#I keep it in my study so he’s always watching over me and hopefully preventing me from becoming too useless of a professional in the future

[catholicsapphic]

Happy feast day for that one guy who has been bothered by every single catholic med student during exams season since the very beginning of formal medicine education. And who also wrote a Gospel I guess?

[l1teraryangel]

In Another Life (Ch. 15)

“You can’t be so hard on them, Malik.”

Puffing his cheeks, Malik dug his lavender eyes into his sister’s azure ones. “They’re being ridiculous! And unhelpful!”

“They’re hurting and frustrated by the repeated struggle to deliver Ryou’s soul back into his body.” She tucked her jet black hair behind her ears, unwavering in her serene exterior. “Not unlike you, I’m sure.”

Kek, seated beside Rishid, quipped, “Ooh, she called you out, Albi.”

“Shut up, both of you,” Malik returned and shoved the borrowed KaibaCorp tablet away. “I don’t need an analysis. Yes, I’m freaked out and worried. But I’m still trying to do something, aren’t I?”

Tenderly touching her brother’s hand, Isis smiled. “You’ve always been one to act on your grief as opposed to sitting around wallowing. I think, however, Bakura and Touzoku-Ou are simply overwhelmed by their own emotions. This is the first true struggle they’ve faced since being reborn, and the fact that it involves the one they love most must make it much harder to handle.”

“So you’re saying I’m being a self-centered dick to them instead of empathizing?”

Her smile slipped into a pouty frown. “I would not phrase it in such a way, though I suppose my meaning is similar in nature.”

Sniggering, Kek muttered, “Leave it Big Sis to put you in your place with eloquence.” Rishid chuckled, too, but he buried his face among the pages of his book to hide his half-smirk.

With an audible exhale, Malik rapped his fingertips on the table, staring at the doorway leading out of Kaiba’s library. “Ugh, fine… I’ll go and apologize to them… Give me like ten minutes to compose a script, or I’ll ramble like a fool. Bakura would blackmail me for years to come.”

“Work on it elsewhere, Malik. You’re taking up space otherwise.”

Dumbstruck, Malik blinked and studied his sister’s stony expression. “A-Are you kicking me out?” A thought popped into his head. “Oh, is it because of Kek? Afraid we’ll be too distracting together?”

Clicking his tongue, Kek ripped a page from a spiral notebook, crumpled it, and promptly launched it at Isis’s head. “Ruuuuude.”

Without a single crack in her mask, Isis replied, “Does that answer your question, Brother?”

“I see your point. Kek, make sure to actually help out, okay? Listen to our sister.”

“You know, when you say things like that, it makes our relationship seem like incest.” Kek’s signature crazed grin spread ear-to-ear. “Kinda weird, but I can dig it.”

Gathering a spare notebook and his phone, Malik turned and waved while walking to the door. “Good luck, Sis. He’s your problem.”

He heard a distinct protest from his other self’s mouth, but the door to the library closed in time to prevent further retaliation. His eyes flitted between the end of the hall and the room where Ryou’s unconscious body and the two other-realmers waited.

“...Hurry home, Ryou…”

***

“Oh, shit…” Ryou muttered and jumped out of the bed. “Okay, don’t panic… They’re on their way, but they’re just college boys. Human. Sane. Maybe a bit horny, but not threatening.”

He knew there wouldn’t be a lot of time — how big could a college campus be? Inhaling to steady himself, he thought over the possible excuses he could use to get out of sex this time. Sick, no, tired! Too tired from his exams, could they just hang out or something…

‘That will work. Hopefully it’s a simple but convincing enough way to cool their hormones.’ Ryou puffed his breath up his forehead, disturbing his bangs, and eyed the door anxiously. ‘Okay, so when they get here, I’ll keep cool and lay low—’

Three short knocks on the door followed by some clicks that sounded suspiciously like a lock being picked brought him out of his thoughts.

“I hope he’s asleep. He’s too adorable, all curled up under the blankets, snuggling his pillow like a kitten.” There was Touzoku-Ou, or TK, as he went by here.

“Mm, I wouldn’t mind watching him sleep for a while, but I really would rather ravish him.” And Bakura, naturally, with him.

“Dibs on topping him, by the way.”

“Pfft, whatever. I’ll top you, then.”

“Think you can handle that?”

“Wanna try me?”

The lock clicked, and Ryou launched himself back onto the bed. Thankfully, due to his abrupt entry into this world, he looked plenty disheveled to play the role of having only woken up mere moments ago. He rubbed at his eyes for a convincing touch when the door swung open and revealed this realm’s Bakura and Touzoku-Ou.

“Ah, damn, he is awake,” TK whined, deflating with disappointment. “I mean, happy to see you, lovely. Just wanted to watch you sleep.”

Bakura snorted. “More like you wanted to wake him up like some perverse Sleeping Beauty.”

His accusation, rather than offending the dark-skinned man, brought a smug grin to his lips instead. “Tattletale. Well, whatever.” He hopped onto the bed without further to do, practically straddling Ryou, who in turn pushed himself upright to maintain some control of the situation. “Good morning, my beauty!”

“Not like you to sleep so late, Babe,” Bakura added and plopped down beside them. “Exams that rough?”

Ryou opened his mouth to answer, but TK cut him off. “Ryou doesn’t struggle with exams. Unlike you, he’s actually smart.”

“You’re calling me dumb, but last I checked, he tutored you, too,” Bakura bit back and shoved the other’s shoulder.

“I only needed a bit of help catching up with the curriculum. You’re the one who was too stupid to pass your classes on your own.”

“Are you picking a fight right now, asshole?”

As their argument escalated alongside their physical altercation, Ryou dumbly glanced between them. ‘A-Are they going to let me talk? More importantly, are they going to get blood on this bed? It’s such a pain to get out of sheets.’

Just when he thought TK looked as if he may strike Bakura, the two’s argument broke down into a shared chuckle. Blinking, expression confused and blank, Ryou asked, “Are you guys good now?”

Bakura’s crooked smirk and heated gaze set his heart fluttering. “Of course, Babe. Sorry, were we disturbing you?”

“Um…”

TK, smirking just as mischievously, edged closer until he and Ryou were only a breath away from one another. “Say it isn’t so, lovely Ryou.”

“I… I mean, it’s fine…”

Each of their gazes twinkled, their nearly identical expressions growing more and more fervent. A knot bobbed in Ryou’s throat, in sync with the blood surging to his loins. 

“We would hate so much to be a bother,” Bakura crooned, now shoulder to shoulder with TK as he leaned over Ryou’s trapped form. “But, since exams are officially over for a bit, don’t you think we should celebrate?”

Determined to maintain control, Ryou gulped down the lump in his throat and instead offered the smallest, shyest smile he could. “Maybe we could go out for lunch?”

Their expressions split halfway between tickled and disheartened. In particular, TK seemed pouty while he mumbled, “That wasn’t what we meant, little lovely.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Ryou pushed both men back, gentle but firm. “I realize what you mean, but I’m not… quite feeling myself today.” He snuck a glance at their faces from beneath the messy bangs framing his eyes. As expected, the desire evaporated, replaced with concern.

“I told you you were pushing yourself too hard, Ryou,” Bakura chided, voice like a mother scolding their naughty child. “I bet you caught a cold or something.”

“Well, don’t yell at him for it,” TK snapped and slapped Bakura’s reaching hand away. He used his own to cup Ryou’s cheek.

Snarling, Bakura cupped Ryou’s other cheek. “I was not yelling, thank you very much, asshole.”

The urge to be pampered and fussed over nearly overtook Ryou, but he bit his lip and swallowed it down much like his earlier arousal. “G-Guys, I’m not sick, per se. Just not feeling up to… much right now.”

His words brought two shockingly stern scowls down upon him, and TK tutted, “Nuh uh, we aren’t falling for that again. Last time you said you weren’t sick, you ended up in the hospital for a week. You’re going to the doctor right now.”

‘...Gods dammit… So much for keeping a low profile.��

***

Other Ryou paused when he walked into the room where his fellow other-realmers sat bored and captive. He expected, or hoped, to see the better version of Bakura and Touzoku-Ou, but instead Yugi and Atem greeted him.

“Hey, Ryou. Everything okay?”

“Oh, uh, I mean… It’s as good as it can be for all of us, right?”

Yugi sighed. “True. What a chaotic morning.”

Frowning and stepping closer, Ryou tentatively asked, “Did something happen?”

“Those two thieves, like the idiots they are, nearly destroyed their room. And almost killed themselves in the process,” Atem muttered, shaking his head. His lighter half patted his shoulder soothingly. Neither seemed to notice the way Ryou’s face paled.

Crossing his arms to hug himself, the white-haired male whispered, “A-Are they okay?”

Yugi flashed him a smile. “Yeah, they’re fine, at least physically. Probably worn out and super stressed, I imagine, but no damage done.”

Before Ryou could express his relief, his own Bakura and Touzoku-Ou snorted, and the latter specifically sneered in Ryou’s direction. “Don’t forget who they are so worried about, little mouse.”

Bakura chuckled. “Certainly not our rabbit, if memory serves.”

A snarky response bubbled up in his throat, but Ryou thankfully managed to hold it back, reminding himself that reacting to their taunts was exactly what they wanted. He pointedly turned away from them and focused on Yugi. “I heard a racket earlier. That was them, then?”

“Correct,” Atem sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Exasperation twisted his features. “Ryou managed to make contact, but when the three of them tried pulling him through… Apparently something is blocking our Ryou from returning to this world, to his body.”

“That’s possible?” Other Ryou asked, but then he laughed. “Of course it is. That was a dumb question, all things considered.” He stretched his arms behind his back, nonchalantly eyeing the door to the hallway. “Well, I’m sure you guys have everything handled… I’ll go find some way to entertain myself.”

From where he rubbed the stressed pharaoh’s shoulder, Yugi again smiled at the other male. “Go on and relax while you’re here. This is our problem, so we should be the ones stressing over it. You can just enjoy Kaiba Mansion.”

“Appreciate that, Yugi,” Ryou replied, already enroute to the hall. “I’ll stay out of the way, so you guys do your magic thing.” He pulled the door shut behind him, a small grin on his lips. He couldn’t replace the Ryou of this world, but maybe he could enjoy his time as a substitute.

From the day he became the prey of his world’s Bakura and Touzoku-Ou, it drove him mad how attractive he found them behind their deranged personalities and cruelty. He hadn’t been lying when he told his pair of predators he could fall in love with the Bakura and Touzoku-Ou of this realm. Perhaps he’d feel different if he experienced the history their Ryou had with them, but then again, perhaps not. After all, despite that very history, hadn’t his other self fallen in love with them all the same?

Eyes sparkling with impishness, he moved to walk down the hall, only to literally ram into Malik. ���Whoa, sorry!”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” Malik groaned, one hand rubbing the spot of his face that collided with Ryou and the other gripping a tattered piece of paper. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Without further explanation, the blonde slipped past the other-realmer and into the room behind. Other Ryou tilted his head, curious, yet he felt no inclination to pry. Far more interesting and exciting things held his interest.

Once in front of the room housing his other self’s lovers, he peered through the crack of the doorway. His vision adjusted to the dimness of the unlit, curtained room,  and there he found them, their bodies splayed in the center, unmoving. A part of him wondered if they were asleep or simply contemplating.

Quietly, he slipped in, closing the door behind him as he pondered how he should approach the situation. They certainly must be depressed over the morning’s events — they might not appreciate his company, much less any flirtations he had in mind.

His chance to greet them came to a close as Bakura’s voice called out, “Need something, little one?”

Moving closer, Ryou realized neither man’s eyes were open, yet they seemed perfectly aware of his presence. “How’d you know I was here?”

“You aren’t exactly a ninja,” Touzoku-Ou murmured, voice humored despite his evident exhaustion.

“I wasn’t being loud,” He argued back with a pout. “It’s not like I slammed the door behind me or something.”

Bakura chuckled and cracked open one eye to peer at Ryou. “You are talking to the King of Thieves. Our life depended on the ability to be aware of our surroundings.”

Touzoku-Ou turned his head, both eyes half-lidded as he met Other Ryou’s gaze. “We’re not going to be good company right now, you know. It was a rough morning.”

“I heard.”

His response earned a bark of laughter from both men, and they each sat up with clear difficulty, leaning on each other. Bakura, rubbing his face, muttered to no one in particular, “Of course you have. Let’s advertise our failure to the whole country while we’re at it.”

Frowning, Ryou dropped to his knees beside them. “Don’t be like that. There was some other… thing interfering, right? That’s what Yugi said… It’s not your fault.”

While pushing himself off of Bakura, wincing, Touzoku-Ou snorted. “You don’t need to comfort us, little one. Nothing you say will make us feel better. Not when Rohi is out there somewhere, alone and in who knows what level of danger.”

As he moved his own worn down body, Bakura grimaced, too. “The effort is appreciated, nonetheless, but you should be using this time to enjoy your freedom. Not babysit us.”

Twirling a strand of his silver hair, Other Ryou attempted his best flirty tone. “Maybe the way I want to enjoy my freedom is by babysitting you, though.”

They eyed him, equal parts surprised and amused. Touzoku-Ou laughed under his breath. “Shouldn’t you be sick of our faces by now?”

“It’s not the same when it’s you instead of them.”

A sneer tugged Bakura’s lips upwards. “Well, obviously. We are far superior.” His expression faltered, seriousness taking over. “But you should still not get so… attached. At the end of the day, the men of your world who bear our faces will only cause you pain.”

“I’m not a child, Bakura,” Ryou snapped, harsher than he meant. He definitely caught the other two men off guard, but he couldn’t force his tone to soften the edge his annoyance snuck in. He knew the difference between them and, well, them. It burned his mind, taunted, mocked. What he wouldn’t give to be able to call this pair of men his instead of those demented bastards. 

Brow furrowed, he continued, “And I am not an idiot. Your shared faces don’t blur your identities in my eyes. So, please, don’t try and lecture me.”

The two thieves looked him over, almost as if they were searching for something. Finally, after a moment of heavy silence, Touzoku-Ou spoke. “We need to pick up some things from our apartment. Why don’t you tag along, put some distance between you and them, enjoy this version of Domino?”

Relieved, Ryou nodded, his mouth melting back into a benign smile. “Yes, I’d like that.”

The men gathered themselves and headed out, Bakura shooting a quick text to the group so no one scolded them for vanishing. Other Ryou lingered only a few steps behind Bakura and Touzoku-Ou, observing them as much as the environment around him.

“It’s strange how similar my Domino City and yours are,” He commented for the sake of conversation. “Mine feels almost like a dystopia to yours. Like… It’s run down, kinda sketchy, y’know?”

“We’re still in the upper city, though I’ll be curious to know if the location of your apartment lines up with ours,” Bakura replied, hands stuffed into his pockets, gaze focused straight ahead. There was an aloofness in the way he presented, like he still wanted to insist on a certain distance between him, Touzoku-Ou, and this Ryou from another realm. But, of course, having such a minimal reference for normal behavior, Ryou failed to detect the withdrawn mannerisms.  

For his part, Touzoku-Ou attempted to mimic Bakura’s demeanor, but he betrayed himself by flicking his eyes back to his boyfriend’s doppelganger. Ryou smiled brightly each time they made eye contact, and the thief king finally sighed.

“...Bakura’s right, Ryou. Even if you understand we are different from them, you still shouldn’t get attached to us.”

The other-realmer narrowed his eyes and scoffed. “Why? What does it matter?”

“Because,” Bakura halted, whirling to face the other male, “you can’t stay here. Eventually you have to go back to your realm.”

The truth bit him, but his eyes rolled instinctively. “I’m aware, you two. I’m not going to throw a tantrum over it just because I like your company. If anything, it seems like you two are the ones more concerned about being attached.”

Touzoku-Ou sighed again, eyes clouding with an emotion Ryou couldn’t place. “It’s painful, seeing your face and hearing your voice. You’re identical to our Ryou in almost every way. But you aren’t him.”

Despite his efforts, Ryou felt his temper flare.  “Then why invite me along with you, if I’m such unpleasant company? I would have stayed at the mansion.”

Both thieves shook their heads, and Bakura answered, “Because you wanted to spend time with us, and you deserve to be able to have things your way for once.” Pause. “And he said you were painful company, not unpleasant. We can enjoy hanging around you and find it difficult at the same time.”

“I don’t need your pity, though. And I don’t want to be a nuisance when I’m already an uninvited guest in this realm,” Ryou mumbled and shuffled his feet, avoiding eye contact as his temper faltered into guilt. “If you want me to leave you alone, all you have to do is say so.”

A hand clamped down on his head, and he peeked up at Touzoku-Ou. Sadness. The emotion glazing over his eyes was a wistful sadness. But there was warmth, too.

“We wouldn’t ask that of you. While you’re here, do what you want to, Ryou. Whatever you want to.”

Relenting, Bakura patted the brown-eyed boy’s shoulder. “You’re a free man. They won’t touch you while all of us are around.”

“Free, huh?” The word sounded foreign. “Free to do whatever I want?”

Though they nodded, Ryou couldn’t be totally comforted by the words. Because he knew all too well they weren’t entirely truthful. He was free to do anything he wanted.

Except stay.

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

AO3 Link: In Another Life - Chapter 15 - LiteraryAngel - Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

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[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

Summary: Din realizes he may need to alter his approach

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

I AM SOOOOO SORRRY!!! I was so exhausted yesterday, I came home and just went right to bed. I tried editing yesterday and I was just falling asleep as I was typing.

I do apologize for the delay, but hopefully you'll enjoy this.

Love oo

Due to the past history of the OC there will be discussions alluding to past domestic abuse, please note that as it could be a trigger for some.

Warnings: Fear, mentions of imprisonment, mentions of injuries and pain, discussions of weapons, learning to shoot, mentions of privacy, and a curious son, annoyance, over reaction, I think that's it, if I miss anything please let me know.

AO3 Link |   Words: 1,035 |   Previous -> Next

Main Master List   |  Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

THE RAZOR CREST SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

The lock on the door freaked me out more than I realized, thankfully it only lasted for a brief second, but the panic that arose in me nearly left me breathless. I couldn’t help it, as I thought back to the closet door that only locked from the outside. The hours I spent locked in there, when I stepped over the line, or when I smiled too long at any other man but him, or if I wore the wrong outfit. My body would be bruised and in pain, but there was nothing I could do, as I tried to find my way in the dark. The memory made my blood run cold, I felt frozen with fear.

I closed my eyes for a second, reminding myself this wasn’t the closet, Din wasn’t him, and I was free to leave.  

Din watched as her face went through a fleet of emotions one right after the other. There was nothing he could do as the happiness she had been feeling earlier evaporated, like snow on a spring morning, at the mention of a lock on the door. It seemed as though the idea of being imprisoned freaked her out more than he realized. There was no doubt in his mind, she had definitely been through some sort of trauma. It was something he’d have to keep in his mind when it came to locking the place up at night, or making sudden moves around her. 

“The inside lock on the door is fine.” I finally answered, as my mind focused on the kindness this man so far had shown me, “I don’t know why, but I’m choosing to trust you.”

He nodded in understanding, she was choosing to trust him. Earning her trust was more meaningful then he realized, “Then, I’ll make sure to do what I can to keep it. Ann, just so you know, we will respect your privacy. I’ll never step in here without express permission, but you’ll also have to remember I have a very young son who has a way of getting into trouble.”

I chuckled as I listened to his calming voice, “I appreciate you saying that, and I know you’ll try your best to keep earning my trust and respect. And just so you know, I don’t mind him being in my room, it’s not like I have anything dangerous lying around.”

“Doesn’t matter, we’ll still respect your privacy.” He stated with a finality to it, no one dared to question.

I simply nodded in appreciation, he didn’t have to go out of his way to make me feel safe, but he did. I appreciated his kindness and consideration.

“Speaking of dangerous” Din lowered his voice as he walked a little further into the room, “there’s a weapons cabinet in my study. It’s always locked. However, if I’m not home, please check it from time to time to make sure no guns are missing. I trust my son, but there are times when he lets his curiosity get the best of him.” His voice was low afraid of being overheard. It wasn’t because Vance didn’t know about the cabinet, but it became a habit whenever he was talking about weapons especially in the house. He always made sure to protect Grogu, prevent him from overhearing anything he shouldn’t. Din was adamant he didn’t want his son getting his hands on anything that could hurt him or anyone else. “It’s down the hall from the living room, the key is hanging on the back of the cabinet, near the top middle. If you’re wondering why I keep it there, it’s simple, it’s the only place Grogu can’t reach.”

It surprised me at first to hear he had a weapons cabinet in the house, although now that I think about it really shouldn’t. After all, we were out in ‘God’s country’ so it wouldn’t be surprising, if a rancher had a weapon’s cache on his property. I was impressed with Din and respected that he took weapons safety as seriously as he did. If his son was as curious as he made him out to be, it was good to be keeping on eye, on anything that could potentially be harmful.

“I’ll make sure the weapons are kept locked, to keep ‘Grogu’, I think you said his name was?” Din simply nodded, “Keep Grogu safe. And you don’t need to worry about me touching them, cause I can’t fire a blaster to save my life. So no need to worry there.”

“Well you’re in God’s country, which means you’ll have to learn eventually. There are a lot of wild animals out here, so it’ll be better if you learned how to handle yourself. Anyway, we can discuss that further down the road. There is also another weapons cabinet in the barn, key is located in the same spot.”

“Why two weapons racks?”

“Depends on where I am, and how quickly I need to get to a blaster”

“You expecting a Mandalorian squad to come parachuting down?” I smirked.

Din curled his hand by his side, “Excuse me! Let’s get something straight, I don’t ask questions, you don’t ask questions, deal?”

His tone of voice and the bridled anger threw me off. It was as though a switch had been flipped, and I said the wrong thing, once again. 

Flashbacks of a disappointed face, and curled fists came flooding into my mind. I tried my best to swallow the fear down, I had completely forgotten what it felt like to truly disappointment someone, to have that look of utter and sheer mortification of steeping over the line, focused on me. Granted, Din hadn’t yelled, hadn’t cursed or done anything to really make me feel small, not like him, but for a brief moment, the tone, the firmness behind his statement made me think of my ex’s looming, domineering presence. I swallowed the nervousness I felt, taking a step back as I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to calm down, reminding myself I wasn’t in danger. I was safe. 

Din regretted his reaction instantly, seeing her face have the same blank expression from before, made him feel guilty and scuzzy.  

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Main Master List   |  Once Upon a Time on the Razor Crest

@littlemisspascal@sprout-fics@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24 @spicymcnuggies @lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @tortor-mcgee @sarcasmismyonlydefense24 @chiyo13

[betweenthetimeandsound]

OC Interview III (tag game)

Thanks @basalamander-corner for tagging me! Sorry it took a while to do so, but here it is! This time, here's Queen Aleria Semaine of Carina and its Territories!

Are you named after anyone?

I think my parents were trying to give me something auspicious, something worthy of a princess of my stature. The Aleris are all about fighting for the light, and that radiated down to myself.

When was the last time you cried?

I don't know when, but a few weeks earlier, I thought of my sister Ekaterina and cried. I don't know how we became royals of opposite realms; I thought she would always be my side.

Do you have kids?

I have a sweet daughter, named Teranesia Manevie. She's twenty-two and is looking to be a worthy heir to the throne. She's good in how she listens to her fellow students at university and has a nice run in her test reign.

I also had a son, but...he was not long for this world.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I'm not sure what you mean by that, do you?

What's the first thing you notice about people?

Their intents and how they compose themselves in the room. If I could read out what they want before they say anything, it's to my advantage. Unfortunately, only those who control the mind could master that skill.

What's your eye colour?

An emerald green--fitting for somebody within my line. In the right light, you could see the sun in them.

Scary movies or happy endings?

What is a movie? (somebody goes to her ear and tries to explain)

I don't watch them very often, but I do enjoy a good theatre. And I need it it end well, otherwise I cannot have my rest.

Any special talents?

I have control over the air; I found out about my powers when I was fifteen years old. While I think my diplomatic achievements are important to me, I think my abilities to control the weather and to speed through the forests are also a nice achievement, and could make me a legend. (laughs)

Where were you born?

I was born in Kornye, the capital of my realm! Apparently, before I was born, somebody accidentially launched a firework at the palace, and all the grounds had to go on lockdown. My late mother, Clarisse, jolted and hid in the catacombs when her water broke. It took a while for them to give birth to me.

Do you have any pets?

I keep an assortment of birds in the Birdia; a special place in Kornye where they are allowed to fly freely. I don't manage them because of my current affairs, but I still cherish them as they were my own. Hopefully, the next generation of Carinians will be able to enjoy them.

What sort of sports do you play?

Does running count? Because I could beat you in that anytime.

How tall are you?

Around average for women...would that be 1.65 meters in your world? 1.7 meters?

What was your favorite subject in school?

Carinian philosophy and literature--not only because I enjoy a good book, but also to understand my country's psyche a little bit more. Recently, I've read a poem by an anonymous soldier, who though the sea would make him better, but the sirens to took him away instead. They might not sing as well as in your world, but they have great powers.

I always enjoyed learning about the extent of my powers, though struggling to prevent a storm front before a coronation was quite intense.

What is your dream job?

Who could say that they don't want to be queen? (laughs)

That being said, if I had to give up my throne, I would retreat myself back into the universities and be a scholar. What would I study, I'm not sure, but I could be sure that it's something worthwhile. Or I could teach others calligraphy--people have really tried to copy my signature these days.

@charlies-storybook, @forever-and-almost-always, what about you?

[queentheweeb]

Denki Kaminari X Male Reader

A/N: I'll be damned to make Denki stupid, he is not. He made it into the hero course afterward. He is oblivious though

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You and Denki have known each other since you both were in diapers. The two of you always went to the same schools, and same classes, would hang out with each other, and helped each other out when it came to bullies. It was a surprise when the two of you got accepted to U.A as well as the same class!

"This is amazing Denks! We will never be separated!" You were jumping up and down before tackling the electric boy in a tight hug. The two of you were at his house both of your parents celebrating with you guys 

"We can really make our own hero agency! We can take on interns and even be a part of the top 10!" The excitement was contagious and you guys had a big dinner at his house. You left with a promise that you would try your hardest and never fall behind either!

When you came back home that day, you had a little bit of an epiphany. You were gay, and your first crush was Denki your childhood and now best friend. This was going to be an issue and hopefully, it wouldn't get in the way

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Newsflash it got worse. The crush didn't go away but, you were not about to risk a lifelong friendship for some romantic feelings that you can get rid of if you had some reprieve from him. Which is never going to happen because the two of you were stuck together like white on rice. Damn. You watched as Denki got sucked into a conversation with Jiro and the rest of the bakusquad about God's knows what. Your eye twitched as Jiro stabbed him with his ear jack. Normally you'll find it funny but, your current thoughts are preventing that. Snap out of it. You took a deep breath and turned from the scene before your body responded instead of your brain. 

"Y/N-kun! You're going to be late to the study session! We need to keep our grades top tier!" Your eyes almost rolled but, you stopped it at the last moment. Iida-kun didn't deserve your attitude, he deserved some annoyance with how eccentric he was and he didn't even realize it. 

"I'm on my way Iida just let me grab some food." You rushed off to the kitchen before he can get any ideas to grab you. You made yourself a taco salad being sure to clean up after yourself so you don't have to hear Bakugo's mouth. You can deal with him but, sometimes you wanted a zipper for his mouth or at least a remote to turn down his voice volume. One can only dream. You had a huge bowl on purpose because you knew Denki was going to look at you like he always does and is going to want some. 

"What you got there Y/N." You paused waiting for him to come to you and get in your personal space to eat out of your plate like he always did. He always used your spoon to eat as well. You tried not to think too hard about how the two of you indirectly kissed daily since it fueled your crush even more.

"Taco salad. Wanna try?" You watched as he used your spoon and ate a few spoonfuls. Iida had given up and decided to just wait for you upstairs in his room where the study session was being held. Last week was Shoto so this week it was Iida's turn. 

"This was good, maybe later on you can make a big one and we can share that one?" You nodded your head. "You're the best!" He kissed your cheek like he always did before heading back to the squad and you headed upstairs face aflame.

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

"So, when are you going to tell him?" Denki looked over at Sero with a raised eyebrow 

"Tell Y/N what?" He watched as they all rolled their eyes hard. What did you miss?

"That you like him." Denki gave Mina a weird look not understanding too much about what she was insinuating

"I don't know what you're insinuating but, I love Y/N. He's my best friend and he knows that." They collectively groaned and he stared at Bakugo who was already glaring at him. He knew he would give it to him straight. "I know you won't beat around the bush so what are they talking about Bakugo?" 

"You're an oblivious idiot if you don't realize how much Y/N is in love with you. Yes, he loves you but, you need to realize that he is in love with you and you're in love with him too. You're too much of a dumbass to not notice though." Denki scrunched up his face and scratched his head. He wasn't in love with Y/N, right? He wasn't? It bothered him whenever he spent time with his friends but, that's normal! They are best friends! They cooked for each other, did homework, trained, and had sleepovers whenever they go home. That's normal. That's their normal.

"I can hear the cogwheels turning." He gave Mina the finger who just laughed. Now he needed to test some things before popping the big question.

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"If any of you ask me anything else about Denki I'm going to spazz." He glared at Ochako and Asui the troublemakers. They always managed to drag in Shoto and Izuku into the mix and its kind of hard to ignore them when you only have Iida on your side to help you for the sake of studying, training or whatever other kind of work. 

"We know you like him already that's not the issue here, the issue is when you're going to make a move!" You're not going to be making any moves! You didn't want to.

"None, now let's focus." For once they dropped it and went from gossiping mode to work mode which was greatly appreciated. Even though your mind was racing about what you can do to maybe hint at. Knowing Denki he was oblivious and had no idea about your ulterior feelings.

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

Denki had a plan. He was going to act the way he always does but, add a little spice to it. He waited for Y/N to come back downstairs which he did with the empty Taco bowl. He waited for him to get into the kitchen before sneaking up behind him to wrap his arms around his midriff. 

"D-Denks! You scared me!" He pouted before turning back to the sink. He started washing the dishes even though the arms around him and the body pressed tightly against him didn't move "Denki?" 

"Shhh, keep washing the dishes I'm comfy here." Little did you know that Denki was smirking as he watched your cheeks stay a pretty red color. Phase 1 was complete and it was a positive reaction. Once the dishes were washed that's when he stepped away to watch the flustered mess. "Come to my room later on okay?" Denki got confirmation for the final phase so now, he got to continue to do everything in between.

"Maybe I did have a crush on him all this time."

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You didn't know what had gotten into Denki but, you weren't about to complain or tell him to stop. This was a dream come true! Were you wary a little bit that he was playing with you? Maybe but, the positive feelings overrode that. He's Denki! He's not mean or nasty unless you absolutely deserve it. Maybe this was a sign...

"You're thinking awfully hard? Does it have anything to do with Denki?" Ochako was a whole-ass menace. She should be worried about her and Izuku dancing around each other. They were worse than Iida and Mei as well as Asui and Tokoyami. 

"We both know it's Denki, now the real question is when you and Izuku are going to stop dancing around each other." She sputtered and started floating while Izuku fainted. 

"Y/N-kun that is highly inappropriate!" You turned to Iida with a smirk

"Want me to talk about Mei?" He shut up real quick and Asui was smart to not say anything for once. Good. "Now if you'll excuse me I got something to figure out." You left them to contemplate life going to the kitchen where it was Denki's turn to cook. Once Bakugo approved of his food he was able to actually cook. You decided to saunter over trying to surprise him but, ended up being the one surprised

"Gotcha!" He snagged your arm swinging you around and pinning you against the counter. He was an absolute menace. He had his whole body pressed against yours. "Nice try. You got to be quicker than that." He pressed three kisses to your face and the only reason you haven't fallen was that he had his body against yours. "You're really good looking you know that? Any guy would be lucky to have you." He traced a finger down your jawline making you shiver 

"I don't want any guy I want you dammit." You gulped as Denki trailed a finger over your lips and back onto the side of your face. 

"Let me finish cooking, you can head up to my room and get comfy." There were too many implications in that one sentence. You froze when he rubbed his nose against yours. You felt his breath on your lips and fuck you weren't going to make it out this day alive. He finally let you go and you made a beeline for his room ignoring everyone. You were high strung and before you can overthink in his room you changed out of your uniform and put on one of his shirts. You stayed in your boxers and socks like always even though the air between the two of you felt different. However, you weren't the only one in a mess. 

"You're going to be a great man! He's going to love this, I promise." Denki gave a shaky smile to Kirishima for the encouragement and without saying anything headed straight for his room where he knew you were waiting. He had two bowls of your favorite food. Once he got to his room and opened the door he almost dropped the bowl. You were laying down on your stomach with your legs and ass exposed. He will admit he was staring hard and he felt his heart palpitate when he saw you in his shirt. You always dressed like this but, once he was forcibly made aware of his feelings this was different. He was in love with his childhood best friend.

"Denki, um, hi?" You felt like someone was staring so when you turned you saw Denki had put the food down and was staring openly at you with a bright blush. You refused to move his eyes from his and turned over onto your back. That was enough for Denki to strip down to his undershirt and boxers and jump on the bed right on top of you. You were ready for the weight but, yelped when he turned the two of you over for you to be on top of him. "Is this okay?" 

"More than okay. In fact, I need to do something else." You tilted your head at him only to gasp when he pulled you down for a kiss. You automatically kissed back even though your brain didn't catch up with your body. You knew what your heart wanted before your brain. It was a nice kiss. Gentle but, firm. Tentative but warm. "Was that okay?" You gave him a smile pecking him on the lips one more time 

"More than okay." He smirked pulling you down for more snuggled and kisses. The two of you were on cloud nine and that was okay. "Be my boyfriend?"

"Of course." He pulled you in for a squeeze not letting go. This was okay. You guys can talk in a bit or maybe when you're eating but, right now? At this moment? This was your heaven.

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Hope you guys enjoyed this!

[wizardimagines]

jealousy, part 2, draco x reader

pairing: draco malfoy x reader word count: 1,6k summary: you and ron becomes closer as you help him study, draco doesn’t take this new relationship well. a/n: here you guys go !! part 2 of jealously,, i’m in shock as to how many of u liked part one !! i’ve gotten such amazing feedback and it makes me super happy so thank u so so much <3 i’m gonna be completely honest tho and let u guys know im really unhappy with this one , i feel like it could be a lot better and i might actually rewrite it at some point . but hopefully it’s somewhat ok, enjoy !! <3 READ PART 1 HERE

warnings: TW !!! mentions psychical abuse

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The following week was exhausting. You hadn’t seen Draco for a couple of days, doing everything you could to actively avoid him. The truth was you were scared. You were terrified, to say the very least. You had no clue what to say to him at this point, afraid that you were just going to make him even more upset than he already was. You didn’t even know if you two were a couple anymore, and the thought of it made your heart shatter into a million pieces.

You also distanced yourself from Ron. You knew the whole situation happened because of your friendship with Ron, and the only solution you could come up with was simply to stop being friends with Ron. He had approached you multiple times, asking you if you were free and wanted to go study, but you had declined each offer. You felt absolutely terrible, you truly did like Ron and you enjoyed spending time with him. But you knew your relationship with Draco was more important than any friend you had and at this point, you’d give up everything to fix your relationship.

It felt so hopeless. You skipped every class you had with the blond boy, you didn’t even dare look his way whenever you walked into the great hall to eat breakfast, petrified of your eyes meeting his icy ones. Today was no different. Everyone was in class, everyone but you. You knew you would have to face Draco sooner or later, today was just not the day. You were sitting in the library, trying your best to distract yourself by reading a book. However, it wasn’t going too well. You couldn’t focus on any of the words and your thoughts kept wandering off, thinking about other things. Suddenly, a warm hand was placed on your shoulder, making you snap out fo your thoughts. ‘’Why aren’t you in class, Y/N?’’ A similar voice said behind you, making you turn around so you could see who the person was. In front of you stood Ron. ‘’Ron,’’ You let out, feeling somewhat relieved it was only Ron. You shut the book close as the red-haired boy sat down in the chair next to you. ‘’You scared me.’’ You chuckled lightly, looking down at your lap where your hands were resting. ‘’Sorry about that,’’ Ron answered. ‘’But why aren’t you in class?’’ He repeated himself. 

You didn’t know what to tell him. You knew it wasn’t a secret that you were avoiding Draco, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to admit it. ‘’I just,’’ You started, biting your bottom lip nervously. You were still staring at your hands,  nervously playing with them. You just couldn’t bring yourself to look at the boy in front of you. ‘’I have to go.’’ You blurted out, quickly standing up. ‘’Y/N! Wait,’’ Ron let out behind you, standing up as well. ‘’What’s going on with you?’’ Worry lingered in his voice, and you couldn’t blame him.

You felt your bottom lip starting to tremble. That was when you noticed the tears that were welling up in your eyes, making you shut them close to prevent the tears from hitting your cheeks. ‘’Whatever it is that’s going on, I’m here for you, you know?’’ He said, placing his hand on your shoulder once again. You took a deep, shaky breath as you turned around and fell straight into his arms. You could tell he was surprised, but quickly wrapped his arms around you. You let the tears fall silently down your cheeks. ‘’Hey, it’s okay,’’ He mumbled as he stroke your back using one of his hands, the other one holding the back of your head. ‘’I think Draco broke up with me,’’ You quietly whispered into his shoulder, tears still falling from your eyes. ‘’Bloody hell Malfoy,’’ Ron muttered under his breath, pulling you closer to him.

At this point, you didn’t even care about the whole ignoring Ron thing you had planned to keep until you fixed things with Draco. The feeling of someone holding you and being there to comfort you finally made you feel a little bit better. Ron’s warm hands were nothing compared to Draco’s cold, lanky hands but it didn’t matter at this point. ‘’I’ll walk you to your dorm,’’ He mumbled as he pulled away from the hug, spotting your tear-filled face. He slowly wiped the tears away using his thumbs, making you nod. ‘’You can start walking, okay? I just need to go get my things and then I’ll catch up with you.’’ He said, giving you a small smile. You nodded once again, giving him half a smile.

The halls were empty. You weren’t complaining though, you didn’t want anyone to see you like this; like a crying mess. You slowly walked down the hall, taking your time as you looked out each window you passed. The weather had somewhat cleared up, dark clouds still covering the sky. ‘’Y/N?’’ A voice suddenly called out, making you turn your head to the side. And there he was. His eyes were dark, not the usual bright blue color they always used to be. As soon as your eyes met his, your heart dropped. You felt your throat tighten up as you felt completely paralyzed. You felt your eyes widen as you suddenly realized that you had to get away, quickly. You turned around, quickly making your way down the hall without saying a word to the blond boy. ‘’No, wait!’’ He shouted behind you, grabbing your wrist.

Your wrist. The same wrist he had grabbed that night. The same wrist that now had a bright red mark from his tight grip. You felt the pain shot up your arm, making your eyes well up with tears once again as you cried out in pain. You quickly snatched your wrist away, holding it with your other arm as you bit your lower lip in pain. Draco looked at you in confusion before looking down at your arm, spotting the red mark. He felt the guiltiness and pain hit him all at once. His heart dropped as he realized it was him that had left that mark. ‘’Y/N,’’ He whispered, his facial expression softening. You quickly looked up at him, tears falling from your eyes as you took a shaky breath. He slowly reached out to you, making you jump. 

He froze. ‘’I’m not going to hurt you,’’ He let out, pain and shame lingering in his voice as his eyes teared up. ‘’Please don’t be scared of me, I would never hurt you,’’ He continued, shaking his head as a tear hit his cheek. Draco had never felt such pain. He had felt pain multiple times during his lifetime, but nothing could compare to the pain he was currently feeling. You just stood there, staring at the boy in front of you. You didn’t know what to say or do, so you just let the tears fall down your cheeks. ‘’I’m so sorry, please let me hold you,’’ He mumbled as he tried his best to hold back the rest of the tears, slowly walking towards you. You watched as he got closer to you, terrified of what could happen next. But Draco slowly put his arms around your waist, burying his head between your neck and shoulder. You felt a sob escape his lips.

‘’I’m so sorry,’’ He kept repeating it over and over again between sobs. You slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, you had never seen him in this state before. ‘’I don’t know what happened. I was just so angry,’’ He sobbed. ‘’But why?’’ You whispered back. ‘’Because I really thought I was losing you,’’ Draco responded. You slowly pulled away, Draco looking at you in fear as you did so. ‘’Please don’t go,’’ He whimpered, his bottom lip trembling. You grabbed his hands as you shook your head. ‘’I’m not leaving, Draco.’’ The boy in front of you closed his eyes as he grabbed onto your hands harder, like he was scared you were going to leave anyway. ‘’I’m so sorry for saying all those things,’’ He cried, pulling you back into a tight hug.

This time he placed his head on top of yours, placing one hand behind your head and the other one on your back. ‘’And I’m so incredibly sorry for hurting you like that,’’ He whispered. You pulled yourself closer to him, placing your head on his chest. You could hear his heart racing, as well as his shaky breath. ‘’I will never lay a finger on you again, I promise,’’ He continued, making you sigh. ‘’Please just hold me Draco.’’ You whispered, causing the taller boy to pull you closer to him immediately. You closed your eyes as a tear escaped from your eye, Draco pressing multiple kisses on top of your head.

You knew it would take a while to forgive Draco, but it didn’t matter. You were willing to do anything for him, just like he was willing to do anything for you. ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

TAGLIST: @justmesadgirl @thefandomplace @kodydoescrap @slytherinsunrise @xdracosmalfoyx @imjustboredso @lexi-ravenclawdracomalfoy @retrouvailessx @night-girls-world @andressavp @inurealiyah @lilgoddesshines @iamaspicytriangle

[sector-i-closed]

She's a Goddess?

Hades!Yunho x Persephone!reader x Hades!Seonghwa since I decided to do another of this au with 2 out of 8 makes one king

Warning: Smut, also use of c*ck sl*t among other things

You were becoming increasingly anxious of the fact that in a few days you would be leaving the place that you called home in the underworld that you had grown to love.

The world outside reminded you of too many things that you wished to forget but to your disappointment it was arranged for you to visit the outside world and cohabitate with your mother for six months out of the year.

That knowledge in and of itself made you feel extra stressed and today you were extremely antsy while Yunho played fetch with Cerberus, or Cerbie as the rulers affectionately called him.

The tired three headed hound eventually coming to you to check on you and get it's pats on all of it's heads before going back to his outpost at the gates to take a nap and be on guard to prevent souls from escaping the underworld, leaving the lavish living room behind with you and Yunho.

You fidgeted nervously as you sat on the plush velvet couch beside Yunho, "Are you feeling unwell, love?" The tall male asked with furrowed brows as he watched your pouty expression and inability to keep still.

"I'm fine. Not looking forward to being away from here though..." You sighed softly and nearly became breathless from the mere touch when Yunho's large hand moved to take your dainty hand into his own.

"We all aren't looking forward to you leaving either. It's never something that we can get used to and we always eagerly await your return, Y/N." Yunho stated calmly, contrary to what you felt inside of yourself.

Your jaw clenched from anxiety without intending to, groaning to yourself as you held his hand, "I appreciate it greatly but I don't want to think about it right now..." You admitted softly, glancing down at the male's lap yearningly, being unable to state what you wanted at the moment.

"What would you like to think about?" Yunho quirks an eyebrow at you, studying you closely as you felt your face heat up dramatically.

"I- I just..." You trailed off in a whiny tone, as the weight of his hand rested on your thigh.

"Use your words, kitten. I might get the wrong idea if you don't tell me what you're wanting to think about." His voice comes out dark and steady while keeping his gaze fixed on you directly.

You huffed out loud, uncertain how to say what you wanted without being so straightforward about it.

Finally you gave up and spoke what was at the forefront of your mind, "I feel a little stressed and I want to suck your dick..."

Yunho offers an amused smirk as he squeezes your thigh, "True to our cock slut's nature~" He chuckles low and darkly.

Your eyes lower in embarrassment and immediately afterwards he grabs your chin, forcing you to look him directly in his smothering dark orbs, his aura intimidating and chilling and you were already trembling like a leaf.

"Did you think that you could just tell me that without following through with it little one? Down on your knees in front of daddy and unfasten my pants. You know what to do." Yunho growls out an order, to which you immediately drop to your knees and scrabble at his pants clumsily as he watched.

A wave of embarrassment and arousal washing over you while the male teased you for your eagerness. Eventually you freed his semi hard length from his confining clothes.

Without hesitation you leaned forward while holding eye contact with him, swirling your tongue across his velvety tip and collecting the heady essence on your tongue.

"Are you only going to play around when you know I'm anticipating~?" Yunho quirks an eyebrow while you drooled uncontrollably on his length.

A soft whimper leaving you while you eased yourself down to accommodate his hard length.

"That's my good cock slut. I knew you would get the feel for it shortly." Yunho chuckled evilly, watching you take as much of him into your mouth and down your throat as possible, drool dribbling out of your mouth embarrassingly and pooling on his skin.

"What a messy little baby~ She's a goddess?" Seonghwa purrs smoothly from behind Yunho as he stops to watch you suck the latter's dick.

"Mmph!" You cried out as one of Yunho's hands quickly finds your hair and pulls at your scalp roughly, coaxing moisture to seep from your eyes and down your cheeks.

"That's what I thought but her true nature is a cock slut." Yunho declares as he guides your head movements to bob at the precise rhythm to get him off.

"See~? Like this. I'll allow you to take it from here, little one." Yunho released your hair to watch you pleasure him, "You're doing much better now, pup." You allow yourself to moan in pleasure as you hollowed your cheeks around his member.

"She's always been a great learner when it's something that she wants." Seonghwa comments as he discreetly strokes himself in his pants while watching you give Yunho head.

Your throat burned from the stretch of the intrusion disregarding your gag reflex, the thickness of his shaft making it difficult for you to accommodate him but you managed until he came down your throat with a masculine groan that brought goosebumps to the surface of your skin.

"You did so well, pup." Yunho smiled at you while observing your flushed face as you pulled off of him and swallowed down the hot, saline essence that lingered in your mouth.

"My turn now. Come here, doll~ No mess on my clean trousers or I will punish you." Seonghwa murmurs in a seductive tone, eyes narrowed while watching you meekly approach him and lower yourself to your knees in front of him.

You surprised yourself with how steady your fingers were when you undid his pants, freeing up his hard length and going down on him almost immediately, "Hold on... It's meant to be enjoyed. I know our cock slut is eager but it's almost pathetic how eager you are for it."

You whine around his shaft, eyes widening almost comically when Seonghwa begins to fuck into your mouth roughly, "Just for daddy, right?" You whimper affirmatively and tear up, moaning out in pleasure with each stroke of his hips fucking into your face and the low grunts and praises that leave him until he finally releases into your mouth with a raspy groan.

You take in all of his seed into your mouth, milking his slit dry of every sweet drop of his cum until he pulls you off of his cock.

"You were very useful for both of us~ What would our cock slut want for a reward? We might grant your wish." Seonghwa asks with interest while fastening his pants back up as you thought for a moment.

"I w-want Hongjoongie~" You reply hoarsely, looking up at Seonghwa hopefully with glazed over eyes.

"That's so cute." He answers with a voice that still dripped with sensuality, "We'll see what we can do~"

[marjansmarwani]

take it, it’s yours

2k || ao3

One of the ways TK shows love is through tchotchkes, Carlos learns.

A bit of cute softness for the lovely and wonderful @justaswampdemon on her birthday. Happy birthday my dear, thanks for being someone I can yell about everything from these characters to tea to life in general with. I hope you enjoy this little story from your headcanon 💗

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“TK?” 

“Yeah, babe?” He hears his boyfriend call from the other room.

“What is this?” 

“What’s…” TK asks with a frown as he turns to the kitchen, confusion fleeing his face as he sees what Carlos is holding, “oh.”

Carlos simply raises an eyebrow and places the blue-green ladle on the counter as TK approaches, looking at his boyfriend expectantly. 

“It’s a ladle,” TK provides helpfully as he approaches. 

“I can see that,” Carlos deadpans. “Why does it have a face and why is it in my kitchen?” 

“It’s Nessie!” TK declares as if it should be obvious, “See?” 

He picks up the ladle and sets it upright so it stands on its own. “When it’s in a pot, the face and neck stick out,” he explains, “like the Loch Ness Monster.” 

Carlos nods slowly, looking from the ladle in question to his boyfriend. TK’s face falls. 

“You don’t like it,” he says, reaching for the ladle, “I’ll get rid of it. I’m sorry, I should have asked first.” 

Carlos reaches out a hand to stop him, covering the hand now clutching the ladle with his own, “I didn’t say that.” 

TK looks at him hopefully and Carlos smiles, “I think it’s cute, and I love the fact that you got it for me. Plus, it is pretty practical. You can never have too many ladles.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to keep it if you don’t want to. I can get rid of it.” 

“Don’t you talk about Nessie that way,” Carlos interrupts, leaning forward to pull TK into a kiss. “She’s not going anywhere, and neither are you.” 

--------

It’s small things here and there, after that. One of those little figurines from the tea boxes on the window sill, small figurines and vases. He doesn’t question it much until one day he walks in the door and goes to dump his keys into the dish beside the door only to find what looks like a pinecone with eyes glued on staring back at him. 

“Hey babe,” TK calls out from the kitchen, where he is already in the process of plating up the takeout he had picked up on his way, “food’s almost ready to go.” 

Carlos nods and is about to thank him for picking it up, or maybe ask him how his day was, but all that comes out when he opens his mouth is a question, “Why is there a pinecone looking at me from the table?” 

TK freezes, brow furrowing in confusion before realization dawns. “Well first off, it’s not a pinecone Carlos, it’s a hedgehog.” 

“Uh huh,” Carlos agrees skeptically, peering back down at the item in question. “And why is there a hedgehog on the table?” 

“Because I saw it when I was out with Marjan today and thought it was cute. Why?” he asks, voice shifting, “Do you not like it? I can get rid of it if you don’t, I should’ve asked first, I’m…” 

But Carlos shook his head, dropping his bag by the door and crossing to the kitchen, coming up beside TK. He reached out and put a hand on his face, gently turning it so he was meeting Carlos’s gaze. 

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it TK,” he assures him softly, “and you don’t need to get rid of it. Take a breath, it’s okay.” 

He waits for TK to do so, watching as the panic leaves his expression. “Do you want to tell me what’s really going on?” he asks gently, moving his hand from TK’s face to his waist. 

“Nothing,” he says at first but at Carlos’s raised eyebrows he rolls his eyes. “Fine, something, but it’s stupid.” 

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that,” Carlos offers and TK sighs. 

“I don’t want you to think I’m overstepping,” TK admits. “I know I bring little things in from time to time and you don’t seem to mind but every once in a while I start to wonder again. It’s just something my mom and I always had in common. She used to love picking up little funny or cute things, and it became something we did together. My dad never liked clutter - well, he still doesn’t, actually - but he used to always complain about my mom and her tchotchkes and so I would always just keep them in my room instead and I just don’t want you to ever feel like I’m taking advantage, or cluttering your house or…”

“Hey,” Carlos interjects, interrupting the spiral he could see starting. “I don’t think that, any of it. I love that you bring little things here, that you are adding little bits of yourself. It makes it feel a little bit more like our home, doesn’t it?”

He pauses, giving TK a chance to process his choice of words, and is rewarded by his eyes widening. He smiles and leans forward, pressing a kiss to TK’s cheek. “This is your home too TK,” he tells him, “in whatever capacity you want it to be. And yeah, if it starts to look like a roadside gift shop in here, we may have to have a talk about the...what was that word you used?” 

“Tchotchkes,” TK provides, “it means trinket, or knick-knack.” 

“Right,” Carlos agrees, “but a few of them? I kind of love them because it brings a little more life, and shows me that you feel at home here. Not to mention the fact that they make you happy, and I can put up with a few pinecones looking at me if it makes you happy.”

“It’s a hedgehog, Carlos,” TK tries to gripe, but the light in his eyes betrays him, “it’s cute and it’s seasonal.”

“And it makes you happy, which is all I ever want,” Carlos agrees, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Besides, I never said I didn’t like it. It’s cute, actually.” 

--------

Carlos has a theory. 

He’s read about love languages and he knows that TK’s is physical touch, without a doubt. Not even in a sexual way; he just likes being close to Carlos, having a physical reminder that he is there, that he is real. It reveals itself in hand holding and hugs and small touches as they pass each other whether it's in the field or at home. He’s just very tactile, and Carlos loves that about him (it’s one of about roughly 230 things, but still). 

But the more and more he has watched him and spent time with him, he decides that TK has more than one. He’s not sure if it qualifies as gift giving or if it is a category all of its own but there is no denying that TK loves to give small gifts to his friends. The first time he notices is when they are out, strolling through a flea market on Saturday morning. They’re walking hand in hand when their progress is abruptly halted by TK, who stops and turns to a table to their right. He picks up a small figurine (Carlos would be lying if he said he had the faintest idea what it was actually supposed to be) with a grin and politely asks the vendor for a price. He hands over the few dollars requested with a smile and a thanks before pocketing the figurine and moving on. 

Carlos can only watch, catching up to him a few moments later, giving him a questioning look when TK meets his eyes. “For Marjan,” he explains, smiling as he reaches out to take Carlos’s hand in his again, “she’ll think it’s funny.” 

And so she does, as Carlos  finds out when she shows up at the condo later that evening. Her bright laugh draws the attention of the others and she beams at them as she shows them the small figurine - a crocodile for the native Floridian, Carlos and the others are informed -  squeezing TK’s arm in thanks as she flashes a smile at him. 

It doesn’t stop there. From time to time small and strange objects filter through the condo on their way to their intended owners. A book on cryptids for Paul, a set of exaggerated cartoonish Texas-themed salt and pepper shakers for Judd, a disgruntled cat figurine for Nancy; an inexplicable purple pig for Mateo that TK refuses to explain. They become a part of their everyday and Carlos stops noticing them, after a while. They are a part of who TK is and a testament to the love and care he has for others and the joy he takes from making them happy. 

And if that means he finds the odd figurine on the counter from time to time, Carlos will happily take that in stride. 

When TK officially moves in there is surprisingly not an influx in tchotchkes in the condo. Though Carlos supposes it had been a gradual invasion anyways; and if he had maybe purchased the matching Nessie pasta spoon and tea steeper on his own, nobody was the wiser. It’s normal now for there to be a new and unexplained small object on the edge of the counter or on the table beside the door so when Carlos sees a small object on the counter when he comes home from work on TK’s day off, he thinks nothing of it. 

It’s not until TK emerges from upstairs and they exchange greetings that he gives it a second thought because TK keeps giving it furtive looks. After a few minutes of TK’s gaze drifting towards it as they spoke Carlos raises an eyebrow. 

“Care to share with the class?” he asks drily and TK starts, looking at Carlos in surprise before his gaze turns sheepish. He reaches around him to the counter and picks up the newest tchotchke, placing it in Carlos’s hand. 

“It’s cheesy,” he starts, covering Carlos’s palm with his hand to prevent Carlos from looking at it as he spoke, “but I saw it while I was running errands today and it made me think of you. And well...I just wanted you to have a physical reminder, in case I don’t say it enough.”

Carlos studies him, gaze curious as he looks down at their hands, TK’s still covering his own and whatever the small, metal object was. TK takes a deep breath and moves his hand, giving Carlos a look at the mysterious object. 

“I know it’s stupid,” he began, “but I just wanted you to remember, you know? My heart is yours, and it always will be.” 

Carlos hears the words his boyfriend is saying, but he finds that he can’t respond. The sight of the object laying on his palm - a small, gold skeleton key with a heart on the end - has stolen all the breath from his lungs and all the words from his mind. The only thing within him now is the sense of overwhelming love for the man before him, who is watching him nervously. 

“You don’t have to do anything with it,” TK was saying as he fiddled with the strings of his hoodie. “You don’t even have to keep it if you don’t want to. I just saw it and...it seemed right.” 

TK was looking at him again and Carlos hated that he was leaving him hanging. He didn’t want the other man to get the wrong idea, but he was too overwhelmed to speak. So he did the next best thing. He reached for TK, key still clutched in his hand, and gently tipped his face up from where he was anxiously studying his feet so that their eyes met. He hoped TK could see the depth of the emotions he was feeling in them, but just in case he pulled him into a kiss, doing his best to say what words had failed to express. 

That kiss turned into another and it was several minutes before they separated long enough to breathe, and speak. And in that moment, foreheads pressed together in their kitchen and a small gold key pressed into Carlos’s palm that words finally returned to him. 

“You have mine too,” he told TK softly. “You have since the day I met you, and it’s yours for as long as you want.”

[deiliamedlini]

Gratitude (Twelve Days of Winterfest)

Part 2/6

Summary: With the upcoming Wintersday and Hylia’s Feast in the midst of the kingdom’s preparation for the Calamity, Princess Zelda leans on her closest friend for support. And no-- to her greatest surprise-- it’s not Urbosa, but rather the Appointed Knight she’d hated until just a few short months ago. Neither had realized how important they’d become to each other. But for that relationship, they were most grateful.

Ao3 Link

Previous | Chapter Index | Next 

~~

Day 3:

“Zelda, please, try,” King Rhoam said outside the Temple of Time before they were scheduled to enter. “Please, do everything you can.”

“I do, Father! I try every time I close my eyes, but they won’t hear me! I’m not just waiting around for the Goddesses to gift me my powers, I’m trying!”

“Then you’re not trying hard enough. When was the last time you went to the Spring of Power?”

“Last month, before the snow.”

“You’re to go again as soon as it thaws. Hopefully, the Spring of Wisdom is the missing piece of this puzzle. But in the meantime, in case it isn’t, you have to do everything you can to unlock it now. When we’re in here, just remember that this isn’t a Spring to a lesser Goddess, but to The Goddess. This is essentially Hylia’s Spring.”

“I am aware of all of this, Father. Studying this is my life. It’s all I do. You don’t have to lecture me on it.”

“Apparently I do, since your powers have not appeared. Something is not clicking.”

Zelda’s heart sank. This was truly all she devoted her life to: the future and prosperity of Hyrule, and the spiritual awakening of her (alleged) Goddess-given powers.

“I’ll do better, Father. I swear.”

“You have no choice, I’m afraid.”

Zelda fought back the sting of tears, but it wasn’t enough. One dripped down her cheek, freezing in the cold air as a shameful marking of her inability to even keep her composure.

“Don’t cry, Zelda. Not here. They’re watching you.”

And it was true: the select people of Hyrule were funneling into the Temple of Time for the Winterfest season’s prayer session. Hylia’s Feast Day was celebrated in midwinter, which was three days following the more family-oriented Wintersday. So the Temple of Time was always particularly packed. But when the Royal family came down, it was a zoo of people inside and out longing for a glance of the reigning monarch and the alleged Goddess-reincarnated.

Putting on a game face had been part of Zelda’s entire upbringing. It was a skill she learned the day her mother died, and practiced every day since.

She was smiles and waves, grins and straight backs. But when she sat in the aisle seat of the front row, away from every other prying eye in the entire Temple, her façade was no longer necessary, and it dropped from her with a painfully graceless display.

Thank goodness she had to hold her hands near her mouth for prayer, because it meant she could clasp her quivering lips and hold them shut so no sounds escaped in the middle of the Priestess’ blessings. That would be awkward.

No one could see the pain wash over her, the crushing weight of her continued failure easily read in every grimace, every pinch of her chest as she breathed.

No one except her Appointed Knight.

Link stood off to the side of the temple in a well, hidden alcove that prevented anyone in the Temple from seeing him save for Zelda, but from his perspective, he could see everything. Especially Zelda. It was the reason she sat in this very specific spot. Hidden guards throughout the Temple all had their secret, obscured places so they could watch on without a fuss over their presence.

She felt the weight of his stare on her, as always, but something prompted her to look over at him.

His brows were scrunched, and he tilted his chin up questioningly. Are you okay?

She nodded slowly, but the lie brought her a physical hurt deep within her chest. She choked back another sob and shook her head, barely perceptible.

He cocked his head to the side. Why?

Lowering her hands, she placed one over her chest and then tipped her head towards the Priestess, who spoke of the Goddess. My powers. My responsibility. It didn’t matter which she meant, the meaning was there. She kept all of her movements so subtle to avoid detection, she wondered how he could see them clearly enough to understand her.

He jerked his head at the Priestess and made a face before closing his eyes, pretending to snore. And Zelda felt a small smile start on her face, even despite the heaviness of her lips. He responded with one of his own before offering her a reassuring head shake. Don’t worry about it.

Zelda’s shoulders slumped. I can’t help it.

Link sighed. He wanted to help her, but he knew Zelda well enough to know that nothing he ever said would be enough. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t ease her hurt, just a little. He pointed to her, then placed his hand over his heart. She waited, interested to see where he was going with that. But then he pointed to the Priestess, and his mouth moved in perfect time with her words:

“—and the Goddess Hylia blesses us with her power, for now, from now, and ever on. Without that which the Three set into motion, Hyrule would never be born. The Goddess Din, with her strong flaming arms, cultivated the land and created the red earth. The great Goddess Farore, who with her rich soul, produced all life forms who would uphold the law. The Wise Goddess Nayru, who poured out her wisdom onto the land, and gave it the spirit of law. This all happened so the Divine Goddess Hylia could one day abandon her incorporeal form and transfer her soul to the body of a mortal to protect the power of the Triforce: a sacred object that gave its holder the means to make any desire a reality—”

Zelda was grinning widely. He’d clearly gone to too many prayer sessions at the Temple, because he knew the whole thing by heart. And as he mouthed it, he gave an inflection to certain words through dramatic facial expressions, to the point that Zelda had to cover her mouth to keep her reaction hidden, and his antics a secret.  

He finally stopped when he saw her struggle and pointed to the Priestess again, shaking his head. Then to Zelda, and his hand over his heart.

She says words. You pray from your heart.

She could have cried there, just from that small praise. Her father hardly recognized her work. He thought she did nothing. But Link? He was risking a serious scolding—despite his titles—just to comfort her. To tell her she wasn’t failing.

She didn’t believe him, but it made her heart feel lighter. Zelda let her hand fall over her heart, a very different meaning from when Link did it.

Thank you.

And with a face of the utmost confidence, like he believed in her more than any religion, he nodded once, and returned to his silent vigil.

~~

Day 4:

Zelda’s favorite room in the castle (aside from her own) was the library. It was filled with books from wall-to-wall, and from floor-to-ceiling. She’d spent countless hours of her life perusing the shelves, feeling the delicate spines of her favorite worn books, and reading anything new that she could.

But today, she wasn’t here for herself.

Link had been an exceptional support during Winterfest. Their friendship was one of the things she’d become most grateful for over the past several months. She regretted how horrible she’d been to him at first. But that day in the dessert a few months ago… if not for being attacked and nearly killed for her own recklessness, Zelda would never have reconciled with the man who quickly became her closest friend.

It was rare that Link had days off, but today had been one of them. She’d seen him early in the morning in the training yard, and pulled him aside to all but command him to use his time for something fun.

“Something fun?” he’d asked.

“Yes. What do you do for amusement in your free time?”

“I don’t have free time.”

“You do today!” she’d said.

“I don’t… I don’t know. I train, usually. Sometimes I’ll go out for a ride, but it’s too cold to subject poor Epona to that.”

Link liked to work. She’d gotten him to admit at least that much. He didn’t have any qualms about the hours he spent aimlessly staring at a wall outside her door, or scanning for empty threats on her balcony. He didn’t mind being summoned to go out into Hyrule Field to take care of a situation that he was well-equipped to handle.

So, as Zelda perused the shelves, she did so for Link, to try to find him a book about the Knights of Hyrule. She didn’t even know if he read for fun, but even if he were to just skim the pages, that might be worth it.

There was a thick book right where she remembered it: In Introspective Look on the Knights of Hyrule from Its Inception to Present. She happily slid it off the shelf, and clutched it to her chest, hurrying back to her room to grab a felt bookmark that she thought he might like. She stuck it into the first page, and went the long way around to Link’s room (which was only a hallway from hers), needing to verify one thing before she went to find Link.

She all but skipped into the training yard, giddy with excitement. “Commander?” she asked, calling to the nearby man. He bowed, and Zelda smiled. “Link hasn’t come back here since this morning, right?”

“No, Princess. He left with you, came back to pick up his things, and hasn’t returned.”

“Thank you,” she said with a self-satisfied grin. At least he was somewhere other than training.

Taking the long trek back to her room was more amusing than she thought it would be, checking the rooms she passed to make sure that Link wasn’t in any of them standing guard or running a patrol through the halls, as he occasionally did when he had too much time on his hands.

But, when she stood in front of his door, she hesitated.

It was his day off. He wouldn’t want to see her. Right?

Some of her excitement faded, but most of it remained. She set the book down opposite the door, propping it up against the wall before she returned to her room.

She had her own book, one about an adventurer falling in love with a noblewoman. It was simple, but Zelda enjoyed a good fantasy. There was nothing exciting like that ever to happen in her life, especially not with the impending Calamity.

She’d gotten three more chapters in when there was a knock on her door.

Setting the book upsidedown on her bed, expecting a maid to come in or some other passing visitor, she unlocked her door to find Link leaning against the doorframe, examining the book in his hands.

“What are you using as a bookmark?” he asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“This is yours. You use it constantly. I don’t read nearly as fast as you, and I don’t want to keep your favorite bookmark.”

Zelda chuckled and stepped aside, leaning on the other side of the doorframe, a little too close to Link. But she gave him room to walk in if he wanted. He just… didn’t move.

“I have other bookmarks, Link. Take all the time you want.”

“It’s your favorite, though.”

“Is it? I don’t believe I consciously choose it.”

“You’ve used this in every book you’ve read since I’ve worked for you, Princess. When you read that book… the… um… Goddess… the…” he snapped his fingers, “Power Divergence! When you read that one, we literally came back to your room so you could swap out your bookmark.”

“Power Divergence?” Zelda repeated, her smile growing as her expression also became more incredulous. She’d read that before the Yiga attack and had gifted it to Urbosa on that trip. “You remember that?”

Link suddenly seemed to realize that he’d been a little too forward, and he flushed a dark red. “I just meant to say that I don’t want to take something of yours for long.”

Blushing herself, Zelda found herself biting her cheek nervously. She didn’t think she was that attached to the bookmark. “Well, I trust you with it. There’s no hurry.”

Bowing his head, Link tapped his fingers against the book. “Thank you, Princess. This is a sincerely appreciated gesture.”

“Do you even read?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, no! That’s not what I meant, Link! I meant for fun. I wasn’t sure, but I’d… hoped. And this seemed like something you’d read, but I’ve never seen you.”

His easy smile returned. “You know me better than you think, Princess. I do enjoy reading, but as I said, I’m a bit slow, so I rarely have the time to get through much before I’m called to a task. And this is exactly the kind of book I read.”

“Are you just saying that?”

“Want to join me in my room and I can show you?” Zelda’s eyebrows shot up at his offer, and Link held his finger up. “I didn’t mean that so… suggestively.”

Zelda found herself reaching out, grabbing him lightly by the wrist. “I believe you, on both fronts.”

Her hand tingled where their skin connected, and she welcomed the unfamiliar sensation of another person.

Link stared at her hand, his lips parted slightly before he was able to bring himself back. “Thank you.”

She let go, and they both sagged in disappointment. “Of course, Link.”

He tapped the book again and started to back away. “I’m going to go read this.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Wait!” Zelda called quickly, stepping after him, emboldened. “Did you want… want to stay and read with me? Not… not out loud or anything, but just… as company? As friends, not with you on guard.”

Link cleared his throat and adjusted the book in his hands, as if it had suddenly gotten very heavy. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

“You wouldn’t at all. But I also understand if you’d rather be alone. Being alone with a book can be preferable.”

“No. No, if it wouldn’t bother you… I’ll join.”

Zelda smiled a bit more and gestured inside her room. Her book was turned on one of her longer couches, and she returned to it, gesturing to the area. There were three chairs he could choose from, but he sat on the other end of her couch. It was long enough not to bother either of them, but she wouldn’t lie: she liked that he chose to sit closer to her.

Link read books the same way he did everything else: with trained attention, and an a keen focus on detail. His finger would slide along the edge of the next page, always ready to turn. And he was slow. He took his time, reading each word with careful consideration and a scrunched brow of his utmost focused expression.

He pulled one of his legs up and tucked it under him, and Zelda realized he’d come to her in incredibly loose, comfortable clothes that he’d been relaxing in, including a lack of shoes. He wore loose, oversized socks, but he didn’t even seem to remember his state of casual underdress.

“Princess,” he muttered after a while.

“Yes?”

He spun his head to face her. “Am I distracting you? You haven’t turned the page in about five minutes.”

Zelda glanced down, and sure enough, she hadn’t moved on from the words she read before his arrival. “No. No, I was just… this part is so interesting. I’ve reread it a few times in a row now.” Certainly not that I was gawking and watching you.

Link didn’t look convinced, but Zelda soon settled into a more comfortable atmosphere when she returned to her book in earnest. It’s how she didn’t realize the time that had passed until Link said her name again.

“Princess?”

“Yes?”

He smirked just for a second before it faded. “I was wondering, actually, if you knew what this word meant?”

Handing the book to Zelda, he scooted right up beside her and pointed at the page.

Zelda lost her breath for a moment, his arm flush with hers, before she pushed it aside. His innocent question didn’t deserve her less innocent thoughts.

“’Anfractuous,’” Zelda said, looking to Link for confirmation. He nodded, and she read the sentence it was in. A term in the explanation of a strategy early Hylian soldiers used. “It just means twisty. Winding, but in the most frustrating ways, not just a turn and another turn.”

She tentatively handed the book back, their hands brushing.

“Thank you, Princess.”

She could see he wasn’t just thanking her for the definition. “Of course, Link. It’s my pleasure.”

[winchesterbrotherstan]

Altered Carbon- Out of the Past (1.01)

Pairing: Nova Griffiths (OC) x Takeshi Kovacs

Summary: When Nova is contracted for a new job, she's introduced to a part of humanity's past. The job seems to be a bust, but it becomes clear that it's anything but.

Warnings: mentions of suicide!, cursing, guns, rebirthing(?), sword+knives, blood, mentions of shitty parents

Word Count: 6441

“Just…” I sighed, looking out through the droplets of rain on the windows of the bus stop, “I just want you to be safe, E.J.”

“I know. I will be, Nov. I promise.”

“Alright, good. Look, bug, I’ve gotta run.”

“New job?”

I snorted, looking at his grin on the holographic screen. “Possible new target, yeah.”

He nodded. “Promise you’ll be safe too?”

I nodded right back, a smile on my face. “Promise, E.J. Love you, bud. Talk to you later, yeah?”

Another nod. “Go.”

I sighed as I checked the time.

Shit.

I was going to be late if I didn’t haul ass. I flicked the display of the watch away and pulled my helmet on. I straddled my bike and kicked the stand up. Hopefully, this payout would be worth it.

***

“Justice! Let the dead speak! Justice! Let the dead speak!”

The chant became static as I pushed my way through the crowd, and up the steps of Alcatraz prison. Lieutenant Ortega from the local police department had reached out and told me she would give me a ride up to the Bancroft residence.

“Griffiths!”

I popped onto my toes and saw the lieutenant waving me down. A blond man stood next to her, his face angry, but eyes seeming disoriented.

“Ortega, hey.” I held a hand out for her and she gave me a firm shake. “I’ve been trying to find you for the last twenty minutes.”

“These people are something else. Nova Griffiths, you’ll be working with this gentleman here.”

“Nice to meet you.” I stuck my hand out, and he did the same.

“You shouldn’t have come back!” A man shouted over my shoulder, cutting my new partner off before he could start his sentence.

The crowd’s chant changed, “No resleeving!”

“Well shit, let’s get outta here.” I gave Ortega a grimace, letting his hand drop.

We began to push our way back through, dodging the picket signs and the face painted protestors. A man with white and black markings on his face took a step towards us and pushed me out of the way. I stumbled backwards, and my partner reached out, preventing me from falling off my feet.

“You will not be forgiven!” The protester spat in his face.

I used the existing grip on my arm to pull myself back in front of him. I spat in the protester’s face and shook my partner’s grip loose.

“Well, that’s gonna keep him busy a while.” My partner guided me to walk in front of him as we continued to push through the crowd.

***

“Spirit savers and Afterlifers. 653 failed, and still they can’t stop yelling.” Ortega spoke.

“What is 653?” He asked, looking up from the paper.

“Something about spinning up murder victims to testify who killed them.” I kept my eyes on my feet, feeling nauseous.

“Why wouldn’t you spin them up if they’re witnesses to their own murder?”

“Archdiocese says you only get the sleeve you’re born with. Once it dies, they spin you back up for anything, even to identify your killer, your soul goes to hell.” Ortega looked in the rearview mirror. “What do you think?”

“I think no one in the archdiocese has ever been murdered.” He looked out the window, and then to me. “Nova?”

I snorted, finally looking up. “I think they’re all full of shit.”

He fell quiet as he observed the city. I studied his silhouette as he stared. The sleeve was handsome. Strong features, a strong jawline, a deep voice. Light colored eyes and swept-over hair.

“So what were you in for?” I asked, trying to get a sense of why he was so silent.

“Ah, little bit of this, little bit of that. Blew some shit up and killed some people.” He caught a look from Ortega in the rearview. “Some people just need killing.” He grinned.

I felt a grin rise on my own face, but Ortega didn’t seem to share the amusement.

“And how do you decide who deserves to die?”

My partner shook his head with a small sigh. “Depends on the day. I mean, anything can set me off. Interstellar dictatorship, genocide, people who talk to much.” He looked over at her for the last part before letting out another sigh.

I giggled, and Ortega shot me a look.

“Right now I’m feeling pretty hostile towards Laurens Bancroft, whoever the fuck he is.” He pulled something from his pants pocket.

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows Bancroft, he’s one of the first founding Meths.”

“What’s a Meth?”

“You don’t know what a Meth is? How can you not know?” Ortega chuckled. “You're dressed like one.”

“Like I said, I’m not from around here.” His demeanor changed.

I eyed him. He was fidgeting with his hands. Ortega went on, reciting something from the beliefs of the Meths. I decided to unbuckle myself and slide into the middle seat. He took notice and looked down at me, eyebrows furrowed.

“How long have you been under?”

He looked away, sighing again.

“How long, man?” I whispered again.

“Two hundred fifty years.” He didn’t look my way again.

“Shit.”

We busted through the clouds, and I slid forward, still unbuckled. He caught me by the hood of my jacket before grabbing my upper arm, pulling me back into my seat. I swallowed my pride and buckled back up.

“They call it the Aerium.”

He leaned forward, eyes wide.

“Guess they don’t have this where you come from either, huh?” Ortega gave a teasing smile.

She guided the car to hover over the property as we sat in silence. He readjusted himself back in his seat, and Ortega seized the silence once more.

“So, where were you born? Home planet, that kinda thing.”

“Not here.” He was dead-pan.

“That’s a little vague.” Ortega chuckled.

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“That’s my abuela. She always said, Kristin, you can find a way to talk to anybody.”

“Especially when they’re trapped in a car with you.” He shot back.

She looked forward with a sigh, and I stifled another giggle.

“Our quick and messy little lives are so small to them. They build their homes up here so the clutter of our existence is out of their sight.”

We only shared a look in the backseat.

***

The landing of the hover-car was rough, accompanied by various quick remarks.

“Come on, last chance. Just give me a name.”

“Takeshi Kovacs.” He got out of the car and straightened out his clothes. “Look me up.”

Ortega immediately did so while I scrambled out of the car after him.

“Holy shit. Is that why…”

Kovacs glanced at me over his shoulder. “Yep.”

“You can’t be who you say you are. All the Envoys died.” Ortega tried to catch up with us as she shouted.

“All except one.” Kovacs caught me by the arm, pulling me to stand behind him.

I peered around his frame, only to see Bancroft’s multiple goons with their guns pointed toward us.

“Not another step, Ortega.”

“Aw come on. I’m Bay City PD and you know it, Curtis.” Ortega continued to walk toward them. “So lower your weapons and tell me where your boss is, because I really would like a fucking word.”

“Lieutenant Ortega, you’re trespassing on private property. Apparently, you’ve stolen one of our limos as well. I could have you shot.”

Ortega snorted. “Yeah, go ahead. Try.”

A police vehicle landed to our left, and Kovacs covered me a bit more with his own body.

“Why did you drive the Envoy? Isaac was supposed to do that.”

The police car door opened, and a man in a suit dragged a boy out.

“Look, I’m not drunk, okay? I was just loosening up a little. Let go of me.”

“We picked him up on a DUI.” The man explained to Mrs. Bancroft.

“Which is how we came into possession of your vehicle.” Ortega explained.

Mrs. Bancroft whispered something back and forth to, presumably, her son. She turned back to face us. “This is police harassment.”

“Yeah.” Ortega scoffed again. “There’s your kid, there’s your car, here’s your mercenary, and there’s your… new pet terrorist.” She gestured towards Kovacs, annoyed. “You’re welcome.”

“Bounty hunter, not a mercenary.” I scowled.

She walked past us, and Kovacs scoffed this time. “The terrorist can hear you. I’m standing right here.”

“Yeah, good. Cause we’re not done, you and me.” Ortega snapped at him before getting into the police car. I inched my way out from behind Kovacs until I was standing next to him.

Mrs. Bancroft chuckled as she walked toward us. “Forgive me. I’m Miriam Bancroft. We’ve not been properly introduced.”

She gave Kovacs a weak handshake, followed by a snake-like smile my way.

“Welcome to Suntouch House.” She turned on her heel, and we followed.

***

“Shouldn’t that be in a museum?” Kovacs asked as we walked under the branches of a large tree.”

“I have a weakness for Elder civilization artifacts. I collect them, among other things.”

“This must’ve cost a fortune to ship here.”

She hummed as Kovacs reached for one of the lower-hanging tendrils.

“A few lifetimes, as well. But cost was no object. This is the only Songspire tree on Earth. No one really knows what they are. They could’ve functioned as part of Elder civilization architecture. The largest ones ever recorded are thousands of meters high.”

The look on Kovacs’ face was one of recognition. “I know. I’ve seen them.”

“Stronghold. Of course.” She nodded. “Laurens is in his study. I’ll show you up.”

As if voice-activated, the elevator doors to her right slid open. Kovacs and I eyed each other before following her into the small room. Something felt off. We stayed silent as the elevator began to ascend. I kept myself tucked in between him and the corner, and Miriam stood opposite of him. She continued to eye him before beginning to play with her necklace. The metallic clicking caught his attention, and he looked up.

“Is it true you can look into a person’s eyes and know exactly what they’re thinking?”

Kovacs hummed. “No, Envoys don’t read minds.”

“What a pity.” She smiled.

Kovacs seemed uncomfortable, and the elevator dinged before anyone could say anything else.

“Good luck, Mr. Kovacs, Ms. Griffiths.”

Kovacs gestured for me to exit first, and he followed close behind. We let out simultaneous sighs as we heard the doors close again. We began to walk down the long hallway, trying to keep pace with each other. The study was silent when we walked into it, and I began to feel sick to my stomach.

“Mr. Kovacs, Ms Griffiths.”

We looked up to see Bancroft on the balcony of his study, drink in hand. “My apologies, my son failed to drive you here. You have to forgive my endlessly misplaced optimism.”

“That’s alright.” Kovacs looked back around the study. “The ride was very instructive.”

“Hmm, yes, I’m sure it was. Details are, after all, an Envoy’s stock-in-trade.” He began to walk down to the level we were on. “Or were, I guess I should say. Immersion and total absorb. Wasn’t that the term, hmm? Whatever answer you may seek, it is precisely where you are not looking.”

“You’ve read Falconer.” Kovacs finally spoke, eyes on me as I kept my own on him.

“I was alive during the uprising, yeah.”

“Yeah?” His eyes didn’t stray from mine. “So was I.”

“Oh, y-yes, my apologies. It’s all in the distant past for me, but for you, of course, it’s all rather different. There are very few of us now, who saw firsthand what the Envoys could do. Ah-ha. Yes. A-And I have to admit that I had a grudging admiration for you. Trained by Quell herself to be the most formidable fighting force that the galaxy had ever seen.”

“Well, that would sound better if we hadn’t lost.” Kovacs quipped.

“Although this might, might interest you.” Bancroft handed Kovacs a small leather-bound booklet. “Oh, it’s all corneal streaming now. There’s something about the simplicity of holding the written word in your hand. The very-very heft of it. As men have done for countless centuries before us.”

Kovacs seemed to leave the current plane of existence as he flipped through the book, fingers gingerly running over the pages. “Where did you get this?”

“I bought it at an auction. Supposedly, it is written by Falconer in her own hand. Judging by your reaction, it appears I might have got what I paid for.”

Kovacs snapped out of it, bundling the book back up and clearing his throat.

“Listen to me. I spent this entire morning being well and truly fucked around with, so, uh, let me be painfully clear. Some things can’t be bought. I’m not sure about Ms. Griffiths here,” he glanced down at me, “but I, for one, cannot. Now, I didn’t ask you to bring me back into this world. In fact, I fought a war to stop people like you from happening.” Kovacs began to step closer to Bancroft. “So, if someone doesn’t tell me right now what the fuck this is all about… I might very well lose my temper.” He smacked the booklet into Bancroft’s chest, and I felt my cheeks begin to grow flush.

“Understood. Now, this is a full pardon, signed by the president of the Protectorate.”

Kovacs only gave a look of disbelief. “Power is a matter of influence, Mr. Kovacs. And I have had a great deal of influence at the UN. If you agree to my terms, your sentence will be reduced to time served. And then I will open up a very generous line of credit in your name. DNA trace accessible. And when the investigation is over, you may keep this sleeve or choose another. To your own specifications.”

Kovacs said nothing, and I hung back. Bancroft turned to me.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, Ms. Griffiths. Your parents will be pardoned as well.”

My heart immediately felt like it was going to blow a hole through my chest.

“Finally, I will pay you both a salary of 50 million UN credits. That’s a fortune. You can have any future you want.”

Blood kept rushing to my head, and my ears felt red hot. My vision blurred, and my body began to shake. I felt ready to pass out. Bancroft began to speak again, walking away this time. Kovacs gently put a hand on my waist and guided me to follow, sensing the loss of equilibrium within my body.

“All I ask is that you solve a murder.” Bancroft pulled a white sheet off a wall.

“Whose?” Kovacs stopped us both in front of the blood-splattered wall.

“Mine.”

“This is where I died. When Miriam found me, my head had been vaporized.”

Kovacs’ hold on me had grounded me enough for him to let go. He began to pace the room, and I looked over the brains on the wall.

“It’s an energy weapon?” Kovacs asked.

“Yes. A particle blaster. I keep one for personal protection in a biometric safe that only Miriam and I can open.”

Kovacs and I immediately shared a look, and Bancroft caught on. “Go ahead. Say it. Everyone else has. Either I committed suicide, or my wife murdered me.”

“But you’re still here, meaning your stack is intact, so… you must remember what happened.” The light hit Kovacs in a new way, and I noticed the scar on his sleeve’s eyebrow.

“I’m afraid it’s completely destroyed. RD’d, as they say.”

“So how?”

“Full-spectrum DHF remote storage backup?” I asked.

Bancroft nodded and Kovacs looked at me with a scowl on his face.

“Do you know what that is?” Bancroft asked him.

“Yeah. Just never met anyone filthy rich enough to afford it.” Kovacs scoffed.

Bancroft seemed like his pride was hurt, but he shrugged it off. “Well. I need to show you two something.”

He led us up the stairs to where he had been lurking when we arrived. Kovacs and I shared a look as we followed. I had to double my pace to keep up with Kovacs, who was more likely than not over a foot taller than me.

“Sometimes I come up here when I have decisions to make or difficulties to face.” Bancroft began. “I think about the ancient explorers, back when one could spend a lifetime pursuing the possibilities of the Earth, the oceans, the stars.”

My eyes flickered around the maps and old news articles framed up on the walls. Humanity had landed on the moon for the first time over 400 years ago. These artifacts must’ve cost fortunes.

Bancroft sighed. “I was born in London. When I first moved to what was then, of course, known as the United States, it still had the faintest echoes of the new and brash culture that it once was.”

I glanced over at Kovacs, who was tinkering with something on one of the multiple desks. Bancroft said something about the age of adventurers, and I heard the beeping of a screen. I pulled my eyes from Kovacs and followed his line of sight. A telescope spun our way, and Bancroft gestured toward it.

“Take a look. Tell me what you see.”

Kovacs and I shared another look, and he sensed my hesitation. He placed a reassuring hand on the small of my back before taking a step forward, peering through the eyepiece.

“It’s a Protectorate satellite. Military grade.”

Bancroft hummed. “It is military grade, but it’s not the Protectorates. It’s mine.”

Kovacs’ face took on an unreadable expression as he straightened up, making a subtle effort to keep himself between Bancroft and I.

What had I gotten myself into?

“Every forty-eight hours, my stack is automatically needle cast to it.”

“So your current self has no memory of what happened?” I peeped up from behind the six-something, two hundred-something slab of muscle in front of me.

“No, whoever killed me pulled the trigger ten minutes before my backup went through.”

“Which means all of your memories from those forty-eight hours are gone.”

“Completely. There was an attempted hack on my satellite feed moments after my death. Somebody wants me dead.”

Kovacs peeked back at me over his shoulder. This time, I understood the look in his eyes. Who wouldn’t?

Kovacs took a breath before beginning to slowly circle Bancroft. “For all we know, you did try to kill yourself.”

“You just botched the job.” I deadpanned.

“Mr. Kovacs, Ms. Griffiths, I am not the kind of man who would take his own life. And even if I were,” his eyes turned toward me with a menacing glaze over them, “I’d not have bungled it in such a fashion.”

Kovacs noticed and, once more, took a step in front of me.

“If I’d meant to die, I’d indeed be dead.”

Kovacs chuckled. “I don’t want your money. Or your pardon. I’m not sure about Ms. Griffiths here, but I’ll take eternity on ice. Thanks.” He turned on his heel, and I scurried to stay at his side.

If he was out, then so was I. I didn’t trust Bancroft and I sure as shit wasn’t gonna be stuck in this alone.

“You should take the day, Mr. Kovacs. Go into the city, remember what it is to feel alive. And then, give me your answer. O-oh, and please do take the book. Like everything else I’m offering you, it’s yours if you want it.”

Kovacs looked down at me, and I nodded up at him. Without another word, we made our way out of his study and, with the luck of Miriam not being around, out of the house.

***

In the car, Kovacs stared at his hands. He was beyond deep in thought. It seemed like a flashback that he was struggling to fight his way out of. He was adamant in his decision to be put back under. The driver was going to drop me off on main street in Bay City. I was going to see E.J. for the first time in almost a year. Kovacs would, as Bancroft had suggested, take a night in the city. After that, he would return to Alcatraz, and I would never see him again.

“Ms. Griffiths.” The driver caught my attention.

I looked up, seeing that we were pulled over on the main road. I blinked, and looked up at Kovacs.

“Guess this is goodbye?” I grinned.

He chuckled, but his own grin fell and he shook his head. “Don’t get involved with Bancroft again. I’ve been around long enough, and people like him don’t change.”

I nodded, watching his eyes as they deepened while he thought. “I won’t. Don’t worry about me.”

He met my eyes, and his grin returned. “Stay safe, kid. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, I suggest you keep it.”

I nodded. “I will. Be safe, Kovacs.”

“Takeshi.” He spoke as I opened my door, ready to get out.

“What?” I looked back.

“Call me Takeshi.”

I smiled, knowing I’d never see him again and that it wouldn’t matter what I called him.

“Goodbye, Takeshi.”

“Goodbye, Nova.”

***

I ran through the rain, dodging the group of teenagers doing the same. I shouldered the metal door open and ducked in, out of the weather. The air inside was stale and there were cobwebs in each corner of the lobby. After it had begun to pour, E.J. had called and asked me to meet him here. It looked like the hotel hadn’t been touched in a few years, give or take. More likely give.

“Eli?” I called out, clutching my bag over my shoulder.

“Ms. Griffiths, welcome.”

“Holy shit, it’s still you?” I turned to Poe, the AI that ran the place.

“It’s not like anyone stays here anymore. No need for an upgrade.”

I turned on my heel and saw E.J. sitting at the bar, drink in hand.

“Dude, you are nineteen, put that shit down.” I made my way over to him, stealing the glass of liquor and downing it. “Poe, stop giving my little brother alcohol.”

“He’s a paying customer, Ms. Griffiths.”

I rolled my eyes and held my arms out. E.J. stood from his seat and embraced the hug, rocking me back and forth from side to side. We had stayed at the Ravel Hotel on one occasion, for two months straight. Our parents were off-planet for a racing event, and they had left us with our uncle. He died in a gang-related shootout two days into our parents’ trip. After a week on the streets, we found our way into The Raven. We had gotten in contact with our dad, and he sent the money to Poe.

“How’ve you been?”

I sighed as he finally let go of me. “It’s been kind of crazy.” I sat down next to him.

“Tell me about it?”

I took a deep breath. “Hey, Poe?”

“Yes, Ms. Griffiths?”

“Nova.” I corrected him. “You’ve known me since I was 12, you can call me by my first name. Can I get a-”

“White Russian, White Russian!” E.J. shouted.

“Eli, stop.” I giggled before looking back at Poe. “Fine. Two White Russians please.” I grinned.

I held my finger to the pay-spot on the bar, pulling it away once it clicked. Poe shuffled our drinks out, and I handed one off to E.J. The door opened, and Poe fluttered over to the front desk. E.J. and I didn’t bother looking over. Probably just some sick freak who needed to get his rocks off. He grinned and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. I rolled my eyes as he held the pack out to me.

“You can’t say shit, I’m 19.”

“Stop being cocky.” I pulled one between my lips and held it up to the lighter he held in his hands.

“Never.” He grinned again as he took a drag of his own cigarette. “So. Who’s the target?”

I scowled. “It fell through.”

“What?” He raised an eyebrow. “You? Lose a target? What happened?”

I rolled my eyes and leaned in. “You know Bancroft?”

E.J. snorted, blowing his cigarette smoke in the other direction. “The fucker who thinks he’s god?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Made this whole big deal about how his last sleeve got his brains blown out but his stack stayed intact.”

“Sounds like he just fucked the job up.”

I grinned. “Exactly what I said. So we split.”

“We?” He repeated, again raising an eyebrow. “Since when do you play well with others?”

“Shut up.” I shoved his shoulder. “It was gonna be a special case. Turns out god is just a fucking moron.”

The door opened again, and this time we looked up. There was no way that many people were just coincidentally here. I immediately rose and pulled E.J. along with me as four men and one woman, all with guns, barged in. I looked toward their intended target.

Takeshi?

“He won’t be needing a room. So much for Envoy Intuition. Voodoo bullshit.”

“Envoy?” E.J. hissed at me as I pulled him to duck behind the bar.

“Just shut up. Do you have anything on you?”

“What?”

“Weapons, Eli.” I hissed back.

He patted himself down, and I pulled my blade from my bag and flicked it open. It was the only good thing my father had left me with. A dagger that transformed into a sword with the flick of a wrist. Eli twisted a silencer onto his gun and matched my position.

“Pardon me, wayfarer, we’re in the midst of conversation.” I heard Poe.

“Shut up, you piece of digibrain shit. My microwave is smarter than you.” The man with his gun on Takeshi’s neck snarled.

“I just want one thing to go right today.” I heard Takeshi’s gruff voice.

“Clearly.” Poe sighed.

“Too bad.”

I began to creep up from my toes, onto my knees. Takeshi turned to face the first man, holding his hands behind his back.

“They said you’d be dangerous. I thought you’d be bigger. They made me bring all this backup. What a waste of my time. I don’t need them.”

By now, I was on my haunches, peering up over the counter of the bar. Poe made eye contact with me and gave the slightest shake of his head. Although he was just a bundle of code, Poe had become more human than some people. He cared about E.J. and I, in his own strange, AI way.

“Fuck you, Dimi.” One of the men hissed, only to earn a bullet to the head.

Dimi? I had to take this fucker down for sure. I’d never have to work another day in my life.

“I have to clean that up.” Poe sighed.

“What?” Dimi growled.

“Uh, he had it coming.” Takeshi nodded. “He was rude.”

E.J. had made his way up next to me, gun held tightly. Poe shook his head at us once more.

“I could take you myself without even breaking a sweat.” Dimi got in Takeshi’s face. “Move.”

He shoved Takeshi to the middle of the group, which meant that they all now had their backs to us. Takeshi caught my eye over the counter, and his eyes widened. I gave him a cocky grin, and E.J. looked between the two of us, confused.

“Good sir, I cannot assume host prerogatives without payment.” Poe urged Takeshi.

“You want to get him a hot towel?” Dimi taunted. “You’re some kind of moron, staying in an AI hotel. Possessive like a crazy girlfriend. No one stays in them anymore.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard that.”

Dimi hit the top of Takeshi’s spine with his gun, and the Envoy crashed to the ground with a grunt. I made my choice. I tapped Eli’s gun and pointed my sword toward the woman, who was the closest to us.

“For guest amenities, please, touch the screen.”

Dimi hit Takeshi in the face this time, sending him sprawled onto his back. Eli and I stood slowly, boots silent against the wooden floor. He was taller, and by now, far stronger. We nodded at each other, and he clapped a hand over her mouth. I knocked her gun out of her hand with my sword, catching it in my hand before it could clatter to the floor. The others were too distracted with beating Takeshi up to notice.

Poe’s cold eyes flickered between Takeshi getting his shit rocked and us. The woman struggled, and I made another quick decision. I cut her throat, and Takeshi began to speak at the same time, covering the gurgling sound. E.J. grabbed her now limp sleeve and dragged her to the side.

“It’s not voodoo, which, by the way, absolutely is bullshit. It’s a form of subliminal pattern recognition.” Takeshi began to explain, keeping his eyes ahead as he crawled back toward Poe.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Dimi grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him up, putting his gun to Takeshi’s face.

As Dimi continued to threaten Takeshi’s sleeve, if not his stack, E.J. and I continued our quiet routine. Another man down, another sleeve thrown aside.

“You know, it’s about the details.”

Another hit, Takeshi landing back onto the coffee table. I flinched, surprised it hadn’t broken under his weight.

“Where’s the big bad boy Envoy killer from the past?” Dimi shouted.

“Twenty seconds.” Poe reminded him.

I grimaced. I couldn’t make my way to the front desk and do it for him without being noticed.

“Fight, goddamn it! What, you lost your balls? Did something change while you were down?”

Takeshi got back to his feet, staging himself between the back desk and Dimi. “Nothing changed.”

Two kicks to the stomach. I had enough. I looked at Eli and gave him a nod.

“People like you are still stupid.” Takeshi ended up at the front desk, finger in the right place.

E.J. took his first shot, and Dimi turned at the small noise. I thrusted my sword through another man’s chest. Poe lowered the machine guns from the ceiling, and I dropped to the ground, ducking behind a column to keep myself safe. I watched as E.J. did the same. Poe cocked a shotgun and began to shoot people down, and Takeshi began to pummel Dimi.

One of Dimi’s people tried to back behind a column, having the same idea we had. I counted the rounds that Poe’s machine guns fired, finding the right timing. I ran from the safety of my cover and plunged my sword into the man’s chest, dropping his sleeve down into the open fire. The men dropped like flies, and I kept my eyes on Takeshi. He round-house kicked Dimi in the stomach, and I swallowed hard. It was rather difficult to deny just how attracted to him I was becoming.

“Nova!”

I turned toward E.J.’s voice, only to see a man much bigger than me coming my way, a knife in his hand. I struggled to scramble to my feet, slipping in the blood of the sleeves I had killed. I fell flat onto my back and held my sword up, hoping I had enough coordination to shield myself from his knife.

There was the sound of Poe’s shotgun, and the men fell down on top of me. I groaned as I felt his knife slice through the skin of my thigh. The only person left was Dimi. Takeshi had him cornered against a sofa, fist raised.

“Who sent you?”

Dimi laughed, and I coughed, spitting blood aside as E.J. came running, pulling the sleeve off of me. I felt my consciousness begin to slip away, and I struggled to stay awake. E.J. pulled me up to sit, letting my back rest against a column. I watched from behind heavy eyelids as Takeshi put Dimi in a chokehold.

“Who sent you?”

He squirmed his way free, putting himself in the direct way of the machine guns. Takeshi urged Poe to hold back, but Poe didn’t listen. Dimi went down, and Takeshi sighed heavily.

“Ask this of your microwave, miscreant.”

Poe became quiet once he sensed that he had done something Takeshi didn’t like. “Apologies. Your room beckons.”

“Bite this.” E.J. shoved his leather belt between my teeth and didn’t give me time to react before pulling the knife from my leg.

I couldn’t help the scream that tore through my throat. Takeshi’s eyes went wide and he scrambled to our sides, hand immediately coming to my shoulder. He ripped a sleeve off and immediately began to tie it around my wound, flinching when I did.

“Nova, what happened? Are you okay?”

I coughed, and blood speckled onto his white button-up. E.J. brushed my hair out of my face and I winced.

“Sorry, Takeshi.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Fucker nailed me when he dropped.” I pushed out, feeling light-headed once more.

“I can stitch her up.” E.J. grabbed my hand, squeezing it to try and keep me awake.

“No.” I hissed.

E.J. knew what he was doing, but it always hurt like a bitch. Takeshi looked me over and sighed, pulling me off the column so that he could hoist me into his arms.

“I’ll help you hold her down.” He adjusted me bridal-style and stood.

“God, fuck you both.” My voice was scratchy, and the lights began to look spotty.

“Just rest, Nov. We’ve got you.” Eli whispered, and I let the darkness consume me as my sleeve went heavy in Takeshi’s arms.

***

“What happened to a meal, getting laid, and restacking forever?”

I looked up from my plate to see Ortega walking over to us, hands on her hips. Takeshi took a drag of his cigarette before looking her way.

“I got interrupted.” He downed a shot.

“Who the fuck are these guys?”

“I don’t know.” Takeshi shrugged. “But they knew me.”

“Di-”

“They called you by name? Are you sure?” Ortega cut me off and I sighed, going back to pushing around the pasta on my plate.

“Eat.” Eli urged me.

I sighed again. “I really don’t want to.”

“Kristin!” The man Takeshi and I had seen drop off Bancroft’s son was there, working on the scene. “Four of them are just local muscle, but this sleeve is registered to Dimitri Kadmin. Ulan Bator registry.” He showed Ortega the tablet in his hands.

Ortega punched his arm, excited. “We got him.”

“Got who?” Takeshi looked over at me.

“Dimitri Kadmin, hitman out of Vladivostok.” I cut Ortega off this time. “Otherwise known as Dimi the Twin. Does a lot of work for the yakuza. Bastard doesn’t trust anyone, so he double-sleeves.”

“Isn’t the penalty real death?” E.J. asked.

Ortega’s partner nodded. “We hold onto his stack, and sooner or later we catch the other version of him out there, and then he’s done.”

Ortega let out a string of curses, and her partner looked her way. “What, what’s going on?”

“Stack is fragged. Not enough left to spin him up to interrogate. Fuck.”

“You couldn’t just disable them?” Ortega hissed at Poe.

“I was coming to the defense of my first guest in about a decade.” Poe took a shot of his own.

“With enough firepower to bring down an airplane.” Ortega spat back.

“Hey, Poe is fully licensed for customer protection. You know that. Not to mention, I got fucking knived.”

“You’ve shot people for less.” Her partner reminded her, and she brushed him off.

“So, Dimitri’s a high-end hitman?” Takeshi spoke up.

“Yeah, top of the line.” Ortega scowled.

“Then Bancroft’s death wasn’t a suicide.”

“Of course. Because who would wanna kill an asshole like you?” Ortega’s partner scoffed.

“Plenty of people. A few centuries ago.” Takeshi lit another cigarette.

Resleeved in the body of a hard-core nicotine addict was how he had put it.

“Kovacs doesn’t merit this kind of hit unless they wanna stop him from looking into Bancroft’s death.” I put together what Takeshi himself had been getting at.

“Instead of blaming us, how about you apply your impressive policing skills.” Takeshi scoffed at them.

“Less than eight hours out of the tank, and you’re already up to your eyes in organic damage and real death.”

Takeshi grabbed his unicorn backpack, which I had learned an hour ago was full of illegal street drugs, kissed the top of it, and slung it over his shoulder. He held his hand out for me, and I looked between him and E.J. My little brother nodded at me, and I took Takeshi’s hand, letting him help me off the stool.

“I could find a way to arrest you two for this.” Ortega threatened.

“Yeah?” Takeshi taunted as he led us past them. “You make up your mind, we’ll be upstairs.” He helped me stay steady as we wove through the sleeves strung on the floor.

Ortega tried to come after us, and her partner grabbed her, pulling her back and telling us to leave it. My foot slipped over a piece of glass, and I winced, grip on Takeshi’s hand tightening.

“Here.” He held my hand with one of his and grabbed my waist with the other, letting my weight rest against his side.

I felt like I was going to faint as his muscles moved under his shirt, rubbing against my own body. He hit the button to our floor and closed his eyes. I felt his body relax, but his grip on my waist stayed firm.

“Takeshi?” I whispered, looking up.

He met my gaze.

“I need to take the case. These people know who I am. I can't put my brother at risk like that.”

He only nodded and looked forward once more. His eyes fluttered shut, and he seemed to be absorbed into another flashback, like he had been in the car after we met Bancroft. It seemed to entrap him even as he led me to my room. He was fighting hard, his fingers beginning to bunch up the material of my shirt. I said nothing, returning the reassuring hand on his back. He helped me get to my bed, and, without a word, tears forming in his hazel-green eyes, turned and walked out of the room.

I laid on my back and sighed. This man was torn apart beyond belief, but he was a force to be reckoned with. This would be, by far, the most intense job I had ever and would ever work.

[chanelsebbie]

𝗪𝗵𝘆 𝗗𝗼 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗛𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗠𝗲? | 𝗽.𝗽.

➵warnings: Substance use, language, Endgame spoilers, angst. 

➵masterlist

➵summary: Peter just wants to know why you hate him. 

➵a/n: Hee hee, I’m still trying to break in my new blog so feel free to send in requests and follow or reblog :)  ((THIS IS A STARK!READER FIC))

You never really liked Peter Parker. 

But you didn’t hate him. You couldn’t. Everyone on the Avengers team tolerated him, and some even liked him. And he was talented at what he did. But you still couldn’t bring yourself to like him. 

After the events of Thanos, you were finally brought back, and so was Peter. And Tony was happier than ever to get you home, and in his arms again. You went in and kicked ass. And the good guys won. 

But at the cost of your father’s life. 

Now that he was gone, everyone is asking who the next Ironman would be. You would think people would have been gunning on you, his own daughter, but instead, everybody looked to the boy no older than yourself. 

And jealousy raged through you, feeling put off to the side, along with trying to grieve and mourn your fathers death, all while trying to keep the world at peace. And with the Captain in retirement, along with Natasha gone, that left the team struggling to stay together. Some of the strongest members were gone, and Thor was still trying to lose that weight. 

So it all fell down to you. And sadly, also Peter. You were struggling to finish your studies in high school, as was Peter, the both of you attending the same school. While Peter had all sorts of friends, you preferred to be alone, and get through school, so you could take on more missions and important callings. 

Just like today. But today was going to be slightly different. 

“Come on, y/n, it’s just one party! It won’t kill you,” he protested as you walked into the common area of the Avengers headquarters. 

“Yes it will,” you grunted, plopping down on the couch and telling F.R.I.D.A.Y. to turn the TV on.”

“No- F.R.I.D.A.Y., turn the TV off- It’s a big party and I know you’ll have fun! Flash is throwing it but I know you can still enjoy it,”

That made you not want to go even more. Flash was arrogant, snooty, and always took your detesting glares as playing hard to get. All you knew is that he didn’t like the word ‘no’, which set up multiple red flags for you. 

“No. I said no.” you huffed, taking the remote this time and turning the TV back on, flipping through the channels was Peter let out a defeated sigh, sitting right next to you, pulling out his phone. 

But secretly, Peter didn’t want to leave the living room. And even if he was on his phone, he just wanted to be near you. 

◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

“Come ooonnn, y/n, please??” Peter begged over the phone, pleading with you as he tried to get you to come to the stupid party that he was already at. 

The loud music could be heard in the background, along with some masculine cheering, which you were sure was the captain of the football team. 

“Peter, no, I’m already in bed,” lie “and I’m in the middle of a book. I’ll see you when you get back to the compound,” you tried to negotiate with a clip to your voice, and the truth was you were at the compound, sitting on the couch in a pair of fuzzy socks and you really didn’t wanna get up. 

“Fine. Yeah. Fine, have fun at home, square.” he dramatically replied, obviously also not a fan of the word no.

You hated when he did that, when he tried to guilt trip you, because no matter how cheesy it was, he almost always succeeded in making you feel like shit. 

“Good night, Peter,”

And with that, you hung up. 

◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

You found yourself dozing off to the sound of the movie playing on the screen, the large blanket covering you making you never want to leave for the rest of your life. 

But your blissful state was halted by the sound of your phone ringing, making your eyes shoot open and lazily grabbing your cellular device and mindlessly pressing the answer button without looking at the contact name before letting out a groggy “Hello?”

“Y/n!!! Heeeyyyyy,” Peter’s loopy voice sounded off, and if you weren’t full awake already, you certainly were now. 

“Peter??” you scolded, “Are you...?”

“Having the time of my life?? Abbssolutelyyy!!” 

“Shhhhh, just-” you pinched the bridge of your nose, trying not to panic, “Where are you?”

“At the party you were too scared to come to,” he chastised, making you let out a silent sigh in annoyance. 

“Just stay there, okay, I’m coming,” you finally spoke, flipping the blanket off of yourself and getting up with get some real clothes on.

“I like it when you say you’re comi-”

And with that, you hung up the phone. 

◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

If there was one thing that your father had good taste in, it was his automobiles. He had many he took pride in. Especially the red ones. And if anything, the memory of your father might keep you sane. 

You punched in the address for Flash’s house, and even brought a pair of your father’s glasses, the only two E.D.I.T.Hs left. Ever. 

The drive there was speedy, and when you pulled into the driveway, your stomach dropped. A flood of teenagers crowded the house, and that was just the outside. You couldn’t imagine trying to find Peter in that mess. 

“E.D.I.T.H., find Peter for me, will you?” you spoke to your glasses. 

“Of course,” the voice responded, pausing a moment before continuing, “He’s in the living room. His alcohol levels are high.”

You groaned. You should’ve known, you shouldn’t have let him go out on his own to a party with Flash, that prick has alcohol up the ying-yang thanks to daddy’s money, shit-

Standing up out of the car, you slam the door, glasses still on, “E.D.I.T.H., show me Parker’s vitals, please,” you continued to storm towards the front door and making your way in. 

“His heartbeat is quick and his blood pressure is high, and as I said before, his alcohol levels are irrate.”

“Peter??” you called out, watching as his head popped up like a weasel’s, eyes bright as he recognized you. 

“[y/n]!!” He gasped, running over to you before wrapping his arms around you, “You came! I knew you would!”

“Yeah,” you pulled him off of you, “I came to get you. You’re drunk, Parker, we’re going home.”

“Aww, come on,” he pushed before hanging on you. 

“Peter. No. Come on, let’s go,” you pushed him off again, obviously more annoyed than before. You hated the way people were starting to look at you. 

“[y/n]! Please, don’t push me away again! Just let loose and have fun,”

Your anger brewed. And this was supposed to be the next Ironman. 

“Peter.” you scolded in the most dominant voice you could muster, making a few people around the two of you look their way, “We. Are going. Home.”

Without another word, you grabbed his hand and dragged him out, Peter protesting like a toddler, trying to pull back, but he was so drunk, he seemed weak, and unable to truly fight back. 

You reached the car, opening the door for him as he sat down, folding his arms and glaring at you as you got into the car, starting it and pulling out of the driveway and back to Queens, where hopefully you could get Peter out of trouble. 

A few good 3 minutes passed, (it felt longer thanks to Peter’s glare), and you finally spoke up. 

“Are you done staring at me like a child?” you breathed like a disappointed parent. Which was worse, acting like a mother or a child?

“I’m waiting for an apology. When I sober up, the guyyss are never going to leave alone about what you did to be back there.” he grumbled, obviously going to hold his grudge. 

“I don’t have to apologize for anything,” you gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, trying to suppress your thoughts that made you quick to anger. 

“Like hell-”

“I wasn’t the one breaking the law and underage drinking,” you growled back.

“I can’t wait till I sober up so I can show you what for. That was mortifying. You’re embarrassing.”

Out of everything you’ve been called, embarrassing was never something you were dubbed. 

Peter paused and held his breath, realizing he was blowing it with you, “Wait, [y/n], I’m sorry, I’m just-”

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, trying to keep tears from welling up in your eyes. 

“No, it can’t be, because I read somewhere that if a woman says she’s fine, she’s really not actually fine, and-”

“Peter! Just shut up, please!!” you scolded, trying not to sob, just wanting this night to go away. 

Soon after you hit a red light, and Peter just stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched, trying to think of something to say. Something to do. Anything at all to try and fix it. But thanks to the alcohol limiting the filter between his brain and his mouth, the next thing that came out of his mouth was:

“Why do you hate me?”

Your world seemed to stop for a second as you tried to compose yourself. This was the last thing you wanted him to think, no matter how vulnerable he made you feel. 

“I don’t hate you, Peter...,”

“Then what is it? Why do you push me away? Can you see that I like you? Like really really like you?”

You swallowed hard at his words. You closed your eyes and swallowed, “Peter, I don’t know what to tell you-”

“Then tell me something, please, anything-”

“I love you, Peter-” your outburst made him wince as he tried to focus and piece together your words in his drunken state, “I love you, Peter. And whenever I look at you... I see him, and I just...,” you took a deep breath to prevent the tears welling in your eyes, making you seem weak in your opinion, “I’m supposed to be the next Ironman, but the press says differently. I’m jealous of you Peter,” you shook in embarrassment as you pressed down on the gas, your cloudy vision making you swerve to stay on the road so you didn’t crash a priceless car. 

“You love me?”

“Y-yeah, I mean, I guess, I wouldn’t...,” you paused, “You aren’t going to remember this in the morning anyway,”

“No. I’m not gonna forget this. Not even if I tried,” he laughed humorlessly, leaning back in his seat. 

“Well... I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” you thought out loud, wanting to take your rant and stuff it back down your throat. 

You didn’t mean for him to find out. Not like this at least. 

◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

When you two got back to the compound, he gipped onto you like a kid, clinging to you and refusing to let go. At this point there was a mutual understanding between the two of you. That both of you had feelings, but it wouldn’t be discussed until the morning. 

The elevator ride made Peter look sick, the alcohol finally starting to catch up to him, and right as the doors opened, he ran inside, finding the closest bathroom. 

That poor toilet. 

You caught up to him and sat next to a sickly Peter, rubbing his back as he let everything out. He held you the best he could, not wanting you to leave his side. 

You brushed the hair away from his forehead as he leaned over the side of the toilet, groaning in discomfort as he continued to cling to you like you would slip away. After a few more times of the repeated pattern of ejecting bile, he turned to you.

“I’m tired,” he mumbled like a child. 

“Come on, Spidey, let’s get you to bed,” you gave a small smile, picking him up as you dragged him out of the bathroom and into a guest bedroom, getting him an extra shirt and sweatpants from the closet before turning around while he got changed. 

But a wrapping of arms around your waist told you he was done. You waddled him over to the bedside before sitting him down and getting him off your back. He was like a damn koala. 

You finally laid him down, pulling the covers over him snuggly, not failing to notice the longing stare coming from Peter. You gave a smile, and he smiled back. It made your heart flutter in spite of yourself. 

You shook yourself out of it, the only thing on your mind now was getting to sleep, trying to forget the conversation that was supposed to be had the next morning. 

“Goodnight, Peter.” you began to walk away, but before you could get too far away from the bed, you felt someone grab your hand. 

“Please stay,” he begged, unspilled tears in his eyes, the fear of you leaving his side the greatest concern on his mind. 

You paused. You were about to go to sleep with Peter Parker, and yet your hesitation was the only thing that was stopping you from what you had wished you had been doing for as long as you had known the boy. 

Despite the voice screaming in the back of your head to put the wall back up and your foot down, say no, and leave, your body opposed, slipping under the covers with the sniffling teenager. 

He immediately smiled and embraced you, and you knew that you would have to get used to the physical contact. He was behind you, his arms around your waist, his breath gently fanning over the nape of your neck. 

You covered the both of you up, Peter sighing. And as much as you hated to admit it, he looked adorable. 

“Parker, if you barf in my hair, you aren’t gonna wake up with eyebrows,” you were half-joking, half-serious. 

“Will do.” he laughed sluggishly, sniffling before you finally felt his breaths steady and slow, passed out with you in his arms. 

You never really liked Peter Parker. 

You loved him.

[brockadoodles]

The CN Tower and Chocolate Chip Pancakes - w. nylander

AN: I swear before whipping this out I was complaining about no writing motivation and how I was going to finish my Christmas wips when this like came to me. So here’s a quick little story about one of our favorite blondies for @puckinghell​ and all of you. There is mention of losing a parent, which is something I closely relate to from losing one of mine recently, if that’s a trigger, I wouldn’t read this. It’s not an angst piece at all, I just think that warning is necessary. This also may or may not be self indulgent and based on an actual experience I had two years ago with a boy in NYC, but like, you didn’t hear that from me. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. 

Word Count: 3,337 

Warnings: Mentions of death of a parent 

Christmas was usually your favorite time of the year. You loved how the city lit up during December, the white lights twinkling from the streetlights and trees, the fresh snow that usually littered the city of Toronto, and the constant smell of gingerbread and spices whenever you entered a building were all things that brought you comfort. This year, however, was different. It was the first year without your mom, without a lot of the traditions that the two of you would do together as you grew up. 

You tried though. You went through all of the motions of the holiday. You decorated a tree, blue and silver just like she always loved. You went skating, an experience that was far less fun without your mom to laugh with you when you fell. You went to the Christmas Market, buying a new small knick-knack, like every other year you had done since you were five years old. All of it felt forced, but you were hopeful. You were hopeful that one last Christmas tradition would bring you the sense of comfort you had been searching for during the entire month of December. 

The fleeting feeling of comfort and your mom were how you found yourself spending nearly $60 to go up CN Tower on Christmas Eve. A tradition that was usually entirely reserved for tourists visiting the city, a romantic setting with the tower lit up for the holiday and the nighttime skyline view of the entire city providing a cinematic backdrop for people’s perfect holiday moments. You weren’t a tourist, you had grown up in Toronto for your entire life, but your mom had always believed in the idea that it wasn’t a bad thing to be a tourist in your own city, so every year on Christmas even she would bring you up here and the two of you would sit on the observation deck and make a Christmas wish. No matter how lost you felt, it was the one tradition that you didn’t think you could ever give up. 

You wandered around the observation deck, the dark beanie on your head keeping your ears warm and your hands were securely tucked in your wool coat pockets as you watched the various people scattered around. It was getting late, the families with children were long gone, probably at home tucked into their beds, and most people that were left were younger couples. You glanced to your right, spotting a boy on one knee holding a ring out for the girl standing in front of him with tears in her eyes. You watched them for a moment, finding yourself wrapped up slightly in how happy they both looked. It gave you an idea for your Christmas wish, and you found yourself smiling softly as you closed your eyes and wished. 

“I love you, mom, Merry Christmas.” You whispered as you opened your eyes, the feeling of comfort not quite sinking into your chest yet. As you walked the familiar route to the elevators, you decided that once last stop before heading home for pancakes certainly couldn’t hurt. 

You walked down the street with your eyes focussed on your phone as the snow was falling a bit harder than it had been previously. You were searching for anything that was open on Christmas Eve, your stomach growling a bit as you scanned through the search results. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Someone exclaimed, grabbing your arm slightly to prevent you from falling into their chest. You looked up, seeing a boy that must have been around your age looking down at you with a concerned look in his blue eyes. You must have ran into him, too focussed on your phone to watch where you were walking properly enough. You studied his face for a minute, wondering if you had somehow met him before from the feeling of familiarity you were getting in your stomach. 

“Do I know you?” You blurted out, adverting your eyes a bit when you realized how rude you must have sounded to this boy immediately after quite literally bumping into him. It didn’t seem to phase him though, and he just smiled. 

“I think so? I’m William. You know Steph right? Steph LaChance?” And that’s when it hit you, you did know this boy, well sort of. You had met him maybe once before, at a mutual friend’s birthday party at least two years ago. 

“Ah, I do remember you. Wow, you look different, I mean, good.” You stumbled out. It was true, he did look a lot different than he did when you met him. His hair was longer, his face a bit rounder, and a short beard that definitely wasn’t there before. You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment a bit as he laughed softly at your statement.

“So do you. Hey, this may seem a bit forward but, are you busy right now?” He asked. Part of you wanted to tell him yes, that you were busy. That way you could just get on the train back to your apartment, curl up with a warm cup of tea and your slippers, and fall asleep to the snow falling outside of your winder. But the other part of you was dreading going home, the sinking feeling of your first Christmas without your mom settling into your stomach and making you not want to go home. Because if you went home to your empty apartment, you’d have to fully confront your reality. So instead, you nodded up at William, taking a chance on the stranger in front of you that wasn’t quite a stranger. 

“What did you have in mind?” You asked softly.

“Come on.” He smiled at you and held his hand out for you to take, your question going unanswered as you hesitantly wrapped your hand in his, letting him lead you in the opposite direction you had come from. 

The walk was short and quiet, and your stomach grumbled once more when you stopped in front of what appeared to be the destination he was leading you to. You glanced up at the neon pink sign, the diner clearly out of date and straight from the 1980’s. You smiled to yourself, appreciating that somehow this stranger that wasn’t quite a stranger had instinctively known exactly what you needed at the moment. 

“I hope you like pancakes,” He smiled as he opened the door for you, gesturing you ahead with his hand. The diner was relatively empty, just a few other patrons sitting in the various worn-out leather booths. There were decorations everywhere, garlands wrapped around the posts holding up the ceiling and a small Christmas tree lit up in the corner of the diner, multicolored lights strung throughout but no ornaments. 

You followed William to a booth in the corner and watched carefully as he smiled at the waitress, her saying hello to him by name. You wondered if this was a place he went to frequently enough to be on a first-name basis with the people that worked here, or if perhaps they were just Toronto Maple Leafs fans who happened to recognize him.

“I come here all the time, usually after bad games. I just really like the people here, and something about diner food is comforting after a loss.” He explained before you had the chance to ask. You nodded at him while you shrugged off your jacket and pulled off your beanie, fixing your hair slightly as William handed you a menu from the side of the table. You grabbed the menu and let your fingers brush lightly against his, causing you to pull your hand back quickly. 

“Why did you want to come here tonight?” You asked softly, hoping that your question wasn’t taken out of context or as too intrusive for him to answer. William didn’t seem phased by any of it, instead offering you what would have been the fourth or fifth reassuring smile so far that night, if you were keeping count. 

“Just didn’t want to be alone on Christmas Eve, I guess.” He admitted. You were almost taken aback by his honesty with you, finding yourself wondering if he had asked you the very same question that you asked him if you’d answer as bluntly as he did. You felt oddly settled with him though, there in that shitty diner looking at a worn-out menu that probably hadn’t been updated in fifteen years and you found yourself wanting to give him the same openness that he gave you. 

“Me neither, I guess.” You commented, holding back and giving him just enough that hopefully he understood that on some level you felt how he felt, even if you couldn’t entirely admit to him why. 

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a few moments as you both scanned over the menu. The waitress came over, sliding two pale brown mugs filled with coffee in both of your directions and noting that she would be back in a minute to check if either of you wanted any food. You scanned over the pancakes and peeked over at William, his eyes also scanning the page with concentration and you found your mind wondering about him once more. You watched as he bit his lip softly and wondered if he was the type who liked pancakes with fruit on them, or chocolate, an inconsequential fact that most people wouldn’t be phased by but to you said everything you needed to know about a person. 

“You said you hoped I liked pancakes, right, William?” You asked, breaking the silence between you as you closed your menu in front of you. He looked over the menu in his own hands at you, raising an eyebrow quickly and smiling softly before looking back down at the pages. 

“You can call me Willy if you want, and yeah. I like most kinds, but if you try to tell me fruit on pancakes is better than chocolate, I might have to leave.” He teased as he closed his menu, now looking fully at you with a smirk on his face. For a moment you went wide-eyed, wondering if he somehow crept into your mind and heard exactly what you were thinking. You recovered quickly though, and folded your hands quickly on the table, sending your own smirk back to him. 

“I’m not going to argue with that, it’s obviously the correct answer.” Willy didn’t say anything, instead, he nodded at you before taking a sip of the diner coffee, seemingly not phased by its lack of strength or flavor. You grabbed your own mug and the two of you settled into a much more relaxed conversation as you waited for the waitress to come back. Nearly two hours of conversation passing through you without either of you realizing just how personal you were being with each other. 

“Usually this place is faster than this, I’m sorry.” The boy in front of you commented, his head tilting toward the large analog clock on the wall that had shown it was nearing midnight, nearing Christmas. You weren’t worried though, glancing around the small diner as the snow fell harshly outside. You smiled softly at William, 

“We haven’t even ordered yet, and I’ve got nothing but time tonight.” Willy just smiled back at you, nodding a bit and catching the eye of the waitress. 

“Sorry guys, been a long day. What can I get you?” She smiled apologetically. You nodded at Willy to go first. 

“No problem, Grace.” He started, referring to the older woman by her first name. He glanced at you quickly, taking a leap of his own as he spoke,

“Can we just grab two orders of chocolate chip pancakes and more coffee?” he asked. 

“Confident, what if I wanted strawberry?” You teased, raising an eyebrow quickly. Willy laughed, a genuine laugh that somehow hit you in your chest as comfort settled into your system, a soft smile lingering on your lips as he started leaning into his hand that was resting on the table. He looked at you at that moment like you were more than just a stranger who wasn’t really a stranger to him, and you would be lying to yourself if you tried to ignore the butterflies that it was giving you. Willy felt familiar in an unfamiliar yet exciting way. It didn’t feel like you had only met him once, instead, it felt like you had known him in passing forever, your comfort level and trust quickly rising in him in just a few short hours of really knowing him. 

“No chance, you said I was right about chocolate, and I pay attention.” He threw back at you. 

“Okay, tell me the real reason you’re alone on Christmas Eve.” Willy pressed as he set his fork down, scooting the nearly empty plate away from his body and toward the center of the table. It was nearly 2 am at this point, and you weren’t sure if it was the few hours you had spent with him giving or the tiredness weighing you down that gave you the false sense of closeness with him, but you found yourself giving in anyway, wanting to tell him everything about yourself in hopes that he would for some reason be taking notes to remember you by. 

“It’s my first Christmas without my mom, she uhm, passed away earlier this year and I spent the whole day doing things by myself that we used to do together. So, when you asked if I was busy, I said no, because going somewhere with you felt better than going home to my empty apartment and my thoughts.” It felt good to get it out and Willy’s reaction confirmed what you had already assumed about him, that he wouldn’t judge you for not wanting to spend Christmas Eve alone. After all, before you ran into him, he was set on being alone. 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He frowned. You just shrugged, you were used to the apologies, no one really knew what it was like when a parent passed away unless they had dealt with it themselves. The apology was an expression of sympathy, and you didn’t mind it coming from Willy. 

“What about you? Have a sad story to tell me?” You inquired. Willy sighed and for a moment you wondered if you had pushed too hard if you had overstepped some boundary that he had put up between you that you missed. But the sigh came with a nod as he continued, opening his mouth to speak quietly as you looked at him with eyes that you hoped indicated your willingness to take in whatever he had to say without any judgment. 

“I guess I’ve just been having a rough year, I’m not sure how closely you follow hockey, but, a lot of people are doubting if I belong here. I guess with not being able to go home and see my family, it was getting to me. Didn’t even really have any plans until you ran into me and I just felt comfortable asking you to do something.” His voice wavered as he spoke and his eyes dodged your own a few times as he went through what you could only gather were insecurities he didn’t like to talk about. You reached out and put your hand on his wrist, running your thumb slowly across his skin and smiling softly at him. 

“You belong here, Willy. I’m not sure how much that means coming from a stranger, but you belong here.” He lit up at your words, turning his hand to grab yours. Your heart pounded in your chest as he laced your fingers together and gave your hand a soft squeeze before letting go, a silent thank you that didn’t need words. You knew what he was trying to say, you didn’t need him to verbally thank you for it. 

The two of you started putting your coats back on, the night coming to a close that you weren’t sure you were ready for. You hadn’t expected to have a good Christmas, and while it certainly couldn’t compare to the ones of your past, as you sat in that diner with Willy for hours you felt like you were soaking in the comfort you had spent the entire month trying to find. Each time he laughed at something you said you melted further into the old booth. 

Willy set some cash on the table, ignoring your protests as he paid for the meal, and grabbed your hand, once again lacing your fingers together as he tugged you out of the restaurant, this time not letting go once you stepped outside. 

“I’ll drive you home, I’m just parked a bit far. Is that okay?” He asked. You smiled and nodded in response, too focussed on the warmth of the feeling of his hand in yours and how it sent waves of feeling straight to your heart and butterflies to your stomach. 

The two of you walked in silence for about a block, his hand never wavering from yours until you were standing at a crosswalk. He stopped and looked around a bit. You were near the Christmas market, some of the lights were still on despite how late it was. The decorations were visible from where you were standing on the street, and the only light was coming from the reflection of the twinkling lights reflecting off of the snow. He turned to face you, squeezing your hand gently as he stumbled through his next few words,

“I know this is so abrupt and we just sort of met, and maybe it’s the over romanization of Christmas getting to my head but I really want to kiss you right now.” 

You looked up at him, his eyes were warm and the snow was settling into the hair sticking from his beanie. It might have been exactly what he said, the romanization of meeting someone outside of a shitty diner on Christmas Eve and somehow spending the whole night with them sharing things that you hadn’t even entirely shared with your closest friends. 

The more you thought about it the more you felt like it was a bad Christmas movie. But bad Christmas movies always ended in a kiss, and you weren’t about to stop the tradition now. So you grabbed him by the collar of his stupidly overpriced pea coat and crashed your lips to his before you could stop yourself. Willy settled into the kiss quickly, wrapping his hand around your waist and tugging your body into his chest. When you pulled apart, the puffs of cloudy air from your breath filled the space around you, and he smiled at you like you were the best thing he could have hoped for this Christmas, a feeling that was unspoken yet mutual. 

You buried your face into his chest, stomach in knots as you overthought exactly what had just happened and what it all meant. Willy took his hand and tilted your chin up so that your eyes were looking at his, smiling at you before leaning in to kiss you again, his lips brushing yours softly. 

“You never told me what you wished for.” He commented when you pulled apart. 

“You somehow gave it to me, Willy.” You smiled and kissed him again, tangling your hand with his once again. You didn’t need to elaborate, because Willy understood what you meant. He had given you comfort, a feeling of not being alone on the one holiday where no one should have to be alone. He didn’t know what the future held, or what this would mean to you by the time the enchantment of the holidays wore off, but he knew that right now you were what he wanted, and he could only hope that you felt the same as you kissed him for the third time that night in the snow.  

[scarletjedi]

Untitled Untamed Time Travel Fixit AU but make it Mingcheng

@piyo-13

Part 1

Part 2A

PART 2B: GUSU UNLEASHED

Nie Huaisang immediately grabs a piece of blank paper to write a message back to Nie Mingjue, leaving Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian staring at each other. “Well,” Wei Wuxian said after a minute. “Aren’t you going to write to him, too?”

Jiang Cheng startled, he’d been too caught up in Huaisang’s words, “He’s alive!”. He had been prepared to go through the process of meeting Nie Mingjue again, of hopefully catching his attention, of watching A-Jue fall for him the way Jiang Cheng had fallen years ago — that his lover was here, alive, and *knew him* had not had time to process.

Trembling, Jiang Cheng moved from his bed, weak limbs pouring him like water until he was sat up against the table, taking the paper that Huaisang handed him. He stared, blankly. What to *say*?

“Tell him you love him,” Wei Wuxian said from his bed.

“Tsk, he knows that,” Jiang Cheng said with little snap.

“Then tell him you want to fuc—”

“Ah, la la la la!” Nie Huaisang said, covering his ears, and Wei Wuxian fell back laughing. Nie Huaisang winked at him. “Be honest,” he said. “But be short,” he looked down at his own missive. “All of this needs to fit on the bird.”

Nodding, Jiang Cheng picked up his brush. After a moment, he put ink to paper, writing in quick, sure strokes. He fanned the paper back and forth a few times to dry the ink faster, and folded the note to hand to Huaisang. Huaisang took it with a grin and ran from the room to send the message back.

“What did you write?” Wei Wuxian asked.

“None of your business.”

Two days later Nie Zonghui would bring the messages to Nie Mingjue, who would open Huaisang’s note, only to have a smaller note fall free. He would pick it up with a small frown before reading Huaisang’s note, smiling — blinking, then reading the note again. “If he put nearly have the effort into studying...” he muttered and Zongui would hide a smile. Then, Mingjue would open the smaller missive, nearly dropping the paper in shock, scrambling to catch it. “Sect Leader?” Zonghui would ask, and when Nie Mingjue looked up, he would be beaming.

Now, Nie Mingjue, who had fought, lead, and won a war, lead a sect, and died a slow, agonizing descent into his greatest fears, finds himself once more at 19, newly made Section Leader, and the clearest minded he’s been in years, without the damage caused by cultivating a war and...well. He wasn’t actually sure *how* Meng Yao managed to kill him, just that he knew he had.

Which was another problem. By this point, Huaisang was safely in Cloud Recesses, but Meng Yao was on his way back to Qinghe. It would take him most of a week to return, traveling on horseback as he was, and Nie Mingjue wasn’t sure what reception Meng Yao should receive.

Meng Yao, long before he was renamed by his father, had acted in ways that were counter to the values of the Nie sect. Even if Nie Mingjue were to overlook the crimes he committed as Jin Guangyao, or the atrocities he participated in as a torturer for Wen Ruohan, his crimes began in Qinghe.

Crimes that, as far as Nie Mingjue was aware, had not yet happened. Even before Meng Yao had used the chaos of an attack to kill the captain of his guardNie, Mingjue was never sure how much Meng Yao spoke was the truth — just knew that at one point he was sure Meng Yao had never lied to him, and then was never sure Meng Yao was not lying.

In his previous life, Nie Mingjue turned most often to Lan Xichen for council, particularly wher Meng— Jin Guangyao was concerned. Then, as years passed, Xichen would turn ever more towards Jin Guangyao first, and Nie Mingjue found himself turning to Jiang Wanyin as their wartime sparring turned to tent-side comfort, to comraderie to courtship.

A-Cheng.

For all that Mingjue had more years of experience leading a sect, Wanyin’s experience was a similar enough trial by fire to grant him insight, and an outsider enough to the triumvirate to offer an outsider’s clarity.

Truly, his love possessed an uncanny wisdom hidden behind brusque words and toothless threats.

He wished for Wanyin’s council now. He wished for his presence. It had already been too long since they had last seen each other before Mingjue made his last, fateful visit to Jinlintai. It would likely be several months, if not years, before their paths would cross once more.

And— he missed his lover as a lover. Wanyin was a beautiful man, strong and proud and fierce and so sweet in private. A joy and a challenge.

Getting Huaisang’s letter was bittersweet because his didi had already suffered so much: even the first time, Mingjue had wanted Hauisang’s youth to be as worry free as possible, to have the freedom to be careless in a way Mingjue never had. And sweet, because it meant that Mingjue wasn’t alone in this.

Getting Wanyin’s message was a blessing and a curse. He had already resigned himself to wait, to reach out to the Jiang Sect in support to save Wanyin his own heartbreak, to court him properly from the beginning. To know that his love was here, and yet still so far out of reach...

Huaisang’s letter boiled down to “plan in motion. Do not engage.” Which...

“Didi,” Nie Mingjue muttered. “What are you doing?”

Because, the thing is, Mingjue would *like* to listen to Huaisang. Mingjue was tired, and doing the right thing was an increasingly difficult and murky task....but Mingjue was also a just and righteous man. Certain actions he would take no matter what...and certain actions he would not.

The facts were thus:

Meng Yao had killed him in a way that was both intensely malicious and duplicitous. (Nie Mingjue was unsure as to his motive. What did Meng Yao gain aside from petty revenge? No, the method was revenge. The act...the act was something different).

Meng Yao had not, as of yet, committed any crime, nor was he currently capable of the technique that had been used to kill Mingjue.

Nie Mingjue could not in good conscience kill a man who had committed no crime, nor could he stand by and allow another to fall off the righteous path when it was within his power to prevent. (Was it within his power?)

So, Nie Mingjue could neither punish Meng Yao for crimes he had not yet committed, nor could was he able to relax in Meng Yao’s presence the way he had the first time around.

...Maybe Huaisang had ideas.

[later] “I can’t believe this!” Huaisang glared at the letter from his brother. Jiang Cheng’s own letter sat in his pocket to be perused later. It felt almost hot, the way his focus continually drifted towards the folded paper, but he knew better than to read his lover’s letter in front of Huaisang. Not if he wanted to keep any pretense to dignity.

“What is it?” he prompted when Huaisang fell silent, re-reading furiously.

“He wants to rehabilitate Meng Yao! His own murderer!”

“Meng Yao didn’t come back with the rest of us,” Jiang Cheng offered. “He’s not the man who killed your brother. Not yet, anyway.”

“You didn’t see—” Huaisang cut himself off, looking away and biting his lip. Jiang Cheng shifted, focusing on the letter to let the heat of its presence chase away the chill of the reminder that when his lover had died, Jiang Cheng wasn’t there.

“A tiger can not change his stripes,” Nie Huaisang muttered, and hid his face behind his fan.

[The discussion over what happens to Meng Yao plays out thusly:

NHS: I don’t want to kill Meng Yao, Da-ge! I just don’t want him alive. Anymore.

NMJ: Didi, no.

NHS: Didi, yes!

Ultimately, NMJ pulls the big brother/sect leader card and says they have time to deal with Meng Yao, and since Meng Yao was currently NMJ’s problem, he would deal with it. NHS threw a tantrum that reminded everyone that yes, NHS is related to NMJ by blood, but finally went: “fine! It’s not like the *whole reason* we came back wasn’t to fuck up all of his shit!” and adjusted his plans again.]

When he goes back to his room, Jiang Cheng finds himself alone. He can bet that Wei Wuxian will be off with Lan Wangji (and no, Jiang Cheng doesn’t know why Wei Wuxian hasn’t just moved in with his boyfriend, considering how often he comes skittering into the room just on the wrong side of curfew, mussed and bruised in a very specific way that Jiang Cheng a) wants to know no more about and b)isn’t jealous of, fuck off.), so he has time to read his letter.

Cheng-er,

We never were a pair for letters, you and I, preferring to steal time for each other like a pair of romantic thieves. I regret, now, not making more time to woo and court you properly then — though I fear I already had all you could give — not desire, you showed me your hunger for me readily enough, matched only by my hunger for you — but hours of the day.

I think very fondly of our nights.

This second chance makes me desire to do better, to build you a place in my life from the start, as I hope you build a place for me. We are young, yet, and have time to hope.

I miss you, Wanyin. Cheng-er. Please write to me. A letter is a poor substitute for your fire, but I will cherish even these scraps above silence.

Yours,

A-Jue

Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure how long he was there, re-reading the letter, when Wei Wuxian tumbled in, only to stop when he caught sight of Jiang Cheng.

“Jiang Cheng! You’re pink!” Wei Wuxian crowed, pointing a finger and laughing at the way Jiang Cheng startled. “Who wrote to you to make you blush? What did he say?”

“None of your business,” Jaing Cheng snapped, tucking the letter away.

A-Jue,

Who gave you the right to write such a letter? Who would believe the NIe Sect leader to be so shameless? You can take a lesson from your brother in poetry if you are planning to continue!

Building a space — as if I did not rebuild my piers with a place for you. As if you had not already crawled into my heart to live.

I lost you once, A-Jue. I will not lose you again.

I await your next letter,

Yours, always,

Cheng-er

Jiang Cheng hands the folded paper to Nie Huaisang, face burning. For once, Nie Huaisang doesn’t tease, doesn’t give him a knowing smirk. Instead, his eyes are kind, and he takes the letter with little fanfare, tucking it neatly into his own missive to be sent off at once.

When the next letter comes, Jiang Cheng doesn’t even bother waiting, taking the letter and retreating to the sound of Nie Huaisang’s laughter.

Cheng-er

You want poetry, do you?...

Jiang Cheng’s eyes skip over the page and he gasps aloud, face burning as he looks around to see that no one else is near. To write such things! Shameless! But...oh, how it lights a fire in him, and he’s breathless with his, dizzy with sudden, frustrated want that he cannot satisfy.

In the end, Nie Mingjue was right. The words are a poor substitute, but Jiang Cheng would not trade this letter for anything.

The next morning, Jiang Cheng approaches Wei Wuxian with an idea for a long-distance communication array, one that could be personally powered and used. The reasons he gives are all to do with military strategy, but he needn’t have bothered. The challenge to create something new has Wei Wuxian distracted immediately, and he wanders off to the library mid-sentence.

The next free afternoon they have in Caiyi, Jiang Cheng purchases a wooden box, cleverly built with locking compartments and false bottoms. It is perfectly sized for folded letters.

Time passes. Now that Jiang Cheng has thirteen years of lived experience - and hard years of war and cuthroat sect politics and rebuilding his sect - the lessons aren’t easier, per say, but they have context that he missed the first time. HIs understanding is more in depth, which quickly makes him a favorite of Lan Qiren to call on — even if his actual answer (usually “threaten them with Zidian”) wasn’t the answer he provided in class. Wei Wuxian was also a calmer presence in class - still questioning, still pushing limits, but when Lan Qiren calls on Wei Wuxian to answer his questions, Wei Wuxian’s answers are thoughtful, inventive, but within the bounds of conventionality. Surprisingly, it’s Lan Wangji who suggests solutions that boarder on the heretical — solutions that Jiang Cheng knows come to pass, such as the spirit attraction flags.

It’s enough to make Lan Qiren change colors, and judging by the tiny smirk on LWJ’s face, it’s absolutely deliberate. (The one class that Lan Xichen sits in on is, actually, hilarious, as he seems consistently torn between laughter and exasperation at his brother’s small rebellion).

Nie Huaisang, however, seems to be *genuinely struggling* with the material. So much so that Jiang Cheng takes pity and drags him (and Wangxian) into the library one afternoon to actually study rather than their usual spot by the river where they would refine their plan to keep everyone alive that they actually cared about keeping alive, and killing those who needed killing as efficently as possible. (“That’s a rather blunt way of thinning about this, Jaing Cheng,” WWX said to him. JC had just shrugged. He didn’t see the reason to couch the truth in political double speak when he didn’t have to”)

After an hour or so, Nie Huaisang slumped forward over the table, thumping his forehead against he lacquered wood. “It’s no use. I’m going to have to repeat this year again, *again*”

“I don’t understand it,” Jiang Cheng said. He knew that Huaisang was smart; he figured out Jin Guangyao’s plot, he successfully modified the time travel array — Jiang Cheng was pretty sure he ran Qinghe’s spy rin duing the war, though that had never been confirmed. “I know you know things.”

“I don’t,” he wailed. “I don’t know anything. Don’t ask me.”

“I don’t mean to alarm anyone,” Wei Wuxian said, leaning in and keeping his voice low. “But we have a spy in our midst.”

“Those rumors were never proven,” Huaisang said, sniffling.

“Not you,” Wei Wuxian said, and angled his head in a way that he only thought was subtle towards where Jin Zixuan was sitting, stiff and imperious, with an exasperated Luo Qingyang. “He’s been doing that a lot,” he said.

Jiang Cheng watched him for a long moment, trying to remember the frustration he felt with a young Jin Zixuan who hadn’t yet unlearned the smug superiority of Jinlintai...but all he could see was little Jin Ling, awkward from growing up alone and desperately lonely (except Jin Ling had picked up Jiang Cheng’s bad habit of expressing any emotion as anger, and it seemed Zixuan had chosen...smug silence.)

“Aw, crap,” Jiang Cheng muttered, because as soon as he realized it, he knew what he had to do. Pushing himself up, he stalked over to Jin Zixuan, ignoring the hissed complaints of Wei Wuxian, and stared down at him, arms crossed.

“What do you want?” Jin Zixuan sneered. Behind him, Luo Qingyang rolled her eyes, and Jiang Cheng huffed.

“Cute. But you got nothing on my mother.” Jin Zixuan blinked, surprise loosening some of the stiffness in his posture. Rolling his eyes, Jiang Cheng snapped. “Look. You’re not subtle. We see you. So do you want to sit with us or not?” He looked between them. “Both of you.”

Jin Zixuan nodded, then blinked as if surprised at himself. Luo Qingyang stood to salute, but Jiang Cheng waved it off.

“Great, come on,” Jiang Cheng said, and turned around, not waiting to see if they. He sat back in his seat, shifting books to make room. He didn’t really want to sit next to Zixuan, but with Nie Huaisang sprawled over his books and Wei Wuxian practically in Lan Wangji’s lap, it was the only safe place for them.

Nie Huaisang sat back, looking at Jiang Cheng over his fan. “What?” He snapped.

“Softie,” Nie Huaisang said softly, and Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes.

“He needs to learn, and Luo Qingyang is the only one at Jinlintai right now that I trust,” he muttered.

Wei Ying squinted at Jiang Cheng, as if trying to figure something out, but when Jin Zixuan and Luo Qingyang appeared, he blinked at her, surprised, and perked up in recognition. “Mianmian!”

Which, of course, was the wrong thing to say. Jin Zixuan puffed up, and Lan Wangji hissed a pained Wei Ying, and Nie Huaisang was being no help. So, Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes again and translated.

“No offense meant, Lady Luo,” he said. “My brother’s memory for names is notoriously bad, but he means no disrespect by his over familiarity.”

Thankfully Luo Qingyang smiled. “No offence taken, Young Master Jiang. If your offer is genuine, and we are to be friends, then you may call me Mianmian.”

Jaing Cheng smiled. “Then please join us, Mianmian. I am Jiang Cheng.”

That caused everyone to look at him, and he glared. “What?! I have manners.”

“Jiang-xiong is quite a gentleman,” Nie Huaisang agreed, mildly, and Jiang Cheng narrowed his eyes. That tone always meant mischief.

“And you’re a pain in my—”

“No excess talking in the library,” Lan Wangji interrupted, staring placidly back when Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng both glared at him. Well, Jiang Cheng glared. Nie Huaisang pouted.

After a moment, Jin Zixuan grunted softly, as if someone had elbowed him in his ribs. He cleared his throat. “What are you working on?” he asked woodenly, as if speaking from a poorly rehearsed script. Out of the corner of his eye, Jiang Cheng saw Mianmian nod encouragingly.

“We’re trying to help Nie-xiong pass the next exam,” Wei Wuxian offered.

“Who’s we?” Jiang Cheng muttered, flipping his book open once more. “Unless sitting in Lan Wangji’s lap is a new study method.”

Nie Huaisang giggled behind his fan as Wei Wuxian squawked, reaching out to smack Jiang Cheng’s shoulder, only to be hauled back with apparent ease by Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji who, arms wrapped securely around Wei Wuxian, stared square at Jiang Cheng and said. “It is an advanced technique.”

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian protested, going pink in the face, and Nie Huaisang’s giggles turned to outright laughter.

Jin Zixuan leaned into to Jiang Cheng. “Is it always like this?”

Jiang Cheng shrugged. “Pretty much. Those two decided shame was for other people a long time ago.”

“I...have questions,” Jin Zixuan said.

Jiang Cheng turned and looked at him. “You know, so do I. But mine might involve yelling, so the library probably isn’t the best place for them.”

(It takes a while to build up to the conversation, a few weeks until Jin Zixuan is comfortable enough to sit with them without Mianmian as a social buffer. He’s still insufferable, but more and more Jiang Cheng sees the kid he remembers from childhood visits, and even shades of the proud yet just man that he almost had a chance to fully grow into being.)

Meanwhile, something is shifting between Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, the simmering tension between them boiling over, and Jiang Cheng is both sure that they’ve actively started fucking and and sure that he wants *absolutely nothing to do with it.* He does not want to hear it, see it, smell it — which makes it difficult when Wei Wuxian proves that he has no filter, and Lan Wangji proves he has no shame.

What had actually happened was Lan Xichen had approached Lan Wangji and said that he was glad LWJ was making friends, and hey, haven’t you been spending an awful lot of time with that Wei Wuxian kid? Don’t worry, little brother, I’ll keep Uncle off your back.” LWJ was unsure if Xichen knew that LWJ and WWX were together, but was unsure how to clarify. Every time he tried, LXC seemed to double down on his interpretation of their relationship as being the same as his with NMJ (and while NMJ thought LXC was pretty, he was more interested in Xichen’s swordplay than his *swordplay*) - and LWJ decided that the best course of action was to kiss Wei Wuxian as much as possible as often as possible.

For the record, Lan Xichen was well aware of his little brother’s inclinations, and was quite enjoying his own spot of harmless rebellion by encouraging Wangji’s shamelessness. Besides, Wei Wuxian was a good match for Wangji, and it was a relief to see Wangji smiling. Perhaps it was time to begin drafting some marital paperwork. It wouldn’t do to be caught unprepared, afterall.

He hoped they married in the spring. He always loved a spring wedding...

Somewhere, Jiang Cheng felt a chill.

NEXT TIME - THE RETURN OF THE MAIN PLOT

[magicalfxgirl]

LO characters sorted into Hogwarts houses Part 3

Part 3 is where all the gods who are related directly and or I had to find a place to put them for the sake of the blog. All these gods also live in Olympus thus here are with Part 3 of the characters of LO sorted in their respective houses. So without furthur a do, let's begin. Bewarned this blog was first posted on Amino. I just thought why not post it here.

🎓Athena🎓

All I have to say is that Athena is Hufflepuff with Ravenclaw energy. It does not need any explaination, its just makes sense.

Hestia: The Secrect Slytherin

Hestia maybe the most unproblematic god in the original greeks myths, but in Lore Olympus that could not be furthur from the truth. She may look like the LO version of Helga Hufflepuff, but that could not be furthur from the truth. She is controling towards the membetrs of TGOEM, for example getting mad at Persephone for interacting with Hades without when he is literally her boss and she is an adult. Blaming Persephone for the tabliod once again Persephone was literally druged and woke up there. Also wasn't Artemis supposed to be watching her so where was she. Hestia is obcessed with appearences of her organization. She will also do anything to get funding for it, welcoming Hades in when there was a chance at his bank account after lecturing Kore against him. In truth Hestia feels like a woman set in the old ways of propriety believing women should remain pure. Frankly TGOEM seems like her way to push her own outdated agenda under the facade of being a progressive femnist group. Her narcissm made her okay with Demeter forcing Kore into TGOEM even though it was the girls only option to escape her controling mother. Instead of being a supportive mother figure Hestia used Kore's situation for her own gain and to get control over the young goddess. Hestia's gentle appearance hides a narcistic controling manipulative hag. Her actions and personality fit perfectly with Slytherin. As she does whatever to get what she wants, is stuck in the oldways. Hestia is LO's version Dolores Umbridge, they appear to be sweet , but inside they are cruel and selfish. For these reasons Hestia would shock everyone when the Sorting Hat, shouted Slytherin the moment it landed on her head.

🏹Artemis: The Broken Gryffindor

Artemis was a easy choice, she is a Gryffindor. She is rash to act even if she does not know all the facts. Artemis also is blind to those closest to her who mean harm. Cough Asspollo. Cough Peter Petigrew. She tries her best and has chilvarious nature. The only Gryffindor trait she lacks is the ability to break the rules. Although that may have to do with her childhood. Even without being Zeus's daughter it seems that sibling dynamic from the myths is still in play. That could mean she had the same early life where right after her birth she had to help her mom get through the birth of Asspollo. In order to make things easier on everybody she tries to be perfect. She has tried so hard to be perfect that she neglects the world around her. Something many a Gryffindor have had to also faced. In the end of the day Artemis is person who is trying to be a good person, but is crippled due to wanting fullfill others expectation. TGOEM in many ways has broken Artemis making her a shell of the godess she should. Hopefully at the end of the story Artemis will start an organization with Persephone to help other girls achieve their dreams.

Hermes: The Prankster Gryffindor

Hermes was the easiest decision ever as he is what would happen if either Fred or George Weasely became a god. Full of energy, the life of the party, while also being a bit reckless. Hermes is a Gryffindor through and through. He looks nice, but hurt his friends and he will make you pay. Some people may think he only wants to keep Persephone's secrect due to fearing Demeter's wrath or being punished by Hades for fuding the record. The fact is Hermes has put himself in danger in order to hang out with her. Case in point nearly drowned while hiding in lake from Demeter while hanging out with Kore. He only took the money as you don't refuse Demeter. Overall Hermes is an example of a natural Gryffindor. Also for those who thought he was a Hufflepuff he is way to lazy. He might me the messenger of the gods, but he avoids work as much as Neville avoided Snape. Hermes is also a rule breaker a common trait among Gryffindor as he is the god of Theives. He also seems to manage to get lucky whenever trouble comes. No different from his house manages to win the House Cup despite all points taken away due to rule breaking.

Hephaestus The Innovator

Hephaestus would be a hat stall between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. As Hufflepuff excepts all, which would give him the needed support. Still its Ravenclaw that the Sorting Hat would eventually choose for him. Frankly Hephaestus would doubt his placement in Ravenclaw, but based on his love for his craft it would be the place where he could truely succeed. He is inventor, literally building mutiple robots in the original mythology. They may not be called robots, but they were robots. Beings made of metal that could work on their own, thus robots. Magical robots, but still robots. His professors may not understand his craft at first, but after seeing his results he would be praised by all. Although only after making sure it was not a new form of Dark Magic. Hephaestus would be viewed a vissionary and would make Head boy upon his secound year. Becoming the youngest person to get the title, yet all of his housemates would think it well deserved. Maybe starting his own area of magic study. As his form would mix magic with smithery and technology. Bringing the Magical World into a modern age. Overall Hephaetus is a Ravenclaw with some Hufflepuff.

Asspollo: Expelled and sent to Azkaban

He would be expelled for misuse of magic and will likely end up in Azkaban for evil acts. All of it done the moment he got his wand. Asspollo did not even make through the doors of Hogwarts thus was never sorted into a house. He spends the rest of his days trying to avoid the Dementor's kiss and the rest of the world moves on.

Conclusion

Sorry about the Hestia rant, but it only jusy hit me how evil she really is. Kore left one controling figure for another. Despite the results of living with Artemis, things would have been way worse if she had been living with Hestia. One she would have never met hades. Two Hestia would have prevented her from any friendships outside of TGOEM, thus no Hermes or Eros. Frankly Hestia would have led to Kore having an even bigger break down then what happened with Earth. An event I don't think Kore would ever come out of. Thank you so much for your time and I hope you agreed with my choices. Next up is the shortest section as it focuses on the Nymphs along with two notable side characters who are not nymphs. Lastly no Echo as she has not done anything yet. Oh and I decieded to add one more part to this series, the pets of Olympus and their Dogwarts houses. Sorry I had to make the pun. As always I hope you enjoyed part 3 of this blog series.

[thevindicativevordan]

My Superfamily Set-Up

By and large I’m fairly happy with the upcoming Infinite Frontier status quo for the Superfamily. Granted that’s in part because I’m still convinced Kara will get an ongoing or mini in 2021, probably to coincide with her show returning, and PKJ hinted at plans for Steel on Twitter. But Kon has escaped the Titans dumpsterfire for a little while, and I’ve heard good things about Thompson as a writer as well. Kenan is popping back up in a one shot written by Yang that will hopefully herald more appearances in Batman/Superman. Jon is still co-protagonist with Clark in the main books, Tanya is in the Future State Shazam book and also a candidate for the FS Justice League book, so hopefully she’ll be in Titans Academy, and Lois is poised to be a big player in the upcoming Checkmate mini by Bendis. So fingers crossed, all the core members of the Superfamily will be in stuff come end of 2021.

Now that said, were DC to suddenly realize that I alone can save Superman, and asked me what kind of status quo I would like (whether for a mainline or Elseworld book makes no difference to me), this is the basic set up that I would go with:

Superman - I’d do a traditional status quo. Superman is disguised as Clark Kent, mild mannered reporter, married to Lois Lane, etc. I’d have Ma and Pa go back to being dead since I still am not a fan of them being alive. Note that this isn’t a reaction against Bendis, I loved Bendis’ run, but I do want to play with the traditional status quo a little bit before diving into something different. Especially since so many Superman writers have traditionally completely wasted the potential of Superman’s status quo.

Lois Lane - Similar to Superman I’d go with a more traditional status quo at the start. She works at the Daily Planet, she and Clark are married, she’s the best reporter in town, etc. I would eventually have her take over as editor-in-chief of the Daily Planet from Perry, I thought that was a great idea the New 52 wasted, and I love the idea of her and Cat Grant being rivals with the Daily Planet and Catco competing. 

Jon Kent - I’d restore kid Jon and toss him back to the Super Sons, not because I think what’s been done with him has been bad, but mostly because I don’t want to write him as Superman, I want to write Clark. Jon seems to be being set up to be co-Superman, and I just don’t have any interest in writing that. To restore kid Jon without destroying Bendis’ run which I enjoyed, I’d explain that teen Jon is actually the “evil” Jon we saw from the Super Sons of Tomorrow future. He went back in time and rescued his kid self from Earth 3, and explained to him that he wanted to prevent that future from coming to pass, but that he needed to take his younger self’s place to do so. Kid Jon agreed, after all he was terrified of becoming evil in both Tomasi’s Super Sons of Tomorrow and Bendis The Man of Steel, and has basically been in hiding watching the events and also studying Hypertime so he can learn how to avoid ending up evil. 

Clark and Lois would blow up at the Jons for the lie when Teen Jon judges he’s changed things enough for his kid self to return, but both Jons could point out that both Clark and Lois have kept secrets when they deemed it necessary from each other and Jon. That would be a neat conversation to have, and a way to continue the untraditional family dynamic that Bendis set up. You could keep teen Jon as a time anomaly until Hypertime catches up with him and restores him to his timeline, with him continuing to be Superman as penance, while kid Jon goes and pals around with Damian in Williamson’s Robin or whatever.

Superwoman/Kara Zor-El - I like the idea of Kara “graduating” to the Superwoman name. It’s open right now given Lana’s retirement, and I think it would suit Kara. I would keep Kara in National, it’s her own little corner to play in, but I would keep that development from (I believe it was) Andrea Shea, where Kara gets fired from Catco because she’s a terrible intern due to always running off to be a heroine. She and Kal talk, Kara admits she doesn’t really want to be a journalist, and so she goes and interns at STAR Labs. I hate how DC keeps turning all the members of the Superfamily into Clark clones. It’s goddamn stupid and I want them to please STOP. Why the hell would Kara want to go into journalism anyway? We’ve never even seen a damn journalist on Krypton! It’s a stupid thing they did on the TV show because they wanted to swipe Clark’s stuff. Let Kara be the scientist of the Els, the one who carries on the family tradition. What form that takes is something I’m open too, I liked Venditti making her interested in history in his annual, maybe make Kara an anthropologist? That would be hilarious. 

Also give Lena to Supergirl, they can be best friends, enemies, lovers, I don’t care. But Lena is wasting away in a vault under Lexcorp last we saw, and that’s a damn shame considering how popular CW Lena is. I’d also add Natasha Irons (who I’d rename Mastersmith) and Tanya Spears (Powerhouse) to Supergirl’s supporting cast, they could play off each other as three supergenuis women).

Kon-El/Conner Kent/Scion - I’m really excited to see what Thompson is going to do with Kon on the Suicide Squad, but here’s what I would do with him. Kon would finally be able to shake off the Superboy moniker and leave that to Jon. Instead he’d take the name “Scion” as a reflection of his origins, and a tie-in to his new status quo. In the wake of Death Metal, Lex Luthor would abruptly step down as head of Lexcorp, stating that he needs time to redefine himself in the wake of his latest attempt to justify himself as the true hero by serving Perpetua, ending up with him needing Superman to save the day again. While he is away, he’s turned over complete control of Lexcorp to his sole heir: Conner. Conner is now head of one of the evilest megacorps in existence, and is one of the wealthiest men alive. Conner knows this is just another maneuver by Lex in his neverending crusade against Superman, but he’s determined to not just be another pawn. He accepts control, renames Lexcorp Superman, Inc. His mission will be to transform the megacorp into the force for good it pretends to be. Conner will have to take on not only Lex loyalists and traitorous underlings who would love to be CEO themselves within Lexcorp, but new megacorps who have flocked to Metropolis in hope of establishing themselves, now that the former Master of Metropolis has abdicated his throne. Threats within and threats without, but armed with the powers/morals of Superman and the charm/brains of Lex Luthor, Kon is just cocky enough to think he can handle it.

John Henry Irons/Steel - It will be a big year for John Henry Irons. His private company Steelworks is about to go public and make him a billionaire. Lana Lang has accepted his marriage proposal and they’re due to be wed. His niece Natasha has left the nest and is off working at STAR Labs. Irons is posed to finally resurrect the decrepit Suicide Slum and allow it to catch up to the rest of the City of Tomorrow. However there are problems: new megacorps are moving into the city in the wake of Lex Luthor leaving, people are disappearing from Suicide Slum with dark rumors are spreading about the reasons why, and the people of Suicide Slum are accusing Irons of planning to gentrify the borough. Making matters worse, weapons that Irons designed as a young man are appearing on the streets of Metropolis, attracting negative attention from the media and putting Steelworks at risk. Irons is going to have to suit up and take up the fight all over Metropolis, from the darkest levels of the Undercity, to the bright deceptive board rooms at the top of skyscrapers in the city’s heart. Irons will have to reckon with his past to secure his future, and confront the evil Metropolis would rather pretend doesn’t exist.

Kenan Kong/New Super-Man - Look just give Yang a damn Kenan book and let him go wild. Right now is either the best or worst time to give Kenan a book given the situation with Hong Kong, but if anyone is equipped to deal with it, it’s Yang. I’ll just add that I would love to see Kenan on a Global Guardians team, but I’d also love to see Justice League of China as a spinoff book of the main Justice League. Kenan is as close as DC has come to their own Spider-Man/Invincible take on Superman, Jon sadly hasn’t really differentiated himself from his dad while Kenan is VERY different. I would love to see Kenan pushed more and would buy a new book in a heartbeat. Also put out a damn New Super-Man omnibus Jim Lee, for God’s sake can’t you abuse your power to push the character you wanted created and is actually good unlike most of Wildstorm? You’re shoving Grifter back into everything but not Kenan? Christ.

So yeah that’s the Superfamily status quo I’d establish. Keeping my Clark and Lois ideas close to my chest for now, but I might go into more detail later.

[adenei]

Hogwarts Sex Ed.

There’s an extreme lack of Sex Ed at Hogwarts fics out there so, as a result of yesterdays HP Collab Chat, here’s a fun little one shot of Dumbledore teaming up with Madam Pomfrey to deliver ‘the talk’ to our favorite Gryffindors!

**********************

The Gryffindor students were entering the Transfiguration classroom on the second Saturday of term. 

“What do you think this is about?” Seamus could be heard asking.

“Dunno, but I hope it doesn’t last all day. The weather’s brilliant, and I want to go outside,” Parvati pouted.

“Hermione, don’t wake me up if they’re going to teach us about how to study for our NEWTs, I don’t think I could take another class like that,” Ron groaned.

“Oh, come on, Ron it wasn’t that bad,” Hermione admonished. She sat down next to Ron in one of the two-person desks in the middle row. Neville and Harry sat across from them. It looked like they were paired with the Hufflepuffs for today’s special lesson.

Madam Pomfrey was at the front of the room, speaking with Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout. She seemed to hand them a stack of parchment and quills. Professor McGonagall came around and handed the parchment and quills out to each of the Gryffindors before using her wand to pass out the ink.

Some of the students picked up the quills and McGonagall said, “There is no reason for you to write your name on the parchment. Nothing is being turned in.”

“Good morning, students,” Madam Pomfrey began, taking the attention from McGonagall. “Please forgive us for not telling you what this class is about. We like to keep it a surprise for you. Today we’ll be speaking to you about-”

“Ah, good, I’m not late!” Professor Dumbledore had strode into the classroom.

“Professor Dumbledore, I assure you we can handle this,” Professor McGonagall intervened.

“I’ve no doubt you can, Minerva, but as Headmaster I do feel it is my duty to make sure our older students are informed so that they’re safety remains intact.” Dumbledore turned to the sixth years. “It is no doubt that you are all getting older, and may be experiencing certain...feelings that are beginning to develop. I will not, as they say, beat around the bush any longer. Today we will be talking to you about safe sex.”

A pin drop could have been heard in the classroom, as it was deathly quiet. Some students had sunk down into their seats while others stared wide-eyed, not quite believing what they’d just heard. Hermione felt her face grow hot, and she was suddenly hyper aware of how close Ron was to her. Why hadn’t she chosen to sit next to Harry, or even Neville this once!

“Oh, come now, come now. Sex is a completely normal act in life, and you’d be barmy to believe that we teachers are unaware of what likely goes on in empty classrooms and broom closets. This is why we are thankful for our Prefects and their patrols. We figure you’d much rather be caught by your peers than us. But I digress.”

Dumbledore looked around the room, the familiar twinkle in his eye. “You should, of course, be aware of the implications that may arise should you choose to engage in such activities. First and foremost, consent is of utmost importance. Do not do anything your partner is not comfortable with. If it is not a clear yes, it is a no. Am I understood?” This was the most sincere part of Dumbledore’s lesson, and he wanted to make sure it was addressed first.

“I would like you to write down the following sentence on your parchment: ‘I promise that I will respect my partner if I choose to engage in sexual actions.’ All of the students obeyed, and looked up as they watched their ink disappear before their eyes. 

“Not to worry, students,” Professor Sprout explained, “ The ink disappears and reappears on our parchment up here. That way, if you have any questions, you can write them down anonymously and we can answer them to save you some embarrassment.” She chuckled.

“Wonderful! Now that we have the consent understanding out of the way...love can be a beautiful thing, and should not be mistaken with lust, which in your hormonal teenage bodies, can run amok. This is all completely natural of course, so don’t be afraid of it. Make sure you trust the person you’re fooling around with, and use protection.

“I trust that your families have gone over the contraceptive spells, but for the sake of our Muggleborn students, Madam Pomfrey will demonstrate the appropriate male and female charms.”

He gestured to Madam Pomfrey who stepped forward. She first went over the male charm, and required all the boys to practice. Hermione did her best to remain looking forward so that she wasn’t clearly watching Ron practice the spell. She could tell how red and blotchy his face was from embarrassment out of the corner of her eye. Madam Pomfrey repeated the same process for the girls, and this time it was Ron’s turn to try and look away. 

“You’ll do well to remember that it is most effective when both charms are cast, but it still is not foolproof. Pregnancy is a very real thing, and can happen to anyone engaging in sexual intercourse, even if both charms are cast. Your mind must be in the right spot to successfully cast the charm, or you risk conception, whether intentional or not. The charms also only have a thirty minute limit, so please do not fall under the impression that you can cast the charm hours in advance on the off chance you may engage in such activities.”

“Not that we condone any of these activities in the slightest,” Professor McGonagall expressed sternly.

“You’ll also do well to know that you can transmit disease through sexual acts if you are not careful. Hopefully, this should not be an issue for you here, but nonetheless, we must discuss it. The most common STD, if you will, is called Hag’s Nose, where painful bumps appear on a specific part of the male anatomy. I will not speak on the female equivalent, but do know there is one.”

Ron, along with the rest of the boys, looked absolutely mortified. “Not to worry, it is not as common now as it was hundreds of years ago. Madam Pomfrey will be testing each of you to ensure you do not carry any disease at the end of today’s lesson. There are healing potions you can take should you come down with the ailment.

“My last bit of information to share with you is to be aware that there are always eyes watching. Whether it be the teachers, prefects, or even the portraits, you are never as stealth as you may think you are.”

“While we do not condone these activities, we cannot prevent you from making your own decisions. But do know that you will be punished accordingly if you ever get caught,” Professor McGonagall reminded them again.

Dumbledore seemed satisfied as he looked to Madam Pomfrey. She waved her wand, casting a silent spell that no doubt was determining the presence of possible STDs. She nodded curtly as she observed the results. “At this point, we ask that you write down any questions that you have, and Madam Pomfrey will answer them for everyone. There is no question too silly. Chances are if you’re thinking it, someone else probably is, too.”

Everyone sat there quietly at first, but then a few people could be seen writing. For once, Hermione did not have any questions. She noticed Ron didn’t write anything down either.

“Ah the first question!” Professor McGonagall said. “How often do students at Hogwarts become pregnant?”

“At least once every five years,” Madam Pomfrey stated simply.

Professor Sprout stated the next question. “If we take the monthly potion, do we still need to use the spell?”

“It is recommended, yes.”

“How often are couples caught?” McGonagall was trying hard not to look disgusted at the question, which got a few sniggers out of the students.

Dumbledore answered this one. “Judging on the house points that are taken in the evenings, several times a week. I should say that Madam Pince strictly prohibits any fooling around in the library, as well. Those who are caught tend to lose more house points than those elsewhere.”

Hermione felt her face flush hot as the quill slipped out of her hand. So much for some of those dreams she’d had over the summer. Not that she was any closer with Ron that would even allow them to become a reality. 

Madam Pomfrey snapped her out of her reverie. “Are there any other questions?” She waited a beat, but no new questions came in. “Thank you. You are dismissed, but please know you can come to me should you have any additional questions.”

“Enjoy the beautiful day outside,” Professor Dumbledore said as he watched the students get up and scamper off faster than you could say ‘expelliarmus.’ Once they had all exited, he looked at the other teachers. “Ah, it never gets old,” Dumbledore said as he chuckled.

“You are incorrigible, you do know that, Albus?” Professor McGonagall said.

“Oh yes, but it does them good to know the implications of their actions.”

“Not that it will stop it,” Professor Sprout commented.

“Ah, but it will help them think twice about their actions, and that’s all we can ask for. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to take care of before our second session in an hour.”