#I've set Bishop up too much not to use him

[kiaxet]

Everyone else's Rise Agent Bishop: Hypercompetent, terrifying, metaphorically and literally inhuman, next arc villain material

Site 39 Agent Bishop: Paranoid ex-special ops agent turned defense worker, failed to get the funding for the EPF, generally powerless

Me: Absolutely zero regrets about this whole situation

[saintsenara]

Riddle’s extremely fearful and aggressive reaction to Dumbledore when he thinks he’s a doctor (and the fact that he assumes this at all and believes he is being lied to) has some pretty dark implications (which of course no one follows up on). Do you have thoughts?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

and yes - this has occurred to me too... which means that my thoughts come with a trigger warning for the sexual abuse of a child, and are under the cut.

the relevant scene in canon is, of course, this:

“I am Professor Dumbledore.” “Professor?” repeated Riddle. He looked wary. “Is that like doctor? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?”  He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left. “No, no,” said Dumbledore, smiling.  “I don’t believe you,” said Riddle. “She wants me looked at, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!”  He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still. “Who are you?” “I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come.”  Riddle’s reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious.  “You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course - well, I’m not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!”

the surface-level reading of this scene - which is clearly what the text wants us to go for - is that riddle thinks he's about to be institutionalised for being "mad" - and, specifically, that he thinks that what dumbledore has been told is his "madness" is actually his magic.

[he is also clearly meant to be read as panicking a little bit that he's fucked around torturing his fellow children and is now about to find out...]

that riddle accepts he's a wizard so easily - and that he is so reassured by dumbledore agreeing that he's not mad - is something the text wants us to read as sinister. him immediately describing himself as "special" is set up as a precursor to the adult voldemort's delusions of grandeur - which the entire arc of the series, ending in his death as an ordinary man, is designed to undermine.

but i've always disliked this reading. the eleven-year-old riddle - a magical child raised around non-magical people - is objectively correct to describe his powers as "special" [in that they make him identifiably different from the crowd] within the context in which he lives. the word choice is nowhere near as deep as dumbledore decides - he's clearly known since he was very young that he's a wizard, but he didn't have the precise language to describe this fundamental part of himself until dumbledore offered it; prior to that, "special" is a perfectly reasonable alternative term.

and, in always knowing that he's a wizard, he also knows that he doesn't have a mental illness - but he must also know that this is something it's near impossible for him to prove.

in the real world, if i spoke to a patient who told me:

“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.”

then i would be correct to describe them as experiencing psychosis. and i might - depending on their other symptoms - have reasonable cause to admit them [voluntarily or not] for psychiatric treatment.

riddle is - of course - demonstrably not psychotic. but it's not unreasonable that mrs cole would assume he is - the world she lives in, as a muggle [even if she's a religious one], is one in which people do not possess the ability to move objects or control animals with their minds, and if one of her charges is convinced that he can, then she's justified in seeking medical intervention.

[that psychiatric treatment in the 1930s can be described without exaggeration as inhumane is another matter...]

which is to say, i think we can easily suppose that mrs cole has - prior to dumbledore's arrival - succeeded in having riddle "looked at", and that the idea that he's mentally ill and should be committed to an asylum has been mentioned before. i think most of us would be instinctively [and angrily] wary of doctors if this happened to us, regardless of how nice the doctors in question were.

and maybe that's all there is to it.

and maybe it isn't...

in the doylist text, the eleven-year-old riddle's personality is the way it is because he's the villain of the series. where harry is preternaturally capable, even as a child, of all the things the series defines as admirable - above all, enduring difficulty without complaint - riddle is preternaturally incapable of them. he's meant to come across as unambiguously sinister - and the fact that the text repeatedly emphasises that he has control over his unpleasant traits invites us to view him as someone who is acting with full agency. that he lives in an orphanage is a trope which the text uses, like a campy horror film might, predominately to underscore how creepy he is - and the text, in keeping with its general lack of interest in states and their institutions, never really prompts us to interrogate the impact of his childhood upon the course his life takes.

[this is despite the fact that voldemort's reliving of the night he killed the potters in deathly hallows is an incredibly accurate depiction of ptsd...]

but it's also the case that the eleven-year-old riddle's behaviour and personality fits a pattern we might expect to see in a child who is being abused, sexually or otherwise:

he's aggressive, he has a hair-trigger temper, and he becomes distressed even by behaviour - such as dumbledore speaking mildly and calmly - which would not ordinarily be expected to provoke such a reaction.

his broader emotional state is fractious. his mood changes sharply, he seems to feel emotions very profoundly, he struggles to control his emotional response to things, he's extremely easily irritated, he's attention-seeking - and he particularly seeks negative attention, and he's very highly-strung. his admission in deathly hallows that he feels calm before he kills - or before he otherwise eradicates a threat or a problem - comes with the flip-side that he's someone who appears, when things aren't going well or he finds himself in a situation which he can't control, to become quite anxious. which is a trauma response.

he's extremely isolated. the text presents the fact that he has no friends as a deliberate choice - "lord voldemort has never had a friend, nor do i believe that he has ever wanted one" - and his relationship with everyone else he ever meets, including his fellow orphans, is defined by the text as exclusively involving him controlling, manipulating, and punishing them. or: he is always the more powerful person in the pairing. but this need for control can be read as self-protective just as easily as it can be read as sinister. there are hints in canon that riddle is not just some malevolent force in the orphanage preying on mild-mannered innocents. for example, billy stubbs, the owner of the rabbit he kills, is targeted by riddle as revenge: “Billy Stubbs’s rabbit... well, Tom said he didn’t do it and I don’t see how he could have done, but even so, it didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it? [...] But I’m jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before." on the rare occasions billy turns up in fics, he's usually - i find - written very like neville - sweet and guileless and a bit pathetic. but the alternative reading - especially when we take into account that riddle attacks the rabbit rather than billy himself - is that billy is someone he would be afraid to physically confront. indeed, it's striking that voldemort - at all stages of his life - is described as being quite physically fragile. not only is he very thin, but he's always cold and his heartbeat is described several times in canon as irregular. i think this is supposed to be a comment on the physical changes he undergoes the more horcruxes he makes - although the idea that the soul would affect the heart doesn't actually align with how the series understands the soul to relate to the body - but it can also be interpreted perfectly legitimately as something he was experiencing prior to splitting his soul. i am committed to the headcanon that riddle was quite a sickly child - and that this is one of the things which drives his fear of death - and i'm also committed to the idea that his obsession with magic is because the enormity of his magical power makes up for his physical lack. he can defeat - and humiliate and frighten and remove the threat of - billy or dennis [or even an adult man?] with magic. without it, if they were to physically overpower him, then he wouldn't be able to throw them off.

he is extremely nervous about being alone in a room with dumbledore - someone he doesn't know, and who he assumes is connected to a profession [and, maybe, who knows any other doctors he's been previously made to see...] of which he is frightened.

he doesn't trust or confide in anyone - which, as a child, means particularly that he doesn't trust or confide in adults in positions of responsibility. he's clearly uneasy with the idea of finding himself in the subordinate position in an adult-child relationship when dumbledore offers to take him shopping for school supplies - potentially because he's worried that dumbledore will try and dictate or restrict what he's allowed to buy unless he behaves in a certain way... and i am always very struck that dumbledore says in half-blood prince: "He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again." this is presented in the text as evidence that dumbledore is the only person of whom voldemort is afraid - by which the text means that voldemort acknowledges that dumbledore knows that an ordinary man, mortal and unimpressive, lurks behind the mask of unassailable power he has created for himself; and which the text thinks is a good thing. but we can also read it as a self-protective act on riddle's part. in his excitement, he offers dumbledore information [that he is known to be a liar, that he is in trouble a lot, that mrs cole dislikes him and is disinclined to believe anything he says] which would give dumbledore - or anyone in a similar position of power and presumed respectability - cover to abuse him, safe in the knowledge that he would be unlikely to be believed if he reported it.

he doesn't appear to feel safe in the orphanage and he's frequently absent from it - by his own admission, he spends a huge amount of time wandering around london on his own, which may even involve him staying away for several days at a time. nobody appears to notice or care about this.

he's very independent - which the text again presents as evidence of his deliberate self-isolation and rejection of the bonds of love and friendship - and his independence is unusual for a child his age [i.e. that he is capable of doing all his own shopping for school].

his knowledge of violence - i.e. how he designs the trip to the cave to be maximally psychologically devastating for dennis and amy and devoid of repercussions for himself - is also more advanced and methodical than would be expected in a child of his age. again, the text uses this to emphasise how inextricable the child-voldemort is from his adult self - and also, to some extent, to underscore the intellectual brilliance [his magic is also more advanced than is normal for a child] which his narrative archetype [the exceptional villain who is defeated by the everyman hero] requires. but we can also read it as evidence of his own victimisation. a common sign that a child is being sexually abused is that they display a knowledge of sexual behaviour which is more advanced than is reasonable for a child of their age - for example, knowing in detail how a sex act is performed, or fluently using sexual slang which they have no chance of knowing either from age-appropriate settings like school-based sex education or conversations with a parent or trusted adult, or from the sort of enthusiastic hoarding of rude words and phrases all children enjoy as they grow up. riddle's precise, clinical knowledge of how to manipulate, frighten, torture, and control can be seen as something similar. if he can - at eleven or younger - methodically break down another child until they're "never quite right" again, then this is because he's learned how to from someone.

he keeps secrets. and he also goes out of his way to extract them. his grooming of ginny in chamber of secrets - he manipulates her into confiding things she wants to keep to herself, promises he won't tell anyone, and then uses the threat that he will to get her to do his bidding - is an absolutely textbook example of how abusers use the idea of secrecy to control their victims. it doesn't make his abuse of ginny any less inexcusable if we assume he learns this from being on the other side of things.

dumbledore understands his little cache of objects as trophies he's taken from victims - and the text takes the view that dumbledore is correct in this assessment. that hoarding trophies is something widely associated with serial killers means that this is yet another thing which underlines how creepy - and how like his adult self - the child-voldemort is. but it's also the case that the adult - and teenage - voldemort places a lot of emphasis on gift-giving as part of his control over other people. the two most obvious examples in canon are wormtail being given his shiny hand as a reward for helping voldemort get his body back, and slughorn being buttered up with crystallised pineapple before voldemort asks him about horcruxes. the text thinks this is sinister - and one of the reasons it does this is because gift-giving is a grooming tactic. the text also clearly thinks this isn't behaviour voldemort has learned from the other side. and yet a common sign that a child is being abused is if they have possessions it doesn't make sense for them to own [i.e. a child from a low-income background who is suddenly decked in designer clothes] and which they can't or won't explain how they came by. riddle's cache isn't luxurious - although he's so poor that a yoyo or a mouth organ probably is a luxury to him - but there's also nothing in canon which precludes the objects being presents, rather than stolen goods. if the spell dumbledore uses to make the box rattle is caused by a statement which is both relatively ambiguous and dependent on dumbledore's subjective personal morality - is there anything in this room he's acquired through nefarious means? - then the spell would still work as it does in canon if riddle was an abuse victim given the objects as "rewards". dumbledore's tendency to locate right and wrong in the individual and dumbledore's belief that good people should steadfastly endure misery means he can be written entirely canon-coherently as someone who would think a victim who appeared to collude in their own abuse - such as a victim who "offered" a sexual act because their abuser promised them something if they did - was behaving consensually, manipulatively, and nefariously. and it's worth noting that when riddle doesn't know what dumbledore has done to make the box rattle, he is "unnerved". when he realises dumbledore thinks he's stolen the objects - and that he has no interest in forcing him to admit this aloud - he is "unabashed". perhaps because he's just received proof that an experience he doesn't want to talk about is still secret...

on the other hand, the objects could indeed be stolen - because petty criminality and anti-social behaviour, especially in pre-teen children, is also a sign of abuse.

he can be extremely obsequious - when dumbledore tells him to watch how he speaks he becomes "unrecognisably polite", he ruthlessly flatters slughorn, and he is cringingly deferential to hepzibah smith. the text understands this as evidence that his apparent charm is only superficial - another trait associated in the popular imagination with serial killers [and it's striking that so much about the young voldemort - handsome, charming, seemingly quiet and polite, true evil lurking underneath the mask - is exactly like the pop-culture persona which has been created for ted bundy...]. voldemort himself agrees that his charm is performative in chamber of secrets: “If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted." but his obsequiousness is also a fawn response - a way of minimising a threat by attempting to please the person issuing it. he becomes "unrecognisably polite" - after all - in response to this: Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts - ” “Of course I am!” “Then you will address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir.’ ”  Riddle’s expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognisably polite voice, “I’m sorry, sir. I meant - please, Professor, could you show me - ?”  riddle could reasonably interpret what dumbledore says here as a threat to prevent him attending hogwarts - even though dumbledore evidently doesn't mean it in this way - and he switches to being fawning because this is something he really doesn't want to happen...

do i think that any of this is what the text was actually going for? no. and nor do i think that reading riddle as a victim of abuse excuses the violence which the adult voldemort goes on to perpetuate.

but i think it is a reading of his characterisation which is both canon-plausible and interesting - a strange, sickly child with a reputation for cruelty and dishonesty being abused by the respectable doctor who is constantly called in to treat his coughs and wheezes, who buys him little presents and charms him into telling him secrets, who then [to paraphrase the teenage voldemort] feeds him a few secrets of his own, safe in the knowledge that nobody will ever believe him if he tries to get help.

and i also think this a reading which is sincerely important.

a significant contributor to the prevalence of child abuse - no matter what exact form this abuse takes - is that we are culturally conditioned to imagine that both the abuser and the victim will look and behave in a certain way if the abuse is "real".

and this means, all too often, that we take child abuse more seriously when the victim is "sympathetic" - when they're from a stable home, and their family are respectable, and they do well in school, and they're polite and sweet, and they look innocent, and they behave perfectly appropriately for their age, and nobody would ever dare to say that they come across as older than they are, and they're white, and they don't have a history of lying, and they don't have a history of attention-seeking, and they don't have a criminal record, and they're not abusive themselves, and there's absolutely no way of suggesting that they colluded in their abuse, and the perpetrator was someone who looks like a child abuser.

someone who is creepy, low-status, ugly, unpopular. someone who everyone can tell is socially abnormal, someone who nobody would ever intentionally permit to be around their children. not someone who is charming, well-respected, attractive, rich, popular, trustworthy. not someone who has a loving family and a happy home. not someone we might be friends with.

but many perpetrators of child abuse are these second group of people. and many victims of child abuse are "unsympathetic", when their social positions and reputations are compared to their abusers' own.

they lie. they steal. they're attention-seeking. they're vindictive. they have trouble distinguishing between imagination and reality. they're violent. they're bullies. they hurt animals. they abuse other children. they take drugs. they're mentally-ill. they come from broken homes. they're in the care of the state. they're dirty. they're poor. they're odd. they're behind at school and badly-behaved in the classroom. they do things which allow their abuse to be dismissed as something they brought upon themselves - they speak or dress in certain ways, they pose provocatively in pictures and post them on the internet, they are known to be sexually active outside of the context of their abuse, they lie about being over the age of consent, they engage in sexual behaviour with an adult abuser in a way which appears [even though it isn't, and there's never a circumstance in which it will be] to be consensual or for their own personal gain, they are flattered by the attention they receive from someone who is important or attractive grooming them, they have complicated - and not always wholly negative - feelings towards their abusers.

and they are still - unequivocally - victims, and what happens to them is still - unequivocally - abuse.

tom riddle is an unsympathetic victim - not only of any potential abuse, but also of the horrors of his life which are explicit on the canon page: that he is raised in an orphanage; that he is grieving; that he knows nothing about his family; that he is thought to be mad.

the absence of any institutional response to his childhood experiences - dumbledore, by his own admission, discloses nothing about riddle to his fellow teachers - is a flaw repeated again and again in the worldbuilding of the harry potter series.

hogwarts - and the wizarding [and muggle] state more broadly - doesn't intervene in any case of neglect or abuse, from harry to snape to voldemort's own parents. the series' individualistic morality means that we aren't supposed to interrogate these collective failings. and the series' black-and-white view of good and evil - and its general belief that violence is fine if the person it happens to "deserves" it - means that it has no interest in examining the ways that poverty, isolation, and neglect are risk factors; that straightforwardly unpleasant people can still be victims; that victims can go on to become perpetrators without their victimhood ceasing to matter; and that the abuse of children usually takes place not in silence and secrecy, concealed in ways which make it fine for adults not to notice it and not to intervene, but in plain sight.

this is knowledge it never hurts to refresh. thinking about lord voldemort's childhood might be an usual way of doing so... but it is an effective one nonetheless...

[jpmarvel90]

Don't Belong part 2

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Part 1

Word Count: 5499

Relationship: Mother WandaNat x Daugher Reader

Summary: After Y/n's accident on her mission, her mother's are terrified that they might not get the chance to make things right with their daughter. That's assuming Y/n wants anything to do with them when she comes around.

Nat: Mama Wanda: Mom

Nat's POV:

It's been over 24 hours since Y/n came out of surgery and she's still unconscious with a machine helping her breathe. I thought she would have been awake by now and there'd be a relief that she was on the start of her long road to recovery.

Instead, Wanda and I are glued to our seats next to her bed. We've only gotten up to use the bathroom. Otherwise, we've remained by her side. Pepper kindly offered to take the boys for as long as it's needed. Though they are both very anxious to see Y/n themselves. They might be young, but they understand that she's hurt. They love their sister, and they want her to wake up just as much as we do.

I've not slept since we found out that she was hurt, and I don't plan to until she is awake. Though the longer it goes on, the more my body is fighting against that desire. I want to be there when she wakes up to show her that her moms are going to be there for her the whole way through her recovery.

Wanda and I have spoken a lot over the last day. We've shared our pain and sadness, whilst making sure we come up with a plan to help her with her recovery and to ultimately gain her forgiveness.

We both know that Y/n will not forgive us easily, if at all. But that doesn't mean that we're not going to try with everything in us. For too long we've allowed her to go about her life thinking that we don't love or care for her anymore. She has every right to feel that way after how we've treated her. But she will not ever question that again.

The both of us are sat in silence, both of us watching over our daughter. My eyes are trained on her chest, making sure that she is still breathing, gaining a lot of comfort from the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. However, the silence doesn't last long until the door flies open.

Out of instinct, both Wanda and I shoot up from our seats and take a defensive stance in front of our daughter to protect her from any danger. However, we soon relax when we see Yelena's worried face. "I came as soon as I could." She tells us as she moves closer to the bed, her hand hesitant as it reaches out towards her niece.

Yelena has been away for most of the time over the last few years. She's been helping to find all the widows and has only come back for a couple of days at a time. Each time though, she has always made time for us. "How is she?" She asks, as I pull up another chair for my sister.

"It's not good. She's still in critical condition. They had to remove part of her liver, but Cho reckons that if she can get through these first few days, that she'll be on track for a full recovery." I fill her in as her eyes never leave Y/n. "Clint said that it was a double agent that set her up." She states and we nod in clarification. "I'll be paying a visit to Fury when I'm done here." She announces, an anger to her voice. "We've tried to see him, but Fury won't let us anywhere near him." Wanda warns her but Yelena just scoffs. "I'll get to him one way or another." She states and I believe her. She's incredibly protective of the people she loves, and she'll want to make sure that he pays. I actually hope that she does.

"Wait, you said you were with Clint?" I question her and she nods. "Yeah, he was with me on my last mission. He's waiting outside, he didn't want to intrude." She responds, pointing towards the window behind her where Clint is stood with a young girl next to him. "Who's with him?" I ask. "Kate Bishop. Clint's stray. He's going to see if she can join Shield." Yelena explains. "She was with us and had no where else to go so I said she could stay here for now." She adds on. If Clint thinks she's worthy of Shield, then I believe that she is. She must also be good if Yelena has been working with her. She wouldn't let anyone help who would slow her down.

"How long are you back for?" Wanda steps in with her own question, making my own ears prick up for her response. "As long as I need to be. I want to be around to help with her recovery." Yelena replies, making me smile. Y/n is going to need all the help she can get, and she adores Yelena, so I'm glad that she's not going anywhere any time soon.

After a while, we indicate for Clint and Kate to come in. We go through our introduction, and I can see how enthusiastic Kate is. She's very chatty and I'm surprise she's not pissed off Clint and Yelena yet though! "I read about Y/n in the Young Initiative files." Kate shares. "Did you know she is the only recruit to ever get a perfect score. She could have passed the exams two years ago and still topped the class." She tells us enthusiastically. "Sounds like you're a fan." Yelena teases her, making the young girl blush. "I guess when your parents are the Black Widow and the Scarlett Witch, you're going to be good." Kate chuckles.

It makes my gaze drop, something that Yelena clocks on to instantly. She's not been around so hasn't seen how we've treated Y/n. I'm actually worried for when I tell her. She's going to hate us for it and I'd be surprised if she even lets us stay around Y/n. "Y/n did it all on her own. With a little help from Steve. Her talent has come from her own ability and desire to be the best." Wanda corrects Kate, showing that we have no claim to how good Y/n is at being an agent. "Oh, that's even more impressive then. You must be really proud." She smiles at us and we both nod. "More than she'll ever know." I mutter.

__________

When Kate and Clint leave, Yelena is quick to question Wanda and I. We tell her of what's been going on and how ashamed we are and how much we want to be able to fix everything. "You don't deserve to fix it." She spits angrily at us. "It's no excuse to say that you got lost in the boys. Y/n is your daughter too and she needed you." She shouts, calling us both out on our actions. "We know Yelena. We can't take back how we've treated her. But I promise that we won't every do anything like that again!" I tell her sincerely. "No, you won't. I won't let you. If you are going to be back in her life as the parents you should have been, you have to be all in. You promised to be better than we had Natasha!" She tells me firmly with a finger jabbing into my chest.

"I know Yelena. I wish I had a valid excuse or reason for what we did. I will never forgive myself. I will always have a hatred towards myself for ever making her feel the way we did. But I'm not going to wallow and hide away from it. I want to own up to the mistake and try and fix it. I know that it's not going to be an easy fix, but I will stay here and face the brunt of the anger and pain that she's feeling because I will not give up on her. Not again." I tell her passionate. "Neither of us will. I promise you Yelena, we will do everything in our power to fix this." Wanda steps up and adds her own promise, taking my hand. At least we have each other through all of this.

Yelena doesn't speak, she just looks between the two of us, her chest heaving with anger. It's intimidating to be the one on the receiving end, but we deserve it. I'm glad that Yelena is here. She simple nods her head and that is the subject over with. For now.

That night, my body ultimately wins, and I end up getting a couple of hours sleep. Though it's full of nightmares that I can't seem to escape and then when I wake up, I'm terrified that Y/n will be awake already and I'll have missed it. But when my body wakes with a jolt, I'm met with my sleeping wife and still unconscious daughter.

I stretch out and move closer to the bed and take Y/n's bruised hand in my own. "I can't lose you. You are my daughter, blood or not and I love you so much. I know I haven't shown that to you and there is no excuse for that. I also know that you have every right to never forgive me. So, my only request, is please wake up. Please survive. I don't think I can live in a world without you in it." I plead with her. Hoping that somewhere in her subconscious she can hear me. I squeeze her hand, hoping for any response, but nothing comes.

The day goes by slower than usual. That is until Cho comes in to check on Y/n and gives us the good news that she should be able to breathe without the ventilator now. Wanda and I step outside as we watch through the window. We're holding on to each other tightly as we watch. "This is good. She's strong and this is the first step to her waking up." Wanda speaks. I can hear the hesitation in her voice, showing that she is trying to convince herself more than anything. "You're right. She is so strong. I know she's going to wake up soon." I add on, smiling at my wife.

Cho soon joins us with a smile. "She's doing well. She's now breathing easily on her own. I expect she'll wake up within a few hours. I'll be back to do a full examination then so we can assess her injuries." She informs us. I feel a sense of relief wash over me. Hopefully it won't be long until our daughter is back with us.

The next couple of hours seems to drag by. Clint, Yelena and Kate all paid another visit but left to try and sort a room out for Kate in the compound. Steve was then the next to join us, taking a seat at the end of Y/n's bed. It's a long wait until we finally see a twitch to Y/n's eye.

I'm the first to my feet, leaning over to see if I had imagined the small movement. "Y/n, honey. It's mama. Can you hear me?" I ask her, fighting off the tears threatening to fall. With a flutter, her blues eyes lock on to mine. "She squeezed my hand." Wanda says excitedly. "Baby, we're here." She tells Y/n, who's got a confused look in her eyes.

"You're in the medical wing sweetheart. You got shot on your mission." I explain to her. "S-t-Steve." She stutters out. "He's fine. He's here." I reassure her, waving for Steve to come closer. "Hey kiddo. Boy we're glad to see you awake." He tells her with a relived smile. One that she returns. "I'll got and get Dr Cho." Wanda states, quickly leaving the room. "T-the m-mission." Y/n starts but Steve is quick to stop her. "Is not to worry about right now. Just know it wasn't your fault. But we'll explain it when you're doing better." He tells her, earning a nod. She reaches out her hand to Steve and he instantly takes it. "You're not allowed to scare us like that again." He chuckles, his voice wavering.

"S-sorry." She replies, her eyes fluttering again. "It's ok sweetheart. Don't fight it if you want to sleep again." I tell her softly. She doesn't really acknowledge me, but she does seem to listen as her eyes flutter shut once again.

They don't stay closed for long though, soon woken up by Cho as she comes in with a wide smile. "There's my favourite patient." She smiles at Y/n, who grins in return. "I bet you s-say that to e-everyone." Y/n responds through a struggled chuckle. "But with you I actually mean it." Cho winks, before looking over Y/n's chart and obs.

She takes the time to explain Y/n's injuries to her and the plan for her recovery. I see her face drop when she realises she's going to be in the hospital for at least another week before being on strict bed rest when she's discharged. "I'll be around if you need anything or have any questions. So please get one of the nurses to get me if you need me. That goes for all of you." Dr Cho offers. "Thank you. For everything." I tell her sincerely. She gives me a tightly smile before turning on her heel and leaving the three of us too it.

With Cho gone, it's silent in the med bay as Wanda, Steve and I just watch over Y/n. She is struggling to keep her eyes open, but I can see a pain in them when they lock on to mine. "You should get some rest kiddo." Steve speaks up as Y/n nods in return. "W-will you s-stay?" She asks, making Steve smile widely. "Of course." He returns, moving to get another chair to sit with us. At that confirmation, Y/n seems comfortable enough to let her eyes close and for sleep to take back over.

It's almost agony to see her asleep once again. We've been waiting for so long for her to wake up, for her to be asleep so soon is tough. I almost want to start apologising and showing her that we're going to change and it's going to stick. But I don't want to overwhelm her. At the moment, her recovery is the most important thing. As much as I hate it, earning her forgiveness will have to wait.

"Now she's awake, you two should head to your apartment. See the twins, eat some proper food, and get some sleep. I can stay with her." Steve offers, but I'm quick to decline. "I don't want to leave her." I tell him, whilst gripping her hand tighter, my eyes not leaving her sleeping form. Steve lets out a sigh. "She'll be asleep for a while, and she needs you both on top form." He tells us.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and look up to see Wanda smiling warmly at me. I hadn't even noticed that she had moved from the other side of the bed. "Steve's right. We've been here for days. If we want to do what's right by Y/n, then we need to look after ourselves as well." She speaks sense.

With a huff I stand from my seat and lean forward to press a kiss to Y/n's head. "We'll be back later sweetheart. I love you so much." I tell her softly then move so that Wanda can say goodbye too. With one last look to our daughter, we both reluctantly leave. Though I smile when I see Steve move closer and take Y/n's hand in his own. Although I will forever regret how we have treated Y/n, I'm glad that she has had Steve there for her.

Y/n's POV:

Well, that was not how I wanted my first mission to go. I wanted to impress everyone, not end up in the med bay with part of my liver missing! Waking up was a weird experience. Seeing my parents' faces were the last thing I expected to see. They seem genuinely worried, but that was probably all a front for everyone else. They can't be seen to not care about the daughter they've ignored for the last few years.

When I wake up next, I see Steve smile down at me. "You're still here." I say and he nods. "Of course. I wanted to make sure that you're ok." He replies, making my own smile grow. I look around and my smile drops when I see that my moms aren't here. I can't hide that it hurts a little that they didn't stick around. But I shouldn't care about that. They haven't cared about me.

"Should have guessed they would go once I woke up." I complain, wincing as I try to adjust myself in bed. "Careful Y/n/n." Steve scolds me as he shoots to his feet to help adjust my pillows. "I told them to go." He admits and I look at him with a frown. "Not like that. But they have not left your side since you were brought in. They weren't looking after themselves and if they are going to help you through your recovery, they need to be at 100%" He explains but I just scoff.

"I don't need their help with my recovery. They didn't care before I was hurt, they don't get to care now." I groan. Steve takes his seat again and looks at me with his, "I know I'm right" look. "Y/n. I know you don't believe it, but they do care for you. They were cut up when you got hurt. They were devastated that they wouldn't have the chance to be able to make things up to you." He says. I roll my eyes, but he continues. "Look, I'm not saying you have to forgive them. But you can't question how much they have cared for you over the last few days."

"Fine, but I'm not going back to their place to recover." I huff, folding my arms. "Considering you've been shot and in a medically induced coma for the last few days, it's good to see it hasn't affected your attitude." Steve teases.

We sit in silence as I think about my parents. They surely can't think that just because they've been sat beside my bed whilst I've been hurt is going to make up for everything that they have done over the years? Who's to say that they won't go back to how they were once I'm healed? I have a place at Sheild now. Somewhere that I can make a name for myself and create my own family.

"I'm sorry I messed up the mission." I break the silence, my mind now moving on to the fact I failed at my first mission. "You didn't fail anything kiddo. We were set up. If anything, I should apologise to you. They were after me, but you were the one to get hurt. You did a great job of take on as many agents as you did." He explains, taking my hand in his. "You fought, and it's because of your skill and ability that you're alive. You impressed everyone." He assures me, running his thumb over my bruised knuckles.

Our moment is broken when my moms walk back in. "You're awake!" Mom says excitedly as both her and mama move into the room quickly. Steve moves back from my side, which I frown at as mama takes my hand in hers. I'm quick to pull it away. The hurt that flashes across her face doesn't go unnoticed, but I'm not in the mood to pretend like everything is ok right now.

"How are you feeling?" Mom asks, appearing to my left. "I'm fine." I respond shortly, receiving a warning raised eyebrow from Steve. "Are you in pain? I can get the nurse to come in and get you some pain killers." Mom fusses. "I'm fine." I repeat the same words. "That's not true, you've been wincing since you've woken up." Steve rats me out. Traitor. "If a 40 calibre bullet went through you, I'm sure you'd be wincing too." I snap. "Told you. Amazing how your attitude hasn't changed." Steve chuckles.

However, both my mom's look at me with worried looks. "I'm going to get Dr Cho. You look pale." Mom worries before rushing out the room.

Mama reaches forward and places her hand on my head, which I quickly try and move away from her touch. "You're hot. I hope you're not running a fever." She states. "Like you care." I mumble, but she hears it and that look of hurt appears on her face again. "Look Y/n. I know you believe that we don't care or love you. But that couldn't be further from the truth. I want nothing more than to talk to you about it and start to make up for everything. But right now, all that matters is your recovery. You can hate us and ignore us or yell at us, but we are not going anywhere." She states firmly, her eyes locked on to mine. I just roll my eyes and turn to look at Dr Cho who has walking into the room.

She checks me over and I notice the frown on her face. "What's up?" I question. "I'm worried about your temperature. I want to run some tests, but with the inflammation to your incision, I'm worried you've got an infection. It's nothing to worry about as we've caught it early. But we'll need to keep a close eye on you." She replies. "So, no discharge yet then." I huff.

Cho chuckles and looks up from my chart. "It's funny you think you were close even without this infection." She teases. "Aren't you meant to be nice to me? I'm a patient after all." I pout. "If I'm on good behaviour, can I get out early?" I plead. "Maybe in a week. But you'll be on strict bed rest and need to be cared for. You're still technically a minor." Cho breaks the news and I know exactly what she's getting at. "But I'm 18 in like 4 days! Besides, I literally got shot on a mission for Shield. Surely that's enough?" I argue.

"Y/n, you are going to struggle to walk, let alone be able to properly look after yourself. Even after you're 18, you'll need support during your recovery. It isn't a simple road ahead for you." Dr Cho returns. "So, what are you saying?" I get straight to the point. "I'm recommending that you are discharged to your family. You'll be in the compound so if anything goes wrong, you can get the right medical attention straight away." She explains. "Really? There are no other options. Can't I stay with Steve or something?" I ask but she shakes her head.

"Y/n, come on. It's what is best for you. Your moms will be there to help. I'll be away on missions so can't give you the care you need." Steve speaks up, but soon shrinks back as I glare at him. "Really, what makes you think that I'll get the care I need at home?" I growl, my anger building. "Y/n..." Mama starts but I cut her off. "No! You can't just stand there and act like the caring parents when you have done nothing to back that claim up. I've been the forgotten daughter for years! Slowly I have been pushed out this family and now you want me to just act like everything is ok and trust that you'll look after me?!" I yell, that frustration finally finding its way out.

"Y/n, you need to calm down. Your heartrate is getting too high." Dr Cho tries to calm me down. "Kiddo. You're ok. You need to give them a chance." Steve tries to reason. "A chance like I was given? I've practically raised myself these last few years!" I snap. Why is he suddenly defending them?!

"Please sweetheart. You're going to make yourself sicker. We want to be there for you. We're not denying how badly we've treated you. But I promise that it will never happen again. You'll be safe with us. We just want to be able to care for you and help you get to full health." Mama speaks, her eyes filled with tears. I look between her, and mom and I see that she's almost inconsolable. "Do I have a choice?" I sigh, turning to Cho. "Technically, yes. But physically, you won't be able to follow through with it." She breaks the bad news. Suddenly the sounds of my heart monitor becomes noticeable so I lie back and take a couple of deep breaths. I can feel all their eyes on me, and I let out a sigh. "Fine whatever." I respond. I just need to do everything that Cho tells me so I can heal as fast as possible and move back to Shield and start my life again.

__________

The next few days are not fun. My infection hit me pretty hard, and I spent a lot of time either sweating or freezing whilst fighting the urge to throw up. I hate being stuck in this bed and I just want to be healthy again and being able to go on missions. Before it went south, I was loving it. Even if it was just a small one.

I'm also finding it hard that my mothers are suddenly around all the time. Mama is much better at not smothering me. Mom on the other hand, she is always fussing. But that's her and I used to love it when I was younger, when she actually cared about my wellbeing. "Wands, she's already said she has enough pillows." Mama sighs, her own frustrations growing. "Yes, sorry you did." Mom apologises, slowly putting the pillow down she had in her hands.

"Can I get you anything else? Some food. Though the food here is pretty horrible. When you're back home, I'll make sure to cook you something tasty with the food you're allowed to eat." She starts to ramble. I'm not going to lie, that does sound amazing, and I'd kill for a bowl of paprikash right now. I remember when mom taught me how to cook it. It was one of the last memories I have of us spending quality time together.

I don't realise I'm smiling until I see both my parents looking at me warmly. I quickly shake it off, not wanting to let them think that I'm enjoying this in the slightest. "You know what. A sandwich would be good." I say, taking them both by surprise. I've not been very talkative, but I could do with a break right now. I know I won't be able to get rid of both of them, but I can at least take a break from mom fussing.

"Of course. I'll go and make you something up and bring it down. The bread is always dry here." She speaks, grabbing a couple of things and turning to leave. "Maybe I'll check with Cho if you could have a smoothy." She mumbles, making mama chuckle as she leaves.

I let out a breath of relief. I feel slightly less suffocated. But I am still very aware of mama's eyes boring into me. I'm used to her being quiet. She always observes, making her conclusions before talking when it's necessary. But seeing her now, it feels different. I'm pretty good at reading people and I can tell that she is lost in her own thoughts. I've only seen her like it a couple of times before and it's been after particularly difficult missions. Ones that bring up bad memories for her.

I grab the TV remote and try and find something to watch. I end up with Rizzoli and Isles on. I don't really watch it, but the sound is helping to break the awkward silence. Just after they break the case in the show, I notice mama sit more upright in her seat.

"When I found you in Hydra, I knew instantly that I wanted to help you. There was something about you that melted my heart. When we found out that you had no family to return you to, it wasn't even a question, I knew I was going to adopt you. In that short space of time, I had spent with you, I grew to love you." She starts. I don't look to her, my focus on the TV.

"Even though you had been through so much, you had this happiness around you. You were grateful for everything and found the joy in the smallest thing. I just wanted to give you a life that you deserved. When I married Wanda, I was so happy that I could give you two loving parents." From the corner of my eye, I can see her smile tearily as she picks at the skin around her fingers.

"I failed you Y/n. When I adopted you, I promised that I would be the best parent to you. That you would never want for anything. What's worse, is I never even noticed what I was doing. What we were both doing. I've always prided myself on being able to read people, but I couldn't see the damage I was doing to my own daughter." She continues, pain evident in her voice.

"I wish I could go back in time to change how we acted with you. To include you fully with the twins, to support you in your work in the Shield Programme. To show that even with the boys, you were loved and an integral part of this family. All I can do is apologise and promise that we are not going to let that happen again." She finishes, finally look up to me, a couple of tears falling down her cheeks.

"It's been years. We're not just talking about a couple of months here." I speak up, still not able to lock eyes with her. "Steve became more of a parent for me than the two of you." I admit, and that seems to make mama's heart break a little more. "Is it because I'm not biologically yours and moms?" I ask, my voice shaking.

Mama is quickly to her feet and takes my hand in between both of hers. "No. Of course not Detka, and I will forever hate myself that I've allowed you to think otherwise." She tries to reassure me, a panic in her eyes. "I wish I could give you a reason for why we acted like we did. Initially, it was because we were so focused on the boys, but after that, I have no idea. I wish I could pinpoint why, maybe it would make this all easier. I know you probably don't believe it, but I love you as much as those boys. Blood doesn't matter to me. You are my daughter as much as they are my sons. I know and feel that through every fibre of my body." She expresses. The sincerity is evident in both her voice and facial expressions. "Saying sorry isn't going to fix this. You only knew what you were doing because I called you out on it. Had I not gotten shot, would you have made any effort to rectify what was wrong?" I question her, my anger growing.

"We wanted to. We were planning on taking you to breakfast to talk and work out a way that we could make things right with you. But you had gone, and we couldn't get to you. You have a lot of people at Sheild that love you." She chuckles humourlessly. That is true. Maria is like an aunt to me and her and Fury happily kept my room allocation secret, "Look, I know that we don't deserve your forgiveness, but it doesn't mean that we are going to stop trying." She states firmly.

"It's not that simple mama. I have learnt to live without you now and I've got my own place with Shield. We can both move on with you getting your perfect biological family and I get the career I want." I say, but that only makes mama cry more. "No, our family is only perfect if you are in it too!" She almost shouts, but she's quick to calm herself down. "Look, we've got to live together through your recovery, let's just see how things go after that ok." She proposes. "Fine, but I can't promise anything will change." I respond and she nods. "I know. But I'm going to try everything to earn your forgiveness." She comes back with a newfound confidence.

We fall back into a silence, one that feels more comfortable. Mama looks less stressed, but her brow is still furrowed. When mom returns, the quiet is broken again, despite mama trying to get her to calm down. I try not to smile when she tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I miss this caring side of my parents so much. But for me, it's too little, too late.

Taglist: @reggierizzoli @ordelixx @mousetheorist

[cinamun]

One thing that I think I've noticed as this story has progressed, and in general, is that we always expect and or look for reason in men's bad behavior. There is always a reason for them to do bad things, outside of them actively choosing to be a bad person. Someone must have failed them, she must have failed them, she must have failed him, etc.

Elliot tried to kill Hope. He tried to drag her with him into the abyss, and yet he was not viewed as an attempted murderer, but instead as a friend who had gone astray. Someone who needed more support or more attention. At his funeral, people wept over the fact that he couldn't be saved! It is always tragic when someone makes a fatal decision that harms themselves and others around them, but I notice that, especially in the black community, black women's victimization takes a backseat to the pain of black men.

Now we see something similar with Bishop. While it's interesting to ponder the complexities of why he is the way he is, Mercy is being preyed upon! She sets boundaries, and he crosses them, always with an undertone of violence. There is talk about whether he cares or if he can change, and it falls into that same line of thinking. "If I love him more, then he'll do right." "I can fix him" "He just needs..."

Anyway, let me know if I'm way off the mark, but it seems like women tend to take on far too much responsibility for the feelings and actions of men, to the point of forgoing their best interests.

Yes... and

That's society for you, amirite? Always prioritizing the needs of men.

But I'm going to challenge that..... as I do. Spoilers below the cut.

Yes I believe that, in the case of Elliot and Darren, there was absolutely a reason for them to do bad things and some have chosen to dismiss those reasons. Elliot was actively mentally ill, but rather than address mental illness, we chose to throw him away. We literally witnessed this young man's decline and if we can't separate his actions on the pier from his diminished mental state, what does that say about us and how we perceive mental illness?

In fact, when did Hope take a backseat? Once Elliot was collectively thrown away, all eyes centered on Hope's healing and rightfully so! But one thing I'm not gonna do (I feel it would be irresponsible as a Black woman writer) is stifle Hope's healing to uplift the man who hurt her. Hope was wrapped in love by everyone, including her husband (a Black man).

Why didn't we throw Indya away for the nasty shit she did like taking a baseball bat to Darren's nose? Or throw Jerri away for the literal attempted murder of Juan? If I do nothing else, I want us to think about things like this and force questions that we wouldn't ask ourselves otherwise.

I've opened up a space in this current arc to look at a very clearly damaged individual (Bishop) through multiple lenses. I don't think acknowledging Bishop's humanity (pixelness) necessarily means "I can fix him". Like, at all. I think our readers are smarter than that and only recognize nuance. Some of y'all be trippin tho ngl lmfao

Not everyone saw Bertie as preying on a drunk Jackson but she was. The reason no one really flipped it is because Jackson is a man. But he was a man who was not capable, in that kitchen, of making a wise decision; so he made a horrible one.

Men irritate me just like anyone else but one thing this story has tried to do is simply acknowledge the humanity and capacity for growth within all of us.

[ferrocyan]

15 lines of dialogue

Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

15 feels like too few haha! i'm picking these mostly from finished fics, with a couple of wips at the end. feels like i could go on forever otherwise

tagged by @improvised-finish (tysm!!) and tagging @pillowfriendly and @worldoshaking i wanna read more of your wols pls pls pls (*>∀<*)

(duo)

"I've never heard of such a name before! From which fair land do you hail, friend?"

"Coer--" C'astarhte said something and promptly bit her tongue. She covered her mouth, then quickly added, "Pardon. Meant to say... I come from the Exarch's homeland."

---

C'astarhte looked distressed. She glanced around at the rest of the bar, then at Reeq, and whispered intently, "But this worked before... Crystarium people don't ask about the Exarch."

(detour)

"So we've never really fought together, no? When you say we're partners, I'd like it to be earned."

---

"Doesn't need to," Tart shrugged. "What matters is we do it together. No more objections, right? Surely not." She stuck out her tongue at Lue-Reeq, then headed to the stairs.

---

"You know," Tart said, "you're not bad. I don't know much about archery, but your technique is very clean. Efficient, no wasted movement, very well timed. I was amazed how fast you could nock arrows and have shots lined up perfectly. It was nice to fight with you. Good job, Reeq."

(drown)

She just had to kill Andreia. All would be well if she killed Andreia. Remember what she had done to Alisaie, to Alphinaud? Blackguard. Scum. Bitch. Just kill her and get it over with!

(ask of me)

"No," Tart cuts him off. "Don't want to stop, just... want you to stop pretending I'm not here."

"Am I?"

"You're not touching me, not saying anything, not even looking at me! What's with that, Reeq?" she pouts.

---

"Reeq, you like it when complimented and told you're doing a good job. I feel the same. So, not asking for more, you're giving back to me." She smiles, putting her hand on his. "I like you. Always want more of you. If you're having a good time then so am I. Wouldn't know that if you don't tell me, though, so let me hear it, yeah?"

(focus)

"you're scaring me a little, right now."

she smiles. "is that bad?"

"not at all. i quite like it."

"good."

(wurm)

"Say, remember when you asked, would I still love you if you were a worm?"

Reeq snorts. "Why yes, I do! I remember perfectly well," he pinches her cheek lightly, "when you told me that you would feed me to your chocobo."

(peel)

The man is ecstatic, so very amused that he cannot hold his giggles back. His feet kick as he laughs and his tail thumps on the floor, shaking with glee. Unable to wait for Reeq to finish his sentence, he fills in with an exclamation:

"Tart!"

Tart only makes himself laugh harder.

(division)

"ishgard has ways of denying certain people's existnce. mean really, completely erase them, unlike the shite that bishop was spewing about himself. my family no longer exists. how dare he accuse me of not understanding how it feels to be rejected? and how dare you take my prey?"

---

tart holds his focus in his right hand, blade in the left. his tail flicks uneasily. "go easy on me, won't you?"

"what? oh my, i never thought i would hear that from the warrior of light!" aymeric laughs as he readies his own sword.

"i'm ill, you blackguard."

"then maybe you should rest properly."

"hasn't helped. this might, so stay still and let me cast magic at you."

(out to the cold)

"--get it, i get it. zenos wanting me makes me a liability. now that you all have the dragon scales' protection, i am not needed anymore. you--they're setting you up as my replacement. no. no, they can't. won't allow it. can't let that happen. oh--you--you're here to kill me. you can't replace me! i'll kill you first! you're dead, estinien wyrmblood!"

(aphelion)

"not that i want to die, g'raha. just... wish i'd died back there. it wouldn't've been good, but it would've been perfect. my life could've ended perfectly. haven't you felt that way too?"

[saibug1022]

A New Start

Word Count: 1.2k Magnus Bishop & Wind Velez A/N: I've already written multiple things for the Windverse yet here I am not posting any of it like an idiot. For those unaware, Into the Windverse is a connected universe that started with @oh-so-youre-a-nerd's LoA MC Wind Velez and evolved to include @aces-and-angels's MC Enid and my MC Magnus. aces-and-angels wrote about how Magnus got fired and selected for recruitment but this is how he GOT recruited.

Magnus had been through a lot in his life, and despite how they may have damaged him, he'd always been able to hold onto his sanity.

But this boredom may be what finally cracked him.

He had just slammed his laptop closed upon seeing another email from Richard Jensen in his inbox when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. Great, that would definitely improve his mood. His hearing aids were on the other side of his apartment and he did not care enough about this unidentified number to go get them so he just set his phone on the counter and turned on the transcription before answering. 

“Who is this?” Magnus said, not bothering to hide the irritation in his tone. There was a slight pause as the person on the other end spoke, the phone processed, and typed out what they'd said.

‘Uh, is this Magnus Bishop?’

“Who. Is. This?”

‘My name is Wind Velez,’ The mystery person said, assuming Magnus's phone had spelled their name right. ‘I'm a senior associate with-’

“No, I'm not dealing with any more associates or paralegals Phineas sends after me, tell Richard they can fill their quota another way.”

Magnus reached to hang up but paused when he saw another line of text coming in that actually intrigued him.

‘No wait, I'm not with Jensen,’ Velez insisted. ‘I'm a senior associate with McGraw-Byrne.’

Magnus remembered that name getting tossed around a few times, mainly in jealous contempt or begrudging respect.

“The law firm in New York? The ones who took on that murder case with the actors last year?”

‘Yes! That's us!’

“Why the hell are you calling me?”

‘According to the news you handled the trial of Austin Morris lawsuit and then the DA had you prosecute him during the trial but by the end of the trial your firm completely severed your contract…how much of that is true?’

“You still aren't answering the why question,” Magnus sighed. 

‘Well we were hoping you'd consider an interview.’

“You're recruiting me?” Magnus blinked at his phone, wondering if it transcribed something wrong. 

‘Hoping to!’ Velez confirmed. ‘The firm will cover the price of your flight and a hotel room, and if you end up going back we'll cover your flight back too. And if you stick with us you get a seriously nice relocation package.’

“Right, uh huh,” Magnus rolled his eyes. “Because a high end firm is gonna go through that much effort to hire a junior associate.”

Why did everyone just assume he was completely stupid. Well, he knew why. He fucking hated it. It was literally the reason he'd pursued law in the first place, to fight against and change that shit. But of course the first time he made any progress or did anything significant he lost his job and what little power he had.

‘Associate?’ The text starting again pulled him from his pity party. Normally he wouldn't have indulged it even that long, but he hadn't exactly had anything else to do. ‘No, the job is junior partner.’

Partner. Partner. Was this real? He wished he'd grabbed his hearing aids just so he could hear if the person was lying. After years of fighting and scraping for any chance to prove himself only for it to mean nothing because of something literally skin deep. Here it was, just being offered to him.

‘Hello?’ Velez prompted him. ‘Did the call cut out? It keeps doing that, is your reception bad?’

“It's not reception,” Magnus shook his head. “It's my phone transcribing, I'm deaf.”

‘Oh shit, sorry,’ Velez said immediately. ‘Well now I look like an asshole.’

“Yeah you do,” Magnus agreed, even though it seemed like it was just an honest mistake.

‘Oh no, did I just ruin any chance of you coming to the interview.’

“Send me the information.”

‘Really?!’

“Did I stutter?”

‘Alright! Awesome, I'll send the ticket and everything to your email.’

“Don't get excited, I haven't said I'm coming.”

‘Whatever you say.’

Magnus rolled his eyes again and hung up the call without another word. He opened his laptop and within a few minutes he got the email with all the attachments. Damn, this Velez was thorough. Everything was in one email instead of scattered between 50 emails like some people. 

As Magnus read over the info about McGraw-Byrne he drummed his fingers on the counter top, using the rhythm of the feeling process his scattered thoughts for him. The offer was tempting. Very tempting. Which was how he knew he wasn't going to take it.

Offers like this were always too good to be true. There was always a loophole or some way around the contract. Or even more likely, he'd show up to the interview only for them to go with another person. Chances were they'd already picked someone else and just had to give more interviews for appearances. Filling quotas. 

Magnus sighed and reached to close his laptop again but his eyes fell on a picture he kept on the counter. It wasn’t in the greatest shape. It was a miracle it was still visible at all. That picture had been through just as much as he had. 

It was a picture of a toddler version of him, the only picture of himself from before transitioning he could stand to look at. He was on a young Vivian's shoulders shrieking and grabbing at her head while she laughed. On either side of them, one holding him up and one keeping Vivian from falling, were his parents. Not any of his foster parents, his real parents. The one who had actually loved him. He didnt remember much about them. His first memory was sitting in that courtroom after having to testify about his own parents’ murder and watching their murderer smirk as he was sentenced to only five years in prison. All the stories he knew were from Vivian. It still felt like there was a constant hole in his chest.

He had his Mama's smile. Not that he used it much these days. She was smiling so brightly in that picture. The only picture of them he had.

“Dont look at me like that,” Magnus muttered. “I know, I know, you want the best for me and want me to grow. Vivi's said it countless times. But I'm sick of being humiliated. I don't know how much longer I can go on like this.”

The words hung empty, neither parent nor son hearing them. Magnus sat and stared at the picture in silence, as if he expected his dad to appear on the stool next to him and starting talking about never knowing until you try. Maybe if he could remember their voices he'd even be able to imagine it. 

But he didn't remember their voices. And the picture remained frozen. The hole grew a little bit bigger.

“Damn it,” Magnus sighed.

He got up and went to his bedroom. He needed to pack. His flight left in the morning.

[the-starry-seas]

Heyyy~ For the ask game: B D E J R X with the choosen ship of yours <3

mwah <3 also this ask game has made me realise that I don't actually know what rarepairs are in my fandoms LOL but this one is for Han and Lando!

B - What's your favorite thing about this ship?

They simply annoy the ever-living fuck out of each other constantly. Like you can absolutely see them arguing with each other as foreplay, My Cousin Vinny style. They're both that 'scoundrel with a heart of gold' sort of type of character and I simpy love that in a ship.

Also they have history! Such history! And I love when you can have an 'old friend' dynamic like Magneto and Prof X. Also I really need Han to know that Lando's full name is *checks notes* Landonis Balthazar Calrissian. Who did that.

Bickering like an old married couple, constantly tricking each other, the custody arguments over the Falcon are legendary, they bring up so many past misbehaviours to one-up each other, but at the end of the day... they're stealing from each others' hotel rooms and leaving a note signed with a "be better next time <3", and I love that for them.

D- Is this ship an OTP or do you also multiship these characters with other people? If the latter, is it your favorite of the multiships? Why or why not?

I don't ship Lando with anyone else. But alas Han/Lando cannot beat Han/Leia... I simply love Leia too much.

E - Do you have any favorite headcanons for this ship?

Whenever they hook up, they steal the Falcon from each other. It's just an expected thing at this point.

Lando is a snacker and keeps getting crumbs in the bed and Han is ready to stab him every time because food! goes! in! the! kitchen!

They have matching tattoos. Yes they were drunk. No neither of them have ever looked into getting it removed. (They're tramp stamps of the Falcon.)

Lando always brings champagne to their hookups even if he doesn't have any notice. It lowkey annoys Han because where does he even get it from???

They always go to the same hotel and never have use the same name or credit card. The desk staff is all well aware of what's happening and think they're funny.

Han showed up with a beard once and Lando reflexively shot at him.

Han likes flipping poker chips in the air when he's bored. It drives Lando nuts because Han uses the metal chips that are shiny and catch Lando's eye and distract him.

Once they accidentally set a hotel room on fire by knocking over a table with candles on it. They both say the other did it on purpose.

They always go halves on dinner/date costs while snarking at each other the whole time about freeloading and handouts and sugar daddies. They've confused so many waiters.

J - What kind of dynamic(s) does this ship have or do you imagine it would have (friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, A fell first B fell harder, etc.)?

Oh this is absolutely enemies to lovers LOL Plus some slow burn, I think... they're snarky and eyefucking but they don't realise it's what they're doing for... a while. Everyone else does, it's fine, and are so deeply annoyed with them. They're both the kind of people who flirt with everyone so it's a while before they realise they're serious about each other and not just angling for a one night stand like they would be with anyone else.

R - Are there any songs you associate with this ship?

Ooh! Yes! For more general vibes, I looove Always Gold by Radical Face. And they said you were the crooked kind / And that you'd never have no worth / But you were always gold to me

Devil's Backbone by The Civil Wars - Don't care if he's guilty, don't care if he's not / He's good and he's bad and he's all that I've got

Baby by Bishop Briggs - My baby's misunderstood / How could something so bad look so damn good / Yeah he's still my baby / Yeah he's fuckin' crazy but he's still my baby

After the whole 'sold Han out to Vader' thing, you have the sad love song called Never Love An Anchor. With this heart of mine that's guilty, not remorseful / There is love that doesn't have a place to rest

Minefields by Faouzia & John Legend - Maybe I'm just a fool / I still belong with you / Anywhere you, anywhere you are / These minefields that I walk through / What I risk to be close to you

Also, while not a song, there's a poem with the line: I do not want to see him go up in flames the way all heroes end up martyrs. And hm. Yeah.

X - What are their primary love languages and how do they prefer to express their love for each other?

Is 'annoying each other' a love language? Acts of disservice, perhaps? Jokes aside I think they share gift-giving and words of affirmation and neither of them will admit it. They have an inordinate amount of trinkets, however. Mutual praise kink, woo!

[umbracirrus]

for the fanfic asks, D (for The Perfect Storm), F, G, and O!

Hi Bishop!!

I've already answered D - I have trouble associating songs and playlists with fics, but if anything I would say Dragonsreach from the Skyrim soundtrack would probably be suitable given how much of the fic is based there 😅

F: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Ooh! This is a bit of a long one, but it is absolutely my favourite piece of dialogue! It's from chapter 17 of The Perfect Storm.

 She stayed sat as she was for a few moments, before bringing her cup to her lips then placing it down with a sigh. "A few things. The least concerning of which being that you are apparently afraid of the Thalmor, but honestly…" Elyse frowned. "A lot of people are. I certainly am. But what worried me more… is that he said that you worship Talos, and-" Her fingers tapped against the cup, slowly and rhythmically from her little finger to her index, as she winced. "That you agree with the Stormcloaks.” The way in which she acted as she said that sentence almost felt like a dagger in Balgruuf’s gut. The slight cracks in her voice, the watery look in her eyes, and her body tensing up. She looked to be on her guard. And no wonder... Her volatile relationship with Ulfric no doubt made her worry when support for the Stormcloaks was raised. It must have made her worry for days. He folded his arms over, then shook his head. He didn't want her believing that she needed her guard up around him too – that was the exact opposite of what he wanted, which was for her to know that he and Whiterun were a place for her that she could feel safe, so he decided to tackle what appeared to be bothering her the most first. “I do not agree with what the Stormcloaks are doing. There are better ways to achieve their aims than dragging Skyrim into war. Than... using the death of the High King to tear the country asunder,” he stated with a frown, doing his best not to imply that Torygg’s death was either murder or justified, just as he would do when handling audiences through the day. “But I do agree with the concept of a united Skyrim. Where it isn’t brother against sister, neighbours pitted against each other in pointless war. I just don’t believe that either side of the war have the power to do that as things stand. It is why Whiterun is neither, and believe me when I say that I weigh up the options on a daily basis...” Elyse looked at him silently, processing his words, before her shoulders dropped, just slightly. “And what of Ulfric?” “Ulfric and I... have history. But that is where it remains – in the past. We were even friends at a time, but I do not think that such a label could be considered now," he muttered, a twinge of painful nostalgia coursing through his mind. He remembered being a young lad, probably no more than six or seven years old, standing to the side of his father as a man he had only heard being referred to as a bear approached the throne of Dragonsreach. There had been another boy with the bear, a few years older than he was, possessing determined eyes matching that of his older self. That was the first of many times they had met, and from that day forth, a friendship – a kinship – had been stoked… And now they were Jarls, and very little from those days remained. Between that day and the present, there had been wars, loss, imprisonment, rebellion… and not a single one failed to have an impact on that once-strong bond. "Not any longer." A blanket of silence fell over them once more, until she finished what remained of her drink before pouring herself some more. "I'm… sorry. For if my conflict with him has contributed to that in any way." "Don't be. Things have been strained since long before you set foot in Skyrim."

I just adore this scene from the moment I started writing it, because I had been wanting to draw in on Balgruuf's previous relationship with Ulfric and how it had changed over the years to reach the point that the two of them were close to being in conflict. And I just really like the dialogue in the last three paragraphs which touch upon it. Elyse didn't know the nature of what had happened in the past between the two jarls for it to reach the tensions of the present, but now she has a clearer picture and has some reassurance that for the most part, it wasn't her fault.

It just felt like an incredibly candid scene and to me, at least, I liked the impact that it gave.

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

I have a preference for writing start to finish, because I like having things contained in one document... but have a tendency to write things out of order in far too many separate documents. For example, I've already written Elyse and Balgruuf's wedding - they aren't even together yet in what I've written so far for The Perfect Storm, and won't be for a while!!

I have around 50 documents for The Perfect Storm alone because of this. About 20 are concepts I've messed around with or things I removed from the fic, another 20 are things which I wrote out of sequence but did add or will be added eventually, then a good handful of other miscellaneous documents (such as a few oneshots, some AUs, and stuff I very likely won't post).

O: How do you begin a story–with the plot, or the characters?

I suppose it depends on how I get the idea for a story. A lot of the time, it stems from having a few pieces of dialogue and a vague idea in relation to it in my mind and it develops from there. This is what happened with The Perfect Storm - I started messing about with the concept of a Balgruuf/Dragonborn fic based around the context of the Dragonborn doing something stupid and there being a conversation afterwards which goes:

“Promise me that you will never be so reckless again. Trap a dragon again by all means, but do not put yourself in such danger.” “Is that an order, my Jarl?” “No. Take that as a request from a man who worries far too much about your safety and wellbeing.”

And the plot just kind of developed from there, with Elyse being the Dragonborn which I thought fit best based on what I had for her as a character at the time... Though I don't even think that this dialogue will even be in the end fic, but it is what stoked the idea!

Sometimes though, I'll come up with a character, then the plot falls around them. This is very much the case with my Oblivion fic, I came up with Florian and Drissa as my heroes of Kvatch, then the plot kind of started to develop around them - even though it is mostly just the likes of the Oblivion main quest (up until reaching Cloud Ruler Temple for both of them then Florian after, until the last few quests where it is both of them again) and the Dark Brotherhood questline (just Drissa).

[nocturnal-bishop]

"I'll Go Anywhere With You"

Pairing: Papa Emeritus III (Terzo) x Bishop Dante (OC)

Warnings: None

Words: ~1350

Summary: Finding a ritual that would allow him to visit Terzo in the afterlife, Bishop is eager to pounce on the opportunity, and finally gets to say goodbye.

The bishop sits on his knees on the hard floor, his pale face illuminated only by the dim glow of the candles surrounding him. He finishes drawing the necessary symbol on the floor, then picks up the book he had found in the Ministry's expansive library. Tucking his black bangs behind his ear, his eyes skim over the page he had bookmarked, his lips moving silently to the words. He has been practicing this every night for the past two weeks now; it was finally time to put the practice into use.

The previous Papas have all been dead for a handful of months now, and Copia had taken over as the new Papa Emeritus, leaving Dante to look after him now. But even with the intensive work of looking after the new Pope and making sure his transition from cardinal went smoothly, Dante couldn't help but be preoccupied in his grief of losing the man he had fallen for: Terzo.

The bishop had already attempted to bring Terzo back to life, which proved unsuccessful as all he managed to do was summon a Ghoul rather than bring anyone back to life. Either it was impossible, or Dante simply lacked the knowledge to fulfill such a task, so he decided to look for some sort of alternate option. And that was how he stumbled across this. A ritual that would allow Dante to temporarily traverse the afterlife, just to allow him a few more minutes with his love.

He just wanted to properly say goodbye.

His heart beating nervously in his chest, Dante inhales slowly through his nose as he sets the book off to the side. No more delaying.

Shutting his eyes, Dante begins to recite the incantation that he had taught himself from the book, an old Latin phrase that should transport him to the other side. After the last of the words leave his lips, the man keeps his eyes shut for a lingering moment, afraid to open his eyes and see that the ritual had failed him. He couldn't handle another disappointment, another failure.

A shiver runs across his body, and Dante suddenly finds himself shivering and cold. He wraps his arms around himself, then finally blind his eyes open to find himself standing in an empty, dark void. Fog snakes its way up to his waist, his feet disappearing in the thick clouds as he looks around and begins to walk. His footsteps echo, filling the void with the loud sound and nothing else.

"T-Terzo? Are you here?" Dante calls out to the darkness, pausing his steps to listen. The silence that follows engulfs him, and an overwhelming feeling of disappointment fills the bishop. Once again, he had failed. All he had wanted was to just see Terzo one last time, just so he could have a sense of closure. But it seemed that even that was asking too much of the universe.

As Dante was about to fully give up and throw in the towel, the tall male feels freezing hands come from behind and rest against his chest, making him aware of a presence behind him.

"Tesoro….what are you doing here?"

Though Dante had initially gone rigid upon feeling the hands on him, that familiar voice instantly sets him at ease as his heart swells with happiness and relief. "Terzo…" He exhales in a whisper. "I've missed you….I had to see you." Dante's voice quivers slightly. "I…I never even got to properly say goodbye to you…."

"Oh, I've missed you too, my darling bishop…"

Dante turns to face the other, and chest Schindler as his eyes fall upon the short male and the familiar features he knew all too well. Though the deceased man appeared a bit more pale and translucent, it was unmistakable. It was him.

"It's really you." Dante murmurs, his gloved hand cupping Terzo's cheek and rubbing his thumb underneath his eye.

Terzo leans into the touch, his hand resting over Dante's. His eyes shut for a moment before shifting up towards the bishop's. "I was certain I would never see you again, amore….But this is no place for you. My time has passed, but you still have much life to live."

"You should still be alive!" Dante retorts. "If I had only done better to protect you, to keep you from harm-"

Terzo presses a finger against Dante's lips, silencing him. "Do not start talking like that. It is no one's fault. My death served the Ministry, so that my brother could take over…Even if you don't agree with it, it's what was right for the Ministry, for our mission." A low sigh escapes him. "I don't like it either…I had thought I was doing well as Papa, but….I've accepted that Nihil and Imperator had different plans. My only regret is…not being with you."

"I can join you!" Dante chirps eagerly. He takes Terzo's hands into his own, giving them a squeeze. "I can join you here….My life, my purpose is here with you, not there…I would be willing to give my life just to spend eternity with you…."

Terzo gazes at Dante for a moment before lowering his eyes to their intertwined fingers, then exhales and pulls his hands away. "As much as I would like that, I could never ask you to end your life for me…"

"But I want to, Terzo….I want to be with you…"

At Dante's insistence, Terzo shakes his head. "No." He responds firmly. "You will not do anything of the sort….You are needed. Copia needs you….Our time will come, but not for a long while yet, Dante…."

With a trembling lip, his eyes burning with the threat of tears, Dante drops to his knees in front of Terzo, taking one of his hands and burying his face into the other male's pant leg. "I can't go back without you….I can't suffer anymore without you by my side…" His voice turns to gasping sobs. "I can't live without you, Terzo….I love you…"

Terzo watches the man crimple to the ground, sighing and pushing a hand through the bishop's hair. "I know you want to stay, Dante…But I could never ask you to do that."

Dante tilts his teary face up towards Terzo, and the pope cups his cheeks, his thumbs wiping away the tears from his slender face. "Don't cry." Terzo murmurs. "We will be together eventually…but you still have purpose…."

Dante shakes his head, tears spilling over Terzo's thumbs. "I can't…" He insists. "I need you, Terzo…"

Terzo leans down, bringing his face closer to the bishop's. "I understand that. But you need to listen to me….If you truly love me, you need to go back…" A remorseful sigh leaves his lips. "I love you, my bishop…but it's time for you to head back…."

Dante grasps onto Terzo's shirt with a strong grip. "No, I just got you back! It hasn't been long enough!"

"This world is not made for the living, Dante. I need you to leave…." Terzo presses his lips against Dante's forehead, planting a lingering, sweet kiss to his skin. "Now go."

Dante takes in a shuddering breath, nodding and rising to his feet once again. "I…I understand…" As much as he yearned to stay here with his love, Terzo was right. Dante still had duties and responsibilities in life. It was too soon for him.

"I will always be waiting here for you, Dante…I love you…." Terzo holds Dante's hand, offering a small smile and kissing the bishop's knuckles, and just as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone, and Dante found himself back in his bedroom.

Heart burning with pain and mourning, Dante gazes at the symbol he had etched on the floor, the candles surrounding it now reduced to small, smoking piles of wax. With the lingering feeling of Terzo's touch on his body, Dante lowers his head with a heartbroken sob.

"Ti voglio bene, mio amato…."

[altheneum-library]

||°~ "Are you lost?" ~°||

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

Lambert's POV:

After Y/N and The One Who Waits reunited together, I had questioned them what their relationship was like with him. Their reply to me was quite interesting as I had assumed they were dad and child at first...some may know it sounds weird but have I even heard an older sibling call their younger sibling 'their young' before? 

and yet...

their relationship... it brought me some memories of my past that I wish to forget, yet I cherish them more than I could imagine. I can never lose such memories of my mother...her smile, her warmth, her cooking...her hugs and lullabies.... ...her voice...

tears stung my eyes as I blinked..I think twice before starting to hurriedly wipe them away as to try and not let anyone notice, I looked around a bit, when I saw nobody noticing at all, I took a sigh of relief. 

I then took a glance up and saw that Y/N was talking with Ratau, seeming like they had asked him a question beforehand because I saw him nodding and heard him agreeing with teaching me something. They both looked at me, I was a bit surprised at first but regained my composure quickly. 

Y/N approached me and put a paw on my shoulder, opening their mouth. "little lamb, I am afraid this is where I take my leave for now. I know I promised to help make a cult with you but I also have my own people to attend to.."  I was shocked to hear those words come out from such a sweet melody of a voice, it brought me sadness and a slight tint of fear in my heart but then, as if they knew how I felt they started speaking once more.

"I know this must be very surprising but I also know that you would do just great under Ratau's guidance. know that if anything happens, my staff shall cast it's protection upon you. I entrust that you are worthy enough to complete my quest of reuniting my family together, bishop or not.." with a smile of determination on my face and an adventurous mind set in my head, I nodded with firminity before looking at Ratau. he can only smile and nod to me, seemingly happy to teach me how to make a cult. though, looking at the crown. TOWW doesn't seem too happy on Y/N leaving, aaawwww he's clingyy..~! how cute~! 

.

.

.

.

.

Y/N had led me and Ratau back to the chambers, walking to their realm's gate. they faced towards us and waved goodbye as we bid our farewells to them as well before they left.

I turned to Ratau as he took a deep breath and looked around a bit, seemingly as if he was trying to hear out for something. I was confused to what he was doing and was about to ask but he raised his paw up, pointer raised as if to quieten me. rude but-

"I have come to the realization that Y/N may have...unintentionally left us deep in the lands of the Old Faith and in grave danger as well... My instructions are to lead you to safety as requested by the bishop of life. let us continue through the woods as escape lies ahead. I will be close by." he told me before relaxing his posture, I was quite shocked to see that he can hear the dangers of the woods but then again, he's probably lived nearby for...great gods know how long- he probably has some experience hearing the creatures and fighting off many of them before, not a big surprised really..

We both prepared ourselves and walked to where safety should be. 

.

..

...

....

.....

......

.......

.........

...........

Okay- not going to lie- it's already been five minutes of walking and it already feels like we've been walking for HOURS- geez when are we gonna reach there!? and Ratau is just rambling over knucklebones and how the card game works, I just listened ad would usually respond. I am interested sure but it's not like I'm gonna play the game much anyways..

after a bit, I start to space out and then, it all went blurred as I remember a small, faint but wonderful memory..

~~ A MEMORY COMES BY... ~~

"Mother! Mother! look what I've brought!" I yelled out to my mother as I ran up to her, a bouquet of camelias in my arms. she looked at me and smiled softly before kneeling down.  "aw, how sweet of you, my little lambert! they look so beautiful...may you put them in the vase so we may bring them to your father today?" she says as I nodded, my ears wiggling and my tail waggling I went and carefully put the camelias in the white vase we always put new flowers in for my father. 

You see, my father died when I was born, so I never really knew him much and neither did I ever knew how much grief it affected mother but what I did know was that I was always so envious of others who had fathers, such as my friends for example. I always longed for a father, or a father figure at least. then maybe I wouldn't be such a mama's boy my whole life.

when my mother had finished our laundry, we both went to father's grave and kneeled down. my mother started to set the vase down, adjusting the camelias. she then started up a conversation with my late father, as a child I never quite got why she was talking to someone who was already dead though as time past each day, I grew to understand that it was a part of grief to try and reassure yourself that they'd hear you. maybe not physically but spiritually. after we prayed to The Old Faith's Bishops, we both stood up and went on our merry way to the village.

the memory was blurry, but I remembered flowers decorating every part of the village I lived in, petals fell from the roof tops from the flower girls and bloom boys making it seem like the sky rained of beautiful rain drops of flora. the sky was a beautiful blue, maybe mixed with a bit of teal..? I don't remember much of what happened nor my surroundings from that day.

~~ ...THEN THE MEMORY GOES, AS ALWAYS ~~

after my memory fades away, I looked at my surroundings, a clearing in a forest. with abundance of flowers and fauna, a river nearby that runs smoothly and the waters were as clear as a mirror. I can see the little swimming school of fish. Ratau took a good look around and sighed of relief. "this is a good place to build your cult, I sense this place belongs to Bishop Y/N, makes sense from the huge amount of forget-me-not flowers here. I heard they loved these." he said to me.

forget-me-nots, huh? interesting!

it had been a bit of looking around peacefully and planning of where to put almost everything in the area with Ratau, I didn't really take track of the time before hearing a cry from help from somewhere. I was alerted and frantically looked around, eyes widening is surprise and readying the staff. 

Ratau readies his own staff before we both heard the cry from earlier, we ran to the source and were just in time to save an innocent soul about to be sacrificed to one of the bishops'. the staff I held was quickly fused with some sort of black substance, my head felt a bit light, confused I looked at the staff.  the wood was now as black as the night sky and there was an eye by the middle, it stared at me expectantly, it seems TOWW is expecting me to use his powers along with Y/N's.

I huffed and went into a stance, seeing that Ratau was busy with the left, I got started to beating the guys on the right.  it was a small fight but it did get a bit out of me, the black substance becomes a crown once more and the staff's wood, back to normal brown color.

I sighed as I see the innocent animal, kneeling down on the ground, I approached and offered a hand before offering them a home in my cult under the two bishops' names. they pondered for a moment before smiling and nodding, I looked up at Ratau for approval. he nodded as well.

"Now, you can teleport them to the indoctrine altar, we shall follow suit." he says.

all I did was give a smile and a small huff before dusting some of the dirt off my fleece as Ratau and I went on our way 

[jessicas-pi]

#3, 8, 11, 14, and 16 for the Rebelsvengers Au!

*maul voice* what fun!

3. Did anything inspire this au?

Yes! Exactly two lines of dialogue, to be precise! Which lines? I'll tell you!

"Just like Krownest, all over again!" "You and I remember Krownest very differently!"

And thus, this AU was born.

8. What platonic relationships are important in this au?

Ok, so. Obviously, the Space Parents & Space Kids (er... Super Parents and Super Kids?) are a big one! But besides that, I think the platonic relationship with the most overall effect on the events and plot of this AU (not including friendships with romantic undertones) would have to be Rex and Ahsoka. Even after she's corrupted, he never loses faith in her, which is a major motivator in her redemption/recovery, and her return to heroics leads to her joining the Rebelvengers with hilarious results.

Another one is between the kids and Zeb. Ezra is an outcast in both of his worlds(humans and Jotuns); Zeb's transformation also makes him shunned from a normal life. Sabine was turned into a killer at the Academy; Zeb was turned into a raging purple giant by science. They've all been called "monsters." Their similarities help them bond and heal. (Also, Sabine and Ezra recruit Zeb for their ballet troupe.)

11. Is there any relationship that's different in this au than in the source material?

boyohboy, YES! There's several. The biggest one I can think of is Ahsoka & the Spectres. Due to slow Asgardian aging, she's still about the human equivalent of 16 when she's captured, corrupted, and sent to Earth with an evil magic stick, instead of being the 30-something Fulcrum agent she was in Rebels, so you can imagine her relationship with them is a little rockier than in Star Wars canon. But, since she's basically a child under mind control, not just an adult being influenced by the Scepter like Loki, the Spectres are able to forgive her and eventually accept her into their group, once she's been cured of her madness.

Other than that big once, Kallus (who is a good guy from the start) being Ezra & Sabine's "uncool uncle figure" comes to mind, and TBB being Hera's big brothers, too!

14. Write a little snippet set in this verse, but with a character you haven't used so far. (Or if you've used everyone, one you haven't utilized much.)

Ooh... oh, here's an idea!

"Tech?" Hera asked, noticing the furrow between his brows. "Is something wrong?" "It's likely nothing," he ventured. Hera shook her head. "It's something. What is it?" "Well..." Tech said, slowly. "I've been hearing... rumors... regarding the Tipoca School for Boys." "So have I. Rumor has it that it's a front for an evil mad science organization experimenting in cloning, right?" Hera said. "But... come on, that's impossible! It's just some conspiracy theory." "Maybe." Tech held out his tablet to her, showing the data displayed. "Maybe not."

16. Are there any ocs in this fic?

Okay, I was gonna say no, but then I remembered I don't have a Darcy Lewis character yet, so I may steal one of my Slightly Unhinged OCs from another AU and have that be her!

also. wait. hold up. if ezra is the hawkeye character, then gremlinchild rune could be kate bishop. i think i may be onto something here.

[malsfefanfics]

OC Profile: Tancred

art by @/nessiemccormick, edited down to icon size by me

"He was always very sickly, according to his family. But from what I've seen, he's very enthusiastic and wise beyond his years. Tancred seems to really like it when people say his name, or when they compare him to his brother. I expect great things from him in the future." -- Edelgard, about Tancred

Full name: Tancred von Vestra Nicknames: Tanc (most people), Mini-Bert (Hapi and Yuri), Treasure (Ferdinand and Dorothea), Sweet-Breeze (Medee) Birthday: Day 31st of the Wyvern Moon, 1174 Age: 6-7 (Pre-TS), 11-12+ (Post-TS) Crest: None Family: Marquis Iason von Vestra (Father, Deceased), Medee (Mother), Hubert (Older Brother), Rosamund (Older sister) Nationality: Adrestia Titles: Hidden Treasure, Mage of Mercy Voice Claim: Maxey Whitehead (Child voice, similar to Alphonse from FMAB), Zach Aguilar (as he ages, hitting somewhere between Tanjiro in Demon Slayer to Aether in Genshin Impact)

Interests: History of Fódlan and surrounding nations, Opera, Magic Studies, Language Learning Likes: Sweets, His brothers and sisters, Gardening, Riding Dislikes: His father, People who are mean, seeing others in pain

Favorite Meals: Saghert and Cream, Sweet Trio Bun, Peach Sorbet, Sautéed Jerky, Liked Meals: Vegetable Pasta Salad. Country-Style Red Turnip Plate, Vegetable Stir-Fry, Small Fish Skewers, Disliked Meals: Spicy Fish and Turnip Stew, Daphnel Stew, Bourgeois Pike,

Tea Preferences: Dandelion Root Blend, Dagda Fruit Blend, Southern Fruit Blend, Sweet Apple Blend, Lavender Blend

Liked Gifts: Hunting Dagger, Board Game, Sheet Music, Armored Bear Stuffy, Tea Leaves, Exotic Spices Disliked Gifts: Goddess Statuette, Blue Cheese

Lost Items:

Bag of Herbs: A velvet pouch of strong smelling herbs that remind you of mint leaves. You find they make you breathe easier.

Small Toy Soldier: A toy soldier that looks to be part of a set. The handmade clothes remind you of someone sinister.

Tin Whistle: A small musical instrument that plays an airy tune. It's size seems best fit for a younger musician.

Starting Class: Noble Preferred Class Path: Noble --> Monk/Myrmidon --> Mage/Dark Mage/Priest/Thief --> Swordmaster/Bishop/Dark Bishop/Warlock --> Dancer/Mortal Savant/Trickster Strength: White Magic, Black Magic, Dark Magic Weakness: Heavy Armor, Brawling Budding Talent: Sword Personal Skill: 'Calming Winds' - Restores 10% HP to nearby allies each turn.

Weapons Starting Levels:

Sword: E+ Lance: E Axe: E Bow: E Brawling: E Reason: D+ Faith: D+ Authority: E+ Heavy Armor: E Riding: E Flying: E

Base Stats:

HP: 17 Str: 5 Mag: 10 Dex: 10 Spd: 7 Lck: 8 Def: 6 Res: 6 Cha: 10

Learned Faith Spells: Heal, Nosferatu, Physic, Restore, Seraphim Learned Reason Spells: Wind, Miasma Δ (Dark Mage) Thoron (Mage), Cutting Gale, Death Γ, Dark Spikes Τ

Recruit Requirements for Canon-Compliance AUs: CF exclusive - Must have up to B support with Hubert.

Potential Supports:

Byleth

Hubert

Rosamund

Medee

Linhardt

Dorothea

Ferdinand

Ashe

Mercedes

Jeritza

Lysithea

Marianne

Ignatz

Hapi

Constance

Dimitri (Through Meals Only, up to B)

Dedue: (Through Meals Only, up to B)

Crit Quotes: (Pre-Timeskip)

Stay back!

Stop it!

I can't falter!

I need to fight!

Just a little more.

I'm sorry!

I need an opening.

Must one of us die?

Crit Quotes: (Post-Timeskip)

For my brother!

For my sister!

I am your pyre!

I will make an opening!

You will be silenced!

Mind and Heart guide me.

Your head is mine!

I do what I must.

I must stay alive.

We shall prevail!

Defeat Quotes:

I can't be here. I need to go.

I...don't feel good....

I'm scared....I want to go home....

I don't want to die alone.....

Hubert....Rosa.....I'm sorry I made you sad.....

Skill Level Increase Quotes:

This is so much fun!

Glad I could get out of bed today.

I think I'm getting stronger. (Weaknesses)

That was too easy. (Strengths)

I never knew I could do that! (Budding Talent)

Level Up Quotes:

I hope I can make everyone proud.

I'm so much stronger now.

I'm know I can be stronger.

This is to help everyone.

You sure I can't learn a bit more?

Gift Quotes:

Liked Gifts: My absolute favorite! Thank you, thank you!

Neutral Gifts: You're so nice to me. Why?

Disliked Gifts: Did I do something to upset you? I'm really sorry.

[lovecatsys]

okay since everything except for Uncanny Spider-Man is out now I'm gonna go ahead and give my reviews of Fall of X so far

First off, Immortal and Red continue to be masterpieces, no surprises there, both books however are clearly taking a turn in a different direction and I'm loving it for both of them.

Jean Grey is not what I expected it to be at all, but still an amazing character study of Jean, I expected nothing less from Simonson of course.

Invincible Iron Man and X Men are decent, not a fan of exactly whats going on with Kate, the Emma stuff is great though. Kamala should not be in this book. I hate the avengers by default but I don't exactly hate whats going on between Emma and Tony, though that might change. The "wedding" is going to be exactly what I expected it would be of course. Overall not Duggan's worst writing but I don't love it.

Uncanny Avengers is... meh, so far, Pietro is super OOC which is :/ but maybe he'll get some more focus later on, god I hope he does. But it's frustrating how little effort is going into portraying him as a visible person of color when a much greater effort is going into his sister. Monet used her telepathy which gives me hope for her! I'm down for more of her teaming up with Kwannon tbh, they make a good team.

Astonishing Iceman is a bit of an anomoly to me. It's very good writing so far, I'm loving how Orlando writes Bobby, but I'm really pissed that they've chosen to stick with Romeo as his love interest after he got aged up just to come back and fuck Bobby and for them to throw Christian to the side. No mention of Christian at all at the hellfire gala, Emma is not concerned with where he is like she is with the Cuckoos which :/. I'm honestly afraid he's being dropped as a character which fucking sucks. The thing I hate the most about how Romeo is there is that Christian could literally be in his place and it would be perfect to me. He has a power set that could absolutely work for this situation just how Romeo's is working! Who knows, maybe this relationship will grow on me. We'll see.

Alpha Flight is really good, I haven't delved into the world of AF comics yet but from everything I know it seems perfect. My man was only there for two seconds in the first issue but we'll see if he gets any panel time as it goes on. Even if he doesn't though, yeah I'll be a little pissed but it'll still probably be a good read, and at least he'll have made any appearance at all since Marauders. Oh and Puck making fun of his new codename was funny. Fang really is a dumb name.

X-Force is still garbage, but this weird plot twist with Quentin (whatever it is??) has me gritting my teeth. fucking get your hands off my boy Percy he does not deserve this. Curious to see whats going on with the Colossus plotline, just wish it was happening in a better book.

Children of the Vault is amazing, never cared for Bishop and haven't read much Cable yet but I'm still all in on it. One of those books where you don't have to care much for the characters to recognize its quality. also fun fact: its written by the comic writing mentor of my comic writing mentor. lol

Dark X-Men wasn't as good as I had hoped it would be, but its still good. Though it kinda feels like it has too many characters in it so far, I'm loving the Maddie content and it had some great dark humor in it. LOVED the children of the atom bits, im so curious whats going to go down with Carmen and I'm just glad her friends and her relationship with Buddy got some panel time tbh.

last and the actual best: Realm of X was SO FUCKING GOOD. I've had a little soft spot in my heart for Curse since her story started in X-Men Green, and it seems like she's going to be a huge part of this arc rather than just tagging along as a little kid which is great. Sooraya fucking stole the show, this new take on her power signature is amazing. In general love all these women (Typhoid Mary is growing on me, I'm going to call the awful things she's done that made me want to hate her poor writing choices, especially since shes a survivor of such acts in the first place.) SO curious with what's going on with Yana, and I love how devoted she is to keeping Curse safe. DID NOT expect Saturnyne to be the main villain but im down for it tbh. This book is my favorite already and i just cant wait for hte next issue!

[imagine-you]

all I want for christmas is you (kate bishop/reader)

Summary: The sequel to Make My Wish Come True. You worry when you haven't heard from Kate in over a day, but when she shows up at your work injured on the night of Christmas Eve, she finally tells you what's been going on. (Set during ep. 6 of Hawkeye.)

Word Count: 2.6k

Author's Note: I had this idea when I wrote the first fic, but then it was confirmed in canon that Kate went to the Barton house for Christmas, so I knew I had to go ahead and write the sequel. Thank you to everyone who showed the first fic love. You totally blew me away and gave me the confidence to write a little more for Kate, so thank you all so much. Happy Holidays, everyone! 💖

Read on AO3

"So, I've got to ask," your co-worker Dylan started, fixing you with a serious look. "Here it is, almost Christmas, and you're acting like a complete Scrooge. You all but said 'bah humbug' to the last customer. I know working on Christmas Eve sucks, but what gives?" You shrugged your shoulders, putting way too much focus into wiping down the front counter. It was nearly time to close, and despite the fact that it was Christmas Eve, you weren't at all excited for the holiday.

"Come on, Y/N. We've known each other for a couple of years now. You're sad," Dylan said, moving until he was standing next to you. He bumped his hip into yours before moving out of your space, coaxing a reluctant smile out of you. "I'm starting to get a little worried. You’re not going all Grinch on me, are you?"

You rolled your eyes before finally looking up at Dylan. Of all your co-workers, Dylan was your favorite. He was hilarious, and caring, and regularly invited you over to hang out with him and his boyfriend, because he thought you needed more of a social life. You knew that if anyone was going to listen to your personal problems and actually give a shit, then it would be Dylan.

"It's just..." you sighed before leaning against the counter. "You know Kate?"

"Kate Bishop, you mean? The girl who comes in here and flirts with you and nearly gets you fired every time for 'fraternizing with the clients,'" Dylan said, quoting your boss.

"Yeah," you sighed, ignore the way your face flushed at hearing Dylan telling you Kate had been flirting with you. "She invited me over a couple nights ago to hang out with her and...a friend," you said, not wanting to admit that you had spent a few hours in the presence of an Avenger, because even you thought it sounded kind of farfetched despite the fact that you were there. "And we had a great time and she was so cute and then there was this mistletoe that she put up for us and we kissed," you finished with a wistful sigh.

"But?" Dylan prompted, a worried frown starting to appear on his face.

"But now I haven't heard from her since that night. I've texted, but it's like, nothing," you admitted with a scowl. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and waved it at Dylan, as if to emphasize your point that there wasn’t a response from Kate.

"You think she's ghosting you?" Dylan asked, taking a step closer to stand by you at the counter.

"I mean, she doesn't seem the type? She seemed like she was genuinely into me, but now I don't know. Did I do something? Did I fuck something up?" You knew that Kate wasn't the type to just ignore someone. She was a sweetheart, through and through, but you couldn't help but worry. If she was hanging out with Hawkeye, then did that mean she was out doing something dangerous? What if she was seriously hurt or in a hospital or dead? You didn't even want to consider that, so thinking that Kate just simply lost interest in you felt a lot safer.

"I don't think you need to worry about that," Dylan mused, his tone bordering on amusement.

"What are you talking about?" You glanced over at him, noticing he was staring at the door.

Dylan nodded towards the door, prompting you to see what had caught his attention.

It took you a moment to recognize the person pacing just outside the shop.

“Kate,” you breathed, feeling your heart beat a little faster in anticipation knowing she was near.

She was dressed in what you thought looked a hell of a lot like a superhero uniform. She still had a quiver of arrows secured to her back, and despite the fact you couldn't see her bow in her hand, you had a feeling it wasn't far from where she was seemingly talking to herself.

"Go," Dylan urged. "See what's got her all fired up. I'll finish closing up."

"Yeah, okay," you agreed, shooting him a grateful smile before you made sure to grab your coat from beneath the counter and shrug it on. "Merry Christmas, Dylan."

"Merry Christmas, Y/N. Now, go get your girl before she talks herself into a panic attack."

You couldn't help the nervous laugh you let out at his words. You forced yourself to take a deep, steadying breath before you pushed open the door to the pizza place and stepped outside.

"---all you've got to do is explain and apologize and promise never to do it again. It'll be cool. Cool, cool, cool," Kate was saying, her back to you as she continued to pace. You noticed her bow was propped up against the wall by the door as you stepped out onto the sidewalk.

It took you only a few seconds of listening to Kate to realize that she was giving herself a pep talk.

"Kate?"

"Y/N!" Kate exclaimed, turning and looking at you.

You felt a cold wave of fear crash over you once you caught sight of the cuts on Kate's face. "What happened to you?" You didn't even realize that you had rushed forward until you were cradling her face in your hands, carefully inspecting each and every cut, making sure that none of them were life threatening or warranted an immediate trip to the hospital.

"I'm fine," Kate reassured you, swaying into your space, her expression morphing from panic to apologetic. "And Y/N, I am so, so sorry. It's just...everything got so much crazier than you would believe. There were these mob guys in tracksuits and this one big guy in a white suit and I blew him up, right? I totally blew someone up, but then my mom got arrested, and there was an elevator fight with Natasha Romanoff's sister, and I think I accidentally asked her out? But I meant it as friends! She wanted to kill Clint and I obviously couldn’t let that happen, so it was really the first thing that came to mind when I was trying to distract her." She was quick to assure you, her voice going high and panicked. "Because this with us is so new, but I really would never want to mess it up. It's just, between getting a new uniform and finding out my mom's fiancé, ex-fiancé?" She tried, a confused expression flitting across her face, before she shook her head. "Isn't actually a terrible guy, but just a guy who’s kind of just a nerd for swords, and then turning my mom in to the cops, it was a really crazy night. Actually, a really crazy week. But if you don't hate me for not texting you back for the past day, then I would love to grab a drink or just spend some time with you."

You blinked at Kate in surprise, trying to process her words. "I believe you,” you assured her, because you knew Kate wasn’t lying to you. You knew, deep down, that Kate wouldn’t lie to you. Not about something this important. “But Kate…your mom was arrested?" You found yourself saying, not sure how else to respond to the overwhelming amount of information Kate had just dumped on you.

"Yeah," Kate admitted with a wince. "It was something that had to be done," she continued, her tone growing somber. "She just...she was too far gone."

"Kate, I'm sorry," you told her, slowly bringing her in for a hug, being careful when wrapping your arms around her, because you weren't sure about the true extent of her injuries.

"It's fine," Kate tried to dismiss as she wrapped her arms around you and tipped her head forward until she was resting her forehead on your shoulder. "Well, it's not, but you know, that's the only thing I can really say right now."

"Do you have anyone to spend Christmas with? You can come home with me," you offered. "I mean, both my roommates won't be there, so we'd have the place to ourselves. But you shouldn’t be alone," you told her, “not on Christmas. Not after everything you’ve just gone through.”

"Actually," a voice interrupted, startling you and Kate. You glanced over to see Clint approaching the pair of you. You couldn’t help but worry when you realized he looked just as injured as Kate did. "I have a counteroffer for the both of you," Clint said, a small, genuine smile on his face.

***

Christmas morning, you were sitting in the backseat of the SUV Clint had rented. Kate was sitting in the passenger seat and Lucky was sitting next to you. He kept sniffing you and whining, prompting Kate to finally turn in her seat and glare at him.

"Y/N doesn't have any pizza, Lucky. Knock it off."

Lucky let out a low, disappointed whine before he finally stretched out across the backseat, placing his head in your lap.

You couldn’t deny that you were nervous about meeting Clint's family. He had assured you and Kate that it was fine if you crashed their holiday, but what if they didn't like you? You weirdly felt like you were going home to meet your girlfriend's parents and wanted to make the best possible impression. Except, Clint wasn't Kate's dad. He was more like her mentor, you couldn't help but think. But there was no doubt in your mind that Clint was just as protective of Kate as any parent would be.

Kate kept shooting you tiny grins over her shoulder, which went a long way towards quelling your nerves. It wasn't hard to smile back, letting the happiness you were feeling shine through. Kate was good at bringing that out in you.

When you got to Clint's home, you helped Clint grab the bags and gifts from the back while Kate got Lucky out of the car. She had grabbed your duffel bag, leaving you free to help Clint carry his things inside.

You couldn't help but grin when Clint's kids rushed towards him, exclaiming that they were happy he was home and had missed him. Kate had told you how hard it had been on Clint to miss so much of his family’s Christmas, so you were glad he was able to make it home in time for the actual holiday.

Once inside the house, Clint directed you to set the presents down on the table in the foyer. Kate was watching the kids clamor over Lucky, but she still reached out and grabbed your hand once it was free.

"And I picked up a few strays," Clint said to his wife, gaining your attention. "This is Lucky," he said, gesturing towards the dog you had previous known as 'Pizza Dog,' before Kate had proudly told you the name she had picked for him that morning. "And this is Kate, and Y/N, Kate's..." Clint trailed off, shooting Kate a questioning look.

"Y/N is my...person? Person," she decided on with a confident nod of her head. "Significant other?" She tried, grimacing at the sound of the title. "We haven't actually been...on a date...yet," she rushed to assure you, squeezing your hand. "But we're definitely something."

"Definitely something," you agreed with an amused grin before you leaned over and pressed a kiss to Kate's cheek. You couldn't help the little thrill of delight you felt when her cheeks reddened in a blush and a pleased grin tugged at her lips.

"Right. Well, this is Kate's 'Definitely Something,'" Clint said, glancing at his wife.

“Thank you so much for letting us crash your Christmas, Mrs. Barton,” you told her, hoping she wasn’t upset about it.

"Call me Laura,” she said, offering you and Kate a warm, genuine smile. “It's nice to meet the both of you and we’re more than happy to have you here with us. Please, make yourselves at home."

You had thought that spending a couple of hours with Clint and Kate had been the perfect Christmas celebration, but you were wrong. Spending Christmas with Kate, Lucky, Clint, and his wonderful family was the best Christmas celebration you could possibly have hoped for without seeing your actual family.

You watched the Barton kids excitedly open their gifts and baked cinnamon rolls with the family. You curled up on the couch with Kate and watched Christmas movies and drank hot cocoa with the freshly baked cinnamon rolls. You went outside with Kate and Clint's kids and watched them all play with Lucky. You laughed and sang along to Christmas carols and smiled and kissed Kate as often as you could appropriately get away with despite the fact that Clint kept poking fun at the pair of you.

It was a whirlwind of a day that left you with a warm, bright feeling inside. You were so happy you were sure everyone would be able to see it just from one glimpse at you. It was the best feeling in the world.

By the time you crawled into the guest bed that night, you couldn't deny that you were bordering on deliriously happy. The fact that Kate was joining you in bed, a satisfied smile on her face as she tucked herself into your side, made it all the better.

"Thank you," she whispered, her tone sincere. "Thank you for being there for me. I know this has been a lot, but it means a lot that you're here."

You couldn't help but press a kiss to Kate's lips, savoring the pleased grin she gave you in response. "I like you, Kate. A lot. And I'd really like to be there for you more. Whenever you can have me. All the time," you found yourself saying, hoping you weren't going too far too fast. You knew you hadn't even been on an actual date with Kate yet, but it was only a matter of time. The feelings you had for her were already there and that was what truly mattered to you.

"I'd like that too," she admitted. "And I promise not to accidentally ghost you anymore. That was kind of shitty and I promise that the only reason it happened was because of family drama and bad guys. But I'm in this," she promised you. "I'm really, really in this. And as soon as we get back, I'm taking you out for a drink or a dinner or a movie or all three if that's what you want."

"I want all of that as long as you're there," you told her, helpless against the smile that was forming on your face. Kate was so genuine and endearing that you couldn't help but fall for her just a bit more.

"Me too," Kate agreed, reaching up to frame your face in her hands. She placed a kiss on your lips, lingering there for a moment before she pulled away. "Merry Christmas, Y/N."

"Merry Christmas, Kate," you told her, trying to ignore the fact that you were starting to feel exhaustion creeping in. You wanted to stay in that moment for as long as you possibly could, because as far as you were concerned, it was perfect.

The moment was made even better when Lucky crawled up onto the bed, settling himself down between the pair of you.

"You think they'll mind him on the bed?" Kate asked, reaching out to the scratch behind one of Lucky's ears.

"I don't think so," you said, hoping it would be okay.

Kate hummed in thought before she tucked herself closer to your side. "Good night, Y/N."

"Good night," you said, sneaking in one more kiss to her temple, before letting your eyes close.

You felt content as you slipped off to sleep that night, knowing that you were in a house where you had spent Christmas with a loving family, an Avenger, a pizza-obsessed dog, and your Definitely Something.

It was perfect, you couldn't help but think to yourself. And for the first time in a really long time, you were looking forward to what the future had in store for you.

[mister13eyond]

I just want to say that I think your latest COTL fic might be one of the best fic i've read this year! the confession booth is such a good prompt that i haven't seen anyone wrote about (yet) and i'm glad that you're the first one who tried it!

i really loved the personality you gave to both narinder and lamb. your interpretation of them felt very accurate and fleshed out, including the bishops who weren't even present! the fact that narinder still have his pride despite losing his status and lamb genuinely enjoying getting to know people + managing community is such a good dynamic between them. i like how they're casual too, but with a hint of appreciation for each other. genuinely, your fan depiction of them might be my most favourite.

i hope you'll keep on writing cool things! i'd love to write more compliments but i don't want to spam you lol. i hope you'll have a nice day

WHOAH CAN I JUST SAY FIRST: THANK YOU SO MUCH these are such kind and insightful words... it makes me really happy to hear? I'm so so grateful it resonated with you and that it's a depiction that you love, ahhh!!! That's so wonderful??? And THANK YOU A TON... Honestly I love confessionals (well, and really, all kinds of sexy blasphemous religious iconography, hence why COTL landed so hard with me- hell YEAH i eat up the aesthetic) and I feel like there's something... I dunno, I love the dichotomy of intimacy & separation it gives. It's the perfect setting for where I set the Lamb and Narinder in their relationship at that time: a weird liminal space where they DO have a lot of fondness and closeness and building trust/understanding but ALSO there's still obstacles, hurdles and tender spots they haven't learned to tread into yet? That's something I really love about the two of them: they automatically have a connection to each other that's going to be DIFFERENT than how they're able to relate to anyone else; the Lamb has spent life being a mortal and a devotee, and Narinder has spent life being a patient god pulling the strings, but now- with the tables turned- they maybe understand each other's position more than anyone else COULD; no one else has really lived in BOTH of these worlds the same way?

I feel like the Lamb, depending how you play them, just feels perfectly like this well-intentioned meddler. Like they genuinely care for their followers! They enjoy having a flock of their own! They're also.... quite willing to be unethical about the MEANS they use to protect, charm, convince, gaslight gatekeep girlboss their flock, but you know... They do it out of love <3 And I think that gives a fun dynamic with Narinder, who sees through that pretty easily BECAUSE he was the god promising fortune and protection and whatever it took to convince the Lamb to do his work. So they get to be a LOT more honest now on this footing? OK LAST THING THEN I'LL STOP RAMBLING ABOUT MY THOUGHTS ABOUT THE FIC/THE CHARACTERS BUT ALSO the bishops are so good and fascinating and interesting to me, ESPECIALLY Shamura, because I really feel like there was a mutual respect between Shamura and Narinder and it feels like they didn't WANT to condemn him, they simply felt they had no other choice. It feels like they're the one he actually grieves, from his post-game mission dialogue, and also that they're the one he's the MOST angry with- because their betrayal would, of course, hurt the most. ANYHOW THAT'S ENOUGH RAMBLING.... thank you so so much for sharing your thoughts and giving me such kind words!!! I'm so so happy you enjoyed the fic!

[breitzbachbea]

Day 5: Supernatural [GreSic]

My fourth entry for @hwsrarepairweek2022! Michele tries to keep the ghosts of his past under lock and key, but in Sicily, the dead don't stay dead.

Ship: Greece/Sicily [OC] (Herakles Karpuzi/Michele Vento) Set in an Human/Organized Crime AU Read it here on ao3

I've bolded the Organized Crime aspect of the AU, since there are clear allusions to the mafia in this One Shot. If you want to inform yourself and/or help with the fight against Mafiosi and for Social justice, check out the No Mafia Memorial & the Libera, an anti-mafia network.

I've learnt about all the Sicilian folklore used in this oneshot from the wonderful book Creature Fantastiche di Sicilia by Rosario Battiato and Chiara Nott! The title itself is a reference to it. In the chapter on turnati, bodies that have returned from beyond the grave, the book also details on how to deal with these revenants, "perché in Sicilia, i morti deve morire" - "Because in Sicily, the dead must die".

You'll find translations for the Sicilian words & context for the historical references at the end of the work.

Perché in Sicilia i morti dovrebbe morire

It was so quiet out here.

Last night still rang in Herakles’ head: bustling city streets full of people, the busy clink of kitchenware streaming out of restaurants and bars, groups of young people, their age and less, populating the countless piazzas.

“The twins love to be out here, with friends from school”, Michele had said while they had waited for some company he had invited. He hadn’t said twins – He had said gemellini. The little twins. No doubt however that his friends, the Simonides twins, wouldn’t also enjoy to stroll around the city without a care in the world. Gemelloni, the big twins indeed. They were growing older and more interested in joining Herakles in the business each day. Their interest wasn’t the same as the Bontade twins - not the bright-eyed vigour of reality denialism and adventure escapism, which propelled Marco and Lorenzo to be at Michele’s side.

Instead, Omar and Timothea had the kind heart of their father and the steadfastness of their mother, but most of all, their parents' stoic pragmatism.

They weren’t here. They were safe at home in Athens with their parents.

Maria had left with Marco and Lorenzo a day before Herakles had arrived. “Gone east for the weekend,” Michele had said. He had bought a bouquet of flowers and now arranged it into a vase. Herakles had been reclining on the living room’s couch, with his arm on the armest and his cheek rested against his fist. “Near Syracuse, a fun weekend for Mamma to get out for a while and for the boys to fool around on the beaches. I’d wish I could say to see some culture as well, but ah.” He had laughed and thrown his head back, before he tended to the flowers again . “I don’t think that the archaeological park in Syracuse will be of much interest to them or the castle on Ortygia, unless they can get up to shenanigans unsafe to them and the historical grounds.” He had clicked his tongue and raised his eyebrows. “No, no no, I can’t put that stress on Mamma.” He had fidgeted with the flowers but glanced up at Herakles. “After the Turks tried to set foot here, in the 1570s, the Spaniards re-fortified the castle on Ortygia, you know. The opposite of what you’re doing.”

Michele had grinned at him for a second before he gave a ringing, impish laugh. Herakles had chuckled at first, but upon hearing Michele’s rascally joy, it grew into laughter as well.

“If somebody threatens me with a good time …” Herakles had answered.

He was here. Not in Athens, not in Ankara.

As they stood among the fields, Michele said: “I love to be outside around here at night. Just to stare at Monreale, how it’s lit up and tucked away against the mountains.” The walls around Michele’s garden were too high to see a lot of the surrounding area.

“I know that King Gugghiermu built the monastery and the cathedral, and all the other things, just to get the bishop out of town, but do you think he ever regretted it?” The moon was bright enough and the light pollution bad enough that they hadn’t needed any lamps for their night walk.

Michele didn’t take his eyes off the warm, orange spot of light couched into the hills. “I mean, Palermo’s beautiful, but … so is Monreale. It must sting to have such beauty tower over you.”

They trekked the last hundred metres back to Michele’s house in silence. 

“Do you think that’s why your ancestors built the fence around the garden so high?” Herakles asked and Michele looked at him, his eyebrows quirked in bewilderment at ‘ancestors’. “Because they couldn’t bear the beauty either, soaring to heights they could never reach.”

“That sounds like Luigi, yes,” Michele replied and opened the front door. He hit the light switch for the atrium. He hit it again.

Still no lights.

An exasperated sigh in the darkness. “Alright - You don’t happen to have a lighter on you?” he asked Herakles, who patted down his pockets.

“I don’t.”

“Moonlight it is then.” Slowly, yet with purpose, Michele walked into the atrium. Herakles ambled behind him, while he opened cabinets and rummaged through them. He mumbled something in Sicilian to himself and pulled a long and heavy object out of the cabinet.

A metallic click. A circle of light appeared half on the wall, half on the cabinet.

“Here, take that one,” Michele said and handed the flashlight to Herakles. “And shine into the cabinet, please.”

Herakles did so.

Michele took a closer look inside and rummaged around it some more. He straightened himself and opened a drawer. Herakles shone inside of it.

Michele mumbled a few more things in Sicilian, then something that sounded like “There you are” and turned a smaller flashlight in the palm of his hand. He turned it on.

“Alright now – Minchia -“

“Sorry.” Herakles lowered the flashlight after Michele had turned and stared straight into it.

Michele’s eyes were squeezed shut and he blinked a few times before he caught himself with a shake of his head.

“Now we’ve got to find the fuse box and hope that that’ll solve our problem.”

“Perhaps it’s a blackout,” Herakles suggested while Michele looked around.

He turned to him with a cocked eyebrow.  “Curious blackout though that would only affect my house, since we still saw the neighbours with their lights on, wouldn’t it be?”

“Point taken. Where’s the fuse box? In the cellar?”

“No, that one’s only for vegetables and wine,” Michele replied. “And … well … clandestine operations.”

“I think we made out there once,” Herakles said.

“I can hardly remember that, unless you mean stolen kisses while we were fetching something for Mamma cooking dinner. “Michele made his way around the atrium’s freestanding staircase.

“I think I meant that.” Herakles followed him. “A basement full of alcohol also hardly sounds like a place to hide from Athanasios.”

"No, not quite … It’s a good place to hide from me, though,” Michele said and looked briefly over his shoulder with a bright smile. “You wouldn’t believe how many spaces there are in this house to hide from me!”

Herakles snorted. “It’s a bit of a labyrinth, isn’t it?” Michele chuckled. He followed him around the corner and down the hallway. At its end, it split into two crammed corridors.  Michele shone a light into both sides. “Should I get you a thread, my hero?” Herakles asked and slipped his arm around Michele’s waist to tuck him against his body.

Michele jumped at the contact, but then looked up at him with a cocked eyebrow and a pouting smirk.

“Get me the fuse box, Casanova.” He quickly ran his hand over Herakles’ and gently pushed his arm away the next moment. “Before that, we should check the backdoor. I’ve checked everything before we left, but better safe than sorry.”

“Wouldn’t want to run into any minotaurs in here.”

“Yes, or any hit men or dumb teenagers, who thought this would be a funny prank,” Michele said and walked back towards the atrium. “Well, teenagers aside from my own rascals.” He stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder at Herakles. “Actually, you can wait for me here while I’ll check the backdoor.”

Herakles nodded and Michele returned into the atrium. He disappeared behind the stairs and Herakles heard a door open and close. He listened into the dark.

There was the constant background noise of the city far away. Silence, otherwise. Michele’s steps were muffled. Something rattled, but he couldn’t discern what would make such sounds.

He looked behind him. There was no movement in the dark; where the hallway split, the last specks of light that made it through the atrium’s glass ceiling was swallowed. There was only pitch blackness outside the circle of his flashlight.

A door opened and he turned around. Michele closed it behind himself and walked back over to him. “The backdoor is completely undisturbed, as are all the windows, so I think we’re safe from roaming monsters.”

“Good to know.”

“Yes, I would even call it vital information. Now, onto the fuse box…” Herakles let Michele pass him, before he followed him into the left corridor.

There were no paintings or other decorative objects on the walls. There was barely space to walk anyways.

Michele lit up the end of the corridor and turned towards a door. He reached for the handle but paused before he pressed it.

He looked at Herakles over his shoulder, who was met with a relaxed smirk. “But perhaps there is a scuro in here. Or a grecu livanti. Scuri like abandoned houses.“ He opened the door, the handle creaked and the hinges wailed. 

“What’s a scuro?”

“It’s a – “

“And the other thing. I thought I was the only Greek traipsing around here.“ Herakles stepped into the room after Michele.

Michele laughed to himself. “It’s named after the east winds, which we call the grecu or livanti. The creature that’s called grecu livanti travels with the winds and that is the reason why it can show up so quickly at the doorsteps of naughty kids.” Michele hunched his shoulders, curled his hand into a claw and wiggled his fingers. “And grab them!” The claw snapped into a fist. Herakes chuckled. “If it doesn’t gobble them up on the spot, it will stuff the kids down its pants to take them home and eat them later.”

Michele grinned at Herakles. “... charming.”

The grin dimmed back to a smirk. “Wonderful, the idea that one might run into such a fella in the dark, isn’t it?” Michele briefly took a look around the room, before he walked towards a box, mounted against the wall in a corner.

It was some sort of storeroom. A few wooden crates and half-empty shelves. Either a generator or an old AC unit. Herakles wasn’t sure.

“The boys would have their fun with this,” Michele said and he looked at him.

“ … fixing the fuse box?”

“They would have fun traipsing around in the dark.” Michele turned his head and the light in his hand as he examined the box’ handle and where the door met the frame.

Herakles stepped closer and lowered his light. “Unafraid of grecu livanti?”

“Oh, far from it!” Michele pulled at the fuse box’ handle, but it did nothing except for making the aged metal moan. “Oh, actually, there is a … My god, it’s so embarrassing.”

Michele pulled again, with the same result as before.

“Do you want me to open it for you?” Herakles asked softly.

“No, no …” Michele switched the lamp from one hand to the other and pulled. The door didn’t even budge this time. “But you can hold the lamp, if you would be so kind?”

“Of course.” Herakles took Michele’s lamp. He turned his own off and put it on top of the nearest crate. He stood aside from Michele now.

Michele now pulled with both hands. “You see.” There was a strain from the physical effort, but he tried to talk as if there was no effort at all. “This must have happened a while ago. Marco and Lorenzo weren’t on their-” He took one hand of the handle to gesture and the other one now pulled with short, hard jerks. “-best behaviour. And in a fit of …” Michele stopped and breathed for a few moments. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I honestly don’t know. But I had gotten the idea that maybe a bogeyman would strike some fear into their hearts.” The pulls became weaker and weaker. Michele sighed. “Now mind you, the boys fear very little.” He let go of the handle and turned to Herakles. Herakles wondered if him leaning against the door with his upper arm was intentional. “Much less than is good for them, and ghosts are most certainly not on the list. I, however, thought I’d give it a shot. Alessia, do you remember her? You ever met her? Girl, around sixteen. Loud, cheeky, got short brown hair, nearly as tall as I am.”

“I might remember someone like that.”

“Anyways.” Michele learned harder against the box.

“I don’t think it’s going to help with the power if the door caves in and crashes the fuses.”

“Well, it’s not doing me any favours with the power this way either, being closed.” Michele had said it with a smile, but released his weight.

“If anything, you might have gotten the door stuck even more.”

“Bullshit.” Michele pulled with both hands again and Herakles pouted. “Anyways, where was I? I asked Alessia if she wanted to do me a favour and she did.” He stopped and sighed. Herakles could see him stare ahead at the fuse box, but his look was lost in space. “So … Honestly, please don’t ask what’s gotten into me, but I asked Alessia to come to the house and play a grecu livanti one night. Which made the boys believe in ghosts for a few hours, who knows, really, but they also believed themselves to be excellent ghost hunters and did not resign to their fate. All I did was frighten them into more mischievous action. So much for boogeyman to keep the kids in in line.” Michele sighed and rubbed one hand over the back of the other. Herakles was glad that the banging and clanging had stopped, for it had started to give him a headache. Michele picked at his skin. “That’s the story behind the crack in the wall upstairs, by the way. And I think that Alessia, who’s now … who’s now … She and the boys will probably spend more time together in the future, and I don’t think she’s ever going to let them hear the end of it. At least someone had fun. I don’t know what I was thinking, it all seemed like a terrible and silly mistake in the same night and I apologised profusely to the two for playing such a terrible prank on them. Frighten the children with man-eating monsters! What a cruel thing to do, especially in this day and age, don’t you think?”

Michele hadn’t looked up at Herakles once. Only at his hand, at which he had picked all throughout his monologue.

Herakles stepped closer to Michele and gently laid it over the hand that picked at the skin.

“It sure makes for a remarkable story despite it all, don’t you think?” He asked. “I am sure that, give it a few years, Marco and Lorenzo will think of it as a silly childhood adventure and not a breach of trust.” Michele glanced at him. “You’re so hard on yourself, Michele. Trying to be a parent in your teens, I think it’s perhaps not that unusual to go a bit mad with the task.”

“Parent … well …” Michele buzzed.

“Older brother.” Herakles put his head on Michele’s shoulder. “Will you let me try to open the box?”

“Give me one last shot,” Michele said. Herakles rubbed his face against Michele’s cheek and neck, before he straightened up and took a step back.

Michele grabbed the handle. He took a deep breath, shifted his stance and yanked one last time.

The box flew open, with such a force that Michele stumbled back. Herakles stepped behind him and let Michele bump into him.

It was quiet for a moment. Herakles had put an arm around Michele, who slouched in his hold.

“… careful there.”

Michele snapped out of his daze.

“Hah! Eureka! Told you!” He got onto his feet and pushed up his sleeves. “Now, shine inside, be so kind.” He pulled the box’ door wide open.

“Of course.” Herakles stood right behind Michele to light the box’ interior.

The fuses were extremely old, of plastic that had gone yellow with age and dust. Some of them were labelled - a few with neatly etched plates drilled into the box, but most with paper labels. Herakles couldn’t read a single one.

“Everything seems to be fine here …” Michele said. He gingerly touched a few of them, turned one or two with an audible click, but nothing happened. Herakles looked at the room’s door over his shoulder, but stared straight into the pitch black hole.

“Curious,” he said.

“Indeed.” Michele stared ahead for a while. He turned his head to Herakles. “There’s another one upstairs.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” He carefully and slowly closed the door, until it hit the frame and wouldn’t budge any further. He sighed and increased the pressure, but it would only move millimetre by millimetre and with the ugly scratch of metal on metal. “Ciaccatu,” he cursed under his breath. “Couldn’t even build a fucking box that fit. Surely, better to have it all out in the open, better than whatever shoddy electric works Luigi added to the house, but Giovanni couldn’t even bother with a proper box!” He banged his hand against the fuse box’ door. The noise rang in Herakles’ ears still. Michele sighed into the silence. “Let’s leave it at that.”

“I’m sure you want your flashlight back.” 

“I do.” Herakles handed Michele the flashlight and then took a step to the side, until he realized the problem. “Can you shine over here? I put my flashlight-” Michele had already turned.

“Of course.”

Herakles picked up his own, wiped off the dust and turned it on.

“Alright,” Michele said. “Let’s go.” He walked out of the room with Herakles behind him. He closed the door on the way out.

It was a claustrophobic feeling to walk down the small corridor. When they turned into the bigger hallway, Herakles took a moment to shine a light onto the objects on the wall.

An old clock that no longer ticked. A painting in a heavy, detailed frame that showed a shipwreck. A Sicilian marionette of a knight.

The moon had shifted. Herakles saw the polished metal of the rail and post gleamed in the pale moonlight, but everything else was engulfed by darkness.

“You’d think that this stupid glass ceiling would serve at least some kind of purpose,” Michele said as they walked towards the front of the stairs. “Or all these giant windows. But no! If the moon isn’t visible or at the wrong angle, it’s useless, all useless! It only all makes this house a living nightmare in summer and winter alike! Giovanni had the right idea when he bricked up one of these hideous things instead of fixing it - Nothing about this is practical!” He grabbed the handrail and began to climb the stairs.

The balcony at the top was marginally lit by the moonlight overhead. Beyond the landing was another yawning mouth of blackness.

“But I am sure he didn’t even install a lamp in that room,” Michele ranted about his grandfather. Herakles began to climb the stairs behind him. He didn’t care! He cared as little as his father had, just in a different way! Nobody cared about this house and how could you! How could anyone live in here, in this … in this monument to hubris!” Michele stopped in the middle of the stairs and looked at the glass ceiling. Herakles stopped as well. “It was supposed to be it all! Spanish Baroque, an actual Roman villa – well, if only this damned hole had a single use like it had in a Roman villa! But they didn’t care for history! Cared nothing for it like the fucking fascists who locked them up – Neo-classical! Neo-classical it was supposed to be too! Neo-classical my ass, have you seen the things they built in Palermo? You’ve seen the tribunale! How fuckugly! I’d rather they throw me straight into jail than try me in this affront to everything! ” Michele made it to the landing of the balcony and looked from left to right. His heavy breath echoed off the high walls and stone floors.

Herakles came to a stop beside him. “We technically don’t have to fix the light, if you don’t want to.” Michele looked at him for a moment, mouth still open to breathe through it. “We’re not gonna freeze nor die of heatstroke without the AC and I don’t know about you, but I don’t need light for the things I do at night.” He smiled. “Though some types of sleeping are more fun with it, I’ll say.” The smile thinned. Michele scanned the atrium. “But you don’t have to see even as much as the shades around the house, if you don’t want to, Michele. They’re not real.”

Michele looked at him, with furrowed brows but eyes open and alert. “If those shades aren’t real, I’m terrified of what real things they’re supposed to represent.” He turned to the left. “And I am not meeting them in the dark.”

“So we’re not going to bed?” Herakles asked and intonated it like a neutral question.

“No, we’re not. There could be something wrong with the wiring or the fuses and I want to make sure …” His voice had begun to waver. When he spoke again, the desperation in his tone wanted to rise above a whisper, but his vocal cords couldn’t manage it. “I really hope nothing happened in … that room.”

That room was to the right of the staircase. Michele walked ahead into the hallway to the left and Herakles followed him in silence. There were two large photo prints of places in Sicily, but a painting was hung prominently where the hallway split into two. It was romantic and showed the Acropolis of Athens against the backdrop of a vast landscape, devoid of any people.

Herakles noticed how the circle of light from Michele’s flashlight shook slightly.

He dared to ask the question. “Have you opened it since?”

"No." Michele turned the right corner.

Herakles wondered what the state the office of Michele’s father was in when Michele had decided to lock the door and hide the key. He wondered if he had hidden it at all or gone as far as destroying it or throwing it out to sea. He hadn’t asked any follow up questions two or three years ago. Michele had told him about it on a late summer night, when the world had been at its most quiet. Herakles had not really cared to know more than what he had told him. Michele wanted to close the door on the past. Herakles would be the last person to deny him that.

Michele cursed and Herakles’ attention snapped back to him. He had stopped in front of a door on the right side and now muttered angrily under his breath.

“Hm?” Herakles asked: “What’s the matter?”

“I have to get the key, wait here for me for a second.” Michele walked past him and disappeared around the corner.

Herakles listened to Michele’s steps down the stairs. He heard a cabinet drawer open, then close, followed by steps that receded further.

He looked around. At the far end of the corridor opposite to the one he was in, he could see a tall window. Barely any light fell inside, but when he lowered his lamp, he could see Palermo’s lights twinkle in the distance.

Herakles thusly had to assume that the window faced the front, although perhaps he was mistaking one of the towns further inland with Palermo. Despite the many nights he had spent at the house, without the warm glow of the dim lamps mounted against the wall, everything looked the same.

It took him until Michele’s return, key in hand, that he vaguely recognized his position in the house. Michele opened the door, which revealed a guest room.

Or rather, a room that could function as such. The official guestroom had become Maria’s room, now that she had moved back in with her son. Marco and Lorenzo had taken over another guest room. He knew that Michele had offered them their own rooms more than once, but they had rather shared. They were around 14 now and Herakles wondered if puberty would make the offer more appealing. He knew that as much as Timothea and Omar loved each other, a shared room would lead to a disaster.

This room had a bed with a rug, oriental but more likely to be from a North-African region, a nightstand and two closets.

Herakles had only ever slept in the one now occupied by Maria, which was a far nicer guest room than this one.

He lingered on this thought for a while as its implications occurred to him. He knew that Michele went on dates and even had met a girlfriend once, but tried to think back to the last time Michele had made him sleep in the guest room or refused to sleep in Herakles’ bed on a visit to Athens. Although it would lead to perhaps a platonic cuddle at most, Herakles’ respected Michele’s commitment to faithfulness during his brief romances. He understood that if the twins found them in the same bed, it would raise questions – Marco and Lorenzo were older than the time Michele had told them Herakles was sleeping in his room because of a sleepover. It had been a fun night in the end as they had watched movies with the two and talked until 2 am, when Michele and Herakles could barely keep their eyes open. It reminded him of the time when, years ago, Sadık had come to meet him in secret at the Simonides’ house, so that Athanasios wouldn’t catch wind of it. The two of them had barely stripped down to their underpants when there had been a knock on the door of the guest room. Sex had to be postponed for the next hour as they had entertained Omar and Timothea. Omar had shown them the Pokémon game on his Gameboy as he sat in Sadık’s lap, while Timothea and her perfectionism only managed to braid one and a half braids into Herakles’ hair, before Natasa and Ibrahim told the twins to “leave the boys alone” and had put them to bed. Herakles had left the finished braid alone, because Sadık had said he had looked cute with it.

“Have you ever considered open relationships, Michele?”

A loud creak went through the room. “Huh?” Michele asked into the dark. “Oh, so you finally got your head out of the clouds. Would you be so kind and help me with the door again?”

Herakles shone his light at him and realized that Michele struggled with the fuse box again. This one looked more modern than the one downstairs.

“Sure.” Herakles ambled over. “You want me to open it?”

“No, I think I’ve got this one.” Michele had put his lamp onto the nightstand and Herakles continued to use his own this them. He stood behind Michele, in case he had to catch him, and shone onto the box over his shoulder.

Herakles said: “I’m just saying, I’m sure you could find someone who’s open to an open relationship.” Herakles smiled. “It’s a mighty lot of fun, if you ask me.”

Michele snorted before he laughed. A welcome sound to Herakles’ ears in between his laboured grunts and the bangs of the door when he pulled on it. “I’m sure it suits you just fine, my friend.” The pulls continued. “But those things, they need time and commitment … why not just play pretend with love, if it’s fleeting anyways?” He stopped his efforts with the box and shook his arms. He swallowed. “Now, I’m glad that you got lucky in love, but I … I am starting to believe that ‘true love’ isn’t in the cards for me … But I am happy to take the scraps of love I find along the way.”

Herakles put his head on Michele’s left shoulder. He kissed his cheek. “You can always come back to me, if you need it.”

Michele trembled. He had trembled this entire time. “I know, Erculi,” he said. “I know.”

Herakles switched his lamp to the other hand and yanked the fuse box open. 

“… thank you,” Michele said.

“Thought you could use the help.” Herakles touched his cheek to Michele’s, before he straightened up.

Michele looked through the fuse box. Herakles still couldn’t read any of the paper labels, but at least these fuses looked 30 years old and not from the 30s. Michele’s fingers shook as he flipped the switches.

“Michele, I can take a look for you, too …”

“Hm? No, no … you don’t even know what is where … it’s fine …” There was an erratic quality to his eyes. He turned a knob, but nothing changed. “I don’t … I don’t know …” His hand rested on the knob. It was limp. Herakles started to notice his own breath as well. “Is there another one I don’t remember …?  Everything was fine before we left, there’s … there’s no nothing left but that room ...”

A creak went through the house and Michele whirled around, eyes wide open.

Silence.

“Old houses sound like that,” Herakles said. “Probably nothing – “

“I think I saw someone in the corridor,” Michele said. With his look fixed onto the door, he reached for his lamp behind him. He missed it a few times before he turned around and picked it up. Herakles shone his light into the open door.

“Are you sure?” he asked him.

“I saw, I saw something move …” Michele walked towards the door and Herakles followed him with a worried frown on his forehead.

“I think you might be – “

“There!” They stood in the corridor. “There again, there …”

A panel of lights hushed across the wall.

In time with the sound of a car as it made its way through the bumpy streets around the fields. 

Herakles looked to the tall window. “I think what you saw was just the headlights of the car.”

Michele stared into the dark.

The lights in the atrium flickered on and he jumped. His lamp dropped to the floor with a loud clunk.

“The electricity seems to be back,” Herakles said, but kept his flashlight on and picked up Michele’s.

“Yes …, yes, apparently it’s back,” Michele said as he looked around. He took a deep breath.

“Your lamp?”

“Oh?” He took it from Herakles. “Yes, thank you.” He switched it off, so Herakles did the same. Michele had pressed his eyes shut when he said: “I think there’s ghosts around every corner.”

“They’re only shades, though. They may pass through you, but they can’t cause you any harm.”

Michele clicked his tongue and shook his head. He looked at Herakles. “Some may only pass through you, but pray to God that none of them stick. And some of these ghosts are bodily and if they come back, they bring nothing but rot and illness with them. Turnati . Bodies who’ve crossed over but won’t stay dead.”

Herakles wondered if Michele spoke in a literal or metaphorical sense. He realized that the ghosts were real regardless. “ … I’ll send you a charm as soon as I am back in Greece. I’m sure it’ll keep some of these ghosts at bay.”

Michele’s look was turned towards to atrium. A stare tired enough for a millennia of pain. A haunted man.

“I need to sit down,” he said.  “I need a glass of wine.” He turned to Herakles. “Care to sit on the porch with me? I can’t bear another wall.”

Can’t bear the garden wall. Can’t bear Monreale.

Can bear the quiet night. Can bear to stare out at Monte Pellegrino and hope that someone would take the plague from him. Can bear to look out at the sea – Swallowing everything and giving nothing back. Can bear to look at the city, walls so beautiful and yet so bloody.

“We’ll open one of the bottles from crete that I brought, if you like.” Herakles was reminded of his remark about his own father earlier and was glad they hadn’t put the bottles down into the wine cellar yet. A ghost in a bottle was the last thing he needed right now. 

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good…” Michele stared ahead, where the hallway to the right of the staircase split into two. The light of the atrium couldn’t reach it. He walked towards the staircase and Herakles followed him.

~*~

Gugghiermu is the Sicilian version of William. Michele is referring to King William II of Sicily.

"Minchia" - "Shit". Literally translates to "Penis".

"Ciaccatu" - Something broken.

Tribunale is the Italian word for court. The tribunale in Palermo is an example of "Stripped Classicism", a neo-Classical style widely employed by fascist regimes of Italy & Germany. "The fascists who locked them up" is a reference to Cesare Mori. To insert historical nuance that the text lacks - Cesare Mori often butted heads with the fascist regime and thus had lost his job briefly after Mussolini had come to power. He was re-established as prefect of Sicily by the fascist regime later in the 20s. His fight against the Mafia was arguably extremely effective, but also ensured by very harsh measures, so he continues to be a controversial figure. The association expressed in the text is best explained by the fact that the fascists bragged about how it was them who destroyed the mafia. It's a bold-faced lie and soon after WWII, the mafia proliferated again and is active to this day.

Monte Pellegrino is a mountain on the north side of the bay of Palermo. The story goes that in 1625, Santa Rosalia's body was found incorrupted in a cave on the mountain and when her body was paraded through the streets, it ended the current plague epidemic that had befallen Palermo. She's the patron saint of the city ever since and often depicted with a skull.