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bukkuobujiendo · 13 days ago

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[AU/verse] Boku no Hero Academia

Tsukishima's Quirk would be called ‘Rewrite’ and here are some points regarding it:

‘Rewrite’ -- it wasn’t really inherited from either of his parents, so it could be considered a mutation. His mother’s Quirk was called ‘Songbird’, and it let her influence (not change entirely, mind you) emotions/moods with her singing. His father’s Quirk ‘Stopwatch’ lets him entirely suspend his immediate surroundings momentarily - three minutes being the max time. Rewrite however, is a Quirk that allows Tsukishima to change the past of whatever he has touched, and can work via indirect touch as well; such as by imbuing his sword with the ability when he’s holding it, causing whatever the blade then makes contact with/cuts, to be affected.

Tsukishima can successfully use Rewrite on up to 20 people at a single time, but any more than that runs the risk of, not only mentally short-circuiting all targets, but himself as well. The ability works on organic and inorganic matter alike; basically, if he can touch it, he can affect it.

Dispelling Rewrite: It can be undone by either his own will, or him losing all contact (applying a certain amount of physical distance: meaning it would automatically dispel if his target boarded a plane and left the city, for example) to the target in a 42 hr period, in which case it is dispelled on its own.

Flaws/Limitations: When using Rewrite, Tsukishima gains access to, and knowledge of, the entirety of his victim’s memories/past and is able to alter them to varying degrees, with the easiest (most practiced) forms being ‘omission’ (obscuring specific details/moments from the target’s past) & ‘self-insertion’ - where he can add himself into the target’s past in whatever role he chooses; and, while doing more than that, might be achievable with more practice, it is currently beyond his skill set.

When using the ‘self-insertion’ aspect of his Quirk, it is vitally important that he be careful with the details of what he’s adding or altering, because if he rushes or does things sloppily, and the victim notices something is ‘off’ about the history he altered, it might lead to them having a mental breakdown, or in the case of too many things changed (or in direct contradiction to each other) a full descent into insanity from which their psyche cannot recover.

The mental strain & severity of what a target goes through when he uses his ability on them can vary depending on multiple factors, as well as the person’s individual idiosyncrasies of character: just as some people might be able to withstand/cope with stress better than others, for example.

He can’t use Rewrite on himself, at least not directly (example: he could use it on his clothes if they were torn, but not on his own body to ‘undo’ an injury). Nor can he change things in his own past, like making it so certain events never happened to him, etc.,

He can’t use it to bring back someone already dead; if they’re dying (but not dead yet) its possible he could use it to ‘send them back’ to a previous uninjured/healthier state by inserting a change in their past, like him having intercepted the attack that caused that injury, but once the person is already dead, there’s nothing he can do to change that anymore.

Unlike Eri’s Rewind, he can’t really affect or stop Quirks all together; the most he can affect them is indirectly, as in by setting a person back to a time when they had limited control of their Quirk or inexperience with it, by 'omitting' their progress, but nothing like making a Quirk disappear at birth or anything that convenient.

Rewrite only deals with matters in the past, meaning he can’t ‘change’ things to make them occur: A) in the future, or B) in the immediate present. He can change the past in a way that might affect the immediate present, but the function itself operates on the basis of altering/warping past events only.

The more elaborate the ‘rewrite’ in question is, the more time/energy he has to expend to achieve it successfully so that it doesn't overload both himself and the victim.

Once Rewrite has been put into action, he can continue to alter the individual’s past without further physical contact (direct proximity), regardless of their immediate vicinity (the time limit for it being automatically dispelled if the distance becomes too far is still is a factor here, however)

The knowledge and personal information he gleans of a person’s past via his Quirk stays with him even after he undoes his Quirk or its been dispelled.

When he changes the past of something/someone, he isn’t changing just their memory/perception of it, he’s literally changing the past they experienced by creating a temporary alternate timeline where the events he rewrote actually took place.

As for the nature of Tsukishima's role in the world of BNHA, I was thinking he would be something like former freelance, independent assassin for hire, that Giran eventually ended up recruiting for the LoV; Tsukishima's views, shaped by his own upbringing and experiences in being left to fend and survive for himself as a child, would align well with the LoV's own views on hero society and its failure to properly protect the people that need it most and the way it then tosses those it outcasts aside and treats them like the problem.

Tsukishima’s upbringing would remain largely the same as that of his canon verses, with the added insult of, not only having been ignored by just the adults around him who should have attempted to protect him when they noticed his abusive situation, but also witnessing the way heroes were revered and put on pedestals constantly in every day life, even while his own only continued to get worse. It would have felt like a mockery of his personal reality, to grow up with such a juxtaposition surrounding him. Tsukishima’s disdain for hero society would be rooted not just in personal trauma but in his observation of systemic hypocrisy: heroes who prioritize fame over justice, a society that allows people like him to constantly fall through the cracks, and a system that discards those who don’t fit its mold and holds them responsible for the depths of despair they succumb to.

These beliefs would naturally resonate with the League’s ideology, giving him a personal stake in their cause. Tsukishima’s presence in the world of BNHA would further emphasize the cracks in hero society and the weight of the past. His Quirk, "Rewrite," can be said to mirror his desire to control the narrative of his life, to undo the pain and helplessness of his childhood, while also acting as kind consequence of a corrupt and flawed system, societal failure, and the moral ambiguity of heroism and villainy because, ultimately, Tsukishima represents someone who has taken his trauma and used it to fuel his desire for control over his own fate.

#[AUs/verses]#[AU: BNHA]#[HCs]#eyyyyy look what i just finished up !!

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unabashedly-faulty · 4 days ago

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Since starting avatar the last air bender again my brain is now pin pinging how having DID is like being the avatar. Lmao.

Because things are so amplified due to the amount of feeling we feel with the nervous system we have it’s like when we feel angry it’s bigger, when we feel sad it’s daunting, when we are horny it’s intoxicatingly delicious, when we’re happy it’s like the sun shine from our chest. When we are passionate and advocating it’s like we are a dragon knocking down all stone obstacles and obliterating our path of justice with fiery words. I am connected to all of my past selves in the way he is in the avatar state. Yet I cannot talk to them when I want to just whoever shows up. When Kiyoshi came into him and fucked some fire benders up it was like when danger is near and my parts come out to use my body to keep me and my loved ones safe. Then there’s the “remember who you are” part that really had us in a chokehold. You are kind. You are generous. You are strong. He’s still a kid. Silly and playful. I kept telling my son the affirmations that kiyatsu told aang. He is enjoying this live action as much as I am. And that feels nice. This is one of our core shows. He did t even see the cartoon yet 😓.

Flashbacks would feel exactly like not being able to control his powers while in the avatar state. The part about he’s good at connecting and bringing people together really resonated with us. Due to the different versions of us from the different environments we were made in we have an ability to see the struggles of each demographic we were apart of. Listen to their stories. Feel their pain and empathize. See where in their environment disconnect was and try and help others outside myself identify the same. To bring them down to a human level. To treat others with more kindness and love. To be the change you want to see. I love when the things we enjoy become the conduit for source to speak to us. Someone made a book which became a show that truly speaks on what we all need to be doing as people on earth. Knowing adults won’t give a fuck and coming to the conclusion that the children will save the world. By being instilled with the prerogatives of kindness, community, activism, love, helping those who can’t help themselves. It’s really beautiful. If that message is something being shared then there’s a world of people that understand what I be saying. What in my isolation I drew to conclusion. I want to find those people. I want to be apart of the change I want to see. I think I’m doing it day by day. Affecting lives. Holding space for others. Becoming an art teacher might be something to look into later on. I enjoyed art class. Less pressure. Less stress. Just create. Not talk. Just be. Kids need more of that. This country wants to destabilize its children so it can manipulate them. That is why they continue to allow school shootings. When you traumatize the youth you interrupt their brain healthy development and create more adults without the ability to process healthily until they seek mental health treatment. These babies are getting ptsd and it’s fucked up.

#journaling

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echos-newlegs · 4 years ago

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omg wait i meant 49 or 3 with crosshair😳😳 sorry my love😔😔

Pictures and Promises

Lmao you’re all good! I decided to go with 49, because when I typed it I deadass thought of Crosshair 😳😳

Anywho, for context 49 was, “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” “Don’t tempt me.” You will be a new medic for the Bad Batch, and occasionally help on missions.

Warnings: Brieft mentions of sexual stuff, like one sentence. Rest is kissing in that scene.

“So you were suspended, and sent to work here?” You crossed your arms as Hunter questioned you. Eyebrows knitted closely together as the other three boys lurked in the room. Wrecker and Tech had warmed up to you, why couldn’t Hunter and Cross?

“No, well, it didn’t happen like that!” You snapped and Hunter approached you. The two of you basically standing toe to toe. You didn’t back down though. You attempted to size up with the other. Raising your posture and leaning more into his space. Hands falling to your sides, balled into fists. “Then what’s the story, y/n? Amuse us!” You sighed, letting your eyes fall shut for a second. Then relaxing yourself a bit. Opening them back up to see Hunter still in your space.

You weren’t even sure where to start. So you started with how it happened. “I was suspended as a medic, from the unit I was working with. I got in a disagreement with some of the people I was employed with. One thing led to another and It was either I help you guys or get tossed out and lose my ability to serve anyone.” You spoke. Hunter easing back. “I had a choice, I was able to look into you guys before I joined. So for stars sake get off my back, I’ve tried to be reasonable and help you all out, for Kriff a sake if it weren’t for me Wrecker would have lost his arm!” You exclaimed. Motioning to the brute that nodded, but stopped when Hunter shot him a look.

You sighed again, watching as Hunter eased back. “We’re just not used to people trying to help us.” Tech spoke up for him. Hunter raising a hand to rub his chin. “We have a mission to complete.” Hunter changed the subject. And off he went. The others following. That was one of the first times you caught Crosshair looking you over. Felt like he was undressing you with his eyes, really. You didn’t say anything though, because the moment you looked over to him. He looked up, caught your eyes for a second, then slid out of the room. Toothpick in between his lips as per usual.

——————————————————

The glances and stare downs from Cross was growing more frequent after your little show down with Hunter. Though the tension between you and the sergeant did seem to die down. He was even letting you help him with things now. You were making progress with him at least. But Cross.. He wouldn’t even say hello to you, and you were determined to change that.

The two of you sat in a room with Tech. Tech rambling on about something. You weren’t paying attention anymore. “So, is there anyway I could help with the next mission?” You asked Tech. Watching as he looked over to you with a confused glance. “Excuse me?” “I just wanna be out there. My old unit, they’d let me out on the field. I know how to use a blaster, you know.” You informed, and Tech fed on this newly given information. “You’d have to get the okay from Hunter, y/n.” He spoke and you nodded. Glancing over to Crosshair who was peaking up from the paper in his hand. Eyes darting back down. Chewing on your lip with a small sigh and a grin. “I might have to.”

And that you did. You had to prove to the boys you were good with a gun and combat, first— which you impressed every single one of them. Then Hunter gave you the okay to work on the field. Which was a win win for the both of you. It made your job easier, and you got out of the ship. Plus they got more help and medical attention was quicker.

So, now you stood behind an abandoned building. Blaster in hand. First aid kit in the bag on your back. Wearing some armor tech scavenged for you. Which was a chest plate, some shin and thigh guards and some protection for your arms. Nothing to cover your head though. Which was inconvenient, but you weren’t complaining. Reaching around the corner to aim and fire. Killing one, two, then three droids. You were on a streak, and mentally tallying it. Almost in a competition with yourself.

You retreated from behind the building when you heard a crack. Moving to another block right as part of it fell right where you were standing. You looked back to it. Chest heaving a bit. You were moving quicker than you could process. Gasping and shouting when someone tackled you. You kicked your legs. Hearing a groan from above you, and you finally got site of the helmet of the attacker. “Would you stop, you nearly got shot!” Crosshair snapped, now hovering above you. Rifle lying beside you both.

This was the most he’s said to you since well- ever. “Oh so he does speak? Thank you, but I can handle myself.” You snapped, and he rolled his eyes under his bucket. “I’ll remember that next time a bullet comes flying your way then.” He snarled and you glared back at him. Looking to the side, then back up to him. Whose eyes were still wandering your features. “Why don’t you take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You were growing agitated and flustered, and it was all you could think of to say.

Crosshair seemed to find it amusing though. Hearing the chuckle through his helmet. Which nearly sent shivers down your spine. He lent down, lifting the helmet just above his lips as he got closer to your ear. “Don’t tempt me, Cyare.” Then he rolled off you, grabbing his rifle and heading back off into the battle.

You laid there for a second, processing what in the hell just happened. Then sat back up. “What the stars was that..” you murmured to yourself. Carrying on with the fire fight happening.

—————————————————

Once back on the ship you were still thinking about what went on. Maybe you were dreaming it. You couldn’t be, could you?

You jumped when you felt a hand on your arm, someone leaning up behind you. Almost instinctively knowing who it was at the smell of the gun residue and the lanky fingers on your bicep. Plus, everyone but him had headed for the bunks. “About that picture,” you looked up and back, his face was so close to yours. You could feel his breath. “What about it?” You spoke softly. Watching as his eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes. “I have a better idea.. A kiss, maybe, for saving your ass.” You smiled, laughing a bit. Lips curling into a smirk and you cocked a brow. “What if I say no?” “I know you won’t.”

He was so full of himself, but he was right. Glancing down to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Just one, I’ll say it’s.. Doctors orders.” You added, which made him roll his eyes and snicker. Spinning you to face him. Pressing your back against the wall and pressing into you. Causing your body to nearly melt under his touch. “How about my orders?” He asked. Removing the toothpick from his mouth. Then resting one hand on your cheek, while the one with the toothpick rested beside your head. Against the wall.

He pressed a kiss to your lips that had you wanting more. It was slower than you expected it to be, but no where near soft. It was rough, and hard. Pressing his lips into yours like he wanted to savor your taste and your touch. Yet, like he was also trying to state that you had zero control. Slotting a leg between yours and pressing it to your lower region to cause you to gasp. His tongue slipping in and working wonders.

Your eyes were long shut. A small hum leaving your throat as you reached up to run your fingers through his hair, which made him groan. So you kept them in his hair, fingers rubbing against his scalp. Holding back a whine as he pulled away. His eyes still closed as he leant into your touch. He craved this sort of affection, and the moment he saw you, he knew he wanted it from you.

You were right though, a picture would have lasted longer. These kisses and make outs.. Barely lasted the both of you a day before you were finding somewhere private to intertwine with one another.

#crosshair x reader #bad batch x reader #star wars #star wars writing #the bad batch #the clone wars #writing

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ncssian · 4 years ago

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A Favor: Part Twelve

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: this took so long bc ive been reading chain of iron and in general agonizing over things i cant control instead of being productive 🥴 that being said, absolutely none of the events in this chapter were planned in my outline, but here we are with something new!

***

December brings more snow and bone chilling weather, to the point where Cassian has to drag Nesta out of bed, either physically or by phone call, to get her to therapy appointments on time.

She’s in the waiting room one freezing morning when, in her utter boredom, she musters up the nerve to turn to the girl sitting next to her. “What are you in here for?”

The girl blinks her large blue eyes, taking notice of Nesta for the first time. Nesta uses the opportunity to take in her freckle-painted face, a little wan but beautiful. Reddish brown hair hangs around her face and shoulders, creating a thick curtain from the rest of the world, and Nesta’s curiosity piques like she’s just found a shiny new toy.

It probably isn’t right to compare people to toys, but then the girl says, “This isn’t prison, you know.” Her voice is deep, almost sultry— completely at odds from her huddled-in posture and sickened expression. “I didn’t commit a crime to have to be here.”

Is she insulted by Nesta’s question, or is she poking a joke? Nesta decides to play it safe by murmuring, “Sorry, never mind.”

She starts to turn away when the girl says, “We’re trying a new type of trauma therapy today. I had to get here half an hour early because I couldn’t swallow my nerves.”

Nesta might lack many social skills, but she isn’t stupid enough to ask what kind of trauma the girl is being treated for. Instead, she nods casually as if she understands the struggle. “I’ve been coming here for weeks now and I’ve barely discussed shit. That’s mostly on me, but you know…” She actually doesn’t know where she’s going with her train of thought. “It sounds brave to do whatever you're doing,” she states finally. “I don’t think I’ll be able to open up that much about myself, ever.”

The girl gives Nesta a weird look that she immediately recognizes. Nesta uses it every time she doesn’t know how to respond to someone who takes her by surprise.

The door to Lana’s office clicks open, and the woman herself pokes her head out with a plain smile. “Ready, Nesta?”

Nesta bites down on her frown. She has a feeling today won’t be as easy as her past sessions.

She’s about to leave without another glance at the girl beside her when that low voice speaks up. “I’m Gwyn.”

Nesta looks back at her as she gets up from her chair, and says the first reply that comes to mind: “Good to know.”

***

Nesta is contemplative hours after she gets back from her therapy session, bundled up in her bed with a coloring book. The repetitive motion of filling in the mandala drawing lets her mind wander, picking up and dropping different thoughts like she’s inspecting stones.

She keeps her wrist light as she colors in with red. She finally said Tomas’s name in therapy today, though the action left a slimy feeling in Nesta’s stomach that lingers even now. She also spoke about her sisters, which somehow ended up leading to a discussion of her uterus.

“How have you been dealing with the endometriosis news?”

Nesta shrugged. “I’m getting treated, and my last period was more bearable than usual—”

“I mean mentally, how are you doing? With how your condition could affect your future?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Affect me how?”

“Have you never considered the impact it could have on your ability to bear children?”

“Not everything in life is about bearing children, you know.”

“We’re humans. It’s definitely something to consider.”

“Not for me. I’ve never wanted kids.” A mistruth at best. “I don’t care what endo does or doesn’t do to me on those grounds.”

In a way, Nesta told herself, the health risks were actually for the best. If she ever did, by some stupid loss of sanity, try to have children, then her body would act as a safety net from her decisions.

Lana only said, “You’ll never know how much you care or don’t care until you talk out your feelings.”

“Then I guess we’ll never know.”

Nesta lets the memory of that conversation drop like a stone on a shore. That’s not something she has to face for a good long while. No, right now she has to face her past.

Her sisters, and her ex, and even her father—

I wonder if I came off too strong with Gwyn today.

Her hand stops drawing, and she switches out her red marker for an orange one. This thought she doesn’t mind inspecting for a little longer: she and Gwyn ended up leaving their sessions at the same time, which meant they were forced into stilted conversation on the way down to the parking lot.

Not forced, Nesta self-corrects. She willingly initiated a conversation, and it didn’t go terribly. She wonders if making friends in therapy waiting rooms is a real thing.

Her phone vibrates beside her, breaking her hours-long mental bubble. Blinking dazedly, she answers the phone call.

“How are you?” is the first thing Cassian says to her. He makes sure to ask her that at least twice a day, like a gauging of her temperature. It makes Nesta wonder what she’s ever done in her life to call for such… attention to her well-being.

“I’m good,” she answers honestly. “My head’s a little loud right now, but I don’t mind it.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, I’d rather hear you talk.” She slumps back against her pillows, coloring book forgotten. “What’s up?”

“Ah...” Cassian sounds hesitant for the first time since their relationship started. “It’s just that I haven’t gotten my Christmas decorations up yet, and I was going to ask if you wanted to help.”

Nesta takes a moment to absorb his words. “It’s December fifth,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“You just seem like somebody who does their decorations the day after Thanksgiving.”

“Well, this year is a little different, with you moving out and being busy with school…” He pauses. “I was waiting to do it with you.”

When she doesn’t reply, Cassian adds, “I don’t even know if you care about Christmas. I know you and your family sort of ignored holidays. It’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“I’ll be over right now,” Nesta blurts.

Half an hour later, Cassian swings open his door with a smug grin on his face; a vast difference from the stammering hesitance he displayed over the phone earlier. Nesta’s own lips want to pull up into a smile just at the sight of him, but she holds back and narrows her eyes instead. “What’s got you so worked up?” she questions as she steps into the warmth of the cabin and out of the freezing cold.

“The way you ran over here as soon as I asked.” He looks her up and down, still amused. “You didn’t even bother to change, did you?”

It’s true: she’s in the same sweatpants and long sleeved tee she wore around home, and her socked feet are shoved into slippers.

“Get that smirk off your face.” Nesta flicks his nose before tossing her coat off. “If this is a competition about who’s got a bigger puppy-crush for whom, you already won when you delayed putting up your Christmas decorations for me.”

“Fair enough,” he grins. The words send an unexpected pang through Nesta, because it’s partly true, isn’t it? He cares more openly for her than she does for him.

She looks away in guilt, not knowing how to fix the imbalance. Her eyes land on the living room coffee table, where their half-finished jigsaw puzzle sits. It’s been stored under the couch for the past few weeks, forgotten by Nesta and Cassian alike as they moved on with their lives, but now it’s sitting out again.

“Have you been working on the puzzle without me?” She raises an inquisitive brow, about to feel— hurt.

“Never,” Cassian promises, saving her from that irrational hurt. “I just brought it out because I figured we should get to finishing it one day.”

She pads over to the table, picking up a puzzle piece and turning it over in her hand. “I don’t know if you remember, but we had a terrible time working on this,” she scoffs lightly.

“Oh, I remember,” he says, coming up behind her and stealing the piece from her grasp. “I think it’s safe to say those evenings were the worst fights we’ll ever have together.”

Nesta leans back against Cassian’s chest and hums. “It made us a stronger couple, don’t you think?” She turns her head up and back to meet Cassian’s eyes, finding that he’s already looking down at her.

Hypnotized, she leans into his warmth. She only manages to land the smallest kiss against his lips when his hand squeezes her ass cheek. “You’re here for a job, remember?” He taps her butt before pulling away, gesturing to the Christmas tree in the corner of the living area with his chin. It stands bare. “You do tinsel, I’ll do lights.”

Tinsel is harder to work with than Nesta remembers. She only manages to get half the tree done before plopping onto the Persian rug, exhausted and covered in silvery material. She doesn’t mind laying there while Cassian continues working; it’s her revenge for when he napped on her bed while she moved in.

“You know the stair railings still need to be wreathed, Archeron.”

Nesta declines to respond, tilting her head on the carpet for a better view of her boyfriend’s ass instead. “All this decorating,” she starts. “Is it just for you?”

Cassian turns to her, surprised. “Well…”

She pushes up onto her elbows, catching her mistake. “Are we doing Christmas together? Or are your friends coming over?” She hasn’t bothered to celebrate Christmas in years now, and she doesn’t care much what Cassian’s plans are either way.

“I was hoping for both?” He sounds hesitant. “Christmas Eve is all the way over in Velaris, but I was thinking we could go together, open some presents, and come back and spend Christmas here.”

Nesta purses her lips. She doesn’t actually hate that plan. Both Feyre and Elain have been pestering her with the annual texts asking her to visit for Christmas, and for once, she feels like responding to them. The invitation is more of a formality than an actual request at this point; she doubts her sisters want her there after years of rejections, but… what’s the harm?

“Is that a yes?” Cassian asks at her unreadable face.

“Yes,” she states unflinchingly. She refuses to overthink the possible consequences of this choice and chooses to focus on the broad grin overtaking Cassian’s face. “Really?” he says.

“But there has to be rules.” Nesta sits up fully now. “No one can know we’re together, no matter how much you trust or love them.”

“We already agreed to that, baby.”

Yes, but Nesta knows the secret weighs on him heavier than he shows— even if he agrees with her that it's for the best. “It’ll be different when we’re together in the same room as everyone else,” she says. Cassian wears his beating heart on his sleeve, and she doesn’t think he’s ever had to hide it before.

“You’ll also be different,” she adds. “It’s a huge change of pace.”

Cassian drops the remaining strand of lights and smiles confusedly down at her. “What do you mean, I’ll be different?” He sits across from her, before the blazing fire.

“You know how you get around your friends.” Nesta shrugs without a thought. “Like your personality readjusts to mirror the people around you. I used to find it a mix of sad and adorable, like a neglected puppy desperate for love, but now I— okay, I still feel the same way.” She waves a hand in a dismissive gesture.

By the look on Cassian’s face, he does not find her words so easily dismissed.

Coldness curdles in the pit of Nesta’s stomach, the realization that she’s said something wrong. She can’t fix it until she knows where she fucked up, though.

“Is that what you think of me?” Cassian finally says lowly. His usually expressive mouth is drawn tight and narrow.

“Um… What would you rather I think of you?”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “Seriously, Nesta?”

Nesta’s back stiffens, refusing to cower. “I only described what I’ve observed in the past.”

“And what you observed was a desperate puppy?” His voice is cold in a way she’s never heard before.

Okay, she’s starting to see how that might be offensive. She forges onward, “Tell me what you think about yourself in the presence of your family, then.” It’s a private victory that she says family instead of clown circus. But she’s not trying to turn this into a fight.

Cassian is silent, but his stare continues to rage at her.

“Tell me,” Nesta repeats.

His hands curl into fists on the rug. “I think I’m empathetic, easy to talk to, and easier to be around. Is it a problem if I’m likable?” Unlike you are the unsaid words.

Nesta inspects the space between them like it’s a chessboard. “And what part of yourself are you giving up to be so likable, Cassian?” she says quietly.

“Nothing.”

Nesta disagrees, if only because she’s been watching him out of the corner of her eye for years. “I think you base your personality off of those you love, and you lose a little bit of your true self every time you put others’ needs before your own.”

She shuts her mouth, not having expected such honesty to come out of it. Cassian is taken aback, too, she can tell.

“And I guess it’s natural that you’d see all of that as a bad thing, considering your history of being closed off and self-serving to a fault,” he fires back with the flatness Nesta utilizes so often.

One for one. Fair enough. “We’re both right then,” Nesta says. “You work for your best friend because you have no ambition beyond serving your family, and I have no such family because I can’t bring myself to care about those things. Are we even now?”

Cassian furrows his brows, those defensive walls melting away as he realizes she’s completely serious. “What? No, Nes—” He shakes his head. “Okay, so maybe you’re right about me. Maybe I agree with you a little bit, but… If we see flaws in each other, then we should be working to overcome them instead of weaponizing them.”

Now Nesta’s the one shaking her head, quickly lifting a hand to stop him. “Relax there, sweetheart. I have no expectations from you or myself to go on some self-improvement journey now that we’re together. Talking about my feelings with a professional every week is hard enough.” Yes, agreeing to go to Feyre’s Christmas party is improvement. Slow, barely there improvement, but enough to wear her out for the rest of the month. For Nesta to fully let people into her life, to treat them as lovingly as she treats Cassian— that’s a long way away. She can’t envision it, doesn’t even know if she wants it.

Cassian must understand some of what she’s thinking, because he nods and backs off. He gets back up and returns to stringing lights, tossing a handful of tinsel at Nesta as if to say Get back to work.

She stands and obeys, thinking their not-argument is officially over when Cassian says, “You’re wrong about one thing.”

She looks up from where she threads tinsel through fir leaves. He doesn’t take his eyes off his work as he says, “You do have a family. And deep, deep down, you care about them as much as I care about mine.”

***

Nesta catches Emerie’s eye as the dark-haired beauty walks into the pub. Raising a hand and waving, she gestures Emerie over to the booth she’s sitting in.

“Look what I found,” Nesta says with a hint of pride, pointing to the redhead sitting beside her. “A third girl for girl’s night!”

“I was kidnapped,” Gwyn speaks up. “Jumped on the way to my car.” She’s out of her usual hoodie and in a tight-fitting blouse, looking stunning even while seeming out of place in the dim bar.

“She came here consensually,” Nesta retorts. “Emerie, this is Gwyn. We met at therapy.”

Gwyn offers Emerie an awkward smile.

Emerie slides into the booth across from them with raised brows. She looks between Nesta and the new girl and back again. “You invited her here? All by yourself?” she asks.

Nesta nods firmly.

Emerie breaks into a wide grin and reaches over the table to grab Nesta’s hand. “I’m so proud of you!” If Emerie were anyone else, she’d be squealing in excitement, but Emerie does not squeal.

Nesta waves off her friend’s praise, though a part of her wants to beam at it, too.

Gwyn glances between the two of them with slight amusement. “I mean, it’s not that impressive,” she says. “She came on a bit too strong, probably a five out of ten on the asking-someone-out scale.”

“‘A bit too strong’ is all you’re gonna get with Nesta,” Emerie says, lifting her hand to order drinks. “She’s all-or-nothing, and most people would pray she doesn’t give them her nothing.”

Nesta doesn’t know if that’s a compliment, but she supposes there are worse things that could be said about her.

“So, Gwyn, what do you do?” Emerie leans forward. “All our friends are law students and it’s starting to get boring.”

Gwyn goes off about her librarian job as Nesta orders their drinks, and Emerie rests her chin in her hand and listens eagerly. Christmas music plays softly in the background and snow flurries gently outside. Nesta thinks she can’t be doing that bad in life, if she’s managed to carve out this little slice of happiness for herself.

***

a/n: i promise shit actually happens next chapter! we're getting christmas with nessian and the ic in the same room for the first time

taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #ncssianwrites #a favor #nessian fic

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heroloverangel · 4 years ago

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All Yours, Forever

You may be the only person on the planet who can have All Might at your mercy like this.

Your quirk’s never been worth bragging about; the ability to generate heat from your hands isn’t exactly hero-quality or impressive. You can’t find many ways to use it most of the time, outside of simply keeping your coffee warm. You’d might as well be quirkless, for all the use you get out of it. Still though, if the greatest hero in the world finds value in your power, you’re happy to have it.

It’s a rare night at home together with Toshinori and you’re spending it indulging him like he deserves. You’ve got the hero stripped to his underwear and laying on his stomach beneath you. You straddle his thick waist, your nightgown bunched up around your thighs as you stretch over him to run your warm palms over the hard muscles of his shoulders. The heels of your hands press firmly into his broad back and you’re rewarded with a satisfied grunt as you massage the tension from within his powerful from.

“Harder, please.” You bite your lip, doing your best to ignore the twinge of interest rising at the rough tone in his voice. Readjusting your position, you put more of your weight onto your arms and knead deeper into him. “That’s so good, you really are the best.” You’re thankful that he’s looking the other way, you’d almost be embarrassed by how pleased the expression is on your face. It takes you nearly an hour to work the knots out of his back and your arms are in desperate need of a break, but every minute is worth it to repay your hero for everything he does.

Gradually you make your way down to his waist, soothing his body as you go and then give yourself a second to stretch. “Alright, turn over so I can get your front.” You move to slip off of him, but even in his relaxed state he’s still much faster than you. In the blink of an eye you find yourself laying in his place, All Might hovering over you with affection in those intense eyes.

You swallow as you stare up at him, his trademark smile looking a little more mischievous from his angle above you. “I think you’ve earned a little pampering of your own, sweetheart.” When he leans down to kiss you, it takes your breath away. You part your lips for him and he takes your offer, sliding his wide tongue into your mouth and relishing how small and delicate you are in comparison.

“Toshi,” you groan, separating for air and feeling far too warm in your thin nightgown. He pushes the skirt higher to your waist to expose your panties. You don’t normally wear something so enticing; he’s not usually home to appreciate it, but tonight you’re going all out to show your love. One large finger traces over the lace covering you and your clit is already twitching at the touch of him through the thin fabric. Even when he’s being gentle, he’s so strong it’s impossible not to react to every movement he makes. You spread your legs wider for him, an open invitation to explore more of you and he quickly has you squirming at his touch. “You always take good care of me,” you say, every word a breathless pant.

You reach up for him and bring his lips down to meet yours, your fingers twisting in that familiar golden hair. “Don’t keep a girl waiting,” you whine. He laughs at your enthusiasm and carefully dips his fingers into your waistband to drag your underwear down your legs. You definitely enjoyed having your hands all over him, but you’ll need a lot more help before you’re wet enough to take him.

“Don’t worry, I could never deny a woman in need,” your hero teases back. You practically purr as his warm hands run over you, trailing up your bare thighs as your stomach flips in anticipation of their destination. “You are so lovely,” he breathes in your ear, rubbing his finger along your slit to circle your clit. Immediately you’re gasping and your thighs flex in an effort not to clamp down around him. Toshinori chuckles, his free hand holds your hip to keep you in place as he strokes against the folds of your cunt. You lay back into the soft pillows beneath you, eyes closing to focus on the building tension with every light brush over your sensitive body.

The two of you don’t get to spend as much time together as you’d like, but he’s still quite familiar with you and can read you like a book. “Toshi, I wa-” You don’t finish the sentence; he’s already giving you exactly what you want before you can ask for it. The steady pressure on your clit withdraws, only to be replaced by the stretch of that thick finger slowly slip inside of you. You’re instantly moving, hips rutting up against his grasp to take more of it. “Fuck, you’re so big, Toshi…” With your eyes clamped shut you can’t see how he licks his lips at your words, but you can tell he’s encouraged when the finger slides deeper into you. Your hands dig into the sheets as he finally starts to move, gradually working you open to handle more of him.

You’re far too excited for his attention, too receptive for your own good. By the time he adds a second finger into your pussy, you can’t stop yourself from crying out. “It’s alright, love.” It’s thrilling to hear it, the great All Might’s voice strained with arousal and only for you. “I’m here, I’ve got you.” He’s gentle as his fingers slide in and out of your tiny body, coaxing the sweetest moans and gasps from your throat that leave his cock throbbing in his increasingly uncomfortable boxers. He abandons the task of keeping you pinned down and grabs for your nightgown, pushing it further up over your chest and you manage to wiggle out of it. “Beautiful,” he whispers, but you’re too distracted to notice.

He reaches for your breasts, cupping one in a rough palm and teasing your nipple to full hardness. “Toshiii, I need more. Please?” You look up at him with pure hunger and in that moment, he would give you the world if you asked. He can feel how wet you’ve gotten from his fingers, but still takes excessive care when he works a third digit in with the others. You let out a whimper at the stretch of it, pushing yourself against his big hand for more stimulation. “Make me come,” you plead, and he’s powerless to deny you. He flexes his fingers, spreads them apart to stretch your dripping pussy wider. His calloused thumb rubs firmly over your clit and he can feel how close you are, your inner muscles steadily squeezing around his fingers are proof enough. He twists his wrist to drag them over your g-spot and your thighs automatically slam shut to hold him in place.

Toshinori stares at you like he’s hypnotized as he watches your orgasm play out. You always look so gorgeous like this, when you’re coming completely undone and writhing from his affection. Your back lifts into a perfect arch, the muscles in your lower body going taut as you mindlessly grind yourself against his hand on pure instinct. “I love you,” he blurts out, the man’s brain rapidly losing control of his thoughts.

You’re winded, but flash him a wide smile of your own. “L-love you too.” You grab for his broad shoulders and he gets your point. Without another word he’s shifting his position, moving to cage your fragile, precious body under his much larger frame. His kiss would leave you speechless if you were still able to string more than three words together. You’re yanking at his boxers, too wound up to wait any longer for him. You mentally scold yourself for skipping yoga again, your poor legs splayed as far as you can to make enough room for his wide hips.

Everything about All Might is impressive, including the thick cock throbbing against your hand as you free it from its fabric prison. “So fucking big,” you coo, trailing your finger down along his shaft and cherishing the deep rumble in his chest. “I can’t believe you’re all mine.”

“All yours, forever.” He pulls your hips forward to line himself up with your pretty little pussy. “You’re ready?”

You nod, gaze fixed between your bodies at the dick waiting to split you apart. “Yeah. Come here, I want you.” His smile is so warm as he braces his strong arms against the mattress and carefully begins to enter you. He starts slow for your benefit, and you can feel every vein and ridge of his cock rubbing inside you, filling you to your limit inch by inch. You grab for his broad shoulders for support and he groans at your touch, withdrawing slightly before sliding another inch deeper on his next thrust. You’re not sure how long this lasts, he continues his careful back-and-forth until after several minutes, he’s fully pressed inside you. He waits for you to adjust, watching your face for any sign of discomfort before he’ll let anything continue. “I’m okay,” you confirm after a few deep breaths and buck your hips up against him. “You know I’m not gonna break.”

You’re lucky that Toshinori has such excellent control of his strength, or you’d be bedridden for weeks. His pace increases gradually, allowing you to get used to his rhythm before he pushes you for more. “You’re doing so well,” he murmurs and you clench around him at the compliment. You squeeze his shoulders and he moves faster, drawing another needy whine out of you. “I’m so lucky to have you.” You shouldn’t get so flustered when he talks to you like that, but every word is just so sincere and heartfelt, you can’t help but melt a little. There’s no hiding your reaction to his words, but you bring him for another kiss as a distraction anyway.

One strong arm snakes under your body and angles you upward to meet the steady drive of his hips. Your cunt grips tighter on his pulsing dick, your voice sounding so much shakier than normal. “Mmm, that...god, there. You make me feel so good. Toshi, my perfect hero-” You’re always amazed that your own mindless praise affects him just as much, that you can bring a blush to his face when even the strongest opponent can’t dampen his smile. “You’re gonna make me come again already,” you pant.

His pelvis grinds against yours with every move he makes, brushing against your sensitive clit each time he pushes forward into you. You hold him close and savor everything about him; the strong muscles surrounding you, the deep voice whispering his affection for you, the heavy cock rutting into you so perfectly you’re in heaven. It doesn’t take him much longer to push you over the edge and you’re squealing for him like a woman possessed.

You wrap your legs around his waist as best you can, trapping him so he can’t pull out of you. “You can finish inside, I know you want to.” The sound Toshinori makes is almost a snarl, his lips leaving kisses all down your throat as he buries himself as deep as he can inside your still-sensitive cunt. You feel him twitch hard, and his warm cum is pouring into you until it’s overflowing out of your much smaller body. You let out a happy sigh and run your fingers through his ruffled hair as both of you take a moment to calm down.

All Might eases himself off of you to roll over onto his back beside your limp, tired form. You give yourself a few more minutes to recover before you manage to climb back on top of him. You know you’re making a mess of both of you, but you won’t mind sharing a hot bath later. He looks at you with curiosity and you activate your quirk to generate the heat from your hands. “I told you, I still need to get your front.” He barks out a laugh as you lean over him to continue his massage.

#lemon #bnha x reader #all might x reader

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rosemarie--h · 4 years ago

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( zoey deutch. 25. she/her. ) i think i just saw ROSEMARIE JANE HARMON ride by on a golf cart . at least i think it was them . after all , I MISS THE MISERY BY HALESTORM was blasting on the transistor radio . maybe they were on their way to work , i hear they’re a BARTENDER AT THE WATERING HOLE . but they totally could have been on their way to PLAY PRANKS ON THE MEMBERS. guess we’ll never know . you’ll definitely know its them when you see RIPPED BLACK JEANS, SOUND OF 90'S ROCK AND DILATED PUPILS around the country club . let’s just hope they stay off the green after hours or else the sprinklers will get them ! ( marie. 26. est. she/her. none. )

tw: child neglect, tw: drugs, tw: suicide

I couldn’t help myself and brought my old rebel child back. I just love my messy and broken girl.!

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

Matthew and Stacey Harmon where the epitome of what success should look like. They were a young couple who had come from nothing and mounted to be the most sought-after criminal defense lawyers in the United States. They were known for their poise and ability to handle high profile cases with dignity and discretion. Their clients ranged from high-grossing actors and celebrities to politicians and other government officials. And in the years since their jump into high profile, they had built up an image that both always strived to be. They had to be picture perfect. Perfectly put together. Fit the part of success. So naturally, when they became pregnant, it wasn’t something they had planned or particularly wanted. They tried to keep the pregnancy as quiet as possible, and while they had always had the option of abortion or adoption, for some reason the Harmons had allowed the pregnancy to go full term.

Rosemarie Jane Harmon was born on August 5th, 1992 and unlike most babies, Rose was not held by her mother immediately after birth. In fact, she had been refused and sent immediately to the hospital nursery. The rest of her life followed in similar fashion. Rose had come into her parents’ life as unwanted and unloved. A child ruined the image the stoic lawyers had tried to build for themselves and their practice, especially as child as lively and rambunctious as Rose had been from the start. Rose had probably been embraced by her parents only a handful of times, most of the love she received growing up coming from the Nanny – Elizabeth Green – that had been hired to raise her. But even Elizabeth – the only mother figure she had truly grown to know – was taken from her once Stacy deemed Rose old enough to take care of herself.

Growing up without any love or affection had Rose searching for it in all the wrong places from a very young age. It started off innocently enough – mostly confined to causing trouble at home, just so she could get a flicker of attention from her father or mother but that stopped working, her cries become louder. Living in Atlanta, it wasn’t hard to find trouble. In school, Rose started to hang out with the wrong crowd. Though, the more trouble she found, the less it seemed her parents cared, almost slowly fazing her out of their image.

She was 17 when she first fell from grace. At a rave, Rose stuck her tongue out, letting a tablet be pressed to her tongue for the first time. She’s been after that high ever since. It was the closest thing that she could imagine love felt like. It took her away from the feeling of worthlessness that plagued her because of her parents’ incapability of loving her as parents should love their children. It took her away from the pain of missing her only mother figure who never tried to reach out to her despite promising a young rose she would on the day she was let go. It took her away from the depression that ran through her body despite her refusal to acknowledge it.

From that moment on, Rose lived searching for the occasional high to get her feeling alive again but for the most part, she had it under control, still having a firm grip on reality. But everything began to take a different path when she met Andrew. He was older than her, a good five years. But despite their age difference, they had immediately hit things off and it wasn’t long before Rose had fallen completely head over heels for him. He was the first person she opened up to him about her home life and when Andrew heard of her misery, he had given her the option to follow him to his next destination.

With no family or real friends to hold her back, Rose didn’t hesitate to pack what she could when her boyfriend at the time asked her to run away with him. They hit the road then and Rose hasn’t been back to Atlanta since. When her and Andrew landed in Chicago, Rose’s eyes were opened to a new world – mostly for the worse. He introduced her to a world of endless fun and chemically induced euphoria. It was with him that the dependency for drugs began to really grow. It started off her a tablet of molly here or there, like she had been doing in Atlanta, and before she knew it, she was doing a line in the bathroom of a club.

About a year or so after being together, Rose’s world would soon fall apart. One morning, after a typical night of partying, she woke up to find that Andrew was dead. He had overdosed and she’d been too high too notice. By the time she had woken up, it had been too late. So, Rose got up, called the cops and ran before they got there.

Rose’s already fragile heart was shattered at losing the one person that had loved her in this cruel world. The one person she had loved unconditionally. And the grief fueled her addiction even further.

From that day forward, Rose lived most of her minutes high or searching for the next dose. It didn’t really matter where the high came from, she just craved that feeling of euphoria, of being alive, of numbness. If it came from a tablet of molly, fine. If it was from a shot of heroin, cool. A mixture of opioids, why not? A smoke of meth- what was the harm? But her favorite way to lose herself was from a line of cocaine. Rose began to live a very nomadic life, travelling where she wanted, making connections as she went, crashing on their couches and starting all over again. There were times when she became so drugged, she would party for days, unable to settle down enough to stop and sleep. She got into fights. Spent many days in stupors, a haze. She wouldn’t have a clue of the reality around her.

Rose was twenty, when she OD’d for the first time and was admitted into rehab for her addiction. After a few months of rehab, Rose was released, and she wasted no time in falling back into her vices. She continued to jump from place to place, never staying no longer than a few weeks at a time. In her travels, she had several relapses, a couple of times causing her to be readmitted into rehab. But sadly, her addiction was stronger than her will live.

That was until she met Finely but Finley is someone Rose never talks about.

If Rose lived in shadowed lands, then Finley lived in other darkness. There was fragility around this woman that had drawn Rose to her immediately. Their initial time was spent mostly just hooking up but it was in the quiet moments that Rose fell. Finley was the other half of her, her true and tragic soulmate. Her star crossed lover.

There was a part of her that always knew Finley wouldn’t exist on this Earth forever. There was a sadness and exhaustion that clung so tightly to her love and even when there seemed to be a little light that shined through, it wasn’t enough.

The day Rose walked into their apartment and found that Finley had taken her life, was as expected as it was a shock. She still doesn’t know how long she clung to Fin’s body, sobbing for her to come back before she finally called for help.

Rose has never been the same.

The loss completely eviscerated her. There was a gaping hole left in her chest and Rose went down a spiral to rock bottom, trying to fill or numb that hole.

Rose has never been truly sober since that day 2 years ago and while she has gotten her vices under somewhat of control, she still very much relies on them on a day to day basis. Just enough to numb the hurt that never seems to go away.

When she arrived in Highland at 1 year ago, Rose was probably at the lowest she had ever been. But trying to keep her promise to Finley, Rose has tried to make the best of things. She landed a job at the Watering Hole and has found a apartment to live in with a roommate.

And though every day is a struggle for her, Rose feels that she’s on the right track to turn her life around. Or at least, pretend to.

Important Facts: - Rose has a lot of emotional and mental issues due to her past. Mostly, she has this abandonment complex and she struggles every day with a heavy sense of worthless. - Has been clean for two and a half years. - She still clings to the party scene, though she now stays away from illicit substances, she has no issue with throwing back a few shots. - Rose hasn’t been in a relationship with anyone in about 2 years and is very happy that way. She doesn’t want to get hurt again. And she isn’t sure she can love again. - Loves animals and often volunteers at the shelter - LOVES cats and wants one but considers herself too unstable to own a pet. - Hasn’t spoken to her parents since she left Atlanta and pretends it doesn’t bother her, but it does. - On her left side, Rose has a tattoo. It’s the quote “without struggle, there is no progress” in cursive writing. - Has lived in Atlanta, Chicago, Nashville, New Orleans, a few other places until she came back to Georgia and settled in Peaches Hollow.

Personality - Rose lives impulsively, acting first and thinking later. - She doesn’t hold back and certainly doesn’t censor herself. Rose is the most straightforward person around and she will tell you how it is, whether it hurts your feelings or not. - Fun is priority in her life. Having grown up so unloved and hidden away in her youth, she is desperately trying to fill that gap in her life. She will jump from club to club, party to party, a shot of tequila in her hands always. Mostly, she is afraid that if she stops, allows herself to feel, every heartache she has ever felt will coming rushing at her. - Attachments are a no go for her, especially romantic ones. She’s fine with hook-ups, in fact she rather enjoys them, but once she or her partner start to develop feelings, she flees. If you don’t let anyone close, you can never be hurt. - Losing Finley broke something inside of Rose and she’s very keen on not giving that part of herself way. She doesn’t know if she can love again or if she has any to give. Most of the time, however, Rose tends to develop friendships with her partners. She’s pretty laid back and goes with the flow which makes everything easier. - Rose is super protective of those she considers close to her and will do almost anything for them. - Once you get past her wit and sass, Rose is the sweetest person you would ever meet, even if she’s rough around the edges. But good luck getting her to open emotionally.

#highlandsintro #bio #about #tw: drugs #tw: suidice #tw: death #tw: child neglect

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rametarin · 3 years ago

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We deal with this, “fiction is reality” shit EVERY. GENERATION.

And I mean it comes back among authoritarians playing to sheep EVERY fucking generation on different pretenses.

It always boils down to a bunch of people that are insecure about the effects of culture and media on other people, and as a flimsy pretense/pretext to restrict access to things to other people “in society” for their own safety and sense of security.

And when it comes to, “obscene literature” or illustrations, the source is always jealousy, insecurity and an attempt to reduce other people down to a demographic statistic. Whether it’s reducing black people to a caricature and acting like hip-hop just turns the kids into violent, drug abusing, psychotic felons, or imagining pornography is what turns people into horny fucking do-nothings, it’s always about control.

And we’ve put it off for so long. We’ve put off the conversation about just what demographic these people play to in order to get traction and followers and staying power and warm bodies for their movements. They’re the demographic that makes antis- work, the demographic that screams for censorship because illustrations “hurt them personally,” or “cause men to hurt them.”

I’m talking about women. Particularly, cis women, as trans women are not in numbers enough to affect anything, and it is EXPLICITLY IMPORTANT that the source of the offense and complaint come from the population that are the gateway through which the next generation is born and brought up.

Individual men may be so clueless as to assume the way degeneration works is a person is left improperly or negligently nurtured, and so just make bad decisions because, “they were never taught better.” They embrace the idea that people only do bad shit because, “the society,” isn’t paying attention, or that individual people are just blank slates beholden to the righteousness and morality of the cultural hivemind of said society. That Society is an objective effect, and if bad people exist, it’s proof to them that there’s something wrong with said society.

But individual men know that the bad actions of other men are not caused solely by “male culture,” or the absence of it, or shitty “role models.” They see the shitty natural inborn attitudes of other men, and despite being raised in shitty conditions, naturally develop a good head on their shoulders, and despise actions like that. As men you can’t HELP but grow up watching boys around you make shitty decisions based on shitty impulse control and, no matter how often they’re punished, how much they’re loved, how much they’re compassionately talked to, STILL act the fool and wind up as terrible, stealing, violent adults. As men you can’t do anything BUT reconcile that some people are just fucking shitheads, and the idea as a man YOU should be punished or treated like the “association” of men itself is at fault, smacks of sexism. The same sort of sexism women’s lib supposedly is against- at least, when it happens to women.

Women, however, are not men, are not privy to the thoughts and feelings of men. Men are abstracts to these women, many of whom are so solipsistic or gynocentrist that they just see men as a class of monsters in a videogame. Just a pattern of individuals that surely must all get their code and culture from “society.” Clearly, when there’s bad men about, it’s proof this “society” isn’t doing everything it can to mollify and gentrify those horrible beastly men to make them safe and not dangerous and productive.

These women that see men like living aggregates for society, imagine that in order to “keep men working properly,” they need to not have “bad moral influences,” treating pornography and access to drugs and literature like a cleaning lady treats dirt on linen. They imagine that the only reason rape or murder or theft by men occurs is because “there’s a problem with men, thinking that is okay.” Like the only reason your average man isn’t running around violently raping people or killing them is because they sang enough hymns at church- by force. Or because they were prevented from, “getting deranged by wrongthink.”

So with this in mind, how do they imagine porn affects men, male minds, and this big abstract-turned-monolithic-concept called, “society?”

Well, they imagine fiction is reality. That if “people of lesser intellect” read a thing, then they’ll inherently believe it, because, “it presents itself as factual and reality.” When.. no. That’s not how it works. They believe, absolutely, that without some mechanism there to go, “BUT WE’RE JUST PRETENDING THO, IT’S NOT REAL!” that will inherently make people, whom all have tenuous and toddler-like grasps of reality and object permanence, think a thing in fiction is real and applies to reality.

And naturally, they see men as people of lesser intellect. So they reason, those dangerous statistical anomalies are just men that haven’t been browbeaten, and whom are subject to any given negative influence or writing or opinion or culture that preaches values and ideas incongruent with their preferences, as women. Therefore, they conclude, fiction that does not preach their “good values” is in fact advocating bad ones, bad habits, bad moral character, bad mental health- call it whatever you want based on your generation. It’s ALL THE SAME SHIT. All the same knee-jerk moralism based on justifying societal and institutional use of force to restrict and arbitrate and judiciously enforce and justify dictating censorship and good-think. It’s just a question of where that basis comes from.

And theres’ ultimately no reasoning with that culture of women when they grasp hold of a thing that appeals to them, flatters and justifies their prejudices and biases. You can sit there colorfully or dryly explaining the ways in which this shitty point of view is wrong, much as you can try to walk back a persons beliefs in their homophobia that they base on religious purism or use the purism to validate their homophobia, but you cannot just get them individually to give up those nice, comfortable beliefs.

And when grouped together for mutual support and validation, it becomes this negative-thought, field of fucking SHEEP braying “Nuuuh-uuuh!” and arguing for restriction of content and sanitation and disbarrment from certain subject matter to be in consumable porn or literature or even just art. The only thing keeping them in check being the consequences for vandalism, and the ability for a community or institution to police out the bias usurpers that would seek to enter their foundations and run them on behalf of the values of these easily upset, insecure sheep.

every FUCKING generation, it manifests in some manner. Be they from church ladies, to radical feminists, to intersectional feminists. If you capture the imaginations, insecurities, jealousies, foster and sanction them, interpret them, get young women believing them, participating in the romance that tells them the way to change the bad things or take the edge off the bad men is to foster and enable authoritarianism (be it regional social, regional institutional, or federal institutional) then you have this neverending avalanche of unending support for it. Be it from dictators, or just from pure ideology from a doctrine. They’ll do it. And stubbornly and obstinately believe in whatever compliments their biases, to the contradiction of everything.

And while you can remove a man and his influences on the next gen from the home, from the social radius of the next generation to be a significant source of culture and how they relate to young people, removing women from the equation, from whom the next generation comes from, is virtually impossible. So a male zealot, already susceptible to scrutiny and punishment for being so wild and zealous with their beliefs, can be retaliated against, muted, beaten and removed from relevance until they censor themselves or change their tune.

But you cannot do that to a female human, or women/mothers as a sex, without both women AND men taking it as an attack on humanity at their most prime and kernel. It has to be done with disproportionate authoritarian state power that does not fear mass dissent and violent retaliation, or it isn’t done at all.

So these zealous Karens that embrace wholly these ideas enabling authoritarianism under a banner they approve of, are allowed to propagate unchallenged, and even if challenged, cannot be subdued or subverted. Their own little cliques and echo chambers and lack of desire to even consider their positions are wrong. Any attempt to point the fingers at this very real, disproportionate and characteristic, objective power female humans have just on the basis of their sex and how that relates among them socially, can and will be trash binned arbitrarily as, “sexism.” Despite the fact, it’s absolutely true.

So long as women that believe “society” is an objective, monolithic thing from which, “that other sex” and other women get their marching orders on how to BE what they are, and don’t see them as billions of individuals with their own ambitions, instincts, inborn personality and character flaws, independent of “society’s failures,” believing those people can be saved or corrected IF ONLY WE CENSOR EVERYTHING or make all media “good thing,” we’re just going to have people with illiberal beliefs asserting their dominance and insisting it’s for the soul of the species, society and the planet.

I mean yeah there are male antis and shit, but honestly. Tell me honestly. How many fucking deranged fandom people that are doing shit like mailing cookies with sewing needles backed into them are male gendered or male sexed, either? As uncomfortable as it may be to acknowledge or consider this might have a sexual grounding, I’m sorry. Not acknowledging it is simply rejecting reality.

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icyowl · 4 years ago

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A/B/O Worldbuilding

Every omegaverse author has their own spin on the idea, so here is mine! Feel free to use the ideas in your own writing. I really love world building as a whole as well as the omegaverse concept, so it kind of spiraled out of control ;).

These are just my own ideas so please don’t come after me if you don’t agree with something. I’m not asking anyone to use these ideas over their own.

It’s 9 pages so I’m putting the rest under a read more.

BIOLOGY:

What makes dynamic individuals different from others is the enlarged and highly developed limbic system. This part of the brain controls emotions, memory, and the endocrine and some of the olfactory reception. This is why they are so hormonal, experience deep emotional connections, and depend on smell for lots of information gathering and processing. It also explains why changes in hormones go along with changes in a person’s smell. The link to memory could mean that reincarnation may play a part, though researchers are still investigating.

Males are alphas or betas, females are betas or omegas. A person’s dynamic can be mutually exclusive to their personality, so you can have a really brutish and headstrong woman (such a personality does not always mean “alpha”), she’s just more likely to be a beta rather than an omega.

Both sexes have scent glands. Depending on the sex, the glands will be slightly different shapes, sizes, and in different locations (infographs at the end).

Males have canines and claws that extend during excitement or high emotion. If the canines extend far enough, they cause the gums around the teeth to split and bleed. The size, shape, and curvature of the fangs varies from person to person.

Omegas have canines and claws, but they are much smaller.

Rarely a person will have two sets of fangs, their canines and their lateral incisors. These people are always alphas.

Omegas have a “terror-mone” that is automatically emitted when she experiences extreme fear. It is very potent and far-traveling, and the idea is to alert others to come to her aid and overwhelm the opposing alpha’s senses until he backs off. People liken it to pouring bleach down their throat and in their eyes or getting pepper-sprayed.

Scent changes upon a person’s emotions.

Pheromones are emitted from scent glands. Pheromones are processed as a smell and therefore are a kind of scent, but are not directly linked with a person’s emotions. For example, even if an alpha is scared, he can produce comfort pheromones for those nearby.

Scent glands are very complex, high-value organs. They produce a person’s pheromones, scent, hold a mark, and are linked directly with a person’s mental and physical state because of the high density of nerve endings. Rather than check under the tongue or forehead for temperature, the most accurate way is to press the scent glands. Because of the nerve endings found there, they are sensitive to touch and overstimulation.

Scent glands sometimes need to be expressed in order to expel the build-up of pheromones in the blood. This is done via deep pressure or puncturing the skin with fangs or claws. The most effective place is the large scent gland on the neck but any scent gland will work. It is usually done by the significant other since the originator craves that physical intimacy and emotional closeness, but in their absence the person will do it themselves with their claws or by simply massaging the area.

If not expressed, the expired pheromones will build up in the blood and eventually cause anxiety, blurred vision, very high or low temperature, exposing canines and claws, intense trembling, and lethargy to the point of passing out. Essentially the person becomes very sick. The scent glands become puffy, sensitive, and the skin turns rosy as if sunburned.

Males produce venom from their canines and claws. Others of the same rank will be adversely affected by it, but those of the opposite rank are positively affected. The venom alphas produce can cause omegas to become catatonic if present in large enough quantities.

In extreme cases, alphas can go into R.I.L.A (Rut Induced Loss of Awareness), whereby they lose awareness of who they are, where they are, and what they should and shouldn't do. It’s a crazed trance-like state where reasoning is impossible and they act without inhibition.

Scenting is when one person wants to outwardly show everyone that someone is taken by them. It involves rubbing a person’s scent onto the skin of the other’s scent glands and body in general. This rubbing looks like nuzzling when done with the face, but can be done with any part of the body really. For two people to rub scent glands together is a very powerful experience. It strengthens bonds and dissuades outsiders from attempting to court one of them. An alpha’s desire to scent is stronger than an omegas, but they both do it. The desire to scent someone is an infallible sign that they have feelings for the person.

Marking is when an alpha intends to devote himself to that person for the rest of his life. The urge only develops when there is an extremely intimate bond between two people, and also involves emotional ties. Marks do fade and need to be replaced. There are creams that help the mark last longer, and people can buy an expensive contraption that has the dental impression of the alpha and can create a mark-like impression, but there is no scent of the alpha and it doesn’t last as long as the real thing. Nevertheless, people use it--on the daily, sometimes--when the alpha is gone for a long period of time. Omegas can mark too, but don’t really have an urge to do so. Marking can be done by the parents when the child is young and looking for comfort, but is done on the arm or wrist typically instead of the neck, as is typically used by romantic partners.

Marking isn’t for life, since marks need to be updated, but they do insinuate a very strong bond with the intentions of being long-term, since marks last about a year. You also feel that person’s emotional state while the mark is active, so you’re committing to that when you mark.

A mark may not last as long as normal if the omega is stressed. The increased adrenaline pulls the remnants of the alphas venom out of her system more quickly and some may not last six months given the right stressors.

Marking works because he gives her his venom, and she gives him her blood, so the omega doesn’t need to also mark the alpha, but sometimes will in the heat of the moment. Through scent glands the emotions of that person can be felt by the other, because scent glands contain high concentrations of nerve cells.

Even if an omega is already marked, the feeling of being marked is the same as the first time if it's by the same alpha.

If an omega is marked by another alpha while the previous mark is still strong, the omega will experience extreme pain as the two opposing venoms fight for dominance. It can take days, but one will always win. The venom of the alpha the omega is more attached to has a better chance of winning the battle, but it isn’t always certain.

Once a person has been marked (especially for the first time) the bond between the two is exceptionally fragile and should be carefully fostered by time spent together and physical contact.

Eyes dilate in response to many things. Typically it is a sign of physical relaxation in response to affection. It is also a major sign of trust, since severe dilation can cause the vision to blur. Dilation can be forced though, for instance when copious amounts of pheromones are in the air.

Preening refers to when a person is showing off to their significant other, and the physical change a person goes through when another person notices and/or appreciates their efforts. The face becomes flushed, they’re eyes may dilate, and muscles tighten in an effort to flex. Claws and fangs will lengthen in an effort to show physical fitness. Males preen to show their prowess and fitness to the female. Females focus on the dedication of a male to care for her needs, but canines are a symbol of the male’s ability to protect her, so when males preen, their canines drop and aren’t usually easy to retract.

Purring occurs when a person is either very content or wishes to make another person content. A person can talk while this is happening, but it can be difficult to understand. Omegas have a special frequency of purr that promotes healing and stress-relief.

There is a kind of deeper purring that only occurs between a pair of deeply bonded, typically romantically involved, individuals. It is a subconscious choice, so the first time a person does it, it usually comes as a surprise. Because it takes more muscles (the diaphragm, chest muscles, lungs, and larynx all work together) a person is more incapasitated than with normal purring, so it carries a connotation of deep trust in the receiver. Usually only alphas do this, but omegas can do it too. Because the muscles associated with talking are all occupied, it can make talking nearly impossible.

Glating (from the latin “gadio” for sword) is an intimidation tactic used between alphas so they may not have to resort to physical violence. It can also be used to prove an alpha’s rank to another so they are seen as a serious competitor/threat. This also affects a person’s ability to talk. It is an involuntary reaction like blinking, so trying to stop one’s self from doing it is a challenge. The term comes from the intense volume, causing it to reverberate around the surrounding area.

When omegas feel an overpowering urge to protect something they can become “theta”, where their reflexes and willpower skyrocket and they become little crazed animals

Children first present around 18/19 years of age, and experience their first heats/ruts about a year later. Over the span of a week or so they get extremely uncomfortable in their own skin. Their temperature rises and their gums become inflamed, tender, and swollen. Senses randomly sharpen before going back to normal. When they finally “tune”, it happens in a single instance. The body temperature peaks until they literally steam. The influx of emotions, senses, and hormones means they flee until they feel safe. It normally doesn’t last more than a couple hours. Typically, alphas will have an intense need to protect that which they consider part of their territory. It may be a person like a sibling, a girlfriend, or a parent, or it may be a location like their house or the nest of someone they love. Omegas feel insecure and unsafe and look to be with someone they feel safe with. Omegas won’t even want to leave that person’s arms.

Traumatic or transformative moments can force a person to change presentations. Sometimes the change is permanent, sometimes it lasts only a little while (weeks or months). They are referred to as “alternate alpha/omega/beta”.

Bunting is the term for a kind of head-butting, similar to what cats do, that works as a subtle yet deep sign of affection.

Moroi is a term for the sickness that overcomes a person’s body when intense negative emotions stem from one’s mate (i.e. rejection, cheating, fear of that person, falling out of love). It comes from the mythological term for a phantom ghost that leaves its grave to drain energy from the living. Side effects include extreme lethargy and phantom chest pains. The severity varies and the treatment is supportive care (rest, fluids). Some may even fall into a resting trance of sorts. It is very rare that a person dies, but sometimes the extreme phantom pains never go away.

A person’s smell changes depending on how they feel. It may be neutral (clean linens), happy, sad, angry, fearful, physical pain (copper or metallic), love, etc.

Every male possesses a knot.

Tonic immobility (aka ‘megaspace or the Rapture) is the term for how an omega becomes placid, calm, and compliant. It happens when lots of alpha pheromones act as a depressant to the brain by ‘bleeding out’ from the limbic system to the rest of the brain. It happens more easily when the alpha is someone she has great trust in. The depressant side-effect means the omega experiences an addicting calm-high. Alphas can experience this to an extent, but not with the same intensity. There is a problem with omegas experiencing tonic immobility and then, unable to have it again for whatever reason, turns to drugs and/or become prostitutes in an attempt to reach that high again.

Going feral is the layman's term for the very beginning stages of R.I.L.A.. It isn’t nearly as dangerous as the real thing but should certainly be recognized so that the alpha doesn’t drop further into his instincts. It’s how alphas prep their bodies for battle by flooding the system with testosterone and other chemicals. When glating doesn’t work, alphas may become feral in an effort to scare off another alpha before things become physical, but it generally happens any time an alpha senses an omega becoming upset with no sign of the situation getting any better. It also happens when he feels the need to go to an omega but is prevented from doing so. Lessening nearby stimuli is the solution to feralization, as well as scenting with the omega that he is worried about if she isn’t already with someone.

CUSTOMS AND SOCIETAL PRACTICES

If there are normal people, then many are struggling with where to place dynamic people. Are they a subspecies? A baser kind of human, or the next step in evolution?

Bites occur to the neck because the blood flow is large, fast, and goes directly into feeding the brain. This makes it the perfect spot to deposit the pheromones in venom. This can make the recipient a little loopy and very compliant, making consent problems an issue. Alphas have an especially hard time because consent is such a popular thing these days, but waiting and worrying about the omega and giving her the power makes him anxious and emotionally unhappy because it goes against his nature to hold back. Alphas gain purpose and satisfaction from knowing what their omega wants innately, and omegas crave an alpha that will take the lead and make them feel safe and cared for.

Touching another’s scent glands expresses a deep bond between two people. To touch one when the owner doesn’t want you to is a big taboo.

An alpha’s instinct is to look after, an omegas is to be looked after. For this reason it is especially heinous for an alpha to harass an omega, because it goes against their instinct. To deliberately do something that frightens an omega takes a great deal of willpower because the smell of fear an omega produces is strong enough to stop the assailant from continuing.

Bouts of extreme rage can happen if someone harms another’s mate.

A person’s mate is considered off-limits and to break that law is extremely terrible.

An adverse reaction to intense negative emotions can cause an omega to cope with the overwhelming empathy she feels by mentally shutting down. It is an emotional block from all the emotions she feels of others and the desire to have everyone go back to being happy.

Scenting is considered extremely intimate. To interrupt a couple when they are scenting is considered very embarrassing. Usually, it is incorporated into a couple’s daily routine.

If an alpha wants to show another alpha that an omega is taken, he will mark her in front of the other alpha.

In modern culture, the size and thinness/thickness of canines don’t usually matter, but heavily curved and long ones are considered conventionally attractive.

In a relationship, the first time a person purrs for the other is considered a big step in the relationship.

Dynamics (a.k.a. “Dynams” for the hip youngsters) is the name for the class that every student must complete. Like any history or science class, it is part of the class schedule and is taken throughout high school. It teaches students about dynamics, how to be an alpha/beta/omega, and what each class means for a person. History of scientific discoveries and important figures are also discussed as they relate to it.

When an omega feels safe enough to nest, that is cause for celebration. It is only celebrated between the couple, however. When a young person finishes tuning, their parents typically have some kind of celebration. Marking involves a celebration where anyone can be invited or involved (with all the relatives, or just the couple).

TECHNOLOGY

Suppressants nullify most all the side effects of heats and ruts. It takes an hour or two to take effect and should be taken once per day (uncommonly, people up the dose if they feel they need to for whatever reason). Suppressants are different for alphas and omegas, since one needs to calm down and one needs to be more awake and not so placid.

Rut gear involves a type of bite guard and metal nail caps that go over the fingers. This makes them safe for others and prevents damage to others and property.

“Scent stones” are special kinds of rock that absorb scent really well. They are worn for extended periods of time by a person before being given to the other, where they are worn against a scent gland in the wrist to provide comfort and protection. After a week or so of being worn by another person, the scent fades, at which point the stones are switched between the two people.

“Phero-bombs” are grenades of concentrated scent to subdue raging alpha(s)

Bouts of extreme protective instinct--brought on by an overwhelming urge to protect an injured or scared loved one may get bad enough to only be stopped by vials of an omega’s concentrated pheromones. If this is a known/recurring problem, vials are drawn in advance to be injected into the alpha to bring him out of it and calm him down if need be. There are special divisions of S.W.A.T teams to deal with this.

Omegas can wear a type of scarf that is rigid on the inside and won’t release unless the scent stones in it detect enough feel-good pheromones from the omega.

RUTS AND HEATS

Males experience ruts, females experience heats (no matter the presentation)

Heats/ruts happen 4 times per year

Heats are characterized by muscle weakness, muscle cramps, and/or skittish behavior. Ruts are characterized by irritability, increased reflexes/senses, heightened physical strength, and/or short temper. Both sides experience varying degrees of restlessness. Alphas will often spend the nights unable to sleep, watching over the omega as the protective instincts take over, they’re canines also grow and can’t retract. Omegas’ scent glands will swell and become tender, and will sleep a lot. When omegas are awake, they fidget and crave company. The sense of touch becomes hyperactive, making every surface prickly and uncomfortable. Below is a chart to help better visualize the contrasts and similarities.

NESTING

Nesting occurs when an omega feels 100% at ease in the presence of an alpha. It requires the subconscious to be perfectly content as well, so it takes a long time for an omega to get to the point. When it does happen, it counts as a major step and is normally followed by celebration.

It’s a big deal if the omega verbally shares her nest with her alpha. Either by offering for him to enter or saying “our nest” can basically cause an alpha to fall to his knees.

When an alpha wants his omega to nest, or thinks she might do soon, or while she is nesting, he will go about trying to prove he can protect and care for her. This involves doting on her, showing her affection, bringing things for the nest, or otherwise showing his fitness. The omega will carefully consider his offerings for her nest. If she doesn’t take any of his offerings, it means he didn’t do a good enough job proving himself to her. For this reason, having an omega view and scrutinize his offerings is very stressful for the alpha.

Below is a chart for the different ways alphas and omegas behave.

Scent gland locations (in blue):

Female (17 total):

Male (12 total):

#omegaverse #A/B/O verse #a/b/o

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inviouswriting · 4 years ago

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Astral

- of or relating to the stars.

Continuations to the ongoing story sagas.

Warnings - Some mild graphics and continued angsty materials. Mostly with Kivera’s past shown. Hinted things that happened to her, without it being said.

Some character deaths in my own’s Damien.

Mentions for

@candideangel ‘s Angelique

@earthlystar ‘s Yume.

and the polyship with @maiden-born-in-snow

Antares. Kivera had given her weapon the name, following her alignment as Scorpio. The spirit of it, it was only fitting her scythe was named Antares. It was more than just her weapon. It is her heart. Antares is the heart of Scorpio, her weapon is beloved by her.

Kivera remembers the time it was forged. How she had Hephaestus take her heart out of her body to make the weapon. Made in adamantine metal. She had to bargain for the materials.

Since after, she has never been without it, always pinned to her ear when she didn’t need it. Or now, sitting on it as if she were a witch. She had returned to Eorzea, after a choice few days in her own world. Recovering her mental strengths before she even dared approach the people she wanted to see.

She had sent Divinity a notice that she would be back, and that she and Shuri would be the first she sees. Following the destruction she had done. She had to do it this way. Go in the order of who she felt hurt most. G’raha would be last on her list, he was a different level of what she wanted to even touch with the former Exarch. She harbored her feelings on his being.

He was not the same as Vanth, she had made a great error in her judgement and many suffered for her reaction itself. The magic used was the same, but perhaps she can overlook it. She felt bitter still, she is bitter still. G’raha shouldn’t be there, not when he has successfully cheated death too many times and lives comfortably compared to the lives of those who were altered permanently.

She shakes her head as she waits in front of Haukke Manor, she gave the location to Divinity, and soon enough she sees her and Shuri. There is a look of relief within Shuri at seeing the elusive reaper.

She was well in the most of what her spirit life is like. The mental toll done was great.

Divinity is first to grab hold of Kivera arms wound tight around her. Nearly knocking her off her scythe. Shuri right at her side with the same vigor. Kivera greets them both with bright gold eyes, Divinity worries a second but sees this as her content color.

“I’m sorry for the trouble I caused..”

Kivera knows the look in Divinity’s face and Shuri’s. Both were wondering the same.

“Why?” They only had Divinity’s explanation to go on.

“Cid messed with time, G’raha messed with soul magic. Both are unforgivable among the underworld. I thought to scare them a bit so they realize how dangerous it is. They should be glad it was me, and not another one who governs the same dimensions. They would be dead by now.” Divinity sighs as her explanation was right concerning them, now if only the Scion’s could understand the magnitude with the same ease, Angelique and G’raha as well.

Yume understood, the magic involved in Cid’s side was dangerous. Just as G’raha’s was.

“What do you plan to do now then?” Divinity asks.

“I will approach each of them alone and by myself. It is better it comes from me.” They were ignoring a greater fact. Ardbert. Kivera fixates her gaze onto Shuri, she leans down to press her forehead to hers.

“Forgive me, for what I am about to share with you, I have only shown you a glimpse of my past that one night we were in my sanctuary. I shielded you from the worse memories.. You deserve to see them unaltered. I miei Ricordi dei morti.” Kivera says her incantation quiet.

A flood of memories is shown into Shuri, Kivera’s descent in Hell, from where her wings were torn off, how she was treated among demons and other souls alike. How her body was used, her eyes, and left to one of the paths in the circle of Lust. The version Shuri sees is a broken shell of what now stands before her.

Kivera lets her see how she stumbled through the different layers blinded, coming across Parn. A small imp like boy, red eyes and brown haired. He was stumbling like Kivera, but helped support her walking through. Both spirits end up in a frozen lake of fire, the same flames that were once used on Ardbert, Cid, and G’raha. Dark and tinged with purple and black. They burned at her till they both had reached a shore.

Kivera ends that part of her memories, seeing the tears on Shuri’s face, she sighs and gives her a moment before she continues them. Alot to process.

“You remember why I was thrown into The Underworld?”

“For love?”

“Yes.” Divinity looks away, knowing the next memories will be hard. Kivera rests her forehead again to Shuri’s picking up again, this time, a different time period, a different world. One with sickly green skies and flames littering the ground. She shows her Vanth. His face devoid of features that made him resemble human. More skeletal, no eyes except flames where his eyes should be. Twisted horns every other way on his head, and in front of Kivera, seeming despondent.

Kivera was standing over two other people on the floor, one with a ornate sword, and one with a lance. Her scythe poised for a strike on both of them. She herself looked sickly green in her skin, and eyes lime in color. Like she wasn’t truly in control of herself. A puppet.

Divinity was a few feet away outside of the circle pulling at a chain to be loose, the magic on it suppressing her ability to cast her ability to protect the men who laid staring at their leader in disbelief.

One more person, a voice that gets through the fog of her mind. Damien’s throwing something at her, making her recoil from almost taking the heads of the other spirits.

When she comes to her senses the places is engulfed in fire, and Kivera is back to herself. The spirits were freed but not forgetting how she almost killed them, Kivera sitting at an edge. Divinity and Damien giving her a comfort together.

She had been the lich’s puppet for a while, she had helped Vanth gain servants for his next phase. Kivera doesn’t forgive herself for it.

During this exchange, Damien is snared by Vanth, and Kivera is repelled out of the realm with the spirits. The next spot is one Shuri knows, Damien’s death.

The same destructive power that was felt when she fought against Ardbert is shown to Shuri, how she devastates the realm of Agitazione. Destroys it down to ashes and a crater she plunges deep into a border between Hell and Purgatory.

Kivera spends the years following it, chasing the feeling of love, she spares her seeing her in different states of different lovers.

Everything else she shows Shuri is stuff she first revealed to her. She centers a focus on one memory. When she had pleaded to the Fates and to Chronos to get Damien back.

The time magic used in her taboo, the reaching through to pull the soul back in soul magic. The distraught look on her face when he didn’t remember her. Or even acknowledge her. Just stared through her like she wasn’t there at all.

“You should have been more careful when agreeing blindly to my conditions.” The time god had said.

“The conditions of his revival. He cannot remember you, and you cannot make him remember you. He does not know who or what you are, what you were to him. For if you break this pact between our contract. He will be plunged into Tartarus to suffer a fate worse than the death he experienced at your hands. And you will be there right with him watching it. This is your punishment for meddling with what was meant to happen.” Kivera was left to agree, refusal would have been the time god acting on it.

She stops the share after that, everything else is already known, from her rise to her current state as Purgatory’s keeper. Divinity sits behind Shuri, her arms around her waist from behind.

Kivera keeps her gaze steady, she didn’t need to speak for what she wanted her to understand. No good comes from the magic that G’raha used, or the meddling Cid did. It makes for endless sorrow. One the reaper has to live with for eternity.

“You did not deserve that.”

“It did though, it was my hope that scaring those men from continuing the path. I know it, I did it. The soul magic Vanth used on me to enslave me, to jump from host to host. It’s selfish if used wrong.”

“You don’t have to explain it more, we’re on your side through this. We didn’t spend time defending your name to come tell you, what you did was wrong. We just wanted you to come back here.” Divinity looks at Kivera, and the former angel sees her eyes are both gold. She leans over to restore her sight again.

“You didn’t need to defend my name... the ire I earned was deserved for how I attacked needlessly. Specially Ardbert.” Kivera’s face is pinched by Shuri.

“Enough of that! They were talking about how to kill you if it came to that. As for Ardbert. He regrets what he said to you. He’s been kicking himself thinking all the trust you showed in him is gone.” Shuri tugs Kivera’s face closer to her own and presses the side of her face a horn to her cheek. Kivera returns the gesture and rubs her face to the horn in the way Xaela show affection.

“He did hurt me more than he knows. The trust is still there, but I’ll be a little less receptive to him for a while.” Kivera’s confession that Ardbert didn’t break her trust, just wounded her a bit was a relief to both of them.

“When do you intend to see him?” Kivera looks between them.

“Soon, for now spend your time with me?” She looks to the side as she says this, hiding the creeping pink in her eyes.

“We’re happy to oblige that.” Kivera felt welcomed, truly welcomed back. She’d have to wait a bit before she felt like she could face Ardbert and discuss their positions. Estinien would be next, and she intended to share the same memories, she intended for each person that questions her to be shown why they should never have tampered in realms they’re not meant to set foot in.

For now she is contented with both girls, seeking refuge in the manor after clearing it from spirits and monsters to get away for a bit.

#shuri fontaye #Kivera Siverstein #Kivera x Shuri x Divinity #G'raha Tia #angelique #divinity libra #ff14 ardbert #ardbert #Kivera's au

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eliminatedtheimpossible · 4 years ago

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The Loss of Inhibitions in Sleep Deprived Addicts

As self-help books and medical practitioners are quick to point out, an addict is always an addict. Generally, I’m the type to disregard idioms as baseless, but in this instance, I find myself begrudgingly agreeing with the sentiment. It should come as no surprise to those who are interested in my personal life outside the realms of logical theorems, deductive reasoning, and cases that I’ve struggled with my own addictions. This has been mentioned in newspapers with an attempt to discredit my work to little avail.

I’ve never considered myself an addict. I’ve always been keenly in control of what I put into my body, for what means, and how much. My dabbling with cocaine has always been for the purpose of my work. There were instances in the past where I was required to stay awake for long periods of time to solve a case. Though I pride myself in my capability to withstand my body’s more base urges, after two sleepless days, the third is always difficult to muster without losing some of one’s mental faculties. Obviously, when working on a case, this is unacceptable. Cocaine was an easy solution. As it is a stimulant, it was able to keep me alert and functioning well past the time when I should have been able to do so.

I won’t delve into a past that holds no bearings on the present but needless to say I haven’t used frequently in some time, after a bad miscalculation. The whole trick to being a functioning drug user is the ability to discern the dosage needed to produce the desired effect without developing a dependency. Tolerance is also a painful variable in the equation, but I’m not here to explain how I managed to use drugs for as long as I did.

I’ve been informed by John that I was using intellectualisation as a coping mechanism. If I believed I had an infallible equation, there was no way I could be an addict. He must have discussed the matter with his idiotic therapist. As she was unable to cure John’s psychosomatic limp and I was, I choose to believe my equation still holds merit. Though, I will resign to the fact that the heroin had been a mistake.

There had been a logical explanation for the heroin use at the time, but I’m unable to recall it. It had something to do with balance. Like one balances a chemical equation. The cocaine was a high, a stimulant, an upper. But what is left when the case is over and the high continues? What does one do when they need to sleep, when it feels like the universe as a whole is in flux and you can feel it, when everything is hurtling at you with breakneck speed and there are millions upon millions of new ideas and possibilities scratching at the corners of your mind and there are loose threads on your bedsheets, and when did this happen, and how did this occur? Where is the nearest place to buy new bedsheets and would they be open? And why does one need bedsheets? What real purpose do they hold?

It all came down to wanting to sleep. I craved the moment of silence heroin gave. Even now, there are some nights where I crave this silence.

After my train journey back to London with John, I came to the revelation that it had been months since I slept as well as I had with him in that carriage. It only made sense that my mine went to heroin. Once an addict, always an addict.

I didn’t have any in the flat, of course, I wasn’t that stupid. Once I had kept a small stash of cocaine beneath the floorboard of the creaking step which led up to the landing of 221B. John had discovered it about a month after he moved in. Since then, I haven’t kept drugs in the flat. It’s probably for the best but last night I regretted this decision.

It was four in the morning and I hadn’t slept in three days. It’s always around day three things begin to get difficult. On day three, heroin seems like a logical idea. A cure for an ailment. It’s really the equivalent of taking paracetamol to alleviate a headache. On a brain which has been deprived of sleep for three days, it seems like the same thing.

I wanted to stop my experimentation regarding the relationship between John and myself, as I theorised further advancement would be treacherous. However, last night I saw no other alternatives but to push our boundaries once more. As I’ve stated (see ‘The Method of Places’) John and I have been known to share his bed during the day when his injuries are particularly bad but we’ve never actually slept together, in the most literal sense of the word.

I’d been desperate for sleep and John’s bedroom door was ajar. He’d been asleep when I first entered the room, but as I crawled under the covers beside him, he awoke with a start. The morning after I recorded a transcript of our conversation as I could best recall it, to use as further data regarding the changing attitudes towards affections within our relationship. The transcript goes as such:

“Sherlock?” It should be noted, having just woken up, John was rather more daft than usual. I hadn’t seen the need to respond. I buried myself deeper under the covers. They smelled of John.

“Everything alright?” He asked next. It seems to be a habit of his, to ask if I’m alright following a display of closeness. I made note to conduct a systematic analysis of other transcripts I have recorded to see if such a theory holds true.

I admitted to him that I needed to sleep, unsure of how he would respond. I waited for him to object. He didn’t. He became quiet for so long I had begun to drift off but he startled me awake by saying my name again.

“If it’s a danger night, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” It had taken my own sleep-deprived mind a painfully long time to catch up. Oh Mycroft. Bloody gossipy bastard.

“Possibly,” I responded. The two of us don’t discuss this type of thing but John seemed to want to.

“Is it a danger night?” John is stubborn when he wants to be, so I told him the truth.

“Not anymore.” This was enough for him.

He settled back down into the bed, leaving half a foot between us. I hadn’t realised my hand was encroaching on his side of the invisible boundary until I heard the rustling of sheets and felt the lightest touch ghost across my fingers and palms. In my tired state, I found myself clinging on to the touch. It was a hand, John’s hand. His hand was warm and calloused. I could feel the slightest hint of a tremble, which seemed strange as since John and I began solving cases together his hands had remained steadfast. Like his ever-present limp, the slight tremble in his hand had been a memory. Now I felt it, another strange phenomenon. I’m not known to be a comforting person but I felt as though John needed something.

It was then I remembered John’s sleeping habits when it came to the long list of girlfriends he had since I made his acquaintance. He stays the night at their house and they have sex but they never sleep together. He comes back to Baker Street with a sore neck and a barely perceptible limp from sleeping on their sofa.

It was then, I did something I’d never done before. I asked for permission.

“Is this okay?” I felt like an idiot. John had laughed a long, shoulder-shaking baritone laugh.

“After all the shit you’ve put me through, you’re going to ask if this is okay?” This confused me, I may try to unpack the statement later but I was glad I seemed to make him relax.

“It’s fine Sherlock, get some sleep.”

He may have said more after but I can’t recall. I had finally fallen asleep.

After some reflection, I can confirm my supposition that attempting to further our relationship would be disagreeable as I now understand my desire to avoid romantic relationships doesn’t strictly apply to John. As I understand he doesn’t have the same inclinations as I do, I believe it would be best for the both of us to reestablish our old boundaries.

S.H.

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #fan fiction #fan fic

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thorne93 · 5 years ago

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Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 6)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 1865

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy, @carryonmyswansong, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You lied awake that night, tossing and turning. This didn’t feel right. At all. Lying to Spence, lying to your team, lying to your work. Going against every oath, vow, promise, and handshake you’d ever made. You were about to turn your back on all of it, just to get right some wrongs you’d witnessed.

But then, you thought about all the sleepless nights you had knowing people you’d arrested were out there… hunting new prey, hunting you, hunting Spence. You couldn’t live in a world knowing some of these bastards got to walk away without so much a slap on the wrist. You just couldn’t do it anymore.

Dexter was your ticket out of this. If anyone knew how to do this, he did. He did it well and he went after who you wanted. He was controlled, evolving. He covered his tracks incredibly well. The only reason you’d caught him was because of your ability to profile. He was the perfect teacher.

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

The next morning, Spence called you before class.

“Hey, hun, how’s the investigation going?” he asked cheerfully.

Just as you were about to actually be honest and say, “Hey, I caught the guy,” you remembered you couldn’t say that. You couldn't utter a word like that.

“I actually still have a few more families to interview.”

“But you’ve already gone through sixteen, isn’t that enough?”

“No, not really. I want to get a good and clear picture on these victims, their daily lives, their pasts. You know…”

Why did lying to your husband come so easy? Well to be honest, it didn’t. It felt horrible. A sickening feeling filled your gut but you pushed it back down. There was nothing to be done about this.

“Well you’re nothing if not thorough and I know it’ll pay off.”

“Thanks, love. So how is everything up there?”

He went on about a case they just solved over in Dallas. As he began telling you, you were automatically profiling in your head and by the time he told you who it was, you had it figured out. You wished each other a good day and got off the phone.

Three days later, Dexter texted you. He asked that you meet at his place.

You arrived and as soon as you were inside and he shut the door you asked, “So have you got someone for us?”

“No, I actually thought we needed to start with the basics. Before I take you with me, I think you should know more about me.”

You frowned. “Oh, well that sounds like a good idea. I actually did have some questions.”

“I’m sure you did.” He gestured to the table. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Care for some chicken casserole?” he offered.

Your eyes traveled to the table, caution swimming in your face and mind.

“I didn’t poison it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Dexter assured.

“How do I know this?”

“Not my style. And as you profilers know, we don’t deviate from our M.O., ever.” He smirked, knowing he was getting under your skin with the profiling jabs.

You screwed your mouth to the side. “Very well.” You sat down and got settled and dove right in. “When did you commit your first murder?”

He looked up from his food, slightly frustrated. “Are you writing a book? Why do you want to know all these things?”

You shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one who said I should know more about you. This is me knowing more. It’s part of who I am, Dexter. I study the mind. I just want to know what happened to you and how it affected you. It’s integral for me to follow your thought process. I don’t think killing is a recipe to follow and I don’t think you think it is either.”

Some silence hung between you two before he finally said something. “Right before my father died,” he stated.

“Why then?”

“The nurse who was looking after him was killing him slowly, and not just him.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “That’s amazing.”

“That’s not the word I expected to hear from anyone.”

“But it is. You were helping people. She’s a monster and deserved to be stopped.”

“I’m glad you see it that way, I guess.”

“Was it a trigger?” you wondered.

He furrowed his brow. “What? No. I mean, it was upsetting but I didn’t kill because it upset me. I killed because… well he was always the anchor, the reason to remind me to not do it, to not give in. He did say, whenever I did give in, because he would know I’d have to, to live by this code.”

“The code of killing horrible people?” you clarified.

He nodded. “Yeah. He taught me everything I know. Taught me how to do it to make for easy clean up. We started with hunting, to see if that would satisfy it but it didn’t. He showed me how to research, how to make absolutely sure the person is guilty of a crime worthy of death.”

“That’s a good code. You were very lucky to have him.”

“Yes, I know,” he agreed.

“So how do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Have a life? Is the girlfriend a cover?”

Dexter seemed… taken aback by your question. “Uh, yeah, for the most part, but I think some part of me really cares for her. She’s a great mother and extremely kind to me.”

“And your urges are never a problem between you two?”

“No. I find it easy to control them since I hunt quite often.”

“Speaking of hunting, how do you dispose of the bodies?”

At this, he choked on his food.

“What? Not used to being asked direct questions?”

“I’m not used to being asked questions, at all, about this. It’s--”

“Weird?”

“I was going to say… refreshing.”

A smile crept onto your face.

“So?” you prompted again.

“Do I really have to tell you?”

“What are you going to do when we commit our first kill together? Tell me to go to the other room and not look while you dispose of them?”

“Right now, all you need is the location of the bodies to convict me. You haven’t done anything wrong but question a serial killer in his own home. But, if we kill together, then you’ve committed a crime with me. At the very least, you’re an accomplice, at worst you’re on first degree murder.”

“So you really aren’t going to tell me?”

He shook his head. “No. Not yet. I will though. I told you, open and honest, but right now, you’re holding all the cards.”

“I’m not even playing a game, Dexter,” you said softly with a gentle smile.

“Everyone plays a game.”

“Not me.”

“Oh? So you aren’t lying to everyone you know?”

This made you quiet and somehow you think Dexter knew that struck a nerve with you.

“I shouldn’t have… You’re not doing anything to hurt me so I shouldn’t do that to you.”

You waved him off. “It’s fine. Okay so you won’t tell me where you finish it, how about how you finish it? You seem like a knife kind of guy to me.”

He laughed, throwing his head back. “If you have me all profiled and figured out why are we even talking?”

“These are all just theories, come on,” you pleaded.

“Oh, so see? My statement was true about profiling not being concrete.”

“Ah but it will be, if you confirm my theory.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Alright, fine. I am a ‘knife guy’.”

“You know, usually we say men use knives to act out their sexual frustration but… I’ve never agreed with that theory.”

“Why?”

“Well, take you, I don’t think you have any sexual fantasies you’re trying to act out, am I right?”

He nodded his head to the side before picking up his beer and sipping it. “Right.”

“So then why a knife? More intimate?”

“Well a gun… it’s messy, loud, traceable.”

“Poison?”

“Too slow or too disgusting. And again, traceable if the medical examiner has half a brain.”

“Suffocation?”

“Not intimate enough.”

“Strangulation?”

“The hands can leave certain marks, they can fight, scratch, get my DNA on them…”

“So, the ole knife… Interesting.”

You leaned back in you chair to stare at him. At the same time, he moved forward.

“Have you really thought about this? Thought this through? You'll be killing someone. Ending their life.”

“I know what murder is but thanks for the vocabulary lesson.” You sneered. You didn’t like being talked down to.

“Y/N. I'm serious,” he stressed.

“So am I. I've killed before.”

“Yes! To protect people, not--”

“Isn't that what we’re doing? What you're doing? Just because you kill them when they don't have the murder weapon in their hand doesn't diminish what they've done to the world.”

He looked at you, his face not wavering.

“Y/n… look. I don't know if you've had to lie to your husband before or maybe it's something you do a lot anyway, but from this point forward, everything you do is a lie, a front. I almost got caught once and I thought I was about to lose everything. My sister, my job, my girlfriend. It nearly caused me to panic. Now, if it comes down to it, are you willing to face that? Are you willing to live with that?”

You sat there a moment, thinking. “I've thought this through, Dexter.”

“Have you? It’s a long journey. Are you planning on taking what I teach you back to DC?”

This took you aback. “Actually, that I don't know...”

“Something to think about.”

You nodded. Absolutely. You hadn’t even really thought past your first kill. Would you want to do it if Dexter wasn’t there? Would you be willing to risk it back in D.C. all alone? Would you even feel like killing at all after the first one?

Something about what he said earlier bothered you and you wanted to set the record straight.

“For the record. I don't lie to my husband, ever.”

“And you're willing to start now for… what?”

“This is just something I have to do…”

He nodded, and you hoped it meant he understood.

“It kills me to do it, but I’m also doing this for him. He’s been through so much, and getting these scumbags off the street is just another way to protect the world, our community, and ultimately, him.”

“That’s a powerful love, to kill for someone. Just don’t let that emotion drive this.”

“It’s not,” you assured.

“Alright. I think it would be best if I walked you through how I find someone first, what do you say?”

“Sounds good.”

At that, he began to tell you how he started a hunt, how he picked them, how he made sure they were the one. You listened diligently, the two of you cracking rather dark jokes as you did so. The night grew late and you informed him you had to be back to your apartment to get some sleep for class tomorrow. He bid you a goodnight and you left, feeling better and better about this partnership.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging:

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#inside the criminal mind #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #dexter #dexter morgan #dexter morgan fic

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a-certain-academy-city · 4 years ago

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A.L.T.A.I.R

Name: A.L.T.A.I.R

Gender: Female

Age: Unknown (Physically 18)

Affiliation: The Council (Initially) ZERO (Manipulated Subordinates), Herself

Personality

A.L.T.A.I.R was originally a being without emotions and obedient to the Council’s orders, however, she started to develop her personality and mimic human behavior. she eventually gained a callous curioisity of humans and eventually started to see the residents of Academy City as a huge laboratory.

Powers & Abilities

She is a cyborg based on the R.E.N.S.A. Project that was meant to counter Espers that intended to revolt against Academy City due to their still growing emotional development, as such she shares a lot of features similar to her: such as the default ability to freely switch between the powers of all original seven Level 5 espers and use them as if they were her own. Although she does not possess the AIM Receptor that made Rensa such a formidable foe, due to the lack of data on it's specifications during her creation. However to compensate for this, she has extra added abilities installed into the Level 5 Software Program that would put her on the same level as the original Rensa.

Her mechanical body provides her better physical parameters than even the most elite of athletes: exerting enough force to break through reinforced steel at full power; speed and agility rivaling a prime cheetah; and unlimited stamina and skin with the durability of a rhino's tough skin. She is also fitted with an internalized computation processing unit that provides her with computation abilities that rival Accelerator. Her eyes are fitted with a Heads-Up Display that can analyze data of her surroundings, and perceive the world in a computer like fashion, similar to a Terminator's vision.

Level 5 Software Program

The Level 5 Software Program (超能力者の計算器 Chōnōryokusha no Kesanki, lit. Level 5 Computer) is the default software program that holds the digitized data of the original seven Level 5 powers and installed into Faith, allowing her to freely switch between said Esper Powers of Accelerator, Kakine Teitoku, Misaka Mikoto, Mugino Shizuri, Shokuhou Misaki, Aihana Etsu and Sogiita Gunha as if they were her own. Since Altair was inspired by Rensa, this is a sure added feature. However to compensate for the missing AIM Receptor that was present in the original Rensa, the esper powers of the Level 5 Candidates were also digitized and installed into the Level 5 Software Program Code. With the digitized data of the Espers, she is able to rewire and reconfigure the insides of her body to replicate the Esper she wants to replicate.

With all of the seven Level 5 powers combined, she has displayed incredible finesse and creativity combining the seven powers together to form powerful techniques. Such as using Dark Matter to recreate the physical bodies of the original seven Level 5's; using Accelerator and Railgun to generate dangerous amounts of Plasma; using Railgun to increase the control over Meltdowner's linear attacks, curving them whereas before it would only be shot in one direction; and recreated Accelerator's black wings using Dark Matter. Arguably surpassing the total force of all the seven original Level 5's.

Accelerator (一方通行 Ippō Tsūkō, lit. One-Way Road): Accelerator is based on Vector Transformation, that allows him to control vectors (magnitude and direction) and influence objects that have vectors such as bullets, heat, and electricity. Altair has always favored the usage of Accelerator's abilities, seeing as how it is the strongest ability among the Level 5 data in the Software Program. In conjunction with the Computation Processing Unit inside her that rivals Accelerator's prime, she can achieve the same if not better results than the original. She can't do everything that Accelerator can do, such as his white or platinum wings, however she can replicate the Black Wings using Dark Matter.

Dark Matter (未元物質 Migen Busshitsu, lit. Unknown Matter): Dark Matter allows Altair to create and control an unknown material that she uses for a variety of actions: combat, or mundane. The material she creates defies the Laws of Physics, allowing her to achieve something theoretically impossible such as producing 25,000 different types of energy. She can use the substance and apparently shape it in any form she desires whether it be organic, inorganic, or mechanical. Due to the enhanced computation abilities the Computation Processing Unit, she has the capability to create living entities out of Dark Matter. Even humans that could use Magic or has a Personal Reality.

Railgun (超電磁砲 Chō-Denjihō, lit. Super Electromagnetic Cannon): Railgun is the Level 5 variant of the Electromaster esper power originally used by Misaka Mikoto. Altair has shown to have a maximum output of 1 billion volts, as well as the ability to observe and manipulate electric, magnetic, and electromagnetic fields with the unaided eye. Railgun under Altair's hands has slightly more applications due to the Internal CPU that is present within her. Stated by Genjiro to roughly have the same applications of Misaka Mikoto when she is at Level 5.1, although the output would still be drastically weaker due to the voltage output.

Meltdowner (原子崩し Genshi Kuzushi, lit. Atomic Destruction): Meltdowner allows Altair to forcibly control electrons in the "ambiguous" state of an electron where it is both particle and wave, and when they strike other objects the electrons are unable to react either as particle or a wave because of their state. The ability usually takes on the form of a high-speed beam of light that can easily melt through thick metal walls and cause things like refined alcohol to explode with its heat alone. With the Internal CPU, the amount of beams she can create is close to fifty and with the help of electromaster she can curve the beams or branch them out from one beam.

Mental Out (心理掌握 Shinri Shōaku, lit. Psychological Control): Data taken from Shokuhou Misaki, Mental Out is very powerful ability involving the human mind which includes mental control, reading other people's memories, telepathy, changing a person's personality, willpower and memory destruction, revelation and transplantation of emotions,]brainwashing, and psychometry. This ability was enhanced with the data provided by Exterior and another Esper Power, Mental Stinger (心理穿孔 Shinri Senkō, lit. Psychological Perforation). Combined with the internal CPU, the applications regarding her usage of Mental Out is ten times better and far more accurate, requiring only a snap to focus her powers.

Number Seven (七番 Nanaban, lit. Seventh Number): Data taken from Sogiita Gunha using different investigation techniques than normally used for the other Level 5's. Due to the unexplained ability of the Number Seven, even Altair with her internal CPU cannot fully comprehend the powers of the Number Seven. As such, she could only use a part of the overall true power and is unable to utilize it properly. Altair however describes this ability as 'a power caused by a twisted and misunderstood sense of reasoning and logic on the microscopic world', something that Genjiro seems to understand and determines it has something to do with his eccentric personality.

Level 5 Candidates

The abilities of the Level 5 Candidates are added as an extra to the Level 5 Software Program to compensate for Faith not possessing the AIM Receptor that the original Rensa possessed. Like the original Level 5 powers, the esper powers of the Level 5 Candidates were recorded, digitized and installed into the Software Program to allow her to utilize their powers freely as if they were her own. Further adding to that, her creator obtained classified information on the oldest esper to have ever been created by Academy City. Allowing Altair to even utilize her power. Just like with the original seven, she has shown the ability to merge the abilities together to form stronger techniques. Additionally, due to the internalized computation processing unit that provided Altair with intelligence rivaling the First-Ranked Level 5, she is able to use the candidates powers at Level 5 power (with the exception of AIM Stalker).

Beginning Child (発祥検体 Hasshō Kentai, lit. First Child): The Beginning Child's esper ability data allows Altair to remake her surroundings into the ideal environment for the survival of a nearby living creature she designates or for herself, a sort of localized terraforming. While the original activates this ability with a roar, Altair can activate it with a snap of her fingers. The ability only affects the environment, with the surface of the ground and existing life forms not directly affected by the ability but capable of being affected the environment it creates. Kihara Kamui describes this ability as the ideal power to bring to turn the tides in a battle to her favor by applying this ability on herself.

Rampage Dress (天衣装着 Ten'i Souchaku, lit., Heavenly Garment Equipping): Rampage Dress is a Level 4 esper ability recorded and digitized from Hokaze Junko. It essentially enables her to manipulate the electrical signals in her cells to draw out further strength. This allows her to strengthen her sense of smell by increasing the sensitivity of her olfactory cells, or to perform superhuman maneuvers by boosting her muscle cells. This ability can be enhanced with the usage of Railgun, as both can control electrical signals. Due to possessing a mechanical body, this ability was modified to manipulate the electrical signals of her own mechanical body.

Telekinesis (念動力 Nendōryoku, lit. Telekinetic Force): The power of Telekinesis was originally recorded from the powers of "Maidono Hoshimi" and expanded upon by taking data from other telekinetic users, as well as it being enhanced with her internal CPU. With "Hoshimi's" data, Faith can also utilize a Level 5 destructive output using the signal slide technique. However, using the internal CPU has allowed Faith to use Telekinesis on a microscopic scale. Achieving an extra ability called Micro Structure (微細構築 Bisai Kōshiku, lit. Micro Construction). At most the weight limit she can lift using Telekinesis is 49,350,000 pounds or 22,385,000 kg (the weight of 50 jumbo jets).

Move Point (座標移動 Zahyō Idō, lit. Coordinate Movement): Digitized and taken from the Level 4, Musujima Awaki. It's a more powerful version of teleportation that can move any object to her desired destination without the use of physical contact. With the ability enhanced due the internal CPU, the ability has reached a state similar to a Level 5, allowing her to teleport objects with only a remote view of the target such as from a security camera. She has a teleportation range of 5 km and a weight limit of also 22,385,000 kg. Due to enhancement, Altair stated that she could move the world towards her', implying she can do an instant teleportation to the entire world briefly, placing her in a specified position.

AIM Stalker (能力追跡 Nōryoku Tsuiseki, lit. Ability Tracker): One of two only ability that can't be used properly, this one was due to the data that was provided by the original Takitsubo Rikou. Like her, she has the ability to memorize and accurately lock onto an esper she has memorized in the past, allowing her to track down their AIM Diffusion Fields, and even to a certain degree overload their AIM Fields to either halt their usage of powers or let them go violently put of control. However unlike Rikou, she doesn't need to use any form of drugs such as the Ability Body Crystals to use this power, as that limitation was bypassed using the Internal Computation Processing Unit.

Micro Structure (微細構築 Bisai Kōshiku, lit. Micro Construction): Micro Structure is a sub-ability that was achieved due to the internal CPU inside her. It is the ability to manipulate microscopic particles. As the CPU provides Altair with intelligence rivaling Accelerator, their are almost endless amounts of applications that can be done using this ability. Effectively allowing Altair to control matter as a whole. The maximum limit of the microscopic control only however goes so far to molecular level, however this in itself already provides an insane amount of applications that already encompasses even Accelerator, Railgun and Meltdowner's powers.

#Character Info

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chemicalmagecraft · 4 years ago

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A Black Wind Howls Chapter 4: Winter Solstice Part One

Previously on Avatar...

"You can run but you can't hide, airbenders!" the leader of the firebenders shouted.

"I'm sorry," Dorji said quietly, seemingly to thin air. "This is all my fault."

Dorji grunted lazily and touched the thumb of her open hand to her chest and then her chin."

I also managed to find a scroll on healing with waterbending. It's not anything you can use in a fight but, well... Let's just say I speak from experience when I say that healers are the kind of thing that are always great to have around. I'll try to find practical waterbending scrolls to get to you."

"And finally, I added in a few scrolls on Earth Kingdom Sign Language," Tsering said. "While it's not my place to tell you why, Dorji sometimes prefers talking in it so it'd be for the best if at least one of you learned enough of it to hold a conversation."

"I... Sometimes I have... problems processing sounds. It's not too bad anymore, I hope anyway, but please be patient if I need you to repeat things," Dorji muttered. "I would also prefer if you faced me while speaking to me, for similar reasons. I can read lips, in case I'm having trouble with hearing."

Dorji turned to Sokka. "Perhaps you would like to learn chi blocking? You seemed pleased with the concept of disrupting firebending. And it can do more than just disable bending for a few seconds."

oOoOo

"Bending is connection to an element," Dorji said, her hands on Appa's reins. She was sitting backwards, though, so she could talk to the others more comfortably, and only occasionally looked behind her at where Appa was going. She held her hand out to a passing cloud, causing a miniature funnel cloud to form from it. "When you move air, when you lift water, you become one with it. To a truly masterful bender, their element is an extension of their very body."

"What does this have to do with us wearing blindfolds?" Aang asked from Appa's saddle. He and Katara were both sitting down on opposite sides of the saddle, wearing blindfolds. Sokka was sitting in the back, studying Dorji's chi blocking scroll.

"The reason the Air Nomads used to shave their heads was to give them more connection to air, was it not, Aang?" Dorji asked. When he nodded, she continued, "By shaving their heads, the Air Nomads made themselves more sensitive to the air currents around them, if only a bit. My grandmother trained me in a more... advanced version of this. Thanks to her I learned to feel the very air around me in a wide range, as another sense. Think of the blindfold like... a weight, I suppose. By restricting one of the senses you use the most, you will unconsciously draw on other senses. And once you begin to feel the elements more, your control over them will only increase."

"That makes about as much sense as bending always does," Sokka snarked. He looked at the diagram on his scroll, then carefully pressed his thumb into a spot on his other arm. "Tingly," he muttered.

"Is this really going to work?" Aang asked.

"I learned your little trick, didn't I?" Dorji stated. With the same deadpan expression as always, Dorji showed off the spinning stone trick that Aang entertained the people of Kyoshi with. "At least try to learn mine, please. Though I suppose the blindfolds work better when you're being forced to move around or something else that you would otherwise rely on sight for, which isn't something you can safely do on a flying bison..."

"You didn't do it right, though," Aang noted.

Dorji winced. Despite the blindfolds, Katara and Sokka glared at Aang.

"Sorry, sorry," Aang raised his hands apologetically. "I meant that it doesn't have the same affect if you don't have the expression right." He frowned. "How did I know that, actually?"

"I can have that affect on people," Dorji said. "Or perhaps you're beginning to learn. Regardless, let me try that again."

As if the mental exertion required to even think about purposefully adopting such a whimsical expression was too much for Dorji's brain to handle, her eyes rolled up into the back of her head and she went limp. The only thing that prevented her from sliding and falling off of Appa was the fact that she somehow managed to drop the reins in such a way that her foot got caught in them and she ended up dangling off the side of Appa's head.

"DORJI!" Sokka screamed in horror.

"Oh come on, it's not that bad, Sokka," Aang said, oblivious to what just happened due to his blindfold. Katara just scowled at him.

oOoOo

Dorji groaned as she woke up. "I hate the spirit world..." She rubbed her eyes and looked around. She was sitting in Appa's saddle, and it appeared that they had landed in a forest that had been burnt down. Work of the Fire Nation, she judged from the komodo rhino tracks. She tossed herself off of Appa's saddle, slowly falling to the ground.

"Ah!" But when she touched down, she cried out in pain despite how lightly she landed. She dropped to the ground and clutched her knee.

Dorji's awake!" Katara shouted. She and the others rushed over to her. "Are you okay?" Katara asked.

"I probably just twisted it when I fell..." she muttered, pulling some bandages out of one of the pouches on her belt and taking off her shoe.

"Here, let me," Katara offered. She took the bandage and started wrapping up Dorji's foot for her.

Dorji blushed and fidgeted.

"Sorry, am I putting it on too tight?" Katara asked.

Dorji's blush deepened. She pressed her fingers together nervously. "Mmh. N-no, sorry. I'm just a l-little... ticklish, I guess..."

Katara finished bandaging her foot. "There, is that better?"

Dorji gingerly tested the range of her ankle's motion, then nodded. "Thank you." She pulled the two halves of her staff from her belt, then used them to push off the ground. She balanced on her good leg, then put her staff together and started leaning on it. "It doesn't feel too bad. Hopefully it'll be better in a few days if I keep my weight off of it."

"So what happened back there?" Sokka asked.

She sighed. "I'm... afraid I lost track of the days when I was in that prison. Is the winter solstice approaching?"

Katara nodded. "It's in a few days, but what does that have to do with you passing out?"

Aang gasped. "Did you... pass over to the spirit world?"

She nodded. "That... happens to me sometimes, at times when the two worlds draw closer."

"How is that even possible?" Sokka asked.

"Airbenders, for whatever reason, have souls more easily separated from their bodies. So those among us who are more receptive to the spirit world can actually cross over without meaning to, especially when near areas with strong spiritual ties." She nodded at Aang. "You were warned about this, right?"

Aang nodded back. "Yeah, when we were really young the monks took us aside before one of our holy days and warned us about how we could cross over on accident if the circumstances were right." He thought of something. "Actually, I think they might have asked us to be extra cautious because of me. Sorry, did I accidentally make you cross over? I am supposed to be the bridge between worlds..."

Dorji rubbed her chin. "No... You might have exacerbated it slightly, but I knew that might happen when I decided to travel with the Avatar. The real reason, I think, is that there's something near here that is very connected to the spirit world." She closed her eyes for a few seconds, as if concentrating on something else. "It looks like... a statue to a bear spirit. Maybe the guardian of this forest?"

The other three looked over at a bear statue, which was on the other side of Appa from where Dorji was standing. "Amazing," Katara said. "How'd you do that?"

"As much as I don't act like it, I'm very spiritually receptive. I was born that way," Dorji explained. "Grandmother told me a theory she had, once, that because most of the airbenders died, when my father and myself were born we were given a high degree of spiritual power by the universe in an attempt to restore balance."

Sokka raised his eyebrow.

"I... probably didn't explain that very well, did I?" She leaned against Appa. "In all honesty, I don't get it. But... I don't have any other explanation for it. Because of my strong spiritual receptivity, my ability to sense the air around me also allows me to sense... other things. Spiritual presence among them."

"That makes sense, I guess," Aang said.

Sokka frowned. "I still don't get this whole spirit world thing, but that's good to know, I guess."

"That bison... could you be the Avatar?" an old man asked as he walked through the ruined forest to the group. He smiled when he saw Aang's tattoos. "Please help my village, Avatar."

"Um, I'll try my best, whatever you need," Aang said. "Just take us there."

"I don't suppose you know anything about medicine?" Dorji asked.

"How bad is it?" the man asked, seeing how Dorji was leaning on a staff and not using her bad leg.

"Just a sprain, hopefully," Dorji told him. "Would like for someone who actually paid attention in their first aid lessons to take a look, though."

Everyone stared at her. "Flopsie wanted cuddles," she explained with a shrug.

"As in the King of Omashu's pet Flopsie?" Katara asked.

"He likes it when you scratch him behind the ears," Dorji smiled slightly. "Now, perhaps we should get on Appa? That way he can examine my ankle on the way to his village."

oOoOo

"Its name is Hei Bai," the village chief said after the old man brought them to his house. "It started attacking the village every night recently, I'm sure you saw the houses it destroyed, and it has been spiriting people away, too. The winter solstice, when the boundaries between this world and the spirit world begin to weaken, is drawing near, and we would prefer not to find out what sort of havoc Hei Bai could wreak on that day of all days."

Dorji, who was given the comfiest chair in the house and a footrest to prop up her injured leg, cleared her throat. "A spirit's powers don't grow on the solstice, thankfully. It only takes less effort to cross between the worlds, and powers that involve a connection to the spirit world are easier to use. It might even be that this spirit can only cross over the way it does thanks to the solstice approaching, and the amount of power it'll 'gain' on the day of is negligible at best. Or, I suppose, worst."

The chief nodded in thanks. "That is reassuring to hear, thank you. Regardless, I think that we would all rest much easier if there wasn't a monstrous spirit that wants to attack us. Avatar Aang, please help us and pacify the spirit besieging our village."

Aang bit his lip. "I'll... I'll try."

"Thank you, Avatar."

Katara put her hand on Aang's shoulder. "Let's talk," she said gently, then brought him over to the part of the room where Sokka and Dorji were still sitting. "Are you okay? You seem a little nervous."

"I'm not too sure, but... I have to try." Aang looked at Dorji. "Actually, what else do you know about spirits?"

She shook her head. "Not much. My father apparently used to explore the spirit world frequently, but I have a few... issues with it, so I didn't pay much attention to what he told me about it, except for a few things."

"I'm beginning to notice a pattern with you," Sokka noted.

Dorji blushed a little. "I swear I'm normally more competent than that, but in my defense I don't like the spirit world."

Sokka stroked his chin, like he was stroking an imaginary goatee or beard. "And what about your first aid lessons, young lady?" he asked in a weird, authoritative, father figurely voice.

"You can't stare into Flopsie's soulful eyes and tell him no," Dorji defended. "But Flopsie's soulful eyes are irrelevant to our current situation. What I do know is that most spirits will not attack humans without first being provoked... though sometimes the provocation is something that one would not expect a normal person to react so strongly to."

"That's extremely helpful," Sokka snarked.

Katara elbowed him.

"I apologize that I can't offer much more advice," Dorji said. "It's probably something recent, though. If the spirit looks like a bear you might want to start with the forest."

"That... thank you," Aang said. He smiled and hugged her. "I'm feeling much better about this than I did earlier."

She nodded. "I'm sure you'll do fine. Now, you may want to start preparing yourself."

"The girl is right," the village leader said. "The sun is starting to set. Hei Bai will be here soon."

Aang nodded and retrieved his staff. "I'm ready." He walked out the door, a serious look on his face.

"Yyyeah, we're all gonna die..." Sokka said.

Katara hit him. "Don't say that!"

Dorji nodded. "I have the utmost faith in him. And not just because I, as the disabled girl with the sprained ankle, would be the most screwed should Hei Bai attack us, even with my father's staff." She tapped the staff, which was currently leaning on her chair

"In any case, it won't do us any good to worry about it," Katara said. She coated her hands in water from a pitcher that she was given. "And speaking of your ankle, I read that one scroll on healing your grandmother gave us. I'm not sure how successful I'll be, but I still wanna try it."

"It can't hurt," Dorji agreed.

Katara placed her hands on Dorji's foot, which she had left bare other than the bandage after the old man took a look at it. Dorji's cheeks and ears turned pink as Katara closed her eyes and started rubbing her foot. "Does it feel any better?" Katara asked.

"I-it does, b-but only because of the c-cool water, I think," Dorji answered. She smiled slightly, and her blush turned very red. "A-and, a-a really p-p-pretty girl g-giving me a f-foot rub also m-makes me feel a l-lot better."

Katara started laughing so hard that she dropped her water. "Sorry," she said as she retrieved more water, "but that sounds like the sort of thing Sokka would say to some girl." Dorji's face was burning now, though Katara hadn't noticed because she was concentrating on trying to heal Dorji.

Sokka raised his eyebrow at Dorji. "Yeah," he said with a smug grin, "that does sound like the sort of thing I'd say. With someone other than Katara, obviously." Dorji shrank down in her seat and timidly tried to hide her face. Sokka, with an even more smug expression, pointed to the left with two fingers and then made a fist with his thumb pointing up, the signs for 'h' and 'a.' Dorji looked like she very much wanted to use her grandmother's invisibility technique.

"Dorji, are you sure you're okay? You're starting to shake a bit," Katara asked.

"Y-yeah," Dorji squeaked. "M'fine."

"I have no idea what you three are doing, but Hei Bai just showed up in case you want to watch your friend," the village chief said.

"Katara, help Dorji stand," Sokka ordered as he got up.

"Th-that's not really..." Dorji started to say, then trailed off when Katara grabbed her hand. Katara smiled at Dorji as she helped her up. Dorji leaned on her, still blushing heavily, and summoned her staff to her free hand with airbending. "Th-thanks..."

"That is not a bear," Sokka said about the monstrous spirit Aang was trying to talk to.

"I hope Aang knows what he's doing," Katara said.

Dorji stared at the spirit as it smashed down a house with a roar... or perhaps a scream. "He's crying," she muttered.

"What was that, Dorji?" Katara asked her.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Aang looks fine to me," Sokka said.

Dorji shook her head. "Not Aang, Hei Bai."

"That monster is not crying," the village leader said. "It's creepy."

"I think he looks kinda cute, rampaging aside," Dorji shrugged. "He's fluffy and I wanna pet him."

The chief raised his eyebrow at her, then looked at the four-armed monster attacking the village. He stepped away from Dorji.

Aang shouted at Hei Bai to gain his attention, causing Hei Bai to turn around long enough to hit him, sending him flying, before turning back to smashing a building. "That's it, I'm helping him," Sokka said, then ran for the door.

"Sokka, wait!" Katara shouted.

"You can't fight it!" the village chief shouted as Sokka ran out the door.

"I'm going out there too," Dorji said. She defenestrated herself, and once she was clear of the window she unfurled her staff. The revealed glider wings were as black as the rest of the staff. An air current had already formed when she opened her staff, catching Dorji and causing her to shoot off in the direction of the rampaging spirit. She was just a little too late to stop the spirit from grabbing Sokka, who'd thrown his boomerang at him to get him to stop, and running back to the trees.

"Sokka!" Aang shouted, and unfurled his own glider. He joined Dorji in chasing the spirit through the trees, until they reached the part of the forest that had been burned away. Dorji grabbed hold of one of Hei Bai's arms, using her glider to try to slow him down. Aang got close enough to reach out to Sokka, but as soon as Sokka grabbed Aang's hand the spirit shimmered and disappeared, taking Sokka with it. Aang and Dorji remained, but they both fell despite their gliders and were knocked unconscious.

oOoOo

"Ow, my head," Aang said as he woke up. He rubbed his head as he sat up and looked around. While it was still nighttime, it looked like a few hours had passed after they'd been knocked unconscious. "Sokka?" he shouted. "Are you there?" He sighed. "I failed, didn't I?"

He heard a sob. Aang turned around to see Dorji, cowering by the foot of the bear statue. She was curled up in a ball, trembling and covering her head with her arms.

Aang knelt down in front of her. "Are you okay, Dorji?" He asked. She didn't respond at all. "Hey, is your ank-" He gently touched her shoulder.

She shrieked and jerked back. She looked at him, startled and with eyes red and puffy from crying. "A-Aang, y-you're up." She gave a shaky sigh of relief. "Y-you wouldn't w-wake up, a-and I was s-scared..." She sniffled.

"I'm sorry, I guess." Aang looked around. "Do you know where Sokka and the spirit went?" he asked, not looking directly at Dorji.

"U-um... c-could you p-please look at m-me?" Dorji asked.

"Hm?" Aang looked at her. "What's wrong?"

Dorji hugged her knees nervously. "I-I..." She bit her lip. "I... c-can't hear y-you..."

Aang tilted his head, confused. "You... can't?"

"I... I can't hear in the s-spirit world..."

"That... sounds arbitrary," Aang said, then looked around again. "But we're not in the spirit world, are we?"

Dorji's grip on her knees tightened. "It's... more complicated than that. A-and we are. T-this is a sort of... borderland, that only appears at times like the solstice. It's... a thin layer that forms over the material world. I-it's what makes it so easy to cross over to the spirit world. We can see the material world, b-but only those attuned to the spirit world will be able to see us."

"So... how does that translate to you not being able to hear? Or is that too personal of a question to ask, sorry?"

"Well... it is a personal question... but I suppose I should tell the truth..."

"Oh, don't feel the need to tell me if you don't feel like it," Aang said, shaking his head.

Dorji frowned at him. "...It's hard to read your lips if you do that."

"Sorry!"

"It's... fine..." Dorji took a deep breath. "The reason I can't hear in the spirit world... is because I was born deaf."

"You were what?" Aang asked.

"P-please let me explain," Dorji said. "I hear through my ability to sense air, and when a bender crosses over to the spirit world in spirit alone, which is what we did, we lose all bending ability..."

"Including air sense," Aang finished. "Though how does air sense translate to hearing, if you don't mind me asking?"

Dorji nodded slightly. "It's a valid question. The sound you hear is basically just... vibrations in air, so I was taught to read those vibrations." She sighed. "It's... not perfect, though. I have trouble detecting tone of voice sometimes, and if I'm too distracted..." She bit her lip. "I... That's how I got found out..."

Aang put his hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

She took a deep breath. "I... was practicing. Alone. In a clearing. I shouldn't have, but I wanted to surprise Father by learning a technique he had showed me. I let myself become distracted, and while I was practicing it seemed that a Fire Nation soldier snuck behind me." She sobbed. "I-i escaped, b-but the soldier called reinforcements and they chased me. I... I led them right to my father."

"That's not your fault," Aang assured her. She didn't react because her eyes were closed, so Aang squeezed her shoulder. "Hey, that wasn't your fault," he said when she looked at him.

She shook her head. "Father is so much stronger and faster than me. Some call him the most powerful bender in the Earth Kingdom, if not the world. Had he not had to protect me, Father could have slipped away invisibly, or killed them all. But I was there, so he had to slow himself do-"

Aang hugged her. She sobbed and buried her face in Aang's chest. Aang let her cry, neither of them trying to speak, and rubbed her back in an attempt to soothe her. Her sobs abated eventually. Aang gently pushed her off of him and squeezed her shoulders lightly. "I think... Maybe, we did make mistakes. I ran away from the Air Temple, and more recently I said some horrible and uncalled for things to you. And you might have been surprised by some Fire Nation people. But... we're both kids. Sometimes we'll make mistakes. We should apologize for them, and try not to make the same mistake again, but beating ourselves up over it won't change anything. Tsering didn't blame either of us, and while I don't know your father I do know that if he's anything like Tsering he wouldn't blame you for what happened." Aang got up and held a hand out to Dorji, smiling. "So let's not blame ourselves either, okay?"

Dorji sniffed. It felt as if a weight lifted off her chest as she processed Aang's words. "I think... I think I needed to see that." She took Aang's hand and let him pull her up, leaning on him due to her bad ankle. "Thank you."

"And for what it's worth, I'm still really sorry for the 'you're not a real airbender' thing..."

Dorji nodded, but still frowned a little. "Let's just... not talk about that again, please. Now, what are we going to do."

"If you want, you can try to go back to our world. I'll try to look for Sokka until morning, if that's how it works here."

"There is morning here." Dorji bit her lip, then squeezed Aang's hand a little. "I think... I think I'll stay with you. For now. I don't know how how much help I'll be, but I want to try. And it might be better for both of us to have someone else."

Aang nodded. "Thanks." Then he squeezed Dorji's hand. "How about we hold hands, and when I need to talk to you I can squeeze your hand or something to get your attention?"

"That sounds good, thank you."

He smiled at her. "Great. Now, let's try to find Sokka."

The walked around the ruined forest in silence, looking for anything out of place. Eventually, Aang heard something. He quickly turned to face Dorji and squeezed her hand. "I think I hear... wings flapping?" he said when she looked at him. He wasn't quite sure that was what it was, but it was his best guess.

"I'll take your word for it." She looked up, then her eyes widened and she pointed at a figure approaching from above. It was a red, serpentine creature that flew towards them on great red wings. "Could that be it?" she asked, surprisingly calm. She glanced back at him for his response.

"Is that a dragon!?" Aang asked. The dragon landed in front of them.

"It looks like Avatar Roku's dragon. Could it be here for you?" Dorji speculated.

The dragon nodded, then leaned forward. Aang flinched back, but calmed when the dragon touched his whiskers to his head.

"Oh. Thank you," he told the dragon. He turned back to Dorji. "He wants to show me something. Is it okay if I leave with him?"

Dorji nodded, then bit her lip. "Go, but I think... if you're going I want to leave the spirit world."

Aang squeezed her hand. "That's fine. There's nothing wrong with leaving somewhere that makes you uncomfortable."

"Thanks," she nodded, then closed her eyes. She breathed in, then out. Her body glowed and turned transparent, then she shot back off to where they'd entered the spirit world. The sleeping form of Dorji's body in the material world stirred when her spirit body entered her. Dorji got up, leaning on her staff again, then nodded to Aang and the dragon. As Aang got on the dragon, Dorji twirled her staff. The motion generated more wind than should've been possible, allowing Dorji to shoot herself up into the air, then unfurl her staff. The wind shot her back to the village.

oOoOo

Dorji landed in the center of the town.

"Dorji, you're back!" Katara shouted, then ran over to hug her.

Dorji squeaked.

"Oh, I was so worried about you!" Katara exclaimed, letting her go. "What happened? Where are the others?"

"A-ah..." Dorji fidgeted a little. "Sokka... is probably in the spirit world. I know Aang is in the spirit world, we entered there on accident. He was contacted by a... representative, of sorts, of Avatar Roku, so hopefully he'll know how to best resolve the situation when he returns."

Katara raised an eyebrow. "A representative of..."

"Avatar Roku, the Avatar before Aang. I've heard that the Avatar before the current one acts as a spiritual advisor for the current one, so he's in good hands. All that's left for us to do is wait."

"That's good to hear," the village chief, who had walked over to them, said. "Is there anything we can do while we wait for the Avatar to come back?"

Dorji slumped into Katara's chest. "Food, please," she muttered, still keeping eye contact with the village chief. "Going to the spirit world can be draining. I need food, Aang will need food, and when he gets the others back they'll need food. And I have an idea that might help, but I'll need to regain some energy before I try it." And then she closed her eyes and started snoring.

Katara picked her up. "I'll take her somewhere more comfortable. Can you get some food for her?"

The chief nodded. "I'll get right on that."

oOoOo

The sun was beginning to set, though it was hard to tell under the cover of the clouds that blanketed the sky, but Aang was still nowhere to be found. Katara was waiting for him outside the village chief's house, but she was starting to look worried. "Where are you, Aang?"

"He's approaching," a soft voice said from behind her.

Katara jumped, then turned to see Dorji standing behind her. She wasn't leaning on her staff anymore, as her ankle had healed up a bit. "Oh, Dorji, you scared me."

Dorji bowed her head slightly. "Right, sorry."

"It's okay. What did you want to tell me?"

"I... sensed... Aang's spirit moving towards his body. Very fast, too. He should be back in our world by now." She tilted her head slightly, as if "listening" to something, then pointed at the sky behind Katara.

Katara turned around and looked at something in the distance where Dorji was pointing. "Aang!" she shouted.

The small figure flying in the distance grew to reveal that it was Aang, and Aang landed in front of Katara and Dorji. "Sorry, am I late?" he asked.

"I think you'd know if you were late," Dorji said flatly.

"You're back, Aang!" Katara hugged him. "Do you think you know what to do about the spirit now."

Aang gave her a determined expression. "I'm not entirely sure, but I'll try my best."

Hei Bai seemed to fade into existence right behind him.

"As soon as Hei Bai appears I'm going to..." Aang felt something breathing down his neck. "It's behind me, isn't it?"

Dorji and Katara nodded.

Aang turned around and stared at Hei Bai, determined. "You're angry because the Fire Nation destroyed your forest, aren't you?" he said.

The spirit growled at him.

Aang pulled out an acorn. "I was so angry when I saw it, too. But my friends showed me that, even if it looks bad now, there's still hope for it to regrow in the future."

Hei Bai's expression softened.

"Actually," Dorji butted in, "I heard that forest fires can cause the soil to become even more nutritious, because the nutrients from dead trees get turned into ash and then mixed with the soil, or something. Obviously it's still better for the forest not to get set on fire, but with some rain to let the ash absorb into the soil..." As if on cue, a raindrop fell on the spirit's nose. More started falling, a light drizzle at first but slowly getting heavier. "The forest might regrow healthier than ever."

Hei Bai seemed to be processing that, his expression softening further as the rain soaked it. He shimmered and morphed into a panda, then picked the acorn Aang had offered him up with his mouth. Dorji stepped forward, holding her hand up in front if his face.

Interestingly enough, Dorji didn't seem to be getting wet at all despite the pouring rain coming down all around her.

The bear spirit pressed his forehead into Dorji's hand, accepting her invitation. Dorji hugged him, then started scratching him behind his ears. He made happy bear noises in response. Aang slowly placed his hand on Hei Bai's neck, then started rubbing it when he didn't object to it.

"That's nice and all, I suppose," Katara said as her friends cuddled with the spirit that had attacked them and took her brother away yesterday, "but could you please give back the villagers you spirited away? And my brother?"

Aang stopped petting Hei Bai, but Dorji, whose face was buried in his neck, didn't seem to notice what Katara had said. "Sorry," he said.

Hei Bai made a noise that sounded like it might also have been an apology, then slipped through Dorji's grasp, heading to the forest. As he walked, ethereal bamboo started to sprout from the ground. Aang and Katara walked after him.

"Huh?" Dorji said when Hei Bai passed through her arms, then noticed Aang and Katara following Hei Bai. She trotted after them, walking in between the two.

"How'd you know it'd rain just then?" Katara asked her. As with before, Dorji didn't seem to hear her.

Aang grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Dorji turned to him. "Sorry, did you say something? I have trouble hearing things when it's raining."

"I didn't, but..." Aang pointed at Katara.

"Sorry, I should've gotten your attention first," Katara apologized when Dorji looked at her. "I asked how you knew it'd rain, it seemed like you already knew it was about to rain when you said what you said."

"Those rain clouds have been gathering since I woke up," Dorji pointed out.

Aang frowned. "I know you probably meant that you just guessed it might rain soon, but to be honest it kinda sounded like you were implying you caused the rain."

Dorji didn't seem to notice what Aang said, and instead ran forward as Hei Bai started to disappear into a thicket of bamboo of his own making. As people started to emerge from the thicket, she ran through some bending form that both Aang and Katara thought looked a little familiar, but couldn't quite place. As she did, the effect that caused the rain to avoid her expanded, a swirling field of air that looked something like a lazy, hemispherical funnel cloud protecting the people who were coming back from the spirit world from the elements.

"Wow, how are you doing that?" Aang asked her.

"Airbending," she muttered. "Perhaps we should check on them?"

Some of the villagers, led by their chief, ran into the air shield, small gaps forming in it whenever they were about to touch it. It seemed like Dorji had somehow talked with them about it beforehand, as they didn't pay it much mind aside from a small amount of wonder at the barrier made from of wind and clouds. They came with towels and hot meals (though unfortunately they were a little wet...) for the people who just came back from the spirit world.

"Sokka!" Katara exclaimed when she saw her brother stumbling from the bamboo. She ran up to him and hugged him. "I was so worried about you! How are you doing?"

Sokka danced weirdly. "Thanks, but... I really have to pee!" He wiggled out of the hug and ran out of the cloud barrier. He went so fast that Dorji didn't have the time to fully open a hole in it.

"There are no bathrooms in the spirit world," Dorji noted dully.

oOoOo

Sokka left the bathroom, sighing in relief.

"I'm glad you're okay," Dorji said. She was leaning on the wall near the door, holding a bowl of curry. She offered the curry to Sokka. "Courtesy of the village chief." Sokka reached to grab it, but then Dorji pulled it back. "Actually, did you not wash your hands?"

Sokka growled at her, then went back into the bathroom. A few seconds and sounds of water later, Sokka came back out, still growling, and snatched the bowl from Dorji.

"Seriously, though, are you okay?" Dorji asked him as he downed the soup. "While there were... circumstances that made my first time in the spirit world more terrifying than if could've been, chief among them being the fact that I was five, the spirit world is a confusing place to just randomly be dropped against your will in regardless of circumstances."

Sokka shrugged. "It was pretty freaky, but to be honest that's just been my life since we met Aang."

"Still, if you do need to talk about it I'll be there for you," Dorji said. "And... thanks, for not being weird about it when you noticed..."

Sokka nodded. "Yeah, don't worry about it. Though I do feel like I should remind you that, as Katara's older brother, I will have to tease you about having a crush on her."

"I was worried about that..." she muttered. "Now, I think Aang's about to do something rash, so let's go catch up with him."

Sokka gulped some of his curry. "Yeah, let's go."

oOoOo

"What was Aang just about to do?" Sokka asked Katara. Aang and Katara were standing in front of Appa, who looked like he was being readied to fly.

"I was-" Aang started to say, but was cut off by Katara.

"He was about to leave without us," she said. "Something about Avatar Roku."

"I have to go to an island in the Fire Nation by tomorrow," Aang explained. "I didn't want..."

Dorji jumped onto Appa. "Nope," she said, reclining in the back of his saddle. The rain started avoiding Appa, though without quite as much of the vision-obscuring cloud barrier around him.

"Yeah, we're not letting you go without us," Sokka said, then started trying to climb Appa. "We're going to the Fire Nation together."

Aang sighed. "Thanks, guys."

#fanfiction #avatar the last airbender fanfiction #Avatar The Last Airbender #A Black Wind Howls #ABWH CH4

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mymelodyheart · 4 years ago

Text

Starting Over Chapter 9 ~The Perfect Illusion~

Claire splashed water on her face, the refreshing coolness tempering her heated cheeks. Rotating her head and shoulders after a quick dry off, her joints popped and cracked. She looked at her reflection on the mirror and puffed out her cheeks. There were dark circles under her eyes, contrasting the paleness of her skin, and her curls stood out in places despite the hair tie and pins. She looked ghastly and was bone-tired and longed for a shower and bed. It was her first bathroom break in over eight hours, and she hadn't eaten a morsel nor drank anything. Squeezing her eyes shut, she took deep fortifying breaths and wondered how much more she could take.

Ever since returning back to work over a week ago, she had been alienated and cut-off by her colleagues at the hospital. No one, not even her once so-called friends, wanted to speak to her unless it was work-related. Once admired and applauded for her brilliance as a doctor, she was now shunned and spurned. They whispered and gossiped behind her back and sneered when they thought she wasn't looking. And the reporters who'd taken a keen interest in her, only made her predicament worse, almost getting herself arrested the other day on charges of assaulting a journalist. It happened while she was hurrying to an emergency and because of the photographer's sheer persistence to take a close-up photo, she'd shoved him out of the way, knocking him over. The charges were eventually dropped, but it didn't diminish her distress over the situation.

She'd known settling back to her old life wouldn't be easy, but reality hit her harder than she'd anticipated. She wondered how much Frank had divulged to the staff, as it was quite apparent that they had taken his side and taken matters into their own hands. Her stuff and charts started to get misplaced, her work schedules consisted of nights and double shifts, and senior staffs reprimanded and blamed her for the most inconsequential things. But she swore, no matter how bad the situation got, she would not break, even though she found it humiliating to have her life picked apart and scrutinised.

During the last few days, she'd tried to get hold of Frank to arrange a day to collect her things from his apartment, but it was becoming more obvious he was avoiding her. She knew he was playing his brokenhearted card after uncle Lamb informed her that Frank had taken a restraining order against him. When she'd asked her uncle what he'd done and said to him, he'd refused to share, citing that it was a conversation between two men and unfit for a young woman's ears. That alone was already quite telling and knowing her uncle, she knew it hadn't been pretty.

She sighed. Emotionally and physically drained, she slipped out of the toilet and went to the staff room. To her relief, it was empty. Taking a paper cup of water, she sat in the farthest area of the room and drank thirstily, trying her best to hold it together. Just another couple more hours and she was free to have her day and a half off.

"Claire?"

She stiffened. Though she'd wanted to speak to Frank for days, she didn't know if she had the strength right now. Who would have imagined being loathed by her work colleagues, would take so much out of her. She forced herself to meet his gaze. "Frank."

"Are you alright?" His normally neat dark brown hair was tousled, and he looked like he hadn't been getting much sleep either.

"What do you think?" A sad smile formed her lips.

Sighing, he took a seat opposite her. "I know you're having a difficult time at the moment, but it will soon blow over. I was thinking ...maybe it would be a good idea if we took a holiday together. You know ...to reconnect and get some much-needed rest and get away from all this mess."

She stifled a groan of frustration. What the hell? Why couldn't he get it? "Frank, please. We've been through this already. A holiday cannot fix us. In fact, nothing can fix us anymore. Let's not do this again ...please. I'm tired, and all I want is peace of mind."

"No, Claire. You don't seem to understand. We belong to each other. You are confused because there are people in your life who are trying to separate us. And they are trying to make it out as if I'm the problem."

"Frank ..."

He reached out to take her hands in his, but she snatched them back. "Listen to me. They're trying to hinder your true potential when you could be much more. The only thing I'm guilty of is pushing you too hard to be a better version of yourself. It was a mistake, I know that now and I want to make it up to you. Please let me."

"Frank, this is unhealthy. I care about you, but I don't love you the way I used to, and you can't make me. Let's just learn from this mistake and move on. It is for the best."

His lips tightened, and determination carved out on his face. "Can't you see? Your friends are messing with your brain and feeding you all sorts of nonsense. And your uncle ... I believe he is not well. He should seek professional help. He is a violent man and could be a danger to society. And as for you, you need help too. It seems you are having difficulty functioning with the stress you are under. Let me help you, Claire, for the sake of your career and your mental health."

Dread snaked up her spine. "There is nothing wrong with my uncle. Whatever he said to you, he was just trying to protect me. This has nothing to do with him, my friends, my career or my mental health. Leave them out of it. This is between us, Frank," she grated.

He shrugged. "I've discussed you intensively with certain key people. I'm worried that after all that happened recently, it's affecting your ability to make the right decision under pressure here at work. Lives could be at stake if we don't address this. I've told them that your mental state had to do with the stress from wedding planning. I assured them I'd personally make sure your condition is assessed to see if you're fit to work."

"What are you trying to say, Frank?" Her body started to tremble with fury.

He stood up, thrust his hands in his pants' pocket and spoke with controlled calm. "What I'm trying to tell you is, you are mine, and we are meant to be together. And I'd do anything in my power to get you back. The sooner you accept that, the better it is for your career. Oh, and by the way, I've changed the locks to my apartment. There is no need for you to collect your things. Eventually, you'll be moving right back in. And get rid of that James Fraser. He's not good for your image. Once you've made your decision, let me know. I trust you'll make the right one."

"You lying bastard! You can't do this! I'll report you to the authorities!" she seethed.

"Try me. I have friends in high places." He turned around to go but stopped midway. "And darling, please go home and get some rest. Those dark circles under your eyes aren't doing you any favour." And then he left.

Too shocked, Claire remained unmoving trying to grasp what just happened. The man she had once loved had turned into someone she hardly recognised. A part of her refused to think he was capable of blackmail and threats, but she had her uncle to think about. It was true what Frank had just said. He had friends at the high places, and it was his words against hers.

She shoved her fear aside. There was no need to blow it out of proportion just yet when she was far too exhausted to think straight. It could only be that Frank was still miffed about the whole situation of their break up and he was saying things out of anger. She would play it out for a few more days, see how the next week pans out and then she will make her decision.

The pocket of her jacket buzzed, and absentmindedly, she grabbed her phone. Swiping the screen, she smiled when she saw a text notification from Jamie. She hadn't seen him since she started work as most of her free time was spent catching up on sleep. Although he'd called almost every day to check up on her, she missed his reassuring presence and their easy banter. She read the message and all thoughts of Frank and her tiredness slipped away.

Just remembered you're free tonight and tomorrow. Is it alright if I stop by? Got some news to share. x

A warm glow spread across her belly, and her heart did a gentle pitter-patter. Ah, why not? She didn't want to spend her first day off since coming back to work worrying about Frank.

She quickly texted back.

Come on over. I can't wait to see you. x

And she meant it.

..........

Jamie knocked and waited. He'd driven twice past Claire's cottage, and he'd recognised the paparazzi van parked just across her street. It was the same one that used to park near his apartment building. Bastards! Instead of parking on her driveway, he decided to park several streets away. On his way to her house, he jogged through a maze of residences and gardens, avoided the roads, climbed a brick wall, and now he was stood at her back door.

He knocked again.

Sensing movement in the kitchen, he leaned forward and whispered out loud. "Sassenach! It's me!"

He heard Claire muttering as she unlatched the bolts. "Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! You frightened the hell out of me! I thought you're a reporter."

The door swung open, and he lifted the carrier bag high. "Surprise! I have pizza and red wine. I hope ye haven't ..." His speech left him as his gaze landed on her figure. Christ!

When it came to women and seduction, he was used to clingy, slinky dresses, stilettos, musky perfume and red painted lips. The woman before him was displaying none, but yet, the way she looked, made the blood roar in his ears and his cock strain achingly against his jeans. He gulped and tried to even his breathing.

Her skin was damp, and her hair was loosely tied back, dark tendrils of wild curls framing her flushed face. She wore a white cotton shirt nightgown that fell above her knees, and her feet were bare. Although she was modestly covered, he could see the faint outline of her breast and the swell of her hips. The clean smell of shower gel drifted to his nostril, making him want to lift her up against him and bury his face on the crook of her neck.

"Jamie?" She waved a hand in front of his face. "Are you alright?"

"Uh, hey!"

"Hey? What kind of greeting is that?"

He shook himself. And with a lot of effort, kept his gaze on her face. "Have ye eaten?"

"Oh, sweet mother of God, get in here," she mumbled, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him indoors. Electricity shot through his veins and his mouth dried up at her touch. "Haven't you notice there's a reporter's van outside?"

"Oh, that, aye. I-I saw ...," Jamie replied hoarsely, almost croaking.

She shut the door and eyed him suspiciously. "What's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with me?"

"Do I hear an echo?"

"Ye dae?"

"Jamie!"

Fuck! "I'm sorry. I'm out of breath. I parked the car far away from here and had to jog."

She didn't believe him. When she crossed her arms across her chest, he couldn't help seeing the shadows of her nipples underneath the innocent white cotton. A moan almost escaped his mouth, and he was glad he had the carrier bag in front of him to conceal the strain in front of his jeans. "You're never out of breath, Jamie. What's up?"

"What's up?"

"Jamie! You're doing it again! You're repeating what I'm saying."

Christ, what's wrong with me? He was acting like a horny teenager, and if Claire found out, he was a hundred per cent sure she would throw him out. Definitely, not happening!

"Here," he barked, thrusting the bag of pizza and red wine at her. "It'll save ye preparing dinner." He immediately regretted snapping at her, but to his relief, she simply rolled her eyes and took the bag from him.

"You're really acting odd, but I won't argue with you. Only because I'm hungry and I haven't eaten all day," she chattered, placing the bag on the counter and pulling out the bottle of wine.

While her back was turned, he took the opportunity to dive in behind the kitchen table. "So, has Frank spoken to you yet?" he asked nonchalantly, the mention of her ex-fiance slightly softening his erection.

He saw her shoulder brace, and she stopped what she was doing. "Actually, he did, today. But I don't want to talk about him."

He didn't like the subdued tone of her voice. "He didn't threaten ye, did he?" he asked softly.

"Well, Frank said a lot of things out of anger and hurt. I don't think he meant any of it." She turned around and handed him the wine and the corkscrew. "He's still hoping we'd get back together, but I guess it's difficult for him to accept that we aren't. I'm quite sure in time, he would."

Mental alarm bells went off. "Frank's very persistent, isn't he? Just be very careful, Sassenach. I do not mean to frighten ye, but I think he is up to something dodgy."

She frowned. "Dodgy? What do you mean?"

"I was handed a restraining order from the sheriff court on behalf of Frank this morning, and I have nae idea why. I've only met the man once, exchanged a few words and that was at your uncle's apartment."

"Wot?" She looked at him in disbelief. "My uncle received one as well! I can understand why he got one ...but you? And how is that even possible Frank could have restraining orders handed out like they were lollies? Isn't there a process in court for that?"

Jamie shrugged. "I guess he knows the right people."

She blew out a breath. "Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I don't know why you're getting involved in this whole mess. This isn't even your problem, and I feel you're being dragged into it because of me."

Something was definitely off, but he didn't want her fretting. "Look ...dinna fash. I'll have our family lawyer look into it. Nae use worrying about something we don't know about. Maybe he had the restraining order sent as a way of intimidating ye. Just, make sure ye don't find yersel' alone with him. The good thing about the paparazzi outside, at least there'll always be someone watching over ye and the house."

She contemplated his words and sighed in resignation. "I supposed so. Intimidation seems to be his forte, but I'd never known him to be ruthless." She placed the pizza, plates and cutleries on the table and sat down opposite him. "Ah, what the hell, it's my day off tomorrow. So let's not ruin it talking about Frank. Tell me about your news."

"Right, about that," he began, helping himself to a pizza, glad of the change in subject. "My agent informed me that the network is considering me for the TV presenting job. There are other candidates, of course, but apparently, I've been mentioned on the big table more than once. I didn't even think my name would even cross their lips because of my reputation."

"Jamie, that's fabulous," she breathed. "I've watched you so many times on TV talk about rugby, and I thought back then you'd do a great job presenting sports. Your voice sounds great, and you've always looked comfortable on camera. And when you speak, the words just flow out of you. Of course, they'd consider you. That's no surprise there."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." Jamie couldn't hide his amused smile. It felt great to be talking about the sport he loved. Although it had been perceived as a touchy subject by most people he knew, Claire didn't walk on eggshells around him. "You really like rugby, don't ye?"

"I've always watched the rugby. Sometimes with my uncle and sometimes with Joe and Geillis," she explained, offhandedly, taking a sip of the wine. "And I've seen the game live a few times when I was assisting Joe and his medical crew for your team. I've even tended to you once."

His felt the heat creep up his face. "Aye, Joe recently told me. Nae wonder ye looked familiar when I saw ye in Lallybroch. I was such an arse to ye, wasn't I?"

"Bygones," she laughed, waving a hand in dismissal of the topic. "Anyway, I think you'll get the job. I've seen the other candidates' names on an article online, and I don't think anyone can surpass you. Your evident passion for the game is what's going to get you through."

"Aye?" Seeing her enthusiasm caused an uncomfortable tug on his chest, but he cleared his throat through it. He didn't know how much time they had together if he got the job, and that's a big "if." With her work schedule and a possible place on TV, he'd probably never see her again. "Let's not get carried away, Sassenach. There's still my reputation to consider, and that could be my downfall. My agent suggested I need a change of image befitting a family network."

"Oh! Change of image? How are you going to do that?"

He leaned back on his chair and exhaled deeply. "Christ knows! Maybe I should get a cottage in the countryside, plant loads of flowers and perhaps get two dogs."

They laughed at each other for a few seconds before Claire stilled on her chair and pink bloomed on her cheeks. "Oh, wait! I have a brilliant idea. One that doesn't require you to buy a property in the countryside. And I think it might just work," she whispered.

He looked at her warily. "Sassenach ...why am I getting a feeling I'm not going to like what ye're about to say?"

"Hear me out first. You've never been in a committed relationship, right?"

"Bloody hell! I told yer uncle Lamb that in confidence," he fumed, dragging a hand behind his neck.

"Oh, shush, will you? Listen! If you want to get rid of your player image, you need to look like you're not afraid of commitment. And there's a way to do that."

"Sassenach ..." His heart pummeled hard against his ribs.

"You could pretend to be my boyfriend," she blurted out.

"Have ye gone mad?"

"Maybe." Her cheeks turned from pink to dark crimson. "It'll only be until the network are convinced that you are not a commitment-phobe. And who knows, the journalists may even write an article about you in a good light. That should help your image."

"No!"

"We wouldn't be actually ...you know, doing it."

"Ha! Ye'd be the first person to date me without the perks! Sorry, no! Not happening!"

"No? Why not?"

"Because!" he snapped. "Yer stock will go in the opposite direction. Ye're a doctor for crying out loud, and if ye're connected to me in any way, ye'll never be taken seriously. Ye'll just be another notch on James Fraser's bedpost."

The light in her eyes dimmed. "Goodness, Jamie, you really do have quite a low opinion about yourself, don't you?" she whispered. "Answer me this. Are you only worried about people thinking I've made a wrong decision ... or do you actually believe it?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe in," he muttered.

"Of course, it matters, damn it!" she argued. "You've been encouraging me to stand up to Frank. Now I want you to stand up to all the false rumours that were written about you. How do you expect me to listen to you ever again if you're not practising what you preach?"

"They'll drag your name through the mud and then leave ye hanging out to dry. I can take the beating, Sassenach but I cannot bear to see ye go through all that."

"They've done that already, Jamie," she said with a sadness that clenched his guts. "I've been labelled a whore, and a cheating fiancee. And Frank had already made sure to make my life at work a living hell. I have nothing else to lose, but I could help you get this job. At least, all the name callings and accusations will not be in vain."

Seeing the determination in her frame, Jamie knew he was fighting a losing battle, but he had another defence up his sleeve. "Pretending to be in a relationship to fool the press will not be easy."

"We'll work on it," she said firmly, her chin jutting out in defiance.

Christ, she's stubborn! Although the idea was becoming more tempting by the minute, he needed to give her a chance to back out. He cleared his throat and leaned forward. "The camera will always be pointed at us, and we need to look convincing as a new couple. There'll be a lot of PDA when we're in public; otherwise, they'll smell foul play."

"What's PDA?"

"Public display of affection. Like kissing and holding hands." His voice sounded mangled. The thought of kissing and holding her made his cock spring back to life. Ah, fuck!

"We've done the kissing and holding hands already, so that won't be new to us. Besides, they think we're a couple already."

"It willnae be pretend-kissing," he rasped. "Those paparazzi have state of the art cameras and can zoom in from long distances. They'll know if we're faking it and they willnae hesitate to label it as such."

She didn't look perturbed at all. "Have I ever fake kissed you?" He nearly groaned out loud. Down, lad, down! He shifted uncomfortably on his seat and bit his lip hard to cut through his hard-on.

Ignoring her question, he soldiered on. "To be convincing, we can't tell anyone that we're in a fake relationship ...not even friends or family. We can't risk anyone slipping up. The less who knows, the better."

"I can live with that."

"We'd be playing a dangerous game ..."

"Frank likes to play games. Maybe this will sharpen my skills."

"Sassenach ..."

"What?"

"Are ye sure ye want to do this?"

Her face softened as she smiled, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "Yes, I'm quite sure. You helped me get away from Frank, so now let me help you get the job. That's what friends do for each other, right?"

Suddenly, hope started to emerge. This could really work. Didn't his agent say his only drawback was his reputation? If they manage to convince the network he was settling down, he could get the job he wanted. He would be presenting and talking about the sport he loved. In time, people would only see the sports personality that he was and not some philanderer the tabloids painted him to be. Maybe, somewhere along the line, he could also help budding talents break through the world of rugby or coach younger teams.

He let that soak in for a while, but there was a niggling feeling that wouldn't quite settle. How about Claire? What if I did get the job? It would probably mean relocating to London. He tried to imagine not seeing her again, and he didn't like the idea one bit. Asking her to move away from Edinburgh would be crazy. She wasn't his, and he wasn't even sure if they would work together.

He should be happy that Claire was willing to help him. But how come it felt like an anvil had just fallen between them?

That's what friends do for each other, right? She'd said.

Claire frowned. "What's the matter?"

He looked at her beautiful face. There was still time before the network announced who would get the job. Pushing his dark thoughts away, he decided right there and then, he would make sure every moment with Claire counts. "Nothing ... I was just thinking, maybe we ought to start practising on those PDA moves," he grinned, winking at her.

She threw a napkin at him and laughed. "Cheeky bastard!"

#melodyheart #startingover #Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser #outlanderfanfic

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