#GREEN SUITS HIM WO

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Unspoken Attraction CL16

New chapter guys !

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Chapter 4: Shattered Expectations 

The F1 gala was in full swing, the grand ballroom filled with the glittering elite of motorsport. Guests moved through the room in their finest attire, the soft glow of the chandeliers casting a golden hue over the crowd. Laughter and conversation mingled with the faint strains of classical music, creating an atmosphere of celebration. 

Y/N stepped into the room, her red dress catching the light as she walked. She felt nervous but determined. Her heart raced with anticipation—not for the gala itself, but for the possibility of seeing Charles again. Over the past few days, thoughts of him had occupied her every moment. His teasing smile, the way he made her laugh, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her—it all lingered in her mind. 

Her brother Pierre had introduced her to this world, but tonight wasn’t about being his little sister. Tonight, she wanted to show Charles who she really was. 

Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted him. Charles was across the room, leaning casually against the bar, his tuxedo perfectly tailored, his dark hair styled just right. He looked confident, effortlessly handsome, and entirely at ease. Taking a steadying breath, she made her way over, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor. 

“Charles,” she greeted, her voice warm and cheerful. 

He turned at the sound of her voice, his green eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before his expression became unreadable. “Y/N,” he said simply, his tone neutral. 

She smiled, undeterred. “You clean up well,” she said lightly, gesturing to his tuxedo. “Not that the racing suit doesn’t have its charm, but this is a nice change.” 

“Thanks,” he replied curtly, his eyes briefly flicking over her before he looked away. 

She felt a pang of disappointment but pressed on. “I don’t know many people here,” she said, her voice softening. “It’s a bit overwhelming.” 

“You’ll get used to it,” Charles said, his tone distant. 

Y/N tilted her head, her smile faltering slightly. “Well, I was hoping you might keep me company,” she said, her voice tinged with playful intent. “You seemed pretty good at that last time.” 

“I’ve got a lot of people to talk to tonight,” he said flatly. “Maybe later.” 

The words stung, but she forced herself to laugh lightly. “Of course,” she said. “You’re a busy man.” 

Over the next hour, Y/N tried again and again to engage him, each attempt met with the same coldness. She approached him while he was looking at the ballroom's centerpiece—a grand ice sculpture in the shape of an F1 car. 

“Impressive, isn’t it?” she said, trying to strike up a conversation. 

“It’s fine,” he replied, his tone indifferent. 

“You know,” she said, leaning closer, “I’ve heard Ferrari does everything with style, but I didn’t expect ice sculptures at parties. Is this normal, or are they just trying to impress everyone tonight?” 

He gave a noncommittal shrug. “I wouldn’t know.” 

She faltered, the playful banter she’d hoped for nowhere to be found. “You’re really not making this easy, are you?” she said, her voice light but edged with nervousness. 

“I didn’t realize I had to,” he replied, his tone devoid of humor. 

Still, she refused to give up. She found him again, this time alone near the bar. She placed a hand lightly on the counter beside him, her red dress shimmering under the lights. “You’ve been avoiding me,” she said softly, a teasing smile on her lips. 

Charles didn’t even look at her. “I’ve been busy,” he said shortly. 

“Too busy for an old friend?” she asked, her tone laced with humor, though her chest tightened at his dismissal. 

He sighed, finally meeting her gaze. “Y/N, this isn’t the time.” 

Her heart sank, but she forced a smile. “Right. I’ll let you get back to it, then.” 

She walked away, her confidence shaken. She had hoped for warmth, for connection, but all she’d found was cold indifference. 

Later in the evening, Y/N’s world came crashing down. She spotted Charles surrounded by a group of women, his smile easy and his charm effortless. They laughed at his jokes, their hands brushing his arm, their gazes lingering. He looked relaxed, animated, and completely different from the man who had been so distant with her all night. 

Her chest tightened, and before she could stop herself, she approached. “Charles,” she said, her voice sharper than before. 

He turned to her, his smile fading. “Y/N,” he said coolly. “What is it?” 

“I don’t understand,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Why are you being like this? We had something, didn’t we? Back in the paddock…” 

Charles’s expression hardened, and he set his drink down with a deliberate motion. “You’re imagining things, Y/N,” he said, his voice cold. “Whatever you thought happened, it didn’t. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but you need to let this go.” 

Her breath caught, and she blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “So it was all in my head,” she said softly. “I thought you cared.” 

“You’re reading too much into this,” he said, his tone final. “It was nothing.” 

She stared at him, her heart shattering. Without another word, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she left the ballroom. 

Charles’s Perspective 

Charles watched her go, his chest tightening with every step she took. The pain in her eyes was seared into his memory, and he hated himself for putting it there. 

From the moment he’d seen her in that stunning red dress, he’d been fighting to keep his emotions in check. She was breathtaking, her presence lighting up the room in a way that made it impossible to look away. But Pierre’s warning had been clear, and he couldn’t risk crossing that line. 

“She’s off-limits, Charles.” 

Every interaction with her tonight had been a test of his resolve. Her smile, her warmth, the way she leaned closer and spoke softly—each moment made it harder to keep his distance. But he had to. For Pierre. For her. For himself. 

Pushing her away was the only way to protect her, even if it meant breaking both their hearts. But as he stood there, watching her disappear into the crowd, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had made the biggest mistake of his life. 

[aprocessionofthoughts]

Sacrifice

ectoberweek24 day 5- two sentence tw- neglect summary- The Fentons are scientists

masterlist ao3 part 6 of AHINWTG

The Fentons were brilliant scientists. Or so they claimed. There was still no proof to all their theories, but they were persistent. They would have their proof. They’d show the world they had been right all along. Ghosts were real. Ghosts were evil.

And once they finally had a specimen, they would be able to discover how ghosts form and how to prevent ghosts from forming. Because who wanted to turn into an evil amalgamation of negative emotions?

So, they built weapons for creatures they hadn’t found yet, and published papers on topics hardly anyone believed. And they worked and worked and worked.

They had a little girl, but she was strong and independent. She could take care of herself. They needed to focus on their work. Afterall, someone had to be able to protect them from the evil ghosts. How better to care for their daughter than to work to defend her against threats?

Then they had a son, and that was okay too. They had always wanted two children, and this way Jazz could take care of little Danny so that they could focus on their work.

Once they’d proven their theories, once they’d defended the world against the threat ghosts posed, they’d spend more time with their children.

The years went by, and still they had no proof. At least both their children were independent now. 

They loved their kids. They did. But they needed to protect the world. And aren’t the many more important than the few? Sacrifices had to be made for the greater good.

And they were almost finished. They would be able to prove the existence of ghosts soon. And then they’d destroy the ghostly dimension and make sure no more ghosts were formed. No one would have to suffer from ghosts again. And the Fentons would finally receive the renown they were due.

They built their portal. But it didn’t work. They researched and they researched and they researched. They delved into the mystic texts that they’d previously tried to ignore. They were scientists. They didn’t believe in nonsense like magic and witchcraft. 

But the more they looked into it, the more they saw that all the texts said the same thing. They all required the same thing in order to breach the veil between the living and the dead.

They looked at each other then. They had to decide what was more important.

But wasn’t it obvious? They were doing this for the greater good. They needed to be willing to do whatever it took, to sacrifice whatever it took, to see their research through.

They asked him to come downstairs after school. They told him they needed his help. He had helped in the lab before, though usually it was just to clean. He was just happy to spend time with them.

They had him slip on a hazmat suit and asked him to check some of the wiring inside the portal. 

He stepped in, and they flipped the switch.

Green light filled the portal, and a scream echoed through the lab. 

It was working. The portal was opening. They couldn’t help but feel excited.

But then the light died as the scream did.

When the light had faded, all they could see was a lump near the edge of the portal.

They cursed. They had been so close. This was supposed to have worked. They had done everything right. They had double checked their blueprints and the portal itself. They had even given in and followed the ancient texts.

They frowned. There was only one factor that they hadn’t been in complete control of. The boy. He must have done something wrong for it not to have worked. And as they looked at the portal, their frustration mounted. The inside was singed, metal corroded and wires frayed. It would take them months to fix it.

At least they still had the girl.

They turned to leave the lab. They’d clean the mess up later. But then there was a groan, and they turned back to see the boy raise his head.

They told him it was an accident. His heartbeat was slow, but he seemed fine.

That’s why it hadn’t worked, they thought to themselves. The boy hadn’t really died. They’d have to try a slightly different approach next time. Maybe it would work if the sacrifice was already dead? But first they’d up the portal’s voltage. More electricity should do it.

Because a portal to the afterlife needed the sacrifice of something loved in order to open.

But they would never succeed. 

They didn’t love him enough for it to work.

[ilvero-love]

Clothes Maketh the (Wo)Man (or the colour coding of the Iron Trio)

I saw a post recently wondering about the significance, if any, of the colours our Iron Trio wears💙🖤🧡. It prompted me to go looking. Like everything Complete Fiction seems to do in regard to this show, the choices are careful and deliberate.

Lockwood is black and white🖤🤍 He has a business to run and his suited appearance declares that he is prepared to do just that. He’s business like because he has to be. The success of this company rides on his back and the choices he makes. He is ambitious certainly, seen in his constant striving to take Lockwood and Co to the top and in his drive to put them into the public eye, often at the expense of other’s wishes. But it’s understandable. He has bills to pay and people (George and Lucy) that rely on him. Even after they successfully square away their debts, Lockwood remains conscious that there are still other bills to pay.

Lockwood presents an adult façade to the world. Even Lucy (in the book) is surprised to realise he is scarcely older than her upon first meeting him. But, whilst he may appear an adult, he’s still very much a teenager navigating his way through a world where children are dispensable and adults, despite their general uselessness, still call the shots. It’s Lockwood’s sneakers and pink socks that give him away and reveal the teenage boy behind the façade. This was such a clever choice on the part of Complete Fiction 👏 They remind us that whilst Lockwood has been forced to grow up too quickly, at heart he is still a teen.

So, black and white. Very simple and clear cut. Except life isn’t like that, is it?Only Lucy has insight into how tenuous his grip on control can be, and we see this in the delightful stairwell scene 💖💖💖

😍Take a moment everyone- right, where were we?

Ah yes, Lucy and her blue persona (colour not mood). Lucy’s blue is a nice foil to the green of the ghostly world they inhabit. Both blue and green are heavily associated with nature. I don’t know what that means here, but it’s interesting to ponder.

Blue is traditionally seen as a colour of constancy, loyalty and reliability. She certainly provides this for Lockwood. But it’s also a strong colour, hence its traditional association with boys. A practical colour, heavily associated with working, it feeds into Lucy’s active strength.

(Some of these ideas came after reading the interesting article https://www.allure.com/story/beauty-and-the-beast-blue-dresses-in-female-centric-films . Not sure I agree with all of it but certainly food for thought).

Finally, George 🧡 Orange radiates warmth. George is the only from a stable family background, only leaving because of a burning desire to solve the Problem. 

Orange can represent physical comfort, which, when you add it to his cooking prowess completes the picture. Despite taking a while to warm to Lucy  (understandable when it’s just been him and Lockwood for a year) once he’s in, he’s all in 💯

Orange can represent physical comfort, which, when you add it to his cooking prowess completes the picture. He’s homely-he embodies home. As Lucy says to Lockwood, “Portland Row is my home-You and George”. And despite having taken a while to warm to Lucy (understandable when it’s just been him and Lockwood for a year) once he’s in, he’s all in 💯

It is interesting too that orange is also a complementary colour to blue, meaning that you can argue that George balances Lucy, providing stability for Lockwood.

So, there you have it, my thoughts, nonsensical or not, on the colour coding of our three heroes 🧡💙🖤

Maybe, just maybe, they were completely random colour choices based on what CF could source. But knowing Complete Fiction, I somehow think not 😉

⚔👻💕

[callsigns-haze]

Pretty like a crime

Chapter 5

Pairing: Agent Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Singlemom! Agent Y/n 'Cobra' Y/l/n

Summary: Cobra is finally back on the agency and is finally back in the job. With Kai at home she has to jumble being a mother and a agent. She's sent to her first U.C mission but never thought that she would meet a blonde, green eyed Texan...

Warning: Mentions of gun use, ptsd, mentions of death, mentions of shooting, flirting, mentions of abuse, description of dead body, death, blood, undercover work, alcohol use, smut, kissing

Part 1/ Part 2/Part 3/ Part 4

"So how are you meant to figure this out?" You ask leaning back on your fiancee's lap as the two of you observe the overwhelming and exotic papers that lie in front of you in his private home office. Matt has been toppled with work assignments recently, which have been overwhelming for him at home and works. Matthew sighs into the back of your neck. This is tiring for him; such a thing like overtime hours at home.

"I don't bloody have a clue anymore, darling. I'm on the bridge of throwing this out the window," he murmurs into the croak of your neck, leaving delicate kisses up to your ear. He rests his arms which wrap around your body, while slightly rubbing your lower back. "Oh daddy, let your darling help you," you say with a slight tease at your tone but this much more focuses on actually trying to help without knowing too much. "Darling, calling me daddy while sitting on my lap will only earn you an extra task," he smirked into your neck and you let your cheeks blush at the comment.

"Cobra, baby, sit still… I truly hate working on people like this." Matt had a valid point these people were unbreakable, any evidence you have against them is either invalid or destroyed in seconds. Nobody had a hook on them and nobody dared to mess with them. People who had anyone on their side due to money, relations or fame. "People like us," you mumble.

"Amen to that…amen to that."

-

His lips against your skin were flaming, with passion and a side of love. If anyone asked you how to describe this sensation the only thing you'd manage to choke out is 'euphoria'. That's the only way of putting it as his mouth leaned to kiss your chest, right where your heart beat, right in between your plump breasts. He started sucking on the nipple of your right hand breast into his mouth.

"Matthew."

"Hmm?" He questionly mumbled against your nipple which caused you to let out a sigh. "Your phone." You both knew who was calling and what they wanted. Matthews father has run a business for years, quite close friends with Tom. Matthew father has a weird source of trust and his own way of trusting people. He makes them his family. A trust that no one dares to break, no one tries to ruin but yet somehow you were added to this trust, ages before marriage.

He picks up the phone from your night stand and answers the calling number. "Mhmm…. yeah… she's with me…. no we don't have it… give us thirty minutes, we'll be there." You look at your husband as you rush to your shared wardrobe and quickly grab a long dress and flat fancy shoes. "Matt, what happened?" You ask as your husband unsuccessfuly tries to sped dress on one of his work suits. He looks over at you with the look, the look he asks you to tie his tie.

You hold the slick red material and start tieing it slowly and carefully. "My dad got into business trouble again. He wants everyone there. It's about some past incident, he wanted to know if you were with me." His father never asked if you were with Matt, just expected you to always be there and you were. You slip on your shoes and ask, "Why would father specifically ask for me?"

Valid question one that should have to be considered. Why would he ask for his daughter-in-law specifically. "I don't know, darling, thought it does have to do something with a past situation."

- "Etienne, calm down! There has to be a valid explanation to this!" Penelope said calmly, trying to soothe the man but that did not work with her will. "Penelope, if they find true evidence behind this, I'm done for!" Etienne rarely raised his voice at people close to him. He was married twice and now is single but all you believe that he sleeps with Pene, his advisor.

You and Matthew stop listening to the conversation and Matt announces your arrival, "Dad, we're here!" The two of you walk into the elongated and widened hallway. "Jesus, thank the lord you're here, darling," Your father in law says as he quickly makes his way to you and wraps his arm about you. "Y/n/n we have a situation that has your parents involved." It felt like all the weight has been dropped on your shoulders. Where they ok? What happened?

"Are Sarah and Tom okay?" You ask as your voice is on the bridge of breaking. "It's not about them…"

------

"I'm gonna take a quick shower," you say in your and Jake's shared hotel room. Due to Mavericks choice and Justin's help the two of you are now disguised as a married, ghost gun selling couple. It was a fit role for the two of you. It was buyable.

"Yeah, go ahead. I'll order us something. What would you like?" Jake said, his green eyes twinkled slightly as you looked at them, the tiny twinkle that glistened your day. "Just order me whatever you're getting."

You enter the bathroom. The two of you were disguising as a rich couple but this is one of the fanciest rooms you've occupied in ages. The marbled walls, the enormous white bath, it felt like a distant home.

You strip off your earlier awear and it pools around your feet. You grab one of your slick black hair ties and tie a quick messy bun to prevent your hair from getting soaked. Bending over the white bath, you turn on the water and overload it with bubble solution. You wait until there's a right amount of water till you sink in.

Jake lays back in the big king sized bed that fills most of the room. There was only one bed. To make the disguise believable, there had to be one bed. He didn't know how to feel about this. His feelings for you existed; pumping through his veins with passion and for not knowing how long, he'll have to share a bed with you pretending there's no feelings involved.

He lays for a little longer, untill there's a knock on the door with a young man screaming from the other side, 'Room Service!'. He opens the door and thanks the young lad taking the plates of him and lays them on the small table in the room. He knocks on your bathroom door and says, 'Hey Cobs, room service came!'. Your response was a simple 'coming' but that knock was a bit to much for Jake.

He sat on the bed and only noticed it now. When he knocked the door opened slightly, even the small gap was euphoric. He didn't think much of it until your naked back filled the frame he was looking through. As you reached for your towel he saw every detail of your back, each of your curves and your ass. He was going hard and he knew it. All of this turned him on marvelously.

There were scars that covered your back slightly, each that had a different, cruel story to sob through but to Jake they didn't cause you to lose any beautiful, just enlight it.

As you dried yourself, your hands run up and down the indented skin. To him it seemed like you weren't used to them, a sort of shame due to having them. As you turn to the side more, he clearly sees more of the side of your body, the curves, edges are presented to him as some sort of painting, a sort of fantasy. He's seen many women naked and done many things but this, this was making him hit a rocky bottom.

"Ooh you got good food!" You exclaim to see the delicious dishes that lay in front of you. Jake knew what you liked, he had similar taste but also was really observant. He was wearing only sweatpants as he went to shower before you.

You shouldn't have looked down, you shouldn't even look in that direction. Jake's frame leans against one of the walls but the bulge in his pants was solid hard. 'Keep it professional!' you tell yourself as you're about to scream, feeling like being part of some teenage dream.

Every ridge, every indent was shown through the gray loose material. You were raised that it was rude to stare but was it rude if it stared back at you. You've never been in such situations, not ones that you've felt this flustered with a coworker.

You were married young, your first time spent with your ex husband; back then he identified as your secret boyfriend, so from the start it was the same old game, but now this was a different guy, maybe better than the last but you couldn't control yourself.

"Emm… So what's the plan layout?" "The what?"

"The plan of action?!" Jake does a weird hand signal while expressing his speech. You were so stuck in thought basic words weren't making sense to you anymore. "Ummm…well… Tomorrow is when everyone arrives, apparently they have a reservation at 8.34 exactly where they sneak into a private area of the opera house. As long as I know all the opera part is set up just as a distraction during sales." That's exactly all the information you were told off by Justin. That was the dealing plan. All you had to do is just ruin it, if you managed to do so the whole organisation plan goes down and you finally get rid of them all as they enter behind bars.

"So we don't strike till tomorrow?" Innocent question, innocent answer. "Yeah, we have nothing for today." Jake smiled at you. This was the first time you two were truly alone; not in work or meeting, not when the two of you met in the park, this was the first time with peace.

The two of you enjoyed your food in peace, just a peaceful silence. It was filled with thoughts, both from you and Jake. You two looked up at each other, gaze locked. You've never been so peaceful or awkward with each other. Usually this was all filled with little arguments or teasing but this was a calm and nice dinner, one that it seemed like you both needed.

"So, you nervous?" You ask him, quite interested in if the blonde Texan has been much undercover in such types of missions. Usually all you've seen Jake work in is patrol and here he is, pretending to be some fake character with a fake identity. "I mean yeah, but I much prefer to be here, then have you doing this all alone," that smirk , that Texan smirk never leaves as it shouldn't.

"Well thank you for your generosity, but I'd much likely thrive," he knew you could, he knew that with your skill you were truly capable of taking care of yourself without his help or anyone else's.

"Here let me take this off you," Jake suggests, taking the empty dish from beneath you and putting it beside a empty windowsill. Gentleman. A man you can determine his anger from how he cuts a cucumber.

Soon after he walks over to the bed and takes away his pillow placing it in the small sofa in the room until you grab his wrist and quickly stop him in his own actions. "What are you doing?" You should know, it's quite obvious but with Jake the answer could be unbelievable. "You can take the bed and I'll take the couch, I know we act a married couple but I thought you might be uncomfo-" You quickly cut him off in his next words by placing you delicate finger upon his lips and wishpering. "The beds big enough for the both of us, and trust me I'm quite comfortable."

"Y/n, it's truly o-" You cut him off again this time the distance between the two of you barely existing. You're so close that you can feel him against you, which causes you blushing and makes you want to fold over but you had to keep strong here; 'no funny business'. "Take the bed with me Jake."

It was 23:11, but Jake couldn't sleep. His mind was elsewhere; engulfed in the beauty and passion that the woman beside him held within herself. He didn't know how to feel about this at all. The woman that made him stop the feelings he felt towards anyone else was sleeping beside him with no clue of his deeper feelings.

He turned to his left to see your sleeping figure lightly spread out on your side of the enormous bed. So peaceful, he's never seen you look this calm in all the time the two of you spend together. You even seem nice when you sleep.

This may seem like he's some sort of pheodofile or physcopath but he loved the way you slept. The way your light breaths raised your chest delicately up and down as the soft sounds, that barely exists, exit your lips. The way it seems like your heart skips a beat when you lake a long breath or the way your hair falls.

It was so careless, calm and free. It opened around you like a.lions mane, showing off the power it holds within all the fluff; where else there was one loose strand of hair across your face.

Jake preps himself up against his own elbow and delicately puts the strand behind your ear, while the softest whispers leave his lips, "You don't know what you do to me, Cobra. You have absolutely no clue."

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[romanoffsbish]

A Safe Haven

WandaNat x Fem!R

Request | Prompt | 3,060 Words

Warnings: Injured R, Descriptions of Burns/Stabbings

Natasha and Wanda had gone out for the day, they shared a short brunch before setting off to go shop. They wanted to be prepared for your return tonight with all of your favorite things. It was your first official mission as an Avenger after Fury gave you the final go ahead, you were so excited when you left this afternoon, and they wanted to make the return just as special for you because it was only fair, as you were the only light in their lives most days.

—

Then they got a call, and suddenly a concerned Wanda was falling from the skies, landing back at the compound, and running in a frantic way to get to the med bay. Apparently you were waiting there, and Natasha agreed to purchase your things then meet her back there in about ten minutes, but she promised it'd be less.

"Bruce, I swear to god I will shove that needle into your jugular if you don't get the hell away from me! I can do it by my fucking self!"

Wanda wasn't really surprised to hear you screaming, you were never a fan of the clinical side of things, nor were you one for allowing others to see you in such a vulnerable state. Except for if it was with Nat or Wanda, that trust took a long time to build, so she rushed through the doors, and made a beeline for you.

Red wisps wrapped around your hand right as you managed to steal the syringe full of numbing drugs from the nervous scientist, you scowled deeply, but your body also visibly relaxed when your lovers presence became clear to you. You instantly felt safer...

"Moya lyubov, we don't stab our friends."

You growled, "He was going to do it first."

Wanda smirked at you, eyes of an intricate green never leaving yours as she nodded sideways at the sheepish man, he took her hint with a running start. The doors swinging as he left in a rush signaled to you he was gone, "What a pussy," you grumbled and Wanda snorted, "Play nice, he was trying to help."

Honestly, if you didn't see him shift into a giant green monster with your own eyes you'd never believe that Bruce Banner was the Hulk.

"He knows better Wands." She nodded with a hum to follow. "Yeah, but he also knows if he didn't try he'd have me and Nat to deal with, and I hate to break it to you, but we're scarier."

You gasped and pointed the syringe at her now, "Take it back little witch." She rolled her eyes, and literally took it back from you. "Done." She winked, you rolled your eyes, and shrieked, "Not what I meant Wands, I am way scarier!"

"Detka," she chuckled with a soft shake of her head, because as scary as you thought you looked, you truthfully didn't. With furrowed brows, a crinkled nose and an exaggerated pout, what she knew was meant to be an intimidating scowl, it only softened her heart. So, as was an inevitability she cursed at you, "You look adorable."

You gasped again, this time more loudly, and the heatless words died on your tongue as you felt a surge of pain. The adrenaline had faded.

Your body fell back against the bed, wrapped hands pawed at the sheets and tears began to stream down your face. Wanda's teasing smile fell, and for the first time since she had arrived she witnessed just how hurt you truly were.

There was ash all over your maroon suit, the flecks of charcoal white covered not only it but your face and hair. Fortunately your hands were already wrapped by someone, but the burns you had sustained were everywhere.

Where the white ash didn't reside, jagged holes in the suit took its place, showing the brunette your third degree burns. Then her eyes trailed further down your body, noticing the scrapes and bruises, and stopping in post haste on the saturated red gauze wrapped over your thigh. Her stomach flipped, seeing you in pain like this always hurt the empath just the same.

"It's okay," you whispered through gritted teeth, forcing yourself to sit back up so you could try to comfort the witch who's lip was now wobbling, but her hand softly pushed you back into the bed. "No, it really isn't."

You should honestly be fine; this was a simple recon mission, medical aid made no sense.

Wanda reached for a white rag from the cleaning station, she softly wiped your face clean, then she thoroughly wiped an unmarred portion of your shoulder clean. She smiled down at you, her thumb traced over your cheek and you instantly nodded. Giving her the silent permission to give you the magical shot to numb the pain, her lips touched yours just as you winced. A momentum picked up as you felt the ice rolling through your veins. Your body feeling as if you could party all night when it really belongs in the junkyard in this state.

Being the responsible party the witch pulled away, smiles pressed lightly together as she hesitates to truly part, but with immense strength she manages. "We need to fix you up now my love, let me do what needs to be done."

Wanda knew she'd have to soften your resolve some to allow her to use her powers like this.

After every mission she'd rush to either your or Natasha's side, use her powers to heal you just a bit, then she'd spend an entire day sleeping.

Then one really bad time put an end to this for a long while. When Nat was struck by a bullet, Wanda suddenly collapsed as Natasha's lungs partook in a miracle as they did the opposite.

"Y/N, don't worry," she quickly shushed you. "I'm going to make these third degree ones, and then I'll stop. I promise I'll be okay, I had Tony make these bracelets for me that help me better pull my energy. No more collapsing."

"C-careful Wan," you stuttered, the heat rolling through your body was still intense, even with the Novocain coursing through you, so you're desperate for her offered relief, but you would never allow it if you thought it would hurt her.

"I always am," she winked at you, then began to remove the rest of your suit. Her body stuttered as she really took the sight of you in.

"Why are you in this state Y/N," she wasn't accusatory, just concerned. "Where was Steve and Tony?" Your eyes widened, because the truth would only lead to the other's demise.

You'd considered lying to her, but even in your delirious state you knew better than to try. Nat probably already got the ear full from Hill, so you knew Wanda would have found out.

"They forgot I was there," you whispered the embarrassing truth so quietly, but you knew she heard it when her jaw clenched. "They triggered the bombs on the floors above me, but then after I shrieked into the coms they stopped and Tony flew up to save me."

"This isn't exactly saving," Wanda sneered. "Those idiots are in for a world of hurt."

"Wanda, it's okay." It wasn't, but you wanted to pretend like it was and she could sense that. "You're right, it's gonna be fine, just relax."

Wanda placed a chaste kiss to your lips as her forehead leaned into yours. A shaky breath fanned across your face as she began to heal you, you could smell traces of mint on your lips, and feel the love she left behind in its place. "Just focus on me sweet girl, you're ok."

"Wan, you said just the burns," you whined, and the witch kissed your protests away as her warm, glowing hands hovered over your thigh.

"Look, I'm fine moya lyubov'," she hummed, her thumb tenderly traced over the new mark on your thigh, and you sighed contentedly.

Wanda saw you shiver, she didn't want to hurt you further with the tight fitting emergency clothes you all had in the medbay for moments like these, so she slipped her own hoodie off and with her magic she made sure it fit you in an oversized manner like you preferred. All to protect your body from being seen by the team.

"Can you stand now?" You nodded, and the brunette guided you onto your feet. Natasha burst into the room just as Wanda pulled you into her, eight minutes in total. The witch was hoping for more time, but you needed to eat, and the redhead will want her time with you.

Wanda pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, "I'm so happy you're okay detka," then she left an even softer one to your lips before she was gently exchanging you for the grocery bags. She gave Natasha a quick kiss, they shared a fond smile as they watched you burrow into your other lover with a swiftness. Then Wanda was gone to the kitchen before you could blink.

Natasha didn't mind the grime transferring to her shirt, she only smiled and buried her nose in your hair, she could smell hints of your apple scented conditioner beneath the layers of smoke and ash that settled onto the strands.

Natasha's blood boiled when she looked just beyond you and saw the tattered remains of your suit behind you. Most of your burns were on your upper body so she couldn't see the improved state, but she did notice the few on your legs, and knowing they were once worse was enough to make her rather homicidal.

Tony and Steve would be smart to find a safe house, because after you fall asleep tonight there's no one left to protect the assholes.

They were careless with your life, and to your girlfriends that's an unforgivable slight.

"Thank you for coming home to us detka," the woman held back a sob as she repeated her usual mantra for when you'd return from a shield mission, but the way her arms tightened around your waist gave way to her clear fear.

"I'll always come home to you guys Natty."

"I appreciate that." Natasha gently pulled away from your embrace so that she could cup your cheek and pull you in for a kiss that she poured all of her love for you into. "We love you a lot."

"I love you guys too Natty, even more than Taylor Swift." Natasha chuckled in disbelief, "Wow, you're clearly in a state of delusion."

"Let's go get you cleaned up detka." Natasha scooped you up against your weak protests. You'd lost a decent amount of blood with the wound on your thigh, plus, no amount of magic heals the need for rest after what you've been through. So this is really the least your lover felt she could do to play her part in your care.

After taking the elevator up to your shared room the redhead set you down on the counter in your en suite, then she filled the tub with scentless bubbles and lukewarm water as to not aggravate your already overheated skin.

You watched with your lip caught between your teeth as your lover stripped down to nothing. She was always something to admire, and you'd never stop. "My eyes are up here."

"I know, I'd rather look at your boobs," you admitted without any shame causing the woman to loudly snort, "Y/N, you're injured..."

"Yes, and horny for my girlfriends always."

Natasha shook her head at your truly heatless words, "You're insatiable darling." You only smiled in response, allowing her to gently guide you into the readied tub where she just as quickly settled her body behind yours for the optimum support. "Dirty, dirty girl indeed."

You huffed, a protest of sorts, but you were too fatigued to back it up with words. The silence slowly encompassed the bathroom, sounds of water splashing into the marble all to be heard as you rearranged your body to lay face down. Natasha frowned when you shivered, she tried to offer her own body heat, but she couldn't budge on the water or else you'd be worse off.

She hummed a soft tune as she ran her fingers up and down your spine with delicate strokes. Her hand began to kneed at the unmarred skin, hopefully helping to relieve the tension that still resided in your muscles from the long day.

Her hand eventually made its way to your thigh where it methodically paused. She softly ran her thumb over your new scar, face falling further as she racked her brain for an answer that only evaded her with logical thought.

"How did you get stabbed?" You tensed as she finally verbalized it, now remembering that the empty floor you were sent to had a straggler who graciously left his blade behind in your leg. He'd totally blindsided you, swinging it at you before he escaped down the fire escape.

"The information was faulty," your scratchy voice came out sounding pitiful. "The place wasn't empty like Fury had first relayed."

Natasha hummed in understanding, she lifted your face and kissed away the tears as they fell. No more words needed to be said, she could tell it was just a fluke in intel, and it infuriated her that they'd not be more thorough for your first time up against Avenger level threats.

"Natty, I'm really cold." You shivered more noticeably this time and she took that as a sign to lift your bodies so she could run the shower. You were likely having a reaction to the loss of blood now, body struggling to regulate after all its been through in only a matter of hours.

Natasha did everything, and to her surprise you let her, you were just so tired and pliant.

She gently sat you down on the bench in your massive shower, then she moved to rid your locks of all the debris. You leaned back when she requested, her strong arm held you up with ease as the warm, once clear water turned to black as it slid down the drain. The various debris getting caught on top of the silver drain gratings, and she soon grimaced as an entire chunk of plaster thunked against the marble.

Natasha waited until the water ran clear to sit you back up. You pouted when you saw her expression, it was pained, and you felt guilty. Thoughts of how you could've prevented this plagued you, truthfully you knew it wasn't on you. Tony and Steve made a massive mistake. Fortunately for you the redhead didn't give you long to overthink before she lifted you again.

You purred when her lips pressed into your neck as she tugged you into her embrace. Fresh hot tears cascaded down your skin along with the streaming water and you held her even tighter, trying to somehow reassure her that you're still here. Natasha held you close like that for an entire minute as she sobbed.

"I'm okay Nat," you whispered reassuringly, "I'm here, I'm alive, and I'm safe with you two."

You reached down, pulling her hand back up with yours to prove your words right. You kissed her knuckles with a tenderness only reserved for your lovers. Then you flattened her hand against your chest, overlaying it with yours for optimal comfort. Nat sighed as soon as she felt the strong thrum beneath her palm.

"Thank you detka..." You kissed her cheek and she turned her head fast enough to steal a proper kiss as well. To her delight you didn't try to pull away, but instead you leaned in and allowed her to deepen it without her asking.

"I love you," you whispered as you playfully smiled against her lips, "But I'm becoming a prune, can we get this show on the road?"

Natasha chuckled, "You're lucky you're cute," shaking her head as she reached for the first of many hair products you had. She set the bottle beside you, and greedily leaned in for another kiss. "Your wish is my command detka."

After Natasha finished you up she guided you to the door with a hand on your hip, and the other on your lower back for assistance. The redhead spun you, softly pressing you into the wall so she could have her last moment of alone time with you. She raised a single hand to cup your left cheek, she ran her thumb over a scar beneath your left eye. Memories of your first ever encounter, a hectic mission, flashes through the both of your minds. You share a reminiscent smile as you kissed her palm.

"I love you too," Natasha finally verbally reciprocates your earlier sentiment. It wasn't needed, her actions alone said it, but you never failed to melt when your lovers reminded you. You whined, your usual cry for attention, and Natasha pecked your lips just before opening the door so you could get in bed and rest.

When the two of you exited the bathroom you both smiled at the sight of your lover on the bed. The scene was overwhelmingly domestic. Wanda wore an oversized shirt of yours, with a smart remote in her hand, apparently keying in your favorite movie on Hulu, and you melted.

You leaned your tired body back into the redheads who leaned against the doorframe,  eyes falling to the rest of the targeted display.

On a tray to the left of the bed was three plates full of your favorite home cooked dinner of Wanda's, and three cans of varying sodas. On the bedside table sat a burn cream, a couple extra strength Tylenol, and a glass of water.

All of that alone was enough to make you want to cry. So, when Wanda jumped up and ran to embrace the both of you the tears actually fell. Your lovers rubbed your shoulders and sides lovingly, depositing kisses wherever they could as they let you have a moment to feel it all.

In there arms was where you felt the safest, you never knew what the feeling of home was like until you met them; they were your physical embodiment of a safety net, and now, you knew you'd always have something to fall into.

——

[kawaiibarty]

thanks for the tag @v7lgar

last song: te wo futte by my dead girlfriend

favorite color: bottle green and browns and greys

last book: probably les mis by victor hugo

last movie: idk it's been ages since i sat through a film

last series: uhm. i dont remember maybe suits. i tried watching snowpiercer but halfway through episode two i got fed up

sweet/savory/spicy: not sweet. kinda savoury. 74.02% inclined to pick the spicy option

last search: vic fuentes (i mixed him up with nic fuentes)

current obsession: yuri on ice

looking forward to: sleeping. even though ive been doing that all day.

relationship status: taken (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

[goodqueenaly]

So in F&B it says that there was a custom of keeping a dragon rider in residence at the Dragonpit in one of the Dance chapters, but unless I’m misremembering I don’t know if that was mentioned in earlier chapters. Do you think that started with Jaehaerys and Alysanne that maybe they had one of their kids there or rotating “shifts”? Thanks and hope you are doing well!

I think this is another area where F&B demonstrates its (IMHO) overall weakness as a narrative. It’s obvious that F&B was Frankenstein’d together from various novellas, stories, and ideas written and (partially) published over the course of years. “The Princess and the Queen” had introduced the idea some 10 years ago that “[i]t had long been the custom for at least one dragonrider to reside at the pit, so as to be able to rise to the defense of the city should the need arise”. However, just as F&B had proven reluctant to expand upon the idea of dragons beyond those already introduced - no word on the fates of all those unnamed “young dragons” and “hatchlings” and “drakes” which seemed to populate the pre-Dance Dragonpit and the Dragonmont - so did F&B refuse to elaborate on that supposedly long-held custom of dragonrider residence in the Dragonpit.

Worse, the often thin and lurid way in which F&B approaches its characters, especially during the reign of Jaehaerys I, hardly provides support for headcanons in this sector. It’s possible the late teenage and early adult Prince Aemon might have been resident in the Dragonpit between his knighting and his appointment as lord justiciar, but there remains the potential problem of how, if at all, Aemon would have divided his days between his full-time job on the small council (nevermind his wartime duties and peacetime progresses) and his residence in the Dragonpit. Too, while Baelon seems to have had no governmental position prior to his appointment as Hand of the King (again, his responsibilities as a prince of House Targaryen notwithstanding), Gyldayn seems little interested in suggesting that Baelon, and his fellow dragonrider Alyssa, did virtually nothing except bed each other for the entirety of their marriage (and specifically in the Red Keep, as Gyldayn seems to gleefully report). Princess Rhaenys might have been sidelined for the succession on the basis of her gender (and as Lady Velaryon after her marriage, she was not ideally locationally suited to be so), but whether this same misogynistic excuse would have been brought up or challenged for the role of resident dragonrider is a question Gyldayn never bothers to bring up in the first place, much less answer.

Indeed, the reign of Viserys I provides several moments where the role might have fit very naturally the plot and characters. If King Viserys wanted to include his brother in the Targaryen government, why wouldn’t he have given this fierce and eager brother a quasi-military role which kept him out of actual political work - and, in turn, would have given Daemon a physical base in the city away from the Red Keep from which he could have cultivated his “Prince of the City” reputation (and his control of his private army of gold cloaks)? (Put aside Daemon’s eventual disappearance from and only partial return to King’s Landing after Viserys I’s remarriage.) Even if Viserys did virtually nothing, certainly with any official political appointment, to promote Rhaenyra as his heiress beyond that 105 AC ceremony of proclamation, and so might not have considered naming her as the resident rider in the Dragonpit, but why didn’t Rhaenyra herself offer to serve as such? With the black and green factions eager to press their respective young princes as the future heirs, and more than willing to use proxy conflicts to jockey for position (as with the infamous Loveday-esque feast and Viserys’s late-reign throne injury), why wouldn’t Alicent and Rhaenyra have petitioned Viserys for such a role for, say, Aemond or Jacaerys? I’m not saying any one of these writing choices would have been perfect, but I am saying that I feel like this was a narrative opportunity GRRM missed exploring.

[wrenrogue]

Kuroken AU where Kuroo looks through Kenma's tablet notes app for some passwords Kenma told him would be there. He finds what he needs but scrolling through the notes he finds something else. He finds a note, last updated three weeks ago and titled "Kuro" and nothing else.

It's a list and a pretty long one at that. It goes like this:

Favorite Soup: Miso because he's boring, but sometimes he prefers it with clam or fish balls because he likes his docosahexaenoic acid

Favorite Suit Fabric: Worsted wool, because he likes how comfortable it is, but many of his current ones are a polyester blend for less wrinkles. I prefer him in silk though

Favorite Tie: Standard sized with basic patterns like stripes or polka dots because he "needs to be professional but not too much that he loses personality." Buy him novelty ties sparingly or he'll be tempted to wear the tackiest ones everyday like a high school science teacher

Favorite color: Red and blue in equal amounts since that's what makes up half his clothes in our closet. I don't think he's noticed yet. Black is my favorite color on him, especially when it's form fitting

Favorite Dessert: Dorayaki, but he doesn't have much of a sweet tooth because he's an old man that likes salty foods more

Favorite Onigiri Filling: Umeboshi because it reminds him of his grandparents

Favorite Vending Machine Drink: Chilled green tea because it's not sweet for his old man taste buds

Favorite Ice Cream Flavor: Vanilla like his sex fantasies and claims it's a good base to add toppings, though he only ever adds sprinkles

Favorite Shampoo Scent: He likes green apple because he says it's a fresh scent, but we both know it's because I've been using green apple shampoo all my life and still do, and he's too lazy to buy his own shampoo now that he lives with me

Favorite Laundry Detergent and Fabric Softener Brands: 'Attack' because that's what his dad uses and 'FaFa' because he finds the brand bear mascot cute

Favorite Alcoholic Beverage: Whiskey on the rocks and calls it his big boy drink. He also likes warm shochu in the winter

Favorite Sports Shoe Brand: ASICS, he likes to have a white pair to coordinate with his suits when he needs to be on the court on business. He keeps separate black ones for his sport activities so the business ones stay clean longer

Favorite Flower: Camellia, since he brings them to me all the time. I asked the gardener to plant some in the back garden, so he can have a supply closer to home

Favorite Type of Fish: Mackerel because it's affordable and high in nutrients

Coffee or Tea? He prefers hot teas without any sugar, but his coffee must be black if he drinks it, because he's boring and a tired salaryman. DO NOT give him espresso though, he can't handle it and also do not offer creamers or sugars because he claims it's for the youths

Things He Needs:

New socks, I saw some holes on his work socks the other day

New cologne, because he's running out and I like him smelling nice

More shaving cream and razors since he doesn't like how scratchy his skin feels, even though I like it

A new dress shirt since I accidentally spilled sauce on one of his favorite ones when I wore it and I couldn't clean the stain off

More hoodies so I can steal his old ones permanently

New volleyball equipment for the backyard so he can practice at home

New ties because all my tugging him down for kisses ruined the fabric of many of the ones he currently has

A new bento box for his lunch since he's still using the one from university

iPhone, Apple Watch, iPad because he needs to upgrade and get with the times

A copy of Pokemon Pearl so I can trade exclusives easier and also so I can beat his ass in battle

New slippers since the cats peed on his current ones while he was at work and I don't think he's caught on yet

A gaming chair so he can join me in streams and videos easier

Things He Likes (and I like):

Grocery store dates

When I win him stuffed animals at festivals

When I make him lunch for work

When I wear his shirts and nothing else

When I kiss him on the forehead before he heads off to work

Hugging him close at night when he's had a bad day

Holding my hand or having his arm over my shoulders when we're walking

When I leave the door unlocked when I'm in the shower

When I let him sleep on my lap while I play my games

Kuroo scrolled through the rest of Kenma's notes about him, it was full of things he liked and how he liked them and things he needed and why. And despite the teasing commentary in some, Kuroo couldn't help but feel loved.

They were all observations, things Kuroo hadn't even noticed about himself; and they were quiet, detailed and sometimes snarky, typical of Kenma. He reached the end of the very very long list to what must've been the newest update from three weeks ago.

It read: Ring Size - 67 mm in circumference, I'll need to ask what size that is for rings at the jewelers.

Kuroo wanted to kiss him. And he did when Kenma got home later that day from the errand he had to run that afternoon.

Kenma barely leaves the genkan before Kuroo has him in his arms, kissing him fervently "What's gotten into you?" Kenma asks, a little dazed and a couple inches off the floor for optimal kissing distance.

Kuroo lowers Kenma down, but doesn't let go "I'm just so in love with you."

Kenma looks up at him, admiration very evident, "I love you too."

It's a quiet night for them, Kuroo finds himself with his head on Kenma's lap as they watch the latest volleyball ball match of the season. Kuroo comments on a failed play and how it would've been better if they'd done it another way.

"Easily the worst play this game, right Kenma?" Silence. "Kenma?" Kuroo looks up at Kenma, expecting him to be on his phone, but instead he's looking down at him, eyes smiling, but a hint of nervousness, a hint of shyness not typical of Kenma.

At least not when it comes to Kuroo. Kuroo reaches up to caress Kenma's cheek, "Everything alright?"

Kenma brings his hand over Kuroo's, "I'm just so in love with you."

Kuroo snorts "That's my line"

"Can it be my line too?"

"You can have anything you want," Kuroo whispers as he turns his hand to hold Kenma's instead.

"Can I have your hand then?" Kenma says threading his fingers with Kuroo's.

"You're holding it?"

Kenma scrunches his nose "Wrong hand."

Kuroo raises his other one, "This one?"

Kenma rolls his eyes, digging through his hoodie pocket "Not the right hand either." He takes out a ring, a simple platinum band with small neat stones around it, "This hand."

Kuroo looks from the ring in Kenma's hand to his face and back to the ring. "Ring Size: 67 mm in circumference. I'll need to ask what size that is for rings at the jewelers" the last update on Kenma's list had said.

"Tetsurou, will you marry me?"

Kuroo answers by leaning up and kissing the love of his life.

Kenma responds quickly, dragging and rearranging Kuroo on top of him, game forgotten as they remained liplocked for the rest of the evening.

"So is that a yes?" Kenma asks coyly as he draws shapes on Kuroo's chest.

They might've done more than kiss on their couch if their pants on the carpet were any indication of that. Kuroo rubs his chin, pretending to think, "I think it's only fair to elope now that you've deflowered me"

Kenma scowls pinching Kuroo's nipple making him yelp in pain, "I change my mind. I don't want your hand in marriage."

"No take backs," Kuroo pinches Kenma's ass in revenge. "Besides I found the list that proves you love me" he teases

"What list?"

"The one on your tablet in your notes where you list all my favorite things"

"You found that??"

"Yeah, this morning when I was looking for those passwords you told me were there"

"Oh" Kenma says, face red trying to cover it with his hair, "Well, you have a list of me too"

Kuroo tucks Kenma's hair behind his ear so he can see his face again, "Yeah, I do" he looks at him with fond eyes, "I'm just so in love with you."

Kenma smiles, fondness and admiration evident as he looks at Kuroo, "I'm just so in love with you too," he says as he leans down to kiss Kuroo once more as tenderly as he feels for the love of his life.

They spend the rest of their night in each other's arms, ring long forgotten, until the next morning when they find it between the cushions.

Kuroo finally says Yes when Kenma asks again for his hand in marriage over breakfast, slipping the ring on his finger, 67 mm in circumference.

[seidenbros]

Breaking the Ice - Chapter 2

Pairing: Wylan van Eck x Jesper Fahey Summary: “Do you need some champagne to make it through this time with me?” Wylan tilted his head to the side, a grin on his lips, obviously not serious about this at all. “I definitely don’t, darling, but who knows how long we’ll be in here, wo we might get thirsty.” The way Jesper’s eyes scanned his upper body, his neck, and stopped at his lips made Wylan think of something else entirely. He actually felt a little hot under the collar, and that only intensified when Jesper loosened his tie before taking it off and putting it in his pocket. “Been waiting to take this thing off ever since I put it on,” Jesper explained while he opened the top buttons of his dress shirt, drawing Wylan’s eyes immediately to the skin he was showing like that. Or Wylan’s POV of their first meeting, and the moment they got stuck in the elevator.

Warning/Tags: POV Jesper Fahey, POV Wylan van Eck, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Figure skating, Hockey Coach Kaz Brekker, injuries, Jan van Eck is the scum of the Earth, sexual content, implied child abuse A/N: Just like promised, it's Friday, and this means Chapter 2 💚

Chapter 1 Read on AO3

Wylan took another deep breath as he checked his reflection in the mirror. The dark green bowtie had been an idea from his coach Inej, and he quite liked it as well as the black suit and suspenders combination with the crisp white shirt. His hair looked rather curly today, but by now he’d given up on trying to tame them and just went with it. Everyone else seemed to love it - apart from his father who’d made him cut his hair when he’d been younger, so it was all the more reason for him to wear it like that.

It would have been lovely if Inej had been able to join him, but she had other obligations. She’d tried to switch some things around to make it happen, so that she could act as a buffer between him and his father, but it hadn’t been possible. All of that wouldn’t have been so bad, if they hadn’t put him right next to his father, because everyone thought that they wanted it. In fact, only his father wanted that to show everyone that they were a happy little family, but Wylan would have loved to sit at the other end of the room.

Jan van Eck was someone people admired, looked up to because he’d made a name for himself as a hockey star, and it was something Wylan understood, since his father was a legend. But as a person, he wasn’t what everyone believed him to be. He had so many memories he’d like to erase, and yet he still wanted to gain his father’s approval, make him proud. Honestly, he shouldn’t give a damn about what he thought, but he did. No matter how hard he tried not to think that way.

He grabbed his belongings and put on his jacket, before he stood here any longer reminiscing about his family and his life. He just had to get through the evening, and he would be free of his father for a while. If he was lucky even until around Christmas where they’d be at the Mayor’s Christmas Party again. For tonight, Wylan would just try to smile, make polite conversation and try to stay away from his father as much as possible. Once the dinner part was over, he’d just mingle with the people, see if he found anyone he knew, and then head home when he felt like it. That was the plan at least, since he wouldn’t be buying anything at the auction, and he’d find out soon enough, who’d be the highest bidder on the costume he’d worn at his last competition, when he’d won silver.

He didn’t take his own car but called for a taxi, because he didn’t know how the evening would go, whether he’d have more to drink than a glass of champagne, but knowing his father, he might definitely need it. Especially because his fiancée was accompanying him. Alys was a sweet girl, about the same age as him, so Wylan had no idea why she was by his father’s side. Maybe, he treated her differently than he did Wylan, maybe he actually cared for her, but since he knew how his father could get, he thought that she deserved better.

When he got there, his father was already at their table and Alys was sitting quietly next to him. Wylan was still earlier than most people, and he would have loved to stay back, maybe go to the bar first or take a look around the ballroom, but his father had spotted him, so he didn’t have a choice but to go over there. He knew that people were always watching his father, and so they’d watch their interaction as well - especially the photographers, since they loved taking pictures of the hockey legend and his figure skating son. Both of them were born to be on the ice, just in different sports, and that seemed to be the problem for his father. Well, at least one of his problems.

“They want to take some pictures of the three of us,” his father said the moment he approached his place at the table. No greeting beforehand, but Wylan hadn’t expected that anyway.

“Maybe we should do that straight away then,” he suggested, putting his glass down, but he didn’t sit down.

“Good idea. The food might make me look bloated,” Alys piqued up and actually smiled at Wylan. She’d never given him a hard time, had actually always been nice to him, Wylan just preferred to stay away from her when she started singing.

“You’d look beautiful either way,” his father cooed, and Wylan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. At least, they set into motion and found the photographer so that he could snap some happy family pictures of them. Wylan’s smile looked plastered on. It was the one reserved for occasions like this or when reporters asked him any strange questions, but people who knew him well could tell the difference between this smile and an honest one.

Once that was over and done with, Wylan seized the opportunity to take a selfie with the ballroom in the background for his instagram account, to let the people in on what he was doing. He captioned it with where he was and what he was doing, and that he was hoping for a great evening. With that done, he followed his father and soon to be stepmother back to their table.

Meanwhile, their table had filled with people, and he was surprised to see a familiar face. When Nina caught his eye, she smiled and waved at him. He hadn’t expected to see his physiotherapist here, but it was a nice surprise, especially because she was in company of the guy she’d been raving about - Matthias Helvar, Captain of the Ketterdam Crows. And next to him, there was the one they called Sharpshooter: Jesper Fahey. Wylan had seen him play a couple of times, because even though he didn’t play himself, was just not cut out for that, the years of living with a hockey legend had made him take an interest in the sport and learn whatever he could about it, had even played when he’d been a child. As much as he wanted to not like the sport itself, he couldn’t.

Jesper was really handsome, had an elegance about himself that was hard to describe and stood quite in contrast with the way he moved on the ice and could knock his opponents over. Wylan had to admit that his knees got a little weak when he saw him smile, when that smile was suddenly directed at him. He quickly looked down again, because apparently, he’d been staring and Jesper had caught him.

Over the course of the dinner, Wylan stole glances at him again, while his father’s voice dominated the conversation at the table, making Wylan wince, because of some memories he had. This time, his father didn’t raise his voice at him, because he’d done something wrong, but his loud voice still made these memories pop up, especially when he was sitting right next to him. 

He was glad when they only had their dessert left, but they’d have to wait a moment for that. After that, Wylan could get up and move around, meet some other people, and maybe enjoy the evening a little bit.

“You’re gonna dance with Alys later on. It will be great material for the press.” His father’s voice was lowered, close to his ear, and made him shiver.

“Excuse me?” Wylan turned his head to look at him.

“You heard me. She wants to dance with you.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Wylan knew that he was challenging him, but he also didn’t want to give in just like that. Not at twenty-six when he’d been living on his own for quite some time.

“Do you really want to embarrass me?” His father didn’t have a lot on him since Wylan had gone public with his dyslexia last year, not wanting him to have that kind of leverage on him anymore, and because he wanted to encourage other people with this as well, to show them that something like this didn’t have to hold them back, that they could still reach for whatever they wanted. But he still knew that his father would bring out whatever to get back to him.

“Fine,” he mumbled and got up so quickly that he nearly knocked his chair over. He was aware of the eyes on him, saw the worry in Nina’s eyes, but just smiled at her. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

He needed a drink. Probably more than one if he was being honest, and definitely something stronger than the champagne they were serving. Of course, he wasn’t planning on getting black out drunk, but depending on how the evening would progress, he wouldn’t say that it was impossible.

He ordered a gin tonic and paid for it straight away. Maybe, he could pass some time by nipping at it, so he didn’t buy the next one in a matter of minutes. Little did he know that someone would change his plans.

It didn’t take long until someone appeared right next to him. When he turned his head, he realised that it was Jesper Fahey, and his heart immediately skipped a beat. Even more so when Jesper ordered a drink for him as well. He felt a little stupid for pointing out that he already had a drink, but Jesper’s reasoning was actually kind of sweet. The little conversation between him and his father hadn’t gone unnoticed, though he doubted that Jesper had heard what they’d been talking about. Wylan downed his drink to make room for the new one Jesper had ordered for him as well, because he was quite curious about the drink now.

It was sweet that Jesper introduced himself, though there was no need for that. He already knew who Wylan was as well after talking about his father.

“Do you now?” Jesper said, making Wylan’s heartbeat pick up its rate a little. Not because of the words exactly, but because of the way he said them and the way he was trailing his eyes over Wylan’s body. Once they looked into each other’s eyes, he felt the heat in his cheeks, knew immediately that they’d changed colour, and he was just hoping that it wasn’t too bad, or that Jesper wouldn’t really see it in the lighting here.

Of course he knew who Jesper was, because he knew all the hockey players for the Crows. He watched most of their games and followed trade deadlines, had talked to some of them, whether in person or on social media, but it was his first time talking to him. When Jesper mentioned that he’d thought he may have looked him up, Wylan felt rather bold for saying that maybe he had done just that. But they couldn’t get more deeply into the topic, which was probably for the better when their drinks were ready for them.

Jesper hadn’t exaggerated with the drink, because it really was delicious and it looked spectacular as well. For a moment, he hadn’t been sure, but when Jesper said that he didn’t just have a great taste in drinks and added that wink, he was sure that Jesper Fahey was flirting with him. Good, because Wylan was flirting or at least trying to flirt with him as well. He’d definitely like for Jesper to prove it to him, though - but they didn’t get the chance right now. Their next and last course would be served, so they had to head back to the table.

The way Jesper led him back to their table, made him shiver slightly. It felt good, very protective. When he talked about Wylan’s father, though, Jesper gained even more plus points with him. It was rare to find someone who didn’t like Jan van Eck. And he’d even save Wylan from his father and stepmother to be if he needed it. That was really sweet.

“I will,” he reassured Jesper, a smile on his face, when he asked about a dance later on. He really wanted that as well and so much more actually, so he took one of the pens on the table and tore a piece off his napkin so he could write his phone number on it. Maybe, he could hand it to Jesper later on, or put it in his pocket at least, since he might forget about it otherwise. His father changed his plans for the evening completely as soon as dessert was over. Wylan wanted to get up and maybe get another drink before he would say hello to some other people, but his father had already not been happy with the drink he’d brought to the table. Wylan rarely drank alcohol, so tonight was a special occasion for him, and he felt like he deserved this as well. His father on the other hand thought that Wylan would maybe embarrass himself just because he couldn’t hold his own liquor. 

“You’re staying right here where I can see you,” Jan van Eck said, putting a hand on the back of Wylan’s chair to keep him from getting up.

“I’m not a child anymore. I make my own decisions. You can’t keep me here.”

“Since I can’t change it, you’re still my child, and you need to behave properly.”

“What do you think I’ll do? Get drunk and start tearing off my clothes on the table?” Wylan squinted at his father, knowing that he was striking a nerve with this. Not because of public indecency in itself, but because people would see the scars on his lower back and his thighs, and that was something his father wanted to keep hidden.

“You stay right here.” Jan took the hand from the back of Wylan’s chair and wrapped it around his wrist, holding him so tightly that it hurt.

“Let go of me,” he said through gritted teeth, memories rushing back at him, and he balled his hand into a fist. He just wanted to go now, wanted to turn his back on his father and leave him here.

“You should behave and not be so ungrateful.”

“If you don’t let me go, I’ll tell everyone what you did to me. Everything.” Wylan doubted that he’d be so brave as to really do that here and now, but as long as he faked it well enough that his father would believe him, that was good enough for him.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Do you really want to find out?”

The moment his father’s hand around his wrist loosened, Wylan ripped it free from him and pretty much fled from the ballroom towards the elevator. Impatiently, he pushed the button a couple of times, as if that would change anything, but it felt like forever until the doors opened one way or another. With a sigh, Wylan stepped inside and walked over to the opposite wall. After pressing the button to the ground floor, he leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath. Just when he wanted to close his eyes along with the doors, they were held open. A little irritated, he opened his eyes again, and was surprised to see Jesper Fahey step into the elevator.

“Couldn’t let you dash off all by yourself.”

It was sweet, really, and it made Wylan’s heart thump against his chest, and he felt the corners of his mouth twitch up. It was an honest smile, because he was genuinely touched.

“And I see you brought something with you.” Wylan indicated the bottle in Jesper’s hand, who raised it immediately. Now, the door was closing and they began their way down.

“Thought that might come in handy after your… conversation with your father.”

Of course Jesper had seen that, but they’d been so quiet that Jesper couldn’t have heard them.

“I may have overreacted,” Wylan said, because he was used to it, not because he really believed it, but he also didn’t want anyone to think ill of his father. Though with Jesper, he was rather sure that he didn’t have to make that effort.

“I don’t think so. I have no idea what you were talking about and you don’t have to tell me, but your reaction is absolutely valid, because it’s what you felt at that moment.” Jesper shrugged his shoulder and raised the bottle to his lips to drink something, before he handed it over to Wylan, who took it with a nod of his head.

He was a little overwhelmed with the words Jesper had just said. They really touched him, and they had been so unexpected that he still had to process them. Still, he managed to say: “Thank you, that means a lot.”

Just when he’d finished drinking from the bottle, the elevator jerked, before it stopped altogether. Wylan’s eyes widened and his heart sank. This could only be some kind of joke, right? He looked left and right, before his eyes landed on the board with the buttons, but nothing was happening. It wasn’t just a feeling he had, the elevator was stuck.

“Are you kidding me?” he heard Jesper mumble, who ran a hand over his hair before stepping up to the board and pressing a few buttons. He ultimately landed on the bell and it only took a moment until someone was talking to them.

“Yeah, we’re in here. Is there anything you can do?” Jesper said, looking over at Wylan to see if he was alright. 

“We’re gonna check everything we can, and hopefully we can fix it. That will take a moment. If it works, the elevator will move again and if not, we’ll get back to you.”

“Thanks, we appreciate it.” Jesper stepped back from the intercom and looked over at Wylan. “Good thing we have something to drink with us then.”

“Do you need some champagne to make it through this time with me?” Wylan tilted his head to the side, a grin on his lips, obviously not serious about this at all.

“I definitely don’t, darling, but who knows how long we’ll be in here, wo we might get thirsty.”

The way Jesper’s eyes scanned his upper body, his neck, and stopped at his lips made Wylan think of something else entirely. He actually felt a little hot under the collar, and that only intensified when Jesper loosened his tie before taking it off and putting it in his pocket.

“Been waiting to take this thing off ever since I put it on,” Jesper explained while he opened the top buttons of his dress shirt, drawing Wylan’s eyes immediately to the skin he was showing like that.

“Not a fan of ties, I take it?” He quickly looked back up, though he figured that Jesper had taken notice of where he’d looked, judging by the smirk on his lips.

“They’re a necessary evil, but I prefer not to wear them.” It came with the job, because while they were wearing their jersey and gear on the ice, when they travelled or even had their home games, they had to come properly dressed, though most of the time, it was okay to skip the ties, except for special games.

“I get that, but it suits you really well.” Wylan bit the corner of his bottom lip. “But this suits you even better.”

“So… you like what you see?”

“Obviously.” That was out before he could think better of it, and so Wylan quickly raised the bottle to take a long drag from the champagne. Maybe, the alcohol was getting to his head, so that he acted this way. That might have been one of the reasons why Wylan put the bottle on the floor.

“Just for the record, I like what I see as well. Very much so.”

Wylan moved first, closed the distance between them and sought leverage on Jesper’s shoulder with his right hand, before he kissed him. He felt like his head was spinning, but this was definitely not from the alcohol, but because of how Jesper made him feel when his hands found his waist and squeezed. Wylan gasped into the kiss, and Jesper seized that moment to deepen the kiss, lick into his mouth. Wylan’s hand slid from his shoulder up along his neck and into his hair, grabbing it slightly. That made Jesper break apart from his lips with a moan.

“Sorry,” Wylan mumbled, a little embarrassed, because he thought he’d done something wrong.

“No need to apologise at all. Do it again,” Jesper breathed against his skin, peppering kisses over his cheek, heading towards his neck, and when he reached that, he pressed an open mouthed kiss against the delicate skin, it was Wylan who moaned, but he managed to follow Jesper’s request and grabbed his hair again.

His left hand managed to sneak beneath Jesper’s jacket, over his side and to his hip as he tilted his head to the side, giving him better access to his neck. This was definitely not where he’d seen himself end up tonight.

“This has to go,” Jesper whispered against his neck, but his lips steered up a bit so he could kiss him right below his ear, tearing another moan from Wylan while Jesper managed to take the bowtie off him. Where it landed, Wylan had no idea, and frankly, he didn’t care all that much. All he cared about was the hot man driving him out of his mind with the kisses he placed on his skin. When he sucked below his ear, though, Wylan’s knees almost gave in and he sunk against Jesper.

“Jesper,” he breathed on a moan, his fingers pulling Jesper’s shirt out of his trousers at his back, so he could slip his hand beneath it and touch his skin. He needed this right now.

“Good?” Jesper asked, nipping on his earlobe before he kissed his way down along his neck again

“Great… amazing.” Wylan’s fingers pressed against Jesper’s back, as his own body pressed against him as well, wanting to be even closer to him.

“Oh, I can feel that,” Jesper said with a grin as he raised his head again, looking into Wylan’s eyes, whose pupils were probably as wide as Jesper’s, because he was so aroused. He’d never been this aroused so quickly, and he definitely attributed that to Jesper. Wylan was glad that his cheeks were already flushed, because otherwise, he might have blushed at Jesper’s observation. Jesper, who pushed his hips forward a little more for Wylan to feel what he was doing to him in turn.

“Glad I’m not alone,” Wylan said through a smile, before he rose to the balls of his feet to kiss Jesper again. Jesper’s hands slid up from his waist and he wrapped them around Wylan’s suspenders.

“God, I love these,” he mumbled between kisses. “So sexy.”

Wylan’s heart was beating a mile a minute, but he still managed to do what he’d wanted to do. He pulled the hand from Jesper’s hair and reached into his pocket to take out the napkin piece and put it in Jesper’s pocket. However he had the brain capacity to do that, he didn’t know, but as soon as he’d done that, he placed his hand on Jesper’s chest, his thumb brushing over the patch of skin that was showing, because he couldn’t resist.

When their lips separated the next time, it was Wylan who latched his lips onto Jesper’s neck, nipping and sucking on his skin, until he couldn’t resist but leave a mark on him as well, since he was pretty sure that Jesper had left one below his ear before.

“Marking me up already?” The smile was audible in Jesper’s voice, his fingers pulling on Wylan’s shirt so that he could push his hands beneath it at his sides. Wylan moaned quietly at the skin contact, goosebumps covering his skin where Jesper touched him.

“You started that.”

Before they could say anything else, the elevator jerked again and continued its journey downwards. They both just stared at each other for a moment, but then they laughed together. Was it a good thing that it started moving again or not? Wylan wasn’t sure, because now that Jesper wasn’t kissing him anymore, and they were both making themselves look presentable again - as much as that was possible in their aroused state - his mind went into overdrive and he started questioning what he was doing.

This wasn’t like him at all. He usually didn’t make out with someone in an elevator like that. He had no idea where this would lead or what Jesper wanted out of this.

And so he panicked.

“Are you okay?” Jesper asked, touching his fingers to Wylan’s shoulder to get him to look at him.

“I’m… I don’t know.” Wylan shook his head, his heart racing in his chest, because he really wasn’t sure whether he was okay or not, but the panic rising inside him made him run both hands over his face and through his hair, leaving it in utter disarray. When the doors opened at the ground floor, Wylan stepped out immediately. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

If Jesper wanted to, he could contact Wylan, since he’d given him his phone number - without him knowing so far - but right now, Wylan wasn’t in the shape to spend more time with him, no matter how much his body and heart disagreed. He’d always been too much in his head as Inej liked to put it, but he couldn’t turn it off.

“Wylan…” Jesper stepped out as well, but Wylan was already halfway to the front door and only called back a sorry before he was out of the building.

Two things were for certain. Kissing Jesper had been one of the bravest things he’d ever done, because it was so unlike him. Leaving him standing there like this was one of the dumbest things he’d ever done.

[luckyspade-8]

To @sirshiba Happy holidays! I had fun writing this and I hope I did your version of Scarecrow and Riddler justice!

Scriddler

That Damned Parasite of Joy

Words:750 tw:none

Trying to shake off the nerves, Jonathan reposition his arms on Ed's shoulders.

"I am not thrilled about this."

"For one who gets excited at the thought of fear, I would think you would be enthralled with this. All of these high strung beings, who could easily break from one of silver tongue."

"You know damn well I hate any social gathering. It's even worse you brought me to a Holiday Gala, Edward."

"Oh Please, spare me from your sharp word of anguish til after we leave with the information of our enemies."

Sighing, Johnathan continues to awkwardly sway to the music with Ed leading. How he even got here is ridiculous. All it took was Ed using his confounding words of 'intelligence' to get him in this ill fitting suit. Sneaking in was the easy part, but now getting out seemed impossible without the crowds staring at them trying to leave. Especially when Ed chose to wear a eye catching forest glitter green suit.

Choosing to keep dancing, Jon stares into his partners face. The crystal lights reflecting off Ed's gold frames certainly didn't help the sinking feeling. The harsh coldness of the vast ballroom pulling him close to Edward was even worse. God, Johnathan hated this time of year.

The demand to spend money on the people who are suppose to care about you unconditionally have their unspoken conditions met, the annoyingly colorful ads to buy snotty brats the toy of the year and of course. The worst of the all. The cursed plant he hated every single year. The little bunch of parasite plants hung so high. The thing that cause much pain in school dances. That-

"Would you look at that. Mistletoe. Do you know, it comes from three different parasite families. Notably, the most well-known are Viscum, Phoradendron, and Arceuthobium, all of which are members of the family Santalaceae. And of course, the well known saying from Egland that kissing under it will lead to marriage no matter what. Of course, that's just a saying that morphed from Druids buring bonfires and an old Norse legend."

Feeling the dread, Johnathan looks up and sees the dread parasite. Of course. A witches broom. Fuck, it aint the same thing but who cares. Before his face starts to burn with shame, John tries to shuffle away from the bushel of green leaves and white toxic berries. Feeling Edward stop him, John gulps down the fear threatening to spill out his mouth and look back at him.

"So. We both stuck in this predicament. A socially filled room and eyes are starting to fall on us. Of course, if you don't wish to do anything, You don't have to. I would never make you do anything you truly would hate, I'm not that cruel."

Taking a deep breath, Johnathan takes one look over of Ed. The crooked nose he came to adore, the cow lick in his hair that Ed would always avoid calling it that, the rooster tail in the back of his hair that stuck up and how his face would get frustrated when Jon used such words describe him. Edward may be one damn stubborn bastard, but he was the only one Jon would trust to kiss him.

Sighing with a non existing smile, Jonathan simply rolls his eyes hearing Ed go on about how incredibly kind he is before tapping his shoulder.

"Make it quick then."

"Of course, I wouldn't keep one waiting for such a lovely reward. An honor to be given affection from an intelligent being such as I. And furthermore-"

"Oh for the love of that's all holy."

Johnathan pulls the ginger man into a kiss, feeling the sudden warmth of his body temperature. Feeling the eyes starting to pull towards them, Jonathan pulls away. Before Edward could rant and rave about chivalry and ideals, Johnathan put his hand onto Ed's shoulder.

"You make this terrible season almost tolerable."

As the words hit Edward's keen ears, the classic shit eating grin spread across his face.

"Of course, I'm a wonderful delight to be around. To be blessed with such insight-"

"Don't make me regret saying that out loud."

Feeling content, Edward finally shut up.

For all of 5 seconds when he saw someone eating calamari and goes on a tirade on how elitist it is to enjoy something so gross yet expensive. Oh well, it something to ignore the never ending nerves of dread.

[yridenergyridenergy]

Phalaris Vol.II - Kanazawa-shi Culture Hall [2023/05/18] live report

SETLIST

Hibiki

Schadenfreude

Mouai ni Shosu

Devote My Life

Utsutsu, Bouga o Kurau

Ningen wo Kaburu

13

Uroko

Eddie

GRIEF

Beautiful Dirt

Otogi

The Perfume of Sins

ENCORE

Dozing Green (acoustic)

un deux

T.D.F.F.

Sustain the Untruth

Revelation of mankind

Holy hell, another excellent show!

The first thing that hit me at Kanazawa-shi Culture Hall was that I wasn't passed the memo for shimote? There were so many young women wearing pretty little dresses. They also happened to not move that much, barely headbang during the show. I wonder if they had photoshoots in Kanazawa's old village neighbourhood and wanted to remain prim and proper for Kaoru and Toshiya. Anyway, because of the chairs' disposition and the fact that the fan in front of me decided to occupy the aisle on her right (technically allowed), I had an unobstructed view of all of the members. Tomorrow, on the shinkansen back to Tokyo, or on the long flight back home in the next few days, I'll try to commit to paper my memory of every member's look and outfits!

Shinya had his traditional white top with black pants, Die had his black and white-lined tunic tucked into a belt with the Roman soldier kind of leather leggings and his usual bold mascara, Toshiya wore the black lace veil version of his outfit, Kaoru came in with the dual-patterned suit (the top is black & white while the pants are black and leopard yellow/orange) and finally, Kyo adorned his the dark version of his outfit, with the G.I.S.M. T-shirt.

Before I cut the post for a shorter version, the rest appearing after the break below, I HAVE to mention the dance that Toshiya does during Eddie and that we all seem to be forgetting! It's the segment where essentially just Shinya is playing, the second time "Shimatsugaki wa kaki oeta ka? Mirai o sute doko e daibu?" is sung, in a more comical voice. Toshiya gets low, bending his knees, and he starts doing what I can only describe as a "happy dance", throwing his arms high and low, doing exaggerated steps in a circle while this is played. The only gif I could find to illustrate that is this, but crouched:

Also, for Eddie, almost nobody was singing. At some point, Kyo got pissed and threw his mic impulsively in the air backward, almost landing on Shinya's drums. For the long seconds of vocal silence that followed with Kyo not so much glaring as intimidatingly and expectantly staring at the centre of the crowd, it sounded like I was the only one shouting the whole near-end lyrics? People please, learn Eddie! It's not my favourite song on the album and I don't know the lyrics by heart, but I can make vaguely similar sounds that satisfy Kyo! He eventually picked up his mic again to resume singing from "Kusodomo ga" (Shitholes) to finish the song in frustration.

GRIEF followed and it looked like Kyo was still pissed and sang with more fury. In fact, I'd say that the Eddie performance affected the encore all the way until maybe halfway into un deux, at which point Kyo demanded us to sing with him, higher and more, which fans did join in mass this time.

Going back to the start, Hibiki and Schadenfreude seemed like they had even more passion by the band than before. It sounded like nobody shouted "Ikedomo jigoku ka" with me though? By the way, Hibiki's backdrop is very beautiful, showcasing a bunch of flower coloured lines in water, a bit like if ink is dropped in that liquid and that it eventually hangs in suspension.

Mouai ni Shosu I'm sure is where Kyo puts his arms wide up to his side and dances a bit with his feet, slowly, while staring at us very intently like he controls us.

Throughout the show, it seemed to me like Kaoru came out from his spot way more. There was something he saw in us because he kept teasing us with his head bending to the side, he came up to place a foot on the ledge more often and he sped up to the left arm of the stage almost as soon as the occasion presented. Usually, Toshiya is the one visiting us at the front all the time and Kaoru stays back. Kind of the same thing with Die actually. I noticed yesterday that Die is in his own little world on the right side of the stage, just disappearing off-stage during instrument switches or breaks, whipping his hair back at all odd times, etc. Anyway, it was great to see Kaoru more out there/here!

In Devote My Life, Kyo trotted toward the right arm of the stage right away, jumping over the equipment and then swaying his head there as he asked for the crowd to chant. He came back to the centre and I think Toshiya did the same either in that song or another, but on his way back to the main stage, Toshiya's jump involved really bending his knees along with reclining his bass, which made the jump total rockstar-style for a mere second!

Kyo ran to the left arm of the stage near the end of Utsutsu, Bouga o Kurau, and he did the first: "eranananananaze nanda" (he seems to add and roll an r at the start rather than just go with nana for the whole series), followed by a pause and: "Sore!" right before we're supposed to chant the second series ourselves, but he was already making his way back to the centre of the stage and I'm not sure how well he heard anyone in the crowd. In any case, he clearly was not satisfied this time, but he has reacted worse. Then he extends his hand and belts out those "Ooooooh in mind" lines to conclude the song epically as always!

In Ningen wo Kaburu, I heard a bit more clearly this time that Kyo changed the lyrics. Most of the time, he asks us to chant: "Dare no tame ni ikiru darou?" but he changes it occasionally to shout off-melody about doing it for his own sake, I believe? It was 'ore no', right?

For 13, again that one seemed a few inches more intense than usual, with the face being ripped forcefully off when singing emotionslly about throwing it all away. Man, I can't shake the feeling that we're supposed to be singing Die's backup vocals of: "in the dark, in the heart of, here's everything, Never die." It just doesn't seem right that this moment has no engagement from the crowd. Not to mention that most fans do not move during this song even if it's so powerful and rock- y and that the band goes hard on stage.

I can't remember in which song, but Kyo was so intense in his steps that he bumped backward into his mic stand, which wobbled but thankfully did not fall on Shinya's drums. Kyo glanced a bit worriedly at it but quickly went back to the performance like a professional.

Also, somewhere in the second half of the main setlist, in one of the breaks, Toshiya poured water from his plastic bottle on himself, mainly on his head but I think also on his chest, his back turned to us. He finished by spitting some water upward like a fountain before turning to face us.

Otogi starts in silence with Kyo hitting his forehead, head bent, with his microphone, which he holds with both hands. You can hear heavy breathing, maybe hints of sniffs even. The screen fills up with bright, bright red from the bottom, Kaoru's distortion fills the air and Shinya hints of beats flutter after a while. The song then turns turns really heavy. Toshiya makes various gestures, concealing his eyes with both hands at one point, but he starts the song by holding his hand and his bass high, becoming a proud silhouette against the vivid red.

Then, the spinal mic stand comes forth and Kyo does eery little noises, only to blast out: "NOSE, EYES, EARS" out of nowhere, it's always unexpected! There was so much smoke after "The sound of the brain dying" throughout the song that Kyo was hidden from sight eventually.

The song ended and it seemed like even Kyo took a moment to grasp that it was the end of the main setlist. In fact, the entire band didn't seem ultra aware. It was just that kind of show, so awesome!

The band came back for the encore, Shinya as usual clothed in black with the tour T-shirt, Die with a lose black shirt, his very short leather shorts and the aforementioned tights, Toshiya changed his top for the classy sleeveless dress shirt and Kaoru finally took off his patterned jacket and came back with the leopard pants and his black dress shirt. I don't know how he keeps his layered outfits for the entire main setlist all the time while every other member besides Shinya slowly divests themselves as the heat becomes overbearing! But anyway, what shocked us the most was Kyo returning to the stage with HEAVY black makeup on the lips, as well as on his eyelids now! With the tone of Dozing Green in acoustic and the beginning of un deux, combined with the poor reception he got during Eddie, Kyo looked downright depressed but nevertheless intimidating. With his somewhat spiky blond hair, he reminded me of his Kisou look a bit.

After un deux successfully lightened the mood with reconciliation, T.D.F.F. got everybody totally crazy. We were jumping and headbanging, Toshiya went to the left arm of the stage again for his solo, and Kaoru took notice of shimote's dedication to the song so he walked up front and mouthed a "hey" or whatever with us. He peered really intensely, seriously at all places in the shimote section, it was almost unnerving! Kyo tends to stare at no particular spot, basically a bit above the crowd, while Toshiya and Die smile and stare slightly but then they focus on playing. Kaoru was taking his sweet time scanning the entire crowd on his side of the venue yo. He'd nod from time to time when our reaction wad energetic enough.

It must have been in the encore, because I'm confident that Kaoru was wearing only his black dress shirt, Kyo sprinted back to what seemed to be his crate in the centre, so Kaoru peered at that and prepared to head back to shimote but Kyo was quicker and he placed his hand on Kaoru's left shoulder, holding him there as he passed and made his own way to shimote instead, telling Kaoru that it was fine to stay there for now. It's crazy how gaga we become for those small interactions just because they come off as such an antisocial or asocial band, but it works!!!

At one point, I'd say either during Beautiful Dirt or in the encore with Sustain the Untruth, Kyo stared at someone behind the VIP rows and mocked the weakness of their raised hand. When perhaps the fan in question raised their second arm, he imitated that and the way he did it, it clearly made a fool of the lack of energy dispensed. Again, he gestured for the neck to be ruined instead and began dancing on his spot like in Sustain the Untruth.

The last song came and Kyo stood on his crate. He asked us repetitively if we could go, putting his hand over his face and sniffing like he wasn't sure or convinced, which prompted me to scream before he asked again and everybody in the crowd joined as well in the cheer. Kyo then went: "KAAAAAANAAAAZAAAWAAAAAA", followed by: "KAAAAAAAAAAANAAAAAAAAAAAzawa". He compelled us to keep it up for the last song a couple of times more, after which he screamed: "Then die!" roughly, adding "Last Song" quickly almost like an after-thought immediately after as the first notes of Revelation of mankind began.

What ensued was headbanging, some joint singing between the crowd and Kyo, and a beautiful final. By the end, he had almost none of the black makeup left on the lips, maybe only at the corners of his mouth, but none dripping on his chin due to sweat - maybe stuck on his mic or he swallowed it while singing? At the end, he just stood there exhausted and wiped the rest of it off, only the eyes still shadowed. Kyo clapped multiple times, nodding like we deserved those claps, until Shinya's finishing beats. Then he clapped some more, pointed at the young girl with the headphones in the crowd and doing the finger hook to her a couple of times, nodding and pointing twice at his temples, making it obvious he was refering to her. Then he turned his attention back to the whole crowd, stepped back a couple of inches, belted out: "KANAZAWA" micless, then: "Bye Bye" in the same fashion with a curt wave of his hand, and left.

Shinya threw his drumsticks from on top of Kyo's crate afterward and as he left the stage, he walked squarely far, more than a metre away from Kaoru as he passed. Kaoru had been collecting some picks from his micstand and he slightly smirked at Shinya on the latter's way out. The three remaining members on stage threw stuff mostly in the back. I guess they really want to make use of the stage's arms on the side to reach parts of the crowd that they couldn't have access to from a general-admission type of venue.

Toshiya left rather early tonight and didn't seem all that smiley, but he bowed respectfully and appreciatively before leaving.

I think there was a small interaction between Die and Kaoru as they crossed path to alternate the side of the stage that they were donating picks to.

And as you already know, Kaoru did the magic trick of throwing a pick, we look up and get blinded by the lights in the ceiling, look back down to see where it landed, and Kaoru's right there opening his palm with his mouth wide open in a smirk, expression falsely surprised, then he popped it out of his palm and next thing I know, I flex my left hand while people around me are looking everywhere at the ground for the pick and there it is, something solid apparently landed in my palm! Woooo!

What a wonderful way to end this streak of seven shows that I was able to see this tour! I hope everyone will have an amazing time for the following, concluding shows, as well as during the Petit Brabançon but even more so the sukekiyo tour this summer, you lucky fellows!

[fmoe1997]

The long silence that held over the lake was interrupted only by the steady splash of water. A lone boat, propelled through the waves by a pair of paddles, made its way through the murky green. Within it sat two occupants.

A shark, dressed to the nines in a blue and red pinstripe suit, gripped the paddles in either hand on one end. On the other, a feminine imp in a similarly-colored dress sat just as silently as her travel companion. To anyone outside the boat they appeared as two lost souls, out on the lake with nary a fishing rod nor a clue to what they were there for.

But they both knew. The bag over the imp's face and the rope that cut into her wrists made their intentions more than clear. As did the brick that lay between her feet.

For what seemed like eternity, the paddles dipped and rose through the waters. The sickly green tint gave no indication of what lay beneath the surface. But the shark knew, and the imp would find out soon enough.

Eventually the shark pulled the paddles back into the boat and stilled near the middle of the lake. Although, even in the best weather, the ever-present fog made it hard to judge. He thought to take the oars back in hand and keep rowing. Rowing until he felt sure he had taken them far enough from land. Or perhaps, until he convinced himself not to go through with this.

"Alessio," the imp called, and the shark looked obediently at her. "Remove the bag, please, so I can look at you."

She sounded calm, eerily calm. More than most in her position. Alessio had delivered many to these depths before. Every one of them had a different reaction during the long row to their end. He heard their muffled cries as they pleaded for their lives, but they always went unanswered.

But with her, he felt the usual gag unnecessary. And for the first time, it was him who felt fear at the situation he had been placed in. She remained completely silent, even when he placed the bag over her and took her out here, she didn't say a word, or beg, or cry. Until now, where she made one simple request.

And he granted it.

With a heavy hand, he grabbed the burlap sack and gently took it off her head. He met with bright yellow eyes, unfazed at first, that slowly softened as they focused on him. Alessio felt his chest seize and he fought the new flood of emotions that came with it.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Kno-, Crimson, couldn't be here."

She almost smirked at this. "I'm not."

She then turned her eyes to the still lake. "It was always going to come to this at some point. I watched him fall deeper into the life his family made for him, and I knew. That the imp I fell in love with was gone, and this would be my only way out."

Stoic, even in the face of death. For once, Alessio wished she would be like many of the ones he brought before, but he couldn’t decide if it would be better or worse.

"But then, I had Moxxie. Mi hermoso chico. I remember I couldn't let go of him when I brought him into this world. Not even to Crim. I couldn't. I could not see this tiny, innocent child turn into the monster that man had become. When I saw his bright eyes, his beautiful smile, I had something to fight for."

Alessio sat silently through her confession. She had always been a strong woman. The fire never died in her before Moxxie, but with him it burned brighter than ever before. Even he wasn't blind to how tightly she clung to the little one. But Crimson saw it too, and it's why he asked him to do the impossible task of snuffing it out.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he felt her bound hands rest against his, hanging loosely between his legs.

"Promise me you will look after him in my place. He is strong, but he needs someone to look after him. Only you can do that."

Alessio could only look at her, mouth slightly agape, before he bowed his head. "My loyalties lie to Crimson, ma'am, you know this. There is only so much I can do for him without going against the Don's wishes."

"Then do it. Everything you can. Don't leave him alone in this world of cruelty. Don't... don't be the one to take him here too."

Alessio's eyes widened at the implication, yet lowered all the same. If Crimson couldn't groom Moxxie into the family, he would end up right here as well. Against his will, his mind pictured the young imp in her place. He stared up at him with eyes innocent to the world. A gag around his mouth and a brick by his legs, he stared until he sent him over the edge, never to be seen again.

He dug his claws into his knees at the thought, his face screwed up in a grimace as he clenched his teeth. He couldn't do that, and he wouldn't let anyone take his place should it come down to it.

"I- I promise," Alessio looked up at her. "He won't be alone."

For the first time in a while, he found a more genuine smile on her face, satisfied by his assurance. It may have been the low light of the moon, but he could've sworn he saw tears in her eyes. Before he could get a better look, she had stood up from her seat and moved closer to him. Alessio tensed instinctively, only to feel her lips press against his cheek in a solemn kiss. One last goodbye.

"Thank you, mi primo." She quietly sat down, and whatever tears she may have had were gone. "Do what needs to be done, I am ready."

Alessio looked at her, but she didn't meet his gaze. Just stared into some far-off space in the distance. Perhaps her next life, if they were afforded those. One free of the pain this one gave her. He wondered, after everything he'd done, would such a life await him?

Not wishing to dwell on it, he picked up the sack from the floor of the boat and reluctantly placed it back over her head. A shuddered breath emanated from the bag and he hesitated, if only for a moment, before he turned to the hefty stone below.

Brick scraped on wood as Alessio lifted it to the lip of the boat and rested it there. Once more he froze, somehow seeing his own uncertainty reflected off the dark waves. But when he blinked, the reflection was gone, and the stone teetered on the edge of infinity.

He wished he could do something, take her far away from here. While his loyalties lie elsewhere, she had his respect, and that went a long way in this world. But so did power. If he even tried to leave with her, Crimson would know, then they'd both share the same weight.

His fingers flexed on the cool rock, unable to give it that last push. She must've felt his distress, as Alessio heard her voice call to him once more.

"It's ok, Alessio. Let go. I've made my peace."

It wasn't her peace he worried about. "For what it's worth, Mrs. Knolastname, I'm sorry. I wish I could have done better by you."

She had no reason to accept his forgiveness, nor respond at all, and yet she did. "You did what you could. For that, I am thankful enough."

Alessio's breath caught. An unfamiliar emotion threatened to flood his eyes. He gave the bagged imp one last look. As if she could feel his eyes on him, he saw her give the subtlest nod.

Then another splash echoed across the great lake, before silence returned forevermore.

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Reunion, pt. 2 (Reluctance and Recall)

(A/N: I just wanted to get this out there. I might continue writing it and put a better ending on it, but for now I just want it off the WIP pile so it stops haunting me. Happy New Year and the like. Hopefully I'll have more stories out this time!)

~~~~

It hadn’t escaped him that she had left her combat jacket on that night. Or that she was wearing it when she came out the next morning. Or the day after that. Or the next six mornings. 

They portioned out their days. Arya would spend the morning drafting reports and debriefs, filling out paperwork to reverse her apparent death and half begrudgingly taking on Brom’s share of more mundane documents as he joined Eragon and Saphira at Oromis and Glaedr’s lessons. They split the evenings, Arya going sometimes to guide Eragon and Saphira around Ellesméra or attempting to mend her fragile relationship with her mother. Other nights she joined Glen for dinner and spent the night remembering the days they spent crawling in trenches and infiltrating camps, Fäolin perched above them in his little nest.

Afternoons, though, were for wandering the pines together, walking aimlessly and just talking. Glen told her about the last months, his recovery and the process of fitting, building and bonding with his new arm. The struggles and the joys of connecting the nerves without further surgery, the excited yelling that earned him a pair of tongs to the face when he finally picked up a mug without shattering it or throwing it into his own teeth. 

The three months he spent without leaving Rhunön’s shop. He didn’t tell her it was because he couldn’t find the courage to face the Queen. 

In turn she told him the entire story of Eragon and Saphira, everything the two had shared and every bit of information Brom would reveal about his and their lives in the village of Carvahall. The Raz’zac, the disastrous first flight, Brom’s near death experience, the young son of Morzan and his surprising allegiance. Glen could tell she glossed over the madcap escape from Gil’ead, their eventual return to the Varden getting a similar treatment along with the post battle recovery under Farthen Dûr. 

He didn’t press for a time. But eventually, he knew he had to.

It was eight days after their impromptu reunion, meandering alone past one of the solitary beech trees that some elf had planted and warded years ago with leaves near dripping with the winking lights of bioluminescent moths, when he finally tried to break through. 

“You know you can take that off, right?” Glen teased, plucking a wrinkled fold on the arm of Arya’s combat jacket. “You’re gonna get more looks than usual if you keep wearing it with those cargos.”

Arya looked down with a frown. “Hey! I think it looks good with these! Green and tan go good together, right?” She had never been much for fashion, or even being all that presentable beyond the occasional inspection back during basic or black tie events for the Varden. At those, all it took was a black dress to get whoever dragged her along off her back, even if she insisted on wearing combat boots with it. 

For a moment she remembered, with some fondness, the first time Fäolin had been forced to join her at a fundraiser in Surda. Teasing him about his slicked back hair, chucking him under the chin to get at the bowtie that was damn near choking him over the starched collar of his borrowed suit. His laugh when she asked him where he had put the backup pistol, her own when he subtly touched the grip of the one strapped to her leg under the dress. “You’re my backup pistol, remember?”

Then it was gone again.

Shaking his head as if his commander were a lost cause, Glenwing peered up from under his brows at the dappled sunlight filtering through the heavy needles above. “Come on. What are you hiding under there?”

“Nothing.” 

The medic closed his eyes with a deep inhale and soft sigh at the deadpan tone, the sharp hint of warning contained in the single word. So it would be like that.

He stopped walking. “Arya.”

“What?” Her momentum had carried her three paces beyond, so she had to stop and turn to him. Her fists were jammed in the pockets of the combat jacket.

“We don’t lie to each other.” He fixed her with that look. The medic look. The look that said ‘I am here to help and if you don’t let me there will be a very difficult road ahead.’ A look that he hadn’t given her for years, decades. 

His heart sank when she cut her eyes away from him. “I don’t…” Arya broke off and rubbed the back of her neck again, fingers digging in roughly. “There’s too much to do. We can worry about it later.”

“You finished the paperwork this morning.” Green eyes slid closed in a quiet, nonverbal curse for telling him that earlier. “You– we –were relieved from guarding Eragon and Saphira days ago, and we won’t be called to that again until they leave. Please.” Movement caught his attention. “Your hands have been shaking since you got back.”

Arya looked down. The tremors had been increasing in frequency since Tarnag. The moments of recall around her wrists always followed their appearance. 

“Arya, you know that I can’t break my oath to you. I can only help you if you allow me. I can’t tell anyone unless you tell me to.” Careful that his approach was seen well before he reached out, Glen touched his commander’s shoulder gently. “I don’t want you to do this alone. I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

And still, she refused to look at him. “You don’t need this on top of everything else.”

“Cut the bullshit.” That got her attention. Glen swore only half as much as the rest of their little squad, and when he did it was usually cause for alarm. No one wanted the man holding their bleeding guts in suddenly swearing out of nowhere. “You’re scared. I understand. And I’m here to help you.”

The accusation made Arya let out a short bark of laughter. At Glen’s raised eyebrow, she merely shook her head, half a twisted grin on her lips. “Ah, Glen. I’m not scared. Nothing really scares me anymore.” Again she let out a short laugh, squinting up into the needles above much like he had and put her hands on her hips. 

He really didn’t expect her explanation. 

“I’ve puked on a shade’s shoes before and lived through the consequences. And I did it again, too. Twice.”

Glenwing stared, bewildered. It took him some seconds to find his words. “...I…I don’t know if you’re joking with me, or if this is your way of saying you’re going to talk about it, or–”

“Oh, I one hundred percent puked on Durza shoes multiple times. That’s one of the things that I like to remember about all that.” Arya was smiling broadly. It didn’t reach her eyes. “If you really want to know,” The smile fell. “I’ll tell you. But later.”

“No.” 

“Glen–”

“I have the file. You know I do.”

Arya closed her eyes in surrender. The file had been sitting on the table for days now, a clear sign to her that he was waiting for her consent to begin the process of unraveling the last nine months. “Yeah.” She inhaled. Smelled wet concrete and tasted copper and iron. Released the breath with a rough sigh. “Okay. Tonight.”

“Tonight.” 

~~~

Glenwing was sitting on the couch with tea already made, file sitting undisturbed on the coffee table, when the door slid open and closed. Relief seeped into his limbs, feeling cold on his left and warm on his right. He hadn't been entirely convinced she was going to show up.

He looked up when she didn’t immediately sit beside him. Arya stood in front of the low table, shoulders tight and fists again firmly shoved in the front pockets of her combat jacket. Every line of her body reflected tension, but her dark eyes glinted with steel when he met her gaze. 

“You sure you wanna do this?” Arya motioned to the file with her chin, sharp and jerky. “It’s a lot less…” She paused, searching for the right word. “Brutal. If you read it from there.”

Glen nodded. He did his best to sound gentle but firm. “I need to hear it from you.” 

Her jaw clenched. “...I don’t know how much I can tell you.”

“Whatever you can. Whatever you want to.” The medic patted the cushion next to him. “We’ll stop whenever you want.” She waited a few more moments. Then, with stiff steps, Arya sat a few feet down the couch. “Take all the time you need.” 

Arya braced her elbows on her knees and leaned over, studying the moss that made up part of the floor of their flat. “I’m not…I’m not ashamed of what happened there.” A shiny backed beetle meandered onto the edge of her boot. She reached down and let it crawl onto her finger, lifted it to examine the iridescence of its carapace. “Hell, I’m proud of what I endured. I don’t know why it's so hard to talk about it like this.” She grinned as the little creature fluttered its hidden wings, the thin sheaves dark in contrast to the elytra’s color. “I’ve joked about it plenty.” 

Glen leaned back. He had his notepad in his hands, rumpled and scuffed and one of the corners charred. “You’ve always preferred deflecting whenever something’s bothering you.”

With a gentle puff of air, Arya encouraged the glittering insect to take flight. They both watched it go, floating to the window where it escaped through the barely open latch. “...Yeah.”

She took a deep breath then, resumed her previous position, and rubbed the flats of her palms together. “I guess I should start from the beginning. 

“That night we were ambushed, when you lost your arm and Fäolin was killed, Durza captured me after I teleported Saphira’s egg.” Again the woman focused her eyes on the ground, watching the miniscule hairs of the moss waver in the near imperceptible movements of air created by the cracked window, her breath, and Glenwing’s breath. Connecting currents that linked everything in the room. “I was in and out, but when I woke up fully I was in a cell under Gil’ead’s keep, their maximum security wing. 

“There were shackles on my wrists. They weren’t connected to anything, so when Durza came in I obviously tried to take his face off.” Half a smirk touched her lips, a tone of bitter pride coloring her words. “So he locked the shackles to the wall. Then I tried to headbutt him when he got too close. So he put me in a chair and locked me to that.”

The woman tilted her head slightly, brow knitted in a hint of confusion. Her braid slid over her shoulder to hang free. “He just…talked to me that time. Sat across from me and told me who he was, gloated about the spells he made to break our wards with just bullets and Urgals at his disposal.” To Glen’s surprise, Arya had an almost wistful, crooked grin when she looked over at him. “You know what he did next?” 

Despite her previous assertion that nothing could really scare her, Glen saw, buried beneath the convoluted and contorted emotions in his friend’s eyes, a glimmer of fear. He shook his head, afraid to break whatever courage was driving her to speak. 

“He asked me, point blank, if I would submit. Asked if I would surrender then and there, knowing the spells he had created, the potential he had, knowing what he was. He told me what awaited me if I did. I would be taken to Urû’baen immediately and presented to Galbatorix. He would receive the information I had to give, take more if he wanted, and then I would be released into his service. I’d swear oaths to him and become his new Forsworn, and used however he saw fit to bring down the Varden, Surda and Du Weldenvarden.” She let out a soft scoff, that pained look still twisting her lips. “I told him ‘no.’ Only word I said to him besides ‘bite me, bitch’ and ‘fuck you’ a few times.” She laughed again, and it sounded desperate, near panicked at the edges. “He just smiled, that fucking smile, and said ‘good.’”

Her own smile gone, Arya dragged a hand down her face, skin going pale as she remembered. “He spent…I don’t know how long. I’ve got no sense of time anymore. He spent what had to be hours just…just telling me what he could do to me. What he would do to me. He paced around and around that stupid fucking chair, grabbed my neck from behind and whispered in my ear the experiments he wanted to try.” 

A shudder passed from the back of her skull to the base of her spine. Arya did her best to focus on the swaths of moss between her boots. Pincushion moss. A bryophyte. They grew it there because it was soft and stayed that way even when the weather turned dry for weeks at a time. 

She could feel his hand gripping the base of her braid, head yanked back against the metal edge of the chair. The way he cupped her throat, thumb pressing just under the joint of her jaw and stroking her skin as she did her best to appear nonchalant. Simply met his gleeful gaze with cold fire in her eyes. She would not look away. 

The elf took a shuddering breath and untangled her fingers from where she had been clenching them together hard enough to leave bruises. “And then…he did. He did all of it and more.” She blinked, willed the floor to return to its green carpet rather than the grey creeping in. “And I fought it. I fought whenever I could. He stopped using the shackles in the cell because my wrists were shredded and I wouldn’t stop fighting them. I don’t know how long it was till I…” Her words caught in her throat. She blinked again. Why was this what made her choke up? “Till I couldn’t fight anymore. 

“He dosed me with Skilna each day, tried to wear me down.” Her lungs hurt at the memory. The time that he had sat on her cot, one leg daintily crossed over the other while he let the poison run its course longer than before. Watched her, that fucking smile plastered on his face, the antidote held in his lap, as she coughed up blood until she couldn’t anymore, as she writhed against the feeling of her bones shattered like crystal glass and the overwhelming, all encompassing fever that turned her veins to molten lead. 

He had wanted her to ask for it. To beg for the antidote. 

She crawled over, every movement triggering more liquid glass to explode within her cells. Grabbed his leg. Saw that triumphant, gleeful grin in the haze above. 

With her last ounce of strength she slipped a finger between his leg and his high, polished boots and deposited a mouthful of blood into the space.

Her gurgling laughter at his disgust made her smile briefly, lost when the noise ended abruptly with a crack and the sound of a tightly gripped, torn throat struggling to breathe. Still. The broken jaw and flail chest had been worth it. And she didn’t even have to ask for the antidote.

“He uh…” Arya cleared her throat, tasted the same blood as he dragged her out of the cell again, fury evident in each step. “He had to change it. To a longer form. One he could trigger at will. I was apparently getting some sort of tolerance.” She could see the pen moving from the corner of her eye. “He couldn’t always be there. Something about reporting to Galbatorix. He told the guards to keep his…his work, going while he was away. Only rule was no blows to the head. Needed the information in my mind unscrambled.”

Glenwing’s pen slowed. He didn’t want to ask the question. He knew she could feel his eyes on her, the way she shifted and raised her laced together hands to her lips. The way she tensed when he put the pen down and leaned toward her to touch two fingers to her forearm. “Arya….”

She refused to look at him. “They didn’t.” Her jaw was clenched. “They…they tried.” One of her hands twitched before the other clamped down on it. She blinked. “One of them…one of them must’ve found some old book somewhere…talked about elf customs or something.” Slowly Glen saw her entire body go tense, muscles locked and coiled to their limit. The first mumbled words of her next admission were lost in the quiet breath that delivered them.  

“...tried to notch my ear.” 

Glen’s blood went cold. The practice was ancient, heralding back to the bonding of the dragons and elves and the…peculiar…additions the dragon’s blood had on elves' practices of coupling. While a gentle bite on the ear of a mate was considered a pact of love, of devotion…a notch was a symbol of bitter solitude. Any elf with a notched ear was considered almost untouchable when it came to love, mating, partnership, acceptance. They were given only for horrific deeds, the slaughter of children, taking an unwilling mate, murder of a partner, and, above all else, for the betrayal of the entire elven race. 

If Durza had learned of this from his men he would have carried it out as the ultimate humiliation, and bound the mark to her body so that no healing could touch the wound. 

It took every ounce of Glenwing’s self control to not seize his best friend’s face and turn her to him, looking for the telltale rift. Instead, he steadied his voice as best he could and managed an only slightly enraged, “They tried?”

“They didn’t manage it.” The words were hollow, the memory of just how close she came to being marked still bouncing in her skull. Unlike the others, this one was…hazy. She could feel the panic in her chest and the many hands forcing her to the ground as she struggled to lift her broken body. They wanted revenge for the men she had…disposed of…after their attempts to take advantage of her weakened state. The cold, cold metal of a set of wire cutters sliding against the side of her head and behind her right ear. 

Then just…relief. Gratitude? And spending time curled under the cot, pressed as tightly against the wall as she could manage until the pale hand dragged her out for another span of agony after a longer than normal gap. 

For some reason the sense of relief sparked warmth that soothed the growing lump in her throat. She pressed her fingers into the spaces between her knuckles, grounded herself in the discomfort as she found sore tendons and protesting connective bands. “Eragon was captured some time after that. I don’t know how long. Adrenaline and pain tablets kept me on my feet long enough to get out with them. Eragon, Saphira and Brom healed what they could and got me awake. The rest you already know.”

Glen picked up his pen again and rolled it between his fingers. “Poison?” He had masked the tremor in his tone, but the rage wasn’t going to fade quite so easy. He wouldn’t press, not now at least. This was enough for one night.

“Right.” Gil’ead retreating from her mind, Arya straightened somewhat and clasped her knees with hands now blooming with fingertip shaped bruises. “Durza activated it. We got through the Hadarac before it caused problems. I might have…had to use the dream state to survive it.” She winced, fully expecting a lecture. 

Instead, Glenwing chewed the end of his pen. “You got out of it.” It was a statement of fact, laced with a hint of assurance that he wasn’t angry. He had taught her how to trigger the dream state for emergencies, and poison was certainly on the qualifying list.

“After a bunch of Tunivor’s Nectar…yeah.” Arya blinked, suddenly remembering another visitor during her half-addled state in Tronjheim’s hospital. “And the Wise One gave me something to pull me out.”

Glen stopped his absentminded chewing, pen dangling from his lips as he shot his commander a look of shock. “She’s back?” The way the stylus bobbed with his words made him look almost comically like Brom with his pipe. 

“Werecat and all.” Arya frowned. “Didn’t I say she’s the one that fixed Eragon’s back?”

“You kind of ignored the recovery period.” 

“Ah.” 

The woman’s bearing had shifted again. Glen saw more anxiety than before, less tension in her limbs as she cut her gaze away again and picked a loose thread by her knee. “Speaking of the recovery period…” 

“I broke the Star Sapphire, injected myself with four full doses of adrenaline to try and stop Eragon’s back from bleeding, overdosed, had several cardiac events, and Vilks put me on strict orders and told me I’d die if I didn’t follow them.” 

‘Ah’ indeed. No wonder she looked nervous. There was nothing that could trigger fear in a lifelong, diehard soldier with nothing else but their deployment than the anger of a very exasperated medic with the power to put them on an indefinite hold.

“You what?!”

Arya had already bolted off the couch, skittering past the coffee table. “Look, I know you’re upset with me for pulling a stunt like that again–”

“FOUR?!” 

She was already down the hall, nearly slingshotting past her room when she grabbed the doorframe. “Just…read the file, Vilks took good notes, I’ll change, just…yeah!”

Torn between fuming and alarmed, Glen grabbed for the file on the coffee table. He swore when his knuckles impacted the side of the wood, the metal leaving a decent dent. Making a mental note to speak to Rhunön about his continued issues of emotional override, he snatched up the packet with his right hand and flipped it open to the tab at the very back.

Vilks’ handwriting still kept its tight scrawl in his advanced age, and after so many years the doctor had perfected the art of short, sweet and to the point in his notes. Possible seizures. Fluid in the lungs, intubation for two hours, O2 mask for six after. Five VTach events before AED applied, unknown number post. Repeated attempts to leave bed before fully aware. Restrained for aprox 10 minutes before reminded of patient history. Energy extremely depleted, side effects of poisoning, imprisonment, poor diet, adrenaline overdose and magic overuse. Given orders of NO MAGIC two weeks, consistent bedrest and sleep (unlikely), multivit 2/d two weeks, recheck two weeks. Warned of consequences. 

A quick note at an angle, dated eleven days after the initial list, added ‘Given consequences after discovered participating in rigorous PT. Patient given icepack for forehead contusion and required to replace hospital clipboard at next possible opportunity.’

Despite his frustration, Glen couldn't help the smile that curled the edges of his lips. ‘Of course.’

“If you’re going to chuck that at me, let me get a head start first.” The medic looked up at his commander’s wry request. She had donned a pair of jogging shorts and a loose tshirt, the standard PT gear of Varden recruits in Fathen Dûr. 

Glenwing snapped the file closed. “I wouldn’t warn you if I was going to throw it, especially after reading that. Let’s sit at the table, better light.” Arya shrugged, thumbs hooked in the small pockets of her shorts, and followed him to sit in the dining area where bright werelights hung above their heads. 

They sat together, bathed in light tinged with the greens that dominated their home away from the Varden. Arya, after a moment of hesitation, placed her forearms on the table, palms down.

The medic resisted sucking his teeth, and instead bit the tip of his tongue as he reached out and gently lifted the woman’s left arm. A swath of scar tissue encircled her wrist, creeping up her hand and palm just slightly before diving down and dipping a concave wrap two inches down her forearm. The right side mirrored the same mutilation, both dark and a mottled red mix of soft ridges and silken patches. With a light touch to the back of her hand and a nod of acquiescence, he turned her palm up to reveal her tendons etched at the surface of her skin, as if locked permanently taut. 

“They’re just like that.” Arya broke the silence. A half hearted shrug tilted her wrist, and the flexor tendons jutted out further. “Tissue’s gone. Tendons just kind of…stand out, I guess.”

Glen hummed in acknowledgement, inwardly swearing at the possible damage that lurked beneath her skin. “Do you have any numbness in your hands or fingers?”

“No. The shaking started when we were around Tarnag. It feels like pins and needles sometimes, but it’s not affected my grip or range of motion.” 

Gently manipulating the joints, Glenwing confirmed her words before picking up his pen and scribbling a note down. “And you didn’t heal these…?”

“I like them.” Arya’s eyes were clear when he snapped his gaze up to hers. 

“Arya, they've got nerve damage. In your hands.” 

At that the woman pulled her hand from his grip and crossed her arms, hiding the dark bands from view. “Can you heal the nerve damage without healing the scars?” 

Glen frowned. “Yes, but–”

“Then we do it that way.” She held him in her gaze for a long moment, waiting for him to acquiesce. “This is my way of taking it back, Glen.” And again, she suddenly cut her eyes away with a quiet mumble.

“What?”

“It helps…” He could see her flex her fingers involuntarily under her arms, gnash her teeth at some unseen jolt. She looked like he did when the phantom pain kicked in unexpectedly, a shock that lingered for minutes or hours. “It helps when I have recall. When…when I touch them it’s like….” The woman fumbled for words, distress building. “He never left scars when he gave me hallucinations.” She gripped the table edge with white knuckles, tilting the chair back slightly. “And when I feel the scars I just…I know I’m not there. It helps bring me back sometimes.” 

Sometimes. Not always.

‘Recall.’ That cursed thing. Sensory recall and elvish memory went hand in hand, making the calling up of emotionally charged memories laden with past sensory detail a normal, if not somewhat uncommon, occurrence among their race. Arya’s had always been strong, bringing back physical touch and involving a majority of the senses for most of her moments of involuntary recall. Glen’s near rivaled hers, built up from the years of war and countless moments where PTSD took hold of the accursed skill, if it could even be called that. They both relived their traumas, ricocheting to the past as the world went on around them, seeing but not seeing.

Every time he thought of the ambush, he smelled the smoke, felt the hot ash and cinders embedding in his clothes and his skin. He could taste blood and pine ash, the grit between his red stained teeth and the excruciating wrong that was the needles and the dirt and bark and ash collecting, sticking to the mangled flesh of his ruined arm. He didn’t always see it, and for that he thanked whatever stars watched over him. That was his only escape. Seeing the metal limb that now dominated his left side, a zing of phantom pain that reminded him that the original limb was long gone…it made coming out of the recall easier. Something to remind him that the past was the past.

Glenwing reached out and, with a feather touch of his mechanical hand, reminded his commander to release the creaking wood of the table. He cupped her scarred knuckles, turned her palm to run a cold thumb over the ghost of a hastily healed burn. 

“I’ll do my best.” He promised. 

A rush of air left Arya’s lungs, a relief she didn't quite realize she needed. An acknowledgement of the scars beyond the cursory looks cast her way under Farthen Dûr, the concerned frown Brom gave them every once in a while. Glenwing understood their purpose, in a way that no one else could. “Thanks.”

Satisfied he could mend some of the frayed nerves, Glen turned to examining the smattering of new scars that littered the woman’s arms. Nothing was particularly egregious, and while several of the straight lines that slid down from beneath the woman’s sleeves looked near surgical, Arya simply told him it was ‘healed fully’ and ‘not a problem.’ Again, he didn't push it.

“Is there more?” Glen took a sip of his now cold tea, making a face before reheating it with a quick word. If this was all that needed checking then he could call himself pleasantly surprised given her previous description. 

Arya paused. “There’s a few on my legs but those were…those were healed. He healed them to the surface at least.” She tried to shake the sudden jolt of seeing steel nubs protruding from her shin, the excruciating ripping, tearing, snapping, as the bone split down its length. All that remained were four pale pink spots in a line from the last time that particular method was used. “Eragon and Saphira healed a scrape on my right leg, but they did well. No complaints there.”

“Uh-huh.” Glen tapped the point of his pen at the upper corner of his paper, resisting the urge to chew on the end again. She wasn’t telling him everything. But it was a start. “Is that it?”

“...No.” Arya sighed and pushed back from the table to stand. “I’m not healing these either, okay?” Her voice was muffled as she tugged her shirt up and over her head. She tossed it into the achingly empty chair across from her and stood clad only in her shorts and sports bra. “Make me look badass.” She turned and pulled her braid over her shoulder, gesturing with a jerked thumb at the expanse of her back. 

Glenwing dropped his pen. “Well. Shit."

“Hey!” Arya whirled to him. She seemed genuinely offended. “Come on, Glen! I survived this shit. You know what that took? I’m fuckin’ proud of these, and I’m not healing them for bullshit vanity.” He didn’t answer. Just stood and put his hands on her shoulders. “What are you–”

And pulled her into another hug.

Arya froze. She could feel the cold metal of his left arm holding her around her shoulder blades, a stark contrast to the warmth of his right hand squeezing around her ribs. Someone was touching her back and he wasn’t recoiling, wasn’t probing, wasn’t hurting. She wasn’t struggling, fighting, desperate to run away. An ache that she didn’t even realize had been tied into the muscles along her spine for months suddenly released, bringing with it a rush of relief and a soothing mix of warm where warm was needed and cool where cool was needed. 

“Don’t lie to me.” Glen murmured in her ear, his voice catching. “You tried.”

Arya squeezed her eyes shut. 

The day after Vilks cleared her for magic use. Checking the multitude of scars that covered her back and criss-crossed her skin with burns, cuts, hills and valleys of hypertrophic and concave bands. The visible slide of muscle where the layers above had been carved away. There was space between them, yes. But all she could see was the red, pink and silver of lingering damage made physical and, above all else, undeniable. She looked…she looked almost broken.

She had tried to heal them. And found herself scrabbling, clawing, writhing on the floor of that stupid little bathroom, choking back a scream of unimaginable pain as the nerves in her back exploded in protest. Everything she had endured, condensed and dripped in a steady, maddening flow along each pathway, electric and burning and pain. Once again it was all that existed for her in that moment, an extended second that encompassed months and months of time she could not begin to grasp nor understand the passage of. 

She ripped away from the magic and lay, panting, on that stupid, stupid bathroom floor. Blood steadily streamed from her forehead to the tiles where she had cracked it on the stone, trying to breathe through the lingering aftershocks and remembering the spells that he had used to the same result. Felt, deep in her chest, an interwoven pity and horror for Eragon and the new hell he was beginning to endure. She couldn’t heal herself. And she couldn’t heal him. Magic wouldn't erase these wounds.

Arya reached up and grabbed onto Glenwing, clutched at the loose folds of his shirt under his shoulder blades as if he were her last hope against drowning. “They’re…” She shivered, pressed her forehead to his shoulder. She had decided already, that day back in Tronjheim, that if she couldn’t remove them then she would wear them as a badge of pride. She wasn’t broken. She couldn’t be. They were the proof. “I’m…. I beat them. I beat him.”

Glenwing didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He knew, and she knew as well. They’d weather it just as they always did, together and steadfast and strong against the push of everyone else. So they had scars. That didn’t mean they were lost, or broken, or could be cast aside as soldiers who had long passed their expiration date. Fifty years, seventy in her case, was a long, long time to fight.  

They’d just have to keep fighting.

They wouldn’t have it any other way.

[junipernight]

First Impressions/Foreign Tongue

Chapter 6: Hanasemasen

Summary: There's trouble... in Tokyo.

“Toky-whoa!” Beast Boy exclaimed as soon as the black energy surrounding them dissipated. 

Raven had teleported the Titans directly onto a busy sidewalk in downtown Tokyo, and colorful lights and interesting aromas barraged them from all sides. Skyscrapers stretched to the cosmos above them, and on the street, a stream of cyclists whizzed past. More than a few people had stopped to stare at the Titans sudden appearance, and a couple had taken out cell phones.

Starfire and Cyborg were staring this way and that like a pair of owls, and Beast Boy had whipped out a second disposable camera, but Robin still had his nose buried in a guidebook.

“So, where to now?” Raven asked him.

“The roughest part of town is in the Shinjuku district,” said Robin. “We'll start our search there.”

“Okay, which way is that?” Cyborg asked.

Robin scowled, and finally closed the book. “I don’t know. I can’t read the signs.”

Cyborg brightened, but before he could do anything, Beast Boy loudly proclaimed: “No problem-o, we’ll just ask for directions.” 

He strolled up to an unsuspecting old man in a neatly pressed business suit and tapped his shoulder. The man folded up his newspaper and did a slight double take when he saw the green teen peering up at him.

“Um, hi. How do I get to Shinjuku?”

The man cleared his throat. “Ee. Sumimasen. Eigo ga wakaranain desu, tasukete wo rigari naru na.”

Beast Boy nodded attentively the whole time the man was speaking. 

“Uh-huh...mmm-hmm...okay, thanks.”

The man tipped his hat, and Beast Boy nipped back to the group. “I… have no idea what he said,” he confessed. 

Raven facepalmed.

Cyborg put an arm in front of BB. “Let me handle this.”

He walked up to the same man, then spoke into his arm. “Excuse me sir, can you tell us how to get to Shinjuku district?”

Cyborg’s arm beeped, and then a tinny version of his voice emerged from a hidden speaker: [Sumimasen, Shinjuku chiku e no ikikata o oshiete itadakemasen ka.]

The man’s eyes widened. He leaned forward and spoke hesitantly into Cyborg’s arm like it was a mic. “Kyoo mo kootsuu ruuru wo mamoru yo.”

[I will obey all the traffic laws.]

Cyborg sighed. “Doumo arigatou,” he said. The crosswalk light turned green then, and the businessman hurried away.

“My new technology might still need some tweaking…” Cyborg admitted.

“It is okay, friends!” Starfire proclaimed. “We have Raven to translate for us.” She smiled at Raven.

“Um, Star… I don’t speak Japanese.”

“You do not?” Star was taken aback. This had never happened before. “Oh…” she said. “Then I guess, I will be the translator.” 

Raven was too embarrassed to notice the disappointment in Star’s voice.

Starfire looked around. There was an earthling boy with blue hair, more or less the same age as her friends, watching them from outside a cafe. She walked up to him.

“May I kiss you?” She asked, enunciating clearly. 

The boy stared up at her with wide, starry eyes and gulped. Starfire could visibly see the gesture, because the boy had what Beast Boy called an “atoms apple” and it bobbed down and back up. 

“Kiss kiss fall in love?” the boy asked breathily.

“No, just kiss,” Starfire said.

They stared at each other.

“Ou-kay,” said the boy.

Starfire leaned down and kissed him.

There was the familiar rush of a new language filling her lungs, but otherwise, it was not very pleasant. The taste of his mouth surprised her - it was tangy and salty. She’d grown to believe that all earthlings tasted like honey and green tea. 

She pulled away. 

[Please forgive me, I learn language through kissing. Could you tell me which way to Shinjuku district?]

The boy pointed. [That way.]

Starfire bowed. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do. “Doumo arigatou.”

“Daisuki.”

Starfire ignored that last comment and gestured to her team. “This way.”

She turned and started walking without checking to see if they would follow. She was eager to be away from the youth she had just kissed. The youth whom, she now realized, she hadn’t even asked for a name. It hadn’t been that bad of a kiss, really. It’s not like she had kissed Glgrdsklechhh. And yet, all nine of her stomachs were roiling all the same. She especially did not want to look at Raven right now. Would she be proud of her for remembering to ask permission first? Or would she be upset? Why did Starfire hope she would be upset?

Her thoughts were interrupted by screaming. 

“Nigeru! Taihen da! Kaibutsu ga densen o kitteru zo!”

The people around them suddenly began to point and run.

What are they saying?” asked Raven. Her voice was smoothly monotone, giving nothing away.

Starfire cleared her throat. "They are saying… ‘Run! The monster is attacking the power lines!’"

Robin whipped out his bo staff. “Titans! Go!”

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

Author's Note:

For plot related reasons, there are no English-speaking Japanese people or gaijin anywhere to be found lol. Also, for general readability, I am using romaji and English dialogue conventions for the Japanese dialogue. Also, Ouran High School Host Club is still popular right? Right?

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[albaqae]

It is 12:30 in October 28th, and I just finished watching the fnaf movie and, as routine, I feel an urge to infodump :)

SPOILERS FOR FNAF MOVIE UNDER CUT!!!! Everyone who also watched it remember to correctly tag so that ppl can block it!!!

Really recommend to watch first cause it was nice to watch :) even if not PEAK storytelling IMO IMO IN MY FIRST IMPRESSION OPINION DONT JUMP ME

Ok so it was odd??? A lot of the lore kinda got messed up in translation, but I can’t help but feel so grateful anyways???

Ngl I would’ve probs shit on the movie if it wasn’t for my friend who, in a convo, mentioned how sad he was that everyone hated the red eyes cause “we’ve been waiting so long, why does it matter they got red eyes?”

Bc of this I gave it a shot, and it was not bad.

I was scared of how it’d turn out just bc the fnaf lore is SO much that even SCOTT HIMSELF doesn’t know where we at, but for the amount of info they were dealing with, they decided to kinda maneuver in their own iteration of it (imo) which wasn’t completely hate-able and I think it was a pretty good course of action

I liked references to the og lore (

-Vanessa’s coma at the end

- how foxy is the most OUT TO GETCHA

- the afton death scene was PEAK IMOOO “I always come back” like mk girll 💅

- also the whole set was actually fire

- telephone guy even if he wasn’t red ;(

- constant mention of exoskeletons and spring trap mechanisms

- BALLOON BOY THE ONLY THING THAT ACTUALLY MADE ME JUMP

- ITS ME WRITTEN IN THE WINDOW YESSSSSSSAAAAA

- the children inside the suits detail had me like YESSS

- funky electricity

- BALLPIT SCENEEE

- the bite even if it was her whole ass fucking torso

- the cupcake cool

- Vanessa inclusion and her relation to afton

- etc other things I can’t remember)

ALSO MATPAT CAMEO????? HELLO???????? ITS JUST A THEORY???? I also found out my brother does not know who he is and that was SAD. It’s ok ima show him tmrrow :D

Also also the effort put into the ACTUAL ANIMATRONICS, I was actually so shocked I was so ready to just accept it was all gonna be sfx and green ppl but they actually BUILT it, and that materialization just made it that much better for me like watching it and realizing wo man this is insanee

Just thinking how it was such a tiny project and then it just BOOM and here we are???? Omaiga. It rlly motivates u to get out there, no?

I loved them pushing the boundaries of where the animatronics could go w golden Freddy, even if he got me SO confused lore wise like wait y r u here? same for the weird kill freddy mask like hello???

IT MADE ME SO HAPPY HAVING THE TOMBSTONE SONG THEREEEEE YIPEEEEE

Music wise it was so cool too like it was pretty preppy and happy like kids parties and even in normal scenes (e.g. him picking up sleeping pills) it kept the mood up

I didn’t like the career dude being afton, but he was suspicious and i knew smth was gonna happen so ig not out of the blue, but I do like how it kinda went full circle

I am still confused abt Vanessa, but not overly so it’s ok

I actually cried when Abby and the animatronics became friends I was so happy, it got taken away but alas it is fnaf :)

We love the undiagnosed PTSD of the characters

I was bummed when it didn’t close out w the scene where the animatronic heads where no longer have a light behind them (meaning they’ve moved on) I honestly think it would’ve been such a COOL way to close it out but I was not the producer and maybe they plan to continue it??? Continue the curse of too much lore??? That’d be hilarious actually

I’m sad abt how dirty michael gets done through most of the movie like hes just doing his best stopppp

It’s just first impressions, and I’m VERY outdated w the lore, but I like ranting and tumble lets me so I do it :) lmk ur thoughts too!!!!

[forever-eternal]

Uncanny

The States are strange. Gov and Assistant even more so.

———————————————————————

Once a year, the State governors have a meeting with Personified Representatives Adam and Robin Jones, the Personifications of the American Government.

And each year, they complain to their respective State’s personification about it.

They say that Gov and Assistant are strange– and not in the same way the States themselves are. They say they can never remember their faces once they leave the room, say that their eyes flicker and show things no one should see.

…

Maybe it was simply the amount of time the States have spent around Gov and Assistant, but they just don’t see it.

They know them as kind and compassionate people, even if their relationship with and view of humans is a tad unorthodox. They ask before taking photos of them, as they asked– some people don’t like being caught off guard or are just camera shy. It’s never been any trouble to ask for a photo, and they rarely say no.

So they don’t really see the issue that their Governors are having. Maybe they’re just nervous; it’s a very important meeting with very important people, after all. It wouldn’t be unusual for the humans to stress about it.

———————————————————————

“You don’t understand, boy.” Texas’ Governor snarls, ignoring the fact that Texas is far older than him. “They’re demonic, I’m sure of it.”

———————————————————————

“You don’t understand,” New Jersey’s Governor is exasperated, ignoring the way the State rolls his eyes, “I know we have the Jersey Devil, but these things–” the human’s mouth snaps shut when Jersey glares sharply at him.

No one, not even his boss, gets to call his daughter and nephew things.

———————————————————————

“You don’t understand.”

“You–you just don’t understand..”

“You DON’T understand!”

…

They don’t. They don’t understand the stress or the fear, the apprehension in the Governor’s faces in the weeks-to-days before the meeting.

It’s always held from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. on September 5th, every year. The date and time never change, and neither do the humans' complaints.

But they have no reason to believe them, either.

Humans have always acted strange around them, the Do-Not-Notice-Me coating their perceptions of any of the personifications.

So they leave it be, humans are just so weird.

———————————————————————

“Welcome back.” the voices echo around the meeting room, walls stretching high into an all-consuming darkness. A few lights hang above the table itself, the chains stretching far beyond what their eyes can see, “Please take your seat.”

At the head of the table are two figures, dressed in all-black suits, faces warping and twisting the longer they look– but those eyes.

Black irises and white pupils stare from every dark corner of the room. A matching pair on the smaller figure’s face.

A bright, abnormal green with pupils like a snake watch from the…the taller thing’s face.

In the reflection of their eyes are voids and stars and planets colliding, and hiding in the supernovas are things no human should ever see.

There are no other distinguishable characteristics, inhuman gazes make them feel their minds start to fray at the edges until they look away from the indomitable creatures at the head of the table.

“We have prepared the information for today’s meeting,” the smaller one leans forward on what would be its hands, resting it’s twisting face on the knuckles, “Some of you have forgotten the rules.”

“The rules are made for everyone’s safety,” the taller one tilts its head in what looks like glee. “You hurt our States in any way, we hurt you. Leave them be, and we do the same.”

“But you’ve been growing cocky.” the words echo from everywhere, and they can only guess which of them speaks at a time– or are they both talking?– “There have been…complaints.”

There had been nightmares, some Governors acting too much like the countries that previously owned their States and digging up old memories. Memories Adam and Robin would soothe with soft words and gentle hands. It’d been a long time since any of their children had slept in their bed with them, not since Zachary was a boy.

And if they made a new door in the Statehouse that connects to whatever home they’re currently staying in, that’s no one's business.

“Today will focus on ways to correct your behavior,”

And if some of these humans don’t leave this room, replaced with another entirely…

“And to rectify the current situation.”

No one will notice.

It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.