#DNA Serenity

[heaven-s-black-box]

Take my love, take my land- Serenity chpt.5

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Recovery date: May 13th, 2024

Description: The crew of The Challenger, captained by Miyuki Kazuya, take on a job that requires the cover of another job ferrying people. Ever the genius, Miyuki keeps some key details hidden from his crew, and it bites him in the ass.

Notes: Updates will be irregular because I'm still writing chapters but only as I feel like it. Don't question the timeline here please, it's only sort of coherent. You have no idea how long this has been sitting in my docs and I just... kept forgetting to post. There's no part 6 written yet but I will eventually, hoepfully.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

Word count: 1 198

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Guilt is not a feeling Miyuki is used to.

He’s done a lot of questionable things in his run as a space pirate, but for some reason breaking his crew's trust like this is killing him. Their disdain for him is obvious in the way they ignore him at the dining table, pass him by when he’s struggling with his bandages, and actively avoid him during the day. He lets it go on like this for almost forty-eight hours. Not because he’s waiting for them to make the first move, but rather he just didn’t know what to say.

He’s checking in with his passengers when the other four enter the bay and watch him from one of the hanging paths. Zono and Kuramochi look down at him with mild anger, Nabe looks more annoyed than angry, and Chris looks ever so slightly disappointed.

Mei, who he was speaking with, nudges his shoulder and points up at them. He doesn’t tease Miyuki about the hole he’s found himself in, instead offering a reminder that honesty was the best policy. It was stupid hearing that from Mei, he was just as tricky as Miyuki if not more.

Miyuki sighs, excuses himself, and then makes his way up to the path. He wordlessly leans against the railing, looking down on the passengers as they go about their day. Kuramochi is sitting beside him, legs and arms hanging over the edge, and Chris is leaning back against the rail opposite Miyuki. Nabe had sat himself up on the railing beside Chris, and Zono looked like he was trying to intimidate the captain with the way he stood straight with his arms crossed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Uh-huh,” Nabe hums, he doesn’t sound convinced. “You said that last time.”

Definitely not convinced.

“You could have told us,” Kuramochi grumbled, clearly trying to keep a level head, “we would’ve- we wouldn’t have turned the job down.”

“Don’t say that,” Zono snapped, “we still don’t even know what the job is.”

“Maybe you should start with that,” Chris offered, stopping whatever angry spiel Zono was cooking up.

“Right.” Miyuki looks back down at the cargo bay.

The junior trio is playing a game of cards, Sawamura keeps losing and trying to pick fights with Furuya every time the other boy wins. Haruichi keeps reminding him to keep his voice down, but Rei, who’s sitting beside them reading, doesn’t seem to mind too much. On the other side of the bay Mei is perched on a box, talking with Carlos, Shirakawa, and Ituski– presumably about what they’re going to do once they get to Whitefall.

“Well, Rei,” he points down at the woman, “is a friend of Coach. She was a spy in the Alliance and apparently things are starting to look bad so we’ve been hired to ferry her to Whitefall where Coach is waiting to pick her up.”

“Was that so hard?” Nabe asks, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Miyuki rolled his eyes. “I didn’t tell you guys for the same reason I didn’t tell you guys about Mei, because I didn’t want you guys to worry. We had to go through Alliance territory to give ourselves an alibi,” he snapped, his voice raising just a bit too much, catching the attention of the junior trio whom Rei quickly distracted.

“Do you really have so little faith in your crew?” Chris asked.

Miyuki chews at his lip nervously.

“I trust them- you,” he emphasizes, still not looking at anyone, “to make smart choices and do what needs to be done, so if I’m doing something stupid and I will admit that this was stupid I can’t have you stopping me.”

“You do stupid things all the time,” Zono reminds him, “and we don’t stop you, we just pick up the slack.”

The cogs in Miyuki’s brain slowly grind against each other, moving the reels of memories slowly for him to reminisce.

Zono was right. Even before they were a crew, Nabe had saved his ass when he nearly willingly got scammed over a part he desperately needed– he was tired and didn’t want to haggle and he knew he didn’t look like he knew what he was talking about, so when the seller tried to charge him twice the price on an engine part, he bit– Zono saved him from a gang of bandits after he accidentally waltzed into a, frankly, very obvious trap, and Kuramochi was honestly the only reason The Challenger hadn’t tried flying through a meteor field. They all signed onto his crew knowing he was an idiot, and yet he still couldn’t trust them to watch his back.

He’s not ready for the level of honesty and vulnerability he needs for this apology, he decided, so he continues with his explanation.

“Mei’s an old friend of mine. He went off to an Alliance academy and recently reached out to me saying he needed out. I didn’t ask why, but he doesn’t ask often, so I figured we could take him out to Whitefall when we took Rei. His friends aren’t Alliance though, so they were going to be part of our cover. I figured we could pick up a few more bodies on Persephone but I wasn't expecting to pick up another deserter.” He looks down at Kuramochi.

“Haruichi, like Mei said the other day, is a medical genius. I’ve got a feeling i know why he wants to go to Haven-”

“He’s looking for his brother?” Zono asks.

Kuramochi glares at the man for cutting him off.

“Yes.”

“Ryou isn’t going to like that,” Chris hums, looking down at his friend's younger brother as the boy tries to break up a growing scuffle between his two companions.

Kuramochi nods in agreement. “I think he just wants to know he’s okay, so we’ll take him there and then… I don’t know, see what he wants to do.”

The group falls into silence, the previous confrontation seeming to fade away as they tenuously fall back to their previous affinity. Kuramochi excuses himself back to the cockpit, followed by Nabe slipping away to the engine. Zono seemed to awkwardly hang around as if he still had something to say. Miyuki, deciding to put his friend out of his misery, spoke up.

“Zono, we’re good.”

“We’re good?”

“We’re good.”

With that he nodded and went off to organize their weapons, leaving Chris and Miyuki alone.

“So,” Miyuki started, “I take it you won’t be coming back with Kuramochi?”

Chris sighed, pushing off the rail to lean beside Miyuki.

“No.”

“We’re gonna kill each other without you.”

“You’ll be fine. You were fine before me.”

Miyuki laughed. “Please, the only reason there wasn’t a mutiny on your first day was because you stepped in to save Nabe. I’m a horrible captain, the end justifies the means– and I’ve nearly gotten everyone killed a dozen times over.”

“You’re learning, you’re all learning, and I think you’ll be fine.”

“Right…”

“Maybe you should see if Haruichi wants to stick around though,” Chris chuckled, “you could definitely use a doctor.”

They laugh together, before they redescend into the bay and bring everyone into the dinning room for dinner.

[serenofroses]

pros of having Ania and Jazmyn clones: new screencap of different outfits. maybe with Ania in red hair.

cons of creating Ania and Jazmyn clones: some outfits not unlocked in collections and black/pink dyes. Ania dyed her hair black later in story due to sims 4 reason.

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #29

The Heir

Imagine dis…

You know what, it’s been a while since I added the infamous Al Ghuls to my stories.

…

The Lazarus Pit, a sacred lake in the League of Assassins' fortress, was said to provide immortality and bring back life. However, its underlying nature was considerably more sinister than its therapeutic properties indicated. Ra's al Ghul, the centuries-old leader, stood before the pit, his ancient and knowledgeable gaze fixed on the pool's depths. He sought the ideal successor to take his mantle and lead the League into a new age of domination. 

Ra's al Ghul had governed the League for generations, utilizing its vicious assassins to further his goals. As his death approached, he realized he needed to safeguard the League's future for it to survive. As the Lazarus Pit continued to bubble and churn, Ra's al Ghul considered the gravity of his decision. The selected heir would need strength, talent, wit, and ruthlessness to traverse the League's treacherous internal politics.

Ra's al Ghul's ravenous thirst for power ruined his yearning for the ideal heir, Talia's son Damian. Despite knowing Damian had the detective’s DNA, Ra was concerned that his influence would corrupt his heart and undermine his ruthlessness as leader of the League of Assassins, just as Damian's compassion and sense of justice would jeopardize his legacy.

Ra's al Ghul stood in front of the Lazarus Pit, its menacing glow casting eerie shadows throughout the enormous chamber. Though he was not religious, he couldn't help but feel fascinated by the magical power hidden within. He had achieved immortality here, at the very founding of the League of Assassins, and he was now looking for something even more valuable: a worthy heir to carry on his legacy.

Ra's offered a secret prayer to the Lazarus Pit, pleading for an heir who would transcend all others. And, as if in answer to his intense desire, the pit erupted in a dazzling burst of light, temporarily stunning Ra's and his collected assassins.

When the light faded, they saw a sight that struck them with awe and wonder: a newborn floating serenely amid the Lazarus Pit's shimmering waters, its eyes gleaming with an otherworldly green light. Ra's felt a rush of elation and insane glee pouring through his veins. He saw in this infant the embodiment of his deepest desires, the ideal vessel to carry on his legacy of conquest and immortality.

Ra's al Ghul approached the newborn with almost fanatical reverence, reaching out to hold it in his arms. He felt a force emanating from the child, a potential so huge and untapped that it sent chills down his spine. Here was his heir, the one who would take the League of Assassins to even higher levels of power and dominion.

As his supporters watched in wonder, Ra's al Ghul pronounced the newborn to be his chosen heir, the League's future leader. And in that moment, basking in the light of the Lazarus Pit, he realized that his legacy would last for centuries.

…

Talia stood in the shadows of the League's fortress, her heart full of mixed emotions. She had previously thought her son, Damian, would inherit her father's legacy, but the appearance of Daniel Daan Al Ghul dashed those expectations. The resentment of being passed over for a new male heir wounded her, reflecting the patriarchal norms that had formed her existence.

Nonetheless, as she watched Daniel develop under her care, she couldn't deny the wisdom and power emanating from him. His eerie green eyes appeared to look right through her, penetrating her soul with their ferocity. Despite her initial disdain, she found herself captivated by the youngster, seeing in his brilliance that much above her desires.

When Daniel was just five years old, he shocked her by entrusting her and Slade Wilson with separate sections of the League to lead. It was a gesture of trust and empowerment that left her dumbfounded, as she realized Daniel saw potential in her beyond her role as caretaker or assassin and guardian.

In epochs gone by, when the female hand grasped the scepter of might, she ascended to the echelons of immortality. Why am I precluded from such transcendence with you? I perceive the dormant titan within you, hence I proffer my dominion, both to you and to its awakening, for in you resides the essence of dominion.

He told her when she asked why. At that moment, she realized the extent of Daniel's strength and compassion, and she promised to serve him faithfully.

Talia's allegiance switched dramatically when Daniel personally intervened to save Jason Todd, her beloved’s son, from the lunacy of the Lazarus Pit.

Intervening just as her father, Ra Al Ghul, was about to order Jason Todd's execution because he was no use to him or the league, Daniel silently appeared beside her father and slowly walked down from the throne to the floor where Jason Todd was kneeling, still brain dead, as it was still a mystery to all how he was revived as he dug himself out of his grave.

Guard the tender soul, mend his wounds, for he is but a fledgling, entrusted to my care for solace and salvation.

He proclaimed to her father, who stared at Daniel, perplexed as to why Daniel wanted to keep this teenager, but agreed to utilize the pits for his purposes. When Jaosn emerged, he was already deep in the pit madness; when he raced towards Daniel, all assassins had created a wall around the heir, but Daniel told them to step aside; with a single touch, the madness left Todd and he went out.

Talia took on her job as Daniel's right hand from that day forward, leading him with her knowledge and cunning. Though her heart grieved for Damian, she knew Daniel was the rightful heir, destined to lead the League to greatness. And when she stared into his hypnotic green eyes, she saw not just a leader, but a judge and a god on the rise.

…

Slade Wilson, often known as Deathstroke, had always been a formidable force in the League of Assassins. His skills were unparalleled, and his reputation was legendary. However, as the years went by, a seed of ambition germinated within him, fuelled by a desire to seize League leadership for himself.

The discovery of Daniel Daan Al Ghul's emergence as a new heir fueled Slade's internal strife. On the one hand, he wished to stage a coup, seize authority, and establish himself as the legitimate leader. On the other side, he was captivated to the mysterious power emanating from Daniel, the heir born of the Lazarus Pits.

As Slade trained Daniel and Damian, he couldn't help but be amazed by Daniel's extraordinary abilities. The youngster was a genius in every way, with an intellect and prowess unparalleled by anybody else. And when Daniel, with his penetrating green eyes that appeared to capture the essence of the Lazarus Pits, recognized Slade's worth and appointed him to a position of responsibility within the League, Slade felt a weird mix of awe and reverence.

Untouched by the forge of opportunity, you, a blade honed in both physique and intellect, lay dormant amidst neglect, gathering the patina of obscurity. Yet, now, I bestow upon you the helm of leadership, for only you possess the whetstone to sharpen others to their zenith

Daniel informed him after he sought for an audience.

In that instant, Slade realized his fate was connected with Daniel's. He pledged his unwavering service, promising to serve his new lord until his soul was shattered. Slade saw Daniel as more than just a leader but as a being with incredible power and potential. And as he peered into Daniel's fascinating green eyes, he knew he'd follow him into the depths of hell, for even death couldn't break the link between master and servant.

…

Damian Wayne, raised under the League of Assassins, had always felt he was meant to carry on his grandfather's heritage. But when Daniel emerged from the Lazarus Pits, enveloped in their miraculous waters, Damian's fate changed.

As they grew, Damian was awarded the duty of Daniel's guardian, a position of great distinction in the League. He fully committed to this role, practicing tirelessly to prove himself worthy of defending the League's successor.

Damian was upset when Daniel unexpectedly dismissed him from the League at the age of 10. He couldn't understand why his lord would dismiss him so abruptly. Damian confronted Daniel, desperate for answers about his dismissal.

Youthful spirit, the horizon stretches before you, beckoning freedom's call. Yet, wanderer, when the winds of destiny bring you home, return to me. I relinquish the chains of selfish desire, for I discern your potential for greatness. Embrace the world, then return to my side, where together, we shall forge greatness anew.

Daniel then disclosed his genuine goals, which were to drive Damian to greatness and help him reach his full potential outside of the League. Though initially astonished and offended, Damian realized the underlying message in Daniel's actions and decided to earn his master's trust.

Going to his father's side, Damian sought out Robin's mantle, battling Tim Drake for the title. In doing so, he aimed not only to recover his place by Daniel's side but also to establish himself as a suitable successor to his grandfather's legacy, ready to embark on the path of greatness that Daniel had envisioned for him.

…

Daniel, a young heir to Ra's al Ghul, led the League of Assassins with unrivaled potential and strength. His wisdom and charisma won the respect and allegiance of powerful individuals such as Lady Shiva, Cheshire, and David Cain. Ra's al Ghul trusted Daniel to protect his legacy, knowing that the League would continue to develop and prosper under his leadership, assuring its domination for future generations.

…

Daniel meanwhile at the back of his mind kept screaming as he never thought that it would get him far. 

He was just walking around Amity when his ghost senses pinged something he could not see, one moment he was in his teen self and then he was a baby surrounded by ectoplasm and being carried by someone with major fruitloop vibes. He tried he tried, he tried to become a cryptid like Clockwork since it always makes him grit his teeth at the vague sentences that came out of him, heck even Pandora and Frostbite look at Clockwork and thought of strangling the ghost for his cryptic answers, he is pretty sure he does that for shit and giggles, but it made him look like mature and wise, someone who has infinite wisdom.

Danny thought of laying down low when it came to training but with the combined efforts in training with his mom and the various ghost mentors and fighters in the Infinite realms, he became a formidable fighter before he even reached his double digits. As years passed by each time he tried to deflect or even pass on his so-called political power to others was returned with undying loyalty that he didn't need. 

He just hopes that the Bat Furry brigade can help him out.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: As you can see, I posted a bit early, I am busy during May so this is another early post. bye-bye!

[hhnguyen]

little flower

I have become an actual fanatic ever since this movie came out and brought forth all of my old love for the Avatar world. I’ve seen this movie 5 times and Jake Sully as a dad refuses to leave my brain :’)

♢ Pairing: Dad!Jake Sully x Oldest Daughter!Reader (PLATONIC ya nasties)

♢ Word count: 1.8k

♢ Genre: Family fluff and feels, protective older sister reader

⌲ Description: You are a protective older sister that will always come to the defense of your siblings, even against your dad. And Jake couldn’t even be mad about it.

M A S T E R L I S T

As parents, there was no such thing as having a favorite child.

Humans knew it.

Na’vi knew it.

Jake knew it too.

But that didn’t stop the fact that he did have moments of favoring you over his other children.

How couldn’t he?

You. His first child was born into his new world. His first sign of a fresh, beautiful start. His firstborn. His first little flower.

Eywa must have thought him worthy enough to bless him with a child that was a scarily accurate mix of both him and Neytiri, although there were moments where Jake swore Tommy’s face had shone through. Like how your eyes would shine up at the prospect of learning something new, something hidden. The inner science nerd in you wanting to find out more.

You were also a fighter. One of the more anticipated young warriors of the Omatikaya clan - whispers of the elders following you with praises of being a worthy daughter of Toruk Makto.

And Jaked hated that word. ‘Worthy.’

None of his children had to be worth anything to be considered his own. They were a result of his and Neytiri’s love, and that was all that mattered to them.

Yet being Toruk Makto had put a heavy burden upon his eldest children without him having a say in it. You made sure to take most of the responsibility of being the oldest, yet a lot also fell to Neteyam being the oldest son. Jake tried his damn best to be a fair dad. An equal dad. But when he had been gifted kids such as Lo’ak, Jake was certain it was Eywa’s way to even the odds of calmness and serenity in their growing family.

You and Neteyam had been the dream babies. Calm and demure, who were easy to handle and feed. Kiri had been a little bit fussier when joining the family, but nothing they couldn’t handle.

But Lo’ak?

Damn, he had been the true nightmare for all parents. He came screaming into the world and was now walking through it with the word ‘troublemaker’ ingrained in his DNA.

And Jake wouldn’t change it for the world.

Although you, his oldest baby girl at now sixteen years old, would always have a special place in his heart no matter how many muttered scoldings he had with himself of not having favorites. You were starting to mature a bit too quickly to his liking, shedding away the last layers of your baby fat and awkward limbs, growing into the beginnings of a beautiful, young Na’vi woman.

You reminded him of Neytiri, just a few years younger and more outspoken, mixed with his crude earth humor and language.

Yeah. His mate had not been happy with that development.

Though he had managed to blame Norm and Max the first time you had accidentally let an f-bomb slip at the age of nine.

And then there were times like now, where his anger was boiling over and coiling together with the fearful worry in his gut after seeing his two idiotic sons on the ground of the raid, and not in the sky, where they were supposed to be.

‘Dad, it was my fault. I should have been more alert of their positions.’

They all knew it wasn’t your fault. But that was what you did. Take the blame with your shoulders high, and face unchanging.

‘Y/N, you-’ your name came out in a slightly agitated growl from Jake, but the relentless gaze in your eyes stopped him from taking it further.

“Just go get patched up - you stay,” the last part had been directed at his youngest son, as Lo’ak swallowed nervously. Although Jake could see you hovering behind the others before deciding to ignore his orders and remain only a few feet away.

Fearless, he thought to himself annoyed, just like your mother. That was the difference between you and your younger brother. Where Lo’ak was a troublemaker and reckless out of sheer curiosity and innocent spontaneous decisions, his stubbornness was not intended. Your stubbornness was the opposite, all willful and directed at him with a purpose that tired him out endlessly.

As he finished up scolding and grounding the stupidity incarnate that was his son, Jake didn’t miss as you walked up to him and shared some low whispers enough to make the frown on Lo’ak ease up slightly, tail giving away his better mood as he went on to tend to the ikrans.

You caught up to your dad easily enough, not saying a word and only accompanying him towards the tent of your grandmother despite the simmering anger still apparent in him.

Your younger brothers didn’t fear him, rather their respect for him was so immensely high that it automatically made them want to earn his approval in every single way, including following his orders like perfect soldiers. Or at least Neteyam did. Lo’ak, although holding that same respect was more prone to follow his own spontaneous choices.

There was a difference between you and them.

You respected your father. Of course, you did. But you also refused to become one of his soldiers because you knew better. You were not afraid to speak up against the mighty voice of Toruk Makto when you could see the faults in his choices, an ability that your mother had as well. That included many moments of unfair scoldings towards your brothers.

But he hadn’t always been this way. Your dad was carefree before the sky people came back to Pandora and declared war on your people. He had been affectionate, patient, and funny, even. You had been old enough to understand that by the return of the humans, Jake Sully had been forced to come back into his past military persona, showcasing a side that none of his children had ever been exposed to before - but were forced to adapt to with war right at their feet.

“Dad-”

“I am sick and tired of you taking the blame every time your siblings do something out of their own making!” His outburst was full of anger and frustration, and although his volume wasn’t loud, they were spat with a harshness that would usually send most people cowering away from the Olo'eyktan.

You, however, stood firm in your place. Chin raised and spine straight, waiting for the harsh breaths of your father to subside before putting in your own two cents.

“As the oldest sibling we expect you to be responsible in your choices, and as a good role model that includes knowing who’s at fault and taking the right responsibility.”

His stare was basically penetrating you. The yellow, intense eyes which were smaller than that of true Na’vi’s turned more intimidating when narrowed.

He was waiting, you realized. For you to soak in his words.

“Can I talk now?” You finally spoke, careful yet not meek.

At the incline of his head, you let your own drop slightly before letting out a sigh.

“I am really sorry, dad, ‘Teyam didn’t do anything wrong, he was just trying to stop him. And Lo’ak just wanted to make you proud, even though it was a stupid way of doing it,” you knew the way to soften his heart as his shoulders got less tense by your words. “I know you want them to take responsibility, but as you said; I’m their older sister. Is it that terrible for me to stand for them? If I can’t protect them from the sky demons directly, the least I can do is shield them a bit when they choose to do stupid things.”

Jake’s heart was constricting, memories of a past life flashing before his eyes followed by his feelings of regret and the old grief wanting to claw its way back out.

It was as if Tommy was speaking directly to him. His brother had always been the more caring sibling when they were young. Acting as the older one, despite being twins. Taking the fall for Jake’s younger self's mistakes and being the meditator despite his own harsh words of not needing help being spat in return as a show of gratitude.

The mighty Toruk Makto didn’t know if he was being punished for his past sins, or rewarded by basically getting Tommy’s personality reincarnated in you.

The anger melted away in seconds as Jake found himself simply staring at his oldest baby girl. You had a gift for softening him up in seconds, different from Tuk’s childish innocence and Kiri’s witty comebacks.

“Come here.”

Without hesitation, you stepped into his open arms and sank into his warm embrace as your dad kissed the top of your head affectionately.

“I take it you're not mad anymore?” You mumbled with a slight smile, as you felt him huff.

“Oh, I am still frustrated, flower. But you made a really good case for yourself, so how can I?”

You realized how long it’s been since your dad had actually hugged you like this. All warm, gentle affection. The last year has been hell on earth for your family, snuffing out most of the moments when the family used to cuddle together at night with laughter and sparkling eyes as your parents told stories of their past before Pandora was ruined by the sky people.

As the oldest, you had easily handed over most of the affectionate moments for Tuk to have, being only a child and needing that contact. You had convinced yourself that you were now old enough to not rely on the hugs and kisses of your parents to get through a harsh day.

You had clearly underestimated the hugs of your dad, as you gripped him tighter around the waist and nuzzled your face closer against his chest - not wanting to let go and return to the rest of the family just yet.

Jake noticed this easily. “You okay there, flower?” he murmured softly, not letting go.

“Yeah…” was your muffled reply. “Just…missed this, I guess.” Although honest, the tips of your ears turned slightly red in embarrassment.

“I suppose it’s been a while since I’ve given my oldest baby some cuddles, huh?”

“Daad,” you couldn’t help but whine, glancing up to see his familiar mischievous smirk from when he used to tease you all the time. “I’m way too old for that.”

His narrowed in a mock glare as you let out a startled squeak as his fingers suddenly tickled your sides as you tried to jump away, but he was quicker in holding you back and continuing his attack, prompting peals of laughter to fall from your lips.

The tickle attack didn’t last long fortunately before he was stepping back with a fond smile and looked you over with his larger hands cupping your face and pressing a soft kiss against your forehead.

“I love you, flower.”

“I love you too, dad.”

Jake didn’t have a favorite child.

But sometimes he couldn’t help but cherish you a little more when it was needed.

Can Jake be my dad pls. 

[vintagexherry]

Even if it Takes Forever

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

//Obsessive themes, slight angst, Cloning sciency stuff that I probably got wrong about.

---

---

"Recording? Again? You might as well work as a cameraman instead of a geneticist. " You giggle as you see a camera being pointed at you. You placed a hand at your pregnant belly as you smile at his actions.

Miguel was about to retort back when you both hear Gabriella running towards you.

"Mama! Mama! Look what I got!"

You look towards Gabriella, who has a handful of flowers, cradled in her arms.

"Can we make those flowers crowns again?" She asks as she sits in front of you, down on the picnic blanket.

You happily agree, as Miguel is filming the whole thing.

You and Gabi talked to each other about several things while interwining flower stems.

Gabriella suddenly pulled you down to her height and whispered something, causing the both of you to giggle.

"Say Miguel....Ever thought about modelling?"

"Wha?-" his questioned got cut off when both you and Gabi gently tackled Miguel behind the camera.

The camera got tackled to the floor while laughs and giggles fill the air.

With a swish of his hand, the hologram screen disappeared into thin air.

Silence fill the empty office.

Miguel deeply sighed as he stared into nothing, committing your and Gabi's voice into his head.

"Lyla, what per cent is it on now?"

As the mention of the name, a hologram of a lady appeared.

"You know, it won't get faster the more you ask." Lyla answered back.

"Just. Tell. Me." He sneered at Lyla.

"fifty-six per cent"

"Fifty-Six?! It's already been a month! Run the system again." He exclaimed.

"Numbers are numbers, Miguel. No matter how much you ask me, it won't get any faster."

Miguel groaned. He knew she was right, but the more days passed by, the slower it felt. He tried convincing himself that waiting is part of the progress, but it doesn't feel like he made any.

"Just.....Bring me down there." He said with a sigh as he steps on a small platform separated from his office computers.

Without another word from Lyla, the platform begins to decend, lower and lower into a dark abyss. Perhaps call it a secret passage way.

Once the platform completely lands, lights turn on immediately.

In front of Miguel, there were two human sized capsules connected to multiple tubes and wires to computers.

Inside those two capsules were yours and Gabriella's bodies, floating in blue-ish liquid.

Your face is serene and peaceful, and so is Gabi's.

He still remembers the days when he first started this project.

With the help of 2099 technology, he can make clones upon clones of people with the help of AI and human DNA.

But it wasn't easy.

Within the first trials, he was able to make Gabriella using his DNA, but she only lived up to a week when her internal organs failed due to missing chromosomes. He found out he couldn't make Gabriella without your DNA.

He almost gave up then.

Almost.

The second time, he tried you, using some DNA of a random woman he found.

You only lived for a week when your brain had miscalculations since it couldn't match with the DNA and with the codes he input and before he knew it, your brain self- destructed.

Trials upon trials pile up to a stack.

A missing limb.

An extra finger.

A missing organ.

So on and so forth, failed expirements pile up.

He remembers how much he was persistent on the project, so much that Lyla had to call for Peter and Jess to spray him sleeping gas and connect his body to IVs and nutrition tubes.

But he still didn't give up.

He finally found the solution when he went to another universe, where you are well alive and so is Gabi.

He fought the urge to stay within the universe, but he had learnt his lesson already.

While he watched you and Gabi sleep, he took it an opportunity to take a couple of hairstrands.

After collecting, he undid his mask and kissed your forehead and left with a heavy heart.

But he finally did it.

He remembers how joyous he felt.

He remembers smiling, which felt like since eternity since the last time he did.

Even Lyla was surprised when he stopped giving her angry demands and shouts.

He looked at the computer and saw that your organs,brain, and overall body were stable.

He still had leftover hair samples from you, and with his DNA sample, he also could make Gabriella.

He remembers staring at the capsule for so long that he swore he could be a statue until Lyla had to make him move eventually.

So here he was.

Looking at the unconscious and floating bodies of you and Gabi.

His palm automatically places itself on the glass, and if he imagines hard enough, he could feel your warmth from it.

He looked at the moniter next to your capsule and saw it was still fifty-six per cent, after seventy per cent he could then input the videos he took into your brain which could be made up to your memories, but alas, progress was slow.

His attention then shifted to Gabriella's capsule.

He remembers the way you would always remind him of how much she looks like him.

He would always respond back that Gabi's smile and laugh matches yours.

Oh, how much he misses those sounds.

He looked at her percentage, and it was still the same. Her heartbeat is stable and has a healthy condition.

"Miguel, you have a call." Lyla suddenly appeared on his shoulder.

He sighed, remembering he still has spider duties.

He went back to the platform, and once it started lifting up again, he looked at both of your capsules once again until the lights automatically turned off, leaving him staring at nothing.

He knows it will take forever for you and Gabi to be completely alive again.

But he'll wait even if it takes forever.

[valentine-cafe]

˚◞♡ 𝒋𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒚𝒊 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒓𝒂 209 — the snake-hybrid mad doctor◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ “ darling, i have dealt with many hearts, but I've never come across one as pretty as yours, ” ꒱

. ˚◞꒰verse꒱ 209

. ˚◞꒰face claim refs꒱ ( x ) ( x ) ( x )

. ˚◞꒰species꒱ grim reaper, snake hybrid

. ˚◞꒰ethnicity꒱ chinese

. ˚◞꒰age꒱ 46

. ˚◞꒰gender꒱ male

. ˚◞꒰mbti꒱estj

. ˚◞꒰aliases꒱ the doctor, the surgeon, doctor herrera, the heartless, the black plague ( by enigma, the resistance ), snakie-boy, snake-bitch ( by haitao )

. ˚◞꒰appearance꒱

𖹭. oftentimes seen wearing his deceptively kind smile, fooling even the most skeptical of people when they catch a glimpse of the red painted lips stretched out on his face.

𖹭. deep amber snake eyes are often hidden by a pair of maroon contacts, hiding away the truth like the rest of his general body language and confident posture.

𖹭. long, silky black hair that falls past his shoulders, usually put into a half-ponytail or let loose.

𖹭. is able to unhinge his jaw, putting on display, his forked elongated tongue, rows of sharp teeth and his two snake fangs protruding whenever he yawns

𖹭. wears a wide range of jewellery, thin gold necklaces and chokers covering his neck and shoulders. while his ears are covered in a pair of standard lobe piercings, along with a helix — right ear covered in a conch and tragus piercing. rings covering his fair toned fingers.

𖹭. stands at the towering height of 6’7 ft ( 201cm ), with a lean and well toned figure.

𖹭. androgynous, sharp and soft facial features.

𖹭. very fluid and elegant in the way he moves and overall looks.

𖹭. primarily dons the red makeup styles.

𖹭. extremely vintage styled aesthetic in fashion choice, loves wearing poet shirts and suits.

𖹭. he has a frenum piercing ( peepee piercing )

. ˚◞꒰personality꒱

𖹭. deceivingly kind and serene demeanor hiding the sadism and manipulative intentions and ulterior motives.

𖹭. he is deceptive in every way and form, his sharp intelligence silencing those who speak against him or try to prevent him from succeeding his goals.

𖹭. has a silver-tongue riddled with false kindness and care the fools that decide to affiliate themselves with him, bringing them into a sense of comfort and security that never was there to begin with — using their confidence as an advantage

𖹭. on the inside, you see the sinister, sarcastic and malicious sociopath that is the true part of the so-called “goodhearted” poet.

𖹭. charming and charismatic words and actions concealing the greedy and sadistic side of him.

𖹭. prefers silence over loud talk, and maintains his anonymity and mystery due to this factor — getting him to talk is not a possibility, even if you tried by forcing it out of him.

𖹭. can be sassy and give blunt replies to people he finds himself irritated with.

𖹭. moodiness is a result of both his snake dna and his traumatic past — or because his husband is not around.

𖹭. calculative and witty — has a great memory and uses it often to note down the speech patterns, movements and body-languages of the people around him.

𖹭. his perceptiveness is the next in line to his intelligence, you cannot outlie the master liar and manipulator, he knows your tricks.

𖹭. hard to anger and irritate, and will applaud you for your audacity and stupidity for trying so.

𖹭. should this man find himself infatuated with someone, he will put his possessiveness and obsessiveness on display. showing you his yandere tendencies and greedy behaviour around them.

. ˚◞꒰with a lover꒱

𖹭. very sweet. very verbally and physically affectionate. you see the more humane side of him that others do not

𖹭. he is exceptionally patient with you. always assuring you when you need and comforting you

𖹭. he loves spoiling you. especially taking you out clothes shopping and letting you try out whatever it is that you may wish. loves seeing you flustered whenever he pulls you into a clothing shop. flustering you whenever he snatches your waist in front of a mirror

𖹭. always worshipping your skin with kisses. he can barely keep his hands off of you

𖹭. possessive, but hides it well with his poetic and loving words. he is most definitely a yandere type. willing to do whatever it takes to keep you at his side.

𖹭. very verbal about how much he obsesses over you, as much as he is clear in his actions that he wants you for himself and no-one else. should anyone look or talk to you in a way he does not like? he will gouge their eyes out, or use them as his newest “patients”

𖹭. loves teasing you and flirting with you until you have lost your breath from giggling or whining for him to shut up

𖹭. a very passionate lover and has no problem in showing his passion for you neither. even when it’s in public

𖹭. pda? what’s that? he’ll pull you into his lap even in a cafe. or kiss you in booths. have his hands on you. anything to show that you are his

𖹭. if anyone lays a finger on you. . . they are dead.

. ˚◞꒰strengths꒱

𖹭. increased bodily function: advanced strength, speed, agility and durability.

𖹭. heightened senses: advanced sight, smell, hearing, taste and awareness of surroundings.

𖹭. healing factor: an average healing factor that heals his injuries far quicker than most

𖹭. fangs and bite: has a set of snake fangs that can secrete two venoms: a paralytic, which he uses for sedation, and a fatal. he can switch between them. and especially powerful bite

𖹭. talons & venomous touch: he has talons that secrete high levels of venom. this venom is extracted by thin wired implanted on his wrists that carry his venom to his nails, resulting in venom-induced touches should he use them on someone.

𖹭. snake physiology: has the flexibility of a snake, therefore his body is able to move in the fluid motion that a serpent would. he is able to dislocate his joints with ease and twist his body in whichever way he prefers. his jaw can unhinge as well.

𖹭. poison immunity: immune to poisons.

𖹭. elastic jaw: the ability to unhinge his jaw to drastic measures

𖹭. hyper climbing and clawing: able to slither up surfaces

𖹭. seismic sense: able to feel vibrations in a seismic way whenever his limbs touch surfaces. he can feel these from quite awhile ago

𖹭. enhanced lung capacity: able to hold his breath for longer

𖹭. stealth: can move around swiftly and quietly

. ˚◞꒰weaknesses꒱

𖹭. poison addiction: due to building up a poison resistance by intaking the substances, he is now immune to poison but in turn has grown addicted to the intake of them. he now does it for the fun of it and as a coping mechanism.

𖹭. abandonment issues: if he is away from the people he loves. this can result in erratic episodes and even have a negative affect on his physical well-being

𖹭. fainting: should he grow overwhelmed, he is prone to fainting.

𖹭. apples: has a mild allergy to apples and takes medication for it.

𖹭. reapers: not much is known of this condition. . . come back later and perhaps you might find out?

𖹭. apples: has a mild allergy to apples and takes medication for it.

𖹭. oranges: has a bad allergy to oranges.

𖹭. daylight: as a nocturnal reaper, daylight and other bright sources of light can weaken his senses of sight as he is used to the darkness of the night.

𖹭. d’akar: an anti-magic material that can greatly weaken him if he comes into contact with it. he, especially is affected by this.

𖹭. extreme emotional attachment: while reapers may remind one of humans, they are not. they are beings with very empathetic instincts and have souls bigger than the average mortal being — a thing that has been with them since their creation. they become extremely attached to things they love and it may cause them to become erratic if enough they love is taken away from them.

. ˚◞꒰relationships꒱

𖹭. rishen herrera: husband, business partner, best friend

𖹭. yuè mèng yáo: mother, deceased

𖹭. zhào mùchén: father, deceased

𖹭. zhào hàoyú: younger brother, deceased

𖹭. zhào haitāo: younger brother, enemy

𖹭. zhào xīyáng: younger brother, deceased

𖹭. wèi lìxuě: enemy

𖹭. liú tàishī: enemy

𖹭. alessio agresta arias: “rival”, deceased

𖹭. lorenzo agresta arias: enemy

𖹭. park tae-hyun: enemy

. ˚◞꒰story꒱

sly grins and skilled yet devilish hands. hidden by kind eyes and serene smiles. how could a gaze like that watch with glee the suffering of experiments?

a mad doctor to match his mad scientist for a husband, experimenting and tormenting enigma and inhumans with the excuse of making a better world. jingyi herrera designs medicines that no other verse has even seen. so what if it's at the cost of a few souls? it's for the greater good. 

so he'll indulge in his insanity. in his horrid morals and his lust for knowledge, for his twisted sense of justice. all if it means succeeding in all of his ambitions and staying at the side of his beloved.

. ˚◞꒰extra꒱

𖹭. he is a doctor and has a clinic on the second floor of valence. he specialises in most areas of anatomy and is a skilled doctor and surgeon.

𖹭. he is also the co-chairman of valence

𖹭. he is fluent in asl and csl

𖹭. he speaks chinese ( mandarin ) and spanish ( latin american )

𖹭. has a cat named beauregard oliver fitzgeralt josé cassandra o'hara the 7th arch king of death.

𖹭. loves old-timey romance movies

𖹭. as much as he is mature, he does love giving his assistants a good scare every now and then when he thinks they are being lazy. . . and by scare we don’t mean by lighthearted pranks.

𖹭. likes collecting tea sets.

𖹭. he sometimes smokes

[nicolaradano]

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[sephirothsplaything]

DNA| Sec.80 high power-chapter 14

A/N:Nooo Rhaella! Please don't project your obsessive/avoident attachment style onto Jace because you miss Aemond!!

This is the story of Lady Rhaella Targaryen; the strange one and her role in the Dance Of Dragons. Loved by few and feared by many.

The blood of the dragon runs in Targaryen's veins. Something else runs in Rhaella.

BLACK TARGARYEN OC/READER

PARINGS: Aemond, Cregan,slight Jace, slight Addam,original character.

Read the last chapter here!

"I should have been there," Jacaerys grumbled. 

Rhaella looked up to the starry skies in silence. She was still reeling from her brush with death. How the weight of her dagger felt lighter when she found the resolve to kill again. 

It was quite perplexing. The thought almost made her smile.

Jace had found himself outside to where Rhaella had stashed herself away. She did not particularly mind his presence, so long as he kept quiet. But here he was, ranting away.

"Are you listening?" Jace asked. Rhaella nodded. Jacaerys was angry, rightfully so. But more than anything he wished to act, to fly his dragon and turn their enemies to ash.

"It was a bold scheme, I admit," Rhaella says finally. Jace rolled his eyes in response. 

"Such stupidity could only come from Aegon, I'm sure." He said.

"Criston Cole had a likely role." Rhaella comments. It was not so long ago that he had blocked her from leaving Alicent's company. There was so much hatred in his eyes.

"If my mother only allowed me to be of use." Jace ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

Rhaella scoffed. Was he truly this short-sighted?

"You lack experience, your dragon is young," Rhaella states bluntly. Jace turned fully to face her. His cousin was an enigma, for sure. He could not comprehend how she was content with watching and waiting.

"You could claim a dragon or even an egg," Jace said. 

"I am trying,it is not so easy." Rhaella snapped. He couldn't understand, his dragon was born to him. Rhaella was shown no such favor.

Recognizing he had struck a nerve in her, Jace drew back instantly, eyes softening.

"I meant no harm by it," Jace reassured. Rhaella shrugged his words off, it meaning little and less.

"I am not your betrothed, you need not consider my feelings," Rhaella scoffed.

Jace parted his lips to speak, but Rhaella's icy voice cut him off once more. She felt compelled to continue.

"You wish for vengeance, it is unbecoming of you," Rhaella said. 

Jace observed Rhaella's state. It was as if she hadn't been attacked merely hours ago. Her serene demeanor was nearly terrifying. Like she had since made up her mind about something.

"Was Luke not worthy of vengeance?" Jace asked. Rhaella's steely purple eyes hardened. She misliked when her words were misconstrued.

"War is sweet to those who have never fought," Rhaella said. The words were for Jace as well as herself. A poor attempt to calm her own bloodlust.

"My mother holds back, it unravels us all," Jace countered. Rhaella shook her head.

"She is strategic in her wait, you are too blind to see it."

The two cousins were quiet for a moment. The warm Dragonstone breeze passed over both of them.

"Aemond will not stop, and neither shall I," Jace concluded. Rhaella tensed at the sound of his name. Hard as she might try, Aemond's letter was still occupying space underneath her pillow.

"Alright then, promise me this," Rhaella said. "You are the heir to the throne, and my sister will be your queen."

Jace's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He could not follow.

"Take all your spite and sorrow, give it to me so that you may think clearly," Rhaella said.

"I would not dare place that burden on you cousin," Jace said.

"I can take it, you cannot." Rhaella resolved. Jace's anger would cloud his logic, and if Rhaella were to instill her plans inside of him, she could not have his foolishness getting in her way. His claim was much too important.

"Agreed, but I ask something from you in return."

Rhaella's eyebrow raised. She was unsure if she was in any mood to entertain this.

"Let us help each other keep our wits about us, I know you long to act as well," Jace said.

So he had been paying attention. All the subtle twitches in Rhaella's mostly melancholic face. Twitches of rage and passes of darkness. Jace had indeed seen it all.

Rhaella was not so alone as she thought. 

"Fine," Rhaella said, almost in a whisper. She resigned, hoping he would not disappoint her.

Jace stood up, stretching out. He offered his hand to Rhaella.

"The hour has grown late, shall I walk you to your chamber?"

………………..

THE MORROW CAME. Astris had scrubbed Rhaella raw and brushed out her curls into oblivion.

"You could be more gentle," Rhaella muttered. She watched Astris dart back and forth gathering her clothes for the day.

"Mayhaps, but now you look more like a lady!" Astris retorted. Holding out a towel, Rhaella wrapped it around herself.

"I never thought much of my looks." Rhaella sat on a stool as Astris began to work through her hair. Her mother would tell her that she was pretty, but Rhaella figured she was more or less obligated to do so.

Astris formed Rhaella's silver curls into a braided style more elaborate than she was used to. The braids tapered off into thick curls that fell to her waist. 

"I could not know why, you have quite a lusty figure," Astris commented cheekily. It made Rhaella's cheeks grow warm.

"If you are finished with your jests, I would like my gown," Rhaella said.

Astris helped Rhaella slip into her gown, it was a fine thing indeed. A red and black dress with a form-fitting corset with long sleeves that flowed down.

"What did you and the prince discuss last night?" Astris asked, adjusting the corset.

"I simply advised him to not be a fool," Rhaella responded. Astris giggled, leaning into her.

"And here I thought it would be something of note."

Rhaella turned to face her, purely unamused. "Today you are full of jokes, I see."

Astris shrugged, a small smirk on her face. "I had nearly forgotten what your preferred taste in men is."

She was relentless today, likely bored. Rhaella dismissed Astris from her chamber, turning back to look at her reflection. She felt like a pretender.

When Rhaella entered Rhaena's room, she found that Baela was already there.

"Sudden change in wardrobe?"Baela said. Rhaella made herself comfortable on Rhaena's couch.

"Astris insisted, overwhelmingly so," Rhaella said. Rhaena's eyes sparkled at the sight of her sister, despite her own sullen face.

"What is it?" Rhaella asked. Rhaena sighed, her hands restless with one other.

"Her grace is shipping me off to the Vale with Joffery, Viserys, and Aegon," Rhaena said.

"Perhaps it is for the best," Baela said, holding Rhaena's hand. She scoffed in response.

"Yes away from everything else, I shall play the nursemaid," Rhaena said bitterly.

"You'll have our father to thank for that," Rhaella said. Since his mistake..as he called it occurred, The queen rightfully feared that the greens may take action against her youngest.

"I hate him, sometimes," Baela admitted, reluctantly. For Rhaella, it was a common feeling she held since she was a girl. Despite her loathing, she found herself missing her father.

She would not dare voice the thought.

"The queen trusts you with them the most, she knew better than to send me," Rhaella said. Joffery seemed to prefer Rhaena to herself whilst Aegon and Viserys were always occupied by a maid. 

"She keeps you and Baela because of the dragons," Rhaena said.

Baela sighed again. Rhaella knew the feeling all too well. A Targaryen without a dragon was like a knight without a sword.

"If it is of any commiseration, Aegarax still refuses me," Rhaella said. 

"He is wild, give it time," Baela said. But in truth, time was little and less on their side. War was at their doorstep and Rhaella was annoyingly vulnerable.

"Right," Rhaella murmured to herself.

"The queen has asked me to keep watch over Kings Landing," Baela stated.

A poorly timed thing to say, Rhaena and Rhaella glanced at each other in agreement.

"Is that safe? So close to the city?" Rhaena asked.

"I shall stay high," Baela said confidently. Rhaella greatly doubted her sister would follow the queen's instructions so closely. And what if she fell upon one of the Greens dragons?

Her stomach turned at the thought.

"Moondancer is small, she will not be noticed so easily," Rhaella said instead.

Baela gave Rhaena a reassuring hug. Rhaella simply observed passively. 

"Come to the council meeting with me Rhaena," Rhaella suggested. She had grown tired of not having Rhaena by her side.

The two girls ventured to the Stone drum, the center of Dragonstone. Baela headed to the dragon pits in preparation.

Each sister took their place by the table. Jace glanced at Rhaella, eyeing the dress she wore.

"Is that new?" Jace whispered. Rhaella turned her head slightly in acknowledgment.

"Why?" Rhaella asked, a small smirk gracing her face. "Do you wish to trade clothes?"

Jace sighed in resignation before averting his attention back to the matter at hand.

"How fares Prince Daemon with our army?" Ser Alfred asks. The queen Rhaenyra seemed to physically coil at the question. She had grown weary at the mention of him, as had Rhaella.

"There has been no word, your grace." One of the maesters says. Rhaella glanced at Rhaena. Their father was practicing avoidance, as usual.

"Then we must send out all the dragons, overturn the Greens strongholds." Ser Alfred urges. 

He was often quick to speak out of turn, forgetting his place. But Rhaella did not exactly disagree. Had it been up to her, she would have done away with the greens army ages ago.

If only Aegarax would let her, that was.

"If dragons begin fighting dragons we only invite our own destruction," Rhaenyra said.

Rhaella's hand twitched at her side. 'All power demands sacrifice'

Ser Alfred chuckled bitterly in response. Jace's hand hovered atop his sword. Rhaella nudged him with the heel of her shoe. Slowly, he brought his hands back to either side of him.

"But your grace," Another lord spoke. "You have witnessed first hand how exposed you are."

Ser Alfred hummed in agreement. " Had Ser Erryk not arrived, you and the lady Rhaella would have been slain."

Quite the opposite, Rhaella had felt. Perhaps she would have sustained injuries, but she would have the two eyes of the invader clutched in the palm of her hand before the fact.

If only Ser Erryk had waited a while longer.

"Perhaps you should flee to somewhere safe, whilst we remain here." Lord Celtigar suggested.

"She shall do no such thing." Rhaella hurled out before she could control herself.

For watching the queen struggle amongst these idiots caused her patience to wain greatly. Why was she allowing such a thing, Rhaella could hardly understand.

"That would be treason, you are lucky you took it no further." Queen Rhaenyra said.

She stood up to leave abruptly, likely to her chambers. There was not much else for her to do.

"That concludes it, I suppose," Jace mutters out. Rhaella had grown bored of this routine.

"Come sister, let us ready your things." She said to Rhaena.

……….

RHAELLA WATCHED as Tyraxes and Stormcloud were ushered out in their crates. Rhaena held a look of nausea.

"It will be fine." Rhaella tried to assure her, although her flat tone was less than.

Baela walked up to them, embracing Rhaena.

"You have not left yet?" Rhaella asked. 

Baela shot Rhaella a look. "And miss Rhaena leave? I think not."

Rhaena grasped the hands of Baela. Rhaella stood off, a small pang of bitterness stirred within her. If only she could allow herself to be so free with affections.

"Go safely, sister." Baela wished.

"I will be safe enough," Rhaena said sharply. Rhaella crossed her arms,opting to keep her gaze on the young dragons.

"I'm sure you will be well-liked in the Vale." Rhaella said.

Baela hummed in agreement. "You may find yourself glad to be out of harm's way," Baela said.

It was not so condescending, but Baela could not understand. Such was the privilege of one born to a dragon.

"Do not coddle me Baela," Rhaena said bitterly. Baela looked to Rhaella for help but found no such relief.

"You do coddle, often in fact," Rhaella said shrugging.

"But I meant no insult," Baela said sincerely. She turned her head to the dragon egg chamber. "And here, I think is some consolation."

The sisters joined Queen to Rhaenyra by them. There, presented were four eggs each of them varying in color.

"But should all come to ruin, you shall bear our hope for the future," Rhaenyra said.

Rhaella stared at the eggs. In truth, she thought she had fed the last of Syrax's clutch to Aegarax.

'Ice and Fire' Rhaella felt a sharp pain in her head, causing her to hiss. She did not need to think too hard as to what had caused it.

"Are you alright?" Jace asked gently. Rhaella took a slight step back. 

"Ice and fire." She muttered. Jace frowned, stricken with confusion. Rhaella had once again returned to her strangeness.

Baela and Rhaena hug once more, a final goodbye. It was unclear when they would see each other again.

Rhaena hugged Rhaella as well, pulling her from the daze she was in.

"I shall miss you," Rhaella said. Rhaena's eyes watered.

"Then grant me this one favor," Rhaena said. Rhaella looked to Rhaena expectantly.

"Burn the letter, should longing become your enemy."

But how could Rhaella tell her that it already had? She would hold it in her hand for hours at a time before she drifted off to sleep.

"As you wish," Rhaella said. A lie.

When Rhaena and their young step-siblings had left, Rhaella went back to the topic of the previous council.

The queen was in an impossible situation. It was agony to be left in the dark as to what the Greens were plotting. 

Rhaella misliked not knowing things. A thought crossed her mind. Perhaps she could yet be useful to her grace—dragon or not.

"Your grace!" Rhaella sped up her pace to keep up with Rhaenyra. The queen turned to her. In all honesty, Rhaenyra was shocked that Rhaella was speaking to her. She had a thought that the girl fully resented her.

"Rhaella?" Queen Rhaenyra said. "Wha-."

"I wish to speak to you, it is urgent," Rhaella said hurridly

Rhaenyra led Rhaella into her chambers. Rhaella folded her hands in front of her, confident in her actions.

"You look quite pretty, might I say." Queen Rhaenyra commented. Rhaella tried to smile but it came out like a grimice.

"I have a proposition," Rhaella said. Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow.

"We are maintaining the blockade with my grandsire's fleets, are we not?" Rhaella asked.

Rhaenyra nodded. "It has been a great help."

Rhaella eyes down the multiple books on the side table, open to the pages of Queen Visenya.

"Visenya had a brilliant mind for warfare," Rhaella said. She did not shy away from the most bloodiest of affairs. It was admirable.

"I had hoped to draw inspiration possibly," Rhaenyra said.

Rhaella herself preferred the black bride, Rhaena Targaryen.

"Use the hunger of the smallfolk as a weapon," Rhaella suggested. "The people of Kings Landing are surely starving."

"That would be too cruel." Rhaenyra shook her head. Frustrated, Rhaella shut the book with a thud.

"No, it would be war," Rhaella responded. How could the queen not see a golden opportunity right under her nose?

Rhaenyra looked at Rhaella for a moment. Such a soft face, she had. Words of viciousness leaving her mouth was quite jarring to witness.

"What would you then?" Rhaenyra resided. "If you were placed in my position."

'Surround the red keep with all of our dragons.' Was the first thought that crossed her mind.

"Infiltration, someone who could be overlooked," Rhaella said. "There is much risk with multiple spies, it is better to send a single formidable one."

"And who would you propose?"Rhaenyra asked.

"Astris, my own handmaid."Rhaella could not think of anyone better suited for the task.

"No." Queen Rhaenyra shot her offer. 

"She is swift and meticulous," Rhaella argued. "Astris served the prince of Pentos before her servitude to me."

Rhaenyra considered this. She had never seen Rhaella so sure of anything.

"And you trust her, wholeheartedly?" Rhaenyra asked. Rhaella's eyes softened at the mere thought of her.

"It was she along with Mysaria who aided in my escape," Rhaella said.

"Help me see your plan then," Rhaenyra said. Eager, Rhaella sat down.

"Let Astris keep check on Aegon and the rest," Rhaella said. "She can report back anything that might be of use."

Rhaenyra hummed. "It is dangerous." 

"I am confident she can handle it, Aegon is little challenge," Rhaella said. Her hand twitched by her gown. Her true worry lay with Aemond, Astris would need to avoid him.

"And if something was to happen?" Rhaenyra asked.

"I shall take full responsibility, and act accordingly," Rhaella assured.

Queen Rhaenyra stood, smiling softly at Rhaella. It warmed her to see Rhaella so expressive,as it was so unlike her.

"You have your mother's mind, I think," Rhaenyra said. Rhaella blinked, averting her gaze to the floor. She could not know how to reply

The queen Rhaenyra moved past the silence. "Ensure you prepare Astris properly, I shall make arrangements."

.............

The boat was made ready for Astris's departure at dusk. The time had come and Rhaella's anxieties ate away at her.

The two girls stood in the outer corridor. Rhaella was sending her closest friend off to the vipers, and to what end? Gratification? She could privately admit this was both reckless and selfish.

Astris seemed to sense her lady's unease. Gently, she grabbed Rhaella's shaky hand.

"I can handle myself well enough, you know that," Astris said. Rhaella knew it, as she knew very well what Astris could do.

"You could still be hurt," Rhaella said softly. 

Astris smiled in response, a deep blush coloring her cheeks. "The Gods shall watch over me."

Rhaella scoffed. The Gods?

"I want you to make note of any green council member with influence," Rhaella said. In addition, she had entrusted Mysaria with maintaining communication. Rhaella wished to know every detail in the Red Keep, down to the gossip of maids. She was uniquely interested in Aemond's daily routine as well.

"Yes, my lady," Astris said. Rhaella's lips twitched into a smile. 

"Be wary of Aegon, he is a cunt," Rhaella added.

Astris raised a dark brow. "I shall do my best."

The boat sails dropped, ready to venture into the waters.

"Will you be alright, my lady?" Astris glanced at Rhaella. The energy surrounding Rhaella had not subsided, it merely seemed to increase. It was all too apparent that the Targaryen's girl mind was beginning to fracture.

"We shall see," Rhaella said. 

Astris began to leave with a small curtsy, but before she went any further, Rhaella pulled her in, placing a firm kiss on her lips.

"I need you to do whatever is necessary," Rhaella whispered to her. The Black haired girl looked at her with wide eyes. Astris understood her lady completely and would act accordingly.

Rhaella watched her leave, a feeling of emptiness swallowed her. She walked along the outer courts of Dragonstone, wondering if this was a fool's plan.

In the distance, the roars of a dragon could be heard. Aegarax's distinct calls shot right through her.

Maybe he was upset she had neglected to visit him with a dragon egg. It had been some time since Rhaella had seen him.

Rhaella's walk to the dragon mount seemed shorter this time around. Looking up to the caves, she began to climb. It was only when she had ventured halfway up did she she a tall figure above her.

She cursed, nearly losing her footing. What person would be daring enough to find themselves in a wild dragon's cave?

Rhaella was not too worried though, whoever was there would surely meet their end. The discontented roars of Aegarax only grew louder.

"Lykirī, Aegarax!" Rhaella tried but to no avail. She looked around for the intruder once more but found nothing that could irritate the dragon.

Whatever High Valyrian she spoke had almost no effect. Aegarax crawled out of the cave, on full display to Rhaella. His black scales reflected the moonbeams present.

"Skoros iksos ziry?" Rhaella said in a hush.'What is it?' Aegarax settled into a grumble, his head was restless.

Slowly, Rhaella reached out her hand to him. But she was met with an open-mouthed roar, causing her to jerk back immediately.

Taking cover, Aegarax took flight from the cave and into the skies. Away from her and with him he took the hopes of progress.

Perhaps it was one great jest. She had kidded herself into truly believing she had achieved something of significance. 

Forever dragonless, a false Targaryen.

[heaven-s-black-box]

You Can't take the Sky From Me- Serenity chpt.4

Return to File

Recovery date: March 4th, 2024

Description: The crew of The Challenger, captained by Miyuki Kazuya, take on a job that requires the cover of another job ferrying people. Ever the genius, Miyuki keeps some key details hidden from his crew, and it bites him in the ass.

Notes: Updates will be irregular because I'm still writing chapters but only as I feel like it. Don't question the timeline here please, it's only sort of coherent.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

Word count: 1 556

Back to directory

Kuramochi had put up with a lot of Miyuki’s bullshit in his time running with the young captain. The man was reckless with his safety, and that made him a danger to be around, but he didn’t mind. Danger was what he wanted. In this world freedom was dangerous, and freedom was all he wanted. It was why he used to scavenge in Alliance scrap yards on Ariel, it was why he ran with Ryou, and it was why he followed his hazard of a captain.

But this? This was more than Miyuki being a hazard, this was him actively putting his crew in danger for the sake of a job.

If they’d been stopped by the Alliance while Miyuki was asleep, if Mei hadn’t kicked up a fuss, if Chris hadn’t recognized Rei and he hadn’t recognized Haruichi… if they’d been caught harboring fugitives, then nowhere would be safe for them. They toed the line of legality enough as it was, but they were always in agreement to break the law to help people. All Miyuki had to do was explain what was happening and Kuramochi was sure everyone would have signed on, if not a bit begrudgingly.

He doesn’t think any plan Miyuki has will make him want to stay, and he’s pretty sure Ryou won’t be too happy with him delivering his younger brother to his door, so he’s not sure where he’ll go next. But he’s got plenty of time to think about it with the remaining four days of their trip.

A knock on the cockpit door snapped him from his reverie.

“Come in, unless your Miyuki then you can go fuck yourself!”

The door creaked open, and he turned around partway to find Zono and Nabe stepping through the hatch. He sighs and turns completely, dropping his hands into his lap and leaning forward on his elbows.

Nabe takes a seat, while Zono leans back against the wall, and the three sit in silence for a solid minute.

“You aren’t actually going to leave, are you?” Nabe asks, his voice is quiet as though he doesn’t want to be heard.

Kuramochi lets out a tired sigh.

“I don’t know.”

“Well I think you should,” Zono grumbles, “he could have gotten us killed! And he promised to stop being all secretive after the last mission.”

“Zono… I get why he didn’t tell us.”

“Ya,” Nabe mumbled. “If we’d known we would’ve tried to avoid the Alliance, and then when Miyuki told us not to, this,” he waves a finger in circles, gesturing to the three of them, “would have happened anyways.”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“No, and if he doesn’t apologize I will leave, and you two should too.”

Nabe and Zono nodded in silent agreement, but Zono stopped when he turned to leave and faced Kuramochi again. The pilot had already swiveled back around.

“Speaking of secrets. Who’s pinky?”

Kuramochi doesn’t turn around when he answers, “A… An acquaintance's brother.”

“And you didn’t think to tell us he was Alliance?” Zono sounds annoyed.

He’d been so caught up in his anger with Miyuki that he’d completely forgotten that Kuramochi had recognized the pink haired boy when they’d picked him and his friends up.

“He’s not a fugitive as far as I know, it wasn’t going to be a problem.”

Nabe is left confused as Zono seems to accept the answer. Kuramochi doesn’t have a history of lying, unlike their captain, and Zono knows he could’ve pushed him for more information back when he announced he was going to take the boy to Haven. So he leaves quietly, and Kuramochi can hear him explaining the situation to Nabe behind the door.

He’s left alone once more, and finds himself thinking back to how he’d met Ryousuke Kominato.

When Kuramochi first broke into an Alliance storage facility, deciding to take a step up from his usual scrapyards, he was… clumsy, to say the least. If he hadn’t run into a pink haired pirate, also mid-theft, he definitely would have been caught, so he was baffled when the man didn’t immediately kick him off his ship after they’d escaped.

“So, are we partners now?” Kuramochi asked, dropping into the co-pilot seat of Ryou’s dinghy little ship.

“No.”

“Then just drop me off back at the settlement.”

“No.”

“Wait, is this a kidnapping?”

Ryou rolled his eyes as he readied the ship for take off.

“Consider it payment for saving you.”

“I could’ve handled myself,” Kuramochi grumbled, crossing his arms and staring a hole into the dashboard.

“Like a bull in a china shop,” Ryou snickered.

Up until this point, Kuramochi Yoichi was known for nothing. He lived in a small rural settlement on Ariel and regularly raided the junkyard for scraps to sell– much to his family's chagrin. School was a lost cause for him, even if his family had scraped together the money to send him to a good academy they were sure he’d have gotten himself kicked out. Letting him be a scavenger certainly wasn’t what they’d hoped of him, but he seemed to make it work.

However, he was about to find himself smack dab in the middle of the Alliance’s radar.

“So, where are we going?” Kuramochi asked once they’d left the atmosphere.

Ryou glances at his new companion briefly out of the corner of his eye, but doesn’t respond.

Kuramochi waits, watching him, before asking a different question.

“You a pirate?”

A faint smile pulls at Ryou’s lips. “Ya.”

“You gonna kill me?” Kuramochi asks, scrutinizing the man beside him.

He doesn’t look like a pirate to Kuramochi. Ryou is clean, wearing a white button up and a vest. Instead of a pirate, Ryou looks more like a doctor on a house call. Maybe he was pretending to be a doctor?

Ryou’s brows furrow as he feels Kuramochi seemingly sizing him up. This was going to be a long ride, he could feel it already.

“Yes, if you don’t shut up.”

Kuramochi rolls his eyes and turns to face the vast void before them. He thinks he should be more afraid then he is, but instead he’s excited. This is his chance to be free, to explore the sky.

“So… you can fly a ship?”

“No.”

“Can you teach me?”

“How about I tell you what I need you to do?” Ryou snaps, looking to shut Kuramochi up.

“Hey man, I asked you that earlier and you said no.”

“Well I’ve changed my mind.”

---

Kominato Ryouske is known by the Alliance for a lot of things. Most interestingly, he’s known for being a former medical genius who dropped out of the academy and joined a band of pirates just a year before graduating.

No one understood why he left, much less to join pirates, but they were quick to move on to an even more impressive genius.

Kominato Haruichi was even smarter than his brother, that’s what everyone said. Ryouske had enrolled in the academy at age sixteen, Haruichi enrolled two years later at age fourteen. Ryouske was set to graduate a year early at age nineteen, not that it mattered because Haruichi would surely graduate a year early as well at age seventeen. So when one of his academy friends showed up at his room’s door in the middle of the night with a frantic look in his eyes, Ryou knew that whatever happened next was his only chance to escape his younger brother’s shadow.

His bare feet stuck to the perfectly pristine linoleum floor, while only the heaviness of Jun’s stride echoed under him as they rushed through the blinding halls. He needed no reassurance of the lack of security, he was ready to fight anyone that got between him and his freedom. Jun led him out into the cool night air, he remembers thinking of how he and Haruichi used to play on days like this back home, towards a landing dock.

They round a couple of crates and there’s the sharp sound of a gun’s safety being unlocked when Yuki levels a pistol at Jun’s head. He’s crouched over Tanba who’s clearly bleeding heavily, his sleep shirt is soaked in blood and Yuki is pressing a bloody towel down on his shoulder. Just as Yuki lowers the gun, Chris pops out of the open ship.

“What’s Ryou doing here?” He asks, beating Yuki.

“We needed a doctor.”

Ryou hadn’t even let him finish before he was crouched down beside Tanba and examining the wound.

“Did you at least tell him what’s happening?” Yuki asked.

“Either you were running away or fighting for something and honestly I don’t care,” Ryou looked up at the man across from him. “I want out, same as you all.” 

Yuki gave him a curt nod.

“What do you need?”

“We need to get Tanba on the ship and get out of here. They won’t save him if we get caught now, he’ll just be used as a warning.”

Said man let out a pained groan in response.

“Jun, help me move him,” Yuki whispered.

Ryou helped Tanba hold the soaked towel in place before running onto the ship to prep the small med corner while Chris settled into the pilot’s seat.

That night five students defected from an Alliance Academy, with Tanba Koichiro being declared dead– killed in a fire fight as he and his cohort stole a ship.

[blackbird5154]

Summary: These are musings inspired by looking at one particular music magazine cover.

Characters: Sister Imperator, Papa Emeritus III, Nameless Ghoul

Warning: a realistic description of a severed head!

Gratitudes: I thank @van-goghs-smoking-skull for their great, great help with the text!

Herodias

When his head was brought to her on a platter, she tried to see the expression on his dead face.

It was one of those silver dishes from which communion was distributed. The patterned border of the plate formed a whitish ring around the head when she got up to examine it. It was lunchtime. The ghoul remained standing, awaiting instructions - her loyal ghoul, devoted to her as long as she kept him in fear and the illusion of favorable cooperation. He brought it in properly, solemnly lifting it in his outstretched fingers as if it was an expensive meal, balancing the plate with the weighty burden on it that was about to roll away. The other hand he put behind his back. He knew how to please mommy by understanding her sense of humor.

The head looked big and heavy. Blood gathered on the torn shreds of skin on the neck. A small puddle of it had pooled underneath, though the ghoul had apparently tried to clean it up with a napkin, leaving streaks on the silver. The eyes were open. They were staring directly at her.

Sister Imperator sank back into her chair. The dish was placed in front of her, on the desk that had been cleared of papers. The head fell on its side, so Sister told the ghoul to put it back on its base. Running his fingers through blood-stained black hair, he lifted it up and set it facing Sister so that it would not fall again. He looked squeamishly at his black-gloved hand, as if he could see the traces of other's DNA left on it.

Now the dead eyes were staring at Sister point-blank. They were interlocutors again, as they had once been when they had spent long hours in furious arguments. But now Papa was beneath her, not looking down at her, but having to raise his gaze instead. ‘Finally,’ she thought.

A couple of unruly strands stuck to the forehead where someone had left bloody fingerprints. The lips were pressed together, and the facial paint hid their dead pallor. The eyes... Sister moved closer, trying to study their expression. Then she leaned back in her chair, moved a little, like a photographer getting a good angle. She had to state that this face expressed absolutely nothing.

She wanted to ask the ghoul about it. Shouldn't a person whose head had been cut off look different? Mouth open, lip hanging off, eyes rolled back to the forehead? She had to admit to herself that she'd seen things like that only in old paintings. Maybe they'd done something to make him look better? Or gave him a drug before taking him to an execution?

Yes, it was undoubtedly the drug. That's why his eyes looked so serene, with pupils just below his eyelids. His lips were closed so calmly, and the creases between his eyebrows, which he was always frowning at her as he prepared for another lunge in an argument, were slightly straightened. It was as if he'd been sleeping with his eyes open - glassy, they still remained full of meaning.

She marveled again at the size of that head - it always seemed to take up too much space on his shoulders, resting on a sturdy neck with protruding tendons, like tight cables that had now been cut. It always seemed that this torso was the wrong size for his head - there should be a powerful, monumental one attached to such a head. There was something of the classical statues in his profile - a large Roman nose, as if carved with a single movement of a chisel, a rounded chin, like those of ancient senators, and a lower lip that protruded in a grumpy way.

She stared into his eyes again - maybe there was something she'd overlooked? Maybe she'd missed a trait, didn't recognize a nuance of expression. Her gaze wandered over him. Maybe there was a bit of despair tangled in his brows? Or an unshed drop of doom at the bottom of his eyes? Or was it gathered in the folds around his lips, or settled, unswallowed, at the bottom of his throat, where Sister could not look? And with each passing minute a thought, strange and painful, loomed up more and more: "Why is he so calm?"

She remembered how the patterned ring on the plate formed a halo around his head. And then a vision came to her. She was shown it just like people are shown the meanings in the chaos of the ink stains that their minds are producing. Just like they see the ghostly structures in the absolute void created by a mind that cannot tolerate neutrality. His lips stretched slightly to the edges - she noticed now that they were hiding a smile. Not explicitly expressed, only hinted at with the dimples of his mouth, that smile looked at her with playful irony. And the eyes? Peering out from beneath heavy eyelids, they studied, searching for weaknesses, thinking how best to hurt. Reinforced by bushy, resolute eyebrows (she had always been sure that was where his courage resided), they looked mocking, with aplomb, judging, not kindly, but sneering and malicious. The more she looked, the more this hidden face showed through the outer face, frozen in a postmortem mask. But was it as dead as it seemed? She looked for the stamp of death on it and found none.

And then she flinched, for it seemed to her that the tips of sharp claws touched her shoulder in a creeping, spidery manner.

She forced herself to freeze, not to turn around, not to react to this silly illusion she's put on herself, fantasizing something that isn't there. She twitched her shoulders and glanced at the ghoul, who clearly hadn't noticed anything - his hands folded while looking at the newspaper clippings on the wall. Sister reached up and lowered the eyelids on the face opposite her, avoiding looking into the eyes. She will not look at him in the coffin, either, when everyone will remark on how peaceful he looks ('as if asleep', 'as if alive', 'as if he's about to get up and walk'). She will only clench her teeth so that her aged cheeks bulge with anger. She will not hang his portrait on the wall in her office, crossed out with two red lines, as she will do with the other two brothers. She will not go near him during the venerations of relics - the blessing that he is pushed aside.

For his strange eyes will still be there - hiding under his eyelids, watching, laughing.

[cardia-c]

Something to Crave

Content Included: fluffy women loving moments, nesta being a softie for her wife

A/N: Nesta, my beloved wife. Hated by many, worshipped by few.

Nesta’s eyes watch you flit around the library, her steel colored eyes tracing the dip in your back from the opening of your dress. The lack of fabric was a blessing in Velaris fashion to her eyes, the forceful changing of her DNA was a blessing.

It all led to this moment, something of serenity and warmth. The sun peeking through the stained glass windows of the room. “Love, where did you set that almanac again?” Your voice wakes her from the trance that the mating bond put her in.

Her finger raises itself towards the far end on the shelf that you were currently at, pointing at the golden writing on a maroon cover. Nesta felt a wave of comfort be sent down the mating bond, lilac and moss washing over her shoulders like a blanket.

Wooden rungs creak under your weight when you descend the ladder, the anxiety of seeing you even five feet above the ground easing away. Her arms opening up invitingly, welcoming you back into her embrace. Your bodies melting together on the chaise, Nesta’s nails running gentle lines along your thighs.

Manicured nails slowly dip higher and higher along your skin, shivers dripping down your spine as she kisses your neck. “I missed you, I missed this.” The ghost of her breath settles on your skin.

One of your hands reaches back, settling to trace patterns on the nape of her neck. A familiar pattern for you both, moments like this becoming a reminder of the near-eternity you would have with each other. Her teeth nip at your skin, tugging at the surface.

“Baby, stop,” Nesta smiles and presses another kiss along the column of your neck. “Nesta Archeron.” She stills before huffing in agitation. Your hand continues to scratch at her neck, slowly dragging itself down her body before settling onto holding the top of her hand.

The book in your hand slips down to the floor with a clatter, Nesta’s hands coming to settle on your waist as you turn in her lap, “What’s got you so needy?” The tone in your voice causes your mate to meet your eyes.

She shakes her head while lifting your hand to kiss your palm, “I’ve just missed my love.” Those words settle into your heart, spreading to your mating bond, seeping into your lives.

“Dove, I love you too.” Her cheeks warm beneath your hands, the starlight in her eyes giving you reasons to fight for her everyday that you can.

let me know if you’d like to be tagged

[thedemonofcat]

Usually, when Jaskier engaged in his usual flirtations, the worst that occurred was an irate spouse's attempt to disembowel him, forcing a hasty escape. However, this particular encounter took a different turn. Intrigued by a woman he had been charming, she lured him to a cave with a serene pool of water. To Jaskier's astonishment, as he drew near, she unceremoniously pushed him into the water, triggering a peculiar sensation that transformed him into a merman.

The woman, as it turned out, was a mage with a lifelong desire for a pet mermaid to serenade her. Mermaids were notoriously elusive, but she sensed a trace of mermaid blood in Jaskier's DNA. Determined to secure her prize, she used magic to complete his transformation.

Stuck in the cave, Jaskier passed his days swimming in the pool, with occasional visits from the mage. Loneliness prevailed until, one day, a newcomer entered the cave. It was there that Jaskier met Ciri, recognizing her instantly.

As they conversed, Ciri revealed that she had been travelling with Geralt before a heated argument led her to flee. She felt an inexplicable pull toward the cave as she ran. Just as Jaskier began to advise her to return to Geralt, their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of none other than Geralt himself.

As a merman, Jaskier looked at Geralt for the first time since their parting on the mountain.

[ssuperficialspacecadett]

The Sunshine State

Chapter One of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Two

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4K

TW: Mentions of sexual assault in readers past, mentions of drug (cocaine) use

Chapter Overview: You're desperately looking for a job when one falls right into your lap.

Notes: I have decided to try my hand at writing for Frankie (: He is my favorite Pedro character after all. I don't have a posting schedule, so chapters will be coming at you sporadically. I apologize in advance for that (uni is outrageously time consuming). I hope this first chapter gets your interest peaked for whats to come ! Happy reading <3

*No use of y/n & female presenting reader*

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The serene music that is emitting from the coffee shop speakers is doing nothing for your nerves. Maybe that is due to the fact that you were on your third cup of coffee in two hours or maybe it is that you have already been in Florida for a week and still haven’t found a job. You blow a strand of hair out of your face and continue staring at the seemingly endless job applications on your computer. You find yourself cursing under your breath for the thousandth time that day. Why couldn’t you find a job you liked? When the words on your screen start to blur together, you lean back in your chair and let out a heavy sigh. You need to remember why you were here in the first place: your dads recovery. 

After your mom died a few years ago, dad decided to move into a retirement home. He realized how hollow the ranch house was without her life enhancing presence and opted to venture to Florida. You were cross with him for up and abandoning you, but you tried your hardest not to let your resentment show. Her death hit him the hardest. He seemed to be doing well whenever you visited him over the holidays. Unfortunately, it was an illusion. You mom’s constant nagging at him to stay on top of his diabetes died with her. 

As soon as you got the call you were on the next plane to Florida. He had suffered a stroke that left his walking impaired. The two of you fought back and forth about your being there. He didn’t want you to have uprooted your life back in Texas, but it wasn’t up for debate. Hair and eye color weren’t the only shared traits between y’all, stubbornness was just as deeply ingrained in your DNA as it was in his. An agreement was reached between you after a tear filled argument. You would reside in Florida for six months, the amount of time when the most progress is made for stroke patients, and then leave. Unable to live in his retirement home, you found a cheap apartment the next day. 

You drain the last bit of coffee from your cup and close your laptop. As much as you dreaded going back to your empty apartment, you couldn’t stay here any longer. You place your laptop back in its case and slip it into your tote bag. The buzzing of your phone snaps your attention back to the table.

“Hey Robbie!”

“Hey! How’s the sunshine state treating you?”

You let out a low groan. Robin, or Robbie as you lovingly dubbed her, was your best friend and roommate back home. You had very little emotional connection to your home state, but Robbie was your life line. She was there for you when your mom died and then when your father subsequently left. You didn’t know how she managed to be so attentive to you and juggle law school at the same time. You owed her a debt you could never repay.

Your attention gets pulled away from the call when a group of women sitting in the corner of the coffee shop start laughing and talking loudly together. For a brief moment you try to picture yourself sitting and laughing along with them. Robbie, the ever logical one, pulls you from your delusion. 

“Are you still there?”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. God, it's so lonely here without friends. Don’t get me wrong I love spending time with my dad, but when I’m done visiting with him I just come home to an empty, barely furnished apartment.”

“I told you that I would come visit you over my spring break.”

“I know, but that's over two months away.”

“Why don’t you spend your free time looking for a man? Maybe you will have better luck there than back home.”

“I don’t have time!,” you counter. “I have been here a week and I still haven’t found a new job. How am I supposed to pay rent, furnish my apartment, or even feed myself if I don't have a job? My savings is only going to last so long. Besides, all the men that I have interacted with so far are practically geriatric.”

“You always did like em’ older.”

The two of you talk for a little while longer. She manages to pick your spirits up despite her teasing you. She lets you know that she has to run because one of her lectures is starting soon, but she promises to call you back later this week.

You stand up and place your phone in your back pocket. You easily slip your tote onto your shoulder and gather up the empty cups you collected over your time in the shop. While you walk to the trash a bright orange flier pinned to the corkboard above it catches your eyes.  

HELP WANTED

Receptionist for Brass Knuckles Boxing Gym

432 Peach Dr, Jacksonville, FL 32246

Contact Ben Miller at (904) XXX-XXXX

Starting pay: $20.00

Honestly, you ponder, you have nothing to lose. Beggars can’t be choosers. Plus you recognize that street. It wasn’t a far drive from where you are now which means that it’s close to your apartment. The pay was higher than minimum wage and being a receptionist couldn’t be that hard. You toss your trash into the bin and pull out your phone to dial the number. The ringing of the phone next to your ear muffles the sounds of the still laughing group of women as you exit the coffee shop. 

“Brass Knuckles, this is Benny speaking.”

The subtle southern accent that comes through your speaker washes a wave of calmness over you. Maybe you did have some attachment to back home.

“Hi,” you introduce yourself to him. “I saw your flier for needing a receptionist at your gym. I was wondering if you were still hiring?”

“We are! Would you like to come in and tour the place right now?”

You take a peek at the time displayed on your phone. 3:15 P.M. You should have enough time to check it out and then head to your dad’s before the after work traffic rush.

“Actually that would be great.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you soon then!”

***

The gym was a stand alone building constructed of rough looking red brick. It had large windows that allowed you to see some of the equipment and, more importantly, the front desk. You hop out of your car and check both ways before crossing the parking lot. As you turn your head from right to left you see a bar across the street. The rickety, wooden sign on the building has a shotgun painted onto it and the bar’s name, The Barrel, is appropriately painted onto the barrel of the gun. At least you know where to go to get a drink now if you don’t get this job. You take a deep breath and swing open the glass door to the gym. 

A sharp ring of the door’s bell and the potent aroma of sweat and cheap men’s body spray are the first things that greet you as you enter the building. You swear that if you get this job, fixing the odor in this place will be one of the first orders of business you carry out. You look over at the front desk as you wait for Benny. It is positioned to sit squarely in the middle of the lobby. There is a brick wall, the same type as the outside, directly behind it. The back wall only extends as far as the desk does. This makes for two entrances into the gym. One on the right and one on the left of the desk. 

“You made it! Thanks for comin’!”

You shift your gaze from the white blocked lettering on the brick wall that reads “Brass Knuckles Boxing Gym” to where the voice rang out from. You're stunned when a man rounds the corner shirtless and out of breath. Good fucking god he’s toned. He smiles boyishly at you and pushes his grown out, sandy hair back. He turns his head to see what caught your eye.

“You like the new sign? I paid someone to paint it on the brick a few weeks ago. It looked so empty before.”

“Y-yeah, it's lovely.” 

“See?!,” he throws his hands up exasperatedly. “The guys said it was stupi-that’s not important now. Anyway it’s good to meet you in person. Wanna start the tour?”

You nod at him and he waves at you to follow him back into the gym. He points out each of the stations he has set up. 

“We have machines for your legs here. Then in that corner are machines for your upper body and core. Our heavy bags are kept in this area. I also have some weight benches set up over there for people to use on lighter workout days.” 

You’re trying to soak up everything that he is saying, but to be honest, most of the machines look the same to you. He takes you to view the showers, the laundry room, and to his back office.

“When I’m not training with a client I’ll usually either be here in my office or in there with a heavy bag on a stand.” He points behind you.

The center of the gym holds its crown jewel: the boxing ring itself. The walls of it are made from a red, tarp like material and the center of the ring is a deep shade of blue. Poles, wrapped in white padding, protrude from each of the four corners and four rows of thickly braided, white rope encase the entire thing. 

“I’ve never actually been in one of these before to be honest.” you laugh. “I’ve only ever seen them on T.V. when I’m channel surfing and land on WWE.” 

“No way,” he looks genuinely shocked.

“Yes way.” you shrug apologetically. 

“Being in there is electric, man. Gotta be one of the best feelings in the world hands down.” 

You feel at ease talking with him. He seems really passionate about what he does and all that goes into it. You give the gym another once over and then it dawns on you; it’s a ghost town. 

“Hey, where is everybody?”

“It’s usually pretty slow around this time of the afternoon. Our busiest times during the week are when people come in here around 12:00 P.M. to burn off steam during their lunch breaks and then after 5:00 P.M. when work gets out. Saturdays are packed most of the time because we aren’t open on sundays.

“Ahh.”

“But all hell breaks loose when we have our famous Friday Fight Nights!,” he nudges you in the ribs. “There isn’t a free seat in the whole damn house! People screamin’, beer sloshin’, bets bein’ made. It’s my bread and butter.”

“That sounds insane, Benny.”

“You mean you have never heard of it before?”

“I moved here a week ago actually. I’m sure I would have heard of it if I had just been here longer!”

“Alright, you get a pass. What made you choose Florida to call home?”

You normally don’t like telling people your personal business so soon after meeting them, but Benny has a trustworthiness about him that you can’t ignore. Maybe making friends would be easier than you thought.

“I moved here to help my Dad actually. He’s having some medical issues and I want to be here to help him work through them. I figure that I’ll be here for maybe six months? I’m not sure if that would work for you though. That’s kinda the reason I’ve been struggling to find a job.”

He looks at you with genuine understanding.

“If six months is all you can give me then I’ll take it.”

“Wait? I got the job?”

“It’s perfect if you think about it. You need a job and I need a receptionist ASAP. If you want, since you’re new and all, I could be your tour guide. Born and raised here.”

A weight seems to immediately lift off your shoulders. If he wasn’t such a sweaty mess you would have given him the biggest hug.

“Okay, great!”

He claps his hands together. “Drinks on Santi tonight!”

“Santi?”

“He’s one of my older brothers and I’s friends. He bet that I couldn’t get a receptionist within a week of the last one leaving and you just helped me prove him wrong.” 

“I’m happy to help. Do you mind if I ask why your last receptionist left?”

That wipes the giddy look off his face.

“Well,” he scratches the back of his head. “She ended up leaving because she said some of the patrons were a bit too forward. I asked her to tell me which ones so I could ban ‘em, but she wouldn’t give ‘em up. I totally get it if that changes your mind about taking the job.”

Your throat goes dry as an icy tingling sensation makes itself known on your skin. Fuzzy images of unwelcomed hands being a bit too forward as you lay on the couch. The smell of tequila burning your nose as he whispers to you. Clinging to the sounds of the movie he put on in the background to distract you.

“You alright?”

“Yes!,” you rush out too quickly for him to believe. “I’m fine. I just zoned out for a second there. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Plus I promise that I will tell you if anyone tries anything.”

He seems satisfied with your answer and walks back up to the front desk with you.

“You want to come get drinks with me and the guys tonight? It’s going to be me, which you already know, my brother Will, Santi, and Frankie. We usually go to The Barrel. You would be the guest of honor.”

“I’m flattered, but,” you look at the time on your phone. “I should head out before traffic gets bad.”

“Next time, next time. You already have my number so just text me and I’ll let you know what time you can come in on Monday. Don’t worry about the rest of this week. I can hold it down until you officially start.”

***

“Dad, I needed a job and I found one. What's the issue?”

He puts his hand up to let you know he is catching his breath. You sit in a chair next to him while he rests in between his physical therapy. The exercises mainly consisted of his physical therapist, Maggie, working the muscles in his legs. Even still, they took a lot out of him. He was still a ways away from standing or walking on his own. 

“The issue is that you’re going to be the only woman in a place full of men on steroids. I don’t like that.”

“God, that's such a you thing to say,” you argue. “I’m not a little girl anymore. It’s also not a male only gym, dad. A lot of women work out and take boxing classes too. The manager, Benny, seems really nice. He was the one I met with earlier today.”

You watch as he opens his mouth to presumably hurl a retort your way, but he stops himself. Your heart breaks as he sighs and turns away from you. He hasn’t been himself since the stroke. You know that you can’t even begin to understand what he is going through, yet you’re trying. The anger he is feeling isn’t directed at you, but it still hurts nonetheless. He is a proud man at heart, so all of this attention and fretting over him must be weighing heavy. You extend your hand and place it softly on top of his. Although he is still looking away from you, his brows unfurrow and his lips fall from the tight line he held them in.

“I’ll be fine. I promise. I told you that I would be here with you for your recovery and that's what I intend to do. This isn’t a little issue, dad.”

He turns to look at you again, eyes glossy from fighting back tears. “I know, I just-I just feel like a damn burden.”

“You aren’t,” you squeeze his hand. “Everyone needs help sometimes and now it's your turn. You took care of me my whole life. The very least I could do is be by your side right now.”

A soft knock on his room door pulls the two of you out of your conversation.

“Hi, hon. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I need to finish Greg’s session.”

“That’s fine, Maggie. I was about to head about anyway.”

You stand up from your chair and give him a hug before you collect your purse. He reminds you that he has his poker tournaments on Sundays, so you didn’t have to come in to see him then. Getting ditched for a deck of cards and a bunch of old dudes. That’s gotta be a new low. You wave at Maggie as you pass her while heading to the door.

“Hey, sweet pea?”

You turn around to a name that you have been called since before you can even remember.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

***

The Barrel is unsurprisingly empty on a Thursday night. Benny, Frankie, Will, and Santi all sit at their usual table in the back corner of the bar. The small army of empty beer bottles huddled in the middle of their table makes up for the lack of local patrons in the building.

“She seems really great. Even complimented the way ‘Brass Knuckles Boxing Gym’ looked painted onto the brick. I told y’all it wasn’t stupid. It also doesn’t hurt that she's beautiful, man.” 

Santi lets out a low whistle before tipping his still half full beer in Benny’s direction. “I’ll drink to that.”

“I don't think you're going to be able to break this one man. She’s got a lot on her plate so the last thing she needs is a piece of shit like you comin’ in and adding more trouble.”

Will and Frankie snicker at Santi’s face that shows faux offense to what Benny just said.

“I enrich the life of every woman I meet. No one has ever left my bed unsatisfied.”

“A lot on her plate?” Will chimes in to direct the conversation into a more appropriate one. “What does that mean?”

Frankie nods his hat in the direction of Will signaling that he is thinking the same thing about you as well.

“Yeah. She was talking about how she moved down here to help her dad. Said he had an accident or somethin’.” 

“Think she will be able to boost Friday ticket sales?”

“For the love of God, Pope,” Will laughs and shoves the man sitting next to him. “Can you get your mind out of the gutter for two fuckin’ seconds?”

“No, he’s onto something, Will,” The other three men can see a plan unfolding in the reflection of Benny’s eyes. “If I can get her to double as my ring girl for the fights we would be swimming in it boys.”

Benny tells them that he had invited you to come celebrate with them, but you had plans already. The more he talked the more curious the group was to meet you. 

“Why don’t you let Fish get a word in, huh?” Santi interrupts. 

Benny puts his hands up in surrender and turns to the man sitting beside him at the table. Frankie had been quiet since they closed up the gym for the night and headed to the bar.

“What’s wrong, Fish? Cat got your tongue?” Benny jokes.

“Fuck off, man.” 

“Yeah, what’s up? We are celebrating tonight.” Santi adds.

Frankie downs the last of his beer. It isn’t cold anymore due to the fact that he had it in an iron grip.

“Rochelle texted me,” a unified hush fell over the table of four. “She said she wants to get back together. That she wants to ‘make it work’ this time.”

Benny is the first to break the silence.

“Rochelle? God I hate that woman and I’ve never hated a woman in my fuckin’ life.”

“Shut up, Benny,” Will grumbles in the direction of his younger brother. “What are you going to do, Fish?”

“I don’t know. I miss her. I just- she’s just- I don’t want to relapse.”

Another silence envelops the men. Each and everyone of them knew what he meant. After Frankie got out of his last tour he fell into the arms of the first woman that came along. They all knew she wasn’t the one for him, but he hadn’t been happy in such a long time so they let it slide for as long as they could. Then the coke came into the picture. Benny tried, Santi tried, and Will tried to get him to cut her off. He was spiraling and didn’t even realize it. When he was on coke he didn’t remember all of the horrible things that he did and that he saw. It felt like he was on top of the world, until he fell right into the unforgiving ground of reality. 

He failed a routine drug test at work. They fired him right on the spot and put his pilot's license under review. Ironically flying was the only thing that kept him grounded. Now that he didn’t have it the guys knew they had to help him. They managed to convince him to cut Rochelle out of his life. Then they urged him to check into a rehab, even if it was a temporary one. Once he got out, he found a job at an auto body shop. It wasn’t aviation, but it was a start. He had been clean ever since. Seven months to be exact. But even the sight of seeing her name light up his phone screen made his body ache for a fix.

“We didn’t let you drown the first time, Fish. We won’t let you drown this time.”

Will’s words hit him like a ton of bricks. He knows it's true. They never once gave up on him through the entire thing. The only thing Frankie can do is tip his worn, black cap in Will’s direction. Benny lovingly claps him on the back and then the conversation is put to bed. 

While the rest of the men move on with their night, Frankie can’t seem to turn his brain off. All he can think about are his two vices: Rochelle and Florida snow. He can already hear the water beckoning to him. Calling his name in that alluring, all too familiar voice. Begging him to come back and be cradled by the waves until they swallow him whole.

“Everyone shut up. She texted me.” Benny exclaims.

They all lean in to look at what you sent him.

“She’s just asking about the schedule, dumbass.” Santi scoffs. “Have her send a picture.”

“And how the fuck am I supposed to ask for a picture without sounding creepy?”

“You could tell her that you need a picture to use for her login profile at work?” Frankie offers, desperate to distract his mind from his own thoughts.

“Fish, you’re a Goddamn genius.”

Santi gets up to buy another round for the table while Benny crafts his text to you. He hits send only after he has gotten the green light from everybody. They all wait anxiously for the next few minutes until they see your name appear on the phone screen. Benny scrambles to type in his password as the guys all crane their necks to see a glimpse of the photo. 

“You way undersold her, Benny. She’s gorgeous.” Santi marvels and Will agrees.

“Wow,” is all Frankie can muster as he looks at you. He tries to memorize everything about you. The way your hair falls, how kind your eyes are, and how soft your lips look. He feels his ears burn as he looks at your nose and wonders what it would be like to kiss you on the bridge of it. With each new thing he finds on your face to admire, the water’s voice gets quieter and quieter until it's nothing but a whisper. Still there, but only a whisper.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

[talonabraxas]

Your true Self is the silent observer behind all experiences. --Zensho W. Kopp

Unlocking the Sirian Starseed: Are You One from Sirius?

Characteristics and Traits of Sirian Starseeds

Sirian Starseeds, celestial souls of unique origin, radiate a spectrum of qualities that distinguish them from other cosmic travelers.

Unwavering Focus: Sirian Starseeds navigate the complexities of existence with a clear-eyed purpose. It’s as if they’re equipped with an internal compass, always pointing them toward their true north, allowing them to journey through life’s labyrinth with determination and grace.

Resilient Determination: Their strong-willed nature isn’t just about persistence; it’s about resilience. Challenges, setbacks, adversities—while they might momentarily disrupt their path, Sirian Starseeds have the uncanny ability to bounce back, standing even firmer in their convictions.

Intuitive Connectivity: Tapping into the unseen, they are like cosmic antennas. Sirian Starseeds often sense the subtle vibrations, emotions, and energies that swirl around, capturing nuances that remain elusive to many.

Water’s Echo: When you gaze deep into their essence, a shimmering connection with water becomes evident. Whether it’s the playful dance of dolphins, the majestic glide of whales, or the serene flow of rivers, their bond with aquatic realms is palpable. Legends, passed down through eons, hint at water-based planets within the Sirius system. Could this deep-seated affinity be a callback to ancient lineages, a distant memory imprinted in their cosmic DNA?

Spiritual Evolutionaries: But to narrow down their essence to just these traits would be incomplete. At their core, a flame of spiritual ambition burns brightly. An ambition not of worldly gains but of ascension, growth, and enlightenment. This burning desire isn’t just about their personal journey. They envision a world where humanity rises, evolves, and thrives. It’s this mission, this grand cosmic plan, that they’re intricately woven into.

For those fortunate to encounter a Sirian Starseed, the experience is transformative. They don’t just exist; they radiate, leaving a trail of inspiration and wondfor all to behold.

The Cosmic Dance: Sirian Energies and Earthly Resonance

The universe is, at its core, a vast symphony of energies, frequencies, and resonances. When we think of Sirian Starseeds, we must also consider the energies they carry with them and how these may impact our world.

Could the resonance Sirian Starseeds feel with our planet be the product of an ancient and intricate bond? Some believe that Earth and Sirius share a deep cosmic connection, not just through Starseeds but on an energetic, vibrational level.

This spiritual perspective suggests that Earth receives waves of cosmic energy from the Sirius system, guiding our planet’s spiritual evolution. The periodic alignments between Earth and Sirius, much like the mesmerizing dance between Sirius A and Sirius B, might open channels for these energies to flow.

Sirian Starseeds, attuned to these frequencies, could very well act as conduits, amplifying and grounding these energies into our collective consciousness. This would not only elevate their personal journeys but potentially uplift all of humanity.

What’s even more fascinating is the synchronicity of events and spiritual awakenings that occur when these alignments happen.

Are they mere coincidences? Or do they suggest a greater design, a universal blueprint that we’re just beginning to fathom?

Sowing Seeds of Light: The Sirian Impact on Human Evolution

We live in an age of awakening, a time when more and more individuals are heeding a cosmic call. But what part do Sirian Starseeds play in this shift?

1. Spiritual Catalysts Sirian Starseeds often act as spiritual catalysts. Their innate wisdom, perhaps passed down from advanced Sirian civilizations, sparks curiosity and understanding. They challenge conventional thinking, urging us to expand our horizons.

2. Healing the Collective Their resonance with water – the element associated with emotion and intuition – might hint at their potential role in healing. Water cleanses and rejuvenates; similarly, Sirian energies could aid in cleansing collective traumas, making space for new growth.

3. Anchoring Higher Frequencies With their unique vibrational signature, Sirian Starseeds might assist in anchoring higher frequencies onto our planet, aiding in the transition to a new age of consciousness.

4. Bridging Worlds The Sirian connection offers a bridge between the known and the unknown, the tangible and the ethereal. Through this bridge, knowledge, technology, and love might flow, enriching our earthly experience.

5. Guardians of Earth’s Ascension Sirian Starseeds, bearing their cosmic legacy, might be seen as guardians or guides during Earth’s pivotal moments of ascension, helping to stabilize energies and ensure smooth transitions.

6. Inspirers of Artistic and Creative Expressions With their deep connection to universal energies, they might act as muses, inspiring art, music, and literature that resonate with higher frequencies and truths.

7. Advocates for Universal Unity Promoting messages of love, unity, and understanding, Sirian Starseeds could play a pivotal role in fostering global harmony, helping humanity see past divisions and embrace the interconnectedness of all life.

8. Pioneers of New Thought Paradigms They may introduce or reinforce ideas that challenge traditional belief systems, encouraging humanity to adopt more holistic, interconnected views of existence.

9. Catalysts for Technological and Spiritual Fusion Drawing perhaps from advanced Sirian civilizations, Starseeds might push for a fusion of technology and spirituality, ensuring that as we advance technologically, we remain grounded in spiritual ethics and values.

10. Nurturers of Empathic Connections With their heightened intuitive abilities, they might advocate for a world where empathy and understanding are central, guiding humanity toward more compassionate interactions.

[purpletyrant]

the twins

referenced after john everett millais' "the two princes edward and richard in the tower." i stumbled across this painting again a while back and felt totally compelled to redraw it with these two. while looking for a high quality version, i came across paul delaroche's take on this scene… and its gorgeous, but im not doing all that

silvia and cesare are so interesting to me. nestled smack between two extreme ends of the mommy issues spectrum, they both manage to grow extraordinarily well-adjusted - cesares grooming by his grandmother notwithstanding. from early childhood, the twins realize that something about their family is not quite right, and latch onto each other to navigate shaky parental relationships, an increasingly unstable older sister, and a volatile court environment. this relationship begins to ebb when cesare is taken on as their grandmothers protege, and silvia adopts the notion that its up to her to maintain peace among her family. both twins fulfill a sort of littlefinger role, but silvia does so out of what she believes is the goodness of her heart. it doesnt really work on valencia, who knows that silvia is not as benevolently detached as she seems (in fact, her silent, smiling serenity drives valencia insane), and it also doesnt work on sancha, who is playing 4D chess in a way silvia cant compete with

cesare has the most realistic and healthy view of their birth mother among all four. that is to say, he honestly could not give less of a fuck about orchidee. in his mind, if she doesnt care about him, why should he bother thinking about her? the others WISH they were in his headspace. silvia lags behind him in this regard. she keeps a respectful distance and would never deign to intrude on orchidee or make herself a nuisance, yet feels a deep sense of curiosity and compassion toward her. in another reality, silvia and a deerwood-era orchidee would get along grand, and if orchidee and seelie ever manage to leave lafossa, i think silvia will be the one to facilitate their means of escape. thanklessly, from the shadows, telling herself repeatedly that shes doing the right thing

her being a goody two hooves is kinda built into her DNA. after all, her horn and hooves are based off of angelite :P

so, anyway, heres silvia and cesare, two normies against the world. there will be a day when cesare wont allow his sister to hold so tightly to him, so i hope she isnt taking it for granted

[morbidology]

Lake Bodom, situated in the suburbs of Espoo, Finland, spans approximately three kilometers in length and one kilometer in width. However, this serene location was marred by a horrific event that took place in the early hours of June 5, 1960—a brutal triple murder of young campers.

The victims were 15-year-old Maila Irmeli Bjorklund and Anja Tuulikki Maki, along with their boyfriends, 18-year-olds Seppo Antero Boisman and Nils Wilhelm Gustafsson. Together, they embarked on a camping trip, setting up their tent near the lake to enjoy an evening of fishing.

Tragically, between 4AM and 6AM, Maila Irmeli Bjorklund, Anja Tuulikki Maki, and Seppo Antero Boisman were stabbed and bludgeoned to death. Nils Gustafsson was the sole survivor but suffered a concussion, jaw fractures, facial bruises, and stab wounds. He claimed to have no memory of the attack, attributing it to shock.

An investigation revealed that the assailant never entered the tent but instead attacked the victims from outside. Some personal belongings were stolen, including a wallet, clothing, and Nils' shoes. Bloody footprints outside the tent indicated that the killer had fled the scene wearing Nils' shoes. Some of these items were later found discarded and partially hidden about 500 meters from the crime scene.

Maila, Nils' girlfriend, endured the most brutal injuries; her underwear had been removed, and she had been stabbed multiple times after her death. Witnesses, a group of young birdwatchers, claimed to have seen a blonde man walking away from the tent around 6AM.

Throughout the investigation, several suspects emerged. One prime suspect was Karl Valdemar Gyllstrom, a kiosk vendor known for his aggression towards campers. He confessed to the murders shortly before his own death in 1969, though his wife initially provided an alibi for him. However, she later hinted that the alibi was fabricated, and he had threatened her to keep it secret.

Another suspect was Hans Assman, allegedly a KGB spy, who displayed suspicious behavior after the murders and was seen with red stains on his clothing. He was never questioned, but he has been linked to other unsolved murders in Finland.

The case remained unsolved until 2004 when Nils Gustafsson, the lone survivor, was arrested on suspicion of murdering his friends. DNA testing on his discarded shoes was the basis for the arrest. Nils maintained that the shoes must have been stolen and worn by the killer, but the prosecution argued that he was the perpetrator and disposed of the shoes to conceal his guilt.

They claimed Nils acted out of a fit of rage when he was rejected in his attempt to initiate a sexual encounter with one of the girls. However, the court ultimately sided with the defense, citing the credibility of eyewitness accounts and the unlikely possibility of Nils inflicting his own wounds. He was acquitted of all charges, and to this day, the case remains unresolved, shrouding Lake Bodom with an enduring mystery.