#being called ‘your omnipotence’ is cool thank you

[onion-makes-stimboards]

please your omnipotence… my kingdom for a flowby stimboard…

!!Flower X Ruby Stimboard!!

1--2--3--4--5--6--7--8

[percheduphere]

something I've been wondering about is how others will react to Loki's new power/position. I constantly joke about it, but it could be a serious question. So, how do you think people like the Avengers would react to this? I used to think they would just continue to be untrustworthy towards him but like...How would they feel realizing one of their former enemies could (maybe?) erase them from existence but chooses not to. Scared? Or just confused?

Ooo... I LOVE this question! Thank you for asking it! Let's go through some characters one by one, starting with my favorite:

MOBIUS - I imagine he would be very proud and impressed with Loki, but a part of him would also feel insecure about his place in Loki's life. His primary motivations were to provide Loki with a second chance, an environment in which he could thrive, and friendship and support. In terms of plot, Mobius has served his purpose. He might feel Loki no longer needs him but would hide this feeling with self-deprecating humor about being a "washed up analyst". I think he would be in awe of Loki's power, genuinely delighted by it, but also feel personally obsolete by comparison. Once he sees that Loki is lonely, however, I think Mobius would be happy to serve a new purpose in keeping Loki company at the end of time. That is, if Loki confirms he wants him there.

SYLVIE - She will absolutely make a snarky comment about Loki's new clothes. It will be the first thing she says to him with a perfectly expressionless face: "Nice pyjamas", "Cool slippers", "Do your giant horns get tangled up in all those branches?" In front of others, she would treat him no differently than she's always had because omnipotent, omniscient power doesn't impress her. Unless she's enchanting, Sylvie isn't the touchy-feely type either. I think she would make an effort to thank Loki in private, though. Between the two of them, Loki is the one more likely to initiate a hug, and she would hug back awkwardly.

THOR - Poor Thor. He's been jerked around by multiple fake deaths. The first one was unintentional on Loki's part; he didn't intend to survive falling from the bifrost. The second one was intentional, and left Thor feeling betrayed yet again. The third was final. On first sight, he will likely accuse Loki of being a pretender. To avoid this, Mobius is the best person to provide an explanation before formal introductions. Failing that, I anticipate yelling, ugly crying, then hugging, followed by ALSO making fun of Loki's new clothes. I think Thor will be very proud of his brother, stunned (but pleased) that Loki can lift Mjolnir. That on its own should be enough proof for the other Avengers.

HAWKEYE - Hell no. Not having it. Will call bullshit on Yggdrasil even though it's true. Of the remaining Avengers, he has the most to be angry about when it comes to Loki. He'd be terrified of Loki's new powers (cursing about it every step of the way) and would accordingly arm himself to the teeth. Doesn't matter how much Loki proves himself trustworthy and apologizes. Being mind controlled by him was a traumatic experience. Even when working as allies, he'll park himself as far away as possible from Loki and make snide remarks about "free will".

BUCKY - Has had no real interactions with Loki, but would likely have heard stories from Steve and Sam. Having had a dark history himself, I think he'll be more open to welcoming Loki and giving him a chance. He may even present himself as an example (although others will say "brainwashing" is different). Chryo-freezing and everything he's been through with Hyrda and Thanos has likely blunted his ability to feel surprise in the face of raw power. Overtime, I think he'll come to like Loki, especially if Loki offers him the opportunity to talk to Steve again.

SAM - Was not involved in 2012, but Sam has a great sense of humor. I think he'll be shocked and cautious, but willing to give Loki a chance with the right precautions in place. I don't think he'd be mean about it, just practical. I think he'll find the Yggdrasil quite beautiful and poetic, and articulate it as such, then note that with kind of power, Loki could have easily destroyed them all by now but didn't.

FURY - Pissed as hell about these turn of events. He'll complain that all this goddamn fucking nonsense is bad for his heart. He'll side with Clint and enforce maximum security, which is useless against Loki's powers, but Loki would play along until people stop freaking out.

BRUCE - 2012 Bruce would Hulk-out. Post-Endgame Bruce knows Loki fought on their side and did what he could to protect Thor and buy both of them time before dying. Bruce's personal experience fighting his own demons will provide him with additional empathy. As for Loki's powers, he would be absolutely giddy for the opportunity to study it. Once he makes friends with Loki via Thor, Loki will be his favorite test subject and Loki will humor him for Thor's sake and his own curiosity.

DR. STRANGE - While he won't blink at time powers, he would highly doubt a universe with a good Loki exists. He's the most able to test Loki's abilities and can verify if Loki is indeed using his powers for good. Doesn't mean he'll ever trust him, though.

[galaxitic]

hello, hope this isn’t an intrusion or anything! saw your reblog in my notifs and thought i’d share some thoughts i had abt the tripolar singularity between the two swords and fukuchi’s ability being a holy trinity allegory (as someone who went to catholic school), since it provoked a lot on my behalf ADKDNSJF

from my private twitter, i shall explain:

so this page from the chapter really stood out to me, especially the lines about the swords.

a few things from the tweet. jesus is referred to in the bible (gospel, i believe?) as the ‘word made flesh’, which in essence means he’s god made human. the immaterial made material, essentially. and it’s something i think you could apply to either the holy sword or amenogozen

one thing i remember being taught is that god has the defining qualities of being omnipotent, all powerful, omniscient, all knowing, and omnipresent, everywhere. i first drew the parallel with amenogozen, but depending how this singularity thing plays out it could just as well be a feature of it. who knows lol

anywho, if i remember correctly, a core principle of catholicism (specifically, not sure about other christian denominations) is that the father = the son = the holy spirit. it’s believed they’re different forms of the same being, separate but the same (i really don’t know how to explain this help. i never understood it myself to be very honest). and like… i guess the holy sword, amenogozen and fukuchi combined now? i also vaguely remember that the Being™️ we saw in the season 5 episode 11 being called essentially ‘godman’ in one of the DVD boxes. assuming that godman is this tripolar singularity in some form, and i think it’s likely, then i think there could be a case made for a parallel of sorts!

if you stretch reeaaaaaally hard the christian concept of sacrifice for humanity (jesus’ sacrifice) could somewhat apply to fukuchi as well, considering he did all this in an attempt to lower casualties in a supposed war. *personally* i think what would be more pertinent to him is more samurai/soldier code, considering not only his character but also the author after who he is named. but multiple interpretations never hurt anyone!

having said all this though… i do wonder where this would place fyodor. he’s got a lot of religious imagery surrounding him. but that’s another thing entirely. probably not entirely separate, i think it’s been done for a reason, butttttt i’m not too sure what his end goal is really! if it’s still the annihilation of ability users i suppose he could also fit the role of jesus somehow (if you consider abilities = original sin).

anyways i hope this made sense and apologies for dumping all this rambling on you - but i wanted to say thank you for provoking the brainworms and i wanted to share them with you somehow! :D

very cool!!! thank you for making your way into my askbox, i love analysis of how bsd tackles philosophy & religion & politics but somehow within the wacky events of the fantastical main plot. this was super cool and i'm excited to see where they go with this 👀

[bluecatstory]

The fortunate one

Boy met a tea kettle genie. Unfortunately, this wish-granting genie did not get to grant a single wish. This is an AU 100% based on Neil Gaiman's The October Tale. Also, the main pairing here is GoYuu (Gojo Satoru/Itadori Yuuji), so please click back if you don’t like it. 

---

“Ahh, this feels great. I haven’t got this good stretching from a longg timeee.”

Yuuji Itadori had had a fair share of abnormal things in his life. Like how he had weird tiger markings (?) on his face and genetically non-dyed pink hair. Like when he used to have a jellyfish imaginary friend. Like how his friend Megumi may or may not have the ability to summon dogs. Or, like sometimes, he could still see his family talking and laughing in the house like they never left. 

Yuuji figured he might not be normal as well. But it was not really a problem for him. He had found a way to ignore it and keep on living. 

So back to where he was, lying on the floor as he looked up to the white-haired man fly (?) - floating on-air, black cloak fluttering and his eyes covered with blindfolds. The only thing not depressing and stuffy about him, Yuuji thought, was his constant smirk. 

“Are you a genie?” Yuuji asked out loud. He was even surprised by how straightforward he sounded. 

“Hmm, what makes you think of that, sakura boy?” The strange man’s smirk widened into a mischievous grin. 

“Because when I rub the kettle, you appear in a puff of smoke? Like a... tea kettle genie? Or you’re at least a magical being. You can float and see through your blindfolds, I guess. Your clothing is not similar to the genie that I know, but it may just be how people reimagine them. All in all, the highest chance is still that you’re a genie.” Yuuji rambled. 

The man seemed like he was about to burst into laughter. 

“Well, I was about to introduce myself as a dark overlord or some sinister being to scare you a bit. But… Ding ding ding! You got it, smart boy! This is a genie-in-the-flesh!” 

The man - or genie twirled around in the air. And like a grand performer, he ended it with a cool pose like a hero in Yuuji’s shounen manga. He folded his hands and bowed deeply. 

“Rejoice! Through heavens and earth, you are the fortunate one. I am the genie of the tea kettle. And I have the power to grant you three wishes. A very helpful tip: Don’t even start with the “I wish for more wishes.” That doesn’t work, and you’ll lose a wish. Ok, go!”

Yuuji just stared at the overly-enthusiastic genie. 

“If you have problems thinking, I can give you some suggestions: Money? Become the richest? Find One Piece? You ever dream of flying—”

“Umm… sorry, Mr. Genie, sir.” The boy suddenly raised his voice. “It’s ok. I don’t have any wishes. I mean, thank you and all that. But I’m good.” 

The white-haired being just made a face like Yuuji’s answer was the most outrageous and grabbed his left chest as if he had a heart attack. “Honey, sweetie, I’m THE genie. Just say a word, and the world will bow down to you. Come on. You definitely have something you desire. Just say whatever.” 

“It’s fine, really. Just like I said. I don’t have anything.” The boy with tiger markings smiled at him. “Do you want anything to drink? Is chamomile tea fine with you? Or water? Do you get thirsty after a long time staying in that kettle?” 

“Well, yes, I am thirsty, but hello? Genie? Three wishes? Anything in the world?”

“Come with me. I’ll make you some.” Yuuji’s smile grew as he led the astounded floating man. 

...

“Thank you. Can you add sugar to it?” 

“No problem.”

“But I don’t understand. Everyone, literally everyone I've met - they always ask for a bigger house, power, control, a big harem,... Ooh, I get one! Do you want a girl, like someone tall with big butts, to love, hold, and cherish you? Or if you bat for another team, I can definitely arrange that—” 

The pink-haired boy just cracked up. Never before have the genie heard such a cute laugh. 

“Sorry I’m good. And please call me Yuuji. I’m not sweetie, honey, or dear. Do you have a name, or should I just stick with Genie?” 

The silence suddenly filled the room. The boy nervously reached out and waved his hands in front of our current neighborhood genie. 

“Did… did I say something wrong, Mr. Genie?”

“Not wrong, very strange, though. People always want things. And you insist that you don’t. Are you absolutely sure? And you can drop Mr. Genie. Call me Gojo.” 

“100%. No wishes. But if you need me to free you, I’ll make my wish right now. Uh… Is it ok, Gojo?” 

“No need for that, my cute Yuuji. It’s just community service. Now, I’m not entirely convinced so! Guess who’s gonna stick with you for the time being till you say yes: Me!”

Yuuji laughed again. This time was soft but hearty laughter. If there were an award for the best smile/laugh, Yuuji would surely win, Gojo thought. 

“Sure, sure. How’s the tea?”

It was the finest tea Gojo the Genie had tasted for centuries. 

Like a curious kid who just got a hand on a new toy or witnessed a magic trick for the first time in his life, Yuuji’s questions came like a flood to the genie. He asked where Gojo came from, whether Genii had families, if he felt the need to please everyone, or just doing his job as a community worker who happened to grant wishes. Gojo calmly answered in his most genie way. That Yuuji should not think of him as a mortal, for he was a powerful, magical, and omnipotent being. 

“Ok, but do you like pancakes? You hungry?”

Although Gojo was stuck in the kettle for you-don’t-know-how-long, he was very, very updated with the current world. So yes. Yuuji just flashed to the fridge and whipped up the batter. After a few minutes, hot buttery sweet pancakes were already presented on the plate. 

Gojo poured all honey on the pancakes as he ate with delight. 

He jerked up suddenly. The sugar rush must have given him an idea. 

“I know! Just make a wish, and all specialties from around the world would be on this table in a snap. Each will be the most mouth-watering, scrumptious delights served on golden plates. All for you!”

“Yeah, I’m good. Actually, would you care to buy some groceries with me? There’s nothing left in the fridge for two people.” 

“Urggghhh. Fine. Take me to whatevs, Good.”

“Gojo!”

Chapter 1 - End. 

[p-artsypants]

I’ll Handle This (7)

I really just want to say thanks. I love this fandom, and I love this story…just the overwhelming excitement for this fic makes me so so happy. Everything that happens is really just me saying ‘whatever, I want to see this’. Does it make sense? Not always. Is everyone completely in character? Maybe. Am I having a blast? Absolutely! 

Thank you for all the comments and kudos! 

And sorry for the wait. Wedding planning! 

In Which Gabriel is Serenaded

(Ao3 | FF.net)

—

Day three, Adrien awoke on the pillow. He was used to it now, officially. How scary a thought! 

Plagg had laid out his outfit, thankfully so Adrien could approve, or at least warm up to the idea. 

It was one of the shirts that Marinette had Frankensteined together from the pieces they had found. Absolutely gaudy, atrocious, and a pain to look at. Stripes, polka dots, plaid, little patterns of flowers, all saturated as far top right of the Hue/Sat scale as possible. 

It would make his father cry. It would set the media into a frenzy. It was glorious, and that scared Adrien. 

It scared him that he was starting to come around. He was starting to enjoy this reckless abandon. It was cathartic to watch his world shift and change into something more chaotic, and yet somehow pleasant. Organized Chaos. 

Plagg came out of the bathroom, devoid of mohawks or any other bizarre hairstyle he could have done. His hair was just swept to the side, combed, but not gelled, into place. 

The perfect amount of wild. 

“You don’t have to wake up when I do.” Plagg stated. “I’ll just drop you in my pocket.” 

“It’s alright,” Adrien assured, yawning. “I’m used to waking up this early.”

Plagg dressed quickly, and just as he slid into his moccasins, the room glowed red, and heavy bars slammed shut over the windows. 

Both Adrien and Plagg jolted in surprise, Adrien falling into panic.

Plagg just scooped him up, and held him to his chest. “Hey kid, it’s alright. You can phase through things. You can escape if you need too.” 

This helped calm him down slightly, if ever so minutely. Plagg tucked him into his pocket, and confidently walked downstairs. 

Gabriel and Nathalie were waiting for him in the foyer. 

“What's the deal, old man?” Plagg asked, bluntly. “Akuma attack?”

“No,” replied Gabriel, his head held high. “You’re grounded. No school. No friends. Nothing.” 

Plagg scoffed. “I’m under literal house arrest?! Come on! I have a sleepover at Nino’s tonight!”

“Did you ask if you could attend this sleepover?” 

“No. You were going to say no anyways. Better to beg forgiveness then ask permission and all that.”

“Well, that really solidifies my decision to ground you then. You clearly show a clear lack of critical and mature thinking.” 

“Ah, a pompous way of calling me stupid, hmm?”

Gabriel frowned harder, a line forming at the corner of his mouth. “I am not calling you stupid. I just don’t see you making good decisions.” 

“Gabriel, before this, I wasn’t making any decisions. Everything I did was according to your will. How can you be mad at me at being bad at something I have no practice doing?” 

Gabriel’s eye twitched. “First, do not call me by my first name. Second, I have already made up my mind. If I say you’re grounded, then you’re grounded. Deal with it.” 

Oh that was not a good answer. He may have well just said, ‘because I say so.’ 

And Plagg would not stand for it. He wasn’t standing for it anyway, but he’d at least be willing to bargain with Gabriel if he was offering some excuse about safety for his well being or something.

This was just a power trip.

“Fine,” Plagg smiled maliciously. “Lock me in. But you’re locked in with me. And you’re going to hate it.” 

“I don’t have time to entertain you, Adrien, go to your room.” 

As a kwami who spent most days in Adrien’s bag, Plagg consumed a lot of media. A pair of headphones, an external battery, and a phone that connected to the school’s wifi, Plagg had days to binge all the things that Adrien was interested in. 

And some things that Adrien didn’t care about, like historical dramas, documentaries, and recently, musicals. Especially for time periods that he had witnessed and experienced. He wasn’t omnipotent, so seeing what the humans had thought was important during these periods was fascinating.

But I digress.

The point was that Plagg had a song stuck in his head from a musical and the perfect opportunity to use it had just presented itself.

Gabriel had deemed the conversation over and started to walk back to his office.

“Close every door to me,” Plagg sang, in Adrien’s sweet voice.

Gabriel halted, but did not turn around.

“Hide all the world from me.” Plagg took a step towards him, still singing softly. “Bar all the windows and shut out the light.”

Gabriel turned, raising an eyebrow. “If you think serenading me is going to make me change my—“ 

But Plagg cut him off, raising his voice slightly, “Do what you want with me, hate me and laugh at me.”

Gabriel just stared, and listened.

“Darken my daytime and torture my night…” Plagg came closer, singing with feeling, trying to convey, even for an instance, a flicker of the emotions that Adrien had.

“If my life were important I would ask ‘will I live or die?’ but I know the answers lie far from this world.”

This was horrifying to Gabriel, apparently, as he protested. “Of course your life is important! Why do you think I—“

“Close every door to me, keep those I love from me. Children of Israel are never alone.”

“Children of—what? We’re not even Jewish. What are you singing about?”

“For I know I shall find my own peace of mind. For I have been promised a land of my own.”

Confused, Gabriel just scoffed and started back to his office. Plagg stayed hot on his heels.

“Close every door to me, hide all the world from me.”

Even Gabriel saw the irony of slamming the office door in Adrien’s face, so he resisted, and let his son continue to serenade him into his office. 

“Bar all the windows and shut out the light.”

Gabriel stood at his workstation, determined to ignore his son’s weird emotional outburst, and opened his recent project. 

“Just give me a number instead of my name. Forget all about me and let me decay.”

Plagg fought the smile of victory when Gabriel hunched his shoulders. Was that guilt on his face? Perhaps Gabriel wasn’t as shallow as Plagg had thought and lyrics like this would get through to him. 

“I do not matter, I'm only one person. Destroy me completely, then throw me away.”

And Gabriel sat, staring with his wide gray eyes. His full attention on his son. 

“If my life were important I would ask ‘will I live or die?’ But I know the answers lie far from this world.”

Plagg pounded his fists on the workspace, crying out the words with passion, actually making Gabriel jump. 

“Close every door to me! Keep those I love from me!” He leapt up on a coffee table, putting his entire body, his very soul into this performance. “Children of Israel are never alone!”

Gabriel couldn’t move. Why couldn’t he move?

“For we know we shall find our own peace of mind! For we have been promised a land of our own!” He held out that final note, letting it hang in the air, as Gabriel continued to stare, mouth slightly open. 

Truth me told, Plagg was just intending to annoy him to freedom, but had the song choice done more? Did Gabriel finally understand? 

“Well,” Gabriel adjusted his glasses. “That was...certainly something. If I knew you could sing like that, I would have tried to find a use for it. Never mind, I’ll add it to your resume now.” 

No. It seemed that Gabriel was as stubborn and obtuse as ever. 

“Close every door to me,” Plagg began again. 

“No no no,” Gabriel spoke over him. “One performance is more than enough.” 

“Hide all the world from me.” 

“Adrien!” 

“Darken my daytime, and torture my night.” 

Gabriel groaned, and made an effort to ignore Plagg again. A real effort this time, with no eye contact and no facial expression. When that didn’t work, he moved from his workstation and went to grab Adrien. But Plagg evaded him, continuing to sing, with every grasp.

How many times did he cycle through the song? His throat hurt, as every time he reached the climax, he belted out the notes with passion. 

It would be surprising if no one outside could hear him. 

He climbed up on a table. “If my life were important I would ask will I live or die—“ 

“Enough! Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!” Gabriel shouted. “I can’t take this anymore!” He bolted over to the security control panel, and shut off the lock down. The bars on the windows disappeared. 

“Go...please, just go.” Gabriel said desperately. 

“Cool, thanks dad!” Plagg said cheerfully, skipping out of the room. 

Gabriel collapsed onto his workstation. 

Whatever tricks Adrien had learned, whatever manipulation guru he had visited, he was good. Very very good. It would take a while to get him back under his thumb. And he might need to resort to more drastic measures. 

What was more drastic than putting the house into lockdown? He’d need a little while to contemplate that.

—

Plagg had missed several morning classes thanks to Gabriel’s stunt, but his friends heaved a relaxed sigh when he arrived.  

“Hey hey hey!” He sang, coming in the door. “What’s happening, party people?” 

“Mr. Agreste!” Miss Mendeleev barked. “You better have a good excuse for being tardy!” 

“A great excuse! My dad shut the house down to ground me, and I had to annoy him with Broadway until he opened up. He was a lot more patient than I expected.” 

“Are you serious?” Miss Mendeleev asked. 

“Madam, do you really think that my father, fashion mogul, would allow me to leave the house like this?” He gestured to his mismatched outfit.

“Point taken. You may take your seat.” 

Plagg shot a thumbs up to his friends. 

—

After school, the group of four piled into Nino’s family car and headed over to his house. 

“I’m so excited! My first sleepover!” The excitement was genuine, as this truly was Plagg’s first sleepover. Of course, his whole life had consisted in sleeping in different places that weren’t his home (the Miracle Box) but the concept of going to a friends house to eat food and gossip all night long was novel and exciting. 

“What curfew do you girls have?” Mrs. Lahiffe asked. 

“I have until 11,” beamed Alya. 

“I have to leave at 9,” Marinette pouted. “I have to help my parents in the bakery tomorrow.” 

It was also Ladybug’s solo patrol tonight, Plagg noted to himself. Kind of a saving grace, since Chat certainly wasn’t going to be on it. 

“I’ll be sure to count you both for dinner then!” Mrs. Lahiffe chirped. 

Adrien had been to Nino’s house a handful of times, all under the pretense of working on homework of course. And it wasn’t a house either, it was an apartment, like most residences in Paris. It was warm, not always clean, and the smell of their cat’s litter was just a hint in the air. 

Major Tom was a right good cat. An old gray tabby, who was far too wise for his own good. Plagg had met this family member in person, since the cat was still pretty curious in his age. 

As soon as the group of friends entered the apartment, Major Tom stretched and trotted toward them, toward Plagg, and rubbed against his leg. 

“Hi Tommy,” Plagg smiled, an inside joke passing between them. 

“I swear,” said Nino with defeat. “Major Tom likes you more than anyone else in this house...and you’ve barely met him.” 

Plagg just shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a pussy magnet.” 

“DUDE! My mom is right there!” 

Mrs. Lahiffe was not amused, but the furious giggling from behind him made it all worth it, he supposed.

“Sorry mom, Adrien’s going through a rebellious streak. He doesn’t usually make jokes like that.” 

“Yeah, sorry, Uh...I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” 

Mrs. Lahiffe shook her head. “I noticed your outfit was rather...daring. Is that from your father’s new collection?” 

“Nope! This is a Marinette original!” 

Marinette smacked him in the arm. “I told you not to associate me with that abomination!” She turned to Mrs. Lahiffe and quickly clarified, “He designed it and I carried out the deed.” 

“Oh you kids are so funny!” She laughed. “Well, you didn’t come over to entertain me! Go have fun, I’ll get pizza around 6?” 

“Thanks mom!” 

“Thanks Mrs. Lahiffe!” 

On the way to Nino’s room, he asked. “What movie do you guys want to watch tonight?”

Plagg grinned, “Have you ever seen Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat?” 

—

Chapter is kind of short, but I have delayed it long enough, and sleepover shenanigans need their own chapter.

The song Plagg sang was ‘Close Every Door’ from Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat.

[nanoland]

new chapter (lucifer fic)

Ponder on the Narrow House, part 6 

Mazikeen/Eve/Michael  

(Whole thing can be read on AO3.) 

0  

Fuck the next bounty.

After thinking about it for ten seconds, Mazikeen turned them around and started driving straight for Los Angeles.

Eve can talk to him. Not me. He needs to talk to someone, and Eve will do.

Barely half a mile later, Amenadiel dropped out of the sky and landed in the middle of the road, just far enough away for her to bring the car to a screeching halt before it would otherwise have slammed into him like wet clay into a steel wall.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, looking exhausted.

She snorted and pointed skyward. “Yeah. This? Not gonna lie, I was expecting something like this. But I thought it would take, like, at least a month.”

Wincing, Amenadiel said, “No, that’s… that’s a different problem and Chloe’s promised to discuss it with him. Maze, we need you back at Lux. Now.”

“Hi, Amenadiel!” Eve called, waving.

He succeeded in smiling at her without even glancing at Michael, despite his younger brother sitting right at her side, glaring fixedly.

“Why?” demanded Mazikeen, tensely drumming her fingers on the wheel. (Inner voice hissing, Shouldn’t have left him alone, you dumb bitch, you’ve been doing this for centuries and you know what he’s like when you leave him alone for more than five minutes.) “Seriously – what could he possibly need me for? He’s God.”

Sighing, Amenadiel put his wings away. “Mazikeen, we’re all well aware that Lucy often… has difficulty focusing. To put it mildly. There’s a lot more for him to focus on now than ever before. He’s trying to undo climate change. To that end, he started refreezing all the melted ice in the Arctic. But he did it too quickly and, resultantly, there are several hundred trapped ships we need to save and several thousand dead penguins to resurrect and, to be honest, he hasn’t really got the hang of resurrection yet – you remember what Dan looked like for the first few hours after Lucifer brought him back to life…”

“Eurgh. Yeah. Yuck. Totes not the kinda shit you’d wanna see in Happy Feet.”

Michael was snickering.

“Right. And then there are all the changes he’s been making locally,” Amenadiel went on. “The expansion of Lux, the overnight disappearance of all Los Angeles’ firearms, his deciding that the city’s white supremacist population should grow a third ear so they can be easily identified, and, well, it turns out that a lot of Chloe’s colleagues at the police station-…”

“I get it, I get it. Chaos everywhere. As usual. What, exactly, is the problem he wants me to fix?”

Amenadiel exhaled heavily. “The demons. The ones you brought from Hell to help us defeat Michael.”

“Oh, so you do remember I exist,” Michael muttered.

Stonily ignoring him, Amenadiel said, “They’re still on Earth and they’re causing trouble. The one called Dromos, in particular. He’s gathered followers and they’ve surrounded Lux.”

Her brother’s face – his real face, not the human puppet he wore – flashed through her mind’s eye; a memory from when they were unruly children and had raced through Hell together, using the stone pillars that they’d not yet known were cells as an obstacle course. She’d been faster; he, more athletic. Together with a few cousins, they’d made a fearsome team, and not even their meanest older siblings had bullied them.

She folded her arms and looked away. “They’re demons. Lucifer can deal with them. Snap his fingers and turn them into rats or whatever. Make them explode.”

“Mazikeen,” Eve murmured, soft and low, touching her shoulder. “You don’t want that. They’re your family.”

Amenadiel blinked, as though that hadn’t occurred to him. “Er… yes, there’s that. There’s also the fact that Lucifer doesn’t want all of humanity to see him as the type of God who casually annihilates his enemies; a harsh, vindictive God. He wants to be liked. To be loved.”

“Fine. So why don’t you and the other angels sort it out?”

“Come now, Maze. A bunch of angels and a bunch of demons waging war in the midst of a bustling city? Humans will die. But you’re the Queen of Hell now and, by extension, the Queen of Demons. If you command Dromos to stand down, he will. This can all be resolved peacefully.”

Eve’s fingertips were cool against her skin.

Mazikeen looked back at the sky. The cloud letters were starting to dissolve. “What does he want?”

“Who?”

“Dromos. He doesn’t act on instinct. He’s a planner. He wants something.”

Shrugging, Amenadiel said, “He shouted at me about demanding an audience with the king. I didn’t ask for details. I don’t really care. Dromos isn’t someone I’m inclined to listen to at the best of times. The last time the wretch showed his face on Earth, he kidnapped my son.”

“Mmm. Kinda like your sister was gonna do. Kinda like you were gonna do, now that I think about it.”

“Maze!” he gasped, sounding shocked and hurt. “You can’t compared poor Remiel’s misguided actions to-…”

“I’ll do it,” she interrupted. “Take me to Lux. Now.”

“Excuse me? What about us?” snapped Michael.

Mazikeen met Eve’s gentle gaze. “You don’t need to be involved in this. My family drama, it – it’s not pretty.”

“My son killed my son,” said Eve, taking her hand. “My husband loved another woman. I’m used to drama.”

Swallowing, Mazikeen glanced at Michael. “And you, wimp?”

Feigning disinterest – feigning it badly – he said, “You showed up to my last domestic dispute. Guess this’ll make us square.”

“I’ve only got two arms. I can’t carry all of you,” Amenadiel pointed out.

Mazikeen rubbed her chin. “No… but you can carry the car, right?”

0

He didn’t have time for this. There was so much to do.

“World hunger,” he recited as he bounced from one laptop to the next, all twenty-three of them displaying a different article or video by a leading scientific or sociological mind, “wealth inequality, pollution, cancer, droughts, racism, elderly abuse, housing shortages, cruelty to animals…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda patiently, sitting on his best couch with her legs crossed, a cup of coffee and a laptop of her own beside her. “You said you wanted my advice as to how you should manage this whole ‘being God’ business.”

“I do, doctor! Very much. Your input is invaluable. Blast, where did I put that map of Alaska? I’m thinking of making it bigger; slotting it in alongside the Arctic to help stabilise all that new ice.”

“Right. Thanks. So here – here is what I’m suggesting now; slow down. Seriously. Take a breath, step back, and think your next move through.”

He scoffed. “‘Slow down’? Doctor, I need to work at least three times faster if I’m to keep up with everything. There are people suffering everywhere, millions of them! There are sinners in need of punishment! I’m seriously considering asking Chloe to be my Deputy God. I never imagined omnipotence would entail so much paperwork and she’s always been better at that than me.”

Outside the penthouse, many stories below, the chanting grew louder. None of the human police officers, journalists, and gawkers who’d gathered to watch could understand it; it was in Lilim.

Cursing, Lucifer strode to the balcony and shouted down, “For the last time, would you all kindly piss off? I’m trying to fix an entire planet here!”

He heard the elevator open and moaned. “Detective, not now. Please. I’m very sorry I haven’t returned your calls – I swear I’m not avoiding you – it’s just that I’ve got a lot on my plate today and we did already agree to meet for supper at-…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda, sounding terrified.

“Lucifer,” said someone else, sounding irritable.

Now that he was God, rage didn’t turn his eyes red anymore. It turned them gold and blindingly bright, like spotlights. Fists clenched, he turned to see Dromos step into the penthouse, once again clad in the flesh of the late Father Kinley and wearing a leather jacket.

“Nice trick, making all the doors disappear. Finally decided to climb up the side of the building with a sledgehammer and burrow my way through into the elevator shaft,” said the demon, hands in his pockets and concrete dust coating his beard and his bald head. “I want to talk to you, sire.”

Storming across the room while Linda remained frozen, white-faced, on the couch, Lucifer snarled, “You! You have the nerve to come here, to stand before me, after what you did to my nephew?”

He took Dromos by the neck and lifted him off the ground, his wings opening in fury (he had six of them now).

Stoical even as he choked, Dromos said, “I need. To talk. I will leave immediately afterwards.”

“Oh, you’ll leave, alright! You’ll be lucky if I don’t throw you into an active volcano, you accursed traitor!”

Dromos’ stolen skin began to sizzle beneath his fingers. He waited until the demon’s face was wrinkled with pain before throwing him to the floor hard enough to crack the wood and make a crater.

“I will leave,” Dromos gasped, coughing up blood, “when I have spoken.”

“What could you possibly have to say for yourself? Kidnapper. Child-thief.”

Still on the couch, Linda said tremulously, “Lucifer, you’re… you’re hurting him. Stop it. Please.”

“Let us stay!” shouted Dromos, and coughed again before dragging himself up onto his knees. “On Earth. That’s what I came to say. Let your erstwhile subjects stay on Earth if they choose – at least, those who served you in the battle against Michael. Don’t force them to return to Hell. Let them, let us choose where we live, going forward. That’s my request, your Majesty. My only request.”

Lucifer boggled at him. “Is that a joke? Demons? On Earth, indefinitely, unsupervised? Are you out of your tiny mind, Dromos?”

Baring teeth, Dromos said, “Why not? What does it matter to you now? You’ve got everything you could possibly want. Everything anyone could possibly want! All we’re asking is the freedom to come and go as we please.”

“No.”

He spoke the word bluntly, and then he stepped back, adjusting his cuffs. Regaining his composure. “Never. You’re dangerous and untrustworthy. This world is for humans, not you. Good grief, haven’t I got enough to preoccupy my mind, without the added stress of demons rampaging around town?”

“We won’t rampage. We just-…”

“Why are you even coming to me with this? Mazikeen’s the new Queen of Hell. Didn’t you get the memo?”

Dromos wiped blood from his lips. “I don’t know if my sister and I are on speaking terms right now. And she may be Queen, but you’re God; I assumed you would be tasked with such decisions. After all, there’s never been a demon in charge of Hell before. We were told – we were always told – that only angels could rule us. I don’t doubt Mazikeen’s competence, but I…”

He seemed to run out of steam, spreading his hands and finishing weakly, “Lucifer, you’re the king. You’ve been the king for millions of years. For my entire life. Look, if you really don’t want us leaving Hell, then can you at least use your newfound power to improve it? Let us have the things mortals enjoy? Pianos, dogs, blankets, weekends, all that stuff?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “That would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it? Hell is supposed to be a place of punishment. The ultimate consequence awaiting sinners. I need a carrot and a stick, Dromos. How else am I supposed to convince people to behave if I don’t? Imagine a rapist arriving in Hell and being confronted with demons playing pianos and walking their dogs. Wouldn’t have quite the desired effect, would it?”

Dromos was quiet for a moment, then said without inflection, “Perhaps you could find somewhere else to put rapists. Somewhere other than our home.”

Throwing up his arms, Lucifer said, “More demands! Don’t you see how selfish you’re being? Here I am, doing my best to end all suffering, and you’re complaining about babysitting a few evil-doers – which, might I remind you, is your job. Nay, your very reason for existence. Always has been. Why’re you getting stroppy about it now?”

“I think,” Linda began, taking a tentative step forward before stopping and clearing her throat. “Excuse me. May I interrupt? Um. Okay, so I think that maybe Dromos has a point here, Lucifer.”

“Doctor! This is the creature that stole your baby!”

“Yes, I know. And I’m not saying I forgive him for that, but…”

“I wasn’t going to eat the brat,” Dromos grumbled. “I was going to make him a king.”

“You took him away from his mother!” Lucifer shouted.

“Gentlemen!” said Linda, sharply. “Please! Let’s try to talk this through like adults.”

Overcome with frustration, and only vaguely aware that he’d not been sleeping well lately, Lucifer kicked the nearest chair. “I can’t believe you’re siding with him, doctor.”

“I’m not siding with anyone. I-…”

“You don’t know these people like I do. You didn’t spend millions of years in Hell alongside them. The only demon you’ve ever gotten acquainted with is Maze, and she’s not like the others; even without a soul, she’s learned how to behave like a more-or-less civilised adult, barring the occasional tantrum. But your average, baseline demon has nothing to them besides wrath and cruelty. Lilith made them to be weapons and that’s all they really are. I mean – just imagine, for a moment, how hard it was for me. To go from the Silver City, the most beautiful place ever created, to a lightless nightmare realm full of these bloodthirsty animals. To be surrounded by them, for endless eons, while they nattered mindlessly on and on about how much they love torture and pain and…”  

He trailed off. Linda and Dromos were both looking past him.

To the elevator. Where – oh – Mazikeen was standing.

Where Mazikeen was crying.

No sobs, not like when Dan had died. No expression at all, really. Just open eyes, motionless muscles, and steady tears.

Before Lucifer could say a word, she pressed the button to close the elevator doors.

“Wait!” he yelped, sprinting over to stop them.

He needn’t have bothered. Now that he was God, objects did whatever he told them to do. The doors stilled, half-open.

“That sounded wrong,” he acknowledged, clasping her shoulders in apology. “You completely missed the context. What I was trying to say was-…”

“Don’t touch me.”

It was a phrase he’d heard many times before from mortal lovers to whom he had accidentally revealed his Devil Face. Some of them said it in horror. Some of them, the religious ones, said it in anger.

Mazikeen looked neither horrified nor angry. She looked sick. As though the very sight of him turned her stomach.

Lumbering over, Dromos stepped into the elevator alongside her and pointedly pressed the button again. With no idea what to do or say, Lucifer allowed the machinery to work.

The elevator closed.

“What have I done?” he asked Linda.

0

Nothing I didn’t know.

“Maze?” called Eve, waiting by the car with the others as Mazikeen stepped out of Lux’s front door and into the sunlight.

The door hadn’t been there when they’d arrived. She’d been forced to use Dromos’ route. Lucifer must have decided to put it back. He could do that now. Just decide things. Didn’t need servants, nor followers, nor anyone. Sure didn’t need a ‘more-or-less civilised adult’ whose kin were animals.

“Maze! Wait!”

Mazikeen didn’t know where she was going, only that she was walking very quickly and felt that she’d die if she stopped. She heard Eve’s heels patter on the pavement and heard her say her name a third time, quiet and worried, and that was what stilled her feet.

“What happened?” murmured Eve, cupping her face.

The fifty or so demons who’d been standing around outside Lux when Amenadiel had set the car and its passengers down were still there. Instead of chanting to get their king’s attention, they were now looking at her.

Michael and Amenadiel stood among them, the latter having been trying to convince them to stop blocking traffic.

Which was what she should have been doing. It was what he’d brought her here to do. But she’d been gripped by a sudden, violent need to see Lucifer, to check on him, just quickly, before tending to her siblings. Once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard.

Except that wasn’t what I was. Not to him. To him, I was a Rottweiler on a leash.

“Are you alright?” asked Amenadiel, his eyes overflowing with concern.

That was what cracked her.

To him. Not to everyone. Not to Eve, or Amenadiel, or Linda. It’s not that I’m incapable of earning love and respect.

I’m just incapable of earning his.

Her legs gave out. She crumpled against Lux’s outside wall and started to weep properly, loud and bitter.

Eve immediately dropped down beside her, holding her tight. Michael shuffled closer, rubbing his shoulder while his mouth opened and shut, testing out sentences that were never spoken.

Then Dromos was there, kneeling, his face sad and tired.

“We did what we were told,” she said to him in Lilim, through sniffles. “We obeyed. We were loyal. We… we…”

“We are alone, sister,” he replied. “But I think we always were.”

“We obeyed!”

“We obeyed Lilith and she left. We obeyed Lucifer and he left. No one wants us, Mazikeen. It’s just the truth.”

She took a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “No. I want us.”

Seizing his jacket’s shoulder, she hauled herself to her feet and addressed the crowd, her voice raw: “I want you! You’re my family and I want you! And I swear I will be the queen you deserve, for as long as you’ll have me!”

Her human skin fell away, the left side of her face turning cold, bony, and brittle.

Stepping back to join their siblings, Dromos asked hesitantly, “What would you have us do, then, my queen? What are your orders?”

Hurriedly drying her eyes, she studied them one by one. “Whoever wants to can stay here. But I’m going home. Hell is going to be ours, Dromos. No more damned souls. No more angels. It’s ours now and we’re going to make it into something we can love.”

She turned to face Eve and Michael, her heart pounding. “You’ll come with me, yeah? You’ll stand with me?”

“Always,” said Eve, closing in to kiss her.

“Whatever,” Michael muttered, clearly just relieved that the crying part was over.

Amenadiel sighed, shaking his head gravely. “Mazikeen, are you sure this is what you want? You won’t be able to leave Hell on your own – you’ll need to contact me.”

“Yeah. At least until this one grows his feathers back,” she said, gesturing at Michael. “That’s okay. You’ll always come when I call, right?”

“Of course. You’re my friend, Maze. I’m sorry if I haven’t said that often enough.”

Fuck it. Cringing on the inside, Mazikeen drew Amenadiel into a quick, gruff hug. “You too, idiot.”

[undinoble]

Crazy long text ahead i warn you, just explaining some process I went through while drawing this Frank and Julie low light dying thingie, probably gonna drop some wips along the way, you may want to see… idk, dealer’s choice

!TRIGGER WARNING! Violence, death, suicide. Proceed with caution.

Well where do we begin? The inspiration maybe?

Exploring the magical world of Spotify when a band came in, one of the first songs (if not the first one) of theirs I heard was Partners in Crime by Set It Off, you know, love at first sight, love for their voices, their music style, aaand the lyrics, OH BOI the lyrics, check it out:

“You’ll never takes us alive We swore that death will do us part They’ll call our crimes a work of art You’ll never takes us alive We’ll live like spoiled royalty, lovers and partners”

Dunno, for two passionate juvenil delinquents that just wants trouble this line really fits to me, the dreamy couple feels invencible.

“Everybody freeze Nobody move Put the money in the bag Or we will shoot Empty out the vault And me and my doll will be on our way”

It’s actually interesting to think of the Legion robbing a bank, it’s not like troublesome teens didn’t do that in movies c’mon, it’s a small city, they wear masks, ez!

“Our paper faces flood the streets And if the heat comes close enough to burn Then we’ll play with fire ‘cause

You’ll never takes us alive”

THIS. This is so a Legion thing to say. Can you imagine their masks all around the streets as a warning like “HEY, WE ARE HERE, FEAR US” I love this

“Here we find our omnipotent outlaws Fall behind the grind tonight Left unaware that the lone store owner Won’t go down without a fight Where we gonna go He’s got us pinned Baby I’m a little scared Now, don’t you quit He’s sounded the alarm I hear the sirens closing in”

The second big moment, the adrenaline along with the instrumental is crazy for real

“The skies are black with lead-filled rain A morbid painting on display This is the night the young love died Buried at each others side”

THIS. (again) is the main theme of the drawing, it’s where the inspiration flood over me, the scene was clear in my mind, c’mon if you read till here there’s absolutely no reason not to listen to the song you won’t regret im not even getting payed to show it off

ACTUALLY FORGET IT- i just won a sub on Cody Carson’s stream WHAT IS LIFE??????? Thanks Max!!!

I totally didn’t draw this while listening to the music when i should be working what are you talking about??

Hold the sketch, focus on the gun. It’s dope aint it?

Anyways, here goes the lore, along with the music lyrics I filled up the gaps, well, Suz and Joey are not around, maybe doing school stuff Julie didn’t feel like doing so she decides to hang out with Frank in the meanwhile, they’re on the lodge, bored, upset about the world cause it’s what teens do in their free time, listening to one of their mixtapes, probably Frank’s, the more hardcore one when the idea hit: what if they try some good mischief? “There’s a small banks a mile from here, want some adrenaline babe?” And oh of course she does, grab your mask, here we go

Sorry, not a big legs-drawing fan…

They grab their knives, put on the masks, get ready, drive to the bank. I didnt really think this part through, the song says it all. Long story short - they rob the bank, the police arrives, the action begins.

They brought their knives, didn’t expect the cops to show up with guns, damn they didnt even know little Ormond cops had actual guns. After long minutes of hiding on the bank safe the couple decides to fight their way out, they would be more useful alive than dead so laws could apply, but that went out of question once Frank stabbed the first bank employee on his triumphal way out, the police don’t think twice before shooting to protect the citizens inside.

Frank and Julie have too little time to react, the stress and anxiety kicks in, they go feral, crazy cinematic bullet avoids, for a moment it’s possible to get away. It all happened too quick, but in Julie’s vision it went slow motion. She just saw a cop leaning behind a car, aiming directly at Frank, even her fastest reaction wasn’t fast enough to stop the trigger from popping. With tears in her eyes she watches as the bullet hits her boyfriend right in the chest. 

She snaps. One target in mind, she sprints to the cop and stabs him over and over until she’s sure he won’t see the sun set ever again. She takes his gun and rushes towards Frank who is kneeling against a taxi holding his torax, she screams that they must go to the hospital immediately but he refuses, hospital would be just a quick stop on his way to jail. No fucking way. 

He demands to go back to the lodge, the cops are too busy helping their wounded partner to look for them, they think Frank may be dropped dead somewhere on the street after multiple shots, the two of them must flee before the cops realize the mistake and go hunting for them. NOW.

Julie side-carries Frank back to their car, the lack of a license of her own won’t stop her from driving as fast as the car can. Breathing heavily while constantly telling Frank to hold on, they will find a way out, they must do. Oh what a fucking stupid idea holy SHIT. 

The travel takes half the time it usually does and still feels like hours. The car gets all red with Frank’s blood that keeps leaking. Once they arrive, Frank wants to go upstair, Julie shouts at him to keep next the central campfire once he should grab some heat (and for god’s sake why is he still carrying the money bag they stole????), anyway he gets the last word and they climb the stairs up and lay on the bed, Frank hisses from the pain but also sighs in relief for the soft spot under him, ignoring Julie cursing besides him, saying she can still call an ambulance, she doesnt want to lose him, Suz and Joey will be devastated, although he just replies with the phrase they were saying sooner that day “They’ll never take us alive”.

After 20 minutes of agony, low whispers of memories of how they met, what they had been through together and a huge amount of blood moisturing the covers, Frank says he’s feeling light-headed, Julie looks at him and he’s paper white, the blood loss is finally getting to him, she wants to cry, scream, curse and stab that damn cop a hundred times again, but all she does is cuddle her head harder against his shoulder and tell him she loves him, that she will keep his legacy alive, with Joey and Susie, she will revenge him. He chuckles and slowly feels the life being drained from his weaked body until everything goes black.

Julie need a few seconds to process. Frank died. For real. He was good a few hours ago, he was right. They would never take them alive. Death could do them apart, but, he never said for how long they would be apart.

She reaches for the gun on the hand under Frank’s body. THAT DAMN GUN. She aims it to the side of her head, never leaving Frank’s side on the bed. Triggers it.

“Partners in crime”

Damn did I just write a fucking fanfiction? This shit is way longer than I expected, did anybody even get down here?

Well, this is the part of the drawing where i left cause I just couldn’t afford to work on it, have in mind everytime the file were opened the whole lore came in my head, and fuck did i feel dizzy writing it all down. Hell the bloody details get me, seeing Frank so white with a blue undertone simulating the lifeless body gave me headaches fr. My escape was drawing other things until the courage to finish it came back. It was easier because the story kinda faded away from my mind, the drawing became “lighter” to deal with.

Well, guess that’s it. I hardly have this big insight while drawing, to visualize the finished piece on my brain and it’s just so fucking cool, making art with so many mixed feelings along, and overall pride, cause i feel so proud with the result you have no idea. It isn’t perfect tho, but i like it anyway. So, thank you so much if you made it all the way here. gonna sleep now for fucks sake im gonna pass out bye

[duxhess-kryzewan]

Will you ever write a sequel of the Braxton Hicks story you wrote a few months ago? I just can't get the idea of Obi-Wan panicking and maybe almost missing the birth out of my head. Btw, I love your writing, keep at it!

- hicks, pt.2 - 

​The pain was blinding.

Everything was screaming in agony with each passing second, as if the baby was trying to tear her apart from the inside out and she can vaguely recall the mid-wife telling her that she would know the difference between Braxton-Hicks and the real thing. The woman was right, these are so, so much worse than anything she could have imagined.

"We're going to transfer you to the medical wing, your grace." One of her guards - the pain was too much for her to remember which - had told her.

"Obi-Wan." She says, "Where is Obi-Wan?"

There were only a handful of people within Sundari palace that knew the true parentage of her unborn child; a decision that both she and Obi-Wan had made when they first discovered she was pregnant in order to provide plausible deniability should anyone she didn't outwardly trust get questioned. Even with the hopeful outlook that the war would be ending there was till always the threat of someone seeking to harm her Jedi Knight, and he had sworn that they would never be collateral for his actions.

She had her own reasons too, of course. While Mandalore was prospering with it's new dawn of peace, there will always be those that won't forget that bloodshed between their people and the Jedi.

"We'll track him down ma'am," A nursemaid told her, "We'll send for him to meet you in the delivery room immediately."

Delivery room.

Delivery room.

Delivery room.

The baby was coming for real this time, and Obi-Wan was nowhere to be found.

----

"You're seven centimeters dilated, Satine." The doctor had told her shortly after another wave of pain crashed over her, "We won't have you push until you reach ten."

"I can't-" She pauses and sucks in a ragged breath as the most recent contraction makes itself known, "I can't have this baby without Obi-Wan here."

The doctor looks at her, both sympathy and amusement written across his features, "I'm sorry to say that they tend to come out when they please. But you have some time between now and then, he very well could get here before you have to start pushing."

When he leaves she's overcome with the crippling fear of loneliness. How could she ever manage to do this without him? All those nights they spent together, discussing the possibility of what would happen if he wasn't there when she went into labor was suddenly a reality, and the sadness that it brought was so heart crushing.  

They both had known of course that this was always part of the reality; that he may be off saving the galaxy somewhere else while she tries to bring their child into the world. But how she had hoped that the stars would align in their favor just this once.

And oh, she dreads how much guilt that he will carry around if he were to miss this. There would never be a harsher critic of Obi-Wan than Obi-Wan himself.

The door to the room opens, and for a moment she's filled with delight only for it all to be taken away from her when she realizes it's not him, but simply the mid-wife.

"Your grace," She says with a slight bow, "We've contacted Senator Amidala as you requested, she said she will send word to Master Kenobi as soon as she tracks down his location."

Satine nods solemnly, "Thank you. Please send word if you receive a response. I want updated no matter what the news is."

The young girl nods obediently and scurries out of the room. Yes, surely Padme would be able to track him down. She almost always knows where Anakin is, and where there is Anakin there's normally Obi-Wan not too far behind.

She thinks back to their conversation from the night they had thought she was going into labor, when they had gone back to bed after the scare of the Braxton-hicks had worn off.

"Oh, I’m petrified. But I’m more afraid of not being here when you actually do go into labor. The baby being born tonight would have been a bit unexpected, but at least I would have been here to go through it with you. The thought of you going through labor alone-”

“I want you by my side. Always.” She tells him, “But that is not the way we have chosen to live. If you are off saving the galaxy, then I will make sure our child knows that.”

“You are extraordinary.”

The pain subsides for a moment when she thinks of that night; how he had held her until she finally slipped back into a dreamless sleep. It was one of the rare occasions that he had been there for more than a single days time. He had been called away on a mission not long after, and had only just returned yesterday according to Padme.

He smiles and rubs his hand up and down the length of her stomach, “Wearing you out already.”

She reaches up and presses a lazy kiss to the corner of his mouth, “Well, they are your child, I would expect nothing less. You certainly like making my life difficult.”

He rolls his eyes, “I’m not even going to humor you with a response.”

A soft laugh escapes her just as her eyes begin to flutter close, “Next time you’re here they better be real.”

“Next time."

She grips the bedsheets tightly in her hands as another contraction blindsides her, and it wasn't long until the doctor and an assortment of nursemaids flooded the room, one of the younger ones holding her hand gently as the pain begins to subside and force does she wish that it was Obi-Wan's hand more than anything right now.

"You're at nine centimeters," the doctor informs her, "One more centimeter and you're going to start pushing."

​Everything inside of her hurts, from the aching in her chest from Obi-Wans lack of a presence to the baby that was trying so desperately to come out of her. It's the most overwhelming thing she's ever experienced and she vows then and there that he was never, ever going to get her pregnant again.

"Have you picked out a name?"

She stares blankly at the doctor, thrown off by the sudden inquisitiveness.

"A name?" The contractions were more frequent than before, one after another and she could hardly think straight.

"For the baby," he says, "Talk to me Satine, it'll help distract you."

She wants to laugh and tell him that she doesn't think anything can distract from this, but she doesn't have the energy.

"We've discussed a few," She says, letting out a slow and measured breath, "It all depends on what if they're a boy or girl. We wanted-" She pauses and takes in a deep breath, "To wait and meet them before choosing a name."

One of the nurses wipes at her forehead with a cool rag and smooths her hair back and out of her eyes.

"Are you hoping for a boy or girl?" The doctor continues, flashing her an encouraging smile.

"I'm hoping for a healthy baby." She says, because it's true. While the idea of having a daughter who she could dote on as she got older was certainly appealing, having a mini version of Obi-Wan running around in a son warmed her heart just as much. In the end, all that mattered was that they were healthy and here with her.

"We're going to find out very shortly." He tells her, "You're fully dilated. You're going to have to start pushing."

The urge to cry over takes her; partly due to the pain, partly in anticipation to finally meeting the child she had carried for 9 months, and partly because she would have to have this baby without Obi-Wan.

"I can't." She tells him, gripping the nurses hand even tighter.

He looks at her with sympathy and she can only imagine the state she must be in, "I'm sorry Satine, but it's time. I need you to push."

She doesn't want to do this without him, but she knows they're at the point of no return. She was going to have to have this baby.

"Push." He instructs her.

The pressure in her shifts, and it suddenly feels better and worse at the same time. The rapid contractions hurt worse, but she was so exhausted and she's certain that she just didn't have the strength to do it.

"Push."

She shuts her eyes tightly and focuses all her energy on trying to push. She's gripping the nurses hand so tightly she's certain she would snap the poor girls fingers if she put anymore of her strength into it.

"Push."

But then the hand holding hers suddenly lets go and is replaced by another. One so familiar that it causes her eyes to snap open.

​"Obi-Wan."

He smooths her hair back with his free hand and smiles lovingly at her, "I was on my way here when I received Padme's distress signal. I wouldn't have dared missed this."

For the first time since her contractions started she smiles and thanks whatever omnipotent force is there looking after her.

"Keep pushing Satine." The doctor instructs.

She grips Obi-Wans hand as tight as she can manage, his presence providing her with a newfound strength and she pushes with everything she has in her.

A cry fills the room.

---

When she wakes up hours later, she finds that the last few hours of daylight had came and went, leaving only the white light of the moon to illuminate the room.

Obi-Wan stands in front of the window overlooking the city, swaying gently as he stares at the bundle in his arms. A warmth spreads through her at the sight; an overwhelming wave of love so strong that she's certain it'll bring her to tears at any moment. Nothing would ever compare to watching the love of her life cradle the blessing they made together.

"Obi-Wan." She says softly.

He turns and looks at her, smiling adoringly before glancing back to the sleeping infant.

"I was wondering when you'd wake up," He says quietly, coming over to sit on the edge of her bed, "You've been asleep for a good while now."

"Giving birth does tend to tire the body out," She says with a soft laugh before focusing her attention on the infant, "She's perfect,"

He shifts their daughter into her arms without question., She feels complete; as if this was the piece that shes been missing in her life all these years.

"She has your hair," She says, brushing her fingertips over the soft auburn fuzz that decorated her head, "I was hoping she'd be a redhead like you."

He leans down and pressing a kiss to Satine's temple before coming to fully lay down beside her. She wastes no time pressing herself into his side and dropping her head on his shoulder. This was what she had always wanted, a family with the man she loved. It wasn't lost on her how lucky she was, that they very well could have lived out their separate lives and never have created something so beautiful and wonderful as their daughter.

"I love you, Satine."

This time she can't stop the tears from welling up in her eyes.

"I love you too, Obi-Wan, More than you could ever possibly know.", She looks down to her daughter, "And I love her more than I thought possible."

He nuzzles her hair with the tip of his nose, "We only had one name for a girl we both agreed on."

Satine nods, "So it's decided. Jinn Kenobi-Kryze."

He kisses her then, the first time he's been able to do so in upwards of two months and it reminds her just how much she misses him when he's gone, and how she only loves him more each time he comes home.

"She's perfect." He affirms.

And for the first time in forever, she knows everything is going to be alright.

[savarii]

Hiya! I stumbled across your blog recently and wanted to say I absolutely love your theory posts. They're really interesting and thought out and they provide a lot of good insight into a lot of different possibilities and its just- really cool. And I was reading through them and it got me curious; Do you have any theories on the God of Time or what could have potentially happened to them? I've just been building theories around them for awhile an I feel like it'd be really interesting to see your take on it if you have one and if you're cool with sharing/talking about it.

Hiyaa! I'm really glad that you liked my theories, and also thank you for sharing your thoughts with me ^^

Hmhm regarding your ask about God of Time, well yes I've heard of it somehow when reading about Mondstadt's folklore. Tbh This is an interesting topic, I'm currently trying to learn and wire connections more about this god, etc.

But! from what I know, (below this cut may contain spoilers)

God of Time is... timeless god, that means this god exist in every point of time, no matter how far in the past or how far in the future. I think it is likely that God of Time is a part of 'Sustainer of Heavenly Principle' or even higher because being able to control time / see histories of all time is a super ability that doesn't relate to anything that we can see or feel in this world. God of Time might as well be the reason why this world exist in the first place, and see how this world is since then.

Realistically speaking of time itself, time is... a very fundamental thing in any universe existence. Without time there would be no order and everything will result in chaos. Things just won't happen if there's no time. I thought about this for a while now, there are 3 things to make an existence possible and that is bonding cycle of Time, Matter and Destiny. This bonding cycle is called trinity concept (in simple it means 3 in 1 concept). I will talk details about this in later posts.

Now about God of Time, IF this god really exist, the power to control time and see whole history of this universe is an omnipotent power along with other things in the trinity, they're basically the gods of everything that may exist in this world. Back to what I was saying up there, I think that this trinity concept is likely to be the 'Heavenly Principle' itself.

We don't know who / in what form these gods might be, they might not even have any form of being at all, just mere concept.

But... if there's someone and you want me to make a guess who that is.... my guess would be...

Paimon ._.

Why? well because-

Just think about how strange her whole appearance is, and her outfit logo is literally the trinity itself. Ok so idk which god Paimon is or what she really is. She might be the God of Time or even the unity of all those 3 gods. or maybe just a servant to the trinity oh well we never know.

Let me know what you think about this, could there be more things that idk and would you like to share it? :3

-

a/n : btw you're the first one to ever get into my ask box, thank you for coming hehe <3

[axther]

everything stays

denki kaminari x reader 

prompt: lost in the woods ( @bnhabookclub​‘s bingo event!!) 

in the end, only the watcher stays.

a/n: thank you to the wonderful @pixxiesdust, fantastic @chubbynegget, the amazing @samanthaa-leanne, the incredible @fanfic-me-up, the celestial @tamasoft, and the exceptional @eddiesfuckinzone​ for beta’ing for me!! y’all are so sweet ;; the transparents are from @bellushimiko​! you can find them here!  

Denki Kaminari didn’t know how he got in this situation. 

He was in the middle of a ring of trees, which inside had a ring of rocks. A snowy wolf was on top of the rocks with a dissatisfied snarl, their tail wrapped around the top of it in a cartoonish way. Denki didn’t know what wrong turn he made, where he separated from Bakugou, Kirishima, and Sero, but he had found himself in front of a pack of dark wolves, all growling at him. He was sure that they would’ve eviscerated him, had the white wolf not come along. They turned without question or fear, and the white wolf simply stared at him like a disappointed mother. Not only that, something was just off about the ring, like if he stretched his hand forward, he could touch something not quite mortal. 

“Hooh-kay…” He sighed, leaning away from the wolf. “This is weird.” 

The wolf narrowed their e/c eyes. Denki gripped the strap of his hiking backpack tighter. 

“I am going...to leave you alone. I am not dying today. Nuh-uh.” Denki pursed his lips before attempting to go around the rocks. A sharp, female voice pierced the air. 

“What are you doing in my forest?” 

Denki froze, golden eyes wide. “Who said that?” 

He spun left and right, panic in his veins. The voice echoed all around him, and he near snapped his neck trying to locate it. A twig snapped behind him, and when he looked, the wolf was gone. 

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you to not answer a question with a question?” 

Denki spun around and saw the wolf was gone. His heart stopped, just a bit, and he looked around to try and track the wolf. There were glimpses of it, just barely, like a wisp in the dark trees. There was no sunlight, no moonlight, no light at all, except for the vaguely glowing rocks and the white wolf. A voice hissed, everywhere and nowhere at once. Every word was annoyed and packed a punch, echoing in the deepest parts of the forest like an auditorium. 

“What are you doing in my forest?” 

Denki jumped out his skin, leaping away and trying to turn, but something snagged his ankle and he plummeted to the ground. He tried to catch his breath until he saw the barest wisp of a white shadow before someone walked up to him. Before him was a young woman, maybe his age, with h/c hair and startling white streaks running through it. Despite her skin being s/c, she was practically glowing, and one eye was even so grey it was white. The other was a warmer e/c. It could only be described as more human, tangibly vulnerable. Denki swallowed. 

She was, without a doubt, ethereal. Celestial, earthly, ghostly and immortal all at once. 

“Are you deaf?” She hissed, and Denki was broken out of his stupor. Her tone was more irked than anything, and she leaned in. Denki backed up and she took a step forward, and they played it as though it were tag until Denki’s back hit the biggest rock in the middle. 

“Uh, well, uh, I, uh, my friends, we were, uh, you’re...you’re pretty. Who are you?” Denki stuttered out what he hoped was a comprehensive sentence, but the girl’s eyes darkened. “What are you?” 

“That’s a bit rude, innit?” She stood straight, holding her nose up in the air. “You’re in my forest, and you’re asking what I am?” 

“I’m sorry, ma’am, miss. Uh.” He fumbled over his words when she leaned in again, and he breathed in something that was purely terrestrial. It was all sorts of sweet things, like berries, and there was mud and bark and the sunlight wafting through the trees when you’re alone. 

“Well?” 

Denki blinked. “Well, what?” 

“Why. Are. You. In. My. Forest?” 

“I thought it was government property.” 

“That’s what I let them think.” The girl shrugged haughtily. 

“Then…I was here with some of my friends.” Denki stepped from the rock, feeling something tingling up his back. “We were walking the trails, actually.” 

“Then you should’ve stayed on the trails.” The girl tilted her head condescendingly. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you to not stray in the woods?” 

“Well, if it meant I would meet pretty girls, then I would do it anyway.” The girl jumped when Denki said it so smugly, and her head whipped around. She wore a pout before huffing. 

“You’re in the face of...of me, and you flirt?” 

“I flirt with danger. What can I say?” 

“Insufferable.” She gave a cross between a concerned and disgusted. “Are all humans like this?” 

“Only me.” Denki gave a cheesy grin. The girl’s frown shook at its foundation.

“Absolutely amazing. Are you aware that I could kill you?” 

Something in Denki told him that he should be terrified, but he wasn’t. It was like when humans go skydiving; stupid, but entirely within their will. 

“I guess. You look too cute though.” 

“C-!” The girl sputtered a bit.”Why would you…?!” 

“What’s your name?” Denki felt his confidence grow at the crack in her exterior. “I’m Denki Kaminari.” 

“I have many names.” The girl hesitated, still looking confused. “Aisling, some call me. But I know myself as YN.” 

Denki nodded fervently, a finger on his chin like he was trying to mimic Michelangelo’s David. “A pretty name for a pretty lady! I like it!” 

“You’re named for thunder.” YN mused, slowly letting her shell edge away. “Why?” 

“I have an electric quirk!”  He snapped his fingers and let out a little spark. YN’s eyes got impossibly big. 

“How did you do that?” There was a veiled shock in her voice like she either didn’t want to show her confusion or didn’t want to offend him. “You...are you...do you have magicks?” 

“Huh? Magic? Nah! It’s a quirk! All my friends have quirks. If you want, we can go and look for them.” 

“Your...friends. The ones you got lost from.” 

“Yeah! Sero can use tape, and Mina, she’s super cool, she’s got acid!” 

“...Alright, then.” YN rose to her full height for the first time, and Denki felt something deep in him shift when he realised she was his height if not taller. He couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. “Where did you lose them?” 

“What?” Denki paused. “I figured you knew, like, everything about the forest?” 

YN frowned. “I’m not omnipotent. This is my forest, but I don’t know everything.” 

“Well,” Denki turned, beginning to go back to the way he came. “This got a lot harder.” 

“They are your age, yes?” YN followed without making so much as a sound, quicker on her feet than she should’ve been. When Denki glanced down, he saw she was like a gazelle; prancing with her feet barely touching the ground. She often let him move ahead of her, only to leap forward in a graceful movement that made Denki jealous, flitting left and right like a curious faerie. 

“I mean, yeah. We all go to school together.” 

“Then they are most likely still looking for you. We shall listen, and I can send the madaidhean-allaidh to look.” 

“The what?” 

“Wolves. The wolves.” 

“Oh.” Denki turned back around and began trying to retrace his steps. The trees loomed over him, and when he glanced around, YN was gone. Panic flooded his system until there was a small giggle from above him. He looked up to see YN perched on a branch that in no way could’ve held her weight and leap from limb to limb of the trees. She didn’t so much as wobble, and Denki tripped on a rock watching her. He fell into a faceful of moss and he heard YN slump onto a branch, laughing. 

“Come on, buachaill toirneach! We shall find your friends!” 

They didn’t find Denki’s friends. 

It had been well over an hour and Denki could feel the sun sapping at his energy. Sweat clung to his skin and he used some spare cloth from his bag to hold his hair back. There was conversation at the beginning of the search, soft murmurings from YN that lead Denki to somehow make a fool of himself, but as time went on, they drained away into silence. 

YN. 

With every moment she moved, with every glance Denki sneaked in, he began to realise something about her. When he first met her, he thought she was a quirk user, just not socialised. She spoke fondly about her forest and the wolves. She was lithe and fast, running across the trees without touching the ground. She became little more than a streak of a white dress, dancing through the leaves and sunlight. Her feet never seemed to touch anything. 

Denki wondered if she was even human. 

It made sense. Maybe she was something older than him, or even older than quirks. Was she from an age bygone? Or was she as old as the planet itself? Did she plant the first tree of the wood and remained with it, long after all the other little plants and animals had left? She seemed so cosmically amaranthine, like the very oaks and pines kneeled their branches so she could flit across them. She didn’t even look human, with kind hands and arms that lead to a coldly beautiful torso, and a graceful neck, and a head that Denki was sure not even Toga could duplicate.  She was strangely deathless, like a corpse brought back to life. Even her hair seemed to defy mortality and gravity. 

Denki blinked. He had been staring at her, and she was staring unblinkingly right back, not even glancing to see where her feet would go. Her arms were behind her back and she looked mischievously innocent.  

“Penny for your thoughts?” She mused, weaving behind the trunk of a redwood and reappearing on the other side. Denki pursed his lips. 

“What are you?” 

YN faltered for the first time, stopping and staring at Denki with her full attention. He stopped, too, but because of the severity of her eyes. One white, one e/c. It was spectral and eerie, and something in Denki’s blood cooled and was lit on fire at the same time. 

“What do you think I am, thunder boy?” She asked. She sat on a branch, but it was airy, like she lifted her legs and floated down onto the bark. 

“I don’t know.” Denki hesitated. “I don’t think you’re human.” “No, I’m not.” YN held her head in her palm, looking thoughtful. “I don’t think I ever was.” 

Denki swallowed thickly. “Then...are you some sort of god?” 

YN paused before beginning to shake with laughter. It consumed her whole until she had to wipe a tear from one immortal eye. 

“There are no gods here. It’s just me. No god would dare step in here.” 

“Why not?” 

YN tilted her head. “Why not…? I suppose they are afraid of me. I am not something to be controlled.” 

“Then what are you?” Denki felt the slightest sense of frustration. They were back to the original question. 

“I don’t know.” 

Instantly, Denki felt all emotions except for guilt vanish. She sounded so sad and confused, looking up towards the sky and dangling her legs back and forth. The dress swirled around her thighs. 

“Oh.” 

“I suppose I’m the forest, itself. I’ve been here for so long, I’m not quite sure. I remember when the humans came in with axes and blades, and I howled and bit at them until they bled.” She looked back down at Denki. “It took them years, but they learned their lesson. They will not touch my forest ever again.” 

Denki said nothing but swallowed again. He could only imagine the fear; something you didn’t know, monsters even, coming in and tearing down your home, your heart. Of course, YN would react the way she did, to both them and Denki. She wasn’t hostile, she was defensive. She wasn’t mean or rude. She was scared and confused. 

“You’re a curious human, thunder boy.” 

Denki snapped out of his thoughts when YN fell to the ground. Her arms were spread for the fall and her feet touched the forest floor without so much as a sound. Where she stepped, Denki realised, little white, star-shaped flowers bloomed. She looked at him and Denki looked at her. 

“Why are you guilty, thunder boy?” She walked to him as though he were a scared animal. He felt his breath catch when she got unbelievably close. “You are kind. And that is...rare in humans.” 

“I just...I feel bad. For what we’ve done.” 

“Then fix it. Learn from your mistakes.” She was close, so close, and Denki was sure he stopped breathing. He could smell her, and she smelled like rain and sunlight and all the little green things. 

“I will,” He gasped out. “I will.” 

And YN leaned in, just enough, and Denki leaned in, and quietly, like the moon on a cloudy night, their lips met. 

It wasn’t more than skin on skin, but it was soft, and Denki shook. He placed a gentle, quivering hand on YN’s cheek and he could feel her smiling, ever so sweetly. When she pulled away, there was a softness in her eyes, and she held a hand to his cheek. She began swiping her thumb against it, and Denki realised he had been crying. Something tugged at his heart, and he kneeled to the ground. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” 

YN kneeled down, too, and the plants around them seemed to lean in. The wind fell silent and the trees stopped whispering, and it was like the whole forest leaned in to hear. 

“I know, Denki. I know.” 

Denki didn’t know when he fell asleep or woke up, but it was with Sero looming over him. 

“Dude!” Sero cheered. “You’re finally awake! Hey guys!” Sero turned, waving. “He’s awake!” 

Denki sat up as the other three began walking over. Bakugou looked furious as usual, but both Kirishima and Mina looked relieved. 

“Lucky! We were worried something happened!” 

“Yeah, bro! Next time, we’ll keep better tabs on everyone!” 

“Stick the dunce on a leash.” 

“Don’t pretend you weren’t worried, bro.” 

Denki rubbed his head. “Wait...what happened?” 

“We lost you around, like, three o’clock.” Kirishima squatted, jutting a thumb towards the woods. Denki realised they were outside the ranger’s cabin, and off to the side were two rangers (one a dog, and the other a duck.) He swallowed. 

“Wait. Where did you guys find me?” 

“More like you found us and then passed out, or something.” Sero shrugged. “You were in your sleeping bag, by the campsite. We went back so we could get signal to call someone, and you were there, just chilling.” 

“Don’t you remember?” Mina cooed. 

“No. I remember...I was in…” Denki faltered. 

“Maybe you sleepwalked, then. It was pretty far off from where we realised we lost you.” Sero mused. Kirishima sighed, crossing his arms. 

“We’re lucky something worse didn’t happen, bro.” 

“Yeah…” Denki glanced to his left, seeing the campsite, before realising there was a series of plants leading up to his and Sero’s tent. They all were swaying softly, little white, star-shaped flowers that seemed to wave to him. Denki felt his heart race, mind running as he tuned out the others. He glanced around rapidly before looking back to the tree line. 

And there, a lone white wolf stared back with one white eye. 

She bowed her head, and the others fell silent. She had one paw extended, before turning quietly and slowly back into the heart of the forest. 

“What the hell was that?” Bakugou growled. Denki felt a flush rise to his cheeks, and he brought a hand up to his lips. The trees shuffled and whispered, as though they were saying goodbye, and the little white flowers followed the white wolf home. 

a/n: environmental activist denki environmental activist denki 

[moontheoretist]

The show currently on had a bunch of stuffed shirts sitting at a round table. ["...my esteemed colleague, Professor Newell, gives too much credence to the ex-Avengers' education. I simply don't believe they all read and fully comprehended the document they were rejecting. Steve Rogers had a high school diploma and one year of art college."] Steve curled his lip. ["That doesn't mean he's illiterate," Newell, a brown-haired man with glasses, said. The other man, his tight coils of hair salt and pepper gray, raised an eyebrow. "As a lawyer, I'd be the first to say legal documents are needlessly complex, but no lay person can just sit down and read a 1000-page legal agreement and absorb the intricacies with nothing more than a high school education from the 1940s. Not without help." Newell ceded the point with a nod. "And Wanda Maximoff is a street orphan and doesn't even have that. Ditto Clint Barton, who grew up in a traveling circus. The Ant Man has an engineering degree, which makes me think he would have ample education to comprehend the Accords, but he had little time to do it in—only the flight to Germany, and investigators say he was likely shrunk and in Clint Barton's pocket, as there's no evidence of him on the passenger list, but he suddenly appeared at the Leipzig/Halle airport. It's questionable he bothered to shrink the Accords with him or bring the necessary resources to decipher all the legalese."] Scott got up and left the room. Wanda curled up and hugged her knees to her chest. Steve remembered the hasty conversation he'd had with Scott before the battle. Scott had no idea about the Accords back then. He thought they were there to fight over killer assassins. Steve rubbed his forehead. ["That leaves only Sergeant Sam Wilson, a man well-educated by the armed forces. I wondered what made him reject a document that his own government and one hundred and sixteen other countries supported, and then I read up on Lieutenant General Ross' record. Any man who has served in the military and heard of Ross' abuse of his own forces and how he used his own daughter as bait in pursuit of The Hulk would have zero respect for the retired general and Secretary of State. Ross was spearheading the US support of the Accords. Whether or not this influenced Sergeant Wilson's decision to reject them, I cannot say."] "This is bullshit," Clint said, obviously fuming. "I didn't need some stupid diploma to tell me the Accords are a shitty idea." ["You haven't said anything about the Black Widow," the moderator said, shifting his papers around on the big desk. "Ms. Romanov is an interesting case. Raised and educated by the top-secret Soviet training program called the Red Room, the Black Widow supported the Accords at first. She appeared to recognize their necessity, but then during the fight at the airport seemed to run into an issue of allegiance in fighting her friends. Understandable, I think. It's why the Avengers should never have been sent to contain the renegades. But who else could battle that sort of might? "In any event, it appears to be no coincidence that the Avengers who sided with the Accords all have master's degrees or higher." "Or much higher," the mediator said, abandoning neutrality. "Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes as a master's in engineering as well as officer's training, Stark has multiple doctorates, and the Vision is said to have access to the sum of all human knowledge. The King of Wakanda obviously has the finest political education as a leader of his nation, and I understand he is also an engineer." "Nothing is known about the Spider-Man," Newell said. "No, that's true. He'll have to remain an enigma." "But it's your contention that education had something to do with renegades choosing not to support the Accords," the mediator said. "I think it's obvious."] *** ["Hello, all. Thank you for time. "As Mr. Sjöberg mentioned, I recently came into some information regarding The Winter Soldier that I felt was of international importance, especially since he had the protection of some very powerful people. The ICC is just the place to turn when the State is unable or unwilling to carry out an investigation and prosecute the perpetrators."] Steve drew in a shocked breath. ["I found this information at a Hydra bunker in Siberia, where Rogers, Barnes and I had an altercation about whether suppressing this information was cool or not." Stark gave an acid grin. "In the course of this disagreement, Rogers disabled my suit and left me in the Hydra bunker to freeze, unable to radio a rescue team."] Sam sank his head into his hands with a curse. ["However, Rogers' 'leave our teammates behind' policy turned out to be useful, because while searching for a way to communicate with my rescue team, I discovered a trove of records spanning back decades on the Hydra supersoldier program. I looked through all of it, hoping to save it and get retrieved before Hydra returned. "What I discovered was more than enough: movies, photos, and detailed plans to assassinate political heads of state, industrial leaders, diplomats, prominent artists, radical leaders and activists, all of whom were murdered by The Winter Soldier. Included in these documents were the names of the ones who ordered the kills, the criminals behind the deeds. For the last three weeks, with the assistance of the Joint Terrorism Task Force, that's what we've been up to—rounding up the bad guys with a vengeance." The murmurs grew into a roar of approval. "Most of the Hydra operatives still living have been arrested for their complicity in murdering countless important figures who stood against Hydra's core principles of racism and fascism. Despite the unnecessary delay introduced by Rogers, who could have put us onto Barnes and thus the location of the bunker that much sooner, the loved ones and family members of the deceased will at long last know, and hopefully find peace in knowing, just what happened to their loved ones, and why."] Tony's voice trembled on the last part, and Steve felt a pit growing in his stomach that he couldn't shake off. ["My only regret is whom I have to thank for this. The man behind the Vienna bombing was the one who revealed the truth to me by showing me the video of my parents being murdered by The Winter Soldier. The man who told me the truth is a criminal. But then, the man who kept the truth from us all is a criminal as well. "Thank you all for listening. There will be no questions."] *** Tony lifted his hand and smacked away the letter he was writing as Rhodey walked in. "Sour patch! Look at you. How're the legs feeling?" "Better now that I tweaked the timing on the left one. Feels more natural now. But, Tony..." "Awesome. You should totally patent that port thing. That was really good work." Tony pulled up the schematics of Rhodey's braces to take a look at the timing adjustment port Rhodey had added. "I don't have time for—that's not why I came in here, Tones. Vision got a call—" "Time, shmime. I'll have Friday draft up the diagrams and application for you." "It would be my pleasure, Colonel Rhodes." "Yes, fine. Thanks, Fri. Tones, listen. Something's happened with the renegades." Tony stopped fiddling and gave Rhodey his full attention. "Tell me." "It's weird as hell." Rhodey dropped onto a lab stool and rolled over to join him. "Wanda contacted Vision to tell him she delivered Rogers to the US Embassy in Nairobi. I checked, and sure enough, according to embassy officials, she made him walk in like a zombie, then directed him to 'Wait here until Tony Stark comes to arrest you.'"

Into the Weeds by truet

This is literally the best Team Iron Man fic I read till now, and it includes all the things I missed from the other ones: acknowledgment of Rhodey’s smarts, acknowledgment of the education Rogues had, acknowledgment that Wanda may actually get angry at Steve when she learns what he did and what it means to her, acknowledgment that Hydra agents who ordered the murders should be arrested, acknowledgment of Tony relying on other people to actually accomplish or polish the things he engages with (JCCT, braces).

The only thing it doesn’t have is acknowledgment that Shuri doesn’t need BARF to help Barnes, but it’s only because the fact that the story never reaches that point, but damn, so many Team Iron Man fics mistreats other charas and I know it is not malicious, that it is because the authors love Tony and want him to fix the issues himself, but Tony isn’t omnipotent god of science and I would like people to get that Shuri is as mart as he is and can definitely handle helping Barnes and making his arm without Tony’s help, as much as Rhodey can fix his braces and doesn’t need Tony to constantly do it for him, because he has proper education to handle that, and also he is the user, so he knows best what is wrong and what is right and what works.

I also tend to like the stories which don’t demonize Wanda more than the ones which do, because I think she was radicalized, but not evil and those stories, where she is an evil Hydra agent or actually went mad long ago and nobody noticed, as much as interesting and enjoyable don’t really get what it means to be radicalized and then trying to de-radicalize and also heavily fall into the trap of demonizing a woman in the same way misogynist media creators usually do and the only thing I can blame is the fact that we all are raised in the society which hates women and even if we don’t actively believe in it some of it stays with us, in our subconscious and affects what we write and how. Everybody is capable of evil as long as they believe something very much and Wanda is more prone to that due to her background. Not to mention that those stories also usually infantilize her and I like to see her actually being treated like an adult she always was, who understands the consequences of Steve’s action for her and who would do something, albeit something stupid mind you, to mitigate her case, because she is an adult, and she like any other adult person would want to help her case somehow.

Oh, and author also knows how the whole “who arrests who” system works, so their stories actually show that nobody in the MCU creator board of creators, including the Russos, does a goddamn research about Europe. Most people don’t have this knowledge, so movies don’t seem off to them, but to people who do have this knowledge movies are weird and illogical.

[justfandomwritings]

Magic and Misfortune (Loki)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Request:  “I haven’t found someone that writes as well as this for the MCU for a while😂 I’ve seen AUs where gods from different cultures are in one universe and I’ve got a little scenario in my head that sounded pretty cool. Loki x reader who’s a daughter of Zeus. If you could write something like this, that would be AWESOME! Thank you!!😊💕” - Anonymous

Notes: So... I love the idea behind this fic. Not just the request, I love the Greek myth I am reinterpreting and basing it on, and anyone familiar with this particular myth will see how well it fits with Loki. BUT I think my execution here might be a touch lacking, and I’m kinda disappointed in myself and im not sure why really, so if anyone has any opinions, ideas or constructive criticism let me know. I reserve the right to turn this into a series or make this a standalone if I decide not to write part two. It works as both.

*This fic has also not been edited and that’s part of why 

There were more than Nine Realms. A point Asgard, particularly its king, often refused to acknowledge.  

The space between the Nine and the realms beyond was enough to excuse Aesir ignorance for those not amongst the royal court. When one wasn’t dealing regularly with other realms, it was easy to imagine Asgard stood alone, or at least above the rest, and it was effortless to pretend that Odin ruled all of the known worlds. 

He was Odin, after all. He was the All-Father, the Ancient One, the Great King. The stories said he was all seeing and all knowing. The Aesir thought him a man worthy of the crown atop his head. They thought themselves without equal, above all. None held this belief more than Odin.

Tales of his great conquest of the Nine Realms had died on the lips of those few old enough to know them, and many saw him only as their benevolent lord. Few knew the stories of the wars Odin waged. Not the wars against the Jotunns, those were bedtime stories of the Aesir. The subjugation of Vanaheim; the decimation of Alfheim; the destruction of Niflheim: these were stories only for the ears of those most trusted to the King and those so persuasive and cunning that no secret was beyond their reach. 

It was Loki, therefore, who was the first to make contact with Gaia. 

They were the realms closest to the Nine. Compared with the size of the universe, Gaia was practically within arm’s reach of Midgard, so close that even humanity was aware of their existence. An accessible and fortuitous target for the supposedly all-powerful King of Asgard.

But Gaia was no Midgard, and Asgard was not so without equal as they claimed to be. Gaia was the doorstep on which Odin had paused.

Gaia was an alliance of three kings, each with their own kingdom: Olympus, ruled by Zeus; Tartarus, ruled by his brother Hades; and Arcadia, ruled by the final brother Poseidon. 

They were constantly at war with each other, but nothing united the three like an external threat over which they could display their dominance. When Odin had set foot at the base of Olympus, a truly majestic realm if there ever was one, Zeus had called on his brothers, currently warring over an insignificant, miniscule ice realm known as Hyperborea. They set aside their feud and arrived before nightfall, and Odin, upon meeting the three, had left by morning. 

As a child, upon first coming to the realization of his father’s war-riddled past, Loki had asked his father why he never told them stories of how he united the Nine Realms. Odin had told Loki that he thought violence nothing worthy of praise and that his millennia of peace with Jotunheim was far more worthy of tales than any battle. 

As a man, upon hearing the stories and seeing his father for who he truly was, Loki thought the story of being humbled at Gaia was likely the true reason Odin did not speak of conquering the Nine Realms. 

Loki knew the tale by heart, and he wanted to see the place of its birth. He wanted to see the place Odin could not claim, the place Odin accepted defeat, or at least retreat.

“Father,” Loki’s silver tongue went to work. “Perhaps, we might speak of Gaia.” He had been careful to catch the All-Father alone. It would prove easier to sway him this way, and he would not be shut down by the presence of those who were less aware than himself.

“What of it, son? They do not bother us, and we do not bother with them.” Odin dismissed offhand as he sat with his younger son in the library. 

“I would like to see the place, Father.” Loki confessed. “In part, I confess, for my own curiosity. I will never sit on the throne of the Nine Realms, and for that, I’d like to see what lies beyond the throne’s purview. Though, I suppose the greater part is in the usefulness of spying Asgard’s greatest threat.”

“Threat?” Odin eyed Loki over the top of the text he was reading. “How are they a threat?”

“There is no doubt, Father,” Loki rushed to sooth, “that you and Thor and the armies of Asgard could handle an onslaught from three oafs like the ones ruling Gaia, but even a battle against three so unskilled would still cause Asgard loses given their sheer size. Does it not worry you that one day, after you are gone, they will grow discontent to fight amongst themselves? Or worse, see us as weak without your omnipotent guidance?”

“It may be worthy of thought, but your brother has trained for such a thing. Defending the Realm Eternal is his birthright, and he will do it well.” 

“I suppose, but the lives lost…” Loki sighed and looked away contemplatively. “Though, I suppose you are correct in that. The only way to prevent such a battle entirely would be to claim the three as Asgard’s newest realms, and who’s to say such a thing is possible? We know nothing of them since your return from their shores.”

Loki watched his father from the corner of his eye. All of Asgard knew of his ‘silvertongue’, as they called it. Yet, somehow, they all allowed themselves to be goaded into his thinking. Perhaps, because he managed to convince them all that it was their thinking he was commenting on and not his own. How many times had he convinced Thor to do something so thoroughly that the God of Thunder actually thought he himself had come up with such an intelligent idea.

Odin conceded the point rather hesitantly, “We know nothing of their realms or their state. It is beyond the sight of the throne and of Heimdall.”

“Such a shame,” Loki mused. “After a millennia fighting themselves, they could be a hardened force beyond compare… or entirely obliterated and ripe for the taking… I suppose we will never know.”

If Loki could make Odin see Gaia as a place teetering between threat and opportunity, a place that could make or destroy his legacy, then surely Odin would take the bait. And if he could make that opportunity seem ripe for the taking, an opportunity to finally claim his title Lord of the Spear once more, Odin would be far too greedy to let the opportunity pass to Thor. 

Loki let the thoughts stew in his father’s head for several weeks before he dropped another line about Gaia, then weeks later made another about the conquest, and months past that another about Thor’s coming reign.

It took two years before, finally, his father had slowly, subconsciously, been worked into a desperate need to, at the bare minimum, know what Gaia was doing. And there was only one man, one spy, with a tongue that could charm any ear and magic that could open any door, whom Odin would trust with the task.

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The Bifrost was built to traverse the Nine Realms. It was possible to further its reach, but such a thing would require time and attention that Loki and Odin did not wish to draw on their endeavours. 

Loki, instead, was to walk the paths the All-Father once took to reach Gaia millennia ago. 

He took a ship, piloted and manned by him and him alone, and he went out past the Rainbow Bridge, past the Bifrost itself. On the orders of the King, Heimdall’s sure hands sent Loki to Gaia’s closest realm, Midgard. 

Midgard encompassed a solar system that encircled a star called the Sun. Only one of the planets was inhabited, a planet called Earth teaming with inferior beings who thought themselves alone in the universe. However, Loki didn’t need the help of the humans who bent the knee and called him God. Heimdall, instead, dropped his ship at the edge of the solar system, just past a planet the humans called Pluto.

From there, Loki navigated fields of asteroids and stretches of empty space, honing in on coordinates that were a thousand years out-of-date, so that he might have some starting point for his search.

It took him a matter of weeks before, looming on the horizon, Loki finally saw it. 

He docked his ship amongst others porting on an exterior wooden scaffold and approached the towering walls of Olympus. 

Magnificent marble gates, carved from a single piece of stone, loomed twentyfold over Loki’s head. Their height was such that he was sure they would conceal the entire Palace of Asgard from view if they wished. 

Chiseled into their face, by the hand of a true master, were images he could only assume were from their realm’s history. The scenes wound their way in a serpentine motion down the stone with an intricacy the likes of which Loki had never seen. The dwarves would pale if they saw such flawless craftsmanship achieved by any hand but their own. 

Much of the history presented to him was beyond his understanding, but Loki recognized the still that greeted him at eye level instantly. It was a famous tale on Midgard, one clearly founded in a kernel of truth. 

It depicted three brothers standing side by side in triumph. Each held their weapon of choice, spears with an increasing number of points progressing down the line to the final brother’s trident. The marble wasn’t inlaid with anything, yet through the natural skill of its carvers the colors of the stone seemed to convey the varying material of each blade. 

The men stood atop a form the size of a mountain but was clearly a body, decapitated, the head balanced under the right foot of the one holding the single-tipped spear. The dying face turned so it’s unseeing eyes looked down on any who approached the gate. 

Crowds, carved in a far smaller height, pushed in around the massive headless beast and cheered on their new leaders who were flanked, in the background of the depiction by a stoic group of beautiful companions. 

It was the Midgardian Kronos myth incarnate. Loki would know it anywhere. 

He wondered, mostly to himself, if the sons really had killed their father, if they had simply taken credit for his death, or if they had merely indulged in some lighthearted propaganda. None seemed implausible. 

“Who are you to approach the Gates of Zeus?” boomed a voice high atop the walls. 

Loki bowed to one knee and called out, “I am Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard, and I would be humbled to make acquaintance with your city.”

There was a loud scraping, and rather than parting as most gates would, the stone slab lifted from the ground only just high enough for Loki to pass under it. 

“Welcome to Olympus.” 

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“Welcome to Olympus, Prince Loki.”

It was the fourth time he had been greeted in such a way.

The first had been the gatekeeper who allowed Loki entrance. He came down from the tower at the peak of the walls via the largest ladder Loki had ever seen, a set of rails and steps carved directly into the backside of the rock leading up to their guard tower. 

The second had been the kindly older man who came to escort the prince through the pristine cobblestone streets to the palace. 

The third had been the palace guard who asked the older man to wait with Loki a moment while he saw if any member of the royal court was expecting or wished to speak with him. Loki quickly informed the soldier that this voyage was one taken merely for pleasure, and that his arrival would be expected by none. The guard came back approximately ten minutes later bringing a beautiful young woman in tow. 

She was the fourth to greet Loki, the first to do so using his title. 

Her clothing was something more appropriate for a lowly servant girl than a member of court. The dress was a dull grey made of a scratchy, shapeless material that did nothing for her body or her coloring. If not for the way she carried herself, Loki would have believed hers the facade of a lowly maid. 

As it was, shoulders high, chin up, back straight, she carried herself with the pride and respect known only to true nobility. It crossed his mind that there may be nothing to her outfit, that it may just be the style of the place; but he recalled many properly dressed ladies as he made his way to her doorstep. She certainly wasn’t lying or putting on a show for him; he would sense that. She truly did dress this way. Her garb served some different purpose, and the idea he would deduce it later was intriguing to him.

“Thank you, my lady,” Loki bowed to her as he would any peer on Asgard, airing on the side of respectful caution. “It is an honor to be welcomed in your beautiful realm.” 

The woman smiled politely and offered Loki her arm. “I am afraid that if you came to see King Zeus you will be disappointed. It is a day of council, and our King and Queen are away with their advisors and will not return until tomorrow. The palace has been left in lesser hands.”

“That is quite fine by me. I did not come for any significant purpose.” Loki looped her arm through his and allowed her to guide him into the hall. 

The palace was, like the gate, made of marble. Much of the streets and buildings he had passed walking in were similarly carved from blocks of a variety of beautiful stones, but it seemed that marble had been reserved for the rich and royal. 

“What, may I ask, brings you here if it is nothing of importance?” The woman guided him smoothly through marble hall after marble hall, winding him deeper into the depths of her domain. 

“Nothing more or less than my own curiosity,” Loki confessed. “Your people and mine have been without contact for so many centuries that there are some who believe your existence to be nothing more than myth.”

“And are you one of those?”

“Well, I am here,” Loki pointed out.

The woman nodded thoughtfully. “This is true, but you could have notions of what we were that remain to be disproven.”

“If they’ve yet to be disproven then how could I say they were myth?” Loki countered. 

A genuine smile pulled at the woman’s lips, and Loki couldn’t help but return the gesture. It was rare that he was able to have intelligent conversations with anyone beyond his mother. He knew, for certain, that Asgard was teaming with wise and intelligent men and women ripe with knowledge, but Asgard never glorified such things. Those who did have a mind usually kept it hidden.

The woman changed the subject with ease as she pulled Loki to a stop. 

“The main receiving room is here,” The door was nothing more than a beautiful, thick purple fabric, pinned or floating by some means Loki could not discern, between two columns forming the entryway. 

“Thank you, my lady.” Loki stepped to the doorway, pausing to turn back. “Might I ask your name?”

“My name is (Y/n),” 

(Y/n). Loki thought on the name as he passed through the purple curtain. 

(Y/n) was certainly not a common name in Asgard. Nor, oddly, was it a name Loki had heard in his studies. Prior to arriving on Olympus, he had been sure to read the old Midgardian lore of its people. Like the myths of the Norse, he was sure there were inaccuracies. But the stories had to come from somewhere, and Loki knew better than most that there was always some truth to be discerned even from the tallest tale. Still, there was nothing of (Y/n).

“Prince Loki!”

Mere moments later, through the curtain Loki had just passed came the most vile woman upon whom Loki had ever laid his eyes. 

It wasn’t that she was ugly; though Loki had to confess she was not at all something he would consider attractive. More, it was her presence.

The moment she walked in the door Loki found everything off-putting. The room was less grand. The floors less polished. The air less clean. 

There was a toxicity to this woman that even Loki, prided for creating chaos and mischief wherever he went, found disconcerting. 

“My lady,” Loki didn’t bow, instead greeting the newcomer head on. Something seemed wrong about showing this woman a spot so vulnerable as his neck.

The woman waved a hand, garishly bedecked in golden jewels that only made her fingers look all the more spindly and haggered. “I am Princess Eris. It is my understanding you would have no cause to know that, so I will let the informality pass.” 

“Forgive me,” Loki conceded a nod of his head but nothing more, “Princess.”

“Think nothing of it!” With what Loki could only describe as a jump, the woman flung herself on the nearest of three settees that filled much of the space in the room. “You’ll forgive me, in turn, for sending the bastard to the door to greet you. I was not expecting any royal visits in the absence of my father. I needed the time to prepare myself but did not wish to keep you waiting.”

“The girl then, (Y/n). I had not heard her name before.”

“One of my father’s many bastards,” Eris gestured to the seat opposite her. “Please join me. I apologize. Of course, she did not inform you to make yourself comfortable. She fails at a great many things.”

“The occasional mistake cannot be helped,” Loki took the seat with a well-practiced grace and perched himself on the edge. “I must say, I have heard of you, Princess Eris, in the time I spent studying the stories on Midgard. I would have thought, with your family’s notoriety I would have heard of (Y/n).”

Eris rolled her eyes, “Midgard,” and scoffed. “Yes, well you wouldn’t have heard her name there. They got a great many things wrong in their tales, those humans. (Y/n) walked among them more than all of us. She often stooped to their level, and they were quite taken with her for it. Harmonia, that was what they called her, a far prettier name than she deserved. They thought it suited her, but alas they were wrong.”

And suddenly it all made sense to Loki.

Two sisters, dueling for all eternity, constantly trying to best each other in their own way. Eris, the selfish sister loved most by her family and their father, the entitled eldest who thrived on conflict and discord, who started the Trojan War. 

He knew why Eris disconcerted him so, and now as he saw the ignorance in her eye and heard the condescension in her voice he could see and hear nothing but his brother Thor.

“Princess, might it be too much of me to ask your leave? It has been a long and lonely journey from Asgard, and it might benefit my skill of conversation if I first rested.”

“Of course!” Eris pushed to her feet and motioned back to the curtain from whence they came. “(Y/n) will be waiting in the hall. She can take you to a room.”

“You’re most kind.” And without another word, he fled.

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“Perhaps it is not my place,” (Y/n) began quietly as she walked by Loki’s side. “You do not look weary from your journey at all.”

Loki chuckled. He had a feeling he could trust this sister, if not for his own reasons than at least in his understanding of her relationship with Eris. “Well, perhaps I am not weary from the journey, but simply weary of the company.”

(Y/n) smiled, a knowing smile. “I imagine you would not be the first to tire swiftly in Eris’s presence.”

“Your sister is certainly an acquired taste.”

“She would not like to hear you say such things.” (Y/n) hedged quickly.

Loki’s eyebrow hitched up slightly. “Would she not? Surely she must at least be somewhat aware of her effects.” 

“No, I’m sure she is. I was referring to the word sister.” (Y/n) jerked at the edge of her rough-worn dress. “Queen Hera was not my mother. Unlike most of the bastards born of my father, my mother was also nobility. I could not be so easily forgotten as the others, but I am by no means loved.”

 “And how do you feel for this? Your sister, for she is whether she denies it or not, made her views very clear.”

Something dark, dangerous, flashed behind (Y/n)’s eyes. It was gone so fast that if Loki were not Loki he would not have seen her rage. “It is not my place to say. I am fortunate the Great Goddess shows me such mercies as allowing my presence here.” The voice that came from her was smooth, automatic. 

The thought flashed through Loki’s mind one last time before he made an irreversible decision. ‘Her sister is just another Thor, another Thor not protected by Odin.’ 

Loki offered (Y/n) his arm as they rounded a corner and put a wall between themselves and Eris. “Now, now, (Y/n),” his tone, for the first time since his arrival, dropped its formality and reverence, taking on its usual teasing lilt. “You cannot lie to the God of Lies, nor do you need to.”

(Y/n) hesitantly accepted his arm but remained silent for him to continue.

“Tell me what ails you, and perhaps my knack for magic and misfortune can find a worthy hand to wield it.”

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Taglist:

Forever Taglist:

@maybe-a-fangurl / @libbymouse / @petra-arkanian-1497

Marvel Taglist:

@the-high-queen / @iamverity / @darktownairspeed / @radicalstars

Loki Taglist:

@adefectivedetective / @iamverity / @kybaeza

Other people have asked to be on the taglist that I’ve forgotten. If you are one of those, please do me the favor of dropping an ask in my box with which list you’re supposed to or would like to be on. 

[tracingdreams]

Daiya no Ace: The Dramas #14 Personal Data

An explanation… To keep my brain from rusting I started a project to translate the drama tracks that came with the character song CDs and other stuff relating to Daiya no Ace (because I love them and they’re all hilarious). My disclaimer - I am not a native speaker of Japanese, but I will do my best!

Character Song CD 06: Takigawa Chris Yuu Drama Track 02 Featuring Chris, Miyuki, Furuya and Eijun

Scene: Miyuki and Chris are planning for the next game and Chris has summoned Eijun and Furuya to discuss tactics. And…other things. Chris’s notebook is, as ever, omnipotent.

Translator’s Note: What is hilarious about this drama, other than the obvious, is how polite Miyuki is to Chris, and how not polite he is to the pitchers xd. And also Chris’s secret evil, which we all know is there, behind that knowing smile.

Chris: Those who are fast runners are the first and second batters, and also the eighth batter, the catcher – he’s surprisingly quick.

Miyuki: (apparently nodding) Mm. Mm.

Chris: Even though I say they’ve got good legs, they’re not at the same level as Kuramochi or Carlos in terms of speed. So long as you can prevent them from getting a good start, with your shoulder…you should be able to take care of them.

Miyuki: I understand. We’ll use pick offs to put them on their guard about running.

Chris: If it’s the left-handed Sawamura, he might be able to do it just by glaring at them. And then…

(enter noise Eijun and not-noise Furuya)

Eijun: Thank you for your hard work so far! As Shishou has so kindly summoned me, this flawed Sawamura Eijun has now arrived!

Chris: Ah, you’re here, huh? Furuya too.

Furuya: Thank you for your hard work.

Eijun: So, what kind of purpose have you summoned me here for on this occasion, Shishou?

Miyuki: Why are you acting so formal and stiff all of a sudden?

Eijun: Because I was personally summoned here by my Shishou!

Chris: Well, the two of you might as well sit down.

Eijun: YES SIR!

Chris: Tomorrow’s practice game – you guys are going to pitch it between you, right? I thought I’d share the information I’ve gleaned about your opponents with you and with Miyuki.

Furuya: Information about the opposing team..?

Eijun: So that notebook is going to lay our opponents bare…Chris-senpai’s notebook, otherwise known as the schoolteacher’s book of Enma from the Realms of Hell? (Translator’s Note: Enma is a big deal demon type figure in Buddhism. I think Eijun may be doing a stupid play on words here as an enmachou is also some kind of teacher’s markbook.)

Miyuki: They don’t call it that, obviously!

Chris: (still impossibly calm): So, about tomorrow’s practice game…this is an opponent you could meet in proper competition. I don’t think there’s any negative side to getting a good hold on their data.

Eijun: I see. “Well prepared people never have regrets”, huh?

Chris: Well, in modern baseball, having a good level of information provision is one means of attack.

Eijun: So, to fool an enemy, start with fooling an ally??

Miyuki: If you’re going to spout sayings, surely ‘knowing your enemy and knowing yourself means no risk in a hundred battles’ would be better? What the hell are you going to do by deceiving your allies?

Eijun: Ah, you could say that as well! (laughs)

Miyuki: Stop trying to laugh it off as a joke! You just wanted to say something that sounded cool, didn’t you?

Furuya: Really annoying…

Chris: (still utterly calm): This team isn’t the kind to have explosive batting power. They’re the kind that, when a runner gets on base, they’ll use bunts to advance him and then rely on the clean up to bring them home. They have a careful line of attack in that kind of style.

Miyuki: I see (he’s back to being utterly polite again).

Chris: In terms of the lineup, the ace, who also plays as the fourth batter…he’s strong with straight balls, but he also has some sneaky breaking balls with unusual traits.

Miyuki: Sneaky breaking balls, huh. You guys should keep this in mind as well!

Eijun: Yes sir!

Furuya: Understood.

Chris: On another note, this fourth batter, last month he confessed to a female kouhai…but was rejected.

Eijun: And again, to that depth of information?!

Miyuki: I’m always impressed by the level of your data acquisition, Chris-senpai, but where on earth do you get that kind of information from, anyway?

Chris: Heh. I’m not going to so easily reveal my sources.

Eijun: It can’t be…Shishou? Are you sneaking into rival schools and spying on them in order to get this data?

Chris: Don’t say such scandalous things. If you go to a match and watch from the stands, you end up accidentally overhearing bits and pieces of people’s conversations – from the parents or guardians, or the former students especially. So I just keep them in mind for later.

Furuya: What other…kind of information..?

Chris: Well, the second batter – the right fielder – and the third batter, the centre – their parents don’t get along at all. The fifth batter, who plays first, his family run an udon restaurant which apparently has a good reputation in the neighbourhood.

Miyuki: Well, but you know, that kind of information is a bit…

Chris: The sixth batter – who plays second – has the nickname ‘Kuri-Bakudan’. Apparently.

Furuya: Kuri…bakudan?

Chris: His name is Kuriyama, and the ‘bakudan’ apparently comes from the fact his hair always looks like an explosion hit it. (Translator note: bakudan is the Japanese word for a bomb).

Eijun: How is that kind of information going to be useful, though? (He’s suddenly not so formal).

Chris: Eh…Well, you shouldn’t make fun of these tiny fragments of data. A famous catcher of the past, Nomura Katsuya, apparently put off batters at the plate by whispering details of their private lives. (Translator note: I have no idea if that is true. But Nomura was a famous catcher).

Furuya: Kuribakudan…(Translator Note: I am not sure if he is fixating on the silly name or the fact that basically this means Chestnut bomb and Furuya is a bit obsessed at times with random food words)

Miyuki: I don’t use whispering as one of my tactics, though. But I guess I have to learn from that ideal of doing whatever it takes to win.

Chris: Yeah. The opposing team will also be as frantic, after all.

Furuya: Kuri…(Chestnut)…

Chris: To put it from the other perspective, our information is as easily available from people talking carelessly in the stands as well, so we really have to be careful.

Eijun: AHHH!

Chris: What’s up, Sawamura?

Eijun: What if…

Miyuki: Yeah, what if what?

Eijun: I thought for a while now that it was weird how much Kuramochi-senpai kept asking about Wakana…

Miyuki: Huh?!

Eijun: What if…he was going to give that information to an opponent team to make me wobble at the plate?

Miyuki: (Hits Eijun): Are you a complete idiot? What kind of benefit could Kuramochi possibly get from doing that? And more to the point, a more fundamental issue is what kind of team needs information to make you distracted at the plate?

Eijun: But!

Miyuki: If there were things we wouldn’t want them to know, it would be something other than that, wouldn’t it?

Eijun: Erm…like Yuuki-senpai is bad at shougi?

Miyuki: No…something else.

Eijun: Tanba-senpai isn’t bald, but shaved his head?

Miyuki: Even if they looked into that, it wouldn’t matter, would it!?

Chris: Mm. It wouldn’t matter.

Miyuki: Er, Chris-senpai, you don’t need to agree with such a serious expression…

Eijun: Then what kind of information would it be bad for the opposition to get hold of?

Miyuki: Well, things like Furuya lacks stamina, for one thing. Other teams could try the strategy Akikawa used to try and break his tempo – that would be a big problem.

Furuya: Stamina…

Eijun: Ah…I see.

Miyuki: Mind you, that kind of weakness, the more games you play, sooner or later it’ll become obvious. Which means you need to fix it before it gets figured out.

Furuya:….Yes…sir.

Eijun: In that case, Miyuki-senpai, I would also need to fix any weak points before they were found out by a rival team, wouldn’t I?

Miyuki: Huh? Oh, well, yeah, that’s true…

Eijun: In that case, I’ll fix it! My weak point! (Pauses) By the way, what is my weak point?

Miyuki: Huh? Everything, of course. EVERYTHING.

Chris: In Sawamura’s case, there are too many things to work on.

Eijun: Don’t say that!

Miyuki: If I were in charge of the opposing team’s information gathering, I would only need to know one thing about you.

Chris: I see. That’s true.

Eijun: Just one thing? What on earth could be written on my page?

Miyuki: IDIOT of course. You need to first fix BEING AN IDIOT. IDIOT!

Eijun: Waaaah! NO WAYYYYY!

[royalbloodedbastards]

self-para // inconveniences

DATE: Saturday, December 26, 2020 CHARACTERS: Roy, Sefa, and Linnaea ABOUT: Roy meets Linnaea. Sefa is there.

Give me a minute to unburden myself here. It is so damn inconvenient to be the son of a loa.

Even all the way over in New Orleans, I heard all about these demigods living in New Athens, this metropolitan city on Long Island that was built by the gods. Freakin’ nature spirits have been gossiping about it from coast to coast, saying the streets are paved with marble and there are fountains of youth. And you know what? I believe it. The Greek gods love to meddle in the affairs of their children, cause them problems and then make up for it by giving them all these extravagant gifts. Probably makes them feel young again, like they’re more than just pretty figureheads sitting on golden thrones.

But there’s no metropolitan haven like that for the kids of the loa. There aren’t even that many of us to begin with, definitely not enough to stand up to spirits that have way better things to do than spoil their kids. And you know what? It’s better that way. I don’t need a rich god daddy to build cities and subsidize my living for me. Nah. I love living high-flood-risk, mold-infested, landlord-controlled housing.

Freakin’ love it.

The real inconvenience is all the crap I inherited from my dad.

Like, take this guy for instance, the one that’s staring me down from the other side of his blinding headlights. First of all, inconsiderate. Turn off your damn headlights, asshole, you’re gonna give me eye damage. Secondly, why is this guy looking at me like I’m going to kill him? I’m literally standing here in a parking lot, completely unarmed, while he’s staring me down from the driver side of a literal automobile. In terms of danger, I would say the redhead’s got the upper hand. But even so, I can’t totally blame him. I know the look he’s giving me.

My dad—er, sorry. My sperm donor’s got a real intense look about him. Makes sense, with him being the Master of the Dead and whatever, but it’s not really a look I wanted for myself. I try really hard to dress nice and carry myself well, but these freakin’ purple eyes and the comically-on-the-nose skull-shaped vitiligo across my face really don’t help my cause. The kids in middle school used to say that it was a tattoo, that I applied bleach on my skin in the shape of skull to look cool and that it probably messed up my eyes in the process. The rumors got so bad the principal pulled me aside to ask if I was engaging in ‘potentially harmful cosmetic procedures’. I told him to go fuck himself.

Oh, that’s the other thing too. I can’t control what comes out of my mouth sometimes. I’ll be thinking one thing and something completely unrelated, and oftentimes pretty vulgar, will just come flying out. I’m not even much on cursing, it just happens. Another thing I get from my dad, apparently.

“I have her,” the ginger calls out to me from behind the beams of light. “She’s in the backseat.”

It takes a full ten seconds for my eyes to adjust from the vicious assault of his headlights. Then, the shape of a person starts forming through the backseat window. “Holy fuck.” Pardon my French. “You really went for it. I didn’t ask you to break her nose.”

“Yeah, well…” He trails off into a mumble, like he’s embarrassed about it. “She deserved it.”

If this guy didn’t have a chick tied up in the backseat of his car, I would’ve pegged him for a total soft body. One of those only-drinks-bottled-water types.

Eh, I still do.

“Bring her inside,” I instruct. I don’t stick around to see how he’s planning to get her out of the car without looking suspicious. Whatever. Not my job. I key card my way into the motel room and wait for him to bring the girl in. I watch as he slings her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and waddles his way toward the door. “You can set her down on the bed.” He does as he’s told and drops her down onto the nasty bedding. A little blood smears onto the sheets, probably adding another layer to the hooker blood and cum that’s already baked into the bed. “Does she need medical attention?”

“Nah,” the ginger responds. “I mean… Probably not. They’ll just give her some ambrosia back at camp.”

Ambrosia, wow. The literal food of the gods and they just give it out to their kids like cough drops. Freakin’ Greeks.

“Well, I need her awake to talk.”

“She was awake half an hour ago.”

“And now she’s unconscious.”

“Yeah, but she was awake before.”

“And now,” I repeat slowly, “she is un-con-scious.”

Ginger sighs and kneels by the bed. He slaps her unceremoniously across the face a few times. “Be gentle,” I plead in a tone that sounds very unintentionally sarcastic. “You already broke her nose.”

“Hey,” he barks. “Wake up.” Jesus Fictional Christ, this guy is a brute. “Hey, do you hear me? Wake up.”

The girl stirs and pushes his hand away. “What do you want?”

“You’re awake,” I state, reiterating the obvious. “Good. I wasn’t in the mood to dig a grave tonight.”

The girl lifts her head and grimaces at me. “Are you Gabriele?”

“No, you’ve got the wrong number. I’m Roy.” I stick out my hand for her to shake, but hers are tied. “Oh yeah. Sorry.” I drop it.

“What the fuck do you want with me?”

“I heard from a little birdie that you’ve become quite the budding, young necromancer.”

“She’s what?” Ginger looks at me concernedly.

“A necromancer,” I repeat. “Reeling spirits back from the dead like a nasty little fisherman.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she spits.

“Au contraire, I have friends in all sorts of places. Cities, villages, the woods outside of New Athens.” The color drains from her face. Well, all the color except for the crusty red stain around her nose. “Nobody is ever truly alone, you see. Even the most desperate of men, on their last dying breaths, as they succumb to the fear that not even God is watching over them… There is somebody watching. It may not be their god, but someone is watching.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Right to the point, then. Good.” I sit down on the opposite end of the bed, giving enough distance to make sure that none of the blood she’s spitting gets onto my jeans. “The gods are not happy with you.”

“Hades?” Ginger chimes in.

“Yes, that’s one,” I respond with a nod. “And Hel, the Norse goddess. And the Shinigami. Ever heard of them? In fact, Chitragupta, Xipe Totec, King Yama, Xorn—all of the gods are pretty mad.”

“Why are they mad at me?” The girl’s voice cracks as she speaks. I can tell I’m getting into her head. “I I have nothing to do with them.”

“But you do. You see, when you disrespect the laws of one god, you disrespect them all,” I explain. “The laws of life and death are sacred, no matter which theology you subscribe to. The living belong in the land of the living, and the dead belong in the Underworld, the afterlife, Heaven and Hell—whatever you want to call it. But if one underworld starts giving out free passes to the land of the living, then all of the spirits in all those other places I mentioned are going to start to get jealous. Suddenly, you have millions, if not billions, of undead hearing about this one girl who managed to get her brother a second chance, and they all start to think, why shouldn’t I get one too. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

The room is silent for a moment. I think that means my explanation worked.

Thank freakin’ god.

A bit of a sidetrack confession here—I’m totally lying my ass off. All the other gods probably don’t give a shit, it’s not like the dead are going to form an uprising against their literally omnipotent, all-powerful overlords. In fact, one of the gods I mentioned was actually an X-Men and I’m so freakin’ relieved neither of them seemed to pick up on that. If I’m being real here, I’m just doing this because I was hired to.

The third reason it’s inconvenient to be the son of a loa: all the gods suddenly assume that just because I have these powers that I’m entitled to use them to help others.

Look, all I ever wanted to do was listen to classical music and play Animal Crossing in bed, eating Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and Arizona Iced Tea. Hades was the one who sought me out and thought, ‘hey, wouldn’t it be a great idea to ruin this kid’s life by making him into a mercenary for all these tiny deities and death spirits to use at will?’ And, like I said before, spirits and gods love to gossip. One death god heard that there was a mercenary willing to do the dirty, busy work and they recommended him to a friend, who recommended him to another friend, who recommended him to another friend, et cetera and so forth. And all the while, my New Horizons island is in freakin’ shambles because nobody is giving me a free day to clean up all the weeds that have sprouted all over my outdoor-waterfall-patisserie.

“So what do you want from me,” the girl repeats, “if not just to kill me?”

“What I want…” I lean in close so she can see right into the lavender glint of my irises. These eyeballs are a pain in the ass for grocery shopping but for times like this, I swear there’s no better weapon. “Is relief.”

[inessencedevided]

The Untamed, episode 21 - watching notes

This show has changed so much in the last couple of episodes. I still love it and there is so much I'm looking forward to, but I kinda miss the chaotic fledgling-gays vibe the first 15 episodes had going on :')

The Yunmeng siblings back together and no one's fighting :')

"Together forever" 😭

And the look of sheer wonder and awe on Jiang Cheng's face as he looks at the two people he probablyloves most in the world :')

It breaks my heart how much guilt and pain runs beneath this family's love

Nie Huaisang! :D I didn't know that I missed him but I DID!!

This feels like cloud recess again :')

Only that wwx has weird touch aversion now :/

Nie Huaisang hasn't changed at least :D

What's the flute called again? (Genuinely asking this time, if it's not a spoiler)

Lan Wangji! (I'm still so starved from the 3 episodes without him)

Their theme played so hesitantly has me 😭

90% of lan Wangji emoting is *clenches fist*

So this dude just brought the wen clan leader the news of his son's death and ... he takes it surprisingly well

Also, soldier dude, why on earth would you stay when he tells you to go? If I were him I'd just be happy that that wanna-be-ozai doesn't literally kill the messenger on the spot. If he tells you to leave, dude, just leave!

Yeah I know, you're evil. No need for theatrics 🥱

Wei Wuxian being absent-minded us cause for worry

YouTube translated their toast to "dry it". I wonder, is this correct? If anyone who reads this knows, I'd be thankful if you told me in the notes ! :)

I wonder why wwx doesn't carry his sword anymore. Even if it was of less use to him now, would it hurt him to carry out for appearances sake?

Awkward silence

Until this rando drops in with his opinion

"I knew master Wei's fame of untamed character" HA! I see what you did there :D

Okay sorry, but nothing on this show is funnier than the way people gossip, by "whispering" to each other, while everyone in the room hears and reacts to what they're saying. It's a theme and at this point, i respect that

Thanks, unimportant background character #3 fir your completely unsolicited input

And now kindly

(I wonder if tumblr will exclude thuspost from the tag search due to this gif :D)

Jiang Yanli knows what's up 😎

Wei Wuxian couldn't care less about etiquette at this point and while he was always "rebellious" it was never dismissive. I'm still trying to parse his state of mind. How much of it is trauma, how much is hurt pride

Watching your estranged loverfriend through a window 💔

Why does this feel like the cam before the storm?

Is Jiang Cheng actually using his words? Wonders never cease!

"Is this about lan Wangji? Since the unhappy breakup,..." that's canon now! And I don't care if it's a misstranslation :D

At this point, I'm pretty sure wwx is purposefully pushing everyone he loves away

He also seems borderline depressed

The only person he seems to be remotely himself around us Shijie

Chenqing ... so there is definitely some significance in there but I cannot for the live of me figure it out 🙈 please, someone enlighten me!

Ahahahaha! I'm wheezing! I know this is all very sad and somber ... but in the flashback!!! 🤣🤣🤣 "spiritual energy is in our PUBES"??? 🤣🤣🤣 please someone tell me how THAT translation happened!

I must have missed it the first time ... hach ... that was nice. Finally send laughter again :D

*cut back to lwj looking somber*

I want to taste that soup btw

Again, this is all way too calm

Aaaand I was right. Shit is going down with the wen clan

Also, what are those tree-bark-monsters?

So wait ... what is it about the sun that's hurting wwx? Or is it symbolic? And what's in the bag? I'm confused

Bless Lan Xichen :)

Honestly, I'm mostly wondering right now when and how the dark energy is hurting wwx

Are those Jiang soldiers beating up unarmed civilians? Not cool. :/

Wen Qing!

I wonder, is wwx controlling Chenqing or is Chenqing controlling him?

He didn't exactly help them :/

That dramatic entrance was good, but not on par with lan wangji's two episodes ago. So sorry wwx, but you get rank #2

Although everyone covering their eyes at your sight is something

"I don't mean to conceal it" conceals it for another month 🧐

The tension is killing me guys. I'm expecting a bomb to go off at any moment

When they say Yiling, do they mean wei Wuxian now? I know he will be known as Yiling Laozu but I hadn't noticed that such a title was used before now

Not going to lie, the scene between the Lan brothers is one of my favourite so far in the entire show. I adore how Lan Wangji, on his own, begins to doubt the omnipotence of the rules he has, so far, built his life on. But now that his heart is telling him something different. And it warms my soul to see Lan Xichen support him.

Also, the way they filmed wwx's and jc's arrival was hilarious! shot of wwx gazing sadly at lwj -> cut to jc looking skyward, praying for salvation from his pining brother -> shot of lwj gaypanicking™️ with a dash of quite yearning -> cut to lan Xichen looking as if his favourite program just came on. A+ acting. All around

The longing stares are back. Oh how is missed them

Lan Xichen: "If you worry about Master Wei ..." lan Wangji: "not a bot" Poor lan Xichen, his shipper heart won't take it :'(

Oh no ... the drama

Can dad and dad please not fight :/

Oh wow, now they are literally fighting. I wasn't even at that part yet o_O

Holy ... wwx just stayed there. Lwj could have slid his throat if he wanted to

And the sword question again. I have a feeling that it's more than just him not being able to properly cultivate with it anymore

No freezeframe! Another bonus for an all around excellent episode!

@sweetlittlevampire @fandom-glazed @elenirlachlagos @allhailthedramallama @luckymoony (if anyone else wants to be tagged, just say so in the notes! :))

[fairie-gothmother]

In The Shadow of Starlight, Part 4: Mental Bullet Wounds

Part 1: The Fall

Part 2: Negotiating With Gods

Part 3: The Nature of the Beast

"Ah. Fuck!" Octavia was getting frustrated. Of course, she had to get shot in the most awkward spot possible. No matter how she twisted, she just couldn't get a good view of the bullet wound in her shoulder. It didn't help that this medical room didn't have the proper equipment for self surgery. She hadn’t had the time to order supplies, so all she had to extract bullets was a knife and a tiny wall mounted mirror.

She pulled her shirt down further off the shoulder and tried yet another angle to get a better look. Seeing the reflection of her back, she was reminded why she kept herself covered at all times. Nothing but ridged, pink scar tissue covered her entire back and extended beneath the collar of the shirt down both arms. It was disgusting. She hated it. Hated the way it looked, the way it felt, and the memories it brought up.

She saw tears welling up in the eyes of her reflection. What a sorry sight. She looked up and blinked away the tears, refusing to let them fall.

"Oh," came a voice in the room.

Octavia's stomach felt like it dropped to her ankles. She quickly covered up and turned to see Troy Calypso standing just inside the medical room, holding his side. He said, "I was going to tell you to stitch this up for me, but it looks like you could use a hand yourself."

"No, I got it," she snapped. Of course this guy didn't have the courtesy to fucking knock.

"Hm. That's funny. 'Cause from here, it looks like you're just making it worse by blindly digging around with that knife."

As much as she hated to admit it, he was right, but her self consciousness held her back. She tried so hard to make sure no one ever knew about her deepest shame, she couldn't let her defenses down that easily.

"You don't understand," she said, looking anywhere but the other man in the room.

"You really don't think the one armed cyborg would understand? C'mon. Let me take out that bullet so you can get started on sewing me up."

His gaze had focused on her, expression mixed somewhere between impatience, concern, and something else she couldn't put her finger on. Pulling her shirt down once again off the shoulder, she turned slightly and gestured her head towards her back.

She tensed as Troy crossed the room towards her, feeling her face get redder with each step. She turned facing away from him to give him access to the wound.

"You can use the switchblade on the table. Just push the button to open it," Octavia said.

"I do know how knives work," Troy said wryly. Octavia was about to retort, but the words were forgotten when she felt his fingertips sweep across the bare skin of her back. She shivered involuntarily. She hoped he didn't notice how much his light touch and close proximity was affecting her. To be honest, she didn't even want to admit it herself. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on sitting still.

Octavia couldn't help but flinch when the cool metal blade touched her skin and plunged into the wound.

"Ow! Be careful," Octavia hissed.

She could tell Troy was actually trying to remove the bullet without hurting her, but it was deeper than expected. Her eyes squeezed shut as he dove the tip of the blade further into the hole.

"It would be easier to be careful if you didn't move so much. Hold on. I think I got it." He held her shoulder for stability so he didn't accidentally cut her. He managed to angle the blade behind the tip of the bullet, slowly easing it out. After several long moments passed, he took the knife out and removed the metal object with his hand. Octavia yelped when he yanked it out. She turned to glare at Troy who only grinned and waved the bloody bullet in his hand.

"There. See, I know what I'm doing. Feel better?"

"Yeah," Octavia said. She ignored the heat in her cheeks as she pulled her shirt up over the exposed skin.

When Octavia thought back to when she first met the Calypso, she remembered thinking he was nothing but a monster. Now, she felt almost guilty for feeling that way. She owed him a lot. Not only for removing the bullet embedded in her shoulder but also for saving her life during the raid. She wanted to thank him, but just couldn't find the words to do it.

“Alright, let’s do this.” Troy pulled his tank top off over his head and laid down on the examination table. He beckoned her to come closer. Octavia’s eyes went wide at the implication. Was this how he wanted her to thank him? He pointed to a cut on the side of his abdomen. “Don’t tell anybody I got tagged by a tink. Little shit came out of nowhere.”

Oh, right… What was wrong with her? She had to get a grip. Embarrassed from misinterpreting things, she wordlessly began cleaning his injury. She hadn’t felt this vulnerable in a long time. She hated needing help, but she hated her deformed body even more. That was a part of herself that she didn’t share with anyone. It was meant to stay hidden, locked away in the past where no one could reach it.

"So you wanna talk about it?" Troy asked. Octavia was becoming concerned with how well he was able to read her.

"Not really."

He slowly nodded, but didn’t look away from her. Her defenses were cracking under his steady gaze. She didn’t like how transparent he made her feel.

“Do you?” she asked, motioning towards his mechanical arm. It came out a little more aggressive than she meant it to.

Troy was still looking at her, but now as if he was trying to come to some sort of decision. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Touché, smart ass,” he teased.

Octavia was relieved he let that slide. She didn’t have the energy to deal with any more stress. Getting shot during a raid was enough for one day. She absentmindedly stitched up the wound, barely noticing the Calypso watching her as she worked.

“Good as new,” Octavia said, taping a gauze pad over the stitches.

Troy swung his long legs over the side of the examination table and stood. “Finally. I was getting bored. You really need some magazines or something in here,” he said, making his way across the room. You’re welcome, Octavia thought bitterly.

Her annoyance faded when she noticed the Calypso begin to stagger. All the color drained from his face, and his eyes glazed over. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked. Before he reached the door, Troy stumbled backwards into the counter with a loud crash. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he slumped to the floor unconscious.

~~~

Troy gradually regained awareness. He was still in the medical room, lying on an examination table. His skull felt like it would split in two. Involuntarily, he let out a groan.

“You’re awake.” Octavia’s voice came from somewhere behind him. She rushed to his side carrying a tray of herbs and stone tools.

“What… what happened?” Troy asked. He blinked at the lights overhead.

“I was about to ask you the same thing. You passed out,” she said.

Shit. He knew he was getting weaker. He checked the siren marks on his left arm, flexing and rotating his hand. Their usual glow had dimmed to the point where the marks looked like normal tattoos.

“Looks like the energy withdrawals are starting to hit pretty hard. Does anyone else know?”

“No, you’ve only been out for a few minutes. Take this.” Octavia said. She handed him a cup of thick, murky brown liquid that smelled like compost.

“What is it?”

“Chocolate milk. Just drink it.”

Troy turned his nose up at it before gulping it down. It was cold and viscous like slime that quite literally slid down his throat. It tasted like an entire spice rack stewed in swamp sludge. “Gah! C’mon, witch doctor. Why does everything you give me taste like you scooped it out of a toilet?”

After weeks of being teased and belittled for her profession, something in Octavia finally snapped. She coldly replied, “Well, excuse me, your highness. It’s medicine. It isn’t supposed to taste good. I’m an herbalist, not a witch doctor, and not one of your gourmet chefs.” She snatched the cup from Troy’s hands. “You could try showing a little fucking gratitude.” She stormed to the other side of the room slamming her tray on the counter.

A pang of guilt twinged in his gut. The silence lasted uncomfortably long. She had just given him medicine after he collapsed on her floor in a severely vulnerable state. He winced as he swallowed his pride.

“You’re right. Thank you, Vi.”

Octavia turned her head to look at Troy over her shoulder. Her face was flushed a light shade of pink, either still angry from his previous comment or flustered from this uncharacteristic response.

Troy continued, “Guess I owe you one. Thanks to you, Pandora is graced with my fine ass another day.”

“Pff, please. You don’t have an ass,” Octavia said as she eyed him up and down.

“Oh, really? Wanna see for yourself?” He rolled onto his side, put a thumb beneath his waistband, and tugged downward. Octavia yelped and squeezed her eyes closed.

“Don’t you dare!” she shouted.

Troy broke into a fit of laughter. Octavia tried to keep the stern look on her face by tightly pursing her lips together, but she failed and eventually cracked a smile. For the first time, the tension between them lifted. Troy realized that he liked seeing her smile.

The pleasantness of the moment didn’t last long as Troy was struck with another wave of vertigo. He leaned back onto the exam table. “Got any magic toilet water to keep me from keeling over again?”

“I’m not sure. We should talk to Professor Tannis. If there's anyone who knows about siren energy, it's her-”

Her voice faded as Troy’s head reeled again. He pressed his human palm to his temple to keep the room from spinning. He imagined how his followers would react to seeing their omnipotent leader faint. Did he even have followers anymore? Some god he was.

This was the worst his withdrawals have ever been. All his life, Tyreen was right by his side to feed him energy when he needed it, even if she did call him a parasite for asking. That bitch knew he couldn’t survive without her. Banishing him was equivalent to letting him starve to death.

Troy was pulled from his thoughts feeling fingertips graze across his forehead, brushing the hair from his face.

“Did you hit your head? Does it hurt?” Octavia asked. Her delicate fingers were soft and cool on his skin. Her large emerald eyes scanned his face for signs of injury. A few strands of chestnut colored hair fell from her ponytail and framed her heart-shaped face.

A spicy floral scent emitted from her as she leaned over him. Her face was close enough to his that with a simple raise of his chin, he would find out if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.

He caught himself and pushed the traitorous thoughts from his mind. He looked away and swatted her hands off him. “No, it’s fine. Just a little lightheaded.”

Don’t, he scolded himself. She treated all her patients like this, right? She only cared about the health of the God King. Everyone always cared for the God King. Not long ago, he would have crushed every bone in her hand for having the audacity to touch him. No one ever gave a shit before. This was no different.

Troy slipped back into his persona and flashed a cocky grin.

“Besides, look who you’re talking to. Just for the sake of my quality of life though, we should go ahead and get a hold of, uh… crazy scientist lady.”

“Her name is Tannis.”

“That’s the one.”

~~~

Sanctuary. What a spectacular name for such a shithole. Only a handful of people roamed the halls, and Troy swore he saw a claptrap unit chasing a ratch around. He wasn’t sure what he expected Sanctuary to be, but it sure wasn’t this.

Time dragged on while Tannis got situated in the lab. It was entertaining watching her scurry around at first, trying to make sense of the unusual songs she sang to herself. Now Troy was bored, and no one else in the room attempted to make conversation. Curiosity finally got the better of him. “So, Martha.”

“It’s Maya,” the sapphire siren chided.

“Right. I’ve never met another siren other than my sister. What are your powers like?”

The corners of Maya’s mouth turned up into a grin. Surprisingly, she chose to indulge him. “I’m able to phaselock targets and suspend them in another dimension.”

“Whoa, that sounds rad.” He stood back and held his arms out. “Here, do me.”

“I am not going to phaselock you.”

He dropped his arms and pouted. “Aw, come on!”

Tannis lightly whacked him on the arm with her clipboard. “As tempting as it is to start a siren fight club, I’m afraid there are more pressing matters at hand. If you could stand still for a moment-” Tannis poked and prodded at him, occasionally saying things like, “fascinating.” Troy was hyper aware of how close she was to his right side, turning to keep her to his left as much as possible. He jumped when he felt a pinch on his ass. “Interesting,” Tannis said.

Maya helped get things back on track. “Alright. So far we know that Troy can’t absorb the life force from living things like Tyreen can, and she could somehow channel energy to him through touch. Is there anything else we have to work with?”

Troy wished there was. “Other than that, it’s all I’ve got. That’s just one part to my curse. Aside from being a defective siren, I’ve also been cursed with irresistible good looks.”

“Tch. You wish.” A dark blue haired kid scoffed from the back of the lab. She leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. Troy hadn’t noticed her until now.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” he asked, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his tone.

“I’m going to be a siren. An actual siren, not whatever you are. I’d put an end to assholes like you. I don’t know why we’re trying to keep you alive, honestly.”

Maya interrupted, “You’ll have to excuse my apprentice. Ava, stop threatening people with powers you don’t have yet. I said you could watch as long you didn’t cause trouble.”

Ava’s tough girl act dropped. “I know. I’ll behave, promise. Please don’t kick me out.”

What a punk. “Okay, kid. You let me know if that siren thing ever works out for ya.” Troy clicked his tongue and winked at her. She shook with impotent rage, fists clenched at her sides like a child about to throw a tantrum.

Tannis was about to explode in anticipation, eager to start her experiments. “Well, cursed or otherwise, I find your physical attractiveness confusingly repulsive. That being said, I feel you have an important part to play in the coming days. So I’ve prepared several only mildly painful experiments. Now, where to start?”

Tannis was completely in her element, recording Echo logs and bouncing around Troy while he soaked in all the attention. His bask in the spotlight was short lived.

The tests began with the obvious catalyst for siren power, eridium. After trying different delivery methods, Troy got impatient and stupidly licked a chunk of raw eridium. Other than burning his tongue, it had no effect. Next, they attempted to transfer siren energy indirectly. Maya charged an Eridian artifact as a sort of battery for Troy to draw from. Again, no results.

After hours of trial and error, one failure after another, they’d concluded every test.

“I think we have to call it quits,” Maya admitted. She looked tired, wiping the sweat from her brow. “You gave it your best shot, Tannis.”

“How curious. It would seem Troy is a siren in tattoos only,” Tannis said, looking defeated.

Troy was exhausted. “This blows,” he said, sprawled out across the examination table, panting slightly from the exertion. “Don’t mind me, ladies. It’s not like my life depends on it or anything.” Troy caught Ava wearing a shit-eating grin and stuck his tongue out at her.

“I think we may be on the right track,” Tannis circled around the examination table, talking more to herself than to anyone else in the room. “Perhaps Troy’s cybernetics could be modified to include Eridian artifacts into the bio-integration components.”

Troy closed his eyes, grateful for a moment to rest. He had hoped Tannis would at least find a temporary solution to his dependency on Tyreen. He was running off of fumes. It was only a matter of time until his tank ran completely dry.

While he was busy worrying about his own mortality, Troy didn’t notice Tannis absentmindedly extending her hand until she touched his shoulder brace. He jolted from his lamenting. In an instinctual panic, he caught her bare wrist in his human hand.

A familiar flood of power surged through him. He threw his head back, caught in the sudden sensation. Red tendrils entwined his arm with Tannis’s, filling him with the strength his starving body so desperately craved. His siren marks blazed back to life in a brilliant flash of crimson.

Then, he was unable to move, frozen in place. Maya had activated her powers and suspended him in midair. So this was what being phaselocked felt like. His insides burned like the sting of frostbite. His breath caught in his throat, lungs refusing to function. Maya lifted him into the air and tossed him across the room away from Tannis. He yelled as he was sent careening into a counter full of lab equipment.

Maya helped Tannis up from the floor. A distinct blue glow peaked out from beneath one sleeve of her lab coat.

“I thought you could only take from Tyreen!” Maya said, her face drained of color.

Troy held up his left arm observing the intense light of his marks. “I guess it’s any siren.”

Ava pointed to the scientist’s glowing arm. “Tannis? You’re a…”

A siren.