#and my sister was able to stop it and disconnect it

[femmefitz]

Sometimes when you buy something from goodwill it will immediately show you why it was at goodwill.

In other news the bidet had a little explosion moment.

[zirconika]

I would love if you could write a fluffy negan x fem!reader one shot, there is genuinely not enough!!! I can’t think of any prompts tho I’m sorry 😭 but if you’re not able to write it then it’s all good🫶🏻

déjà vu

⇚ NAVIGATION || MASTERLIST

PAIRING: Negan Smith x Fem!Grimes!Reader WORDS: 3.6k SUMMARY: Being in charge of guarding Negan’s cell has given you plenty of opportunities to spend time with him against your will, but you unexpectedly end up bonding with him. Which is why nothing could have prepared you for finding out that you’ve met before and how. (Reader is Rick’s sister) WARNINGS: fluff, blood … idk what to say just read it!!!  SETTING: post-negan alexandria A/N: oh my god nonnie u r absolutely correct i just checked there’s a concerning shortage in negan fluff so ask and you shall receive!!! ps im nawt sure what u had in mind so i hope this works 

You hated Negan. End of story.

“Why do I have to be the one to do all this?” you’d complain to yourself every time you were handed the food you’d have to deliver to his cell. But you knew why. Your grief and your injury made you a liability than an asset out in the field, thus you found yourself assigned to something worse than desk duty—Negan duty.

The day your brother presumably died, you were so close to reaching him. Just a couple more steps ahead of you and you could have saved him…

But upon the explosion of the bridge had you skidding away, having you hit your head down on the harsh surface of the ground, blood spilling from under the back of your head as well as your broken leg… It had gotten blurry, but it happened nonetheless.

You were bedridden for a week, and you hated it—being left all alone to bear the weight of your grief. The communities were in shambles, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to lead just like your brother did.

When you got better, the ‘council’ refused to let you out, assigning you instead to managing the damned prisoner you had never once bothered to visit for any reason ever since he got locked up.

Now, there you were everyday, feeding the sick bastard canned tuna for breakfast. 

“Where’s the other guy?” he had asked you on the first day you stopped by. Without a word, you gave him his plate, only to sit down across from him, your arms crossed. 

“Doesn’t matter, I’m just doing my job.”

“Goddamn,” he said, that grin of his spirited as ever. Fuck this guy. You started to think of ways you could poison his meals without anyone knowing. “They gave you the fun work from home job? Not cool!”

The first time you met Negan was when he came by Alexandria. You weren’t there when the line-up happened, but it changed Rick. You’d never seen your brother so lost, disconnected from himself and everyone.

He didn’t eat the first meal you brought him, or the second, not even the third.

For a while, it was just like that—you glaring at him while he talked all about… Well, Negan talked about everything. He never seemed to shut up. At least when you were around. When you got better, you began going out again to go on supply runs and when you returned to fulfill your tasks of distributing his food, you also began to notice the change in him.

“Took you long enough,” he said. This time, he really took the time to dig in. “How was the outside? Fun?”

“It was alright,” you said. You’d been against holding a conversation with him, having carried the anger you thought your brother deserved to harness against him. But you’d been feeling so alone the entire time, you decided talking wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. “Found a box of canned goods, so that’s that. Good thing I don’t have any assholes taking half of whatever I got.”

“Ha ha,” Negan deadpanned as he continued eating. “I was worried you’d never show up. Been meaning to finally talk to someone.”

“What, you don’t blabber your ass off to any of the guys who’ve visited you?”

“Hell no,” he responded, looking at you as if what you just suggested was the worst thing in the world. 

Racking your mind on why on Earth would this dipshit find you entertaining to talk to despite you not holding any form of conversation throughout your entire time together last time, you decided there was only one possible reason. “You think I’m easy to crack.”

“No, are you crazy?” He looked up at you with a grin on his face as he ate his meal from his seat. “You just seem like the listener type. A lot of you Grimes do.”

You wanted to ask what he meant by that, but you kept your mouth shut. You let him talk his ass off until he finished his food before you wordlessly took his plate. 

As you were about to leave the room, he called out to you. “This gonna be a regular thing?”

“I hope not,” you said as you stepped out and closed the door behind you, with no intention of making this your daily routine. 

Except it eventually did. You don’t know how it happened, but it just did, and you let it. At one point, you started bringing him the food you cooked for yourself, asking him if it was good.

“Are you kidding me?” Negan said in between chews of the spaghetti you made. “I’d go as damn far as saying you might’ve beaten me in my own game.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpanned, parallel to what he’d replied to you on the first day of your routine. “You’re just trying to get me to open your gate for you.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s the thing that just tickles ma balls.”

“Fucker,” you laughed.

You brought him all sorts of dishes you tried to cook. You would’ve asked Carol for help, but years after Rick’s death, everyone maintained a sort of distance from each other. It didn’t help that the Kingdom was hours away, and if you brought any of the food you made, it would’ve been rotten by the time you got there thanks to the heat.

It surprised you how easy it was to talk to him. Some days, you’d forget he was even a prisoner, but more of your friend. Then you’d remember everything he’s done and you’d become distant at times. Negan never commented on it, but he noticed it.

Michonne wanted to ask about why you were making food suitable for two people, but even she felt the gap between the two of you. You loved Michonne, but there was definitely a rift there somewhere.

The only time you’d hang out was when you were at the dinner table with her and the kids, and even then the two of you would only talk about whatever it was the kids wanted to talk about.

You were more close to Judith. For one, she was also fun to talk to. 

You and Negan had that preference in common—talking to Judith Grimes.

It was thanks to Judith you found out about something. After reading to her in bed, you noticed she seemed to still be wide awake. “What, you’re not sleepy yet?”

“I’m not allowed to tell you,” she said, seemingly scared of something. You wondered if Negan had threatened her, that maybe his kindness towards you was in preparation for something sinister.

“Tell me what?”

Judith beckoned you to come closer. You oblige. To your surprise, your niece leaned into your ear to whisper, “Someone has a crush on you!”

You had a feeling who she was referring to. “Who?”

Judith backed away, sinking into her blanket. “I can’t say!”

“Well, what did this someone say?”

“I can’t tell you! Goodnight, Auntie!” And then Judith covered her blanket over her head, guilty about what she’d said. Could it be?

“You’re really not gonna tell me?” you teased your niece. But you knew that once Judith’s made up her mind, that was it. You watched as the blanket shifted left and right out of Judith shaking her head. “Alright, then. Good night, baby.”

Alas, you weren’t able to have your questions answered when you found out about Negan escaping. 

You couldn’t find the words to describe how you were feeling, because it felt wrong to admit you even did feel anything. Maybe he was just using me so I wouldn’t notice his plans to escape… Did he always have plans to escape? Did he get out because of me?

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When he returned, he looked forward to seeing you again. While waiting, he fidgeted with his fingers. Negan Smith was a man of boastful performances; he always knew how to exude confidence in any situation. Coming back into his cell, he was so sure he’d have a fun time slipping back to your old routine together.

His heart almost leapt out of his throat when the door opened for the second time. The first time, he thought it was you, but he just got a whole lecture about everything. 

It bored him to death. He’d returned. There was nothing for him out there, and even if there was… It didn’t matter anymore.

You had to ignore the familiarity in what he called you…

“Hey, gorgeous. Missed me?” He excitedly watched as you came in, his friendly grin faltering when he realized you came in with the food he was originally given during his first few years of imprisonment.

Canned tuna.

“What, no new meal you want me to test today?” he asked, albeit nervously. To Negan’s dismay, his confidence was wavering. “Hellooo?”

Instead of sitting or standing right next to his cell, you sat at the spot you’d taken on the first day. You crossed your arms. 

“Oh, you’re pissed.”

You stared at him coldly. It bothered him, really. He’d gotten so used to seeing you with a warm, friendly smile on your face. He thought he’d have the luxury of seeing it again as soon as he returned.

Instead, he was met by your cold script, “Finish your meal.”

Negan began to strategize, thinking of how he wanted his play to be. In an attempt to reclaim his confidence, he decided to play the stubborn card, saying, “Nope.”

But you weren’t in the mood to play. “Alright, then don’t eat.”

“Fine,” he challenged.

But you weren’t the kind to back down either. “Fine.”

You were curious to know the story behind that subtle flash of recognition in his face that disappeared as soon as it came. It piqued your interest, as you recall having this conversation a long time ago… 

Deja vu, you thought to yourself.

To your surprise, Negan shook his head. “Jeez, just got goosebumps. Got deja vu there for a minute, it’s insane.”

Though you were intent on maintaining distance from the prisoner, you couldn’t help but ask. It surely was easy to talk to the guy, you had to give him that. “You felt that, too?”

“Felt what?”

“Deja vu,” you clarified. Negan watched as you stood up to approach his cell. “Like it happened before.”

“Is it just me, or are we literally doing some batshit telepathy right now?” Negan jokes. “Makes me think it’s a soulmate thing.”

“It’s not a soulmate thing.” You wrap your fingers around a bar of his cell, contemplating where you might have had that conversation. The first time you met Negan, you felt as if his voice was familiar. 

You searched the deepest crevices of your mind, trying to recall a time in your life when you might have possibly met the prisoner. One look at him and you knew he was doing the same.

Nothing came to mind. 

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Except for one. Holy shit. He wasn’t sure, but a part of him felt like it was yanking something out from a library in his mind.

He set it aside for now. He wanted to talk to you first, properly. “[Y/N], this is gonna be a strange request but… Could you come in?”

“What?” you ask, snapping out from your focus. “Why would I do that?”

“Just get in the damn cell.”

“How do I know you won’t trick me just so you could slip out?”

His face screwed up into a frown. “Because I’m not even gonna try. I came back; I chose to. Because of you.”

“What?” you ask again, lost more than ever. It felt wrong that you were expecting something. This was Negan.

The same Negan who…

You shook your head. And you don’t know what force of nature propelled you to be stupid, but you oblige with his request. You sat down next to him on his cot in his cell.

Your backs were to the wall. It felt comfortable somehow. You eyed the stack of books he’d sped through reading whenever he was alone.

Negan set the plate of canned tuna aside, putting his hands on his lap. “You know why I came back?”

“Because you’re an idiot?”

The prisoner laughed, and an unsaid guilt clawed at you from the back of your mind, saying whatever this was… It was wrong. But with Negan, you never felt like you were alone. Which is why it sucked when he left.

“No, stupid. Because there was nothing for me out there.”

“What makes you think there’s something for you here?”

He looked at you this time, his eyes free of the malice you were used to seeing constantly present. “You.”

You had to scoff. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” He thought back to all the times you’d sat right next to him with bars separating the two of you. How he’d never felt so welcomed except for in your presence. 

How he waited for you to visit him. How he was constantly excited for the next time you’d come. How he’d get frustrated whenever it was someone else who’d open the door.

“Thought I was done for,” he confessed. “Until you came and I… I told myself I’d make amends with you out of respect for your brother and your nephew, bless their souls. Then you started visiting me by routine. I knew it was your job, but I never felt like I was behind bars whenever I was with you.”

You didn’t know what to say. 

“It means I like you, if you didn’t get that.” He nudged your elbow, looking at you as if he were already expecting you to turn him down. “I just wanted to tell you so you’d understand.”

“I like you, too,” you blurted out.

This time, Negan was the one who couldn’t seem to find the right words to say, much less at least even any words at all. 

“Rick dying like that… It changed me. Changed everyone, really. Nothing was ever the same and I couldn’t do anything about it. I felt alone, and I’m grateful you were there when I grieved. It just… Feels wrong to feel this way about you.”

Negan nodded. “I get it.”

You felt his hand on top of yours, rubbing it. He didn’t even realize he’d done it, but he left your hand alone when he noticed he did. You wish he didn’t. 

But you had to be brave. Shamelessly, you grabbed his hand in yours, lacing your fingers with his. Negan let you. “You suck at this game, asshole.”

And the two of you froze. He knew where he knew you from, and so did you.

“Ho-ly shit,” Negan started. “Are you GorgeousArsenal777?”

It all made sense now. Holy shit, indeed. “You’re SaviorNutsack69?”

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Way before the apocalypse, Negan had made it his personal mission to destroy every single child XBOX Games. First was Gears of War. 

But he decided he wanted more than just a game with a co-op campaign mode. He needed to obliterate opponents in a ranked multiplayer combat game. It wasn’t that he hated them, he just needed a win…

He found a guaranteed win when he matched with MrPuddingCyborg. It was an easy win, really. It was very clear that whoever was behind that avatar was a newbie, thus it was easy for Negan to rank up.

“Fuckin’ loser,” he said, turning on his mic. “I bet you picked that username ‘cause you thought it was cool, didn’t you! It isn’t!” 

“Your technique sucks!” a little boy on the other end said, furious.

“Pants pisser,” Negan said one last time before beginning the game. “Are you shittin’ your pants now? What’re you gonna do, tell your mom?”

The growling on the other end stopped, meaning the kid turned off his mic. Negan scoffed, sensing victory from miles away. “What a fucking crybaby.”

Looking for the same benefits of winning, he requested a rematch. MrPuddingCyborg accepted. Negan leaned back, knowing it was gonna be a cake walk when—

You were killed by MrPuddingCyborg.

What?

Negan’s avatar respawned, but his tactic was used against him.

You were killed by MrPuddingCyborg.

You were killed by MrPuddingCyborg.

You were killed by MrPuddingCyborg.

It went on like that for a while until the two words he most dreaded to find on the screen flashed before him: GAME OVER.

Game over? No way. 

Negan ended their match, frustrated to find that his failure jeopardized his progress in getting up to a higher rank. 

Affected by his loss, Negan kept playing with two different players before finally getting to the third player.

Negan grinned to himself, gripping his controller with the drive to defeat everyone, but for now, GorgeousArsenal777 would be the one to get the heat.

To his delight, he got the first win. He exclaimed with a mischievous laugh. “Haha! One for Virginia!”

But that was just it.

Negan watched in horror as the player obliterated him in every round. He could already imagine his rank getting lower and lower…

He turned on his microphone. “The fuck’s that about? Are you trolling me right now?”

“Troll you for what? Coins you don’t have?,” taunted a girl on the other end as they waited for the intermission time to finish so they could leave the lobby and play another round. “Checked your account, saw you’ve been here for half a year and you’re still in a mid-tier rank. News flash, you suck at this game, asshole.”

“Game on, Gorgeous.”

“Suck my nutsack,” said the voice on the other end. Somewhere almost ten hours away south of Virginia, you clutched your nephew’s controller with a burning desire to destroy the gaming career of this fucker who pissed off your nephew. 

Negan watched in poorly disguised horror as the words notified him of his losses on the screen.

You were killed by GorgeousArsenal777.

You were killed by GorgeousArsenal777.

You were killed by GorgeousArsenal777.

“Listen here, Gorgeous,” he started. Whatever relaxation Negan had was gone. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, concentrating more than ever. “I am gonna make you regret that you ever got a console.”

You snorted. “I’d like to see you try.”

Negan was dead serious. “Fine.”

“Fine,” you fired back. And just in time, you sent a bomb his way, killing him for another time.

You killed SaviorNutsack69.

While you waited for the next round in the lobby, you and your nephew watched as SaviorNutsack69 approached your avatar. The two of you couldn’t help but snicker as he did.

His mic turned on again. “You’re a cheat.”

You resisted calling him a virgin seeing that he came from Virginia, acknowledging the presence of your eleven year old nephew sitting right behind you with his legs crossed, giggling.

“I could’ve beaten this guy,” Carl said with a laugh.

“I know, pumpkin.” You gave the kid a warm smile before turning back to the screen, eager to destroy this man further. “But guys like SaviorNutsack69 deserve to be obliterated.”

You turned your mic back on. “Not my fault you suck. Look at your avatar, dipshit.”

You and Carl snickered on your end, giggling.

The guy on the other end laughed mirthlessly. “I do not appreciate you talking ass about my Limited Edition skin.”

“Sorry you’re not more appreciative,” you quipped, resisting the urge to laugh out loud. “And sorry you can’t rock a leather jacket like I can.”

Negan hated leather jackets, thought it was too hot. He preferred those loose zip-up hoodies. But was not gonna tell GorgeousArsenal777 on the off chance that she uses it as substance to say he just couldn’t pull it off.

“I can so rock a leather jacket, shitface.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Oh, yeah.” And then he left the lobby before the game could start. You and your nephew burst out laughing at the thought of the dude getting a leather jacket.

He was nothing to the two of you three minutes later, because you let Carl play with his account after that. But SaviorNutsack69? He was not the type to back down from a fight even long after it had ended.

700 miles from Georgia, SaviorNutsack69 got up from his chair and drove to the mall. He ran into the edgiest store he could find with purpose and unapologetically purchased the coolest leather jacket he could find.

And the rest is history.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The two of you sat there in silence, the thought of having met before all of this…

It was refreshing—the prospect of destiny. Or maybe it was just a coincidence. Either way, it made you an ounce closer to him. 

He grinned. Negan thought back to the leather jacket he abandoned before returning. “Hey, you’re the genius behind my look.”

“Guess I am,” you mused.

Your shoulder brushed against his, and you could have sworn there was electricity there somewhere.

“Feels like a rocky start to a love story, huh?” he asked, looking at you expectantly.

“You think this is a love story?” you asked him nervously.

Negan thought about it for a second, grinning. “I don’t know, do you?”

“Well,” you started. You paused before standing up and leaving his cell. Before leaving, you looked back at him with a smile. “We’ll see.”

“See what?” Negan stood up, holding the bars of his cell only to realize that it wasn’t locked.

“If you’re as bad on garden duty as you are on Call of Duty,” you taunted him with the same spirit you had from all those years ago. “Maybe then I’ll consider if it’s a love story.”

And that was it. You liked Negan, but that was just the beginning of a whole new story. You just knew you were lucky enough to have gotten the chance to meet again.

i'm still building my blog. so for now, just send me an ask to be added to my general taglist :)

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[distressedjellyfish]

Things I think about with frequency

Amy March

How we deserved to see Amy and Laurie's wedding, and them falling in love, and just more of them

How Amy March is hated by many because LMA based the characters off her own sisters, and Amy was obviously written with some bias (as were all the sisters), which shines through and makes us feel similarly about Amy that "Jo" felt about her younger sister.

That line where Amy says "I've been second to Jo my whole life" hits A LOT harder when you realize that Louisa's (Jo) middle name is May, and her younger sister, who she based Amy off, is named May, after LMA's middle name.

I think that people see Amy as this vapid little bitch because she always knew she wanted to be a wife, and she knew she wanted to be rich. But what people fail to consider is that a lot of the time the youngest is the one that sees all the flaws in their family’s lives and feels responsible for taking care of them, even if its not expressly stated. Jo was a wild card. She was free to do as she wanted and nothing could stop her and God love Marmee for never trying. Meg was docile and almost polar opposite of Jo, and as the eldest sister she felt the same burden but lessened because yes she had typical Eldest Sister Syndrome where she had the need to take care of the family, but she also was the first, and therefore had no pre-set markers and expectations that she needed to meet or surpass. She wanted to marry and all that, but it didn't super matter about finances to her. Beth was unable to do "better" than her sisters "mistakes" flat out. And its not through any fault of her own, its just the way it was.

Speaking from experience, its always been clear to me that as the youngest of 3, I would have to do better. My half brother got a girl pregnant on his gap year when he was 18, so I was never allowed to take one, even though it would have probably helped in the long run. My half sister has always been mean to my parents, and won't let my dad see his only biological grandkid, which rips my dad apart, so of course I feel the pressure to have a child to give my dad a bio grandkid to dote on like he does with his non-bio grandkids, even though he's never outwardly expressed to anyone ever that he feels any disconnect from my niece because they aren't related, or that he wants me to have kids for any reason other than he wants them.

Anyways, my point is that Amy felt that pressure from a young age, hence always saying this or that about marrying rich. Add onto that when Aunt March tells her she's her family’s only hope of not being in the lower class/lower middle class for the rest of their lives. And just because that's the only time we see it, but that doesn't mean that there weren't other similar conversations had. Do you really think Aunt March never made her snide comments about the family and their status in front of Amy?

Amy's entire character revolves around this point, she's focused on being a proper lady, being delicate and pretty, in hopes of one day being able to bag someone rich, for her family.

Obviously, she falls into infatuation with Laurie when she meets him at the ripe age of 12??? She idolizes Jo, and Laurie is basically just the boy version (with some exceptions). He's also rich, young, handsome, and charming, and adores the family for who they are, including all their flaws. He's exactly what Amy had been saying she would marry, with the added bonus of him loving Jo the way she is, the exact opposite of Amy, proving that there are rich lovely men out there who will love you even if you aren't perfect, even if you falter. He's proof she can have the life she knows she needs to have for her family, and also still enjoy it and not be stressed all the time about being perfect.

Of course Laurie loves Jo first, for very similar reasons that Amy is infatuated with him. At 15, his whole life has been spent at dinner parties with girls the exact opposite of Jo, all proper and lovely and so so similar to one another, being told he'll marry one of them, everyone expecting him to be polished and well spoken and everything that no 15 year old boy wants to be. So then in comes this whirlwind girl who is completely different, a breath of fresh air that never wants to marry and can't ballroom dance for shit and laughs too loud, and shows him that life can be the Something Different he so desperately craves.

And of course, he ends up with Amy. He was Jo's best friend, so for 6 years all he knew of her was the way she was presented through Jo's eyes. A bratty little girl, who was the same as the other vapid girls he knew, that wasn't worth a thought. And he never paid her any mind because he spent 6 years thinking Jo loved him back, so why would he think of other girls? Then, at 21, he is essentially dumped by the love of his life, and travels abroad to find who he is without her. He meets Amy again, the girl who was always happy to see him. Of course he's going to spend time with her, she's familiar enough to feel like home, but different enough from Jo that it doesn't hurt. And there's the added validation of her liking him, which sometimes you need after your heart has been ripped apart. Plus, she's the only one he really knows in Paris. So they spend time together, and in that time he learns that she's not at all the way he's seen her over the last 6 years. Where he always saw someone not very bright, with a dim personality, that didn't stand up for anything or really rock the boat unless seriously provoked, who would do anything for him, he now finds a strong, funny, kind, beautiful girl, who is very intelligent and has a deep understanding of how cruel the world is (maybe ((definitely)) moreso than her sister) and knows how to manipulate said world in such a way that she can come out close to on top, who cares about her family enough to put everything else aside in order to become the person they need her to be in order to support them, who would still do anything for him but will absolutely call him on his shit and put him in his place when necessary. And how could he not love that?

She's not all that much like Jo, sure, but she is so much more. And she deserves so much more than people calling her his second choice.

Also I think that its criminal that most people don't see that obviously Jo loved her family but she loved herself more. Her sense of duty was to herself, and finding the place that would make her happy. She was also kind of a brat? Things didn't go her way? Editor is a dick? Boy critisizes her writing? Tantrum.

Whereas Amy loved her family more than herself. She was willing to put aside her dreams in order to support her family, and growing up was very rarely bitter about it. She decided, on her own, that her family was her number one priority, and that regardless of the fact that she could be happier doing other things, she wanted to do what she could to provide for her family. She knew how the world treated women, and she learned how to take that, and general criticism, on the chin.

Personally, I think that Amy is a way better character, and I'll die on this hill

Amy March

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Cheater!Bonten!Mikey x Fem Reader

♡ NSFW obviously, Reader is Mikey's assistant and sidepiece, Reader is kind of a homewrecker, Mikey is married to a random woman, long ass fic because this idea was driving me crazy last night, also thinking about making a taglist but I'm not entirely sure ♡

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~I wonder if she knows it ain't your sister that she's sharing all her time with. She may do the cooking and the cleaning, but that's my dick~

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

It was a marriage of convenience. She didn't really love him, all she cared about was the power he held in the palm of his hand. At least that's what he told himself. Repeating it in his head like a mantra, as if saying it enough would make it true. But in reality, she did love him. That didn't really matter to him though, not right now. Not with you underneath him, looking so beautiful. Every inch of your body on display for him and only him. You were all his and despite his marriage he was yours.

He didn't plan to cheat on his wife, but there was something about you he just couldn't resist. He hired you as his assistant 5 months ago, but your relationship quickly escalated from professional to romantic. He always seemed distracted when you were around, and you took notice. You weren't the only one though, the Bonten executives could see it too. They felt the tension in the air when you two were in the same room, the sweet tone in his voice when he talked to you, the way his eyes undressed you. They all know about your relationship. They also know to keep quiet about it if they want to stay on his good side.

They couldn't help but feel sorry for his wife though, imagine how heartbroken she'd be if she found out about you. The way he talks to you, the way he looks at you, the way he fucks you. If only she knew how he flaunted you around town. Taking you to the most expensive restaurants, sitting in the VIP sections of Bonten's clubs. And she'd just die of a broken heart if she knew that he's brought you back home and fucked you in the same bed she sleeps in. Filling your pussy with his cum and your head with promises of leaving her and becoming your husband.

He just can't help himself. He's just so... obsessed with you. He doesn't just want you, he needs you. He'd rather die than not be able to feel you gripping his dick with your tight cunt. He loves you more than he'll ever love her, so it's not hard to grasp how truly relieved he is when his wife gets home early from a shopping trip. The clunking of her designer heels stops at the bedroom door. Mikey knows it's over, so he doesn't bother stopping. Why would he when he knows how close you are? Your breath hitches as the doorknob slowly turns and Mikey deepens his thrusts, hitting every spot you like. There she is, his poor, heartbroken wife. She drops the bags she was holding in shock and covers her mouth with her hands. The tears start flowing as he looks over at her. Your hands disconnect from his shoulders, yet his hands still gripped your waist. He seemed annoyed at her presence.

"Manjiro... how could you do this to me?"

He thought for a second before he responded.

"We might be married, but I'm not obligated to stay faithful to you. Especially when I'm not even in love with you."

She looked at him in disbelief, then at you. You looked away, not because you felt ashamed for sleeping with her husband, but because of the secondhand embarrassment you got from her crying. She turned around, stumbling out of the room and out of the house. Mikey looked away from the doorway and down at you. He leaned down and kissed your forehead before whispering in your ear.

"Now I'm all yours."

[dreamywriter143]

My Dearly Detested

Status: Part Three (7 part Mini-Series, 3/7)

Genre: Enemies to Lover troupe, Angst, Rude Neteyam, Comforting Lo’ak, some fluff, Romance, violence.

Warnings: Depictions of blood, Battles and cursing. Rude Neteyam😭. Reader is older then Neteyam by 1year.

Parings: Neteyam X Y/n (Reader)

Summary: Neteyam hates Y/n. He never liked how she always bested him in everything and never once sought the praises he was accustomed to. She had no one, yet she had everyone in the palm of her hand. He despised her, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon. The but happens when the RDA threat comes and Jake tasks her with watching his sons? Neteyam can’t help but grow a newfound hatred.

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: Sorry it took so long! I hope ya'll enjoy!

_________________________________________

Y/n’s Ikran lands beside Lo’ak’s Ikran with a screech of alarm, occasionally glancing back at her rider out of concern.

The entire ride back to the base she was able to feel her rider's pain through Tsaheylu. She was able to feel her suffering and the numbness that spread throughout her. Y/n bites her lips harshly to hold back a whimper, her hand shakily reaching out to rub her Ikran in reassurance as she quickly disconnects her kuru.

She hops down from her Ikran, who nudges her head against her shaking body to help her stand. “Thank you” Y/n whispers, clenching her hands into fists to ignore the pain.

She rounds her companion stopping in her tracks as her legs wobble beneath her. Her eyes trace over to where Jake stood in front of his sons and mate, Tuk hugging her mother tightly as Kiri worriedly assessed the damage on her brother.

Y/n quietly trudges towards the group, her ears pinned against her head realizing the lecture she would be in for. She had disobeyed orders just like his sons, she was on the same boat as them.

Y/n catches how Neteyam shifted uncomfortably, and how he blinked rapidly as if to keep himself from crying.

“You're supposed to be spotters, you spot boogies and call ‘em in-from a distance! Does any of this sound familiar-get here!” Jake roars with anger, gesturing for Lo’ak to step closer. His eyes stop momentarily on Y/n, his nostrils flaring in anger. Turning back to his sons he shakes his head in disappointment.

“Jesus I let you two geniuses fly a mission and you disobey direct orders!”

Y/n looks over at Kiri who examines her brother in worry. The stinging feeling of fear settling deep within her stomach. She felt her heart sink as she noticed the traces of blood over his chest, her fault for not taking care of him. For not protecting the sons of her leader.

“Kiri, can you help your grandmother with the wounded? Please?”

Kiri reluctantly turns her attention to her father, “My brother is wounded”

Seeing Jake grow more impatient, Neteyam raises his hand in a stopping motion, his eyes still trained on the ground below him. “It's fine” Neteyam whispers, stepping away from his sister who sighs in reluctance.

“Babygirl please. Tuk go with her, go”

Kiri huffs, pulling away from her brother to head for her grandmother's tent.

Neteyam lifts his head to face his father, noting movement from his peripheral he takes note of how Y/n had joined them. Her stance wobbled as she stood near Lo’ak. He bites down the hiss that threatened to break through knowing she was getting an up close and personal view of him getting chewed up by his father. How humiliating.

“Dad-sir, I take full responsibility” Neteyam turns his attention back to his father, ignoring her gaze that he felt hot against his skin. Lo’ak who was beside Y/n turns to face her, his face contorting to look of concern seeing her face look pale as she limped to stand by his side.

“Yea you do, that's right. ‘Cause you're the older brother you gotta act like it.” Jake growls, his mate stepping forward to intervene. Neytiri stares deep into her mate, her eyes holding great disappointment, she opens her mouth to speak only to be caught off by another.

Feeling a bit of courage Y/n speaks up, her voice small compared to her leader's booming tone.

“S-sir your son is bleeding” She says softly, her concern for the male outweighing her own pain at the moment. As much as Neteyam irked her, she couldn't help but worry.

At the sound of her voice the family turns to face her, Jake glaring into her tiny figure as Neytiri and Lo’ak both scrunched their eyes in concern. She didn't look well, she could barely stand properly, and Neteyam had also taken notice. His tail flicked behind him in alert, his heart dropping when he caught how her breaths came out ragged

“And you? I gave you a task, an important mission to fight alongside Neytiri and you blew it! You disobeyed my orders and left her alone-”

“Ma’Jake” Neytiri interjects her tone dangerously low. She felt worry pang through her as she gazed at the girl in front of her.

“-What if she had gotten hurt? Huh? The point of you being there was to assist her! if you stayed at your post you could have spotted the enemy ships…. I had higher expectations for you Y/n. You've disappointed me today”

“I’m-m s-sorry sir…”

Y/n looks down, blinking rapidly to suppress her tears as well as clear eyes of the black splotches that invaded her vision. Neytiri hisses at Jake, her tail swishing behind her stiffly.

Neteyam took a tiny step forward, his heart hammering against his chest. He thought watching his father belittle Y/n would bring a sense of happiness or accomplishment through him but it did the opposite.

He felt the need to shield her from his father's eyes as she looked down at the ground, her head hung low. His eyes trail down her form, eyes blowing wide when he catches the sight of crimson that nearly stops his heart.

“Ma’Jake, what she-”

“Y/n?” Lo’ak calls in alarm, stepping closer to the wobbly girl in concern . At his tone Jake's eyes soften looking over at Y/n. He feels color drain from his face as he notices the metal piece lodged into her thigh.

A gasp escapes Neytiri as she stares at her in horror, and the pool of blood that surrounds her.

It's as if Neteyam lost control over his body for a moment when he had registered where the blood was coming from, his legs carrying him towards her with no regard to his own injuries.

“M’sorry” Y/n mumbles, her body losing all strength as her vision blacks out. She goes limp falling towards the floor. The only thing she remembered before she was sucked into the abyss was a warm pair of strong arms catching her just in time, and a sound of someone calling for her with urgency.

“Y/n!!!”

~~~~~~~~

Y/n groans, her eyes fluttering as she tries to adjust to the dimly candlelit room. She frantically looks around as the previous day's events flash across her mind.

“Y/n” Tarsem’s soft voice calls, causing her eyes to snap to him. Y/n first notices that she is in the comfort of the Tsahik’s medical tent, surrounded with helpful gear and tools Mo’at would use for healing.

“T-Tarsem?” Y/n croaks, the pain from her leg stinging like crazy. She glanced down to her bandaged up thigh, the pain had subsided greatly but she was still able to feel it. Especially the numbness around the thigh rendering her immobile.

Tarsem rushes to her side, kneeling beside her with his eyes creased in concern. Y/n tries to sit up to which he gently pushes her back into the comfort of the cot she laid upon.

“W-what happ-”

A violent fit of coughs racked her body, her throat feeling dry as she tried to speak. Tarsem pulls her up half way, bringing a cup of water to her lips which she greedily gulps down. Her breath heaving as she tried to compose herself,

“What happened?” Y/n asks as she was able to settle down, with his aid she was able to sit up, her hand reaching down to gingerly trace over the heavily bandaged wound. Her eyes dance over to the bowls that were set up beside her, rags filled with blood placed in the bowls of water, staining the blue water crimson.

“You fainted due to blood loss. The injury-the wound was terribly deep. You’ve bleed so much you…you could have died!” Tarsem winces through clenched teeth, his hands forming fists by his side. Now that Y/n was sitting up right and up to his level she was able to see the tears stain along his cheeks.

“H-how long was I out for?” Y/n whispers, noting how it was only Tarsem by her side. She cursed herself for feeling a bit saddened that Neteyam wasn't present, but who was she kidding? She knew he hated her, but why did her heart want him there?

“Two days. Mo’at wasn’t sure if you’d wake. Your wound kept bleeding and she had to change your dressings many time” he informs, making Y/n wince at the news.

“That must have been awful, I’m ashamed to have put that much burden on her” Y/n mumbles to herself. Tarsem’s eyes snap to her face, his soft eyes squinting in anger.

“Are you kidding? You are worried about Mo’at taking care of you and not over that fact you almost died Y/n? What the hell were you thinking coming onto the battlefield like that?” Tarsem growls, his brotherly instincts taking flight as he keeps glancing at the bandaged wound.

“I had to! Lo’ak and N-Neteyam were there. You know it’s our duty to-“

“No! It’s my duty! I should have done something about it. I shouldn’t have given Lo’ak that gun in the heat of the raid. If I had been more alert you wouldn’t…you wouldn’t have..” Tarsem chokes on his words.

He felt responsible for Y/n, always has. The moment she started living with his family, he knew she would become the sister he never had. When she wanted to become a warrior like him he had mixed feelings, a part of him was ecstatic to have such a devoted student. The other half was afraid of having his baby sister out there in danger.

He knew the consequences of making her a warrior, but when Y/n stressed how she wanted to respect her departed parents by becoming a strong warrior, he knew he had no room to argue.

“Tarsem, it’s not your fault” Y/n says sternly, her voice trembling under the weight of her current state. Tarsem shakes his head. It was his fault, he felt it. This wasn't becoming of him as a future powerful warrior to serve the Olo’eyktan. Mistakes were made he would make sure it would never happen again. He would protect what was important to him.

Some rustling outside the tent caused the two to turn towards the entrance. Lo’ak’s head pops into the tent, his eyes widened with happiness seeing Y/n awake and alert. He quickly rushes in followed by Kiri who is carrying a basket filled with herbs.

“Y/n, you're awake!!” Lo’ak exclaimed, he crouches down to her level, his hand reaching out to carefully stoke her cheeks. He desperately wanted to pull her in for a hug, but the guilt in his heart prevented him from doing so.

“I’m fine! I’m not that fragile, guys” Y/n teases, Kiri takes a seat on the other side to inspect her wound. She smiles to herself noticing how the blood didn’t seep through the new bandage. Proving her prayers had been answered.

“Y/n” Lo’ak calls softly, retracting his hand a to sit cross legged on the cool floor. His ears folded against his head, his tail twitching nervously knowing Tarsem was watching him like a hawk.

“I’m sorry for…everything. Neteyam wouldn’t have come after me if I didn’t disobey orders and you wouldn't have gotten involved. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt saving Neteyam,”

Y/n flushes dark purple at his words.

“H-how” Y/n stammers, her bashful eyes landing on each Na’vi who nods.

“Yes, mom saw you from the air. She saw how you put yourself in harm's way as the bomb went off. You saved Neteyam.” Kiri informs, grinding some of the herbs she had bought with her, Y/n nods, forcing a smile. She couldn’t help but wonder if Neteyam knew.

“Neteyam knows” Tarsem says quietly, making the blush on Y/n face worsen and the knot in her stomach grow. Not only did the Na’vi who hated her guts, got lectured by his father but he also knew Y/n saved him. How mortifying. Y/n sighs knowing that this would only strength his hatred towards her,

“Don’t worry about it Lo’ak. What matters is that we’re all fine and that you learned from your actions . Best not repeat them, yea?” Y/n says softly, making Lo’ak smile in appreciation.

“I won’t!”

“Good, now can you please get out, you skxawng! I need to asses her!” Kiri butts in with an unimpressed roll of her eyes. Lo’ak chuckles before placing his hand over Y/n’s resting hand over her lap, giving it a light squeeze he quickly walks out to let Kiri do what she came here to do.

“I’m glad you ok” Kiri whispers, adding the herb paste into some water, Y/n slightly cringed at the bitter smell that engulfs her senses as she passes over the cup which she reluctantly accepts.

“Thank you and Mo’at for helping me. It was stupid of me for being so careless” Y/n chuckles, her eyes landing on Tarsem who still paced around in the tent. She looks back at Kiri who acknowledges how odd Tarsem had been acting.

“Let him be, he has been worried sick over you the past few days” Kiri whispers, noting how Y/n slightly furrowed her eyebrows as she recalled the words Tarsem had sent her way before the Sully siblings arrived.

‘He was worried, he even blamed himself’

“Y/n” Tarsem calls, coming to a halt.

“Yes?”

“For the next few weeks you’ll be land bound no more flying until you’re fully healed-“

“Bu-“

“No buts! It’s Tsahik’s orders. Right Kiri?” Tarsem glances over at Kiri who agrees enthusiastically at his words. Y/n groans in annoyance, taking a sip of the bitter liquid Kiri had supplied to her, a disgusted shiver going down her spine.

“I’ll let mother and father know that your awake. In the meantime rest, I’m being serious. If I see you out of this tent, there'll be consequences ” Tarsem hisses the last part, his tail thumping behind him to convey how serious he words were.

“Yes, I understand” Y/n murmurs, her ears folding in defeat. Seeming happy with the response Tarsem nods to Kiri before quickly exiting the tent.

“Don’t worry, he is just acting like that out of love” Kiri whispers, seeing the firsturated look on Y/n.

“I know….I just feel useless not being able to do anything”

“We’ll, get used to it. Mo’at knows how stubborn you are, she’s going to have someone in this tent over the course of the night to watch over you. Make sure you don’t…escape”

Y/n hums, glaring at the remaining medicine in her cup. Letting out one sigh of defeat she drowns the entire drink in one go, gagging as the thick liquid travels down her throat.

“H-how’s Neteyam?” Y/n asks after a while. Sticking out her tongue in disgust at the taste of the medicine.

Kiri frowns at her words. Cleaning up her equipment she brought with her. “He’s ok, Mo’at was able to treat him right away after he was able to catch you-“

Y/n flushes in embarasembt at her words.

“But other than that, he hasn't come by once to check if you’re ok.”

‘Well….that’s not a surprise’

~~~~~~~~~

Over the past couple of days Y/n’s days mull together as her boredom reaches a new high.

With a constant eye on her she was unable to escape the tent under any circumstances, much to her dismay.

During the day Mo’at would be in the tent tending to warriors while watching over her, and overnight Y/n would be under the watchful eye of either Kiri, Lo’ak or Tarsem’s parents. They would always alternate but not once didn’t Neteyam step into the tent.

A couple of hours after she woke up, Jake and Neytiri rushed into the tent. Jake expressed how furious he was over Y/n when she disobeyed orders but he stressed how he was glad that she was safe. Neytiri didn’t let go of Y/n’s hand the entire time she was by her side. Thanking her for protecting her son.

Kiri and Tuk were the best company Y/n had, they always kept her busy with engaging conversations not related to her injury so she didn’t have time to sulk over it.

Lo’ak was also great company but his constant stories of what he was able to do in his free time now that he was grounded from flying, only made the older female Na’vi feel envious each time.

And despite loving Tarsem, Y/n disliked when he was in charge of her the most. He seemed to worry over her more then his parents. Always blaming himself despite what Y/n assured of him. The man tortured himself with his regrets. Never seeming to want to live it down.

“Drink this, and don’t think of getting Lo’ak to throw it out for you. I’ll figure it out and I’ll double your dosage for next time” Mo’at threatened, placing the cup by her bed. Y/n forces a smile, her stomach dropping at the threat that held malice.

After the current day Mo’at was getting ready to leave for the comfort of her own tent.

“Don’t worry, I’ll finish it. I want to be able to leave as soon as possible” Y/n says softly, glaring at the green liquid that seemed to taste worse day by day.

“Good” Mo’at grumbles before heading out and leaving her alone.

The tent falls silent with the occasional sound of the wind hitting the chimes placed above the entrance, Y/n shuffles herself around for a comfortable position, not bothering to look up when the entrance ruffles, indicating that someone must have come inside.

“Hi Lo’ak, I’m sorry for-“

Y/n freezes once her eyes land on yellow orbs that stare into her own. She felt tiny under the gaze, the Na’vi’s posture stiff as he closed the entrance behind him. Y/n gulps in slight fear, looking down to her clasped hand that began to sweat.

“Y/n” Neteyam calls sternly, stepping closer to her.

Y/n chooses not to look up, waiting for him to speak again. After recalling that Neteyam knew about her going out of her own way to protect him Y/n was glad he didn’t make the effort to visit her. And now that she was alone with him she felt her stomach churn.

“Why….why did you save me?” Neteyam asks gruffly, causing the smaller girl to flinch.

After moistening her lips she peers up slightly. Her lips part as she tried to find her voice, clearing her throat in the process.

“I don’t know what you mean. The explosion was so severe that we ran into one another” Y/n didn’t know why she thought of lying, maybe it was the embarrassment she felt or the way Neteyam clenched his jaw in anger.

“Y/n I’m not stupid. I was there, I felt you go out of your way to cover me. I don’t need anyone to tell me when I was aware the whole time”

“It was in the heat of the moment”

“You always do this!”

Y/n furrows her eyes at his raised voice, his veins on his neck protruding out due to his anger. Y/n found it harder to respond to him as she watched him sigh out, bringing his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“You always go out of your way for others putting yourself in danger. Does it please you to feel superior? Do you like feeling like a hero?”

Y/n flares her nostrils at his words, her eyes twitching in anger.

“What the hell Neteyam?! I do what I must for my clan. For my people…for my leader. I don’t do it for glory or fame. Like you” Y/n seethes, her fangs poking against her mouth. Neteyam’s eyes glow in anger in the dimly lit room. His own fangs breaking through with a hiss in response.

“Hah, well, it doesn’t seem like it when you are always praised for your actions.” Neteyam laughs dryly.

Y/n’s ears fold against her head, cursing at herself for even worrying for a boy like him who couldn’t get his head out of his ass due to his ego.

“I’m done with this conversation. I’m sorry I saved you, I’ll make sure no one acknowledges what I’ve done-“

“That’s besides the point!!”

Neteyam paces around the tent, his steps carrying him closer and closer towards the entrance.

“You….you”

Neteyam’s back faces her when he comes to a halt, heaved gasps of anger escaping through him as he recalls something of the past.

~Flashback~

“Wow you’re so cool Y/n!”

Y/n smirks triumphantly as her finger working over the arrow head she was busy carving at the moment. Neteyam sat in front of her, his eyes drinking in the way her finger worked tirelessly against the sharp edge, sharpening it with precision. Great precision for a 10 year old.

“Really? Thanks! Tarsem taught me, you'll learn soon enough and I’m sure you will be better than me!” Y/n encourages which only widens Neteyam’s smile. His eyes shine with admiration as he glances between the girl and the arrow.

For as long as he could remember Y/n was always a part of their clan, always wandering around and trying to learn something new everyday. He couldn't help but feel drawn to her carefree yet strong spirit. He wanted to be like her, as a 9 year old, Y/n looked like a perfect idol for him. Other than his father and Tarsem who had been the hot topic amongst the clan for a while now.

“You think? You’ll help me, right?” Neteyam asks, his eyes gleaming with hope. Y/n chuckles, turning up to meet his eyes. He felt his heart rate quicken, he felt his stomach erupt with a fluttery feeling as they looked into each other's eyes. She was the prettiest female Na’vi he had ever seen, and seeing her in such a light only made him feel this weird feeling more and more as days progressed.

“Of course! But I don't know everything. You’ll have to ask Tarsem.” Yn says making Neteyam frown.

“No! I only want to be taught by-”

“OW!”

Neteyam flinches at the sound of Y/n yelping in pain, his eyes widened, his breath hitched in fear at the sight of crimson dripping onto the forest floor. Y/n clutches her finger, shakily clutching the wound tightly. It wasn't a large cut, but it was deep enough for blood to come pouring out, scaring the poor boy.

“Y/n!!”

Neteyam reaches out to clutch her hand, fear and worry blinding him. Just as his fingers brush against her she quickly pulls away, evading him while smiling nervously.

“I'm fine! It's fine! I'll just go the Mo’at to get patched up!” She says reassuringly, making Neteyam frown at her words.

“Let me see it, how bad is it? Neteyam asks, his voice shaky, he reaches out again only for Y/n to stand up, him following her mom even in confusion.

“Neteyam it's fine, really. You of all people should not worry over a minor cut! It nothing”

“What do you mean? Why can’t I worry over you?”

Y/n rolls her eyes playfully, taking a step away from Neteyam who watches her with furrowed eyes.

“Because you are like my baby brother. How would I feel if I let my baby brother worry about me?!”

Neteyam’s ears flatten against her head. He didn't know why but the term ‘Baby brother’ sent a sickening feeling through his gut. He didn't like it, not one bit.

“Baby brother? You see me as a baby brother? What's that supposed to mean?”

“C’mon Neteyam, you're younger than me. And I should be looking after you! Not the other way around dummy!” Neteyam’s head dropped at her words.

The first feeling Neteyam felt surge through him was anger, the feeling of being incompetent sitting deep with his tiny form.

Was this her way of saying he wasn't worthy of her? That he wasn’t good enough for her? That she didn’t believe he could protect her?

“Is…that all I’ll ever be to you? A ‘Baby Brother’ who has to be protected by…you??”

“Is that wrong?”

~Flashback end~

“You've always been like this” Neteyam whispers , his back still facing Y/n as she fiddles around with the cloth draped over her legs to prove warmth. Feeling confusion ring inside her as she clears her throat.

“What?”

“You've always been like this. You always acted like it was you against the world, you never wanted anyone's help or anyone to care for you. You made me feel….you made others feel useless…”

“Neteyam. I don't know what you mean?”

Neteyam laughs dryly, still refusing to turn around and face her. The way he clenched his hands into fists, his veins protruding along his arms in anger didn't go unnoticed by Y/n who gulped nervously.

“Nothing, forget it. It doesn’t matter to you how anyone feels as long as you are covered. And that…makes you the most selfish person in the room”

~~~~~~~~~

Y/n couldn’t seem to get the argument she had with Neteyam over her head for the next couple of days. After that day he never came around again and Y/n tried not to focus on that. She didn’t know why he became so cryptic near the end but the fear from his words stung deep making her question herself.

“So that’s why I be late, is that ok?” Lo’ak says, tilting his head as he waited for Y/n’s response.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said Spider and I have an adventure planned in the afternoon tomorrow. I might be late coming in tomorrow,”

Today Y/n had finally gotten some good news regarding her injury. It has healed splendidly, but Mo’at still wanted her in bed rest for the next few days for observation.

“Just you and Spider? Where will you be going?”

“I don’t know, we’re going to do some tracking” Lo’ak says nonchalantly. Y/n frowns, something in her stomach didn’t sit right at his plan.

“Lo’ak, I’m dying of boredom just by sitting here all day. Can I come with?”

Lo’ak smirks, his eyes lighting up at her rebellious words.

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about!”

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

Netayams scowl didn’t leave his lips as he rode beside his parents. Though he got all the duties Y/n had prior to her injury that left her bed bound, none of it made him any happier.

He didn’t get anything out of accomplishment , only due to the fact she wasn't here to do them herself. And she was in her current state due to him, it sent a bitter taste along his tongue the more he thought of it.

The com around his neck buzzes to life as Lo’ak whispers on the other side. Neteyam internally frowns as he listens into what Lo’ak informs, his father answering back gruffly. He knew that Lo’ak would disobey rules and venture out to the old shack. So typical of him to get bored just to do the very thing they were warned about.

“Who’s we?”

Neteyam listens carefully, his eyes scrunching with worry for his family.

“Me, Spider, Kiri, Tuk…and Y/n”

Neteyam felt his heart drop, his mind drawing blanks. There were avatar soldiers near them and Lo’ak had their baby sister tag along with them. That alone got his blood to run cold, what caused his heart to beat painfully was the thought that Y/n, who was still very much injured, was also with them.

The girl Neteyam hated seeing hurt.

__________________________________________

A/N: I’m so sorry for the delay! I hope you guys enjoy and Breathing Pt3 will be out soon!

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[sanzaibian]

Life is really unjust.

My name is Killian Ndiaye, and I’m intimately acquainted with its bad side. My father died while I was young, leaving me to be raised along with my younger sisters by only my ma. We weren’t rich by any means, so it meant that my ma made ridiculous hours at her job, and that us, when old enough, had to pitch in with part-time jobs. Thankfully, I was quite an intelligent kid, and still managed to have quite good grades. However, that didn’t mean that school life was easier, as I was always labeled as the “poor nerd” in class, wearing the few simple clothes I owned and sporting the buzzcut my ma cut for me. As she always said, others just cared more about looks than about life.

However, this was not the last of my struggles, quite the countrary as it turned out that I wasn’t the cis straight man I was supposed to become. High school was formative in that sense, as it’s in there that I noticed that I wasn’t into girls like the other guys my age were, and like ma expected me to be. I… had a very hard time admitting that I was gay. Ma always told me that those “queers” didn’t know what life was like, and that they were just living carelessly, wasting their parent’s efforts… I didn’t want to wast my ma’s efforts, as I love her, yet I couldn’t hide from the truth. I’m gay, and that’s just it.

I vainly thought that I just needed not to be like “those gays”, those who live in the hairdresser’s, the clothing store and the clubs, looking all like fairies, and that everything was going to be alright. How shameful it was when, at 17, I started questioning my gender, so disconnected I feel to masculinity and other men’s experiences, and so uncomfortable I am with the facial hair that just won’t stop growing… I thought that if I just suppressed it, if I was just the most “normal” I could be, then everything was going to be alright. That perhaps, I just needed to alleviate a bit my dysphoria, and everything was going to be alright.

However, my ma is a very observant person. As I was approaching majority, she started to make comments about a girlfriend, and about me stubbornly shaving my face. I just dismissed those questions, still foolishly hoping that everything would end well.

When I was 18, she asked me whether I was gay. I couldn’t lie to my ma.

And we arrive to now, a few years later. My ma “didn’t want a fairy in her house”, so I stayed with a few friends. But when they went to college and I couldn’t, I was left to fend for myself alone. Now, I live in the streets, and spend my time alternating between finding part-time work and begging in the city. I do it whenever I need to go somewhere, and though I don’t do anything illegal – I even spend some of my meager funds on a transports card – it absolutely does not mean that I’m suddenly well-liked.

Few are those who spare any money. And on top of that, because I’m a black man, I hear plenty of racist comments. As if they thought I didn’t hear them asking me to “return to my country”, even though I’m already there… And the most depressing fact of this all is, because I can’t really shave anymore, my dysphoria is going through the roof. My life is hell, but I keep at it in the vain hope that I’ll be able to climb back to a respectable life.

However, today was especially terrible. I had found an interesting job of installing the equipment for a big concert, and actually ventured quite far from the center of the city to go to the big theater. When I arrived there, they told me that they weren’t looking for anyone, they had all the help they needed. Dejected, I left, but as I was leaving, another young guy entered. I hang out a bit to hear what was going on, and I heard that he was hired for the temporary job. I guess they thought I would steal from them or something… It’s so unfair ! I love music, and at school always wanted to do something that had a link to it ! I was so hyped to work in this job ! I thought that if I worked hard enough, people would even notice me and my good knowledge of the equipment, and would consider me as a good partner for further work ! But, as ever, all those dreams were, once again, cut short…

On the way back, I started begging, but as I reached the back of the first bus, I saw what looked like a man in a dress, wearing makeup and nail polish, being harassed by an older-looking woman.

“(…) and any sensible person ! How do you expect me to do nothing while a pervert is preparing to go to women’s bathrooms and assault girls ? You should be ashamed of endangering others ! - Miss... please stop… I swear I won’t do anything bad…” The person in a dress said, clearly on the brink of tears. - And how can I trust you ? I know you snakes, you’re just saying this to then go and continue your business unharmed !”

As she was about to continue harassing that person, I decided I needed to step in. I want there to be justice at least somewhere, even if it can’t be in my life. I step between her and the person in a dress, and ask calmly :

“Miss, please stop. They are clearly really hurt by your comments, and everybody around us is uncomfortable with this display.” I say, as I watch everyone else looking away, as if nothing’s happening. Courage shines ever so hard… - Oh, now a beggar is coming ? You should go back to your country or find a goddamn job rather than profiting off of our hard work !” She said, clutching her designer bag, as if I was going to steal it. - Miss, these comments are really racist. Please stop.” I stay, choosing to remain calm and composed. - What, can’t I say what things are ? That’s really all the wokist’s fault, nowadays we can’t say anything, we have to walk on eggshells at all times ! I’m not racist, but if you want racism to stop, you have to stop overreacting at everything !”

She looks at me with a smug look, as I’m about to lose it. I can’t answer anything, because, unfortunately, one can’t argue out of nonsense ! Especially someone like me who’s not trained in rhetoric – I had part-time jobs at the time ! … at least, I can shield that person with a dress from further harassment. I look behind, and see them smiling to me, thankful for my help. If I can help at least one person, I’ll be happy.

Suddenly, the sound of thunder rings in my ears.

No one seems to be bothered by it, save for the old woman who seems to be just as uncomfortable as I am. I turn to see the person I was protecting, however their eyes glow an unnatural color… What’s- Before I can even try and understand what’s happening, a headache strikes, and I instinctively put my hand on my face. Fuck, I hope I haven’t gotten a cold or something, medication is hard to come by…

As I’m holding my face, a few fingers make their way in my beard (ugh). But suddenly, I feel it shifting. Intrigued, I touch my beard more thoroughly, and feel the hairs receding, growing smaller and smaller, until they finally come back under my skin. How did that happen ? I mean, I like not having a beard, but still, it’s not normal… I look in front of me and it seems that the woman is losing wrinkles. What’s happening !

The bus stops. Quite a few people leave. Why was I here ? … yes, I had to do something with the people on it… was it work ? I don’t quite remember… However, as I look around me, I suddenly notice that the people who looked away previously looked a little bigger. As if they were… bulking up ? As I notice that, I feel pain on my body. When I look down, it seems that my undernourished body looks more healthy… No, not just healthy, it looks… muscular ? I’m… inflating, somehow ?

The bus starts again, yet this time, its course seems smoother… I look in front of me and notice that the old – now young – woman’s hair is now tied up in a bun. Almost instinctively, I take my hand to my hair, and feel it moving. What was a short messy afro is growing, however, something even weirder happens. As it grows, I feel strands joining, growing into large spirals. It’s no longer a sponge-like mass, it’s more like… coils ? My hand presses less and less. I need to be careful about my hair, I don’t want to have to go to the hairdresser again !

I stop myself at my thoughts. Hairdresser ? They’re a waste of time ! Only those who don’t care about life – or don’t have to care about life – go to those and try to look good. Yet… it feels good. No, actually, it feels... right… Like, it’s right to want to look good ? I mean, look at me, I have muscles, I have good hair, I look good ! Suddenly, I feel my t-shirt straightening and softening. I look down as its color drains, and it splits in the middle. I smirk, and as the collar hardens and folds, I open it the shirt up to the middle of my chest, right as buttons materialize.

The woman in front of me, now sporting a much more formal costume, sighs and gives me a black jacket. I take it and put it on expertly on top of my dress shirt, fitting it right down to the belt holding my dark jeans. She then sits on one of the seats, more in the front of the bus. She really looks stylish, as one should… after all, fashion is the be-all and end-all ! One of the other passengers comes to me, quite a muscular guy dressed in a black suit, and starts putting makeup on me. I close my eyes as foundation, concealer, mascara, and tattoos are put on my face and body. I can do it all myself, but having a professional do it is always better. That’s why I always go around accompanied.

I suddenly open my eyes. What the hell is happening ! I don’t have a tattoo ! I don’t do makeup ! Hair and clothes suffice ! ... I scratch my shaved sides, until I reach my earrings. Yeah, it suffices… good hair, good clothes, good makeup and good accessories… it suffices…

“Are you good, Mx. Ndiaye ?” The makeup artist asks me. - Yes, don’t worry, I’m good.” I say, with a deep yet feminine voice. It seems wrong somehow… - Do you want to see the results ? - Of fucking course !”

The makeup artist grabs a pocket mirror and holds it to me.

Oh yeah, I’m so fucking gender ! Plus my necklaces oozes fanciness. Like, it makes me look so fucking rich ! I look around me. The vehicle somehow seems more… cramped, even though at the same time it seems more spacious, with its large seats. My head hurts, it really feels like something is wrong…

Suddenly, the limousine stops. Annoyed, I shout to the chauffeur :

“Magdalena ! Why the hell are you stopping ? We’re not at the villa yet !”

The chauffeur looks back. Wasn’t she an old grumpy woman just now ? She looks so young and has such fancy clothes, even though it’s quite clear that she isn’t from high society.

Ugh, my head really hurts...

“I’m sorry, Mx. Ndiaye, we have new guests to pick up at your request.”

I look around and see that person with a dress leaving. Suddenly, it all comes back as a flash of light. I’m not supposed to be an ultra-rich person, I don’t need all of these fancy clothes and accessories ! … I’M SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE STREETS !

That person, as if they were reading in my mind, answers in a rich and deep yet slightly unsettling feminine voice :

“You have the gratitude of the calamities, Mx. Ndiaye. Accept this… gift.” They say, smiling as they get out, followed by the makeup artist and one of my two personal guards – the other staying at the front of the vehicle.

Suddenly, it’s as if a fog descends on my mind. Like, what was I thinking about ? Oh, yeah, I was thinking about my next song that I’ll film in the villa ! Ugh, it’s so annoying that my agent asks me to pump out banger after banger like, I have all the money in the world… but I guess it’s alright to work a little. This way, I get famous and get laid, and that’s the only thing that really matters. As I’m about to shout on the chauffeur to ask why she’s not turning the limousine back on, two guys, a cute twink and hot hunk, climb aboard. I lick my lips. It’s gonna be a great night.

“So, guys,” I say, letting them take place in my arms at my right and my left. “have you heard of my new song that’s gonna come out ? If you’re good enough, I might even let you in in the filming for the clip…”

And the limousine sets off.

The sun comes to my eyes, and I wake up in a giant luxurious queen bed, with my two conquests sleeping tight at my left and my right.

I smile as I get up, naked. Yesterday’s clothes were flung in all directions, and as I approach them, I see they’re all crumpled. I chuckle. We had a ton of fun last night… Besides, Magdalena’s gonna be the one to pick that all up. I take from the closet a nice pair of white pants and a white shirt, and put them on quickly. I go to the balcony, and look at the view.

Life is really unjust.

I get to live the perfect life, while others are left to pick up the remaining pieces.

But when you’re on its good side,

Life is fucking lit.

[the-halloween-jack]

ｒｅｖｅｎａｎｔ - ｏｎｅ

PART ONE OF 'REVENANT' SERIES Damon Salvatore x Winchester!Sister!Hunter!Reader  The Vampire Diaries x Supernatural Mini Series Synopsis: Y/N Winchester was tired of living in her brothers' shadows; she needed to do something for herself for a change. When she heads to Mystic Falls, a town she was always warned to stay away from, she finds she may have taken on more than she can handle. Will she be able to eradicate the supernatural from the uncanny town? Or will she find herself tangled amongst it? WARNINGS: Drinking, Descriptions of Violence. Words: 2,257k Blog Masterlist / Series Masterlist Next Part>

Y/N Winchester’s brothers always warned her to stay away from Mystic Falls; if a hunter crossed its border, they may as well have been signing their death certificate, but, of course, she did not listen. Y/N wanted to prove herself and show them that she was not second-rate. And besides, would it not be immoral to allow these killings to continue unchecked?

Y/N glanced down at the evidence she had gathered about the town; it was apparent that the area was plagued with vampires, and the authorities had an abominable habit of covering it up. Coroner reports were sprawled across the small motel table in front of her, all claiming the same thing: that its victim died of an animal attack. However, reports of punctured necks and bloodless corpses affirmed otherwise.

The vampires of Mystic Falls were careless yet evaded scrutiny effortlessly.

Speaking to the locals achieved little, and she always walked away empty-handed. They had no accounts of antisocial behaviour or people who only seemed to make appearances at night. When speaking to witnesses, they stood unsure and dubious, as though blank spaces riddled their memories. Something else was at play here, and Y/N would uncover it, no matter the cost.

Her phone's small screen flashed again, accompanied by its trilling ring for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day, vibrating and moving against the table it lay upon. The name ‘Dean’ was written in large letters across its display. Y/N sighed and lifted the device to her ear.

‘What do you want?’ She grilled in annoyance,

‘Oh, she finally answers,’ His voice heavy with the sarcasm the young Winchester had grown accustomed to over the years.

‘Yes, I finally answered, though that didn’t answer my question, what do you want?’ Y/N reprised

‘Y/N, you know exactly what Sam and I want. We haven’t seen you in weeks, and we have no idea where you are and if you’re safe; before you picked up the phone, we had no idea if you were even alive. You need to end this stupid kamikaze mission and come back to the bunker. It’s stupid to hunt alone; you could be killed; don’t pretend that’s not what you’re doing. We aren’t stupid.’ His lecture rolled off his tongue hot and fast, Y/N rolling her eyes in response, wishing for a moment that he was there to see it.

‘No need to worry about me, brother. I can handle myself, and you know it.’ She countered,

‘Y/N…’ But before he could continue, she hung up, putting her phone on silent and shoving it into her jacket pocket.

Only two seconds passed before it began to ring again, though she ignored it just as thoroughly as all his previous calls. Typically, Y/N’s brothers would have just tracked her down, though she was smart enough to disconnect all means of GPS location and give them and everyone they knew a wide berth. She even had precautions in place that prevented them from finding her by means of magic, reducing them to countless feeble attempts of merely asking her for her location, and she would never waver. 

If Y/N had a dollar for every time Sam or Dean rang or texted, she could stop all the credit card fraud she was committing and live the lavish life a hunter could only dream of.

Once again, she looked down towards her incongruous evidence; she had reason to believe the town council was an inner circle of people in Mystic Falls responsible for the lazy cover-ups and the nugatory upkeep of the town’s safety. The council consisted of members from a group called ‘The Founding Families’, and her research showed they had occupied the small Virginian town since its forming in the mid-1800s, and it seemed to her Mystic Falls has been having occasional run-ins with vampires ever since. Suddenly, both of her brothers' warnings began to make more sense.

Y/N sighed and wrapped an overcoat around her jacket. She could do with a drink; besides, it wouldn’t hurt to try and gather more information about this uncanny town.

The door of the grill whined as she pushed it open, the crowded chatter of the busy Friday night meeting her ears immediately. She forced her way through the traffic of the locale and straight to the bar, deciding to sit next to a dark-haired man clad in a leather jacket with his shoulders hunched over a glass of whiskey. She looked toward the young bartender cleaning out a crystal glass with a towel he had just pulled from his shoulder; the sound of her stool being dragged from under the bench brought his attention to her. 

‘I’ll have a double shot of Jameson, neat, please.’ She asked sweetly, hoping the boy would not ID her. She was already 21, though the nature of her pastimes meant she only had fake identification, and any excuse not to use it was excellent in her eyes. Much to her relief, the boy placed the glass in his hands before her and began to pour her drink. She pulled her phone from her pocket, a feeling of exasperation making itself known as she gazed upon the nine missed calls from Dean and the four from Sam. Answering the call earlier had only made them worse. She had barely brought the glass to her lips when the dark-haired stranger spoke up,

‘I can’t help but notice you’re a new face around these parts; what brings you to Mystic Falls?’ His accompanying smirk was flirtatious, and though only an idiot would overlook the apparent sublimity of his features, she was in no mood for mucking about. She returned the smile regardless, hoping to scour him for more information. 

‘What makes you think this is a new face?’ She asked, using the same sweet tone she used with the bartender.

‘Trust me, I’d recognise a face like yours if I’d seen it before.' She wanted to ignore the cheap pickup line, though she could sense a blush creeping onto her cheeks. Y/N could hardly believe that this man she had only just met could affect her so quickly, 

‘Well, I’m not exactly new; I’ve been visiting for around a month.’ Y/N didn’t want to say too much; she had not yet developed a backstory. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to continue,

‘I was thinking of moving here permanently, though, now I’m not so sure with all these killings… by animals, of course…’  

Y/N decided it was best to get straight to the case; she was not here to waste time. Average eyes would not have noticed how his eyes tightened ever so slightly when she mentioned the animal attacks.

‘And now, why would that concern you?’ He used a light tone, though traces of accusation lay beneath. This did not go unnoticed by her; was it possible he was one of them? Her chest clenched; she had just met the man, though the idea of him being a monster saddened her in a way she could not have anticipated. She smiled nonetheless and made sure it reached her eyes.

‘I’ve made a hobby of hiking, and I think it would be unfortunate to have my cortical artery torn from my throat, wouldn’t you say?’ She did not know what possessed her to speak these words; could she have been any more obvious? He leaned closer, his piercing blue eyes adhered to her. Her breathing halted.

‘Yes, very unfortunate…’ he leaned back again before chuckling and exclaiming loudly,

‘How rude of me; I just realised I never introduced myself. I’m Damon Salvatore.’

Suddenly, it all made sense; he hailed from one of the founding families she had read about, Salvatore. Y/N felt a peculiar sense of relief. He was not a vampire like she initially suspected but rather part of the secret council hellbent on eradicating them, albeit not successfully. He held his hand out expectantly, and when she connected her own with his, she noticed a very conspicuous lapis lazuli ring adorning his fingers. It resembled that of an ancient family heirloom.

‘I’m Y/N, Y/N Walker.’ She thought it was best not to use her real surname; her family had gathered quite the reputation within the supernatural community, and this was the name printed on her fake ID anyway.

‘I think you’re quite right not to hike in the woods, Y/N, but I hope that won’t deter you from remaining in this town; it would be sad to lose a pretty face like yours.’ Y/N could feel her heart beating; she was sure the whole room could hear it. Y/N quickly looked down when she felt another blush forming. Damon turned to the bartender and slid her empty tumbler back over the bench,

‘She’ll have another Jameson, this time on me.’ 

From then, the conversation moved on to trivial topics, and Y/N found it difficult to proceed in her inquiry, given she was posing as an oblivious newcomer. A little while later, a woman clad in a sheriff uniform approached the pair, donning a solemn expression.

‘Sheriff Forbes…’ Damon nodded in acknowledgement; this was another name Y/N recognised from her research of the town, another founder. Y/N studied her face; she looked unsettled and nervous, as though she wished to speak with Damon but refrained in case of eavesdroppers.

She sent a pointed glare towards Damon and nudged her head ever so slightly in Y/N’s direction. Damon took this as an opportunity for introduction,

‘Liz, this is Y/N, she’s new in town.’ Liz smiled and sent Y/N a small wave,

‘It’s nice to meet you, though; I’m sorry to barge in like this. Do you mind if I borrow your friend for a moment?’ She spoke kindly, though her nervousness was present in her voice.

‘No, not at all; I should probably be heading off soon anyway.’ Y/N smiled at the sheriff before pulling her phone from her pocket and trying to seem engrossed in something displayed on the small screen. Though her attention was drawn entirely to the whispered conversation between the two founders

‘There was another body found earlier, ruled as an animal attack again; of course, though, there is only so long before people begin questioning these reports.’ Y/N could feel Liz’s eyes glancing toward her spot on the barstool; Y/N was careful to continue scrolling through her phone aimlessly until the sheriff looked away.

‘Liz, you know I’m doing everything I can to find these culprits; soon enough, they’ll make a mistake, and we’ll be able to make our move against them.’ Damon also looked at Y/N from the corner of his eyes before very deliberately looking back to Liz. Was it possible they could be suspecting her? She was new in town, after all. For the first time, it occurred to Y/N that maybe Damon had been investigating the ‘animal killings’ this evening as well, and now Y/N found herself in the middle of it. She took this as her leave,

‘I should probably head off now; it was lovely meeting you both.’ Damon and Liz smiled in response, traces of their secret conversation disappearing behind amiable façades. 

Her brothers’ phone calls continued; Y/N was kicking herself for answering the previous day; she should have seen it would make them so much worse. Sam’s name illuminated the screen of the vexing device, and for a moment, she considered crushing it under her foot just to silence the inconsequential piece of plastic and metal. Though reason returned to her just as quickly as it left, and instead, she lifted the mobile to her ear,

‘Hello, Sam.’ She sighed into the phone. She knew the calls would not stop either way now; she may as well entertain them. She heard Sam give a subtle gasp as though the sound of his sister’s voice shocked him, and that was probably not far from the truth.

‘Y/N, hear me out before you hang up, okay?’ She stayed silent, waiting for him to continue,

‘Dean and I really need to know where you are; we’re supposed to look out for you, and before you give me that “I can look out for myself” crap, it’s irrelevant, we know you can look out for yourself, but you don’t need to, whatever hunt you’re on Dean and I can help you, we’ll do it together.’ Sam spoke sincerely, 

‘It’s a kind offer, Sam, but seriously, I know what I’m doing, and besides, inviting you and Dean on the first hunt I’m attempting by myself defeats the whole “I’m going off on my own for a little while” scenario, wouldn’t you say?’ 

‘Please, Y/N, just tell us where you are,’ Sam implored. Y/N could hear the low grumbling of the eldest Winchester in the background, pleading for the phone she imagined. 

‘I’m sorry, Sam, but I think I should do this alone’. She said, ‘I’m going to hang up now, okay?’

‘Wait! Y/N’ But before Sam could say anything more; she disconnected the call; Y/N closed her eyes and sighed. She hated going behind her brothers’ backs, but she was sick of her abilities being overlooked. 

Going on hunts with them meant staying behind in the motels, researching, while her brothers went out and got their hands dirty, returning triumphant from defeating the monsters Y/N had helped them discover. What good was all the combat training and exercise she did if she could never put it into action?

No, she would not invite her brothers; she would do this alone.

A/N: I designed my own page break for this series; what do you think? 

Next Part >

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Rewind, Remix, Replay Jay & Kim 6x1

Read the rest of the series here

This was one of the chapters I was super excited to write! Thank you guys for all your support and comments. They truly makes my day <3

The next few days pass in a haze. The first few days after Al’s death they don’t pick up any new cases and Voight doesn’t come in to work. They all move around the bullpen like zombies, trying to focus on catching up on paperwork and ignoring the empty desk. Kim doesn’t mention the relationship disclosure forms and Jay doesn’t want to push. But he has the irritating itch to lock everything down as soon as possible. Halfway through the week, he hands her a blank file as he passes her desk. “Whenever you're ready,” is all he says before heading to a parole committee to give a statement to try to keep a child abuser in prison.

Kim watches him slide on his jacket and head for the stairs. When she opens the file there are only a few sheets of paper. They are the disclosure forms, Jay’s half is already filled out in black ink. She loses her train of thought while staring at them. It had been happening a lot lately. Her brain felt like it was thick with cotton. She should be happy that Jay had taken the initiative. Jay had offered her everything she was worried she would be able to have.

The interaction is quick and would have stayed under the radar if Kevin hadn’t been watching their every move the last few days. He walks up to her and glances at the open file on her desk. He isn’t surprised by what he sees, but he does feel unsettled that Kim still hasn't told him. It takes Kim way longer than it should to feel Kevin’s shadow and when she glances up at him, she doesn’t bother to close the file.

“You and Jay,” Kim bites her lip, brown eyes falling back down to the file. “You know, I get why you didn’t want to tell everyone else. It makes sense, but why didn’t you tell me?” Kim shakes her head looking up at her best friend.

“I didn’t know what it was.” Kevin clicked his teeth in disapproval of her answer.

“That didn’t stop you from telling me about Ruzek or Roman. I’ve always known what’s going on in your life Kim. Always knew how to back you. What’s different this time?”

“I don’t have a good answer for you. It all just kind of happened.” Kim answered tiredly closing the file wistfully. Her brain was foggy and she felt disconnected from her body. The grief had taken its toll on her.

“How long?” Her dark eyes met her best friends and she tried to calculate how long it had been. She inhaled sharply when she realized it had been almost a year since the two had started seeing each other. The first six months had been platonic, or at least to say they hadn’t been having sex, but the lines had been blurred even then. Then the last four months they had been sleeping together. It hadn’t seemed like it had been that long. Kevin shook his head at her. “I guess I should be kinda impressed. You too snuck around behind the back of a bunch of cops.”

“Kev, it wasn’t intentional. Everything going on with Nicole and Zoey…” Kim sighed deeply. “Jay was struggling when I was. We supported each other- I never thought it would become this. Life has just been a lot lately- and it looks like it going to be continue being that way. But I-” Kevin rested his hand comfortingly on her shoulder seeing her struggle. He hadn’t liked that she had kept something from him, he could see it wasn’t personal. Kim’s life had been a mess since her sister had been raped. It was worse in the beginning but the aftershocks kept coming, hitting her in waves. He should be grateful that Halstead had been another support for her.

“He makes you happy? Takes care of you?”

Kim's face scrunches in confusion and laughs as she responds. “Come on Kev, you know Jay.”

“I know Jay as a friend. I know Halstead as a partner, a part of this Unit. He is a loyal friend, a good man, and a fair detective.” Kevin agrees, “But I’m asking about how he treats you. Is he good to you? Does he take care of you-treat you right?” She feels raw, every emotion feels overwhelming, even the good ones. Kim smiles at her best friend her eyes watery. She pushes up to her feet and hugs Kevin tightly.

The week goes by in a blur. They pick up a case but Voight is still absent. Kim is in the interrogation across from the perp. “Do yourself a favor Jaylen. Start talking.” The black suspect looked down and then back at Kim pressing his lips together then nodded.

“Sure thing,” He eyed Kim’s form with a leer, “But only after you get on your knees and kick my black ass.” Antonio was going to react but he didn’t have the chance. Jaylen had barely uttered the word knees when Jay’s hand shot up to slap him on the back of the head. Antonio’s sharp eyes caught the clench in Jay’s jaw, eyes glaring daggers at the man in front of him. But they also saw the way Jay’s thighs bunched, his body slanting forward as his core tightened like he was about to propel to his feet. Antonio could only guess to slam the perp forward on the table. He could see the other man barely restrain himself, rocking out of his seat and almost fully extending his legs to stand before leaning back against the wall. Jay usually had complete control in the interrogation room.

Only cases that brought up heightened emotions could make the other detective lose his cool. It usually had to do with children. It could just be that he was still dealing with the after-effects of losing Al. “Pass,” Kim said with a tight smile sharing a glance with Jay. As Antonio watched Halstead relax, he decided it was for a different reason entirely.

Kim heads up to the front desk stopping to wait for Platt to finish cutting down a member of patrol from busting the tail light of one of the cruisers. Kim tightens her grip on the file, contemplating turning and heading back to the Intelligence bullpen. It seems like the wrong time to turn her forms in. Al’s funeral was the previous week and everyone was still trying to cope and get back to a semblance of normal.

“You need something Burgess?” Kim jerks looking up at Trudy who is staring at her intensely. She would have normally given the papers to Voight. He was her supervisor and the one who needed to know about their relationship. But Voight still hadn’t come back to the Unit yet. “Burgess?” Trudy’s voice has a low edge and she can hear the concern. Kim shakes her head trying to clear it. Then places the file on the counter in front of the woman she considered a mentor.

“Just needed to turn in some forms Sarg.” Trudy’s hands found the file but Kim was already turned to head back upstairs.

“I was wondering when I would get these.” Her voice was full of an emotion Kim could place as froze a mere step away from the desk. She looked over her shoulder seeing Trudy scanning over the papers, “Halstead better not screw this up.”

[drpoisonoaky]

Whoa she has fallen deep

They realize how deep Katara has fallen for Azula. Because they simp for each other a lot.

Suki.

Suki needs to vent with someone. She loves her job, truly but sometimes…So when she saw Katara sitting there she knew she could help her. Katara is a great listener.

Even though it was weird she wasn’t looking at her at all. “I feel the new girls didn’t have discipline.”

“Aha” 

“Okay that sounds like she is answering in automatic and what she is looking at” As she followed Katara’s gaze she saw Azula and Ty lee talking. “Maybe it’s a coincidence”

Seeing Ty Lee there only reminded her why she was mad with the girls. “They only want to learn chi-blocking. And yes being able to chi-block is helpful but you have to train every day.”

“Absolutely” 

“She’s definitely answering in automatic but let’s check just in case”

“Where are they going to learn to fight mongoose dragons with their bare hands?”

“Right” Suki was astonished, Katara was really that disconnected. “Or how to fly.”

“Yep” Suki didn’t even know what else said to her. “Whoa she has fallen deep” 

“Absolutely” replied Katara without any question by Suki. 

“I had enough,” Suki thought. “TY LEE, AZULA COME HERE.” as she yelled that Katara broke her trance. 

“At your service boss” said Ty Lee as soon as she and Azula came close, while she made a military salute. 

“What do you want?” Azula replied slightly annoyed. 

“I want to have a conversation with Katara but she can’t. She only looks at you and answers in an auto pilot.”

As she heard Suki Katara blushed “Hey, that's not true. I-”

“Oh now she can say non affirmation sentences.” At least she wasn't mad with her girls anymore.

“Don’t blame her, I'm gorgeous.” declared Azula smirking.

“Kyoshi have mercy.”

Sokka.

Azula and Zuko were training for a while, well Azula was playing with Zuko because she already trained today and Zuko got along with it. 

Sokka knows nothing about firebending, but he knows he needs her sister’s help. The same sister who only looks at those without even noticing him. 

“Katara'' No reponse. “Maybe she didn’t hear me”

“Katara?” Nothing. 

“Earth calling Katara” Nope. 

Sokka looked at her closer. “Let’s taste the water’s” 

“I think I’m going to kill a bunch of kids just for fun.” And still, no response. Sokka was starting to worry but then, as Zuko hit the floor loudly, he realized she was focused on what Azula was doing “Whoa she has fallen deep” 

So he knew he had to bring the big guns.

“AUCH WHAT WAS THAT FOR??” 

“My old buddy never fails,” said Sokka after kissing his boomerang. “Stop looking at her, clean your droll and help me to move these boxes.”

“I wasn’t looking-… I was trying-…I WAS DROOLING.” Katara said, completely blushed.

“Your girlfriend lies way better.”

Toph.

Toph sensed Azula as soon as she entered the room, but what she sensed the most was the backflip Katara’s heart did.

“Sugar Queen, I think you’re having a heart attack.” 

“What? No. I’m cool, totally chill.” 

“Why are you talking like your brother?” questioned Toph. 

“I do not sound like Sokka”  

On the opposite side of the room Sokka was chatting with Zuko and Azula. 

“But I said to him “No bro, I’m cool, totally chill” and he believed it.” Call it perfect timing.

“I am blind not deaf.” As soon as she said that, Katara started to defend herself, as if Toph said anything to attack her. She was only worried.

“Well your “abilities” must be failing because I’m perfect.” 

“What is wrong with her”

Toph didn’t sense Azula approaching.

“Of course you are perfect” 

“Oh Hey- Hi- What’s up?” replied Katara blushing and like she had forgotten how to speak.  

“Is she really that bad? She was fine 5 seconds before Azula…” As she realized this Toph started to smile mischievously. 

“Are you plotting something against me?” Ask Azula joking.

“WHAT NO” Katara said quickly and loudly.

So Toph decided to play a little bit once she knew her friend wasn't going to die “Her sweetness here was doubting my “abilities”.”

Azula tilted her head while looking at Katara “And you said I am the weird one.” 

“Anyways I was talking to Zuzu and Sokka and they are making me go to the theater today so you are coming with me.” 

“It’s not optional, and we have to wear something nice.” added Azula quickly. After that she got close to Katara and kissed her cheek quickly. Toph senses how Katara’s heart gives a full gymnastic performance “Whoa she has fallen deep”  thought Toph.

“I don’t get a kiss?” Toph asks Azula knowing fully well that won’t happen.

“You should be even asking for one without taking a bath first.” 

“I girl have to try.”

After that Azula was out of the picture. Leaving a speechless Katara.

“Well at least I know why you are suffering a heart attack.” 

“I am no-” 

“Don’t even try.”

Zuko

Zuko was having a cup of tea with Azula and Katara in the gardens. Because it was a great day and Zuko needed advice. 

“And I know I am more approachable than the other Fire Lords, but I like to walk without being stopped all of the time. Mai doesn’t want to walk with me anywhere.” he stopped his rambling and looked at her sister “Are you even listening to me?” 

Azula was with her eyes closed enjoying the sun while Zuko spoke. She actually was paying attention but the sun felt great.

“Of course I am.” said Azula without opening her eyes or moving.

“So?” 

“Don’t stop with anyone anymore. Challenge some of them to Agni Kai.” 

Zuko looks annoyed at her not knowing if she really believes that or she simply wants to make fun of him.

So instead of picking a fight he decided to get a second opinion. 

“Katara?” 

Katara has been looking mesmerized at Azula enjoying the sun like she was the only thing that matters. But as Zuko asks her directly she knows she has to answer something.

“I am Katara.” Even after talking as if her brain didn’t work anymore at all she didn’t look away 

Zuko stared at her blankly. “Whoa she has fallen deep”.

“Great, your pity party broke my girlfriend.” complained Azula while she stopped to enjoy the sun and look at Zuko.

But in that moment, before Zuko could reply, they heard a loud “NO” from Katara when she saw Azula move from her previous position.

Knowing that he wouldn’t get the help he needed and being a little bit angry at these two, Zuko woke up to leave.

“Geez, I get it. I ask Aang. I don’t know why I even ask you two. One is mean and one is drooling over the mean one.”  He looked at them narrowing his eyes and left.

“Were you drooling?” said Azula smirking.

“I’m breaking up with you.” replied Katara, staring at her and pouting.

“Sure but first let’s keep enjoying the sun for a while”

Aang

When Aang asked Azula to teach him lightbending he knew it would be weird. But at the moment she saw Katara sitting near watching them, he confirmed it.

“You know when I asked you to teach me lightbending I didn’t visualize the audience.” 

Azula was finishing her arm wraps, almost ready to train and without looking at him said “It’s just Katara. She asked me to be here. Maybe she didn’t trust us with lightning. The last time we gave her a lot of work.” 

“Only Azula could describe like that killing me with lightning” 

“She also was my waterbender teacher, now I have double pressure” 

Azula was already done when he look at him “It’s just Katara”

“Yeah I know. But-”

“Is it because I’m dating her?” Ask Azula, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean yeah but more in- no- just- Agh.” 

“So for you it is weird that your ex-girlfriend, who still is your friend and now my girlfriend, is watching us training together when I killed you and she brought you back to life?” said Azula looking at Katara. As a response Katara gave them a thumbs up clearly not hearing what they were talking.

“It isn’t for you?” 

Azula looked at Aang for a second and shrugged 

“I have to deal with hallucinations of both of my parents. This is a walk in the park compared to that.” Aang stared at her, surprised that she talked about that with him. 

“Plus if you have lived in an Iceberg for a century you can deal with a bit of awkwardness. “ she added after that. Then she started to walk to the center of the training facility.

“I guess you’re right.” 

“I usually am. Let’s start.”

Azula turned out to be a good teacher and after a while he could create a little lightning.

“LOOK SIFU AZULA IS A LITTLE SPARK.” It was little and weak he made it. 

Azula looked at him with a little smile. Aang was happy and his happiness was contagious.

“If I was Ozai I would make you increase that until it wasn’t embarrassing to look at, even though it probably breaks you today. But I am not. So we shall continue tomorrow?” 

Aang looked at her slightly worried, “I can’t fathom what that man did to her…Wait, has she asked him to continue tomorrow?” 

“It  would be my honor sifu Azula”

As soon as Aang was done with her bow Katara appeared as she was in a hurry.  “Maybe she’s going to scold me”

“Hey Kata-” but when Aang looked at her he realized she never intended to talk to him. “Is she angry?” 

The good thing is Azula looked just as confused as him. But before he can ask her what’s wrong she starts to speak looking at Aang.

“So are you done? You are done. Good. Nice flame Aang.” 

“Did she just say nice flame? We don’t…what was she looking at?!” Aang was more confused at every moment.

Then Katara looked at Azula and the rambling started.

“Azula, you were great.. The best. Who would have thought you trying to help makes you look so h- makes you a great individual…makes you-”

Azula looked confused at first but then she was smirking. 

“Whoa she has fallen deep” Aang thought, looking at Katara when she stopped “speaking” and only stared at Azula .

“Azula, let's go now.” 

“Of course as a great individual it is my duty to help. See you tomorrow, Avatar.” Then they disappear from the Avatar line of sight. 

“Well at least I know how to produce a little lightning.”

Ty lee 

Ty Lee was walking around the palace going to see Suki. When she stopped and saw Azula was training. She was an ass sometimes but her fire was something beautiful. If it wasn’t against you obviously.

“Oh hey are you looking for Suki?” Katara was leaning against a pillar. “She probably was watching Azula,” concluded Ty Lee.

“Yes, well I know where she is, so I was going to” Ty Lee stopped herself when she saw a big blue flame surrounding Azula creating a circle.

“Even after all these years, watching her training is astonishing” said Ty Lee watching Azula, then she turned to Katara “It is crazy because I have seen her millions of times. For some time it was like a routine”.

Katara looked at her with a weird look. So Ty Lee thought “Shit I make it weird” 

“Not that I want to watch her like that anymore. It is just a memory. I mean her bending is still beautif-” As Ty Lee kept talking and Katara’s face was even weirder. “Okay maybe I should just shut up. Is it awkward? Of course it is I mean we dated and we have so good memorie- Nope I’m not talking anymore ”

“Agni please help me”

“Oh no Ty Lee is fine, it’s not awkward, quite the opposite. You know Azula, I love to hear more stories about her from an external source plus you two are friends, well you are my friend too. I mean not that clos-”

“Well at least she also is rambling. Is that part of Azula’s type?”

As if she was invoked by Ty Lee’s thoughts, Azula appears next to her. 

“So now I am a show? Maybe I should join the circus” she had a playful smile on her face.

“So I would get the chance to burn your safety net?” Honestly that was water under the bridge but teasing Azula is funny. Well, when she isn’t in a killer mood.

“I would never put one there at the first place, that’s for cowards”

As they started to bicker Katara only was staring at Azula with that expression. Ty Lee still hasn’t figured out what that gaze means until.

“She was looking at her as she was the best thing in the world, so that’s why she gave me that look she wasn’t jealous she was proud” So when Azula turned back to Katara, Ty Lee paid attention to Katara's gaze and only could think “Whoa she has fallen deep”.

[daddyyy88]

Oh on the requested of full angst I meant Metkayina instead Omatikaya sorry for the miscommunication I got it mixed up between the difference of Navi and didn't realize I was so brain loss and she is the daughter of Ronal and tonowari and again I'm so sorry

No Regrets | Neteyam x Lo’ak x reader (kinda…?)

if you’d like you can reblog my original work, but please don’t post it without credit. if you take inspiration from my ideas please tag me, I’d like to see how someone else would write it

word count: 3.9k

warnings: angst, lo’ak kinda gets his heart broken, ronal is *really* upset at reader, ?

summary: Lo’ak confesses his feelings to you, unaware that his older brother just did the same thing merely an hour ago and of course he finds out about your relationship by catching you two during an intimate moment

original request: full angst on lo'ak sully where the sully family came to the Metkayina clan to introduce themselves and in there lo'ak started to have a crush on sight of Reader and the reader is Metkayina (ronal and Tonowari daughter). When lo'ak started to confess his feelings towards the reader however the reader couldn't return the feeling since she like neteyem then lo'ak so she kindly rejected him in not trying to hurt him but made his whole heart shattered.

sorry this took so long💀

The moment Lo’ak laid eyes on you he was in love. He was infatuated by your beautiful features, your long hair and your clothing that accentuated your body in the best way. He was worried he wouldn’t have a shot with you since you were Olo’eyktan’s oldest daughter but he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

He’d spend as much time as he could near you. Always wanting to train with you specifically, always helping you when you needed, helping you teach the children, whatever you needed he was there to assist. You thought it was adorable and honestly appreciated it, but you never would’ve suspected his true feelings for you.

When the Sully family first arrived, you were worried about the whole situation to tell the truth. Worried about how the people would accept them, how they’d adapt, how they’d react to the new way of life. You decided you would accept them with open arms and would become they feel safest around if no one else would.

You quickly became infatuated with the oldest of the children, Neteyam. Blushing at his soft voice and shy glances, giggling at his sassy comments and jokes. He was very handsome as well, and his muscles didn’t help your ever-growing crush on the forest boy.

You knew he was going to make the perfect mate, and you loved how shy he got around you. When talking to your father or other members of the clan he was very stoic and stern, but when he spoke to you he was all soft spoken and gooey on the inside.

You took Neteyam to the Cove of the Ancestors, letting him connect and admiring his features as he did. He smiled, looking at you after he disconnected. You spoke a few words in sign language before he gestured for “I see you”.

Your eyes instantly widened and you blushed, trying not to laugh. He cupped your cheeks, caressing them as you smiled and did the same. You made your way to the surface and said “I see you,” He smiled, you were still trying to catch your breath but you just couldn’t wait any longer.

He blushed a little and said “I see you,” You couldn’t believe it you thought he just saw you as a little sister or any other woman of the clan. You blushed hard, resting your hands on his shoulders to help keep yourself afloat. You noticed him look down at your lips and you smiled a little, leaning in slightly.

You almost kissed, but quickly pulled away and shook your head. “No, no we shouldn’t. I want to know how our parents feel and the people” you said and he hummed, nodding. You chuckled and said “it’s not that I do not want you to court me I just…I-I’m meant to be the next Tsahík. As much as it will pain me that might mean I wouldn’t be able to mate with you. I want to though, desperately,”

You both chuckled and he nodded, admiring your features. You giggled and he groaned, hearing his father call for him on the earpiece. “I must go, unfortunately. I’ll see you around, yes?” He asked and you nodded. You smiled and blew him a kiss as called his ilu and swam away.

As you sat by the Cove of the Ancestors, giddy and making clothing for an upcoming ceremony like you had planned after bringing Neteyam to make tsaheylu with the spirit tree, you heard Lo’ak approach you from behind. You were quite surprised to see him, but still just as happy and excited.

“Lo’ak! What are you doing here?” You asked and smiled. He chuckled and said “I heard you were here, figured I’d come see you since I’m not doing anything for the rest of the day” “that’s sweet” you chuckled, grabbing another shell to thread onto the garment.

He sat in front of you and said “what are you making?” “I’m making myself new clothings for the celebration of my sibling’s birth. Mother says she feels they may arrive sooner than she thought” you said and he nodded. He leaned against a rock as he watched you and you both sat in a comfortable silence.

“You know there’s something I’ve been really wanting to tell you,” he said and you hummed, waiting for him to tell you. He took a deep breath and said “I-I uhm…I’ve sort of begun to have feelings for you throughout these last couple of months. I- I even look forward to learning the way of the Metkayina because of you and I used to hate that kind of stuff. I thought- well, I-I was wondering if maybe you felt similar?”

“Oh, Lo’ak…I- I appreciate you telling me. I’m very flattered b-but I don’t feel the same. It’s nothing about you, I promise, I just don’t really have those feelings for you. I’m sorry,” you said, you had stopped working and looked him directly in his eye.

He sighed, nodding. “Is there someone else?” “Y-Yes…” you said cautiously, how were you supposed to tell him you liked his brother instead? He nodded again and said “well I hope he knows how luck he is”

You both chuckled and you thanked him quietly. “Hey, things don’t have to become awkward between us now, just so you know. We can move on and pretend like it didn’t happen, or not. We can even still move on as it is and that could work too. You’re a good friend, Lo’ak, and a fast learner too,” you said and he nodded.

You felt terrible, you didn’t want to hurt him like that, you really didn’t. You weren’t going to lie to him though, you were sure that would only hurt him more. He stood up and you looked down, you didn’t want to see him so hurt and upset.

“I’ll see you at dinner, y/n” he said and you nodded. You watched him call his ilu and swim away with a frown on your face. You really hoped this wouldn’t affect your friendship too much.

You made your way back to the village, playing with children for a bit so their parents could prepare tonight’s dinner and even taking them on ilu rides in shallow water. You smiled as you saw Neteyam walk up to the spot you and the children were at, making sure all the children were doing something safe before you turned your attention to him for a moment.

“Hi, Neteyam” you said and giggled a little. He smirked and said “I see you’re keeping the children entertained” You smiled and nodded. He chuckled as a few of them ran up to him, a lot of the children had been infatuated with the forest people that had arrived, and Neteyam was okay with letting them get a closer look at the differences he had in comparison to them.

He picked one of them up and made them “fly like an ikran”, running around in the water and letting them glide across it. You smiled as you watched him. You wondered what he would be like as a father. You were willing to bet he’d make an amazing father.

After dinner, you brought him to a slightly more secluded area and said “I wanted to talk to you about something,” Of course he was worried, had you changed your mind? You took a deep breath and said “Lo’ak confessed his feelings for me today. I-I kindly turned him down, but I feel terrible. I think we should really make sure we are serious about each other before we say anything”

He was shocked, relieved, and slightly upset all at the same time. He had no idea Lo’ak felt that way, not at all. However, he was glad it was nothing serious or terrible. He didn’t know how to feel about the fact that he now knew Lo’ak had feelings for you. It was honestly a little annoying, he thought he could at least have you to himself if not anything else.

“Yea, yea you’re probably right,” he said quietly a few moments later. You smiled nervously and said “also, can you try and keep an eye on him? Make sure he’s okay? He seemed really hurt when I rejected him,”

“Of course, y/n” he said and you thanked him. He brushed your head behind your ear and kissed your head, smiling at you. You blushed and brought him back to the village instantly being pulled away by your mother to discuss a few things.

Neteyam wasn’t mad at Lo’ak, he knew he couldn’t control it. You are the most gorgeous girl in the clan, he was surprised to not see every man at your feet begging to be accepted as your mate. But he wants you to be his and his only.

As your relationship with Neteyam progressed, you tried to keep your distance but also stay close with Lo’ak. You didn’t want to upset him by making him hang out with you, but you also missed your friendship. Neteyam felt bad when you would open up to him about these kinds of things, but you begged him not to say anything because he didn’t want Lo’ak to suspect anything just yet.

2 months had gone by, and you were totally in love with Neteyam. You hadn’t expressed it just yet, but you were sure he was the one. You’d wait as long as it takes, and do whatever you have to to mate with him. He was your soulmate, there was no doubt about that.

Of course you had your doubts about whether he felt the same, but then he’d come begging to go to your secret spot so he could cuddle you and tell you how pretty you are and all your worries would melt away. You were so happy with Neteyam, it nearly brought you to tears when you thought about it.

So when you two decided to take a risk and have him visit your marui pod before either of your duties began, you should've known something bad was bound to happen. You had your back turned to the entrance as Neteyam held you close, arms resting low on your hips as you two giggled at how close you were.

Both your tails were swinging happily, your ears up and your freckles glowing slightly even in the early morning sunlight. You nuzzled your noses together, nearly kissing. Both of your breaths caught and Neteyam squeezed your hip.

“Ma syulang,” he said and you took a deep breath. You reached up and caressed his cheek as you pulled back, looking into his eyes. “Please, ‘teyam? It’s just one kiss” you said and he chuckled. It would never be one kiss. He wanted to mate with you before Eywa every second of every day, it couldn’t just be one kiss.

But he didn’t care. He leaned down and captured your lips in a small, gentle kiss. It only lasted a few seconds but it made you go crazy inside. He chuckled at how excited you obviously were, your tail swinging like crazy and a low purr vibrating in your chest.

He was no better, but you were just adorable like this. He leaned down to kiss you again, nearly beginning to make out when Lo’ak came in, scoffing at the sight. You gasped and turned around quickly, still in Neteyam’s arms.

“Lo’ak!” You said and he shook his head as he said “your mother needs you” He left and you groaned. You turned around and Neteyam sighed softly. He let go of you and pushed you lightly, encouraging you to go after him.

You smiled and quickly made your way out of the tent. You struggled to catch up to him but once you did you could hear how heavy his breathing was and he was only walking so he must’ve been angry. “Lo’ak, please j-” you said and he shoved you off of him.

“Don’t! I- I can’t believe you, y/n. How long?” He asked, he wasn’t yelling or screaming but that only scared you more. You whimpered a little and said “Two months…” Lo’ak shook his head and tears filled your eyes.

“I- I-I didn’t mean for this to happen, okay? I didn’t go out of my way to not have feelings for you, I just don’t! I’m sorry that your brother is the man I love but there’s nothing I can do about it-” you said and he cut you off, asking you a question that made your heart drop.

“You love Neteyam?” He said and you whimpered, letting out a shaky sigh. You felt tears in your eyes as you said “I-…I do, Lo’ak. I love- oh god, I love Neteyam” He shook his head and walked away, returning to the village.

You whimpered and your back fell against the tree you were in front of as you cried softly, tears rolling down your cheeks as you whimpered and gasped. You didn’t want this to happen, you didn’t want Lo’ak to find out like this. You certainly weren’t ready to admit you loved Neteyam, you didn’t understand why you said it, you’ve barely been able to admit it in your head.

You’re scared to believe that you’ve found the one at such a young age. You’ve always worried that you’ll mate with the wrong man and ruin your entire future. Admitting you loved Neteyam was terrifying for you.

“Y/n…” Neteyam said and you sniffled softly, looking around. He was to your left, jogging up to you. He cupped your cheeks as he caught up to you and said “ma syulang, are you okay?” “T-This wasn’t supposed to ha-happen,” you whimpered.

He caressed your cheek with a sad smile and said “it’s- it’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. Everything will turn out just fine, do not worry” You shook your head, more tears welling up in your eyes. He grabbed your legs and wrapped them around his waist, moving his hands to your back to pull you against him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, crying into his chest. “I didn’t want this to h-happen” you said and he kissed your head. He rubbed your back as he said “I know, my love. I know you’re hurt and you’re scared but we can get through this. You’re not gonna feel like this forever, you know”

“I just wished that we could’ve planned it and- a-and done it in a way that wouldn’t hurt him so much” you said and Neteyam sighed softly. You sniffled and stood up, shaking your head. You wiped your tears and said “he said my mother needed me, I should go”

You started to walk away but he stood up and grabbed your waist, stopping you. You turned around and he cupped your cheeks, wiping your tears. “She can wait. You’re not okay right now” he said and you took a deep breath.

“It is fine. I promise,” you said and walked away for good this time, heading to the village. Your mother seemed angry and Neytiri was there too, wearing a similar expression. You sighed shakily and walked closer.

Once your mother saw you she started walking towards you, grabbing your arm harshly. “Y/n! How could you?” She asked, you gasped. You shook your head and she said “The forest boy?! Really?”

Neytiri scoffed and you whimpered. She growled and said “Lo’ak says you are mated to this boy. I cannot believe this!” You were so scared, you’d never seen your mother this angry. You whimpered, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“No, mother. I am not mated to Neteyam, but…but he is courting me” you said and she hissed, letting go of you. You let a sob slip through your lips, shaking your head. “You said he was the man you loved” Lo’ak said, arms crossed.

You groaned, rushing over and shoving him. “W-What is wrong with you? I never did anything to you! I rejected you nicely and have been trying to be there for you since. I have been nothing but nice and kind to you, why would you do this?!”

“Y/n…” Neteyam said and said you gasped. You turned around and he walked closer. Both mothers scoffed and Neteyam took a deep breath before he said “Is this true?”

“Is it?!” Your mother yelled and you flinched, a shaky breath pushing past your lips. “It is,” you said, sniffling. You turned to her and said “it is true. I love Neteyam and nothing you say or do will change that and I will mate with him before Eywa because that is her will and I am sure of it. You are Tsahík, mother. You should know”

Everything got quiet, and the anger and fear running through you made your heartbeat throb in your head. She sighed and said “I do not want you with that forest boy. What is wrong with the many fine men who are real Metkayina and real Na’vi?”

“You are unbelievable, sa’nu” you said and grabbed Neteyam’s hand, calling your ilu. You both hopped on and you swam away, sobs racking your body. He wrapped his arms around your waist and said “I’m so sorry,”

“It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault, it’s not…it’s not your fault” you said and he kissed your head. You brought him to the cove of the ancestors and he then realized what you were trying to do.

“No, y/n. No.” He said and you sighed shakily. You closed your eyes and said “Yes, Neteyam. I am sick of my life being controlled and determined by her and what she wants. I want you. That’s what matters” “I’m not doing this with you right now. You’re upset, you’re not thinking clearly” he said and you scoffed.

You got onto a rock and paced as you said “I wanted to before all of this and I only want to even more now that all of this is happening. Why can’t you accept that?” “Beca- cause it’s not right, y/n! I don’t want to mate with you to get back at your mother for Eywa’s sake. I want to mate with you when we are so in love with each other that we can’t think about anything else besides connecting our souls for life” he said and got onto the rock with you.

You shook your head and fell to the ground, burying your head into your hands as you sobbed softly. Neteyam sniffled softly and bent down next to you, rubbing your back softly. You whimpered, your breathing shaky and uneven and your mind completely all over the place.

You sat up and sighed, wiping your tears. You looked up at him and said “don’t leave me….please,” “baby…I wouldn’t dream of it” he said and you chuckled. You buried your head into his chest and he smiled a little, holding you in his arms.

Eclipse hit and you two decided you should head back to the village before you got into any more trouble than you were already in. You walked together, hand in hand and your mother called you over.

You brought him with you despite his attempt to break away from you. You followed your mother to her marui pod and Neytiri, Jake, and Lo’ak were there as well and so was your father. Neytiri pulled Neteyam towards her by his ear, making him hiss.

“What in Eywa’s name are you thinking?” She whispered and he sighed heavily. You stood before your mother and father, no longer caring for their opinions.

“Well” Tonowari said, shaking his head. You looked at Neteyam and said “he is my mate. You take him away, I will neger mate with anyone else. I would give up being Tsahík for him. He is what I want most”

Neteyam nearly cried again at your words, he couldn’t believe you felt so strongly about him. He turned to you and said “you can’t do that for me. I won’t let you” “you can't stop me, Nete. I will give up everything as long as I get to keep you” you said and he shook his head.

“You can’t be serious. You two have no idea how major this is. How could a forest boy be Olo’eyktan for the Metkayina-” Ronal said before you snapped and interrupted her. “Stop calling him a forest boy! He is one of us now! He will be your son in law and you will respect him” you said and she scoffed.

“Think of how this will affect the clan. Think of your children, what will they even look like, hmm?” Jake said and you took a deep breath. You shook your head and said “I don’t care what you guys think! Please, stop trying to break us apart because it isn’t going to work!”

Your father shook his head and said “I am disappointed in you, maite” Neteyam noticed the falter in your expression, they way your breath hitched. He knew that hurt. Your father had been nothing but proud of you your entire life and Neteyam could tell even having only been here for a little less than a year.

You left your parents' pod and ran to yours, letting out a shaky breath. You closed your eyes and shook your head. You meant everything you said, you didn’t regret any of it. But hearing those words from your father felt like a shot to the heart.

Neteyam ran after you, gently rocking the beads outside of your pod to let you know he was there. You looked over at him and sighed. You walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him softly and passionately.

“Oel ngati kameie” you whispered. Neteyam gasped and you pressed your forehead to his, nuzzling your nose against his. You sighed shakily and he said “O- Oel ngati kameie,”

You smiled, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’m risking a lot…by choosing you. I’ll never regret but I need to know if you even feel the same about me” you said and he scoffed. He shook his head and said “of course I do, y/n. I see you,”

You let a tear slip down your cheek as you said “good. I’d have to kill you if you didn’t,” You both giggled and he held you tighter, kissing you softly. He chuckled again and said “yea, I’d probably let you too”

You rolled your eyes, he always made jokes like this. How he’d let you do whatever you wanted to him. How he’d do whatever you wanted him to. How he’d spend the rest of his life making you happy.

“You’re so annoying” you said and rested your head on his chest as you giggled to yourself. You felt the vibrations from his laugh through his chest before he kissed your head, wanting to stay in this moment forever.

Both of your parents were still very upset at the two of you for what felt like forever. When you mated 3 months later your mother refused to talk to you for weeks. It hurt, but at least your father now respected Neteyam and your relationship.

You still didn’t regret anything, especially as you and Neteyam watched Lo’ak and Tsireya dance with each other at tonight’s hunting ceremony. You giggled as you turned in your mates arms, beginning to caress his cheek. “My mother is going to explode” you said and both of you giggled, joking about what she’d say and how she’d react.

“Oel ngati kameie,” he said, smiling down at you. You blushed, tail swinging as you said “oel ngati kameie” He smiled at how shy you got, you were still so shy when expressing your feelings and it was adorable to him. You nuzzled into his chest and giggled, warmth flooding your chest at how loved Neteyam made you feel.

Taglist: @laylasbunbunny @neteyam4life @bakugouswaif @abcm18339

As of now l'm writing for

Eddie Munson

Lo’ak

Neteyam

So just comment the taglist you want to be added to and l'll add you :)

[free-for-all-fics]

Enola Holmes and Enola Holmes 2 Prompts Part 2! Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of these and I’d love to read it! 🕵🏻🖤🕵🏻‍♀️

13. You’re the illegitimate daughter of a rich and powerful man, your mother having been one of his mistresses. While in public, your father calls himself your godfather and you his goddaughter and neither of you can ever acknowledge your true relation in public, but he does show that he loves you. With your engagement to Sherlock Holmes, you’re very happy. He loves you, and you love him. You know that. He’s your best friend and your mother used to say that you must marry the man who is your dearest friend. But suddenly, he’s stopped you from going with him on cases. You’re not sure why, as you’ve accompanied him and sometimes even his younger sister, Enola, before. You go to your father for guidance in this situation.

“He was more interested in going on capers than with spending any time at all with me. He used to let me tag along with him, we used to be a team, working on solving cases together, but lately, something in him has changed. It’s only getting worse. He values my insight and my perspective on cases, but he won’t let me help beyond looking over clues in his flat. He suddenly says it’s too dangerous, that it’s better if he works alone. But his sister is still a minor and she’s gone on wild adventures while solving her own cases. Why won’t he let me join him anymore?”

“Y/N, please. Sit. Whatever my issues with Mr. Holmes, I know that he cares deeply for you. That he loves you. And remember, it is you who is to become Mrs. Sherlock Holmes. It could be coming from a fear of losing you. What he does and what his sister does is highly dangerous. I can understand his worry. After what happened the last time…”

He doesn’t even have to say it for you to know exactly what he’s referring to. While investigating a case, you were in a coach with Enola when your driver was shot. The horses whinnied in fright as they were spooked into galloping aimlessly at breakneck speed and the two of you were tossed about the rattling coach like dice in a cup, glass shattering and wood splintering around you as you were shot at, causing the carriage to disconnect from the horses and overturn off a cliff.

~

“Y/N, are you all right?”

“I don't believe it's hit bone.”

“You need to tie it off.”

While your ankle was wounded, Enola was luckily relatively unscathed and still able to walk, only suffering some non-fatal cuts and bruises. She helped to support you as you walked, panting and grunting the entire way.

“Why do you think we've been followed all the way up here?”

“Because we know too much. Enola, if I don't get away and you do, I need you to give your brother a message.”

“You'll have to deliver that message yourself, as I have no intention of either of us dying today.”

~

“Y/N, we must hurry. I think it's best if we stick to the woods. Is the pain better or worse?”

“Hard to tell. I think my brain has already habituated to it.”

“What did you want to tell me? Your message.”

“Oh, it's nothing.”

“Oh. I’m not a fool, Y/N. I saw the love between Sarah Chapman and William Lyon during one of my previous cases and I myself am in love with Viscount Tewkesbury. I can recognize that look.”

You grunted.

“‘Dull,’ I think Sherlock called it. But he doesn’t always mean what he says. Does he know how you feel?”

“Not the extent of it.”

“And is it reciprocated?”

“Yes.”

“Of course, I...I suspected it all along, but to actually hear you say it... He’s wonderful. He’ll make you very happy. Look after him, Y/N.”

“I shall do my best.”

“Well, I suppose I can brag that I introduced the two of you.”

“I know it's hard to comprehend. I've questioned my own feelings many times. I told myself it's concern and duty on his part, dependence on mine. And naturally, I realize how inappropriate it is, but...there are certain things a woman cannot control.”

“I told you, love resides in the heart.”

“Nonsense. It's still physiology.”

“Oh.”

“His brain reacts to qualities in me that he lacks in himself... He can be dispassionate and cold, only ever animated and excited during a case. While I am sociable, and exude kindness, warmth…”

“Humility.”

“That, too. And my brain reacts to qualities in him that I lack in myself. Courage, for example.”

“You’ve shown more courage in the last few days than most people do in their entire lifetime. No one deserves love more than you. Come on.”

When you went to hospital, Sherlock was called and told of the incident. Despite you telling him yourself that it was unnecessary and that you and Enola were fine, just a sprained ankle and some cuts and bruises, he still came over to see you.

“You had expectations of me, Y/N. Fair ones. I got caught up in this case…a matter of confounding urgency that…overtook me, and then…I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Sherlock,

The nurse just told me you'd been in to see her. Should've let me know, I'd have made sure I was there. It's been a while. I'm sure she appreciates it. You know she'd tell you that herself if she could. You know she loves you and doesn’t blame you for what happened. And neither do I. Call me when you get this message.

Enola

“If there’s one thing Mr. Holmes and I can agree on, it’s that we don’t want to see you hurt or dead.” Your father says, pulling you back to the present.

“Yes, that very well could be it. He’s never been in love before, and neither have I. I’d understand if he was scared. I’m scared too. But I’m ready to be a wife. His wife. But is he really ready to be a husband? My husband? Have you seen how he gazes at his work during his investigations? How he leaps out of his chair when he’s suddenly had an epiphany? How he hangs onto every word of every person he’s ever interviewed? I love that about him. I know he leads a busy life. I’ve always known that, but his inability to balance his professional life with his love life is so…concerning. I worry for his health sometimes. There are days he barely eats, and nights he barely sleeps. When a case vexes him, he imbibes in alcohol, tobacco, or even other drugs like cocaine. Why does he endlessly push himself? I fear that I’ll be as my mother was to you. An accessory. Papa, I understand the ways of men of your standing, but Sherlock and I haven’t even begun a life together.”

“I promise you I will bring Mr. Holmes to heel. I will not let you suffer.”

“As your wife has? And my mother has? Sometimes, it’s as though the whole of England whispers as I pass by. ‘There goes that poor, unwanted, misbegotten thing.’”

“Oh, Y/N. My girl. You are so dear to me.”

You won’t rely on your father to fix your relationship with your fiancé. You’re a grown woman, you can handle this yourself. You know Sherlock has always worked alone, but you’ll show him that he doesn’t have to anymore. Your marriage, like all marriages should be, will be a partnership. You will be equals. You’ll be very happy. Even if you have to enlist Enola’s help in snapping Sherlock out of whatever funk he’s in, you’ll do what must be done so you can go back to how things used to be. You won’t let him treat you like a fragile, weak thing made of glass.

~

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s been a strange day. There is something I would like to speak with you about which is troubling me.”

“Well, that can’t stand, can it? I won’t let you be troubled when you’re with me. It’s not permitted. Please, look at me. You know I love you, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Then you know that is no easy feat for someone like me, for someone whose family she’s not allowed to acknowledge, who’s always aware of the whispers when she enters a room, who’s never had solace or a name to call her own. And this is why I cannot wait to be announced as Mrs. Sherlock Holmes on our big day. In belonging to you, I will finally belong.”

14. You were once Sherlock Holmes’ friend, but then something happened to you that set off a chain reaction of bad events which led to you doing many odd jobs, including selling your hair and working at a match factory, a tailoring shop, and even becoming a prostitute. You’re well aware of the Jack the Ripper killings that have been occurring, but Sherlock once told you to stay unemotional, and so you do. You have to, to bear going through with the kind of work you do, to let men lay on top of you and do what they wish to you for coin. But then you become pregnant and, after your child is born, they are taken from you against your wishes by the Madame. You wake up in the middle of the night and discover your baby gone. You escape from the hospital you were put in and desperately enlist the help of your old friend Sherlock to find your baby. You couldn’t care less about the man who got you pregnant. He’s dead to you. But your baby…you still want him/her. They came from your body, they’re yours. Sherlock feels terrible and guilty for leading such a busy life that he lost touch with you, and has been unaware of the series of unfortunate events that have befallen you.

“Now what may I observe about you? Shoes a state. Hair’s not much better. You need to wash your clothes every now and again. You are pale…undernourished, and you’ve lost your…”

“Stop!” You point your finger at him.

“And then there’s your fingernails. Why on earth were you working in a match factory?”

“What?”

“Last night, they were dirty with green traces. This morning, they are black. The phosphorus from the match-making has mixed with the oxygen in the atmosphere.”

“How did you…”

“And your neck is red. Someone has gripped it or held a knife against…” Sherlock stops as he looks at you. “Are you involved in something dangerous? Because you are still my friend. If you need my help, my offer remains on the table.”

“The Madame didn’t want a baby. She didn’t want me to keep it, so she…sent me to a hospital. They took the baby from me. I’m fortunate I bled too much and they left me intact instead of sterilizing me like they do other women. But I want my baby back. Please, Sherlock. I know I’ve fallen on hard times and it seems I’m incapable, but I…I want the chance to try, to be a mother.”

“Having your baby… That made you happy. To feel loved, didn’t it?”

“When my baby was born, they were covered in blood, and the nurses wiped them down, and they laid my baby on me, and from that moment, I loved them. Please, Sherlock. Help me find them.”

“I’ll do more than that. I’ll help you get back on your feet. I promise this will never happen to you again. You’ll never have to go back to that place.”

~

“Sherlock…I thought I’d lost you. What are we going to do?”

“We’ll find a way. Is that not what you want?”

“I just fear that you love this version of me, your friend, and all the qualities that you like in me as a friend, you would not want in a wife.”

“I love you for your kindness and your courage, your beauty, and your fierce intelligence. You challenge me. What are you scared of, Y/N?”

“Love that is not truthful is not love. It’s only passion. Is it not true that you want a wife, a family, a place to call home? That’s what you want?”

“Is that so wrong?”

“No. But at this moment, I’m not sure that I…”

“You need rest.”

“In the hospital, you asked me, did I want a family?”

“And you said that you did.”

“I have dreamt about it often, but I realize here in this room what it is I value most dearly in life. I was born a gentleman. I have grown accustomed to behaving in a certain, correct way, not quite saying what it is I want and don’t want.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you.”

15. You've always been average, rather Plain Jane compared to your sisters. Unlike your beautiful and multi-talented sisters, you’ve no serious marriage prospects, so your parents often forget you in favor of focusing on securing your sisters’ marriages to men of wealth and social status. You love your parents and your sisters, but you suffer from classic middle child syndrome. Your family keeps asking you to run errands for them which means you can't focus on any one thing for a longer time, and you can’t say no to them. You often run into Sherlock Holmes, the famous detective, among many other accomplishments, while running these errands. Impressed by his many talents, his charm, his devilishly handsome good looks and more, you befriend him. Not an easy feat, since he’s a man who prefers to keep to himself. “Stay unemotional,” and “You’re emotional. It’s understandable but unnecessary,” are two of his favorite phrases to live by. Though he’s hesitant to admit it, even to himself, he enjoys your company, and you always spare him a thought or two, inadvertently helping him with his cases without thinking much of it, failing to recognize your own genius and other attractive qualities. You never thought of yourself as anything much. Not a great beauty, musician, athlete, or artist like your sisters.

Your family even sends you out on errands at night, sometimes without access to a horse or carriage if your sisters need to use them. You’re left to walk, scared half to death by shady characters and wild dogs when you run into Sherlock and his younger sister, Enola, who stop their carriage once they see you. It’s not safe for a woman like you to be out alone at night, especially with money in your purse. There are scary people about. They offer to give you a ride, which you gladly accept. Though Sherlock is in quite an inebriated state. He doesn’t usually imbibe, but he’s on a case, you see. It’s proven rather tricky. Sherlock introduces you and Enola, slurring his words as he does so. Though it’s under less than ideal circumstances, you’re happy to meet her.

You help Enola carry Sherlock, slinging his other arm around your shoulders and supporting his other side as, it turns out, he is medievally heavy. It’s like carrying a dead horse on which sits another dead horse.

“That’s A, and I’m B.”

“I didn’t know you had steps.”

“One should always have steps to avoid people stepping on you. That’s a tip, you should probably write that down.”

You help Enola to get Sherlock up the steps, and though it’s not an easy task, the two of you manage to get him inside his flat and he throws himself onto the couch. While he’s sleeping, you and Enola look around. The place is a mess.

“It’s perfect. Don’t touch anything.”

“What are you investigating?”

“None of your business. I work alone. It’s private. Shh! Don’t go in there. No.”

You stay the night and while Sherlock all but kicks Enola out, (“Dundee cake. Door. You can help by leaving.”) He permits you to stay, using some excuse like you’re an adult and not his sister, so he can’t tell you what to do. You help him clean up his flat just the way he likes it while he’s hungover and indisposed with a headache. While you’re cleaning, you chat about many things.

Soon you’re making excuses to your family so you can go out and see him during both the day and the night. They’re none the wiser, assuming you’re eager to get to your chores. This turns into a secret romance between you and Sherlock. The secret places you meet at are far from glamorous, but you’ll take a flat, a building with a leaky roof, a spot in the woods, or a pub any day. Just to spend hours in his arms while investigating his current case with him. But first, you have to overcome the bane of your existence, the corset: A symbol of repression to those who are forced to wear it. But for you, who chooses to wear it, the bust enhancer and the hip regulators will hide the secret messages Sherlock has given you. And as they do so, they will make you look like that truly unlikely thing: A lady!

“This one is too small.”

“We shall just have to get you a tighter cinch,” your mother says as she comes in.

“I cannot breathe as it is.”

“If one cannot breathe, one cannot eat. Tighter. Tighter!”

“Is she to breathe, Mama?” One of your sisters tries to interject.

“I was able to squeeze my waist into the size of an orange and a half when I was your sister’s age. She shall do the same. How’s it coming?”

“It’s difficult to say.”

“I’m told it’s the latest fashion in London.”

“Well, women in London must’ve learned not to breathe! Ow! I can barely breathe!”

“You must suffer to be beautiful, so say the French.”

“The French are crazy.”

One of your other sisters comes into the room, holding a large box. “Sister, dear, Father has left a gift for you.”

You open it. It’s an evening dress and, unlike your mother’s choices, this dress is to your liking. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”

“Isn’t it?”

“May I inquire as to the occasion?”

“Does Father need an occasion to dote upon his daughter? Go on. Actually, he…he had hoped you might wear it for the ball tonight.”

“Ball?”

“The Match Maker’s Ball.”

“I knew it!” You turn towards your maid. “No, Tessie. I'll not wear this evening dress as I have no need to flatter myself.”

“It’s a charity gala. To combat Typhus.”

“Will there be gentlemen present? I should say, rather, there will be gentlemen present, yes, but not for me. Just for you and our sisters. It’s only a ball, and I’m only there for the food, as Mother likes to say.”

“All the more reason to make an impression,” your mother points out.

“Please, Sister, won’t you wear it?”

“Mr. Clark will be there. He’s a fine gentleman, don’t you think? He fancies you, you know.”

“I can't decide whether they abhor our shape or crave another,” you say to your maid once you’re alone in the room again.

“They believe us to be delicate creatures, miss.”

“Then to hell with them.”

Coincidentally, Sherlock’s case and Enola’s case and your family’s desire to see your sisters married leads the three of you to the same place: The Match Maker’s Ball hosted by the Lyons. You and Enola and Sherlock meet again while going undercover to investigate the case and underneath the fancy dress and sparkling jewelry, Sherlock recognizes you. Even when you were dressed as a kitchen mouse to disguise yourself, he always thought you were beautiful. He puts his name or alias in your dance card and you dance together. You thought those lessons with your sisters teaching you how to use a fan were boring and pointless.

~

“What are we learning today?”

“We are learning the art of the fan.”

“Fascinating.” You deadpanned.

“Yes. Get up. Get up. We only have about ten minutes in which to communicate this. Now, first of all, one handles a fan very deliberately. It's a tremendous tool of communication. That's it. You can say things like, ‘I'm feeling flirtatious. Come hither.’ You can say, ‘l never wish to speak to you again. Go away.’ You can say, ‘I'm feeling terribly shy today.’ And you...Are you sassing your sister?”

“I would never sass you, Sister.”

“This is also a way of showing you're annoyed.” Your sister hit you with her fan.

~

Now, you use the fan to your advantage to cover your mouth while discussing the case in hushed tones. You also use it to tell Sherlock, “I love you,” from afar. You’ve been in love for such a long time, but were too blind to see it.

“Picking up any gossip?”

“Mmhm.”

Your family starts to get suspicious, especially when they notice you’ve barely spent any time with your caller and have been seen dancing with Sherlock Holmes. Your caller interrupts you and Sherlock after the dance is over, asking for a moment of your time. You and Sherlock bow and curtsy to each other, then part ways. He takes you to the second floor and you look out at the dance floor below from over the banister.

“May I have a moment? You look lovely, Y/N.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“I apologize if I seem forward, but I must speak my mind. This promotion throws into sharp relief that which I have not yet achieved. A marriage to a fine woman. You have become a fine woman, Y/N.”

“I can’t breathe.”

“Yes, I…I’m a bit nervous myself.”

You fall from the second story balcony, landing on a table. Horrified gasps and screams fill the room, causing a commotion as Sherlock pushes his way through the crowd and towards you. Focused on getting you to breathe again, he cuts open your dress and corset, ripping the damned death trap off of you. You greedily gasp for air, your lungs desperate for it. You look up at Sherlock with dazed eyes. After you recover, he gets you alone to ask you some questions that have been weighing on his mind.

“When I teased you and said that perhaps you're in love with him, you said that you were. Did you mean it?”

“I imagine I was teasing you back.”

“I think I'm in love with you.”

“There you go again, Sherlock Holmes.”

“I know it's embarrassing to speak of such things, that we should keep them to ourselves and abide by the codes that keep us civilized, but how can we be civilized when we've experienced something like this? Turn me down, by all means...but don't pretend I have no feelings for you.”

Sometime in the future, Sherlock is your husband. He is the softest, most doting husband you could ever ask for. Whenever you can’t decide what you should wear for the day, he picks out a dress for you. He’s the one to help you put on your dresses and take them off. With so many things to lace and button, and so many buttons being tiny, close together, and often in hard-to-reach places in the case of undergarments, and the goddamn corset that is the bane of your existence. Sometimes you curse women’s fashion for being so complicated and coming with so many layers, but Sherlock is always ever so patient in helping you get ready. It’s probably one of his favorite parts of the day. It’s no wonder that many women relied on the help of a lady’s maid or an obliging sister for help getting dressed. But you have no maids, and your sisters live elsewhere with their own husbands, so you must rely on your husband to help you get ready for the day and prepare for bed at night. He buttons and unbuttons the back of your dress or ties and unties your dress laces for you while you brush out your hair. He doesn’t force you to wear a corset if you don’t want to, uncaring if it isn’t proper. He values your comfort above your appearance.

“Good heavens, that corset looks painful. Might I help you off with it, my love?”

He holds the hand mirror for you while you fix your hairdo or makeup, though he may not be able to resist kissing your neck and getting distracted. You, of course, return the favor by tying his cravats for him when his fingers seem to fumble and he just can’t get it right, helping him with his cuff links, or buttoning up his vests and coats. When your corset and/or dress has trouble closing, that’s when you and Sherlock suspect that you might be pregnant.

16. “I tried to stop her but she’s full of this fight.”

“You can’t control Enola Holmes. She’s a force of nature, a law unto herself.”

“Yes, she is. And I fear she will hang.”

Even long after the case of Sarah Chapman is solved and Enola is safe and sound, Sherlock occasionally experiences nightmares in which he couldn’t save Enola and she was hanged.

Grail pounces on Enola, and the two tumble into the shadowy backstage of the theatre. Onstage, Lord Tewkesbury duels a corrupt officer with a sword hidden in a cane, tossed to him by Sherlock. Backstage, Enola crawls behind a stack of flats as Grail limps around looking for her. Enola is beneath the workbench, when it flips over! Tools and paint brushes scatter across the floor. Grail stands there, with a fire extinguisher raised above his head. He brings it crashing down. Enola dives from its path. His veins bulge, his blood bubbles thinking of Enola like a slippery little rat or fly to be crushed, a pest to be rid of. He whips around to find Enola ascending a ladder to the catwalk above. Grail follows. Above the stage, Grail pulls himself onto the catwalk. He limps across the raised platform as Tewkesbury and Sherlock come close to incapacitating their opponents below. But where is the damn girl? Just as the thought enters Grail’s mind, Enola drops down from the lighting rig above. She lands on Grail’s back, wrapping a length of rope around his neck. Grail flings himself forward, flipping Enola over him and the catwalk’s handrails. Enola hangs, holding on for dear life. Grail smiles down at her and inches his foot toward Enola’s hand. Stomp. He jams his heel down, breaking three of her fingers. Enola pulls her hand from under Grail’s foot. Now she’s dangling by one arm. Far below is the stage floor and certain death. Grail places his shoe just above her hand.

“You insolent little girl, I want you to die knowing I’m going to be Commissioner. I’m going to rule this town with an iron fist, and after I’m through with you, I’m going straight for the rest of your family.”

“Yes, Superintendent Grail. Your career is on the rise.”

Just as Grail’s about to bring down his foot, Enola swings her free arm onto the catwalk, grabbing hold of a large sandbag. She yanks it with all of her might, pulling it over the edge. It hurtles toward the stage below, pulling the rope it’s tied to. The rope that’s wrapped around Grail’s neck. Thwip, when the bag’s only halfway down, the rope snaps taut. Thrown over a beam in the lighting rig, it pulls tight, lifting Grail into the air. He reaches up trying to free himself, but it’s no use. His neck is caught in the tangles. His eyes bulge, then roll back. He chokes, twitches, spasms twice more, and finally goes limp as Sherlock watches. Grail sways softly in the rafters of the theatre, dead as a door nail. Grail’s face shows signs of strangulation. His death was not a pleasant one. Enola pulls herself onto the catwalk.

Sherlock tosses and turns, kicking his blankets off and talking in his sleep while he sweats profusely. You’ve often woken him up from these night terrors, but it’s not always easy. Sometimes it’s as if his body and mind are trapped somewhere between wake and dream, and he has to fight against himself so that the paralysis that has taken over his mind and body will relinquish their hold on him. You rub his back and hush him as you hold him, combing your fingers through his damp hair. Sometimes the nightmare changes, and instead it’s Enola who gets murdered by Grail, her limp body left swinging from a rope in the rafters. Other times, it’s you on the noose instead. But in your case, it’s not just a nightmare, but a memory. Sherlock mentioned to Enola that he and Grail had a history. This was part of it. You were part of it.

In his younger days, he thought he would never fall in love. He led far too busy a life. He never got involved with people, unless they were clues. Until one day, he met you, a breathtaking woman. You were more than beautiful, you were intoxicating, mysterious, clever, everything he’d ever dreamed of. He felt his heart would burst if he couldn’t have you. And Sherlock, the poor idiot, he married you in secret. You honeymooned in secret. He took you to his flat and you were happy for a time, as happy as a man and a woman can be as they solve cases together and end up in wild, unpredictable, sometimes highly dangerous adventures in the pursuit of answers and the trail to the true culprits. Then one day, you were riding through the woods, and you were thrown from your horse, and knocked unconscious. When Sherlock rushed to your side and hurried to help you, your dress was torn and he noticed a mark on your body... Something he’d never seen before, something you’d managed to keep hidden all this time, even while making love. You’d been branded. Given a mark that is only reserved for those who are to be executed for murder. Sherlock was confused. How could you, the woman he loved, his bride, betray him like this? You’d lied to him, but there must’ve been more to the story. In his line of work, he knew not everything is as it seems. When you came to, you swore that you’d been falsely accused of these crimes, and he believed you. From then on, he took your case, convinced he could find the truth of what really happened in your past and who really committed the murder you’d been tried and convicted of. Both he and you used the utmost discretion. But then, despite how careful you and Sherlock were to keep what you were doing hush hush so that nobody else in London would know your business, the police came to take you away to be put back on Death’s Row and executed, and you…you were still professing your undying love. While Sherlock was working on the case from the outside, you were held in a cell, but still able to investigate from the inside. Unbeknownst to the guards, you’re an expert lock picker and snuck in and out of your cell to snoop in the Commissioner’s office or other forbidden areas to uncover files and private records, anything that would help your case. Sherlock came to visit you often, and when he did so, you told him in hushed whispers of what you’d found.

“Sir—”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Sherlock held up a finger while passing the gate and going back to the cells, where you were. When you saw him, you got up from your spot on the bench and ran up to the bars, stretching your arm out through them to hold and kiss Sherlock’s hands.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Holmes.”

“Grail. I wish to speak with your prisoner. In private.”

“By all means, do so while you still can. The Commissioner likes you, and has ordered a stay of execution. Unless you can find new evidence that proves her innocent or Mrs. Holmes miraculously finds herself with child, she’s still set to die in thirty days.”

“What exactly is my wife in prison for?” he asked.

“This I did not know. But when I heard that you were coming, I asked my fellow officer here that myself.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said his brother was just looking for a good time. When your wife murdered him. Eyes front and keep your nose clean, Holmes - a noose and a short drop is how we deal with troublemakers. Murderers, pickpockets - doesn’t matter what you do. All you lot will end up swinging from here.”

Grail never once scared or intimidated you. He was a repulsive man, slimy and smug. But nothing he could say or do to you would get you into giving a false confession. Even as your time ran out and you were walked to the gallows, you weren’t afraid.

Wind howls. Sherlock’s grip on you starts to give.

“Don’t lose me, darling. Darling? Sherlock? Sherlock!”

Your hand slips from Sherlock’s fingers. You’re pushed to the ground by a gust of cold air. You tumble through briars and thickets of dry-brush, till you land with a thump on the floorboards of an old wooden courthouse. You look up to find a village worth of angry townsfolk leering over you. Two men grab your arms and yank you to your feet.

“No! Let her go!”

You’re dragged to the bench of a decrepit, old judge. He points to you with a spindly, spotted finger.

“Y/N Holmes! You vile creature! You have been found guilty of the crime of murder. This crime being sinister in nature. For this crime, you are sentenced to be hung by the neck until dead. May God have mercy on your soul.”

The villagers pounce on you. You’re suddenly in a clearing, the heart of what will one day become a forest. You’re staring at a rickety platform. A noose hangs down from a beam up above. The townsfolk take hold of you and push you toward the gallows.

“Kill the murderer!”

“Kill her!”

You’re thrown onto the scaffold. In the back of the crowd gathered to watch the execution, one man stands out. You can make out his hair and his tall stature. It’s Sherlock, calling to you. An executioner pulls a rope around your neck as the judge cries out.

“Never shall she plague this land again! This land which we paid for with blood! Her immortal soul shall rot here. And the roots of the wood we plant shall ensnare her forevermore. Any last requests?”

“Yes. Loosen the knot and let me go.”

“Of course we don't let her go!”

Sherlock desperately claws his way thorough the mob.

“Darling, you have to take control! You’re giving them the power! With it, they can kill you!”

But the illusion is too strong. The nightmare has Sherlock caught in the memory of your almost death. The executioner takes hold of the lever, ready to release the trapdoor beneath your feet.

“The innocent must suffer.”

“Sherlock!”

“The guilty must be punished.”

“Sherlock!”

“You must taste blood to be a man!”

At the judge’s signal, the executioner pulls. The floor beneath you falls away. Sherlock hurls himself at you, catching you midair.

“Her neck did not break. Oh, I'm so sorry. Now, we must watch her strangle to death.”

The two of you go crashing through the confines of his mind. Lights flash. Bulbs burst.

“Sherlock, wake up!”

Then quiet. You and Sherlock land on a dusty, dirty carpet in a large, dark room. Your flat at 221 Baker’s Street. You both sit, brushing yourselves off.

“Sherlock! Are you all right?”

“I got scared. You’re…you’re really here? I’m not still dreaming?”

“Yes, I’m here. You’re awake now, and everything is fine. Was it…that nightmare again?”

Sherlock doesn’t say anything, but his actions speak louder than his words as he wraps his arms around you and holds you tighter, sobbing as he lays his head on your chest so he can listen to your heartbeat. It and your voice whispering to him sweet nothings are the only sounds that can calm him down and keep him grounded in this situation.

In reality, Sherlock caused a distraction, which allowed him to make his way towards the scaffold where you were. The platform below you dropped as the lever was pulled but Sherlock threw a sword beneath your feet, saving you from dying. But it was still difficult to keep your balance as your feet kept slipping on the metal of the cutlass. A bullet was fired, cutting the rope and causing you to drop from the noose. You ripped off the torn rope. Sherlock interrupted the proceedings by coming in with all the evidence necessary to prove it wasn’t you who committed the murder, flawlessly going through step-by-step the series of events. Society demands swift justice, and he gave it to them. Sherlock informed Inspector Lestrade of who the real culprit was and to arrest them at once. With that, a mistrial was declared, the old trial was thrown out, and you were free to go and Sherlock took you home. Ever since suffering that public humiliation that cost him his reputation and most coveted promotion to Commissioner, Grail hated Sherlock and you even more than he already did, because your innocence being proven at the last minute and the failure of having you executed put a major black mark on his image and a wedge in his plans of climbing up in position through any means necessary, even corruption.

In present day, Grail is dead, killed by Enola while he tried to kill her in a conspiracy to cover up corruption. His head cracked like an egg. You’re alive and here, and so is Enola. You’re both safe. Grail can’t hurt any of you anymore. It’s over. All Sherlock said was that he and Grail had a history, and Enola still doesn’t know the full extent of it. You and Sherlock are still undecided if you’re going to tell her or not, as the past seems not to matter now that the man is dead. As you make the both of you a cup of tea (or maybe something stronger) to calm your and your husband’s nerves, Sherlock knows that these night terrors will pass. Eventually. For now, all he needs is reassurance that you’re still here and won’t be going anywhere without him.

17. Nanny McPhee-esque AU: You’re the scullery maid to Eudoria Holmes, the matriarch of an upper class family. She’s a widowed woman with two grown sons who left home shortly after her husband died, and Enola, a young girl of sixteen who you’ve looked after as she was growing up. While you’re very intelligent and intuitive and have a keen eye among other qualities, you’re an orphan who’s never had a proper education. When you were hired, you were uneducated and couldn’t read or write, so Eudoria helped you to learn alongside Enola when the day’s work was done.

“What’s this word?”

“Lovingly. ‘He took her lovingly by the hand’.”

Eudoria was not an ordinary mother. She didn't teach Enola to string seashells or practice her embroidery. They did different things. She also taught you everything she taught Enola: Reading, science, all sorts of exercise, both physical...and mental. She said you were free to do anything at Ferndell...and be anyone. She was Enola’s whole world. You’ve befriended the young girl over the years as she grew up. Enola’s like a sister to you, in a way. You are the same to Enola. When Eudoria leaves the night before Enola’s sixteenth birthday, she instructs you to look after her daughter and give her these presents. While Enola goes to meet her brothers at the train station, you prepare yourself by dressing like a powderpuff or “proper lady” with a hat and gloves. When they return home and ask if Enola has had a governess, (“Enola, you at least had a governess? Tell me, she at least saw that you had an education?”) you step in, pretending you’re her governess. When Mycroft grills you with questions, you answer all of them sufficiently and confidently, maintaining your composure and eye contact. When they point out the state of the house, you reiterate you’re a governess, not a housekeeper.

Despite your exemplary performance, Mycroft is a stubborn old mule and doesn’t think you’re good enough, so he brings in Miss Harrison, who “offers” to take away Enola to a finishing school for girls so she may receive private tuition in literature, history, deportment, and elocution. After witnessing Miss Harrison strike Enola across the face and her desperate display of pleading to her brothers, you and she hatch a plan in the night so you go instead while she escapes to find her mother. At first, Enola couldn’t possibly ask you to make such a sacrifice, but you let her know that, despite realizing what it’d mean for you, you want to go. It could be good for you, since your background means you have no prospects. You’re in your late twenties or early thirties and are already considered an “old maid” by society. By the time Enola’s brothers and Miss Harrison realize a switch has been made, it’ll be too late. You’ll never tell them where Enola is. She doesn’t have to be miserable and you can get your much desired education, even if it’s repetitive and monotonous lessons in how to be a proper lady. After all, Sherlock wouldn’t love you if you couldn’t read or write. He’d think you stupid, uneducated, and beneath him. When you absentmindedly say this thought out loud, Enola hums to herself and begins brainstorming to play matchmaker and set you and her brother up. When Enola is caught and brought to the school, you’re taken out. You confront Sherlock and talk some sense into him about Enola. You know he cares for her, he’s just been too afraid to admit it, so accustomed to living the busy life of a bachelor and detective, where he never forms attachments or gets emotional in his line of work.

“You overstep.”

“She is your sister.”

“She is Mycroft’s ward, and thus his responsibility.”

“Responsibility?”

“You’ve done more than enough. Do not make this any more difficult than it already is.”

“I wish to know something, Sherlock. Tonight, when you leave this study that you continue to keep at your family home, are you to return to your bachelor lodgings at 221 Baker Street, or will you pay a visit to a certain woman of the night that you pick up in a bar on the other side of town? If your father was still here, Enola wouldn’t have so much pressure put on her to be matched. The man would have let her pave her own path and find love in her own time. The man, who already had two grown sons, would’ve never seen a need to push his daughter to be a wife and mother when she’s just barely a woman, because it’s his eldest son’s responsibility to have a wife and child, not yours and not Enola’s. And yet here Mycroft is, unmarried and childless, relying on your younger sister to one day do the job that he and you will not. You sound just like him. You and he like to speak of responsibility. My dear Mr. Holmes! Of duty? Pray tell, what should you know of it? What should Mycroft know of it? When you both went away, I came to be employed here since I was but seventeen years old, not much older than Enola is now. For at least twelve years, I’ve been by her side. For twelve or so years, neither you nor Mycroft ever wrote, nor visited. And yet it took your mother’s disappearance to bring you home. Now you think that because you’re older, that because you’re men, you can just waltz back in this house and dictate how your sister is to act? What she is to do with her life? I sat with her in that drawing room for years and do you know what I saw when those women manhandled her and measured her, when Mycroft spoke to her in such a detestable manner, all of them treating her like a horse to be trussed up and sold off to market, while you said and did nothing? I saw a young woman who is terrified because she knows what kind of life, what kind of future awaits her should you and Mycroft continue to get in her way. Mycroft only sees her as an object to be beaten down and molded into what society wants. He only seeks to use her to further his position. ‘You have to go to school, Enola!’ ‘But I don't want to go to a finishing school, Mycroft.’ ‘Well, what else are we going to do with you? You're a girl!’ But I see her as an unusual and independent person, capable of her own thinking, dreams, ambitions, and paving her own path. She’s still a minor. She’s not even of age yet. It’s perfectly normal for her to not want a husband. She doesn’t need that ‘educated out of her.’ You don’t get involved with people, unless they’re clues. So you must ask yourself, Sherlock, are you merely the world’s greatest detective and all the rest of your accomplishments, or are you Enola’s older brother? Will you be her legal guardian and the man of this house or won’t you?”

Throughout your speech, he tried to interject, to object, but you wouldn’t let him. You swiftly turn and leave the room, leaving him to think on what you said. But even without your interference, Enola still escapes from Miss Harrison’s finishing school with the help of Lord Tewkesbury. You’re proud of her for finding the true culprit and getting there before Sherlock, so you and she go out to celebrate. Meanwhile, Sherlock is also very proud of his sister and starts to realize that he may care for you. That he may love you.

While Enola turns down his offer of a Holmes and Holmes partnership, she points out that she likes this new version of him and that no one should be alone all the time. A friend would do him well. So he asks you to work with him, (not for him, he made it very clear you’d be equals) and you agree, on the condition you can dedicate some of your time to Enola and her cases, should she need your assistance. You’re the only person to not filter yourself around him. You’re not starstruck or intimidated by him in the slightest, despite his fame and reputation as the world’s greatest detective of the time. He keeps you on because you’ve got brains and a keen eye, able to see things in the tiniest of details that others don’t, just like he and Enola do. Enola likes you a great deal, and your sincerity is refreshing when he’s surrounded by fake smiles and major suck ups. The constant fawning and groveling gets old. You whip him back into shape whenever he’s being difficult. When he gets himself drunk and is wallowing in self-pity and frustration at getting stuck during a case, you’re the one to pick him up. “Remind me again why I should feel bad for you? You’re a famous and accomplished detective, scholar, chemist, virtuoso violinist, expert marksman, swordsman, singlestick fighter, pugilist, and a brilliant deductive thinker. You got all of English society practically worshipping the ground you stand on and always asking for your services, and while you choose to live in a flat, your childhood estate is among one of the most expensive and beautiful houses on the planet! C’mon, Mr. Holmes. You’re famous, handsome, and rich. So chop, chop, fix your hair, put on some clean clothes, drink some water, and let’s get going.” God, he loves you. He hasn’t admitted it to you yet, but he’s been thinking of courting you. He has everything. Everything…except someone to share it with.

18. Nanny McPhee inspired: For an alternate telling of events for the above prompt, Instead of Enola, it’s you who goes to Miss Harrison’s finishing school, posing as a Holmes sister even though in reality, you’re just a scullery maid. Mycroft isn’t there to make sure it’s Enola that gets in the carriage, which makes this switch possible. Thinking it’s Enola that’s being taken away in the carriage, Sherlock chases after it, calling her name.

“Enola! Enola!”

“Now then, you better tell me your name, little girl.”

“Enola!”

“Don’t be shy, my dear. What is your name? Sit up straight and tell me your name.”

“No! Enola!” Just as he yells out her name in desperation, he hears Enola’s voice calling his name.

“Sherlock! Sherlock!”

She runs to him, and he embraces her in relief.

“But if… Then… Then who’s…”

“Y/N. My name��s Y/N.”

“And what a pretty name it is too.”

“Y/N. Oh.”

Later, It’s Sherlock’s wedding but, unbeknownst to everyone except him, it’s all a ruse so he can bring a culprit out of hiding for one of his cases. You hide your heartbreak at what you believe is the man you love marrying another when you return to see Sherlock and Enola again.

“Delectable to see you again, Mr. Holmes. And how nice to see the young lady, Miss Enola.”

“Welcome back, Y/N. You look well. Are you well?”

“I am most content.” The smile you give him is noticeably forced. “You must be very happy to be marrying.”

“Yes. I’m…I’m… How did you put it? Most content. Of course.”

“I am so glad. Pray, excuse me.”

~

“I’m concerned you’re being bought on the cusp of your true independence, on the finding of your own powerful words. I fear you’re being seduced.”

“Well, I fear you’re behaving like an irritating sister. How about, ‘what a lovely party, Sherlock. Please extend my thanks to your generous bride-to-be.’”

“Generous? She humiliated you.”

“She did not humiliate me.”

“She laughed at your expense.”

“It was a moment or two of teasing.”

“That debased you.”

“If I’m not fussed by it, then why should you be? You don’t care about me particularly. You made that quite clear when I asked you to marry me. You said no, if you recall.”

“She’s unkind to you, in public, no less which isn’t right for you, Sherlock. Don’t you see? You deserve someone who is adventurous and curious and—”

“Someone like you?”

“Yes. Someone like me. But not me.”

“A yahoo tributary.”

“What?”

“It’s an Indian name for a tributary that runs beside a main river. It flirts with joining it. It comes very close, but it never does. A woman exactly like that, untied to the suffocating social mores, the very opposite of any number of women down there. And the opposite of you too. So full of judgment yet trussed up like a turkey in your corset and your fancy dress. I decided, unlike you, that I want not to be alone, childless, lonely, corseted. You’re no taxi tributary. In fact, you’re swimming right down the middle of the stream.”

“Sherlock, wait. I— In my mind, it was easy enough to tell you how I felt, what this has meant, but…but words fail me. All I want is to be worthy of you.”

“I am to be married, Y/N. Within an hour, I’m to be a husband. It’s just not that simple.”

“It could be.”

With help from Enola, when the time is right, he sabotages his own wedding.

“Enola, Tennis practice.” Sherlock uses a violin (not his own) to bat and Enola pitches a mini cake, but when he hits it, it flies in your direction, and hits you in the face and/or chest. Sherlock is embarrassed, until you stand up and throw a cake back at him, hitting his sleeve. Your laughter encourages him to throw cake back at you with the violin as a bat as you participate in the ensuing food fight or other disruption, ignoring Miss Harrison’s scoldings of, “Y/N! Where are your manners?”

“Sod my manners, you old trout! This is the first fun I’ve had in weeks!”

Until the bride and/or the bride’s family gets so angry she/they call it off. They try to leave, but, whether the bride is guilty or not, Sherlock stops her and her family when he reveals in front of everyone the true culprit of the crime and how they did it.

“As for your youngest sister, a lengthy spell in a corrective institution is long overdue. And you, Y/N, I can see you’re as wild as her.”

“And proud to be. I love Enola, Miss Harrison, which is more than you do.”

“Insolence! Come away now!”

Enola tries to grab your hand, but you let it go as you follow Miss Harrison. Enola then gets a bright idea. Why waste a good wedding?

“Wait! Wait! My brother will marry today.”

“What?” Sherlock asks incredulously.

“What?” Miss Harrison asks incredulously.

“Who?” The officiant asks.

“He’ll marry Y/N!” She says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You and Sherlock look at each other.

“Incest?” Miss Harrison asks, disgusted and aghast.

“No! No, Miss Harrison! Y/N isn’t our sister!” Enola is quick to clarify.

“Not your sister?”

“Of course she’s not our sister!”

“Well, who is she then?”

“I’m the scullery maid.” You admit, finally.

“What?”

“Y/N, do you love Sherlock?” Enola asks bluntly, cutting straight to the point.

“Of course not. I know my place. That wouldn’t be right. I mean… Yes.”

“Sherlock, do you love Y/N?”

“What are you saying? That would be totally improper. I mean, anything like that could never happen. I mean, obviously… Yes.”

You and Sherlock smile at each other, while Miss Harrison exclaims, “He’s marrying a scullery maid?” and faints.

“What I said, I did so because I needed to hurt you. They were watching. I had to uphold the charade or else they would’ve suspected something was amiss.”

“I know.”

“I’m deeply sorry.”

“I know that too.”

“Too often, things said in anger come from a place of…of affection. And what should be spoken out loud is left unuttered. And life is too short for that. You will feel quite comfortable here.”

You and Sherlock are happy as husband and wife, and Enola loves you as her new sister-in-law.

19. You have an identical twin sister who works as a secretary or other for Mycroft Holmes. Your sister respects him as her employer, but she can’t stand him as a person, believing him odious, too much of a stubborn old goat who hates the very thought of any microscopic change in the word around him, and all around dull and exhausting to be around. He lacks practicality and is completely dispassionate. While he’s talented like his siblings, he’s far too lazy and is unwilling to ever use his gifts or put any physical effort into working. Something unexpected happens in your sister’s life that makes her ask (more like beg) you to switch places and pretend to be her just for a few weeks. Nobody will even notice, and the Master of the house especially won’t since he’s so busy and traveling all the time, she assured you. But doing what she does daily is much harder than you thought it would be, and things get more tense when his younger brother, Sherlock, keeps running into you while on a case.

At least for Sherlock, he’s never met you or your sister before, so he’s none the wiser. And as for Mycroft, he just thinks your “behavior shift” is because you’re a woman and acting hysterical or ridiculous. He’s completely disinterested in you/your sister, so long as you get the work done. The longer you pretend to be your sister, the more you get entangled with the case Sherlock is investigating. Turns out, your sister is involved in something that may be very dangerous. A conspiracy of some sort to reveal corruption or some other crime. She’s something of a spy. The more you and Sherlock bond, you break down his walls as he opens up to you. He never gets involved with people unless they’re clues, but you’re different. You develop a friendship which may turn romantic. When it comes time for you and your sister to switch back, the situation becomes complicated as Sherlock is left wondering why he’s suddenly getting the cold shoulder and strictly professional treatment as if nothing’s happened between the two of you the next time he sees you in public. Why won’t you let him hold your hand or kiss you? He thinks he’s in love with your sister, but it’s you. It’s always been you. And the woman in front of him now is not you. And he isn’t aware of what you and your sister had done. An already bad situation is made worse when the bad guys your sister has proven herself to be a worthy adversary against mistake you for her and kidnap and/or try to kill you by poison or drowning in an attempt to silence you. They may use you for leverage to draw out your sister’s group. Whatever the case, your sister goes to Sherlock for help, revealing to him what you and her have done. After the bad guys are killed and/or arrested, he saves you, carrying your unconscious or nearly unconscious body bridal style into the hospital. You’re laid up for many days or weeks, and he and your sister both watch over you the entire time.

20. You’re a journalist who’s been tasked by your chief editor to get an interview with Sherlock Holmes, the world’s greatest detective, and one of the country’s hottest bachelors on the market due to his many, many talents and accomplishments, not to mention his devilishly handsome good looks and family house. Every time you think you have a good story, a competitor gets to it first, so your workplace has been on your ass about getting this exclusive interview. Too bad Holmes is a very elusive and private man who works alone and doesn’t do interviews or anything like that. He’s the one who asks the questions, not the one who gets asked the questions. He keeps to himself, outright refusing and slipping away from any news outlets no matter how hard they try to corner him. Your boss pitches a new idea: Sherlock has never met you, so he has no idea what you look like. If you can go undercover, gain his trust, and find out everything you can about his personal life, then you’ll be promoted. A man like him must have secrets. You’re very attractive, intelligent, and clever, so if anyone can do this, it’s you.

“Get a load of my next piece. ‘Ugly Fall Sweaters of the Stars.’ It's gonna be brilliant, I tell you.”

“Excuse me.”

“Uh, not now.”

“No, this'll just take a second. I just had a couple of questions about your article, the Fashion Week piece that I'm editing.”

“Uh... go.”

“Well, see, the thing is that the boss wanted 300 words, and this is 650. And one of the designers you quoted wasn't even on the floor, so...”

“Y/N, I don't have time for this right now. Just clean it up.”

“It's not just a clean-up, it's a major rewrite.”

“What are you, the executive editor now?”

“No, I'm just trying to explain that...”

“Just fix it, okay?”

“That went well. Let me guess. You're gonna rewrite his stinky old article and save his butt. Just like you always do.”

“Well, it is my job.”

“You could tell him where to put it.”

“I'm not telling him anything.”

“Y/N, we're junior editors, not writers.”

“Well, how else am I supposed to become a real journalist?”

“You'll get there. Of course you will.”

“Five rejection letters in a month. Hardly killing it on the freelance writing market.”

“Y/N, big boss man wants to see you in his office, now. Have fun.” They then answer the ringing phone. “…Magazine, how may I help you?”

“If this is about the article about Fashion Week...”

“Forget Fashion Week. I got something else for you. Sit. So, what do you know about the Holmes Family of England?”

“England? Wait, their father died, and the boys left home not long after. They have a younger sister, Enola, but I don’t know much about her. The eldest son, Mycroft, works for the government, the younger son, Sherlock, is a scholar, chemist, virtuoso violinist, expert marksman, swordsman, singlestick fighter, pugilist, and a brilliant deductive thinker, one of the world’s most famous detectives. Enola is being courted by a young Tewkesbury who’s a Lord or Viscount, but both sons are unmarried and unattached. People say Sherlock is a playboy, and the mother, Eudoria, never remarried and is a scandalous socialite fighting for women’s suffrage or equal rights.”

“Playboy Sherlock Holmes took off after Daddy died, which wouldn't be a problem, except he leads a busy life, so it’s near impossible to get close to him. When he’s not working on a case, how does he spend his days? Why is he not attached to a woman or married despite being thirty years of age? Who is he underneath the public persona he puts on for his clients and admirers?”

“Right…” you trail off, trying to see where they’re going with this train of thought.

“That's exactly what you're gonna find out. Mr. Holmes is due back this weekend. But just in case he absconds, I need somebody there to follow his trail. I need boots on the ground.”

“I don't mean to shoot myself in the foot, but why me?”

“You're talented, hungry, smart. And none of my regular writers can go this week.”

~

“This guy is your assignment?”

“He thinks he's so hot. Mm, another secret girlfriend, possibly?”

“Gross. What a creep.”

“Chill out. He's like a 12.”

“Not my type.”

“Honey, he's everyone's type.”

“Not mine.”

“If I set you up with one more hot, successful guy who you blow off I'm gonna punch you, girl.”

“Ouch. I'm just not on the market.”

“You and your beau broke up, what, a year ago? You can't let him make you gun-shy.”

“Can we just not talk about my love life right now?”

“Seriously, this assignment could jumpstart your career.”

~

“What? What is it?”

“My editor has given me a story to cover.”

“Your own story?”

“It's about the Holmes family of England. The younger son, he's a bit of a playboy.”

“This sounds like it's gonna be your big break.”

“Yeah, but the thing is, I'd have to be away for weeks, possibly even months. And I know that you'd be alone. I just—”

“Sounds like you need a bit of Fatherly Advice 101. When me and your mom opened this place, there were a million reasons why not to, but your mom said, ‘Honey, you gotta take a chance.’”

“So you're telling me to open a bakery?”

“Ha. No. I'm telling you to stay true to your dreams, all right? And success will follow. Huh? That's good, right? Sounds like a fortune cookie. All right. Anyway, the point is, you gotta take a risk if you're gonna win. So don't worry about your old man. I'll be fine, all right? You go over there to English-whatnot--“

“England.”

“England, that's it. And you make us proud.”

“All right.”

“Still $4.95, though.”

~

When you do meet Sherlock for the first time, it’s not at a big fancy event like a rich person’s house party or a concert, but rather a coffee shop, a dog park, the street, or somewhere else that’s common. Maybe he saves you from being trampled by a runaway horse/carriage or steals your cab. For the case Sherlock’s currently investigating, he’s cleverly disguised himself so he looks nothing like Sherlock Holmes and so forgettable that nobody even recognizes him. The little gray man.

“Excuse me!”

“I'm sorry, I really have to go.”

“No, but this is my cab!”

“I apologize.”

“You can't just do that. Selfish jerk!”

“That man just took her cab. Seriously, can you believe that guy? Who does he think he is?”

“First time?” Another reporter asks you while you’re surveying your surroundings and taking notes for your piece.

“Hm?”

“First time covering the Holmes family?”

“First time covering anything. Any words of wisdom?”

“Pick a new career.”

~

“May I help you?”

“No. No, I... Yes. I was supposed to be...”

“Ah. American.”

“Excuse me?”

“You must be the new American tutor for Miss Enola.”

Seeing an opening, an opportunity, you decide to go with it and play along. “Yes. That's me, the tutor.”

“Very good. Follow me, please. Miss Edith? Miss Enola’s new tutor has arrived.”

“[fake name]?”

“That's me. Pleased to meet you.”

“Oh. I thought your agency said you weren't available till the first of the year?”

“I wasn't, but then my last assignment ended early, so...”

“So you thought you'd just show up...here. Two weeks early.”

“Sorry, I know that it... I can leave, if it was a bad idea.”

“Mrs. Holmes did mention that she wished she had someone to occupy Miss Enola over the summer months. Her last tutor left rather abruptly.”

“What happened?”

“That's no concern of yours. Something about a mouse in her bed. Come with me, please. Where's your luggage?”

“At the inn.”

“I'll have somebody fetch it for you.”

“No, no, that's okay. I can get it.”

“I'm surprised you were able to find a room with all the press in town. Parasites, the lot of them. Scum of the earth. Mr. Holmes will want to meet you.”

“The elder or the younger?”

“It’s Mr. Sherlock Holmes who is Enola’s guardian now, so he will be the one to talk to. I trust you're familiar with our English etiquette.”

~

“I needed some time to think.”

“You've had time, Sherlock. You may be the younger son, but you can't keep missing these official engagements.”

“Yes, Mycroft.”

“Not anymore.”

You then enter the room and Sherlock’s and your eyes light up with recognition at the same time.

“You.” You both say simultaneously.

Mycroft looks between the two of you. “You know each other?”

“Our paths have crossed. Selfish jerk, at your service.”

“I am so sorry. I had...”

“No, no, no. It's I who should apologize. And you are?”

“Mr. Holmes, may I present Miss [fake name], Miss Enola’s new tutor.”

“Sherlock!” Enola yelled, running into the room and towards him like a bat out of hell.

“There you are, my little imp.”

“I am not an imp.”

“Yes, you are. You're a little imp.” He picked her up and swung her around.

“Sherlock, put her down. Sherlock. Put her down, Sherlock.” Mycroft keeps pestering.

“As you wish.”

“I am not a china doll, Mycroft.” Enola huffs in annoyance.

“No, but you’re a lady. And a lady doesn’t run indoors.”

Enola rolls her eyes and turns her attention towards you. “Mycroft doesn't let me do anything but study and go to the loo.”

“Well, now I do feel sorry for you.” You smile.

“Beard looks awful, by the way.” Enola says to Sherlock.

“Yes, you do look like a derelict Santa Claus.” Mycroft agrees with a crinkle of his nose.

“Yes, I only grew it so I wouldn't be recognized. And it appears to be doing the trick.”

“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” Enola asks you bluntly.

“Enola, manners. She's your new tutor from America.”

“I'm... I am [fake name]. So pleased to meet you, Enola.”

“You are supposed to call me Miss Holmes or Miss Enola. Don't they teach you anything at tutor school?”

“You'll be starting your lessons right away, Enola.”

“But it's summer.”

“I hope Miss [fake name] lasts longer than your previous tutor. Place your bets.”

“I actually like mice.” You say awkwardly, trying to get Enola to warm up to you.

“Mrs. Lane, would you show Miss [Fake name] to her new quarters, please?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you. Good day.” With that, Mycroft puts on his coat and top hat and left, leaving you with Sherlock and Enola.

~

Later in the afternoon, while Enola and Sherlock are out, you sneak away to make a long-distance phone call to your friends and coworkers.

“I'm actually inside the Holmes house. Undercover. I love it. This is better than an exclusive. But I had to lie to get in here.”

“Who cares?”

“Could I go to jail for this?”

“Two, maybe three weeks tops.”

“Oh. Not helping.”

“Listen, just play this out as long as you can. Get lots of material, whatever you can grab. Can you do this?”

“Absolutely.”

~

“I trust you have the curriculum and lesson plan I sent your agency.” Sherlock tells you.

“I, uh... No, they must have forgotten.”

“My experience with US agencies could best be described as loosey-goosey.”

“Not to worry, Mr. Holmes. There is nothing loose about this goose.” You want to hit yourself for saying something so stupid.

“Enola. You remember Miss L/N.”

“Good morning, Miss Enola.”

“Go away.”

“Now that's no way to treat your new tutor. Please, be seated.” Sherlock pulls out your chair for you at the breakfast table.

“Thank you.” You nearly want to scream when you see a small mouse on the chair. Instead you pick it up and put it outside.

“I thought you said you liked mice.”

Sherlock gives Enola a pointed look, but she ignores it.

“Not as a seat cushion. Now if you've finished with the excitement for this morning, I suggest you start on your lessons. I started with Modern Art. What do you think?”

“Delightful. I'll leave you to it.” Sherlock is soon out the door after that.

~

“So, how did I do?”

“Looks good to me.”

“I got 92 on the state exam.”

“Well, seeing as you're already so good at math, why don't we do some writing? English is my best subject.”

“You're a writer?”

“Yes. No, no, but I studied it at school in New York.”

“I thought you're from Minnesota.”

“I am, but I went to college in New York.” You quickly cover.

~

“Morning.”

“Good morning.”

“What are you up to?”

“Just catching up on some letters. Are you ready for your lesson?”

“No. We're going to bake cookies instead.”

“You're gonna get me in big trouble if we don't start your lesson by 9:00.”

“Not nearly as much trouble as if I told my brothers your real name. Miss Y/N L/N. Don't even bother denying it.”

“But, how—”

“You don't know the first thing about tutoring, for one. Also, I looked at your journal yesterday while you were in the loo.”

“It's locked.”

“Yes, but you put the key in plain sight. Big mistake.”

“I'll pack my things.”

“Wait. No one has to know.”

“You're not gonna tell anyone?”

“Not as long as we have a deal.”

“What kind of a deal?”

“You write the truth about my brother, and I'll keep your secret.”

“You mean the things that are written about him, they're...”

“They're not true? Not even close.”

“So he's not a playboy or a philanderer?”

“You've seen him. His idea of fun is working a case or playing William Tell with a bow and arrow. So, do we have a deal?”

“Deal.”

“Good. Now, about those cookies...I hope you have a big appetite. We are making a lot of cookies.”

“So, what's going on with your brother and Irene?”

“Is this for your story?”

“I need to know the truth if I'm gonna write the truth.”

“He used to love her, but that was a long time ago. Now she's back, so who knows? Mycroft’s into her. Mycroft’s wanted everything Sherlock had since they were boys. Seems like everyone wants what we have.”

“You are the Holmes family.”

“Things used to be different before my father died and my mother left. And now that they’re both gone...”

“Hey. They’re not gone. You'll always have your father in your heart and your mother is always nearby, watching over you from afar so she can keep you safe. Now, come on, we've gotta get these in the oven.”

~

Over the course of your stay, you and Sherlock catch feelings for each other and what started off as pretend becomes real. When Sherlock uncovers the truth about why you got close to him and that your “fateful meeting” was actually all a set up for your new piece, and realizes who you really are and why you’re here, he’s not as hurt as you thought he’d be. A part of him is hurt, but the other part of him is impressed you were clever enough to be able to get past him. Still, he can’t in good faith allow you to stay.

~

“Sherlock, wait!”

“What for?”

“You have to know that I didn't mean for this to happen.”

“I don't know anything anymore. I don't know who you are. I don't even know who I am.”

“I'm Y/N. Y/N L/N. That is my real name. And I didn't come here to— Things just got so out of hand.”

“Well, you've got a grand story to tell now. I wish you well in your aspirations.”

How can you ever hope to make it up to him? Maybe Enola will have to be brought in to talk some sense into her brother and get him to see reason.

~

“So, what did you think?” You ask your boss as he reads over your story about Sherlock.

“It's a thoughtful, mature, well-written story that will never see the light of day.”

“What?”

“It's a puff piece, Y/N. Pure schmaltz. Not our brand.”

“But it's honest and it's the truth.”

“You were at ground zero. You were living under the same roof as Sherlock and Enola. He let you into his flat! You had personal papers and case documents written by Sherlock himself in your hands. You might as well have had his private journal in your possession, and you did nothing with it. You really blew it big time.”

“But this is who he is. This is what happened.”

“I really don't care. In the meantime, I need you to jump back on the copy desk. There are articles that need a polish.”

“You know what? Find someone else to do your mop jobs.”

“Excuse me?”

“I'm done.”

~

“So, what are you gonna do?” Your friends and former coworkers ask you as you pack up your stuff.

“Time to focus on my own work. That's what I've been saying all along. I'm gonna start with a column about Sherlock Holmes, the real story.”

~

“What are you doing here?” You ask in surprise as you go outside to meet Sherlock, who is standing in the street right outside your dad’s bakery. You thought he was an illusion at first, a trick of the mind. But no, he’s here in the flesh.

“I never had the chance to say goodbye. Or thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me. I'm responsible for this whole mess in the first place.”

“No. You opened a door that needed to be opened. That's what a great reporter does. Enola showed me your columns.”

“She did?”

“Why didn't you publish it in your magazine?”

“Too much schmaltz.”

“Schmaltz?” He’s clearly unfamiliar with this American phrase.

“It means it was too sentimental. I wrote the truth about you, that you're kind, compassionate. That you stole my cab, and that you're gonna solve cases from the heart as well as from the mind.”

“Enola misses you terribly. So do I.”

“I miss you too.”

“A flat is a lonely place for a man without a flatmate. But a home is an even lonelier place for a man without…a wife.” He gets down on one knee.

Your brain doesn’t know how to process this. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish for a few seconds before you stammer, “But my whole life is in America.”

“Well, we can come back as much as you want.”

“But my career, I'm not ready to—”

“I don't want to make you give up anything, Y/N.”

“I could never leave my father.”

“I can give him his own wing at the main house. There’s plenty of rooms since Mycroft, Enola, and I moved out. We only go back there for special occasions now. Or I could buy him his own flat in London. Or we could just pick this building up and move it to any corner or any street he wishes. How long do you plan to keep a detective on his knees?”

“You haven't thought about this. I mean, we barely know each other.”

“I've never been more certain of anything in my life. And I've been known to be indecisive. Look, I know it's sudden, but… Is that a yes?”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.”

21. Spy AU: Something major has been going on in the underground crime world, and you’re asked to intern under Agent Holmes and go undercover to find out what it is. You're a tailor, spy master and survivalist who has both designed and worn state of the art disguises/outfits that allow you to conceal microphones, cameras, weapons, and anything else you may need according to the mission. Holmes is your boss and senior agent/director by night, and his cover as a dorky American news reporter named Kent by day works well. He provides you with only the latest and best in spy gadgetry, both for everyday and espionage. The latest tasks of which is impersonating a celebrity/socialite and designing devices that can be small and inconspicuous enough to be worn under or with a designer dress that was originally supposed to be worn by a female spy at the World Summit as a bugging device so they can get very important intel.

The trouble is, the intended agent can’t perform the job for whatever reason. And you’re the only other woman with a close enough resemblance. So it looks like it has to be you, or else the whole operation is a bust. The closer you seem to get to uncovering the truth, the weirder things get. Holmes begins acting very strangely, when he starts receiving threats from anonymous persons - Magazine cut out notes urging him to work faster, untraceable phone calls with modulated voices, dead flowers, etc. You and he begin to piece the mystery together, but will either of you live long enough to see it through?

22. Spy/Crime/Political Espinoage AU: You work for a cute little boutique as a seamstress. You are highly skilled, best known for your high-quality evening/formal wear and handbags. You typically cater to affluent businessmen and the like. But what nobody living knows about you is that you were the youngest member of a secret society of women that schemed and plotted for social reform, even if it was through violent and illegal means. The very secret society of women that Eudoria Holmes and Edith are part of. You were eighteen when you joined, only two years older than Enola was when she discovered her mother’s secret. You used to work as the Secret Service's Secret Seamstress. It was your responsibility to protect the President from any possible wardrobe malfunction (ripped trousers, food stains, sweat marks, etc.) while in the public eye, as well as protecting him. You had to take precautions before and during any large event and, despite leaving that career behind and “retiring”, you still have habits that you learned and kept with you, such as discreetly eavesdropping and people-watching. Recently, an atypical customer stops into your shop with a strange request and a LOT of money. You’re on guard, as always, but how can you refuse? You’re closing up the shop for the night when you see five men walk in through the front door and lock it behind them. You’re very surprised when one of the men go to an inconspicuous framed picture hanging on the wall. It’s just a picture of flowers or something generic, what’s so special�� oh. He turns it counter-clockwise, revealing a secret passageway behind a one-way mirror. After he performs the typical complex unlocking mechanism, you’re ordered to follow. Turns out this “cute little boutique” has been a front for special operatives for many years. In their secret meeting place, they give you your new alias and the run down of your first assignment. You've been tasked with a special project: 12 poison-laced suits to go with a poison-laced dress. You unwittingly cross paths with Sherlock Holmes, alias “Sherrinford Hope”. He’s a special kind of agent, a man who not just provides disguises but also weapons for assassins and wet workers. He’s now getting ready to send new suits to the men who are about to start a revolution, lined with poison and concealed weapons to use on their targets. This is part of a conspiracy plot of assassinating world leaders and other prominent individuals of power and social status. Other key players among this revolution are John Wilson, alias “Ormond Sacker” and Irene Adler, alias “The Woman”. And since you were in the wrong place at the wrong time and are now a witness, the only way these people can keep you alive is if you become involved in the conspiracy and join their team. Perhaps they’ll fake your death and give you a new identity to go along with their newest round of aliases. You could be a sparrow, a secret agent trained in the act of seduction. Later, You receive a knock at the door and an important looking man in a black tailored suit hands you a sealed envelope with your name on it. You open it to find a check written to your name for English pounds that equal to about $65 million USD with the note, "Let's do this" in the memo.

23. A group of would-be criminals kidnaps you, the sister or wife of Sherlock Holmes (platonic or romantic, up to you). They plan on holding you for ransom in an isolated location while sending Sherlock on a wild goose chase or running him around in an endless dance, but their plan starts to unravel when they discover that you, their captive, are actually so much more than what you seem. Their first and last mistake was in underestimating you and your abilities. You escape from them quite easily, but that’s just the beginning as you’re still on the run and need to find a way to either send a message to Sherlock and Enola (the latter may or may not be your twin sister) and to find your way back to them. The people who kidnapped you won’t stop hunting you until they’re dead. Whatever their motive, whoever’s paying them, it must be good for them to go through all this trouble.

[decent0distraction]

Solo harmony au - part 4

Now that I have ranted and raved about the little details and dynamics a bit, let’s finally talk about the storyline.

The last night of Baby’s Concert for the Pop Troops ends with a rocky fight between the two royal sisters before everyone moves out to the next posting.

Also just to be clear, the Baby team, by John Dory’s design, is going to the same safe zone towns the Pop troops are as a way to…um, gain further fame for Baby from the soldiers and the civilians. Branch, however, believes that John Dory set it up this way so Branch could use the perfect harmony to heal the spirits of those negatively impacted by the war. And it’s war, so that means literally everyone.

I’m sure that miscommunication won’t be a problem. Anyway-

With their soldiers were drunk, asleep, or at least taking one last time to relax before back into the fray, Viva and Poppy follow each other, arguing, while Branch and his brothers are wrapping up.

“I just need you to explain your thought process to me, Poppy,” Viva said as she rubbed her temples. “What could possibly make you think it would be expectable to-“

“-Oh, please, enough with the mature, regal act. You think you’re better than everyone when really, you’re just full of yourself. Okay? So take it down about 10 notches-“

“-Don’t talk to me like that! I’m still your queen-“

“-Yep, sure are!” Poppy shoved Viva to the ground, gaining the attention of Branch and Floyd, Bruce stepping in.

“Hey, um, your highnesses? Maybe there’s something we can do to help sort this out,” he offered.

John Dory and Clay suggested Branch and Floyd go back to their tent, Floyd agreeing.

“Yeah, Branch. Let’s just-“ but Branch leapt off the stage, knowing that words wouldn’t reach the disconnected sisters.

“I want to run,” he sang. “I want to hide.”

Poppy hadn’t yet turned to Branch, but Viva had and saw the glow beginning to form around the pop star.

“I want to tear down the walls that hold me inside.”

Poppy saw something reflecting in Viva’s eyes and turned around to stare in wonder and amazement as the perfect harmony echoed off of Branch as he sang.

“I love this song,” Viva sighed, smiling at the memories the melody brought her.

“I watch to reach out.”

Poppy couldn’t help but join in. “And touch the flame.”

“Flame,” Branch sang, happy to have a singing partner who seemed to actually enjoy singing. “Where the streets have no name.”

While humming along, Poppy held her hand out to dance with Branch. But when he reached out to accept, the glow pulsed and began to wrap around Poppy’s hand and up her arm.

Startled and a little drunk, she pulled away.

Branch feared her offended her and stopped singing, the glow lost.

“What was that,” Viva asked. “I’ve never felt so at peace; so…so safe.”

“Yeah, whatever that was,” Poppy said, shaking her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Hey, is that gonna do anything to my hand? Because listen, super-Troll good looks, I’ve always had ‘em. But super-Troll strength; I mean, can you imagine the possibilities with-“

“-No, no, it won’t do anything to you. Or at least, it shouldn’t, right, JD,” Branch asked, all eyes on John Dory.

“Uh, well, you know…I don’t know,” John Dory admitted. “But I’m sure the princess will be fine.”

“Please don’t sue us,” Clay pleaded.

No one gets sued, of course, and nothing happens to Poppy. But Branch is kept awake that night by the possibility that if the princess was able to almost take on the harmony with him, then maybe he can give it to the Bergens and prevent them from wanting to eat Trolls.

But when he tries to suggest it to his brothers…

“Branch, you can’t be serious,” Floyd fussed. “You really think we’re going to let you put yourself in danger like that?”

Branch couldn’t believe it. “But the whole point of these concerts and shows is to share the perfect harmony and help Trolls. The Bergens feed on happiness; what else could be better than-“

“-You’re not doing it and that’s final,” John Dory cut off sternly.

Branch got closer as he spoke. “But that isn’t fair for the Trolls that have lost everything to the Bergens! Maybe this is why I’m the only one of us who can produce the perfect harmony; because you won’t do what’s right and I will-“

The air was heavy and buzzed like static after John Dory slapped Branch, the oldest horrified as he watched himself send the little body of his baby brother to the ground.

“Branch!” Floyd and Clay fussed over him, Bruce calming them down.

“Okay, okay, you two. Just give us a second here. Branch, babe, you okay? Did he twist your neck? Let me see where he hit you.” Holding Branch’s chin, Bruce sighed at the red mark from JD’s open hand. “You should be okay. Go back with Floyd and Clay. We’ll join you guys soon.”

Branch didn’t move except to shrug Floyd’s and Clay’s hands off of him when they tried to help him up. He stared at John Dory. “Both of you, right? No one is going to leave?”

Bruce gave him a smile. “Both of us. No one’s gonna lea-“

“-I need to hear it from him,” Branch stated.

John Dory turned to Branch and held his hand out to help his littlest brother up. “I’m not going anywhere, shining star.”

“Okay,” Branch nodded, standing up while refusing any of the four hands offered to him. “Floyd, Clay, let’s hurry up and head back before it gets to dark to see.”

And my dearest reader, I wish I could I say that when John Dory and Bruce joined their younger brothers in their tent, they all sat down and saw reason, agreeing to Branch’s idea.

But the only thing that happens is that Bruce, Clay, and Floyd supervise a well thought out apology between the oldest and the youngest, before John Dory awkwardly excuses himself and Branch is shooed off to bed like a child.

And nothing happens. Er, for another week, that is.

I mean, nothing except that Bruce keeps catching Poppy sneaking into Baby’s rehearsals.

Poppy watched from the rafters as Branch had fun with a number, pulling Clay away from his work to dance with him. “You can dance. You can jive.”

She thought it was strange that when Clay sang with him, the older one didn’t glow too. “Having the time of your life.”

“Hold it, hold it,” John Dory called, Branch dropping his happy mood and Clay returning to his work. “Branch, we talked about this. These rehearsals are hard work. Not for you to interrupt Clay or anyone else while they’re working.”

Clay rolled his eyes. “Lay off, will you? He’s just trying to make things fun. Isn’t fun what being a pop star is supposed to be?”

“Not when we have four shows back to back,” John Dory argued.

“We? He wouldn’t have to do four shows back to back if you hadn’t set them up that way,” Floyd reminded him.

“Please don’t fight,” Branch requested. “That won’t solve anything. I’m sorry, JD. Clay’s right; I was just trying to make things fun. It makes the harmony stronger for the performance.” Clay looked smug and Branch gave him a look. “But JD’s right too. We have work to do. Speaking of, let’s run through Wanna Dance. I need to lock down the choreography before we start on the performance for Wonderwall.”

John Dory proudly watched Branch seamlessly perform the fourth song in the set.

Meanwhile, the princess was effortlessly climbing along the rafters to get a closer look.

“Oh, I wanna dance with somebody. I wanna feel the heat with someb-“

“-Hey, who’s up there,” Bruce called, halting the rehearsal and sending all eyes towards Poppy as a flashlight was directed at her.

“The princess? But why would-“ Branch’s question was interrupted when she fell, catching herself with her hair and landing on her feet.

“Sorry,” she shrugged, sober and sheepish. “I just had to see more of that glowing thing you made happen.”

Branch approached her kindly. “It’s okay. I understand-“

But John Dory got in the way. “Forgive us, your highness. But this is a closed rehearsal-“

“-JD, you’re being rude. It’s fine, your highness. Really,” Branch insisted.

“You can just call me Poppy. The only Trolls who call me your highness are the guards and they’re all assholes. So…”

So yeah. Poppy watches the rehearsal until the ground starts shaking. She may be a princess and a pain in the ass, but she was still trained for this kind of thing. So when a scout warns that a Bergen has been spotted nearby, she prepares to defend Branch and his family.

However, the Bergen isn’t attacking. Things die down but everyone is still very much on edge.

With the concert cancelled, Branch tells his brothers that he’ll meet them at their tent, staying behind to tell Poppy his idea.

And Poppy, who has always been either a joke or the spare, agrees to help Branch find that Bergen and test his theory.

And that’s all for right now, people. More to come.

[ask-princessandromeda]

I just want to tell you a few things. I may seem disconnected, stupid, overly irresponsible, a toxic optimist, insensitive, and many other unflattering adjectives... But really, I'm just resigned and I want to see the best. I know the future, I saw and knew it as soon as the conscious age began and realized that I would not be able to prevent it, that everything had already been decided, and that for the daughters of Zeus and Themis, my attempts to change it were like flies annoying them. I know that I will not live to see seven, [ironically, this is my father's sacred number], days before my eighteenth birthday, and that my mortal father will be crushed by my death. I know how deep the poisoned imperial gold will go, I know how painful it will be, how my eyes will widen, how I will fall backwards, I know that my dying sigh will come out with a gurgle and end too quickly that I won't even have time to smell the smoldering flowers in the air. But I also know that he will get better, he will undergo therapy, finally feel his dream and become a glass artist that he will meet a beautiful woman and find his true love in her, that I will have younger brothers and sisters who will be normal mortals who will live a normal life and that my father will die happy. I know that my father will not stop loving me until his last breath. I know a lot of shit and I know and love my brothers and sisters in the camp who will never know and love me. I know I'm going to mourn Lee and then Michael. I know that no one will even know my name. For them, I will remain faceless in every sense, the adviser and prophet of Kronos. But I also know that after my death and some other circumstances, my father, Apollo, will go through a terrible ordeal that will change him, make him a better person and allow him to become a better father to his next daughter, who will also be able to see the future. [Georgia, I'm sorry that I won't be able to be your mentor and sister]. I know that Will, Kayla, Austin and the other Apollo children will live long happy lives and die in old age. I know how this war will end, I know who will be the hero whose soul the cursed blade will reap. I know pain, suffering, death and sorrow, well, I also know the future, happiness and the light of new centuries for demigods in which everything will be better than now. I know that after death my soul will sink into a half-sleep, but I will have a weak consciousness, enough to feel sadness, and I will be chained in a sarcophagus of Stygian iron, which will be thrown deep into the Cocytus River. but in the endless stream of tears, I will be warmed and comforted by the knowledge that all this was not useless, that the future was wonderful and that my friends and family will be happy in the end... We are heroes who made not very good decisions, acted extremely and caused harm, but heroes and in the end ourdream came true and we have found peace in one form or another. Stand up proudly, brave warriors of Kronos, and may your names be on the lips of the next generations forever and ever!

Kore Pythia Hayashi, daughter of Apollo, prophet and adviser of Kronos, a shadow shackled in Stygian iron, but nevertheless found peace.

P.S. - Ethan nakamura, I was especially glad to know you.

Ethan: Oh, Kore… Knowing the future is truly a curse rather than a blessing. We’ll always remain thankful for everything you could give us, and not for a second did we consider you vain. I, too, was blessed to meet you.

Alabaster: I will make sure that your name will be forever remembered. Don’t worry. Heroes never die, you know?

Luke: The fates… they truly have a wicked sense of humour, don’t they? So cruel, so unfair. They use us as pawns in their merciless game. We will always remember you, Kore.

Luke: We’ll… remember. I promise.

[raspbeyes]

A Long Winded Attempt to Understand Korekiyo (A Korekiyo Analysis)

How did i get here... (Why do i like this guy)

So cards on the table, i knew of korekiyo's whole creepy vibes far off in advanced before i ever touched the game. nothing in specifics, but i did go into v3 knowing korekiyo reeked of controversy in the fanbase. that resident creepy guy that stranger danger warns you of.

and yeah during my first playthrough of v3, to say i was distrubed puts it lightly. not only was he jammed into a pretty anti-climatic trial 3 (wow ur telling me the guy who started the seance MAY IN FACT be the one able to use it for his own nefarious reasons WOWOW), i was deeply distrubed by this man's blatant disregard for any human diginity or empathy.

only to see that somehow people liked him?! i chaulked it up to those people who just enjoy fictional serial killers, and since i dont enjoy that trope much, i left it that

so how did i end up late at night writing however long this post is going to be trying to analyze him

beats me but lets do a little superficial list for funsies before delving into more critical analysis territory :D

Kiyo can be kinda cool B) (in my subjective opinion)

His interest in anthropology is pretty cool and i like whenever he contributes his own musings about human customs and such. as disconnected he does seem from human life, there is an interesting paradox with his talent relating to observing human life. moreover, there's always something so amusing seeing such a collected character becoming excited over his interest, such as during fte and his talent lab during ch3 :D

small note, but there is something endearing during the ch1 investigation in his awareness of being the "creepy" one of the group. it shows his awareness of himself which idk its funny to me

He has a cool design (Minus the actual outfit for ... uh ... it's very uncomfortable parallels .____.) with him being the few dr characters who have an aspect of androgyny to themselves (aside from chihiro and sakura, but it's more like they conform to the opposite gender role than be in the middle). now while i will address why it gets more problematic, it's neat introducing a male character fully comfortable in showing feminine traits and feels no need to prove his masculinity to himself

initially, with a cast filled with either eccentric personalites like miu, kaito, or tenko to the more brooding characters like ryoma, maki, or shuichi, kiyo comfortabley takes a spot as a seemingly collected head, especially after the loss of kirumi and rantaro

again these are purely subjective, but now onto using a braincell >:)

tw: mentions of inc*st, grooming, and abuse

please click off if these topics cause discomfort to you

"I thought he would be popular"

Did you know that one of kodaka's favorite characters is korekiyo and that he was shocked by kiyo's lack of popularity

source: https://kaibutsushidousha.tumblr.com/post/187409893464/artbook-data-writer-team-interview

Kodaka: To me, the most unexpectedly unpopular character was Korekiyo Shinguuji, not Hoshi. I mean, his uniform is awesome and his unstable relationship with his sister feels like a classic underground movie. Shinguuji is one of my personal favorites and I thought he would be popular. But the people playing the game called him “gross” 

Which ... is weird especially considering the pretty abysmal character assassination near the end of kiyo's screentime in the game. Compared to prior chapter 3 killers, who usually tend to be the least sympathized for their double kills and very self-interested motives (celestia's being greed and mikan's being devotion for one person over her classmates ... and maybe lust idk??), kiyo ranks one of the worst. not just stopping at being a serial killer, he does it all for the love he feels for his sister.

Like idk about u but i would have just stopped at the serial killer part (which is an insane sentence for me to write lol)

But i think that it does make a bit of sense for kodaka's shock, as once u shift the perspective to being a writer, kiyo's character concept starts to make sense.

See i think when we consume stories, espeically linear stories, we have the subconcious assumption that the story beats we encounter had been created in that exact succession. We assume the writer creates the story in the exact linear progression of beginning, middle, and end.

but in truth, most creative processes don't work like that. ideas can date from the intialization of a story concept may not get implemented until the middle or even the end of a story. the ironic thing about stories is that even though they are a straightforward experience for the audience, they are all over the place on the writer's end.

so when we encounter the big trial 3 twist of kiyo's true nature, it feels very much like the the writing room also got to this point during drafting and had a conversation like

"Hmmm ... crap, now we gotta put a motive here. any ideas?"

"uhhh .... OH i got it. he's an actually a siscon serial killer who killed for his deceased sister :D i mean he's already creepy so it works"

"hmmm ... any other suggestions ... no? Alright sure let's go with that"

like yeah im sure no one actually thought this happened, but it definetely feels like that on the audience's side. for a character literal last 10% of screentime, the VERY LAST IMPRESSIONS OF THEM, completely make a sharp nose dive is pretty jarring. It's both parts boring because it just proves shady people looking like kiyo always should be suspected as well as shocking to know he was THAT creepy.

but let's actually shift to the possible perspective of the writing team

Amazing Monster, Wrong Genre

So what was the initial purpose the writing team had when conceptualizing korekiyo into the cast?

source: https://kaibutsushidousha.tumblr.com/post/169561747724/artbook-data-korekiyo-shinguuji

(btw shout out to this blog's translations for drv3 supplementary material it helped out a lot!!)

Kodaka: I had already decided to make chapter 3 feel like a Japanese horror movie, so I need a character who were familiar with nursery songs. As you presume, I decided to have a Super High School Level Anthropologist to fill that job.

From my understanding, it seems that in early on, kodaka wanted to have a horror theme for his new game's chapter 3. and that suddenly fully recontextualizes kiyo in this narrative. kiyo's purpose is to be the bogeyman of chapter 3, utlizing the dr formula of the double kill to heighten the feeling that a bogeyman has been let loose in the school, espeically in its most spooky chapter in the franchise.

we assume (lol im assuming u assumed this hahaha) that kiyo was first thought up as an anthropologist and then along the way of writing chapter 3, he was selected to be written off - since maybe the writing crew had no other major plot ideas for him - and just had a really strange motive stapled on.

but according to kodaka's words, korekiyo was primarily first to be a homage to japanese horror villains. kodaka really wanted this creepy atmosphere to the murder case, likely taking influence to japanese horror and its use of legends and folk tale to give his new ch3 killer a talent that can add to the overall vibe of the trial.

moreover, japanese horror is the largest influence for kiyo's conceptualization, as compared to other cultures' horror, japanese horror emphasizes supernatural and psychological horror most. The supernatural creature of the Onryō pops up a lot in japanese horror media (The Ring is the most popular example i know of, as well as the Japanese folktale, Yotsuya Kaidan), which usually is of a vengeful young woman who met an untimely death. They usually have long black hair that envelopes their face with sharp makeup to show their villainous status. This could connect to Kiyo's long black hair, a trait he shares due to his older, deceased sister.

Kodaka: Maybe it’s just me that loves this kind of underground story character too much. I thought he would be well-received among the fans of Suehiro Maruo’s mangas, but I still haven’t seen any comment saying that so far.

Now i dont know too much japanese horror media (probably cuz american lol) but Suehiro Maruo's name rang alarm bells in my head. To those out of the know and too lazy to search up, Suehiro Maruo is a prolific horror manga artist, being the mind behind the infamous book and subsequent anime adaptation, Shoujo Tsubaki. It also spawned the movie adaptation, Midori, which was banned across the world upon its release for its graphic content. This work is quintessential to maruo's works' general themes, centering on the outcasts of humanity, body horror, nihilism in the face of cruelty, and paraphilia.

So yeah ... really for the faint of heart and def would not recommend checking out at night time unless u plan on being an insomniac o__o

But it is very important in contextualizing kiyo if u take into account that Maruo's work may have been a major influence.

Maruo's works aesthetics can already be connected to kiyo's design: Korekiyo's military outfit is very reminscent of showa-era outfits, a time period that Maruo's work takes heavy influence from. The bandages wrapped around kiyo's arms could also be drawn from maruo's interest illustrating physical deformities.

However, it goes deeper when u take into account of kiyo's own ... twisted love that defines his character. maruo's work depicts a lot of disgusting acts of "desire" (desire is an understatement), displaying the horrors of humanity to the reader. the writing staff may have noticed this attribute and thought that adding such an aspect to their own horror character could increase the groteque factor.

it can come across as the writers' own weird reasoning to just insert inc*st into this random character (tho im not at all defending whatever the hell was going on with the monokubs in ch4 ugh), but under this context, it seems more like the writing team wanted to replicate the horror maruo's work evokes. i mean, while maruo's work has obviously drawn criticsm for it going too far, there still are fans of his work who defend it by saying it is in the horror genre, so what do you expect?

so we have general japanese supernatural and Maruo's work, but there is one final ingredient to our kiyo character stew (hahaha get it cuz ... his exectuion ... melting pot hahah... ill see myself out) So moving across the ocean, we arrive at the classic American horror movie, Pscyho from 1960. Specifically to the horror movie's antagonist, Norman Bateman.

And yeah, the parallels between Korekiyo and Norman are very obvious.

Both are serial killers with quiet outer personas

Both have a split personality, specifically a feminine persona, that drives their killing sprees

both have inc*stuous (for norman, it is more implied and more overtly abusive) with the sole, older female figure in their life (kiyo's being his older sister, while norman is his mother)

And to prove that norman bateman directly inspired the writers during the creative process, the villain of the light novel spin-off, Danganronpa: Kirigiri, is called Norman with the practically same character concept from the 1960 film. And the writer of this light novel? No other than Danganronpa V3's co-writer, Takekuni Kitayama.

So what did this deep dive into korekiyo's character concept prove? really it is just to show that no, the inc*st wasn't this last minute character shift but something that is, whether we like it or not, the core of kiyo's character. kiyo is a monster, and thats the reason kodaka loved writing him. it is similar to why people enjoy horror antagonists. they are these interesting character studies that are worth deep diving into the worst of humanity and to watch how the tragedy of how this villain is formed.

in a sense, like how kiyo is obssessed with observing the beauty of humanity, kiyo's conceptualization is about the supposed audience is observing the horror of humanity seen through kiyo.

but there's a bit of a monkey wrench in all of this.

kiyo is a horror character stuck in a danganronpa game, which according to wikipedia is "a mix of adventure, visual novel, detective and dating simulator elements"

whoops

Danganronpa is a game, which if u haven't checked ... is about not knowing about the murderer that might be standing next to u, hence the "detective elements". So when you have this super cool, totally spooky character that you really wanna put into your new murder mystery game, you kinda run into the problem that you cant reveal he's this terrible person from the start.

Which is what causes Kiyo to go cold turkey for the first two chapters. they couldn't just reveal him to be a serial killer right away, otherwise the audience will say korekiyo is just another, less subversive genocide jill clone. but korekiyo is a horror character, who only work when the horror about them is revealed right away. watch any horror movie, and you would be pretty upset if the monster is revealed in the last 10% of the movie. while that makes sense for a mystery novel's culprit, it can't work for the horror homage kiyo is meant to be. horror works when the antagonist has a strong horrifying prescense that adds pressure to the mc. kiyo doesn't do that because he can't do that.

not to mention the "dating sim elements". the writing staff dont just have to find a way to fit kiyo into the unsuspecting cast, they also have to make him "likeable" to some players to consider him an option for free time. its where those superficial aspects of him that i enjoy come into play. some players enjoy those traits and as the dating sim formula suggests, will become attatched to kiyo in a positive way.

.... which only further ruins kiyo's horror set up. it is the root of the issues regarding korekiyo's character and what makes me liking him so complicated. kodaka and the team really wanted to have a culprit similar to their favorite horror media to slip into their ch3 mystery set-up. i bet writing his trial 3 breakdown was cathartic since they finally were able to write the whole point of kiyo's character from the start. but the problem is that because they had to work in the parameters of a dr game which demands opposing things from its characters (having room to grow and having something likeable/redeemable about them), they created a contradictory set-up for kiyo.

sure he was creepy, but after two chapters of him not doing much except showing that its the way he chooses to express himself, it felt to me that dr was trying to send a message to not judge a book by its cover. And thats a fine message, but it never was something the writers intended, so when they actually implemented their idea, the whole point of korekiyo's charcter become lost in translation.

Side tangent: ... the gender thing

(honestly idk how to feel about this section but this is more of my opinion and id love to hear anyone's take on this point)

Now dr has a messy track history with gender (oh boy im talking abt gender now oof). while chihiro and sakura both are extrememly likeable characters and have traits outside of their gender expression, it doesn't change the fact that the handling of chihiro's reveal and sakura's treatment from the rest of the cast throughout the games can come across as tasteless. though i'd argue that how kiyo's gender is handled is probably the worst.

so kiyo is meant to be a strong allusion to norman bateman, and along with it, him being the "mommy's boy". trope. another similar horror example is Jason Voorhees, the antag behind Friday the 13th. The trope usually features the male character having a controlling maternal figure, usually due to the abscense of a father figure. while it usually is played for laughs (not good either), in horror specifically, it usually is the reasoning behind why the male antagonist is a killer and inhuman. There's a strong implication that because of a strong female influence in these male characters' lives, they grew up unmanly and thus dysnfunctional, worthy of being ostracised for their lack of masculinity.

and while you can argue that ofc the problamatic aspect of the trope will be present with kiyo since he is meant to be a nod to this trope, it doesn't take away from how kiyo is treated compared to other male characters. it feels very much that because of his sister's overbearing influence (i will also get to her later), kiyo's understanding of himself has become warped, so thus his gender expression is called into question.

for one, he is the only masc character during argument Armament to have his defeat sprite sexualize him. now while all argument armaments seem to be the point to sexualize characters (unfortunetly ....) look at how kaito is potrayed compared to kiyo and the framing of their defeat sprites shows the difference. kaito still is shown standing and emphasizes how wounded he is, but because of kiyo's feminine nature, it is somehow okay for him to be potrayed in a position that emphasizes his weakness.

moreover, kiyo's androgyny doesn't seem to be a seperate part of his identity but rather all a memento to his deceased sister. he mentions that his uniform is selected by his sister, and he had chosen to grow out his hair also for his sister (though that was revealed in the spin off manga, which aren't exactly canon but it falls in line with how kiyo is written). Instead of his gender expression being something he chooses to do, it is because of his very toxic love for his sister. it feels like they had to justify his androgyny, which diminishes the value it has.

He wears makeup not because he wants to but because his sister persona wants to. Yes, it is because of him being a norman bateman refrence but it still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth that kiyo is demonized for being feminine.

"Apologize, apologize, apologize"

but okay, if he is meant to be the norman bates character, there is no evidence to show that kiyo's older sister was abusive ... except ...

I remember when i initially finished v3 and saw posts online about korekiyo, i was a bit baffled by him being a supposed "victim". nothing from kiyo's dialgoue ever implied that he felt mistreated by his sister. he's literally in love with her, how could he possibly be abused by her?

though isnt that the red flag right there? if kiyo was abused, he may not have known due to his infatuation. So time to do a deep dive about kiyo's sister.

We don't have much time with "her" (Kiyo's sister persona), so whatever we do get of her has to be chosen to effectively convey her who she is in such a short amount of time. Though it is not directly kiyo's sister, it likely is the entry point we have to understand how kiyo viewed her.

So when does his sister persona manifest? It happens right after kiyo starts to breakdown when kaito claims it is all clear how angie's murder was planned out, likely from realizing that he is practically caught at this point. Kiyo for the first time has lost composure in the game (in line with most trial 3 culprits) , with his sister interuppting then.

Sister persona: Sweet Korekiyo, calm yourself ...

Out of the gate, kiyo's sister persona's first action is to calm kiyo down, giving him a direct command.

Sister persona: Their words are all hollow. There is no meaning to them. You must teach these ignorant children a lesson.

Right after, kiyo's sister persona discredits everyone around kiyo to ensure he is calm, trying to place kiyo above them all by calling all his classmates children. I will touch back on this later.

Skipping ahead to after kiyo is accused of angie's murder, we get this exchange.

Korekiyo: N-No ... I'm not the culprit ...! S-So ... why is everyone looking at me like I am ...? Why! Why are they!? Why is it --

Sister persona: Calm yourself, Korekiyo.

Korekiyo: Y-yes ...!

Sister persona: You mustn't raise your voice. You mustn't stutter. You mustn't lose composure. You mustn't become flustered. You mustn't waver.

Again, the moment Korekiyo starts to lose his composure, his sister persona steps in to command him to stop. Remember, out of anything the writing crew could have written for korekiyo's sister, it was her few first lines where he gives command after command to korekiyo. And we see these commands already play out with kiyo prior in the game. He never has raised his voice nor stuttered prior to trial 3 (though i could be misremembering), so him doing so now shows he is stepping out of line of what his sister previously told him, hence why she has to reassert herself.

And Kiyo ofc fully submits to his sister, having regained his compsure right after.

Sister persona: Look at their horrid faces. This sorry lot is not worth agonizing over.

We see here again the sister persona pushing others away from kiyo and placing kiyo above them. Now while this can come off as kiyo indirectly telling himself he is better than his classmates, this is the second time his sister persona says something like this, meaning it had to have been a pattern in their relationship, where his sister would push others away, and in a way, isolating him.

Korekiyo: Y-You're right... Yeah ... You're right.

Aside from how it is clear how Kiyo shows his devotion in his "sister", it also shows how he corrects himself here. When his sister said to not stutter, he initally stutters before fixing it.

Also just hearing kiyo say "yeah" just sounds so weird to me. Idk maybe he's talked more casually prior, but i feel that it is only in this trial does kiyo's speech tend to break up and sound a bit more colloquial. normally i feel he would say yes lol. but i could be wrong

Sister persona: Well said ... Good job, Korekiyo.

Korekiyo: Yes ... thanks.

After kiyo regains his compsoure to claim he won't acknowledge shuichi's accusation, his sister persona compliments him, and again we see kiyo's speech slip to a bit more colloqiual when he says "thanks" rather than "thank you". It could be that he picked up his manner of speaking from his sister as well.

After the closing arguement, we see kiyo still in distress

Korekiyo: Uh ... Uuuhhh...

Sister persona: Sweet Korekiyo, there are times when it's necessary to admit defeat.

Korekiyo: A-Admit...? ... Yeah... Okay ...

But once his sister persona tells him to admit defeat, it takes him a few moments before finally admitting to the crime. It once again displays the level of control his sister persona has over kiyo, being the only way kiyo seemed willing to acquiese.

Again, the writing staff could have written anything here for how kiyo's sister persona would work, but they chose this kind of diagloue for her, where she primiarly praises kiyo, gives commands, and isolates him.

knowing that kiyo's sister grew up sickly and without any human connections, the story kind of writes itself from there.

Without any real friends, kiyo's sister was driven desperate for an ... intimiate human connection, and the only one she had would unfortunetly be her younger brother. Due to her being an older sister, she was very strict with him, but provided him praise and comfort to keep him around her. Furthermore, she would put down kiyo's peers by praising kiyo as better than them. The line where kiyo's sister refers to everyone else as children earlier rings especially strange since kiyo is the same age as everyone there. But it gives off the idea that kiyo's sister (who obviously would be older than kiyo's classmates) called them children to make kiyo feel he is more mature, which holds its own disgusting implications.

I don't think that kiyo's sister inherently meant harm to kiyo, but it is highly likely that in her desperation, she used her power over kiyo for her own selfish needs. It fits right into the tragedy you would see in horror, where the worst of humanity seeps through, culminating into the monster we would see as the antagonist of the fiction.

(Speculative tangent here lol: I think another interesting note is how kiyo's mind seems to break into two whenever he is put into high amounts of distress. I'm not going to engage in the whole "what kind of mental illness does he have" since a) im not qualified and b) i dont even think the writing staff cared tbh but whatever he has, it is clear he has to strict personas when under intense stress. When he was backed into a wall during the trial, kiyo claims repeatedly during both the trial and the arguement arnament that he doesn't know why he is the culprit. It does seem like classic denial from any culprit, but kiyo's is different as he is demanding an answer from his sister to assure him otherwise. he stutters more and can't form full sentences while his sister persona speaks fully and more like the kiyo we are used to. It does feel like he isnt fully aware of his actions, which lines up with him when he says later he lost his mind following his sister's death. To me, Kiyo attempts to emmulate his sister to stay in touch with reality as he viewed his sister as the one in control of his world. so when he can't react properly, his mind splits where his sister becomes very literal in his mind in order to soothe himself. likely due to his overdependence on her, he couldnt image himself seperated from the only human connection he had. all im saying is that his sister is the coping mechanism that a very unstable korekiyo needs in order to stay whole.)

I can fix hi - his writing i mean

So in a very twisted way, I don't hate the decision for korekiyo to have his story center around his inc*stuous love. It definetly took a lot of straining my perspective but i do see the remnents of korekiyo, a monster born from the monsterous actions in his life, working.

but you can't potray such a backstory within the last five minutes of your character's screentime. And especially with how heavy the subject material is, some level of foreshadowing is neccessary in order to feel like this plot detail is treated with some level of respect.

but obviously the writers can't. this is just some one-off trial they just wanted to write to be spooky, not this psychological deep dive into one culprit's backstory. But they should have realized that they don't have the time to properly set this up nor execute it , so i agree with most people when it is best to cut out the inc*st. kiyo's sister should have been set up a bit more, maybe in chapter 2, where kiyo speaks a bit more of how he is influenced by his sister in his wardrobe and his talent, so she is in the back of our minds. But kiyo could refer to her in the present, so the actual twist of chapter 3 is that she is dead and that kiyo has his sister persona.

I think the sister persona makes sense, since it adds to the supernatural theming of chapter 3 and pays off what is beneath his mask. It could be a simpler story of kiyo falling into grief for a sister he admired. Maybe he feels guilt over how miserable his sister's life was, thinking he is responsible for his sister's decline health cuz u know, he probably was a kid when his sister died and kids tend to blame themselves. Really just keep it to be a normal, albeit dependent, sibling love he has, where his actions spawned from grief, not this uncomfortable combination between grief and lust.

But if the writers really were insistent that on writing inc*st so late into kiyo's screen time, i have one last-minute fix.

Its that damn cg that plays in post-trial. you know ... that one which kiyo narrates his love for his sister. The one where we see said romance, and it has this whole flowery look to it. now it can be argued it shows how kiyo is an unreliable narrator, where he has romantisized his relationship with his sister.

but i dont care. its just gross to depict this unhealthy dynamic in such an ... irresponsible way. It is like the dr staff couldnt help themselves, they just had to draw kiyo and his sister practically naked. which like no ... just dont use this as an excuse to sexualize your minor characters AGAIN

In my concept, the image can be replaced by depicting a more grim image of kiyo's relationship with his sister. show her trapped in her hospital bed, sickly and her face obscured by her unkempt, overgrown hair. But kiyo sits close by, his face cupped in her palms, with just the two of them trapped in that hospital room from the rest of humanity, with only each other.

kiyo's dialogue can overall be the same (maybe tweak a bit to show his grief more) juxtaposing his idyllic recollection to the grimmer reality we are presented. Maybe it's not the best change, but what i wish they emphasized was less of the actual inc*st and more of the horror. u know ... the supposed basis of kiyo as a character.

so yeah ... i guess i am a korekiyo fan

Korekiyo is a character that when i say i do like him, it kinda means i like the concept of him and the few parts of him, not the whole disaster we got. i know dr always struggles in fully executing their cast of characters on account that, you know ... most of them gotta die. but i do think that if the writers recongized the limitations and adapted kiyo better for the dr story structure, kiyo may have been more popular like kodaka expected.

i dont need this super large angsty story of kiyo (thats what head canons are for anyway :D ) but what i did need was just a bit more respect given to his story and him as a character. not saying you can't give kiyo any moments of comedic relief (i think because they couldnt make him too obviously evil at the beginning, the writers ended up making him a kind of comedic character in how over the top creepy he is, which i think works), but dont give the audience such a last-minute character reveal that could break just about any character, regardless of how far back in advanced the reveal was planned.

anyway i dont have any proper ending for this and i have been writing for 3 hours so yeah ty for reading if u read this far :D

[papaiyatree]

about my last rb bc rereading the panels in that post gav me brainrot i find it So Interesting of dinah to want to "fix" shiva. of dinah wanting to let shiva be in touch with her humanity again. and she wasn't even there when an ounce of humanity was ever in shiva's system. they trained together but at that point shiva's already onced every bit of humanity by choice. that's what's interesting here because dinah thinks maybe shiva could change her mind by hanging about with the birds just because they were able to get huntress to stop killing. but helena's motives vs shiva's motives for killing people is so wildly different so who's going to act suprised?

in simone's retcon, it is something built of circumstance. how shiva had no chance to even be even remotely human in the slightest. trained in inhumane ways, she was meant to be the best to defend the village till she escaped to... i forgot where. BUT if we go by the og backstory of shiva it goes back to her losing her humanity by choice. because dinah doesn't know there was a period of shiva's life where she did have human emotions and feelings. too bad that when shiva lost her sister shiva maybe thought the pain was too much and decided to disconnect from what caused it to hurt so much: her humanity.

or to phrase it a little better : dinah did not know that the way she thought she could "fix" shiva was through giving back the thing that made shiva go through hell and back

++ also : why would shiva want the piece of her that granted her so much pain back?

[luverofralts]

Arkhelios Adventures

The Bellamy household was tense. The atmosphere hadn't been this dark and dire since Roman's affair with Ulyssa. Two days had passed since the incident at Theo's school, and a decision had been made by the Pleasantview coven regarding Theo's academic future. Evren was scheduled to arrive with the verdict any second now and the Bellamys were trying not to panic. Too was taking this opportunity to destroy their kitchen cupboards, and no one had the mental ability to stop her. Evren was going to be there any minute, what did it matter what the cat did?

There had been no contact from Adam since the accident and Theo was inconsolable, thinking that his boyfriend was ending things with him by simply ghosting him. All of Theo's texts were unable to be delivered. One minute, he'd been intertwined with Adam and the next, Adam was just...gone.

Evren had dutifully brought up this silence at one of the many coven meetings he attended, and was able to confirm that Edana had taken her son's phone from him and disconnected the number. This at least gave Theo some hope that maybe Adam wasn't breaking up with him. His mother didn't want them to speak to each other, so she'd taken away that connection to protect her son. Theo had tried some small magical spells used to communicate between magic users, but those also failed. Edana had the benefit of years of experience in a coven that liked to play dirty when it came to magic. Despite his raw power, Theo couldn't compete with a witch that experienced.

"Evren's here!" Saturnia announced.

The moment she spoke, everyone over the age of fourteen hurried in the kitchen to hear Evren's news. This meeting was for adults only. Adult decisions had to be made, and Theo was too fragile to hear the discussion for himself. He hadn't left his room for the past two days anyway. Whenever someone checked up on him, he was either crying into his pillow or writing woefully in his journal.

"What was the coven's decision?" Roman asked breathlessly, pulling up a chair beside Adrian and Abe. "Are they expelling him? Do we get to keep him here?"

It was the option Roman liked best. Everything would be okay if he could just hold onto Theo and hug him until all this madness went away. He was Theo's father, and it was his duty to protect him, not some snobby school.

"No, they don't feel that he belongs in Arkhelios," Evren said gently. "He swore an oath to be an apprentice of the coven and they plan to hold him to that. Like we discussed earlier, that option was extremely unlikely."

"Doesn't belong in Arkhelios?" Roman erupted, slamming a fist on the table. "He's my son! You're telling me that I'm going broke to pay for some witches to kidnap my son from me? Abe? Tell him that we're keeping our son!"

"He's beyond our help, Ro," Abe replied quietly, putting a reassuring hand over his husband's clenched fist. "We talked about this. He's growing up and we can't teach him what he needs to know. I hate this just as much as you do, but it's not just him that's in danger. He's hurting other people now too."

"I'm a hybrid!" Roman growled. "I'll teach him. We'll learn together. It's my mother's fault that he's like this, so I have to be the one to fix it. I can fix this."

"Roman, I appreciate your openness to trying new ways to train Theo, but you can't just homeschool your son in the magic he needs to survive. No offense, but your own abilities probably couldn't get past the second chapter of his textbook. For all my experience, I don't have the skills to teach him either."

"What did the coven decide then?" Adrian asked. "Is he allowed to stay at the academy? If he is, is Edana going to be a problem? Is he being reassigned a different room away from Adam?"

"He's not going to attend classes at the academy for the rest of the semester," Evren announced. "Theo will be reassigned to a sister school for the duration of the academic year, possibly for longer depending on his progress."

"What?!"

All three of Theo's parents recoiled at the verdict, utterly baffled by the choice.

"I'm not paying to send him somewhere else! What 'sister school'? Where is it? They can't do this!"

"This is discrimination against demons! If Edana thinks that she can get away with this, I'll sue!"

"I'm calling Lucy. She'll fight this. They can't go against the Sovereign!"

"The Sovereign already agreed to the change," Evren informed them, watching their faces fall with the news. "She was at the final two meetings and she consented to the change of schools. She suggested the replacement school herself."

"Abe, do you remember giving custody of our son to the Sovereign?" Roman asked sarcastically. "She can't just send him wherever she feels like. We have custody of him. He's our child. Why is the Sovereign under the understanding that she can make decisions about our son without our knowledge?"

"I'm sure Lucy had some input," Abe said, his voice wavering slightly as he spoke. "Lucy would never let anyone hurt Theo, she's his godmother. If her wife is making decisions, I'm sure Lucy had a say."

"Where is this school? What's the campus like? When are visiting hours? Can we schedule a tour? Does the tuition change?" Adrian asked, typing notes on his phone. "Do they have a website or brochure?"

"I don't know anything about it," Evren admitted. "I've never heard of it myself or even that the academy had a sister school. I don't know everything about this universe, but even some of the other witches looked confused. There are no tours, no pamphlets, no visitations. Theo will be assigned a support team who will help him adjust to the change and provide you with notes on his progress."

"So they are charging him with something!" Roman accused. "They're jailing him for crimes he didn't commit! He's innocent! It was an accident!"

"I'm calling Lucy. This is outrageous. She'll know how to fight this."

"My love, maybe we could talk about this in private? I might be able to ask Maura for a favour."

"This isn't jail, it's a highly praised school that will help Theo learn to control his abilities. He'll recieve one on one instruction from older demons who have practical experience with blood magic. It's not so much a magic school that teaches demons, but a demon school that teaches magic. Theo will be taught by staff who know what puberty is like for demons and can help him manage the changes to his body and abilities."

"That sounds an awful lot like the military school my parents sent me to," Adrian said quietly. "I promised myself that I would never send one of my own children to a school like that, no matter what. Theo's not going. I'll pull my portion of his tuition if I need to. I'm not paying to cause suffering to a child."

Evren sighed, staring at the determined faces of Theo's other parents. All of them looked like they were about to grab a torch and go burn the Pleasantview Academy to the ground.

"I really don't think that you're describing this accurately. They seem to think that they have a choice in this matter."

Without warning, a woman descended from a shower of sparkles right in the middle of the Bellamy kitchen. While Abe and Adrian looked baffled, Roman stared at the woman, unable to place where he knew her from.

"Adriel, you're not going to help matters," Evren groaned, rubbing his temples to ward off the migraine he could feel developing.

"Adriel! You went to school with me!" Roman exclaimed. "That's where I know you from. Your mother sent you to try to force us into accepting this?"

Abe stared, vaguely remembering this woman from when she was a teen and helped them fight off Dorhack. He hadn't really gotten to know her well, but then again, it wasn't like she was trying to get to know him either. She had stuck close to her mother, the Sovereign, and had said very little to anyone else.

"Are you here to collect Theo?" Evren demanded. "I was assured that he would have several days to recover before he left."

"Are you kidding? Babysitting teenagers is nowhere near my rank. Mother sent me to reassure the parents and nothing else."

"Evren, we're not going to be intimidated into sending Theo away. Tell the coven that we're not complying, no matter who they send to steal my son."

"Are you done?" Adriel demanded. "I should have known that the kid causing so much trouble was yours, Roman. It looks like your mother's trashiness is genetic after all."

For the first time in years, Roman felt the ghost of his younger self awaken within him at the reminder of his own boarding school experience. All the games, all of the politics and mind games came rushing back to him at once. He'd been afraid of Adriel once, long before he realized that he had power too.

"All of that rank and you're still your mother's messenger, doing all the unimportant work that she finds too boring to do herself? It must kill you to have to serve your mother's human wife."

While the rest of the adults braved themselves for a demonic fight, Adriel just laughed.

"Fair enough, Dorhack spawn," she teased. "Despite his relation to you, your son is admittedly very interesting. He would have to be exceptional to be sent where he's going and despite his parentage, he is."

"Where is this school?" Roman replied, his voice surprisingly casual now that he and Adriel had gotten verbal sparring out of the way. "I want to visit him and make sure that he's well cared for. If your own mother is any example of demonic care for children, then I don't trust anywhere she would send him."

Adriel made a sarcastic grunt in response to this.

"She would never have sent her own kids there," she complained. "We were never good enough. Instead, I had to go to the same school as you." Adriel gestured towards Roman dismissively. "I think she only went there herself for a semester when her mother got sick of having her around."

"So, Theo might just be there for a semester then?" Roman asked hopefully. "If it's so hard to get into?"

Adriel shrugged dispassionately.

"It could be longer, depending on his needs, but yes. The school also doesn't offer a summer curriculum and is highly motivated to return him to his regular school before the next school year. Something about taxes and student enrollment numbers."

"Well, that's not that bad, I guess," Adrian said cautiously. "If they really don't want to have a lot of students stay and if even the Sovereign's daughter wasn't allowed admittance...maybe this could be a good thing. Like private tutoring, right?"

"Somewhat," the demon answered, losing interest in this conversation quickly. "They won't release him until he can safely control his...episodes. How long that takes is up to the child."

Silence fell over the room as each adult tried to rationalize this decision. They were all still against sending Theo away at all, but if the coven was going to enforce this ruling, there were some upsides at least.

"Let's talk in my office, Adriel," Roman said, standing up from the table dramatically. "I want to talk to you, demon to demon."

Adriel tried to repress the shudder she felt at the idea that she and Roman were anything alike. How Theo had come from this family with his abilities, Adriel couldn't understand.

"Fine."

The first thing Adriel did when entering Roman's office was poke around the room, snooping as she did.

"Oh, look. Baby Roman," she laughed, staring at a photo of teenage Roman with his grandparents. "You were different then from what I remember. You used to be better than this."

"Uh, thanks?" Roman replied, crossing his arms defensively. "My life's kinda been turned upside down a few times now. All that trauma will change a person, especially a teenager. You...well, you're pretty much how I remember you actually."

"Look, live your sad life, I don't really care," the demon said. "This is the best thing for your son, according to people who actually know what they're talking about. Theo's hurting other kids because he can't control his abilities. If he keeps this up as he gets older, the consequences may become even harsher. Everyone feels sorry for a kid. An adult incapable of handling magic? Much less sympathy. That is if he can even survive his episodes to make it to adulthood. There were no demons around to save your son from himself. He was extremely lucky that there were quick thinking warlocks near him, otherwise you might not be getting your son back at all."

"I know. I really do know how bad it was. How bad it is. Adam is a good kid and he didn't deserve to get hurt by all of this. I don't want Theo to lose his boyfriend or friends because people are afraid of him. I'm just afraid to lose my son for months because a bunch of witches and warlocks said so. I won't abandon him when he needs me. Let me go study with him. I could use a refresher on demonic magic. My tutor in college said I wasn't a complete failure at it."

Adriel let out a loud, unrestrained laugh at Roman's idea that Roman knew was genuine. No one could fake a sarcastic, belittling laugh like that.

"What? I'm half-demon. Probably anyway, no one's really drawn up a family tree for me. Theo's only a quarter demon genetically. I could do the work."

"It's cute that you want to try demonic magic," Adriel conceded, a smirk still on her face. "It doesn't matter about genetics when it comes to demons or even witches really. It's all about potential and power and how certain genes are awoken in people. Sometimes demon genes are dormant in a family for generations. Sometimes demon genes get passed along the generations that grow in power with every generation. Your mother had power. Your son has power. You do not. There's no way you'd be accepted to even audit a class at this school. And besides, what do you think Theo's going to learn with his father hovering around him, trying to baby him while he tries to achieve control over powers you couldn't even understand?"

"Can we at least call him at night after class?" Roman begged, desperate for a compromise. "When he's done his work and we won't be bothering him? Or see him on a weekend? For an afternoon?"

"Look, I'll mention it to the coven and the contact for the school. I can't guarantee anything though. There were no public phones at our school and this place is ancient compared to that. They're very strict about parents too. I'll see what I can do, but Roman, you should see this as a gift and not a sentence. These people will make sure that Theo can fix his episodes himself. There won't be any more worrying about him hurting people or having qualified people around him to save him from himself. The Pleasantview Academy can teach him magic, but only our people can teach him to be an adult demon safely."

"Is there at least a book I can read about what he'll be studying? Or one about how to help adolescent demons as they grow up? I do have many other kids with the same genetics as Theo. Who's to say that one of my girls won't need help with this as well?"

"I'm not a library," Adriel replied, rolling her eyes. "Try one of those, though I really don't think you have to worry about the rest of your kids. Dorhack's lineage really isn't anything to care about, aside from being a Great Demon. Like I said, your family tree is trash. None of your other children really have a chance of turning out like Theo."

"Dad, the Devil's here!"

Fiolett's voice rang out across the house, alerting the family to their visitor. Abe immediately bolted from the table, eager to confront the Sovereign about making choices for his son. To his disappointment, it wasn't the Sovereign in his living room, but her wife.

"Fi honey, that's Aunt Lucy, not the devil," he corrected quickly. "And really, devil's not the proper word either."

"But that's what Daddy calls her," the child replied.

Abe could hear Evren scolding his partner from the living room, something Lucy probably enjoyed.

"You call her what in front of the children?!"

"It's good to see you," Abe said, hugging his sister. "It's been a wild couple of days. I assume you're here to guilt me into handing my son over to some place I'm not allowed to visit? It's a little unnecessary. I mean, the Sovereign already forced her daughter to come get us on board."

"Ah, my lovely stepdaughter," Lucy replied. "Yes, if I had my way, that bitch would be the one heading out of the country. I'm Theo's godmother, I should be the one here yelling at you, not her."

"Yelling at me for what? What side are you on?"

"The side of common sense," Lucy stated. "Abe, Theo's at the age where this sort of behavior isn't cute anymore. He's going to end up killing himself and taking his boyfriend with him next time."

"It's never been cute, what-"

"My wife and the coven can see what's happening here. You don't really travel in the same circles that I do, so you wouldn't know, but this needs to be stopped before Theo grows up. He's trying new magic and only getting stronger every day. If he has an overload of power as an adult, it may take three adult demons to ground him instead of one. How are you going to guarantee that he's always near someone who can help him? How are you going to guarantee that he doesn't hurt someone in the future like this? What if he's holding your grandchild when he goes off? This needs to be addressed now."

"I know, Luce. I do know, it's just hard. This is my baby and I'm supposed to entrust him to demons alone for at least several months?"

"I'll keep him safe, Abe. I promised you I would when he was born. This is for the best, no matter how hard it is now. He'll be welcome back at the academy whenever he's cleared to return, so at least he's not being expelled like his father."

"How is Adam?" Abe asked, ignoring his sister's quip about Roman. "Is he going to be okay? Evren said the last time he saw something like this, someone died. If Theo goes back to that school, is there going to be trouble? Should I keep encouraging Theo to try to get in touch with him or should we just leave the family alone and hope they don't try to get Theo expelled later?"

"He's had some...complications," Lucy answered slowly. "I'm legally not allowed to discuss them with you, but I can say that he's going to live. I'd give him some space personally, if only to avoid his mother. She argued for Theo's expulsion pretty heavily and it took Master Maricourt begging the king of Strangetown to make up some bullshit mission for her to get her to leave the school. From what I gather, she took Adam for a day, but returned him to the school with his father for now. If Theo can make use of this information somehow, great, but I wouldn't hold my breath for Edana to let him see Adam anywhere else."

"Lucy! I'm so glad you're here. Adriel and I were just catching up," Roman called out. Beside him, Adriel's mood instantly soured upon seeing Lucy.

"Hello, Mother," she sneered. "It seems like you're everywhere I go lately. Always sticking your human nose where it doesn't belong."

"Just making sure that you didn't fuck up the only thing your mother asked you to do lately," Lucy replied sweetly. "She can't count on you for much else."

"She'll get tired of you one day, just like her last wife or cheat on you like she did with my mother. I wouldn't count on growing old with her, hell, I don't even give you ten years."

Lucy gave Adriel a pitying look.

"Honey, no one gets tired of me, I get tired of them. Trust me, I'm going to be your stepmom for awhile."

"Maybe you should come say hi to Theo, and give him the news yourself," Abe suggested, physically steering his sister towards the stairs and away from an angry demon. "I'm sure you can explain it to him in a way he understands."