#And in all fairness she pulled off an impressive task!

[masquenoire]

"HIYA MASKY! IT'S ME! I found the pied piper! After a thorough questioning which nearly cost him his leg, I can confirm that he did not sell out Croco! He took a nasty blow to the head while they gassed our big reptilian companion and took him away! They were looking for weapon shipments to help arm our little rebellion! I'm having my boys patch him up and I'll drag him with me... He can make up for his mistake by helping!"

"So since I went into the sewers to find him, I assume I can get a little reward for doing my best, right? Come on. Hand over a suit! Don't be mean! I got mine dirty for this!"

Masky! In the past, such audacity from the clown would have been enough to make him reach for Sodom and Gomorrah but tonight was a different story. Instead of his enemy, tonight the Joker was... well, an ally was too optimistic but she had come through, delving deep into the filth and decay of the sewers running beneath the city streets to find their elusive quarry, ie the same manner that a terrier would drive out a rat. More than that, she’d also taken measures to find out what happened, why Croc had disappeared, relieving his suspicions that the Ratcatcher had betrayed them all to Chimera. ”So that’s what happened. I figured ratty boy was a coward but didn’t think he’d be stupid enough turn tail and run.” Roman replied, though his expression soured when the Joker mentioned a reward. He hadn’t thought she was serious about wanting one of his suits. Of course she had been. Damn her and her twisted obsession with his fashion. Still, his ire pales in comparison to his concern about the situation. Croc was still gone and the more time was ticking, the lower their chances were of getting the scaled behemoth back in one piece. Already an eye and a hand had been sent to him and Doctor Psycho respectively, bringing everything in full circle now their little snitch - or who he’d figured to be the snitch, had been brought to heel.  And to task no less. Roman had no doubt that the clown had her own persuasive ways of getting stubborn tongues to flap. ”Still ain’t sure to believe a word from his mouth but if you say that’s what happened, who am I to deny it? Especially with the evidence all over your clothes.” Roman says, almost wistful as to their missing companion. Nonetheless he rolls his eyes; a suit was a small price to pay for getting Otis back even if it was from Paragon, and Roman fully intended on making the man squirm for making him give the Joker a pair. Roman idly tosses the clown a set of keys, silver and shining. ”To my walk-in closet. Take any pair you want but don’t clean me out. These suits don’t come cheap,” he growls. The clown could probably pull them all off too knowing her.

[septimusmoonlight]

You doing ok?

hi

[journey-to-the-attic]

3rd anni req 19: [INFERNAL FRIENDS] barbatos / tea party

ao3 link

note: requested by "average robot enjoyer"! i'm fairly sure i do know which tumblr user this belongs to, but since you didn't specify your handle i've refrained from tagging you, just in case - hopefully you see this! (this takes place prior to the other two infernal friends requests)

∎ ∎ ∎ ∎ ∎

There isn’t a precedent for what happens when a servant of the prince erupts into flames mid-way through a gathering. To be honest, Barbatos hadn’t thought it would ever be necessary.

Satan eyes him with impressive serenity. “...are you feeling alright?”

He looks down at the crimson flames dancing around his feet. To be fair, there isn’t any heat. “I feel well, yes.”

“I’m going to make a call,” Lucifer announces, then pulls out his phone. “Diavolo, your butler is on fire.”

Perhaps it’s a good thing that the Young Master is running late to this particular occasion, Barbatos thinks placidly as Lucifer listens to his response with a small grimace. Then the flames climb rapidly up his legs, and his surroundings fold in on themselves.

The world compresses to a sharp point in a crunch of indiscernible colours and sound, then expands again into the shape of a living room with peeling wallpaper. Barbatos takes in a shallow breath, then looks down and makes eye contact with IK - the Young Master’s new human friend.

Now it makes sense. Barbatos has only met her once, and she spent most of that time hiding behind Diavolo’s wings, but he vaguely recalls being told that she’d been given his summoning ritual. Still, he hadn’t expected her to ever use it.

“Hello,” He says pleasantly. “Did you mean to summon me? Or were you perhaps seeking the Young Master?”

IK shakes her head.

“You wanted to see me, then?”

A nod.

“Why?”

IK gestures at him, turns around, and very purposefully walks out of the room. Barbatos, understanding quickly, follows - pausing to extinguish the candles on the carpet with his tail.

She’s waiting for him at the end of the hallway. As soon as she spots him emerging, she darts quickly into the next room. (Barbatos allows himself a private smile - though she isn’t nearly as chatty, IK reminds him quite uncannily of a particular young demon. Nevertheless, he resolves himself to his usual brand of distant attentiveness.)

“Would you like to show me something?” He asks, glancing around the kitchen. Hmm. Well-maintained, but a little messy.

IK points up. Barbatos opens the cupboard, as directed, and finds a tissue-wrapped teapot.

He turns around. The child gazes hopefully up at him.

“I see,” He says after a moment. “You would like me to make you some tea. Is that it?”

IK’s eyes light up as she nods. After a moment, very quietly, she adds, “Please.”

Well... clearly he hadn’t been needed at that gathering, if the threat of him being reduced to a pile of ash had been so unremarkable to the others. Making tea is hardly a heavy task for him, anyway. He supposes he has the time to spare for a companion of the Young Master.

There isn’t anything nearly as fine as the castle’s crockery in this kitchen, and it takes a while for him to navigate around all the clutter - but, finally, he has everything laid out prettily on the table, without so much as a speck of a stain on his gloves. A job well done, he should think.

IK stands blankly in the middle of the kitchen - where she’d remained, unmoving, while Barbatos worked. He dusts off his hands, clears his throat delicately, and pulls out a chair.

“Please, young miss - sit,” He says, as courteously as he can.

A beat passes. IK slowly approaches the chair and clambers up, looking entirely bewildered.

“Very good.” He sets a cup in front of her, then pours out a careful measure of tea. Lightly floral, a lovely rosy colour - quite acceptable. He takes the liberty of pouring himself a cup as well.

IK watches him, wide-eyed, as he seats himself on the opposite side of the table, and blows delicately on his cup before taking a sip. He sets it down, then quirks an eyebrow at her, and she stiffens a little.

Then, eyes steeling, she attempts to copy him. The cup and saucer clatter together rather unelegantly, and she puffs like an angry little bird, but Barbatos feels something about his resolve soften nevertheless.

“How is it?” He asks after a moment.

IK blinks at him over the rim of her cup, then sets it down again. He glances into it. It’s empty?

To be able to completely drain a teacup, without looking as if you’re doing so, is something of a feat. Barbatos tries not to look too impressed. “...well done. Was it not hot?”

IK looks him dead in the eye. Then her face scrunches up.

“Do you need some ice?” He asks patiently. A head shake. “Is it not to your taste?”

She looks a little shamed, then nods. He sighs lightly, but smiles. “Not to worry. You are young - your palate will refine with time. For now, shall we add a little sugar?”

He stands up to retrieve the jar from the cupboard. As he touches the handle, IK suddenly says from behind him, “Don’t you add milk?”

Barbatos pauses, then turns around. “Pardon?”

IK looks at the tea set, then back at him. “You… add milk. To the tea. And— and when the girls play, the tea isn’t real…”

She trails off. Barbatos stands there for a moment, then finally realises why she’d looked so perplexed as soon as he started actually filling the pot.

“I see,” He concludes after a moment. “You only wanted to play.”

IK nods slowly.

“My apologies. I'm accustomed to acting in my capacity as a—” He cuts himself off, realising that IK probably understands his sentences about as much as he understands Leviathan’s slang, and instead says, “—well, I’m afraid that I am not used to this sort of thing. I could call…”

Then he pauses to think about it. If IK had wanted to play tea parties with Diavolo, she would’ve summoned him in the first place. She’s obviously picked Barbatos for a reason, even if it isn’t for his actual tea-brewing skills, and he’d hate to let her down now.

"Perhaps you should teach me,” He suggests instead, returning to the table with the sugar jar in hand.

IK stares hard at it, then admits, “I don’t know how to play either.”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t play with the girls…” She blinks, then adds, very fast, “I want to. But I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“They’ll think I’m stupid because I don’t talk.”

“You’re talking to me, are you not?”

“That’s different.” IK goes quiet for a moment. “...you’re supposed to say clink.”

“Clink?” He repeats.

“Like this.” IK picks her cup up, then reaches it across the table and knocks it against his. “Clink.”

“Clink,” Barbatos repeats again, returning the gesture this time. “And what else do you do?”

“You pretend to eat things,” She says slowly, then mimics taking a bite out of something with surprising accuracy. “Mm. Wow. Tasty.”

It comes out so completely monotone that Barbatos has to press his lips together to prevent a chuckle. IK seems to notice anyway.

“I don’t get that part either.” She looks at the tea set again, then adds, “I just wanted to try. It’s lots of pretending. And lots of talking.”

“You don’t have to play exactly as they do,” Barbatos tells her, beginning to pour her another cup, this time with a half-spoon of sugar added. “You don’t have to talk to me if you’d rather not, either.”

IK thinks about it for a moment. “...no, I like talking to you. You say big words like you mean them.”

“I’d rather think that’s because I do,” He replies, disguising a surprised (and rather pleased) smile. “You will learn to use big words with time, as well.”

“Your name is a big word.”

“It is,” He acknowledges. “You’d be surprised how often even other demons spell it incorrectly.”

IK squints at him, as if asking if that’s a challenge, then starts, “B-A-R-B-E—”

“A.”

“—I— what?”

“B-A-R-B-A,” He corrects.

“B-A…” IK stumbles, then finally settles on, “Toss.”

“B-A-R-B-A-toss,” He agrees, nodding. “Very good.”

IK nods as well, then picks up her teacup. She copies him once more: blowing lightly, then taking a careful sip. She’s already doing it with much more poise than the first time.

She looks thoughtful when she lowers the cup - she’s refrained from drinking it all at once this time. Barbatos holds his own cup out again, and IK quickly reaches over to knock hers against it.

“Clink,” She says, happily this time. “This is fun.”

“What sort of games do you play with the Young Master?” Barbatos asks after a moment. Both of them are rather easily amused, it seems. “Ah - Diavolo, I mean.”

“Young Master,” IK repeats a little sceptically. “Um… he reads to me. I have to teach him games, as well.”

“And you talk to him?”

“Sometimes. When I feel like it.” IK taps her little fingers on her saucer. “...talking is hard.”

“I think you are doing a superb job,” Barbatos tells her, and means it. IK gives him a smile more warming than the tea. “The Young Master speaks very highly of you, as well.”

“Why do you call him that?” She asks, scrunching her nose.

“As his servant, it would be discourteous to address him too familiarly.”

“You’re a servant?” IK leans across the table with wide eyes. “...how much does he pay you?”

“Pardon?” He didn’t know a child of this age knew to consider wages. “Well— it isn’t often monetary—”

“He doesn’t give you any money?”

“I receive payment enough,” He says, and decides to leave it at that.

IK’s eyes are owlishly wide, but she doesn’t question him further. Instead, she asks quietly, “What does dis-court-us mean?”

Barbatos explains it, and a great many other things - talking for long enough for the remaining tea in the pot to go stone cold, so absorbed that he doesn’t realise that the front door has opened until IK’s father walks into the kitchen. He barely flinches upon seeing him, and Barbatos gets the feeling from his loose handshake and absent introduction that the man’s mind is utterly elsewhere.

Though his weary eyes brighten when IK hurries to greet him - she's gone quiet again, but in a way that Barbatos takes to mean that no words need to be said. He decides to excuse himself soon after that, wary of intruding, but offers IK a warm smile and deep bow when she enthusiastically waves goodbye.

He steps seamlessly through one of his own doors, back to the Devildom and emerges in the castle's entrance hall. A moment later, Diavolo is already upon him.

“So?” He asks eagerly. “How did it go?”

“Young Master,” Barbatos greets with an incline of his head. After a moment’s thought, he admits, “I do believe everything you have told me is true.”

[batnatscatt]

Eau D’bedroom Dancing

PJHazel: 2.8k

Tags: fair bit of swearing, implied nsfw, autistic Hazel because I say so, they/them Hazel also because I say so, PJ-typical fuckery

Their rings dig into their chin, the feeling somewhat uncomfortable but not enough so to keep them from dozing. Their hand rests under their chin, keeping their head propped up as they drift in and out of the lesson. Another train of nameless meatheads had kept them awake all night, with their hooting and hollering and banging-of-their-mom, something that was getting less and less unusual. It had to have been the third night this week, if their math is right, and its literally only Wednesday. They were already fucking exhausted- add the sound of Mr. G droning away in the background and you have a pretty potent sedative, apparently. They’d feel bad if they could feel anything other than tired; they actually liked Mr. G a fair bit, even found him to be a kind of comforting presence- a fact which almost definitely isn’t helping them stay on this side of consciousness.

“Heads up Callahan.” Fingers wrapping around their wrist are the only other warning they get before their arm is unceremoniously yanked out from under them. Their head connects with the desk with a dull thud, sharp pain blooming in their cheek where vinyl meets a two-week old bruise, probably giving it a new lease on life. The plastic thwack wakes them well enough, scrambling to right themselves and turning to look at the culprit, levelling her with a wounded expression.

“What the fuck, PJ?” Their words come out quiet but pointed, hissed at her in an attempt to not further disturb the class, especially after their face had already done so.

“What? You were like, drifting off or whatever,” There’s a saccharine smile on PJ’s face, hamming up an artist’s impression of something that almost looks like concern or helpfulness, fighting off a grin as she shrugs. “Didn’t want you to miss anything important.”

Her explanation could almost pass for convincing if it wasn’t for how obviously uninterested in the lesson she was, turning back to her handout in order to return to her task: diligently dotting every ‘o’ on the page in order to make boobs. PJ could give less of a fuck about whatever Mr. G was saying, she simply enjoyed toying with them whenever she could, as she always had- that much Hazel understood perfectly.

“Anyway,” she draws out the word as her fingers drum on the desk, seemingly too captivated by her efforts to titty up the page to bother looking at Hazel. “Janitor’s next period?”

That, they understood less. It’s still a relatively new development to their dynamic, one that had left them more than a little confused since the night of the game. Within the space of thirty minutes, they’d made their way all over the map emotions-wise when it came to PJ: annoyance and apathy turning into forgiveness, and forgiveness turning into surprise as PJ pulled them into whatever the fuck that kiss was.

It’s not like they were opposed to it or anything, honestly it was kind of the opposite; it just wasn’t what they had expected from PJ, not by a long shot. For years they’d taken shit from her, they’d accepted that that was their place in the pecking order of whatever small gaggle of dykes they’d managed to muster in their fuck-ass town. And honestly, they were content to stay right there, so long as it meant that they weren’t an outlier. Taking shit from PJ was just another part of their every day, as reliable and consistent as how the sun rises or birds tweet, or any number of other metaphors that fit the bill. Her teasing and borderline negging was something they had their head wrapped around pretty well, but this? The way she’d rip into them in public, only to jump their bones the moment the two of them had any privacy? That, Hazel still needs to do some adjusting to, apparently.

Everything comes back into focus with the sound of a metallic thunk, the thudding of a shoe against their chair leg bringing them back from whatever miniature spiral they’d managed to fall into. The look on PJ’s face is difficult to place as she stares at Hazel, her brow pinched in a puzzled expression as she looks at them expectantly.

“What?” The confusion is evident in Hazel’s voice as they ask, almost losing track of the initial question in their attempts to unpick the bizarre dynamic the two of them seem to have fallen into recently.

“Fucking hell- got your brains knocked out your ears or some shit?” The concerned crease of PJ’s brow is closer to a scowl than anything else now, rolling her eyes at them before speaking slowly and deliberately, sounding out each word. “You- me- closet, yeah?”

Their mouth feels very dry suddenly, the mental picture from her suggestion and memory of the small noise that leaves her when their fingers thread through her hair flooring them, the combination of factors teaming up to effectively sap all the moisture from their mouth. A small nod is all they can offer in return to her question, floundering internally for any other reasonable response.

“Great, yeah- Fucking A.” She huffs out a sigh that Hazel takes as exasperation as she speaks, returning her gaze to the mostly ignored handout in front of her before continuing quietly. “See you then, I guess.”

With that, Hazel is left to their own devices for the rest of the short lesson as PJ finally seems to make an attempt at working through the sheets in front of her, the lack of conversation leaving their mind the freedom to turn the concept over in their head. Whatever PJ actually feels towards them is a mystery, for sure- but they could be content with this, right? ———-

The next period finds them making their way towards the now-mostly-defunct library, the lack of books in the place translating into an equally low amount of foot traffic through the corridor it inhabits. They walk the length of the hallway quickly, their fingers picking at the stitching of the bag slung over their shoulder in nervous preoccupation as they scan the walls for the right door, slowing to a stop as they find themselves outside.

They knock on the door lightly, hardly managing two taps before they have to step back to avoid the door swinging open, a hand darting out to grab them by the front of their shirt and yanking them roughly into the dingy, cramped space. The darkness in the cupboard throws them for a second, blinking rapidly in an attempt to let their eyes adjust to the low lighting as they open their mouth to greet PJ.

“Hey-“

The sentence dies before they have any chance to actually speak, cut off effectively by the insistent press of PJ’s lips against theirs, slightly less clumsy than the first time as she mumbles a muffled ‘shut the fuck up’ against their lips. Hazel responds in kind, letting the rucksack drop off their shoulder as they kiss her back, the bag making a solid thud against the floor as they bring their hands up to tangle in the taller girl’s hair. The action elicits a soft gasp from PJ that makes their cheeks flush red, the sound not so different from the first time they’d heard it, or every time since. They drink the noise in eagerly, even if the way she kisses them softens it somewhat.

Hazel could get lost in this, honestly. They’d thought that every time, almost worried that the press of her fingers against their back might undo them, the touch insistent even through the layers of fabric. They move with PJ as she pulls them with her, letting the girl guide them so that she’s leant against the wall of the closet. They’ve never had any problem with letting PJ take the reigns in their little trysts, more than happy to follow her lead and apparently incapable of denying her of what she wants.

Time moves strangely slowly as she pulls them against her, thick like molasses while she seems determined to meld the two of them together. Hazel groans quietly at the feeling, the contact making their head swim as they pull away to catch their breath for a second. The absence seems to irk the girl, an impatient noise leaving her as she seems almost affronted by the lack of contact, the sound leading to Hazel having to stifle a laugh.

“Shut the fuck up,” PJ whines the words, her head thudding against the wall as she tilts it back in frustration. She looks back at them, huffing impatiently before asking “Don’t you like, have a job to do or something?”

The annoyed tone in her voice makes them feel almost smug, relishing the heady feeling of how obviously frustrated she sounds. They’d take this form of annoyance over her usual any day, preferring it greatly to the general disdain that PJ seems to hold towards them in most contexts. Even so, they find it almost fun to irritate her in this context, cocking their head in feigned ignorance as they speak.

“Not sure- what should I be doing?” They find it hard not to grin as they speak, the corners of their lips twitching with the barely suppressed motion.

The question draws another long-suffering groan of annoyance from PJ, clearly fed up with their shit as she grabs the hand sat on her waist and guides it to the front of her pants. Whatever cockiness that seemed to have possessed Hazel all but leaves them in the moment, their ears almost ringing as she looks at them expectantly.

“Well?”

Words seem to evade them in the moment, instead moving quietly to undo the button there before grabbing the suspenders that hold up her corduroys, the motion bringing a confused look to the girl’s face.

“They get in the way a bit,” The explanation comes out almost distractedly, pulling the elastic slightly as if to illustrate their point. “Like, if you want your pants off, I mean.”

The look she gives them in response makes them almost sheepish, staring at them as if they’d grown an extra head as they wait for her to speak, or move, or do anything at this point.

“Why the fuck would you take them off?” She sounds somewhere between confused and exasperated as she speaks, promptly using her hands to mime exactly what she’d had in mind, the correction making Hazel’s face flush from a mix of interest and embarrassment.

“Oh- yeah, that makes more sense, actually.” They nod as they speak, eager to move on from their blunder as they lean back into her space, pressing a kiss to the skin of her neck in an attempt to gloss over the past thirty-or-so seconds.

Her hands come back up to rest against their back, her fingers bunching in the fabric of their shirt as they kiss her, moving their hands back to where she’d initially placed them. The soft noises that leave her make them think they might’ve gotten away with it, that illusion being thoroughly broken by the sound of her chuckling slightly.

“The fuck were you thinking, anyway?” The grin on her face is almost audible as she speaks. “Gonna go all bush-diver on me or something?”

“I mean- sure, if you’d want me to- I think we’ve got time.” Their shoulders shrug as they speak, somewhere between attempted nonchalance and genuine confidence in the statement.

Their response prompts a surprised expression to pass over PJ’s face, eyebrows raised as she seems to visibly turn the words over in her head. The lack of response makes Hazel sweat nervously, their brain moving a mile a minute as they run through the exchange in their head, doing their best to ascertain where exactly they’d managed to fuck up.

“Shit, Haze- I mean, fuck, why not.” She seems to almost be at a loss for words, her response stilted as she struggles to form a sentence.

It’s almost bizarre to Hazel, the lack of any smart comeback throwing them off almost as much as the unexpected nickname. They can’t think of any other time they’d heard her call them that, but they feel pretty certain in the moment that there’s not much they won’t do to hear it again.

A grin lights up their features at her response, their hands coming back up to rest against her waist, thumbs rubbing small circles over the fabric as they double check.

“You sure? ‘Cause it’s okay if not- I’m good with whatever.” The words stumble over each other as they speak, nerves and eagerness mingling and thoroughly fucking their grasp on the English language.

“No- get your filthy mitts off me you little freak.” The genuinely surprised and horrified expression on Hazel’s face gives her pause, sighing as she seems to remember how aggressively earnest they tend to be. “Jesus fucking Christ- I’m just fucking with you, you’re all good, I swear. Go for it.”

“Right- fuck, okay. Wasn’t sure for a sec there-” Their shoulders sag in relief, whatever concerns they’d had easing as they catch on to PJ’s piss-poor attempt at a joke. Any further speech is killed in its cradle as she pulls them back in for another kiss, effectively shutting them both up before either of them can dig themselves into a deeper hole.

Their lips part at the pass of PJ’s tongue, opening in order to deepen the kiss as her fingers creep under the hem of their shirt, the brush of her nails against the skin of their waist making them shiver. The kiss continues in the cramped environment of the broom closet, with Hazel silently thankful that PJ seems to have learnt not to use as much tongue; even if she does seem hell-bent of mapping the inside of their mouth in great detail, it’s nowhere near the full-frontal assault she’d launched on their face during their first kiss.

The kiss breaks as they move to trail their lips towards her neck, their fingers coming up to tangle in her hair as their lips trace her jawline, pulling the strands out of the way in order to clear their path. Their lips connect with her neck, tongue and teeth moving against the smooth skin as they fight the urge to bite, the idea of leaving a mark unbelievably tempting. As much as they know she’d rip their head off for it, the mental image is rather appealing in the moment, the idea of having to deal with PJ’s usual heckling far more palatable with the visual reminder of the way she sounds under their touch.

Any further ruminations are cut short by the buzzing of a phone, the insistent thrumming making PJ groan in annoyance as they reach for their pocket, motioning for Hazel to stop while they pull it out.

“Fuck- Josie.” She holds up the screen to Hazel as she speaks, turning it to answer the call. “What’s up? This better be good-“

She cuts herself off suddenly, her eyebrows rising quickly in response to whatever Josie has to say, her words too quiet for them to be able to make any out from where they stand in front of PJ.

“What- How the fuck? Right- Yeah, I’ll be there.” She speaks quickly, rushing to hang up the phone with a bemused look on her face, the expression prompting their own eyebrow to quirk in confusion.

“What’d Josie want?”

“Sylvie got her head stuck in Tucker’s cage?” She nods in response to the shocked look on Hazel’s face, their eyebrows lost somewhere behind their fringe as the statement visibly floors them. “Yeah- I’m not sure how either, honestly.”

They let out a long breath, sighing through their nose as they try to process the information, snapping out of their reverie at the sound of PJ’s irritated sigh as she moves push off of the wall she’d been leant against.

“Rain check?”

“Sure- of course,” They nod quickly at her question, moving in order to give her space as she rebuttons her pants and does what she can to make herself presentable. “I’ve got a free house later, if you wanna come by, maybe?”

“Yeah- why not, I should be free.” She shrugs as she speaks, shouldering her bag as she moves to grab the closet door, pushing past Hazel in the enclosed space as she rushes to leave and shouting over her shoulder. “See you later, bush ranger.”

She’s out of the door before they have a chance to reply, leaving them in the dark to ponder her strange PJ-specific brand of nicknaming as they bend over to grab their rucksack. Nearly everything about the past hour had effectively thrown them for a loop, something that’s starting to seem like a reoccurring theme in their encounters if their previous ones are anything to go by.

They leave the closet quietly, doing their best to ignore the weird feeling that PJ’s sudden departure had left in the pit of their stomach as they move through the corridors, deciding to spend the rest of their free period on the bleachers. Whatever fuck had just happened, or nearly happened, Hazel wasn’t exactly sure of- it’s near impossible to tell where exactly they stand with her these days.

[eolewyn1010]

Downton Abbey Fashion 34 - wedding gowns in 1920

Time for the actual stars at the wedding events! In Mary’s case, that’s an eye-rolling “fucking finally!”, in Edith’s case… it’s a deep sigh and “she deserved better”. But I personally think Edith made the better deal fashion-wise. Shame that dress went to waste; she should have kept it. Cut it six inches shorter, dye it golden and wear it as an evening gown?

Here’s what I thought might have been a hot take, but turns out that I don’t stand on my own with my opinion: Mary’s first wedding gown was kind of underwhelming. I’ve read somewhere it was “show-stopping”, “stylish”, “very elegant”… and I kind of went “well, it’s nice, I guess.” But @thescarletlibrarian is probably right: The glamor of this doesn’t translate well to camera, as all the lace and beading are so white that they simply get washed out. So the dress looks somewhat more plain than it would be in the making. The lighting in her getting-dressed scene shows that there’s actually a lot of decoration on that fabric, but once she steps out onto the stairs, it is barely visible.

I’m not opposed to the shape itself, but I suspect it might have fallen more elegantly if it weren’t for the drop-waist sash. Tying the dress down there gives it overall more of an apron effect. I’m not sure how I feel about the neckline. I guess it frees her from having to choose a necklace, but I think I wouldn’t cringe at thought of how the fabric must have felt on her throat if she’s just left out these upper two inches of lace and instead used the boat neckline that’s still visible on the under layer. But showing her collarbones is probably scandalous. In a way, this dress fits Mary’s personality well; her dresses are in general a tad more conservative than Edith’s and Rose’s. And Sybil’s pantaloons, since we’re at it.

In all fairness – the veil is a dream. I’m hopelessly biased in favor of long veils, and this one coordinates so well with the trim on her train. It has some rather lovely trim itself; in the last picture, the tiny pearls are visible that must be there all along the at least two yards. And of course, she has the family tiara that @tiaramania can tell you more about and that’s the only piece of jewelry she wears because she obviously expected her dress to do most of the shiny job. It didn’t quite live up to the task, but that tiara is an antique, and it is gorgeous. Maybe it’s for the best it doesn’t have company there.

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

Edith also wears the tiara for her wedding, and while admittedly she does combine it with a necklace, it’s a small, understated number with a little drop pearl on it. Her veil is similarly long as Mary’s, but it looks plainer so she can dramatically throw it down the hall without conscience bites, apparently having no trim to speak of, and I think it has a little more structure to it, with the way it hovers a bit above the back of her head. Although that might also be because Edith’s hair has more structure.

Ironically, Edith’s neckline is pretty much exactly what I just imagined would have looked good on Mary’s dress. It’s not deep, but it curves enough to leave her collarbones uncovered. And where Mary opted for beaded lace, Edith goes with “plain” silk satin that’s flowing down her body into this dream of a train. Can we talk about the train? This flower-and-leaves embroidery is gorgeous. And I love the ruching on the hip; it gives her dress a shape that I personally find more flattering than Mary’s apron-with-a-sash style. I semi-recently tried, and mostly failed, to attempt this kind of hip ruching on a dress I made. Perhaps because I didn’t have the embroidery to pull it off.

You know, the entire drapery of the dress and the branches of her back embroidery reaching to her shoulders remind me a little of ancient Greek gowns. Which I realize sounds silly when I just described Mary’s style as more conservative, but it’s the impression I get from this smooth fabric and the asymmetrical design where Mary went for lace and symmetry. Now if only Anthony Strallan would have come to his conclusion a little earlier, maybe this beautiful dress wouldn’t be associated with a great injustice to Edith.

[abbythewritor]

"Fairness." One Piece x Saitama reader, 2.

"Just a Normal girl looking for an everyday life. At least, if you call sailing across the seas with idiots with useless dreams a simple task, then you might wanna see a doctor. Seriously."

Warnings: Blood, gore, mentions of Luekimia, and heaps amount of blood and strength. It might be a little cursing, but not bad, and maybe some flirting in there, but it's mostly clean.

Other things:

-You didn't get bald due to your powers; you got bald to an extreme illness.

-You part of the straw hat crew, but others are interested in you and your power.

-Everyone that is a male is taller than you.

-Monsters from the OPM world will appear in One Piece, and I'll make some new monsters you will fight.

Enjoy the second chapter, everyone. :)

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These marine people were annoying.

They kept shooting their guns at us, and it didn't even work; I don't know why they were still trying.

Crocodile just turned into sand, and Jimbei used his power and scattered water everywhere, making them slip, Luffy, however, was rubber, as the bullets reflected off of him, as I was scattering them like flies, flinging and punching them everywhere.

"It's hot!' Luffy spoke as one of them was calling for backup, as me and the crocodile didn't change a face as we kept throwing marines into the fire or kicking the shit out of them.

One of them was about to attack Crocodile behind, but he turned before I simply slapped the guy, his body exploding in front of the warlord, whose eyes widened and looked at me.

I turned to Luffy and Jimbei. "Let's keep going forward!!" They nodded, crocodile still speechless, but shook it off as he followed us more onto the floor, Marines still coming out way.

Some shot at a crocodile with regular bullets, and some of his body parts turned into sand, large holes into his body as he simply smirked at them.

Surprised, they forgot to use special bullets as he stepped forward, his left hand forming a large sand whip as he whipped them away, falling into the lava below.

Luffy blew multiple blows at once; as Jimbei did Fishman Karate, all the men surrounded them, falling into the water, ate well.

The three looked around, wondering where I went as I was ahead, trouncing more Marines. As a group surrounded me simultaneously, I simply jumped in the air, flying before launching back down, breaking the ground as they flew apart, spreading throughout.

I dodged more oncoming attacks, hitting each person in the back of the neck while kicking, sending some flying upwards or downwards to their death.

But two were about to punch me simultaneously, so I grabbed their face, the wind blowing suddenly as I harshly glared at one of them, pulling them closer as their heads smashed together, their bodies plopping to the floor as some men that were held in cells were impressed, drooling over me as the bodies of the marines plopped to the floor. "SUEGEE!!" Luffy yelled, stars in his eyes as Jimbie smiled. "Never expected this girl to have this much strength." Crocodile hummed, eying you still as you freed some prisoners. "She scattered them like bugs." As I tore down some more cell doors, some men thanked me, as the other three did the same, making sure to free every man held up in here before moving on to the next floor. But, Crocodile stopped at a particular cell and smirked, my head tilting with confusion as he turned to the prisoners. "I'm thinking of breaking out of here...care to Join us, Mister one?" I also looked that way, seeing a man with a shaved head and a more chiseled body. He looked up and simply nodded as I quickly ripped the door open with one hand, as some prisoners were shocked. "WHAT STRENGTH!" They yelled as Mister 1 came out, bowing to Crocodile, before turning to me. "You strong...what's your name?" "Abby, how do you know Crocodile?" He smiled slightly. "I worked with him in Alabasta." "I see." I turned to look at Luffy and Jimbei going forward. "We should go; we can't waste time with conversation. It's nice to meet you, Mister One." I bowed respectfully before heading to Luffy and Jimbei as he looked to Crocodile. "She's interesting." Crocodile chuckled. "That she is.." With that, the two followed after us, along with many other prisoners, as we headed to floor four, where the alarms got louder but didn't bother us.

As we were running down the hall, Ivonka and Bon-chan seemed to have caught up with us and the others, and Luffy greeted them happily as we continued more down the hallway. Crocodile and Mister One caught up as well, Bon Chan not believing his eyes but ignoring them.

Soon enough, more marines were coming towards us as I jumped high in the air, flipping in the air as I kicked down, breaking the ground again as they all scattered, my face bit changing a shade of emotion. Ivanka's head grew big, helping with the load as Mister One was quick, slicing and killing the marines with the scissorsman, both of them watching each other back. I ran forward with Crocodile, bullets not affecting us as we took care of more ahead, Luffy and Jimbei helping the others in the back as everyone caught up again.

But, our path soon would be blocked by giant animals; my eyes widened with shock as they looked like the stuffed animals I had at home. "H-HOLY CRAP!" everyone was confused about why they wouldn't let us past, as a lady wearing a very revealing outfit came out, as her tongue licked her lips. "They won't let you all out, and neither would I!" I cringed as she was almost naked, and I'm glad I'm not dressed like that. But, as we were about to attack the giant stuffed animals, Ivanka's men/women stepped forward wanting to fight them for us, thanking them as he, him, Jimbei, Mister One, Ivanka, Crocodile, and others were allowed to pass through.

But, I had an ill feeling as I stepped back, as these stuffed animals seemed more robust than those people. "Guys! Go ahead, I'll help them!" Luffy was shocked. "But, Y/n, you're supposed to help me-" "I smile at him." Don't worry, I'll catch up. It will take me five seconds, tops." Not Knowing what you mean, he just nodded, as they all continued forwards, but Crocodile decided to stay behind as I ran back towards the stuffed Animals, them sensing me as they turned as I launched into the air. "You will not hurt these people! You will let us escape!!" I punched the Koala, and it was quickly killed and exploded when I only hit it once, as everyone's eyes widened suddenly. "WHAT?!!!!!!" Yelled Ivanka's crew as guts and organs were falling, and another one of the animals attacked; I teleported behind it, punched it in the back of the head, it sharing the same fate as his friend, as did the last one as well, which I blocked from punching a woman, as my feet slammed into its stomach, causing it to explode, and launch to the crocodile who was smirking, and grabbed its heart, and destroyed it with his sand power. My power shocked everyone, like how did I kill all three with one punch and a kick?! Crocodile showed no emotion on the outside, but secretly, his heart was racing with slight fear as he eyed you, wondering why you were hiding all that strength under your cuteness? He couldn’t read you, as the look you gave off were innocent, open minded, but no, inside you were ruthless, like a pirate should be. Soon enough, I motioned Ivanka's crew to continue as I ran to the crocodile, grabbing his hand as he followed. "Come on! Let's catch up!" Not thinking of anything when holding his hand, he was confused about why you were doing this but wasn't bothered from pulling away, as the two of you soon saw Luffy and the others.

Crocodile picked you up and used his sand to get you both quicker to them. You were in his arms as he landed, and Luffy smiled brightly, not bothered that the warlord was holding you, being careful not to drop you. "Y/n-san!!" He greeted, the others happy to see me again as Crocodile let me hop off, and I ran beside Jimbei. "How close are we to the next floor?!" Jimbei looked ahead. "Not far! You weren't kidding when you said you'd be five minutes! How did you manage that?” I smirked at his question. "A girl has her ways; now come on, everyone, let's go!"

"Yes!"

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

We all were still trying to get out of level four, as more marines and guards were still trying to stop us, but quickly failed as I got cut slightly, my mouth hissing before Mister One sliced the person in front of me, his head turning. "You alright?!" I nod, taking a deep breath before punching another guy coming at me; he is just dead, even from the slightest impact. "I'm fine! Let's continue!" He was confused and ducked from a sword about to slice him as Bon-chan kicked him away, the scissorsman cutting the man dead. "They just keep coming! They really hate us, pirates, huh?!" Crocodile scoffed, bringing one in the air as he landed beside me, glaring at Luffy. "What the hell are they supposed to do? Let us leave with kittens and rainbows as souvenirs?" Bon-chan slumped as Crocodile dodged more bullets. "That would be nice..." "EVERYONE! I SEE THE STAIRS TO THE NEXT FLOOR! I WILL OPEN THE DOOR!" Scissorsman yelled, as I nodded, following him first as everyone ran with us and followed.

Soon enough, we reached a large door, and the man used his scissors, cutting in different directions until he stopped, the door already opening by itself.

We stopped, not knowing what was happening as some prisoners were about to enter the door, until I saw someone on the other side. "Wait!" I yelled, causing them to stop. "There's someone there!" A weird-shaped man, who was twirling his sword in the air, was facing us; it slammed into the ground as he glared at us harshly. "No criminal has gotten past me here and escaped alive!" My head tilted with confusion as I pointed to him blankly. "Who is this?" Scissors man stood beside me. "He is Hannyabal-the vice warden of this prison." He stated as more prisoners came up from behind. I sensed something more wrong as I saw guns pointing at them, and my eyes widened. "GET DOWN!!" The prisoners suddenly listened as gunshots fired, Luffy and Crocodile blocking everyone from getting hit; as some got tied into nets, Luffy and I looked back with slight annoyance. "Luffy... there are probably gunmen hiding in the stairs case; we must fight through them after all." His teeth gritted, as did the scissorsman, the Vice warden laughing. "That is right; there is no escape for you all!" He confessed as Luffy walked forward. I was about to stop him until Jimbei put a hand on my shoulder, his head shaking. I sighed and looked like Luffy was fighting him, but the Vice warden's attacks were quick as he struggled.

But, as the sword was about to hit Luffy's neck, I stood before him, my teeth biting on the blade as I broke instantly, his and the other's eyes widening suddenly.

"E-EH?!!!!!"

It was like slow motion, as the pieces of the blade fell to the floor, Luffy and Jimbei looking at me with utter shock, as the Vice warden stepped back with fear. "N-Now, wait a minute, h-how." I gave him no time to speak as I stepped aside, Luffy running to him and giving the warden a final blow as he slid back, unconscious.

The other soldiers were terrified, but they attacked anyway as the others helped fend them off, as the exit was right in front of us. Once all of the soldiers on this floor were down, we took a second and looked to the stairs to floor four.

But when we all thought we could get to the third floor, black-like mist spread from the stairs, and the warden was soon kicked out of the way.

The man seemed familiar to everyone, as you were clueless as he was more extensive, uglier, and seemed powerful. His menacing laugh arose around us as his eyes looked up at us with a sinister smirk. "I-Ive met him at J-Jaya!" Luffy spoke, his eyes widening as both men stared each other down; tension was high in the air as this man blocked our chance again to the third floor. "Oh! Wow! So many familiar faces!Interestingly, I get to see them all at once CHEHAHAHAHAHA!!!" Everyone glared at him harshly, while I was still confused about who he was, as I looked at Jimbeis, fist clenching. "It seems like you all were in the middle of something!" Teech!!!" Jimbei roared as the man looked at him, and both glared harshly at each other, the tension just as high as before.

"WHY THE HELL ARE YOU HERE?!!!"

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[bow-of-aros]

Day Thirty-One: Aftercare

Summary:

Ted's convinced that he needs to do an entire personality overhaul in order to have people like him. His friends disagree.

Here it is folks! The last day! Thank you so much to everyone who's been reading this entire month, it's been an exhausting but incredible challenge. For my last entry, you get my longest fic of the series. Hope y'all enjoy and have a very happy Halloween <33333 (Special thanks to my lovely ☁️ anon, your asks have kept me going this month and I appreciate you SO MUCH!!!!!!!!)

It was finally Halloween, Ted’s favourite holiday of the year! A time when he could gorge himself on candy and drink a few beers on a weekday and be slightly less judged for it than he would on any other boring old day.

The best part though, was that he’d actually been invited to a party for the first time since he was a teenager! There’d been no dancing around him, no whispering plans to each other in the hopes that Ted wouldn’t hear, and no side-eyeing him when he got just a little too excited about this specific holiday because it meant that he could pretend to be somebody else.

Anyways.

Earlier in the week, Bill had come up to him and said that he was hosting a little Halloween movie night for the CCRP crew. He said that it was to keep them occupied while various younger family members did their thing, but Ted had caught a glimpse of the excited glimmer in Bill’s eye that had surely been mirrored in his own.

In the end, only Bill, Charlotte, Ted, and even Paul had made an RSVP, which was all good by Ted’s standards since he didn’t really give a shit about any of the other people.

Now all he had to do was not fuck this up for himself.

Sure, things were getting better between him and the rest of them. The whole near-death apocalypse experience that they’d all had had bonded them together with the added side effect of finally kicking Ted’s ass into gear about becoming less of a douchebag.

But when your life flashes before your eyes and you’re actively disgusted with yourself, that’s when you know that it’s time to make some changes.

Ted’s taking baby steps. He broke off the affair with Charlotte after her husband died, it just wasn’t right to keep screwing around while she was grieving. He stopped borderline harassing his coworkers—yikes—and that resulted in them talking to him if you can believe it.

He hasn’t done a complete personality revamp because, honestly, he didn’t really want to. He still makes dirty jokes and plays pranks on his coworkers. He hasn’t stopped bugging people but he is less of an asshole about it which people seem to appreciate, if begrudgingly.

Long story short, Ted’s been leaning more into being the office jester rather than the office sleazeball, and it’s been doing wonders on the amount of friends that he has.

Any amount of friends is higher than zero, to be fair, but now he had three.

Tonight’s gonna be different, though. Tonight’s the launch of a whole new Ted that people will actually want to be around. Time to shake off the remnants of his past self (Borat impressions included) and be a pleasant person to be around!

So, Ted sat in his car beside the cases of beer that he’d been tasked with bringing, trying to hype himself up like a loser before his first school dance.

“Alright Spankoffski,” He drummed his hands on the steering wheel, “This is your chance to prove to everyone that you’ve really changed. You are going to be nice, and friendly, and a normal, not disgusting or sleazy, human being.”

He pulled into Bill’s driveway, gathering the beers into his arms and pointing at himself in his rear-view mirror, “Do not fuck this up.”

It was already dark out when Ted knocked on the door, doing his best to appear relaxed as he waited.

The door swung open to reveal Bill beaming at him, “Ted! We’ve finally got everyone so now we can actually par-tay! Come on in!”

He’d gone all out as a skeleton with the face paint and everything making Ted feel a little self-conscious about his Mario costume that he’d managed to dig out of his closet at the last minute just because he already had the mustache.

All that melted away when he actually stepped inside to see Charlotte, dressed as Catwoman, look at him and say, “It’s-a-me! Mario!” and Paul, wearing a nametag that said “This is my Halloween costume,” look him over and give him an amused grin.

“Alright everyone, I am here and I’ve brought beer!” Ted hoisted the cases in the air, “Now we can have some real fun!”

And they cheered.

Yeah, this was going to be a good night.

And boy was it.

A couple hours later, Ted found himself squished between Paul and Charlotte and halfway through their second corny as hell horror movie. Jump scares didn’t affect Paul because of course they didn’t but Charlotte screamed every time, often hiding her face in either Ted or Bill’s chest when something she deemed scary happened.

It was really nice and, honestly, Ted and Charlotte had come to more of a mutual understanding that they worked well as friends, and Ted was astounded at how relaxed the atmosphere was. They were just a group of friends, drinking beer and eating candy while watching shitty Halloween movies.

Ted almost felt like he could be himself.

Almost.

The movie they were currently watching had a…well endowed female character, lets say. Normally, Ted would be cracking jokes left and right, and it seemed as though everyone expected him to by the way they shot him looks every time she was on the screen.

But he didn’t say anything, and nobody commented on it.

Until she fell into the water wearing a white tank top. Because of course she did.

“Damn! Talk about a—” The words were already halfway out of Ted’s mouth before he cut himself off, self-preservation instincts kicking in just a few seconds too late to save him from the looks he was inevitably going to get.

Except the looks he got weren’t the usual exasperation or disgust. They were more along the lines of…concerned?

Before Ted could shake off that thought, Bill leaned forward and said, “No! You’ve been too quiet all night, Ted and I know you want to say something, so have at it.”

Fucking what?

“Uh, no. I’m good, actually.” Was this a trap? This had to be some sort of trap, right?

Charlotte jostled him a little bit, “Seriously?! How about, like, I’d drink from those jugs any day!”

The impression pulled a snort from Bill who added, “Yeah! Or what about something along the lines of ‘I bet I could make her scream!’”

Okay. Those were pretty good. But this was new Ted, and new Ted didn’t make or laugh at jokes like that when desperately trying to get people to like him.

He managed to keep a relatively straight face as he said, “Sorry folks, I got nothing.”

With his gaze locked back on the screen, Ted missed the confused and slightly worried looks his friends were shooting at each other. He also missed the look of resigned determination that crept onto Paul’s face.

“Not even a ‘My wife!’ Ted?”

Hearing those words come out of Paul’s mouth felt like some sort of auditory hallucination. Ted would put real money on Paul never having seen Borat in his life, so his impersonation was more along the lines of an impersonation of Ted’s impersonation, which was funny as fuck.

Ted snorted out half of a laugh before getting himself back under control and attempting to mimic the unimpressed eyebrow raise Paul always gives him when he made jokes like that.

“Damn,” Bill whistled lowly, “I can’t believe that didn’t work. Are you feeling alright, Ted?”

Ted just scoffed, rolling his shoulders, “Yeah man! Just introducing you guys to the new and improved Ted 2.0! No more inappropriate jokes that everybody hates!”

He thought that that would settle it well enough, that everyone would breathe a sigh of relief and move on.

Except out of the corner of his eye, Ted could see Paul wince and he could hear Charlotte’s sad little, “Oh, Ted.”

Also, it was hard to miss the way Bill stood up and walked directly in front of him to stare him in the eyes with an odd look on his face.

“Ted, you know that we don’t hate your jokes, right?”

Oh shit. Everyone was looking at him, and it felt like things were getting serious, so Ted defaulted to his tried and true defense mechanism: Being a sarcastic asshole.

He pasted a sardonic grin on his face, “Oh come on, Billy. I may be an asshole but I’m not fucking stupid. I know how to take a hint or twenty.”

Bill’s expression shuttered before shifting into something harder.

You’ve really done it now, Spankoffski. No matter what you say it’s always the wrong fucking thing.

When Bill opened his mouth, Ted braced himself for a dressing down before getting kicked out to spend Halloween alone like he should have been doing all along.

“Ted’s being a bit of a grouch, huh guys? Why don’t we find something that’ll tickle his funny bone and crack a smile.”

And the way Bill said that combined with the looks he gave Paul and Charlotte suddenly made Ted very nervous for an entirely different reason.

The whiplash he’d gotten from the sudden change in the direction of the night meant that Ted hadn’t braced himself by the time Charlotte was enthusiastically agreeing and slipping her nails into his overalls to spider them over his stomach.

Ted immediately folded over with a panicked wheeze, “Wait! Char dohon’t! Shit Paul nohohohohoho!”

Paul, Mr. I’m-allergic-to-fun-and-laughter, decided to throw everytging Ted thought that he knew about him to the wind and immediately go for the fucking kill by digging his fingers into Ted’s ribs.

“NO! Nononononono wahahahait!” He started curling up into a ball and apparently Bill was not having that. He managed to grab onto both of Ted’s wrists and pull them away from his torso, leaving him defenseless to Paul and Charlotte’s attacks.

Of course, Charlotte immediately took advantage of this and wormed a hand in under his arm, giggling delightedly at the shriek it elicited.

“Char! I cahahahahan’t!” Bill tugged out his arms a little further, chuckling at him, “Bihihihihihill why?!”

“I told you that you were being a grouch! And I felt like it was the only way to get you to listen to what I’m about to say, starting with you are our friend and we genuinely appreciate that you try to make us laugh.”

Oh. Oh shit.

Apparently his struggling became a bit more pronounced at that because Ted could just barely hear a pointed “See?” over his laughter.

“Yeah, Ted!” Charlotte piped in, reaching down to scribble over his knees in a way that had him giggling like a fucking kid, “We like your company! We definitely appreciate that you’re putting effort into being less of an asshole but we don’t want you to completely change your personality!”

This was too much. Ted was going to die and his tombstone was going to say Cause of Death: His friends were nice to him and he didn’t know how to handle it.

Of course, that’s exactly when Paul decided to flutter a few fingers against his neck and, “Oh my God was that a snort?!”

Okay. Now he was going to die.

“Fuhuhuhuhuck off Pahahahaul!” And he took that to heart, moving right back to his ribs because he’s an evil monster, “Shitshitshit not thehehehere yohohou dick!”

Paul just talked right over him, “Just accept that we actually like you and your stupid jokes and that you don’t have to completely change yourself into someone you think we’ll like better, because we won’t.”

And Ted really didn’t want to, mostly because he’s not sure how much he believes it, but he also couldn’t take much more of this.

Alright. Fuck it.

“OKAY! Okahahahay you guys lihihike me!”

“And?” Charlotte prompted.

“Ahahand my—HEY! Andmystupidjokes!”

“Annnnnddddd?” Bill swung his arms around, making Ted sway in place.

Shit what was the last one?!

Oh right, “And I dohohon’t have to chahahange myself into sohohomeone I think yohohou’ll like better!”

“Because?” Oh Ted was so going to kill Paul for this when he was free.

“Behehehecause you WON’T! Now let me gohohoho you dihihicks!”

The tickling stopped, and Ted sagged into the couch. Paul wrapped an arm tentatively around his shoulder and he practically melted into the affection, stupid grin still plastered on his face.

Bill came back—when had he left?—and shoved a glass of water into Ted’s hands which he almost immediately downed in between heaving pants.

Charlotte moved in a little closer and started running a hand through Ted’s rumpled hair to smooth it back out and Ted almost passed out there and then.

“You guys suck.” It was unconvincing, the smile and petulant tone saw to that. It’s alright though because Ted didn’t really mean it anyway.

Bill started rewinding the movie to catch up on what they’d missed as he asked, “You doing alright over there? We didn’t kill you or anything?”

Ted just gave him a vague thumbs up which seemed to be enough for him.

“You know that we mean it, right? You’re our friend, Ted.” Paul’s quiet voice had the warmth creeping back into Ted’s face as he grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Fucking whatever you saps. Can we watch the movie now?”

But his grin grew a little wider, and if the next time that woman showed up on screen Ted had called out, “She could hallow my ween!” to the mock-dismayed groans of his friends?

Well, they had quite literally asked for it.

[whydoibe]

Ok, so here's a stupid what if for u, so this idea is what if jay was raised by Wu and if Wu couldn't find the other Ninja so the basic idea

So, jay is raised by Wu training constantly learning to use his element jay would be tasked by sensi with finding the golden weapons following sensis instructions locating the golden weapons but the sword of fire birds stolen and garmdon still escapes the underworld jay would free the dragons forming bonds with them all but the closets being wisp jay would get called to jamanci village realising who he's fighting isn't garmdon he uses the scyth of quakes to trap him leaving. Lloyd then frees the serptine, and jay has to clean up the pieces until he sees the monstary burned down wu looking distressed jay hugging him the 2 wondering finding the bounty Jay, somehow, making it fly jay goes on a quest hunting the snakes down pythor betraying Lloyd jay saving him becoming his big brother. Until on a mission hunting a the serptine, the sword of fire begins to get hot, really hot it burns jay cooling, and he follows it in a certain direction but before he could get to far wu tells him to be wary and leaves leaving wu alone with Lloyd kidnapped and the weapons a sword of fire he can't use to well because it's burning his hand. Jay leaps from the bounty.

Jay wonders the village the sword of fire calling to someone they must be close jay thought. Jay would spot a group of bandits robbing a girl, Jay, attempting to pull out the nunchucks, but by fates design, he pulls the sword of fire not having a much time to think charges at the attacker the firey blade scarying them off. Jay turns to make sure the lady's ok.

"U ok" Jay questions the lady turning to face him the lady jay imdently thought looked beautiful. She got up and dusted herself off.

"Yeah I'm fine" she states eyes meeting his.

"That's good names jay you sure ur fine"

"Yeah I am thanks for helping" she stopped "names nya"

"That's a nice name" Jay stated, indicating to Jay was about to continue the conversation before the sword of fire held in his grasp grew hotter. Jays hand burned before he couldn't take it dropping the blade on the ground in buring an imprent in the ground as it landed. Nya looked at the blade with confusion. "Hot"

"What?" Nya stared shocked

"The blade is burning up. It's impressive, honestly." nya looked down, not knowing why, but reaching down and "No, don't do that it'll burn, " Jay warned, but nya remained determined grabbing it the fire still buring but mangable.

"Wow, this blade is magnificent better than any my brothers forged," nya stated.

"Your brothers a blacksmith?" Jay mumbled, nya still clearly hearing it. "I need a couple of new weapons. Mind if I come over"

Nya turned to face jay she was smiling "sure but remember just because you saved me doesn't mean you get a discount if anything kai will chase you with a pitch fork for not imdently telling him."

"Fair," Jay paused, gears turning in his head. He followed nya through the village as he saw a blacksmith he recginised it this is were he stole the map to the golden weapons. Good times, as he entered the shop, he saw a sword that looked weirdly bent. "What the that's impressive on how poor it turned out." Jay reached out to touch it, noting that the only thing wrong with was the way it's bent.

"Yeah, I guess kai is out anyway. Yeah, my brother isn't that good of a blacksmith, " she said, seeing s note on the kitchen bench reading it.b"wont be back for a while your welcome to stick around to wait to buy anything"

"It's nearly perfect besides the gaint bend." jay grabbed it, and he knew the basics of forging sensi taught him to fix weapons, and it helped when inventing. "I could fix this," jay thought out loud. Nyas head turned to him with an expression reading i doubt you could but also if you do that you will die.

"Realy good luck kai hides the coal to light the forge." Jay turned to her, smirking.

"I don't need Coal. I have this," Jay raises the sword of fire, making it emanate flames. "So where's the forge?" nya pointed to the front ad. jay grabbed a couple of the misshapen blades and placed the sword in the forges furnace as the flames rose jay placed the sword into the inferno, bending it back into shape and repating it multiple times. Jay placed the swords on a stone using the shurkins to seal the heat away, pulling the sword from the furnace, letting the golden weapon cool.

"How did you do that?" nya sounded astonished as she picked up the newly fixed blade.

"Let's just say my dad taught me"

"You have parents lucky." Jay turned to nya concern written into his face."Oh yeah, our parents abandoned us, and my brother kinda raised me"

"How old was your brother?" Jay stated concerned

"Umm 6" nya mumbled jay stared at her blankly the sword of fire flaring up at his emotions

"Hu the least they could have dun was give u to a kind home" Jay explained "like mine did" he added. Nya took a second to process that last part before not prying any further.

"What you need weapons for?" Nya asked

"What don't I need them for I need new swords because sensi took the only good ones besides this bad boy" said pointing to the sword of fire "I also need more weapons because I have to fight an army of snakes and prevent the realise of an ancient evil all by myself" nay looked at him confused.

"Nya I'm home" a vioce called out. "Where are you"

"I'm at the forge kai" nya replied

"What I told you to not touch it," kai replied, walking into the forge only to imdently notice jay. "Who are you? Why are u?" kais eyes noticed the swords."What did you do!!!" Kai called getting angry.

Jay noticed the sword of fire growing hotter " I fixed them how much?" Jay replied kais eyes went wide.

"Wait, you're buying them," kai muttered in astonishment. "Uhhh, I haven't really thought about that" jays eyes locked with kai before the sword of fire began to glow brighter.

"What the that's not one of mine"

"Yeah it's mine and..." jay trailed connecting the dots "your kai smith" Jay thought out loud.

"How do you yeah what of it" jays eyes widiened further. Jay smilled

"My God, I stumbled upon the master of fire and water without even realising it you need to come with me my ships not to far from here I'll explain on the way" Jays breathing getting faster a smile forming on his face follow grabbing the sword of fire grabbing the other swords.

"Wait, what do you mean master of fire and water?" Jay smircked,

"Yeah jay your acting weir-" Jay didn't let her finish

"You two are the master of fire and water that's why the sword is getting hotter it found its master if you want to learn how to harness it and use your elements follow closely" Jay finished running out nya curious followed him kai ran after nya pleading but jay didn't slow down so nethier did nya or kai.

-----

After a while, they stopped and saw a gaint ship jay standing on the deck beckoning them upwards. nya ran onto the deck kai, collecting himself on finally being able to rest.

"Welcome to the bounty my home" Jay stated pointing indacting to the ship

"It's a ship. This wasn't here yesterday how" nya was astonished so was kai Jay smiled.

"I flew here it flys" Jay finished

"OK elements serptine ninja dark lords fine but flying ships" Jay disappeared with a flash as the bountys engines start and kai looks over to the ground, leaving their feet. "OK this guys attualy impressive" Jay ran back out

"Wait if you're out here who's piloting the ship," nya asked, scared.

"Auto pilot, I'm that big of an idiot nya" Jay stated. " I don't believe we've met propaly jay wu"

Kai looked at jay with distant admiration. "kai smith, nice to meet you, but now I want an explanation about what you said earlier"

"Yeah what about elements?" Nya added.

"Well, sit long before time had a name the first spinjitzu master created ninjago using 4 elemental weapons these 4 were the shurkins of ice sword of fire scyth of quakes and nunchucks of lighting" Jay started pulling out the weapons and laying them out "but then a great evil lord garmdon emerged to collect the weapons but my father sensi wu collected them first with my help and garmdon ran away but he sort out the other masters unable to find them he decided to give up eventually my cousin Lloyd garmdon freed the snakes and started traing here"

"Wait, what the person who freed your enemies is the son of the big bad is training Herr where is this little crap head" kai snarled

"He was captured, but that's not the point a lesson my father taught me was the greatest way to defeat your enemy is to make them your friend but let me continue kai you are the master of fire and nya your the master of water so i ask do you want to become ninja It comes with some snazzy outfits" Jay finished.

Kai and nya looked at each other the same thought this kid had proof and could show them these powers so it was obvious.

"We accept

______________

Notes this will be continued this chapter title is

The boiling sea

So jays not Wu bio son, but still, his son Jaya will be a thing eventually.

So the next chapter will just be expanding kai and nyas' relationship with jay. Jay likes the to of them at the moment next ninja I will introduce will be Zane the shurkins and an ice dragon will lead them that's all folks have a good time till next time

[swarmingbats]

Releasing the Reins

A little microfic inspired by @sex-obsessed-lesbian's twitter prompt 'trancing someone as a submissive act (/being tranced as a dominant one).'

Enjoy!

. . .

“Oh really?”

Becca’s eyes lit up with glee as the weeks of dropping hints and subtle suggestions were finally paying off.

“Really. You have been working so hard, I can see that you need a break. Plus, you keep telling me that I’m just too submissive to hypnotize you. That I’m too much of a ‘bottom.’ Well, I’m gonna prove you wrong!”

Cy’s bratty tone of defiance was always such a delight to Becca’s ears. Becca hovered her hand before them, thumb resting against the pad of her middle finger, threatening to snap. Cy flinched.

“I stand by my claims. Still, I suppose it would only be fair to let you try. You’ve been to so many cons and you’ve been under enough times, I’m sure you’ve figured out how it works… Do you really think you are up to the task? You know how few people I’ve let inside my head.”

Cy puffed their cheeks and nodded.

“I want to help you, Becca. Let me show you just a fraction of how you make me feel. I want to try.”

Becca clicked her tongue, feigning skepticism. 

“Think of it as our nightly ritual. Except, this time, my servitude is putting you under.”

She knew that Cy could not act without her explicit command, and they were staring up at Becca with pleading eyes from their position on the floor.

“Alright, Cy. You seek my approval and you want to help me relax. Those are not instincts I should fight against. Rally that empty little head of yours and hypnotize me.”

Cy practically bounced with excitement, jumping up to her feet and standing upright.

“Thank you, Mistress. Um… Well, you’re already all comfy in that chair so just take a deep breath in, and slowly let it out.”

Becca followed the instructions without resistance. It was an induction she was very familiar with. She wrote it in Cy’s head, after all. 

She watched as Cy removed something from one of their pockets. They held it in their palm and let it drop before Becca’s eyes. It was an amethyst crystal attached to a gold chain and the light reflected distractingly off of each and every facet.

Cy held it so that the crystal was above Becca’s line of sight, forcing her eyes to look up to see the crystal. It was a position that would eventually make a person’s eyelids tired, a perfect primer to drop someone into trance.

“Watch the crystal, Mistress. Follow it as it swings back and forth across your eyes.”

Becca was impressed. With their tendency toward natural hypnotic amnesia, she did not expect Cy to have such perfect recollection of the script Becca placed in their head.

She followed the crystal back and forth as she thought on her weeks spent programming Cy. She knew that the natural brat would take the bait of challenge immediately. Their instinctive pull to resist everything Becca said was easy to twist.

Cy’s words became muffled as she followed the twinkling amethyst, her eyes beginning to lag ever so slightly behind each swing. If Cy was paying attention, they would notice the subtle change in Becca’s eyes and move to the next step.

Cy spoke more muted words that Becca was too sleepy to decipher. She really did need to relax. She was tired and stressed, she needed a break. 

More than anything, she needed to drop into trance.

Her eyelids fluttered ever so slightly, fully unable to keep up with the crystal any longer.

“Sleep, Mistress. Fall for me.”

Trance felt like a long lost memory to Becca. It had been so long since she had let someone else have sway over her mind. She had been hurt too many times. 

But, She trusted Cy. She loved Cy. 

That was why she trained her toy to hypnotize her. This was what she wanted.

Becca was still in control, even if she fell into trance. She held Cy’s reins and that was a comforting feeling.

She started to slip and as she did, she realized that it would still be okay if she lost control. If it was Cy in her head, everything would be alright.

It was this final acceptance that allowed her tired and weak eyes to shut, and her body to fall limp against the chair.

“Good, Mistress. Let the warmth of trance envelop you. You are safe.”

Her consciousness floated away from her body, lost in a sea of deep relaxation.

“I wanted nothing more than to make you feel at peace, Mistress. Now, I want to show you how good a tongue feels against your pussy when you are so far gone like this. Can I service you further, Mistress? Please say yes.”

There was a brief flash of fear in Becca’s gut, her face showing brief concern. She was still afraid, but Cy’s comforting words bounced around her skull.

‘You are safe.’

She wanted this. This was the script.

Her voice came out in sleepy tones, lingering on syllables and slurring words together.

“Yes. Good toy, Cy.”

“Thank you, Mistress!” 

The smile on Cy’s face was audible in her voice. Becca felt fingers and hands up her legs, lips kissing up her thighs. They were like electric bliss. She felt Cy remove her underwear from under her skirt, exposing her to the cool air.

Becca could no longer hold on to the reins when Cy’s lips and tongue met with her pussy. 

She released her hold on control and fell into the ecstasy that her submissive was providing.

.    .    .

“And 3, awake. Floating for as long as you need to.”

Becca’s eyes fluttered open, immediately aware of the cold damp spot on her skirt. The gears in her head started to whir back into life, catching up on the situation.

“Mm. Hi, Cy. How long was I out?”

Cy smiled up at her and showed Becca a timer on their phone. It read twenty minutes and some seconds in change. It was exactly according to the script and Becca breathed a sigh of relief.

“How did I do, Mistress?”

Becca stretched her arms out and straightened her back, working the last bit of sleepy trance out of her muscles.

“Well, I haven’t felt this relaxed since… since ever, actually. I think you did a great job. Good toy. Thank you.”

Cy beamed at the praise and nestled her head on Becca’s lap.

“I’m so glad. I don’t know what came over me, it was like another person was speaking for me. I didn’t even know I knew how to do all that…

Can we do it again?”

Becca laughed and smiled, gently running her fingers through Cy’s dark hair. 

“I think we can. Maybe next time I’ll let you go off script.”

Their cheeks turned a bright pink as they finally pieced the puzzle together. Cy giggled and gave a small nod in response.

“That sounds fun.”

[chordsykat]

Your OC is planning their wedding. Their phone is ringing off the hook and emails keep flooding their inbox. So many people are giving their opinion about what they should and shouldn't do. -What are some of their coping mechanisms when things get too stressful? Would they work in this situation?

Let's throw it together with last' week's:

Holy shit guys... It's time for some prose..?!

This is a story I just started writing with the objective of hitting all the prompts. Just writing without stopping. One edit. Fair warning for Cajita self-indulgent bullshit with only mentions of canon stuff (and a very special candle) below the cut. :)

benedictio militis

Planning a wedding was stressing me out. I sat at the bar of our spacious kitchen, staring at stacks of mail. I didn’t know where to begin, really, so I just picked the smallest pile and began working my way through. It was bills, mostly. Caterers, flower shops, and bachelorette party favors from Spank-Me Mama; all of them looking for a down-payment.

The worst ones were the designers. Everyone in the world of fashion had caught wind of our ceremony, and they were all chomping at the bit to get us to wear something from their collections. I had my attire fully picked out by then, but my girlfriend, with her hyperfixation on small details, was at a loss on accessories. Every watch-maker, jeweler, and yes, even one specialty cowboy hat millner had sent us their full catalogs.

It was then I realized I should have been happy that Caj and I would be marrying substantial fortunes together in our upcoming nuptials. And yet, the checks still had to be written by someone, and that someone appeared to be me.

As if I wasn’t unmotivated enough by the task itself, the power going out at exactly the same time I’d picked up my pen killed any impulse I might have ridden into action.

“Perfect.” I said to the dark, empty room.

I looked around as best I could, only at that moment realizing I wasn’t sure where my bride-to-be had cloistered herself in the mansion. To make matters more unnerving, Caj could make herself completely undetectable when she wanted to sneak up on someone. You could take the assassin out of the business, but you couldn’t take the business out of the assassin, as it were.

I suddenly couldn’t shake the weird feeling that I was being hunted, then.

Time to light candles. I only managed to find one – a prayer candle of “St. Charles Offdensen” my mother had made for us as a joke (and one that turned out to be a self-fulfilling prophecy for how things ended up with the CFO, Dethklok, and the Church of the Black Klok). It might have been more appropriate in the situation than I knew at the time, and either way, it would have to do. I found a lighter and lit the wick.

The little fire lifted my mood, but I felt the air around me change direction. An area of occupied silence was at once, behind me, and upon turning around, it was vacant again. I felt my heart beating and scrunched my nose. She was toying with me, now.

“Caj -” I said. My eyes scanned the area, but even with the faint light of the candle, there was no sign of her.

I took St. Offdensen over to the bar where the mail sat waiting and a brown, official-looking envelope caught my eye. I pulled it out of the pile and noticed that the address read like the title of a novel about space-fae. There was an official-looking seal with gold embellishments all around the edge. Immediately, I recognized it as the opportunity it was…

“Hey, hon? What’s a Danbro-orden-nen-nen?”

The clamor that arose from the pantry space behind me was impressive for how it tore the silence of the moments preceding it to shreds. My fiance appeared from the darkness, and I wasted no time laying into her.

“Oh you psycho! You know how I hate it when you sneak up!”

I punched her arm lightly, but she didn’t flinch. Her attention was fixed on the brown envelope in my hands.

“What did you just ask me?” Caj asked, and quite seriously.

“Hell, I don’t know! I have no idea how your crazy language works.” I handed her the parcel.

She looked at it and her face went pale. She reached behind her for the island and leaned against it so her rangy-self could collapse onto a stool. She tore the envelope, pulled another envelope sealed in wax from inside of it, and pulled that one apart to read the note it contained at last.

I couldn’t help but notice how her hands shook as her eyes scanned through the words.

“Dette er Dannebrogordenen.” she said in her space-faerie language. “Oh shit.”

“Is that bad?”

“No.”

She swallowed and looked at me with eyes that could only be described as pleading.

“Nita. I am being knighted.”

“Oh my God!” I suddenly found myself jumping up and down, my voice making all kinds of weird noises.

My girlfriend, however, was petrified. She sat in stunned silence for about a minute before I decided to poke.

“Hey. What gives? You're not excited?” I tried. “So what happens? Do they do a ceremony and you get to meet the queen? Oh! Do they give you a suit of armor?”

“It’s a little pin. Thingy.” Caj said and didn’t stop staring into space. And then she admitted something, “I can’t do it, Nita. It’s too much.”

Her leg was bouncing up and down as her foot tapped at a rapid staccato on the stool. It was cute seeing my typically braver-than-brave mate scared by the situation, but not so much as it became apparent she was quickly coming undone by the pressure implicit in the situation.

Taking matters into my own hands, I took the letter from her.

“This says it’s for your music and your work with children.” I paused frequently, still a novice in the art of reading Danish. “What’s deeb statens feyender?”

This at least got a chuckle out of her, “It’s dræbe statens fjender, it means ah -”

I smiled when she smiled.

“Nevermind what it means. It is a lot, I suppose I am trying to say. It is an incredible honor. I am not exactly feeling worthy of it. I'm not a hero, Nita.”

I pulled her in close and felt her rest her cheek against my neck. I loved it when she sat down and I got to be the taller one for once.

“Well I think you’re plenty worthy. And from the way you chased me around the kitchen without being spotted a minute ago, hoo. You haven’t lost your edge, either.”

“You are still working on t’mail?”

“Yeah, someone’s gotta.”

“I took care of all t’at stuff two nights ago, my Nita.”

I blinked, turned away for a moment and looked at the stack, then back at her. “You did?”

“I did.” She said. “It was a pain in the ass but I wanted to get it off your plate. Everything but my problem finding the right accessory piece for my ensemble, t’at is.”

I smirked and shoved her in the arm again. “I love you.”

She looked at me with her usual fierceness, all pretense of fear gone from her countenance. “I love you, too.”

I sighed. We kissed. Another crisis averted.

“Too bad you don’t think you have the requisite shining armor points to go get that pin thingy from the queen. It might look good on your tux.” I said.

She laughed again. “I hadn’t even t’ought of it until now, but you’re right. I can see t’is as killing two bald eagles with one nuclear weapon. Whatever t’at American saying is.”

“That you could, honey. That you could.”

I pulled up a stool beside her and considered how bad it would be to not call anyone about the power fluctuation for another hour.

“So.” I said, putting my hands on her shoulders, “With all these hours left in the day, and no power, I don’t think we’ll be doing a lot of recording, tonight. What ever shall we do with our time?”

--

Another enjoyable Storyteller Saturday and lots of fun to just do something for shits and giggles as always. Thank you, Pan! :D

[theviceadmiralswife]

Alignment fever chapter 1 part 3

part 3.......

..."Uhm sir, thats… very impressive.. but I better leave and attend my duties , sir!", she says quietly. A stretched out rumble coming from his chest was Dalamtians only reply :" Mhhh!".y/n stepped back, this was becoming hihgly creepy now to her, as she didnt know that it was her heat that made Dalmatian loosing his mind right now. As y/n took a step back his tail wrapped around her leg, attempting to pull her closer. Dalmatian licked his jowls, his hand grabbing to her waist. "Vice admiral Dalmatian….?? whats going on? What are you doing?", she asked in fear as the obvious overpowering Dalmatian pulled her closer, sniffing her neck again a soft growl escaping his throat. y/n small fists hammered on his chest madly. "Let go… Dalmatian..Let go…stop!", she shouted angry,"… this is… this is NOT appropriate!". Dalmatian heard her words but it didnt register anymore. Her scent changed into an even stronger heat and he freaking loved, raw lust started to built inside him, his tongue flicked out, slowly dragging across her neck, as he began to drool. “Mhmh…” He kept licking up her neck, still holding her “Your body smells and tastes soooo goood, and I love it so much…” His tongue began to lick her neck faster and faster as soon as he said this, causing him to pant harder as well. He sniffed her neck again as he still licked her before he looked at her eyes “Mmm, you smell soooo goood, I want your entire body to myself…” He began to suck on her neck slowly while looking at her eyes. y/n trembled, her fists hitting his chest harder and harder but there was no escape of Dalmatians firm grip, to him her resistance was part of an ancient primal game it was too cute, not so for y/n. Dalmatians rational thoughts were almost turned off, his ears perked up he could here someone coming down the hallway and stopping in front of his office door…. SLAP , he didnt register how fast or hard but y/n hand hit him like a lightning strike, it hurt his rather sensitive dog snout, he could tell y/n aimed on purpose for this sensitive facial part of his Dalmatian hybrid form. He dropped her instantly y/n got asap onto her feet, walking fast away to the door… it did the trick Dalmatian shook his head wildly. " Wait y/n I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to…please come back.!", he huffed exhausted from controlling his desires.

y/n didnt look back, she was hot and flustered as hell, feeling still feverish and sweaty as she made it in strides to the office door, which opened at the same time. Dalmatians second in command his Captain Gero stepped into the office. y/n lowered her head passed Captain Gero mumbling a greeting and grabbed the kitchen cart with the water, pushing it agressively along to the next vice admirals office and doing her duty. "Come back", Dalamatian whispered to himself, he was angry with himself on top of that… it wasn't fair to her to be so forceful certainly not without explonation, but then again she might not understand after all she was pure human. " Geeze some people just cant handle the heat!", Captain Gero remarked shaking his head. He approached Dalmatian with a pile of paperwork that neede to be discussed for the next mission, it was back to business. Later on in the afternoon Dalmatian went to the HQ cafeteria where the marines went for their breaks, not many where there just a few recruits and captains with their wives and children. Dalmatian looked at these families with a wistful look on his face, he is 47 now the likelyhood and then… the other thing..!! He shook his head as he approached the buffet and hot food counter, his intent was food yes, but he also wanted to see if he could spot y/n down here during her work, he would do anything to apologise for his primal behaviour. Dalamatians nose flared up with all the smells here near the kitchen it was almost an impossible task to locate it, other females where in their cycles too, but Dalmatian didnt care the only scent he wanted was y/n. He closed his eyes his nose scanning through the barrage of scents and smells. THERE, there it was the scent, her heat, her natural odour her lovely soft flowery and musky perfume, his tail started fliking with great interest, as he opened his eyes his tongue licked his jowls. She was doing prepwork in the back of the kitchen so Dalmatian couldn't talk to her. He sighed he would wait for a chance. His eyes opened but to Dalmatians dismay his look was greeted by the Lunch lady that was in charge of the cafeteria and her brigade of cooks and she had seen enough and stared Dalamatian down. He collected his thoughts and ordered food to eat in the cafeteria, the faint yet strong scent of y/n heat always present. Dalamatian would come down the next 2 days doing the same thing, unfortunately the heatwave at Marineford got worse and worse, people like recruits or even the HQ staff had to stay at home unable to work in such conditions. Leaving fewer and fewer people to work the kitchen. On day 3 Dalmatian came down to the cafeteria again just to find it closed to the weather circumstances, y/n scent of her heat had dissapeared.

end of chapter 1

[ipsen]

Blank Canvas 11

Read on AO3. Word Count: 3153 Summary: Kaneki has a specific image of himself on the beach. Chapter 10 Chapter 12 Master Post

When Kaneki imagined himself on the summer beach, it went something like this:

The salt on the wind. The tantalizing scent of sizzling meat. Pelts of laughter from the others. A book in his hand, and him peacefully turning the pages beneath an umbrella in a chair.

(He also imagined Takatsuki nearby with the same book. They would pause after every chapter or so and discuss their thoughts, both similar and different. Her ideas burned hot and angry, yet they could be comforting. His shifted like water, yet they could topple buildings. They would blend together into a steam that differentiated between none and became all.)

Or, perhaps, he would be drawing the scenery. The tide, calm or aggressive, lapping at the shore. The smoke from the grill curling into the air. Everyone’s smiling faces as they kicked up the sand with their feet. Stories always needed moments of levity to counterbalance and enhance the pathos. A vacation like this was perfect for ideas. Takatsuki had some lighter moments in her short stories, but she was surprisingly hands-off with him. She never said why, and he’d never tried asking. It was just how things were.

(He should’ve asked Chie for a camera. Oh well.)

Regardless, Kaneki was not sharing thoughts beneath a private umbrella by the shore, nor was he holding a sketchbook and rubbing graphite between his fingers— both things that he would much rather be doing. In reality, his book and his drawing materials were in a bag next to Miza and Takatsuki. He never thought he’d be jealous of his belongings, and to such a high degree, too.

Takatsuki had her hair pulled back into a messy bun. At this point, he was sure it was her favorite style besides having her hair down, given how easy it was to do and how often she did it. As for her swimsuit, she wore a black wetsuit with bright white sleeves underneath a T-shirt and shorts.

He allowed himself to stare for a moment. Even at the beach in the summer sun, she insisted on covering herself head to toe. And again, she never said why, and he never asked. At least this time, she was underneath an umbrella, helping Shiori build sandcastles with Miza.

Kaneki was not so fortunate. He had the privilege of being beneath the sun, no protection, and staring at Naki, Tatara, and Big Bin— all shirtless, all muscular (which would make for a good reference later)— through a network of net. A net-work, his unhelpful brain supplied.

Middle Bin, hands on his hips, sucked in a breath and said what Kaneki was honestly thinking. “I dunno about this, Ayato. I could probably take Naki, but my brother? And Tatara?”

Ayato glared. “You implying I’m not up to the task?”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just, well… Yeah, you’re strong, but let’s face facts: it’s Tatara. Tall, athletic, competitive. He’s the whole package.” He gestured to the man stretching his impressive biceps across large pecs. “I’m all for a friendly match, but a fair one, this is not.”

“Middle Bin.” Ayato folded his arms. “My sister’s the top fighter in her judo class. She has a winning ratio against everyone who's ever dared to fight her.”

Kaneki screwed his eyes shut.

“Her lowest ratio is against this guy.” Ayato jabbed a finger at Kaneki.

There it was. “I-It’s really not that big a deal.” Kaneki waved his hands in the air. “Besides, judo and volleyball are two completely different things—”

“You clowns ready to rumble?!” Naki shouted from the other side, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Nobody here actually plays volleyball, Tree Branch,” Ayato said hastily. “So it comes down to synergy and ability.”

“Sure,” Middle Bin said, “but c’mon. Look at them.”

If Kaneki didn’t know any better, Naki was a large kid on a sugar high. Big Bin stretched his legs (very impressive calves and thighs). Tatara rolled his shoulder, radiating competitive, though friendly, menace.

“Hey.” Ayato, also looking at the opposition, clamped a hand on Kaneki’s shoulder. “Take off your shirt too.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Take off. Your shirt. Too,” Ayato repeated. “We need to intimidate Naki.”

“What does me being shirtless have to do with—”

“Naki might not seem it, but he’s incredibly perceptive— when it comes to someone’s physical strength.” He hastily added the last part. “We need to give him a reason to be nervous. It’ll help us if he messes up early.”

“But that’s only once! Once they see me in action, it’ll fall apart!” Kaneki could already see himself with a face full of sand. Takatsuki might laugh at him. That might not be so bad, making her smile. He’d consider it if the team started losing badly.

Ayato rolled his eyes. “Dude, you’ll be fine. I believe in you or whatever. Just do it.”

“But—!” He inadvertently glanced toward Takatsuki, who was paging through a book. He wondered what book it was. “I, well, I—”

Ayato followed his gaze, saw Takatsuki, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. His voice lowered to a whisper. “You’re hopeless, dude, you know that? You and I both know she wants to see you shirtless.”

“No she does not,” Kaneki hissed back, even though he was curious to know if she did.

“You done yet?” Naki asked impatiently. “If you want Sasaki to take his shirt off, you gotta try harder than that!”

Kaneki saw Takatsuki, for the briefest of moments, flick her gaze up, before immediately going back to reading. Middle Bin approached him and Ayato, grinning. “I think you’ve got your answer, Sasaki,” he whispered. “Go on.”

With a resigned sigh, Kaneki, red as a tomato, discarded his shirt and took his position.

It was a normal body, he told himself. Just average, like anyone else. Sure, when he looked at himself in the mirror, he occasionally saw that scrawny boy again, with bruises across his arms and occasionally his chest, but those were days long gone, and they weren’t coming back. In place of bruises were toned muscles trained by himself and by Touka. With them, he would defend that scrawny boy. He would—

A sudden sputtering noise interrupted his train of thought. Everyone— everyone— turned to see Takatsuki choking on her drink.

“Sorry!” she coughed, waving them off. “Wrong pipe! Fuck—”

Shiono, manning the grill, immediately went over to check on her, while strangely enough, Miza burst out laughing.

Kaneki’s ego, meanwhile, roared from its pit, demanding to feed upon the swelling pride expanding across his mind and threatening to spill over, but he was vigilant. When its claws found purchase on the surface, he beat it back the way a hero slew their enemies. A protagonist of humility. Takatsuki had simply choked on her drink— correlation, not causation.

In public, he cleared his throat. “I-I’m ready!” he said, trying not to scratch where the sun tickled his bare chest.

“Alright,” Yumitsu called from a high chair, playing referee, “First to five points wins!”

“Ready to get crushed?!” Naki shouted.

“We’ll see about that…” Ayato grumbled, rolling his shoulders.

“Let’s have a clean match, guys!” Big Bin grinned.

Kaneki glanced between Ayato and Middle Bin, who looked excited to play. It was almost infectious, and the more he thought about it, the less he minded the idea of winning. It’d make for a good story to tell Hide.

He wondered if Takatsuki would be impressed if he won.

Alright, yeah.

She didn’t seem the type, but on the off chance she was, well—

Yeah. Let’s try to win.

It wouldn’t hurt.

Win…

—

“Left, left, left!”

“Okay, a bit more forward! Oh, back back back!!”

“S-Sasaki— Pffhahahaha!!— Wrong way, dude!”

Humiliation was not the right word to describe how Kaneki, stumbling dizzily about in a blindfold (with his shirt back on) for watermelon splitting, felt at the moment, but it would have to do.

Honestly, he should have expected the loss; Big Bin, Naki, and Tatara had far more synergy and experience with each other than he, Ayato, and Middle Bin did. It wasn’t a slaughterfest, but it wasn’t exactly close, either. There were a thousand ways he could have improved, but the benefit of hindsight was forever cursed to come after the fact.

“Go, go!”

“It’s right in front of you!!”

Oh, thank goodness. He swung down with all his might, and felt the bat sink into a fleshy material. A direct hit.

“Alright!” he heard Ayato shout. “A rematch, like you said, Naki! One-on-one if Tree Branch got a hit!”

“Woo!” came Naki’s response. “Let’s do it!”

Kaneki was just grateful he didn’t have to play again.

The beach didn’t last forever; the sky turned orange, people got tired, and the fireworks show was soon on the horizon. It would begin early in the evening, so any time in the hot springs was reserved for after.

On the large porch at the resort overlooking the city, a few tables and chairs were set up. Naki and Shiono had cooked up a huge feast for all to enjoy. Kaneki stood in the background, letting everyone take what they wanted before going for something himself. He wasn’t a very picky eater, anyway; sure, he had his favorites, but he’d make do with the leftovers. Besides, he technically wasn’t even supposed to be here. By that logic, any food for him should be leftovers.

Alas, a storm of energy with hair like grass beneath the sunrise had other plans. She was the first to grab two(?!) plates and fill them up, but instead of sitting down and getting started, she marched straight up to him and held one of them out.

“You look hungry,” Takatsuki commented. “Go on, take it.”

“Er…” He wasn’t sure how to respond. “I-I can get the food myself; you can—”

“Take it,” she repeated, more insistent this time. “Don’t tell me you’re turning down your favorites!”

He took a second look at the plate: a few corn cobs, some spears of asparagus, two slices of tomatoes, a glob of mashed potatoes, and a large slab of a familiar meat.

(It was just a little begging…)

Across their culinary adventures the past few months, he supposed he had gravitated towards similar things throughout. However, that wasn’t because he was picky; he just had never really been one for adventuring beyond his current palette, which was more than enough for a healthy diet.

He hadn’t realized that his… acquaintance in those adventures was actually looking at his plate while she sampled as much of the menu as she could in a single order.

Kaneki stared at it. “You…?”

“I am an author.” She shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”

It would be rude to turn her down after all the trouble. “Thank you…”

She smiled. “Enjoy the show, Haise.”

“Um, actually, I—” he began, but when he looked up, he saw her mane of hair disappear back indoors.

Before he could follow, someone bumped against his shoulder and stopped him.

“Sh-Shiono!” he stammered.

“Hey, Sasaki!” Shiono had a fresh plate of food and a drink. “Talk with me a bit?”

There was an unidentifiable edge to his voice that made Kaneki nervous, and as Shiono led him far, far away from the others (or as far from them as they could be on a porch, even if it was a large one), the feeling only worsened.

What could Shiono possibly want to talk about? All sorts of scenarios ran through Kaneki’s head. Was the script not up to par? Was his art just that disgusting to behold? Was he being interrogated for misconduct in the workplace? Ami never really liked him; had she filed a report? Had he overstepped his boundaries?! Was this vacation all just a ruse to let him down gently?! That was… kinda cruel, honestly, but at least he had a good meal to eat when—

“Are you in love with Sen, or am I misreading things?”

What.

What was once a growing fear turned into abject horror and embarrassment. Kaneki would rather get fired a thousand times over than hear that question. “W-Well, I— I don’t—” He scratched wildly at his face as it itched with heat. “I wouldn’t say— I-I mean, that is to say that I, um, well—”

Shiono laughed. “Sorry, sorry. I don’t mean to embarrass you, but it seems like the others’… efforts to get you two to say something isn’t working, so I figured I’d give it a shot.”

‘Efforts’? “Efforts?”

His brow furrowed. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. Your tickets to the play, the room arrangements— Ever since it came out that you were getting invited here, Miza and the Bins’ve been bending over backwards to get you alone and get either one of you to say something to the other.”

“But I don’t— I mean, she doesn’t even—” Kaneki sputtered. ‘Say something’? Really? And ruin all these months of hard work?

Shiono rolled his eyes. “Sasaki, I’m gonna be straight with you— Sen’s been head over heels for you for a while now.”

If Kaneki had had the stomach to eat during this conversation, he would have spit it out over the edge of the handrail.

“I’ve been raising the kiddo for thirteen years now.” The weight of that statement made even Shiono shiver slightly. “I know when she likes someone.”

Kaneki latched onto that first statement. “W-Wait a minute, you’re her—?”

“Father, more or less. Second adoptive one, to be more specific.” Shiono took a drink. “Her first one died, and she spent about a year in an orphanage before I entered the picture. As for her biological father, he’s alive, but, well… Yeah.”

Kaneki, relaxing, took a thoughtful bite of some meat, chewing to focus and digest the new information. Noroi Takatsuki had adopted Takatsuki, then died in the incident with Kasuka Mado. Takatsuki herself was involved with that event, but instead of having her record stained, she was sent to an orphanage, and Donato took the fall due to an unknown party.

“As you’ve probably figured, I met Sen when she was fifteen.” Shiono swirled his drink in his cup. “She wanted to submit what would become Dear Kafka, and I was the one she talked to for that. She was wearing unwashed clothes and shoes stuffed with napkins to fit her feet. She kinda smelled too, but don’t tell her I said that.

“I remember thinking, ‘Poor kid.’ She had that look in her eyes, the kind that told me that she’d lost something precious, and now she only had herself to count on. Most people would say, ‘she’s so mature’, but what kinda kid is self-reliant at fifteen? It’s messed up, is what it is.”

Kaneki happened to glance at Ayato, who was cackling at a joke Yumitsu had cracked. Ayato and Touka hadn’t always gotten along, and she once confessed that he’d run away from the orphanage they were at once, after an argument neither remembered anymore. He didn’t get far— he was only twelve— but Kaneki shuddered to think of what would have happened if he’d actually left.

Takatsuki must have experienced something similar. All alone, with no one who understood, except for the halls of her own mind.

“She was so nervous too, rubbing her wrists and glancing around like she might get attacked any second now. I didn’t think it then, but that was probably when I decided I’d adopt her.” Shiono glanced out at the ocean, toward that distant memory.

It must have meant so much to her, Kaneki thought. Someone who brushed aside the bad stuff and embraced her, even if they didn’t really understand. He felt the same about Hide, Touka, and everyone at Apes & Dobers. So many friends and experiences, even if their pieces didn’t quite fill the hole.

“That’s all to say,” Shiono took a swig of his drink, “kiddo’s had it rough. She’s gotten better, yeah, but part of that pain’s never really gone away, even though I’ve tried my best. Unfortunately, there are some things I can never fix, both as her friend and as her father.”

Kaneki’s brow furrowed. Where was he going with this?

“This’s a bit weird to ask, Sasaki, but… Be good to her. Can you do that for me?”

He tilted his head. “Er, sure? I, um, wasn’t planning to be… bad to her…?”

Shiono blinked, then burst into laughter. Full peals, sort of like Takatsuki. He really was her father.

“W-What?”

“Nothing, nothing! You’re a funny guy, Sasaki.” He put his drink down. “I can see why Sen laughs and smiles far more with you.”

She did? “Sh-She does?”

“You’re oblivious to your influence, huh? You’re just like Sen. Maybe that’s why she likes you so much.” Shiono shrugged with a smile. “She doesn’t have to explain why to you; you just get it.” 

“But I—” I’m just her artist, her coworker, he wanted to say. An acquaintance of a few months. And even then, there are others far more qualified than— “Me?”

“Is it so hard to believe? Sen wouldn’t keep you around if she didn’t like you; she’d toss you out to the wolves instead.”

Kaneki chuckled at that. “Hopefully not literally.”

“Hopefully not literally,” Shiono repeated, then pat Kaneki’s shoulder. “Look, I’m not saying that you’re the perfect partner for her or anything, but I am saying that she picked you for a reason. And that reason’s why she’s brought you to so many things. I mean, who drags a mere coworker to Cochlea in the middle of the night, right?”

Kaneki’s laugh was a bit more nervous this time. When viewed from that angle, it made sense; Takatsuki trusted him to a very high degree to not say anything regarding that. A weirdly high degree, too.

“So I’ll ask again: are you in love with her?”

Kaneki looked away. “I…”

He could lie and say no, and Shiono no doubt would let the whole ordeal go. Hell, he might even tell the others for Kaneki, save him the awkwardness of apparently disappointing everyone. Things would continue as they had been, and eventually, the book would be completed and Kaneki would part ways with Shiono and Takatsuki both. The world would keep turning, wholly oblivious to the whole ordeal.

Or… he could say yes. Tell the truth. Say everything he’d been wanting to say for months. Cast his pride aside and make that faithless leap across the abyss. Would he fall into its depths, or would he make it to the other side? There was no way of knowing until he tried.

Kaneki grabbed the chains shackling himself down, then slowly undid them. It manifested in a small, “Yes.”

Shiono smiled. “Well, don’t tell me, then.” He made a shooing motion, chuckling. “Go on.”

Kaneki, with a bit of weight lifted from his shoulders, nodded, and cleaned his plate.

[263adder]

Displacement

Chapter 2: You're All Crazy

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46882966/chapters/118518730

Summary: Only the other week it was Changelings and Admiral Picard with his Merry Men. Now there's an unidentifiable anomaly ahead and Captain Shaw is getting a headache.

Liam Shaw x Reader

Part One | Part Two

Starfleet had responded, though they didn’t give nearly as much instruction as Shaw would’ve liked. There was far too much leeway leftover for Commander Seven to start getting ideas in.

Their orders were to complete their initial route, the one that had been derailed by Picard and Riker’s unwanted company, then return to Starfleet Headquarters for maintenance as planned. Their latest visitor could depart there. Given the unreliability of time travel, it was unlikely they’d ever return home; so Starfleet had minimal concerns about her gaining knowledge of the future. Apart from barring her from sensitive parts of the ship, principally Engineering and the Bridge, she could have the freedom of any other guest.

Of course someone would have to explain what had happened. Starfleet seemed to be under the impression Shaw would do that in his capacity as Captain but, given how much he knew his subordinates liked to interfere, that felt like a task he’d happily relinquish to someone more eager to get involved.

Tapping his communicator, Shaw summoned Seven of Nine and Kenney, his Chief of Security, to his ready room for a debrief.

“First of all,” he started, not bothering with the formality of a hello, “Starfleet have strongly discouraged us from pursuing the anomaly. We are to continue on our current trajectory. A research vessel has been dispatched to investigate further.”

Seven’s face hardened and Shaw watched resignedly as an argument formulated in her mind. Before she could protest, he added: “We can still continue to analyse the results of the probe. And, of course, if we encounter it again there’s nothing to stop us gathering more information.”

A gleam came into Seven’s eye that he definitely didn’t like, but he decided to take her nod as confirmation there would be no more funny business.

Turning to Kenney, Shaw asked if there had been any luck identifying their visitor.

“No, Captain. Narrowing down the location and date of her origin will enable us to pull up her records, but those aren’t available on our database. These files were never uploaded because, well, it wasn’t thought they’d be needed in this day and age.”

“Fair enough. Starfleet hasn’t imposed containment, however, she should be supervised to ensure she doesn’t wander too far. Once they regain consciousness, create a rota and have a member of Security accompany her at all times. Set up guest quarters too. She’ll be aboard until we reach Starfleet Headquarters.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Captain.” Seven interjected. “I have some experience with time travel.”

“Of course you do.” He commented dryly, thoroughly unsurprised.

“I’d be willing to volunteer to accompany them around the ship.”

“So you can ask questions about how they came to be here and if they saw anything that could identify the anomaly?”

“You said Starfleet had no objection to further research.”

Shaw seemed to spend his life sighing around his crew and today was no different from any other day.

“Fine. Engineering and the Bridge are off limits. Someone needs to explain that she’s in 2402 and everything else that comes with the time travelling territory – mainly that, you know, aliens are a thing. I don’t think they knew that 400 years ago.”

“Noted.”

“And err, I’m not actually trying to be insensitive as per usual, but,” he gestured toward his own face in mirror to the implants on Seven’s, “don’t be surprised if she looks confused about your appearance. I’m surprised she didn’t clock Doctor T’plokan’s ears and start screaming.”

“I will take Commander Musiker with me. She is – adept – at putting people at ease.”

“Good idea. Very well, you’re both dismissed.”

“Captain.” They said, taking their leave.

For a moment, Shaw wondered what it would be like waking up 400 years in the future. If it would be nearly as confusing as everything that had happened to Titan only a few weeks ago, when they discovered the Changeling plot. If it was in any way similar, he sympathised for the headache this woman was due.

*           *           *

Seven picked Raffi up from their quarters and was heading toward the medbay when her communicator chirped with an update from T’plokan.

“Commander. The patient will awaken in the next ten minutes according to the neural calliper.”

“Understood, I’m on my way.”

Turning to Raffi, she asked: “What’s our approach?”

Raffi chuckled. “We’re not ambushing the enemy here. We’ll go in, be our usual friendly selves and answer whatever questions she has.”

“That could be a lot.”

She nodded. “Yes, and all we can do is be patient with her. Remember what an adjustment it was for us when we landed in the 21st century? On the plus side, it’s given us an insight into what life must have been like for her.”

“Crowded and hostile?” Seven reflected.

“Smaller.” Raffi corrected. “We’re about to open up the entire potential of outer space. Multiple human settlements, not just Earth. Hundreds of alien cultures, some of which we’re only just learning about.”

“You’re aware she might not believe us?”

“Luckily we have plenty of evidence aboard that we’re telling the truth.”

“Speaking of,” Seven said, brushing her fingers over the ocular implant at her brow, “are you certain I should be there when you break the news? I wouldn’t want to alarm her.”

Raffi pulled Seven’s hand away from her face, tangling their fingers together. “Have you ever heard the expression no one cares what the bridesmaid is wearing?”

Seven gave her a look of confusion.

“Guess not. What I mean is, she’s going to have a lot to process. I doubt she’ll even notice. We might be answering questions for hours.”

Or not.

When they walked into the medbay, their patient was wide awake – barely tolerating T’plokan’s presence as she removed the neural calliper from her forehead. Once it was off, she batted the Doctor away.

“Hi.” Raffi said softly, walking up to her bed. “It’s good to see you awake. Are you feeling better?”

The patient shifted gingerly, relaxing when the sting of pain didn’t return with her movement.

“Do you remember us? We were here when you first woke up. I’m Raffi, this is Seven, and that’s your doctor – T’plokan.”

“Greetings.” Seven said.

“You tried to hit me with a tray, remember?” Raffi prompted when she got no response.

“Would you like me to try again?” The woman asked, voice somewhat hoarse from sleep.

Raffi laughed good naturedly. “Not really, but I wouldn’t blame you if you tried. This has to be pretty confusing right? Unless you’ve remembered how you got here?”

“Sadly I’m still in the dark on that one. Your Captain said you were too.”

“Yeah. Honestly we’re not sure how you got here. We were sailing on course when we intercepted another vessel. You fell down one of our ladders, presumably having come from the other ship.” Raffi explained, adding more to the story to gently acclimatise her. “We tried to contact them but got no response. You don’t remember leaving home, so I guess you can’t tell me anything about them?”

“Sorry.” She replied impassively, eyeing Raffi warily as she stepped closer to her bedside.

“Eh, we figured that might be the case. You had a nasty fall.”

“Which I seem to have recovered from.” She replied sceptically. “How long was I out, exactly? Because I’m pretty sure I had a broken arm the last time I was up.”

“It’s been five hours.” T’plokan supplied. “I will need to assess your condition again, but I doubt you need to stay in medbay much longer.”

Holding up her right arm, their guest looked at it curiously. Twisting it side to side as if looking for evidence of the damage.

“There’s not even a scar.”

“I know this must be confusing…” Raffi started.

Pushing herself upright on the bed, she flung back, “No shit. Where am I?”

“You’re on the USS…”

“Titan. Yeah, I got that bit. But seriously. Where am I?”

“Okay honey. This is going to be a shock, but I promise if you just hear me out I’ll answer all of your questions.” Raffi said, using the same comforting tone she took on when Seven had a nightmare that roused them both from their sleep. Seven’s shoulders lost some tension just hearing it.

“You’re aboard a starship – a spaceship.” Raffi clarified, using the terminology she would be more familiar with. “We’re currently in the Alpha quadrant, performing a mission for the United Federation of Planets – under Starfleet. Which is the organisation we all work for. And the year, the year is 2402.”

The three Starfleet officers stood in silence, waiting for the information to sink in, anticipating the next response.

Snorting derisively, their visitor swung her legs off the bio-bed. “Yeah, right. Okay. I don’t know what looney tunes action I’ve stumbled into, but I’m out. Where’s the exit?”

“We’re in outer space.” Seven interjected. “You can’t exit the ship until we reach our destination.”

“I am not in space.” She insisted, standing up on steady legs. Her clothes were still bloody, the hem of her jeans torn, but it would do for an escape.

“You’re all crazy and I’m leaving. See ya.”

“Wait.”

Raffi stopped Seven from dashing after her. “No, no it’s okay. Maybe once she looks out of a window, this will all make sense. Chasing after her will just make her think we’re keeping here, which won’t give her any reason to trust us.”

Following their visitor through the corridors, she soon stopped when they crossed paths with a Hallian ensign. Shaking her head, she continued again. Stopping again when an Orion officer passed them in the corridor. Another shake of the head and they were off once more; their guest refusing to accept the proof in front of her very eyes. Winding through the corridors until they finally reached an exterior corridor, where long windows illuminated the truth.

“You see what we mean?” Raffi asked once they caught up.

“Green screen.”

Seven wasn’t familiar with the term and evidently Raffi wasn’t either as she asked her to elaborate.

“Green screen. It’s just a picture projected onto a wall. And those, those people back there…” she said, pointing a finger over her shoulder, “were in costume. What is this, the set of the next Twilight Zone movie? Who do you think you’re fooling here? Just tell me what’s going on?”

“I know this is confusing, but we’re not trying to lie to you.”

“Every word out of your mouths has been ridiculous. Why are you trying to keep me here?”

“Why would anyone go to the effort of creating such a vast conspiracy for you?” Seven asked, losing the patience Raffi had asked for. “Are you a person of great significance? Have you been targeted for abduction before?”

That made her lose steam.

“You’re in the year 2402. We estimate you came from the early twenty-first century, which means you are almost 400 years beyond your own time. We didn’t bring you here. Another entity did. We need to understand why. If you don’t believe your eyes, believe your body. Your arm was broken five hours ago, now it’s healed. You don’t have technology capable of that in your time, but your society is too advanced to believe in witchcraft.” Seven stated.

Her bluntness seemed to have more of an effect than Raffi’s empathetic approach as, instead of stubbornly shaking her head, their visitor finally stilled.

“2402?” She asked quietly.

“That’s right, honey.”

Looking up at Seven, she said, “And you don’t know how I got here?”

“No.”

“Then how am I meant to get home?”

Raffi started to console, but Seven stuck with the truth. “We are not entirely certain we would be able to return you to your own time. There are strict rules on time travel. Since we don’t know how you came to be here, it is unlikely we could send you back the same way.”

“So… I’m stuck here?”

Raffi took over. “Maybe. But even if you are, everything will be okay. The twenty-fifth century is a lot different than you’re used to. The Federation will resettle you and help you adjust. You could even go back to London if you wanted to.”

Looking at her like she’d just sprouted a second head, their visitor restated: “Everything will be okay?”

“Of course.”

“What you’re telling me is that I’ll never see my family or friends ever again. That they’ve been dead for centuries. That I’m going to be a charity case for the rest of my life if I’m stuck here. Does that sound okay to you?” She accused, voice rising. “Christ, I don’t even have my phone on me. I don’t have photos or… or,” a hand reached to her throat, “not one piece of sentimental… every part of my life is just gone?”

They looked back, eyes full of sympathy. Dropping her hand away from her throat, she stared back.

“What now?”

Raffi sighed. “We need to understand how you got here.”

“I told you, I don’t remember.”

“I know, but that could be the initial shock of time travel.”

Seven added, “It’s possible other people are at risk of this fate. We need to understand how you came to be here.”

“And, if you do,” she asked hesitantly, “you might be able to send me home?”

Seven glanced at Raffi, unwilling to instil false hope and make impossible promises, much as she wished the comfort the girl.

Luckily, they were spared an answer by a welcome intrusion.

“And how are we all doing this fair afternoon?” Shaw asked genially, stopping between the three women.

“Captain.” Seven greeted.

“Are we all caught up?”

Raffi nodded, keeping her eyes on their guest – who Shaw turned his attention to.

She looked wan, but otherwise healthy. Certainly better than when he first saw her in the infirmary. Shaw hadn’t intended to pay her another visit, he was there against all his better judgement. Spending time with Picard and his former crew was clearly having a bad influence on him; the Shaw of a month ago would’ve kept his distance. But, perhaps, being on the end of Seven and Raffi’s antics had made him sympathetic. Hell, if he didn’t intervene they might rope this poor woman into stealing a shuttle and starting a war with the… oh wait that had already happened.

The computer told him they could be found on Deck 6 along a port-side corridor. It seemed like an odd place to break the news to someone that they were trapped in the future, which made Shaw walk a little faster than he normally would. Which is where he found the three women stood at some sort of impasse.

Stepping closer to their passenger, Shaw outstretched a hand. “I’m sorry we haven’t actually been introduced, I’m…”

“Captain Shaw, USS Titan. Yes, I’m aware.”

She didn’t accept his handshake, so he let his arm drop.

“You’re not a member of my crew, so you can call me Liam.” He said, leaning against the corridor wall. “You’ve met Seven and Raffi. And you are…”

She gave her full name. He could see Raffi making a mental note of it, ready to look up her past once they had access to the records from her time period.

“Well it’s very nice to finally make your acquaintance. Security arranged quarters for you, why don’t I show you the way? You’ll have them all to yourself. I’m sure you’ll appreciate some privacy.”

He certainly would, and the woman clearly felt the same since she nodded in agreement.

Turning to Seven, Shaw said, “Commander, Lieutenant Yana is waiting for you on the bridge.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Sweeping his arm in what he was sure was a mocking manner, Shaw extended an invitation to his guest.

“Shall we?”

Usually I write reader inserts in first person, which I didn't do and now I'm questioning that decision. For the record, I always try hard not to use Y/N just because I think it pulls people out of the flow of the story but I'll see how that progresses in the next chapter! I guess I could give her a placeholder name or nickname?

As always, let me know your thoughts. Thanks for the nice response to the last chapter!

[hphmmatthewluther]

Threads Of Silver - Chapter 1: The Dream

Here we go!! This is the first chapter of my Founders’ Era story, with this one featuring a brief appearance from @nikyiscreepy​ ‘s Persephone Palerosine and a mention of @the-al-chemist​ ‘s Artemis Hexley! Taglist of people who might be interested (pls let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @camillejeaneshphm​ @endlessly-cursed​ @gaygryffindorgal​ @that-scouse-wizard​

Almost a millennium before Matthew Luther would shatter curses and do battle with those who unleashed them, the very notion of “Hogwarts” existed merely in the mind of one woman: Rowena Ravenclaw. On the same night she has a fateful dream, informing her of where this school should be built, her newest apprentice, a peasant boy by the name of Lachlann Doherty (though people call him Lam) arrives. Taking this to be a sign, she begins to teach Lam in the ways of both magic, and of power, for the ones she will need to achieve her dreams are currently rivals. Set out with a nigh-impossible task, will the two prevail? Or will they be lost to the pages of history?

 Chapter 1: The Dream

 “Hey, Matt!” Mayson Kowalski exclaimed, smiling. “How’re you today?”

Matthew Luther turned around to look down at his younger cousin. Behind him, Matthew could see Mayson’s fellow Slytherins heading to their next class, and a girl with light brown hair was waiting for him, tapping her foot.

“Mayson.” Matt said, clicking his tongue. “You need some of my notes again?”

The younger cousin’s cheeks went pink. “I…uh…” He stammered, before quickly regaining his composure. “Can’t I just say hi to my favourite cousin?” he asked innocently.

 Matt chuckled. They’d fallen into a pattern of Mayson asking him for the notes he’d taken the year before; Mayson claimed he found them far more useful than his own notes. “Favourite cousin? I’m gonna tell Artemis you said that.”

Mayson’s eyes widened. “Aw, c’mon, man…I’m getting help with my broom-riding from her, ya can't…”

Matt raised his hands to reassure him “Don’t worry, I’m only fooling. Keep your trousers on.” “Pants, you mean.” Mayson said, smiling. As much as he was happy to be at Hogwarts, sometimes he missed New York, where as far as he was concerned, people spoke normally.

 “Agree to disagree.” Matt said, pushing the hair out of his face, “so, what do you need?”

“We got an assignment from Binns.” Mayson explained, pulling a piece of parchment out of his pocket. “We gotta “Give an account of the end of the Mage Wars and how this led to the founding of Hogwarts.” It’s…there’s so much that happened, so many names to remember, I-”

Matthew nodded, remembering how it had been for him and his classmates to learn it all. “Well, if you want my advice, it’s not me who’s the resident history expert. There’s someone a little closer to home you can ask…”

 At that point, the brown-haired girl yelled out for Mayson, and Matt noticed her socks, which had cat faces, were starting to hiss.

“Coming, Persephone!” Mayson yelled back. “We’ll talk later. Thanks Matt!” he said quickly before running off. Matt smiled and waved, before walking to the Great Hall, hoping to find who he was looking for there. When he did, he couldn’t stop the blush that appeared on his face.

 ***

“What?!” Mayson exclaimed later that night in the Slytherin Common Room, with most of the rest of Slytherin up in their dorm rooms. “You’re the “resident history expert”?!”

Merula Snyde huffed, placing down a large collection of notebooks and parchments . “Is that what you called me, Luther? Really, you’re too kind…”

Matthew was sitting there too, having snuck in earlier. Mayson didn’t miss the way they’d looked at each other as he’d come into the room. “Well, you do have the highest score in the class, Merula.”

 “Because I find the subject interesting.” Merula shrugged, which Mayson translated as “I’m the only one who can stay awake listening to Binns ramble.” Which, to be fair, was an impressive feat. “Right,” she continued, “get your notebook out. We’ve got a lot to cover.”

Mayson looked up at her, a little confused. “I…I thought I was just gonna take the notes?”

Merula scoffed at the suggestion. “Nonsense. I’m not just going to let you copy my notes, you’ve got to have the full understanding. This is our history, y’know. Literally.”

Mayson raised an eyebrow. “Whaddya mean, “literally”?”

 Matthew leaned forward. “Some of our direct relatives are involved here. My great great times…a whole load, grandparents.” he explained, pointing to himself, “and hers too. Plus a great aunt for good measure.”

Merula nodded. “See? And he only knows all of that because I explained it to him so brilliantly.”

Mayson shrugged. “...It’s either this or meticulously copy the notes, I suppose…alright. Let’s do this. We…don’t have to do it all tonight, do we?”

Matthew shook his head. “Nah, we’ll space it out. Your assignment is submitted in chunks anyway, so this’ll help.”

 “Right!” Merula exclaimed. “If you’re both ready, I’m going to start…now…let’s see…Ah ha. Perfect. We’ll start with The Dream.”

 ***

 “Rowena Ravenclaw discovered the location where Hogwarts would be built in a dream, in which she was led to the position near the lake and forest by a warty hog. She considered the dream to be a gift from the forces of magic themselves. I however find it much more likely that she had a bad curry before going to bed, as that’s how I normally get weird dreams like this one.” - Mayson Kowalski’s History of Magic Report

 The night was darker back then. Not just because of the fewer lights, after all that normally allowed the stars and the moon to shine bright across the land. But when it was cloudy too, and storming and raining, it was well and truly dark, with any lightning only serving to punctuate the pitch black fields of the Highlands. It was not known as Scotland back then, after all. That was all yet to come. This, and the lands down South, were formed of kingdoms which either made peace, traded, or battled in skirmishes, magical or non-magical. The sorcerers of this time were known, and revelled in their importance to the lords and kings of the land, but were just as bitter rivals as the people they assisted. Not since Merlin had a witch, wizard or otherwise tried to reach out to form bonds as opposed to fighting and warring. Not until now.

 The rain slashed at the windows of Ravenclaw Tower, sliding down to the wooden windowsill and dripping off onto grass and mud several feet below. Inside, the various magical ornaments and parchments rattled every so often when a particularly loud burst of thunder rang out, albeit muffled by the great stone bricks that made up the structure. The Tower’s only occupants could be found at the very top of the tower, past floors upon floors of, at this point, relatively new tomes and books on spellcraft. One of the two rocked with the wind and rain outside. The other was calm, serene, unmoving in her sleep, her raven-black hair the only thing that moved, as a slight wind brushed past. This was Rowena Ravenclaw, greatest witch in the Highlands, who had only remembered that she needed to sleep about ten minutes ago. The lying completely still was an attempt to compensate for that. It wasn’t working. Sure, she was tired, she had stayed up all night reading, after all, but she didn’t feel sleepy. At least, not until a bolt of lightning sailed past outside, striking a hill. She winced, and suddenly felt herself falling deeper into sleep. If she had opened her eyes, the lightning would have illuminated a young man leaping back from the lightning. A young man walking towards her tower.

 For Rowena, there were no sounds of rain and thunder. Instead, she was standing outside on a partly cloudy day. She gazed around, trying to get her bearings, when she heard a strange grunting sound from nearby. She turned and was surprised to find a large pig sniffing the grass in front of her. There were splotches on it that seemed to look like runes, which was where Rowena’s attention should have been, but her eyes were fixated on its face. It was the ugliest pig she’d ever seen, with so many warts she was surprised it could see. She thought it was somewhat adorable just how ugly it was, and when she smiled at it, it squealed with delight and started to trot forwards. Curious by nature, she started to walk behind it, taking in what was around her. She could see water flowing, and a dense forest full of life. But then the pig stopped, and she gasped.

 They had come to a hilltop overlooking a large lake. The forest was still visible, and it was clear this was where the water was flowing from. It was beautiful, it was full of space, it hadn’t been touched…

“It’s perfect.” Rowena said, the wheels beginning to turn in her brain. “What is this place?”

The pig looked up at her, but instead of oinking, the noise that came out of its mouth was more akin to a knocking at the door. There was another flash of lightning, and Rowena was forced awake, the knocking sound continuing. Someone was at the door. Rolling her eyes, and briefly checking on the other person in the tower, she began the long walk down the steps, her wand illuminating the floors of her tower. The knocking continued, pounding like the thunder that came in between, until she finally got to the wooden door and pulled it open.

 Before her, in the cascading rain, stood a young boy in a black hood. She could see his dark hair that matched the colour of his cloak, and green eyes that reflected off of the light of her wand. He blinked several times, wiping the water from his face.

“Lady Ravenclaw?” he asked over the sound of the ensuing storm. “You…asked me to come here?”

She looked down at him for a few moments, confused, before recognition filled her eyes. Ah yes. The trip to Ireland. “Of course I did. It’s…Doherty, isn’t it?”

The boy (young man? Rowena hadn’t asked his precise age) nodded. “That’s right, Lachlan Doherty…though people call me “Lam”.”

Lightning illuminated both of them. “Well, you’d better come inside, here…” Rowena gestured inside the tower, and Lachlann nodded, walking through, very obviously happy to be out of the rain. Rowena closed the door behind him, sighing for a second. “...Well, welcome to Ravenclaw Tower. I made a bed up for you…I say made, conjured, more accurately.” She turned to him, but he was transfixed by everything around him. The ornaments, the cauldrons, the shelves stacked with books, he spun on the spot trying to keep up with it all.

 “...This is your first time in a Mage’s Tower?” Rowena asked, lighting some of the candles hanging on the walls, “Wasn’t there one nearby in your village?”

Lachlann took his hood off, revealing his short black hair, and shook his head. “There was one, a while ago, but it’s in ruins now. Something must have attacked it., at least that’s what people said.”

Rowena nodded. “Being a sorcerer’s a dangerous thing. When a mage dies, their tower dies with them…I suppose that ought to be your first lesson.”

Rowena sat down at a table,clearing some of the papers and books and inviting Lachlann to do the same. She looked over at him. While travelling in Ireland looking for a certain type of plant, she came across a village after what had seemed like hours. She had seen the ruins of the tower, but had guessed that another one would have been nearby. Another one should have been nearby. What had happened to it?

 “Things are alright back at the village, yes?” Rowena asked, Lachlan jumping slightly. “Settled down a little now?”

The young boy nodded, the sound of his cloak dripping onto the floor being absorbed by the storm outside, “More or less, but they all got excited again when I told them I was leaving. Wanted to have a whole celebration and everything…”

As Lachlann explained his journey, Rowena tried her best to keep her attention on him, but it was late, and she had a lot on her mind. That dream, for one thing, but the memory of her time in Lachlann’s village was coming back to her too. She had been there to examine the connections to the Fae present on the neighbouring island. Her attention had been caught by smoke and screaming coming from the village. She had immediately raced down there. She knew a dragon attack when she heard one. 

 And yet, when Rowena had got there, the all-too-common sounds of burning and roaring had quietened. After a moment of searching, she had found it: a young Welsh Green, on the cusp of adulthood. She wondered if it had mistakenly flown across the sea here. But the dragon did not notice her. It had its eyes on a young peasant boy a few feet away, holding a farm implement of some kind. Any other serf would have been burnt to a crisp, but this dragon was up on its hind legs, smoke still billowing from its mouth, transfixed on the top part of the rake. It was only when she stepped closer that she saw why: it was glowing faintly, as if on fire, but it did not burn. The peasant boy looked just as surprised as the dragon. Rowena, however, knew exactly what it had meant. This was what she had been looking for.

 As the minutes passed, and Lachlann dried out, the rain quietened down. Now the only sound that could be heard was the howling winds outside. Rowena brought her hands together. “Now, regarding your employment as my apprentice. That is why you’re here, yes?” When Lachlann nodded, she continued, “Good. Now, I shall teach you the ways of magic, give you food and shelter, as well as a small amount of pay, and in exchange you’ll help me with regards to my many errands as a Freelance Witch.”

Lachlann’s ears perked up. “Freelance?” he asked, a little confused.

Rowena simply sighed. “Indeed. There remain very few freelance magic-users left in these Isles, with most promising their services to a king or lord. But while power and the wealth that comes with it are…tempting, I choose to remain independent on principle. Magic is not to be wielded by some chief in a battle.” she seemed to be on the verge of a rant, but stifled it. “...hm. I suppose that’s your second lesson.”

 Just then, a sound rang out through the tower, overpowering the winds outside. Rowena looked at Lachlann, who looked like he was wondering if his ears were deceiving him. “Here comes your next lesson.” Rowena sighed. “Follow me.” Up the stairs they went, the sound growing louder as they did. She looked back at Lachlann, who thankfully seemed more curious than anything else. She pointed out his bedroom to him as they scaled the tower, until finally coming to the very top floor, both having to duck a little under the roof of the structure which made up the ceiling. By the window was Rowena’s bed, a mess after she’d scrambled out of it earlier, as well as a wooden cot. Lachlann stepped forward and seemingly confirmed his decisions, as his eyes fell upon the source of the noise.

 “Oh, Helena…” Rowena crooned, walking forward and picking a crying baby up out of the cot, holding her close. “Did we make too much noise? This is Lachlann, he’s going to be staying here for a while - oh, it’s alright, I’m here-”

Lachlann blinked a few times as Rowena rubbed Helena’s back. “Lachlann, this is…the other part of my job. And yours too. I probably should have mentioned this a little earlier.”

 ***

The quasi-lecture Merula had been giving had lasted around half an hour at this point, and while Mayson had chuckled at a few parts (specifically the pig) he had burst out laughing here.

“She didn’t tell him he’d be babysitting?!” he exclaimed, cackling and kicking his legs.

“Shut up!” Merula hissed. “You’ll wake someone up!”

Matthew was trying to stifle a laugh of his own. “Yeah, as much of a genius Rowena was, she did sometimes forget to mention…y'know…important details.”

“Mm, sounds like someone else I know.” Merula replied, winking at him before turning to Mayson. “Right, are you done yet? We’ve haven’t even got through one full day of Lachlann’s apprenticeship!”

 Mayson’s laughter started to die down at this point, and he wiped the tears from his eyes. “Sorry, sorry…it just goes to show how good you are at this stuff.”

“Oh…thank you.” she said, surprised at the compliment. “Now, where was I…ah yes, the day after…that was when…ah. A reminder that Luther’s family has had rotten luck since day one…”

[ashortdropandasuddenstop]

He doesn't beat around the bush, and that makes her even more nervous than before. She pulls strands of hair away, tucking them behind her ear as she tries to come up with exactly what to say that doesn't make her sound bland, dumb, childish, or all three.

The subject about Annie was always a rough one for her to face. It made her heart jump, body tingle. She assumes it's just uneasiness getting the best of her. But she brushes it aside with a forced smile.

"It's nothin' that serious! As you assumed, sir, it's just a silly rivalry." Firecracker starts and, though she thought to maybe leave it there, she wanted to at least show a more cohesive explanation. It would make her seem informative, right? She has to give a good impression.

"We used to participate in beauty pageants, she and I. Though those were pageants for kids, we'd get pretty heated up! I guess she hasn't gotten over that. I don't really like what she's been doin' against Vought, so here I am to set the records straight!" She says, as if Annie hadn't forgotten all about Misty... As if it hadn't been Misty who kept the grudge.

She sure hopes she can't be read like a book, because her memories pour right off, she drowns down a pout that wants to surface, the need to scream that it wasn't fair... That the girl she admired so much, she liked so much, just ran all over her. That she was part of the Seven before her, that she had always been better than her... Everything was just unfair.

She hides that, she hides it behind that bright smile of hers. "So, let me know what you'd like for me to do, sir, and I'd be more than happy to provide! I'll keep givin' my everythin' to Vought."

James tilted his head ever so slightly, his gaze locked on her every mannerism as Firecracker tried to brush off her rivalry with Annie. The way her voice tightened, the forced smile—he didn’t need his centuries of experience to see through it, but it certainly helped.

He leaned back in his chair, hands clasped in front of him, the bouquet now resting on a nearby table. "Mm… is it?" he murmured, his tone far from convinced. He had caught something deeper behind her words, something she wasn’t willing to admit.

There was a brief pause, one that hung in the air just long enough for her to squirm slightly under his scrutiny. James cleared his throat, his voice smooth as silk but edged with a sharpness that suggested he wasn’t one to let things slide easily.

"Tell me, Misty," he began, his voice low and deliberate, using her name not her moniker-- her mask. " Do you know much about… pirates? The kind who sailed the seas, breaking the law, living by their own rules and all that rot" James’ gaze remained steady, his voice taking on a distant quality as he continued.

" Well, there was once a man—a Commodore. He was a man of order, duty, and unshakable conviction. Loyal to a fault. Eager to serve his crown and company just well.. like you. " He smiles at her. " He was tasked with bringing a pirate to justice, a man who was his complete opposite in every way. A captain who was without doubt the worst pirate he had never heard of"

James paused, watching her reaction closely as he unfolded the tale, but never letting on that he was speaking of himself.

"The Commodore despised everything the pirate captain stood for—chaos, freedom, rebellion. Their rivalry was legendary. The Commodore’s pursuit of this man became an obsession. He wasn’t just trying to catch a criminal; he was trying to prove something—to himself, to the world." James’ voice grew quieter, his tone taking on a somber edge.

"Blinded by the thought of his rival escaping one more time, The commodore ignored the warnings of an incoming Hurricane. His ship, though a fine vessel—sturdy, strong— tried to sail through certain if his rival could so could he. Thus, he pressed on, driven by his rivalry, his need to capture the captain who had constantly eluded and made a mockery of him. As the storm grew in fervor, his crew begged him to turn back, but he refused, too blinded by his obsession to see the danger."

Perhaps she could see it in his vivid emerald eyes, the torrid seas, the deafening crack of thunder as lightening split her mast.

"The winds howled, the rain lashed down, and the sea churned beneath them. The mast splintered in two right before his eyes, and in the chaos, the ship was torn assunder. He watched as his crew, loyal men who trusted him, relied on his leadership, were lost to the waves—because of his pride, his need to win at any cost. By the time he realized the magnitude of his mistake, it was too late. The sea had claimed everything."

There was a sadness there, for something that was either fictitious or ancient history.

"The problem with rivalries, Firecracker, is that they can consume you and take away more than they can give back. This Commodore, in his quest to bring down the pirate, lost sight of everything else. His duty, his career, his very sense of who he was. It wasn’t the pirate that destroyed him in the end. It was the burden of his own grudges."

James let his words linger, watching as the weight of the story settled in the room. Then leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. "Rivalries are dangerous things, Miss. They can drive us to be better, stronger… but they can also unravel everything we've worked for."

James leaned back, his expression softening, but his eyes still held that calculating edge. He could see the emotions brewing beneath the surface, the nervous energy she tried to mask with her bright smile and eager responses.

"Firecracker," he began, his voice now more gentle, "I want you to take a few days to get yourself together. You've been through a lot, and it's clear that this, whether you admit it or not, has taken a toll."

He watched her reaction carefully before continuing, choosing his words with precision. "When you come back, I want you to have a fresh perspective. Tone down the rhetoric, especially where Annie is concerned. We need to shift the narrative—not just for the public, but for yourself. Such a lovely young lady of the your heritage should not be so brash.. leave that to Starlight."

James stood, brushing an invisible wrinkle from his suit, his gaze never wavering. "I’ll arrange extra security for you, and in the meantime, I’ll handle the press. Smooth things over, ensure they focus on your strengths—your power, your loyalty to Vought."

While the authority in his voice was undeniable, but there was also an odd kind of care in his words—like he was offering her a lifeline, not just a command.

James watched with mild amusement Firecracker’s flustered demeanor. Her enthusiasm and energy, if a bit scattered, as she rushed to accommodate him. The blush on her face and the quickness in her movements reminded him of a young cadet eager to prove themselves, a comparison that made him consider her potential more seriously.

He accepted the bottle of water with a gracious nod, not at all intending to drink it but appreciating the gesture. As Firecracker settled into her seat, opposite him, James took a moment to observe her closely. She was raw, unpolished, and clearly trying to find her footing in all of this. But there was something in her—the spark of ambition, perhaps—that made him wonder if she could be molded into something more.

"Well, for starters.. Tell me more about the history between you and Miss January," he said gently, his voice still calm but now carrying a deeper curiosity. "Rivalries don’t form out of thin air. There’s usually something more—that lingers beneath the surface."

[x-amount-verbs]

A Helping Hand - Part 4

[start here] || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5

[silco x f!reader] [2.8k words] [no y/n] [during timeskip] [touch-starved reader] [henchwoman!reader] [SFW] [tween jinx]

AO3 Link

You may have given Sevika a bad rap. She’s not welcoming and inclusive and empathetic — or, at least, she doesn’t give off any of those traits — but she made a point to bring you back into the fold (and, perhaps more importantly, keep you engaged for a few hours and not wandering off to mope). Even if her lips thinned in a judgmental silence, she rolled her eyes and indulged your request for a sling to hold your dumb arm against your chest while you sat at her table.

And yes, you did lose money to her.

She made a point of saying she refused to lose to you just cause you were feeling sorry for yourself. Which… well, fair. Still kinda grated on you, but it was better than the people who were constantly sneaking peeks at the hand until you got the sling set up to hide it.

You get home later than you expected, having left with a coworker once the bar picked up, the new clientele too loud and too rowdy for you to feel good about staying with your stupid dumb deformity.

It’s how you kept thinking of it these past few hours. That foreign body that’s latched onto you. Parasitic piece of junk. A weight constantly dragging you down, that only seems to get harder to work the more you try. The amount of resentment you hold toward the inanimate— or… semianimate object— is impressive.

In the dark of your room in the lodging house, you pull the objects from your waist pocket, setting them on your dresser before finding the lantern’s switch. The sling is comforting. It’s much easier to ignore the hand this way. Your good hand has gotten used to some tasks anyway, during the original recovery period. You stopped pulling your hair up, for one, opting to lop off a few inches so it wasn’t as much of a burden. It had felt bold, then. Freeing, to bluntly state the decision, make it happen, and say screw the consequences. Now you miss it, miss the old spike-strapped braid. But you can’t braid with one hand, so… too bad so sad sucks to be you, apparently.

You run your hand through the thick mess of what’s left, grimacing at the feel of sweat against your scalp. Gross. You are in desperate need of bathing beyond the towel-and-basin method. Scanning the list from Silco (once again marveling at how neat and concise the script is) you note the directions for use when bathing, and then pause. You missed one of the last bits, earlier.

Sleeve will self-sanitize generally; remove 1x/week to check connections, evaluate, etc.

Removing the sleeve? The sheath that covers the undoubtedly ugly tubes embedded in your arm, that protects where shimmer binds nerves and muscles to the fluid hydraulics? It makes your stomach turn over. You don’t want to see that. Isn’t the purpose of this prosthetic limb to never have to see your mutilated flesh again? To replace it with smooth fired plates and a polymer liner?

Besides, you’re not even 100% sure how to remove the sleeve. But in the back of your mind, time is counting down. This is day two; you need to face that unpleasant reality before seven days have passed.

But not tonight!

Letting out a long breath, you straighten your spine and set all your attention to getting yourself clean and into bed.

The first time you awkwardly try to wash your hair with the prosthesis, fingers catch in curls and tug uncomfortably, and you can’t feel what’s tangled. So that’s not going to happen. The hand goes back to resting awkwardly against your chest as you try to ignore the too-smooth backs of its knuckles.

—

Morning aches and pains have been the norm, but with the fresh supply of painkillers they ease at the press of a plunger. You can practically hear Silco chiding you for your pride— the hypocrite. But he’s right; trying to function without the drugs would just be making things purposefully harder for yourself, and you’d hope you’re smarter than that. (Jury’s still out on that one, though.)

You’re running out of easy-to-wear clothes that are appropriate for an actual work day. When you were just going back and forth to the lab, all your time spent waiting and testing and sitting around, it didn’t matter what you wore— which was great, cause foundation garments are a tough sell when you put them on with one hand. Oh well. You’ll figure out tomorrow tomorrow. Maybe you’ll talk to the lodging manager about moving up your usual laundry service day.

The walk to work isn’t too bad, even without the escort you’ve had the past few weeks. A pistol at your side and a good cloak to hide the sling both help discourage trouble. You haven’t been carrying the gun, but it’s time you got back to it.

Orid shows you to your makeshift office, and the unusual gentleness he shows makes you cringe. Pity is not your favorite thing. And that’s what this ‘job’ is: pity. Something to let you feel useful while you’re being useless.

At least now you have a desk.

—

You notice her around the corner when you’re on your way back to your office with lunch (maybe more like dinner, it’s well past 3). Blue hair disappears around the edge of the hallway just as you’re getting to your door. Your gaze lingers on the corner, but after a momentary pause you tilt your head and accept she isn’t interested in being seen again. Food is more important, anyway.

Not three minutes later, you hear light footsteps and a muffled hollow metallic sound in the hall, and don’t regret leaving your door open. Sounds like the kid is back, but trying to be sneaky. A sidelong glance spots blue and purple in the crack of the door.

Your good hand sets down the almost-stale bread you’ve been dipping in leftover soup, chewing slowly as you try to see all you can without actually looking at the girl. The colors shift a little, but don’t leave.

“Are you going to come in, or just stand there stalking me?”

The movement stops.

Then, after a brief hesitation, the kid pops around the corner, lips in a stubborn line and chin high. “I wasn’t stalking you,” she argues, word emphasized with a melodramatic eye roll. “I was observing your patterns.” She sounds like she’s quoting someone. If this is who you think it is, she probably is, and that someone is probably Silco.

“Why? Plan on taking me down? Am I a threat to your operation?”

Her eyes narrow, like she can’t tell if you’re being serious. Your brows raise, expectantly, but you carry none of that oppressive vibe that Silco gives off. It’s a joking challenge, even if it’s delivered with a straight face.

She opens her mouth to say something, then snaps it closed again. Instead, she stares intently at the sling. “Does yours do the thing like Sevika’s?” She sounds halfway between interest and wariness.

Well, at least she’s being upfront.

You free your arm, holding it out for her to see. “No. Not yet, anyway. It’s just a hand.”

A few more steps into the room, and you can tell this kid is seriously putting on a show of confidence. That jutting chin, the tight mouth, some echo of Silco’s haughtiness… As a kid, it would’ve passed in your circles. Everyone was constantly posturing. Didn’t have much choice, if you wanted to stay above the last rungs of the social hierarchy.

“What happened to your arm?”

“Not the arm, just the hand,” you correct. “The arm part just keeps it on.” You watch your own hand as you flex and curl your fingers, lips pursing at the uncomfortable dissonance of seeing and not feeling.

“Then what happened to your hand?”

“Blew up.”

Her eyes go wide, breaking the carefully curated too-cool-to-be-interested facade she had. “No shit, really?”

“Yes shit.” You nod. “Guy was trying to kill—” You’re tempted to say your dad, but falter. There’s a few different rumors that go around about why Silco took in the blue-haired girl. That she’s his bastard, his niece (though you weren’t aware he had siblings), or even a kid kidnapped from some Piltie family, being held hostage to keep them cooperating. The last one was a stretch to begin with, and seeing her now you're even more sure that one is bullshit. “-my boss,” you finish.

“Silco?” She doesn’t say dad, so it feels like a good call.

“Yep. Assassin had explosive rounds and I took it to the hand. Detonated on impact.”

She looks interested. You’re not sure if it’s about the injury or the event. “Explosive rounds? Like, for a pistol?” Or about the weapon, apparently. Her gaze drops to the half-visible grip of the one on your belt, and a brief warning blares in your head that this kid better not get ahold of your gun.

“I don’t have any.” You head off the question before it can get asked. “And you shouldn’t be shooting guns at your age, anyway.”

She snorts. “Pffft, yeah, okay,” her blatant sarcasm is nowhere near the subtlety of Silco. “I’m twelve.”

You shoot her a quizzical look, unsure how that relates.

Her expression seems to imply you’re stupid. “Um, duh? Twelve is basically thirteen.” She adopts a bad impersonation of Silco. “‘Gun safety is important, Jinx. No guns until you’re a teenager, Jinx.’ But I still know how to shoot. Sheesh, you think I’m some dumb topsider?”

You try to recall your first experiences with firearms. Pretty sure you didn’t have live rounds until you were at least 18. But, to be fair, pop guns definitely were a thing, and pellet guns, and paintballs. Not to mention other ranged weapons kids could use to fuck with each other. “You a good shot?” you ask; another casual challenge. Undercity kids are tough. Basically tiny adults just with bizarre priorities. Baby talk would be a waste of both your time.

She lets out a bark of laughter, and her smirk is impish. Next thing you know, there’s a gun pointed your direction and your heart stops for a hot second.

Then paint splatters the desk drawer next to you and you’re back, shoving that panic away.

This is not a good realization. Guns are a part of your trade, pistols your favored weapon; you can’t have such a strong reaction to seeing one. Your heart is racing, vaguely lightheaded as the unexpected shock lulls away. Logic is at the forefront of your mind. It’s just a paintball gun.

Speaking of which—

Jinx is laughing, clutching her stomach like it’s the funniest thing. “Your face! It’s like you really thought-” Another laugh splits the air.

You grimace. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

The kid smirks. “What are you doing here?” she shoots back.

Janna, and Silco called you impertinent. “I work here.”

“Nuh uh. You work in the armory district.”

How the hells does she know that? There’s no way she could’ve spotted you there, cause you never spotted her. Where did she hear that? “Not anymore.” Your gaze scours the kid for some kind of clue as to her purpose here. “Now I work here, doing a sum total of nothing useful.”

That makes her laugh. “Yeah. You really got the short end of the arm, huh?”

To your surprise, a laugh makes your chest jolt, even if it’s hardly more than a huff. “Rude.”

“Why do you have to work here?”

“Because the arm cost your— Silco, money.” Still tempted to call him her dad. “And he pays my bills. So.”

“So you do what he says.”

“Yep.”

“And you save his life.”

“I guess.”

“Do you regret it?”

That’s… That's not a question you expected from a kid. It’s heavy. Given the option to undo it, to rewind time and keep your hand in return for Silco’s life? You’re not sure how to answer. Mostly because… gut instinct feels very wrong.

Smart people don’t opt to get their hands blown off for the sake of a kingpin. Smart people value their own safety over their boss.

Alternatively: smarter people know the chaos that would come if Silco ever was removed.

Sure. That’s why you did it.

Do you regret it? “No.”

It’s frustrating that that’s true.

“Shit, you’re crazy.”

You roll your eyes. “And you’re a little menace.” It’s not said maliciously.

Jinx cackles. “Sevika calls me a tripping hazard.”

“Sevika is also a menace,” you add, flatly. For that matter— “So is Silco.”

More giggles spill forth. You manage to keep your grumpy facade, even if there’s something soft threatening the structural integrity.

“So is Lock,” you add. Which is true. “And Liro. And Pashek.” You start listing names of the most overbearing coworkers, annoyances you’ve had on jobs, the ones who’ve irked you in any small way. Very few are people you actively hate, but they’re known enough for Jinx to recognize them, maybe.

Jinx, meanwhile, is collapsing in on herself with laughter. When your list lulls she wheezes, “What about Orid?”

“Oh, a saint.” You don’t even hesitate. “Finest man I’ve ever met.”

She loves it. You are possibly the funniest person she’s ever met, based on her reaction.

You will never understand why kids find things so uproariously funny, or if they just laugh at their own laughter, but it’s more endearing than it should be. Lips press tight to stop yourself from smiling. Dammit. Of all people to feel a kinship to, the boss’s daughter probably isn’t great, when he’s notoriously protective.

Finally, her laughter dies down. “You’re a much better project than the last one,” she shares, amiably.

It’s said so casually.

It should not hit you like a too-hard paintball to the solar plexus; a small focused pain at the crux of your rib cage, bruising but not breaking skin. It could hurt worse than it does.

But it does hurt.

…Which is stupid. Of course you’re a project to him, he practically said as much, that he was taking you on as a project so the Doctor could work on more important things. Silco sees you as an investment of time and energy, with the goal being discoveries he can apply to future dealings.

So why does your mind keep imagining other projects before you? Maybe not medical projects— maybe charity cases, or political schemes, or business offers. Each person receiving his undivided attention until he got what he wanted.

Which was results. And nothing else.

This is fine, you think. This is expected. Logical, reasonable. There is no reason to experience any emotion over this revelation.

A blink or two and you force your mind back on track. Jinx. Cute kid, dumb laugh, right here in front of you.

“Thanks.” It’s unenthused, followed by a low, “I think.”

“So if your hand can’t do the Sevika thing, what can it do?”

You let out a soft sigh. Weight has crept back into your limbs— particularly the prosthetic one. “Theoretically feel, but that’s not working yet.”

“So you can’t feel your hand?”

“Nope.”

Her head cocks sideways. “So like… I could stab a knife through your hand and you wouldn’t feel it?”

Perhaps it should bother you that a twelve year old is proposing stabbing you. It doesn’t. This is the Undercity, and the question is reasonable. You shrug. “I mean, I’m not sure if you personally could get through the material, but I guess. If it was the hand part.”

She lights up. “Cool! Can—”

“No,” the voice is from the hall as an older man suddenly appears in the doorway. He comes in looking thoroughly anxious. “No, you cannot stab one of your father’s employees-”

Blue braids whip around as she turns on a dime. “He’s not my dad!”

The sudden change of mood is disconcerting.

Jinx scowls at the man, glaring daggers. When he doesn’t have a response, she pulls the paintball gun.

You quickly speak up. “I don’t know if Silco would appreciate you shooting this, uh…” Who is he, exactly?

“Tutor,” the man offers, hands up as though the kid holds a real gun, looking terrified. This poor guy.

“Silco says I have to know when people are bullshitting me, and trust my own judgment.”

Well it is a valid point. “He’s not much use if you shoot him,” you point out. From the way the man’s face drains, you suspect he may not realize the clunky firearm is a fake.

Jinx’s face screws up in annoyance. Finally, she lets out a frustrated noise. “Ugh, fine!” She stomps her foot, and heads for the door.

As soon as the tutor lets out his terrified breath, she shoots him in the knee.

—

[next part]

[Eyyy, baby Jinx! Or, technically, tween Jinx! I am very curious to hear opinions on this one, cause I know my take on Jinx doesn’t mesh with all fanon interpretations (like, for instance, my Jinx’s refusal to give Silco the title of father after having lost her last two). Also, yeah, my hc for Jinx is that she’s 10/11 in act 1, and this takes place appx 1.5-2 years after that.

Okay, plug time! Boosting through reblogs is always appreciated, given the nature of tumblr’s opaque rules for links in posts that make it into the main tags. If you want to check it out on AO3. Tag list can be joined by commenting on this linked post. Also I crave any and all comments, be they replies, reblogs, tags, or the comments on ao3. They are the wind beneath my wings. ❤️ -verbs]

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