's beautiful knowing smile met your gaze and you couldn't help but mirror it.

Well that was oddly and perfectly timed.

"Hey you," you lilted as you rose and met her for a slow embrace.

She smelled so wonderful you breathed her in deep as you could, holding her tight as she did the same.

Not wishing to break the embrace but needing your lips, Alcina carefully pried the two of you apart and claimed them. Soft, gentle, thoughtful kisses as she cupped your face now with her cool hands.

"I've missed you," she confessed with a whisper.

"Me too," came your reply just as softly, pulling back to admire her pale slate colored eyes, "sometimes the days feel like weeks, not gunna lie."

Alcina chuckled lightly as she caressed the side of your face, all her worries and fears and unwanted thoughts long gone, fought off by your beauty and calming aura.

"If you only knew," her smile was warm and bright, eyes twinkling with a thought, "would you care to spend some time on the roof with me, draga mea?"

"I will spend time with you literally anywhere."

Her toothy, brilliant smile was the last thing you saw before your surroundings blurred and she was carefully releasing you from her grasp on top of the building.

The silent cuddling on the couch was blissful. She was tucked into the crook of the plush chair arm, your back pressed to her chest, her long arms draped over you with her hands resting comfortably on your front, her cheek pressed to the side of your head as you both relished in the comfort of your own little world hidden above everyone and everything.

Minutes turned into hours and your unspoken conversations finally came to an end.

"Alcina," you said, tracing your fingertip over Alcina's long elegant digits that rest over your chest.

"Yes?" came her soft reply.

Your eyes darted to the scenery before you, slightly hesitant to continue.

The dull amber glow below the buildings was gentle on the eyes. The towering blackness of these structures broken apart here and there by night owls burning the midnight oil, the little glowing squares beacons of life in the otherwise dark sky. Somehow, even though you were surrounded by life, it felt like you two were the only ones in the world. It made your heart sputter.

"You and I..." you began again, "are we... what... what are we, exactly? Where is this going?"

Alcina blinked long and hard.

For a vampire, there was no need for definition of something, no need for timelines, no use for direction. Being a vampire was all about simply being. Because truly that's all there really was to do.

You were different. Of course you would want and need clarification, a plan, or at least a destination. You didn't have all the time in the world.

She sighed.

She didn't have answers.

"I... don't know draga. I had not planned for you, and I don't hold expectations of you... I only know what we have."

That... wasn't what you were looking for.

Carefully you pulled away and faced her in the darkness, studied her expression that was open and settled, waiting for you to continue.

"I'm not trying to complicate anything, I just... I don't know, I guess... maybe I'm trying to understand what we are to each other, help my mind process the feelings I have and... know in return where you stand."

Oh, you were such a complex, intelligent and deeply feeling human. You were everything she wished she could have been when she was alive.

Her heart lurched for you at your timid admission.

Alcina reached for your jaw and cupped it, considering you with all her might as she desperately fought to know how to say what she wanted to, or if she should, or what lay in the hidden doors of the very uncertain future before the two of you. She knew that's what you wanted to know, she knew you were wanting to understand what there was beyond the horizon of today, and she had no more right to tell you what she didn't know than she did keeping you in the dark.

You deserved honesty. Transparency. Only the best of everything.

Your name fell from her lips like a confession, Alcina's hesitancy to drop every guard for you putting a hitch in her words only briefly, "you..." she stalled once more, feeling the overwhelm try to sink her to the bottom, it had been so long since she had felt this way, "you are dearer to me than I feel I can make you understand... I don't have answers to where you and I are going, I don't have answers to what lies in the future, but I do know that my feelings for you are real. You are not replaceable, you are not disposable, and you are not a thing of pleasure for me to use and discard. I - "

Say it, Alcina, say it goddammit.

The words were stuck in her throat and she didn't know how to get them out.

Her flooding of emotions was pelting you like a hailstorm. Torrential, overpowering, sending you into the same careening overwhelm until you couldn't handle it anymore.

You gripped the hand that was still clasped to your jaw and inched closer, watching her chained up expression silently begging to be let loose.

In a breath you leaned in and kissed her. Hard. Pulling back just enough to utter the words you wanted, needed to.

"I love you, Alcina Dimitrescu. That's it. That's all I really want you to know."

Oh, god.

Alcina felt the piercing warmth of your admission split her armor in half, releasing the pent up flood that was imminently due to happen eventually.

Releasing the breath she had on a short leash she pressed her forehead to yours and closed her eyes as she tried to stabilize the crumbling sure-footing she thought she could be able to keep. She'd wanted to hear those words from you more than she ever wanted to admit. And here they were.

"I love you too, draga mea," she whispered, unable to keep it sealed behind her lips any longer, "I love you too, so very much."

The explosion of fervor between the two of you could have crumbled marble walls.

You fell into her and she couldn't have pulled you closer. Your lips danced and danced until a fang sliced your red and swollen bottom lip. Alcina licked hungrily at the wound and the wildfire only began to spread.

Urging her on you broke the impetuous kiss and craned your neck by her mouth, breathlessly telling her to take it, to drink, to knot the two of you together in this passion until it was too much for the both of you.

Alcina's desire took hold and she sunk her teeth in, gorging herself on your blood that made her feel more alive than ever before. Your moans and pleasure and pain fueled her need and soon she had you beneath her on the couch.

She licked and kissed at your wound and trailed her lips to yours once more, tenderly brushing them over yours that were softly panting.

"Can I keep you, draga mea?" she whispered to you, "Will you be mine?"

Weaving your way through the euphoria of her bite, you smiled at her request, beaming with pride to hear it.

"Yes, keep me, I'm yours... all yours."

[personne-writes]

Third challenger

There are no curtains, this time; no stage or spotlights. 

Only the clear, open sky, the wide arena of grass and the brightness of a sunny afternoon. 

No frills. No distraction. Nowhere to hide.

Donatello is starting to get pumped up. 

At the center of the stadium, two figures stand across from one another. They look small, frail even, in the middle of such an impressive volume. He knows the extra space will be much needed, though. 

The cameras turn to him, the speakers announce his name, and he confidently steps out of the shadows. The public in the stands welcome their third challenger with renewed fervor. 

It had escaped his understanding, these terms in the tournament reglementation. Up until the last minute, he’d thought he had secured his third place by winning the Wheel of Doom, and that was it.

The excited screeches of his family when he’d been told to get ready for the grand finals still ring in his skull. 

Applauds rain over him as he gets closer to his rivals. Stopping at a respectable distance, he makes a show of flipping his tech bo before tapping it to the ground in a practiced hero pose, purple pixels flaring up around him, and the crowd roars.

He feels a smirk spread onto his face. 

“Donatello-san?!” 

“Hi, Mob,” he answers with his best too-cool-for-you attitude. “Enjoyed the rest?”

“What are you doing here?” the boy blurts out. 

“Rude. You see, apparently beating someone once doesn’t necessarily result in his direct elimination.”

“It doesn’t?” 

“Well, here I am, aren’t I?” 

The surprise on Kageyama’s features morphs into something decidedly amused. 

“Heh. I should’ve guessed you wouldn’t give up so easily.”

“Damn right,” Donatello grins back. 

“So, Donnie-san, are we allowed to team up, or -”

“AM I THE ONLY ONE HERE WHO'S READ THE RULES?” the other opponent interjects, voice bold and cheeky. “THIS IS A SOLO DEATHMATCH SITUATION, NOT A TEAM-UP BOSS BATTLE.”

Donnie turns to the skeleton. He has taken some time to learn about him, of course: hard-working, keen on hindrance, element-of-surprise enthusiast. 

The handmade costume and bright, toothy smile only raise more red flags. 

“And you are…?” he asks casually, fully intending to keep his bad boy image up. 

As the skeleton lazily inspects his nails, it appears two can play this game.   

“MY NAME IS PAPYRUS, BUT YOU CAN CALL ME THE GREAT.”

Donatello decides he likes this one. 

“Enchanté,” he voices, then rolls his shoulders. “Well, gents, as much as I would like to keep this charming conversation going, don’t we have a public to impress?”

Mob nods. He doesn’t make any other movement, but the grass around his feet is already spiking up like hair charged with electricity. 

“I would hate to disappoint my master,” he agrees. 

Donnie looks over to Papyrus, and finds him cracking his bony knuckles, a ferocious look on his edgy features. 

“BRING IT ON, YOU SWAGLESS FROG.”

Around them, the giant screens broadcast their little exchange, and the crowd goes wild with anticipation. The match is finally about to begin; whatever happens now, there won’t be another round.

Donatello can’t help but feel grateful to be there. 

This last chance was unhoped for, and he is going to make it count, if only for kicks and giggles. 

If only for glory. 

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

Hey guys, uh. I guess I. Did it again?

Follow-up to this. Y'all can thank this anon because by making me say I wouldn't do it they actually made me do it. Whoops

DISCLAIMER: I know even less about Undertale than I do about Mob Psycho 100, which is to say I don't know shit about Papyrus. Took a hot 5 minutes of research and rolled with it. So once again this is probably wildly OOC and I apologize to whomever I may have offended

THAT BEING SAID I had a lot of fun writing this one as well! @autismswagsummit you don't know the state your tournament has me in. I think I might actually explode whatever the conclusion

Remember kids, have fun, take care, be cool, vote Donnie!

@autismswagreblogs

[novemberhope]

Summary: Niara and Ginny finally come face to face in Dressrosa in the colosseum. Notes: The third fic in a short amount of time. I'm rather pleased with myself actually. Let's hope I can keep this up. Please note that it's been a while since I've read the Dressrosa arc, so the surroundings here might not be 100% canon accurate. Word Count: 2466

The Colosseum stood high against the bright sky of Dressrosa, a symbol of cruelty and entertainment. The air was heavy with the smell of sweat and fear, as warriors battled for the twisted enjoyment of Doflamingo and his cheering crowd. This was a place of violence where only the strongest would win and earn a great reward—a chance to possess the Flame Flame Fruit.

In the shadows, Ginny stood with her long red hair flowing down her back. Scars marked her skin, each one telling a story of the life she had led ever since she had departed from the Spade Pirates. The latest one went right across her face. It still felt fresh. She had gotten it while being held prisoner, forced to fight in the Colosseum. She hated this place. But a small spark of hope filled her now. If she could grab that devil fruit, it would mean freedom from slavery and the knowledge that she would ever again be dependent of anyone. But she wasn't alone. 555 fighters would be competing against each other, sorted into four blocks. And only the strongest would remain.

"Well, well, look who it is," a voice behind her interrupted her thoughts. Niara stepped into sight, already having gone through a round of fighting. She looked bruised and her clothes were torn and dirty. Apparently fighting in close combat was still not her thing. But she seemed fine otherwise. Her brown eyes narrowed as she stepped closer. “Still trying to make it big, huh?"

Ginny’s green eyes narrowed. She balled her hands into fists. As she stood her ground, she faced Niara, who wore an infuriatingly carefree expression. As always, everything seemed to be a joke to her. It always had been like this. Niara had to smile and turn on her charm and everything was handed to her on a silver platter while Ginny had to fight for everything all the time, only to be let down again and again by everyone around her.

“What do you want, Niara?” she wanted to know.

Niara rolled her eyes, twirling a strand of her brown hair. “Oh, come now, Ginny. Can’t a girl just drop by to catch up? We haven’t seen each other since, you know, Marineford.”

“Don’t bring Marineford into this,” Ginny hissed. “Or Ace.”

“How can I not!?” Niara replied. “After all, we both are competing for the same thing - the Mera Mera no Mi. Which I want to point out you of all people have no right to after what you did!”

When the past was brought up, it always felt like a punch in the face to Ginny. She was haunted by the memories from that day of betrayal. And for what? She’d done it for the man she had called her father only to learn later on that he had just used her to get a promotion and she had ended up betraying her real family in the process. Regret gnawed at her, but she pushed it away, covering it with pride and anger, as she usually did.

“I was just hoping to have a family again!” she exclaimed angrily. “You wouldn’t understand. You always knew your father is a shitty person. I got told tales of his heroism and bravery all my life. I never met him but he was my hero. After my mother died, I was hoping he’d come to get me. And when he did, I…”

Niara looked at her. “You’re right; I don’t get how someone could betray their crew, their true family. Leaving us to be with a newly found parent, yeah, sure. That I could have gotten behind. But selling us out? We were your family, Gin. We laughed and cried and fought and partied together, shared adventures and fun and late night talks about our dreams and fears and hopes. How could you, Ginny?! How could you!? We trusted you - every one of us - HE TRUSTED YOU…”

It was very clear whom she was talking about. Both girls glared at each other.

“But here we are now, battling in this horrible arena for a chance at Ace’s legacy,” Niara concluded. She could see that Ginny had gone through a lot in the last few years. She would always resent her for what she did, but she wasn’t a cruel person. She did not wish Ginny more harm. She had done the right thing and changed sides in Marineford. Never again would Niara be her friend, but she could acknowledge the fact that Ginny might feel regret over her past decisions.

Ginny turned away. She didn’t like the way Niara looked at her. It made her feel angry and ashamed.

“I don't want your pity or your judgment,” she hissed. “Just let me fight. I'm not scared of you or anyone else."

The next match was announced. Ginny's heart raced. She knew she had to win. Winning meant facing Niara, someone who used to be her ally. Winning also meant facing a ton of devil fruit users and people who were more than twice her size. There was a actual giant out there. Niara was the smallest problem. She knew she could take her, even with her devil fruit. But some of those people out there… that would not be easy wins.

As the two stood facing each other, Niara spoke again.

“Are we really going to fight?” she asked. “Is this how you want our story to end?”

“Shut up, Niara!” Ginny yelled, her frustration boiling over. She didn’t want to feel guilty or remember the crew had sold out long ago. She wanted to get out of here, to be free, to have Ace’s fire powers and become a stronger fighter so she would never ever have to rely on others again.

Gatz shouted for the fight to start, and right away, the battle began. Ginny rushed in with strong blows and quick dodges, showing the skill she had built over years. The crowd cheered loudly, full of excitement. They didn’t cheer for her though and she did not want them to. Never again she wanted anyone’s approval.

As Ginny fought, she couldn't help but notice how different her fighting style was from Niara's. Niara moved gracefully through the attack, flowers blooming in her hands and vines wrapping around Ginny's arms, trying to hold her down. Ginny broke free immediately, her anger making her hit harder. But Niara stayed close, dodging her punches. All around them, fighters were battling each other. Which was a good thing, Niara thought. The big guns could take each other out that way. But once there weren’t that many fighters left, what then? Eventually there would come a point where neither of them could continue. Niara knew she would be out soon. Ginny was a strong fighter, she would last longer. But in the end, Luffy was their best bet to get to the end. Now, if only Ginny would see that… In working together, they could tackle bigger enemies. Enemies that Luffy would not have to worry about later on. But was this something Ginny would agree to? Right now, she rather looked like she wanted to smash Niara’s face into the nearest brick wall.

“I have a plan, Ginny, and I need you to listen. There’s more at stake than just us.”

“We’re on opposite sides, remember?” Ginny said. “I’m not letting you get to the end, Flower Girl.”

“I will not get to the end either way and you know it,” Niara replied, trying to wrap Ginny’s whole body in vines to stop her from being able to move. “I trained but I’m not made for these kinds of fights. You are, yes, but have you seen your competition? You can’t win this either, Ginny, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you know you’re going down and you think I’m letting you drag me down with you!?” Ginny growled, ripping apart the vines with her bare hands. The girl had some serious strength going on. She certainly had trained a lot more in the past few years than Niara ever had.

“Whether you deserve it or not, I’d rather have you have the Mera Mera no Mi than those guys!” Niara cried, throwing herself on the ground and rolling away when someone attacked her from behind. Crap. They were already coming after them.

Ginny took one look at the guy going after Niara and sighed. It was very clear that all Niara could do here was dodge until she couldn’t dodge anymore. He wouldn’t be bothered by any of her powers. Ginny scanned the arena and looked at the people still fighting - powerhouses, all of them. Huge, all of them. Devil fruit users, some of them. Even if she made it through this round - the next one would be even more difficult. She didn’t like trusting Niara. She had vowed to herself to never let anyone in ever again. People had the nasty habit of disappointing her every time. And she had the sad habit of placing her trust in the wrong people and making wrong decisions.

“Just so you know, if you stab me in the back, I’ll kill you,” she said, pushing Niara out of her opponents way. He immediately went after her and stepped into someone else's path. Now those two were fighting.

“I won’t,” Niara replied, catching her breath. “I think Ace’s brother is our best bet to win this. But Luffy can’t eat the Mera Mera no Mi and neither can I. If I promise you to ask him to give it to you when he wins it, will you work with us?”

Niara didn’t know if she was making a mistake in trusting Ginny again. She also knew it was Luffy’s decision who he wanted to give the devil fruit to. Ginny might be all the way down his list or not on it at all. But Niara also knew that she herself wasn’t a fighter. But Ginny was. It would only be a matter of time until Niara would be taken out but Ginny could be Luffy’s ally all the way until one of the last rounds.

Ginny couldn’t answer because she was locked into a fight with a guy twice her size. But she was lighter and quicker and used this to her advantage. Niara herself was now using her vines to swing around and get away from people, dodging attacks and making opponents stumble. But as the battle continued, Ginny's anger started to fade a little, giving way to memories from the past. She recalled the laughter they shared on the Spade Pirates' ship. She recalled training with Ace and she even remembered spending time with Niara. They had never been best friends but they had gotten along just fine.

With a growl, Ginny rushed forward again, but this time, she was motivated by understanding rather than anger. Her attack slammed into Niara’s flower-based defenses, sending petals flying like snowflakes through the air, giving the others fighter the impression that they were busy fighting each other.

Niara made a spiral of plants that wrapped around Ginny's fists, stopping her mid air. "If you win and gain the Mera Mera no Mi, what will you do?” she asked. “What will you use your powers for?”

“I want to be strong and powerful so I’ll never have to be anyone’s slave again,” Ginny said. “And I never want to have to rely on anyone ever again.”

This was not the answer Niara had been hoping for. But she had no choice. And really, she couldn’t force Ginny to live a certain way. At least she would not be their enemy or use the firepower to aid the marines. And then -

“GINNY, WATCH OUT!!”

Without bothering to check, Ginny threw herself to the side. The long blade only touched her hair, sending most of it flying.

“FUCK!!” Ginny cried, jumping to her feet again. Her hair barely even touched her shoulders anymore. Not that it had looked that great after many months of being a prisoner and being forced to fight for Doflamingo’s entertainment, but still -

“Little girls should not play gladiator,” the guy with the blade said, showing them his ugly grin. He had more muscles than everything else and was missing his hair completely.

“The only one playing here is you!” Ginny cried, jumping at the chance to get back at him for cutting her hair - everything other than not having to think about the fact that she had let her guard down long enough for Niara to having to shout a warning to her. She did not need others, especially not Flower Girl Kaito Niara.

The guy suddenly put his hands to his mouth, paying no attention to Ginny. He was making weird noises and was grabbing his mouth, as if he wanted to rip his own tongue out.

“What now!?” Ginny asked impatiently.

“He’s choking,” Niara said.

“On what!?”

“Bunch of flowers…”

“Oh… I didn’t think you could do that?”

“I didn’t know I could do that either but it kind of worked…”

“You realize it’s killing him, right?”

“Yeah…” Niara sighed, biting her lips. She did not want to kill these people. At least not those who, like Ginny, were forced to fight by Doflamingo. To be honest, she would rather not kill anyone if it could be avoided. But playtime was over. She had volunteered to join Luffy in the Colosseum and now she had to do her part.

In a surprising moment, the reality of their situation sunk in. The old grudges lost their sting, and the anger between them began to fade, leaving more room for understanding.

“Let’s go,” Ginny said, dragging Niara away from the suffocating guy who was now spitting out flower petals. She did not tell her to remove the flowers or change them to smaller ones to give him more air. The harsh reality was, if he survived, he would be after them relentlessly.

“What now?” Niara asked, trying her best to tune out the noises of the guy they were leaving behind.

“Stay behind me and back me up with your vines,” Ginny ordered. “And once we’re done here, you bring me to your captain.”

As the roars of the crowd echoed in their ears, Ginny locked eyes with Niara, an unspoken understanding passing between them. They turned to face the attackers side by side. Niara rose her vines from the ground and let them wrap around their foes. Ginny was right next to her, punching and kicking. Niara's vines tangled and tripped the enemies, while Ginny struck with fast, precise blows. The strength of their combined powers was a force to be reckoned with and eventually, they both ended up as the winners for their respective blocks.

[rendy-a]

The Red String of Fate - A Poll Game

Part 2

Here we are at Chapter 2 of our story. This wasn't meant to be this long but it turned out huge. If you are just finding our story now, you can read Chapter 1 here. I will be writing our romantic conclusion next!

In Which the Prefect gets Advice

The dim green glow of a candlestick cast a strange shadow over the face of your senior.  Lilia sits across from you and pours out a cup of steaming tea for the both of you.  You eye it warily before deciding it was worth the risk.  You take a sip and are relieved to find it just common green tea.  He gives a chuckle at your expression, the bright and cheery smile he dons seems at sharp contrast to the eerie atmosphere of Diasomnia.  

“So, to what do I owe this friendly visit?” Lilia asks kindly.  You take a sip of tea to calm your nerves and begin, “Well, you see, it’s like this…”  You explain to him about your almost red string of fate and what you learned from Ortho and Crewel.  “I think I don’t want to sit around and wait.  If this is real, if I have someone out there waiting for me; then I want to find them!”  You look at Lilia to see how he responds. 

At times, Lilia seems far older than he appears.  As he sits and looks into the distance, reviewing his memories, you feel that this is one of those times.  Finally, he sighs.  “I’ve met a lot of soulmates and seen many with the red string of fate but I can’t say I’ve ever heard of your situation before.”  You deflate slightly and he chuckles, “Now, now.  No need to be so glum.  What you say is true, the more people you meet, the better the chance you have at running into your soulmate.”

You nod, sensing he was finally getting around to his advice.  “If you’ve felt the sensation for a few days but not recognized your soulmate, it is quite possible it is someone you don’t interact with every day.  Why not range further; seek out new acquaintances and experiences.  At the very least, you’ll be having a merry time with your classmates.  It’s just the sort of thing youthful students, such as ourselves, should be doing.”  He finishes his statement and sets his hands on his hips, giving you a fang-toothed smile.

You think it over and see the merit of his suggestion.  If your soulmate was in your class, why had you not noticed him before?  Perhaps he is one of the many students of NRC that you rarely interact with, a faceless NPC in your game of life.  Well, ok.  You’ve got your ghost camera and an order from Crowley to capture school memories, so that is what you’ll do!

You had thought introducing yourself to students in other classes would be easy.  Stop in over lunch and say hello.  You had forgotten the typical attitude of students at NRC.  You were thankful that you had at least stated with a class of first years.  The look of suspicion they’d given your awkward introduction had been so extreme that you barely had time to check for the famed string before backing out the door.  You can only imagine the hostility that would have arisen from a third-year class.  You decided even true love wasn’t worth the risk of braving the student body of NRC.

After failing so abysmally with your first plan, your second was more carefully thought out.  As you never officially joined a club, you decided to use this as an excuse to join club activities.  With Ortho already being in your confidence, it made him the perfect co-conspirator in your plan.   When you asked, he was able to get permission from Idia to attend Board Game Club’s next club activity.

When you showed up, you were greeted by an eager Ortho at the door.  “Good afternoon, Prefect-san!” he beams at you as you enter.  “I hope you are able to discover the charms of board games today!”  You smile at him and enter the classroom, subtly checking your hand for signs of the red string.  As far as you could tell, there were none.  “Ah, so where is your brother?  Let’s have a game.”  Ortho deflates a tad and informs you, “Nii-san declined to come today.  He said not even a rare drop would entice him to join a co-op mission.”  That did not really surprise you.  “How about Azul then?”  You weren’t exactly friends but it would be nice to see a familiar face.  “Azul Ashengrotto is also not present,” Ortho replies, “my GPS indicates he is having a meeting in Headmaster Crowley’s office currently.”  Hmm, dorm leader business, you suppose.  Though you had not met your soulmate, you did win at checkers; and that was something.

Club activities pass without any incidents, for which you were grateful.  You leave the club room and turn toward Ramshackle.  You pass by a window and get the strangest sense of foreboding.  You cautiously look over your shoulder but there is no one there.  You shrug to yourself and turn around only to come face to face with an upside-down Lilia.  “Gah!” you screech.  Lilia chuckles, “Fufufu, what a lively reaction.” 

You shake your head at your senior.  “Lilia!  Don’t tease me!” you scold him, knowing full well it was a useless endeavor.  He smiles back at you cheerfully before asking, “So, how goes your quest?”  You give a sigh, “Not well.  I’ve tried to get out there and meet more of the students but it’s harder than I planned.  People aren’t friendly and, even when they are accommodating, you can’t be sure you’ve even met everyone.  We always have students out sick or skipping class or…whatever.” 

You shake your head sadly, “I know he has to be a student at this school but I just don’t know if I’ll find him.”  Lilia ponders that for a moment before he says, “Oh, I don’t know about that.”  You smile at him, “I’m glad at least one of us believes I’ll find him.”  Lilia’s eyes widen slightly, “Oh no, I don’t mean that.  I mean that you really have no idea if he is even at this school.  There is also the town and Royal Sword Academy on the island.  Really, there is no way to know if you are even looking in the right place.  In fact, if you hadn’t meet him by now, isn’t it more likely that he doesn’t attend NRC?”

Your mouth falls open.  “LILIA! Why didn’t you tell me this sooner!”   Lilia only smiles, amused by your discomfort.  You shake your head at the mischievous fae, knowing he’d likely omitted that little fact from the start.  “So, oh wise one, what do you recommend I do now?”  He tilts his head, “Hmm?  Oh me?  Well!” then he sets his hand on his chin and pretends to consider, “I think, instead of running down people individually, I’ll find a place where everyone gathers.  Then cause a giant ruckus before going into screamo.” 

“Are we still talking about finding true love?” you ask the fae.  “Hmm, love?  Oh, pardon.  I’ve just had a great idea.  Well, good luck with your quest, Prefect.”  While your first conversation with Lilia had left you feeling inspired, this one has left you confused.  What was the best course of action; continuing to hunt among the students of NRC or trying to scope out the town and mysterious rival academy?  Finally, you decided on a compromise; you’d take new routes home after class to try to meet new people at NRC and, on the weekend, you’d go to town.  There was only one thing you were sure Lilia had gotten right; if you didn’t find your soulmate soon, there would be some screaming happening.

The town on Sage Island was small but, compared to the school campus, it was exciting as a bustling city.  You had lunch at a café, examining your hand each time a new patron entered.  Then you did some shopping, browsing the goods being offered but not really interested.  There was only one thing you were on the market for.

It wasn’t until you found your stomach rumbling that you realized you’d spent nearly the entire day in town.  Searching desperately as your hope waned.  You found a stand selling meat-filled buns and purchased one to eat.  As you sat on a bench in the square, you let your mind drift.  Would this all be worth it in the end?  You were starting to doubt even true love could be worth all this disappointment.  You give a long sigh, lamenting your star-crossed fate.

“Ah?” says a voice beside you.  You turn to look into the largest pair of sweet brown eyes.  The ebony haired boy gives you a cute grin, “I know you!”  You smile back, “Neige!  It sure has been a while.  How are you?”  Neige gives you a gentle look, “I’m just dandy but how are you?  That sigh sure did sound lonesome.”  You let out a depreciating laugh, “Tell me Niege, do you believe in True Love?” 

If you ever find someone questioning the value of True Love, you will recommend they get a pep talk from Neige.  The princely boy just gushes about his own hopes and dreams of the love he feels is waiting for him someday.  You think he is naïve, terribly so, but somehow, the talk restores your spirit.  By the time he is telling you about white horses, you feel ready to return to your own quest. 

“I just don’t even know where to go from here.  I feel like I’ve looked everywhere!”  Suddenly, a strange voice responds, “Have you looked front-ways and side-ways?  How about up-ways and down-ways?  Nyah, maybe backwards is the way to go when you need to go forward.” 

You seem to be running into a lot of acquaintances today.  “Hello Chenya.”  The beastman materializes next to you, grin first.  “Have you come to weigh in on my love life too?”  He chuckles at you, “Why no, I’ve only come to bring my companion back to school before curfew.”  He considers you with his usual air of mystery, “Meowny new opportunities come along when you least expect them.”  You roll your eyes at the pun, “Thanks for the advice.  Shall I pass on your greetings to Riddle?”  He gives you a wide grin as he fades away, “I’d a-purr-eciate it.”

Neige gives you a small wave as he joyfully departs back to RSA.  You sit and ponder the strange conversation you just had.  Front-ways and down-ways, huh?  Were there opportunities waiting for you backwards?  You chuckle at Chenya and his strange advice.  Only, that last one had you pausing.  Cheyna is known for offering solid, if somewhat cryptic, advice.  Was that statement random or was it his way of telling you to return to NRC?

You figure you might as well head back; the day was nearly ended anyway.  Upon entering the gate of NRC, you realize that something was happening.  Leona was standing near Main Street, highly agitated.  You approach him cautiously and ask him what is happening.  “Some genius decided to crowd the plaza right as everyone is trying to return from club activities.”  His tail swings in an angry sweep.  Epel comes to your side, “Are you trying to get through?  I’m about to push my way through!  You can come with me, if you want.”  You figure that was a good offer and follow in the wake of the energetic country boy as he shouts and shoves his way through the crowd.  You learn a few new curse words too; you just hope Epel doesn’t run into Vil while he is speaking like this.

When you finally reach the center of the chaos, you see a stage set for a music performance.  Cater and Kalim were already on stage, setting up.  Pausing was a mistake; the short time you spent looking at the stage was enough for the crowd to swallow Epel up, leaving you without his assistance.  You look around for an escape and spot a familiar face.  You borrow some of your new vocabulary from Epel and force your way over to Lilia. 

“Lilia!” you should as you arrive at the side of the fae. “What is going on here?”  He sets his base guitar down as he reaches your side.  He leans in to shout out a conversation to you over the noise of the crowd.  “Isn’t it wonderful?  I got the idea this morning!  Why spend all week inviting everyone to the concert when we can just have it where everyone already is?  Fufufu.”  Suddenly, the advice he had given you earlier made more sense. 

You sigh and start to form a complaint about his reckless behavior and how it had inconvenienced nearly the entire student body when you bump into someone in the crowd.   Without fully understanding, you feel your heart start to pound.  A sensation rolls down your entire body before centering on your pinky.  The red string is no longer a phantom but a bright red beacon.  You turn your head around to meet the eyes of the boy behind you and feel the hand of fate close tightly around you.  You had finally found him, your soulmate and, as you met his eye, you could tell he felt it too.

[thecryptidenthusiast]

OC’s as Planets 🪐

I was tagged by @sustainably-du-mortain and @wayhavenots to take this quiz for my oc’s and I am Very Late doing this.

It’s an open tag for anybody that’s interested because I don’t know who all as done this already!!

Abby Brùn - Mercury

clever. intelligent and witty. wisdom, sharpness, anxiety and indecisiveness. you are the comedian. the "make someone laugh if they are crying" kind of lover. you dont want to think too much about anything because that stops you from just having fun, but your brain doesn't ever shut off. you are curious and never ending. forecast and shadows. the smell of clean sheets.

This is kind of 50/50 for Abby. I wouldn’t say she’s the ‘witty funny one’ but she’s definitely a mess with her own anxiety. Every decision is makes is one she either stresses herself over, or makes in a knee-jerk panic moment.

Kira Langford - Earth

nurturing, generous and caring. introverted, tolerant, honest and trustworthy. you are "my phone is always on, call me any time." you are "i feel like i'm everyone's therapist." you are impressive with your stability and and peacefulness. you are wallpapers of cows and fields of ever-growing seeds. you are the best friend. mother nature. ice cold water and the smell of rain.

This fits for Kira! She’s the soft, gentle one. The one that puts everybody’s needs above her own, because that’s how she thinks she needs to be to get people to stay in her life.

Sam Rodriguez - Neptune

mercy. kindness. sweet. forgiving and compassionate. you are second chances and sometimes third. you are "its ok because everyone makes mistakes." you are "i forgive you as long as you are learning." you are not held down by the demands of your ego. you believe and right and fair. open mindedness and friendship. you are mystical and magical, observant and the smell of warm bread in the morning

This is an interesting one for Sam. So much of their attitude with everything is just…laid back. I guess they’re one to forgive, because it really takes a lot to get on their bad side to the point they cut you off. They also are one that is going to make anybody and everybody be their friend no matter what (exactly how they basically forced all of UB to be their friend lol). I can’t say they’re sweet necessarily because they’re kind of a menace.

BONUS: Sidestep

Erin Becker - Mars

passion. energy. drive. determination. you are sexual and it doesn't always have to mean what it so blatantly is. you are in tune with yourself and your body and if you don't already feel it, please try to tune into it because it is so powerful. you are at war with yourself and life and it doesn't always have to be so hard. anger is not a useless emotion but do not let it control you. love is more powerful than sex will ever be. you are the smell of fresh cut grass and a satisfied job done.

Oh, this fits her almost perfectly. She’s in tune with herself in the worst ways at times (wrapped up in her head and body, unable to let herself just exist), so she needs to find a healthier balance there. So much of her is just anger and fighting: life, others, herself. She’s terrified of love, so sex is the best thing she thinks she can provide

[skelingtonsderek]

(From Willow) For "Remembrance.":

They’re pressed in close, hands still clasped from their efforts to raise Boyd from the grass. His other hand, he slides from Raylan’s hip to the small of his back, presses in just enough to encourage Raylan just a little closer, leaves a small kiss against the frown Raylan makes sometimes when he forgets to smile. 

“There a story to that face of yours?” Boyd asks, voice as gentle as his lips as he lays another kiss, this time on the scrape across Raylan’s cheek. There’s a shadow under his eye Boyd knows will develop into a beautiful purple to match the ruddy mauve his already swelling lip will be by tomorrow. 

Raylan releases his hand from Boyd’s, runs those anxious spider legs he has for hands along Boyd’s sides, just this side of tickling. There’s a knowledge there, when he looks at Boyd, a shimmering depth that Boyd wishes to plunge into with the ardent yearning of a man at the shore of an expansive lake on the hottest day of the year, hot eyes fixed on just exactly what he wishes to quench the thirst in his flesh upon. 

Raylan hums, taking his hat off and settling it gently on top of Boyd’s head. 

“Oh, you know me, Boyd,” Raylan responds, smile breaking out all lopsided and goofy and brighter than the sun above on his face. “I don’t play well with others.” 

Willow!!! You have great taste in picks, too. Y’all are killing me. Deceased. Dead. I am really quite fond of Remembrance. As a story. I promise I don’t say that about all of them just all the ones I like (all of them) Don't think I didn't notice this one was also a Hat Scene...

So this is like a couple things all at once because I can’t not multitask when I’m having fun but anyway there’s this ending to Remembrance. here to talk about. Boyd is unearthed here, now no longer feeling like he’s in his grave and dead. His mind finally allowing himself to believe that he’s alive and he’s alive because Raylan reached into perdition and— argjygfns;OIEHK sorry was briefly possessed by the Supernatural fandom there. It’s like this. Their experiences together, their shared agonies and griefs and joys have brought them closer. Boyd has returned to himself but different. He came back wrong but that has made them all the more close to each other because of it. A sort of hope in what they might grow to be together and a faith that they Will. “There a story to that face of yours?” Is a line taken directly form the script for the show that Boyd asks Raylan at one point when they meet. Used here to show for Boyd’s curiosity about Raylan continuing even with his memories back, he wants to know more and more and more. Bookended by another line taken from the show. I think “I don’t play well with others” is said by Boyd in the show though. I can’t find the scene again. I wish I could. But. OK. I have to admit it. This is a confession. Confession time here. I was also referencing someone else’s fic but only a little tiny bit because there was a scene from it that gave me the idea in a sort of roundabout way so I wanted to pay homage to that as well but was too shy to like just out and out say it. In Take Care of You by norgbelulah there’s this scene where they get in to a bit of a shootout and Boyd goes in to shock and I thought that was quite dramatic and interesting and then I thought well what if he really did go mad tho so I took that thought and ran with it. “You know me” is one of the things Boyd and Raylan say to each other in that story. I don’t know if it’s actually a Thing in Set Fire to This House but my head said it was and just… quietly altered my brain to include that as a term of endearment.

ETA: also because it's affirmation. Boyd really Does know Raylan and has the whole time and would all over again given the chance to learn him a third time lololololol

[rictwheeler]

BASICS.

full name: riot jesse wheeler nicknames: ri, rj age: 26 years old gender: nonbinary pronouns: they/them or ze/hir orientation: queer language(s): cajun french, english species: werewolf (born -- triggered) status: non pack member

BIO.

(tw for mentions of physical assault, murder -- unintentional, gun violence, ptsd, & death)

You’re raised in Baton Rouge, Louisiana by a woman who should have been done raising kids decades before you came along. There’s three of you til your Granddad passes away, and then it’s just the two of you. Mom’s in and out, and you learn to stop asking when you’ll see her next after the third time she lies to you. Your mom lies a lot. You remember that. But MawMaw never lies, not even to spare your feelings.

You grow up well aware you’re not like other families. Other kids have moms and dads and even grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins. You’ve just got MawMaw. She says it’s because everyone else got out the first chance they got, left for mountain ranges and starry skies and blinding lights in better cities. You’re young. You tell her you don’t care how pretty it is somewhere else, you want to be here with her. It makes her smile.

There’s another reason you know you’re not like other families. MawMaw had told you since you were little, back before all this leaving mess, your family unit had been strong, connected, respected. Not the sort of thing humans fully understand. She sits you down when you turn eleven and spells it all out for you. She tells you about the full moons, the shifting, the trigger, the hunters. She’s never, ever spared your feelings. Your whole life feels tinged with dramatic irony, as she assures you things are different now. The two of you are safe. You won’t ever have to trigger the wolf like she did. Neither of you could know she was wrong. 

You’re 17. It’s late. You’re just trying to get home. You don’t even hear him running up, seventeen years of your life spent feeling safe on these sidewalks and five years of walking alone on them means it’s too loud to hear him over your earbuds. Even when you’re sent sprawling onto the pavement, you’re more annoyed than alarmed. Then the gun is pressed to the back of your neck. Two shots ring out that night, and only one of you runs from the alley. You’ve never been afraid like this. You’ve never seen someone die before. It had been an accident. An accident. Better him than you.

You run home when it’s over, faster than you’ve ever run before, adrenaline the only thing keeping you upright. You don’t collapse until you make it through the door, woozy and too terrified to speak, blood dried on your face, your neck, your  shirt. MawMaw only reports it because you’re hysterical, and you stay mostly anonymous through the proceedings. It’s still an agonizing wait while you’re worried they won’t believe you, and you might get carted off. You don’t. You make your statements, and try to move on. 

You’re terrified to be alone for months. Going out after dark is a no. Even now, you run home when you have to work late, slamming the door and bolting it behind you and not calm until you’ve checked every room. You end up dropping out of high school, a few months shy of graduation. Tragedy hits again when MawMaw dies too young at 83, and then the owner of the apartment building dies a year and a half later, and his son sells the building, sells your only home out from under you. You never thought you’d want to leave Louisiana, but after everything? That town in Rhode Island you’d heard about in passing sounded better than nothing. 

You finally arrived six months ago. Not a lot to be done with less than a high school diploma, but you snag a job at the comic book shop, and you secure a little place in Shadow Lake, and for the first time since your hands scraped the pavement nine years ago, you feel in control of your own life. 

CONNECTION IDEAS.

good influence: Riot isn’t a bad kid, per se. But they’ve spent their life Around other people. Being totally on their own is new, and someone to help keep their head straight might be helpful. (OPEN TO 2)

bad influence: On the other hand! A little corruption never hurt anyone, right? Riot’s no stick in the mud, but being in a still somewhat new town, getting their footing is a work in progress. Someone to make them live a little, what’s the harm there?  (OPEN TO 2)

parent friend: Part good influence, part obnoxious welcome wagon, for whatever reason, this person looked at Riot and decided to take them under their wing, despite the protests. And trust, there are plenty of protests.  (OPEN TO 2)

regular customer (bestie): Honestly, Riot loves when this person comes in. Like, it genuinely makes their day. Maybe they’re funny, maybe they’re the only person in town who gets the storylines like they do, or maybe it’s the earnest way they’re always so lost among the volumes and trying to get Riot’s opinion. Either way, Riot has told them at least once they’d die for them in response to something they’ve said.  (OPEN TO 1)

regular customer (worstie): Conversely, every time this person is within their sight Riot wants to lock the doors. It’s probably just annoyance, or a mutual ribbing, but nine times out of ten this person’s opinions are met with a deadpan, “Die about it, then.” Again, there’s no one reason why this has to be. Maybe Riot doesn’t think they’re nearly as funny as they think. Maybe they never put the comics back in the right spot. Maybe they requested a comic to be ordered and took, like, forever and a day past the agreed upon pickup date to actually take it, even though they were definitely around often enough to have taken it sooner. Either way, if Riot has grey hairs, it’s their fault.  (OPEN TO 1)

*blasts paralyzer by finger eleven*: Not gonna act like this is anything other than a hookup connection. There’s only so many ways to let off steam in a small town.  (OPEN TO HONESTLY HOWEVER MANY LMAO)

it’s a small world after all: Riot didn’t expect to see this person again. Maybe they’re also new to town, or maybe they’ve lived here all their life, but either way, Riot’s glad for some familiarity, or as close as they can get. They spent about a year travelling from Louisiana up to Rhode Island, so they could have met at any point from start to finish.  (OPEN TO 2)

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

here's some grishaverse ships!!!! darklina nikolina zoyalina genyalina zoyanikolina zoyalarkling nikolarkling? darkling-nikolai-alina? i'm out of names jesper and kaz jesper and wylan just bc they're normal

Darklina

Already did this one!

To give some more opinions, I like it most when he’s either at his cruelest or most pathetic. The best scene was when he threatens to skin her 🤷‍♀️

I love the pettiness of them having a telepathic bond and using it for fucking psychological warfare. Or well the Darkling does. Alina takes way too long to catch on and needle him as much. I wish she’d gotten the chance to fuck him up more. But anyway I generally find it so funny how much of the dynamic relies on her just being… fairly normal and then he’s Like That.

I love Alina as the constantly weirded out, narrative and comedic straight main to his supervillain melodrama.

Nikolina

This has been my TGT OTP for awhile, me and like five other people lmao. I like it most in AU and canon divergent scenarios tbh, partially because their dynamic is really chill and I love conflict and angst. I like it when there’s some aspect of pining, unrequited feelings, or just the shadow of other issues looming over the relationship. Like I love this ship in situations where they’re PerseveringTM together despite The Horrors, basically?

And I mean I’ve already talked a few times about how I really like their polar opposite priorities and ambitions. They contrast each other fairly strongly while still getting along very well. And that’s something I usually find very compelling. I like this ship most for AUs where they like self actualize/compromise/learn to cope with shared trauma etc. I want them to work through shit and learn to be happy!

Zoyalina

Rivals to lovers is soooo fun! Alina can’t go two minutes without mentioning how hot Zoya is. And I think LB genuinely meant it more for reader info/to get into Alina’s insecurity but it reads SO gay.

There’s like two main dynamics I really like for them. Okay three. But one is like a riff on early SAB era, where they bond while still both under the Darkling’s thumb, despite being pitted against each other. The other is like leaning into a devotion, saint and warrior/bodyguard/devotee type thing. Third is post R&R Alina retreating to her orphanage and it being explicit in the epilogue that Zoya visits and writes and even gives her a kefta because she’ll always be Grisha. And idk I’m just obsessed with Zoya, who’s so unused to that sort of kindness, being gentle or drawing her out of her shell in her own gruff way.

Genyalina

I love them!!! But also the plot just doesn’t give me much to work with past SaB. That inherent conflict of Genya lying to her and never sending Alina’s letters, while genuinely connecting with her is SO good. I love it, and that’s my favorite dynamic for them. And I also love the explicit comparison drawn between Genya’s own trauma and being exploited by the king, and Alina being groomed by the Darkling even if Alina’s not herself fully like cognizant of it. (Kind of similar to the SaB era Zoyalina dynamic, girls connecting over being manipulated and controlled by men/the same man even is a dynamic that I find very compelling) But past that point in the series I don’t have as much like… thoughts about them? I still love them and love when they interact but it doesn’t intrigue me in the same way.

Zoyanikolina

Okay okay maybe this is the real OTP… OT3… series ship of all time. KoS (more the idea of it than the execution) did convert me to Zoyalai to an extent, the pining is soooo good. And I already love Zoyalina and Nikolina separately so obvs the best way to go here is to smoosh them all together lmao.

My fave take is facilitated through a Nikolina political marriage that’s kind of complicated for everyone involved. And meanwhile Alina seeing all the insane pining going down and being like. Well. Are you going to do something about this or???

I may be writing this lmao so I’m generally thinking about it a lot. But Alina being the most emotionally intelligent one while simultaneously very NOT self aware about her own feelings is just very funny to me.

Zoyalarkling

So having confirmed that this is Zoya/Alina/Darkling hm! Hm! Not sure I can see this one except in very very particular circumstances. I feel like the Zoyalina dynamic when they’re both still into the Darkling is defined by rivalry and being in competition with each other. So I don’t think they’d be… happy about a poly scenario. But also the Darkling’s probably TERRIBLE enough to be like Ah yes here is my teenaged harem. So I could see a very fucked up version. Meanwhile I just don’t get the sense that Zoya harbors like any attraction whatsoever for him the way Alina does after Everything Goes Down. I could see some kind of insane hate fucking scenario, but like only very particularly?

I can’t help but make Hannibal comparisons when I think of KoS type scenarios/anything where they keep the Darkling jailed. But I could see Zoya as his jailor being very interesting (Chilton or Alana Bloom esque) And we canonically have him like demanding to see Alina, though again canon didn’t do nearly enough with it. So could I see a weird psychosexual SOTL/NBC Hannibal arc for these three? Mayhaps.

Darknikolina

Love them! I’m generally a fan of Darklolai and I think there’s a lot of very interesting unexplored territory in terms of what the dynamic between Nikolai and the Darkling even is. LB, even in KoS, tends to skirt around how they perceive each other fairly carefully? I think probably because she knows how much it’d expose the painfully thin politics and court set up lmao. But I think there’s room for very personal loathing —> fascination.

Anyway I am really interested in circumstances where like Nikolina get married For Politics and then the Darkling’s just in jail 5ever and things get weird. Or alternatively (I basically wrote this already) but a bad ending scenario where the Darkling wins and they’re both basically his captives.

I think there’s also a lot of mileage to be gotten out of the Darkling basically lying dormant inside Nikolai lmao/at least some of his power remaining there. And there are interesting body sharing weirdness places you could go with that. And complicate it even further by bringing Alina into the mix.

Kazper

This was probably my favorite SoC ship dynamic lmaoooo which I mean I knew was never going anywhere! But then gets further tanked by the clear comparison between Jesper and Jordie. I just really liked that initial pining set up where Jesper was desperate to prove himself to Kaz, to just get him to at all give him the time of day. And Kaz is just… frankly kind of cruel to him! Idk the conflict was really interesting. I would’ve loved to see the dynamic explored

Wesper

Eh. I didn’t really like them in the books tbh? I think they had some effective scenes in CK particularly but also like it wasn’t effective in a shippy sense to me necessarily. I did actually like them in the show a lot! So that’s made me more partial to it. But it’s still just not something I’d bother to think about outside of actually watching the show/reading the books.