#and when she ran the pieces of the puzzle tried so hard to be put back the way it was

[loveatfirstfight5-0]

@boazpriestly thanks for this coda, hope you don't mind I had to write this little something to get it out of my head ...

Never let me go

Steve had left after Daiyu Mei’s attack.

Danny understood why. At least, he had tried to.

Steve had spent a decade carrying weight that no one else could see. Losing his father. Losing Joe. Losing Freddie. Losing Catherine in more ways than one. Losing the future he had once imagined for himself. And when Daiyu Mei came back into his life, dredging up old wounds and forcing him to relive his father’s murder all over again, it was too much.

So, he left.

Danny had told himself that he understood. That Steve needed to figure out who he was when he wasn’t carrying Five-0 on his back, when he wasn’t holding the entire world together with sheer force of will. Danny had even convinced himself that he wasn’t mad about it. Because that would be selfish, right? Steve deserved to find his peace.

But when Steve had left—when he had actually walked away, boarded that plane without any kind of real plan or promise—he had taken something with him.

Danny had felt it the second Steve disappeared through security at the airport. A hollow space had opened up inside his chest, like someone had scooped out an essential piece of him and walked away with it.

And then, for weeks, months, nothing.

Sure, Steve checked in. Occasionally. A text here, a phone call there, always just enough to let Danny know he was alive but never enough to make it feel like he was still here.

Danny had kept going, of course. He had to. He had Charlie, and Gracie when she was home from college. He still had Five-0, sort of, though it wasn’t really the same. But every time his phone buzzed, he hoped it was Steve. And every time it wasn’t, he felt that stupid hollow space get just a little bit bigger.

Then one day, Steve had come back.

Like it was nothing. Like he had never left.

Danny had been standing in the middle of his kitchen, half a sandwich in his hand, when Steve knocked on the door and then just walked in. Danny had nearly choked.

"Hey," Steve had said, like he was coming home from a weekend fishing trip and not months away on some vague soul-searching adventure.

Danny had stared at him for a solid ten seconds before he spoke.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Steve had blinked, clearly thrown by the reaction. Like Danny was supposed to just roll out a welcome mat and hand him a beer.

"I, uh, came back?"

Danny had put his sandwich down and exhaled through his nose. "Oh, you came back, did you? Just like that? Like you didn’t up and vanish on me with nothing but a see you when I see you?"

Steve’s jaw had tightened, his body shifting in that way it did when he was bracing for a fight.

Danny had shaken his head. He wasn’t doing this. Not right now. Not when his heart was beating so damn fast in his chest that it actually hurt.

"Go home, Steve," Danny had said, turning away. "I can’t do this right now."

Steve had left without another word.

That was a week ago.

And now, Steve was here, standing in Danny’s living room, looking at him like he was trying to see straight through his skin. Like Danny was some kind of puzzle he was desperate to figure out.

Danny was tired. So tired.

He exhaled and let it happen.

"I loved you, Steve," he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "I was in love with you, and I—"

“Was?”

The word pushed down on Steve’s tongue, scraping hard like sandpaper across an open wound. His heart pounded ruthlessly behind his ribs, so loud in his own head that Steve was certain everyone within a ten-mile radius could hear it. “Are you not anymore?”

Danny let out a sharp breath and ran both hands through his hair before dragging them down the sides of his neck. “No,” he muttered, then groaned and shook his head. “I mean, yes, I’m still in love with you, but…”

Steve lifted his foot to take a step forward but set it back down just as quickly. The ache to reach out and touch Danny, to just hold some part of him—his hand, his wrist, the hem of his shirt—burned through Steve’s entire body like a dry log in the middle of an inferno.

He stayed put.

Danny turned slowly and looked at him, something in his expression crumbling just a little.

“Steve, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep chasing you and putting you first if you aren’t going to do the same for me.”

“Danny—”

“Please, just let me say this. I have to get it out before I lose my nerve.”

Steve nodded.

Danny exhaled and sat on the couch, covering his face with his hands briefly before patting the cushion next to him.

Steve sat as close as he dared, but Danny scooted over until their bodies touched.

Steve couldn’t stop the sigh of relief that escaped his mouth, or the way his body just lost all of its tension the second Danny’s shoulder pressed against his.

“Listen, I’m in love with you, Steve,” Danny said quietly. “I have been in love with you for so long, and I hate that it took you leaving for what felt like forever for me to be able to admit that out loud. I hate it so much. But what I hate more is that you left me. Here. Alone. Again.”

Steve swallowed, his fingers curling into the fabric of his jeans.

“And I get it,” Danny continued. “I get that you needed to go. I understand that you’re on this whole self-discovery journey, and I’m happy for you. I support you. But Steve, I need you to choose me. Not— not before yourself or whatever, but if you love me like you say you do, then I need you to choose me. Please.”

Steve opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Danny closed his eyes and nodded, like he had expected as much. “Yeah. Okay.” He moved to stand, but Steve grabbed his wrist.

Not hard. Just enough to say stay.

Danny stopped.

Steve loosened his grip, let his fingers slide down until they curled around Danny’s hand.

“I do love you,” Steve said, voice hoarse. “I love you, Danny. And I—I don’t know how to do this the right way. I don't know how to be good at this. But I don’t want to lose you.”

Danny exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around Steve’s. He tilted his head, eyes searching Steve’s face, trying to decide if he believed him. If he could trust this moment.

And Steve didn’t let go.

“I don’t need perfect,” Danny said again, softer this time. “I just need you to try.”

Steve nodded. “I’m trying.”

Danny studied him for another moment, then exhaled and sank back onto the couch. His shoulder pressed against Steve’s again, warm and solid.

This time, he didn’t move away.

“Okay,” Danny said finally. “Then don’t stop.”

Steve didn’t let go. And Danny didn’t pull away.

For a long moment, they just sat there, the silence between them thick but not heavy. Not the kind of silence that meant something was breaking. It felt more like something was settling. Something that had been unspoken for too damn long.

Danny exhaled, his fingers twitching a little beneath Steve’s, but he didn’t try to move. If anything, his grip tightened, like he needed to remind himself that Steve was still there.

Steve swallowed, his free hand rubbing against the seam of his jeans. He wasn’t good at this. Never had been. But this thing with Danny—whatever it had been, whatever it was—had always been different.

Danny sighed and shook his head, a small, self-deprecating smile curling at the edge of his lips. “I really didn’t expect you to grab my hand, y’know,” he muttered. “Thought you’d just let me walk out.”

Steve frowned, his fingers flexing slightly. “Why?”

Danny scoffed, tipping his head back against the couch. “Because you’ve let me go before.”

Steve flinched. He didn’t mean to, but it hit him square in the chest, stealing the breath right out of his lungs.

Danny must have noticed because he let out another sigh—less sharp, more tired. “I don’t mean that the way it sounded,” he admitted. “I just— I thought you were always gonna be the guy who needed to run. And I was always gonna be the idiot chasing after you.”

Steve’s throat felt tight. He turned slightly so he could see Danny’s face more clearly, the soft glow of the lamp throwing shadows across his sharp features.

“I don’t want to run anymore,” Steve admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Danny blinked, clearly surprised.

Steve licked his lips, his chest tightening as he tried to string words together. He wasn’t good at this. At explaining things. At making people understand what was happening in his head. But if he didn’t try—if he let Danny walk away again—he wasn’t sure he’d get another chance.

“I thought leaving was the answer,” he said slowly. “Thought if I got away, if I could just figure myself out, then I’d come back knowing what I was supposed to do. How I was supposed to fix things.”

Danny nodded slightly, but his expression was guarded.

Steve inhaled sharply. “But all it did was make me realize that nothing out there made sense without you.”

Danny blinked again, and this time, something in his expression cracked.

Steve let go of Danny’s hand just long enough to reach for his wrist again, his fingers sliding over the warm skin there, feeling the steady pulse beneath his touch.

“I love you,” Steve said, the words coming easier this time. “And I don’t know how to be the guy who gets it right all the time, but I do know that I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to run anymore.”

Danny exhaled through his nose, his eyes flickering away for a brief moment before coming back. His lips pressed together, like he was trying to decide whether or not to believe it.

“Okay,” Danny said finally, voice quiet. “Then don’t.”

Steve nodded, his grip tightening. “I won’t.”

Danny held his gaze for another long second before sighing and letting himself lean into Steve’s shoulder again. This time, he let his head rest there, like he was too damn tired to keep holding himself up.

Steve didn’t move. Didn’t breathe for a second.

Then, slowly, carefully, he turned his head just enough for his lips to brush against Danny’s hair.

Danny made a soft, barely audible sound but didn’t pull away. Steve exhaled.

Danny didn’t move for a long time. His head stayed where it was, pressed against Steve’s shoulder, like he was testing the weight of it, seeing if he could trust this moment—trust Steve.

Steve didn’t dare shift, didn’t even risk a deep breath, afraid that if he moved too much, Danny would pull away. That this fragile, tentative thing between them would shatter before he could prove that he meant what he said. That he wasn’t running this time.

Eventually, Danny sighed, the warmth of it ghosting across Steve’s collarbone. “So what now?”

Steve swallowed, his fingers still curled around Danny’s wrist, feeling the slow, steady pulse beneath his fingertips. He wasn’t sure if it was Danny’s heart pounding or his own, but it didn’t really matter.

He turned his head slightly, resting his cheek against Danny’s hair, just for a second, just to feel close. “I don’t know,” Steve admitted, voice low. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

Danny let out a quiet huff of laughter, but there was no bite to it. “That’s a start, I guess.”

Steve tightened his grip just a fraction, like a silent promise.

Danny exhaled again, and his fingers twitched against Steve’s knee before curling into the fabric of his jeans, holding on like he wasn’t quite ready to let go either.

After a while, Danny shifted, sitting up a little, but he didn’t move away entirely. He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling through his nose, and then turned slightly to look at Steve, really look at him.

“You don’t get to back out of this,” Danny said, quiet but firm. “You don’t get to tell me all this and then decide later that you’re not sure.”

Steve met his eyes, steady. “I won’t.”

Danny searched his face, like he was looking for a crack, for an excuse, for some reason not to believe him. But Steve didn’t give him one.

Finally, Danny let out a long breath, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Okay,” he murmured. “Okay.”

Steve nodded, his fingers still tangled in Danny’s.

Danny shook his head slightly, lips twitching, like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “You’re gonna drive me insane, aren’t you?”

Steve huffed a quiet laugh, shifting just enough that their knees bumped together. “Probably.”

Danny sighed dramatically, but there was a warmth in his expression now, something softer. “Yeah, well. That’s nothing new.”

Steve smiled, small but real.

Danny eyed him for a second longer, then sighed and muttered, “Come on,” before pushing himself up off the couch.

Steve frowned slightly, immediately feeling the loss of contact, but Danny just jerked his head toward the hallway. “I’m going to bed. And if you meant what you said, you’re coming with me.”

Steve’s throat tightened, but he nodded.

Danny didn’t wait. He just turned and walked toward his bedroom, and Steve—without hesitation, without doubt, without any of the fear that had kept him stuck for so damn long—followed.

Steve followed Danny down the hall, his heart thudding in his chest with something close to anticipation but edged with nerves. This was it. No running. No excuses. Just them.

Danny pushed open the bedroom door and stepped inside without looking back. He didn’t make a big deal about it, didn’t pause for dramatic effect—just kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head before tossing it somewhere in the general direction of the hamper.

Steve hesitated for half a second before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

Danny turned, watching him, his hands on his hips. “You planning on standing there all night?”

Steve huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he toed off his shoes. He pulled his shirt over his head as well, more hesitant than Danny had been, but when he met Danny’s gaze, there was no judgment there. Just something warm, something patient.

Danny slid onto the bed, sitting against the headboard, one arm resting casually across his stomach. He patted the empty space beside him. “Come on, Commander.”

Steve didn’t hesitate this time. He moved toward the bed, slipping under the covers, the warmth of Danny’s body immediately seeping into his side.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The room was quiet except for their breathing, and Steve realized that despite all the times they had been in bed together—not like this, but still—this felt different.

Danny shifted slightly, turning on his side, one arm tucked under his head. “You still good?”

Steve turned to face him, mirroring his position. “Yeah.”

Danny exhaled, his fingers twitching slightly against the mattress. “Okay.”

Steve watched him for a moment before hesitantly reaching out, his fingers brushing lightly against Danny’s wrist. He expected Danny to pull away, but instead, Danny let out a small breath and turned his hand, lacing their fingers together.

Steve squeezed gently, grounding himself in the moment, in the warmth of Danny’s palm against his.

Danny let out a quiet, tired laugh. “You realize I’m gonna make you work for this, right?”

Steve smirked. “Yeah, I figured.”

Danny shook his head, but his fingers tightened around Steve’s.

A beat of silence stretched between them, comfortable this time.

Then, quietly, Danny murmured, “Don’t make me regret this.”

Steve swallowed against the tightness in his throat and squeezed his hand again, just a little. “I won’t.”

Danny didn’t say anything else, just let out a slow breath and closed his eyes.

Steve stayed awake a little longer, just watching him, letting the reality of this settle into his bones.

No more running.

No more hesitation.

Just Danny, warm and solid beside him.

And this time, Steve wasn’t letting go.

“I loved you, Steve. I was in love with you, and I —“

“Was?” The word pushes down on Steve’s tongue, scraping hard like sandpaper across an open wound. His heart pounds ruthlessly behind his ribs, so loud in his own head that Steve’s certain everyone within a ten mile radius can hear it. “Are you not anymore?”

“No,” Danny says, pushing both hands through his hair and then dragging them down the sides of his neck. “I mean, yes, I’m still in love with you, but...”

Steve lifts his foot to take a step forward but sets it back down just as quickly. The ache to reach out and touch Danny, to just hold some part of him, even just the hem of his shirt or the cuff of his sleeve, burns through Steve’s entire body like a dry log in the middle of an inferno. He stays put. Danny turns slowly and looks at him.

“Steve, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep chasing you and putting you first if you aren’t going to do the same for me.”

“Danny...”

“Please, just let me say this. I have to get it out before I lose my nerve.”

Steve nods.

“Good. Okay,” Danny sits on the couch and covers his face with his hands briefly, then pats the cushion next to him. Steve sits as close as her dares, but Danny scoots over until their bodies touch. Steve can’t stop the sigh of relief that escapes his mouth or the way his body just loses all of its tension the second Danny’s shoulder presses against his.

“Listen, I’m in love with you, Steve. I have been in love with you for so long and I hate that it took you leaving for what seemed like forever for me to be able to admit that out loud. I hate it so much, but what I hate more is that you left me, here, alone...again. And I mean, I understand that you’re on this journey of self-discovery, and I’m happy for you and I support you, but Steve, I need you to choose me. Not like — not before yourself or whatever, but if you love me like you say you do, then I need you to choose me. Please.”

[polin-erospsyche]

Using @polinsated gifs to point this out because they’re beautiful ❤️

But it’s always going to be so wild to me that these two need two episodes from this kiss to figure their shit out. I know what is going on in both of their minds, I really do. He’s being hit by a 10 years worth ton of bricks and his world is shifting on its axis and it’ll never be the same from this point forth. She’s thinking this is the end of her little girl fantasy and the door is closing on her hopes and dreams and she will sacrifice those in order to be practical. In some sense too she’s growing up, she’s making what she thinks will be the mature choice. Someone once said that they’re standing on the door’s threshold and it’s symbolic, representing the threshold these two are on, swapping for each other’s place in some ways.

I know all of this. But you cannot deny the absolute softness that is in that kiss. It’s so delicate and they’re so careful it’s as if there is a spell on their kiss and this moment and it would break if they were any more forceful in their kiss. Yet there’s so much passion. Passion which is bursting at the brim, passion which they can barely hold back from it’s so strong. So they stay rooted into place, giving each other the gentlest of kisses lest the spell breaks and they give into each other and their wants. And the fact that they do not address this. That she pushes it under the carpet as soon as it’s brought up. That she decides to leave the dream, their kiss in that garden on that threshold locked away with a spell in a deep deep corner of her mind. That on the other hand he’ll never move on from that threshold, that spell which he will come back to time and time again in his dreams. The fact that she gave up on her dreams of him and he’s chasing his dreams to be with her. The fact that from this threshold they move in total polar opposite of each other and the doubts linger despite how soft and world altering the kiss was for both of them, it will never not be wild to me.

[allurilove]

A day in the life as Henry

Synopsis: Henry hated his father and his friends. He hated it even more when you left on a trip, and he was now stuck with four men that knew nothing on how to take care of a tyrant-like toddler, like him.

*This is just a short drabble of Henry! Henry is the readers child, and he’s the son of yandere husband! The new yandere fic will come out around thursday, and this is something I made on the spot lol.*

Henry found it odd when he was fed his favorite foods two nights in a row. He hadn’t seen a single broccoli in sight, or even that horrendous cabbage salad his father forced him to eat. It was all delicious fish with skin cooked to a crisp, then slathered in the green sauce made with fresh herbs. He was even allowed to eat whatever he wanted at any given time. It was slightly suspicious behavior, and he started to look back at the times he had done something good.

Let's see... he made a fuss when his father bathed him, cried when his father tried to joke around with him and put suds on his hair, and Henry ran around the house butt naked because he refused to put on his little star onesie. But, he did help his mother when she was gardening. One good thing he did for his mother completely outweighed all the bad with his father. So, they must have been rewarding him for being a good boy.

He opened his mouth when you fed him his favorite dessert next, and the moment he tasted the sweet applesauce, he gulped it down. He was too busy savoring the flavor to notice the look you shared with his father.

Henry rubbed his tired eyes as he finally woke up. He felt like he had been sleeping for hours and hours without end, and his body refused to get up. Henry hadn’t eaten this much before, but then he remembered his parents had used the same tactics before, and he had woken up at the doctor’s office. He couldn’t exactly say no to food, as you made it with love each time! You had definitely done this on purpose, and he was upset that he had fallen for it, and gotten into a food coma.

Damnit! He’s been bested, again!

Henry pushed the covers off him, his feet then landing on the ground as he pushed himself off his bed. He then huffed and puffed as he ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. The toddler was about to give his father a piece of his mind and make him feel guilty for getting his guard down. He wondered what was going to happen this time. Was he going to the hospital? Was he about to be replaced by that damn dog his father had been ogling for the past week? He reached the corner and saw a little glimpse of your suitcase walking out of the door. His eyes widened immediately, his brain finally putting the last piece of the puzzle together, and it felt like his whole world came crashing down.

You whispered in his father's ear all the time when Henry was around, your eyes glued to the computer screen, and when he swore he saw you buying plane tickets, you denied the allegations. You lied to him. You teamed up with his worst enemy (his father) and betrayed him.

You were leaving.

The child couldn't believe it! He knew his father needed you as much as he did, and there he was, letting you freely walk out of the house without a single look back! How could you be so heartless? He had expected that type of behavior from his dad, but not from you.

“Nooooo!” Henry whined as he rushed up to the now closed front door. He heard the lock slide into place and started to bang his fists on the wood. “Come back! You forgot to bring me with you!"

How was he supposed to survive with just his father to rely on? Who was he supposed to cuddle at night? Surely, you didn’t expect him to hug a man whose body was hard as stone and who barely had the decency to pat his back to help him go to sleep! His father paled in comparison to you. There was no competition anyway; you were number one in Henry's eyes.

Even though you told Henry to never swear again, he felt like his whole body was about to explode into exploitatives!

“You big fat poopy jerk!” Henry cursed as he started to tug at his father’s hair. It had only been a single day since you left, and he was already on edge. He had been fighting with his father since that morning, refusing to listen to anything he had to say. It all felt irrelevant. The only person Henry really listened to was the person who had just walked out of his life!

"Henry, please!" his father tried to hold the toddler back, but Henry's hands kept grabbing at any hair he could reach. Using his thumb and index finger, Henry pulled on his father's eyebrows for good measure, even twisting them and plucking a couple of strands.

"Ow! That hurts!" the older man winced at his own son's grubby hands. “Get him off, get him off!” yandere husband roared in pain.

Yandere husband's friends stood there in shock from the petulant display. They had never seen a toddler so feisty like Henry, and they didn't know what to do. Their eyes followed them as the two started to tussle in the living room. Henry's toys were still scattered about, and yandere husband tripped on one of the trucks. He howled in pain as the hard plastic object jabbed into his shin. Henry continued to squirm and kick, his face red with frustration. His determination to defy his father was unmatched, fueled by a mix of anger and sadness from your departure.

"Applesauce! Bring me the damn applesauce!"

It took four packets to calm Henry down, and with each sip, yandere husband could see his son's eyelids start to droop. Yandere husband groaned and rubbed his face to soothe the aching feeling, and soon he heard his son happily snoring away.

Henry had spent the rest of the week begrudgingly warming up to the fact that he was stuck with his father and his little group. He woke up, rubbed his eyes, and finally slept in his own room for once. His father came by around 8 am, and Henry let the man pick him up, resting his cheek on his father's shoulder. Henry was then placed into his highchair, where he watched as the four men tried to fulfill his needs.

One man was gently wiping the crumbs off Henry's face, another scooped up the peas on his plate and fed them to him, and a third fanned the kid as the temperature started to rise, while his father cooked the rest of his meal. Henry preferred this treatment, being doted on as if he were royalty.

After he finished breakfast, his father brought him back to his room and picked out his outfit for the day: a Polo Bear Cotton Jersey Tee paired with his trusty blue overalls. His father then combed his hair with his fingers, applying a bit of gel here and there, followed by applying sunscreen. And of course, his father couldn't help himself and gently pinched at his chubby cheeks.

Henry and his father went to the park, where kids around his age liked to play. The toddler mostly played on his own as he wasn't ready to socialize yet. Plus, it was scary to put himself out there. Deep down, Henry was terrified of a lot of things. He picked up his tiny purple shovel, digging away at the sand, and he noticed a shadow appeared above him. He expected it to be his dad, but the silhouette was too small. Henry slowly lifted his head, his brow quirked when he noticed a girl staring at him. She carried a green sandcastle bucket in her hand and seemed mostly interested in the shovel Henry was using.

She hadn't said anything, but Henry could tell she wanted it. His shovel was pretty cool. It wasn't a plain beach toy, it had glitter on the handle, and it was in the shape of a crocodile. Unsure of what else to do, Henry handed her the shovel. Her hand reached out eagerly to take it.

"Um… would you like to play with me?" Henry asked tentatively, his heart thumping as he hoped he wouldn't be rejected. His eyes quickly glanced down, and his face turned a light shade of pink. He felt almost embarrassed to even ask that question.

"Sure," the girl in front of him nonchalantly shrugged, sitting down next to him. "Would you like to build sandcastles with me?" She had a slight teasing smile on her face, her posture relaxed and carefree as she already picked up a good amount of sand with his shovel.

"Sure!" :)

[v3nusxsky]

Twofold ask about one topic, bear with me

1) If you can (no pressure), maybe a hurt/comfort with Larissa where we're able to save her life and look after her at the hospital/take her home and look after her there too? Poor girl is always looking after us and I wanna return the favor when she needs it the most

Or 2) If you can't work with that prompt or are too busy or w/e do you have recs for similar? Again no pressure, either is fine and I love your work. Arrivederci!

Anything for you

*Authors note ~ slowly but surely clearing the inbox hope y’all are enjoying daily gifts and the first instalment of love is the best medicine most definitely wasn’t wrote while in a lecture🫣*

Trigger warnings~ weems injury, Marilyn shade

Prompt~ see ask^^^^^

You don’t think you will ever get the image of her out of your brain, laying there looking deathly ethereal but her limbs were bent at unnatural angles as the needle lay empty beside her. The shimming sapphire liquid was still oozing from her slender neck. Yet it occurred little over two hours ago before your wife was rushed into Jericho’s hospital as a matter of emergency. Paramedics flinging long drawn out medical terminology between them not caring you understood nothing. Apart from the word poison. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together to complete the puzzle, that Normie bounty teacher tried to poison your wife. But why? Why would anyone want to harm someone so wonderfully unique?

The steady beeps that flowed steadily from her heart monitor were all that was giving you hope, sat at her bedside praying to a god you don’t believe in to bring her back to you. It can’t be her time to leave the earth, you have too many plans to start a family and grow old together. It would be cruelly to take it away before it’s even really began. You hadn’t even made it a year of being her wife yet. This can’t be fair. All you could do was clutch her Snow White hand in yours and pray she would pull through this. Marilyn would pay for this as soon as you knew she was okay. All the pent up anger and hurt from this moment would be channeled into ridding the world of her crap. But for now your wife needs you to be strong, to fight for her just as she would you.

Thankfully the antidote that was administered via an IV seemed to slowly be repairing the damage done to the shifters system, due to her capabilities she was healing. You don’t want to imagine what would be life if she didn’t have them. If you found her moments later you could’ve been too late and that thought is enough to shatter your heart into millions of tiny shards.

The moment she opened those beautiful icy blue eyes you cried tears of joy. She looked like hell but she was alive. Your wife. A fighter. Instantly you smothered her in love, praise and physical touch. Tiny kisses pressed to the palm of her hand as you cried and thanked her for fighting. You’d never let anyone hurt her like this ever again. The amount of love you held for Larissa Weems was overwhelming to say the least. A long road to recovery lay ahead but it was one you could walk together. Hand in hand like always.

The day she was released back to Nevermore under instructions for bed rest you knew your stubborn lover would be anything but easy to handle. Duty practically ran in every vein of her body, Nevermore being her pride and joy and its complete disarray due to Marilyn only fuelled her fire to jump back into work. “My love, if you do not lay back down I swear to god I’ll tie you to the bed” you threatened as she tried to escape to her office for the fifth time in an hour, “Nevermore is in good hands baby. Rest please it’s all anyone wants.”

Every four hours on the dot you returned with some more antidote and pain relief just to ensure there was no trace of nightshade or pain to be felt. “Larissa? My love? It’s time to take your medicine” you cooed seeing the shifter frown like a petulant child. “I don’t need it. I’m fine now. Please darling, Nevermore needs me” she pleaded her case for the umpteenth time this day. All you wanted to do was wrap her in bubble wrap and ensure she was safe. Nevermore would cope for a few more days while she recovers, yet Larissa was never the type to sit back idly while others did work.

Nighttime was the worst, Larissa would be plagued with that fateful evening replaying every night, she would feel the poison entering her veins as she woke up shivering from the cold sweat, dried tears staining her cheeks as she gasped for air. “You’re safe my love” you’d whisper as you passed her a bottle of water that you’d stocked up by the bedside for this reason, helping her hold her drink to her mouth due to the shaking. It was truly heartbreaking to see her in this way yet you remain strong for her. Marilyn now finally receiving the punishment she deserves and with Weems getting stronger with each day you knew the time would come to return to normal.

Settling back into bed with Larissa curled up on your chest, your hands playing with her silver locks in a comforting manner, you soak in the fact she’s living and breathing. Whispering words of comfort as you hope to lull the older woman to sleep. “Thank you for looking after me darling” she murmured sleepily to you as her eyes fluttered closed. You would spend all night holding her, fighting off the trauma she experienced only to spend all day ensuring she had everything she needed and more and of course that Nevermore was running smoothly once more.

The day Larissa finally returned back to work you saw a light in her beautiful eyes that you missed dearly. To think you almost lost her and then she was as stubborn as they come about recovery, to see her now getting ready for the day you felt incredibly lucky. “I love you Mrs Weems more than you’ll ever know and I’m just so glad you fight to be here with me every day. Nevermore has missed you dearly my love” you mumbled before pressing a sweet kiss to her lips causing her to chuckle. “Darling? You have a little something right there” she signalled to her lower lip where her ruby red lipstick had transferred to yours. Normalcy once again causing you to smile, she definitely left a mark on you, one in which you would wear proudly.

Word count ~ 1013

[leeofthevoid]

Not so Meet-Cute

Part Two: Did we or Did we not?

Farleigh Start x Reader

a/n: This is just a thing I had in my drafts.

Word Count: 2218

Warnings: Strong language, Explicit Content

You and Farleigh didn’t exactly have the meet cute you desired to have. 

It was the most awkward meeting you had since secondary school and it sucked ass. India hyped you up so much about how great he was and how you could at least bed him for one night since he was just that good.

Yeah…No fucking way. 

Everything went okay for the date but man, he didn’t even try. Flirted with all the girls and guys you walked past while having that park date his cousin and India prepared for the two of you. Apparently you two would click like puzzle pieces, but what did those two know about games that make you think hard. At the end of the ‘date’ you were left with two melting cones of ice cream while Farleigh had a different woman in his arms, flirting with her. A fucking twat. 

After a year of getting over that disaster, you are so tired of university and the fact that you had no avenue to destress, or what common folk say sexual frustration. You needed sex!

“India, I don’t think putting me in a shirt that spills my boobs out will attract the attention you think it will.” You comment as she hands you this corset type black top with matching A-line red skirt. “Relax, love. It’s our first day back in university and you deserve to turn heads.” You huff out a sigh of defeat and just grabbed whatever it is she asked you to wear. 

You put it on and felt like the air was squeezed out of you. “My! You look so gorgeous babes, I’d snag you up if I swung that way.” You rolled your eyes as she adjusted the clips behind your top, making it at least breathable. Guess you won’t be eating today. 

India was right, you did get a decent amount of attention. Even got yourself to turn heads from multiple people. Damn that diet and exercise bit your mum asked you to do with her over the summer payed off well. People started to reserve seats for you that you had to fight to get the year before. They complimented your hair, your eyes, your body. Well at least you had free lunch. 

Everything went well…Until a little disaster happened. It was your afternoon class and you might have had a little too much of Annabel’s vegetarian sandwich when you heard a small tear on you. You looked down and it was your top, not big enough to be of alarm though, maybe get it stitched after your classes. 

It did not go as planned. It started to rip off half an hour into class and you had to slide out from the room to run to the nearest bathroom. You barged in and opened the only cubicle that was working when the whole corset ripped in the middle of your chest, exposing your boobs if you didn’t hold on to it tightly with your hands. Curse these fabrics. Your friends all had classes and you didn’t even bring your own sweater. In short, you are fucked. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your wails were silenced when you heard a crash and the sound of footsteps hurriedly coming in, followed by sounds of…Kissing? No, moaning! Fuck!

“You’re doing so good for me, now be a good boy and open that door.” That voice sounded familiar and you were not excited about it. The other person…Guy whines as he tries to open your cubicle. The fuck is up with these bastards. 

“Shit it’s locked.” 

“Then force it open!” The more annoying voice said as the one pulling your door tries harder. After a few annoying and grueling moments of their struggle, you opened the latch and scowled at them. “Do you fucking mind?” You said, clutching the cloth on your chest as the other guy’s eyes widened. 

Holy fuck? Isn’t that Andrew? He was an apparent pussy-enjoyer and acted like that hetero straight guy. Guess the closet can be invisible. 

“Oh fuck.” Andrew said as he ran out of the bathroom. You are now left with that annoying shit you were praying to be so wrong about. 

“Hello, Farleigh.” Voice dripping with distaste, clutching on your top harder. 

He chuckled as he looked at you. Up and down with a wolf-whistle. “You look scrumptious, darling. Least you can do after ruining my little afternoon fuck.” He smirked, leaning on the door of the cubicle. “This is the women’s bathroom you little shit or did all that disease you carry finally blind you?” You said with annoyance,  crossing your arms over your chest securely, but your struggle didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Would have been a good insult if you weren’t in a bit of a situation yourself.” The sing-song voice was just adding more insult to injury. He was having a blast. 

“Well at least you get to witness what nice looking tits look like.” You proudly said while you sat on the cover of the toilet, crossing one leg over the other. “What good are those tits you flaunt if no one even sucks them.” 

“It’s called class, Farleigh. Bet you don’t even know the term ‘standards’. Yeah you should try that.” 

“Little Andrew too low for you?” He had an amused expression, waiting for another jab. 

“I guess you just take scraps now at this point. You desperate bitch.” You smiled up at him and raised your eyebrows. 

It would have been a victorious moment if your stupid corset did not eventually give out. It ripped fully and loudly like it sided with Farleigh. You clutched on it for dear life, eyes full of fear when you heard Farleigh’s guffaws. 

“Fuck! You know if you-you…Pffft.” He doubled over and clutched his stomach. “Shit, okay I’ll stop now. Pfft. Yeah okay I’m done.” 

“Fuck off, Start!” 

He collected himself and gave you a little smirk. “But…I’m your only hope at this point.”

He was fucking right. You had no choice. That evil grin on his face was slap-worthy but you wanted to go back and change without flashing the whole campus. You sighed in defeat and rolled your eyes. “Fine. Can I borrow your sweater?”

He smiled at you and looked at the spare knitted sweater hanging around his waist. “I mean…” 

“Farleigh!” 

“On one condition.” 

You groaned, “What!” 

“Well…A favor for a favor.” 

This bitch! Seriously! 

“Spill the fuck up or I will fuck your face up.” He gave you a challenging look before clearing his throat. 

“Go to my dorm later. I need to destress.” He winked as he threw you his sweater that you quickly wore to conceal yourself. He left before you could ask more and now you owe him a favor. 

Knowing Farleigh…It was a hundred percent sexual in nature. 

India heard about it, minus the Farleigh part. She just assumed a desperate boy offered you his sweater and tried to shoot his shot. 

You wish it was, could have been easier. You got to change into a more reasonable shirt but still kept the skirt going when India suddenly got a text from Farleigh. 

“Hey babes, remember that hot american cousin Felix has?” 

“…Date cheater?”

“Yeah. Well he told me to remind you about the favor.” 

You rolled your eyes and stood up. “India I have somewhere I need to be.” Your best friend was confused but simply nodded her head. 

You knocked on Farleigh’s door and immediately got pulled in. “What the fuck?” 

“Annotate my essay.” He pulled you to his desk and gave you a pen then jumped on his bed. That was…Unexpected. He was in thinner clothes, hands occupied with a book. Said nothing else to you and read his book. 

What the fuck? Okay then. 

The room eventually fell silent as you worked on his paper. Imagine being in your former shitty date’s dorm, annotating a decent essay. It was crazy. 

“Are you done?” He broke the silence, sitting up on his bed with a bored expression. It’s probably been an hour and surprisingly, you were done. “Yes, actually.” He wasted no time walking and leaned on the table, looking over your shoulder, checking your work. 

“Wow, tits and brains? You are the package.” You rolled your eyes while you looked up at him, eventually locking eyes. “That’s it? No weird sexual favors that usually get asked around?” Farleigh chuckled.

“Would you have given me a handjob if I asked?”

“No.” 

“See?” Well. He does have a point. You weren’t very discreet about disliking him. Even Felix knew about it. He squinted his eyes and then tapped your nose. 

“Actually…Wanna make-out? Just bored.” 

You know, if it weren’t for the lack of sex and fun, you would have never. But the curiosity and the boredom got to you too. 

“Sure.” You shrugged and broke eye contact by looking down at his desk again. 

“I mean, you did ruin my make-out session a few hours ago so…” You looked back at him with a scowl, his face visibly closer to yours.

He bit his lower lip, suppressing that fucking smile of his. “You know, what never min-“ 

Getting cut-off mid-sentence with his lips on yours was…Annoying. It was kind of an enjoyable annoying though. 

He was quick to spin the chair you sat on and held on the two armrests while slowly kissing you. Soft and tender like you imagined. 

He pulled you up the chair, hands snaking on the small of your back and the back of your neck, pulling you closer. The obvious size difference was a struggle, pulling you into his bed while you both traded desperate kisses. 

He sat on his bed, pulling you to straddle his lap. Man this fucker really loves dragging you around like a ragdoll, but the insults can wait. Pushing away from each other didn’t even last a few seconds until one of you pulled back in. 

He was so nice. So delicate. His lips were soft and his tongue, god his tongue worked wonders. He knew where you liked it and where you’d react, sliding down your bottom lip and exploring your mouth. He chuckled lowly when he could get a moan out of you, and even more so when his hands held a more sensitive part of your body. The room got degrees hotter than how it should be. 

“How far are you taking this?” You asked, out of breath. 

“Anything off limits?” His ragged voice, deep and velvety worked wonders on you but you had to stay vigilant. He’s still Farleigh.

“Anything down is a no-go.” 

“And tits?” 

“Fuck fine! Since you were so easy to insult the-“ He cut you off again with that big hand of his , massaging on your breast. It was just the right pressure to make you gasp. “Fuck.” You whined, causing you to wrap your arms around him. 

All of a sudden his door burst open. “Farleigh you won’t believe this, India said Y/N  got her shirt-“ Felix looked at the two of you on Farleigh’s bed, gossip cut short.

“Damn it Felix, knock mate. This is the fifth time!” You quickly got up from his lap and fixed yourself. “Hello, Catton. What did India say?” 

“T’s nothing. Carry on.” He quickly closed the door behind him and left. 

“I’m going.” You said while looking for your things, Farleigh just nodded and fell back on his bed. “See you around.” He said as you closed the door. 

The days after felt normal. India got the appropriate rundown of events that happened, excluding the parts that she would definitely share Felix. There were a few changes, being with Farleigh in the group. Having a bit more colorful back and forth when you are in the same space. The playful smirks and coy smile he has when his arms are wrapped around other people. Maybe let’s not forget the lingering touches he gives you when people are too occupied. 

“You know, that little toy you brought is interesting.” You jolted up as Farleigh dropped on the couch, bottle of cheap wine in hand. “Don’t get too interested now, I just managed to catch that one.” The party was muffled from where you sat, only the ones that passed out or was making moves with eachother settled in the living room with the two of you. “Speaking of, where is he?”

“David?” 

“Mhm?” Farleigh nodded then took a swig of his drink. 

“Huh…” There was a visible look of dumbfoundedness on your face when you realized you lost your date for at least half an hour now. “Holy fuck, I just lot my ticket to shagville.”

“Oh god…Ew!” Farleigh cringed, scooting away from you. “Seriously? Shagville? The fuck are you, ninety?”

“Oh, you’d want that so bad huh?” You teased. 

A comfortable silence enveloped the room. Farleigh continued to take drinks from his bottle while you lit up a joint he borrowed from you once in a while.

He blew raspberries, playing with his bottle or poking you. “So…”

“So…?”

“Wanna make-out?” He asked, voice slurring a little.

You shrugged, checked around th room for a few moments and just accepted the fact that your date is not coming back. 

“Sure.” You shrugged.

He nodded and stood up pulling you with him in search of a place to fool around.

a/n: Part two?! SMUT?!

[queenofbaws]

hi hi 👋 icyqueen I love your jossam fics on ao3 and am simply blown away by how you bring the characters to life, especially the crepes. Your dialogue is always so entertaining. Like how do you write them so well.

anyway, I’m hope you’re still doing requests cause I was thinking about that lovely wonderful fic “Walking in a Winter Wonderland” that I yelled to you about on ao3 and how I really enjoyed reading josh flip his shit over sams safety. So in that same vein, I was wondering if you could write about the until dawn final scene/flipping the switch but in Josh’s perspective. And how he would react to Sam being the who has to stall, face handigo and risk her life saving everyone.

The high school rumor mill didn't have shit on whatever it was the hospital had going on. Everywhere he went, there was another murmur, a whisper only half-hidden behind an out-of-date magazine - "They said..." or "Well, I guess..." or "What I heard..." - a piece of a puzzle he hadn't even known he'd been putting together, and high holy shit, he had never wanted to know the ending of a story less.

But he'd grown up in a house where plots were discussed at the dinner table; where twists were dismissed as too predictable or not predictable enough. Just because he didn't want to know how this one went didn't stop the knowing from happening.

So he waited until she came to do her usual round (visiting Jess as her stitches healed, visiting Mike as he worked his way through PT, visiting him as all the king's horses and all the king's men tried to put his ass back together again). And then he asked.

"What's this I keep hearing about a light switch?"

Sam watched him for a second, maybe two, maybe a hundred and thirty-seven for all he knew, then blinked and shrugged as if he'd asked about the weather. "I don't know. What do you keep hearing about a light switch?"

And there it was: The Impasse. The one they'd been sidling along since he'd been dragged out of the mines, his eyes too sensitive to open in the sunlight. Most days they just sort of crept towards it, talking pleasantly enough without actually approaching the edge; today it seemed they'd decided to jump in headfirst, not bothering to check for handrails or safety nets before careening towards the dark, spiraling pit that was This Conversation.

Sam watched him. Sam blinked. Sam waited, and waited, and waited, and if her goal had been to show him how it felt, being appraised and goaded and puppeteered at his most vulnerable, well...he couldn't say it didn't work. A little, anyway. He had to figure it still wasn't quite the same - she'd had that nice, fluffy towel after all, and the only thing he had was a flimsy old hospital gown.

"Rumor has it," he started again, fighting to keep his tone blasé (or, at the very least, level), "you weren't exactly conforming to air safety rules the other night." When it didn't get a response, he sniffed and explained the joke, "Y'know. Help yourself before you help others. Attach your oxygen mask first."

She sat on the visitor chair and watched him. One ankle folded over the other, and as the hem of her pantleg rode up, he could see the bandages wrapped beneath. Still white. So there was that.

"You just, what, pulled a Scooby-Doo? Ran around, clapped your hands, hid under furniture, that kind of thing? Where'd that athlete's spirit go, huh? Where'd miss 'Oh-don't-worry-about-it-I'll-just-fucking-CLIMB-out-of-this-mineshaft-barehanded' go? Don't tell me I took it out of you down in the basement, because we both know you barely broke a sweat at that, so - " He realized his face was getting hot and stopped. His chest had gone tight too, but there were a million reasons that might've happened, so he didn't bother looking the most obvious in the face. Instead he swallowed hard and forced himself to mimic himself, pressing his mouth into a slash a passerby could've mistaken for a smirk. "What gives?"

Sam shrugged. She didn't seem interested in doing much else. Maybe she was worried there was still something wrong inside of him, something inhuman, something that would pounce if she stood or shook her head or tucked her hair behind her ear; maybe she just didn't care. "Someone had to be the last one out," she explained, and again, her tone suggested something about the weather.

"But why you?"

"It had to be someone."

"But why you?!" And fuck, maybe there was something still wrong inside of him, because suddenly his vision was blurred and his lungs ached like they'd been squeezed. His face prickled, his stomach twisted, and none of it was normal - none of it - none of it was right. The room was too small and too bright and too fucking sterile, leaving him nowhere to hide.

"You could've died!" he found himself saying (though he guessed he might've just imagined it, the ringing of his ears so high and shrill). "You could've fucking died, and for what? For who?! For them?! What if something had happened to you - what if you'd gotten hurt? What if - " I was alone, his traitorous mind finished for him when his voice shattered and broke, What if I'd woken up in this awful fucking place without my sisters AND without you? What if what if what if...

It wasn't until he dropped his head into his hands that he heard her leave her chair; it wasn't until he felt the shitty mattress pad dip beside him that the tears came. But by then her arms were around him and she'd somehow saved him too, her skin so warm against his she might as well have just stepped away from the fire.

The hospital rumor mill would have a field day with this one, he thought, but that would be fine. He didn't have the first clue how this story was going to end - only how he wanted it to. He'd take all the help he could get.

[sleepybabybees]

How nik found out about the raccoon.

When Nik first met price, he vaguely recalls that price had a scratch on his face, and he remembers he asked about it. Price being price and having a grudge against his Lieutenant at the time muttered something along the lines of "The bloody raccoon got his claws on me-" and from then on Nik fully believed that Price owned and tamed a wild raccoon.

Every time the two would see each other, he would ask him how the sweet darling was doing. Price, now having realised Nik has no idea who Simon is, downloaded photos of raccoons to show nik and play along with the joke that he never even intended to start. When Price told laswell about what he had accidentally done, she laughed so hard she began to cry, not because it was a funny joke but because Simon genuinely looked like a raccoon once he took off his mask...or so she'd heard.

So when one night when Nik was staying at the 141's base, he got up to make some tea to soothe him back to sleep and ran into a blonde soldier in the kitchen, a dark paint smudged over his eyes and bridge of the nose. They locked eyes and just stared at one another for a moment whilst Niks brain put puzzle pieces he didn't even know he had together.

----

Nik: HOLY FUCK- YOURE THE RACCOON-

Ghost: I beg your pardon?

Nik: you- you're the pissing raccoon that John keeps mentionin'

Ghost: ...he better sleep with one eye open or ill scratch the other side-

Nik: why did you even-

Ghost: he tried to take my mask to clean it- it always smells like fucking- i dont know- honeysuckle and sandlewood- the recruits keep asking me about why it smells so good-

Nik: OK, trash panda. I understand

Ghost: I hate you-

Nik: too bad.

[sisosign2]

Babysitting With You 🤱 | Mike Wheeler x Fem!Reader

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Warnings: Caught making out/performing explicit behaviour, implying having sex, mentions of slight bullying.

Summary: Y/n invites Mike over but forgets she was meant to babysit her little brother so he offers to help.

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"So... you're parents are out of town all day?" Mike asked with a smirk, sitting on the couch with her, she rolled her eyes. "Yes Mike, and no, we can't do what you're thinking of." She said, pushing his face away as he tried to kiss her. "Oh come on baby... pleaseee." He pleaded, kissing her hand, she sighed, rolling her eyes. "Fine, we can kiss for a little while." She said, nearly being cut off as Mike practically slammed his lips into hers, his hands moving to her hips and lifting her onto his lap, her hands cupped his cheeks instinctively. Their lips locking together like two puzzles pieces, his fingers fiddled her her shirt, untucking it and reaching under it while she played with his hair and kissed back. He touched her back, causing it to arch and earning a gasp from her, accidentally allowing him access to her mouth. He tongue slipped in quickly, fighting hers while his hands tried to figure out exactly how one was to undo a bra hook, he worked away while trailing his kisses down her neck. Once undone he smashed his lips back against hers, wanting more, his hands cupping her breast. "What are you two doing?" Y/n's little brother chirped up, he had been sat next to them for what seemed like half of their makeout session. "Nothing! Nothing..." She said quickly, fixing her bra and his hair. "W-well... could you help me?" Her brother asked timidly, holding some crumpled paper. "What's this Dimples?" She asked, Mike couldn't help but smile, Y/n always called her brother cute things like Dimples, for the obvious reasons that is. Y/n looked at the paper and sighed. "Are you being made fun of at school?" She asked softly, placing her hand on his cheek, her brother nodded and turned away, clearly embarrassed. "Hey, hey, it's okay little guy, everyone gets made fun of at least once in their lives..." Mike said softly, patting his shoulder. "Yeah bud, I mean, Mike and I were made fun of all throughout middle school." She said softly, lifting him onto her lap. "But you two are like, the coolest people ever." Her brother said quietly, making them smile. "I guess it's hard to tell for some people." Mike said ruffling his hair. "What do you say... we make a batch of your favourite cookies?" Y/n said, trying to cheer her little brother up, her brother nodded happily and ran off to get something. "What's he doing?" Mike asked, Y/n turned to him and smiled. "Getting into his little chef outfit." Y/n said softly, standing up and leading him to the kitchen where she grabbed out the ingredients for cookies. They all made cookies, all ending up with flour all over their face and Mike even had cookie dough in his face from her brother putting it on his face, they were all laughing and having fun while making the cookies. Y/n picked up a bit of dough and wiped it onto the tip Mike's nose. "I feel like I'm getting ganged up on." Mike said teasingly, picking them up and spinning them around for a bit while they laughed, by the time the cookies were in the oven they were exhausted, Mike had went to clean his face and Y/n's brother went to get something upstairs. When Mike came out of the bathroom he was shot on the forehead with a toy arrow, Y/n's brother giggling as he saw Mike's face. Mike chased him around and picked him up pretending to beat him up while Y/n was laid on the carpet practically falling asleep.

[dracosrep]

~Missed You~ D.M

(fluff, semi-smut)

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

PAIRING: Draco Malfoy x Y/N

WARNINGS: fingering in public

SUMMARY: Draco teases Y/N during breakfast at Hogwarts.

I just woke up, but not in a great mood. I studied all night for the charms test hoping I will get at least 60/100.

I decided to get out of bed earlier so I can get ready, for what's next. My boyfriend Draco got a break from Hogwarts because of personal causes. It's been two weeks since he left. But yesterday he sent me a letter to let me know that he's coming back today.

Me and Draco have a really great relationship. We fit perfectly like puzzle pieces. And my God, those ocean blue eyes. I feel like they hypnotize me. I'm so lucky to be with him, he's just so kind. Not to mention all the love and the attention he gives me.

I put on my uniform and fix my hair then I search for my books. I finally got myself out of the room with so many things going inside my head 'What personal causes?' 'Why didn't he tell me?'

I enter the Great Hall and my eyes are looking for him everywhere. He didn't arrive yet, I guess. So I go and sit next to Pansy.

"Hey how are you girl?" Pansy spoke to me but I didn't notice, I was too busy looking for him in every inch of this big room.

Pansy noticed that I'm constantly turning my head. "Who are you looking for- oh" Draco entered the hall, immediately he saw me and rushed to me. I quickly got up and ran to him. He embraced me in a long, big hug.

"I missed you." He softly spoke to me. "I missed you more." I whispered to him. He split the hug so he could look at me. "No that's impossible, I'm sure I missed you the most!" He seriously said. I smile at his words but I couldn't say a single thing before he pressed his lips on mine. He kissed me with so much passion.

"Draco, let's head to the table. It seems like we're being watched." He then looked around before nodding and taking my hand to go to the table.

We sat down at the table next to each other. Pansy saw that one coming so she switched seats, now she's sitting next to Blaise. At first Draco had a talk with them then he started talking to me.

"What did you do without me, hm?" He said in a deep voice. "Not much, studied, hard" He raises his eyebrows. "What for?" I took a bite of an apple,Draco watching my movements. "We have a charms test today. I couldn't sleep because of it" He sighs. "You know you should slow down with these things, you are taking them too seriously. They are just classes after all." He spoke.

"I'll try. Well what did you do?" I was really curious, he didn't mention anything in the letter.

"Oh I had some important family meetings, nothing fun really." He drunk some juice before saying again. "I would prefer to stay here with you anytime than going to those meetings." I softly chuckle. "I thought you hated Hogwarts!" He took a bite of his food. "Yeah but with you here, it's different. You are the only reason I'm still here in this pathetic school."

I smile before looking into his eyes. Like I said they take my breath away. Moments of silence and just staring at each other hit. He was gorgeous.

"Mate so you see.." Blaise broke the silence so he could talk with Draco about some new quidditch stuff. That's when Draco put his hand around my waist.

I kept eating and suddenly I felt his hand lifting up the back of my shirt. He slid his hand under my shirt. His cold hand sent me shivers down my spine. I tried to act normal but he started to slowly move his fingers drawing circles on my back.

This man. I don't know what he's doing but I know he's driving me insane. He's teasing me. He actually enjoys it.

I looked at the table looking for pancakes. They were far away on the table. I get myself up so I can reach them pushing myself into Draco as a tease. My skirt lifts up. I just feel him smirk. I take the pancakes and put them on my plate, I sit back down. My man didn't waste any time before putting a hand on my skirt.

He slowly starts to slide his hand in. He already feels my wetness. I slightly gasped when I felt his hand on my clit. He started moving his fingers. I tried so hard to act fool. He inserted a finger in my pussy. I covered my mouth trying not to make a sound. He was watching me, he was just enjoying how I'm struggling. He added another finger and started to move them in and out. I couldn't help but silently moan.

Pansy turns her head. "Y/N are you alright?" Draco kept doing his work while I was trying to respond to Pansy. "Y-yes I am. I just have- mm cramps" I finally spoke. Then I felt a familiar knot in my stomach. I was close.

Draco was almost laughing at me watching me like this. "I'm close.." I whispered to him. He nodded and approved that I can cum on his fingers, so I did. Another silent moan hitting.

Draco smiled and said to me. "I missed you like this too." He chuckled. I playfully rolled my eyes.

"Then that means I'm not gonna sleep tonight either."

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Hey! This is my first ever written story. I hope it's good. I would like to hear opinions. I really enjoyed writing this so I think I'm gonna keep writing. I take requests! 🫶🏻

[myinconnelly1]

Hard at Work - The Interview

Summary: Katie Thompson is good at solving problems, so naturally when an offer for a work study at Stark Tower arrives, she signs up. Will her Omega designation help or hinder the training of the new superheroes.

Word Count: 812

Masterlist

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, heat mentioned

Katie shouldn’t feel this hot.  She knew that heats got worse as you got older, but she had only had two others in her life.  Hell, she wasn’t even old enough to drink her problems.  She huffed as she let her hands run over her breasts slowly, in the way that she wanted to be touched but hadn’t.

In the silence of the library, she let her eyes drift closed.  She had let the air conditioning invite her into the forest of fantasies, away from the humid heat of the late evening.  The whole building would be empty at this time of night, and she should have been in her room for sleep but the need to move had brought her out sneaking around the campus.  She only hoped that wasn’t caught by any of the Avenger’s.  She didn’t want to be kicked out of her work study. 

A sigh left her parted lips as she touched herself slowly letting her feeling build as the heat started to take over her senses.  She thought about the alpha she wished was touching her right now.  How soft his hair would feel as she ran her fingers through it.  She wondered how he would sound as he touched her and felt her. 

3 Weeks earlier

“Ms. Thompson?  The boss will see you now.”  Katie startled as she heard the sultry tone of the AI in Stark tower.  “Just go through the second door.”  It was impressive to her that Tony Stark had managed to program a computer with the idiosyncrasies of an accent.

“Thanks,” Katie said nervously, then went through the indicated door.  “Good afternoon, Mr. Stark”

“Katherine Thompson, Boss,” Friday introduced her to the superhero fidgeting with a design.

“Thanks, Friday.  I kinda hate small talk, so let’s cut right to it.  I saw from the questionnaire that you filled out you’re fairly new to your designation, and that your teachers mostly give you good grades.  How do you feel about cameras?”  Tony just jumped into his questions with no time for Katie to prepare for the abruptness of his questions.

“Well, I flunked Drama class in high school and never went back,” She laughed nervously.  “But in general, I don’t have a problem with them.”

“Good, I have them all over the campus.  Is there any special reason I should bring you on board for this work study?”  He asked.  Tony still hadn’t looked at her he was working some kind of 3D puzzle design.  Katie hated that question in interviews though.  She was smart enough to get by but some of her decisions got her in trouble.  And no matter how hard she tried she hadn’t learned from those mistakes.

She walked up to Tony’s right-hand side and flicked four pieces into place in quick succession.  The rest of the design fell into place as the computer finished the logical conclusion to what she had set in motion, and Tony quirked his head to the side as he took in both the design and the young woman that was standing next to him.

“I’m pretty good at puzzles,” Katie offered with a useless shrug.  “What is it that you are trying to get out of this work study?”

“My goal is to get a new team prepared ready for fighting for the world.”   He said as he put the design away and took his seat, motioning for her to sit as well.

“Why do you need Betas and Omegas?  Aren’t all superheroes Alphas?”  Katie asked, realizing for the first time since being in the room that Tony’s scent wasn’t all that strong or offensive.  Sure, he lived here so it smelled of him, but it wasn’t overpowering like most Alphas.

“No there are some that are Beta’s, but it’s a fair question.  A lot of our Superhero’s struggle with their image of being impulsive and rough.  It’s not really their fault, a lot of the “powers” they have are hampered when suppressants are introduced.”  Tony’s shrugged as if everything was simple.

“So, this is like a chance for prospective superheroes to learn how to live in society?”  Katie was obviously skeptical.

“Actually, you’re not far from the goal.  Think of this work study as school on how to behave and get some training for both to be superheroes as well other extraordinary people.”  Tony stood up extending his hand.  “You are the first person I have interviewed that figured out what were trying to do here without being told.  I think you are the right kind of person for us.”

Katie shook his hand, slightly stunned.

“If you are inclined to accept my offer, just bring your things here to stark tower.  We will get you set up in your dormitory.  Food and lodging will be provided for you as long as you chose to stay.  Classes start Monday,” Tony joked.

Part 2

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Are there Avengers or Hell's Kitchen People that you would like to see in this fic? It's been so long since I've written anything!

[detcodrivels]

Crossroads

(A Detective Conan Short)

Ran had left that morning like an overcast sky filled with dark grey clouds, drooping low and heavy with the threat of rain. But like that calm before a violent thunderstorm, she had gone in silence. Sometimes he took her resilience for granted, he supposed, her sweetness, her natural inclination to forgive, to try to accept and understand. She gave so much of herself to others. He wondered where she got that from. Not him, surely. Eri, then? He frowned and reached for the breast pocket of his suit coat, shaking a cigarette loose from the package before he remembered he was in a nonsmoking establishment. With a sigh, he dropped it back again, changing course for the cup waiting for him to his left. No, he decided as he took a healthy sip, he and Eri were fiercely proud individuals, too proud…Far too proud. Certainly, neither of them shared their daughter’s tolerant nature.

Then again, it wasn’t as though she let people walk all over her. She put up with a lot, certainly, but Kogoro had seen her snap, had witnessed the end of her long rope, and though ferocious and tempestuous, like lightning flashing in a night sky, it was somewhat awe inducing, something which caused his invisible heartstrings to pull with pride that he supposed only a father would know. His beautiful, independent, strong-willed, but patient and caring and selfless little girl.  The various cushions that had been reduced to threads and the dents that peppered the walls of the office did not share in this pride, but it was his privilege as a father to overlook the destructive price her repressed turmoil unleashed. And he understood. More than she, hopefully, would ever know. He knew how she struggled, how hard she worked to keep her own emotional rollercoaster from running off the rails. And he knew his own contributions to the storm.

Yes, that part he knew all too well.

He knew it didn’t help that he and Eri refused to settle their score. He couldn’t even remember why they’d split up in the first place now. And maybe it didn’t matter. The love was still there. He felt it every time he even thought of her name…yet it was so hard, so incredibly impossible when they were eye to eye.

He knew it didn’t help that he made the wrong choices again, and again…and again. The late nights with his mahjong buddies, the pachinko parlors, horse racing and ever enticing bliss of copious alcohol consumption; it all added fuel to the raging inferno that was rapidly spreading over every corner of his simple life. But these habits, as deplorable as they may be in hindsight, felt more and more like his last and only escape.

He had always valued justice, honor, and integrity…that was why he had become a police officer, and why he’d pursued private practice after that. In every system, every hierarchy, there was opportunity for corruption, for red tape and restrictions to limit the scope of one’s ability to influence, to help and to be true to their convictions. Not that the Metropolitan Police were in any way unethical, he just found that the regulations could interfere with the lengths he wanted to go in order to ensure righteousness prevailed. But the tangled, intertwined web he now found himself wrapped up in was more than he had ever bargained for. Be that as he may, he was determined to see it though. To play his part. Even if that part was to be the fool.

He wasn’t the brightest bulb. He could admit that to himself. He tried to portray a poised and confident suave demeanor, but it crumbled fast, his ego battered and beaten by the many times he had found himself as the punchline of many a joke. He got flustered and muddled. Try as he might, the clues rarely consented to add up together properly, or worse yet he’d miss something crucial altogether. But with every case he tried to see it, to piece the infuriating puzzles together as quickly as his many colleagues managed to do so, to study their approach and mimic it. He tried to be what the newspapers said he was. THE Sleeping Kogoro, a genius detective. But the act could be incredibly tiring, exhausting down to the bone, and the stakes were greater than ever now, all of it culminating into a pressure too great for his shoulders, and in his moments of weakness, when it was all too much, then he slipped back into the worst of those bad habits, let himself down, let Eri down, and Ran, too. And Ran truly didn’t deserve it. She had enough of her plate as it was without having to feel like the adult between the two of them, responsible for her father.

The walls around his life seemed to have been narrowing over the last year, ever since Yusaku Kudo paid him a visit to explain the most bizarre, unbelievable, ludicrous, and terrifying situation he had ever heard. Fumiyo Edogawa had left with Conan just a half hour prior. Ran had just gone off, summoned urgently to Sonoko’s for some kind of wardrobe emergency (Or so the phone call indicated). And then, as soon as she had exited the office door, it had opened again. Yusaku Kudo. Kogoro tried not to resent and envy him. He had always been so bright, so above it all, seemingly, and he never struggled to connect the dots in any case. Nonetheless, he had not the drive to put his exceptional mental abilities to work solving crime and getting the bad people off the streets. Instead he gallivanted all over the world, thinking up more and more ingenious ways for criminals to get away with murder.

But Kogoro had welcomed him in and offered him a seat at the couch, started tea, since Ran wasn’t there to do so, and muttered something about not realizing he was back in the country. It was as he turned back from the kettle that he’d noticed the urgency in Yusaku’s eyes, the utmost seriousness and Mouri had reacted by stiffening his own shoulders, as if he were about to be given an order.

“It’s about Shinichi, isn’t it,” Mouri had guessed.

He had tried to not to get too worked up when the kid had stopped showing up in school, but Ran mentioned it almost daily. He knew Shinichi shared his father’s keen and shrewd mind, but with an accompanying itch for justice and truth that probably got him into more trouble than was good for a sixteen year old. But then, Shinichi hardly seemed sixteen sometimes. He had lived alone, taken care of himself and was generally responsible, so when Ran had come home from Tropical Land and said he’d run off following the lead on a case, neither of them had been particularly alarmed. Surely he would turn up sooner or later. But then days turned into weeks, and weeks into a month. They’d been busy. Conan showed up, for one thing, and Mouri had been occupied with cases almost every day of the week. His bouts of amnesia had started, too. The time had slipped by and then finally Shinichi had reached out to Ran, some story about the being held up on a case longer than he expected and Mouri had let the matter rest. It was negligent, in retrospect.

Yusaku’s solemn nod was morose and grave. He had leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, a pyramid formed with his fingertips, like some kind of imitation of Holmes. “Where to begin…” he had mused with a helpless quirk of his brows. Then, without waiting for Mouri’s response, he went on, “I’m sure you’re privy to all available details regarding the circumstances of Shinichi’s absence.”

Kogoro had nodded, a nervousness creeping up under his collar. “Ran said he was on a case… I know he hasn’t been at school, but he sticks his nose into cases here and there. Calls often enough… I figured he at least let you two know where he is exactly…”

Yusaku bobbed his head in accordance with Mouri’s summation of the past month’s events, but with an anticipative air, waiting for his moment to pick up the tale. “He’s closer than you’d think,” Yusaku murmured dryly. “Truthfully, it’s been hard for me to believe it, but with the impossible removed all that remains is the improbable, and as Occam’s Razer says, the simplest answer is the best.”

Leave it to Yusaku Kudo to find the most complicated way of saying something.

“What I am saying is that my son disappeared after visiting Tropical Land and that very night, on the outskirts of said amusement park, a six year old boy was discovered by the security officers, a boy who ran from the police straight to my house, and who Ran found with Dr. Agasa in my library. A boy,” he finished, his youthful face betraying lines of fatigue and stress, “Who coincidentally bears a name created from the conglomeration of two famous mystery authors, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and Edogawa Ranpo.”

Mouri had swallowed a hard lump, jogged into motion by the sputtering of the kettle. “Dr. Agasa said he was a relative. You’re saying Shinichi’s disappearance and Conan’s appearance are connected?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Mouri waited patiently through Yusaku’s dramatic interlude.

“From what I understand, and I’m likely to know more in the next few days, Shinichi stumbled across some kind of illegal transaction between members of a sophisticated, international crime syndicate and a business owner. While he was gathering evidence of the crime, he was discovered—.”

Here, Mouri had interrupted, “—But Ran has spoken with him! He calls! If he was hurt or… He solved a case just the other day over the phone…!”

“The associates of the criminal organization intended to silence him, but their plans went awry in a most unexpected way,” Yusaku supplied readily. “It seems they had developed a poison, one which would dissolve within its victim, traceless, lethal, a terrifying advancement in chemistry, and they chose Shinichi as the lab rat. But the drug did not work as intended. In fact, it worked in a way I’m sure the organization could not have begun to predict.” Yusaku’s earnest eyes met Mouri’s with a willing intensity, pushing him connect the pieces together.

Once the thought entered Mouri’s head, there was no dispelling it, no matter how insane it seemed. Could Conan Edogawa and Shinichi Kudo be one and the same? Was that the conclusion Yusaku was trying to imply? In some small way, it made a lot of things make sense. The kid was always fluttering around at crime scenes, pointing out small details, poking his nose behind the crime scene tape without a bit of the natural reservation one would expect for a six year old, none of the fear or disgust that ought to be present. And the details he pointed out were always important, always key bits of evidence. Only a mystery nut like Shinichi would come up with a stupid alias like ‘Conan Edogawa,’ too! And Kogoro had seen more success since the boy showed up. His fame, his recognition as a detective only started AFTER Conan had arrived and started guiding the investigations. His amnesia had started up around then, too.

And the more he thought about it, the more sense it made, the more he felt as though he already knew, even before Yusaku spelled it out for him. He knew the pricking feeling, like a spark against his skin, the last thing he’d feel before he’d wake up having solved another case. And then there was the time that he’d started to rouse just slightly and he could hear himself, as if the voice were emanating from the air itself, so competent, so controlled, exposing the devious tricks of the culprit to the room of stunned and attentive suspects. He’d done the logical thing and told himself it was just some kind of delusion, some kind of side effect of his isolated memory loss. He only THOUGHT his mouth wasn’t moving. He only THOUGHT his voice was emanating from elsewhere. It made sense if the brat was somehow shooting him with a tranquilizer and inducing the sleeping state, then emulating his voice to deliver deductions, because no one would listen to the deduction show of a six year old…

The emotions had flooded him in distinct and ferocious waves. Indignation, fury, confusion, worry… Why hadn’t Shinichi just explained the truth? How could he so callously let Ran wait for him, let her carry to burden of his absence and yearn for his presence while all along he was standing right beside her? How dare he repeatedly inject him with God only knows what kind of serum and impersonate him!?

“I can’t pretend I’m entirely on board with how he decided to handle the situation,” Yusaku remarked, as if reading Mouri’s mind. “He had to think fast, though, and Dr. Agasa did suggest that he position himself alongside you, and keep his identity secret, just in case the syndicate came to check up on their attempted elimination. It is true that were the criminals to know the truth, both about the drug’s effect and that Shinichi survived, it would pose danger to all of his associations. I have made contacts with friends in Interpol and other authorities in an attempt to facilitate their capture and dismantling, but so far I have no leads, and in the meantime, Shinichi Kudo cannot exist. You may have suspected already, but Fumiyo Edogawa was just Yukiko in one of her disguises, and we have a plan by which we intend to show him the true danger he’s in. It is my hope that we can take him out of the country, but…” Yusaku sighed, breaking off his stream of words with an almost wistful expression, “Knowing my son, no matter how the next couple of days play out, he won’t want to leave. He’ll want to solve this case, to hold the criminals accountable for what they’ve done and bring the organization to justice. That is why I came to see you. Because in order for him to do that, should he choose to, in order for him to remain here with access to information to cases and criminal activity, he would need to remain in your custody.”

“So you want to run away to America again? You said it was an international syndicate. What if they follow you?”

“Our information is so limited right now. There’s little else that can be done…”

Something about the way Yusaku finished made Mouri think there was an unspoken “Unless” lingering in the stale air between the two of them.

Mouri surprised himself when he filled in the unspoken statement himself, “Unless we wait for them to make a move, linger and wait in the right place, for the right time.” He warmed to the concept quickly, gathering momentum with every word, “The more cases I take, the more likely I’ll stumble upon their activity. The more information I can glean, the better chances we have to take down the organization, to determine the components of the drug and procure an antidote. You won’t say it, but you’re asking me to play along, aren’t you? To let him stay here, to let him hide behind the ‘Sleeping Kogoro’ he created?”

“It’s a lot of ask…”

Mouri flashed him a dark glance.

No, Mouri wasn’t the brightest. He wasn’t a genius. He wasn’t like these crazy natural detectives with their lightning fast deductive abilities and photographic memories, with databanks for brains. But he didn’t need to be a genius to understand the situation as it had been laid before him. He didn’t have to be a mastermind to see how he could be helpful. By taking in Shinichi, or…Conan Edogawa…He would shoulder the dangers if he stumbled upon important information. He would be the shield. The cover. The mask. And all he had to do was act oblivious to it all, to let “Conan” solve the cases through him, and if this secret organization came calling, they wouldn’t suspect the six year old kid—they’d suspect the “great” detective.

“I don’t want him to know…” Yusaku murmured, seeming to sense that Mouri had already, without words, agreed without question.

Mouri arched a brow. “Why is that? Wouldn’t it be more effective if we worked together as a collaborative team? He wouldn’t have to knock me out as much. I could easily deliver the deductions if he guided me through his thought process. Besides, the tranquilizer or whatever he’s using is already losing its effect on me.”

“Shinichi is proud,” Yusaku replied thoughtfully, “And has a chivalrous fault. I’m sure the reason he didn’t tell you initially was to spare you the burden of the knowledge. No doubt he felt that by keeping you and Ran in the dark if the organization were to question you your answers would be honestly innocent. If he knew your involvement, he might do something rash, like refusing to stay. I need him somewhere relatively safe and controlled. This syndicate is a bigger nest of rats than even I could have dreamed up…”

“Why not just order him to go to America with you? Force him to let the authorities handle it.”

Yusaku met Mouri’s gaze, holding it just a moment too long. “Were it you, would you be able to live with yourself if you ran and hid?”

And that was how Mouri ended up with Conan Edogawa as a temporary house guest, though lately it seemed like a permanent arrangement. Yusaku kept him updated with the progress of the case against the “Black Organization” and in the meantime he solved cases and allowed, within reason, Shinichi do his own line of investigation. Of course, part of the deal was that he had to keep the organization from having Conan Edogawa on their radar, a harder job than Mouri had bargained for. Shinichi seemed to forget he was supposed to be a grade-schooler the moment a mystery presented itself, running head first into the trouble, crawling all over crime scenes, and countless times Mouri felt he was being just a TAD too obvious. At those times, Mouri quite relished in his ability to pick him up like a sack of potatoes and toss him out of the way…

The tranquilizer had long worn of having any effect upon him at all, but he still spun and flopped around the room until he found a convenient place to plop himself down and assume the pose of the sleeping detective. Sometimes, just for fun, he would prolong the moment, making it more and more ridiculous, playing his character. Other times, he almost felt the two of them were working together, Shinichi “Ah-le-le-ing” the clues so that Mouri could slowly, slowly get the picture. Those times felt good, like he was learning, like Shinichi trusted that he had the ability to make the deductions, giving him the extra time he needed in order to do so. Other times, he was just a snotty little brat, like he was enjoying the chance to be as annoying to Mouri as possible.

And at the end of the day, Shinichi remained, as he had promised to Yusaku, oblivious to Mouri’s knowledge of his true identity, close enough to keep an eye on, but with enough free rein to investigate, to do his part to seek justice. And Mouri played his part, silly and slow and stupid, because the Black Organization might feel threatened by the astute Sleeping Kogoro, but not when they saw him carefree and drinking, making racing bets and wasting his time at the mahjong table. They were his means of escape, part of his disguise, and lately the only place he could turn to because there was no one to talk to, no one he could tell and little he could do. The inaction ate at his insides. The silence was suffocating; the danger too real.

But it was also the reason Ran was so upset this particular morning. Another late night, home after midnight, stinking of alcohol, pathetic… She had a big Karate thing going on at the school this morning, starting quite early. She was no doubt expecting he would be up to see her off and wish her luck, but he’d been out so late that by the time he awoke she was already dressed and ready to leave, not to mention she had lost sleep herself getting him to bed… She hadn’t made breakfast, leaving him and Conan to fend for themselves.

He ruffled the page of his paper, the tiny print blurring. The headline was something about crime rates rising, but he hadn’t been reading it this whole time, just holding it in front of his face while his mind wandered endlessly. For a moment, he returned to reality, aware, briefly of the muffled conversation from the tables surrounding him, but it was fleeting. His head was far too muddled to focus, far too lost in swirling emotion over the whole ordeal of the last year.

Had someone told him he’d be allowing Shinichi to live under the same roof as Ran at sixteen, if someone told him he’d be casually getting breakfast with him on a Saturday morning, he would have told them they were crazy, and then probably dealt them a fair cobra twist for good measure. But for all the grief he gave Ran about all of Shinichi’s worst qualities, he knew he would rather she was with him than anyone else. And after her return from her class trip to Kiyomizu, he was fairly certain they had graduated from childhood friends to something closer. And he wasn’t so sure he liked it…

The cocky annoying brat…

He ought to be focusing on his case, on the evil murderous syndicate looming over his life, not running off on a school trip, somehow, miraculously, returning to his original form just for the occasion, flashing his face all over Kyoto, engaging in grandiose deduction shows and finding time to cement his relationship with Ran to boot. It wasn’t safe, it wasn’t smart. For all his genius, he could be incredibly stupid, Kogoro fumed.

And it wasn’t exactly fair to Ran either, to send her back from the school trip the same way he had left her at that fancy restaurant, and in London, disappearing as if he were the phantom thief! One minute there, the next minute gone, leaving Ran to wait endlessly, day after day, wondering when the next news would arrive. All the while he was right there, eating dessert with her at the restaurant, holding her hand as they walked across the street on the way to their respective schools. So near, yet so far. Mouri knew the pain of being apart from the person you cared most deeply about. He knew how the ache could eat at one’s soul, and he couldn’t stand to see that pain in his daughter’s eyes.

Of course, it wasn’t Shinichi’s fault exactly that the makeshift antidotes always seemed to wear off at the worst moment. And Mouri had recognized the tragic, lost expressions on Conan’s face time and time again, an expression of longing and frustration that no child could suffer. There were times that Shinichi got on his nerves, especially when he was being particularly indiscrete at a crime scene and making not only Ran, but everyone else suspicious, and he had taken advantage of their dynamic to make many a pointed comment about Shinichi’s defects in front of him. At the same time, however, he had also seen Shinichi’s face grow weary and sad, weighted down by the immensity of the situation he had found himself in. At times like that, Kogoro did what he could either to redirect his attention, involve him in a case or just offer some slight praise to Shinichi, some slight nudge of encouragement, even if he couldn’t say it outright. In his own small way, Kogoro tried to uplift him when he could. Because, ultimately, that boy was going to be his son-in-law. And Yusaku was right, Shinichi was chivalrous and proud, and he adored Ran with an undying loyalty that Mouri had to respect.

“Kogoro-no-ojisan!”

There was a nudge at his elbow and he jolted, jostling his coffee mug and the hot, dark liquid sloshed over the rim and polka-dotted the front of his suit. Looking down at the young boy beside him on the booth seat he scowled menacingly, gruff with his reply, “What do you want?!”

“It’s time to order!”

Startled, he turned his head to find T­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­ooru Amuro grinning with polite patience. “I’ll get you some napkins!” He turned quickly, running his fingers through his bangs to brush them out of his eyes in his haste.

Mouri waved away the concern, however, calling him back. “Don’t bother, not much spilled.”

“I can come back if you’re not ready yet.”

Shaking his head, Mouri ordering his usual absentmindedly. Beside him, Conan chirped that he’d like an egg on toast and Amuro turned away back to the café counter. Mouri was about to return to his perusal of the paper when he noticed Shinichi’s eyes lingering on his face with that same, unnerving, calculating stare Yusaku had, like he was peeling back false pretenses, looking directly into Mouri’s deepest thoughts. He bristled, crooked an eyebrow and glared back. “What do you want?” he snapped. Unable to hold back from mocking him a little, he added, “The comic section?”

He noted the reddish tint to Shinichi’s ears at being talked down to like the child he appeared to be and it satisfied Mouri’s pettiness. Gradually he shook his head, “You seem distracted…”

“Sometimes adults have complex thoughts.”

“Is it a case?” Conan pressed with a hopeful eagerness. He’d been pouting most of the morning, slouched in the booth with his arms crossed, though Kogoro wasn’t sure why, and the possibility of something to do seemed to instantly excite him.

“It’s not a case,” Mouri replied, dashing the boy’s hopes.

He slunk back into the cushions, his feet dangling pathetically and his chin dipped into the collar of his shirt. “Oh.”

Pathetic.

“What’s your problem today?” Mouri relented to ask, setting the paper aside and leaning back.

“Nothing…”

“You know you shouldn’t WANT there to be cases,” Mouri patronized, “A case means someone committed a crime.”

Conan’s eyes flashed behind the lens of his glasses. “I don’t WANT there to be crime.”

“Then why do you seem so disappointed?”

“No reason.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and dipped even further in his seat. “I wonder how long the tournament is…”

Mouri rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have your Detective brat squad to loiter around with today?”

“They’re going to see the Kamen Yaiba movie.”

“You’re not?”

Conan shrugged. “I told them I was going to Ran’s karate tournament.”

Mouri frowned. This particular tournament, more of an exhibition that the Karate club had organized to get more members, was not open to public audience. Since it was a Saturday, and the school access was limited, attendance was restricted to Teitan High students only. Conan couldn’t go. And now it made sense why he was sulking. Because had he been Shinichi, he would be cheering Ran on, supporting her, being the kind of person she could depend upon… But he was forced, in yet another way, to let her down.

Sighing, Mouri drained the last of his coffee. “Maybe after we eat we can walk over there, then,” he found himself saying, “Maybe we can sneak in.”

Conan’s head bobbed up at this, undisguised surprise clearly painted across his features. “You want to go, too?”

He grunted. “I have a lot to make up to her, too.”

[accursedkaleeshi]

I was procrastinating on two pieces so hard I drew something else. Here is Ayaan! Daddy's little droidsmith, the chatterbox herself.

650 words about getting her ingdore under the cut!

At the start of the clone wars Nute Gunray (salty that Grievous stole his flagship) & San Hill (just a sociopath) convinced Dooku to let them send a small attachment of droids to "capture" Bryaru. Dooku had just killed her father to put his own guy in his gracious Separatist senate spot & Dooku was aware that a particular few of Grievous' wives were befittingly temperamental. So he was like "you idiots can try but don't let that shit come back to me"

So like a handful of B1s & a couple B2 battle droids are deployed in the general area they knew GG's house was. They lost a couple droids to the jungle but showed up the compound. The last time droids were there it was to escort the wives to Hill’s cruiser so they could behold their 87% dead husband. The poor stupid B1 in charge barely got out a jovial “Hello-!” before Mertenzi put a harpoon through it.

The flimsy B1s didn’t stand a chance. The B2s were harder to take down, however. Seeing their mothers puzzling how to proceed with minimal rocket damage to their family & property, Ìgira had just the plan.

Ìgira (12 years old) & Ayaan (7 years old) escaped hearth lockdown to run to dad’s workshop. Neither of them were very impressed. Why would they send droids to dad’s house? Their dad had been troubleshooting these same droids for Ayaan’s entire life. That was stupid. Two grown corporate lifeforms were about to lose their expensive battle bots to two wild space jungle kids.

Ìgira dug through his father’s old datapad. The Bank had always sent Grievous home with a prototype B2 super battle droid for “security”. Grievous did not like this & did not want the thing on his planet. So, naturally, he had a list of commands it would take to render it inert & leave it in his ship.

Ìgira found these commands & gave them to Ayaan, whereupon they booked it back to the front of the compound. One B2 had its wrist rockets trained on the nearby asiil pen, assessing chicken threat levels. The other was repeating its primary objective to the mothers hunkered in the foyer. Mertenzi shrieked when she saw two of her children standing out it the open. Ìgira gave her thumbs up. It was not comforting.

He seemed very sure of this plan. Not only was Ayaan the chattiest of all his siblings, she knew how to read out technical jargon. And she was very loud. It would be easy. As long as these droids still accepted vocal command prompts. It hadn’t occurred to either of them that said feature might have been dropped for security concerns.

“Unit!” Ayaan had barked in a very Grievous-like manner, “State primary objective!” There was a very tense couple of seconds while the mothers that did not understand Basic were baffled as to why their small child was yelling at these droids. The B2 at the door stopped its diatribe, did an about left & restarted its directive from the top. This included its designation. Ayaan was able to use its designation to issue a standby command, which was a long string of numbers & letters. That was when she learned, around the same time as clones around the galaxy, that a B2 super battle droid was only as good as its commander.

While Ayaan bossed the other droid into standby, Mertenzi had reloaded & demolished the first with her harpoon gun. Ìgira & Ayaan managed to convince moms to let them shut down & dismantle the second one after Ayaan asked it a hundred questions, as children do. Ayaan’s ingdoré is made from this droid. It took her quite a while to grow into. She still tried to wear it around sometimes. It made a very satisfying gong sound when she ran into doorjambs.

[jacksdinonuggets]

Alador is a good carer!

Here is the story you guys voted on.

Ever since the Blight children came out to their father as age regressors, Alador made sure he would be a better dad to them. They had come out to him after the whole Belos thing and he was actually pretty excited. He would now be able to regive his children a proper childhood dad. He never played catch with Edric, or let Emira put make-up on his face. Alador knew he was a deadbeat but he wanted to change. 

However, after a couple of times, he realized that they tend to do it together a lot. Sure, they had regressed separately multiple times but they mostly did it together. They also all used/needed Little gear when in littlespace. And usually, they didn't have a place to put it all except their closets. Amity kept all of her gear in a bag but it was starting to overflow (Alador likes to spoil them) and Emira kept hers in her closet but Edric… his room just had little stuff scattered. There were pacifiers, sippy cups, onesies, and toys all over the floor. The only thing that wasn’t on the floor was Ed’s diapers. He occasionally wore them but was pretty embarrassed about them so he made sure they were out of sight. 

So Alador realized that the kids needed a place for their little gear and a place to regress at. He knew Amity didn’t like regressing in her room as it felt very mature. Emira didn’t mind where she did it but preferred not being in her room. So with Odalia being gone and new spaces opening up in the house, Alador decided he would build them a playroom. His Ex-wife used to have an office space with two rooms in it. And he knew that that room would be a perfect place.

There was just one problem. He wanted this to be a surprise. It would be hard to be in his kids' lives while trying to build this, So he asked for Eda’s help. She was a caregiver like him and was open to help distract the kids while he worked on it, or she work on it while he bonds with them.

They first needed to paint the main room. He decided to make it a plain, baby blue wall. Next came the flooring, which he just put foam, rainbow, floor puzzle pieces covering the majority of the room. A couple toy chests were placed up against the wall. The small room that connected to it would be a napping room. It would be a quiet, cozy room with three beds with retractable bars for the sides. 

After a week of non-stop working, Eda and Alador soon finished it. They added in a small counter and cabinets as well. So one afternoon, he finally got the three of them together so he could surprise them.

“I have a special surprise for you three,” He told them.

“Ooh, what is it?” Edric asked.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you!” Alador smiled. 

“Then when can we see it?!” Emira excitedly questioned. 

“Right now, follow me,” He gestured for them to follow, which they all did. Amity had to put her book down but she had to admit, she was a bit excited too.

They followed him to the playroom door. He couldn’t wait to see their reactions. As he opened the door, and the kids saw the room, they gasped in glee. Amity ran over to the rocking chair in the corner that had a rug in front of it and a small bookshelf next to the chair. She saw a new collection of children’s books. 

“Oh my titan!” she squealed. 

Edric explored the toy chest and found new toys and gadgets. 

“Woah!” he gaped. 

“Is this all for us?!” He asked happily

“Mhm! And, i’ve already put your little gear in an organized way,” He gestured to the cabinet and counter.

“This is where all of your sippy cups, pacifiers, diapers, bottles, and teethers are,” 

Emira looked in them and saw that everything was there. They were also all cleaned too. 

Amity flapped her hands and giggled, unable to keep her positive emotions in. she just needed to move around!

“Also, all of your onesies, little clothes, and cloth diapers will be in the closet in the napping room,” he opened the door to the other, smaller room. The kids excitedly tried out the beds and the retractable sides. Emira checked out the closet next and it was full of the comfiest clothes. 

“Thank you so much!” Amity ran into Alador’s waist, hugging him. The twins joined in on the hug as well.

“You three are welcome, after all, you guys deserve it,” He ruffled each of their hairs. 

“Can we regress now?” Emira asked with puppy eyes. Alador nodded and all of them cheered, happy and ecstatic. After Alador made sure to change them all into gear before caring for them as they spent time having fun.

[talesfromthegameff14]

Once

Once, Aya would have watched his mate swaying through the motions of cooking dinner.  He would have gazed upon the man adoringly as sun filtered through the kitchen windows to sparkle in the dark golden curls that ran down the Seeker’s back.  Were those curls longer now?  Were they neat or messy?  Were they still damp from an earlier bath or had they dried into ringlets to bounce perfectly in sync with Tolemy’s movements?  Once, he would have seen the boy balanced on his mate’s hip.  He would have smiled to himself as their youngest dozed against the shorter man, the babe only content when he was held.  What was the toddler doing now?  Was he watching dinner being made or was he busy tangling the tawny curls up into helpful braids that would have to be gently combed out at the end of the day?  How much bigger was he? Did his hair match either of his parents? How about his eyes? 

Once, Aya would have joined his son while Mede fit the pieces together of the newest puzzle Melody had gifted him on the floor by the table nearby.  He would have used the silent gestures of hunt speak to follow the boy’s thoughts as he worked out the problem before him.  Was he working on a new puzzle or redoing an old one?  What pictures did Mede favor now?  Was he quicker at putting the puzzles together or was he doing ones with more and smaller pieces?  Did he miss the conversations as much as Aya did?  Did he know that the man loved him as much as always?   Once, he would have poked Terbish with his tail as she snuck about the area trying to be sneaky.  At least some things hadn’t changed, Aya’s tail flicking out to do just that as she tried to come around the edge of the counter to swipe a roti off the platter before it made it to the table for the meal.  He didn’t see the grin aimed up at him when no scolding came for sneaking an early snack, but he did hear the thwap of a far fluffier tail impacting the girl’s hand just hard enough to make her fumble the bread so she had to think fast to catch it before it hit the ground. Now, Aya followed the ebb and flow of family life through the sounds of living and the colors of their souls.  He could see how Nekhi’s inner self was constantly changing as the toddler grew every day.  He could feel the warmth of Tolemy’s body as the man walked by with the fragrant tray of curried dzo that caused the xaela’s stomach to rumble in anticipation. He could take the tray of roti and fruit off of the counter before Terbish got to it all and count the steps to the table to set it down for family dinner. Now, he could ruffle Mede’s ears gently to pull the boy’s attention from his puzzle and to signal that it was time to eat instead of time to play.  He could take his turn holding Nekhi, so Tolemy could eat the meal he made in peace and not have to juggle the attention seeking geko’te and his food.  He could relax into the seat and do his best to not wince whenever Nekhi grabbed a horn to pull himself up closer to Aya’s face to plant a kiss on his father’s cheek.  Now, Aya had the life he always wanted in the cold, unforgiving nights spent alone in the depths of the Uyagir caves, or hiding in a bush on the steppes, or huddling in a cleft of a rock waiting for a Garlean patrol to go by.  It wasn’t how he dreamed it would be.  There was no watching the sunrise over the Ruby Sea with Tolemy in his arms.  There was no way to admire the drawings hung on the kitchen cabinets and see how they changed year to year.  He couldn’t compliment Terbish on whatever outrageous color combination she put together to wear or get lost in the beauty of Tolemy’s eyes when before they cuddled up for a nap while the kids did the same.  Now, that he’s healed? Aya can’t find the bitterness that once plagued him, for he has love to hold tight to every day.  He can’t see it, but he can feel it and hear it and know it within his soul. For once, it’s enough. 

[Tolemy is written by @ala-mhinyan]

[autolenaphilia]

System Shock

The original System Shock, developed by Looking Glass Studios and released in 1994 is a classic game. It’s a hard to categorize game, especially at the time. At its core it’s a first-person-shooter, but it got elements of a puzzle-adventure game with an emphasis on exploration that reminds me of the metroidvania genre. It just recently in 2023 it got a full-fledged remake from the studio Nightdive, but let’s talk about the original DOS version.

And I did play the original DOS version. Nightdive released an “Enhanced Edition” that runs in modern Windows with improvements such as mouselook, but I had difficulties getting that game’s MIDI music to run on my Linux box. So I got the DOS “classic edition” from GOG and ran it in dosbox, complete with the original control scheme.

The game had an unusual elaborate plot for an action game at the time. It’s a proper cyberpunk-sci-fi story, set in the year 2072. The premise is explained in the intro cutscene. The player character is a computer hacker, who tries to hack into the systems of the Trioptimum megacorp, but gets caught within minutes. A corporate executive named Edward Diego does however offer the hacker a way out and gives him a job offer. The corporation owns a space station in a orbit around Saturn, named Citadel Station, controlled by the AI Shodan. If the hacker goes to Citadel, and hacks into Shodan and removes her ethical constraints, his charges will be dropped and he will be repayed with a “military-grade” neural implant. The hacker accepts and does the job for Diego.

The hacker gets put into a medical coma on Citadel to recover from the neural implant surgery. And when he wakes up six months later, you take control and begin the game. It’s here where System Shock reveals itself to be quite innovative in game storytelling. The intro, death and ending cutscenes are the only traditional cutscenes you get in this game. Instead this game’s story is told through exploration from an unbroken first-person perspective, four years before Half-Life.

There aren’t even the dialogue trees you had in rpgs and adventure games of the time. And that’s because once you wake up on Citadel Station, you’ll quickly find that pretty much everyone is dead, or will be when by the time you get to them. And the whole game takes place on Citadel Station. There is a lot of gore in this game, as you find dismembered bodies everywhere. Your character slept through a disaster.

Shodan has of course rebelled against humanity, and is turning Citadel’s research technology against her creators. She has aspirations to godhood, and wants to remake life to her own liking. Shodan has therefore turned humans into mindless mutants with bioweapons, or converted them into her cyborg slaves, or created pure metal robots. And she is aiming the station’s mining laser against earth cities and unleashing her bioweapons upon what’s left after that. To be fair to Shodan and her hubris, being able to design and create life and rain death from the heavens is pretty god-like. You of course has to stop her and save humanity.

The way you piece together this is by exploring and finding audio logs left behind by humans and even Shodan, scattered across the station. You also get voiced e-mails from people monitoring the situation back on Earth, and Shodan sends some threatening ones herself. This is a system of storytelling that is almost cliché nowadays but which System Shock pioneered back in 1994. And it’s very well implemented here. It’s a way of storytelling that is built around exploration, you find the story by exploring and you can keep exploring while you listen to the audio.

System Shock is usually seen as the progenitor of the genre of “immersive sim” and immersive it is.

The feeling of exploring the aftermath of a disaster, putting together what happened and how to fix it piece by piece is very compelling. It helps that you don’t have traditional objective system telling you what to do, instead you have to figure it out by listening carefully to all these audio logs.

The story isn’t original or that complex. But the way it’s told makes it actually engaging, because you have to piece it together yourself. And Shodan is such a great villain. Her writing and the voice acting of Terri Brosius, distorted through clever sound editing, is excellent and rightfully iconic and influential. Glados in the Portal gamestakes a lot from Shodan.

The level design is also built around exploration.. There are multiple levels of Citadel Station, and there is progression from one level to the next, but you can return to previous levels, and in fact the game requires you to backtrack at certain points. The levels are built so you can explore somewhat non-linearly. The game is in many ways a first-person metroidvania, where you explore a large interconnected map, filling in your own automap, finding tools and abilities as you go along, enabling you to explore further by accessing areas you couldn’t before.

Thanks to the neuroimplant, the hacker has access to various cybernetic hardware that give him superhuman abilities. So you can get a lantern installed to navigate dark areas, an envirosuit to resist bio contamination and radiation, a booster to run faster, and most importantly to access new areas, jetboots to float and fly. Your abilities drain electricity, which is their main limitation. You have to literally recharge your batteries to keep on using them, from Citadel’s power stations or portable batteries you can find. It’s a neat gameplay feature that give some power fantasy kicks without feeling too overpowered.

The immersion is helped by how the level design aspires to far greater realism than was common in non-adventure games at the time. Most game levels were pretty abstract and served often no purpose but to challenge the player. The mazes with monsters of Doom is a good example. Now the levels of System Shock are probably too maze-like for complete realism, but there is a clear sense that the game environments serve a in-universe purpose. Each level of Citadel station had a purpose for the people who once used it, there is a medical floor, a research floor, a maintenance floor, to name only the first three. And every texture in the game has a name that will appear if you click on it, which often explains its purpose.

And part of why Shodan is such a great villain is that she is literally integrated into the levels. Citadel Station is her body, she is the mind of the station, and you feel that she is omnipresent throughout the game. And she has turned it against you and has in fact already killed all the other humans within. She is watching you from her security cameras, and knows what you are doing. Shodan sometimes sends messages directly to you, mocking and threatening you. But she is still a presence even when she isn’t as direct. All the enemies and obstacles you face is her doing. Her image sometimes appears on computer screens randomly, probably just to freak you out.

And beyond sending enemies at you and setting traps, Shodan directly locks doors that prevent your progress. A major gameplay element is lowering Shodan’s control over each level, so that she can no longer block those doors. And you do that by smashing the security cameras and blowing up Shodan’s computer nodes, lowering the level’s “security level.” And once it’s gone or low enough, doors Shodan once locked can be opened.

It’s a major part of progressing through the game. Shodan calls the player character an insect, and playing the game you do feel like a computer bug she has, small and insignificant but messing up her plans and functioning. You are like the literal bug found in Harvard Mark II that may have caused the term computer bug to be coined. Or like a rat chewing at Shodan’s wires.

Now this immersive storytelling is partially possible because System Shock was such a technologically innovative game.

System Shock’s engine was a technical marvel at the time, because it was an engine for a first-person shooter with full-fledged, actual 3D. The back cover calls it “the gaming world's first true 3-D simulation.” Doom had come out the year before, but it was a kind of fake 3D, where “room over room” multi-level structures are not possible. System Shock’s producer Warren Spector actually coined the term “2.5D” in a contemporary interview to describe his games competitors like Doom.

And Spector was right to brag a bit, System Shock engine seems ahead of its time. We take it for granted today that if for example you have a bridge in a 3D game you can both walk on it and under it, but being able to do so in System Shock was impressive in 1994. The only thing not fully 3D is that enemies and objects are 2D sprites but it’s well-implemented.

The full 3D engine allows for a pretty much unprecedented freedom of movement compared to games at the time. You can look up and down, you can lean and look around corners, you can crouch and go prone to get into tight spaces. Nowadays this is standard, but in 1994 revolutionary. Being able to go vent-crawling or taking shots from cover by leaning around a corner was really new. Gordon Freeman learned to vent-crawl from the System Shock hacker.

The control system does shows its age though. There is no mouselook. Instead you control the camera entirely with the keyboard, you press R to look up, F to center your view, and V to look down. You can’t rebind the keys in the original DOS version, which also means you are stuck with ASDX for movement (A=forward, A and D= turn left and right, X= backward, and Z and C to strafe left and right). This game came before WASD became the standard, although interestingly it uses Q and E for the lean function, leaving W as the only letter key in that part of the keyboard without a movement binding.

The game also came with one of the largest and most elaborate HUDs to ever grace a first-person-shooter. Instead of mouselook, you can move the cursor into the HUD to operate it. The HUD is actually quite useful once you understand how it works, it’s how you use your cybernetic abilities, but getting that understanding is the difficulty

The movement system is definitely useable, but it’s awkward. The controls and HUD have been compared to playing an operating system. There have been a lot of fanmade ports like System Shock Portable and Shockolate, the official Enhanced Edition and the recent remake, all to fix the original game’s control scheme by adding mouselook and WASD controls.

Still, you can become accustomed to and proficient at the original control scheme if you put the effort in, I did. It is in fact like learning a new OS, but that’s doable.

And even if you don’t become proficient, you can adjust the difficulty. And System Shock’s difficulty settings are unique. You can adjust the difficulty on different game elements, combat, puzzles, plot and cyberspace, independently of each other. You can make this into essentially a point-and-click adventure game by turning puzzles difficulty up and combat difficulty all the way down. Or a pure run-and-gun shooter by turning up combat and removing plot and puzzle difficulty. It’s such a flexible system that you can turnSystem Shockinto a clone of Beneath a Steel Sky or Doom depending on your tastes.It’s a great difficulty system where each player can create a game challenge suited to their tastes.

Even the combat has an interesting and forgiving mechanism: the restoration bays. They are medical machines, one per every level of the station, that can revive people from near-death. Shodan however has converted them into machines that turn people into her cyborg slaves. But thanks to the work of another resistance member, you can flip a switch on each level to turn the machines back into revival machines. When you die on a level where you flipped the switch on the machine, Shodan’s robots will drag you to the machine to turn you into a cyborg, but the machine revives you instead. So you can die on that level without any serious penalty once that switch is flipped. If you die before that switch is flipped, you get a game-over cutscene of being turned into a cyborg. You have to find the machine and its switch on each level before you are safe.

I played it as an adventure game, where the only dangers were environmental hazards. But I could tell that the gunplay in this game is satisfying if you play it as a shooter, despite the awkward controls. The lean system allows you to take cover, and there is a rich variety of guns with satisfying animations and noises, and the death animations of the enemies are also enjoyable.

I do recommend turning the cyberspace difficulty all the way down. It’s probably the most splashy, but also the most awkward to actually play gameplay element of System Shock. It’s essentially a minigame where you use your neural implant to hack computer systems. And the way the game portrays this is you flying around a flashing wireframe environment running into floating blocks and shooting things at enemies. You have full free 3d movement, like the Descent series.It looks cool, but the controls are awkward and floaty. And it’s a pain to navigate the wireframes. And the developers clearly knew that, since they put gigantic arrows pointing you in the right direction. I have no regrets about making enemies non-aggressive and having a generous timelimit to it.

The fact that the final boss battle against Shodan takes place in cyberspace is part of why it disappoints. Going into cyberspace to navigate an annoying wireframe maze to find Shodan’s cyberspace avatar and shoot at it until it dies is such a disappointing ending. After a whole game where the player has been fighting Shodan in more indirect and more interesting ways, just shooting at her cone form until she dies is not that engaging. The ending cutscene essentially is just a joke too.

Still, if the ending is disappointing, it’s because it’s very hard to end such a great game satisfactory. This is a hard game to describe, because the gameplay and storytelling mechanics are so complex and varied, which is why this review is a bit rambling. There is so much to talk about, and it’s all interconnected. It’s a game that allows for such freedom in how it is played that the player is given the tools to make their own game, make their own way through Citadel station. It’s such an intelligently designed immersive experience that is remarkably advanced for 1994. And it has one of the greatest villains in all of video games. Hail SHODAN.

[huntershowl-moving]

SHE TRIED.

PERSEPHONE DOES THEIR BEST NOT TO conjure images when they are told of things like this. their form of listening is active, present, focused on reading body language and subtle cues — it isn't necessarily about what happened, but how what happened affected them. orion was, is, the opposite. he thinks like an artist, in sweeping imagery and parallels between color and music and mood. somehow, it worked between them.

so she does not visualize the bright-eyed little boy he might have been: it isn't fair to him to speculate, and it would only break her heart.

here, persephone watches izuku's face. watches the tension in his shoulders, his brows, the tug at the corners of his mouth. it's hard not to be struck by the beauty of him in moments like this, when she is hyperaware of every one of his features, but admiration falls to the wayside quickly in favor of something darker, cautious, worried. she tried, but...?

they resist the urge to sigh. getting straight answers out of izuku midoriya is like pulling teeth. every time she presses about one thing, he leaves another thing unsaid, implied, the ghost of a finished thought. it reminds her of fletch, the way every sentence they speak has two, three, four separate meanings — they never expect their conversation partner to catch them all. maybe it's a crime lord thing.

seph doesn't press further this time, but she holds it in the back of her mind like a seed in dry soil. they made a promise. whether or not izuku would call her out if she went back on her word, persephone aisa does not go back on her word. instead, she tries to put together sentences in her head like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, silent as she stares at her steaming bowl, rearranging them over and over again until something makes sense. ❝ now — ❞ a pause. ❝ my end of the bargain. ❞

outside, the first drops of rain begin to patter on the window.

❝ we were picked up by the unseen when we were ten. lived on the streets for a few years before that. ❞ she doesn't mention the home they ran away from. another time. ❝ we knew about the tower, but we didn't meet 'em until we were nineteen — and we'd had enough. this shit was only supposed to be a few odd jobs here and there to keep us fed, and somehow we'd been roped in way too deep. they sent us to UA as spies — i had to balance saving people at school with killing people away from it. then they pulled us out before we could graduate... cut us off from our friends. ❞

she thinks of shouta and hizashi. thinks of them losing oboro, then the twins vanishing off the face of the earth, and the guilt rushes back in just as strong as it always was. ❝ few years later, we'd just... had enough. i didn't want to hurt people anymore. so i convinced ori to escape with me. long story short, stupid plan, the tower found out. kept us awake, ripped my arms off, took his eye. separated us. ❞

the words are brutal, but her tone is not. when you've been killing people since you were ten years old, your view of 'fucked up' shifts just a touch. seph pokes at the untouched bowl with the tip of their spoon. ❝ ori got sent to the OT wing of the hospital, and fletch took me on as a project. recovery with them personally, every step of the way. they helped me relearn everything with the new prosthetics — fighting first, as a reminder that weapons are only as good as their edge. then the rest. ❞

again, there isn't a trace of bitterness in her tone. stranger still, just at the edges, there is a wraithlike drift of reverence to her words. ❝ there's something to be said for being broken down and rebuilt as something new. i owe them everything. ❞

Izuku carries no expectations. It’s easier this way, and whether the story he tells, shall he decide to tell it, brings a shock or a blessed acceptance, or anything else or in between, he can take it as it comes.

Tonight it’s shadows under his eyes that, as they always do, seem too dark to be cast by his eyelashes alone, and a nod. And that something in between that wouldn’t often come; is it because he has never shared a tale as peculiarly intimate, or because of whom he’s told? But then Persephone offers to weave that thread of understanding around their hands, not red or black and definitely not yellow, and it pushes a laugh out of his throat. A snort really, choked out in astonishment for the unreality of this situation and this development as a whole, and the bubble of solemnity breaks.

“Of course I don’t,” the man shakes his head, and the shadow of a portent transform into a mundane, a silhouette of a smile that persists in his tone and on his features. “I lived with my mom, remember?”

The implications can be many, but Occam’s razor demands a reason easiest to accept, and it goes as follows: it was a simple life that Izuku has lived before everything went to shit. A confirmation soon follows: “I went to a normal school, lived in an apartment building… these things,” the villain sums up with a shrug. “But my mother was kind, and she tried to raise me to be kind as well.” And again, there can be more than one conclusion to his words, but this time more than one could be true at the same time. One: Midoriya Inko tried, and she succeeded. Two: she tried but failed. Three: she tried, and… ?

There is an image of a little boy engraved in the back of Izuku’s mind, red, weeping blood, but the pain of a seeping wound is a good thing. It helps him remember. The boy has bright eyes and an even brighter smile, collects cards, and has big dreams. The boy grows up and sadder. The boy jumps off a roof.

The boy is now a grown man, and he sets the chopsticks away to rub at his eyes. “What now?” He asks. It’s nearly conversational, no rush and no prodding at the other. It’s like he said; he doesn’t need to swap stories with Persephone to tell them about his father, but if they want to, he’s all ears whatever they decide to tell him in turn. If they don’t, he can be all silence with them, together.

Together.