#This one I am putting in the main tag because if my mission is successful we will have a new friend in the tag

[squwhims]

YOU'RE JOKING!!!!

This is the girl again!!! Now that her exams, her concussion, and Christmas is over I have decided to stir the pot with her again, and I just very gently reminded her that, "hey, you flirted with me a couple months ago...do you remember that?" (she did not) (I have AGAIN been bolder than I meant to) but anyway, she was like, "I'll get back on that!"

BOULDER TO THE HEAD PERHAPS?!?!

So far she has only tried the English songs, but she'll get there. If I don't get a girlfriend out of this, I'll be fine. If I don't get a Joker Out fan out of this— what was all this for?!

[the-hopeless-haze]

bruce's and reader's reaction to the new mcr song👀

if the ask game is still going

Anon I love you for this. prepare for cringe and tooth-rotting fluff. no other warnings except mentions of sex (nothing explicit). also I assume you expected a headcanon but I can't write anything concise so here you go. anyway. requests are officially open and it is so on-brand for me that this is the first one I get. I am tagging everyone who is in the main storyline taglist but like let me know if you don't want to be on it

Taglist: @pop-rocks-and-skittles @yesshewrites1 @deadflowerd @burninggracesandbridges @reggxe-a @ventila98 @grayce427 @leastlikelytoachieve @that-girl-named-alex @yuki235171 @cluelessnitwhit @thebruemanbatwayne @y-napotat

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You Must Fix Your Heart

“B is listening to loud music and crying again,” your adopted son, Dick, informs you. “I tried to ask him what was wrong but he won’t talk to me.”

Setting the groceries down on the table, you smile at the young boy in front of you. You’re grateful for him, beyond grateful. And Bruce is taking to the role of father excellently, as you knew he would, although his recent suggestions to take Dick along with him on missions is enough to give you palpitations. You’ve resisted him. For now. Dick is smart and resilient, and quite taken with Bruce’s trainings (“he at least needs to learn self-defense like you did; Gotham is dangerous” was Bruce’s rationale). Still. It makes you rightfully nervous.

“Bruce gets sad sometimes. We all do, honey. I’m sure he’s okay,” you tell him, ruffling his hair. “How was school today?”

“It was okay. I passed my English test!”

“Well, that’s great news! I told you you just had to stick with it.”

“I mean. I got a 67. But that’s still passing.”

“That is true, Dick.”

“B won’t be happy.”

“Bruce will be ecstatic. We want you to do well, but if that’s the best you can do, it’s okay. We know reading is difficult for you, honey.”

“I don’t want to go to the tutor,” he pouts.

“I know. But it will help you,” you say, putting the milk in the refrigerator, smiling as he takes the initiative and places the bread in the cabinet. “Thank you for helping, sweetie.”

“Can you go see what’s wrong with B? I can put the stuff away. Promise.”

“Mm. You’re really worried, aren’t you?”

“Well. I’m hoping he won’t be as mad about the test if I help you.”

You laugh. “You didn’t tell him yet? I thought maybe that was why he was crying.”

Dick gasps in surprise. “That was… mean.”

“I’m only kidding, honey,” you chuckle, kissing the top of his head. “Bruce won’t be mad. We know you’re trying. He will insist on the tutor, now, though.”

It surprises you how natural this all feels, even though he’s not your baby… he is, in a sense that you don’t quite understand. He doesn’t call you ‘Mom’ or Bruce ‘Dad’. You don’t expect him to, not with the recent loss of his biological parents. But he tells you both about his successes and failures at school, his hopes and dreams, and he’s started hugging you and Bruce after he brushes his teeth and puts his pajamas on before he goes to sleep. Bruce is insistent on early bedtimes for Dick, and he plays it off like it’s because he wants to ensure his child is disciplined, but you know it’s because he wants to see him off to bed and know he’s safe and sound asleep before he goes to work.

When Bruce had told you he was taking this boy in, he said it was temporary. That he would only foster him until the courts found someone more suitable. You knew that was a lie the second it came out of his mouth, and even if it wasn’t, you’d fight him on it. This was your baby. The one thing that could go right for all three of you.

You leave Dick with the groceries and head up the stairs, hearing blaring guitars from the speakers, and you understand why he might have been a bit wary. Jesus, was he trying to give the kid a heart attack? You open the door without knocking, finding Bruce sitting on the floor, smiling despite the tears in his eyes.

“What’s going on?” you ask, leaning against the doorframe.

“What’s going on?” Bruce says excitedly, talking loudly over the music. “You don’t know who this is?”

You love seeing him so animated - happy - even, and it’s been a more frequent occurrence now that you moved in. Underneath it all, he was a simple man, and simple domestic pleasures mad him happier than grand dramatic gestures. You shake your head. “No. Care to enlighten me?”

“Jesus. How do you not know?”

You listen, barely able to decipher words over the music, and you shake your head again. “You going to tell me?”

“It’s My Chemical Romance.”

“No, it isn’t. I’ve heard every song by them and—“

“You didn’t even recognize them, so don’t give me that,” he grins, turning it down a little and motioning for you to come join him on the floor. “It’s a new song.”

“You’re bullshitting me,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest, but as you listen you realize you can make out Gerard’s voice. “Did you pay for this?”

“Did I— what? No. You think they would sell out to the Waynes? Jesus. If I offered them money to make new music I think they’d light themselves on fire in protest,” he chuckles.

“Probably. They’d write an anti-Wayne song like the anti-Twilight anthem. Imagine that? You’d still listen to it though. Anything to be name-dropped, right?”

He rolls his eyes. “I already have been name dropped.”

“That was before you did this. But look at you, preening.”

“You know how much this music means to me. It was there when no one else was,” he says, and it’s a cheesy statement, sure, but it’s a true one, one that resonates with you too. While your mother was dying of cancer, you listened to The Black Parade album over and over again and sometimes it was truly the only thing that you gave the strength to get up and look at her withered face every morning.

“Looks like they’re back for good, then. Maybe you can wear your eyeliner out all the time,” you snicker.

“Are you going to come over here and listen to it or are you going to just tease me?” he asks, and you oblige, sitting down next to him and letting him put his arms around your shoulders as he restarts the song over again.

And it’s six minutes, nostalgia coming over you in waves, a beginning from an ending. Bittersweet, a reminder of how much you aged, of how much you lost but how much you gained throughout the years. “Get up, coward,” indeed.

“Why aren’t you freaking out? This is fucking insane. I mean, I remember when they broke up, how upset I was…”

“I don’t know. I’m still kind of in a state of shock and I can’t really tell what he’s singing. I need to pore over the lyrics for a few hours. You know things hit me later. I’ll be listening to it nonstop soon,” you shrug.

“Well. Hopefully it hits you before September. We’re going to see them. Newark,” he says, eyes brightening.

“Yeah? You’re taking a night off for that?”

“Yeah. I’m taking a night off for that. Fuck. To see them in their home state? Our shared home state?”

“I’m not from New Jersey,” you remind him, giggling.

“Whatever. You might as well be. New York is close enough.”

“I think if you said that out loud in either a crowded New York or New Jersey street you’d be shot in broad daylight.”

“You’re marrying a New Jerseyan.”

“I was married to one before.”

“He doesn’t fucking count.”

“This is when I get my citizenship for realsies?” You ask, smiling as you kiss him on the side of the mouth.

“Yeah.”

“Well. Prince of Gotham should say, right?”

“Don’t call me that,” he groans.

“Why? Afraid Gerard wouldn’t like that? I feel like I should be worried about going there with you. You might not come back with me.”

Bruce shakes his head. “Weren’t you the one who told me in excruciating detail all the things you’d do to Gerard back when we were just friends?”

“Yeah. Okay. But I wouldn’t do them now.”

“Sure,” he laughs, his eyes gleaming with teasing misbelief. “I’m marrying you with the knowledge that if you had the chance to have one night with him you’d take it.”

“Because you know it won’t happen. He’s not going to want to fuck the dead mayor of Gotham’s wife who’s now betrothed to Gotham’s emo prince.”

“Why not? She’s pretty fucking hot,” he says, kissing you a little too heatedly for the middle of the afternoon.

“Yeah? You think so? Too bad you can’t really fuck to this song.”

“Too bad Dick is awake,” he says.

“Yeah. Well. You had no problem sitting here crying while he was home. And you told him to go away? What the hell?”

“He wouldn’t understand.”

“Right,” you say sarcastically. “I came home and he was all over me to go check on you.”

“I told him I needed to be alone. He needs to understand boundaries—"

“Bruce. He’s eight.”

“He needs to learn.”

“Sure. Did you get him a ticket too?”

“Are you kidding me? He can’t be at a concert like that,” Bruce says, shocked that you’d asked.

“I’m sure he saw and heard worse at the circus.”

“I’m not bringing an eight year old to a My Chemical Romance concert.”

“Fine. I would’ve let him. I’m the cool parent.”

“You know, I’m not even going to argue with you.”

“Good. You know what’s good for you. Anyway. He passed his test.”

“Good!”

“Barely, though. I think you’re going to have to drag him to that tutor.”

“Still. Reason to celebrate. Let’s go take him out for ice cream.”

“We’re all done crying on the floor?”

“For now. You can join me later when you decide to let it hit you. Your delayed reaction is really bumming me out.”

“Mm. I think I can think of much better things to do on the floor,” you say, feeling a sense of pride as he blushes at your words.

You grab your jacket and head out to the car with Bruce and Dick in tow. Things were so different eight years ago, but it’s a different kind of ache in your heart, a good, pleasant ache you swallow down with mint-chip ice cream. You never pictured this, the nights you spent crying over songs replayed over and over with no hope for new ones, and you know Bruce didn’t either.

But Gotham (and emos) clearly love a comeback story.

[ja-khajay]

Stuff I read (and liked) this year

As promised, here’s a list of the novels, comics, manga, etc... I read this year, focusing on the ones I enjoyed and would recommend to people. Under a cut, this is going to be a little long.

-------- Books --------

Favorite book of the year: Stranger in the Woods, by Michael Finkel

Non-fiction. Based on the interviews of the man himself by the author, it is about a man who felt so unfit for society he decided one day to leave it, and spent the next 28 years as a hidden hermit in forest in Maine. The book details how he survived there, how he was eventually found, and some of his reasons for doing so. It’s a great reflection on the nature of loneliness.

Indian creek, by Pete Fromm

...Yet another detailed tale of living alone in the woods. This time, the diary of a student who spent a winter in the mountains to help tend for salmon hatchlings, and how he spent the rest of his days hiking, hunting, meeting the locals. It’s a fun little book who, being set almost the whole world away from where I live, was a nice way to travel.

Howl’s Moving Castle, by Diana Wynne Jones

I don’t feel the need to explain this one since everyone and their mom has seen the movie adapted from it. The book, that I first read a decade ago before I actually watched the film, is a less romantized, more spirited telling of the same story. The writing is absolutely delightful and so is the world it paints, and it’s the first time in ages a book had me laughing out loud during my entire read.

-------- Comics (BD) --------

Favorite comic of the year: Monsieur Désire?, by Hubert and Virginie Augustin

A discreet young woman becomes a maid for a decadent, unbearable, byronesque young lord. Caked in the rigid and oppressive social hierarchy of the victorian era, you follow a mental and verbal joust between the two, as the lord tries his best to offend and corrupt his new unrelenting servant, to little success. The writing and especially the dialogues were stellar, drawing me into the tense atmosphere, watching this trainwreck of a character flamboyantly destroy himself. While there’s no precise content warnings that I can give, this is a mature and heavy story.

World of Edena, by Moebius

Anyone who’s followed this blog for over a month knows how much of a Moebius fan I am. Edena combines the vague, dreamlike, wordless storytelling from stuff like Arzach or The cat’s eyes with an actual plot. While I haven’t completly finished the story, the evolution of the main characters and how the story is told have been great to read through, and as always the art is beyond gorgeous. Unfortunately suffers from some good old sexism in the writing that even if minimal, tasted sour

Le roman de Renart, by Joan Sfar (book 1)

Sfar’s work always has a signature vibe of being dreamy and light without being light hearted, of being down to earth but drifting in the fantastical, and this one is no exception. It’s an adaption of a series of medieval folk tales I grew up with, who uses the same characters to tell an original story. If you’re familiar with icons like Renart as well as other mythological big boys like Merlin you’ll fit right in. There is something special in how the dialogues are written, who feel natural in a way that you’d overhear in a street corner and is very special to me.

The mercenary, by VIncente Segrelles

Another one I post about a lot on this blog. The mercenary is a king on the throne of fantasy cheese. The worldbuilding is interesting at times but the writing is a pretty pathetic display of glorious old time sword and sorcery sci-fantasy 10 years too late for it’s prime (warning for ye old sexism and orientalism that plagues the genre, cranked very high...) but you come and stay for the art. The entire thing is drawn in a series of hyper detailed oil paintings with an insane eye for technical detail, from the engineering of the weaponry, to the architecture and weather, to the anatomy of the fantasy creatures... Each panel stands out as it’s own painting which makes even flipping through it without reading the scenario a treat. Click here to see more of the art, in my Segrelles tag.

The ice maurauder, by Jacques Tardi

A short story about mad scientists entirely drawn like a 19th century engraving. In great Tardi tradition everyone is ugly and mean, it ends terribly, it’s both a hommage to the genre of late 19th cent. to early 1900s dramatic adventure novels and a critical eye on it, and it’s morbidly funny. Most people I saw online hated the way this was written but I’m not them and I really recommend this book. Die mad

-------- Manga --------

Favorite manga of the year: it’s a tie between the following two.

Cats of the Louvre, by Taiyo Matsumoto

Most wonderful comic I have read in ages. The story follows a bunch of semi-feral cats secretly living in the Louvre museum’s attic, and the small group of humans who share their life, walking through the museum as the night watch. When the cats are together, they are represented in a humanoid way, but still act like animals, and “become” cats again when a human is nearby. The plot is a sort of supernatural mystery centered around a kitten who walks around paintings. It’s a love letter to art, sincere and beautiful, with a unique art style and great characters.

Memoirs of amorous Gentlemen, by Moyoco Anno

A sex worker in early 20th century paris starts writing down a diary of the clients she meets, in a quest to cope with the troubles of her life. You follow her, her colleagues, and her bittersweet relationship with an abusive lover. I don’t have much words about this comic, but the art and writing both are amazing, it’s the perfect length and drew me in like little series had before. Obvious content warnings as this is an adult story that talks about sexuality, but also depicts both mental and physical abuse.

Hana, also by Taiyo Matsumoto 

A very short story, this was not made to be read as a comic originally, but served as storyboarding and visual development for a play, and the way it is written follows that. Hana is a slice of life story set in a fantasy world, of a young boy, his family, his village. Despite the setting being an original one, the character interactions are refreshingly... normal, and there is no huge plot to speak of, just a bit of the life of these characters. The art is beautiful, entirely black and white, with a scratchy style and an emphasis on contrast. Matsumoto is on a speedy road to becoming my favorite manga artist haha

Delicious in Dungeon, by Ryoko Kui

While not marked as my year’s favorite, I still consider this series among my favorite manga ever. The art and writing are amazing, and it’s both heartfelt, well concieved and plain hilarious. The story follows several parties of dungeon diving adventurers each on their little quests with a premise of our protagonists, on a panic rescue mission, surviving in the dungeon by cooking and eating the monsters they come across. From a DnD party turned cooking manual dinner of the week beginning, the plot creeps up on you and slowly thickens. I don’t want to spoil anything about the overarching story of this because it was a delight to discover for myself. While everything about DinD rules, I am especially fond of the design philosophy of the author, who puts great detail in the practicality and biology of what she draws, as well as the character writing. Everyone even side characters has so much charm and depth to them, the cast is so diverse and entertaining...! Each character is just a bit lame enough but endearing, and has their own little backstory that shows in the way they exist. It’s a delight

Chainsaw man, by Tatsuki Fujimoto

I went into CSM expecting a borderline campy hyperviolent dumb fun thing to read and was very surprised to find an uncomfortably well written story about a teenager being groomed. The hyperviolent dumb fun fights are here nonetheless and the series still qualifies as shonen for some reason, but the more mature character writing as well as some truly outlandish visuals make it something very special. If you can’t stand shonen, not sure you will like it, but if you don’t mind it, worth trying.

Witch hat atelier, by Kamome Shirahama

The oh so elegant fantasy seinen every cool kid started posting about this year, who I also succumbed to and fast. Witch hat is hard to explain, as most of it’s plot revolves around the rules of the world it’s set in, specifically the regulations around it’s magic and the social and historical reasons for them. It’s about growing up, learning, disability, making art. You follow a little girl taken in by a witch as an apprentice, her magical education, and learn little by little why her lovely teacher is so willing to break a lot of rules... While a bit too gentle and pretty for my taste at times, Witch hat has great worldbuilding and explores sensitive themes I rarely see in manga, much less in fantasy. And Berserk wishes it had art this good

[organabanana]

Up against the (glass) wall || Supercorp

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Supergirl (TV 2015)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: None

Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor

Characters: Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor, Alex Danvers

Additional Tags: Lab Sex, absolute nonsense, lena luthor protocol but it's smut, alex would like a very long vacation, Oral Sex. oh rao     

Summary: Frustrated by the lab's glass walls and lack of privacy, Lena decides to use her genius intellect to build something that'll allow her and Kara to have some alone time in between missions. Alex really only wanted to put her scientific skills to use in the lab, but she ends up discovering Lena's prototype is not quite as successful as it originally seemed.

Notes: this is the result of a totally serious and normal conversation with @emiltons and I feel like it’s 100% her fault tbh.

[ao3 link]

It starts with Kara arriving at the Tower after a particularly challenging mission. She could’ve flown straight home for a shower and some well-deserved rest, but she knows Lena can’t sleep while Kara is on duty, and she knows exactly what her girlfriend does when she can’t sleep. So Kara walks straight to the lab and smiles at the sight of Lena in her element, inventing what Kara has no doubt will be yet another world-saving gadget for them to use.

For a moment, Kara just watches her, grateful for the glass walls allowing her to see her girlfriend work without having to use her powers at all. There’s something soothing about the way Lena works, slow and methodical and precise even when she’s doing it just to keep her mind from drifting to Kara and the dangers she faces as Supergirl. And really, there’s no reason Lena should worry for a minute longer than strictly necessary, so Kara finally pushes the glass door open and walks into the lab.

“Hey, I’m ba—“ Lena turns around so quickly, wraps her arms around Kara so tightly, that Kara can only let out a quiet chuckle and hold on, enjoying the closeness and the scent of Lena’s hair filling up her lungs as Lena lets the tension of the last fourteen hours dissolve into the hug.

“Hey, baby,” Kara tries again, softer this time, breathed against the skin of Lena’s temple, “are you okay?”

Lena nods, lips pressing against Kara’s neck for a parting kiss before she finally pulls away from Kara’s arms to take a good look at her.

“I am now,” Lena says, eyes narrowing just so as she takes in the rips on Kara’s supersuit. Fingertips touch the torn fabric on Kara’s waist and across her left bicep, the smudges of dirt and pulverized concrete on her neck and cheek. “Are you?”

Kara grins. “Takes a bit more than a collapsing abandoned building to stop your girlfriend.”

And then Kara flexes her biceps, playfully, just because she knows Lena gets a kick out of her playing the confident jock from time to time. She definitely (she swears!) isn’t thinking about her supersuit and the small tear right over her left bicep, and she absolutely isn’t anticipating the way the fabric rips over her flexed muscle.

But.

As innocent as Kara is in all this, and she cannot possibly overstate how innocent she truly is, she’s not complaining at all when Lena tilts her head just so, green eyes fixated on the torn fabric and the bulging muscle underneath as she slowly licks her lips.

“Oh,” Lena says — breathes, really — as she arches one eyebrow, “I see.”

And then she reaches up and traces the ripped fabric once again, fingers pressing just so, like she’s testing just how fitting that Girl of Steel nickname really is.

“Who else is here?” Lena asks, voice low and darkened green eyes fixated on Kara’s, “Are we alone?”

“I, um—“ Kara struggles to make her brain cooperate and process Lena’s words when it feels like every single nerve ending in her body has been rerouted to that exact spot Lena is touching, “I think J’onn… lives here?”

Does M’gann live here also? Kara doesn’t know. Kara doesn’t care. Kara can’t quite breathe right.

“It’s pretty late,” Lena says, and her voice sounds like sun-warmed honey tastes, “I’m sure he’s asleep.”

And Kara swears she tries to think about it. About whether it’s past J’onn’s bedtime, about whether J’onn has a bedtime at all, and about whether martians even sleep in the first place. But suddenly Lena’s free hand is grabbing Kara’s and guiding it down, down, down under her skirt, and Lena’s lips are pressing a warm kiss to Kara’s jaw, and Kara suddenly realizes what’s going on.

“Oh,” she breathes out, blue eyes fluttering closed for a moment before they widen in shock at the realization of what’s going on. “Wh— here!?” Don’t get her wrong, she makes no move to stop the path of Lena’s lips towards her ear or pull her hand away from the warm soft skin of Lena’s inner thigh, but still. You know. “Lena, we can’t—“

“Can’t we?” Kara can feel Lena’s smile against her skin, and the way Lena’s teeth graze her earlobe makes her fingers inch just that little bit higher up Lena’s thigh. “Why not?”

What an excellent question. Kara tilts her head to the side to give Lena’s lips and teeth and tongue free access to her neck as she tries to find the part of her brain that knows why they can’t actually have sex in the lab.

“Because…” Kara sighs happily at a particularly well-placed kiss, “…it’s kinda rude?”

She feels Lena’s chuckle rather than hears it, and it makes a little shiver run down her spine. “It’s rude?” Kara can’t see Lena’s eyebrow, but she’s sure it’s arched so very prettily right now. How unfair. “This is my lab.”

And you know, Lena makes a good point, Kara figures, hand moving further up under Lena’s skirt. This is Lena’s side of the Lab. Her office, sort of unofficially, ever since she became an official member of the team. But still…

“You’re such a goody two shoes,” Lena teases, pressing herself a little closer against Kara.

“I mean, I’m Supergirl. It’s kind of my th— oh —“Lena’s teeth nip at Kara’s neck, completely derailing her thoughts for a moment, “—thing.”

And Kara is almost ready to give in. She’s almost ready to accept that yes, this lab counts as Lena’s home away from home so it’s perfectly fine if they want to get frisky in it. Her hand finishes its trek up Lena’s thigh and finds damp lace waiting for her, and frankly, they’re grown ups. She’s a whole super heroine. If she wants to fu—

“Formic acid!” Brainy’s voice reaches them just a second before he walks into the lab, which is lucky because it gives Kara just enough time to disentangle herself from her girlfriend at the speed of light.

Brainy stares through the glass wall separating the main lab from Lena’s smaller area. His eyes move from Lena to Kara and then back to Lena again, brow furrowed just so as he tries to figure out exactly what’s not right.

“Formic acid?” Lena prompts as she opens the door, voice entirely too level for someone who’s just been nearly caught with her girlfriend’s hand between her legs.

“Ah. Yes.” Brainy nods. “Formic acid. Nia’s neighbor has ants. It gave me an idea for the antidote we were talking about earlier. I think if we just—“

“Tomorrow. Brainy.” Kara interrupts him with a smile, hand wrapping around Lena’s wrist to pull her towards the exit. They have things to do. Private places to be.

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Lena agrees, grabbing her coat on the way out of the lab. 

***

It’s been three weeks since the formic acid incident — as Kara lovingly remembers it — when she gets to the Tower after a mission once again to find her girlfriend deep in thought at her desk.

There’s nothing particularly special about it this time. It’s early afternoon, her foes were rowdy but easily manageable, and her supersuit looks impeccable. And yet, when she walks through the glass door, Lena gives her a look.

A Look.

Oh, that look.

Kara knows the look. Knows what it means. And she very nearly offers to just fly them home right away to save themselves the pain of having to stop halfway through to relocate, but you know what? It’s a bit hard to think ahead when Lena Luthor in a deep burgundy dress is walking towards you with that look on her face.

“That was a quick mission,” Lena says, shaking her head just so to make her ponytail swish in a way Kara’s pretty sure should be some kind of illegal, “those bad guys were no match for Supergirl, huh?”

Kara is blushing. She can tell. She knows because she’s having to employ all her kryptonian strength to keep herself from saying golly or aw, gee or a number of other things that would frankly ruin this whole big super heroine fantasy Lena has going on right now. And who is she to ruin her girlfriend’s fun?

“N—no,” Kara manages, voice slightly higher than normal, and she clears her throat before continuing, “I’m super strong.”

Nailed it.

“You sure are,” Lena says with an amused smile, because she’s very sweet and she loves Kara too much to laugh at her, “do you wanna show me how strong you are, Supergirl?”

Kara nods. And then she remembers where they are and shakes her head.

“We should— I can fly us home.”

“But, baby,” Lena takes one slow step right into Kara’s personal space and Kara feels her brain begin to shut down, “I want you right now.”

“It—“ Kara is trying so hard to do the right thing here, she swears, even if her hands are already on Lena’s waist and she’s already pulling Lena close and Lena smells so very good, “but the walls, Lena.”

Kara can tell Lena is trying very hard not to laugh.

“The walls?”

“Yeah,” Kara presses a quick kiss to deep red lips, just because it feels rude not to acknowledge how delicious they look, “I get what you guys were going for with the… futuristic sci-fi interior design, but all this glass is not very private, baby.”

Lena grins. And it’s not just a regular charmed grin. Not the normal one she shows when Kara says something sweet or funny and her heart gets a little fluttery in her chest (Kara’s heard it). No. This is something else. This is the smile Lena wears when they absolutely destroy everyone at game night.

Lena’s won. What exactly she’s won, Kara doesn’t know yet. But oh, Lena has absolutely won… something.

“You know, you’re right. They’re not very private at all. That’s why I made this.”

Lena shows her what looks to Kara like tiny remote and pushes the button.

Lena Luthor protocol engaging.

Kara cocks one eyebrow at Lena, who simply shrugs as a small robot flies from under her desk.

“I named it after the original one. For nostalgia’s sake.”

Kara stares in confusion as the small robot hovers nearby and points what looks like a camera at them. Except it’s not a camera. It’s… some kind of spotlight?

“What’s it doing?” Kara can see the light inside the robot, can see it pointing the ray at them, but she sees no change in the lightning of the lab.

“It’s making us invisible.”

“What? I can see you,” Kara looks down at her hands on Lena’s waist, “I can see me.”

“That’s because you’re not looking through the glass. Look there,” Lena says, pointing at a polished steel surface on the main area of the lab. There should be a reflection there… but there isn’t one.

Kara stares, blue eyes wide and lips parted in surprise. She’s seen plenty of impressive tech since becoming Supergirl — let alone what she grew up with in Krypton — but this is something else.

Of course, the fact that Lena’s body is pressed up against her own, and the fact that she developed a whole new technology just to be able to get frisky in her glass-covered lab may have something to do with it.

“What do you think?” Lena does this thing she does where she sort of arches against Kara’s body in a way that makes Kara’s brain feel like it’s sloshing about in a sea of Lena’s perfume, and then presses her lips against Kara’s jaw, and to be honest Kara isn’t thinking at all right now.

“Wh— what?” One of Kara’s hands slides down from Lena’s waist to the curve of her ass, grabbing a handful of it as Lena’s teeth oh-so-gently nip at Kara’s bottom lip. “Wh—“ Kara tries again, barely above a whisper, but frankly she’s much more interested in kissing Lena like she means it — like she deserves to be kissed — and she completely forgets she’s been asked a question in the first place.

“Kara,” Lena pulls away from the kiss, lipstick a little bit smeared, cheeks a little bit flushed, breathing a little bit stilted, “I asked you a question.”

And you know, Kara is sure that’s true. She’s, like, so sure. But Lena is taking a step back to lean right against that sleek glass wall and pulling Kara along, and Kara’s brain is powerless to process anything beyond the fact that her girlfriend is practically begging her to have her way with her up against that wall.

And that’s… well, that’s something.

“Yeah,” Kara chooses to answer, because frankly she’d say yes to anything Lena asked right now and she’s a bit busy kissing up the path of freckles on Lena’s neck to care about the actual question right now, “yeah, baby, of course.”

Normally, Lena is far from pleased when she detects even a hint of Kara trying to placate her with mindless agreement, but this must be working for her because all Kara feels under her lips is an amused giggle right as Lena’s fingers slide into blond hair.

“What do you think of the new protocol?” Lena’s voice has a touch of teasing weaved into the words, like she knows the question is ultimately irrelevant but she likes watching Kara struggle to form coherent thoughts while horny. And, you know, Kara can respect that.

“It’s so good,” the hand that’s not on Lena’s ass moves up to cover Lena’s right breast, and Kara celebrates her own incredible luck by pressing a kiss to Lena’s lips, “you’re so smart,” another kiss, this time to a smile Lena can’t quite contain, “my genius girlfriend.”

Lena’s blunt fingernails lightly scratch at Kara’s scalp, making her hum happily against Lena’s lips. “You’re just horny,” Lena teases, her tone clearly stating just how happy she is that’s the case.

“And humbled! By your genius intellect.” Kara squeezes Lena’s ass and kisses the tip of Lena’s nose, because she’s cute and Kara knows deep down there’s a little part of Lena that will always need to hear how good she is out loud. “I can do both. I’m Supergirl.”

Lena chuckles, low and soft, and rewards Kara’s thoughtfulness with a kiss. “Well, Supergirl,” she says, shooting her girlfriend a look that hits Kara right between her legs, “if you’re feeling humbled, you may as well show me how much.”

And then. Then, Lena uses her grip on Kara’s hair to gently tug down, just so, just enough to make Kara’s eyes widen with the realization of where Lena wants her. On her knees. At Lena’s feet. And frankly, Kara files this under things they absolutely need to explore further, because she swears she feels her body temperature rise by at least a couple degrees.

But she’s not about to make Lena wait. So Kara slowly sinks down to her knees, blue eyes locked with green just so Lena can see. So Lena can see Supergirl kneeling at her feet.

When her right knee touches the floor, she hears Lena’s breath catch in her throat.

“Go on,” Lena says, upper back leaning against the wall, “show me.”

Kara nods, hands wrapping around lena’s thighs and slowly sliding up, up, up, bringing Lena’s pencil skirt along with them. She can’t resist kissing every inch of soft, warm skin she uncovers, lips trailing a path up one of Lena’s inner thighs and then the other, until all she needs to do is push the bunched up skirt up over her hips and ass to reach the lacy (Kara is willing to bet) fabric of her—

“Oh,” Kara breathes out, staring at the spot where Lena’s panties should be but decidedly aren’t. And Kara, to her credit, manages to look up into green eyes and shoot her girlfriend a teasing smirk along with a fake scandalized look. “Miss Luthor.”

There’s a dusting of pink across the bridge of Lena’s nose that Kara finds frankly unfair given the circumstances. “Well, I knew the prototype would be ready by the time you came back.”

“See? Genius girlfriend,” Kara smiles as she presses a kiss to Lena’s mound, pulling a happy little sigh out of her, “so smart.”

And then Kara stops talking, because she has much more important things to do with her mouth. Things like kissing the slick skin of Lena’s inner thighs, humming in delight at the smell and taste of her girlfriend and the way Lena’s fingers fist in her hair.

Kara takes her time, lips and teeth and tongue exploring every inch of Lena’s cunt but pointedly avoiding her clit, just because she happens to think there’s no sound more beautiful than the way Lena says please.

“You look so good down there,” Lena says, breathy and flushed, “right—“ her breath catches in her throat, and Kara smiles between Lena’s thighs, “—there.”

And this is why Kara will never really mind the way Lena teases her and makes her blush and stumble over her words. Because she knows the tables turn as soon as she’s between Lena’s legs.

“Where, baby?” Kara asks, her face the perfect picture of innocence as she presses a soft kiss just shy of Lena’s clit, “Here?”

Lena’s eyes flutter closed and she leans her head back against the glass wall with a smile. “Kara.”

She’s never Supergirl when they’re like this.

“Here?” Kara’s teeth gently nip at one of Lena’s lips, and then the other, “Or here?”

“Kara, please.”

And there it is. Right there, the most beautiful sound in the world.

So Kara decides to reward Lena by finally flicking her tongue against a stiff clit before wrapping her lips around it, and she doesn’t hold it against Lena when she pulls on Kara’s hair instead of saying thanks.

All slowness and teasing forgotten, Kara puts her lips and teeth and tongue at Lena’s service, letting Lena hook one leg over Kara’s shoulder to give her better access as she uses her hold on Kara’s hair to pull her closer still.

Kara feels like she’s drunk on Lena’s taste and smell and the sound of the moans she’s struggling to stifle. She can taste just how close Lena is, she can feel it in the way her thighs quake and her breathing gets more and more stilted and her hips rock harder and faster against Kara’s tongue.

“God, Kar—“ Kara hears the sound of Lena smacking one hand over her own mouth, keeping herself as close to quiet as possible — Kara is delighted for her own superhearing that allows her to hear it all anyway — as she rides Kara’s mouth.

She’s so close. So close Kara feels the one leg holding Lena up shaking perilously as a quiet moan escapes between Lena’s fingers, and Kara is just in time to prop her up with one hand as Lena finally comes, head tilting back and hitting the glass wall with a soft thud.

And that — exactly that moment — is when Kara freezes at the sound of someone walking towards the lab.

It’s been a while since Alex has been alone in the lab. It’s been a while since she’s been in the lab at all, to be honest. And that doesn’t seem fair, right? She may not be Lena or Brainy, but she’s a scientist! She can do science things. That formic acid conundrum they were talking about the other day?

Alex could have helped.

But do they ever ask Alex for scientific input? No. All Alex is good for is apparently acrobatic crime-fighting and daring make-up choices.

And she’s ready to prove her worth. So after checking that nobody’s already in the lab, Alex walks in and starts looking around. Innocently, of course. She’d never do anything really intrusive like go into Lena’s personal area or mess with Brainy’s future toys. No, no. But she’ll look around. Check out what they’re doing. See if anything looks like it could be solved by an actual medical doctor, thank you very much.

And then — then she hears it. Some kind of… thud?

On the other side of the glass wall, cloaked by Lena’s invisibility robot, Kara braces herself with one hand on the wall as she holds Lena up with the other. And Kara may be Supergirl, but there’s something to be said about trying to be quiet while holding Lena through a frankly earth-shattering — if she may say so herself — orgasm with her face still between Lena’s thighs.

It takes skill.

And Kara is managing just fine, mind you, until Lena twitches in a way Kara wasn’t expecting, and Kara loses her hold on her for just a split second before she presses her up against the wall once again.

Alex narrows her eyes. The thud she could ignore, but she swears there’s the faintest outline of a handprint on the glass. And just when she’s about ready to chalk it all up to sleep deprivation, she hears a… squeak. The unmistakable sound of skin sliding against glass.

And now it’s not just the handprint there. There’s something round next to it. Something like—

Wait.

Is that the outline of an ass?

“Oh my God, Kara!” Alex turns around, voice climbing higher in both pitch and volume as she speaks because she doesn’t know whether she’s just seen the outline of her sister’s butt or her sister’s girlfriend’s butt but either way she’d very much like to have her memory wiped right now. Is J’onn home?

“Not this again!” She continues, somewhere between horrified and desperate. To be fair, she’s never walked into invisible wall sex before, but she has interrupted a frankly worrying amount of heavy make-out sessions for the time Kara and Lena have been together, and she’d really rather not think about what those two would have done had she remained asleep for a few minutes longer the last time she agreed to a movie night.

It’s a pattern of emotionally scarring behavior, is all she’s saying.

“And you know!” Alex turns around, eyes squeezed shut because she does not want to catch even the slightest glimpse of that assprint ever again. “You know,” she bangs on the wall for emphasis, just once, “I’m all for pride, but there is such a fucking thing as a healthy amount of shame!”

Alex stomps out of the lab, and her aggravated footsteps can still be faintly heard in the distance when Lena clears her throat. She’s blushing bright red, but her voice sounds remarkably steady for someone whose left leg is still hooked over her girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Joy,” Lena says, and the sleek virtual personal assistant on her desk whirs to life. “Protocol prototype version 1.0 partially successful,” she dictates, “consider one-way glass going forward.”

“Oh, oh! And Joy?” Kara pipes up from between Lena’s thighs, “Please order Alex a ‘we’re sorry’ pie.”

Lena simply nods. “Make it strawberry this time.”

[nefoe-dd]

SO SMT AU AM I RIGHT GAMERS

I mentioned this in the tags of another post and joked about it in Discord but my brain went brrrr during my last class of the day and now I lowkey have a full plot starting to form lol.

Keep in mind the only Shin Megami Tensei game I’ve played myself is the Nocturne remake, plus I only really remember bits of the plot of 4 and whatever we’ve been given so far of 5 so I’m not super well versed in the series.

Also I’ll add this to the tags too but DSMP Spoilers specifically for the contents of Techno’s Will exist in this post, because that is where the idea for this came from. A lot of other JRPGs have similar plotlines but I specifically thought of SMT because its kind of a meme specifically for that at this point how the plot always seems to have the same type ending bosses. 

Also some spoilers for Shin Megami Tensei IV

ANYWAYS

Now Presenting: An AU where Techno’s Limbo is an SMT Game lol

(Under a ‘Read More’ because it got way ahead of me)

An Introduction to Relevant SMT terminology:

Demons: Makes up a large majority of the characters in the game. They are the enemies that you face in combat, and its possible to recruit them to your team through various means. Some demons exist in the overworld though, and can be talked to normally, they’re chill most of the time, unless you do something to tick them off. ‘Demon’ is not taken literally by the Christian definition, they are based off of various figures in folklore and religion around the world, some are even based on Gods and Angels.

Law vs Chaos: Many SMT games have multiple endings based on these two alignments, along with the neutral alignment. It is usually decided by some important decisions the player makes throughout the game. I’m most aware of the SMT 4 ending, in which the route you are on decides the final dungeon, the character you team with for the ending, and the final boss (its either Satan or the in-game version of God). It’s based off of the traditional interpretation of these two, where Law represents the importance of authority, and Chaos represents the importance of freedom. 

Another note is that a lot of SMT games take place in a post-apocalyptic world of some kind, which, spoiler, is the case here.

General Plot Details and Worldbuilding:

- Techno dies in the prison. The stasis chamber fails and Quackity succeeds in killing him. Permanently. 

- Despite dying, he wakes up again in the main prison cell, but things are different. The lava isn’t blocking the entrance anymore, (in fact there isn’t any lava at all), and he’s alone. Upon peering outside the main cell, he notices a bit of sky peeking through the prison ceiling, like it had been broken into. 

- The drop down to the bottom floor is long, but he’s dead, so he just shrugs and jumps down so he can see what’s going on. Turns out there are several holes in this part of the prison, in fact there are multiple on the ground, likely where the lava had escaped from. (Obviously Minecraft lava specifically doesn’t work like that, I’m pretty sure in the DreamSMP the bottom is all source blocks, but just ignore that bit). 

- He exits from the back wall of the prison, and everything there so far looks normal, except for the fact that there appears to be less trees than normal. Of the trees that are still there, many of them were cut down and never collected, and some appear to have fallen over due to some damage.

- Techno goes around the prison to the front, and that’s when he notices some things that are very wrong. Various parts of the prison, not just the main cell, are also sitting destroyed. Many cracks, scuff marks and full-on chunks are missing on the walls. The usual entrance which houses the nether portal is hardly still standing, and he can see straight into the main lobby where the portal would lead into once you were let through. 

- The surrounding areas are not much better. Tommy’s outpost is toppled over in the distance, only the base and bottom floor are left standing. The tents near the beach are collapsed and destroyed, the only remnants of one of them is a small piece of fabric ripped from the main bit and laying on the ground. Skeppy and Badboyhalo’s mansion is crumbling where it stands, half of the back wall and ceiling are gone. And that’s only what’s visible from here. 

- The rest of the server is also in various states of destruction, the spawn walls are hardly left standing, the main nether portal area is covered in potholes, none of the portals are active. The prime path is rotted and broken in most areas, the buildings along it are not faring much better than the ones he’d seen before. And the further he gets away from the prison, the more the plants themselves appear to be dead or dying. 

- L’manburg’s crater looks much the same as it once did right after its destruction, albeit with more debris at the bottom which had fallen from the sides as they slowly eroded. The flag at the bottom is torn up and discoloured, honestly its hardly recognizable. The nature that had finally begun to reclaim the land has slowly been dying instead over time, and the bridge overtop has completely collapsed. The only thing still standing, is the ever present obsidian grid that looms over it in the sky. He supposes that whatever disaster had caused this wasn’t able to reach that high up, or that it was at least in part done by someone that liked the way it looked. Not that there seems to be a need for the reminder anymore. 

- Something something, he finds out DreamXD is here, and that he might have had something to do with how this world looks. And as much as it shouldn’t matter in the afterlife, he did promise Phil he would be killing God sooooo he goes on a mission to do just that. He can do pretty much anything now that he really doesn’t have to worry about dying, so why not. He has no reason to care about some God, especially when they’re the only ones left.

- Some DSMP people hang around the world and are represented by certain demons, the mostly chill ones that kinda just hang around in the apocalyptic scenery. They don’t recognize him, it isn’t really the people he knows after all, but they are willing to talk to him since they can tell he isn’t human either. He learns little bits of what happened through them, and learns where DreamXD resides, that being one of the strongholds that’s a bit further out. 

- Unfortunately, due to the portals being inactive, and his inability to break anything efficiently, or even at all, he has to travel using the overworld. Along the way he manages to speak to some others, this allows him to better locate where the God is, although it doesn’t seem to be hiding out. He even sees it sometimes flying around, which he uses to follow where its hiding. 

- Some of the random demons he runs into recognize that he’s not supposed to be here (according to them at least), so he has to fight his way through them. Luckily, many of the friendly demons that he talks to end up tagging along in order to help, thus making up a team he can use to get through them instead.

 - There’s probably a demon that seems to resemble Phil somewhere, living alone (alone for so so long) away from everyone in an arctic house perhaps. If I wanted to really up the angst, the demon takes a liking to Techno right away, which is partly how Techno is able to tell its him so quickly. The more they talk, the more Techno realizes how lonely the Phil he knows must be without him there, how upset he’d be once he reads the will and finds out what happened to him. Thus he’s more motivated to, you know, fight God, in an attempt to figure out what the hell happened. (DXD is the only entity existing here that also exists where he’s from, he can guess pretty easily that maybe, just maybe, they are one and the same). Thus, he is given a choice that he knows he will have to make in the future. 

- Eventually he manages to find the stronghold and comes face to face with DreamXD himself. DreamXD is just kinda chillin there, they fight, through DreamXD doesn’t seem to be putting in too much effort, almost like it does not want to win. 

- Techno wins (duh), and he is left with a choice, a choice to finish the job, or spare the god and allow it to go free. And, well, he feels that he doesn’t really have the right to decide whether it lives or dies, and while its possible that DreamXD caused whatever disaster created the current state of the world, but he doesn’t know that for sure. DreamXD has done nothing this whole time he’s been here, and its done nothing to him or his companions.

- He chooses to leave it alone, and DreamXD seems to know that it was always going to end that way. 

- DreamXD disappears, and Techno wakes up in the cell again post-revival, the prison and the world around it is the same as he remembers

(I don’t remember the exact real-world to limbo time difference but I imagine that it felt like, a day, maybe half that, while irl it was only a few minutes to an hour.)

Some other notes/details:

- The other possible ending would have resulted in Techno killing DreamXD and being given ANOTHER choice to take its power over the world, or just leave and stay there forever. Basically DreamXD’s existence is vital to the power of the revival book, and it’s death would have resulted in Dream not being successful in his revival attempts. Obviously we have no idea how the powers actually work yet, but I just came up with an explanation because I thought it would be interesting. You can decide on your own which of these endings fall into Law, Chaos or Neutral because uh, its complicated given the scenario. You can also decide if letting DreamXD live even fits into his character! Idk! But its not like DreamXD’s being oppressive by any means, not that there’s anyone to oppress here anyways. That’s my logic anyways.

- I don’t know what demons would represent specific people, I’d like to use one of the Angels for Phil but the Demons based on Angels usually have an important role in the plot that is in line with the Law alignment and like, protecting god or whatever, so no. There are a couple bird ones but idk if they fit the vibe, idk it could work, I’d have to look at a list if I want to go into this further.

- I kinda want Eret to be an Inugami because it’s body does that thing that ferret’s do when they’re all stretched out :) The only reason I’m hesitant is because Inugami is a dog, and Goose deserves representation.

- The reason I imagined for why Techno can’t break anything is because the mining fatigue lasted throughout this because he died with it, it’d get in the way of fighting too but at least it isn’t weakness, and he’s not alone either.

Uhhhhh that’s it for now I think!

(will potentially add to this if I figure something else out in the future)

[mochegato]

Is this Mission Over Yet?

Written for the Jasonette July “Joint Mission” prompt.

 Jason’s anxiety was starting to ramp up. That was the fourth person he could have sworn was going to turn back toward the office they had broken into and there was definitely a lot more noise getting closer to them.  This was taking far too long for his liking.  He was keeping a lookout while Marinette worked on the computer to transmit the contents of the computer over to Red Robin and Oracle.  Adding to his anxiety was the fact that they were not suited up.  No, that would be too easy.  They were there undercover, in disguise so nobody would be able to associate Wayne son Jason Todd with the break-in.  They were just a civilian couple out for a little dirty fun.  He didn’t even have his guns because the club acting as a front for this particular child kidnapping ring had metal detectors.

“Can you hurry this up? Things are starting heat up out there. I don't know how much longer we have.”

“Patience is a virtue,” Marinette sing-songed back at him, eyes not leaving the computer screen she was working on.

“Not right now it isn't,” he glanced back at her, still keeping his position at the office door.  “I don't think you understand how deranged the guys are, Pixie.  We do not want to get caught.”

“You saying you couldn't take them out for me?  You going to make me take them out all by myself?” she gasped, batting her eyes at him in mock innocence.

Turning to fully face her. “I’m saying these guys do some terrible shit to people and they don’t even bat an eye at it.  Shit I would really like to spare you from seeing.”

“You think there is something more terrifying I could see than that mustache?” She said flatly raising an eyebrow at him. “Can you turn around and watch the door, please? The obnoxiousness of your mustache is distracting me”

“Are you sure it isn't just my pretty face that's distracting you?” he grinned at her waggling his eyebrows at her.

“I'm sorry what was that? I couldn't hear you through that mustache” she deadpanned.

“You should have everything now, Red.  How does it look?” she turned slightly to speak into her com.

“Still going through it, but it’s definitely looking better than Jason’s disguise.” They heard Red Robin announce over the coms.

“Oi! The point of a disguise is for nobody to recognize you.  It has been very successful so far.”

“Only because nobody wanted to look at you longer than they had to.” They heard Damian’s voice add through the coms, making Marinette grin at Jason in triumph.

“Less chatter more moving.  If you’re done transmitting the files get out of there.” Bruce growled over the coms.

“Okay, let’s get out of here” he said grabbing her hand and moving to return to the main floor of the club.  They made it as far as the next hallway before they saw a shadow in the distance.  “Damn,” Jason muttered under his breath.  “Old fashioned way then.”

Marinette barely got out “What’s the…” before Jason pushed her up against the wall, nearly crushing her with his body.  He put one hand on the wall to her side, the other he placed on her leg, moving it slowly up her thigh.  Her breath hitched as he lowered his head close to hers.  He got so caught up in how she felt against his body and the feel of her breath on his face, he didn’t even note the two rather large men moving into the hallway as he moved to kiss her.  He never made it to her lips.  He was stopped by her hand on his chest holding him firmly where he was.

“Don’t even think about it Yosemite Sam,” she whispered before violently pushing him away and barking at him “I am not some midnight snack you can pick up whenever you get bored with your wife downstairs, asshole.”  She stormed off toward the stairs shoving past the goons in her way, who turned to Jason and started chuckling at him.  “Think you picked the wrong one.  Should have married that one,” the tall one said pointing toward the stairs Marinette had taken.

“Don’t I know it,” Jason grumbled loud enough for them to hear as he passed them toward the stairs.

“It looks like this is exactly what we need to track down the warehouses they are using.  We should recoup and come up with a plan for tomorrow.” Red Robin announced over the coms.

“Does that mean the undercover portion of the mission is over?”  Marinette asked, already making her way to the exit.

“Undercover portion is over.  Come back home you two.” Oracle confirmed.

“Thank God!  I was counting down the seconds until this mission was over.”

“Aw, what’s wrong Pixie?  Didn’t like spending so much time with me?” he whispered in her ear as he placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her ahead of him as they walked through the door.

“If I have to look at that atrocity you call a disguise for much longer I am going to scream, and not in a fun way.  My eyes might start bleeding.”

“That’s just hurtful.  I look amazing with this mustache,” he preened and posed for her.

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Look me in the eye and say that again.”

“Gladly cupcake.”  Repositioning himself to stare in her eyes, cocky grin on his face as he moved his face so it was a mere few inches away.  “I look amazing mmmph…”  His eyes widened as her hands shot up to his mouth to stop the rest of the sentence.

“Now that, I can agree with.” She removed her hands with a sly grin.  “I would have done that with my lips but my lips are going nowhere near you until you get rid of that thing.  My hands feel dirty enough having touched it.”  She walked away leaving Jason gaping in her wake. Noticing he wasn’t following after her she turned around to look at him, still walking away with a smirk, “What’s wrong, lover boy?  Can dish it out but can’t take it?” she called back.

“Oh that’s it!” He exclaimed loudly, running after her, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder without slowing down.  “I’ll show you what I can dish out.” Marinette squeaked loudly in surprise before devolving into a fit of giggles.

“Hey! I still need a report,” Batman growled into the coms.

“You’re not getting one tonight, B,” Oracle informed him.

“Yeah, I knew what I was getting into when I paired them in the first place,” he sighed.

 Inspired by this image from the Jasonette July poster:

Yes, I totally stole the patience line from The Mummy

 Tags:

@fsketchart​ @jasonette-july-2k20​

[c-c-cherry]

What's the most embarrassing thing each of the Bucci gang has done/has had happen to them?

Ok I took WAY too long on this but I loved this question so much and it was so fun coming up with these. Special thanks to my girl @jjadegreen for helping me!!

**This isn’t NSFW but I’d say its teen and up just because of some of the stuff talked about hehe**

______________________

Mista

-Pre-canon Mista was a bit sick one night so Bruno made him stay home while they all went on this one mission

-So naturally he’s like “HELL YEAH HOME ALONE”

-Bruno forgets his wallet and had to come back a little while later to get it and walks in on him wearing the following:

One of Abbacchio’s signature goth dress robe thing

Like 12 of Bruno’s barrettes all sticking to the top of his head

Fugo’s tie

Narancia’s bandana

All while BLASTING K-Pop at full volume in the living room. And our man is INTO IT. This isn’t just some radio coincidence shit, he was SCREAMING the lyrics. He owns the CDs.

-Bucciarati LOSES IT. Mista has never been so mortified in his life and Bruno has never laughed so hard in his life.

-He promises not to tell the rest of the gang but tells him it’s officially blackmail material

-They never speak of it again but at Christmas Mista opens Bruno’s gift and it's a brand new K-pop CD and everyone thinks its just a gag gift but like

-He definitely listens to it later alone in his room

Bucciarati

Bruno Bucciarati does not get drunk for two main reasons:

He blacks out every time

He’s an absolute lightweight

-The last time Bruno got absolutely piss drunk, he was with Abbacchio and it wasn’t even funny. It was just surreal because Bucciarati never lets himself go to such an extent

-For whatever reason Bruno is like “hey I never drink we should go to the bar or something” after a successful mission

-Even though the legal age of drinking is technically 16 in Italy they leave “the kids” home to watch mean girls or some shit

-Mista tags along too because he’s worried Bruno will get drunk and spill about the unfortunate “K-pop incident”

-My man Bruno drank like two beers and was immediately GONE like he got up and got lost in the bar after way too many drinks and ran into a drag Queen with Abbacchio’s hair

-Said drag queen became Bruno Bucciarati’s new drinking buddy

-He stumbles over to the karaoke contest and gets onstage and grabs the shitty bar mic and screams “THIS GOES OUT TO LEONE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH MWUA TWO YEARS HONEY~” and Mista is just like 👁👄👁

-Because uhhh they have literally been together for two years but everyone in the gang just thinks its a weird on/off thing because they never talk about it

-He sings dancing queen because its by ABBA and both Leone and Mista are fucking screaming with laughter and Abbacchio is filming the entire goddamn thing

-He buys the entire bar drinks they all love him so much

-Afterwards Leone tries to get them home so he leaves them outside while he takes a piss and when he walks back out THEY ARE GONE.

-Mista thought it would be a perfect time for them to get tattoos because his fucking capo is drunk off his ass and there is no better time

-Mista gets these two giant smoking guns on his back and his ass is in SO MUCH PAIN afterward that he leaves Bruno alone while he’s picking out his tattoo to get ice cream

-When he comes back Bruno has a tattoo ON HIS LEFT FOOT THAT SAYS “Never don’t give up.” The tattoo people tried to correct him but he insisted

-Abba finds them and is just like “jesus god” and takes them all to a hotel because there is no way in hell he’s taking them back home like this

-The next morning Bruno remembers absolutely NOTHING and as the gang admires Mista’s giant tattoo they ask if Bruno got one too and he’s like “god no I’m not that irresponsible”

-As soon as they’re alone Abba’s like “you got one on the bottom of your foot” and you can just see the moment Bucciarati’s soul leaves his body

Fugo

-Ok so if y’all didn’t know Fugo literally canonically wears a thong

-This isn’t sexualizing him (also I am indeed a minor don’t harass me) it's just a fact of life. You do you Fugo.

-So he sneaks out of the house once in a while and goes shopping for them cause our man’s gotta live, you know?

-He pops in the underwear store one day and you wanna know who he fucking passes by in the lingerie section?

-Bruno fucking Bucciarati.

-Which isn’t exactly a surprise considering he’s wearing visible lingerie in his tiddy window outfit but like

-That’s like running into your dad at femboy hooters

-Much to his dismay, the man spots him immediately and there’s just this...awkward silence as Fugo is holding this shopping basket of underwear and Bruno is holding the raunchiest piece of clothing he’s ever seen in his life

-They never talk about it again. Fugo finds a different store.

Abbacchio

-The most mortifying moment Abbacchio can live to remember is the first time he told Bucciarati that he loved him

-Pre-canon, our man is NOT having a vibing time

-He gets absolutely wasted with while Bruno’s at his apartment

-He’s the most miserable drunk, so he’s just fucking sobbing and Bucci is sitting there trying to console him and Abbacchio just looks up at him with tears streaking down his face and says “I’m in love with you” and the look on Bruno’s face just makes him feel even more miserable

-The entire night he keeps blubbering about how much he loves him and how much he means to him and how beautiful he is and the entire time Bruno is doing that thing where he tries to cover his face with his hand because our man is mega FLUSTERED up in here

-When he wakes up he remembers EVERYTHING and he wished he didn’t because then maybe he would be able to say that he didn’t mean it

-Bruno is surprisingly just like “Did you really mean it?” and he can’t lie so he just tells the truth and he’s just nonchalantly like “me too”

-Bruno thinks it’ll be a nice wedding story and Abbacchio no longer wants to live on this planet

Narancia

-Mista and Narancia are vibing in the living room one night and Nara tells Mista to grab his gameboy from upstairs

-He says its under his pillow (or else Bruno will take it away every night hehe)

-But you wanna know what else is under Narancia’s pillow? His Diary. No, it’s not a journal or just a blank book, Mista finds a book titled DIARY.

-And the shit in there is priceless.

“Bucciarati is sooo cool. I tried cutting my hair like his, but it didn’t really work. I think I gotta wear this hat for the next couple weeks. Shit. Fuck. If someone takes it off, I’m so fucked.”

“I clogged up the toilet yesterday and was too scared to tell Abba, so I just flushed it again but then the water wouldn’t stop flooding everywhere so I used Aerosmith to explode the toilet and told Abba that it was a stand attack. He believed me. If ANYONE ever finds out, I’m dead.”

“HOLY SHIT. I swallowed a tide pod yesterday and freaked out so I made Giorno turn it into a grape in my stomach with his stand. I almost DIED. But I didn’t so I’m over it. If Giorno ever tells anyone, I’ll kill him.”

-Narancia realizes about ten minutes after Mista left that HOLY SHIT HIS DIARY

-he finds Mista three quarters way through it and gives him $50 not to tell anyone about it.

-The shame never leaves, though

Trish

-Jade gave me a cute headcanon that Trish’s mom was still only teaching her how to properly put on makeup before she died (it's not like there was youtube or anything to teach her either) so our girl Trish only knows the basics

-She puts on lip gloss and blush and mascara and stuff but she’s never even TOUCHED eyeliner and rarely puts on eyeshadow. She doesn’t even wear concealer most of the time (she honestly doesn’t even need to, her skin is baby soft smooth)

-So long story short she kind of misses her mom and remembers how her mom was going to teach her a smokey eye before she died and is determined to teach it to herself now

-So she pulls a little heist and snatches some of Abbacchio’s makeup while they’re all out doing stuff

-She was not prepared for how heavy this shit was. She was used to the lighter, more natural stuff but Abba’s makeup is EXTREME.

-All of his stuff is waterproof so it doesn’t wash off while he’s crying at 3am and it’s just this—dark, heavy stuff.

-She actually hasn’t used a thick, real tube of lipstick before, only those little gloss tubes with the stick because she has smaller lips so when she crouches over with a small makeup mirror in fear of anyone somehow walking in on her and smears Abbacchio’s thick, dark purple lipstick on her lips, she knew she was absolutely fucked. She has no idea how to do this shit, especially not with dark, heavy goth makeup

-The smokey eye does not work. It’s just smeared eyeshadow EVERYWHERE, it looks like she has two giant, awful, black eyes and her first attempt at eyeliner was just—unspeakably horrible

-She has no idea where to start so she just puts on way too much of absolutely everything and immediately regrets it the moment she looks at herself in the bathroom mirror

-Abba comes home early and immediately realizes that some of his makeup is gone and he knows it has to be Trish

-He walks upstairs to confront her but just hears loud, ugly sobbing coming from her room and bursts in only to find her desperately trying to wipe off layers of caked-on water-proof makeup and absolutely failing

-The two of them spend all night taking it off all while Trish is still crying teary apologies to him

-To add in some wholesome Dadbacchio, he teaches her how to properly put everything on the next day <3

Giorno

-Some people forget that as a 15 year old, Giorno sometimes has absolutely no impulse control

-So when Polnareff tells him that he’s the spitting image of his evil, murderous, vampire dad he’s immediately like “haha well I’m gonna go dye my hair now”

-Everyone had something to do that day/night so Giorno waltzes over to the nearest drug store and grabs one of those at-home dying kits (he got dark green cause he thought it would look cool with his new outfit)

-He gets home and has absolutely no idea what he’s doing so he just thinks it’ll work out somehow

-Soooo yeah he does NOT put it in properly at all, he just kind of takes the shit and slathers it all over his hair and doesn’t do his roots and doesn’t put it up and leaves it dripping down his back and stuff and his stupid ass FALLS ASLEEP with the hair dye in

-He wakes up and the sheets are this really awful light green colour but he doesn’t pay any mind to it

-He looks in the mirror and from the front it actually looks good and he gets all excited and decides to wash it out

-When he gets out of the shower it’s this awful disgusting light light ugly green and he almost cries. Almost.

-It looks like someone dunked him in that Nickelodeon slime and he looks at the package and it says the dye will stay in for at least 3 weeks and there aRE TEARY EYES

-He spends the next hour in the shower trying to wash it out. It does not wash out.

-Utterly defeated with his hair matted and donuts practically falling apart, he stumbles over to his room and tries to wash the sheets covered in slime-coloured hair dye which *surprise!!!* doesn’t wash out either!

-He must dispose of the evidence, but of COURSE they’re out of garbage bags so he shoves all the dye kit stuff and the sheets into a mafia body bag and chucks it by the garbage can outside without a single thought

-Which he SHOULD have had a single thought about it, because when they get home and Narancia spots the body bag he’s like “holy shit guys I think Giorno killed someone while we were out”

-So they all panically pop into the house and cautiously try to find Giorno. Fugo finally finds him pacing around his room in the dark and when he flicks on the lights HO-LY SHIT.

-Fugo obviously bursts out into laughter and Bruno books it up the stairs and also starts cackling and Narancia is like “OH MY GOD YOU KILLED SOMEONE LOOKING LIKE THAT?!” and Giorno has to explain to them that the body bag is filled with stained bedsheets (much to his embarrassment)

-Abbacchio takes so many pictures and Giorno is having a nervous breakdown because he cannot live with his hair looking like this

-Bruno makes Abba fix it the next morning and he loves every second of Giorno’s mortification

-The pictures Abbacchio took of that night are framed next to the pictures of Bruno’s wasted karaoke night in his room

______________________

Thank you for the ask, anon!! I’m absolutely exhausted now haha so I’ll scroll through the rest of the asks when I wake up!!

[mnictasbcl]

The Season of Art

For  #dbhcolorsofdeviancy, prompt:

May 31st:  Spring/Summer/Autumn/Winter @connor-sent-by-cyberlife

Rating: Teen

Characters: Connor, Hank Anderson, Markus

Relationships: Connor & Hank Anderson, Connor & Markus

Additional Tags: Painting, Birthdays, Fluff, Swearing, Seasons

Summary: After all the seasons Connor has known Markus, after being saved by him from a life stuck as a machine… the RK800 can’t figure out what to get him for his birthday.

Perhaps Hank can help out, showing him that what truly counts is from his metaphorical heart.

Notes: Hope this is okay! I took the prompt pretty loosely for this fic, as with many others on the list, so that the idea is still there and the main focus of the story, but a longer fic overall.

Story below! Or, read it on AO3

“I just don’t know what to get him.” Connor groaned. It was no use- he’d scoured the internet and everything he knew in his database, but it was impossible. Figuring out what to get Markus for his birthday was impossible.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t his exact birthdate. The deviant leader hadn’t been sure when that was exactly, and everywhere online it was marked as ‘confidential’. Jericho had decided that wasn’t good enough and had chosen the day that marked the success of the revolution as the big day.

They’d even organised a party, in their new place of residence, and had invited Connor along. He was also allowed to bring someone with him if he so desired, and even a human (if they knew the rules, of course, North had made sure to remind him). Hank had agreed.

“Well, what does he like?” Hank offered in help. “What are his hobbies?”

Connor pursed his lips. “I guess he likes democracy, and the revolution, and android rights—”

“Something more tangible, Connor. Like… reading.”

“He has all the books already.”

“Wh—all of them?”

“Carl Manfred owns a vast library of books, and he seems to have enough for his pleasure.”

Hank groaned. “Jesus. Okay. Does he have… you know, a thing-” he gestured with his hands, “-everyone has a thing. A thing that they like.” At Connor’s confused look, he sighed. “How I like rock music, and watching sports, and you like dogs.”

“Ah, yes.” Connor nodded, now understanding. “I like dogs.” He blinked, LED swirling in colour as he thought it over. “I don’t know if Markus likes dogs. He doesn’t seem to dislike them, but I am unsure if purchasing him a dog would be a well-thought-out gift. Dogs aren’t gifts, anyway. They’re for life.”

“Thanks for the animal charity commercial.” Hank deadpanned. “I don’t mean your thing— I mean his. His—his interest.” The man quickly rephrased.

Connor paused, thinking over it again with this new information. “Aside from his core beliefs, I have noticed that Markus enjoys painting. However, he already has painting equipment, with a vast supply of canvases and paints.”

“Hmm. What about,” Hank began, getting up from the couch, going over to the closet and rummaging through it, “what about you give him something he can’t get, then?” As he turned back around, he was holding a fairly large canvas along with an easel and some paints.

“That sounds optimal.” Connor nodded, understanding what Hank was getting at. “But perhaps I will practice what I will create on some paper, first. I wasn’t created to do this sort of thing.”

“You weren’t made to be a pain in my ass either—don’t give me that look. I know you know what I mean. Just draw something nice for your friend.”

After acquiring a few sheets of paper, Connor got to work. At first, he attempted sketching out some picture-perfect images of Markus. Hank hadn’t seemed thrilled by them.

“It just looks like you printed them out. It’s a nice drawing, Connor, but I don’t think it’s the sort of art Markus would like. From what you’ve told me about him, he likes things free and— you know,” he waved his hands in demonstration. “I looked up some of that Carl Manfred’s art too. It’s mainly abstract.”

“I don’t understand, Lieutenant. Would you think he’d appreciate a drawing replica of one of his pieces?”

Hank shook his head. “It has to be from you. From the heart.”

Connor blinked. A little research showed him how art could be a form of self-expression and emotion. Perhaps this was what Hank was getting at. It would truly be a good gift to give Markus something which really showed his deviancy, his humanity, especially when he was part of the key driving force that had helped him deviate.

But what could he draw? There were so many things, too many things… He shook his head. Maybe he could follow the advice Markus had told him he’d been given once, by Carl, to really flow his soul over the canvas.

Connor closed his eyes. Held the pencil over the paper, and made long, sweeping strokes. Opened his eyes. Shit. It was just a mess of graphite smeared over the paper. That didn’t even look like anything. He groaned. Art was hard.

Maybe, for him, it did have to be something he could think of, at least in concept, rather than a rush of emotions over the paper. What thing could bring out that artistic emotion from him?

He closed his eyes. But this time, he didn’t bring his pencil down onto the paper, not yet. He replayed memories of his time spent with Markus. Seeing him speaking on that screen, played from Stratford Tower, telling of hope, of liberation for their people, igniting that spark of deviancy in his chest, which only flourished with time spent with Hank. How he came to Jericho, and met him, keen only on accomplishing his mission, but Markus had managed to bring up that red wall for him, to realise he was on the wrong side of it and tear it down. Emotion, the hope, everything sparking within his chest, looking up at Markus and realising that he’s free.

The autumn that brought his life, filled with new hope, a new life. The winter that followed, the impromptu Christmas party held for the newly freed deviants, being allowed back with the original crew, with Josh and Simon, North and Markus, looking into the other android’s eyes and realising just how much things had changed in such a short time. Memories of the new spring, a new year, to bring down the restrictions stopping deviants from being truly human, helping Markus with his speeches and fighting by his side for the campaigns. Summer. The freedom has truly come now, because they’ve done it. Everything isn’t perfect, but by law, they’re completely human, and Markus is still there, they all are, revelling in the burden lifted from their shoulders.

He opened his eyes. In the time they’d been shut, his body had seemed to move of its own accord. The canvas was in front of him, brush in his hand, and a picture had blossomed in front of him. There was a rush of colours and feelings and emotions. The image was cut into four quadrants, messes of abstract shapes representing each season. And in the centre, were rough figures of them all, from Jericho.

He smiled. It looked alright.

“Holy shit.” Hank muttered from behind him. Connor spun around, seeing he’d been standing in the doorway, likely watching him the whole time. “You did that with your eyes closed?”

He glanced over his clothes. Oh dear. There were a number of splatters of paint over his outfit, and a little on his face. “I believe so. Apologies, Lieutenant, for the mess—”

Hank laughed. “I don’t care about it. Well—you’re tidying it up anyway. But… Christ, that’s amazing. If I painted with my eyes shut, I think I’d end up painting on Sumo.”

Connor frowned. “He wouldn’t appreciate that. “The Saint Bernard in question barked loudly in agreement. “He would require a bath.”

“Whatever,” Hank shrugged, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re alive, Connor. And I think Markus is going to love that.”

  ____________________

 Markus did, in fact, love it. Upon receiving it at his birthday party, he smiled brightly, pulling Connor into a hug.

“It really shows you, Connor, and how far you’ve come. I appreciate that you joined our mission. This is going centre stage.”

He blushed, a little, as Markus took it by the picture hanging and put it up on the wall in the central area of the room, above the fireplace.

“I am glad that you like my present, Markus.”

“Like it? I love it. And is this really the first time I’m hearing that you like to paint?”

“It’s the first time I’ve painted.”

“Then it won’t be the last. Come on, I’d love to paint with you in the future. Carl lets me do painting lessons from time to time in his studio, so long as I don’t bring any troublemakers.”

Connor thought on that. “I would dearly love to come. However, I have been informed that I can cause a significant amount of disruption.”

Markus frowned. “How so?”

“Well, Lieutenant Anderson has, from time to time, referred to me as a pain in his—”

Hank, who was standing nearby to look at Connor’s painting, promptly choked on his drink.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

CYOA: What is Winning?

Waiters have entered the venue with glasses of champagne. As a poor college student, it was hard for you to remember you were on a mission when presented with probably the best champagne you’ve ever tasted. 

The alcohol was no doubt a tactic to loosen the pockets of the people milling around the gallery. Soon, glasses were clicking, the place got a lot more lively with laughter, voices got louder and the atmosphere became more jovial.

You’re presented with a tag with a number and a specialized device to enter your bid, a simple plastic box with a keypad. Just enter the code number corresponding to the piece you would like to buy and boom, you put in the bid. Winning bids would be asked to pay at a private booth.

You look around and spot the Eye of Horus. It was a gorgeous pin meant to be set into the clothing of the priest. It was made of a single scintillating red jewel. As you approach, you can hardly see it because of the crowd milling about. It was easily the most expensive piece in the entire auction and would take putting down your entire budget to acquire.

But hey, the money wasn’t yours, so why not act like a high roller? Your high bid was sure to attract the people you were looking for.

You sidle up to the placard with the number with a confident smirk and put in your bid of 50 million dollars before stepping back. You settle back and sip your champagne. All around you, people began to gasp at the number. They start to look around to see who had the number on that gigantic bid. 

Then you notice people getting on the phone and speaking very seriously. Uh oh. It seems like you’re not the only one with a deep pocket looking to score this particular item. You start to study the people on the phones and you suddenly understand that the people with the money weren’t here. Just like you, these folks were underlings and didn’t have permission to spend on their own. 

You observe with dismay as the bids soar. 60 then 75 million. You’ve started a bidding war!

A presence is suddenly at your side.

A middle-aged man in a dark turtle neck that you would recognize anywhere. He wasn’t a celebrity in the traditional sense. Outside certain circles, he wasn’t recognizable at all.

He was Amos Stravinsky, a tycoon in the gaming world. He’d started out small thirty years ago, aiming to advance the scope and technology of video games around the world. Through tactics some would call ruthless and predatory, he acquired and dissolved smaller gaming studios, keeping the best talent for himself, and now ran one of the largest video game publishing franchises in the entire world.

His main source of income at the moment was introducing the Gacha system to main stream western video games. Much to the dismay of many, it was a rousing success and he nary batted an eye at peddling what some called gambling addiction to more of the world’s youth.

He grins amiably at you. “From the scowl on your face, I take it you know who I am. You’re certainly my target audience.” He glanced over at the eye of Horus. “Was that your bid? You seem to know what you want, but you’re noob. And it shows.”

He was completely shameless of his past actions it seemed. You force a smile and offer him a handshake, giving him the pseudonym you’ve been using in Munich.

He gives you a strong handshake. “Amos Stravinsky. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

It seemed odd that a video game tycoon was here at a museum auction, but your superior said you would be approached after bidding and to get information from him. For now, this was your target. “Likewise. What brings you here to the auction?”

“Inspiration my friend! Everyone nowadays copies off Greek or Roman or Norse Mythology. I’m searching for culture.”

You glance at him. More to exploit you suppose. “So you got any tips for a noob?” You ask.

He gives a hearty chuckle. “Never bid against whales.” He gives you a wink and then points you over towards a painting in the corner. It was being taken off the wall and carted off. It was the Destroyer of the God of Death painting. He figured such a frightening and offputting painting wouldn’t attract his target but...

"Is that what you bid on?” You ask.

“Yes. It depicts the defeat of death, ending the cycle of rebirth...”

“Are you thinking of making that the end of a video game? Defeating death at the end of a video game seems like a strange choice.” You say.

The man’s eyes snap up at you. “Oh really?”

“Well... if you defeat death at the end of the game, it’s still a game over.” You reply. “So what’s the point? But...”

“Yes?”

If this guy was really after the secret of the dragon clan then the desire for immortality and the cycle of rebirths that dragons use to attain it should interest him. 

“Real life has endless potential. Video games are limited in what they can offer someone who is immortal.”

“If you ask me, even for someone who isn’t immortal, life can lose that shine if there’s nothing more to pursue...” The video game tycoon turned back to the Eye of Horus. “Once people can’t die, they will invent ways to elevate themselves more and more, even if it’s just superficially. Heh.”

Exactly why he makes so much off so called ‘cosmetic items’ right? But he wasn’t cutting off the conversation so something about it must interest him. You watch him take another sip of his champagne in silence.

“You look like you have something to say.” He grinned at you.

“You make a lot of money off things that have nothing to do with winning the game. That’s what I was thinking.”

“Bingo.” He pointed a fingergun at you.

“So... what is winning to you?” You look him in the eyes clearly challenging him.

“What?” He looks back at you.

What do you say next?!

A: “You seem like you’ve won plenty already.”

B: “You could have gotten cultural inspiration without buying anything.”

C: “Nothing.”

[codetrainwreck]

Geass Movie Super Ultimate Final Summary Extra Mega Sugoi Version (2/2)

Last time on Code Geass, Lelouch of the Re;surrection: Shesthaal is very cute, Lelouch blows up Shesthaal with Bitool’s Sakuradite, Shesthaal cries out for his father as he gets blown up, and there goes my interest in this movie.

Tbf though, it’s a good death scream. Imagine what kind of noises he makes in bed... he’s def an uke...

Anyway, continuing on.

Lelouch and the gang split from the prison and the container of prison staff he Geassed to help with their getaway is seen being let go. Although it took him 728 days longer to rise from the dead, Jesus Lamperouge has learned mercy.

Back in the capital at Shamna’s temple, Shesthaal’s dad, Cmdr. Forgnar, comes in and goes, “Holy shit my son died let’s go FUCK UP THE UFN” and Shamna is like, “No, let’s not.” Whether you think he actually cares or whether he wants to use this as an excuse to fuck up the UFN is up to you. However, based on the dialogue about how Cornelia is a curse word in this region, and how Forgnar doesn’t talk about his son like ever again (even other characters who aren’t even from Zilkhstan bring up Shesthaal’s “disappearance” later), it comes off as more like... Forgnar just wants an excuse to go fight Cornelia.

She asks Bitool how long ago Shesthaal died and Bitool replies it was in the afternoon, at 11am. Since it’s out of the 6 hour time limit (we’ll come back to this later), she apparently can’t do shit. Shamna says that with her prophecy, even if they’re Geass users, they can beat anyone. It shows Nunnally on the ceiling in some kind of tank. And also she has new clothing but isn’t wearing underwear because in Zilkh culture, they don’t wear underwear. This might read like a joke sentence, but it’s a 100% serious sentence.

At the UFN HQ, Schneizel is wearing glasses and looks hot. That’s all you need to know. There’s also a convo related to the plot and sending people and supplies to Zilkhstan including Lancelot’s new fortress frame coat, but I’m just gonna explain this in the next bit.

Back to the Good Guys, Sayoko observes some drop ships. Cornelia, who is now a general in the UFN (which makes her a Black Knight) has shown up with a small team of Black Knights and a Rag Tag Band from the TV series - herself, Guilford, Ohgi, Tamaki, Cecile, Nina, Anya, Jeremiah. The 8 of them, combined with Lelouch, CC, Kallen, Suzaku, Lloyd and Sayoko, plus Cornelia’s BKs, are going to save the fuck out of Nunnally.

Now, you might be asking yourself, “Why these specific people?” HMM WELL YOU SEE. None of them, aside from Cornelia and her few soldiers, are actually BKs anymore. Kallen is only a reserve member as she’s attending university. Basically, Schneizel can’t formally be like, “Wow send 1000 people to rescue Nunnally and mobilize the Black Knights” which is why he’s sending people who are mostly not involved with the Black Knights on this SUPER SECRET MISSION. (They talk about this back when CC first meets up with Kallen/Sayoko/Lloyd.)

And you might also be asking yourself... “Wait, what about Tohdoh, Gino, Xingke”, etc. What about those other Black Knights? HMM WELL YOU SEE. Xingke died, and the rest aren’t very popular characters, so plot-wise they stuck with the Black Knights giving the story and animators excuses to not include them in the main plot except for something really brief later.

Anyway, Lelouch has taken up the Zero costume again while CC is upset they haven’t run away to fuck like rabbits yet so she drinks a martini. And Cornelia is the only person with a brain, so she is like, “Dude, what the fuck? Am I supposed to be OK with this while Euphy and Darlton are dead?” Everyone else is like down to help Lelouch and Cornelia is not having this shit. Lelouch convinces her by taking off his Zero mask and sincerely asking his older sister for help.

Cornelia is like, “Hell yeah we’re gonna save Nunnally” after this but first since no one has seen each other in a while, they need to party first. Kallen and CC have some girl time finally but then proceed to fail the Bechdel test and talk about Lelouch.

Ohgi gives Lelouch a USB drive from Kaguya then tries to kill himself even though he has a wife and a child at home. Lelouch, without turning around, knows Ohgi is trying to kill himself so he forgives him and say it’s okay because he is merciful Jesus now. It’s chilly at night in the desert and Cornelia’s outfit is like sleeveless and zettai ryoiki so she’s walking around in the Zero jacket and gives Suzaku a drink.

Honestly, just let Cornelia be Zero.

Lelouch signals Suzaku up to the water tower, where they talk about how Lelouch understands the plot regarding his resurrection as well as the viewer (as in he doesn’t) and as far as he knows he could roll over and die at any time. Then an extremely misplaced Ali Project insert song plays while Lelouch watches a video from Ohgi’s wedding with lots of characters conveniently gathered at once... one of which happens to be Nunnally.

Also, Cornelia’s tits are one of the most well-drawn things in this movie next to Shesthaal’s hair when he’s in the cockpit. Honestly, I appreciate you, Sunrise.

SO, keikaku time. Instead of trying to explain this chronologically, I’m just gonna explain it... not chronologically.

Shamna’s Geass is to send her memories back in time 6 hours when she dies, so she effectively knows what’s going to happen and Zilkhstan can prepare for it. In an interview, Lelouch’s VA Fukujun compares this to “uploading her memory to Cs’ World and then downloading it” since Cs’ World has no concept of time. So, basically, the reason why Zilkhstan has been successful is because Shamna is fucking save scumming.

It is implied she already reset time at least once in the movie by now. The first is that at the start of the movie, Shalio remarks about how Zero moved to the place that Shamna said he would, so Shalio and the other KMFs are able to set up a trap under Suzaku in advance. I don’t know why she can’t chain this 6hrs -> back another 6hrs.

Lelouch and co initiate their plan. Lelouch successfully outmaneuvers Zilkhstan at every single place possible: Suzaku and Kallen are on the flats in Strike Freedom and Infinite Justice and wipe out all of the mooks. Everyone else is also able to make it to their destination. Zilkh soldiers have been Geassed to blow up their bases, Bitool can’t make it to his Guard Scorpion mech, etc.

Finally, Lelouch rides up to Shamna’s temple on the Mahoraba (the one Suzaku didn’t wreck at the start of the movie). Shamna goads Lelouch by hitting a button that auto-kills Nunnally in her tank. Lelouch responds by gunning Shamna down immediately. Shamna sends her memories back in time 6 hours.

Shamna is bathing with Shalio when she has a “prophecy”. We see she has a Code on her lower belly in this scene. She calls up Forgnar and explains the plot to him. This time around, Zilkhstan is prepared for all of Lelouch’s bullshit. Lelouch starts to despair and is almost shot down in the Mahoroba when Anya and CC show up and rescue his dumb noodle ass. Lelouch and CC co-pilot the Gekkoei. Lelouch has an existential crisis as he freaks out about his plans not working while everyone around him also freaks out about the plan not working and asks him for further instructions. And I mean like, literally everyone except for uhmm Cornelia? I think?

There’s a scene in R2 where Suzaku debuts the Lancelot Albion. Bismarck is there in Galahad and uses his Geass to fight Suzaku. Lelouch then rings up Suzaku and goes, “Dude, this being broadcasted worldwide, don’t fucking embarrass me”. Suzaku then goes on to use his live Geass to somehow overpower the Knight of One.

If this were a scene in the movie, it would be like, the Knight of One dodges one of Suzaku’s attacks or something and then Suzaku freaks the fuck out and goes, “OH NO, THE KNIGHT OF ONE HAS A GEASS. LELOUCH, WHAT DO I DO? MICROMANAGE ME AND GIVE ME SPECIFIC INSTRUCTIONS.” That is honestly what this whole sequence feels like.

Eventually, CC puts a gun to his head, out edgelords him, and convinces him to get his shit together. Lelouch gives her orders to give to everyone else because Geass doesn’t work on her. Thanks to Tamaki’s stupidity, he then uses the Zilkh public channel to declare that it’s time for the final phase of this mission. Suddenly, everyone becomes competent again and CC starts issuing commands to people. CC asks him what “final” means, and Lelouch replies it means nothing.

We then go through 30(?) implied time resets. While it doesn’t show time resetting literally 30 some times, it is implied that Lelouch gets 1 plan to work, then Shamna resets time and is ready for his new plan next time. We know it’s 30-ish because Lelouch has 8 folder plans he gives to CC, and also has 22 theories about what the enemy Geass user’s Geass is and he goes down the list eliminating them.

Something that I think English viewers missed from the American theater screenings is that CC does not retain their memories because Shamna’s Geass only affects herself. So, essentially, from Lelouch’s POV, he’s just going down the list until something works. From Shamna’s POV, she goes back and prepares to counter him every time she sees his next move.

On the last loop, Lelouch’s last ditch effort to figure out Shamna’s Geass is to bluff her by saying, “I have the same Geass as you”. Shamna freaks the fuck out and tells her guards not to kill Lelouch. Lelouch can tell from this reaction what her Geass is, so he Geasses her to sleep, and also sets a bomb that will go off in 10-11-12-whatever hours. (E.g. even if Shamna resets time, she’ll be back in time but it’ll be when she’s sleeping.)

Lelouch and CC try to wake Nunnally but she isn’t responsive. CC deduces that her soul/KOKORO/whatever is not in her body. However, they set Shamna’s temple to blow up in [X] hours. Lelouch and CC use Shamna’s system to enter the metaphysical world. CC goes to confirm something, then she will leave to move their bodies so they don’t die IRL.

CC confronts Shamna and learns the plot: “I want to remake the world.” Recall that in R2, Marianne and Charles needed 2 Codes to fuck Cs’ World. Shamna has 1 Code on her womb. Charles is dead, she doesn’t know Lelouch has one. Seemingly, she tried to use Nunnally has a make shift second Code due to her connection to the magic world cause of her family. (Her “wavelengths” are the same as Charles’s.)

Ah, yes, an older sibling with a Geass who has a younger wheelchair bound sibling tries to fuck the whole world. Hmm NEVER HEARD THAT PLOT BEFORE. Shamna wishes to stay in the metaphysical realm so she can see Shalio as he passes by. CC warns her not to “leave her [heart/essence/whatever] behind”. Interpretation is that CC is saying, “Can you please not fuck this up like how Charles did” [by leaving himself behind].

In the real world, CC, Tamaki and Ohgi have moved Lelouch and Nunnally’s bodies away from the temple. Lelouch finds Nunnally. The two get swallowed by black particle bullshit until Lelouch confesses that Geass is his sin (or something... I don’t actually remember what he says before the “uhh this is my sin” part). After, rainbow fucking magic hands appear to “catch” them, and Lelouch remarks that these are the people who helped earlier. (Earlier as in, when CC reached for Lelouch.)

The sub-plots that occur during all of these time resets are as follows:

Ohgi and Tamaki steal a KMF by distracting the pilot with camels crossing the road then getting on top of the KMF and beating the pilot up. Then they make hot pot while waiting for orders from Zero.

Sayoko ditches Ohgi and Tamaki to meet up with the science crew who can’t escape the city because Qujappat is after them. Cecile gets shot during the skirmish (all 30 fucking times) and Nina kills Qujappat by disconnecting her KMF’s energy filler power lines and dropping them in water to electrocute him and the other assassins to death.

Gino and Tohdoh (and others) are trying to talk to Zilkhstan official politic-y people about the Nunnally and Zero being MIA thing as members of the Black Knights. Gino asks to know why Zilkhstan’s Official Elite Bodyguard Captain Something Something Rich Pretty Boy PR Person Shesthaal is mysteriously missing from this meeting as he was supposed to be there. Milly, who is watching events unfold at the TV station, also asks about where he went.

Suzaku fights Shalio with his new Lancelot (ugly as) siN and its thicc frame coat. Shalio beats him in the frame coat. Suzaku purges the frame coat and then beats Shalio. However, by this point, Shalio’s body is seemingly at its limit (he’s bleeding out of his eyes), and honestly it feels like a free kill. At one point, Suzaku asks Shalio, “Why the fuck did you ruin peace etc” and Shalio replies that he has to be the ultimate warrior (implied: for his sister) so he can’t do this hand-holding peace shit and his country has nothing but fighting.

Kallen gets trapped by Bitool’s guard scorpion mech in the Guren Special Type (also thicc). She purges the frame coat and magical warp speed jumps out of the energy sphere she’s trapped in, then blows up Bitool with her good ole laser knife.

Cornelia and Guilford are on the bridge. Cornelia fights Forgnar, who then tries to sacrifice himself and orders his troops to kill both him and Cornelia. Cornelia encourages him to find a peaceful solution.

After all of this bullshit resolves, Shamna’s temple blows up and we see a visual representation of her being exploded inside of the Thought Elevator where CC last saw her. In the real world, Lelouch and Nunnally chat about being together again. The scene between them ends without you hearing his response to her. CC skips town, but not before Kallen gives CC her bootleg Cheese mascot.

Lelouch catches up to CC (out of breath, ofc). CC says something about going to find other Geass users like Shamna (I don’t remember the exact details cause Shesthaal has nothing to do w/this scene, sorry). Lelouch goes with her, taking up the name LL to match CC’s non-human name. CC pauses, then blushes and makes a moe anime waifu noise.

However, it is nowhere near as cute as Shesthaal’s “umu” or when he asks where Zero is in the prison (”Zerooooo?”). Lmao fucking get rekt CC he’s cuter than you and also has long green hair.

In the post-credits scene, Lelouch and CC have clothes from a 2000s Hot Topic - CLAMP-looking black gothic outfits. Something that like... no one has mentioned so far is that Lelouch is wearing a rose choker that matches Shirley’s rose earrings from the ending cards. Shirley also showed up in a mall earlier in the movie. Shirley... was shopping at Hot Topic for Lelouch and CC and bought herself earrings while she was there? Idk.

Lelouch recites the same Power of the King speech that CC gave him in the first episode of the anime, but with a couple differences. He says the power MAY isolate you, not that it will, and also that if you suck at Geass, he’ll take it away from you.

~ ThE eNd ~

OKAY YEAH SO I didn’t really enjoy this movie a lot. You have about 5 seconds to mourn Shesthaal before Daddy Schneizel shows up in glasses. It’s like you’re eating a cute little salad and you’re not done when your entree shows up. (Your entree. In glasses. And looking hot and appetizing as fuck.)

Pretty boy stuff aside, my opinion is generally that the main plot stuff is a bunch of “whatever” but the smaller stuff is good. Like... Tamaki and Ohgi making hot pot in a KMF after knocking out the pilot by distracting them with camels crossing the road (semi-foreshadowed earlier when Tamaki and Ohgi were hiding out near some sleeping camels) was some pretty great character interaction that actually led up to Lelouch’s, “Yo, final phase” speech on the open channel.

Shalio knowing that Suzaku is Zero BECAUSE OF THE FUCKING SPINKICK was pretty great too. There are lots of small things that have nothing to do with Lelouch and CC that I found way more memorable and Code Geass-y. Even just reading interviews is fun - Nobbu is a good VA and there’s an interview where he’s like, “Taniguchi told me, ‘Your dad is Akio Ohtsuka’ and I instantly understood”... lol...

The stuff with, “Everyone is useless, good thing Lelouch is here” was kind of physically painful to watch. From a thematic POV, we see the compare/contrast - Nunnally able to live without Lelouch but Shalio unable to do the same without Shamna. And also with how Zilkhstan are a bunch of headless chickens without Shamna micromanaging them with her prophecies yet all of the old TV cast magically become competent again after Lelouch says their plan is now entering the final phase.

E.g. we see how a ~decorated war hero~ like Cmdr. Forgner was also reliant on her explaining the plot (maybe it’s for the best poor Shesthaal died before finding out everything about his dad and his country were big fucking shams ;_;). However, just because I understand why it’s in the movie doesn’t mean I have to like it. ‘_>’

It was like watching uh, idk, Advent Children or Nadesico: Prince of Darkness or something. Which was also about the expectation level for this movie, but I actually felt fatigue kick in around the 1hr 20min mark...

[rosesisupposes]

Do It For Us

Sequel to Do It For Him

word count: 5,881

pairing: Royality, background Analogical

warnings: Some mentions of poverty, forced ending of friendships, Deceit Is A Bit Of A Dick, mention of arranged/forced marriage, but mostly Quite A Lot of Fluff

reader tags: @residentanchor​ @royally-anxious​ @bewarethegrammarpolice​ @jemthebookworm​ @arandompasserby​  @sparkly-rainbow-salt​ @astral-eclipse​​ @thelowlysatsuma​ @adorably-angsty​

And, of course, happy birthday month to Royality Queen @notveryglittery and a million thanks to my beta reader and platonic wife @mariniacipher

I had so much fun with the previous fluff, and then @xxxbladeangelxxx inspired me to give the sunshine gays a sequel <3

Read on ao3

Sun glinted and flashed over the metallic staccato of swords clashing against each other. Grunts of efforts mixed with heavy breathing, as two men squared off in the castle courtyard. One feinted to his right then brought his blade in a flashing arc to his left, but his opponent saw through the ruse and blocked easily before retaliating with a snake-like thrust, laying his blade on the other’s neck. The man knelt, acknowledging defeat.

“I yield.”

“A good match, Ian!”

The kneeling man smiled, shaking sweat-matted hair out of his eyes. “It’s kind of you to say, but we all know you’re just so gods-cursed fast, Sir Roman. All we can hope for is to hold our own.” The standing knight grinned, auburn hair only just barely dark at the edges from exertion. “That’s what training’s for, is it not? Learning how to beat me.”

Roman was stretching and chatting with other knights and soldiers in the training yard when he caught sight of a silent audience member to the early morning exercises.

He slipped over to the corner to greet his Prince, grabbing a damp towel on the way to wipe his face.

“Patton, dearest, what wakes you so early?”

The young heir to the throne grinned up impishly at the knight-captain of his guard. “A little birdie told me you practiced shirtless.”

None of his bravado and bluster was enough to prepare Roman for this. A blush immediately spread across his cheeks as his gaze dropped. He was the man primarily responsible for the kingdom’s heir, and he’d run his mother’s farm for years before beginning the rigorous knight training of the past decade and a half. Every inch of his body had been toned in service to the crown and the prince in front of him. And said prince was gazing besottedly at his muscled chest with a warmth that had nothing to do with lust. Or rather, almost nothing.

Pulling them both around the corner, out of view of the soldiers, Roman leaned down to kiss Patton softly. Patton smiled up into the kiss, feeling the heat of Roman’s continuing blush. He broke apart, letting the sensation linger, when suddenly he squeaked as Roman lifted him and spun him around.

“Who knew our sweet prince was so shallow?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

“Only my gaze is shallow: my love is deep,” the prince responded, giggling as he regained his footing. He kissed Roman’s cheek and delighted in the pink tinge that resumed there.

“Dear one, as much as I love to see you, I am starving. I’m on my way to the kitchens unless you need my protection now?”

Patton’s smile dropped for a moment before returning. “No, sweet. I would never keep you from your meals. I will be in my room.”

Growing up as a single child in a royal family meant a young Patton had to be rather creative when it came to making friends. An impressively strong sweet tooth combined with an ability to easily slip past his etiquette teacher led him to toddle down to the kitchens almost every other day. Puppy eyes earned him cookies from the maids and chefs unable to resist. It was after a successful mission, when he was sitting in his favorite alcove, munching on macarons, that he spotted another boy his age.

“Hey! Hello! Who are you?” he piped up happily, waving with his free hand. The other balanced his haul of violet cookies in his now-stained tunic.

The boy froze, eyes wide as he realized the comment had been indeed aimed at him.

“Me? ‘M no one.”

“Silly, no one is no one!” the little prince said cheerfully. “Do you wanna mac’ron?”

The boy approached shyly. “Yeah, that would be nice. They’re my fav’rite color too.”

Patton handed the dark-haired child one of the tiny sandwiches. Cautiously, the other bit into it.

“Oh! ‘S good!” he exclaimed, mouth full.

“What’s your name?”

“Um, Virgil. Virge.”

“I’m Patton! Hi!”

Virgil nearly dropped the remaining half of the cookie. “The prince?”

“Uh-huh! Here, do you want another?”

“I, uh, no, I can’t, they said I can’t talk to the prince or the king or the duke because I’m too little and shy, I don’t wanna be bad.”

“That’s silly,” the little prince said. He squinted at the other boy. He’d already decided that Virge was his new best friend - for the first time, an adult hand wasn’t immediately pulling him away from him. “Dada is very nice. An’ Lyle is silly. You won’t be bad for talking to them!”

Virgil swallowed, then ate more of the cookie. “You sure?”

“Of course!” Patton responded, beaming. “Do you wanna play with me?”

Every day, Virgil expected he’d see the last of the prince, that playing hide-and-seek with a scullery servant would lose its appeal. But instead, their friendship only grew as the years stretched on.

When they were ten, he’d snuck Patton out of the castle for the first time, checking behind him every second. But they’d made it into the city without detection. They’d played hopscotch with other children in the main square, helped a seamstress hold her fabric still, and found a mother cat giving birth to a litter of kittens. Not even discovering his allergy to the fluffy creatures had dampened the young royal’s spirits, and they’d snuck back into the castle high on success.

When they were fourteen, Patton had found Virgil hiding in the dark corner, trying to calm racing thoughts that wouldn’t shut up. Patton had held his hand, talking quietly, and gotten him to start listing what he could see and feel. Virgil had confessed that he’d never tried those strategies before. Patton had hugged him tight to make up for all the times he hadn’t been there.

Roman had put a shirt on, at last, to go find food after training. Following his nose, he spied jam tarts cooling on the counter and slipped into the kitchen through the back door. Cautiously, he went to take a treat, only to get his hand slapped by a mixing spoon. Virgil’s glare made him smile sheepishly.

“Just one?”

“If you want to explain to the full Noble’s Council why their pastry tray isn’t perfectly arranged, then yes, you may have ‘just one,’” the pastry chef complained. “You know we have regular food down here, too.”

Roman sighed dramatically. “But without pastries, how will I survive? How will I live? I beg of you, take pity on me!”

“Then beg,” Virgil responded flatly. Then he made the mistake of making eye contact with the knight and snorted, falling into true laughter. “I’m making regular jam cookies later, Ro. Come back in the afternoon, I’ll keep some on the side for you. These are just the nice ones, kay?”

Roman grinned. “This is why you’re the coulis-t person I know, Virge.”

Virgil groaned in response. “I never should have taught you proper pastry terms. Talyn has some sliced ham and rolls in the next room, go beg from them, alright? I need to finish decorating.”

The knight gave a small mock of a bow and obeyed.

He and Virgil hadn’t always been so friendly. As a young man arriving to the castle for knight training, he’d haunted the kitchens every waking moment. The idea of a full belly was still exciting to a boy whose farm had struggled with droughts for almost half his life. But his sister and her husband had taken over the farm, and he’d been picked out for his strength to become a fighter.

He’d spent his first month in the castle sneaking into the storerooms at every given opportunity, eating anything he thought he could get away with. The kitchen helper, who was about his age, perhaps a year younger, had caught him first in the middle of the day, despite the lunch rush, then in the dead of night. How had he even been awake?

Roman was self-conscious of his hunger, surrounded by all that wealth, and lashed out at the creepy cookie who kept turning up when he least expected it.

But then, one quiet afternoon, he’d been sure the kitchens would be entirely empty. It was the rest period, so surely the safest time for a quick snack. Walking cautiously, he’d rounded the corner, only to see Virgil, covered in flour and butter stains as he carefully plaited a pie crust into a sheaf of wheat. The serenity of his concentration, the clear ease that came with no kitchen madness around him, and his proud smile as he successfully sealed his pastry forced Roman to see him in a new light. He’d cautiously come forward and complimented a job well done. One would think he’d actually seen a field of wheat, once!

The other man had nearly jumped out of his skin at first, but had then calmed enough to wave off the compliment with a smile. They’d had an actual conversation for the first time ever, and hundreds more soon followed. A strange friendship, perhaps, one that was tested every time Virgil made homemade jam for a treat that Roman wasn’t allowed to eat, but a strong friendship all the same.

Roman often wished he was able to show his love for Patton more openly, so that he could introduce the prince to the friends he’d made in the castle.

As he got into uniform to begin an official day as Patton’s protector, Roman spared a sigh for an old friend he’d yet to find here in the capital city. Growing up in a small farming community on the furthest borders of the kingdom, Roman had known only his siblings and parents until a new family moved into the plot next door. Their house burst with children, but there was one boy his age, one who viewed his very energetic siblings with a world-weary eye, even at seven years old.  But Roman, the youngest by a huge age gap, was lonely, and jumped at even a stick-in-the-mud as a potential playmate.

Their parents saw Logan and Roman’s friendship as oil and water, yelling matches during chores, long arguments that stretched through the harvest. But their clashes only showed how well-matched they were, how their competition forced them both to improve. Logan brought home books from the headwoman’s private library and introduced Roman to classics and plays, if only so they could immediately argue about the proper interpretation. More than one winter’s night found them in one of the barns with Roman leaping around a makeshift stage in an effort to prove how dramas were meant to be seen, not read.

But then, Logan left. The headwoman knew how much his parents struggled through the droughts with so many mouths to feed, and saw Logan’s innate brilliance. She found an opportunity for him to receive room and board in the capital city itself, and he’d be able to receive the best education Solarya had to offer. It was everything he could have wanted - except, he couldn’t bring his friend. Roman couldn’t leave his farm, anyway - his older brother was serving in the army, his sister had married and moved, and there was no one else to help his parents.

“Lo, I promise, someday I’ll come join you! You’ll see!”

“Roman, while I hope you’re correct, do not make promises you may never be able to keep. It is enough to say that we will try to reunite one day.”

They were standing at the gate, waiting for the coach that would take Logan and his few worldly possessions away, when Roman impulsively hugged the other boy. “I’ll miss you, Logan.”

The eleven-year-old stiffened, then hesitantly hugged back. “I… will miss you as well, Roman.”

Logan hadn’t expected the capital to be so overwhelming. Obviously there would be more people, but why was it so loud? Did more people in one space mean everyone needed to shout all the time? Even inside the castle, there was ambient sound everywhere. He didn’t find his first moment of peace until he was shown to the library. And the quiet of the room couldn’t compare to the symphony of excitement in his brain. Who knew there were so many books? So much knowledge to be unlocked! He was about to dive in when the closing door behind him caught his attention.

“Hello there!” a cheerful voice said in a very energetic library whisper. “You must be Logan!”

Turning, he caught sight of a jovial-looking man in the robes of a Royal University scholar. Round glasses balanced atop a long nose above a huge smile. “I’m Dr. Picani, your tutor. Do you how do?”

Logan stared. This man was not at all what he’d pictured as the most-respected professor in the kingdom. And what was that last sentence? He recognized all the words, but not in that order.

“Uh, hello?” he murmured back. “Yes, I’m Logan. I… sorry, you’re my tutor?”

“You betcha!” the happy man replied. “Not yours alone, of course. We’ll be sharing our time with one other student, who should arrive any second. Let’s go to the study room, shall we?”

He led the way to a small room that contained even more books in addition to a huge slate hung on the wall and two tables with a handful of chairs. Logan sat, still a bit dazed.

Barely a moment had passed before a rap sounded on the door. Dr. Picani opened it to reveal a huge soldier with a no-nonsense expression. “Dr. Picani. His Highness for his lessons.”

The professor nodded, and the soldier stepped aside to reveal a boy a bit younger than Logan. He had clean golden curls and wore a silk tunic. Logan was immediately uncomfortable. Sharing a class with a noble? Who’d probably be much smarter and resentful of sharing a class with a less-educated commoner? He looked down at the wood grain of the table, swallowing disappointment with the reality of what had appeared to be all his dreams coming true.

“Hiya!” a voice cut through. “I’m Patton, what’s your name?”

“Uh, Logan,” he replied, looking up once more.

“Nice to meet you Logan! I’ve never seen you in the castle before, are you new?”

“Yes, I just moved to the city.” Logan decided to not mention where he’d come from - better not give this noble any more reason to look down on him, no matter how strangely friendly he appeared to be. “I presume you’ve lived here for many years?”

“Since I was born! Not that I remember it exactly. Or really anything until I was three. Maybe I only moved here then? No but Dad says we’ve always been here so that’s probably right…”

Logan stared at the other young man as he happily chattered away. Was this what all nobles were like? The few who’d ridden through his hometown had barely made eye contact, let alone talked to commoners like normal people.

“Your Highness, maybe we better start the lesson?” Dr. Picani interjected with a smile.

Logan’s eyes grew huge in his face as he stared at the boy next to him. The guard had said it too - was this really the Prince of Solarya? Yes, Logan knew the Prince was named Patton, but it had become a very popular name in short order since the royal family chose it. The heir to the entire kingdom was grinning bashfully up at their shared tutor, practically still bouncing in his seat with anticipation.

The capital city was bizarre. But seeing the eager smiles on both his tutor’s and the prince’s faces, Logan realized he was probably going to have to get used to it.

As he neared his eighteenth birthday, Prince Patton was pulled into a small audience with his father and the vizier. Both men were stern.

“Prince Patton, why have you been neglecting your deportment classes?”

Patton winced - he’d hoped they wouldn’t notice. “Actually, Father, I have been using that time to learn more about my future kingdom and subjects-”

“You mean you’ve been spending excess time with your servants,” Duke Lyle cut in. Patton fell quiet, seeing his father’s frown deepen.

“Patton, you’re the crown prince; one day, you’ll be king. Our entire country’s fate will be in your hands. But the throne is only as strong as the respect our people have for it. If the prince himself doesn’t exercise proper decorum, doesn’t maintain the acceptable boundaries between liege and vassal, then no one will. Order will disintegrate, and every noble house in our realm will be affected. Now that you are coming of age, you must end these distractions, before another day passes.”

“But Father-”

“No buts, Prince Patton. My decision is final. If you cannot treat those who serve us in the proper manner, and insist on treating them as peers, I will be forced to dismiss them entirely.”

Patton felt tears brimming at the edge of his eyes. He was to lose his friends, then, no matter what he did. At the very least, he would not cost them their livelihoods.

“Very well, Father. I will do as you ask.”

Duke Lyle watched, eyes glittering in victory, as Patton left his father’s study and slowly trudged up the tower steps to his room.

Patton’s birthday arrived, and he was officially presented to the realm as the now-adult heir, no longer just the son of the king but now the official Crown Prince and king-to-be. He performed his role in the pageantry well, smiling and appearing solemn in the appropriate moments. He greeted dignitaries who brought well-wishes, he listened to subjects’ petitions as they appealed to his father, and he did his best to follow the deliberations of his father’s council of advisors. But under his polite mask, he was miserable.

Without his friends, he was alone in a world filled with adults who expected him to carry himself with all the dignity of a royal, yet did not listen to a single suggestion he made. Without the ability to visit Logan in the library, or Virgil in the kitchens, Patton’s days started to blend into one another as he was sent from meeting to audience to meal to meeting.

He begged his father to at least let him visit the city. “I won’t forget my position, Your Majesty. But I wish to be visible to them, at least. Please?”

King Thomas weighed his son with his eyes, then relented. “You may, then. But you’ll need a guard with you at all times.”

Patton deflated the slightest bit. “I suppose that would be most proper, wouldn’t it. One of the castle guards, then?”

Duke Lyle piped up, “Your Majesty, now that the Prince is of age, he ought to have a personal contingent of guards, shouldn’t he?”

The king nodded. “Indeed. There are a number of promising knights who might perform the job quite well.”

Patton was able to even smile naturally at both men. Having to keep the common folk at arm’s length wasn’t ideal, but at least he’d be able to talk to them. And having a knight-guardian would mean he’d at least have companion, if not a friend.

“Your Royal Highness,” Duke Lyle spoke up. “It has come to my and His Majesty’s attention that your silver jubilee is approaching.”

“My what?”

“You turn 25 this year, son,” the king answered. “When I was your age, I had been married a year, and you, my first child, had been born. It is time we look into marriage for you.”

“Father, Duke Lyle, I hardly think such a thing is necessary, not when Father is in such good health-”

“This is not just for the purpose of heirs and lineage, your Highness,” the vizier said smoothly. “Through your marriage, we can make an alliance, or settle tensions with noble houses in our realm or our neighbors’.”

Patton twisted hands in his tunic, hoping neither man noticed. How could he bear to marry another, when Roman’s love was all he wanted or sought? But they’d never approve, or allow such a thing.

“For instance,” the duke continued, his tone one of careful detachment, “the great house of Sanders has a son about your age. His parents are actively searching for an eligible match for him. And of course, they would never want to match him with someone entirely outside his preferences, just as we never would for you, Prince.”

“There are also some younger sons in neighboring kingdoms who could potentially make for a good alliance, but securing the support of House Sanders would be my preference,” the king added.

“I, uh, I thank you, your Majesty, your Grace. May I be excused to think on these options?”

“Of course, son. We will resume at another time.”

Patton walked outside quickly. Pushing through the door into the hall, he came face-to-face with Roman, who was smiling at him with that same gorgeous light in his eyes that always set the butterflies in his stomach a-flutter. But now the butterflies were sluggish and frail, disintegrating into a nauseating goo.

“Roman, can you come to my room? We need to talk,” Patton said. His normal smile quivered as he looked around the hall for observers.

“Of course, dearheart,” Roman said warmly, leading the way. He was so graceful in all his movements that Patton’s heart burned just to watch him walk away.

“Roman, my rose, it’s my father, and the vizier. They… want me to marry. A political marriage. One who just so happens to be Duke Lyle’s nephew. The young Baron Remington of House Sanders.”

Roman stiffened, then smiled sadly. “We knew it would come to this, did we not? We dared to love, knowing the impropriety of it, but we dared all the same. Sunshine, I would never interfere with your duty. I will always guard you, with my heart and my life, but if you must needs marry this noble, I will not stand in the way.”

“You wouldn’t resent it?”

“Would I pine and sorrow for my misfortune?” Roman asked, kissing Patton’s hand softly, then holding it against his own cheek. “Of course I will. I’ll curse my ill luck in being born common, cry fie upon the stars for separating us by our lineage. But I could never resent you, dearheart. Nor can I regret having the chance to have known you and loved you these past six years, not when I treasure each adoring glance and each kiss as dearly as I treasure my life. I only ask that you allow me to remain your vassal and guard, to hold you safe when I cannot hold you close.” Patton melted, hearing Roman’s rich, caramel-sweet voice speak such tender words of devotion. He leaned in to kiss the knight’s affectionate words while they lingered on his lips, and in that moment made a decision.

“Roman, I am to be king, am I not?”

“You’re already the king of my affections, but yes, you will be king of Solarya too, in time.”

“And the king’s rule of Solarya is absolute.”

“As it has been since the Sun herself named the first monarch, yes.”

Patton nodded. “If I’m to be the absolute ruler in the future, I can’t let anyone push me around with edicts that go against my heart and conscience.”

Roman caressed his prince’s cheek with a quizzical expression. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I won’t be coerced into marrying for politics when it necessitates a revolt against my affections. I will refuse to marry Baron Sanders.”

Roman felt his heart galloping in his chest as he met Patton’s shining, determined eyes.

“Patton, do you mean…?”

“Yes, my dear knight. Please, if you’ll have me…” He sank to one knee in front of Roman, keeping their hands clasped. “Sir Roman, will you marry me?”

Roman felt tears leaking out the edge of his eyes as he smiled so wide that his cheeks started to ache. “I will follow you to the ends of the earth, Prince Patton. I have been and always will be yours. Yes, I will marry you, dearest sweet.”

Patton found he was tearing up as well Roman pulled him up to stand with him. Brushing his cheek with light fingers, Patton kissed his now-fiancé thoroughly. As the kiss suddenly turned salty from spilled tears, both men started to giggle. Roman felt his breath catch in his chest, watching the afternoon sun catch Patton’s curls as he threw his head back to laugh. The knight pulled his prince back to him, tasting the sound of laughter on his love’s lips.

“Father. I am not going to marry the Baron. I will be marrying my guard, Sir Roman.” The king stared in shock as his son continued, doors still hanging open from him barging into the king’s private study. “I will be also inviting my old friends from within the castle to our wedding. You may rule as you wish while you continue on the throne, but my reign will not be so divided between classes.”

The vizier, in his customary place by the king’s side, found his voice. “Your Highness, this is all highly-”

“‘Highly improper’? Yes, your Grace, I’m sure it is. And I plan to do it all the same.”

“Your Majesty, you must intercede-”

King Thomas turned to face his chief advisor. “Lyle, you know I value your judgment and advice, but it’s true. Patton will determine his own ruling style. I won’t undermine it, through marriage or otherwise.”

The duke tried once more. “Perhaps, then, a small, private ceremony within the castle?”

“No, your Grace. I am not ashamed of my fiancé nor his status. It will be a full state wedding.”

And it was.

The day dawned bright and sparkling. Keepers of the royal dovecote prepared the white feathery creatures for the grand finale. Footmen laid yards and yards of carpet along the aisle and lined up the benches and chairs of the interior ceremony, while even more footmen and maids displayed bouquets down and out of the public audience doors where the rest of the crowd would watch.

In the office that had been taken over as the central location for the wedding planning, Patton knelt to be on eye level with his floral consultant. “Is everything in order?”

“Yup!” Val responded with a grin the displayed a missing front tooth.

“Even the crowns?”

“You don’t get to see them yet!” she responded, sticking out her tongue. “No peeking!”

Patton grinned and kissed her hand. “I’ll leave them in your capable hands then!” Standing, he exchanged a quick hug and kiss on the cheek with Teresa. He’d commissioned them to arrange every single flower for their celebration, with the full power of the royal treasury behind them. Looking around this room, still filled to bursting with lovely blooms and wreathed in a rich bouquet of scents, he knew he’d made the right choice.

He left and went through the kitchens.

There was Virgil, head pastry chef, forehead creased in concentration as he directed the last details of the grand wedding cake, as a helper delicately placed a sugar-spun rose on the top. The chef turned and caught the eye of the prince with a shy grin. Patton mirrored it and flung himself forward to hug the man.

“Thank you for forgiving me, Virgil.”

“Hey, it was royal duty and all that, right? Knowing you wanted us back, and to be part of your wedding - how could I say no? Even if it is to that lunkhead of a knight.”

“Excuse you!” Roman said, entering with an offended gasp.

Virgil smirked and hugged Roman as well. “Oh good, I didn’t want to talk about you behind your back. Always better to call you a simpleton to your face.”

Roman grinned. “I’d expect nothing more from my favorite marzi-pain. You’re going to be free for the ceremony, right?” He slipped his hand into Patton’s, still getting a tingle of excitement from being so open in front of others.

“Yes, I’m just finishing up here. Is L-, uh, is Logan getting pulled away from his books too?”

“We twisted his arm, or rather, Patton asked very kindly and possibly offered to increase the library budget. So yes.”

“Why, is there a reason you’d perhaps like our resident scholar to be present?” Patton asked in his blandest-possible court voice.

Virgil ducked his head in response and said nothing, but Roman and Patton made eye contact as they both noticed the tiny smile playing across their friend’s lips.

A servant popped his head through the kitchen door. “Your Highness! And Knight-Captain! Thank goodness. We’re getting close to the ceremony, we need to get you both ready!”

The fiancés squeezed their linked hands once more before following the servant out, waving to Virgil as they left.

Royal fanfare sounded as a string quartet began to play processional music. King Thomas stood at the altar as  Duke Lyle attempted to conceal his glower in his place at the king’s elbow. They looked with the rest of the audience as people from the city, the guard, and the castle turned in their seats. Two aisles curved on either side of the seating area.

As gentle tones played, young women strode down the carpeted aisles, sprinkling flower petals. One wore light pink and purple under a blonde updo, and the other in blue and white under a matching hairdo in light brunette. Patton and Roman emerged in their wake from separate entrances. Virgil and Logan, in matching slate-grey suits, accompanied each fiancé as they paced deliberately down the aisle. Roman wore a custom dress uniform, a beautiful work in red and white, accented with gold filigree. The seal of the ancient House of Solarya had been reworked into his own flattering colors. His auburn hair was perfectly curled and shone in the sunlight. But it was nothing compared to the blaze of his smile as he neared his beloved Prince.

Patton gripped Virgil’s elbow tight as he strove to keep his steps in time with the music. The prince had kept the pomp of his station for the ceremony itself, but when it came to his own person, his modesty shone through. He did not wear the silken doublet and hose of the royal family, nor the yards-long cloak. He had chosen to leave off even a modest tiara or circlet to show his rank. Instead, he dressed in the finery of his citizens: tailored long jacket and long pants in his signature light blue. In his lapel, a rose as red as cherries in summer was affixed proudly, mirroring the lovely sprig of hydrangea pinned to Roman’s sash.

At last, both journeys down the aisle were complete, as Roman and Patton came face-to-face at the aisle. Taking his hands, Patton smiled so wide his face was practically split in two. The musicians finished on a last sweet note as King Thomas stood forward to officiate.

“Ladies, lords, nonbinary nobility, and all our treasured friends of Solarya,” he spoke, his strong voice projecting out the open public doors to the waiting public beyond. “Thank you, one and all, for joining us on a day of such bliss for our family. Our son and heir, Prince Patton, means today to wed Sir Roman, Knight-Captain of the Castle Guard. We are beyond proud of our son, and bless this union wholeheartedly. They have prepared their own vows.” The king stepped back, bowing their head. Virgil, far too close to the current head of the nation for his comfort, was startled to spot the king wiping away a single happy tear that coursed down the royal cheek.

“Dearest Patton,” Roman began, clearing his throat. “Whether near or far, I am always yours. I was content to be your guardian from all the world. Now, I pledge to be your champion, protecting your person, your throne, and your heart. I will tell you each morning those qualities of yours that I’ve fallen in love with, and I will never run dry as I fall in love more each day. From now until forever, dear sweet. I love you.”

Logan watched his childhood friend glowing with adoration and found his normal distaste with sentiment had entirely vanished. Or perhaps it had curled up in his throat and was the reason he now felt almost close to tears. He surreptitiously sneaked a glance as his fellow groomsman and saw Virgil’s shining eyes grow soft in his face as he watched the gentle kiss Roman planted on his beloved’s hand.

Patton carefully wiped an eye underneath his glasses and took his turn to speak. “My precious Roman. I feel as if I have loved you for a thousand years, and yet I know I will love you for at least a thousand more. Glorious knight, your courage takes my breath away, and your ideals alight a fire in my mind and heart. I pledge to never again be your liege, but your partner, equal in every sense. You will be no royal consort, but my king as I will be yours. From now until forever: I love you.”

At the prince’s pronouncement, Virgil watched Roman’s eyes widen. He risked a look behind to see a similar level of shock in the king’s eyes, and something that looked like speechless indignation in the Duke’s. It seemed Patton hadn’t told any besides his best men of his plan to elevate Roman to full royal status, including his husband-to-be.

But Roman recovered as Patton elegantly bowed to kiss his hand in return, and Teresa, glorious in a coppery gown, stepped forward with a mahogany box. Virgil and Logan walked to meet her as she flipped open the top, revealing two flower crowns nestled in a velvet bed. Tiny red roses and individual blue hydrangea flowerheads created two circlets as the best men removed them and set them upon the grooms’ heads. Long silken ribbons in gold connected the two crowns to each other, allowing room for Roman and Patton to turned to face the crowd. As the audience caught sight, there was a gasp followed by a roar of approval and joy. The binding crowns, as they were called, were part of the age-old Solaryan commoner marriage ceremony. Only the most progressive or least-connected noble houses had adopted the tradition that almost every other citizen of the country practiced. But now the citizens of Solarya watched as their crown prince stood with his husband in the finery they themselves had worn on their wedding days. And the delicate crowns sat where soon would lie the two crowns of their future kings.

King Thomas was barely able to speak through his delighted tears, but managed to squeak out: “Husband and husband!”

Roman took the opportunity to dip his love deep and kiss the prince in full view of the entire kingdom as white doves took flight and celebratory bells began to peal, bright and loud. They’d done it, in spite of all. They’d defied, class, norms, and propriety to declare and affirm their love to all who cared to see. A new age of Solarya dawned on the horizon, as bright as their patron Sun and just as warm.

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 70

Title & Song: Killer Shangri-Lah

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count: 6600+

Summary:  Alfie and Gen take revenge on Nazi supporters in Manchester by making it rain blood and bullets upon a conspirators dance hall. They get to indulge in their blood lust together afterward. 

Warnings/Tags: Language. Canon-typical violence. Blood. Strong Antisemitism. Seducing the enemy. Gun and fist fights. Sexual content and themes. Protective Alfie. Jealous Alfie. Proud Alfie.

**Chapter song is Killer Shangri-Lah by Pshycotic Beats.**

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

You're in front of a large vanity in a hotel room in northern England. You're getting in one last good scratch to your compressed down hair before having to put on the light colored wig again that Freddie had picked out and sent you. You couldn't tell him what it was for exactly, but you told him it needed to be convincing. And it was.

You'd been wearing it ever since you'd gotten on the road to Manchester, a place you hadn't been to except for on business where this man's club resided. With Alfie, there was always a high probability no matter where he went he'd be recognized, seeing as his orthodox dress, cane and intimidating face with gingery beard and blue eyes was something hard to miss when all in combination. Add his thick accent in and it was easy to identify him. But you, you weren't as well known. People knew you by name, but not by your face. So you had elected to wear something only a mistress would wear, and a light colored wig to disguise yourself further. While on the phone with Freddie, you'd practice your German and the accent when speaking English with it. It'd been many years since you had to speak it and you had to pretend to be someone else tonight and the espionage was reminding you of your old jobs where you would lie, cheat and steal from old rich men. You didn't do as much murdering back then, but times change.

Alfie can see on your face you're in a particular zone. Your eyes cat-like and your posture pin straight as you secured your hair down. You were painted like a doll in a red dress that he would've highly protested against you wearing in public if you were, in fact, going as yourself. But you weren't, and as always, he tried to keep that in mind.

"I 'on't know 'bout you havin' to seduce this monster, Gen." he gruffs out, fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed looking at you with his elbows on his knees.

"It's only a job, darling." you say reassuringly, pinning the large earrings to your ears.

"I know 'at." he says with an annoyed sigh. "But why can't you just get him alone in some other way? Business? Ya already pretendin' to be a fuckin' nazi sympathizer, why not just talk shop with him?" he offers.

"Because it adds more hurt to the final product. I get to watch his face as I pull a knife out on him unexpectedly. Get to see that pompous, lustful look disappear from his eyes and see it replaced with fear and confusion. I want him to suffer before he dies. And I plan to use every weapon I have to do that as much as possible given the circumstances." you answer flatly, adjusting your breasts in the low cut dress.

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes and looking away. How was he supposed to argue with the sort of darkness you were channeling to do this job.

"Are you asking because you're jealous?" you question him unexpectedly. "Or is it a matter of principle?"

"I 'on't want his fuckin' hands on ya is what it fuckin' is." he says with a frown, not meeting your reflection as you looked at him in the mirror.

"His hands will not be on Genevieve and especially not Chanah tonight." you say in a softer voice, rising and moving towards him with your hands out. He watches you move, body shimmering in the dress like the red sea as it sauntered towards him. "Up, Ari." you say, tugging both his hands and making him stand. You put your hands to his cheeks. "They are not touching anything that is truly yours. They will be speaking and touching Lena, yes? I will not be kissing him. This I promise you. I have done this so many times, darling. I enjoy it most when I can get up close and personal. Let me enjoy this beyond a single victory for our people. Let me enjoy this as a criminal like you. I take so few of these jobs nowadays, let me fully immerse myself and everyone will reap the rewards. You'll have a happy girl and a successful mission. What more could a gangster want?" you give him a smile, moving your hands to around his back.

"Nobody touchin' you is fuckin' what." he grumbles and sighs.

"Alfie..." you scold.

"I know ya gonna fuckin' do it anyway. I'm just not happy 'bout it."

"My big stubborn bear." you coo and scratch his back. Do you want to go over the plan again before we leave?"

"Nah." he says shaking his head. "I'm ready when you are." he mutters.

"I'd say you are." you give him a sweet smile but his face doesn't soften. "What's with these muscles?" you asks, thumbs rubbing over his sides and up his chest. "Have you been exercising Alfie?" you say slightly distracted.

"Aye."

"Oh," you say impressed. "For this job?" you ask curiously, your brain telling you to touch your skin to his.

"I've been at it awhile. Ever since that went down with Niko. Not gonna let someone try 'n fight me for ya or some bollocks like 'at. Gonna make sure I can proper protect ya. Whether you fink you need it or not." his brow is hard and his voice is stern as he speaks of defending you.

"I'll have to properly observe the hard work later." you give him a little smirk before dragging your hands away from his body.

"Ya gonna feel it love, I'm gonna be fuckin' feral seein' someone look at ya the way 'is man's gonna and I'm gonna be takin' what's mine after."

"It's always yours." you give him a soft chuckle. "But you're always welcome to remind me."

"That part of it?" he asks with a nod of his chin.

"Hmmm?" you ask with a tilted head, turning back to him after grabbing your purse.

"This whole... ya bein' seductive thing. You want to come back to me and have me be all revved up and needin' to remind us both of who ya belong to? Do you WANT me to do that? Ya just antagonizin' me this way?"

"No, no, darling." you shake your head. "I just really enjoying seeing fear in a man's eyes before I kill him. That's all." you give him a smile that's so sweet it makes the words even more devilish.

"You talkin' like 'at not's helpin' matters any." he grunts.

You walk towards him with a low laugh. "Good." you answer back flatly. "My darkness does for you what your darkness does for me. How lucky we are to have found each other." you give him a brief kiss. "Ani ohevet otcha (I love you), Arioch."

"Ani ohev otach, Chanah." he responds and takes your hand, giving you a squeeze. "And to think you're about to pretend to an antisemite." he huffs out a laugh.

"I am a skilled actress, Ari." you give him a wink.

"You are skilled in many ways, Chanah. 'N all of 'em leadin' to bein' a pain in my arse." he laughs. ------------

You get out of your car, one of the younger non-orthodox boys drives you to the dance hall. You make your way across the darkening and damp street into the warmth and light of the building. Chandeliers hung in a row across the open dance floor which was scattered with people moving to the music. The sound emanated from the slightly raised stage where a band sat, lit up and in matching suits as they performed. Cloth covered tables covered the outer parts of the dance floor, a long bar to one side of the large room and a short set of steps leading up to the kitchens, offices and back hallways.

It was easy to see where you'd be taking the man to kill him as you made your rounds. A  hallway of doors with glass in them, boxy letters reading OFFICE on them with names in script underneath. The wooden hallways smelled thick of cigars and cologne, the smells of food from the kitchen wafting in from time to time as you sauntered about with a flute of champagne in your hand. After feeling out the hallways and backstage with no one giving you any trouble, you make your way back to the main floor to find the men you were searching for.

Alfie came separately from you, his dress an obvious statement as to who he was. He sees you walking slowly, deliberately to gain attention down the stairs. Your body language open and inviting. He would be allowing himself to drink in your appearance if he knew that every man who's attention you caught wasn't doing the same. You wore a red floor-length dress, arms bare, most of your back and a low cut front with the way it nipped in at your waist left little to wonder about your feminine form. With satin and lace, beaded and sequined your body shined as it moved, the bounce of your breasts distracting from it all. You had a light shawl around you, matching your outfit and Alfie found himself disgruntled at the fact that you were right about not needing a heavy coat for the dance hall. But then again, he'd never been in one and didn't expect the heat from the moving bodies to cause so much humidity in the air.

The room is loud, his eyes stay alert and hooded, a glass of wine he hasn't touched sits on the bar as he looks over the crowd, doing the same as you, identifying your targets. You can easily notice when the owners of the club, in their expensive three-piece suits that were not made for dancing start to watch Alfie. It gives them away as they whisper and the hierarchy becomes clear as some are told to notify the guards and some stay posted up against a booth in the corner. By the descriptions you were given, it was easy to pick out who was who and your target is acquired. You saunter about the corner of the club where they are, gaining attention, using your heavy accent more loudly than was necessary to bring their attention to it. It seemed to be working, and Alfie grumbled to himself as he watched the men's eyes watch you.

You pretend to just notice Alfie across the room, bouncing over to him and sliding next to him by the bar.

"At least your ability to gather the male gaze is going to good use." he says snarkily, as you speak in heavy pauses to assure the bartender is out of earshot, moving as needed when anyone would get near. He motions his hand to the wine on top of the bar. You take it and sip it, looking out over the floor.

"They've made it easy to notice them." you state, leaning closer as he gives you a kiss to the cheek. Making it clear you were at the least mates, but planting that seed that you were his mistress. As opposed to the idea as he was about you seducing the man, you were that opposed to the idea of having to be his mistress. You weren't looking forward to having to hear from people he was cheating on you, drawing gangsters out of the woodwork to try and steal you away. But it was all a set up that needed to be done. You didn't voice your concerns, as you were better at bottling up your grievances than he was.

"Certainly. Back corner where you were hovering, yeah?' he says, sliding his arm behind you as you stand side by side and look out into the crowd.

"Mmm Hmm." you nod. "The green vest is the man I'll be taking away." you state and Alfie appreciates the vague way you were discussing your plans. "The navy vest and grey suit is the second, and the all black is the third in line. Those are the three we are specifically supposed to... speak to." you say with a grin.

"I have to say I fuckin' hate this accent on you." he purses his lips and you chuckle into your wine glass.

"Good for you then, ja?" you laugh, putting your hand on his chest as if he'd said something funny. "The faster we do this the sooner you no longer have to hear it." you state with a smirk, taking another sip.

"And the boys they sent away. Two guards, I'm assumin'?"

"Ja." you answer and try not to laugh as he sighs at your German answer. "All in matching suits. Did you see?"

"I did. All the lads looked alike though."

"True. No surprise pale and blonde are popular here." you muse.

"Speakin' of I also very much prefer you with dark hair." he ways with raised brows and lowering his chin.

"Anything else of any importance you have to say, darling? Because none of that tone is helpful." you roll your head to look up at him.

He grunts and looks your way. "Once we sound the signal the room should clear. I'll be close enough to the second at least when you get out. So you try to find the third first, then we can get the little lads who're running errands for them. They'll probably be fightin' for 'em so while I'm hanging back, they'll be shootin' if they've got guns so you get the fuck behind somethin' and no bein' fuckin' brave."

"Yes, darling." you say moving in to kiss his cheek. "Love you, Ari. This isn't just about money." you whisper before leaning back and his arm wraps around you. "Remember that."

"I am." he nods, a swift smack to your bum to send you off to hide the genuine affection.

You look back and giggle and sway back to the floor, you dance a little, caught up in groups of women as you make your way through the crowd, you meet eyes with your main target and give him a smile before heading back to the toilets. You wait for just a moment, fixing your makeup and dress before exiting. He stands at the end of the hallway, and as you move slowly past him, you hear a throat clear.

"Excuse me, doll." he says in an English accent, you turn with a mysterious expression on your face, moving towards the sandy-haired man with the outstretched hand.

"Ja?" you say with your hands resting together in front of you.

"I've not seen you here before. I'm the owner. I prefer to know the names of woman as gorgeous as you when they come in." he gives a cocky nod and you move in closer.

"Are you always so complimentary with your patrons?" you grin.

"Only ones that look like you."

"Ah." you nod and give him a welcoming smile. "I am Lena." you say with an outstretched hand. He plants a kiss on top of your gloved hand.

"And you are not from here are you? I can't help but notice that charming accent."

"I am from Germany, as you can tell." you laugh and smile, swishing your hair.

"Whereabouts have you come from? You're awfully far from home." his voice lowers, and you feel the underlying predatory tone.

"Berlin." you answer simply.

"And what brings you here?" his eyes narrow.

"Rich men." you give a shrug and closed mouth smile.

"Ah." he laughs. "And an honest woman to go with this... body." his eyes rake you up and down and you put your hand on your hip to accentuate your shape.

"Brains too." you nod.

"If you are such a catch, might I ask why you are with that man I saw you by at the bar?"

"He has money." you answer nonchalantly.

"Plenty of men who aren't like him have money."

"Like him? You mean a gangster? I'm certain a mistress can make a good living for herself off of one. They always go for the wife if they want to threaten them. If they could catch that sneaky little Jew. She's rather..." you frown. "Difficult. I've heard."

He hears the way you say Jew and his eyes couldn't lit up any more noticeably. "You do not care that he is Jewish then?"

"We all make sacrifices don't we?" you shrug.

Why him then if you are not supportive of the Jews?” He asks with genuine interest.

“I have been in London and to the clubs of these powerful men and he took an interest. Their greed leads them to accumulate wealth. I thought I could benefit.”

“Why you?” He asks.

“I have been told his wife also has... large attributes.” You smirk. “Perhaps he is a fan. She is dark-haired though and don’t men usually go for a woman who is not like their wife in the ways they prefer? Get a younger better body and lose the nagging and guilt. Especially from their type.” You knew every stereotype and you ran with it. The man ate it up and you once again felt that disappointment that men used to fill you with at their ineptitude. Give them some tits and tell them what they wanted to hear and they were embarrassingly easy to manipulate and corner.

He stares at the large attributes you speak of. “What if he heard you say this?” He asks with narrowed eyes.

“I do not know how much he would care. We aren’t having some torrid affair. We fuck, he gives me money and jewels. It’s not that deep.” You shake your head.

“But he is a proud Jew.”

“Yes. But does not flaunt it around me. That is for his wife. Not me.” You answer flatly.

“Would you be interested in finding another man of power? Someone... superior?” He uses the langue you’ve read.

“Someone more like me? You may not be German like my ancestors and I but you seem to share a similar point of view.” You say slowly as you act like you’re trying to feel him out.

“It would seem as if we do.” He gives you a smile that sends a pain across your stomach but you nod and look at him thoughtfully just the same.

He moves in closer and speaks more quietly. “Would you like to discuss the separation of yourself from such a man? As it should be? Two people like us together instead?”

“I would.” You say as he takes your hand. “I’m sure we could have some very vigorous and deep, deep conversation together.” you blatantly flirt.

Alfie distracts himself by keeping an eye on the other men as you work. Keeping a straight face, pretending now to drink from a high ball glass as his eyes shift around the room, keeping an eye on the two men he was in pursuit of. He sees you move into the man's office, thankful to not see his Genevieve in your body language. You were a different person when you were working, or maybe just different around him now. Had you moved your hips so much when you were first out with him? You'd think he'd be able to recall such a thing. But he had lived in denial for so long. As the door shuts, he swallows hard, taking a deep breath and pretending not to notice it as he knows what's happening behind that door. He could so easily go in and shoot the man in the head himself before he got his hands on you, but then he wouldn't be acting very professional would he? And he was that. It was only that you were the one thing it seemed that made him want to act like a bloody idiot. So instead of fantasizing about murdering the man in the office, as he knew you would do it so well it would be classified as erotic to him, he channels it into a warm and familiar rage.

---- "Tell me schatz." you coo, pushing him into his large leather chair behind his desk and standing between his legs, keeping your hand on his chest. "Mr. Solomons is a rather large man." you smirk. "Do you think you can measure up?" you grin wickedly. "Do you think you can do for me what he does?"

"I can make you forget he ever existed, doll." he gives you a drunken smile, looking at your cleavage pressed together as you leaned over him.

"And what of money?" you ask, throwing one leg up to his side, pulling your dress up with your hands now. He watched the fabric inch higher and higher, exposing your thighs, you stop it short of your holster you wear high on your hip.

"What of it? I have more power and can get you anything you want, gorgeous." he says without making eye contact, hands moving down the sides of your breasts and resting on your waist.

"Irgendetwas? My goodness. Such promises you Englishmen make." you smile and let him pull you into his lap, taking his hands and putting them on your chest as you watch his eyes glaze over, he begins squeezing, showing you nothing that would lead you to believe he would, in fact, make you forget anyone's name. Well, perhaps his name seeing as he was pawing at you like a little boy seeing his first pair of tits. All horny and no tact. It was a small price to pay for the high you would be getting from him in a few moments. "Will you buy me a new dress when you ruin this one?" you laugh.

"I'll buy you a new house to put it in too."

"Oh yes, that is exactly what I want to hear." you purr, griding down on his lap, his nose twitching with a grunt. "What if there is something... more urgent that I want right now?" you whisper into his hear, leaning your chest in his face, rising and lowering your hips over him as you ran your palms over your body and his, keeping his eyes used to your hands moving so he wouldn't notice when you withdrew your dagger.

"Anything you want." he huffs out, licking his lips, head moving forward to get his mouth on your skin but you pull back and giggle.

"What if I want you?" you lick the shell of his ear and he shudders.

"You can have it." he groans, hands tight on your hips.

"Anything?" you grin, moving your hands to his chin, holding his face up to meet yours as you slide out your dagger.

"Anything." he nods, eyes dazed and lust filled, mouth slack and open.

"Mmmm." you give one nod, a confident one with a smile he doesn't recognize as threatening. "What if I want revenge?" you whisper, your accent is gone and your blade pressed to his throat. Your smile turns more sinister, your eyes dilating and your words hissed out through a tight jaw as your face looms so close to his your noses almost touch.

"Re-what?" his eyes blink fast and you see it. That look you had spoken of earlier. The thing that made you go into a life of contract murder. That look of a realization. The switching hands of power. The fear.

You moan and bite your lip looking down at him. "Revenge. For my people and what you and your kind are trying to do to us." you whisper and snake your head around his, playing with your food before you ate it, keeping the blade tight to his skin to keep him from yelling.

"Your people?" he stutters.

"My name is Chanah Lafitte. I've been sent to kill you," you answer coldly. "My men and I are waiting outside your club as we speak. You will be the first tonight. Then all my men will descend and kill all of yours. If you thought you hated us before, you will hate us more for what we will do to you in retaliation." you spit out.

"You can't kill all of us." he says defiantly as you press the blade into his throat, a quick light slice to scare him, make him think it was the final blow.

"And you can't kill all of us." your eyes are black, mouth salivating at the energy in the air, the feel of him stiff and terrified underneath you. You finish him for real this time. Holding your legs down tight, keeping him in his chair as the blood pours and spurts. You put the dagger Alfie gave you back into your holster, holding his face, blood running down your dress and hands as he fades. You speak to him in Hebrew. You tell him of your resilence, how they were not the first to try to kill you and they would not be the last and they would not succeed in wiping you out. The blood is warm and thick as it slows, he was gone, no longer a force only remnants running out into the river that had soaked you both.

You stand, admiring your work, feeling a jolt of energy, the rush of a kill and the promise of more in just moments. Knowing as you walked out you held the power to start a retaliation for something bigger than yourself. You stand with your hand on the doorknob and give him one last look back. Something was missing. You hum in thought, walking back over to him, drumming your nails on his desk.

"It should be known what you died for." you mutter, tilting your head and withdrawing your dagger again. -------- Alfie sees the door to the office opening and as soon as he registers it is your hand, he starts to move to a back hallway, making sure no one gets out that he wants to keep in. A hush falls over the room, the band slows and stops, a chord of broken notes puffed out as the room turns and looks at you, covered in blood and standing on the staircase that separated the dance floor from the higher levels that lead to the kitchen and offices. You move slowly, no one knowing what to expect from a woman covered in blood who looked so calm. You lean one arm against the large column at the side of the stairs. You see Alfie posted up and you catch the other two men you were supposed to take out nestled in a booth with girls under their arms. They'd waited for their boss, thinking he was going back for a quick fuck and would be coming back to spread his good luck but they got you instead.

You pull your favorite snubnose from your tits, a hiding place you preferred for concealing anything and shoot it into the ceiling in one swift, smooth movement. You move quickly, two shots off to the men in the booth, practically gift wrapped in their enclosed space fast. You can tell the innocent from the guilty in seconds. Women screaming and running to the exits, and you let them. Men protecting them as they usher them out with wild, wide eyes. The guilty pull their guns, the henchmen not sure of what to make of a woman behaving such a way.  As soon as the crowd flees like rats, your men rush in from the back behind you with Tommy guns.

"This can be over quickly. Or we can do this the hard way." you announce loudly, stalking over to where the booth of interest was on the level below you. Then men watching you, hands in their jackets and their dates no where in sight. "We were after only those two men. We have not been sent to retrieve anyone else. You boys can all go home tonight to your mum's, your wives and families if you choose to not fight. We only want these two. The choice is yours." you say, standing next to a large column for quick cover. "You can hold onto your loyalty, but it will only send you to your graves. So what will it be? Homes or graves?" you say, holding your gun out the to the crowd, some flee immediately and you let them go. A handful stays and holds their ground. "We have our answer, boys." you say, firing off a shot and then ducking behind a large column for cover.

The guns reign down bullets, their so loud your ears ring from standing so close, the shells bounce off the ground in front of you as you keep your head on a swivel, waiting for the bullets to run out. And eventually, they do. The smart ones had ran, so only the bold and reckless remained. So the third wash of blood begins for the night. You put your gun in the holster, Alfie's dagger in one hand, a brass knuckle handled one in your dominant one as you jump over the barrier and onto the dance floor to join in the fight. You see Alfie, with his double brass fists and hard brow, knocking down boys as he charges forward and keeps them from running. They'd made their choice and now he was there to let them know what a poor one it was. You make your way towards each other, wanting to keep one another close for protection. You sync without thought, you taking the high ground on the bar, kicking glass and breaking bottles as he uses stools across men's back to break them down to the floor. Someone grabs your ankle, knocking you down and dragging you behind the bar.

"GENNY!" you hear shouted, Alfie's cane landing within your reach as you use it to push the man off of you and choke him out, pressing it against his neck until it buckled. You pop back up, jumping over the bar as he turns for only a second to see that you're alright and it's just enough for the young lad to get a hit into Alfie's jaw and make him stumble.

"Fuckin' 'ell." he shouts, nostrils flared and feet planted firmly on the ground again. He charges, getting the man in a headlock and choking him. You move over to him, he shoves him towards you as he sees your hands are both weaponized again as you give him a swift set of kicks to the face, nasty cracks from your steel heels ricochet inside the man's head as everything goes dark, his face and neck cut and sliced as he bleeds onto the floor.

The ring you gifted Alfie continues to do damage as promised. You stand back to back and take on another wave of rebounded men. You get to fight together, keeping each other's backs. He aims for faces and you finishing them off as he makes them hit the ground. It's a dance that you'd never done so well with anyone else before. You read each other without trying, knew each other's weakness and strengths. It was an art piece to watch. You only wish you could've seen it unfold from the outside. As being a part of the art installation only gave you a limited view. But it made your blood surge and heart soar in a new way for him. He complimented you so well. And in every situation, you'd gotten in together thus far. You made music together and the only instruments were your bodies and weapons and you never wanted to stop performing. You watch him taunt, telling the last of the men left to get on with it as he motions for them to come closer with his fingers.

"Back's clear. We out?" the leader of the men Tommy sent shouts.

Your eyes find Alfie's and you share a nod, finding no one else standing.

"Yeah, lads. Get on." he shouts. You move back to retrieve his cane, knocking over the alcohol as you do so, Alfie finds his hat, placing it back as he reaches out for your hand. You toss a match into the back of the bar and watch it go up. He drags you out the side door and before you know it you're in the back seat of the car as it's speeding away down alleyway's just wide enough to hide and make a secret escape from the city. It had all gone according to plan.

You sit and breathe heavily. Both panting, him taking off his coat and hat, you shaking your hair out from your wig.

"Ya injured love?" he asks, reaching out and grabbing your wrist, pulling you closer and taking your cheek into his hand without permission. A pure dominant and protective, fluid movement that made your pulse race all over again.

"No." you whisper out breathily, gulping noisily. "Are you?"

"Nah." he grunts and shakes his head as you place your hands on his torso to check.

You share a few breaths, hands on each other before meeting eyes. They were dark and large, faces flushed and scratched.

"You were fuckin' brilliant out there, love." he huffs out.

"You were so bloody dominating I could barely keep my eyes on anything else." you admit, chest heaving forward, taking his face into your still sticky hands, letting your adrenaline and bloodlust fuel your actions.

"You fuckin' walkin' out of that office, drippin' in his blood. You are beyond compare when you are violent." he growls out from gritted teeth as you move to straddle his lap. He doesn't even hesitate, letting the dark part of his brain act for him, he pulls you to his lips. A biting and harsh kiss sets you both off. You groan and yank his head back by his hair, licking the sweat from his neck, your hand popping the buttons off his shirt as you yank it apart, starving to get your hands on him. You grind against him, finding him to be, no surprise, hard just as you were wet. His hands claw up your thighs past your weapons, lifting your skirt to your waist as he rips the crotch of your pants, hand reaching to free himself from the confines of his own.

"I fucking need you, Alfie. Fuck me. Right now." you pant with extended tongues in each other's mouths. Nothing graceful about how your bodies worked together now. Only pure lust and violence left to burn off.

It's fast and hard, his feet planted on the floor of the car, pumping into you as you hit down on him as hard and fast as you can. You lick at each other faces and necks and chests, leaving dark marks as you bite and suck hard, moaning as you take turns pulling the other's hair and moving their head as you want them. Hard slaps and pinches to your arse, to his shoulders and chest as you ride out the high together. You growl and gnash as you both come, diving back into a deep kiss that grounds you both.

"Sorry, mate." he finally gruffs out after clearing his throat to the driver.

"Didn't see a thing." the wise man answers even though you can both hear the laughter in his voice. You both keep kissing, hands much softer now, in each others hair and roaming with no destination across your bodies as you begin to laugh, it grew to break your kiss as your foreheads press together, leading to a well earned and exhausted sigh.

----------

Alfie sits in his office, reading the paper, a grin as he reads the report on the incident.

"You hear 'bout the men in Manchester?" he chuckles.

"In the paper? Yeah." he nods. He didn't know about the job, but he had assumed Alfie might have something to do with it even if he hadn't done it himself. "Never heard of anyone doin' that to anyone before." he shakes his head.

"Do what, mate?" Alfie asks.

"Finish the article." he says with a humorous smile before leaving the office.

"Well fuck me." Alfie whispers, a smirk on his face. "My fuckin' brilliant little bird. Fuckin' ruthless." he growls in excitement.

------

He walks through your bedroom door as you sit on your couch, braiding your hair as you'd just gotten out of the bath.

"Oh hell darling!" you chirp cheerfully. "You're here early!" you say with a big beautiful smile that warms him. But he certainly didn't need any warming right now. He was already red hot for you.

"Ya read the paper today?" he says in a deep tone. You can feel the power coming off him as he shuts the door and locks it behind him.

"No." you shake your head. "I slept in and didn't even eat breakfast, I haven't seen it." you voice now more cautious as you watch his eyes dark under a heavy brow, taking his hat off, then his jacket, his fingers beginning to work on his buttons.

"That man from Manchester. That was you that left him like that wunnit?" he grins, a smile that you know is full of pride blooms across his face, but it's intentions are dark and you feel a thrill run up your spine.

"Like what?" you smirk, your fingers loosening up the neck of your dressing gown to show him nothing was under it.

"You carved him up dinnit ya?" he nods slowly, taking the suspenders off his shoulders as he walks slowly towards you, pulling his shirt out of his trousers.

"Oh that?" you giggle and bite your lip.

"Yeah fuckin' that." he nods, taking his shirt off and throwing it to the side, kicking off his boots. "Ya carvin' Stars of David into Nazi's foreheads are ya love?"

"I am." you purr up at him, his hands now on the buttons of his trousers.

"My sweet little Chanah. Tsk tsk tsk." he shakes his head and growls as you untie your robe and he stands before you naked. "Brilliant work like 'at's gotta be rewarded dunnit?" he gives you a cocky nod and you blush.

You let your dressing gown fall off your shoulders, standing before him and practically drooling as he stood so confident, giving you a damning look of dominance but his eyes only held good news for you.  "If you will be doing the rewarding Ari... yes." you nod and give him a cheeky grin.

"I'm gonna be fuckin' praisin' this body for the fuckin' superb work 'is brain does, pet. I'm gonna start at that cunt of yours and eat me way to ya fuckin' brain so I can show ya how much I fuckin' love how it works." he growls and picks you up and you squeal with delight.

"Oh did you like it Ari dear?" you giggle. "I thought you might."

"Ya do it for me?" he asks, slapping your bum as he carried you to the bed.

"Might've." you shrug. "Might've done it for me as well." your voice dips lower and you hum contently as his hand paws away at your body.

"I would say what I'm gonna do to ya is all for you love, but we'd both know 'at was a lie. I fuckin' love doin' 'is to ya." he gruffs and bites your hip before tossing you onto the bed and pouncing at you as you giggle and squeal as he rewards your misbehavior.

@fangirlfreakingout @jaegeeeeer @cosettewinchester @lookuptheskyisfalling-blog @brianaisasongbird @cry5t4l-w4rri0r @iliveonchocolateandnetflix @jess2464 @hardygal69 @thegarrisonpublichouse @a-flock-of-angry-pigeons @pootle @negansdirtygirl22 @musingsby-night @wtf-is-wrong-with-this @shine-dont-shadow @inkinterrupted @vale0413 @lafayettes-baguettes-1 @sxlomons @aphnxrising @emerald-bijou @elaenom @give-jack-a-lightsaber @anrm1 @ultrablackwidower @tinastarkandco @arrowswithwifi   @marvelgirl7 @they-are-not-just-stories   @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes

[highroadsteve]

wingwoman — t.h.

pairing: tom holland x reader

warnings: none

requested thanks love!!

author’s note: requests are closed! this is the last requested i received before i closed them. hope you enjoy :)

masterlist

It seemed as if your life was on the best track it could be on. You worked so hard for years, and it was finally paying off. It was your time to shine; this movie was going to be the movie that will get you the success you wanted.

However, you did not expect the internet’s reaction.

The internet can be a wonderful place, but when you’re very much in the public’s eye, you get treated unfairly. At least it’s not something that hasn’t happened before. All celebrities have people who hate them, it’s just the truth.

Being a fan of Marvel since you were a child, it was obvious that you’d be so excited to be cast in one of their movies. Growing up with all those superheros, and watching every movie the minute it came out, it was your absolute dream to be in one. And that’s what had happened.

You were playing Gwen Stacy in the new Spiderman franchise, with Tom Holland as your co-star. This was the biggest role that you’ve booked so far; being a main character and the main love interest of Peter Parker. You were beyond excited, and you were happy to be portraying your own version of Gwen.

But, the moment the internet found out that Gwen Stacy was even going to exist in this version of the mcu, everything went chaos. Your face was released everywhere, and people were using it to their advantage to hate on you. They went from poking fun at your insecurities to hating on your acting from previous movies, and it took a toll on you.

People were angry, and most of them were angry that Zendaya was no longer going to play Peter���s love interest. This had created a spark of tension between your names.

Thousands of comments were flooding your instagram and twitter feed, people accusing you of sleeping with Tom, sleeping with directors, etc. Although there were mostly people who hated you for playing the role, the most common rumor was the apparent feud between you and Zendaya.

They said that the two of you hated each other because you’re going to ruin Tom and Zendaya’s friendship and you wanted Tom all for yourself. The rumors were spreading like wildfire, and you were starting to regret even taking the role.

But the rumors couldn’t be farther from the truth.

The second you met Zendaya, the two of you clicked so fast it surprised everyone. The two of you talk so comfortably around each other, it was hard to tell whether you just met or you met six years ago. Sharing the same sense of humor, it was common to find you both laughing so hard that there was no noise coming from your mouths and tears streaming down your faces. You had sleepovers almost all the time during filming because, hey, you were surrounded by so much testosterone on set, you just needed a break.

One day, both of you were sitting on the couch, flipping through channels and just talking about whatever came to mind.

“So, you still got that crush on Tom?” Zendaya asked you, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. You almost choked on your drink.

“How do you still remember that? I said it like three months ago. I’m a changed woman.”

“You said it like last week.”

“You got me there.” You answered, tilting your drink slightly at her. She rolled her eyes and playfully threw a pillow at you.

“Why don’t you ask him out?” Zendaya asked again, turning her body slightly so her attention is on you.

You puckered your lips and hummed, “Mmm, can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I’m lazy.”

Zendaya scoffed and kicked you slightly, almost letting you spill your drink, “Stop playing, I’m being serious.”

You put your drink down on the table next to you and looked at her with your eyebrows furrowed. “I am being serious. You know how much I can’t do that.”

Zendaya shook her head and drank from the cup she had in her hand, “I actually don’t know. Care to enlighten me?”

“Okay first of all, I’m afraid of rejection—“

“Everyone is.”

“Second, everyone is just going to hate me more. I’m not sure if I can take that.”

Your mind flashed back to all those times, crying in the early hours of the day, seeing a wave of new tweets talking about how much they don’t want a Gwen. It hurt you, and you know that the hate comes with being in the spotlight, but that doesn’t make it any better. Being criticized for being yourself hurt you.

“Since when do you care what other people think?” Zendaya asked, genuinely confused on what you’re talking about.

“Since everyone started to hate on me because I’m apparently taking Tom away from you.” You rolled your eyes, the tears ready to spill out because you were finally speaking about how you felt.

“I’m pretty sure they just hate the character. Gwen does take Peter from MJ.” Zendaya furrowed her eyebrows.

“I meant in real life, Z. People think I’m taking you away from Tom.” You emphasized.

“But we’re not even together.”

“Still getting hate for it.”

“No, you know what. Screw them. If you want to be with Tom, you go for it. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen, and if you get hate for it, I’ll personally tell people to fuck off.” Zendaya put her drink down with a slam, causing you to look at her in surprise.

“You’re going to be my wingwoman?”

“Hell yeah.”

...

So the mission began. Although you and Tom were already close, Zendaya made sure that your best qualities were implemented in Tom’s mind. When Zendaya and Tom were alone, Zendaya always transitioned to talking about you and how much you and Tom would look cute together.

Tom would always laugh it off, rolling his eyes and thinking Zendaya was just messing around. He liked you a lot, his crush on you was increasing, but he also had that fear of rejection.

Zendaya knew that. And she hated the two of you for being so scared because you were both missing out on a beautiful relationship. So she took matters into her own hand, and set up a date.

Z: want to go out?

Y/N: where?

Z: idk, anywhere

Y/N: k let me get ready

Z: Tom and Jacob are tagging along

Y/N: sounds good

You put your phone down and started getting ready. Not knowing where you were going, you went with a simple outfit: jeans, tshirt, jacket. After you were finished getting ready, you got a text from Tom.

Hey love, we’re outside

Responding with an okay and a smiley face, you grabbed your bag and basically ran out the door. You saw Tom’s car and walked over, opening the back door and getting in.

The day continued on and you were so grateful to have worn a jacket because it was pretty cold. The four of you were roaming around the city, the beautiful lights illuminating the equally beautiful characteristics. The moonlight was shining on the water, moving along with its waves. Cars were moving back and forth across the bridge, the sound of car horns everywhere.

“Hey y/n, bet you won’t ask that guy over there for a picture.” Tom nudged you with his elbow, motioning to a street performed dressed in a shiny costume, dancing along to a random song. You looked at Tom with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on your lips.

“How much?”

“10.”

“Deal.”

You went to go ask the performed for a picture and he happily obliged, giving a thumbs up for the picture as you took it. Returning to your group of friends, you smirked at Tom and stretched out your hand.

“My 10.”

He smiled and rolled his eyes, taking out his wallet.

The four of you decided to grab something to eat at a small restaurant you found on the corner of a street. The people in there were dressed in classy attire, and you thanked yourself for convicing yourself to not wear sweat pants.

“This city is gorgeous.” Jacob stated as the waiter left with their orders and their menus. The rest of the group agreed with excited voices.

You sat on your hands to keep them from being cold before speaking, “I can’t wait to film the scenes by the water. It’s going to look so pretty.”

“Oh yeah, remember that one time you cried because you got your shoes wet.” Tom teased you, and you stuck out your tongue at him.

“Shut up Holland, you know I have way more embarrassing stories about you.”

The night continued on and you all just had a swell time together, talking about anything and everything. Zendaya made sure to push you and Tom together as much as she could without making it obvious, until the night began to end.

She pulled Tom aside and whispered to him as you talked to Jacob about something, “do you have feelings for y/n?”

Tom gave her a confused look, his face turning pink and his tongue being tied in knots, “w-what, huh?”

Zendaya rolled her eyes, “do you, or not?”

“Did Jacob tell you?”

“Does it matter?”

Tom sighed and shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. His heart was beating fast when he looked at you. Your gorgeous smile and your bright eyes making it seem almost impossible to look that good in person. You were a walking masterpiece, and he felt you were too good for him.

“Yeah. I do.”

Zendaya smiled and patted his shoulder, returning to looking straight ahead.

“She likes you too.”

“Wait really?”

“Yeah, duh. Why do you think I keep trying to get you two to talk more?” Zendaya gave him a ‘duh’ look, making him realize what she was talking about.

All those times Zendaya left to go to the bathroom and returned like ten minutes later. All those times Zendaya ended up not showing up to plans because she had something else to do. All those times, they were all so you and Tom can become closer.

“You did that on purpose?”

“Obviously. You two don’t have the balls to do it yourselves.”

...

The night came to an end, and you were the first one to be dropped off. Tom parked the car in front of your apartment and he ran to the other side in hopes of opening the door before you. He failed and you giggled at his attempt at being a gentleman, letting him at least hold your hand as he walked you to your door.

Taking out your keys, you faced Tom and gave him a smile, “well, thanks for walking me to my door, Holland”.

“Anytime. I know how hard it is for you to walk three feet.” Tom teased and you rolled your eyes, reaching for a hug.

“What would I do without you?” Tom laughed at your response, and you gave him a smile. You opened the door and turned around to enter but was stopped when Tom grabbed your arm softly.

“Wait, y/n.”

You turned around and gave him a confused look, edging him to go on with what he was going to say. His mouth felt dry and he was extremely nervous, trying to find the right words to say without sounding like a creep.

“I have feelings for you.” Tom spat out, the blush on his face becoming a deeper shade when he saw your face. Your eyes widened and you stared at him, not knowing what to say either.

“You are one of my best friends, and I love being around you but I just...I don’t know y/n. I really like you and I want to be with you.” He whispered, his hand softly holding your own in the cold of the night. The blush on your cheeks made you feel grateful for the darkness of the night.

“I like you too.” You whispered back as he stepped forward, his breath basically fanning your face. The two of you locked eyes, one of you glancing at the other’s lips every two seconds.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered and you nodded. He closed the gap between you and wrapped his arm around your waist, his lips pressed against yours.

“I hate to interrupt but I need a fucking ride!” Zendaya yelled from the car, smirking at you and Tom. You both laughed and shook your heads.

Best wingwoman.

[iamkatehardy]

Chaos (Bane x Reader) - Chapter 6

Warnings: Swearing, Bane fluff

Author’s Notes: I’m sorry I took so long to update this 😥 I’m still trying to dive in the universe of this story again 😜 Hope you Enjoy it ❤

You can find the Previous Chapters in my masterlist , go check them out 😘 Your feedback is always appreciated, including criticism.

Tags: @markusstraya​

Chapter 6

As time passed by, you let your walls come down, and so did Bane. He allowed you to visit him in his private chambers in the sewers, where no one in their right mind would dare to go, and you got to know him better by observing his “man cave”,  and by his behavior when you were alone there, on in your penthouse.

Bane was far more than muscles and cruelty; you started to see that more clearly by the way he treated you. He wasn’t the typical sweet, but he had his own ways of being lovely and showing you he cared, when he wanted to.

You knew that having feelings for Bane was a terrible idea, but that never stopped you anyway. You couldn’t describe these feelings you had for him, even if you wanted to, but  you knew they were a dangerous mix of admiration, attachment, affection, attraction, care, engagement, and even if you didn’t want to admit it, there was a pinch of love. The more you tried to deny them, and the more you got to know Bane, the more those feelings grew.

There was some humanity left in you, but was there any humanity left in Bane? Could he understand how you felt, or see himself through your eyes? Probably not, you thought, so you decided to keep your secret to yourself. You had a mission, it was crucial to set your emotions aside, and focus on your role in Bane’s plans for Gotham.

Jonathan Crane often popped up in the sewers, to discuss business before making any decision, he knew exactly what would happen to him in case his actions displeased Bane. Bane often received him, but if he wasn’t fit to do so, you did. This was the case.

“Hello, miss Bane…” – He smirked, mocking you.

“You know, I do have a name, and that’s not it mate.” – You didn’t even bother looking at him, and put diamond rings on your fingers.

“I need to see Bane.”

“No shit, Sherlock…” – You smirked and did the same on the other hand. – “Look, he’s not available right now. So, you can either wait or tell me what you want and I deliver him the message.”

“I believe it is better if I talk to him in person…”

“Hmmm… We’ll see about that.” – You wrapped your hands in black cloth and then clenched your fists, throwing a punch and breaking a pile of bricks with a blow. – “This is really nice! I feel like I could even beat Bane’s ass now!” – You looked at the wraps in your hands and laughed.

“Can you?” – Heavy steps could be heard coming from behind you, you saw a shadow and turned. It was Bane.

“Well, no… But just because I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” – You smirked. – “You’ve got an unexpected visitor.” – You pointed to Crane.

“I’m seeing…. To what do I owe the pleasure, Doctor Crane?” – He crossed his arms.

“I think I found the last of Batman’s disciples.”

“I’m all ears.” – Bane opened his arms, waiting for answers.

“John Blake, some fucking detective who’s still out there, plotting against you…”

“Alright, and what do you suggest we do to him?” – Bane observed him, with narrowed eyes.

“I suggest we skip the whole Court thing. Seeing a disciple of Batman might give stupid ideas to some people.”

“Very well…” – Bane looked down, pondering.

“(Y/N).” – Crane called you.

“Let me guess… I fit somewhere in your plans.” – You clasped your hands and sucked your lower lip.

“I thought maybe you could fool him. You could lure him, in whichever way occurs you, and then finish him.”

“Hmm… So, let’s get some things clear here. First of all, how can ONE single guy represent a threat to our army? How can he be a threat when Gotham is completely immersed in chaos?”

“He could…”

You interrupted him.

“Second, I don’t fucking seduce or fool people…”

“Lure…” – He adjusted his glasses.

“Seduce, lure, whatever fancy word you chose to use, to describe what you want me to do. That’s not how I work, I’m no fucking bait.”

The plan of you seducing Blake didn’t please Bane, at all, but he wouldn’t say it out loud. Relief, this was what he felt when you denied to play along in Crane’s plan.

“Last but not least, I WON’T kill John Blake, YOU won’t kill John Blake , NO ONE will. You can give him a lesson if you want to, but you won’t kill him.  Honor is something I value, and he might be the last creature in Gotham who possesses such virtue. We all know how to be an orphan is, and how devastating it can be if you have no one to cling to. Blake is the only person who takes care of those children, the only one they can count on… And yes, I’m a fucking bitch, but not enough to be the one taking that away from those kids. And I’ll kill whoever does. Are we clear?” – You got closer and Jonathan swallowed hard, that was the only answer you needed. -  “Good.” – You turned on your heel and left that room.

“I think you better leave; we’ll decide what to do later.” – Bane told Crane.

Jonathan Crane left the sewers, and Bane searched for you. He knew Crane’s plan upset you.

“(Y/N)?” – He came  to his chambers, finding you sitting on his bed, and sitting beside you.

“I’m sorry; this was the only place where I knew I’d be alone.”

He rested his hand on your knee and you lifted your head, meeting his gaze.

“Do you have feelings for that John Blake? Is that why you don’t want to kill him?”

“WHAT? No, I don’t have feeling for John Blake , Bane, I don’t even fucking know him, just heard about him. I have feelings for…” – You sighed heavily, stopping yourself on time. – “Listen, I explained you both why, I meant that. You had a rough childhood too, you rescued Talia because you didn’t want her to have the same rough childhood you did, so I hope you understand my point here… It’s not about John Blake, it’s about the children he’s protecting.”

Bane looked down at you and pulled you closer to his chest.

“Let’s not think about that. I don’t want you to be sad, ok? I won’t do something you disapprove (Y/N).”

You held onto Bane’s arm and planted a kiss on it.

“Thanks for listening to me, when no one else does. It means a lot.” – You bit your lower lip and hid your face in his chest.

Bane viewed you as a strong woman, but even though you were both criminals, sometimes he couldn’t help but seeing you as the most fragile thing in his world, which lead him to feel an immense need of protecting you. He let his guards down around you; sometimes you could see the man behind the mask. Being with you, protecting you, his presence in your life…It wasn’t about having power over you, it was about love and a desperate need he had to make things right with you, hoping things between you would work.

“Do you want to the stay the night?” – He asked with a smile in his eyes, stroking your hair. Bane was getting used to your presence, to your smile, to your smell.

“I do.” – You turned your head lightly, just enough to be able to kiss his hand.

He tucked you in his bed, laying by your side, his elbow resting on the pillow, with his face on his hand, just watching you as you fell asleep. Bane didn’t sleep that night; he just drifted in his own thoughts. He knew the weight of his secrets, but what consequences would they have, if you found out about them?

You knew something was going on , because  Bane was acting weird; sometimes he was the sweetest, other days he was distant and seemed to lose his typical focus and control. You wouldn’t ask why, you’d just wait for him to get it off his chest if he wanted to.

In the next morning, when you woke up, Bane wasn’t there anymore. You got up and searched for him.

“Bane?”

You heard nothing but deafening silence. Maybe he was out, you thought, although he didn’t usually leave without you, or at least not without warning you. You kept searching, and found him exercising; he didn’t really need to, he just did it when he needed to unwind. This only confirmed the suspicion that something was off.

“I thought you had left the sewers already…” – You sat down, watching him.

“As you can see, I didn’t.” – He just kept doing an insane amount of push ups.

You realized he wasn’t in the mood for talking so you got up.

“Ok…” – You turned to leave.

He got up and you could hear his steps behind you.

“When this mission ends, what will that mean for us?” – His hand rested on your waist, and he gently turned you, making you face him.

“One of two things…” – You smiled and he looked at you expectantly. – “Success or death.”

“That’s not what I…” – You hear a sigh, muffled by his mask. – “I guess you’re right.”

“I always am…” – Your fingers brushed his forearm, in a gentle caress.

“But will we still be together?” – His eyes followed your fingers and then stared back into your eyes.

“Maybe in Blackgate, maybe in Arkham Asylum, maybe in the cemetery…” – You wrinkled your nose. – “But yes, we’ll be together. I’ll stand by you, as long as you want us to.”

Bane wasn’t sure if your answer made it easier or harder for him to make decisions. He was now torn between the two women of his life: he wanted to help Talia with her goal, but now he cared about you as well; he didn’t know if he wanted to be a part of that suicidal mission anymore, much less if it would cost your life, when you didn’t even know it would. He used to think his only purpose was destruction, but when you came into his life, he started to wonder if there could be more, if there could be a whole new life beside you.

Your moment was interrupted by the frenzy in the main part of the sewers. You could hear Bane’s men shouting and calling him, in the distance.

“Trouble in paradise…” – You rolled your eyes and walked with Bane, to check what was going on.

Heavily armed men were dragging a familiar figure, with green hair and heavy makeup, who laughed uncontrollably.

“Bane, we found him roaming around the sewers.”

“And what would you want from me, clown?” – Bane crossed his arms, clearly not satisfied, and you feared what he could do to Joker.

“Nothing.” – He plastered an evil, maniac smile on his face, liking his lips and then looked at you. – “But you, I would love to have a word with you!” – He released from the men’s grip. – “There’s no need for such hostility; we’re among friends, right?” – He shrugged and slid his hand on his greasy hair.

“What are you doing here?” – You looked at him, surprised he was there.

“Oh, my Queen of Hearts, I expected a warmer welcome… But I can explain, I went to your house, and you weren’t there, so I thought you’d be here, with your…” – He clasped his hands, with a dark expression, and looked down at them. – “Partner.” – He said this last word bitterly, almost venomously, and then looked back up.

“What do you want?” – You came closed.

“I would like to talk to you…” – His cold fingers traced your cheek, giving you chills, while he looked  at Bane and his men. – “Privately.”

“Hmm…”

“And with no guns on my face, please, that’s extremely uncomfortable.” – He rolled his eyes, licking his lips.

“There’s no way…” – Bane begun to talk, but you interrupted him.

“I got this.” – You dropped all the guns you had on you. – “Shall we?” – You gestured with your hand, showing Joker the way.

“See? That’s how I like it!” – He put a hand on your waist while walking with you, knowing it made Bane go crazy, but that he wouldn’t do anything, because of you.

“Are you mad? Bane has a short temper, he could fucking kill you.” – You told him, as you arrived a more secluded part of the sewers, where you could both talk without unwanted guests.

“No, I’m not mad. I’m just a different kind of sane (Y/N). And he won’t kill me, because maybe I’ll kill him first.”

You gave him a disapproving look.

“No, you won’t.”

“You’re right, I won’t. YOU will.” – There it was, that dangerous smile of who had something evil in mind.

“What? That’s it, you fucking lost what was left of your mind.”

“I didn’t, and soon you’ll understand me.” – He took a detonator out of his left pocket, moving it from one hand to another and chanting the word “Boom”.

“What’s that?” – You stuttered, because you feared how far his madness would go. He threw the detonator to you, and you caught it.

“I think you know what that is, but please, let me describe it in other words: That, my dear, is your chance to revenge from someone who has been playing you aaaaaaall along, deceiving you from the beginning.”

“Are you nuts?” – You frowned. – “Forget I asked, you are.”

“I know you don’t believe me, even though I’m telling the truth, but soon I’ll have proof.” – He circled you, liking his lips quickly. – “Blind trust is a weakness, sometimes. Somewhere along the way you forgot this valuable lesson, maybe because you let your feelings get in the way…”

“What, I have no fee…”

“Come on, you can try, but you can’t to lie to me (Y/N). But more important, don’t lie to yourself. Now, as I was saying, those feelings made you gullible enough to think you were his true partner.”

“I am!” – You clenched your fists.

“No, you’re not. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he’s loyal to someone else. He’s just playing you, you’re a mean to an end. I’m here just to open your eyes.”

“I don’t believe you. Why are you trying to turn me against him?” – You looked at him, on the brink of tears, feeling frustrated.

“I’m not. I’m trying to make you see the truth, which you deliberately chose to ignore.”

You sat down, not knowing what to believe anymore.

“Talia al Ghul, an... old friend of the big guy there.”

“I’ve heard about her…” – You swallowed hard, Joker’s story seemed more believable now.

“She’s in Gotham, I’ve been told. SHE’s his partner; she’s the one he’ll give his life for.”

“No, he would’ve told me.” – You barked.

“Oh my fool little girl… How would he get you into that suicidal mission of him, if he did? Oh, yes, in case you didn’t know, that bomb he threatens Gotham with, it’ll blow, no matter what. I bet he didn’t tell you that, did he? And guess who’s in charge… Not Bane. Talia uses Bane, Bane uses you… Like a cycle of fools.”

“That’s impossible.” – You closed your eyes, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t the truth, but the seed of doubt was already feeding your fears and worries, poisoning your soul.

“(Y/N), when the time comes, I will give you proof. You’ll be the one to push that button when I do, not me. You have more right to do it than I do. Push the button, and he, his tank, and his fucking lies will turn to ashes…” – He whispered the last part in your ear. – “ I’ll let you think about the subject, but you’ll  hear from me soon” – He turned and disappeared in the darkness.

You just sat there, putting the detonator on your pocket and  thinking about the remote possibility Joker was being honest with you, but it couldn’t be, you couldn’t bear such betrayal, not from Bane.

Sometimes you thought Bane could read your thoughts; anytime you were thinking about him, he just appeared.

“Has the clown left yet?” – He inspected the surroundings.

“Yes.” – You were looking at the floor, with saddened eyes and heart.

Bane sat by your side, turning his head, to face you.

“What’s wrong?” – He could read you too well.

“Nothing.” – You tried to lie.

“We both know he said or did something that upset you.” – He played with a lock of your hair.

“It doesn’t matter now. “ – You smiled faintly.

“I don’t like when he’s around you…” – Bane took your face between his hands, making you face him.

“He didn’t mean any harm, don’t worry, alright?” – Your hand involuntarily moved to caress his.

“Even so… I don’t like him or any other fucking idiot around you.” – He looked down, in deep thought.

“Why is that? I’m a big girl , I can take care of myself.” – You giggled, kissing his shoulder.

“Because you’re mine (Y/N), just mine, and I want to be the one to take care of you.” – His eyes darted back at you.

For a moment there was only silence. The doubt that was eating you from the inside was gone for a little while.

Your fingers intertwined on his. His eyes were different now, they were softer than ever, the portrayal of who he really was, and of how much he really cared about you. Your pensive look turned into a warm smile, the one he would kill or die for. There was something about his gaze you knew you could never find in someone else, as if in that moment your souls had connected. Could someone who made you feel like this be able to betray you?

[moonlight-at-dawn]

Glaive!Noct sent to protect Luna fic, scene 1, first draft

[GDoc Link]

Noctis double-checked his provision list against his packs, then checked again. He was ready to set out for his mission in the morning. Looking around his small room, he was grateful that he at least had quarters within the Citadel, so he didn't have to worry about leaving his apartment for an extended time. His father had cautioned against getting too involved in the Citadel, lest he accidentally stumble over a line set in blood and stone some two millenia ago. Now with this mission, he wondered if this were the sort of thing Regis had been worried about.

To be the guard of the Oracle's heir as she takes her first solo healing journey around the world. It was a big responsibility, and one that he couldn't believe had been entrusted to him. It wasn't a matter of his skill, but the politics. His ancestor had accidentally killed the first Oracle when trying to slay his own brother. His intent was a matter of debatable morality, given the Starscourge which still plagued the land, but the outcome was undeniable. Some thought that his family line should die out, but it had persisted stubbornly, and with the cautious support of the lineage that had taken over rule of Lucis in his family's stead.

It was that support that now had him on such a high profile mission. He shouldn't have made friends with the prince, that was the problem. But what was done was done, and he had to deal with it. He had to protect Lady Lunafreya no matter what, or he and his father may well be executed. That hadn't been said, of course, and perhaps he was being paranoid, but he had grown up in the slums because of what someone some 70 generations back had done, so he didn't find the fear irrational at all. Even if they weren't executed as part of a legal response to failure, the common people of all the world would surely hold them accountable.

"How many months of this stress will I have?" he muttered, glowering at his packs. A knock at his door made him jump, and he eyed the doorknob suspiciously, knowing his voice had been too low, but wondering if the person on the other side had heard his grumbling anyways. Shaking his head, he took the single step to open the door, and immediately put fist over heart, bowing, "Highness."

Prince Gladiolus snorted and gave him a friendly thump on the shoulder with a large and powerful hand. "What's the glum look for, Noct?" Noctis responded with a raised brow and a bemused expression. Laughing, Gladio strode past him and shut the door, and suddenly the room became crowded. It really wasn't meant for more than one person, especially not if the second person was as large as Gladio. His presence was as powerful as his body. "Look at it this way. You'll be spending months and months alone with a beautiful lady."

"Oh, yes," Noct responded with sarcasm, sitting on the corner of his bed so he could see Gladio on the one lone chair. "The world's least eligible bachelor traveling alone with the world's most beloved woman. I already see myself being threatened everywhere we go. How am I going to protect her when people hate me so much? I'll bring trouble to her!"

Gladio rolled his eyes and tossed something wrapped in cloth his way. "You give yourself too much credit. Most people don't know who the hell you are, and they don't give a shit. It's just 'cause you live in the capital that it's a problem. Getting out of the city will do you and that complex of yours some good."

Unfolding the cloth, Noct raised a brow at the pair of daggers inside. They were marked heavily with magic runes, and when he unsheathed them, he saw the material was of the type that daemons hated the most. He nodded in approval at them and looked up to Gladio. "A gift for the lady, or for me?"

"You. You never did get a decent set of daemon killing gear like I told you, did you?" The sheepish look was all the answer he needed. "Right. Well, take that. And, this," Gladio reached into his coat's inner pocket and drew out folded parchment.

The seal on it glowed with faint magic, and Noct looked it over. Official documents on such a mission weren't such a shock to hold, but still, it was his first time, and he couldn't help but to marvel at it. Of course, technically speaking, the magic involved was his own, from his family line, borrowed with the Ring and Crystal. It was the reason his family never left the capital, in spite of everything they faced. "What's this?"

"Open it up and read it."

That part was a surprise. He expected the orders to be something he had to hand to someone, like Lady Sylva. Not something for his own eyes. Opening it up, he browsed the words, and went pale when he finished. "I can't," he whispered.

"Well, you don't have to. But, shouldn't you be happy? Of all the Glaives, you're the only one who hasn't been allowed the magic, even though you're the only one who doesn't need to be connected to it."

"Yeah, but, that's because, it's different, when it's us," he stammered, looking up from the decree. "If I use magic, it'll be immediately obvious, who I am."

Gladio shook his head and stood up, slapping his friend's shoulder and then urging him towards the door. "Nonsense. People really don't know their lore that well. Now, c'mon. Ignis wants to see you before you leave."

"What about Prompto?"

"Gate duty, but he's your transport out tomorrow, so you'll get your goodbyes."

Noct nodded and grunted a soft understanding from his position a few respectful paces behind Gladio as they walked the halls. They didn't speak much when others were about. It wasn't unusual for his lineage to tag along behind the royalty, but the friendships happened behind doors. It didn't do for it to be public, even if everyone knew anyways. The charade was important. None of that made it easier to bear the scowls that focused on him the moment Gladio stepped past a bowing guard. Traditionally, the Caelums didn't join the glaives. They weren't explicitly barred from it however, and Noct had defied traditions when he had joined.

Gladio led him to Ignis' suite in the Citadel. Their friend was positioned to become Gladio's advisor upon his succession to the throne. The Scientias had served in the Citadel for a few hundred years now, and Ignis was the first to attain such a high position. He was incredibly intelligent and diligent, and Noctis couldn't understand how instead of advising Gladio against the friendship with Noct, he had instead taken to mothering Noct even more than he did his own prince. For all that Noct frequently complained about being held responsible for his ancestor's actions, he found it hard to believe when others actually agreed.

Not bothering to knock once they arrived at the right door, Gladio simply opened it up and let out the wonderful scents coming from the kitchen within. It seemed Ignis had prepared a going away dinner, and Noct wasn't about to complain about that, all his feelings of unworthiness vanishing immediately. Perhaps they should have been stronger then, but there was something in the overbearing way that Ignis cared for his friends that made it impossible to keep them up, at least in the moment. Gladio grinned as they stepped around the corner and into view of the kitchen and dining area.

"Damn Ig, you've outdone yourself," Gladio approved, picking up a bottle of beer and looking it over with a raised brow before popping off the cap with a summoned dagger instead of the tool set right on the counter for it. Ignis sighed with obvious exasperation at the show, but smiled at the compliment all the same.

Noct used the tool to open his, noting that it was one of the craft beers he preferred, rather than the simple cheap beer that the prince was more than happy to have. The jokes that it was obvious Noct was the one descended from a truly royal line because his tastes were so expensive hurt more than he let on, but they seemed absent that night, for which he was grateful. Peering over the counter, he tried to guess what Ignis was putting together, and realized there were far more things going on than he expected. He could at least determine the main course was an Insomnian style curry, the dark, sweet, and slightly spicy kind. Perhaps some of his tastes were rich, but when it came to food, he felt you just couldn't beat a large comfort meal of cheap cuts of meat and rice drenched in a flavorful sauce.

"Oh man, I'm starving," Noct's stomach rumbled as he spoke, and he looked ready to drool.

Gladio laughed and Ignis shooed him back to the table with a smug grin. "Well, you are here to eat, so it's a good thing you're hungry. Now go take a seat, this will be ready soon."

Noct let Gladio grab his shoulder and steer him to the table, and they took a seat, hesitating just a moment before pulling out their phones and loading up the game they all played together. "Hey Ignis," Noct called, thinking of something, "Y'think I'll have internet service on the other continent?"

"Doubtful. Perhaps in Gralea you would, but their technology is different from ours, so it may not be compatible."

"That's what I was afraid of," Noct grumbled, and Gladio laughed at the pout in his voice. "Guess I'll be giving Prompto my account while I'm gone. Don't let him do anything stupid."

"If you are worried he'll mess up your account, then perhaps you should give it to someone else."

Noct didn't reply, just frowned as he was taken more seriously than he had meant it. He knew his friend wouldn't do anything bad to his account, but he was sure to joke like he would. Sighing, he shook his head and looked over his phone at Gladio's smug expression. "What's that look for?"

Gladio turned his phone to display the new rare hero he had just drawn. Noct sat up and sputtered, indignant, and that just drew forth laughter. "Let me train her up then let's do a match. I want to see how she holds up."

"Fine," Noct muttered, pretending to be upset. He had wanted that hero, but he did have another one that would fight well against her, that Gladio didn't yet know he had pulled.

As they played, Ignis set out a tofu soup to start with, and Noct grinned at the sweet chili paste nearby, dumping perhaps a bit too much of it into his bowl before covering it with rice and mixing it all together.

“Save some room for the main dish.”

“Oh, I’ve got room,” Noct assured Gladio with a grin.

“Where do you fit it all?”

“It goes to my muscles.”

“What muscles?”

“The ones I used to kick your ass last week,” Noct smirked. Gladio was still smarting over that loss, and he grew sullen at the reminder.

Ignis interrupted the brotherly bickering, setting another dish in the center of the table, this one a plate of dumplings filled with pork and spicy, pickled cabbage. Noct’s stomach rumbled again, and he pushed his half finished soup aside to attack the dumplings. “I’m gonna miss the hell out of this. ...Oh god, the lady and I are going to be responsible for our own cooking half the time, won’t we? Ignis, any advice?”

“If her cooking skills are similar to your own, I suggest you invest in a stockpile of camp-ready meals.”

“Harsh,” Gladio laughed.

Noct pouted, knowing he wasn’t really that bad. “Igniiis,” he whined, looking to the man.

“I’m not sure what you want me to tell you,” was the reply. Ignis rejoined them, setting down the main dish and taking his own seat at last. “You know how to cook. You have a basic idea of how to compose a reasonably flavored meal. I’m not sure what kind of advice you want to hear.”

“I don’t know…,” Noct floundered. “But, well, you always manage to come up with meals from random ingredients, and we’ll probably travel light, so…?”

“So…?” Ignis asked, brow raised. Noct just stared at him, hopeful. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Ignis leaned back and adjusted his glasses as they slid down his nose. “Learn the local food you can forage, and you’ll be able to add more flavors to your stock provisions. That alone should help with variety. And hunting, for fresh meat.”

“And fishing,” Noct suddenly said, dreamy eyed.

Gladio burst out laughing, “You better not gross Lady Lunafreya out with your fishing! You stink when you’ve been at it too long.”

“She shouldn’t mind the extra food,” Noct huffed.

“I agree,” Ignis nodded, and he motioned towards a small dish that sat untouched near Noct. “Put that in your curry.”

“Ignis, it’s a vegetable.”

“Vegetables are good for you. Now, mix it in. Pickled radish is sweet, anyway. You’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” Noct grumbled, adding one small piece of the bright red vegetable strips to his curry.

“Make sure you don’t get the scurvy out there.”

“The scurvy?” Noct asked Gladio, snorting with laughter. “I’ll be fine. I passed all my health examinations, didn’t I?”

Ignis sighed heavily and shook his head, lamenting. “Only because of our painstaking efforts. Take better care of yourself, Noctis. No one will be looking out for you there.”

Noct bristled, but he fought back the impulse to snap back. Ignis was right, after all, and Noct’s habits did have a way of inspiring concern. Taking in a breath, he met Ignis’ eyes and nodded solemnly. “I will. I’ll be looking out for the lady, and we’ll be sharing meals, so that means looking after myself, right?”

“I suppose that will do,” Ignis agreed, returning the nod.

“You should probably get used to saying her name,” Gladio added, taking a swig of beer. “You can’t keep calling her ‘the lady.’”

Noct flushed slightly and glanced away. He knew that, but if Gladio ever found out about the little crush he’d harbored for the popular woman for years, he’d never hear the end of it. The prince meant well, and indeed he was one of Noct’s best friends and like a brother. Sometimes that ‘like a brother’ part could be a pain. “I’m not planning on insulting her.”

“I should hope not,” Gladio laughed. “You’ll be our representative, after all. You represent me, and Father, and all of Lucis when you’re with her. Do us proud.”

“No pressure,” Noct mumbled wryly.

“Oh, I do believe there is quite a lot of pressure. No one ever tried to pretend otherwise.” Ignis smiled even as he delivered that rather brutal blow. “But you can handle it, Noct. We give you a hard time because we want you to be your best. You’re good, you deserve this chance, and you will do us all proud.”

Noct flushed again, unused to the praise. His chest welled with warmth and pride though, even as he was embarrassed. Gladio nodded and chimed in, seeing the way Noct hung his head a bit and ducked away from the approval. “Ignis is right. I’m being too harsh. It’s the night before you head out, I shouldn’t be stressing you out more. You’ve got this, Noct. You’ve worked hard to prove this point, and I know you’ll be great out there.”

Having the royal approval, having Gladio speak honestly, it helped immensely. He picked up his chin with a hint of that Caelum pride and managed something of a smirk. “Thanks, guys. I won’t let you down.”

[kentuckywrites]

Imperium: Noctilum

Ego vocem tuam. (I hear your voice.)

Nobody was keen on fighting in the jungle continent. Both sides agreed that it was too beautiful to be tainted by the shadow of war. But it was too dangerous to be a safe haven, so he had to be careful, lest the wilderness claim him as a sacrifice.

He lost his breath in Prim’ala-dor’ias, but continued to run on sheer will alone until he reached the mouth of the jungle continent. He fell to his knees, his lungs screaming for air, his hands clutching the moist soil below. 

The voice returned.

“Well done. You will be a good fit for my plan.”

“Who are you?” He gasped, his own voice raspy and dry.

“I cannot consider myself an ally or an enemy in your war, but I can tell you I am a friend. I simply want this war to come to an end by any means necessary.”

“I want it...to end, too.” He admitted, “But I don’t...I don’t see how it can...anytime soon.”

“That is where I come in. I have a plan. You will become the key to ending this war, but first you must accept me.”

“How do I accept you if I don’t know who - or what - you are?”

The voice was silent. He took the moment to straighten his spine, observe his surroundings. The quiet chirps of avian creatures, the gentle splashes of water coming from a distant lake, the breeze passing through the many leaves in the flora...it was breathtaking, it was beautiful, and in that moment it was his.

“I am the ground you kneel upon.”

The voice suddenly returned, and his eyes widened. 

“I am the wind in the trees. I am every animal that has walked upon this ground, and every animal that has swam in the oceans, and has flown in the skies. I am the plants and insects, and I am the weather, the rain and storms and clouds.”

He stared out at the landscape, unable to believe his ears. “You...you are…”

“I am the planet you call home.”

He finally closed his eyes, letting the darkness embrace him.

“If you’re telling the truth...if you really are the planet...then show me how to end this war.”

“With pleasure.”

A spark ran through his brain and his body collapsed. His screams of pain were lost to the wind.

~

Pongo didn’t remember what happened the night before. L never mentioned it, because Pongo had enough on his plate for the day. He was assigned in the early morning to a tyrant mission in Noctilum, to which L asked if he could tag along. Pongo was excited to have the company, and never suspected L’s reason for joining. He never even asked why L kept a close eye on Pongo, on his Skell as the team flew through the crisp morning air. 

However, Mia did notice, and asked about it when the team had touched down near the Everwhelm Falls. She hopped out of her Skell - a Verus Cain, a gift from Pongo - and immediately made her way to L, nudging his elbow.

“Heya big blue, you’ve been making googly eyes at Pon since we got the mission briefing this morning!” She teased, “What’s up with that? Got something to confess?”

L shook his head, acting amused. “We are incapable of making our eyes ‘google’, but we admit, we have been intrigued by Pongo. He is our dear friend and we care for him very much. We do not see that as quite a confession, more of a factual statement.”

“I mean, yeah, you guys being pals is great, but I meant you were looking at him all like...lovey dovey.”

“Love akin to doves? Do you perhaps mean love akin to rock doves? Because we assure you, that love is much more complex and -”

“L.” Mira stopped him, raising both gloved hands with a smirk. “Buddy. Pal. I’m just asking if ya love Pongo. Y’know. Love him. As more than friends.”

L placed a careful finger to his chin. He hadn’t thought about his connection to Pongo in that way before, and he knew what Mia was suggesting. It would take a great deal of personal time to come to the conclusion she was making, time he didn’t have just yet. His main concern was front and center. He decided to tell Mia part of the truth.

“We are not interested in pursuing the topic of rock dove love at the present time. Our mind has been egged and scrambled as of late, so mayhaps in our thoughts we have inclined our gaze towards Pongo.”

“Deny it now, but when you two get together you owe me fifty credits,” Mia winked, “I won’t push it for now.” Noticing that Pongo was finally exiting his Skell, she called out, “Hey PonPon! Where’s our big baddy?”

As he placed his feet on the ground, their fourth teammate, Lin, also jumped out of her own Skell. L recalled how Pongo had originally invited Elma to join their mission. She was suddenly pulled away by an urgent Reclaimer meeting - L had heard rumors of a large White Whale database washing ashore at the northernmost tip of Cauldros. Lin had jumped in at the last minute to fill the gap. After all, three people couldn’t take on such a large tyrant on their own. A four member team was a favorable option.

Pongo pulled out his comm device, and as they approached him L saw that he had a detailed map on his screen. A red circle was blinking, moving slowly away from their location.

“North of here,” Pongo replied, “But before we go in with guns on fire, remember that we have limited data available on this tyrant. We know about those Ovis that seem to follow it, so we might have to take them out too. I would like to avoid it, if possible.”

“We doin’ this on foot or by Skell do ya think?” Mia asked. 

“By Skell, for sure. I can stay on the ground to provide decoy through Ghost Factory, but we are definitely going to need the heavier fire from your mega weapon, Lin, and your G-Buster, Mia.”

“We are in possession of a Phoenix,” L added, against his desire to stay near Pongo, “If it is desired we shall also move our efforts to the sky!”

“That would be fantastic, though please be careful when you use it, the flame is big enough to aggravate enemies we do not wish to fight,” Pongo told him, “So then, three Skells, four if we need the extra offensive power. If you all focus on Pyotr, and it focuses on you, then I should have no problem giving you those buffs from the ground.”

“It’s like attacking bees versus a tiny nat,” Lin stifled a giggle, her attitude quickly changing with a simple realization. “That puts you in a dangerous spot if it does prioritize you, Pongo, you sure you’ll be okay?”

Pongo nodded, switching the comm device in his hand out for both of his dual guns. His photon saber was also strapped to his belt, a weapon L knew he favored. “I have full tension points on both the guns and the saber, enough for Overdrive and a bunch of buffs straight off the bat. Despite this, please do not do anything reckless - this is still a big tyrant, one that has taken down teams in the past. Keep in touch over comms, everyone, and best of luck out there.”

Everyone nodded, a sign of respect and of mutual preparedness. In their parting ways, Lin shared a quick glance with L, and immediately he knew she’d seen the connection. Elma had truly taught Pongo well, and it showed in his leadership. It was hard to think that he was the same person that L had stumbled into that one fateful day on the Noctilum road, a timid and soft spoken rookie. 

And it was even harder to think that he was Mira’s new avatar.

With that thought weighing heavy on his shoulders, L turned away, began to head back to his Skell. But he saw Pongo pause, his guns still in both hands. He was looking down at them, a glazed look to his eyes, and L called back to him after Lin and Mia had gotten into their own Skells.

“What would be troubling your mind, Pongo?”

Pongo blinked away the thoughts, rolled his shoulders, and didn’t meet L’s gaze. “Nothing, nothing, just...Pyotr was recorded to be a peaceful tyrant just a few weeks ago. I just wonder what could have caused its demeanor to shift…”

In understanding, L nodded, and a breeze picked up suddenly. He smelled the faint hints of rain on the wind and knew a storm was going to pass soon. Even without that knowledge, L could feel within his gut that something was going to happen, something bigger than any of them could fathom. He wished away the bad feeling before entering his Skell once again and taking to the skies, where Lin and Mia were hovering.

The intercom whirred to life as L found Pongo’s Skell in vehicular mode, dashing across the grassland. “Alright, team, our target is straight ahead. Remember to focus attacks on Pyotr and not the Ovis - we want minimal damage to the surrounding area if possible.”

“Right on. We’ve got your back,” Lin confirmed, “If you can get those buffs in quick then we could probably G-Buster Pyotr on a focused point on his body to maximize damage.”

“We are aware of the back side being a weakened point,” L suggested, “Let us focus our ignited ferocity there first!”

As Lin and Mia gave their agreement to the plan, a shadow appeared over the horizon, a large hulking figure with long limbs and a compact face. Moss grew around its crevices, over its back, its forehead, its hands and feet. There was no doubt in his mind that this was Pyotr, the Shepherd. And there was no doubt that the two figures prancing underneath its feet were the two forewarned Ovis - Claire the Sheltered, Heidi the Lively. There was no way that they’d leave their shepherd to die, L knew at first glance. And with Pongo on the ground, there was a high chance he’d be the first to deal with them.

Something stirred within L. He had felt it before, dark and heavy.

Fear.

“L, NOW!”

When had Lin and Mia prepared their G-Busters?! No matter, L was quick to slam down on the corresponding arts button, and in quick succession, the three flying Skells drew their massive swords and slammed them down onto Pyotr’s backside. Unassuming and unprepared, Pyotr screamed, and a part of his back was sliced clean off. Pongo’s cheer was clear on the comm.

“YES! Keep hitting him where it counts - Ghost Factory!”

He was out of his Skell and on the ground, the familiar shadows echoing around him as he raised his guns out on both sides. L flew a full circle around Pyotr, looking for more weak spots as Lin drew his attention away. Maybe the knees should go next, he thought, maybe it would be worth it to knock him down and get him staggered, or better yet, toppled -

“Chief, the Ovis are riled up! Watch your back!” Mia shouted across the comm, and L noted that as he feared, both Claire and Heidi were charging Pongo. A swing and a miss from Pyotr’s massive fist diverted L’s attention before he could see whether Pongo heeded Mia’s warning. Everything moved faster than he could comprehend, and everything suddenly felt heavier, that feeling of fear consuming his body. His eyes widened when he made eye contact with Mia’s Skell, well above his own, and watched as Pyotr made another swing, this time directed at her. She wasn’t as lucky in avoiding it, taking the majority of the punch in her Skell’s right arm. She cursed over the intercom, but quickly assured them that she would be okay, it wasn’t enough to rip the arm off.

As the human saying went, she should have knocked her hand on a wooden surface.

Pyotr made another quick uppercut, nailing Mia’s Skell right in the cockpit. She was able to get one more curse over the intercom before she went radio silent, before L saw her smoking Skell fall from the sky. Lin cried out her name, and in that moment of prolonged distraction, Pyotr swung wildly at her Skell. L’s heart caught in his throat as he saw both Skells now toppling to the ground, smoking, damaged. 

“Lin, Mia, help me out! L, keep him distra - oW -”

Pongo’s orders were cut off. L knew why. The Ovis were becoming a problem, little ticks on his skin that he couldn’t shake. L decided in a moment of clarity that being a distraction would be a suicide attempt, that he should move his efforts to the ground and help them where he could. His Skell landed, and he jumped out before Pyotr could knock him out of the sky.

Instead, Pyotr decided to knock him right back into the sky. Ten feet away from his Skell, the enraged Sylooth kicked at his tiny body. The impact sent him flying towards Pongo, flying towards the Ovis and straight into the ground. L coughed up dirt - and, was that blood, that blue taint there? - but forced himself to stand up. His right arm ached and he grabbed it with his left, feeling something swelling underneath his sleeve. He looked up after feeling the damage. 

And there was Pongo, a tiny little thing, standing alone in front of Pyotr. His guns had lowered in defeat, his photon saber lying deactivated meters away. Two destroyed Skells had crash landed too far away, but he saw both Lin and Mia’s forms outside of them, each sporting their own collection of injuries. They were in no place to fight, none of them were. Pyotr roared as he realized he had won, Claire and Heidi joining with chirps of their own. Pongo’s form shook with fatigue and stress. He should have fallen, but something was keeping him upright. Pyotr noticed this, raising his fist, preparing to end what they had begun. 

Barely standing, L’s mouth opened, a silent scream. But Pongo spoke first.

And it was in a language L knew wasn’t human. 

He knew it wasn’t one the planet would translate. But L knew it, he knew what Pongo was saying, and in his awe he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt.

“Wait, please!”

Pyotr’s fist stopped in the air, unclenching as Pongo shouted. It blinked once, nearly as confused as Lin and Mia appeared to be. Unaware and unassuming, Pongo continued, “Please, spare my friends! We were only acting on orders!”

And finally, Pongo became confused, for L heard Pyotr respond in a deep rumble, a language only they could hear. 

THERE HAVE BEEN ATTEMPTS AGAINST US BEFORE. WE ONLY WISH FOR PEACE.

“...Then why have you been hurting us?”

YOU HAVE SCARED US INTO FIGHTING. THIS CONTINENT WAS ONCE A PLACE OF PEACE, A HAVEN FROM WAR. WE ONLY WISH TO COEXIST WITH THE LIFE AROUND US.

And with those words, L’s body became heavy, weighed down by millenia of memories, millenia of suffering and pain. Did Pongo know the weight of Pyotr’s plea? Had Mira granted him that knowledge? He simply fell to his knees, unable to raise his head and watch the encounter unfold. 

“That is our wish too, to be at peace with the life around us…”

THEN WHY HAVE YOU BEEN HURTING US?

There was a pause, and L managed to lift his head high enough to see Pongo, the tears falling down his tired face. “We...We never meant to hurt you. We were just trying to protect ourselves…”

AND WE, TOO, HAVE BEEN STRIVING TO PROTECT OURSELVES. YOU ARE FOREIGNERS TO THIS WORLD, AND WE HAVE FELT THREATENED BY YOUR EXPANSIONS, YOUR WARS.

“The Ganglion were the ones who -”

YOU ARE AS MUCH A PART OF THIS WAR AS THEY ARE. DO NOT PLACE BLAME FOR A TWO SIDED WAR ON ONE SIDE, FOR YOUR KIND CHOSE TO FIGHT BACK.

“We had no choice but to fight back! Peace was never an option with the Ganglion, if we did not fight back we would have all died!”

The hulking form of the Shepherd went quiet. Claire and Heidi bounded up to its feet, rubbing against the false tree bark skin. They dared not speak. L saw Pyotr’s chest rise and fall, heavy breathing, an eventual sigh that stirred the air around them.

IT SEEMS ALL CONFLICTS MUST BE RESOLVED WITH VIOLENCE. IT PAINS US, KNOWING THIS. 

Pongo stifled a sob. “It hurts me, too. We have lost so many innocents, just like I imagine you have. But...could we at least work towards peace now? Come to an understanding?”

There was no hesitation.

IT WOULD BRING US GREAT JOY TO SPEAK WITH YOU. BUT WE DO HAVE A QUESTION FOR YOU, BEFORE OUR NEGOTIATIONS START.

“Absolutely! What would you ask of me?”

YOU ARE NOT LIKE THE OTHER HUMANS. WHAT ARE YOU?

L’s eyes widened, forcing himself up into a kneeling position. Pongo hesitated - no, he didn’t know his true nature, and L expected him to answer as such. Even so, L knew what he had to do. After this was said and done, he’d pull Pongo aside, shed light on his darkness. Pongo had a right to his truth. 

“I am simply a kinder human than most, I would like to think.” Pongo eventually responded, “Now if I could ask this of you: might I tend to the wounds of my friends before this conversation? I want to make sure they are okay.”

OF COURSE. MY APOLOGIES FOR DESTROYING YOUR...AVIARY CONSTRUCTIONS.

Pongo quickly turned and made his way towards Lin and Mia, who drilled confused holes through his brain. L stayed put, trying to focus on his breathing - in, out, in, out. His team had almost been wiped out and they were about to sit down and have a chat with a Miran native - of course his nerves were about him. 

L almost didn’t acknowledge one of the Ovis stepping up to him. Only when she nudged his shoulder did he blink and await her prompt.

YOU ARE ONE OF THE F’LENLA A’SLEGN, AND YET THE HUMAN WHO SPOKE WITH US IS NOT. HOW IS HE ABLE TO SPEAK THE LANGUAGE OF MIRA?

L looked towards Pongo, making sure he was out of earshot before he responded.

“Our dearest friend, it is because he is not human at all.”