#I have been a weirdo my entire life and somehow have ways been able to find connection

[potato-on-your-head]

great additions from @scalp-book and @7micahs

truly do not understand how people just slip into relationships and jobs and opportunities and friend groups and lifestyles. to me there are a million obstacles to navigate in a single basic conversation

[umemiyan]

𝗦𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗘𝗧𝗢 𝗫 𝗙!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥.⌇ 18+ only, mdni / incest / pregnancy / infidelity / heavy petting / just an idea i had last night that i felt the need to share so i drabbled this out. he’s heavy on the brain rn it’s kinda scaring me. (dividers by cafekitsune)

hear me out: suguru and his pregnant twin sister who’s freshly married to another man.

it’s rather early in the pregnancy, but your husband insists on having someone stay with you while he’s away on a business trip just in case something were to happen. and there’s no better option than your very own brother, suguru, who happily agrees when you ask. he’s strong, sensible, and perfectly capable of handling any situation that might go awry. if he doesn’t cause one himself.

you’ve always been close—closer than your average pair of siblings, really. life wasn’t kind to you both growing up, so you often had to lean on one another for support, acting like a pair of adults long before either you ever became of age. it allowed a certain maturity to settle in your bones, but robbed you of most normalcy.

spending time alone with him in the home is just like old times. you cook dinner together and wash the dishes, suguru stepping out onto the balcony for a smoke afterwards, but you can’t join him for a chat this time; your husband nearly goes into cardiac arrest whenever someone lights up within 200 feet of you. suguru doesn’t blame him for it, but his cigarette butts are longer when you aren’t out there with him.

your place is pretty nice—much nicer than anywhere the two of you had lived when you were younger. those days have long past, but suguru still can’t help but feel a little out of place as he sits on the sofa and watches tv on a screen that practically consumes the entire space. or maybe he’s simply envious that another man was able to give you a better life before he could.

you call out for him from in the shower, breaking his daze. “suguruuu!”

he stands and makes his way into the steamy bathroom. something about this feels so familiar. “yeah?”

“i left my towel on the shelf out there. can you get it?” the water is shut off but you don’t feel like dripping water all over the floor to fetch your towel, so he brings it to you with a half-smile.

“thank you,” you say, opening the curtain to reach out and take it, not expecting him to be watching.

“still forgetting your towels, i see.” he teases you and casts a glance over the parts of your body he can view as you dry yourself off.

“yeah, sometimes.”

“you’d probably forget your tits if they weren’t attached.” suguru makes a quick reach to pinch one of your nipples between his fingers before you swat him away, trying to hold back a laugh.

“stop it! don’t be a freak.”

you’re both grinning, and he chuckles. “i’m just telling the truth.”

you half expect him to leave now, but he just leans against the counter and keeps watching you. “you were particularly bad for forgetting your towels when we lived in the motel for some reason.”

you mostly finish drying yourself off and lazily sling the fabric around your torso before leaning against the counter next to him for the last steps of your routine.

“yeah, well… it was probably because in the back of my mind i always knew you wouldn’t be far away to bring it to me.”

he grows silent. that makes something swell in his chest.

you pause what you’re doing to look over at him. “you just gonna stand and stare, or…?”

suguru smirks. “yeah. what of it?”

you roll your eyes playfully. “weirdo.”

he chuckles. “yeah. weirdo.”

you still do everything in more or less the same way as before, but perhaps in an even more beautiful manner somehow. he can’t stop himself from reaching out to tuck a stray wet piece of hair behind your ear with the gentleness of a lover, letting his fingers travel across your shoulder and eventually down to where the towel is haphazardly tucked around you.

“i used to always think we might somehow get married someday—that you’d be my beautiful wife.” suguru hooks a finger beneath the towel and starts tugging, but you give him a side-eye and lock your arm down to keep it in place. this only tempts him more, and he chuckles “crazy, huh? well it just made sense to me.”

he moves to stand behind you and use his strength to pull the towel down until it lands on the floor and you huff with a pout, distracted from what you were doing. his massive hands splay across your ribcage as he watches in the mirror, creeping up until he can stroke his thumbs over your nipples, making you jump. so sensitive.

“i couldn’t imagine a version of my life without your head on the pillow next to mine,” he continues to admit, touch slowly causing you to melt against him.

your body has felt so different lately, but not all of it has been so bad. there have been moments of discomfort, confusion, and even dysphoria as you wrapped your head around your first pregnancy, but there were also times when all you wanted was for someone to brush against your aching cunt—

suguru’s fingers slip down between your thighs until they can dip into your pussy for a teasing touch, letting him test the waters and get a feel for your beautiful body. he knows in his soul that it was made for him; it fits perfectly within his hands, even now.

“sugu…”

he loves it when you call him that.

he leans so close that his breath invades your ear with a half-whisper. “why don’t you come be my wife instead?” he pulls his fingers away from your clit and moves his hand up to rest over the slight bump in your belly, wide palm and thick digits covering a majority of the space, almost as if he’s protecting it, claiming it. “the baby can be ours.”

you inch away from him then, pulling yourself out of the spell he cast over you. “suguru, stop it. why would you say that?” you turn to face him and feel the heat of shame and guilt slither throughout your entire being.

you’re married. suguru is your brother. you shouldn’t have even let him touch you in the first place; he was being irrational and invasive, speaking and doing things that didn’t make sense.

but… they did make a little sense. in fact, they made more sense to you who used to have similar thoughts than they probably would to anyone else. but that was beside the point.

suguru chuckles at you with a dark and lusty yet melancholic look in his eye, affectionately taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “just being a weirdo i guess; saying what’s on my mind.”

he searches your gaze one last time before releasing you and walking away. before he can clear the door, however, he turns to say one last thing:

“but i could feel how wet your pretty pussy got.”

my beloved @fyodior requested a tag <3

[princess-nobody]

Avatar Rant: Two Avatar takes that bother me

(Pssst! This was originally posted on reddit, but I liked it so much I decided to post it onto my this account! Here's a link to the original if you'd rather read it there!)

So, I saw a semi-viral tweet a while back that bothered me because it not only felt like a complete misunderstanding of the point of Avatar as a film franchise, but also just a very childish view of how societies and different communities function. I can't find it though (I didn't interact with it and it has since been buried) so I apologize for not being able to give the best context.

It was your typical RDA sympathizing humanity first take (makes sense, the account that tweeted it was a walking red flag) that claimed that the na'vi were stupid for not accepting human advancement and technology, that humanity should always put its preservation first, and that the RDA were simply prioritizing the well being of their people whilst the na'vi wanted them gone. I want to start by addressing the latter take(s).

The first and second movies make it very clear that the RDA are NOT prioritizing the survival of Earth or humanity. They are a money hungry organization that want to monetize pandoran resources to their dying people in hopes to squeeze out whatever little money they have left. The people of Earth are said to be protesting them for that very reason, every solution to their planet's problems that they have discovered is insanely expensive and inaccessible to anyone below the upper class one percent. The RDA don't care about humanity, they care about profit, which is the exact reason why their actions are so callous in the films.

There are certainly humans that want to preserve humanity, but I truly cannot wrap my head around how you can watch either film and come to the conclusion that it is the RDA that wants the best for humanity. Avatar is not a "human bad" movie, it is a "corporate greed bad" movie, which is reflective of real life environmental issues. The individual is green, the individual recycles and doesn't litter, the individual cleans their local rivers and sea shores. However, the powerplants continue to polute our air, the corporations continue to flood our oceans with plastic, the rich continue to cut corners and burn the air with private jets.

I truly believe the reading of Avatar as an anti-humanity movie is what has lead to people thinking the RDA are the "good guys". It is because they actually believe the RDA are supposed to represent humanity and their will to keep surviving (and that James Cameron is portraying them as wrong for that), when it is clear they are a representation of the corporate greed that leads to environmental damage and the destruction of humanity.

As for the belief that the na'vi are hostile and somehow wrong for not caring to "advance" in the way humanity did, that is just flat out wrong. When it came to the respectful, peaceful humans such as Grace and her team, the na'vi were incredibly welcoming. I mean, Grace built an entire school for them and taught them human language and other human academics, so clearly they aren't against learning from humans. Again, Avatar is clear about the fact that humans as a collective aren't bad, corporate greed is.

However, why should the na'vi "advance" when there is no need to? Innovation is built on the back of necessity, and in a world where there is no need for certain technological advancements, why should the na'vi chase it? Why do they need phones and tablets and video games and McDonalds? They are living just fine without it. This idea that every society needs to be "modernized", even when they function just fine without said modernization has always driven me up a wall.

This entitlement from the western world is what leads colonial brained weirdos to try and go to indigenous islands and force religion or their world view upon them, because they believe that if a society doesn't function like the "modern" world, it is wrong. The na'vi don't need currency, or modern tech, or modern trends or fast food. They aren't perfect, but they also aren't in a desperate situation that would call for innovation or some sort of technological evolution. They are fine, they don't need nor even want it, and it is strange to believe humanity is in their right to force it upon them.

I'll stop this here because it's getting too long, I would love to hear your thoughts. Last time I made a post in this vein I got some really interesting responses, I couldn't reply to all but I'll try and reblog if that means anything!

[yunnathearcher]

Water = subconscious mind, emotions, transitional waves

Keeping receipts is proper in matters of business but not so much in matters of the heart

We live in two very different worlds, but somehow we make it work

Reminds me of that night we hopped the fence

It is beautiful in a way, how we search for ourselves (and those we love) in strangers. It’s like double, triple, quadruple confirming our love and existence

Morning body is giving tho. Okay.

Kinda wanna rearrange the entire crib before new years. Idk.

Probably just retrograde zoomies.

Autonomous Prime over here slime.

When you really want to do what you’re doing it makes everything better.

Weird like eccentric, not weird like weirdo

Internalize nothing, this is a free world

Love having an Earth I can rely on. Mentally.

Spiritually too. Even when she’s not around.

Because if it was about that I would’ve been done a long time ago. That’s not what I want.

Imagined that would be obvious based on how I move but idk.

The gift of working with time vs against time is peace.

Showing signs? That’s okay. Most of us are. As long as you being genuine it matters not.

One persons showing signs is another persons guideposts. Be.

As fate would have it..

Heaven sent and Heaven bound.

In the mean time and in between time, vibe.

Perspective is reality, there is heaven here in this realm but there is also more. Our universe shows us that. As above, so below.

I’m in no rush but this realm does blow me sometimes.

In need of cuddles face ass girl.

Waiting to shop for electronics until after Mercury ℞. Not bout to catch me slippin.

I’m not ignoring you my love, I’m just traveling to another world.

TOTEM

Thankful for life, thankful for art, thankful to be able to feel.

I love you.

It is a pleasure to move through people and with people while still being sovereign. An honor.

And when I came I came so hard, everywhere

This phase is almost over. Will be sure to enjoy the last bit of it to the fullest.

Still just another finger with open palms, head to the sky, eyes to the moon. Never forget.

[extraordinaryhistories]

#23 - 'Damascus' (non-album track, 2001)

I have never quite been able to find my way around ‘Damascus’. Since I first delved into the cadre of Sufjan deep cuts, ‘Damascus’ always felt to me like a forbidden fruit – a song with some sort of deeper power that, try as I might, I could never quite access. There’s something strange here. Let’s try to discover it.

‘Damascus’ was released on a 2001 charity compilation album called Seen Unseen (A Benefit For the Evergreen Center For Street Youth). Looking at the tracklist in retrospect, as with other contemporaneous releases on which you’ll tend to find these bits and bobs, Sufjan is the only name on here of any current notoriety. It’s odd to imagine a time where Sufjan was just ‘a member of his class’, so to speak – one of a crop of other softly spoken folk musicians, not at all regarded as the scene’s wonderkid. This was just before Fleet Foxes, before Iron and Wine, before craft beers and plaid shirts and plucked guitars became the centre of everything that was hip, but it was welling up. Slowly, it was welling up. And you can see it on a compilation like this one, and you can see it on Sufjan’s sudden change of tack around the turn of the millennium – weirdo outsider trading in every genre under the sun becomes increasingly committed to his acoustic guitar, and begins to write more earnest, serious songs like ‘Damascus’.

About that earnestness. ‘Damascus’ is a true lyrical labyrinth, one of the most maximal and yet least specific songs that Sufjan would produce around this time. I have struggled with this one for as long as I have known it; just about every line feels obscure, but I never feel as if we are trading in true nonsense here. It’s a song with a real sense of intent to me – it is long, layered and remarkably straight-faced, with every line delivered passionately, heavily. But to where is that passion directed? What is it about?

Perhaps we can most safely break down ‘Damascus’ by talking about it in broad, emotional terms – what these lines, attached to their music, are trying to make us feel. There’s plenty of feeling in said music, and very little of it is contented. You can hear it from minute one, right there in that determined, sort of anxious set of acoustic chords, unambiguously minor in their tonality (‘Damascus’ is in A Minor and only uses the white keys in its chords.) Same with that scenery-chewing little piano lick, a heavily-emphasised part of the song, elevated by Sufjan’s vocal melody mirroring it on the ‘takes me back’ line. The whole affair feels secure, but dejected somehow, like the drudgery of a life condemned.

And it stretches on. For a while, actually. It’s four minutes and forty five seconds of pure melodrama, a language spoken in guitar, in banjo, in organ, in drums. It’s actually one of Sufjan’s more uncharacteristically generic arrangements, in the sense that I could easily see many other artists making a song that sounds precisely like this one. The rather standard drum part and reliable mid-tempo feel situates ‘Damascus’ unambiguously in folk rock territory, and though you can say this about a handful of other Sufjan songs, the later examples (like ‘Springfield’) are supported by maturity and the sense of an artist at the height of their songwriting powers. If ‘Damascus’ has a weakness, it is that this one feels a lot longer than it actually is. Not necessarily in a positive sense, either. It plods, and plods, and plods.

Perhaps that’s fitting. This is a song that deals extensively with transfer. Transfer of bodies, transfer of information, transfer of power, without bearing to whether that transfer is consensual or not. Desperation pours out of nearly every line in this song, especially in a chorus anchored by the lines ‘it takes me back against the everglades / Back against the out-of-state’ – we see immediately how our protagonist is a transient one, who exists entirely on the fringes of civilised society. They are displaced and in need of refuge (ideas perhaps even more relevant today than they were in 2001). The verbiage also puts them consistently in the role of object, never of subject; similar to the protagonist of ‘Kill’ only being able to reclaim any agency at all by wanting, ‘Damascus’ is a song more of ‘it takes me’, less a song of ‘I go’. A typically cheery Sufjan song topic, then: weakness, fear, subjugation. Every ounce of that drudgery that comes with displacement is here, musically and lyrically.

If we’re talking broad emotional strokes, though, there are just as many strokes of resentment on this canvas. Plenty of them, too. It’s reminiscent of ‘Kill’ in that sense, but while the narrator of ‘Kill’ crumbles before their massive, unavoidable id, the narrator of ‘Damascus’ resents their master’s ideology. Words and ideas are this song’s primary battleground. Lines like ‘do you know the adversary / And carry all the burdens of peoples' pasts?’ feel discursive in tone – even the choice of the words ‘adversary’, ‘sanctuary’ and even ‘border temple’ seem out-of-time somehow, like we are trapped in the centre of some grand generational Socratic dialogue with immense stakes for the asker. Our protagonist is reacting to another’s ideas with revulsion, knowing that those ideas will only lead to their perdition. It is a very studied revulsion, though, conveyed through distant, foggy verses and an instrumental that has all the intensity and thrill of the owner’s manual that comes with your washing machine. But for a song that represents the long, slow trudge following an intellectual defeat, that’s sort of the point, isn’t it?

Okay. The elephant in the room, which I’ve been doggedly trying to avoid for setup reasons. ‘Damascus’ is a very religious song. Most every song from this era is a very religious song, granted; this one, though, is a little more complicated than the others. The title makes it clear that this song is about Paul the Apostle, who, in Acts 9, receives a vision of Jesus on the road to Damascus. Paul, a Pharisee, was travelling to Damascus with the intent of persecuting Christians there; the appearance of Jesus engendered in him a newfound devotion that led to his becoming one of the most significant figures in theological history.

This is far from the first time that Sufjan has focused in on a specific Biblical story and used it to argue a point on what it means to be faithful (or, hell, what it means to be human.) But it is the first time that Sufjan has allowed shades of gloom to seep into his faith. So far, we’ve seen the joy of Christianity; we’ve seen the awe of Christianity; we’ve seen the rage of Christianity. We’ve not seen the sadness of Christianity. We will see it plenty in his future songwriting, but until we reach Seven Swans: oil, meet water.

This context, at least, explains the motif of movement that underpins ‘Damascus’. Movement figures massively into the experience of being a Christian. Paul is converted at a moment of travel – Damascus is literally the ‘last place’ he goes as a heathen – and many devout have metaphorized faith as being akin to a journey that reaches no end until after death. That leaves us to account for how everything else in this song, including its emotional tenor, relates to the story of Paul the Apostle specifically. As far as I can figure, ‘Damascus’ lends itself to three possible interpretations vis-à-vis Paul.

Interpretation number one: the narrator of ‘Damascus’ is Sufjan, and this song is actually quite straightforward. He is directly addressing either Paul or God, making reference to Paul’s journey as an analogue of his own – a sinner embracing the ‘approaching light’ of salvation. Direct address to God is not uncommon for Sufjan, so this interpretation would be the most precedented. To me, though, it doesn’t hold water. There are too many antiquated phrases and references (‘border temple’, for one) to make me think of this song as anything but situated in Paul’s time.

Interpretation number two: the narrator of ‘Damascus’ is Paul himself, and the aforementioned emotional tenor here is not one of resentment but of fear. This would make ‘Damascus’ a very rare song in Sufjan’s work written from the perspective of a specific cultural figure. Paul is therefore speaking directly to the Lord at a moment where he is set to abandon every precept on which was constructed his sense of self. Naturally, he is terrified. The appearance of a messiah that he so firmly rejected chips away at his hard-line Judaism (‘Does the border temple fall down / I fall down / When the approaching light in me has stayed’) and leads him to feverish questioning (‘Do you float the sanctuary?’) Ultimately Sufjan tries – and, depending on your opinion of the song, succeeds at – extracting the scared, awed Saul of Tarsus from the costume of Paul the Apostle, a man who retreats ‘back against the everglades’ as an escape from his fears. Which, when you’re brought face-to-face with the creator of all mankind, does not seem so unreasonable.

Interpretation number three and the one that I find most interesting: the narrator of ‘Damascus’ is not Sufjan nor Paul, but a Pharisee whose life is thrown into turmoil by a Gentile Christianity. This interpretation would best explain the pangs of resentment that echo through the song. Suddenly, Paul is recast not as saviour but as terroriser, embodying a sort of theological colonialism that literally and figuratively displaced Jews who did not convert. The narrator wonders whether Paul has the license to speak on behalf of an entire people (‘Do you know the adversary? / And carry all the burdens of peoples' pasts?’), but it is all for naught. The border temple as fallen down; they have fallen down. They have no choice but to leave their community, refugees taken ‘back against the out-of-state’ where they will remain forever dispossessed. ‘Damascus’ is an empathetic portrayal of early Christianity’s victims, written by a real-life musician who aligns ideologically with their tormentors. That tension is key to the song’s power.

I speak as if I have any idea what this song is about, but I do not. I could see one of those interpretations, all of those interpretations, or none of those interpretations being correct. All these words in and I find myself no more able to taste the forbidden fruit. A song with this sort of deep, heavy seriousness to it, though, deserves a deep, heavy attempt at analysis. Maybe ‘Damascus’ has a little too much of all of that in it – even its fans (all three of them) won’t deny that Sufjan has made more engaging music than this. It is nothing if not a little theological puzzle box, though, and if some more ears found their way to it, perhaps one of us, one day, will crack the code.

[quillyfied]

Hellaverse Theories: Hazbin Hotel S1E8

Welcome to Quilly’s Hellaverse Theories, where I overthink the entire Hellaverse! Last episode of Hazbin time, and after this I’ll start on Helluva Boss (which shouldn’t be nearly as long but I am a windbag so who knows). Let’s go!!

Hazbin Hotel s1e8, here we go:

And here we go again with Vox and his complete reasonable obsession with Alastor and anyone who associates with him, love that for Vox, truly. Best life: he’s living it. But it’s also kinda scary how comprehensive a view Vox has of everyone and everything; we know this already, but watching him watching the Hotel just sort of feels…more violating. Because of audience bonding with the characters, really, but still. There’s a reason why the Vees are a terrifying force to be reckoned with and its real-world reflections make me too sad and full of impotent rage to manage so let’s move on.

Charlie wishing her mom could see this! Sweet! Valid! Somehow super sad knowing where her mom is but not knowing why!!

Well. Vaggie straight-up calls them all “sinners.” So for me that pretty handily puts the “are cannibals sinners” debate to bed. For a while, at least; I’m still gonna be double-checking the blood spatter when the battle starts.

Yeah Pentious giving the grand toast to not dying, I’m not. I’m not emotional. I’m fine.

So this little scene with Alastor and Niffty…intriguing. Seems to show a softer side of Alastor, one where he hangs up the scheming for one minute and admits he’s been enjoying himself, enjoying these people (for their interpersonal drama entertainment value if nothing else). It’s funny and it’s sweet and definitely shows why Niffty sticks with Alastor on the off chance he doesn’t own her soul. And it also has me not completely convinced that when Alastor gets the chance to accomplish his goals by betraying everyone at the Hotel, he isn’t going to feel some level of conflict about it. Getting a character who believes so completely in their own infallibility to crack: the ultimate Good Narrative Food.

(nope hang on angel and husk are flirting pause the analysis have to go squeal about it—)

(I’m a veteran of the Good Omens (TV) fandom and got pulled into watching a snake and reptile care youtube, I know about snake hemipenes, why is the mention that Pentious might have them taking me out at the kneecaps)

Lute being Too Much for Adam never ceases to make me laugh. Or remember that she definitely deserves to be a main villain, at least for a little while. (Alright her name is Lute because “lieutenant” but for the longest time I thought her name was Lute as in “guitar-like instrument” because Adam WOULD, that weirdo; I choose to believe it’s both tbh.) Lute is someone who is way more a foil for Vaggie than anyone else right now, and the absolute struggle in her future is making me excited. ALL ABOARD THE STRUGGLE BUS, LUTE.

I’m sorry I just paused to make another note of something but it’s flown OUT OF MY ENTIRE HEAD because I just realized HUSK AND ANGEL ARE BOTH CRACKING THEIR KNUCKLES AT THE SAME TIME AS THE EXORCISTS APPROACH. WHAT WAS I SAYING??

Right. Vaggie. Got her new wings, and it’s interesting to me that she immediately hides them. Even more interesting to me that she CAN immediately hide them; none of the angels ever seem to, if they even can. That seems a little more…demonic in nature. Because Lucifer certainly can. Sera and Emily change their forms slightly, but the wings stay out at all times (mainly bc it seems Heaven is specifically formed around being able to get around with them on, especially the courtroom). Just one more way that Vaggie is embracing her new life, I suppose.

And here come the Vees, safe in whatever bunker they’ve got, and once again I can’t stress enough how Vox seems to be the only one with any interest in the proceedings. The other two are treating it like Vox dragged them to a sports event that he’s super into and they’re just along for moral support at best. The utter boredom of it all is something I can’t fathom. But I’ll try: this means nothing to them. The Hotel means nothing. The Extermination means nothing because they can just hide from it while the rest of Hell gets slaughtered. They’re cold-blooded ruthless manipulators who might be about to give Lucifer a run for his money if they aren’t stopped. I look forward to season 2 very much. Because on a grand scale, the Vees mean NOTHING. Their games are PETTY SQUABBLES. They don’t rank on the cosmic horror scale because the fight is so much bigger than they are. But they can sure throw wrenches into things!

ALRIGHT HERE WE GO THE PRODUCT OF MY MANY THEORIES ABOUT OVERLORD MECHANICS AND ALASTOR SPECIFICALLY: the shield moment. They seem to be expecting it to happen, so Alastor knew he could do it, but it’s my firm belief that he couldn’t until he made the deal with Charlie. He figured out that he can get powerups just from making deals themselves, or else has been doing it better than anyone else if it’s a known thing, and Charlie isn’t a slouch in the power department. So that’s my theory: Alastor is only able to go toe-to-toe with Adam at all because he’s borrowing a little taste of Charlie’s power from their deal. He’s already plenty powerful, and maybe he could do the shield the whole time, but I do think the deal with Charlie was made at a very opportune time, and Alastor probably only agreed to take on Adam solo because of his overconfidence in himself now boosted with having some of Charlie’s power. I only really have a gut feeling to provide as a source for this, because the only one who proves up to facing Adam is Lucifer; Alastor made a good call, possibly recruiting more of Charlie’s power more directly in a deal when he did, but Charlie isn’t a match for Adam, either, so Alastor very much couldn’t be. He has the speed and the skill to definitely give Adam a bad time, but he can’t withstand the power. Charlie doesn’t have the skill, but she could have the power in time. Lucifer…well, he’s an unfair powerhouse, deus ex machina in a top hat and resolving daddy issues, and we love that for him.

Anyway. Shield. Angels finding out in a very nasty way they can be killed. Adam being his usual misogynistic self. And then Adam deciding he’s over it and obliterating the shield in one punch.

I get the feeling that Adam really doesn’t do much during Exterminations beyond laugh and make tasteless jokes while occasionally smiting demons that get too close or look fun to squash. Because he just effortlessly whips out these shows of power that nobody seems to be able to account for, which makes me think it’s because nobody has ever seen Adam actually try and fight in earnest before. Following the theme of the show, they’re hopelessly outmatched (outgunned outmanned outnumbered outplanned I’M SORRY), and manage to pull a win out of their asses anyway thanks to the power of Love (and pulling Lucifer out of his millennia-long funk for at least half an hour), which Adam very clearly doesn’t have. But. Who needs Love when you have whatever terrifying powerup the higher-ups saw fit to give him?

“A mortal soul is no match for me, edgelord.” Okay. Okay. Here we go. So…Adam isn’t a mortal soul…despite being the first human soul in Heaven. He wields divine light and has a divine axe. Lilith isn’t a mortal soul despite being the original first woman, rules as Queen of Hell when she’s at home, and has an inspiring voice and song to grow Hell’s strength. It’s safe to say that someone else granted them these powerups (Sera/the Seraphim for Adam, Lucifer for Lilith). So…let’s look at Alastor again, just for a sec. He demonstrates ability far beyond what we see any other Overlord or demon do, seems to know his way around deals and loopholes like the slipperiest lawyer in existence, and his rise to infamy was meteoric. It’s a popular theory that instead of Lilith, the person holding the other end of Alastor’s leash is Roo, especially given the repeating eye motif that he has in his magic, but I wonder if Roo isn’t giving him a power-up already, and the deal where he’s caged is something else. If the two are separate in some way.

“You should know better than anyone what a soul can accomplish when they take charge of their own fate.” Now THAT…throws a very different spin on the theory, actually. If Adam and Lilith weren’t gifted their abilities, but took them, Lilith drawing from Hell and Adam from Heaven. If nobody gave either of them anything at all, but they found ways to elevate themselves. Or…made deals, perhaps? Either way, Alastor seems well on his way to becoming something Else just like they are, but. He isn’t there yet. Hence the need to make a deal with Charlie and stick close to her and her budding power. Hence why Alastor couldn’t take on Adam yet.

Y’know. I haven’t mentioned or noticed Alastor’s shadow much. But it certainly is a huge part of his power. Just like the microphone staff, which is broken now oh nooooo. But back to the shadow—the combination of the shadow plus the voodoo aspect of Alastor’s powers are a bit too much Dr. Facilier for comfort (which is hysterical given that Keith David is right there voicing Husk), but the tentacles add a nice touch. Although all of that, plus the deer aspect, plus the possible cannibalism and serial murder, plus the radio—does it seem like Alastor might have too much going on? Because I’m wondering how much of that is his, and how much is alternative powerups from other deals. He made his name as an Overlord killer, after all—and as an Overlord himself, owning souls grants power. I’m certain that whatever supply he’s high on, it’s the only way he was able to survive being first hit by pure holy light, and then cut down by Adam like that. So it must be working for him—but not well enough.

There is something so comedically horrific about how Adam just…vaporizes Pentious, war machine and all. It seems to be a pretty effective death; however, I do have to wonder how it would affect Pentious’ ability to be redeemed if it was angelic steel that got him instead of holy light. Either way, confirming that there are multiple ways to kill demons, angelic steel is just the most straightforward, and wow he’s just wholly gone now, huh? Not even any debris or a body or anything.

(Putting this theory up while I’m thinking about it: concerning Charlie’s deal with Alastor, and specifically the “one favor where you harm no one” bit, a part of me thinks that Alastor is going to have Charlie stand aside and let him kill someone…just to prove that they can be redeemed. Whether that’s Alastor’s purpose or not in killing is up for constant debate in my head, but I do want it made very clear that Pentious wasn’t redeemed until he died. Demonic redemption might require double death; maybe the souls are re-judged on double death anyway. Who knows??)

HEY, BLOOD THEORY CONFIRMATION: Dazzle (gosh I hope I got that right) bleeds black. He’s Hellborn. There IS differentiation in blood colors given in this show. NICE.

So why the ENTIRE HELL does Charlie bleed RED?

It’s subtle, it could be written off as her horns, but it’s there in certain shots; she’s bleeding from the head after Adam throws her into the hotel sign, definite drips that aren’t her horns at all, or bloodstains from possibly being close to cannibals who died. And it’s red. Why is it red? Why does she bleed red like sinners, Viv? WHY DOES SHE BLEED RED, VIV?

Because here’s the only thing I can think of: that means one, she DOES have a soul (an immortal soul, like Adam says, mechanic not metaphor), because two, she might be something close to half-human, or at least half-sinner, or half-whatever the actual hell Lilith is. This makes her powerful, but also incredibly vulnerable, just the same as sinners are with their souls. And it puts her more on their level; she isn’t some above-it-all royal that’s something entire Other from the sinners, she’s sort of partially one of them. (Not to say she doesn’t still have her royal privilege and so forth and et cetera let’s move on.)

Alright Vaggie hiding away her wings is kinda worth it for the badass blink-and-you-miss-it tearing open of the back of her battle uniform to let them out. And, uh, can we give Jessica Vosk ALL the credit for that absolutely unhinged Lute scream as she TEARS HER OWN ARM OFF??

(Also, to the legend who wrote the Lute’s Arm/Vaggie’s Eye fanfic: I didn’t read it but I think of you often.)

But: Lute and Vaggie setting up to be tragic narrative foils, most likely complete with Lute spiraling as she completely loses any sense of self or direction while her world crumbles around her and Vaggie going from suspicious to pitying. When the truth about how fucked up the Exorcist legion is comes out, I’m sure there’s going to be signs about how they were both hurt pretty deeply by being a part of it but handled it differently, Vaggie by being lucky enough to find a support group after she was kicked out and Lute struggling with carrying on the legacy alone. Also, calling it now, if Emily doesn’t Fall, then Lute is definitely gonna try to kill her at least once. Anyway. That’s probably super endgame stuff.

LUCIFER, DEUS EX MACHINA! Or. Uh. Diaboli ex machina? Eh who cares LOOK AT HIM GO. It’s such a fun fight, watching him zing around Adam and shapeshift and be all creative and zany. Right up until it matters—and then he’s all business. Fiery, deadly business. Also how did he get his voice to do that (the “you’re in my house now, bitch” part, not the “go home” part). But it’s such an important moment for witnessing that dreamer that Heaven cast out, the creative powerhouse that just wanted to make something nice, something meaningful. Adam can’t fight him because Lucifer isn’t really fighting. He’s playing. Right up until Adam threatens Charlie again. She’s the only thing worth fighting for to him, after all.

So very interesting to me too that when Lucifer is in his demon aspect, the snake on his hat becomes a halo. (Also, unlike the other Sins, he doesn’t get any taller. Bless him.)

Now. Let’s address the elephant—or, rather, the very small cyclops—in the room. Niffty killing Adam. It’s certainly a twist. It’s the biggest, weirdest twist I’ve ever seen. It kind of doesn’t make any narrative sense. It boggles the brain that Niffty, the littlest demon in the group, the bit side character, gets to kill Adam, the big bad of the season. But in a way…that’s kind of perfect? It DOESN’T make any narrative sense. LIFE doesn’t make narrative sense. Not everything is going to fit into a perfect metaphor. Although, if I tried…Niffty took out the biggest cockroach of all :P Alright I’ll be honest I don’t know. I’d love to read other people’s thoughts on why it happened like this. Because it’s not like I don’t enjoy it as a narrative choice, it’s just so jarring and my English major brain hasn’t made it make sense yet.

Such an unexpectedly tender character moment to have Adam’s dying smile be for Lute, though. Yeah, she’s gonna be REAL hecked up next season. And not because she’s way more homicidal than Adam somehow.

(Also, back to my blood color theory: cannibals bleed red. They’re sinners. Stop the debates, it’s canon and I can prove it now. Kinda. Still got the whole. Charlie bleeding red thing throwing a wrench into my everything.)

And we see some of the littler pieces to finish off a lot of my theories—the Vees’ ultimate plan to seize control of Hell going off pretty well despite the Hotel surviving (not that it mattered to them either way, the plan was to throw the other Overlords off their game and take their stuff, not mess with the Hotel at all); Husk and Niffty going about their days but looking surprised with the rest of the group when Alastor shows back up (and still uncertain if they knew he was alive or dead and if they even would know if he died tbh). But let’s take one last little peep at Alastor before I close the book on him for now.

Y’know. They really do make it unclear if it’s Alastor Altruist, or Alastor, altruist.

But more than that, it’s the first time he acknowledges his deal and the fact that his powers are limited—which is why he might use non-soul deals with others anyway, to get around his soul deal constraints. And if he’s LIMITED and he went to bat against Adam and held his own pretty well, maybe I need to rethink my own assessment of his strength and how he’s leashed (unless, of course, the theories are right and it’s a deal with Lilith keeping him constrained from using his powers except in her service, so he really was at maximum potential in that fight and just isn’t strong enough yet). But he’s confident (as he always is) that once he’s out of his deal, he’ll be where he wants to be, pulling strings and manipulating fates and probably strong enough to replace Lucifer (and wouldn’t it be twisty if Alastor used his favor with Charlie to let him kill and replace her father as King of Hell? Wild. Anyway—). But until then, he’s showing back up at the hotel after it’s been rebuilt, sans staff, and while fanon has latched onto the idea of his wound containing angelic essence that’s slowly killing him…I’m not so sure if canon is going to go that route, but his missing staff is probably way more significant than the wound, and I’m curious about that.

Now forget about these losers, let’s go check out the last two scenes and put proper bows on my last two theories.

First: Pentious, redeemed, showing up before the Seraphim and NOT at the heavenly gates. Convenient for keeping something this reality-shaking a secret! I still don’t know that I’m fully convinced that Sir Pentious is truly the first sinner to be redeemed; I still kinda think he’s just the first one that Sera and Emily noticed, but I’m looking forward to exploring that mystery more next season. Maybe with Molly as an actual character this time? The folks who keep drawing and writing about Molly and Pentious being friends, you’re legends, keep doing that; it will sustain me if I am disappointed.

Second: Lute and Lilith on a beach in Heaven, presumably. Alright, wording: “Adam is dead. Your deal is done, and I’m in charge now.” There is. So much to unpack in that. Starting with “Your deal is done.” Lilith…made a deal…with Adam? Adam made a deal with Lilith? Or Lilith made a deal with someone else, like the Seraphim, and Adam happened to be a condition? The most likely explanation is that Lilith made a deal with Adam, but for what and why remains to be seen. It sure looks like Lilith made a deal with her ex-husband to relax in Heaven and let Hell rot, but things really aren’t as they seem in this show; appearances are constantly deceiving. I’ve heard the popular theory that Lilith and Eve share a body (very, very weird implications if so), and it’s shown in some family portraits that Lilith can banish her horns just like Lucifer can his wings (or Charlie her horns, for that matter), but not showing Lilith’s eyes, keeping her shrouded in mystery—is that to conceal her identity as swapping between herself and Eve, is it just to build mystery about Lilith herself (who again is NEVER HECKING MENTIONED EXCEPT BY CHARLIE AND ADAM), is it for lolz? What the heck could Lilith and Adam have possibly traded for, anyway? Letting Lilith crash in Heaven in exchange for…what? The Exterminations have surely been going on for longer than seven years. Lilith could be imprisoned, but Lute’s behavior and language doesn’t convey that at all. Like, AT ALL.

Additional question: does Lute even have the power to take Adam’s place? Or will she get the power as she assumes command?

Anyway, moving forward in this scene, Lute later says “Your brat is threatening the very foundation of Heaven.” Interesting, showing that Lute is just as fearful of a Hellish uprising as Sera is and what that means for the safety of Heaven and the souls they’re protecting. “And if you want to stay here” And if you want to stay here. IF YOU WANT TO STAY HERE. Lilith is definitely there because she wants to be. Or at least Lute believes she wants to be. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if both Lilith and Lucifer are exhausted with their existences, but it is such a contradictory thing, for Charlie to believe so wholeheartedly that her mother is off doing something important, that she loved Hell and cared about its denizens, only to show Lilith on a beach needing to be threatened with leaving it to get up and deal with Charlie. But, then, Charlie also believed her father didn’t want to see her and didn’t really care about her. It’s possible that Charlie is wrong about her mother. But we have so few clues and it’s easy to assume the worst when this is how Lilith is truly introduced.

One thing I keep noticing and keep forgetting to go back and check for: Lilith’s necklace. There really aren’t very many details that don’t have some sort of thought put into them, and her necklace while laying out on a beach is…eye-catching, at least to me. It’s simple, but I just wonder if it’s present in any of the portraits, because I keep forgetting to check for it. Maybe if I write it down, I’ll remember to keep an eye out next time.

I’m sure that there are theories and threads that I didn’t finish, because I have word-vomited something like 24,000 words of theories and reactions and maddened questions; now that I have it all out of my system, maybe I’ll make organized, reasonable posts where the theories are actually separated and presented as cohesive wholes rather than themes carrying across episodes. But I have to get through my Helluva Boss analyses first!

Thanks so much for sticking around and sticking it out, and if any of this made sense, then I’m glad! Later!

[piduai]

back in 2021 when i was studying to get into college i would stalk your acc everyday i kinda developed a parasocial relationship with fr sorry girl i just enjoyed your strong opinions and ur sense of humour anyway a year later i actually got into college i am doing what i wanted and all and for some reason i thought it somehow would fix all of my lonely problems but it didnt. ive always been weird but more than ever i dont think i can hide it anymore, i try being normal sooo hard but i feel like everyone can see through my act and they get weirdedout, like they can see that i am trying so hard when to them is so natural and the only girl i kinda made acquaitance with is thinking abt leaving so idk what to do. i truly envy normal people, i take no pride in being different i would trade all of my "uniquiness" to be able to fit in this world fr. sorry for venting, i remember you had a post kind of giving tips on how to ""survive" college but i cant seem to be able to find it. anyway thanks queen keep your head up.

congrats on getting into college, especially if it's something you like doing! i hope your academic career is going smoothly.

if you're in your second year of college you're what, early 20s? being 21 is as bad as being 14 but now you can legally take out a loan. being a weird loner at 21 is ^2 that. i think a lot of lonely teenagers have this college fantasy where they'll finally become social butterflies once they get their psych 101 schedule, but it's rarely the case; people don't change overnight. what i'm trying to say is that it's normal and fine even to feel that way - the disappointment, the frustration, the feeling of something lacking and of losing out. you're in a transactional period, not fully grown into your brain, so it's rather normal to feel bottomless despair in your situation. a lot of your problems will pass with age.

i can relate to your "i wish i was normal" bit so bad. a lot of boring losers on here who haven't stepped a toe out of normalcy their entire lives will talk about being proud weirdos because they play dungeons and dragons and have a porn addiction. god's #real strongest warriors know that there's nothing worse than deviating from the norm, a life of alienation you feel down to the bones. even if you mask exceptionally well and manage to blend in it doesn't go away, you know that you're abnormal and are the odd one out, and struggling with things that come naturally to the majority is downright humiliating. when i was younger i used to resent all of this, i resented not being like other people, resented being unable to be like everyone else, resented having to invest excruciating effort to not stand out like a sore thumb. but eventually you just have to come to terms with it, accept that there's something wrong with you, something that makes you different from most people you'll meet casually, and live with it. once you don't hate yourself for it anymore all you have to do is remember the scripts to follow during regular meaningless interactions and you're peachy. weird people have always existed, you're not the first or the last one, and they lived somehow so we can manage too.

and i know that the self-consciousness makes you think that everyone can sniff you out like a hound but the truth is that most people don't really care about you, they have their own lives to worry about. and it's a good thing, great in fact! if you just exist quietly but try to blend in (as in, don't behave in erratic or abnormal ways and don't create trouble) THE meanest thing people will passingly may think of you is "oh she's a bit awkward/shy/unfriendly" like i promise you those around you don't secretly look at you and go like... wtf.... look at that FREAK walking here..... gross..... because they simply don't care. like i think that strangers are much more benevolently indifferent than we're giving them credit for.

as for practical advice you never asked for, the good old "go to a place many times and you'll meet someone" method typically works. actually the best would be to join some sport of your liking, it doesn't have to be like, competitive or anything, swimming or badminton are good. but if you're bad at that maybe try chiller hobbies, like maybe your uni has some kind of clubs? anime/manga clubs, reading clubs, whatever you like. usually the people you meet at those particular clubs suck, but it kind of works like lesbian dating - they can introduce you to their friends, which can be nice encounters. there's also the option of frequently volunteering at events or getting a part-time job, stuff like bartending can introduce you to a lot of young people, especially if you're in a student town, but barista/waitressing can work too.

the problem with all of the above is that it does require you to be proactive, which is i think a difficult feature if your sense of self is fluctuating and you're being eaten alive by shame/self-doubt/self-hatred/insecurity. it's very hard to live that way. first and foremost you need to stand solid on who you are, to learn to accept your own quirks, to accept that you have to put up with hardships others will never know, and to respect yourself. different doesn't mean worse, or even bad. you're not a bad person. bad people don't have this kind of thoughts, they live life guilt free while demeaning and stomping on others. so even if you're a bit unusual you're still a decent person, you're deserving of dignity and respect and kindness, of good things, of connection, of love. meaningful encounters are rare, but they happen! keep searching, there is no other way. there are other people like you. i wish you the best of luck!

[krahenschrei]

An Aquarius Opening Up

Random journal-ish entry because I need to get the feelings out somewhere or the Bees™ in my head will detonate.

For a whole lot of reasons I'm not the sort of person who likes to talk about their feelings or anything about myself that isn't like basic surface level things and that's kinda always been the case. I keep everyone in my life at a certain level of distance, some closer or further than others, but not my family, my therapist, or friends have ever gotten to any really deep layers of who I am or anything like that.

But something changed recently. I can't pinpoint when and I don't know if there was any specific trigger or if it just happened gradually without me noticing.

I've been with my boyfriend fo a little over two years now and I've always felt comfortable telling him mostly anything but even he unfortunately was held at a certain distance. Closer than anyone else has ever been, certainly, but still something in me kept me from letting down my walls entirely. I know part of my issue stems from having to be the strong one my whole life for everyone - family, friends, etc. - I was the tough, stable person that held it together for everyone else and made sure things were taken care of or at the very least, anyone affected by something was able to talk to me about their feelings and basically use me as a sounding board to process and usually that would turn me into the therapist friend as well. I was not 'allowed' to have the same courtesy though because if I spoke about my feelings, I was invalidated or made to feel guilty for expressing myself because I "made them feel bad" and was told more than once by specific people in the past that me just wanting to discuss something bad that happened "upset them" and I was made to drop it, even if it had nothing to do with the person I was talking to.

But lately I've found myself just saying things to my boyfriend that are usually things I would keep to myself. Nothing weird or bad, just thoughts and feelings that sit deeper inside me that I would've never expressed to anyone else. There have been times I've said things and realized it but felt no embarrassment or shame like I might have if it had slipped in front of anyone else. I've been taking stock of how I feel during those times and it's an unusual sense of calmness and just… being okay. Like I don't feel excessive happiness or anything, it's not a euphoric moment, it's just… natural and good. It feels safe. I have never in my life felt safe with anyone, not even family members that I knew did genuinely love and care about me - because I felt they would still betray my trust somehow at some point.

He makes me feel safe. He makes me feel okay. I feel comfortable and have this deep sense of understanding that there's no shame or guilt or fear here. There's no need to compete, no need to argue and debate to make my feelings be taken seriously or validated. There's no need to posture and express an unhealthy level of generosity in order to 'prove' that I'm worth keeping around.

Last year was hard. The first quarter of this year has been hard too for different reasons but now, coming into May, I just feel… good. I feel content. It's an unusual sensation. Trauma, mental illness, and just being an annoying air sign has made my whole life feel like a constant state of needing to prove to everyone around me that I deserve to be here, that I deserve love and care and to be heard, that I am not somehow less important than those around me just because I'm different than they are. There's just been these little moments for the last month or so that make me stop and think like… Yeah, this is good. This is right. I'm okay. I'm safe. I'm loved. This is what it should feel like.

I feel authentic. I feel like my genuine self thanks to him. I feel like for once, someone doesn't think I'm some alien weirdo that can't function properly and just doesn't try hard enough or feels things the 'wrong way.' I don't get into constant panicked states worrying if he's losing interest in me. I don't constantly stress myself out and worry myself physically sick about making some frantic display of reminding him that I'm there and don't want to be replaced and I'm good enough. I don't have to fight for his attention, he just gives it because he wants to, because he wants me, and I guess part of me is still learning how to accept that. No one's ever wanted me without it being conditional somehow.

It's a lot to process and there's still even more I haven't fully wrapped my head around. I hope I'll be able to give him that same sense of safety and acceptance. He deserves it. I hope I can love him as perfectly as he's loved me.

[ursbearhug]

Okay in my normal vein I'm obligated by law to recommend a good game!

So I had some spare change on my steam account because my previous purchases (Devil May Cry 5 and Resident Evil 6) were... Less than satisfying. I know RE6 is good story wise because I've watched let's play of it but playing the game myself caused some serious conniptions. Devil May Cry was on the other hand, an example of horrible port or game that was not made for PC in the first play. Whatever it was, it was just horrendous experience all around. But since you can only play for less than 2 hours in order to return the game, I might have missed the game being the best in the world in the meantime or something.

This by the way is something I've learnt the hard way because I'm 98% sure that at the time, mother language version of the service rules you agree to, have been horribly untranslated. In English it clearly says that game needs to be played for less than 2 hours AND returned within two weeks of purchase. When I read it (not in English) it said one or the other. And I was very perplexed and vexed because I couldn't give back the game I barely played but bought two years ago or some shit like that. Anyway!

"Pentiment" is gorgeous game stylised for 15 and 16th century illuminations. There is a lot of gothic and humanistic calligraphy to oggle at if that's something you fancy. I know to a lot of folk it is hard to believe but antique and mediaeval latin are different and therefore a lot of it is hardly understandable to me (though, a lot of is because it's just 'reprints', like for instance; Aeneid). But that's only if you go through the trouble of reading that flashing latin (which I do because I'm a weirdo). There is a lot of the "choices matter", most of the game is carefully picking conversation options - since game is constantly auto saved, you cannot pick and revert your choice; this ain't Life is Strange. If you fuck up, you have to live with that wrong choice you've picked by accident and WHOOPS 13 hours of gameplay for naught because YOUR FAT FUCKING FINGER SLIPED. It's okay. I'm over it... - and investigating. But what could you be investigating? MURDER! And this time it ain't butler's fault. And no Agatha Christie to be found.

Beside being just gorgeous to look at, it runs really well too. It's tad too loud for me personally but I'm not really game music nerd. It is okay though! Characters that I got to meet are really sweet and lovely too. Most of them anyway. Towns folk especially. The amount of dilfs I would like to... Well... Fuck - is staggering. Game is also somehow aware of gay people existing in the 16th century monasteries and out. I would *DIE* for Jorg. He is big where it matters. (It's his heart pervs)

To my delight game has 3 acts and it took me 13 hours to get through 1st. Now I had the freedom to play almost nonstop but I'm also a MASSIVE snoop and I was getting into everybodies' business with my crew and talking dog. I meant meddling kids! So there is a chance that somebody who cares less about petting every dog and cat and smelling every flower and talking with everybody 6 times just to be sure, will be able to go through the game quicker.

Oh, yes. You can pet 16th century illuminations of a cat or dog. Ya know how everybody lost their shit that Hogwarts Legacy: Transphobia Crowd Funded had the petting cats options? Yeah, eat your heart out JKTERFling. One of the dog is called Mirabilis which is: according to my poor memory and even worse grasp on Latin - either an adjective meaning "wonderful" or noun meaning "wonder". I would die for them too.

There is also some "choose your own adventure" motifs, with picking unfinished (hits too close to home mister Game) major, second field, your origins and later even main occupation (and I - for once in my entire life - was pleasantly surprised to see my nation and country existing prominently. Though that was when it excelled historically, so yeah). And I think it gives it a lot of charm.

I will try to finish the game (and perhaps cram the second playthrough because I have new BETTER ideas to FUCK UP MY GAME) before the weekends end. Game is currently on a discount on Steam and will be till 4th of May to anybody interested!

Anyway, I'm really tired and tomorrow is fancy Flea Market awaiting me so! Good night ol buddies ol pals!

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Childhood

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

+ This Game of Ours

Jason’s eyes snapped open at a sound that no human should be able to hear.

Ever since he’d been resurrected from the Lazarus pit, his senses had grown abnormally acute – amongst other strange things. 

Sometimes he swore he could even hear Y/N’s heartbeat. It was easiest to do with her, after all he was so intone with her very being.

But all of that made nearly impossible for anyone to sneak up on him – let alone in his own home. Which someone was. He could feel it.

Jason’s eyes glanced down at Y/N, who was sound asleep on his chest.

Ever so carefully, he lifted her body off of him so he could slip out of bed.

But Y/N was a light sleeper, unfortunately. She must’ve inherited that from Bruce, even though she wasn’t even raised by the man.

Y/N winced as her eyes opened just in time to see Jason grabbing one of his hidden guns from below their bed frame.

“What’s going on?” Her voice raspy.

“Nothing,” Jason lied. “Stay here.”

Now that she found out about another hidden gun in their apartment, Jason knew he was going to return to a lecture from Y/N. She never hid her hatred for guns, and had asked him to keep them out of their apartment.

“Jason…” Y/N whispered desperately, now more awake and concerned.

“Stay here,” Jason said, more firmly this time.

Then he quickly kissed her, leaving even less room for her to argue.

In only his black boxer briefs, Jason snuck out of their bedroom and into the living room without making any sound. Y/N had always been shocked at how quiet her giant boyfriend could make himself.

Just as Jason raised his gun, he heard the familiar voice.

“Put some clothes on, Todd.”

Damian stepped out of the shadows.

To Jason’s surprise, he was in civilian clothes and not in his Robin uniform.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, breaking in like that?” Jason reprimanded as he uncocked the gun.

But before Damian could defend himself, the bedroom door squeaked open and Y/N was rushing out into the living room.

“I told you to stay there,” Jason growled.

Y/N rolled her eyes at her boyfriend’s overprotectiveness. “Obviously I recognized Damian’s voice, Jason.”

Then Y/N looked at her half-brother for a second and quickly realized Damian had come there for a reason.

“Everything alright, Damian?” She asked carefully.

“Yes,” he lied.

Jason remembered when Damian despised Y/N. He saw her as a threat to his claim to the Wayne throne. But Y/N had immediately made her intentions clear. “I have my own reputation, money, and career that I built without a name attached to me. I want nothing to do with Wayne Enterprises,” she had told Damian as soon as she realized he saw her as some sort of competition.

It took Damian months to even acknowledge Y/N. And he really only did because both his father and Dick – basically his surrogate father – scolded him for not doing so.

Slowly but surely, the two grew closer.

Y/N didn’t put up with Damian’s attitude. But she also didn’t scold him like a child. If he was rude or aggressive, she spoke to him the same way she would speak to a grown man who behaved in such a manner. Somehow it made the boy slowly start to respect her more.

Eventually, they bonded over their mutual love of the arts. Damian was impressed with her photographs, while Y/N was honored whenever Damian decided to share his drawings with her. Y/N had gifted Damian his first camera. And Damian once gave her a few lessons on the basics of sketching and painting.

Who knew Waynes were the creative type?

And it was when Damian’s pets all seemed to be obsessed with Y/N that the boy finally decided to get over his original opinions and feelings.

It was by no means a short or easy battle. But the rest of the family was relieved when Damian finally accepted Y/N as one of their own.

“How about I make us some hot chocolate?” Y/N offered Damian.

The boy just shrugged, but she noticed his eyes subtly light up.

She never understood why he refused to let himself feel joy in the simple things. It was like she could catch him stopping himself from being a kid.

“I’m going to bed,” Jason announced with exhaustion.

It was clear to him that Damian came to see his sister, not him. And he was nice enough to leave the two of them alone. Even though he was a bit bitter that his girlfriend was being stolen from their bed.

Before turning back to the bedroom, Jason invaded Y/N’s space and gently grabbed her jaw before pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Gross,” Damian groaned.

Jason glared and pointed at the boy. “You’re in our apartment, demon spawn. I’ll kiss my girlfriend if I fuckin’ want to.”

Y/N just laughed as she watched Jason close their bedroom door behind him.

“Come on,” she nudged her head in the direction of the kitchen. “Let’s make some hot chocolate. I think I have some of Alfred’s cookies hiding somewhere, too.”

“I don’t know what you see in him,” Damian mumbled.

Y/N smirked and shook her head. Tonight, she wasn’t taking the bait. 

Once Damian decided he didn’t hate Y/N, he jumped right to making it known that he did not think Jason was good enough for her. But she knew it was an act – mostly.

“Why aren’t you on patrol?” She asked casually once they had giant mugs of hot chocolate and cookies in front of them, making sure to give the boy extra marshmallows. 

“I’m grounded,” Damian muttered.

Y/N tilted her head. “Grounded?”

It seemed like a far too normal concept for a family of vigilantes.

“Yes,” Damian confirmed.

“I’m guessing that means Bruce and Alfred don’t know you’re here…?”

“I snuck out,” he admitted.

“Why did you get grounded?”

“Father found out I was skipping school. And then that I skipped the school dance.”

“Why does it matter if you skipped the dance?” She asked, clearly confused.

Y/N was also struggling to imagine Bruce caring about such a trivial thing like that.  

“Father wishes for me to have normal experiences that young man of my age is expected to have,” Damian said with a roll of his eyes.

“School dances are lame,” Y/N commented.

Damian sat up straighter, not expecting that to be her response.

“I skipped prom. I didn’t want to go,” she added.

“Why not?” The boy challenge, somewhat caught off guard by that.

Y/N shrugged. “Bad music. Bad dancing. Tacky dresses. Just wasn’t all that appealing to angsty, teenage me.”

Damian just nodded slowly, and then got quiet.

“I have no desire to be normal,” he finally stated after a few minutes.

“I’m not taking his side, but I get why Bruce wants you to do these things, Damian. You were robbed of a lot of things because of the way you were raised. I’m not saying that it’s bad or good. But I think Bruce just wants to give you the opportunity to experience the life of a – well...of a kid.”

“And was your life normal?” Damian quickly asked.

Y/N nodded. “So normal that it was boring.” She laughed, “My entire life was normal until I met all of you weirdos.”

That got a smile out of Damian.

But then it slowly dropped and he seemed to get lost in his head.

“I don’t…I don’t have any friends,” Damian finally whimpered.

Y/N was shocked by the boy’s emotion.

Damian was always composed.

“It’s like they speak a different language. And it’s one I can never learn.”

“Oh, Damian,” Y/N sighed as she rushed from her seat to kneel beside him. “I know it must be hard to try and fit in. But you’re not doing anything wrong. None of that’s your fault.”

“Father is more than aware that I don’t need the education,” Damian’s voice shook as he tried not to cry. “He only forces me to attend so I can make friends. And that is one thing I am unable to do.”

Y/N let him breathe and have an opportunity to continue before she spoke again. 

“I hate school, so I skip. And the school dance seemed so ridiculous to me, so I skipped that too – even after father specifically requested that I attend.”

Y/N sighed, “And did you tell him how you’re feeling when he grounded you?”

Damian shook his head no.

She hadn’t expected anything different. She could easily imagine Damian lashing out at Bruce when he received his punishment, saying that the requests were a waste of his time and beneath him. 

Damian was good at hiding his emotional pain – maybe even better than their father.

Y/N was sure Bruce didn’t have a true understanding of what Damian was going through.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Damian asked.

“Of course,” she gave him a sad smile. “How about we take this hot chocolate to the couch and watch a movie?”

Damian shrugged. But it wasn’t a no.

Y/N let him pick the movie.

He chose Fantasia. 

When Y/N didn’t hide her surprise, he explained that he respected the animation and loved all of the classical music. Even when they did a child-like activity, he still always found way to remind the world that he was no normal child.

An hour later, both of them had fallen asleep on the couch with the movie still playing.

When Damian felt another presence, he awoke with a jolt and grabbed his hidden knife, holding it to the throat of the intruder.

But it was Jason, gently bringing Y/N’s sleeping body into his arms.

“Once again, demon spawn, you’re in our apartment,” Jason hissed with annoyance.

The man was completely unfazed by the feeling of a blade threatening to slit his throat. 

Damian huffed.

“I’m taking her to bed,” Jason explained the obvious. Then he nudged his head at the love-seat across from Damian. “There’s a blanket right there if you want to sleep on the couch. Or you can sleep in the guest bedroom.”

But Jason paused, with Y/N sleeping in his arms, as he noticed a strange look on Damian’s face.

“What?” He urged.

“If you ever hurt her, I’ll kill you myself,” Damian growled softly.

Jason looked utterly unimpressed. “You’d have to get in line,” he answered, making sure to keep his voice quiet to prevent waking Y/N.

But then Jason’s face softened. “Look, kid, I think you know that she’s the best thing to ever happen to me. I’d die before doing anything to mess this up.”

“Hmph,” was the only noise Damian made in response.

Jason rolled his eyes and carried Y/N back to their bedroom.

In all honesty, he couldn’t fall asleep while she had been in with Damian. With Jason’s weird enhanced hearing because of the pit, he was able to catch a bit of their conversation.

Jason softly place Y/N back in bed and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. When he joined her on the other side of the bed, she didn’t even wake as she slid back into his arms.

Now Jason could finally go to sleep.

When there was a knock on the apartment door the next morning, Damian and Y/N shared a look.

“I’ll get it,” Y/N sighed.

Jason had made all three of them breakfast that morning.

But now Damian pushed the food around his plate, knowing this was the end of his small rebellion. Who knew what his new punishment would be?

Y/N opened the door to unsurprisingly find her father.

Bruce was wearing a full suit, despite it being a Sunday morning. On top was a heavy, black overcoat with the back of the collar slightly propped up.

“You could have least told me he was here,” Bruce greeted his daughter.

She smirked mischievously and shrugged. “I’m no snitch.”

Damian appeared behind Y/N, not seeing the point in dragging this out any longer than necessary.

“Alfred’s downstairs with the car,” Bruce told his son evenly.

The disappointment in both his expression and tone was obvious.

Damian looked up at Y/N. “Thank you for having me, Y/N.”

“Next time, use the actual door so you don’t give me or Jason a heart attack.”

Damian smiled at that before walking past his father and down the hallway.

“Can I talk to you a second?” Y/N asked Bruce.

Her father seemed surprised by the request, but nodded anyways and closed the door behind him.

“I think Damian is really struggling – more than you think, I mean.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed and he crossed his arms. “He hasn’t even been remotely injured from patrols in months…”

“No, Bruce,” she quickly cut off. “Not as Robin. As Damian.”

Bruce was quiet.

“He doesn’t know how to fit in, Bruce. And you’re putting a lot of pressure on him to live a normal life. Bu he’s never gonna have normal. That was taken away from him before you even knew he existed.”

“He said that to you?” Bruce asked.

She nodded. “In so few words, yes.”

“And I’m assuming you have some advice,” he quirked a brow.

“Well, yeah. Maybe you should just homeschool him.”

“Y/N, the whole point of him going to school is to be around kids his own age. We both know the education is beneath him already.”

“But that’s the thing, Bruce. He’s never going to relate to any of those kids. Going to school makes him feel like a freak. Let him get homeschooled.”

“He needs to learn to make friends,” Bruce argued.

“You’re right. He does. But not with the spoiled brats of Gotham Academy. How many superheroes are you friends with?”

“He doesn’t consider them friends!” Jason shouted from the kitchen.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Fine. How many superheroes are you acquainted with, who have kids around Damian’s age?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

“I know you like to keep your personal life away from Batman. But those are the only kids that Damian is ever going to relate to in some way. Do you get what I’m saying?”

To her surprise, Bruce nodded. “You’re right.”

Her brows shot up. “I am?”

Y/N had really expected him to fight her on this.

Bruce chuckled. “Of course you are. Out of everyone in this family, you are the only one who can say they had any semblance of a normal childhood.”

Suddenly his phone dinged and he glanced down at it.

“I have to go,” he regretfully told her.

When he looked back up at her, his face softened. “Come to the manor soon for dinner,” he asked her gently.

She gave him a soft smile and nodded, “I will.”

Bruce nodded in the direction of the kitchen where Jason was hiding. “And bring that one with you, will you?”

Y/N laughed. “He’ll go wherever I go. He’s like a puppy, that one.”

“I can hear you!” Jason called out.

Bruce laughed and stepped forward to give Y/N a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for looking out for Damian, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Bruce.”

––––––––––––––––––––

[heliads]

Crows

Everyone has a symbol on their palm that somehow relates to your soulmate. You have a crow, which led to you joining the Dregs in Ketterdam. Every Dreg has a soulmate symbol that in no way relates to you- except Kaz Brekker, as no one has seen his palm at all.

masterlist

You stare at the crow inked into your palm. It stares back at you.

You hesitate for a second longer, then snap your hand shut, letting the unblinking eyes of the black bird disappear back behind your fingers. This is the price of a soulmate, of wandering too far from your home and never finding the one person you were meant to belong to. This is the price of being a canal rat, a Grisha, of being anybody still foolish enough to believe in a soulmate in the midst of all this darkness.

Soulmates may technically be real, but people only believe in them as much as they do Inej’s Saints, or anybody else’s long-held dreams. Between the wars and Shadow Folds springing up across the world, it’s getting pretty hard for anyone to find their soulmate at all. It’s supposed to be simple- one mark on each person’s palm to designate their soulmate, a mark that will disappear at the first touch of their hand on yours. Sometimes, you wonder what mark would be on your soulmate’s skin: a flame or sparking coal, maybe, for your branch of the Small Science, or a skull, for all the death that seems to shadow your path.

The crow has been on your palm for as long as you can remember, as long as anyone has ever had a soulmate. It was there when you were born, but judging by your trend in luck, it’ll probably be there until the day you die. Soulmates aren’t for girls like you, girls who flee their homes to trade a life amongst the Grisha for a death in the gray-streaked streets of Ketterdam.

You were born an Inferni, that much is true. You witnessed the Ravkan civil war, and you were there to flee it for safer tides. You weren’t sure what cruel twist of fate landed you in Ketterdam, one of the worst places for a Grisha, but you were at least able to keep your identity a secret. You’d seen what happened to the luckless Grisha trapped inside neverending indentures, and you know what tortures would await you if word of your firestarting habit got out. So, you never spoke a word, and pretended you were just another otkazat’sya traveler in need of safe harbors.

You hadn’t been wandering the canals long before your path turned into the Barrel. It wasn’t an intentional choice, just an eventual fate that you would end up in the worst part of the twisting sidestreets. There was no escaping the Barrel, not unless you were a wealthy mercher or some other lucky sap who the Saints blessed with the ability to avoid getting dragged down into the muck like everyone else. You learned the names and locations of all the gangs like everyone else: Black Tips, Dime Lions, and most notably, the Dregs.

Your breath had caught in your chest when you heard of them. They frequented the Crow Club, some were called the crows themselves, their leader had a crow on his cane. Everything seemed to point in a glaringly obvious arrow towards your soulmate mark: a crow for a crow. Where else could you have ended up?

You knew better now. You had met Kaz Brekker, the boy with the crow cane, and you knew that any chance of finding a soulmate among his crew was near impossible. You had been walking home after dark one night when you found yourself set upon by a duo of thugs. Not Dregs, possibly Dime Lions with a bone to pick, angry that the Dregs had such control over the pigeons of Fifth Harbor. They had been expecting an easy mark, somebody they could thunk over the head with a pair of brass knuckles and walk away without a scratch. They weren’t expecting you to beat them into the dust in a matter of seconds.

No matter your status or location, you were still a Grisha, and you’d been trained by Botkin long enough to be able to defend yourself. When the goons were finally laid at your feet, unconscious, you had allowed yourself a moment to smile. It was easy to feel low, a gutter rat in the canals of Ketterdam, but being able to use your fists again almost reminded you of the training halls at the Little Palace.

Enjoying this one brief memory, though, was a slip that you shouldn’t have made. When you looked up, you weren’t alone- a boy stood before you, gloved hands clasped over a crow’s head cane. You didn’t particularly know who he was, or make the connection between him and the Dregs, and moved to get out of the alleyway before he decided to make the same mistake as the thugs. He had slid his cane in front of you, fast as lightning, stopping you in your place. “I think we should speak about your future in Ketterdam.”

You were annoyed at this sudden interruption. “I think you should leave me alone.” You had retorted, using your hand to move his cane back in front of him. You had also been irritated, both by the fight and this boy’s brashness, and slipped your hand into his pocket for just a second to retrieve a newly shined pocketwatch. No one could have possibly seen it, this tiny movement, and the boy certainly didn’t, as he let you pass without another word.

You were still grumbling when you got back to the ramshackle building you called an apartment complex, and your landlady had raised an eyebrow when she saw you. “What, have you finally realized that it was a fool’s errand to come here?” She asked, and you shook your head. “No, just bothered by some guy with a crow’s head cane. Weird prop to carry around.” The woman had blanched, face suddenly seeming to age a decade in a second.

She had bustled over to you, voice low as if terrified that the boy might be able to hear her. “That’s Kaz Brekker, you fool. He runs the Dregs. Saints, he might even run this city.” She had hurried away from you then, forcing herself back to her work. Even then, you had known she was wrong. There was nothing the Saints could know about Kaz Brekker, nothing they could even hope to involve themselves in.

You had shaken the experience away, climbing up the stairs to your apartment. When you pushed open the door, however, you saw that you were not alone. The boy from earlier was back, this time leaning against the far wall. He gestured for you to close the door, which you did, albeit hesitantly. You had no idea how he got in- you had changed the locks when you first arrived at the apartment all those weeks ago, barred the windows, made it impossible for anyone except you to make their way inside. Yet here he stood, with knowledge of both where you lived and how to get there before you. It was impossible. Well, impossible for anyone except Kaz. The Barrel was his home, after all, and you doubt Dirtyhands had ever bothered to knock.

His fingers tapped the crow’s head of his cane. “I don’t think we quite finished our conversation. You could do more than just wash dishes, you know. The Dregs could always use a new member. That, and I’d like you to return what you stole from me. I’m impressed, actually. No one is that good at pickpocketing except me, and no one would try something that daring except for, well, me. I think you’d fit in nicely with my gang.”

You had folded your arms across your chest. “And I’m meant to believe that my pickpocketing was impressive enough to warrant a visit from Dirtyhands himself?” Kaz had shrugged, the movement stiff in the darkness. “You can believe whatever you want. I just want to see if you’ll take a good offer when you see one.” After a while, you had accepted, and Kaz had left, but not before whispering something in your ear. “If you steal from me again, I will cut off both of your hands. I don’t tolerate theft, not from me.”

You had heard enough threats to know that he meant good on this one. As it turned out, however, Kaz would not have to fear theft from you again. You found a home amongst the Dregs, a home you weren’t likely to give up due to the thrill of pickpocketing Kaz Brekker. You had a room at the Slat, a place at the table, a voice in the masses. It was something you weren’t willing to trade away.

Even amongst the many crows of Kaz Brekker’s gang, however, you still couldn’t let the issue of your soulmate go. You can remember one night, late into the night’s bells when you, Inej, Jesper, Matthias, and Nina had all made the journey up to Kaz’s office, slumped against chairs and floorboards and chatting the night away. Kaz was sitting at his desk, apparently doing paperwork, but you did notice that he kept coincidentally chiming into conversations even when he said he wasn’t paying attention.

At some point, Nina steered the conversation to soulmates. She held up her now blank palm, proclaiming that at some point it had held a wolf’s head. She had been terrified, she said, terrified that she would have a drüskelle or some other weirdo for a soulmate. Matthias had acted affronted at that, but if he was feeling particularly charitable he might relent and tell the gathered Crows about how he’d had a heart on his hand, and how frustrated he’d been when it had disappeared the second he’d locked Nina away on that slaver’s ship.

Nina had turned to Kaz then, intent on poking the bear and having some sort of fun that night. “So, Brekker, what’s your soulmate mark? Or do you not do that sort of zealot human thing we call soulmates?” Kaz had raised his eyebrows, looking distinctly bored. Of everyone in the room, you’re pretty sure that only you and Inej would be able to tell that he was holding back a smile.

“I’m not entirely a monster, Zenik. I do have a soulmate.” Nina had leaned forward, intent on clarification. “Then what’s the mark? We can’t just take a gander at your palm, remember? They’re hidden by your gloves.” Kaz had let his papers fall back to the desk with a thunk, turning to her with an expression laced with both exasperation and studied disinterest. “It’s a fire. A small flame. Happy?”

Nina had looked fascinated. “Beatific. I wonder what that means. An Inferni, maybe?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Kaz. “Maybe it’s supposed to show that they’re devilishly attractive. Really hot, get it?” Kaz had made a sound that was either a dry cough or his best attempt at a laugh. “Hilarious, Nina. I see why you’re a Heartrender- you could make a person want to die based on your jokes alone.”

Nina had acted affronted, making sure everybody knew that her jokes were hilarious, thank you very much, but you couldn’t help but think about the repercussions of this. What if Nina’s first guess was right, and Kaz’s soulmate was an Inferni, like you? If your tattoo was of a crow, and Kaz’s was of flames, then surely it was too much to just be a coincidence. You’d never know, anyway, because soulmate marks only disappeared on flesh to flesh contact. Kaz always wore gloves, so you’d never find out the truth. Besides, you remind yourself, the chances of this were superbly unlikely. A crow could mean anything, so could a flame. You need to stop getting your hopes up.

Despite the possibilities and impossibilities, you’ve still been running with the canal rats long enough to know that you can’t dwell forever on what might have been. You’re a Dreg now and you need to focus on that instead. When Kaz announces an upcoming settlement with the Razorgulls, yet another one of the gangs that roam the streets of Ketterdam, you’re eager for a chance at something entertaining after a long while of nothing. Kaz will meet with the leader to negotiate their way through a claim on the various pigeons coming and going from the harbors, and that will be that.

However, this is the Barrel. Negotiations are rarely easy. This is why, when Jesper arrives as Kaz’s second, he’s shunted aside to a separate room to stay out the duration of the meeting. Kaz and the leader of the Razorgulls are on the opposite side of the street in an empty courtyard, far away from any help should they need it. Kaz was prepared for this, as always, and set up a plan. Inej will shadow Jesper, making sure that he’ll have a way out if he needs it, and you’ll be shadowing Kaz himself. You’re not sure why Kaz chose you instead of his faithful Wraith, only that he rarely makes decisions based on nothing and you would do best to follow his judgement. The times he’s let you down are few and far between.

You and Inej split up, staying amongst the rooftops to avoid detection. She follows Jesper and the Razorgulls’ second into a crowded tavern, and you head towards the abandoned courtyard. Ahead of you, Kaz’s cane taps against the crooked cobblestones as he wends through desiccated hedges and marble statues severely lashed by time. The Razorgulls’ leader is waiting for him there, but you can’t follow now. Instead, you stick to the edges, climbing stairs and making your way into the empty buildings that watch over the courtyard like silent sentries.

You’re not sure what trouble you’ll be walking into, only that it will exist in some crooked form. There’s no logical reason the Razorgulls would want the seconds in another building unless they were planning something, and no reason Kaz would agree to this at all if he wasn’t sure you could have his back when he needed it. As you creep along the buildings, keeping a careful eye on the proceedings through the few broken windows, you notice that the two gang leaders have begun to speak. You can’t quite hear what they’re saying, only a few whispers here and there.

You’re just rounding a corner, ready to make your way into a neighbouring building, when the lights flash off, landing you in darkness. Instantly, you panic. Lighting is scarce here, only the moonbeams and a couple of oil lamps, but there’s no reason they should have shut down this quickly. You hear footsteps on the stairs, along with two pairs of voices: Razorgulls, discussing how important it is to stick to the shadows so Brekker can’t see them.

Your heartbeat thuds in the dark as you realize they haven’t spotted you yet. In fact, they have no idea you’re there at all. When Kaz was giving directions for the negotiations, he specifically told you to make sure that you weren’t seen, even if rival gang members showed up. If you want to go along with his plan and make sure he lives to see the end of this shoddy deal, you’ll have to stay in hiding.

This, however, is easier said than done. If the lights were on, you would be able to see the wooden beams of the floor and tell which ones would creak and which wouldn’t, which large shapes of furniture to avoid and which holes in the floorboards you should step over. A chill washes over you as you realize what you’ll have to do. You move your fingers together, quick as scraping flint against steel, and a small flame materializes at the pad of your index finger. It’s small, barely visible to anyone except you, but it’s enough to help you get out of the room before the Razorgulls notice you.

Even as the thrill of using your Grisha power after so long sends a charge of energy through your veins, you can’t help but feel uneasy. The only reason you’ve been able to survive in the Barrel and avoid unwholesome indentures is because you never used your power, not once. Even if it was necessary, this still feels bad.

You’ve found a new hiding place in the corner of the room and move to extinguish your flame now that it’s no longer useful. However, it’s been too long since you last used your powers as an Inferni, and your concentration wavers. The flame grows brighter and you start to panic, eventually clamping down your mind and forcing the fire to disappear.

The disappearance comes too late. The Razorgulls have seen some light in the shadow that wasn’t supposed to be there and are now edging your way, careful not to let you out of their sight. You have no choice but to take them down, standing over their unconscious bodies and feeling a wave of nerves crest over you. Kaz specifically said not to mess with the gangs, but you had no choice. You can only hope that this won’t ruin his plan too much.

Quietly, you step through the room and unlock a window, letting the panes move open in the wind. Now, you can hear the voices echoing up from the courtyard, and your heart sinks as you realize that things aren’t going well. The leader of the Razorgulls has revealed his ace in the hole, that he’s got guns trained on Kaz right now. Kaz just laughs, the sound as cold as rocks scraping against a ship’s hull, ready to damn a hundred men to the depths of the ocean.

“Do you, though? Who are the men you sent up- Dirk Struik and Niels ter Avest? Your coffers may be deep, but mine are more extensive. Gentlemen, take down this man, if you please.” Your stomach twists as you realize Kaz was counting on the men you just knocked out. Without them, he’s alone with a man pointing a gun at his skull. There’s no way around this- you’re going to have to break your most cherished rule again.

You thrust your palms out in front of you, letting tendrils of flame arc out of your hands and cascade onto the leader of the Razorgulls. He twists in agony, burns appearing on his skin. He only suffers for a moment or two, however, until he becomes unconscious due to the pain. Kaz’s head jerks up, staring at you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kaz Brekker truly surprised, but he most certainly was not expecting this.

You don’t think there’s anything you can do except try to explain yourself. You jump down from the open window, letting your heels land lightly on the stones of the courtyard. Kaz seems frozen in place for a second, then moves forward until you’re standing only a few feet apart. Your breath comes wild in your chest. Kaz speaks after the longest of moments. “Where were the guards?”

You hold up your hands uselessly. “They saw me. I had to take them out.” Kaz’s eyes dart to your palms, faster than a sharpshooter pulling the trigger. He takes in the smoke still curling around your fingers, then the crow mark in the middle of your hand. When he speaks again, his voice has lost its icy edge. He just sounds like a boy again, young and confused.

“You never told me you were an Inferni.” You sigh. “It was a secret I needed to keep. You know what happens in the Barrel, the indentures and the tortures. If I used my powers, I would have died a long time ago.” Kaz jerks his head in a harsh nod. “I don’t blame you for surviving. We have all committed worse crimes to live” Your voice gains a confidence it didn’t have before. “Then what do you blame me for? You’re upset, anyone could tell that. If it’s not with me keeping my Grisha abilities a secret, then what is it?”

Kaz hesitates, as if pulling himself back from a yawning chasm. “Me.” You stare at him, at the indecision wracking his brow, then at the way he’s pulling at the glove at his palm. His hands almost seem to shake, like he’s still not sure that he’s doing the right thing. He pulls the glove off, inch by inch, seeming to dread every second that his hands aren’t covered by the black leather. At last, you see it- the mark on his palm, the flame sparking into being right there on his hand.

He reaches out tentatively. “I need to know.” He manages, and at last you understand. You move your own hand slowly, stopping when it’s only a few inches away from his. Kaz squares his shoulders, as if preparing to jump from another broken building, then closes the distance and lets his hand rest lightly on yours. As you watch, your soulmate tattoos shimmer for a second and then vanish, erasing from your skin as if they’d never been there at all.

Kaz lets his gaze linger on the empty skin of your palm, and then he seems to come back into himself, snatching his hand away like he’s flinching from a blow. You can see it in his eyes that he regrets this, that he can’t keep his hand there, but you understand. You can understand quite a lot from him.

Kaz’s voice is like the grating of metal. “I’m not somebody you want as a soulmate. It won’t be easy. It won’t be good.” You laugh quietly in the night. “If I wanted something easy, I would have never come to Ketterdam.” Kaz nods at this, something almost like relief in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.” You manage. Something almost like a smile flits across Kaz’s face. “Good. We have much to discuss.”

[lokislastlove]

Come One, Come All (dark!Loki x reader)

Summary: A girls night out to the fair takes an insidious turn.

Warnings: Noncon/Rape, knife play, oral (m&f), smut, bondage, kidnapping.

This is a dark fic! 18+ ONLY! Explicit Adult content. Please READ THE WARNINGS! Do not continue if these matters upset you!

Authors Note: I wrote another one! No idea where this came from, but it was fun to write. Still working on improving my smut, huge thanks to @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for some tips and editing the shit out of it. 😘 also I know there is a creepy clown in the pic but I feel like I have to say there aren’t any clowns in the fic. I hate clowns.

Chapter 1:

It was the kind of summer night you dream about, warm enough to keep you comfortable in your shorts and peasant top, but with a light breeze that keeps you cool enough to fight the flush of alcohol in your veins. You look forward to these moments when you are able to go out with your girlfriends and let loose, forgetting about all life’s responsibilities, if just for a single night.

“Come on!” Ash calls over her shoulder, her hand tight around your wrist pulling you impatiently.

“Aww but that looks so good” you groan as you press your face longingly against the glass barrier of the hand dipped corn dog cart.

The sweet scent of the frying corn dough wafts tantalizingly through the air making your mouth water. You friends laugh at your theatrics, having just helped you scarf down a large sugary funnel cake and a platter of nachos, the evidence of which still stains the corner of your mouth. Really, it was their fault for getting you tipsy before taking you to the county fair, everything just smelled heavenly and if you could you would try one of everything.

“Just a slushee?!” You beg as Jen steps behind you and pushes you out of the food court, giggling the entire time.

“Come on, fight the drunchies! You promised you would try that new funhouse,” Jen whines, looping her arm through yours, Ash doing the same on the other side.

“Oh yeah,” you grumble.

“Oh stop it” Ash scolds playfully. “Everyone at work keeps talking about it - it’s like a mini escape room! And I’ve always wanted to do one, please.” She rants excitedly before giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh that’s cheating. No one can resist those big brown eyes” you pout, but yield as easily as they knew you would.

“I know” Ash smirks, tossing back her long silky black hair over her slender shoulder.

“This is gonna be so much fun, I promise” Jen bumps your hip, giving you a wide encouraging smile.

You manage a strained grin as you let them lead you through the crowd. It’s not that you don’t like funhouses or the idea of doing an escape room, having always loved solving riddles and doing puzzles. It’s just you don’t like clowns, and every funhouse in your experience has at least one.

“Oh damn there’s a line!” Jen moans as you all stop in front of a large structure covered in flashing lights, the ominous ‘Tricksters Trap’ bathing your face in a violent red glow.

Garish contrasting colors somehow both attract your eye and make it hard to look at. Your pupils dilate with the lines of fluorescent bulbs burning into your retinas. The stereotypical circus music blares through the cheap speakers, reminding you of one of those old Jack in the box toys. And of course, without fail, was the obligatory clown statue hanging over the entrance, like some creepy sentinel there to guide you to your inevitable demise.

“Ugh fucking clowns” you grimace as you pass by the entrance, heading toward the end of the line.

“Yeah they definitely nailed the creep factor,” Jen agrees, her eyes shining with nervous excitement.

“I know isn’t it great?!” Ash squeals.

You stand there taking in the horrific detailing painted on the side of the metal structure. You are thankful when Ash explains there is a time limit, only ten minutes to complete the puzzle or else they kick you out and you have to try again. If you figure out the puzzle you get to leave through the mirror maze and you earn the coveted “I tricked the Trickster” sticker.

“Gotta get that sticker, or else that bitch Katie at work will never let me forget that she got one and I didn’t” Ash complains, causing you and Jen to share a look and snicker.

“Hey! Don’t laugh, this is serious! We gotta be smart and figure this out, failure is not an option” she urges dramatically before collapsing into drunken giggles with you and Jen.

“You ladies seem eager to prove yourselves,” slithers a low voice.

Startled you gasp and spin around quickly. The three of you look up at the tall lean figure standing behind you. He wears a perfectly tailored black ensemble, that matches the color of his slicked back hair. His eyes practically glow green against his alabaster complexion. His sharp cheekbones and angular jaw make your breath hitch, causing his thin lips to curve into a sinister smirk. He is stunning.

“Um, yeah. Well this place has the whole town buzzin’. Seems like everyone is talking about it” Jen is the first to speak.

“Ah I see. Wouldn’t want to miss your chance to take a stab at it” the mysterious man surmised, eyes focused on you.

“We got this shit. Right guys?” Ash assures him as she playfully smacks you and Jen.

“Well, I guess we’ll find out. Good luck,” he challenges with a raise of a brow.

You stare after him as he saunters away without another word. His hips and shoulders sway smoothly, his soft footsteps giving him a dangerous almost feline vibe, like he could rival even the most deadly of predators. As he turns to round the corner of the ride he takes one last look over his shoulder at you. Your eyes lock for only a fraction of a second but it’s enough to send a chill down your spine.

“That was weird, right?” You mutter, eyes still transfixed where he disappeared.

“Eh, just another creepy dude. If I had a nickel for every weirdo who tries to chat me up…” Jen jokes.

“You’d have like a whole 50 cents,” sasses Ash.

You are finally broken from your daze when Ash is pushed into you. You laugh and try to brush off the lingering effect of the handsome stranger, shifting your focus back to your friends. The line goes by quicker than expected, with only one group out of the three ahead of you making it out with stickers. The losing groups return to the line from a back door, bickering about where they went wrong.

Finally it is your turn. Ash claps her hands excitedly, dancing up the metal stairs to the costumed man at the entrance. His red and white stripped suit is expertly torn and painted with fake blood to make him look as intimidating as possible. With a tip of his top hat he welcomes the three of you and begins to explain the rules in his well practiced accent.

“Come one come all to the Tricksters Trap, if you’re feeling lost, just go find the map.” He sings with flair and a perfectly timed bow, directing you to the inauspicious black door.

Taking a deep breath you follow your squealing friends into the darkened hallway. Pausing to look back as the door creaks shut, cutting off the jovial sounds of laughter and chatter with a sudden slam. You flinch at the loud noise and turn back to the dim hallway. The short corridor is lined with wall to wall green velvet curtains barely visible with the green rope lights running along the ceiling.

“Guys?” You whisper when you don’t see them next to you, causing your heart rate to quicken

You call for them again, this time louder, your feet unwilling to move from the spot. It has only been thirty seconds and you are already about to call it quits. Get a grip. You take a hesitant step forward.

“You guys?!” You call shakily.

“Hey! Come on we found the map!” Jen pokes her head from around the corner at the end of the hall.

She disappears just as quickly, waving her arm for you to follow. You breathe a sigh of relief and rush after her. You enter a large room filled with all sorts of random objects. It’s as if it is designed to overload your senses. The green from the hall carried on into the room, more velvet green curtains hung on the walls that were not obstructed by shelves of books or other oddities. You saw everything from perfectly aligned glass jars filled with alien looking creatures, grandfather clocks, to treasure chests overflowing with grizzled toys.

Jen and Ash are hunched over a table with a map spread out smoothly. It was easy enough to see it was a map of the room and hallway, with what appeared to be three small rooms hidden along the wall behind the heavy green drapery. You go over and pull back a curtain and find a locked door, the other two also hiding a locked door.

“Ok so it looks like we gotta find a way to open these doors” you offer, your anxiety calming a bit as you focus on the mystery at hand.

“Hey look there is some sort of code over here by the lock on the door.” Ash hollers excitedly.

You each pick a door code and frantically search the room. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out you need to use the books on the large shelf along one wall. The first number tells you the book the second refers to a specific page. You find a slip of paper in the book with a riddle written in a blood red ink.

“I make two people out of one” You read aloud.

“You can hold me in one hand, but I’m used to fill the room” Ash reads hers, her face twisting in concentration.

You both look to Jen, “I have two hands, but I can’t clap.”

“Damn no wonder so many people failed, definitely wish I wasn’t drunk right now” Ash laughs.

“No no we can do this, it’s probably items in the room so let’s just focus. We’ll do one at a time.” You assert, pacing the room and trying to take in all the random objects.

“Two hands…” you mutter as you stop in front of a large grandfather clock. “Clocks have hands!” You yell excitedly and open the narrow door.

The heavy pendulums swing inside and you see a shining silver glint off the rounded golden end. You pull off the small silver key, stuck on by a tiny magnet, and jump in excitement.

“Holy crap! You’re a genius!” Jen exclaims running over to take the key and try it in the door.

The key slides in smoothly and the door opens with a gratifying click.

“Woo! Keep going, you are on a roll!” Ash claps as she cheers you on.

“Ok, ok” you giggle before taking a deep breath. “Two people out of one… maybe a camera? Or wait…” you realize as you stare at Ash currently checking her makeup in an antique mirror hung between two curtains.

“Ash! Try pulling on that mirror!” You yell pointing frantically at the mirror in front of her.

Her brows knit together briefly before understanding, grabbing the frame and tugging gently until it swings open, revealing a key hung on the wall.

“Yes!” You all shriek together.

Suddenly, the lights flicker and a loud maniacal cackle reverberates through the surround sound speaker, turning your elation into yelps of surprise.

“Two minutes left” a familiar polished voice echoes forebodingly throughout the room.

“Shit, that scared the crap out of me” Jen laughs clutching at her chest.

The warning gives you pause, managing to shift the spirit of the whole room. Ash giggles nervously as she watches the lights of the room transition from their previous dim yellow light to a menacing red hue. The mood lighting in addition to the increasing volume of the horror soundtrack playing over the speaker helps to put you back into your initial anxious state.

“Seriously? Is this fucking necessary?” You curse, shaking your head.

“Ok let’s get the last one guys! We can still do this!” Jen yells through the cacophony of sound effects.

“Yeah what can we fit in our hand but somehow also fills the room?” Ash reiterated the final riddle.

“These red lights make it so much harder to see” Jen complains bitterly as she rummages through the items inside a large chest.

“Lights… Jen that’s it! A lightbulb!” A smile breaks out on your face as you figure out the final clue.

“Look up there!” Ash points to a solitary darkened light bulb screwed into the ceiling.

“I got it.” Jen jumps onto the table and reaches up, unscrewing it quickly. “There is a key inside!” She shouts.

She unscrews the bottom of the fake lightbulb and received the key before handing it to Ash. Each of you run over to the corresponding doors and turn the key, squealing in delight when they all slide open.

“Is that it?” Jen asks looking into the cramped dark space behind the door.

It was little more than a closet. Barely enough room for each of you to stand in. You were at a loss. You could have sworn that would be the end.

“Guys there is a lever here on the back wall of mine, how about yours?” Ash’s muffled voice calls from inside her closet.

“Oh yeah mine too!” Jen replies.

“Do you think we have to pull them at the same time? ‘Cus mine did nothing when I tried it” Ash says poking her head out to look at you.

“Thirty seconds!” That haunting voice booms again as a tick clock sounds through the speakers, counting down your final moments.

“Ok let’s try it together!” You nod at both of them, before stepping into the tight dark space.

“THREE! TWO! ONE!” You shout, mirroring your friends calls, pulling down your lever with a snap.

There is a moment of silence as the lights of the room behind you suddenly go dark, the music and sound effects cutting off instantly.

“Did we get it?!” You yell.

You don’t get the chance to hear your friends response as the wood door slams behind you, locking you into the small space.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen

[kimistorm]

Tomato Face [Nathaniel x f! Reader]

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Pairing: Nathaniel x F!reader

Warnings: None

AN: Experimental epistolary writing!

Dear Diary.

Nathaniel Kurtzberg is the prettiest boy I have ever met, and nobody can convince me otherwise. Not even Adrien Agreste. He is also an insanely talented artist. Even if he doesn’t believe he is. And...he just happens to be the one person in the entire school who stole my heart. He is just, so wonderful to be around. He’s so sweet and kind. Okay, so I’m crushing on him. So what? It’s not like he likes me. He never could. Could he? No, stop, stop getting your hopes up. Why would he like me? I’m just, normal. I don’t run a famous blog about Ladybug like Alya. I’m not loved by everyone in the school like Marinette. I’m not sweet and adorable like Mylène. I’m not rich like Chloe. Okay, maybe not the best comparison. I wouldn’t want to be like Chloe. I’m not an artist like Alix. Yeah, those two would get together. Both of them are artists. They’d do art together. Me? Well, I just like to vegetate and binge watch Netflix and YouTube. Maybe I could become a superhero! Like Ladybug and Chat Noir! Maybe then I’d have something interesting in my life. I’d be able to practically fly around Paris saving people. People would love me! I’d be a hero! But then...what if I didn’t have the time to watch all of Jacksepticeye’s videos? That’d be so bad! Miss Bustier told us to read Le Petite Prince and to compare that to the movie. Ugh. I don’t want to do this. It’s a book for children! Well, I’m going to binge My Hero Academia.

(y/n)

To: This notebook that is definitely not my diary,

(y/n) is really nice. Pretty. Wonderful. Kind. Lovely. What is a crush? Is it normal to get butterflies in your stomach whenever you walk by a person? Why is my face always red whenever I’m near (y/n)? Why is it that I want her to notice me, but at the same time, I don’t want her to notice me because what if she sees me doing something weird and concludes that I am weird? Is it weird that I want to draw her? But what if she notices me staring at her? That’d be so awkward. It’s not like when I draw Ladybug. I don’t have to stare at Ladybug to draw her. I can just look at a picture, but with (y/n)...what if I took a picture of her? Then used that as reference? No, that’s even weirder. Then I just have a random picture of her on my phone. What if she sees? She’d definitely think I was a weirdo. Maybe Alix would know the answer to all of these questions. She’s a girl. No, that’s a bad idea. I don’t think Alix has a crush on anybody. She wouldn’t know. Why is human interaction so hard? It’s not like a drawing where you can plan out what happens and if you make a mistake you can erase it and it’s gone. Is this a crush? Is this what they call loving someone? But who wouldn’t like (y/n)? She’s got a beautiful smile. She’s very pretty. She’s very nice and kind to everyone. She’s almost like an angel. Oh….

Nathaniel

To: This notebook that is definitely not my diary,

Mayday! Mayday! I told Alix about my feelings for (y/n), I don’t know why I did it. It just happened. We were talking and it just-AH! Good news, Alix didn’t laugh at me. Bad new, Alix called me “whipped.” She said that I’m totally head over heels for her and that I should tell her how I feel, but how am I supposed to do that? I’m nowhere near (y/n) in the day. It’s always been from afar. Watching. Oh no that sounds like I’m a stalker! She definitely thinks I’m a weirdo now! She’s some ethereal being, no way I could approach her. Maybe I could talk to one of her friends. Yeah, that would work. But, if I’m near one of her friends, what if I accidentally spill how much I’m in love with (y/n) and they tell her and then she thinks I’m a weirdo! Maybe I’ll get Alix to talk to her. But then, what if she thinks I’m a jerk because I don’t even talk to her? What if she thinks that I think that I’m too good for her? No way, she’s way out of my league. There’s no way she could like someone like me.

Nathaniel

Dear Diary,

What if I cosplayed Bakugou? Maybe then I would get off of my butt and do something. Nathaniel has been acting weird lately. Not that I’m stalking him or anything. He’s just been avoiding me, and I’m pretty sure he’s consciously doing that. Since we passed each other in the hall today and when I said hi, he turned around and walked the other direction without saying anything. Did I do something wrong? It hurts. Here I am, harboring this insane crush on him, and he’s ignoring my presence. I need to get over him. There’s no way he could like someone like me.

(y/n)

TO: THIS NOTEBOOK THAT IS DEFINITELY NOT MY DIARY,

THIS IS BAD THIS IS BAD THIS IS REALLY REALLY BAD. FOR SOME REASON, AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHY, NINO GOT ME COFFEE THIS MORNING. BUT I DON’T DRINK COFFEE. AND SO THIS ENTIRE DAY I’VE BEEN AMPED UP. I COULDN’T EVEN DRAW ANYTHING I WAS SHAKING SO MUCH. IF THIS IS WHAT CAFFEINE DOES TO ME I DON’T NEED IT. THEN, AT THE END OF THE DAY, I SOMEHOW HAD THE COURAGE TO GO TALK TO (Y/N). FACE TO FACE. WHO IS THIS PERSON? I DON’T DO THAT. WAS THIS COFFEE SPIKED WITH ADRENALINE OR SOMETHING? BUT THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN! I WAS WALKING OVER TO HER, AND CHLOE SUDDENLY APPEARS OUT OF NOWHERE AND I TRIPPED. I DON’T KNOW WHAT I TRIPPED OVER BUT THE NEXT THING I KNOW MY LIPS ARE SMASHED AGAINST CHLOE’S LIPS AND (Y/N) SAW! WAIT, NOT JUST (Y/N). EVERYONE. EVERYONE. EVERYONE. EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE SCHOOL SAW! IT WAS ON THE FRONT STEPS! OF COURSE EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE SCHOOL SAW! AND YOU KNOW WHAT I DID? I RAN. OBVIOUSLY I RAN! I NEEDED TO GET OUT OF THAT SITUATION! IT WAS SO EMBARRASSING! I DON’T EVEN LIKE CHLOE! WHAT DO I DO?

NATHANIEL

Dear Diary,

Well. Today was just peachy. I saw Nathaniel on the front steps of the school practically eating Chloe’s face, and, well, my heart shattered. I didn’t think Nathaniel was that bold. Tomorrow everyone’s going to know how the two of them are dating. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.

(y/n)

“H-hey, (y/n).” You looked up to see Nathaniel awkwardly approaching you.

You tried to brace your heart, “h-hi.”

“So, you uh, I’m sure you did, you saw the uh, thing that happened on the, uh, front steps yesterday.”

“Yeah.” You answered carefully. The boy in front of you was avoiding your gaze, and it made you wary.

“That was all, uh, a mistake. Yeah, a mistake. I don’t like Chloe. At all. It was, I, I don’t even know. One moment I was, I was, trying to talk to, to you, and then she was there, and then I tripped, and then I was kissing her.” He stammered, “not that I wanted to!” he then shouted in a panicked fashion. “It was an accident.”

“Why are you telling me?” you asked carefully. Your heart was starting to rise in anticipation, but you shook your head. You weren’t going to get your hopes up again.

“BecauseIwantedtoaskyoutogoonadatewithme.” He mumbled under his breath.

“W-what?” did he just say what you thought he said.

“I was on the front steps of the building that day becauseIwantedtoaskyoutogoonadatewithme!” he shouted.

“I…what?” you still couldn’t understand what he was trying to say.

He took a deep breath and asked the floor, “do you want to go on a date?”

Your heart soared, “that thing with Chloe, it was all just an accident?” you asked shyly.

“Yeah.” He murmured, and your heart pieced itself back together.

“H-hey, Nathaniel.”

“Hm?” he asked and looked up from the floor to you.

“I’d love to go on a date with you,” you replied happily and leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips that left the two of you blushing redder than Nathaniel’s hair.

“Ugh!” a voice shouted from the end of the hall and the two of you whipped around to see Chloe standing angrily. “I can’t believe you two still got together! Even after yesterday!”

“Way to ruin the moment.” Nathaniel muttered.

“Come on, let’s go.” You took his hand and the two of you walked away from Chloe.

To: This notebook that is definitely not my diary,

She loves me! She’s not mad at me. She doesn’t think I’m weird. We’re going to go on a date together. Nothing could get me down. Cloud 9. I think that’s what it’s called. I’m on Cloud 9.

Nathaniel.

Dear Diary,

Today was fantastic. Yesterday was all just a misunderstanding. It was just Chloe being Chloe. But he likes me. He actually likes me! We’re going to go on a date together! Today is a wonderful day.

(y/n)

“Do I look good?” Nathaniel asked worriedly as he looked at Adrien and Nino. Alix was busy at a skating competition, but she sent him best of luck.

“‘Course you do!” Nino smiled.

“Maybe I should change jackets.” Nathaniel worriedly looked at himself in the mirror. He was wearing his normal purple pants, a white button-up, and his normal gray jacket. “It’s too normal.”

“If you were wearing something fancier, it’d look like you were going to prom.” Nino blurted out, but Adrien elbowed him, “I mean! You look great already!”

“There’s no need to get too fancied up,” Adrien smiled, “now come on, if you don’t get going, you might be late to pick her up.”

“Oh no!” Nathaniel panicked.

“Hey, don’t panic,” Adrien told him soothingly, “look, you’ve got your phone, you’ve got your wallet, you’re good to go. You’ll make it with time to spare.”

Nathaniel took a deep breath, “thanks guys.”

“No problem. Now go!” Nino shooed Nathaniel.

[writertitan]

Fate

pairing: levi x reader

word count: 5291 (not sorry)

themes: mentions of minor character death, nightmares, sassy!reader, confused!levi

requested by iman-the-simp

The breeze was harsh and whipped at your body as you made your way to your temporary lodging. It had been a long day of meetings with your new superiors, getting up to speed on what it meant to be a soldier, and trying not to lose your cool. There had also been a lot of spying, and whether they were aware that you noticed or not, apparently it didn’t really matter. After all, they were still trying to figure out where to put you and they knew you’d have to go along with whatever they said. Would you be most useful in the Garrison Regiment, or perhaps with the Military Police? Pyxis had basically vetoed placing you with the Scouts and part of you was relieved for that. Your set of skills were put to use when defending someone, not fighting someone. Or, in this case, fighting something. 

You shuddered at the thought of having to face a titan in the flesh. 

The door to your room came into view and you relaxed a little, ready to just take a breather alone, but the call of your name made you tense up and turn around slowly to see who was calling you. It was an MP, a new recruit, and it took you a minute to remember her name. 

“Private Hitch,” you greeted her cordially, her name finally popping into your head, but you couldn’t hide the irritation that edged your words. What could she possibly want? She’d been one of the spies you’d caught watching you today, and she’d done her duty very poorly. 

“Sorry, I know this is a pain, but...you’re wanted for another meeting tonight and I’m supposed to take you,” she explained. You noted the way she tensed around you, and the slight shakiness in her voice as she spoke to you, though she did a decent job of trying to remain calm. You could only imagine the rumors going around about you. 

With a loud and exasperated sigh, you ran a hand over your head and gave her a frown, though it wasn’t directed at her, despite her willingness to spy on you all day; you were upset with the situation you were finding yourself in, and how it somehow got worse and worse. You just wanted to be alone. 

“Fine,” you quipped, and followed her along long hallways and past closed doors with muffled voices on the other side, until you got to a familiar one. This had been one of the meeting rooms you were constantly finding yourself in these days. 

Hitch opened the door and let you in, and you stepped inside rather confidently, though you had no idea what this was about. 

You saw a few familiar faces as your eyes scanned the room. There was Pyxis, Zachary, and Dok, and...new faces. Confused, you tilted your head to the side as your eyes met blue ones, and then grey ones. 

“Who am I meeting today?” you asked bluntly, looking towards Pyxis, the friendliest one of the group. 

He was already smiling warmly, beckoning for you to come and sit. You did so, opting to sit as far away from them all as possible. 

“No need to be upset,” Pyxis told you, gesturing towards the two new faces at the table. “This is Commander Erwin of the Scout Regiment. And this is Captain Levi.” He pointed out Commander Erwin as the blond, and Captain Levi as the black-haired man. When Levi glared at you, you glared back. 

“Don’t worry,” he started, “I don’t know what I’m doing here, either. This is clearly more of a meeting for the higher-ups.” 

The last sentence was directed more towards Erwin, but Erwin didn’t indulge him with an explanation. His eyes were trained on you, examining you shamelessly. You’d only heard snippets about Commander Erwin, but of course had never seen him in person. All of this was new to you. 

“You’ve got quite the skill set, I’m told,” he greeted you. His voice was deep. Even though he spoke calmly, his voice seemed to boom. Definitely a Commander. 

“You could say that,” you replied, eyes shifting to Captain Levi briefly. The way he seemed to stiffen up and also examine you a little harder caught your attention right away. It was as though whatever Erwin had said triggered him. What was his deal? 

Erwin chuckled at your demeanor, which caught you off guard. And the fact that you were once again caught off guard by someone made you mad. It was the reason you were here in the first place. Pyxis had laughed at you the first time he’d laid eyes on you, much like Erwin, and it was so disarming. Now look at yourself. 

As soon as you realized your mistake, you fixed it. Straightening up and hardening your gaze, you met Erwin’s eyes without hesitation, even going so far as to quirk up an eyebrow. In a way, you were challenging him to just get to the point. You’d have liked for this meeting to be done with as soon as possible. 

From beside Erwin, Captain Levi scoffed a little. 

“I know Darius Zachary and Commander Pyxis are deliberating on where to put you, in their respective regiments,” Erwin began, “but I was hoping to speak with you about joining the Scouts.” 

“This is only a formality,” Zachary immediately interrupted, shooting Erwin a glare. “This is not to be taken seriously.” 

“Duly noted,” you replied coolly, arms folded over your chest as you stared between all of them. Your glare faltered when your eyes met Levi’s again. He was struggling to pick an emotion. You saw him waver between annoyance and curiosity and even confusion, if you were reading him right. And, usually, you were spot on. 

Pyxis laughed that same laugh that had taken you by surprise and gotten you caught, and you looked at him with a bewildered expression, never failing to be surprised by his reactions to things. The atmosphere was so tense. How could he always find it in him to laugh at any situation? 

“We all know you’re pushing hard to have our little prodigy in the Military Police, Zachary, but please remember that there is a process to these things,” Pyxis chided gently, a smile ever-present on his face, and then it seemed like he had taken everyone by surprise at that. Nonetheless, it got Zachary to back off and lean back in his chair, silently allowing for whatever was happening to continue. 

Erwin cleared his throat and leaned forward, eyes intent and determined as they stared right at you. “Whether you think so or not, your talents would be highly advantageous in the Scout Regiment. I believe we’d benefit from how you’ve used those talents, on the field. The Scouts also have much more experience with...less traditional ways of recruitment. It would be an easier transition than transitioning into a soldier with the Military Police or the Garrison Regiment. We’re willing to work with you.” 

It was difficult to keep your gaze fixed on Commander Erwin when Captain Levi was practically twitching beside him, eyes slightly wider now as he stared at you, clearly trying to figure you out. Your eyes flickered over to him more than once, your own gaze questioning him, but eventually you were able to ignore the captain and focus solely on Erwin. Maybe Levi was just a weirdo. That’s what you’d heard about the Scouts anyway; all of them were outcasts in their own right.

“I ask this in the most respectful way possible...you’re asking me to voluntarily get eaten by titans?” you asked Commander Erwin, your eyebrow again raised up as if to challenge him. Nile Dok, who had been silent this entire time, actually guffawed. 

“I’m asking you to risk your life considerably more than if you joined the Garrison or Military Police, yes,” Erwin answered, honest as ever. It did surprise you a little, but you were careful not to show him. 

You didn’t answer right away but met everyone’s gaze calmly, all of them very concentrated on you and you alone. Clearly, you had every opportunity to have your fun with them. Maybe pretending to consider joining the Scouts could buy you a little alone time, force everyone to leave you be. Even if just for a little while. 

A sigh escaped your mouth and that little noise alone made all five men lean in closer. As fun as it would have been to string them all along while you figured out a way out of this mess, you knew it would be no use. 

“I’m not really into risking my life unnecessarily,” you said. 

To his credit, Commander Erwin didn’t show any sign of disappointment or discontent in your answer. He must have fully expected it. 

Levi looked to him then, back to being stoic and unreadable, but you caught a flicker of something in his eyes as he gazed at his commander. The emotion was gone before you could really make it out. 

“For what it’s worth, it wouldn’t be an unnecessary risk,” Erwin said, ignoring Levi’s steely gaze. “You’d be doing something meaningful. And you’d be avenging those you’ve lost.” 

Commander Erwin’s last words made your heart stop beating. 

He got up calmly, like he hadn’t said something so earth-shattering, and Captain Levi followed suit automatically. You barely registered Commander Erwin saying something about it being nice to meet you before walking out with Levi. You barely registered that you were also standing up, following them despite calls from Zachary and Dok to stay where you were, but of course, you didn’t listen to them. You were only fully aware, fully back in your body, as you stopped at the corner Levi and Erwin had rounded, keeping yourself hidden as you peeked out and listened to their conversation. 

“- should have known you’d brought me for a reason,” you heard Levi say. “I guess I’m not surprised that you’re resorting to ‘less traditional’ approaches to recruitment, as you so eloquently put it.” 

Erwin chuckled. 

“Thanks for coming, Levi. What did you think?” 

“I think the kid’s sassy as hell. Don’t tell me I was like that,” Levi replied. Their voices were fading away the farther they walked down the hall. 

“You were, and still are, very much like that.” 

Before they turned another corner and were completely out of your line of sight, Levi paused and turned his head to look over his shoulder, meeting your gaze instantly. You felt your face grow hot but didn’t look away or try to hide; no use in hiding when you’ve already been caught. 

The quirk of his eyebrow was almost mocking as he disappeared around another corner with Commander Erwin. But, more than mocking, it was challenging. 

-

You set your laughably small sack of belongings on your new bed, taking a look around at your new room. 

Temporary bed, temporary room, you thought to yourself, huffing a little as you sat on the edge and then flopped down to stare at the ceiling, legs still flopping off the edge. There was no way you were actually going to join the Scout Regiment. No way in hell. You were just here temporarily, to learn about their techniques, their day-to-day, and how you could potentially be useful in this regiment. 

The scrubby window showed nothing but the black of night, a faint orange glow of a lantern outside the only real source of light besides the burning candle on the dresser across from your bed. The bed was creaky and the blankets were scratchy, not as good as what you’d had when you were temporarily lodging over with the Military Police. Still, you were hoping for more peace and quiet here, ironically, than you’d had back there with the MPs. 

Though sleep should have been calling your name, you fought it with every fiber of your being, as you’d been doing for weeks now. There was, admittedly, a part of you that was exhausted, but the part of you that was overwhelming and overpowering told you to stay awake, for many reasons. 

In an effort to distract yourself, you got yourself situated and put away what few belongings you had and were able to bring along with you, and then took out the leather journal you had somehow managed to keep to start writing down the events of the day. But all of that was done soon enough, and you didn’t want to waste paper on another mundane day, so you got up to exit your room and explore. 

Commander Erwin and Squad Leader Hange had already given you a tour of the grounds, but it had been quick and, if you were being honest with yourself, you hadn’t really paid much attention. Why would you, when this wasn’t permanent? This was just a formality, as Zachary had reminded you time and time again. There was no need in remembering every detail of this place. 

Silence and darkness engulfed you as you walked along the hall, vaguely remembering where the dining area was. You’d brought your candle along for extra light, fingers hooked around the brass handle of the holder as you made your way to...well, wherever you were going. 

About to give up and turn back and hopefully find your way back, your eyes caught another flickering flame around the corner. When you rounded it, you were surprised to see a head of cropped black hair that was becoming increasingly familiar. Although you hadn’t spoken to Captain Levi since the meeting, you’d glimpsed him around the grounds during your arrival and subsequent tour. His back was always turned to you, or his profile was visible but he would never look at you. Any curiosity he’d had about you seemed to have been squashed. For some reason, that bothered you. 

He didn’t look up from his cup of tea and stack of papers. But he did acknowledge the extra presence by calling out, “It’s well past your bedtime, brat. You better be halfway back to your room by the time I turn around.” 

“That’s no way to talk to your subordinates,” you said without missing a beat, fighting the urge to smirk when Levi’s head whipped around. “I’m not your subordinate, though.” 

Levi frowned at you, but didn’t look away. “Technically, you are while you’re still here.” 

You frowned at that and walked over to where he sat, setting the saucer holding your candle next to his and sitting down. 

“So, why are you still awake? Like you said, it’s past bedtime,” you said with an air of casualty, back pressing into the chair as you studied the man in front of you. Levi was definitely a force to be reckoned with. His attitude was obvious, of course, but there was something determined and unyielding in his eyes. His stoic demeanor was still edged with that same unstoppable nature. Captain Levi was definitely interesting. 

You should have known from your few observations alone that Levi wouldn’t answer your question, but it still irked you when he didn’t even acknowledge it and went back to working his quill on the papers in front of him. 

“Sorry I asked,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes, but then turned your attention to those papers with intrigue. “What are you working on?” 

“Nothing.” 

“...Can I help?” 

“No.” 

You huffed, annoyed, definitely about to say something snarky, but Levi cut you off before you could lash out. 

“This is exactly why you should go to bed, kid. You’re getting cranky,” he said, sounding almost bored. 

Maybe it was true. Maybe you were cranky from your lack of sleep. Maybe it would all come crashing down on you, the weight of everything that’s happened, and if you’d just rest, things would feel better. You would feel better. But that nagging part of you, the one that said to stay awake, whispered in the back of your mind about the darkness that was waiting for you if you did try to rest. 

“I can’t sleep,” you whispered suddenly, and it came out meeker than you wanted it to. 

Levi snapped his attention away from his papers to look at you then, eyebrows knitting together for a moment before finally relaxing back into an unreadable expression. Even then, you swore that it wasn’t a trick of the light when you saw a little bit of understanding in his eyes. But then the flame of the candles flickered and it was gone again, the emotion you couldn’t quite pin down from Levi, the one you’d seen during that meeting when you’d first met. 

Wordlessly, he handed you a stack of papers he’d clearly already finished. 

“Proofread these for any errors,” he said. “And there’s a pot of tea in the kitchen. You’ll want to heat it up again. And bring me another cup.” 

You brightened up and nodded eagerly as you stood up, grabbing your source of light again. 

“On it!” 

You took a few steps and then stopped, face getting hot with embarrassment as you remembered --

“You don’t know where you’re going,” Captain Levi stated. It wasn’t a question.

“Maybe I do,” you challenged. 

“You’re going the wrong way.” 

“I knew that.” 

-

You should have been exhausted. You should have been on the verge of passing out, rocketing into a dreamless sleep for the night, out like a light. In many ways, you were completely worn out. 

Your limbs ached and felt heavy from ODM training, and your eyes burned from being awake so long. You’d managed a few hours two nights ago, but the nightmares had been so realistic and so dark that you hadn’t been able to try and rest since then. Your insomnia headache, as you affectionately called it, was in full swing after exerting yourself all day. 

And yet, as you collapsed onto your bed and closed your eyes and tried to just fall asleep and forget about it all...you couldn’t do that. 

You couldn’t keep your eyes closed for more than a few minutes. 

A frustrated groan tore through you as you curled up into your scratchy blankets, your stubbornness kicking in. Whether you wanted to or not, you were going to get some sleep tonight. Nightmares or no nightmares, it was getting ridiculous. 

Your eyes stayed shut and you stayed unmoving, breathing evenly to try and coax yourself into some form of unconsciousness, but your mind still felt restless. 

It’s no use, you thought bitterly, and then physically jolted in surprise when the words were said out loud. 

Just not by you. 

“It’s no use,” a familiar, achingly familiar, voice said. 

Your eyes flew open and you frantically searched the room for her, but afraid to move a muscle from where you lay in bed. 

And there she was, clear as day, so close you could have touched her. 

“Saria.” You breathed out her name, hand twitching at your side, wanting to reach out and just touch her. She was right there. Just sitting at the edge of your bed by your feet, watching you with the most serene expression on her face. She had never looked serene when she was alive. 

“It’s no use,” she repeated, cocking her head to the side as her wide eyes stared you down. “How could you possibly sleep knowing you killed me?” 

Before you could even think to answer, you watched in horror as blood soaked through her dress, dripped from her hairline, dribbled from the corner of her mouth. She was getting more and more mangled as you stared, until finally, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m sorry!” you cried out, ripping the upper half of your body from the bed to try and get close enough to her, to try and save her somehow. 

Your hand was outstretched to the foot of your bed, reaching out to nothing. 

Another dream. 

The tears came swiftly after the realization hit. Just a few wretched sobs that you were unable to control, which died down once you got your bearings and a better hold of reality set in. 

“Only a nightmare,” you mumbled to yourself, throwing the blankets off of you. No chance in hell you were going to attempt to sleep after that. 

You were surprised to see how dark it was outside. The sun had only just set when you’d gotten back to your room, but now the early morning chill had set in and there was nothing but silence to keep you company. So, you’d slept after all. It just had only felt like 5 minutes compared to the hours you’d allegedly been out. 

You lit your candle and padded out of your room, shifting uncomfortably in your newly issued uniform that you hadn’t even pulled off before trying to sleep. Barefoot, you wandered the halls until you came to the dining area again, a surprising wave of relief washing over you when the sight of another flickering flame came into view. 

Levi was there again, a cup of tea at the table next to him like last time, but this time he was reading a book instead of working through piles of undoubtedly boring paperwork. 

And he’d heard you again, like he had the first time just a few days ago. This time, he didn’t make a snippy remark. He did, however, look up from his book, likely to make sure it was who he thought it was. His eyes flickered back to the pages before his mind seemed to catch up with the full sight of you, and he immediately looked back to you and set his book down for a moment as you made your way over, Levi registering that something was amiss. You saw him take note of your eyes, the same eyes you were now positive were red and puffy from your little outburst, and then he looked over your rumpled uniform and jittery hands.

“There’s tea in the kitchen,” he said simply, picking up his book again. 

You were embarrassed at not realizing you probably looked a little wild until just then, but were grateful that Levi didn’t comment on it. Now that you knew where the kitchen was, you made your way there silently and reheated the kettle, finding a small container of sugar. You poured a little less than a tablespoon into two cups after pouring out some steaming tea, nervously making your way back to where Levi was sitting. 

Why were you nervous? 

“I brought you another cup,” you started, then berated yourself internally when you saw the cup already by him was still half full. “I hope you don’t mind that I put just a little dash of sugar in it. I hate the way tea tastes after you reheat it. You can taste the difference.” 

At that, Levi’s eyes shot up and he didn’t even try to hide the astonished gaze. 

“What?” you asked uncomfortably, sitting down in the same chair you’d sat in before. 

“Nothing. I just...have never heard anyone else say that before.” 

To your complete astonishment, a very rare smile pulled at Levi’s lips, but he was gazing down at the cup of tea you’d brought him and not at you. Briefly, you wondered how it would have felt if he had looked right at you when he smiled. 

“I’m glad I’m in the presence of someone with actual taste,” you said with a grin, heart skipping a beat when Levi actually chuckled at that. 

Then, as soon as it had all appeared, his smile and his laughter died away and he gazed up at you with an apprehensive gaze. Your heart sunk, your earlier thought - hope - of seeing him smile at you squashed. 

“If you’re having problems sleeping, you should talk to Hange,” he told you, voice a little stern. 

At that, you had to scoff.

“Real nice, coming from you of all people,” you grumbled. “You should practice what you preach. Everyone says you basically have forgotten how to sleep.” 

“I have my reasons-” Levi started, but you cut him off instantly. 

“So do I.” 

Again, you began to tremble, a flash of your lost friend at your bedside suddenly coming to the front of your mind. You tried to shake it away, but it still felt so fresh. With a frustrated sigh, you grabbed your cup of tea and took a heavy sip, not caring about the way it burned. 

Levi seemed just slightly gentler by the time you spared a glance his way. His book was closed, index finger holding his place in his book, and he pursed his lips as your eyes met. 

“Need to talk about your reasons?” he asked; a clear indication this wouldn’t be a mutual thing. Nonetheless, he was allowing you safety to talk to him, something you hadn’t really expected. 

Something else you hadn’t expected was how easily you just let it all slip out. 

“I couldn’t save my friend,” you explained, gritting your teeth as the confession was said aloud. It was a bitter pill to swallow. “When I realized the MPs were on our tail, I told her to meet up with the guy who had hired us as their...protection, so to speak. That’s what we’d been planning on doing that day: meeting up with our new contract for the first time. I’m sure you’ve already heard that that’s the reason everyone is so intent on bagging me. She and I...we were both really good spies, basically. Sometimes vigilantes, to be honest. And I didn’t want both of us to get caught, so I told her to go ahead and find the guy who’d just hired us, see if he could help somehow. Turns out he had only hired us to kill us, after we’d gotten some of his guys killed from a previous job. They tortured her, and then they killed her. The MPs demanded for me to take them to the meeting site. We got there much, much too late. It was hard, seeing her like that. All because of the choice I made. And now I just...can’t stop seeing her.” 

The disgust you’d been feeling for yourself crept back up, almost made you gag, as the words weighed down on you. Levi was watching you intently, his eyes conveying that peculiar emotion. This time, he didn’t try to shield it with his stoicism. 

You shifted around awkwardly, not knowing if you wanted him to say something or not, and then you stiffened when Levi frowned and leaned back in his chair, scoffing a bit. 

“What?” you asked him, arms hugging yourself. 

“It just feels like I’m being fucked with somehow,” he admitted, his eyes back on the tea you’d brought him, and then flickering back to you. “That wasn’t your fault. You made the choice you thought was best. That’s all.” 

Although the words should have been meaningless coming from someone who didn’t know you at all, or know the situation, it dawned on you that maybe Levi understood more than you realized. Him being a captain in the Scout Regiment alone was reason enough. How many people had he lost? Against your own wishes, you felt yourself soothed by his words. 

“I’m sorry about whoever you’ve lost,” you whispered. “What was their name?” 

Levi tensed at the question and you knew you wouldn’t really get an answer. 

“Too many names to list,” he breathed out. You nodded. 

“My friend’s name was Saria,” you said, forcing yourself to say the words. It was painful to even speak her name. You felt ashamed to do it, undeserving. “She’d be more qualified for this kind of thing. I’ll probably be hanged soon or something. I’m not a soldier.” 

Levi gave a fleeting smile again, shaking his head. 

“Trust me, you’ll learn. Just survive it. That’s all you can do.” His eyes darkened, then softened, as he said, “Survive it for her.” 

As soon as he got the words out, you found yourself making that promise to yourself, and to her. 

“I will.” 

-

“You’re sure?” 

Levi’s surprise and apprehension was evident in his question, his brow quirked up as he gazed at you from across the table. It was supper time, and you’d made it a habit to sit with him and the other higher-ups during meal times. At first, he’d barely acknowledged you. Now, on the third day, and with your little announcement, he was forced to engage with you. 

“Yup. I’ve decided to join the Scouts.” You repeated the words again, tasting them on your tongue, and they didn’t taste so bitter. Just a couple of weeks ago, you would have scoffed at the idea of being crazy enough to choose the Scout Regiment. 

From beside Levi, an amused chuckle rumbled from Erwin’s chest. 

“Zachary’s not going to be very happy about this,” he mused, but he was clearly enjoying the prospect of telling him, gaze faraway as he daydreamed the scenario. 

Levi didn’t say anything else, but he gave you a wary glance again before getting back to his cup of tea. You shrugged and continued to eat your meal, though admittedly, you were too antsy to really eat. You ended up handing over the last of your bread to Levi, who shot you an incredulous stare, and the last of your vegetables to Hange, who seemed pleased. 

“Take it, I’m full,” you insisted, already hurrying away from the table so you couldn’t be around to hear of the protests. 

It was true, you felt full and didn’t have an appetite. Maybe it had to do with the anxiety coursing through you, though. Because, for once in who knew how long, you actually felt sleepy. Your eyelids drooped as you made it to your no-longer-temporary room and finished your night routine of pajamas and splashing some water on your face. You crawled into your no-longer-temporary bed and sighed in relief, letting sleep take you. 

When you felt the bed dip, you tensed up. For what felt like several minutes, you waited in silence, hoping to be called into a dreamless sleep, but you were suddenly all too aware of your bedroom, and the fact that you just didn’t feel alone.

“It’s no use.” Saria’s voice pierced through the air and made your eyes fly open. The same words she’d used before. She’d never liked repeating herself when she was alive. Dead Saria was kind of annoying. 

You wanted to tell her so many things, wanted to beg for her to let you sleep, but your throat felt like there was a rock lodged in it. The lump couldn’t be swallowed down. You couldn’t even scream. You couldn’t even move. Your body felt heavy, like lead. 

“It’s fine,” Saria sighed wistfully, a hand running over the material of your blanket. “You’ll probably be dead soon. The Scouts, huh? Wonder why you chose the Scouts.” 

And then you finally found the will to move, and clenched your eyes shut as you sat up in bed forcefully. When you opened your eyes again, she was gone. 

A shaky exhale left you and you clambered out of your bed, wanting to just get out of there and already knowing where you wanted to go and who you wanted to see. You lit your candle and made your way out, barefoot and only in your nightgown. 

The sight of Levi’s flickering candle made you feel ten times better, and the sight of Levi himself made you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

When you saw that there was a second cup of tea right in front of your usual seat, you let yourself smile. 

[novelconcepts]

Hi there could you please do #25 for dani and jamie ❤

playfully biting someone

The best part of a new relationship, Jamie reflects, is in all the little details. The strange quirks of a person you might never see until you begin dating them, until the hours spent in their company twist from nine to five to all bets are off. Getting to know someone’s body is grand; getting to know them, the heart of them, the truth of their day-to-day, is better.

She maybe hadn’t realized that, until Dani--but Dani is teaching her with every passing day just how much is waiting beneath the surface. There is, it seems, an endless supply of bizarre details to file away, each wreathing Dani in more charm than the last.

Dani, she’s learned, doesn’t like to drive--she’s tried exactly once, and spent the entire thirty-minute stretch drawn tight as a bowstring--but loves rolling down her window and letting a hand dangle in the breeze. She is great with a map, almost pathological at remembering radio stations, but frequently gets distracted by conversation and forgets to point out a necessary exit ramp. She is untrustworthy when left on snack duty in gas stations, constantly inclined to pick up a coffee or a bottled orange juice over water, but always seems to find the best chocolate in any given state.

Food, in general, proves particularly interesting. Dani thrills at the opportunity to introduce her to terrible fast food (”We have this,” Jamie says pointedly, as they pull into their first McDonald’s; “Not even close,” Dani says gleefully, and proceeds to order her a Happy Meal for the sheer joy of it). She is perhaps too invested in what sort of pizza Jamie considers the right kind (”Dunno,” Jamie says in a helpless tone, unaware that there are options. “The kind with, uh, sauce?”). There is, it appears, a right and wrong answer to crust width, cheese ratio, and toppings; the first time she orders pineapple, Jamie almost can’t bring herself to take a bite, she’s laughing too hard at the intense expression on Dani’s face. 

(“You are,” she proclaims, “ridiculous.”

“It’s good,” Dani insists, and there is no sign of a beast about her smile as she watches Jamie try the pinapple-and-bacon monstrosity and, grudgingly, admit defeat.)

She learns that Dani prefers movies at home to the theater, but makes an exception whenever a new action film comes out. Dani likes dancing, but doesn’t love strangers being able to see her do it; she’s self-conscious about her questionable rhythm, at least until Jamie leans close and murmurs that rhythm hasn’t been a problem yet, from where she’s standing. Dani likes old bookstores, new flea markets, ice cream parlors run by elderly couples who compliment her earrings. Dani likes America, as it turns out, with all its many oddities, and Jamie finds that affection infectious. She is rapidly coming to like America, too--at least, the America she’s offered through Dani’s eyes.

Dani is effervescent by daylight, chatting with strangers, eagerly returning stray footballs that land near her in the park to laughing children. She turns thoughtful when the rain rolls in, always at her moodiest when the sky grows pregnant with clouds that refuse to break open. She feels weird, she says, when the moon is nearly full, and she misses constellations whenever they pull up to a city, and there’s something about Midwestern manners she can’t seem to shake whether they’re in Miami or Detroit. 

She’s fascinating, and she’s complicated, and the good days hold just as many facets as the bad. Jamie is growing to love them all--the way Dani shrieks with laughter when tickled, and the way she grows somber at particular Paul Simon songs for no reason Jamie can understand. She loves the way Dani slips a hand beneath the hem of her shirt and holds on for dear life on long drives, her fingers skimming the edge of Jamie’s jeans. Loves how Dani can’t shower with the door closed, can’t sleep with it open, can never figure out the window latch in any given hotel room.

And she loves how Dani behaves with her alone. Not the sex--though that’s only getting better, Dani finding more confidence each time they come together; Jamie’s started to find herself pressed up against doors with unexpected strength, pushed down onto beds with her head spinning and Dani already getting to work--so much as the intimacy. They’re different, she’s learning. Different tiers of the same cake, maybe. Can’t have one without the other, not if it’s good, not if it’s with Dani. 

Sex comes easily, though it’s taken a little while for Dani to open back up again. When she does, the transition is absolute--no fear, no hesitation, her hands and lips and voice winding together to explain, If it’s just today, if I only have now, I need to be here. She doesn’t want to miss a moment, she says. Doesn’t want to let anything slip by. She wants to experience every inch of Jamie, and every inch of this country they’re exploring, and every inch of time won back from an unfair universe.

The intimacy--the way her hand always seems to find Jamie’s pocket, the way her forehead leans against Jamie’s back, the way she lets her foot press against the side of Jamie’s boot under a restaurant table--comes from the same place. That need to remember. That need to be here. If only for today, if only a little at a time, she can’t resist. 

Which brings her to the part of Dani Jamie thinks she likes best:

Dani’s absolutely unexpected need for attention. 

“Did you just--” She hesitates, wondering if she’s hallucinated. It’s such an odd little thing for Dani to have done, sprawled beside her on a motel bed. Such an odd thing, both of them with books open against bent knees and no conversation between them for half an hour. 

And still, she’s almost certain. More so, when Dani gives a guilty grin. 

“You bit me,” Jamie says, wonder in her voice. “Really?”

Dani doesn’t look particularly apologetic. “Missed you.”

“I’m right here,” Jamie says, unable to restrain the laughter in her voice. “You could, ah, initiate whenever you like.”

“Wasn’t about that.” Dani shrugs, small and clean in a post-shower sleep shirt and very little else. Jamie lays a finger between the pages of her book, closing the cover. 

“Was it a food thing, because I have never seen someone put away a burger that size, but I could always order--”

Dani laughs. “No, I just--wanted to.” She shakes her head, looking as though she’s surprised herself as much as Jamie with the simple act of leaning over and sinking her teeth gently into the curve of Jamie’s shoulder. “Didn’t even think about it. Just...felt like getting your attention.”

“You have it.” She always does, even when Jamie’s reading, or starting to doze off, or thinking about tomorrow’s leg of the journey. Somewhere underneath it all, the reliable heartbeat powering her day, she’s always thinking of Dani. That should frighten her. That should worry her very much--and yet, somehow, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. 

“I won’t do it again,” Dani says, “if you didn’t like it. It was weird, wasn’t it? Weird thing to do.”

“Very weird,” Jamie agrees. “You’re a bit of a weirdo, Dani Clayton. Dunno if I’ve pointed that out.”

Dani jostles her, shoulder to shoulder, and Jamie drops her book onto the nightstand. In truth, she loves that Dani is starting to do weird little things just to see what response she’ll get--loves that Dani doesn’t twist herself into knots, questioning an act, choosing instead to just go for it. It feels like the Dani she held in a hallway, hours before their lives had changed forever. 

“What are you doing?” Dani is giggling already, as Jamie curls against her side, nuzzling into her neck. 

“Returning the favor.”

“That--” Dani draws a sharp breath as Jamie finds a particularly sensitive spot and draws the skin between her teeth. “Um. That’s--not what I--”

She’s melting into the pillows, one hand cupped behind Jamie’s head. Her pulse is quickening, though she’s starting to laugh as Jamie rains tiny bites down the side of her throat, along the slope of one shoulder. The cotton of her t-shirt pulled between even teeth, Jamie leans back slightly, meeting her eyes. 

“Wanted my attention,” she says, the words garbled around shirt. “What d’you want me to do with it?”

“This,” Dani laughs, her eyes fluttering when Jamie releases the shirt and returns her mouth to the soft column of her neck. “This is, um. Working nicely.”

“Figured,” Jamie murmurs, letting one hand toy along the curve of Dani’s thigh. “I like it, you know.”

“This?” Dani’s head is casting back, offering more room to explore; her fingers wrap around Jamie’s, guiding her toward an end to this conversation, the beginning of a different kind of discussion altogether. Jamie smiles. 

“You. Doing weird shit just because. Biting my arm, or singing to me in the shower, or just...bein’ here. I like it. Like you.”

More than, she thinks. More than just like. It’s been true for weeks and weeks, maybe since the morning she’d tried to hold firm against pleading blue eyes in a greenhouse. Maybe. She’s more than liked the way Dani catches her gaze, brushes up against her, seeks out her attention for longer than she even knows what to do with. 

Too early to say so. Too early to scare Dani away. She’s getting brighter, getting more hopeful every day, but she still flinches from words like Christmas, like next year, like in a while. She wouldn’t cope well with Jamie telling her the truth just yet. 

Better to just do this. To learn the little details--the tiny stamp of intimacy on every step of this journey. To accept the just try it of pineapple on pizza, of dancing on moonlit beaches, of Dani’s teeth sinking into her shoulder for no reason at all. It’s better. It’s the best thing she’s ever done. 

There are so many details, with Dani. So many stories to learn, so many quirks to memorize. And there is always, at the end of the day, this: just Dani, in her bed. Just Dani, drawing shallow breaths, pulling her down into a hungry kiss as she urges Jamie to explore with eager hands. Just Dani, who wants her attention merely because it’s Jamie offering it up. 

Bit of a weirdo, she thinks, and thank fuck for that. 

[feathersandfoxtails]

I'M BACK Y'ALL.

And somehow I was living in a movie for two weeks????? Click below for some adventures and....... romance.

Seriously, I kept telling @oonajaeadira that it felt like I was living in a romance movie while on vacation.

First up: EGYPT IS AMAZING. I saw all the sights and did all the things and my history-loving brain just blew up every day. I had been wanting to go to Egypt since I was a kid and it finally happened and everything was even better than I imagined it would be. 

Second: oops, my tour guide and I fell in love??? I'm still like, how did this happen? Also, this was not the plan! 

Okay, so, being a six-months single gal, I thought, hey, maybe I'll hook up with someone on my tour and have a vacation fling. That's something people do, right? Nevermind the fact that I have never been able to have casual sex because I only have sex with people I really like. And then Isis, the Egyptian Goddess of love, put me on a tour with a handsome, single Egyptologist the same age as me. We did have to sneak around because I was terrified of him getting in trouble.

The timeline goes:

Day one: oh, my tour guide is kind of cute. oh, he's REALLY smart. smart is sexy. 

Day two: imprinted on my guide like a tiny duckling. 

Day three: the flirting begins. we both tried to figure out a way to visit the other's room, but failed because we are shy weirdos. 

Day four: the flirting ramps up! and then we both get up the nerve at the same time and hook up in my hotel room after a deep conversation. 

Day five: fate gives us adjoining rooms on the sleeper train. 

Day six: have a secret date that is the cutest thing. he definitely is in love with me. I plan to extend my trip. 

Day seven: stuck on a tiny boat with ten other people and I realize I just want to spend all my time with him. Are these.... feelings???

Day eight: still stuck on boat. oh no, feelings are real. 

Days nine, ten, and eleven: back to hotels and sexytimes.

Day twelve: barely leave the hotel room all day because it is our last day together. 

Day thirteen: very tearful parting in the morning. 

So I bring you this story as someone who has always been a bit jaded about love and despite writing an entire fic based on two people falling in love after a week together, I didn't think that was a thing that actually happened in real life. THANKS UNIVERSE; I SEE YOU NOW. 

Where does it go from here? We're still talking and had a video call as soon as I got home. He wants me to move to Egypt and marry him. I would prefer to not leave my entire life behind to move to a third world country with very restrictive laws and weirdness towards women. He's Egyptian and they have insane travel laws and wtf would an Egyptologist do in Minnesota?

So right now we're just going to see how we feel in a few months. 

Here is a photo he took of me stargazing on the felucca, literally moments before I realized I was in love with him.