#but now she's going to teach him all sorts of words out of pure spite

[commonwealthoccurences]

Back To Eden - ch5

Summary: Sole is a journalist and independent investigator who worked with the famous Detective Nick Valentine before the bombs dropped. They stumble out of Vault 111 with hazy memories of a case gone awry, a sense of desperate yearning, and the bitter experience of already having had to fight for their life to survive against the odds. What's a little nuclear wasteland to a (newly) seasoned investigator?

See masterlist for warnings.

Fic-long tags: Hurt comfort, angst, pining, flashback scenes, noir detective show meets post-apocalyptic chaos, Preston Garvey is a sweetheart, Sole is doing their best and living out of pure spite, slow burn (Nick/Sole), etc etc.

Sole had a hard time talking for a few days after that. There was a certain numbness that overtook them rather quickly. They found themself avoiding glances at the outside world whenever the door opened and they often laid with their back to the rest of the room; they simply faced the dirty wall and started listlessly or slept.

Which, they supposed, was okay. Their body needed rest, especially after they dragged their way to the back of the house to get Preston that key. He hadn’t opened it yet, according to Sturges, who often gave little settlement updates to their back whenever he came in to check on them. Apparently, he wanted Sole to be there; he still felt they had some ownership over the food and it wouldn’t feel right otherwise. Sturges had expressed once, under his breath, that Preston was too good of a man to have come from the wasteland.

The word had slipped out and Sole knew he hadn’t meant for them to hear the comment at all, but they’d fixated on it. The wasteland. That’s what Boston was now, and the rest of the world, too. Just a wasteland. They weren’t sure if they considered themself lucky in the fact that most of their memory from stumbling home had vanished. All they remembered was those brambles, everything else was a blur of shapes, nausea, and cold. 

Sole thought about Nick Valentine a lot in those days they spent mentally isolating themself. They also thought about their parents a lot, about the fact that they hadn’t had much contact after college, but the loss still stung. They thought about the younger woman who managed the local Slocum Joe’s– she often gave Sole a free coffee when they worked on their articles in her shop. Their heart ached, far more than their muscles had. They’d lost everything. They’d never see that life again.

“No you– hold it like this. Move your thumb– not there. You’ve never held a gun before, have you?” Detective Valentine asked, hands on his hips.

Sole laughed and looked at the pistol in their hands. “Once, when I was six. My dad thought it would be a great idea to teach us, so he took us to the range. I fired it once and cried until we left and the entire car ride home.”

“Uh-huh. Explains why you’re an independent investigator and not a cop.” The last part was muttered under his breath, but didn’t go unheard.

“Watch it, Detective, that’s a can of worms you and I don’t want to open.”

“Of course. Now– what are you doing with your foot? I don’t think I’ve ever even seen someone stand like that before.”

Sole sighed and readjusted their stance until they got a half-pleased nod of assent from the Detective. They were watching him actively struggle with the urge to just jump in and adjust the way they were doing everything himself, but it was sort of an unspoken standoff. Sole wasn’t about to ask him to, and they didn’t think he would voice the request. “Okay. Place your finger on the trigger, but don’t squeeze yet.”

They complied, but felt a gross chill crackle its way down their spine. As he’d previously instructed, Sole took a deep breath and let it out slowly in an attempt to settle their nerves. “Good.” The Detective said quietly. “Now look where you’re aiming and when you’re ready, squeeze the trigger.”

For a few seconds, Sole simply stared forward at the target, eyes locked with the bullseye. Then, they squeezed, and the resulting BAM made them jump out of their skin. Quickly, they placed the gun down and raised their hands. “I hate it.” 

Detective Valentine was obviously suppressing a laugh, and if Sole wasn’t so uncomfortable from shooting, they would’ve felt a bit smug at being able to make him laugh. Instead, they gave him their best attempt at a withering look. “I’m trying!” 

“I know, I know, it was a… good attempt.” Sole could tell he was doing his best to be genuine, but noticed he swiftly turned away under the guise of pressing the button to push their target to the front.

Sole mimicked his earlier posture, putting their hands on their hips. “Am I blind, where’s the hole?”

The Detective leaned over to them. “I’m impressed, Sole.”

“What? Why?” 

“You completely missed.”

Sole groaned. “You’ll get the hang of it. Come on, I’ll help this time.” The Detective offered.

Sole assumed their best approximation of the stance they had before, but Detective Valentine shook his head. “Here,” he said quietly, moving into their space behind them, “You need to keep your arms like this and your knees like this. Make sure you’re prepared for the recoil this time. Okay, breathe.”

Considering how close he was, it was a bit difficult to follow up on that last instruction. Taking a deep breath was nearly a mistake; the smell of cigarettes overwhelmed them, and while they didn’t mind the scent– they had become very familiar with it over the last three weeks– it was more than distracting. “Alright. Fire.”

Sole complied easily, squeezing the trigger with less hesitation than they’d had before, though they still screwed up their face in discomfort. It definitely helped to have the Detective there to handle the recoil. When they released the breath they took, Detective Valentien patted them on the arm and moved away. “See, you hit the target this time. You’ll get the hang of it.”

While Sole wasn’t pleased to spend the next two hours practicing their aim, they knew it was important. The Detective was right, when he said it was their job to have his back. It was his job, too, to have their back, but they weren’t worried about that. It was unfair for the Detective to have such an uneven dynamic and if something happened to him because they couldn’t do their job, they would never forgive themself.

Sole remembered that day clearly– doing target practice and hand-to-hand with Valentine. It was one of the first solid days that they’d spent together outside of paperwork and the bullshit that the BPD was throwing at them. Suddenly, they felt ridiculous, especially as they remembered their last memory they had with the Detective. He’d taught them so much just to keep them both alive in the face of the danger they had willingly put themselves in. He was the reason they were still around and it almost felt that to give up was to spit in his face. So when Sturges came in to check on them that day, they asked, “Would you mind if I sat outside for a bit?”

“Oh! Yeah, ‘course. We got one of those chairs with wheels from next door just in case you asked. It won’t be the most comfortable, but it’ll have to do.” Sturges was clearly pleasantly surprised as he busied himself with medical supplies Sole had no clue about.

They’d had many salves and bandages pressed over blistered skin and injections– Stimpacks, he’d called them– and creams that tried to fix their damaged blood vessels, different parts of them warmed and cooled, the feeling restored in different limbs and then taken away and restored again. They’d honestly lost track of everything that’d been done to them as they slept away the days in an attempt to rest. Sturges had said that was their one job, that sleeping was their way to heal their body, but it hadn’t been something they tried for. The exhaustion often crept up on them when they least expected it and they were out like a light within minutes.

Sole hadn’t complained a bit about all of the medical antics, though. Slowly but surely their persistent pains eased off into muscle aches, the blisters healed, their eyesight went back to normal, and the antagonistic itching that followed their damaged blood vessels dissipated– for now. What they were left with was a ridiculous amount of muscle weakness that Sturges informed them would be resolved with use, some balance issues, and the occasional migraine. Sure, it sucked, but in the grand scheme of things, they were damn lucky.

They waited quietly, patiently, for Sturges to walk next door and drag the chair over. They could’ve sworn they had their own office chair, well, in their office before the bombs went off, but then again a lot could change in two hundred years. And change it had.

When Sturges made it back, which he did rather quickly, he had Preston in tow along with the discussed chair. Sole cocked their head to the side, confused as to why they needed Preston. “Oh, don’t look at me. He saw me and asked for an update and y’know. Wanted to supervise.” Sturges chuckled and set the chair down next to them before moving to help them sit up.

“Does he hover like a worried mother duck around everyone or am I just that special?” Sole’s teasing was lighthearted and they made sure to flash Preston a grin to show it.

“Oh, that’s his job. You get used to it.”

“I think it’s nice. I may not know much about the world anymore but good people are good people, and from what I heard we’re now in short supply.”

“Well, you’re right about that.”

Preston supervised from the corner as Sturges helped Sole ease from their bed into the chair, pausing every few movements to let them catch their breath and soothe their aches. On the biggest movement, when Sturges had to practically lift them to actually get them into the chair, they saw Preston take a half-step forward, ready to jump in if needed. Once they were sat back and breathing hard from the exertion, he relaxed. “Just, uh, give me a minute. Feels like I aged every one of those two hundred years.” Sole gasped.

“Take your time.” Sturges said quietly.

Sole gave themself a minute to catch their breath and get comfortable, or as comfortable as they could manage. Eventually, they put their feet on the base of the chair. “Alright, let’s go, now or never.”

When Sole had emerged from the vault, they had no sense of dread or apprehension. They had no idea what was waiting for them on the other side– hell, they were barely conscious and functioning. Now it felt like they were finally facing the cards they had been dealt. Reluctantly and bitterly, sure, but they were facing it as Preston grasped the doorknob and began swinging the door open as Sturges pushed them closer. The post-apocalyptic apprentice doctor and his… General? And Sole. The survivor of a nuclear apocalypse and a roughly 226 year old one at that.

“Oh, c’mon old man, is that the best you’ve got?” 

Sole was getting cocky and they knew it, but they didn’t care. At Detective Valentine’s insistence they were in the gym on a mat, finally going toe-to-toe in a little lighthearted practice fighting. Well, it had been lighthearted at first. Sole had always been a competitive person and the Detective was not taking kindly to being shown up for the first time ever by them, but they were exhilarated. Finally, they were good at something. Finally, they were actually better than him at something. Every duck and jab reaffirmed that they had a reason to be there, even though they felt like they were floundering in the field.

“Old man? Really? Am I even that much older than you?” The Detective rolled his eyes, but never fell out of his defensive stance.

Sole looked for an opening and saw none. They faked a punch and immediately went for the resulting weakness his defensive movement provided, but the Detective was quick on his feet despite being tired from their antics. They laughed, breathless. There was something about this that was unraveling all of the tension from the past handful of weeks. They were on even ground. Sole was holding their own.

The round of sparring lasted for several more creeping minutes until Sole finally got their chance and managed to sweep his feet out from under him. The Detective hit the mat with a soft oof and Sole didn’t hesitate to drop down next to him, exhausted but satisfied with the day’s events. Heavy breathing filled the silence of the room; it was nearly two in the morning and it had long been vacated, but apparently the Detective knew the owner. Sole hadn’t been surprised. “You did good today.” He said, between panting breaths.

“Thanks.”

Despite the comforting wear in their muscles and the sleepiness in their bones, the discomfort set back in the longer they were left unoccupied with catching their breath their only task. Sole squirmed a bit, unable to settle with the layer of sweat that had coated their skin. “Detective–”

“Nick. Or Valentine. Whichever.”

“Oh.”

A moment of silence.

“Uh, Nick…”

“Yeah?”

“I– this won’t sound rational, and I know that’s kind of what we’re supposed to do. Well, what you’re supposed to do– I’m new here, so I guess I get a pass. Anyway, I– I don’t know how to explain it but I just have a really bad feeling about Grayson.”

Dete– Nick shifted, too, from the sounds that Sole heard, but they didn’t look over at him. They waited, tense, to be ridiculed. They knew it was illogical. They didn’t have a reason, other than just not getting a good feeling from the guy and the weird thing he said to them in the elevator, but still. Something was up with him. Sole couldn’t say for sure that that was their guy, but there was definitely something wrong there.

“On the record I will tell you as your partner that we will follow the book and look for the evidence, but unfortunately we cannot keep a man detained due to a gut feeling, and that if nothing comes up we’ll simply release and keep an eye on him.”

“... and off the record?”

Valentine sighed. “Off the record, I would agree with you. Somethin’ isn’t right.”

Sole flinched away from the sudden influx of light as the door opened. Even though there were plenty of flaws in their house now, Sturges had made an attempt to seal it up to the point that they had forgotten it was summer. Something about that was so uncomfortable. Falling asleep when it was autumn, nearly winter, and waking up when it’s summer. Sole suppressed a gasp.

The neighborhood, as expected, was absolutely destroyed. No, that wasn’t true. They saw other settlers, the people from Preston and Sturge’s little clan that they hadn’t met yet, doing their absolute best to put it back together. Someone was hammering away at the house across the street, turning the rust and blue shell into a patchwork quilt of a shelter. Someone else was hard at work planting or harvesting some sort of gourd they had never seen before. 

It was hard to see the progress, the survival and determination, past what Sole could only absorb as the wreckage of everything they knew. They knew the people that had lived across from them. They knew what the wife cooked for breakfast every morning (omelets for the adults, pancakes for the kids) and what her husband’s engine sounded like when he left for work (loud, at 5 am no less)and what time their twin boys left for baseball practice (3:30 PM). And now they were gone and no one knew.

And Sole was left with a fierce battle going on between the two halves of their brain and heart. They couldn’t see the point in going on when everything had crumbled while they were away. The neighbors across the street and the man next door and every person they had ever met was gone and all they had left to grasp at were memories and grief. And the heartbreaking thing was, they didn’t even know these people all that well. It was just the little things that made them know them, the things they never thought important. But their old life had slipped out of their grasp and suddenly the sound of that engine was so unbelievably important and 3:30 in the afternoon would never be the same.

But the last thing Sole was was a quitter. They’d fought to get to where they were before the War and they fought to survive everything that had gone down after… and they almost had. They were working on surviving that. And then the bombs started dropping and they couldn’t reach Nick over the phone in time and they were underground and they never got the chance to say goodbye. To him or to anyone.

And then they were here. On their front porch on the other side of the end of the world. And Preston placed his hand on their shoulder and asked in that soft tone he liked to use with them, “Would you like to go back inside?” And they realized they were crying again.

“No. No I– I think I’d like to just sit a while, if that’s okay.”

So Preston leaned back against one of the supports of their awning, his ridiculous looking gun propped up over one shoulder and his hat tilted forward to keep the sun out of his eyes. Sturges sat at the stoop, by their feet. Some of the other people from their group greeted the pair as they walked past, and a few even occasionally said hello to Sole. They weren’t quite sure if they said hello back, but the intention was there.

The sun crept forward into the sky as the minutes ticked into hours. Preston left eventually; he had things to do and a settlement to run– well, try to set up. But Sturges simply shifted in place every now and then to stay comfortable, and didn’t say a word. That is, until Sole finally piped up. “Sturges?”

“Yeah?”

“Does, uh– there used to be a small river, where the bridge leads to Sanctuary, there was a river underneath. I just– is it still there? Does the river still run?”

“Yeah, Sole. The river still runs, it’s still there.”

“The river still runs. And I’m still here.”

Sturges reached up and patted them on the knee. His expression was one they’d grown familiar with, a sort of warm sadness. The river still ran. There were people there, right in front of them, and they were fighting for their lives. They were running out of food and Sole had the key tucked into their pocket. “Sturges?”

“Yeah, Sole?”

“Can you take me to the bunker? Please.”

He turned and looked at them. Not a quick glance, but a bit of a non-judgemental stare, like he was studying them. And the warm sadness turned into a soft grin and he nodded, “Yeah, alright. Let’s go crack that thing open, shall we?”

A/N: There may not be an update for a hot minute as I finish up finals week and work on other important things I have going on. It shouldn't be too long though and I'll try to get another chapter out before the end of the week!

[verumheart-a]

'' He's still a kid, mind the language. ''.

{⚡}- “I said ‘twit,’ not something that isn’t considered ‘kid friendly’ you fucking incompetent muppet.”

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

For a prompt, maybe Bobby having a job in high school where he teaches guitar to kids and Emily and Mitch mistakenly sign Luke up for lessons? (Bobby just doesn't sound like a teenager on the phone) Belated congratulations on the 500 milestone, btw ✨

Here you go, friend! I hope you like it! My first jatp AU fic lol :)

Read on ao3 here:

--

Here’s the thing: Luke already knows how to play the guitar.

Has he ever taken a lesson? Officially? No, of course not, because he’s not a nerd. But he’s been learning from YouTube tutorials for almost six years now, been writing his own stuff for four, been the lead singer and guitarist of an epic, legendary rock band for two. He’d say he’s pretty well covered in the “knowing how to play the guitar” department, without some crusty old guy showing him the chords to songs no one’s listened to since the 60s in the grimy basement of a church two hours a week.

And yet, here he stands, on the sidewalk outside said church, guitar case in hand and a truly menacing grimace on his face, staring up at the hand-painted sign on the door detailing “Guitar lessons for kids! Room B38” in big block letters.

“Well?” Alex, who drove Luke here because Luke is currently not on speaking terms with his mother and father out of pure unadulterated spite, claps a hand on his shoulder, already stifling giggles. “You ready for your lesson, kiddo?”

“I will kick you out of the band,” Luke threatens.

“Then you can walk home.” Alex jingles his keys teasingly, then tugs Luke into a quick hug. “Come on, man, I think it was a nice gesture. Try to make the most of it, at least your parents are trying.”

Right, because the whole reason Luke’s here is because his mom thought the lessons would be a good reward for Luke passing all his classes this semester. Because she heard him complaining that Sunset Curve needed a rhythm guitarist to fill out their sound and decided that meant he needed to learn how to do it himself, even though Luke tried to explain to her that he couldn’t play rhythm guitar and face-melting solos at the same time.

Of course, she didn’t listen, and then his dad found a flyer for this guy Robert giving lessons out of the local church, and before Luke could say no, the first month’s worth were already paid for and he didn’t have a choice.

And he supposes Alex is sort of right. At least his parents know what a guitar is. At least they’re trying to be somewhat, relatively supportive of his music, instead of pushing him to apply to college or get a job over the summer like they did constantly until he ran away for six months after Christmas and almost died (he’s fine now, but that near-death experience really changed his parents’ tune).

At least they actually acknowledge that he’s in a band at all, unlike Alex’s folks, whose friends think Alex volunteers at homeless shelters in his free time, or Reggie’s, who just don’t care.

Luke knows he’s got it good, compared to his friends, compared to himself a year ago. But that doesn’t mean he’s gotta be happy about it.

“All right, I’ll pick you up in an hour,” Alex says, giving Luke’s shoulder another friendly squeeze. “Try not to pout so much, it’s unbecoming.”

Luke gives him the finger, and Alex’s laughter echoes behind him as he heads back toward his car.

And then Luke sighs, grips his guitar a little tighter, and heads inside. He’s already here, he might as well get it over with.

Room B38 is a tiny classroom deep in the bowels of the church, reserved for Sunday School or daycare or some other such activity. The door’s closed, so Luke knocks, and a voice from inside calls, “Come in!”

A voice that does not sound like it belongs to the crusty old man Luke had been picturing.

He frowns, wondering if maybe he’s in the wrong place, but tugs the door open anyway and maneuvers himself and his guitar inside.

There’s no crusty old man waiting for him. There is, however, a handsome (Luke can’t help noticing and then feels stupid for noticing), young man, no more than a year or two older than Luke at most, sitting in a comically small plastic chair and tuning an acoustic guitar.

“Hey,” Luke greets him, raising an awkward hand. “You’re… Robert?”

“Please—Bobby,” the guy corrects, laying his guitar down on the carpeted floor next to him so he can stand and shake Luke’s hand. There’s a gleam of confusion in his eyes, and he glances over Luke’s shoulder like he’s looking for something as he says, “You must be Luke’s… older brother?”

Oh, Luke is going to kill his parents. “Uh, no,” he says, clears his throat awkwardly. “No, um… I’m Luke.”

Bobby lets out an undignified snort, and then claps his hand over his mouth. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, still sort of giggling. “I shouldn’t laugh, it’s just—most of my students are in the four to twelve age range? I thought you’d be, like, eight.”

Luke rolls his eyes. “Well, I thought you’d be, like, sixty, so I guess we’re both disappointed.”

“Not disappointed,” Bobby corrects, and his smile makes Luke’s stomach flip in a way he’d really rather not analyze too closely right now. Bobby nods down at the guitar case in Luke’s hand. “Should we get started?”

Luke’s tongue feels dumb and thick in his mouth, but he manages to stammer something vaguely affirmative, and Bobby grins at him.

They settle into the kiddy chairs across from each other, and Bobby picks his guitar back up while Luke pulls his own out of its case.

He briefly considers pretending to actually need guitar lessons so that Bobby will have a chance to show off, because Bobby’s cute and funny and clearly cares about music, and Luke doesn’t know how to flirt.

But Luke also doesn’t know how to play guitar badly. So they only get about twenty minutes into the lesson before Bobby stops and says, “You don’t need me, do you?”

“I really don’t,” Luke apologizes. “I play lead guitar in a band, I’ve been teaching myself since I was twelve, my parents are just—” he starts to say stupid, then remembers Alex’s words and amends—“a little clueless about this kind of thing.”

Bobby puts his guitar aside and leans forward in his chair. “What, have they never heard you play before?”

Luke resists the urge to roll his eyes. “No, they have, they just. We’re looking for someone—my band and me—to play rhythm guitar for us? My parents asked why I couldn’t do it, and when I explained it to them, they thought ‘I can’t play lead and rhythm at the same time’ meant I couldn’t play rhythm at all. I don’t know.” He shrugs a little, busies himself with putting his guitar back in its case.

“I could.”

Luke looks up, frowning. “You could what?”

Bobby raises his eyebrows pointedly, nods at the guitar lying at his feet. “Play with you guys. If you’re still looking for someone, I mean.”

Luke’s heart skips a beat, and a warm smile spreads across his face without his permission. “Seriously, man? That’d be amazing! Here, let me give you my number and you can come over sometime and meet the band.”

They exchange information, and Luke spends a little too long staring stupidly at the contact in his phone that Bobby has named “Guitar Teacher <3”.

“Plus,” Bobby says, and Luke looks back up to see him smirking as he returns his own phone to his pocket. “Now I get an excuse to see you again. Since you obviously don’t need the lessons.”

“Yeah,” Luke agrees. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“But, uh, maybe don’t tell your parents that. Cause I can’t give them a refund.”

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @apples-bees @reggiescrookedteeth @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @shellydominique @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Unexpected Part 3

Harry Potter Marauders Era Post Hogwarts 

Link to Part 2 

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: M- smut

______

Sirius sat at the table drinking his morning tea. He looked up when he heard the chair on the opposite end of the table pull out. Regulus plopped down and was giving him the biggest death glare that Sirius had ever seen on his brother’s face.

“What’s with you? Did the little angel keep you awake all night?”

Sirius asked. He didn’t have to say it but Sirius was convinced that Halley did no wrong. If she decided to wake her parents up in the middle of the night then they deserved to be graced by her presence no matter the hour.

“No, Halley did nothing. It was you. You better be glad that this table is separating us because I want to kill you.”

Regulus would have normally chuckled at the expression on Sirius’ face but he was too angry.

“What exactly did I do to you?”

Sirius questioned, quietly wondering if Regulus was going to come across the table to try to strangle him. Regulus rubbed a hand over his eyes and tried to breathe a few times. Screaming at Sirius wasn’t going to do anyone any good. He would just come across as a bigger ass than he already was.

“You told Remus what I told you and Y/n overheard you. Now she fucking hates me.”

Sirius winced.

“I didn’t know she was in the hallway. Regulus, first off, you are the one that said you weren't in love with her.”

“I am in love with her! I just suck at expressing my emotions. Hell, you know me. Now she probably won’t ever talk to me again.”

Sirius blinked a few times.

“Uh, you two are married and have a baby. She will kind of have to talk to you.”

Regulus sighed.

“Until she divorces me and I only get to see Halley periodically.”

Sirius’ amused smile faded as he realized that Regulus was being serious. The pain on his brother’s face was enough.

“Y/n isn’t going to divorce you. Go apologize. You know that thing where you say that you are sorry and beg for mercy...kiss her ankles if you have to. I know mum and dad didn’t really teach us that sort of thing but it works wonders.”

Regulus scowled up again.

“I know what an apology is, you twat!”

Sirius grinned before focusing on Regulus again.

“Good. It looks like you’ve learned a new skill. In all seriousness Reg, just calm down. Y/n will chill out. She is just upset right now. Y/n is the sweetest most caring person that I know…”

Regulus snorted. He wouldn't use “sweet or caring” to describe the fight that the two of you had the previous night. Regulus expected the first fight as a couple to be over something stupid like what color of drapes would be put in the house...not you questioning Regulus’ love for you.

“Try saying that when she's yelling at your face that she regrets ever meeting you. That sure was cute. Try fucking heartbreaking. I swear if she leaves me over this I am going to make your life a giant dumpster fire.”

Sirius blinked.

“You mean bigger than it already is? Cool.”

Regulus sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. He reminded Sirius of a pouting child that didn’t get his way.

“This fucking sucks.”

Sirius took a sip of his tea before focusing his attention on his little brother.

“It's going to be fine. Y/n isn’t some uptight pure-blood bitch like our mother who will make your life a living hell. She is probably just going to give you the cold shoulder for a bit until she needs you. Speaking of needs...I’m just curious…”

Regulus looked up.

“There are mornings that I wake up dehydrated and now I probably won’t be able to touch her again.”

Sirius nodded.

“That’s what Remus and I figured. We were guessing that she was a freak in the sheets.”

Regulus’ scowl intensified.

“Don’t talk about my wife that way.”

“You started it.”

Sirius muttered as you walked into the room. Taking one look at you Sirius realized that Regulus wasn’t joking. You were furious...furious and hurt. Sirius winced. He had never seen you looking this devastated.

“We are due at your parents in half an hour. We should get ready to go.”

You said, sounding as if you were almost on autopilot. Sirius frowned.

“You two are going around those people?”

Your attention turned to Sirius.

“Yes, whether we like them or not, Walburga and Orion deserve to know about Halley. I would invite you to tag along but I don’t want you to get murdered.”

Sirius grinned as he looked between Regulus and yourself. The two of you refused to look at each other. It reminded Sirius of two children who had been playing “I’m not touching you” too many times.

“You’re such a good friend. By the way, I love that the two of you look like you’re going to a funeral.”

You had taken extra care to doll yourself up. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you were nervous about meeting Walburga Black. Turning up looking anything but perfect would probably be a disaster. As a result of the previous thought, you stood dressed in a vintage black dress that matched the suit that Regulus was wearing. To be spiteful, you put on the red lipstick that seemed to drive Regulus wild. When he looked up at you and squirmed in the chair that he was sitting in you knew that you did your job well.

Being spiteful backfired on you when you focused your attention on Regulus. The black suit was the one that he had on the night that the two of you met.

That damned black suit that just begged to be torn off of him...

“Might as well be a funeral.”

Regulus muttered before standing up. Not a truer statement had been made. Regulus was nervous about taking his wife and child around his parents. Something about this seemed like a bad idea. Regulus was going to be on his toes the whole night.

Half an hour later….

You stood beside Regulus outside of the Black family home. Regulus held Halley in his right arm. Neither of you had said a word since leaving James’ house. Regulus took a breath before looking down at you. He would rather take you somewhere else and try to woo his way back into your heart but no...he was stuck with his parents.

“Y/n, we can’t go in there not speaking to each other. My parents will tear us apart.”

You didn’t look up at him.

“I’ll be your happy quiet little wife. From what Sirius says that is what your mother wants for you. Congratulations, you have it.”

Regulus groaned.

“Damn it, Y/n...if you would just listen to…”

Before Regulus could get the rest of the sentence out, the front door opened. Walburga stood on the other side and instantly smiled the moment that she saw her “baby.” Her smile turned to shock the moment that her eyes noticed the baby in her son’s arm.

“Hello, mum.”

Regulus said simply as Walburga blinked a few times before looking at you. She quickly got the message that she had missed something going on in her son’s life.

“Regulus, what is going on?”

Regulus took a breath before placing his left hand on the small of your back.

“We need to talk inside, mother.”

“It appears that we do. Go into the sitting room so I can go find your father. It looks like we have a lot of catching up to do.”

Walburga turned and disappeared from the foyer as Regulus motioned you into the sitting room. The two of you sat down in silence. Looking around the room, you could see why Regulus grew up the way he did. Nothing about the room or the house (from what you saw) screamed “happy family.” Everything was dark and dreary.

You couldn’t help but wonder if you had been too hard on Regulus? The fact that Walburga didn’t hug him made you question everything. If he didn’t have his mother’s love and affection, how would Regulus know how to give it to someone else?

Like Regulus, you had begun to wonder if coming back to London was the best decision for your little family? Nothing was wrong with your life in France. Both Regulus and yourself were so happy. The two of you didn’t fight. You were a happy young couple just starting your lives together.

Regulus meanwhile, turned to meet your gaze. The look on your face was enough to break his heart. He knew that you were questioning everything and he was regretting his comments even more.

“Darling…”

Regulus started. He wanted to tell you how much he loved and needed you. You were the one piece in his life that made sense. If it wasn’t for you, there would be a good chance that Regulus would be dead somewhere or still a death eater.

The chemistry between the two of you was so clearly evident. As Regulus leaned down to kiss you footsteps in the hallway stopped him in his tracks. The warm loving expression in Regulus’ eyes vanished and the cold haughty Black family scowl returned as Walburga and Orion stepped in.

Orion appeared as shocked as Walburga had moments before. His youngest son sat a few feet away with a baby that was clearly his and a woman by his side.

“I think you have something to tell us.”

Orion stated before sitting down in the seat across from the couch. Regulus gently put Halley in your arms as he gathered the courage to speak. He only hoped that his parents would be as receptive to this news as the Potters were.

“This is my wife and daughter…”

Walburga immediately interrupted.

“Where were we in this decision?”

Regulus shrugged.

“I didn’t tell you to keep the two of you safe. You know what I am. Look, I know it's not the dream outcome that the two of you want but I love her. I won’t be giving her up no matter what is said. You can banish me from the family if you want. My wife and daughter are what matters to me.”

Orion glanced over his shoulder to Walburga before focusing his attention on his son.

“You should stop there, Regulus.”

He turned his attention to you. Orion had to admit that you were lovely. You sat at his son’s side keeping your demeanor calm and reserved. What he didn’t see was the inner turmoil that you had going on inside of you. You were going between swooning when Regulus said “my wife and daughter” for one moment before going back to “does he really want this?” Regulus was offering no insight into this soul at the moment either. He had closed his emotions off and was strictly the boy that his mother and father trained him to be.

“Who are you, my dear?”

Orion asked. You took a breath. It was time to prove how brave you really were. You had never had a conversation with Walburga or Orion Black before. When Sirius ran away to your parent’s home, you were not allowed to come with your mother, James, and Sirius when they came back to Grimmauld Place to get his things. Sirius begged your mother to not let you come. He was honestly afraid that his mother would try to hurt you. Walburga would probably think that you conned Sirius into running away and call you a tramp or any other horrible name that she could come up with.

You internally smirked at the thought now. Granted, no one knew how your future would turn out. There was no one that could foresee you marrying Regulus. Now here you sat in Walburga’s sitting room with her grandchild in your arms and Walburga’s own mother’s wedding band on your finger.

“I was Y/n Potter. You know my family, sir.”

Orion only nodded as Walburga’s mouth dropped. Now she remembered you! Walburga had seen you trailing after James and Sirius that day at Kings Cross station when dropping Regulus off for school. You had changed a lot from that day long ago. Walburga was pleased to say that you had definitely grown up to be a beautiful girl. She could see why Regulus had fallen in love with you.

Looking at her youngest son, Walburga had a feeling that he would pick you over the “family” a million times over. Walburga had to decide if she could put her own vindictive nature away and be receptive of a daughter in law (that she had no choice in) or lose her son all together. She had already lost one son, could she handle losing another?

She was about to speak but stopped. Her attention went to the baby. The little girl looked so much like Regulus as a baby that there was no way Walburga could deny this was her son’s daughter. Everything about the baby screamed, “Regulus Black is my father.”

A new feeling that Walburga had never felt before was surging through her as she looked at the baby. She had heard many people say that the love one felt for their grandchildren was different than the love that was felt for their child. At the moment, Walburga couldn’t agree more. She wanted nothing more than to cuddle the baby and never let her go.

Another reason to accept this girl as my son’s wife. If I want to be able to see my grandchild then I will have to be kind to her mother whether I like her or not.

“How old is she?”

Walburga asked, softly. She had to get out of her head for the moment. Walburga did well at masking all of her emotions. That was an unwanted skill that was forced upon her as a child by her own parents.

“Emotional people are weak. You don’t want to be seen that way.”

Her father’s cruel words rang through Walburga’s head just as they did when she was six years old. Now looking back, she realized that she forced this own horribly cold ideology on her own children. Looking at Regulus, she could clearly see that he followed this to a perfect point. Had Walburga ruined the boy that she loved the most?

“Four months. Her name is Halley.”

Regulus replied. He didn’t offer any more information leaving his mother questioning things in her mind even further. Regulus had always been such a loving little boy right up until age 6 when Walburga and Orion didn’t have time for his childish wants. This was the time that he was told it was “time to grow up” and stop needing mummy and daddy so much. Walburga wanted to sob at the memory of the expression on his little face when she told him that he needed to go play and leave her alone. Now there was no emotion in his eyes when he looked at her. Walburga couldn’t help but wonder if he was closed off and uncaring to you?

You sat at his side as a good wife should but something in your eyes bothered Walburga. There was something that was screaming out for help and the older woman wanted nothing more than to find out what was going on.

“She’s perfect.”

Walburga said, softly. Regulus, meanwhile, looked up at the tone in his mother’s voice. He had never heard that particular tone before.

“She looks just like Regulus as a baby.”

Orion commented with a proud smile on his face. He didn’t have to look at Walburga’s face to know that she was questioning everything about herself. There had been many conversations between the two when Regulus didn’t want to come home after graduation on whether or not they raised their children right.

You looked between Regulus’ parents with a sympathetic expression. Something in their eyes didn’t match the cruel things that you had always been told about the Blacks. You had seen that expression on people’s faces before...was it regret? If they regretted and were apologetic about their past then you couldn’t entirely hold it against them. Would you be willing to let them have an active role in Halley’s life? There could be a possibility.

There was only one stipulation. You would not let your child be raised to be a blood supremacist. Halley would not be raised to hate muggle-borns when her own aunt was a muggle-born. Both Regulus and yourself had agreed before that she was born there would be no old school ideals forced upon her. Walburga and Orion would have to agree to that or there would be no further contact.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts before standing up.

“You can hold her if you would like.”

You said, ignoring the way that Regulus was looking at you. His eyes were dark as he watched your movements. He was on edge and afraid something would happen. If anyone tried something, he was more than willing to start killing again.

Walburga quickly held out her arms and took Halley from you. She quickly pulled the baby closer to her chest with a rare smile.

“Sweet little love.”

She cooed before fixing Halley’s bow that had come loose in all of the shuffle. You took your seat beside Regulus.

“We are having a party next week. The two of you should come. I would love to show this little one off to the rest of the family.”

Walburga said as Halley started tugging on her grandmother’s pearl necklace.

“I don’t know.”

Regulus commented almost immediately. Orion was the first to look up.

“We want to be involved in her life, Regulus. We may not have been perfect parents but we can be good grandparents.”

Regulus leaned back against the couch. For the first time, he pulled his eyes away from his daughter who was pleased as punch with whatever Walburga was letting her do.

“I don’t want our family's ideal pushed upon her. She isn’t growing up with that. Y/n and I have already agreed to that a long time ago. If both of you can’t accept it then you won’t see any of us.”

Both Walburga and Orion looked startled by Regulus’ comment. To them, there was nothing wrong with their beliefs. This is the way the Black family believed for years and nothing appeared wrong with it to them. However, the question now was it worth potentially not being able to see their grandchild over? Maybe they could persuade Regulus to clearly see things in time but for now...they may have to be quiet.

“You’re her father...if that’s what you want.”

Orion replied, looking as if Regulus had force-fed him a lemon.

The rest of the visit with Walburga and Orion flowed fairly smoothly. You were personally glad when it was time to head back to James. The day had been emotionally exhausting for everyone. Walburga and Orion hadn’t said another word about what Regulus “was not going to put up with.” Something told you, however, that they would be ranting the moment that the two of you left.

Arriving back at James and Lily’s, Sirius was waiting for Regulus to turn up to see what happened. Something told you that he had been waiting patiently like a puppy. You would have gone along with them but Halley was quickly losing her patience with everything and wanted nothing more than to be tucked into bed.

“I’m going to put her down.”

Regulus only nodded as you turned and went upstairs. He needed to think of a plan on how to apologize and fast!

“So what did mummy and daddy have to say? Did they ask about me?”

Sirius asked with a smile as Regulus gave him the biggest “go fuck yourself” expression. When Regulus didn’t reply, Sirius went to the liquor cabinet to find something to loosen his younger brother’s tongue up with. Putting a glass of brandy in front of Regulus, Sirius sat down with a smirk.

“So about mum and dad?”

Regulus downed the whole glass leaving Sirius blinking.

“You’re supposed to drink that a bit slower. I thought you didn't have much of an alcohol tolerance.”

Regulus shook his head and poured another glass of the liquor. After one glass, he was already feeling better. If he could down a second one, he would be feeling great.

“I don’t. That is why I have a four-month-old.”

Sirius sat watching with a concerned expression as Regulus down the second glass.

“So are you at war with your liver? Should I go get Y/n?”

Regulus shook his head.

“Let her be. She was a star today. Mum and dad love her. I mean they actually love her. I think mum wants to be her new best friend and it was the strangest and weirdest thing to watch. Our mother apparently has a heart. She loves Y/n and Halley.”

Sirius frowned.

“So why are you drinking like this?”

“You put it in front of me, Sirius!”

Regulus snapped. Sirius reached out and took the bottle of brandy away; regretting his actions.

“Would you hush before you wake the whole house up? Merlin, you are a loud drunk. I didn’t think that you were going to do this. Reg, I figured that you would be thrilled about mum and dad liking your wife and child. You are acting like they banished you lot from the family.”

Regulus leaned back in the chair.

“I am afraid that it is just an act. What if they want to pull us in only to kill all of us for breaking the family code. Our family is really messed up...do you know that?”

Sirius smiled as he realized the brandy was doing its job.

“Thank you for finally seeing things my way. You can protect Y/n and Halley from them. If they start their crap do that acting like an asshole thing that you do so well. Not the everyday living stuff but I'm not putting up with this crap. You know like when you told me that you never wanted to talk to me again at school.”

Regulus sighed.

“They know that I am on my guard with them. You could see it in their eyes. Now that I can’t think straight I’m going to go apologize to Y/n for being a dick. We can talk about this more in the morning when I’m not half drunk. I am suddenly ten times braver than I was. Thanks.”

You sat on the bed reading a book when Regulus came into the bedroom. You could tell just by looking at him that he had been drinking. His normally pale cheeks were rosy and he gave you a small sweet smile.

Thanks, Sirius

You thought as he sat down beside you.

“Is Halley asleep?”

Regulus asked. You nodded as he leaned down and kissed your bare shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

You asked. Regulus smirked. The alcohol was making him braver than he typically would have been sober. In his sober mind, Regulus had somewhat decided that he was going to wait and let you come to him. With the brandy in him, however, he was not about to sit back and wait.

“Kissing you...like the good husband that I should be. Whether you want to accept it or not, I am in love with you. You know that I’m crap at expressing emotions. “ You put your book down before turning to face him.

“Do you realize how painful it was to hear what you told Sirius?”

Regulus snuggled his face against your arm. Was your skin always this soft? Was everything about you always this perfect?

Boy, whatever Sirius gave me sure helped.

Regulus thought with a smile. The next morning, he may not be feeling that great but at the moment he wasn’t so self-conscious about everything. He was thankful that you didn't pull away from him. The fact that you seemed to melt against him stroked his ego a little bit more.

“I’m sure it did hurt. I never meant for my own stupid fears to hurt you. I really do love you, darling. I know that I do.”

You wrapped your hand around his.

“I love you too. I just hope that you remember this talk in the morning when you are sober.”

Regulus sat up quickly.

“I’m just buzzed...not drunk. You know drunk me.”

Regulus was right. You knew “drunk Regulus” very well and there was still a bit of his sober self still available.

“Yes, I do and I love you too. Now lay down before you injure yourself.”

Regulus lay down for a moment before he reached out and took the book away from you and tossed it to a corner of the room.

“Regulus.”

“Pay attention to me.”

You couldn’t help but giggle as he pulled you down against him. This was one thing that you did enjoy when he drank. He turned into the neediest cuddliest man on earth. You had to fight the urge to make a comment about both Regulus and Sirius being the same when it came to drinking but decided against it when you were pulled into a kiss.

Regulus’ lips were on yours as his body melted against yours. His lips were familiar, sweet, safe. Everything about him was what you needed at the moment.

“Please.”

Regulus sighed against your lips. Lifting your leg over his hip, you couldn’t say no.

“Yes.”

You replied before starting for the buttons of his shirt. The desire and desperation were clearly evident as the two of you wrestled out of your clothes.

“I’m sorry.”

Regulus whispered as he kissed a small path from your neck to your collarbone. You enjoyed the sensation of his hot breath mixed with nibbling kisses. With each passing moment, the desperation built within you.

“Regulus...stop teasing.”

“Not a chance.”

He replied before sucking a love bite onto your neck. Your hand was immediately locked in his hair, holding his head against your neck. With each bite and roll of his tongue, you knew that you were going to be marked up the next morning and you didn’t care.

“Now be a good girl while I make you feel good.”

Regulus said as he gently shoved you against the pillows. You reached to turn off the light but was stopped when Regulus’ hand wrapped around your wrist.

“Leave it on.”

His voice was a bit more commanding than normal. Regulus knew why you wanted it off. You were still self-conscious about your body. From the time Halley was born, you would rarely let him look at you naked and it was beginning to wear.

“You look beautiful. You’re perfect, darling.”

You swallowed and lay back against the pillow as Regulus spread your legs again. His eyes rolled up to yours as he gently stroked over your folds with his middle and index finger.

“Can I kiss you here?”

You nodded while internally screaming at him to get down there and do something. Regulus was perfect at teasing and he knew it. He could be a little shit when the mood set him right.

Regulus kissed his way down your thigh leaving you moaning for more. You could have come with one swipe of his tongue when he finally made contact. Regulus hummed against you the moment your hands locked in his hair. With each nibble, lick, and deep vibration you could feel yourself falling deeper and deeper into oblivion.

“Oh fuck, Regulus.”

You whined when Regulus pulled away.

“Now don’t be like that.”

Regulus said with a smile as he wiped his chin. He left you lying on the bed with your legs spread. Sitting down in the armchair in the corner, Regulus gave you a little devious smirk.

“Why don’t you come here, love?”

You didn’t need to be told twice. As much as you wanted to lay there and let Regulus overstimulate you with oral sex you know whatever he had up his sleeve would be just as nice. Taking your place on Regulus’ lap, he turned your body so that your back was against his bare chest. Regulus wrapped his arms around you and spent the next few moments nuzzling his face against the side of your head. It would have been innocent but the moment Regulus started talking everything coming out of his mouth was sheer eroticism that he knew would make you ache.

You pathetically tried to grind your core against his thigh but was unable to move.

“Please.”

You begged shamelessly.

“If that’s what you want.”

Regulus replied. He wanted nothing more than to spend the next few minutes teasing you, however, sex sounded nice too.

“Show me how much you love me.”

You cooed. The comment may be construed to some as cruel or almost teasing but to Regulus, it was enough to make him want you all the more. He gently lifted you enough to slowly ease down onto his thick cock.

“Oh.”

You whined as your body adjusted to his size. Regulus smiled against your back. That little “oh” was so sweet and delicate that it made the man in him go all the more crazy. He made you moan like that. It wasn’t an act or some other man that Regulus would never be able to live up to...it was him. He was the one that you needed and that thought alone made whatever insecurities that he may have about the relationship go away (at least for now).

“Would you like me to move now?”

Regulus asked through gritted teeth. He was trying to give your body time to adjust but with each passing moment, the pressure was becoming greater and greater.

“Please...make love to me.”

This time the comment wasn’t so sassy. You had gone back to the sweet girl that Regulus had fallen in love with...his sweet Hufflepuff that made the Slytherin in him grow all the more protective.

Your eyes rolled back as Regulus finally started to move below you. This position was far different than most of the positions the two of you used. You wanted to be able to hold onto Regulus or at least look into his eyes as he came closer and closer to his climax. This position, however, did offer erotic benefits. You liked feeling his chest against your back as he moved. Regulus panting erotic promises in your ear with each thrust was enough to move this position up on your favorites list.

“Would you like to take this back to bed?”

Regulus panted against your ear. You could only nod. Formulating actual words was becoming harder and harder with each moment.

The ability to think magically returned when Regulus stood up enough to pull out.

“I was so close.”

You whined as Regulus gently laid you down and took his place on top of you.

“Well, I guess we'll just have to fix that then won’t we?”

Before you could come up with a sassy response, Regulus shoved back in returning to the steady rhythm as a few moments before. His eyes closed as your body pushed him closer to the point of no return.

“Open your eyes. I want you to look at me.”

You ordered. Regulus did as he was told. Stormy eyes met yours as he bit his bottom lip. Neither of you would last much longer and with each passing moment, the desperation was building greater and greater.

“Fuck”

Regulus swore as you tightened once more around him ending any hope of continuing much longer. You pulled him down into a deep desperate kiss as the both of you came.

For the next few moments, Regulus remained motionless with his forehead against yours as you stroked your fingers through his hair.

“Is it a bad time to tell you that I love you?”

He asked with a small smile. Regulus was relieved when you pulled him back in for another kiss.

“Couldn’t be more perfect.”

Meanwhile…

James, Sirius, and Remus sat awkwardly looking at each other in the living room. All three men wanted nothing more than to be deaf at this particular moment. James was thankful that Lily had gone to see her parents with Harry that morning. He turned his attention to Sirius and scowled.

“Just what the hell did you tell him, Sirius?”

Sirius shrugged innocently.

“I just tried to be there for him.”

Remus stood up. He had to get out of that house.

“Well, you did a hell of a job. Anyone want to go get a drink?”

_____

@amelie-black

@truly-insatiable

@fandomsxxregulus

@realgaytrash

@lucasfilms77

@spiderxalmighty

@mrspadfoot4

@exhsle

@brokencasbutt67-writer

@authoressskr

@fandom-trash-worth-it

@hankypranky

@summer-novak

@shaylybaby2032

@emiwrites3reads

@li0nh34rt

@tas898

@marichromatic

@maggioli-m

@stuckinsaudi1

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts

@knight-of-gleefulness

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@sprnaturallover

@deanwherescas

@shitfaceddaniel

@wontlookaway

@mycuddlycorner

[ghostwaffleheimer]

What is this, me giving background characters actual personalities? No way. I tried applying some tarot symbolism and assigned each character a card based on looking up what they meant and some bits that stood out to me, but I’m not involved in the tarot so don’t read too much into it I suppose.

[read more below bc there’s a lot of story; also content warning for Oakclaw generally being an abusive piece of shit.]

Oakclaw sort of always had this vibe of being a more “traditionalist” and antagonistic character. Basically, Tigerstar. He was always sort of suspicious of Emberdusk, and didn’t like that outsiders such as he and Windsong were welcomed into the clan. It makes more sense now with the lore of quarry cats believing those born in the forest are cursed by Barkstar.

Ahh, Barkstar. Speaking of her, Oakclaw was her biggest supporter, and in fact they’re actually kin. She always wanted things to be more like the old clans, with a stricter adherence to the warrior code and all its aggressive territorialism, closed-minded ideologies, and total loyalty to the leader and StarClan. To her, the old clans fell apart because they lost sight of that, when in fact the opposite was true. When a separate group of cats decided to inhabit the nearby cove, it was mistaken as a threat and war was waged. Many were killed, Barkstar herself included.

Oakclaw in all his self-absorption thinks he’s their last chance. He still feels anger and betrayal that Barkstar picked that runt to be next in line over him. It must’ve been a lapse in judgement. He peers over the other cats at gatherings, how awfully friendly they all are. If he was leader, he’d have driven out the cove cats and claimed their land. His eyes rest on one in particular: Sootear. His involvement with their medicine cat irritates him. Ryestar’s youngest has always been soft, just like his father. Though it was startling to see the look of absolute fury on Ryestar’s face and the threat to exile him for suggesting that Mallowcloud be punished (Oakclaw’s exact words were more extreme, not that he’d admit it).

It’s a wonder that a cat so passive and quiet would take to someone like him, but perhaps that’s why he likes Fawnspot: she won’t argue against his opinions. Whether or not she agrees with him, she won’t say. She’s more content to be a rule-abiding follower than try to come up with her own ideas. Fawnspot is stressed by the change in order, and frequently joins patrols and hunting parties because a part of her is afraid at the idea of having free time to just do... nothing. She doesn’t know what she even likes because she’s never stopped to ask herself that.

As a result, her three kits don’t have much of a relationship with her. Which, sadly, is better than what they have with their father. Oakclaw is varying degrees of disappointed with all his children, and by extension believes that their mentors are bad influences, unfit to teach them.

Foxpaw is the simplest case: he’s pretty ‘no thoughts, head empty’. He is surprisingly happy-go-lucky and doesn’t particularly care about his father’s goals, if he’s even aware of them. Oakclaw deems him lazy and a failure, and doesn’t even bother with him.

Where Oakclaw is Tigerstar, Hickorypaw is Brambleclaw... Well, the whole “cats assuming I’m like my dad because we look similar and having to step out from under his shadow” thing they had going on originally with him and then dropped the ball on, anyway. He’s a big soft fluffball who is kind out of pure spite, though he feels the most pressure from his father to challenge the current leadership in his stead. Oakclaw knows he’s not getting younger and that his chance has just about passed.

Creekpaw suffers from the same flaw as her mother: staying silent. She knows of her father’s disinterest towards her (but why? she’s done nothing to offend him) and is afraid to speak up for herself. Combined with her distant relationship with her detached mentor, she’s left confused and wondering what’s going on. Creekpaw takes the role of an observer, watching everything that goes on from the background, until certain events force her to take action. 

When Hickoryheart’s life is in sudden danger at his father’s claws, Creekwhisper may finally have to break her silence.

[hela-avenger]

poison & wine- part 23

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1095

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N: Keep an eye out on Saturday for a Bonus Training Scene! Shoot me an ask/message if you’ll like to be tagged to the series!

poison & wine masterlist

Loki tightens the strap on your side before finally releasing you. You felt stiff and weighed down. All of the armor Loki had deemed necessary for you to wear was on your person and it was making you immobile. 

“So you get to wear your usual leather outfit and I have to wear all this,” you complain as you look down at the metal garbage that covers your arms and legs. “I can’t move.” 

“Would you prefer your usual dress and heels?” Loki offers. “I’m sure that’ll help you.” 

“At least I’ll be able to walk,” you mutter. “How am I supposed to fight if I can’t move?”

“Well, if all goes well, you shouldn’t have to fight at all.” 

Loki is still inspecting all of your armor pieces distracting himself in the menial task. You knew he was stalling. You just didn’t know why.

“Hey,” you call out to him. “What’s wrong?” 

“One simple lie has placed you into such terrible danger,” Loki sighs out. “And yet you face it with no fear.” 

“I have no reason to be afraid,” you answer. “You’ll be there with me.”

Loki’s surprise at your response is obvious on his face and you simply smile up at him.

“So enough with this,” you state as you start to undo the plates on your arms. “You’ve worried enough about me. It’s time for me to worry about you so… why aren’t you wearing any protection? You’re the one actually fighting this thing.”

“I’ve fought worse with less,” Loki answers. “I’ll be fine as is.” 

“If you say so,” you whisper, finally being able to stretch your arms and legs out. Loki doesn’t seem too pleased with your mobility but knew there was no point in arguing with you. “How about we get things started?” 

Loki snaps into focus and nods. 

“Right, tell me,” Loki states. “Do you have any experience with weapons?” 

“I know how to shoot a gun.” 

“Yes, well, Asgard isn’t very fond of that barbaric weapon so you’ll have to make do with the bare basics; a sword and the dagger I gifted you.” 

Loki states as he pulls out a sword from the armory. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate this at all,” you state as you take the sword from him. “But I thought you were gonna teach me how to use my magic.” 

“It’s called seidr,” Loki corrects as he leads you to the training grounds. “And we will get to those lessons soon enough. I need to see what you’re capable of.” 

Loki apparates a sword out of nowhere and takes a fighting stance against you.  

“Right, ok,” you mutter under your breath as you raise your own sword. “Well, this is heavier than I thought.” 

You expect some sort of countdown but Loki is quick. His sword hits yours causing it to fly out of your hand. You let out a sigh and look up at him. 

“How about we try close combat?”

“There should be no need for you to get close to anything,” Loki argues as he picks up your sword and hands it to you again. “Now let’s try again.” 

“Loki…” you sigh. “You said I had no fighting chance. Why are we wasting time in training me with a sword when we could be doing something more productive? Like the seidr.”

“Yes, Loki,” a voice calls out from behind you. “Why waste this precious lady’s time?” 

Loki’s jaw tightens. A scowl settling into his face as he glared at the person behind you prompting you to turn around to see who it is.

A man in silver armor steps into the arena with a woman by his side. The man was grinning while the woman seemed to wish to be anywhere else but there.  

“It’ll be best to teach her how to run, Loki,” he continues with a chuckle. “You won’t be able to keep her safe by pure magic tricks.”

“I’ve reserved the training grounds for a private practice,” Loki answers ignoring his mocking commentary. “What are you doing here?” 

“Thought I’ll come say hi,” he answers. “Meet the poor soul that has the tragedy to court you.” 

“Excuse me?” you can’t help but respond. You didn’t have much of a tolerance for a bully. Especially one who expected you to be a damsel in distress in need of his help. “And you are?” 

“Sir Fandral,” he introduces as he takes a step forward. He offers his hand for you to take but you ignore it. Fandral clears his throat and simply smiles, tucking his hand back behind him. “And this is the Lady Sif. You must be the Lady Y/N of Midgard.” 

“I am,” you answer, recognizing their names. “You’re Thor’s friends.” 

“Ah, so you know of us,” Fandral smiles. “That’s great.” 

“Thor speaks highly of you,” you continue. “I don’t see it.” 

Fandral’s grin falls while Loki snorts behind you. Fandral glances at Lady Sif who simply shrugs. She looked bored. As if she was used to being dragged into menial pissing contests. 

“You interrupted our practice,” you state. “Do you mind if we return to it?”

“Right, yes,” Fandral stammers out in surprise. “We shall leave you to it.” 

Fandral bows his head and turns to leave but the Lady Sif has yet to do the same. She looks at you as if she was still trying to make sense of your own character.

“Perhaps it’ll be best if you switched to a shortsword,” she suggests. “It’ll be lighter and more agile to move for a beginner. I can teach you how…” 

“Thanks for the suggestion but I can teach her just fine,” Loki interrupts her.

“I was speaking to her.” 

Though Sif’s help would be useful she was only offering it in spite Loki as a way of undermining him.

“Like he said,” you answer. 

Sif just sighs and nods reluctantly. 

“My offer still stands,” Sif states before turning to Loki. “You know she needs it for what’s to come.” 

Loki glares at her as she walks away so you simply obstruct his view of her. He looks at you pensively before motioning to your sword. You offer it to him and he simply casts it aside. You’re surprised at the act but he doesn’t allow you a chance to question him as he starts to speak.

“We’ll start off with protective spells,” Loki states. “From there, we’ll move to the attack.”

“Attack?” 

Loki takes a deep breath and nods. 

“Let’s hope you’ll have no use for it,” he answers. “Now, let’s begin.”

poison & wine tag: @damalseer @just-the-hiddles @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @smollest-soybean @assassinoftheworld @readerbandit @doyoufeelikeayounggod @strangemcuvlogs @ha-tep @i-dont-know-eiither @gene-king @day-dreaming-fox @bn-studies @is-it-madness @devilbat @victor-criss-bish @skinny-macncheese @musicconversedance @baby-bunnyxn @fandoms-allovertheplace @marvelloonie @jinxjinxednova @queenmuahaha @accio-boys @eternalqueensworld @umlvk @roger-the-reindeer @punkrockhufflefluff @your-local-abyss @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rogerrhqpsody @imsad420 @pandacookieowo @justnerdystuffs @hanoi15​

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-njorddottir @aoirohi

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie

[hysterialevi]

Eitr | Chapter 3

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

TWO DAYS LATER

FORANGAL CASTLE, THE CHAPEL

Placing his hands together, Ealdorman Aegenwulf bowed his head in respect and gently shut his eyes closed, whispering a brief prayer as he stood before the chapel’s great Crucifix.

At the moment, there was no one else in here with him. The chapel was dim and grey due to its enclosed nature, and the only light that managed to seep in was through the circular window that stood aloft the lonely altar.

Strangely enough though, Aegenwulf found a sense of peace in it. He had spent so much time warring with the Danes and battling against his own grief, that the overwhelming silence of the chapel actually provided him with some tranquility.

It was the only place where he could be alone with his thoughts nowadays. Outside of these stone cold walls, everyone always seemed to be watching him; studying him. Waiting to see his next move.

And on top of that, he still had three other children to protect, in spite of losing his eldest. They were young and inexperienced, and less aware of the war’s cruelties than Gareth had been.

It was a responsibility that Aegenwulf wished on no man. The weight of his burdens often felt impossible at times, and the more the tensions began to rise in Wedenscire, the more the ealdorman found himself wondering if any of this was even worth it.

“O, Father,” he said softly, his voice low and desolate, “thou who watches us from the heavens. Forgive me of my sins, and free me of the darkness that troubles my soul. I fear this war has led me astray from the path of righteousness, and I do not wish to deviate from Your grace. Please, deliver unto the dead the paradise they could not find in this world, and protect those who still stand from the evil that would sheathe them. ”

He paused for a moment, trying to keep his composure. “...Guide my son as he finds his way into your kingdom, and embrace him with the peace that was robbed of him in death. Allow him to rest at your side, and eradicate any shadows that should linger in his heart. Teach him not to fear, for I know he is in a far better place now.”

The ealdorman brought his hands closer to his face, muttering one last word. “Soþlice.”

Standing up from the floor, Aegenwulf fell into a profound silence as the lingering echoes of his prayer bounced off the chapel’s walls, filling the air with a solemn chime.

He knew not whether God could actually hear his cries, or if He had any intentions of answering them, but in a time when comfort was so rare to find, Aegenwulf frankly didn’t care.

All he needed was peace. The death of his son had torn him apart with a grief unlike any other he had ever experienced, and as the days rolled by -- minute by minute, hour by hour -- the ealdorman found himself being drained of the tenacity he once held.

It seemed pointless sometimes, to come to this chapel. Very often, Aegenwulf felt as if his prayers fell on deaf ears, and considering how the flames of the war were rising so rapidly, part of him began to wonder if this was all part of God’s plan somehow.

Was there a meaning behind all this? Some sort of higher purpose that was being written in the blood of their fallen soldiers? Did their suffering actually contribute to anything? Or was this all simply a result of man’s nature, and the chaos that humankind often sowed?

He didn’t even know if there was a Heaven at this point. The brutalities between the Saxons and the Danes had become so horrific in the recent years, that Aegenwulf found it more and more difficult to believe that anything pure awaited them beyond their realm.

How could it even be possible for something like that to exist? In a world where death, hatred, and pestilence were so prominent, how was it that something as perfect as Heaven -- or as God Himself -- could’ve been somewhere out there, watching over them?

Aegenwulf didn’t know the answers to these questions, nor where to find them, but for the sake of granting his son the afterlife he deserved, and for preserving his own sanity, the ealdorman decided to not second-guess it. It was the only hope he had anymore, after all. And he did not wish to snuff it out.

“Ealdorman?” Someone suddenly said, drawing the man’s attention away from the altar.

Aegenwulf glanced over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn the rest of his body.

“Hundwerth,” he greeted dourly, recognizing the man’s unscrupulous voice. “Solitude is a luxury in Forangal these days. I would not have it robbed of me.”

The bishop bowed his head apologetically, approaching the ealdorman. “Forgive me for the intrusion, my lord. I know you come here for solace. But I fear there is a much more urgent matter that requires your attention.”

Aegenwulf sighed, returning to his more dutiful temperament. “What is it? And speak plainly, bishop, for I have no desire to run around in semantic circles.”

Hundwerth came to a halt, standing directly in the sliver of light that poured in through the doorway. “Your housecarl, Algar, has returned from his travels. He brings news of the ambush in Ravensthorpe, and awaits you in the throne room.”

“He’s back already?”

“Indeed. He seemed rather confident when he arrived this morning. I assume things went well in Ravensthorpe.”

Aegenwulf stepped away from the altar, addressing the bishop more directly now.

“Assume nothing in war, Hundwerth. I will not rest easy until I know for a fact that those barbarians lie dead in the muck. Are my children aware of this attack?”

Hundwerth shook his head. “No, my lord. They asked a few questions in light of Algar’s absence, but overall, they still seem to be preoccupied with mourning their brother.”

The ealdorman was relieved at the news. “Good. They keep a strong face, but I can see that Gareth’s death has shaken them all. I would not have them burdened by the troubles of this war as well.”

The bishop changed the subject, eager to inform Aegenwulf of the second issue. “There is... one other matter, my lord. And I fear this one will require a much more delicate approach. That is, if you do not wish to alarm all of Forangal and Agenbury at once.”

Aegenwulf didn’t like where this was going. “Oh? And what would that be?”

Hundwerth began pacing around the chapel, lowering his voice as he spoke.

“Your healer, Linette. I noticed she’s been acting rather... odd, recently. Different. Granted, she’s never really been an ordinary woman, but her behavior has shifted over the past two days, and not in a manner that I would consider beneficial.”

“What type of behavior are we talking about, exactly?”

“She’s become distant. Secretive. Perhaps even a little paranoid. I’ve seen her pacing around the castle late at night, and making trips to the infirmary underneath the shadows. She speaks to no one during these mysterious endeavors, and often seems to actively avoid me. It’s almost as if... there’s something she would not have me know.”

The ealdorman shrugged. “So, you wish for me to investigate? Is that it?”

“No, my lord,” Hundwerth corrected. “For I have already taken the liberty of doing that myself. I entered the infirmary this morning whilst Linette was away, and found the most interesting patient lying in one of her beds.”

Aegenwulf grew tired of the bishop’s ramblings. “Get to the point, Hundwerth. What did you see?”

“A Dane, Aegenwulf. Your healer has a Dane in her infirmary, and is tending to his wounds as we speak.”

The ealdorman froze upon hearing that, not entirely sure if he understood Hundwerth correctly.

“A Dane,” he repeated sternly. “My healer is lending her aid to a Dane. Are you certain of this, bishop?”

The other man nodded assuredly. “As certain as I am that the moon will arise in the evening. Though, I should clarify, it was not Linette who brought this pagan into our midst. Based on the information I have gathered thus far, I believe she is helping this Dane at the behest of your daughter, Edlynne.”

Aegenwulf shook his head in frustration. “Oh, Edlynne... that naive girl. She carries the same compassion her mother once did, but I fear her rationality is often overshadowed by it in these situations.”

Hundwerth furrowed his brow in disapproval. “She has also been rather vocal about her interest in the Danes before, I’m afraid. It seems your daughter is drawn to them.”

“That’s because she has not witnessed the same horrors I have. She has not seen the way those savages sacrifice our people to their gods, nor what they do to our women. Edlynne believes the Danes to be misunderstood, and would have me welcome them with open arms. What she does not realize is that I am simply trying to protect her.”

“She is but a child, my lord. She will soon understand the necessity of your iron fist. Just give her time.”

Aegenwulf sighed, crossing his arms. “I suppose you’re right.”

“So, what do you intend to do about this issue concerning Linette? Shall I have the guards remove this pagan from our grounds?”

The ealdorman thought about it for a moment. “No. That won’t be enough. I know Danes. They never stop fighting until their last breath. If we wish to be rid of this man completely, we will need to kill him.”

Aegenwulf began making his way out of the chapel, swiftly heading to the throne room as his cape fluttered behind him.

“I shall speak with Algar and get his opinion on the matter. He has just returned from the very nest of these snakes, and I would like to hear what he has to say before taking any action.”

Hundwerth seemed content with the plan. “A wise approach, my lord. I shall be here in the chapel if you need my assistance. Stay safe in these trying times, for I worry things are only going to get worse.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

THE INFIRMARY

Pain. That was all he could feel. 

In the midst of the cold and darkness that currently surrounded him, Sigurd found nothing but its familiar embrace to welcome him as he finally emerged from his slumber, bringing him into an environment he did not expect.

Instead of feeling the warmth of Fólkvangr’s sun-kissed fields, or the bone-biting winds of Helheim’s wintry snows, the only thing Sigurd could detect was the comfort of a soft bed lying beneath his fingertips. 

...He wasn’t dead. Not yet, at least.

The gods had granted him a second chance.

He had been saved by that mysterious man on the shore, and given an opportunity to recover. 

But... what about Eivor? Or Randvi? Or the rest of his clan? Were they still alive, and healing from their wounds just as he was? Or had the Valkyries already escorted them to Odin’s feast, and laid them to rest?

Part of him didn’t even want to think about it, given the circumstances. He had already struggled so much just to survive, that he did not wish to hear if his brother had become a corpse by now. He imagined he was already going to have a difficult enough time trying to regain his strength, but to be entirely alone in this ordeal... the very idea of it made his heart sink.

Forcing his eyes open to a slit, Sigurd squinted as a burst of sunlight flooded his vision, painting everything in the room around him with a disorienting haze.

The only things he could make out were the soft edges of a nearby window from which the light poured through, and the blurry silhouette of what appeared to be a girl accompanying him.

At the moment, she seemed to be unaware of his newly conscious state and simply tended to her own matters, humming quietly under her breath. Her voice sounded fairly younger than Sigurd would’ve expected, and the size of her shadow led him to assume she was no more than a child. Possibly the daughter of whomever rescued him.

Lifting a hand to block the sunlight, Sigurd suddenly felt a sharp sting gripping him in the chest as his wounds strained to keep up with his movement, causing him to let out a faint grunt.

The girl instantly glanced upwards upon hearing the abrupt noise and gasped in surprise, pleased to see that her friend had finally risen from his sleep.

“Oh my goodness...!” She said softly. “You’re actually awake! Can you... can you hear me?”

Sigurd remained silent in response, still trying to get his bearings. 

This girl... she sounded like a Saxon. Though, she clearly wasn’t just any Saxon. Her appearance suggested she may have been some type of noblewoman -- or perhaps, in the service of one -- and the quality of her dress was obviously not something that a commoner would’ve been able to get their hands on.

Her hair was well-groomed and decorated with a few simple braids that stretched down to her back, and a beautiful necklace dangled from around her neck. An heirloom, perhaps?

She spoke with an unusual sense of kindness that Sigurd did not typically receive from her people, and the discretion in her voice only led him to believe that she was in the minority. Was he even welcome in this place?

“C-Can you understand me?” She asked, picking up on Sigurd’s confusion. “I know this must be... strange for you.”

The Norseman blinked a few times, finally able to make some sense of what was going on.

“What...? Where... where am I...? What’s going on?”

The girl’s expression lightened with relief. “So you do speak our tongue. That’s good. You’re in Wedenscire, friend. In the ealdorman’s castle. The infirmary, specifically.”

That took Sigurd by surprise. “...The ealdorman’s castle? Why would an ealdorman save a Norse?”

“Well, he didn’t,” she clarified. “His children did. Me and my brothers brought you back from the nearby town after a fisherman found you washed up on the shore. Normally, we would’ve left you alone, but you would’ve died without a proper healer’s treatment.”

Sigurd took on a more serious demeanor, suddenly growing wary of the girl’s intentions. “So... you are the ealdorman’s daughter, then. And why would you go out of your way to keep me alive? What is it you hope to gain? Information? Secrets?”

The girl shook her head, eager to deny his suspicions. “Oh, no! Nothing like that.”

“Well, you must want something. Or did you simply save me out of the kindness of your own heart?”

She glanced downwards, admittedly a tad embarrassed to confess her motivations.

“...Well, y-yes, actually. I know that may sound incredibly naive of me, but you were dying. And I didn’t have the heart to just... leave you behind. The fact that you’re a Dane--” she quickly corrected herself, ��--or a Norse, doesn’t change that. The truth is, I don’t want anything from you. I only wish to see you recover.”

The girl sounded like she was being sincere, but even then, Sigurd’s instincts urged him to keep his guard up regardless.

“...If your words hold truth to them,” he said, “then you have my thanks. I do not remember much from that night, but I know for a fact I would not have survived without your people’s help. Or your own. I owe you.”

The girl relaxed a little bit, hoping to maintain the trust between them.

“Might I ask your name? I’m Edlynne.”

He sat up, his body aching with every movement. “Sigurd.”

“Sigurd...” Edlynne repeated with a smile. “Well, Sigurd, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. You’ve been unconscious for two days. If I’m being honest, part of me never expected to see you wake up.”

Sigurd paused at that. “...I’ve been here for two days?”

“Indeed. You were on the brink of death when we found you. It’s a miracle you survived. How do you feel?”

The viking glanced down at his bloodstained bandages. “Better, considering how I was before.”

“That’s good. Do you think you can walk? You sustained quite a few injuries from that night.”

Sigurd shifted his body a bit, testing its limits. “I... believe so. Just give me a moment--”

Interrupting their conversation, a boy suddenly came barging into the infirmary with a panicked expression on his face as he brought his gaze to Edlynne, quickly shutting the door behind him.

He also carried the look of a nobleman and wore a simple yet sophisticated tunic, paired with a short cape wrapped around his shoulders. As for the boy himself, he appeared to be around Edlynne’s age and had hair of the same color -- only his was cut so short that the bottom of his head was nearly bare. A relative of hers, perhaps?

“Sister...!” He said urgently, keeping his voice down. “We--”

His eyes landed on Sigurd, causing him to fade into silence.

Edlynne glanced back and forth between the two of them, unsure of what was going on.

“...Joseph?” She asked, her tone quiet with anxiety. “Are you alright? You seem perturbed.”

Joseph gestured to the viking, his eyes wide with surprise. “He’s awake?”

“Yes. He woke up not too long ago, in fact. We’ve only been speaking for a few moments.” She held an introductory hand up to him. “This is Sigurd. Sigurd, this is my twin brother, Joseph.”

The boy strode further into the room, his actions swift with haste.

“You’ll forgive me if I’m not in the mood for pleasantries, but I’m afraid we have a much bigger issue to address at the moment.”

“What is it?”

“It’s father. I don’t know how, but he’s discovered that we have a Dane in the infirmary, and he is not happy.”

The girl quirked a brow. “What? How could he possibly know that? Did someone tell him?”

“I-I don’t know...! It wasn’t me or Edric, that I can assure you.” He froze. “...You don’t think it could’ve been Linette, do you?”

Edlynne rejected the idea. “What...? N-No, of course not! I know she was apprehensive about all this in the beginning, but she wouldn’t endanger the life of one of her patients, Dane or not.”

Joseph sighed in discontent. “I suppose it no longer matters. The main problem right now is that Algar has returned from his travels, and is on his way up here as we speak...!”

Sigurd joined in. “I assume this is bad news for me?”

The boy turned to him. “Considering our father hates your people and would see you all dead, yes, I would say so. There’s also the fact that Algar himself isn’t fond of vikings either.”

A thought crossed Edlynne’s mind. “Well, what about Edric? Do you think he could sway father’s mind?”

Joseph didn’t seem too confident. “Possibly. He’s speaking to father in the throne room at the moment, but you know how much he distrusts Danes. Even if he convinces father not to kill our new friend here, I doubt the outcome will be favorable anyway. If you truly want to help Sigurd, we’ll have to do something ourselves.”

The girl was at a loss. “Like what?”

“...We’ll have to get him out of Forangal.”

Edlynne gestured at the stone walls around them. “And how are we supposed to do that? We’re locked in a castle surrounded by guards. Not to mention that all the gates are shut. How do you expect us to leave with a viking in tow?”

Joseph paused for a moment, trying to devise a plan. There weren’t many escape routes they could access from the infirmary -- especially in broad daylight -- but every castle had its blind spots. There had to be something.

He perked his head up in realization, his expression lighting up with an idea.

“Wait, I might have a way out.”

“Well? What is it?”

The boy gave Sigurd an apologetic look, uncertain of how the man would react to his suggestion.

“The corpse carts.”

Edlynne blinked in confusion. “...You want to use the corpse carts?”

“Why not? They’re filled to the brim nowadays because of the war. I doubt anyone would notice if we snuck another body into the pile--”

“--Oh, for God’s sake, Joseph!” The girl exclaimed in disgust.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?”

Edlynne paced around the room, crossing her arms in thought. “I don’t know, but there must be a better way. One that isn’t so... morbid. Perhaps we could disguise Sigurd? Clothe him in Saxon attire?”

“Disguise him?” Joseph repeated, clearly not on board. “Look at him, Edlynne! Unless you can get him a full suit of armor with a helm and cloak, he’s not getting past anybody.”

The girl grew frustrated. “The same could be said about the corpse carts. Our guards might be lazy sometimes, but they’re not stupid. Those bodies have been in there for days now. Surely, they’ve already rotted and turned grey. You really think they wouldn’t notice a living person hiding amongst them?”

Joseph shrugged in defeat. “Well, Sigurd looked pretty dead when you first brought him here.”

“That isn’t--”

“--My, my.” A fourth voice said, causing the twins to fall completely silent. “Bickering already?”

They both turned towards the door, only to see Algar himself standing in the entryway. 

“...Shit.” Joseph muttered, sticking close to his sister. “Hello, Algar.”

The housecarl leaned against the frame, greeting the siblings. “Lord Joseph. Lady Edlynne.”

Algar was a mountain of a man. Even without the thick layers of plated armor to bolden his towering physique, the man himself was intimidating enough.

His face was lined with deep creases around the eyes and nose, and the shape of his brow always seemed to be stuck in a permanent scowl. There were multiple scars littered across his skin -- the most prominent one being a gash that traveled from the top of his head all the way down to his cheekbone -- and one of his ears had been sliced clean off.

Despite his damaged exterior though, Algar still seemed to look after his appearance somewhat. His dark hair was short and parted -- save for the baldness that had been rendered by his scar -- and his beard had been neatly trimmed to  fit his jaw.

He was certainly unlike any other Saxon Sigurd had ever seen, and the further he stepped into the room, prowling towards the viking like a lion, the more the Norse began to wonder if there was any hope of him surviving this day.

“My God,” Algar said with a chuckle as he gaze landed on Sigurd. “You really do have a Dane in here. I didn’t believe Hundwerth when he first told us about your new friend, but it seems that the bishop isn’t completely full of shit, after all.”

He glanced at the twins. “Where’d you find him?”

Edlynne knotted her hands together out of nervousness. “I-In Agenbury.”

“Agenbury?” He said, his voice quiet like the hiss of a snake. “Odd place for a viking.” He turned to Sigurd. “Care to explain what you were doing there, Dane?”

Sigurd scoffed. “You speak as if I was there voluntarily. The river carried me there when I was unconscious. I had no intentions of delivering myself into the hands of the enemy.”

Algar smirked. “No, but it seems that God did. For He knows of your crimes, and He knows you must face retribution.”

Joseph stepped in, admittedly uncomfortable about letting the housecarl too close to their new friend. “Why are you here, Algar? What does father want with Sigurd?”

“He wishes to meet the man. Face-to-face.”

Edlynne didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. “That’s... it? He just wants to meet him?”

Algar nodded. “Indeed. Unlike some of the other ealdormen in England, Aegenwulf actually looks his enemies in the eye before executing them.”

“No!” Joseph protested. “You can’t kill him! He’s done nothing wrong!”

The housecarl gave him a cautionary glare. “Calm yourself, little lord. Whatever your father commands is what I will carry out. If you have your quarrels with him, I’d suggest taking them to the throne room. He’s rather eager to see this Dane removed from our midst... and so am I.”

Algar placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, urging Sigurd to follow him. “Well, come along then, Dane. Ealdorman Aegenwulf awaits.”

Edlynne timidly approached the man, hoping to dissuade him. 

“Please, Algar. Leave him be. He’s still injured. Can’t you let him rest for a moment? W-We don’t even know if he can walk yet.”

“Then I’ll drag him by his bloody ankles.”

She glowered at him. “You can’t just--!”

“--It’s alright, Edlynne.” Sigurd reassured, holding a hand up. “I’ll follow him.”

“But...”

“It’s alright.” He reiterated. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve dealt with an ealdorman.”

Joseph placed a hand on Edlynne’s shoulder, attempting to calm her down. “Let it go, sister. There’s nothing we can do now.”

The girl let out an uneasy breath, but stood down nonetheless.

As for Sigurd, the man slowly threw his legs over the edge of the bed and braced himself for the upcoming trip, uncertain of how his body was going to handle his weight.

It had been days since he last stood on his own, and judging by how severely his wounds reacted to him simply lifting his arm earlier, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to walk without leaning on something -- or someone.

Pressing his feet against the stone floor, Sigurd grunted in effort as he pushed himself up from the bed, trying to ignore the agony that was now piercing his flesh.

It was clear that he wasn’t quite ready to be roaming around just yet, but based on the urgency of the situation, he assumed he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Well, would you look at that...” Algar taunted with a grin. “The dog’s still got some bark left in him.”

Edlynne stared at Sigurd with a shocked expression, evidently taken aback by his surprising height. The viking wasn’t quite as tall as Algar, but he still towered over the twins like a walking Goliath.

“How do you feel...?” She asked.

Sigurd clutched his arrow wound, attempting to suppress the pain. “Far better than I look, I assure you.”

Algar beckoned the Norse. “Then you’ll be fit enough to see Aegenwulf.” He turned on his heel, taking his leave from the infirmary. “Follow me, Dane, and try not to fall over. We don’t want your blood staining our floors.”

Staying behind for a moment while the housecarl made his way out, Sigurd exchanged looks with the twins and fell into an agitated silence, unable to deny that he shared their fear.

He had no idea if he’d be leaving the throne room alive, or if he’d even get the chance to make it that far, but seeing as how Edlynne and Joseph were fond of him, he hoped they’d be able to convince the others to spare him.

He wasn’t normally in the habit of begging Saxons for his life, but with the state that his body was currently in, Sigurd had no intentions of provoking anyone just yet. He may have been a warrior, but he certainly wasn’t stupid.

“Be careful, Sigurd.” Edlynne warned. “Our father isn’t a bad man, but... he’s controlled by his grief these days.”

That piqued the man’s interest. “Grief? Did something happen?”

Her tone sank with heartache. “...Yes. Our eldest brother, Gareth, was killed about a month ago. By a clan of Danes.”

Joseph added onto her explanation. “The Raven Clan, specifically.”

Sigurd froze upon hearing that, paralyzed on the spot.

...Did he just say the Raven Clan? Surely, that couldn’t have been right. He was well aware that the vikings had a reputation for being cruel to Saxons -- not all of it without reason -- but their clan was different. Eivor was different. He would not have condoned the killing a man who did not deserve it.

Though, of course, that presupposed the notion that Gareth was innocent. If someone in the Raven Clan deemed their brother worthy of a kill, Sigurd was certain that it must have been for a good reason.

There was clearly more to this story, but for the moment, he restrained himself from prying.

“Ah...” Sigurd simply replied, trying to conceal his sudden dread, “I see. You have my condolences.”

Edlynne didn’t seem to notice the shift in his mood. “Thank you. We pray for him everyday, but... there’s no way of knowing if he’s truly at peace. We can only hope.”

Joseph changed the subject, not wishing to dwell in these thoughts. “But enough about that. You have an ealdorman to greet, and we have much to prepare for, in the event that you don’t return.”

Sigurd nodded, following Algar’s tracks into the corridor. “I understand. Thank you both for your help. Even if your efforts end up being in vain, you will still have my appreciation.”

“Good luck, Sigurd.” Edlynne said, bidding him farewell. “May God guide you in the storm ahead. I have a feeling these next few days are going to be difficult for all of us, and I would not wish for more struggles to be thrust upon you.”

[secret-engima]

Finds and Feathers Drabble: Drautos

*throws this on here* Ow, my hands. This is over 2.5k words when it was meant to be maybe 1k but its done now so enjoy it. I hereby blame @oliverslewty @yudu097 and @faeconstellation for this. XDD Look at what got resurrected and merged with Fangs and Feathers verse.

BEHOLD the thing that y’all did the vote for *waggles eyebrows*.

...

-Titus has several reasons to hate the royal family. King Mors pulled back the Wall, which allowed his parents and uncles to be murdered when Niflheim invaded, leaving only him and his older sister alive (and even then, Titus was only alive because of Regis and his sister was only alive because she had moved to Lestallum three years prior). Regis had promised Titus aid and vengeance, but as the years went by, Titus’s homeland was never reclaimed.

-Then there was the Glauca suit.

-Titus had not wanted the thing now sitting under his skin, he had fought every step of the way through his capture and experimentation and their attempts to TURN him, make him betray Lucis in favor of the people who had burned his home.

-If he hadn’t had a sister to go home to, he thinks he would have listened to them.

-If he hadn’t had a sister who Titus had learned was with child right before his capture, he thinks he might have listened anyway, or at least not been as desperately reckless to escape. He would have taken his time to plot a way out, played obedient puppet to lower their guard rather than fighting his way out using the THING they had burrowed under his skin, even if it almost killed him.

-The Crownsguard hadn’t even noticed he was gone, and of course, what the Crownsguard didn’t report, Regis was too busy to notice.

-Worthless king. Spineless king. Selfish lying king who deserved to WAtCh hIs KInGdOm BUrN-

-It was only his sister’s horrified intervention in the height of his vitriol that clued him in on the fact that his thoughts were no longer completely his own. The suit, the armor, the thing that breathed and hungered and hated under his skin was connected to his mind so that he could command it at will, but that connection was two way, and its hate kept trying to bleed over into his own thoughts.

-Titus made a point to twist his spite and direct it at Niflheim whenever his thoughts strayed. True, he might hate the royal line for their failures, but he hated Niflheim MORE. Regis might not be the warrior king Lucis needed but at least he wasn’t the Emperor (at least he was a good man, even if good men made bad kings). On and on his thoughts spun in endless circles, a tug of war between two different kinds of spite and anger in the background of his everyday life that frankly made every day exhausting. It would have been so much easier to let the two thought processes combine and carry him away into a secret, righteous crusade against Lucis. So much easier to claim the power Niflheim had burrowed under his skin.

-He didn’t. Because of his sister. More than her…

-Because of his nephew. Because his nephew had no father figure to speak of (his sister had looked so worried when she told him of her one night stand with a nameless, pretty-eyed stranger that had made her pregnant despite protection) and had been born with fury under his skin, branded into his being just like the birthmarks that stretched across his face and body like jagged scars. SOMEONE had to teach his nephew to control the fury that seemed to have been molded into the boy’s soul from the womb, and Titus was the only one around to do that.

-Then one day when his nephew was seven years old and throwing a tantrum, the apartment shook and his nephew froze in astonishment at the bright, red-amber fire licking over his hands. In the stunned silence that had followed, his nephew had looked up at him with blood red eyes (his nephew’s eyes were washed out blue like his, not red, not RED-) and Titus had one more reason to hate Lucis Caelums.

-He never told Regis. Never dared. Regis was a man who loved children, and even in his blackest moments Titus would never suspect the man of being capable of harming a child, but Regis was married. Married to a wife he adored, a wife who had just recently had a son of her own. The scandal it would cause if Titus’s nephew was known, the strife that would erupt between Regis, Aulea, and Titus’s sister-. He couldn’t risk it.

-He had never been so glad that Regis had given him magic as a trusted member of his Retinue. A way to teach his nephew how to hide the magic burning under his skin and how to temper the wrath that threatened to shake the walls at any given moment (because his nephew was always angry, even when he was content and smiling and laughing with his mother, there was a tiny spark of anger lurking there, like the world had wronged him and he hated it).

-He still kept the secret even after Aulea died. Because Regis was grieving, and for all the bitterness that was both his and the suit’s, he wouldn’t inflict that kind of drama on the man while he was grieving.

-When his nephew was ten, Titus got a call from his sister, frantic and confused over her nephew, who had been watching a broadcast about the Oracle’s children when he suddenly passed out with a fever. Titus claimed a sick day and rushed to Lestallum to check on his nephew, found him already up and about a day after his mysterious collapse.

-His eyes were red and there was bitterness there.

-They didn’t stop being red even after Titus held him close and calmed the buzzing rage he could feel under his nephew’s skin.

-“I’m King Regis’s spawn, aren’t I?”

-Titus stiffened at the wording, glanced up at his sister as she pet her son’s hair and breathed, “You are my beloved son. Who your father is doesn’t matter to us.”

-His nephew laughed and the sound was broken. Then he pulled away and summoned fire to his hands so he could stare at his magic. When he looked up at his mother, his eyes were still the color of fresh blood, “I don’t like my name. I want to change it.”

-Titus and his sister had exchanged worried looks, but out of fear of a magic-fueled tantrum, Titus asked, “What name do you want?”

-A sharp, bitter sort of smile more at home on the face of a soldier than a child, “Xanxus. My name is Xanxus.”

-And that was that. His nephew stopped responding to his given name, only answered to the one he had given himself. He was different now, from whatever had happened, and Titus wished he could ask Regis about magic without raising suspicions, because was this normal for Lucis Caelums? This sudden change in name and development of a too-old (too bloodthirsty) personality?

-Xanxus’s eyes never did turn back to blue. Titus suspected there was too much anger there, lurking just beneath the surface as his nephew went out and picked fights with the street rats of Lestallum, as he ran off to join the Hunters at fifteen, adding yet another concern to Titus’s life in between his duties as Captain of the Kingsglaive, the suit constantly prodding his thoughts, and Prince Noctis (who had taken to trailing him around with big blue eyes that made it impossible to hate the brat) and his crazy pet Galahdian who had apparently taken a shine to him because he wasn’t “a useless herbivore” (whatever that meant).

-Titus should have known something would break someday. The tenuous secrecy and balance couldn’t last forever. Not with Xanxus’s temper and Titus’s terrible luck in regards to Lucis Caelums.

-Four months after Xanxus turned sixteen, Titus got a report from the front lines. A base of Kingsglaive had nearly been overrun by a Niflheim assault until an unknown teenager with magic had intervened and shot down the gunships with a combination of over-powered, red-tinted fire spells and guns that seemed to fire bullets of pure magic.

-Titus could do nothing to stop the report from reaching Regis, because several Crownsguard had been at the base at the time to refuel their truck on the way back to Insomnia and they had already reported the incident to the Marshal.

-Titus stood at a twitching Regis’s side, face frozen in neutrality that he didn’t feel as the throne room doors got flung open and his nephew was escorted inside by several glaives. Xanxus eyed Regis with contempt, his magic swirling openly around him like biting embers of anger and King Regis flinched at the feel of it before stepped forward, “You are-”

-“Your illegitimate spawn,” sneered Titus’s nephew and Titus inwardly groaned, “so what? Gonna try to lock me in your pretty Citadel so I don’t go around shaming your line?”

-Regis recoiled like he’d been physically punched and Titus openly winced and resisted the urge to tell Xanxus to do his breathing exercises, “No!” Sputtered the king Titus had a constant loyalty-hate relationship with, “I would never hold you here against your will!”

-“So you’ll just offer a lot of incentives for me to stay  and more incentives for me to not dare leave.” Retorted Titus’s living headache, “Don’t try the playing the nice sham you old b-.”

-That was enough of that, “Xanxus Certus Drautos, watch your tongue. I can still hold you down and wash that mouth of yours out with soap.”

-All eyes snapped to Titus while Xanxus made a face and a rude gesture and Titus sighed at the unspoken, panicky question in Regis’s eyes, “He’s my nephew. Yes, I’ve known about his magic for a long time.”

-Regis’s expression was so genuinely wounded Titus felt bad, “Then why did you never…?”

-Titus looked away, unable to withstand the hurt in the eyes of the man Titus thought was a bad king but knew was a good man (which was what made him a bad king), “We didn’t find out until the year Prince Noctis was born. I didn’t want my sister or nephew … or you … to suffer the scandal it would cause if he became known. And after the Queen died … there was never a good time.”

-Xanxus snorted, “Whatever, just scrub the reports and he can keep his precious reputation untarnished and I can go back to Hunting. Say one of your pet glaives used a new magic spell or something.” The glaives bristled at the “pet” comment, but Titus was just glad he wasn’t slinging his favorite word around yet (he doubted Cor or anyone in the room would react well to Xanxus calling the king “trash”)

-Regis turned back to Xanxus, reached out a hesitant hand, “You don’t have to leave. I will not stop you if … if you truly wish to go but I would … I would be honored to get to know my son-.”

-Magic rippled out like blood and fury and Titus instinctively put himself between Regis and Xanxus as his nephew snarled “I don’t belong to you, Trash King. I’m not your son, I’m your mistake and I will not be caged just so you can pat yourself on the back and feel better about ‘repenting’ for your ‘mistakes’.” Xanxus shook off the glaives that reached for him, fire burning dangerously up his arms and shoulders as he leaned around Titus so he could bare his teeth at a shaking Regis, his armiger flickering in and out of existence in red-amber as he spat, “You leave me and my mother the pyre alone or so help me I’m gonna-.”

-From the doors of the throne room, another magic signature spiked and Titus swallowed his spit in dread.

-What was Prince Noctis doing down here?

-Xanxus’s eyes went wild and he spun on his heel and Titus had a horrifying mental image of either his nephew or his crown prince dead on the throne room floor and half-dived for his nephew. He slammed against the red-tinted magic shield that formed and pushed outward, knocking aside everyone that might have stopped him as Prince Noctis, with no self-preservation whatsoever, ran up to Xanxus and smiled, “Xanxus, you’re here!”

-Wait. How did Prince Noctis know Xanxus’s name?

-Xanxus stared down at the nine year old prince with a cocked head, confusion in the set of his shoulders for a moment before he … relaxed, “Small Trash?” There was genuine confusion, disbelief, as if he wasn’t expecting to see Prince Noctis here, but that made no sense because Xanxus had only ever been to Insomnia in his life ONCE before now and there was no way he’d met Prince Noctis then. … Right?

-Prince Noctis stared around them at the shield hemming them in, then fearlessly smiled and hugged Titus’s nephew, “I missed you!”

-Titus prepared to batter down the shield in hopes of preventing regicide.

-Xanxus just patted Prince Noctis’s hair, armiger fading out of existence and magic settling to something slightly below screaming wrath, “Figures you’d be here, Small Trash.”

-“My name is Noctis.”

-“Xanxus. Xanxus Drautos.”

-Prince Noctis leaned briefly around Xanxus to blink at Titus, then resumed smiling up at the half-brother he shouldn’t know existed, “Titus’s…?”

-“Nephew, Small Trash. I don’t have a father.”

-Regis made a strangled noise, tentatively resting a hand on the shield keeping him away from his two sons, “Noctis…”

-Prince Noctis looked at his father, blinked with that unique, far-off stare he got when his seer magic kicked in and Titus felt his teeth grind as the boy looked up at Xanxus, “…You’re my half-brother.”

-Xanxus’s shoulders tensed, “Small Trash…”

-Prince Noctis turned and hugged Xanxus again, “It’s okay. He’s a good dad, I promise. He’ll love you. Please stay.”

-A shaking breath that felt … vulnerable. More vulnerable than his nephew had been since he was ten and claimed a new name, “I’m illegitimate, Small Trash. We both know what that means to royalty.”

-Slender arms hugged tighter and Titus watched in awe as his volatile nephew did nothing to throw the boy away, “Dad is different. I love him, and he loves me. He loves you too already. I promise. And I never break my promises.”

-Xanxus sagged in place, muttered a few scathing curses Titus had never been able to train out of him, then reached down and effortlessly picked Prince Noctis up and propped him on his hip like the boy was three and not nine, “Fine, Small Trash. I’ll give him three months. If I don’t like him by then I’m gone.”

-The shield dissolved as Xanxus turned around, “You got that, Trash King? You want to prove you’re interested in me as family and not a tool, you got three months to do it. After that I’m gone and none of your men better try to stop me unless they want to be dead.”

-Regis agreed even as the Marshal growled at Xanxus’s wording, but Titus didn’t care to listen. Couldn’t really think past his surprise because … because…

-As his nephew looked down at the half-brother he apparently already knew in his arms, angry but in a more tired and indulgent way, for the first time in years…

-Xanxus’s eyes were their natural washed out blue again.

-Oh, thought Titus quietly as Prince Noctis beamed up at Xanxus with amber eyes, magic curling effortlessly around Xanxus’s in a way that filled in and smoothed over all the screaming, jagged edges.

-Oh.

[springmagpies]

Where would you sort each shield agent (including Lincoln, Hunter, Bobbi, Trip, Robbie etc) in Hogwarts and why?

This was such a fun question! And if anyone has any opinions different than mine I would love to hear where you would place people, in a kind discussion of course! Sorting is hard 😂. This is a long post and I’m sorry about that! But anyway, here’s my thoughts.

p.s. Now I’m wanting to make moodboards so lemme know if y’all would be interested in that! 💛

Coulson—Gryffindor Reasoning: I think that Coulson would be a Gryffindor because of his courage and willingness to stand as a shield for those he loves. I also think that Gryffindors go beyond just bravery but the active overcoming of fear. Coulson is often terrified that he’s making the wrong move but he knows he has to make the tough decisions and will always try and stand up for the little guy.

May—Gryffindor Reasoning: Very similar to Coulson’s, May has not eliminated her fear but has worked to move past it. She is incredibly loyal and will stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves. She is brave in all senses of the word but also is determined to do good by those she loves.

Daisy—Gryffindor Reasoning: I was torn with where to put Daisy but I think the past few seasons especially have proved her as a Gryffindor in my mind. Daisy as the nerve of a Gryffindor. Even in the first season she was willing to push herself into the field and sort of combat that fear she feels. She also is very heroic in her bravery and is always willing to face the fight.

Mack—Gryffindor Reasoning: In my eyes, Mack is the ultimate Gryffindor and here’s why. Mack is the classic knight type of Gryffindor. He is chivalrous with strong morals and a steady heart. He is brave but can learn from defeat. He is always fighting for good. No matter what. Mack doesn’t operate in self interest.

Elena—Gryffindor Reasoning: I considered putting Elena in Hufflepuff but I ultimately decided on Gryffindor. Like everyone else I’ve put there so far, Elena is willing to fight the battles in spite of her fear. Elena has the nerve of a Gryffindor, much like Daisy. But I also think that she has the compassion that I think truly is valued in Gryffindor. Often Gryffindors are seen as the “jock” characters, but I would argue that they are also often the ones that fight for the oppressed and are the ones that are the most likely to stand up to bullies.

Hunter—Hufflepuff Reasoning: The wonderful thing about Hunter is how well he can get along with people. I think he has this reputation of rubbing people the wrong way, but I think in the end he actually gets along well with everyone. Within the team (and really in general) he operates with kindness and loyalty. He isn’t afraid of a fight but he often goes into one with damn good reasons. And he will stand behind his friends no matter what.

Robbie—Hufflepuff Reasoning: This is one I think people will disagree with (and I totally get that) but here’s why I put him here. Hufflepuffs value hard work and justice and I think that fits Robbie really well. I also want to separate Ghost Rider from Robbie for a second and really look at who Robbie is beyond that. At his core, Robbie is hard working and strives to do right by those he loves.

Trip--Hufflepuff

Reasoning: I was torn between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor for Trip but I think that Trip feels more Hufflepuff to me. My reasoning is that he is the most inclusive of everyone. His bravery comes more from his desire to be good than anything else. He is kind and loyal and overall the most willing to include people. He’s just pure good.

Fitz—Ravenclaw Reasoning: No surprises here but I still want to give my reasons because they go beyond just “Fitz and Simmons as smart” because I think that pretty much everyone on the list is pretty sharp. The reason why Fitz is in Ravenclaw is because of his ingenuity and creativity. He isn’t just book smart, his learning is adaptive. And that’s a major part of being a Ravenclaw is the willingness to go beyond what’s written.

Jemma—Ravenclaw Reasoning: Similar to Fitz but I will say that Jemma being a Ravenclaw also stems into the wisdom side. Again, it’s more than just “you’re smart.” Jemma is wise. Her knowledge build upon itself and she is great at giving level headed advice because of it. She learns on the spot with creative solutions but I think compared to Fitz she is much more likely to say “wait, we dealt with something similar that can help.”

Lincoln—Ravenclaw Reasoning: Lincoln is the learning part of Ravenclaw. He’s brighter than a lot of people give him credit for and is very good at solving intellectual problems. But I think the most Ravenclaw part of him is his skill at teaching. He is very well suited at passing on learning. He teaches Fitzsimmons about inhuman powers as well as helps Daisy learn how to use hers. He is a quick thinker, his thinking coming from experience and wisdom, such as when he figured out how Lash was finding inhumans.

Deke—Slytherin Reasoning: Again, I would love to make Deke a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw but I just don’t think it matches. The thing about Deke is he’s adaptive. He’s thrown into a situation and he manages to climb his way out of it or sometimes take it over. Deke is extremely tech savvy and it comes from his cunning mind. He knows how to work a problem and be resourceful.

Bobbi—Slytherin Reasoning: This is another one that people might disagree with, but first I want to say that Slytherin doesn’t mean “evil.” Having ambition doesn’t make a person evil. That’s silly. Now, back to Bobbi. Throughout the show, Bobbi shows how adaptive she is and how well she can read a situation. Bobbi knows how to make it through a mission without always just going in for the fight. She thinks before she acts and she is incredibly perceptive. She also is a very good leader and knows how to rally her team. As brave and kind and smart as she is, I think the overall combination of her traits build her into an amazing Slytherin.

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

Who said black cats were just bad luck? (Prompt: Stars)

Nathan Arch and Joey Drew had been ‘friends’ since the pair were young boys. Nathan was a studious child who even at a young age, took his family’s image and reputation seriously and saw supernatural forces as nothing more than silly superstition and myths. Joey on the other hand, was an energetic and mischievous little imp of a child who believed in the supernatural forces. So naturally, they hated each other on sight at first.

In childhood, the boys’ relationship was strained even further by their parents forcing them to be the best of friends when the pair barely had anything in common aside from their mutual dislike for having their afternoons, weekends, and summers being ‘wasted’ in each other’s presence.

This had led to Nathan bullying the smaller kid, nothing like punching or kicking the impish boy, Nathan Arch was no brute. But he did make fun of Joey, a lot. Most often by mocking his supernatural interests, calling them silly and childish as well as occasionally ruining the boy’s belongings whenever he was too irritated to deal with him. Joey of course didn’t take this lying down and had retaliated by playing nasty pranks on Nathan; shaking up soda bottles, putting creepy bugs in his things, drawing rude pictures into his school books, things like that.

Nathan compared the ritual circles in Joey���s father’s books to something like “wishing on a shooting star, but this one is just drawn on the ground with chalk.”, and Joey would fill his school bag with earthworms. Joey would tie Nathan’s shoes together and laugh as he fell on his face, and Nathan would throw one of Joey’s sketchbooks in a muddy puddle.

Then, ‘the incident’ happened and Joey returned from visiting Henry’s hometown with an injured leg and now had a haunted look in his eyes.

The boys’ petty rivalry was snuffed out soon afterwards; Nathan knew that guilt would eat him alive if he tried anything and Joey seemed to wrapped up in his own struggles to even bother trying to mess with Nathan. Either out of pity, guilt, or a mix of the two, Nathan did try to reach out to Joey, whether it was with a ‘get well soon’ card that came in a gift basket or seeing him in person at the hospital, but it was obvious that it was a bad idea for him to push anything further.

Whether their parents decided it was in poor taste to continue to shove them together in the hopes of them being friends or some Doctor gave an order for Joey to rest, the two drifted apart shortly after the incident. 

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

A few years later, Nathan Arch had gotten into a good college and was just setting up his side of the Dorm when he heard someone else come in.

“Archie? Is that you? How long has it been?!”

Turning around to face his new roommate, Nathan Arch’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the man he hadn’t since childhood. Joey carried around a cane now for obvious reasons, he had gone from a pipsqueak of a child to a beanstalk of a young adult, and he was a lot neater (at least, appearance-wise) than he was as an unruly little imp. But the mischievous spark had been re-lit in his eyes.

“Drew? Why, I haven’t seen you in ages!”

He hesitated for a second, what was he supposed to do? It wasn’t like he could just pretend that their history was nothing but dust under the rug, but at the same time, he’d much rather carry on a conversation that matched Joey’s upbeat tone... No, this was just like medicine, swallow it down first and fast, and then it does its job.

“Joey... About how I treated you when we were kids... I’m Sorry. It was petty and cruel of me to take out my frustrations on you when neither of us had any say in the matter of how our lives went. And I deeply regret it, I can understand if-ACK!”

He was cut off by Joey crushing him in a bear hug.

“I forgive you, you verbose, pompous airbag.”

Rolling his eyes at the insult, Nathan hugged Joey back.

Having Joey as a roommate was an... interesting experience. It was a mostly positive one as in spite of his cheerful demeanor and strong preference towards the arts as opposed to business or something of that sort, he was not a man child and did follow the rules and assigned chores of the dorms.

Compared to other students at the college, Nathan probably lucked out when he got Joey, but there was just one little thing about Joey that bothered him, nothing too serious, just a little itch of a problem.

For the most part, Joey talked about his father’s arcane tomes and spell books a lot less than he used to as a kid, but now on the once in a blue moon occasion where he did speak of the occult, he took it a lot more seriously. Perhaps even more seriously than christian priests teaching the word of God. The man treated magic how Nathan wished Joey would treat money; warning against using it frivolously, not using it when he didn’t need it, and looking into the pros and cons of each and every spell before using it.

It didn’t come up often enough for Nathan to be too nervous, but there were a few instances in college where Joey’s occultism was strongly noticeable, and not just on Halloween...

While Nathan was mature enough to keep his thoughts to himself, some things could never change. Like his views on the supernatural. He still saw magic as something fictional, but he also saw how important it was to Joey, and part of him feared that bringing up his opinions about magic would send the two back into being rivals, so he kept his mouth shut.

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

While the four years of college flew by a little too quickly for Nathan’s liking, he was pleasantly surprised by how well those four years had not only repaired his and Joey’s relationship. Going from near strangers with an unpleasant history to genuine friends who kept in touch with each other even after college was just a memory in the rear-view mirror of the past. Heck, Joey even was the best man at Nathan’s wedding! And he had the pictures on his mantle piece to prove it!

Nathan was looking through a scrapbook Joey had made and sent to the happy couple as a wedding gift. It contained various pictures of the dates the two went on and the last few pages were pictures of the proposal itself. Nathan smiled as he flipped through the book, wondering what kind of gift he should make Joey in return for his own wedding (if he ever decided to marry).

But that smile fell into a concerned frown as he saw the last page; symbols he recognized from Joey’s spell books: a long forgotten language within a circle that entrapped an upside-down star. The ‘explanation’ was that this was a good luck spell wishing him and Tessa a happy future as husband and wife.

He sighed, closed the book with a little more force than he meant to, and flopped down on the couch. As if she could sense that he was upset, Tessa had come into the living room right as he tossed the book to the other end of the couch.

“Nate? What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared, Tess.”

“About Joey?”

“Yes, I had assumed that he’d grow out of this silly superstitious nonsense sometime when he genuinely matured into adulthood, but if anything, he’s gotten even worse! It’s one thing to go to church every Sunday or to read a Torah, but at best what he’s getting himself into is setting himself up to be scammed by every phony fortune teller on the block and at worse it’s genuine devil’s worship!”

Tessa nodded in sympathy.

“So do you just need to get this off your chest or do you want advice, Dear?”

Unbeknownst to the couple, a shooting star past by outside.

“Well, as much as I’d like to get advice, I don’t know what on earth could work, Joey and I were practically at each other’s throats all the time before ...his incident. While “magic” was there for him for his entire life... I want to help him out of this but I don’t want to lose him as a friend. I just wish I could understand him and why he’s so invested in all that sorcery-crap!”

“You know Nate, sometimes I feel the same way.”

“The floor’s all yours, Doll.”

“I think I can understand the appeal of just wanting to snap your fingers and make every problem you have get carried off by living furnature or whatnot but magic always seems like it’s out to get you! I wish I knew why anyone for that matter would see magic as anything other than trouble.”

The pair sighed in unison and it was Tessa’s turn to flop down on the couch.

“So Tess, where did you get the new hat?”

“New hat?” she raised an eyebrow and reached up to her head “I don’t remember getting a new ...hat...”

She took the pointed witch’s hat off of her head and looked at it in pure disbelief before looking back to her husband and practically jumping back in fear.

“Tessa?! What’s wrong?!”

“Nathan... D-don’t panic, but...” she fumbled around in her purse for her compact case before pulling it out and clicking it open, handing it over to her husband.

Nathan’s jaw dropped open by a cartoonish degree as he saw his reflection; white fur was quickly sprouting up all over his face, getting framed with black fur that spouted on the rest of his body. In a matter of mere seconds, he didn’t even look like a human being anymore! He looked more like that fat cat character in the comics he saw Joey draw.

He looked down at himself and screamed when he saw that the rest of his body had also changed, and when he looked back up to his wife, he screamed again as he realized that she too had gone under some kind of transformation.

Her normally brightly colored attire was replaced by a floor-length black dress. She was still human, or at least, much more human than he was, but she looked simplified in a sense, more like a living drawing of herself. Her pie-cut eyes were filled with concern as she saw the fear in his eyes.

“Oh don’t tell me...”

Nathan bit his lip and nodded.

[dolls-self-ships]

MORE stuff about my friendship with the Penguins !!

part 1

* Skipper is kinda like my dad in a way, he’s arguably the most protective of me and he can’t stand to see me upset- with his men it’s a little different because they’re all like brothers to him, plus they’re his soldiers, but I’m sort of like his little girl (not that he would ever admit that). Sure we probably argue the most out of everyone, but we always come out of it having learnt something new about the other, or with a new perspective on something. It’s some good ol, fatherly-daughterly love. God forbid I ever bring a boy or a girl home though, because Skipper is all over that like hot sauce on fish. He wants names, addresses, alliances, accomplices, places of work, ect.

* Private and I definitely have the most in common, and are the closest because of it. He’s like my baby brother/best friend. We watch cartoons, listen to musicals, draw, and bake together all the time. We’re both really soft and wholesome people so our vibes just kinda bounce off each other to create even more wholesome vibes. It’s cute, but sometimes too cute for the others to bare. In Skippers words, “oh god, there’s two of them!”

* Kowalski kinda simps for me lowkey but we’re still tight. I like to listen to him talk about his inventions and scientific theories- I don’t understand any of it but he’s happy to have someone around that’s at the very least interested in what he’s saying. I find it admirable that he’s so passionate about what he does, even though it can get out of hand sometimes. And even though he doesn’t necessarily think of the Fine Arts as the most productive course, he supports me nonetheless because at the end of the day he (and all the others) just wants me to be happy. Believe it or not he’s actually a very comforting friend with a small part of him that’s secretly soft. He doesn’t show it for obvious reasons but when you look at certain scenes in the show you can see a bit of that peaking through and it’s just 🥺🥺🥺

* Rico’s like my chaotic older brother that spent most of his life in a frat house. He teaches me how to fake belch (I still couldn’t do it in the end), shotgun beers (it took a while but I got it eventually), and backflip safely off a roof while still looking sick as fuck (yeah, the others didn’t let me do that, no chance in hell). He’s always barfing up things to my convenience though! This annoyed Skipper at first because it was ‘unauthorized hacking’. I was also grossed out by it at the start but now I just keep a packet of wet wipes on me and I’m good to go. Lots of fist bumps with this man! Lots of ‘em! He’s a total bro, always got my back! And I got his! Loyal as fuck!

* Skipper, on multiple occasions, has accused me of “turning his men into pansies”. I always kinda roll my eyes and try to ignore remarks like this, but I really try to make him see why sometimes that’s okay. Of course Skipper cares deeply about all three of his soldiers, so it’s probably just a front when he says things like that. Though... I do have to help him work on all that misogyny he carries around.

* “All I said was that it’s okay to cry sometimes.”

* “Crying shows weakness!”

* “Skipper, it’s just emotion.”

* “Exactly! I can’t have my men letting feelings run their lives.”

* “What about your anger issues? Those are emotions.”

* “Those are manly emotions, kid! Fierce, unapologetic warrior rage is what makes a good commander.”

* “I-“

* Or on a separate occasion

* “You’ve made my men soft”

* “And? You’re next you know.”

* *GASP*

* One time Blowhole captured me and roasted me for a solid hour in front of the Penguins both out of spite and his pure hatred for humans

* “You pen-gu-ins have really let your standards drop! I mean, how could you stoop so low as to befriend a weak, puny-brained, fleshy human?”

* Rico: *gasp followed by angry gibberish*

* Kowalski: YOU BITE YOUR TONGUE, BLOWHOLE

* Private: That’s not very nice!

* Skipper: Hey, that’s OUR weak fleshy human!

* After that, the Penguins decided that if I’m going to continue to be friends with them, it was mandatory that I learn how to defend myself. Because as long as I associated myself with the four, I was subject to more than than just Blowhole capturing me like an 80’s cartoon villain

* Over time I do pick up moves, learn skills from each of them (sadly, not Rico’s hacking) but Skipper knows that I am in no way soldier material. If he were to train me like he did his men, it would break my spirit

* He just wants me to be able to handle myself in case of emergencies

* He is very much like a worried dad

* At some point sooner or later I end up meeting Julien very much against the Penguins will. He’s just too nosy, and annoying, they can’t stop him

* He is instantly trying to put the moves on me bc he’s horny on main (again, not my suggestion, 100% my sister’s. She KNOWS I can’t handle it when people flirt with me so why would she-)

* The only way I can get him to leave me alone is by showing him my jewelry box, the shiny bracelets and dangly earrings distract him for a good while

* I even let him have a few things that are old or I don’t wear anymore.

* Julien immediately starts gasping and tearing up because he is so touched that I am just giving him this for free???? Just like that????

* He clears his throat and composes himself because obviously I’m giving him gifts, he is the King after all

* Our dynamic for a while is a little awkward for me though because it’s basically this iconic text post

* “Alright, raise your hand if you thought Julien and I were dating. Julien, put your hand down.”

* The feelings were very VERY unrequited :,(

* But it’s okay because once Julien gets over that we actually vibe really well!!!!

* He’s a himbo, and I’m a bimbo, therefore, we get along

* We do all that frivolous shit together: get drunk, go to parties (he knows all the obscure places that send you the location like an hour before the rave starts, it’s wild), get our nails done, talk abt our taste in people

* He’s a raging, flirtatious pansexual and I’m a romantic but shy bisexual

* Of course our friendship drives Skipper up the fucking wall

* He’s worried I’m gonna become more like Julien, but Kowalski says the likelihood of that happening is 0.05%. I might pick up one or two quirks of his because that’s just what happens when you spend time with people but no dramatic changes will be had. I’ll still be their same ol’ Cassandra

* Skipper still thinks that’s one or two quirks too many though of course

* This is way far into the future but my brain kept coming up with ideas for it so; on my wedding day, if I were to ever find someone I wanted to marry, everything is extremely chaotic, to say the least. Skipper is on constant guard mode, under the impression that one of his villainous foes could come and crash the wedding, which everyone doubts is gonna happen

* Kowalski, bless his heart, is the one helping me plan everything. Private pitches in too with decor and food ideas, but the price, date, location, guest list, probability that someone will try and assassinate me, that’s all Kowalski

* Rico is surprisingly into helping me pick out my wedding dress, he knows a thing or two from keeping up with the latest fashion for Ms. Perky

* And Private, he’s my main man on the big day. He’s the one helping me remember my vows, breath, talking with me before my human friend’s come in to do my hair and makeup. If it were up to me I would’ve made him my maid of honour, no joke. He said he was, well, honoured!

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “John Wick” Part 3

Y/N left The Organization 3 years ago for the one reason strong enough to make her settle down: love. But after tragedy crushed her to pieces, she decided to leave The Joker and seek refuge with an old friend and mentor - John Wick. Needless to say The King of Gotham can’t accept his wife running away without a word, especially since he didn’t have a chance to tell her things she might want to hear.

Part 1     Part 2

The Joker listens at the bedroom’s door, impatient to have a conversation with you. It seems you are engaged into a fervent phone call with Winston and figured he shouldn’t interrupt.

“Please, anything you can discover would be a great help! U-hum… U-hum… Thank you,” and you hang up, which queues your husband to walk into the room.

You completely ignore him, scrolling through the numerous text messages you sent to your connections; several are already answering back and hopefully you can get some news soon. The more people are involved into the project, the more chances to find Kase and untangle the mystery of what happened to him after he was removed from the car.

“You left me there,” The Joker sneaks in and closes the door behind him. “Luckily we had Wick with us so he gave me a ride.”

No reaction. He takes a deep breath, trying to get your awareness.

“I didn’t sleep with Evelyn; sex wasn’t the reason why I kept visiting her. I know how that asshole made it sound and he was totally out of line!”

You quickly glance at him, busy replying to Ares since you feel you’re going to explode soon.

“The only skill I was interested in is the fact that she is an excellent painter and a popular art smuggler, OK?” J raises his voice, sort of annoyed you neglect to participate into his monologue. “I did not cheat, alright?” he approaches his wife. “First of all: I’m VERY picky! Second of all: why would I want a woman everyone else had?! I don’t like used toys. Third: nobody’s been polishing my gun as you tastefully addressed the issue! I have one Queen and I married her!!”

A little bit of doubt in your eyes and he utilizes the opportunity.

“You said you saw me going to her house? I did! The Bowery King asked if it was for the last 6 months? Yeah, I did! You know why?!”

At least now The Joker got your attention: you play it cool but he guesses you’re torn apart by his confession.

Many unfortunate events crammed in lately and hating the man you love made life infinitely more unbearable.

“Why…?” you barely muster the strength to inquire and he sees it as a possibility to mend a few broken pieces; although you can hide your emotions well, J can still read between the lines.

Maybe that’s why he answers with another question:

“Do you realize there are just three Monet paintings in circulation on the black market in the entire world? You admire his work and it took a lot of effort and a substantial fortune to acquire The Water Lily Pond painting. Evelyn Black helped with the transaction, then I had her make some modifications to the original masterpiece.”

You keep staring at The King of Gotham, uncertain about the stuff being tossed your way: is he lying or telling the truth?... In your line of work translating feelings is a huge part of the job; ultimately you had the best mentor to teach you the ropes when you started with the organization: none other than the legendary Baba Yaga. Despite his reputation and to your own amazement, John was one of the few hitmen with integrity and perfectly mastered the aptitude of not being a jerk. Such a rare gem… And blissfully unaware of it himself.

On the opposite end, The Joker is a jerk and flawlessly acquainted with his own “captivating” personality that made you fall in love with him anyway.

Also, doesn’t appear to be deceitful for the moment.

And you despise yourself even more for wanting to believe him.

“What… modifications?...” you throw him a bone and J is definitely not going to pass on the alternative of explaining his actions.

“I wanted to surprise you so I took advantage of Miss Black’s capabilities in the art field; I had her add small images to the authentic canvas: an evolution of you being pregnant, the nine frames culminating with a tenth: the new mother holding our son. Similar to a timeline,” he emphasize and you look intrigued, which might be a positive sign. “Needless to say it was tedious, difficult work, especially because she had to apply special pigments you can’t find at every corner of the street. Apparently you can’t mix old paint with contemporary shades, thus I had to order aged, special colors from Italy, Spain and France. That’s why I went to her place so often: I had to supervise the long process and make sure it turns out astonishing. Then…” and The Joker pauses,”…Kase was gone and I didn’t know what to do with my gift: bring it home or not? Would you have loved it? Would it make you sadder? I continued to drive to Evelyn’s and glare at the stupid painting for hours, undecided on what to do…”

J watches you bite on your cheek, then straightens his shoulders as you utter the words:

“… … … You ruined a genuine Monet?”

Your spouse might be a smooth talker when needed, yet he’s not wasting his versatility on this statement:

“I didn’t ruin it; I made it better!”

Silence from both parties. A good or bad omen? Hard to decipher the riddle with two individuals tangled into a relationship that somehow worked despite countless peculiarities meant to keep them apart.

“I have to talk to Jonathan,” you finally mutter and The Joker steps in front of you.

“Talk to me!”

“Unless you know the exact location of the suitcase full of gold coins he’s been safekeeping for me, I really have to speak to him. Or do you want to hammer the whole basement searching for it?”

Y/N walks out of the bedroom and J lingers inside, evesdropping on the conversation happening downstairs. He can’t understand the chat, but you are probably notifying John about the details your husband left out.

Might as well join the party, therefore The Clown pops up in the living room with a plea impossible to refuse:

“Hey Wick, can I stay here? I don’t care if you say no, I’m not going to leave.”

Your friend crosses his arms on his chest, focusing on the random topic:

“How could I deny such a polite request? Of course you can stay Mister Joker; my house is your house.”

You’re watching the free show unamused; usually it would make you smile…now you lack the depth for such connotations.

“Don’t get smart with me, Wick!” J growls and Jonathan pushes for a tiny, unnecessary quarrel.

“I’m not; although generally speaking, I fancy considering myself a smart guy.”

The Joker opens his mouth and you’re not in the mood for whatever the heck they’re initiating:

“I’m going to pump, then after you dig out the suitcase I’ll take half to the Bowery King,” you announce your plans to them.

“You can do that and rest; I’ll deliver the coins,” John immediately offers. “I can stop by Aurelio’s car shop and ask for his collaboration: he has a lot of associates, doesn’t hurt to get him involved. You have plenty of gold.”

“I have two more suitcases in the Continental’s safe and two more at The Penthouse. It doesn’t matter if it’s all gone as long as I can find my son.”

“I know gold coins are preferred; don’t forget we have a lot of money too,” J reckons with spite.

Is he reminding you or Jonathan?...

*************

Your husband spent the last hour in the garden, talking and texting with a lot of people; needless to mention he’s capitalizing on his network also. Winston disclosed Stonneberg’s contract is still opened, meaning the son of a bitch is out there; you have to scoop him before anybody else does.

“Y/N…” The Joker tiptoes in your quarters. “I thought you were taking a nap,” he huffs when he sees you at the edge of the bed.

You glare at the vial on the nightstand, sharing your idea for a future you wish will come true:

“I didn’t have my medicine in two days; I won’t take it anymore because if we get Kase back… I will nurse him. It all goes in the milk and I want to be able to feed my baby… Do you think his little heart is still beating?...” you sniffle and J is currently debating on a clever response since his mind is blank; one could deduce messing up is encoded in his DNA, but on such a huge scale… well, it gives new interpretations to the term even for him.

The grieving woman seeking reassurance for their loss is trying to make sense of the pointless occurrences that lead to Kase being an innocent victim and The Joker can’t render clarification: he has no clue why he asked her to marry him and why she said yes, it’s not that he’s husband material or a family man. Perhaps Y/N thought he could be… just enough to get by, that’s why she accepted his proposal.

Most women would have cringed at the concept. Most women. Not Y/N.

Most women would have flinched at the notion of having his baby. Most women. Not his wife.

Above all, she trusted J with their son and he treated the three weeks old like a trinket: didn’t drive him home because he had an important meeting, didn’t bother to assign escorting cars nor extra security. The King of Gotham took his child’s safety lightly and it definitely had severe consequences. Too late now to fix past mistakes... but he can attempt.

“You’ll be able to nurse him, OK?” he sits by you and hands over his cell. “Can you enter your phone number in here? Or am I not allowed to have the present digits?”

You’re hesitant and he slides the screen while you hold the gadget.

“Lemme help you,” The Joker sarcastically mumbles. “It should be the first on my list, right where the old number you canceled was.”

You exhale and fulfill his demand out of pure frustration when he squeezes in a second innocent petition.

“Chose my avatar.”

You grunt at his rubbish, scrolling through his folders for a picture anyway; J hopes the largest file will get your attention and that’s the point. How could Y/N miss it?!

Entitled “Baby”, the humongous cluster of pics contains 5,723 items. You open it quite absorbed by its size; what’s more puzzling is the collection depicting Kase’s ultrasounds, hundreds of frames with you being pregnant taken without you knowing: there’s a few when your ankles were so swollen you had to sleep with your feet up on 4 pillows, others with you munching on strange food you craved, more with you in the shower focused on your bump, a decent amount of couple selfies when you were sleeping and J had to immortalize the moment without waking you up and approximately 1,500 images of the newborn.

“You didn’t gross me out when you were pregnant,” The Joker reminds a teary Y/N. “Not sure why you would believe such aberration...” he pulls you on his knees and yanks the phone away, tossing it on the nightstand. “I would also like to underline I didn’t have an affair with Miss Black, alright?”

J lifts your chin up, forcing to look at him.

“Let’s put it this way: why would I fuck around with another woman when I have a wife at home that wants to kill me on a regular basis, hm? Where would the fun be? I mean, she didn’t pull the trigger yet but it’s exciting to hope she might. You know me: I’m a sucker for thrills!”

“Do I?”

“Huh?” J steals a kiss and you frown at his sleekness.

“Know you?”

“Yeah,” the green haired Clown acts composed while in fact his feathers are ruffled. Before you catch onto it he has to ultimately admit: “I’m sorry I didn’t drive the car… I should have…”

The Joker holds in his breath when your arms go around his neck very tight.

“I’m suffocating…” he grumbles. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to hug me or choke me to death,” J keeps on caressing your hair, prepared to block your attack in case you’re actually in killing mode.

This is the excitement he was speaking about: with you, one could never know until it’s a done deal.

“I bumped into Magnus at the Continental,” you give him a bit of space to inhale much needed air and The Joker is surprised at your revelation. “I had no idea about his scheme, otherwise I would have skinned him alive right on the hotel grounds! I wouldn’t have cared about the consequences!”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” J cuts you off and he can tell you’re getting mad; maybe you think he doesn’t give a damn but the reason is simple. “You would’ve been declared excommunicado for murder on neutral ground and I don’t want my wife to be the target of such punishment from the company she so proudly retired from. I need my partner!”

The King of Gotham touches your forehead with his as you whisper:

“I hate you!”

“Mmm, regarding this true love affirmation, I’m gonna need you to take a break from detesting me until we have Kase, then you can despise me full throttle again. Deal?” he extends the palm of his hand and you reluctantly shake it, not realizing you’re reacting to his nonsense. “Is that a smile?” J returns the favor with one of his creepy silver grins.

“No.”

“Liar,” he pecks your lips and can’t explain the weird feeling in his heart when you kiss him back.

*************

Jonathan enters the house and becomes suspicious after a few minutes: too much silence.

Omg! Did you and The Joker engaged into a brawling that ended up badly? Did you end each other?!

John frantically runs to the garage, nervous to see your car and J’s are still parked inside. Shit!

“Y/N?” he shouts, concerned about your fate; The Joker’s… irrelevant. Nobody in the garden, patio is empty also. Downstairs is deserted thus he rushes upstairs to your room. The door is not completely shut and he slowly pushes it, knocking.

“Y/N? Can I come in?”

The first thing he notices are clothes scattered on the floor, then he halts his movement at the sight of Y/N and her husband dozing off on the bed sideways: the naked bodies are covered with a blanket, but he can tell you’re snuggled in J’s arms.

Jonathan steps backwards, guilty of invading his guests’ privacy; he certainly didn’t expect to intrude in such a manner and softly closes the door, grateful it’s not what he feared.  

You and The Joker are so worn out the sound of your phones vibrating on the nightstand doesn’t wake you from the deep sleep. Your numerous contacts keep replying back to the text messages, the most important one showing up on his cell: one of the people J reached to is Evelyn Black and the two sentence conversation lights up the screen.

“Let me know if you see Stonnenberg.”

“He’s here.”

 Also read: MASTERLIST

You can follow me on Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[talpup]

Lost Song: 4

This fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers.  For full list of story tags or to read on AO3 check the link at the top of my tumblrs homepage.

Sorry if there’s a drop in quality.  I really mean it when I say I write for myself, and edit and post to share with you all.  Being dyslexic I spend almost as much time editing and polishing my fics for posting as I do actually writing.  It’s become to feel like a job that leaves me disappointed when I don’t get many comments or interaction from you all.  That’s NOT on you.  That’s on me.  Which is why I’m making the change to just enjoy what I do and forget about editing.

4.1

It had been a little over a month since his life had been turned upside down by the two Foundlings who had joined his Ilca.  Thankfully the two had been self sufficient adults before arriving so all Shouta had to worry about was the rest.  Problem was the rest was Oblvi.  An entirely new world to Teris and Hizashi.  A new world that was filled with Fourth's.  Fourth's that would either revere Teris or call for her head, if not seek to end her themselves, if they learned she was a Griffon.

As much as Shouta hated it, Nedzu was right.  The only way to save Teris and keep the peace was for her and Kai to build a friendship that would hold even after the Dragon learned she was a Griffon.  In a closed loop thought, the idea made sense.  But it would never work in real life.  Shouta knew Kai.  He knew dragons.  No matter what sort of ties Kai made with Teris, they would be severed the instant he learned she was a Griffon.

Back a forth Shouta went.  Hoping for the best.  Planning for the worst. He would protect her no matter what.  She was his.

Exhausted as he was, he didn’t catch the mental slip and correct the thought; instead blinking heavy, tired eyes as he stared at Teris from across the table.  With the arrival of her and Hizashi, his already precarious sleep schedule had been thrown into a tailspin.  The line of his mouth twitch ever so slightly upward at the memory of finding Teris in his bed her first night here.  He wouldn’t mind finding her in there again.

Shouta frowned.  Yes he would.  She was a tiresome, too proud, confrontational woman.  He could make her submit, he thought lazily looking her over.  It would be a honor and pleasure to earn his beautiful, proud Griffons submission.  Not his Griffon!  And, no. No, it wouldn't be a pleasure or honor.

“Quit staring at me.”  Teris snapped at the Sphinx, scowling at the weird dreamy, disturbed look on his face.  When she had first met Shouta a little over a month ago, she hadn’t thought the Sphinx could look worse.  But she had been wrong.  The whites of his eyes were so bloodshot that they were more red than white.  The dark bags beneath his eyes impossibly darker and bigger than the night they met.  She was growing increasingly concerned about him.  Though that concern was purely on a professional and humane level.  Bossy and rude as he was, he was a person and her Ilca leader.

Pulled out of his thoughts, Shouta’s deep, graveled voice sounded calm, if not bored.  “I’m not staring at you.”

“Yes you are.”  Teris argued.

Such a contrary woman, Shouta thought.  Why was everything always a fight with her?  He slouched back in his seat, voice as expressionless as his face.  “I was looking forward.  You’re the one who chose to sit in front of me.”

“This is where I always sit.”

From his place to Teris’ right, Hizashi looked between the two, chewing. He hated when the two argued.  And they argued basically all the time.

“And this is where I always sit.  Quit being a child.  Not everything is about you.”

Teris bristled at the Sphinx’s words.  “I am not a child!”

Shouta fought down a smirk at her temper.  She had such fire.  “Then stop acting like one and eat your breakfast.”

Her mouth opened.

“Now.” Shouta cut her off before a single utterance came out.  “I’m too tired for this today.”

It wasn’t the order that made Teris hold her tongue but the mention of his exhaustion.  She truly was getting worried about him.  How much sleep did a Sphinx need?  And how much of it could they go without before it effected more than their mood and appearance but their health as well?  Maybe she should ask Kai.

“So Oboro thinks he’s narrowed down what other half of Fourth I might be but refuses to tell me.”  Hizashi said, looking to defuse things.

Something to do with talking, Shouta thought.  No voice.  Or maybe song.  Damn he was so tired, he couldn’t even think straight.  A Siren maybe?

“You like him.”  Teris drew out, teasing her follow Foundling friend.

“What!”

“Too loud.”  Shouta complained at Hizashi's outburst.  Definitely some spirit or spite that had volume of voice.

Teris glared at the Shouta.

“No I don’t.”  Hizashi shook his head, green eyes wide.

“Come on, Zashi.  It’s alright.”  She turned to Shouta unsure how same sex relations were viewed in this world.  “It’s alright?  Isn’t it?”

Shouta closed his eyes and nodded.

“See.” She smiled at Hizashi.

Hizashi smiled shyly in return.  “He is really cute.  And so nice and smart.  I want you to meet him.”

Teris nodded thinking the same.  Glad as she was that this Oboro made Hizashi happy, she had to make sure he was really alright.  Hizashi was--  Pack beast.  The term flinted through her mind.  She glanced at Shouta hating to admit that he was right.  Whatever she was she apparently was a pack beast because Hizashi was hers.  Not in a romantic sense, but in a tie that was just as deep, if not deeper than family.

“What about you?”  Hizashi asked.  “Kai have any idea on what you might be yet?”

Shouta's head lifted, muscles tensing.

Teris shook her head.

Shouta relaxed, exhaling the breath that had caught in his chest.

Hizashi pouted, but his smile quickly returned.  “Speaking of liking people.  What about you?”

“What about me?”  Teris asked, fully aware of what Hizashi was asking.

The blonde glanced at Shouta well aware that the heated tension between the Sphinx and Teris had nothing to do with distaste.  “You know.”

Teris pointedly avoided looking at the man seated across from her.  “No. I don’t.”

“Come on Ris!  Is there anyone you like?”

“No.”

“No? No one?”  Hizashi pressed, eyes darting back to Shouta.

“What are you, twelve?”  Shouta griped.

Teris frowned at Shouta’s complaint.  Hizashi was just being playful. Why was the man such an ass?

“Kai’s kind and handsome.”  She told Hizashi, eyes still locked on the Sphinx.

Shouta’s dark gaze sharpened, heckles raised.  A low growl bubbled deep within his chest but he fought it down.  Huffing, he pushed back the chair and got to his feet.  What did he care what she wrongly thought of Kai?  “You should quit talking nonsense and finish up.”

Hizashi’s slightly pointed ears fell a fraction watching the Sphinx exit their dorms dining hall.

“He’s talking to you.”  Teris told, stabbing at a piece of fruit on the plate before her.

Unlike Kai, Oboro taught a specialized class for the Ilca course.  Though he didn’t teach everyday, the days that he did Shouta and Hizashi left together to walk to the campus part of Traverseen Hall.

Hizashi not wanting to make Aizawa wait and Teris eager to get to Kai’s, the two quickly finished breakfast.

Near the front door, Hizashi slipped on his coat and turned to Teris. “I’m still bummed that Kai won’t let you come to campus to see Aizawa and Kan’s classes square off this afternoon.  Oboro says it should be a good learning experience.”

“So am I.  But Kai said he has something planned for me today.”

Coming up behind Hizashi, Shouta tossed his coat at Teris harder than intended.  It landed perfectly over her head and hung there.

Hizashi's hand clapped over his mouth, caught between surprise and sputtering laughter.

Shouta bristled both wondering and imagining what sort of plans the Dragon had for his-- His mind paused and carefully finished the last part of the thought. --Ilca member.

Teris yanked the dark blue coat off her head.  “What the hell!”

“Put that on.  It’s cold out.”

“No.” She growled, hating Shouta’s impassive face.

“You’re my responsibility.  Put it on so you don’t get sick.”  And Kai remembers who you belong to, he silently finished wishing he could properly scent her.  “And don’t forget it at Chisaki’s.  I want it back.”

“Than take it back!”  Teris called after him holding out the jacket.  But Shouta had already exited the dorm.  She turned back to Hizashi.  “Do you believe him?”

Hizashi smiled, buttoning up his coat.  “I think it’s sweet.”

“Sweet? Doubt he even knows the meaning of the word.  He’s--”

“Yamada!” Shouta’s voice snapped from down the hall.

“Coming!” Hizashi yelled back.  He gave Teris one last small smile.  “Gotta go.  See ya later.”

“Yeah.”

Left alone Teris frowned at the coat that was far too big for her.

“Rude, bossy bastard.”  She muttered thinking about the dark haired Sphinx.

She put on the jacket, shoulders easing at the enveloping scent.  Without thinking she pulled the collar to her nose and buried her face in the weighty material, breathing deeply.

4.2

Kai sniffed as soon as Teris entered the office, immediately noticing Aizawa’s scent on her.  It wasn’t some weak smell that was left on her from merely living in the same Ilca dorm as the Sphinx.  Nor was it the same as Aizawa's previous lame attempts to scent her. This one was overwhelming.  Encompassing.

His jaw locked shut fighting back a growl.  Though successful, there was little he could do to stop the smoke that billowed from his nostrils.

“Good morning, Kai.”  Teris slipped the jacket off, leaving it on the chair by the door, but the damage was done.  Aizawa's scent had infused into her skin and clothes.

“Outside.” Kai ordered, getting to his feet.

“I thought--”

“I said outside.”  Kai’s hard, shimmering eyes softened at her openly confused, almost hurt expression.  It wasn’t her fault that Aizawa had done this, taking advantage of her lack of understanding. If he told her, she would no doubt be furious.  But telling her what Aizawa had done would mean letting her know that he had been doing the same, and he wasn’t ready for that.  “I know we always start with academic lessons but it’s best not to get into routines.”

Agreeing with that Teris turned back to Aizawa's jacket and picked it up.

“Leave that.”  Kai snapped moving to her.  He stopped so close beside her that his chest brushed her arm.  “I got my own way of keeping you warm.”

Teris shivered at the innuendo.

Kai’s gold eyes glided over her as she placed the horrid coat back down.

She jumped when his cool hand pressed against the lower end of her lower back.

Undeterred, Kai’s hand remained.  “Shall we?”

4.3

“Shouta, you look terrible.”

Shouta grunted at Nemuri's remark, wishing he were napping in his sleeping bag instead of getting ready to watch his class face 1-B in a training challenge.

“I told you, you need to get more sleep.  You work too hard.”  Nemuri frowned at the Sphinx in worry.

“I have two unwanted Ilca members who happen to be Foundlings.” Shouta said as if they were the sole cause for his lack of sleep.

Calling him on his bad habits, Nemuri crossed her arms.  “You were overworked and overtired well before they came along.”

Eyes closed, the Sphinx hummed.  His head dipped forward then jerked back up, startling awake.

“That’s it.  I’m coming over tonight.  If you won’t sleep on you own, I’ll put you to sleep.”

“Kayama.” Shouta complained.

“No sense arguing.  I’ll even bring dinner.  It’ll give me a chance to met this other Ilca member of yours.”  The Dryad said thinking about what Oboro had said about Hizashi mentioning how Shouta and the woman argued.  She turned away, tapping him awake on the shoulder. “See you later.”

4.4

Teris panted, getting to her feet.  The line of fire Kai had created when they first got started making her sweat all the more. Kai was magnificent in his dragon form.  He wasn’t so bad in his human one either, she thought and quickly cursed the distracting thought, rolling out of the way of the Dragons lashing tail.

“Focus.” Kai’s voice spoke directly into her him.

The first time it had happen Teris had freaked out.  After settling down she had worried that talking into her mind also meant he could hear her thoughts.  But thankfully that wasn’t the case.

Kai’s gold eyes and scales reflected the the fire line of fire.  His dark purple underbelly barely catching the light.  His coloring showed his heritage, or so some of his followers told.  According to them, his solid gold scales, horns, and wings meant that he was the son of the king of dragons; making him the rightful heir even if he wasn’t the last of dragon king.

Teris leapt to her feet lasso in hand. The goal of the game was to evade and persevere long enough to capture any part of the powerful Dragon.  Given his size it should’ve been ease.  But Kai was quick.  His movement changing from sharp and fluid without any sort of tell or pattern.  She tossed and missed.  Cursing her slow speed and his quick.

Kai stomped and charged. He was holding himself back greatly.  Slowing his speed, using minimal strength.  The goal was to train, not to hurt or break her spirit. He also hoped that fighting her in his true form would further encourage the show of her true form.  Aside form a few directing hints, such as her being a pact beast, he still had no clue what she was and dearly wanted to no.

His growing fondness for her had gotten to the point that he had decided to being courting.  Not that he would tell her as much.  It wasn’t that he feared rejection.  He was a handsome, proud dragon of royal blood. There wasn’t another species or person who was more desirable than he.  Still, he didn’t want to scare her off.  She was new to Oblvi and their ways.

He blew heated ash her way a low rumbling growl of pleasure when ducked down and covered her face with a protecting arm.  Now for the pounce, he thought heart hammering with excitement. He moved, shifting back to human form as he did so and was on her in an instance.

Teris fell back with a huff.

“Got you.  You’re mine.” Kai declared, heart pumping more from the nearness of her than the training session that barely exerted him.

Teris stared up at him panting.  “No fair!”

Hands on either side of her, propping himself up, Kai lowered his face further to hers.  “How so?”

“You said that the lesson would be over when I gave up or caught you.” She told, face feeling a hundred times hotter than it did seconds earlier.

“You were talking too long.  I grew impatient and decided to catch you instead.”

“But--”

“I’m the instructor.  I can change the rules whenever I like.”  Kai declared, thinking he could also take whatever he liked but would be patient. His eyes scanned over her face, a frown pulling at his lips.

“What?”

“You’re dirty.”

“We’ve been sparring for how many hours?  Of course I am.”

He got up off her, frowning at his soiled shirt.  “We can’t do lessons like this.”

“It was your bright idea to switch things up.”

He moved to hold his hand out to help her up and paused.  She was covered in ash.  His ash.  This was his doing.  His hand thrust out.

Teris took it, grateful for the assistance.  Fighting a dragon was exhausting.  She couldn’t wait till her true form displayed itself.

Kai instinctive pulled his hand from hers as soon as she was up.  Wiping his palm on his pant leg, he directed her back inside.  “Let’s get you clean.”

“Clean? Good as that sounds it won’t do much good.  My clothes are just as filthy and I’d be putting them back on.”

Kai frowned a moment then smiled slightly.  If Aizawa wanted to send her here in his coat then he would send her back wearing his clothes.

Hand hovering at her lower back he ushered her in doors already thinking which shirt of his he wanted to see her in.  “Then I suppose we’ll just have to find you something else to wear for the rest of the day.”

4.5

Teris entered her Ilca dorms to find they had company.  Boisterous company.

“There she is!”  Oboro rushed to her as if they were long time friend’s and not two people who had never met.  He paused seeing the over-sized button-up under the jacket she wore.  “Hey, sharp shirt. A little big dontcha think?”

The Venti’s words and arm were slung over her before her hair had even settled down from the wind of his swift travel.  Before she could respond or ask who he was, Oboro was leading her into her Ilca’s dining room.

“Nemuri. Emi.  Kan.  This is Teris.  Hizashi's friend and Shou’s--” Oboro turned to the Sphinx.  “What is she to you again?”

“My… Ilca member.”  Shouta grumbled, pausing to think the correct words before saying them.

“Right.” Oboro drew out, smiling.

“Leave Aizawa alone, Sweetheart.  You know he’s extra grumpy when he’s lacking his usual minimal sleep.”  Nemuri chastised lightly.

“He’s only grumpy cause we haven’t gone out on a date.  What da ya say, Aizawa?  Wanna go out?”  Emi asked, all smiles.

Teris bristled, sharp eyes locking on the smiling woman.  Who was she and why was she here?

“No.” Shouta answered shortly.

Emi laughed, hand slapping the table as if his rejection was the funniest thing.  “Ah, Aizawa!  You’re such a kidder.”

Teris looked back to Oboro wondering who he was.  Thankfully Hizashi was there to answer her silent wondering since neither Aizawa or the man himself seemed inclined.

“Ris. This is Oboro.  The one I’ve been telling you about.”  Hizashi beamed before her.

“You’ve been telling her about me?”  Oboro moved to Hizashi, face close enough for Hizashi to see the slight fraying of the bandage he worn on the bridge of his nose.  “What have you told her about me? Nothing bad I hope.”

“No.” Hizashi squeaked emerald eyes wide like saucers.  If he just leaned forward just a little he could…

“It’s been nothing but good.”  Teris told, smirking at her friend.

Oboro turned back to her.  “Really!  Cause I like him too.”

“You do?”  Hizashi questioned, heart hammering in his ears.  He had hoped Oboro liked him.  It seemed as if he liked him.  But he never imagined the guy just coming out and saying it like that.  He remembered the Venti telling him how Fourth’s were freer with things like relationships than humans were, and smiled.  That smile fell as soon as Kan spoke.

“You like everyone, Oboro.”  The Vampuric Gargoyle rumbled.

Shouta chuckled at that.

Teris’ eyes widened.  She had seen Shouta smile less than a handful of times and never heard him laugh.  She had seriously begun to wonder if sphinx's were capable of doing so.  She found herself moving to sit next to the large, red eyed man that had achieved such a fete.

“Teris.” Teris introduced.

“Kan.” Kan said.  He caught a clear mix of dragon and sphinx scent on her and glance over at Shouta.  Were the two sleeping together?  It would explain the Sphinx’s added lack of sleep.  But Kai’s scent?  Aizawa and the Dragon hated each other.  There was no way the two would share anything let alone companion.  Kan was, dare he say friend's with Emi and Oboro, and he could barely stand sharing Nemuri with them.

More exhausted than anyone had the right to be, Shouta didn’t even bother looking as Teris sat across from him.  He breathed in a tired breath and stopped, a loud growl sounding from his chest.  Chisaki was here?  Why did no one tell him the damned Dragon was in his dorms!  Fathomless dark eyes, turned fierce and red.  Head snapping up.

“Shouta, hunny?  Are you alright?”  Nemuri questioned from Kan’s right.

Eyes still searching, his nose traced the smell it was…  It was coming from Teris.  More correctly it was all over Teris.  Another growl rumbled from his chest, lip twitching up in a snarl, he turned slowly to the woman seated across from him.

“What did I do now!”  Teris demanded as soon as the Sphinx’s eyes locked on hers.  “I brought back you’re stupid jacket.”

Jacket! Kan thought.  He had known Aizawa would never share with the Dragon.

With a blink Shouta's eyes returned to their usual coal.  He forced his lips into a thin line, effecting an expression of disinterested indifference.  “What happen to your clothes?”

“They were dirty.”  Teris answered, her own expression between a pout and a scowl.  Why was he always like this?  Couldn’t he just try and be nice for once?  At least in front of the company they had.

Looking her over Shouta sat back and crossed his arms.  “I thought you said you were having physical lessons daily.”

“I did.  We are!”  What was it about this man that got under her skin so?

“If this is the first time you needed a change, those lessons were worthless.  I’ll see about having Nedzu find you a better instructor.”

“No!” Teris’ loud response surprised even her.

The lower half of Shouta's face ducked into his capture weapon, finding his frown.

“I mean.”  Teris went on.  “You’ve seen the state I’m in when I get back.  It’s only Kai decided to change things up and do my physical training in the morning.”

To get my scent off you, Shouta thought.  Smart.  And then he sent you back in his clothes to retaliate.  Such a jealous, child move.

“Kai has a thing about filth. Kan said, taking up his plate and serving.

“Kan! Sweetheart.  Wait for everyone to be seated.”  Nemuri scolded lightly.

“The food’s getting cold.”  At Nemuri's expression, Kan put the serving spoon down and snapped.  “Oboro!  Will you and your boyfriend hurry it up and sit so we can eat.”

“Bo-boy--” Hizashi's stutter ended with a squeak as Oboro pulled him to the table.  He swallowed, finding himself seated across from Nemuri, while Oboro took the chair to Shouta's left.  “Hi again.”  Oboro assured him the Dryad was find, but for some reason she made him nervous.  Like she would eat him alive.  And not in the monstrous literal sense.  That he could've handled.

Once served the table was blessedly quite as everyone ate.  Until…

“Hey, Aizawa, wanna mate?”

Shouta groaned.  Why did life itself seem to hate him?

Teris turned to the woman to her left.  “Who are you again?”

“Emi.” Emi said.  “I’m part of Nemuri's Ilca.”

“We all are.”  Oboro informed, brushing elbows with Hizashi and smiling over at him.

Never taking her eyes off the woman, Teris questioned without a care for how rude the query was.  “And what are you?”

“A Kitsune.” Emi told easily.  She put the side of her hand to her mouth and leaned to Teris as if about to reveal some great secret.  “Though many consider it impolite to asked, so be careful.”  Dropping her hand she went on.  “Nemuri’s a Dryad, trained by His Purple Highness before joining the Ilca course way back.”

“It wasn’t that way back.”  Nemuri told.

Shouta huffed in amusement.  Nemuri was a young beautiful Dryad.  Would stay looking young a beautiful until her end, but age was still thing for her.

“His who?”  Teris questioned.

“His Purple Highness.”  Emi answered.

Teris blinked at the Kitsune and shook her head.

“Oh right!  I forgot you don’t know anything.”

“I know plenty.  Teris said.

Emi laughed.  “Sure you do.”

The way she laughed and spoke left Teris teetering, unsure if she was being sarcastic or agreeing.

“His Purple Highness is the Dryad King.”  Shouta supplied, when Emi continued to laugh.

“Shouta was found by him.”  Nemuri told, smiling softly at the Sphinx.

“Found?” Teris echoed, eyes on Shouta.

Shouta shook away her question.  “A tale for another day.  Back to proper introductions.”  He went on, wanting Teris to learn all she could. “As I’m sure Yamada told you, Oboro’s a Venti.  And Kan is a Vampuric Gargoyle.

Teris turned to the hulking man to her right.  “Vampuric Gargoyle  As in a hybrid of vampire and gargoyle?”

She didn’t know why she found it strange that vampires existed here when all the rest seemed to.  But gargoyles?  Weren’t they just gothic stone sculptures that acted as both rain gutters and superstitious protectors?

Shouta smirked at her reaction, though no one saw it beneath his capture weapon.  “They’re a demon hybrid so prevalent they’re all but a sub-species. Shouta told.

“We’re good breeders.”

The table quieted at Kan’s comment.  Then Emi covered her mouth, sputtering a laugh.  Oboro joined in.

“I wasn’t joking.”  Kan snapped.

“We know, Honey.  I know.  If ever I was ready to spawn, we would make so many children.”  Nemuri soothed, petting Kan’s arm.

“Aizawa and I would make beautiful kits and cubs.”  Emi said dreamily, turning to Shouta.

“No.” Shouta deadpanned.

Teris bristled more at the way Kitsune was looking at the Sphinx than what she had said.  Clearly Shouta wasn’t interested.  But Shouta was--

Nemuri's smooth voice disturbed her thoughts. “Emi.  Please stop trying to mate with Shouta.  At least for tonight, Love. He’s extremely tired.”

“All the more reason for me to try.  He might say yes.”

“He’s not interested, Sweetheart.”

Emi looked over at Oboro sitting closer than necessary to Hizashi as the two talk among themselves.  “Speaking of interested.  Looks like someone is. Too bad the Foundlings weren’t put in our Ilca.”  She glance from Hizashi to Teris.  “We would’ve had so much fun.”

“Shouta’s been so long without anyone.  I’m glad he finally has these two.” Nemuri leaned forward to smile at Teris.

Emi’s green eyes turned back to Shouta. “Aizawa could've joined out Ilca too.  I gladly would've accepted him.”

“Shouta’s an alpha, Dear.  An apex one at that.  He wouldn’t be joining my or anyone elses Ilca.  He was meant to lead.  Though if he were interested, I would gladly share you with him.  Just like I’d gladly share Oboro with Hizashi if he wishes.”

“What was that?” Hizashi asked catching his name being said.

“I said I would gladly share Oboro with you, if you so wish?���  Nemuri said, turning to him.

Hizashi's slightly pointed ears lowered a fraction.  He didn’t understand. Could they not date without their Ilca leaders approval?  He shook is head.  “I—don’t know what you mean by share.”

“Oboro! I thought you were suppose to be instructing him.”  Nemuri censured as if scandalized.

“Yeah, Oboro.”   Emi giggled.

“He’s new here.  I had to teaching him the basics first.”  Oboro told.

“What could be more basic than sex?”  Nemuri questioned, archly.

“How not to get killed.”  Shouta offered.

“How to fight.”  Kan put in.

“Or how to help a Isengrim get one over on a Reynard.”  Emi added.

“All of you are hopeless and unromantic.  Nemuri declared.  Her blue eyes fell on Shouta.  “No wonder you’re having such troubles.”

“Can someone please tell about this shared business? Hizashi demanded.

“Oh, well that’s easy.”  Emi said.  “We’re all together.  Well, except for Kan.  He’s just with Nemuri.”

“All--”

“--together.” Teris finished for Hizashi glancing at Shouta before looking around the table.

Emi nodded.  “Yeah.  Nemuri, Oboro, and I are together.  And Kan and Nemuri are companion’s.”

Before Teris could ask how that worked, Hizashi fixed sad green eyes on Oboro.  “Does that mean you’re not into men?”

“What! No!  I’m into anyone so long as I like ‘em.”  Oboro assured.

“It’s Kan.”  Nemuri told. “Though mating type Fourth's will usually sleep around as they search for a mate.  Once they’ve picked mate, that carousing ends.”

“So… He’s picked you for a mate.”  Teris said softly.

Nemuri smiled sadly.  “He has.”

“But you haven’t accepted him?”  She asked.

“Dryad’s aren’t maters.”  Shouta schooled.

“We accept all pollinators, whether we’re spawning or not.”  Nemuri expanded, hand over Kan’s.

Teris lowered her head, sad for the Vampuric Gargoyle.  She couldn’t explain it but that thought of having chosen a mate only to have that person accept you as a lover but not a mate, hurt like a physical wound.

Emi saw her reaction and burst out.  “You’re a mater!”

With a start, Teris realized that she was, though didn’t know enough to have that narrow anything down for her.  She looked to Shouta for answer.

“Most beasts mate.”  Shouta told.  “It’s no great revelation that will tell us what you are.”  Damn, he hated not telling her.

Disappointed, Teris turned to Emi.  “Does it hurt that you want to mate with Shouta and he doesn’t?  If you want that how can you be with anyone else?”

The last question held a tone of accusation, but Emi easily ignored that in her excitement to teach. “Kitsune’s are one of the rare species that cross the four divisions.  We’re both beast and demon.”

“You’re hybrids.

“Once. Very long ago.”

“Kitsune’s date back to the first age.”  Shouta said, eyes keenly watching to make sure Teris knew about the Ages and Kai was properly instructing her.

Picking her explanation back up, Emi went on.  “Demons don’t care about mating.  As Aizawa said, most beast do.  It means Kitsune are capable of mating but are driven to the way, say a Sphinx or Manticore are.”

“But you do like men?”  Hizashi asked Oboro, his mind and voice finally working again.

4.6

Jacket and bottle of Nemuri's pollen in hand, Shouta made his way to his quarters grateful that his Ilca dorms were finally, peaceful quite. Taking off his capture weapon, he blinding tossed the coat he had had Teris wear on a chair.  Hearing a clink hit the floor, he turned.

A knife!  Adrenaline shot through him, his exhaustion and Nemuri's pollen forgotten.  Picking up the small, sheathed blade, he stormed from his rooms and to Teris’.

Already in bed, Teris would've ignored the insentient hammering on her door if she thought it would go away.  With a growl, she threw the covers off and got out of bed.

Knowing full well who was on the other side, Teris yanked opened the chamber door, snapping. “What the hell!”

“Has he threatened you?  Made you feel unsafe?”

Her face screwed up.  “What?”

“Chisaki. What has he done to make you feel you need carry a weapon to his place?”  He was going to kill him, Shouta thought.  He wasn’t a killer, but he was going to end that Dragon.

“What in the world are you talking about?”

Hearing the disturbance, Hizashi poked his head outside his rooms. “Everything okay?”

“Yes.” Teris soothed.

“No.”

Trusting the seasoned Sphinx and Ilca leader over Teris, Hizashi stepped out into the hall.  “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing that concerns you.  Go back to bed.”  Shouta ordered.  Sighing he pushed his way inside Teris’ rooms.

“Hey!” Teris turned.  “I didn’t say you could come in here.”

“Do you really want to concern Hizashi more than he already is?”

Teris frowned and shook her head.

Pack beasts, Shouta thought smugly, ignoring the fact that he was one too and just as easily manipulated.

“Close the door.  And tell me why you feel the need to carry this to Kai’s.” Shouta said, producing the small knife.

Teris’ eyes widened at the sight of it.  Swinging the door closed she rushed to Shouta.  “Where did you find that?”

“Answer my questions.  What has Kai done--”

“Kai’s done nothing.  He gave me that.”

Shouta's head pulled back.  “He--  When?”

“Today. I guess I forgot about it what with the company and all.”  She said, feeling guilty for having forgotten Kai’s generous gift.

Shouta's eyes narrowed.  “Why did you he it to you?”

“Cause he’s kind and cares.  He said that he understood as a Foundling I likely had nothing but a few rusted old weapons and outdated potions in my personal armory so he gave me that.”

Shouta's head lowered to frown into his capture weapon, forgetting he had taken it off.

“What’s with the face?”

He pulled his lips back up into a thin, tight line  “Nothing.”

“He’s teaching me how to fight with various weapons.”  She informed, thinking that the expression had been because he thought she didn’t know how to use the blade and inadvertently hurt herself of others.

Shouta couldn’t deny that Kai teaching her how to handle various weapons was smart.  With Teris having yet shown her true form, she would be reliant on use of weapons to defend herself and others.  Soon she and Hizashi would be going out a patrols with him; and with a poorly stocked armory, such an item as the one he held would be useful. Still, he knew the knife for what it truly was.  The quality of it alone…  Dragons liked such fine, rare, and expensive objects.  For Kai to part with on willingly could only mean one thing.  It was a courting gift.  The Dragon was trying to court his--

“Can I have it back?”

Shouta started at her open hand wanting to say no, knowing he couldn’t. He handed the gift over.

Teris clutched it to her chest.  “If that’s all.”

Shouta nodded.

“Night, then.”

“Good night.”  Shouta murmured, watching her turn away trusting he’d see himself out.

He burned at the gift.  Boiled at her coming back each day smelling like Chisaki.  She was his.  His responsibility, he corrected.  She was a griffon.  Kai a dragon.  And now Kai was courting her.  The urge to seek out Nedzu and tell him so the Director could put a stop to this was overwhelming.  But he knew what Nedzu would say.  Knew the Director would be pleased.  Nedzu would think that if the two were courting that Kai would accept Teris when he discovered she was a griffon.  But Shouta knew better.

Maybe if he could prove that Kai was a lacking teacher.  But Shouta wanted the best for Teris and Fourth's learned best when taught by their own.  No species was closer linked to griffons than sphinx's and dragons, griffons being the first hybrids born of dragons and sphinx's at the very start of the first age.  He just hoped that Kai wasn’t infecting her with his hate for what he saw as lesser species.  Or telling her how bad griffons were and teaching her to hate herself.

Lack of sleep had me doing a little playlist that goes with either a particular character or upcoming scene:

It's Like You're Always On My Mind – Pomplamoose (Hizashi and Oboro)

Red Right Hand – Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds (Kai)

Weighty Ghost – Wintersleep (Kan)

Start Wearing Purple – Gogol Bordello (Who else but His Purple Highness! lol  This song never fails to have me dancing and singing along. Singing BADLY I might add.)

I Will Survive + Maroon 5 Mashup – Pomplamoose ft. Andie Case (upcoming scene)

Drumming Song – Florence and The Machine (Shouta and Teris)

Take Me To Church – Hozier (Shouta)

Comments really do make happy, make my day, and are something I go back and read.  That said, I don’t need them to be happy.  So if you enjoy this update and want to comment or interact with me YAY!  If you don’t that’s fine too. Thanks for reading.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a special thank you to those who have left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

Special thank you to @inorganicone2230​  who knows of my love for the mythic and encouraged me to start this fic without stressing about the other two I’ve got going.  Your friendship means the world to me.

[moonlightstars16]

Chapter 8 ~ Inner Voice

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

The light of the warp pad lit up and soon the trio returned. Immediately Steven began to quickly stride out of the room. Connie still in his arms as she felt and heard him lowly growling, almost like an animal. His grip, even tighter than before, slightly starting to ache from the little blood flow.

"Steven?"

"Dismissed Pearl!" He spoke while bursting through the doors, the sound echoing through the rest of the castle.

"S-Steven I-I can-"

"Shut up!" Flinching slightly she gulped and bit her lip. They finally stopped when we came to a waiting room of sorts. Setting herself down on the couch before gripping a nearby chair, tossing it to the ground, letting out a loud yell as he did so. She gulped and bit her lip watching him breathe deeply and running his hands through his black curly hair. Though she was annoyed by him carrying her and the scene in the meeting before that, Connie couldn't help but feel a sort of empathy towards him. Remembering the few tears he cried from Blue's power. It was obvious he suffered a great deal.

"You were right...about the Diamonds. I shouldn't have doubted you...I'm sorry" She began, as empathy for him grew more and more. However she couldn't fathom why exactly. Especially with how he treated her. Steven's eyes shot up immediately, not expecting any sort of apology like this. With a deep sigh and eyes closed he regained a more calmer state.

"You heard him. Didn't you?" Stating less of a question and more of a statement. Connie turned her head slightly in confusion until she remembered what he meant. The voice that spoke when they were in close contact. She nodded while he opened up his suit jacket, unbuttoned his vest and shirt. 'What. The. F-' Just enough to reveal a hidden gem embedded in his abdomen. Around it was patches of pinkish red scales against his skin. "He was the one communicating with you."

"I-I don't understand-"

"Of course you don't" He said harshly, adjusting his clothing before looking back up at her. Closing his eyes briefly he breathed a deep sigh. Calming his tone to something more gentler. "This gem belonged to my mother, now it's mine. And so formed half of myself. Sort of like my other half so to speak. We co-exist together, in ways he's still me. Two halves of one full person." Connie blinked, trying to grasp what he was saying. Learning a bit of this from Pearl under the "forbidden rules" of gem-kind.'Talk about Jekyll and Hyde. ...And over explaining a tad. How can he be explaining and yet still make it sound confusing.' Running her hand through her hair, she cleared her throat.

"So are you two a fusion?" He laughed for a brief moment before shaking his head.

"I see you've learned much from Pearls teachings. However you are mistaken. For fusion to work you need two full gems- two complete beings in order to fuse. Not two halves like he and I." He paused before looking at the lit fireplace. "You heard him because when you touched my gem, he connected with you."

"You mean when you grabbed your pet back there?" Her bitter tone apparent, standing up, as her brows furrowed and hands formed fists at her sides. Though she did feel his gem (through the fabric separating them) when she was pressed up against him. It wasn't hard to miss, however not uncomfortable.

"I only did that, for you're protection."

"My protection?" Steven rolled his eyes and faced Connie completely, his cape swishing behind him for a moment.

"You're not an idiot, Connie. You heard the implying dislike of you being a member of my court from White's tone. To her you had no purpose, deal or not humans serve no function in there world." His words suddenly gained much more depth. He wasn't doing it out of spite, but to make sure she wasn't...disposed of. Appearing that his words affected her, he continued. "You have done well for the first meeting." Connie was surprised by his sudden compliment, nodding her head quickly when she realized the silence went on for too long.

"Thank you" Walking to her side he gently touched her cheek. Connie inhaled sharply as they froze momentarily while he put his hand down.

"It was a miracle she didn't harm you." His words spoke volumes as the closeness between them became more and more apparent. Then putting a hand behind her head and waist, he pulled her close. Stroking her hair as she felt her head and hands and rest upon his chest. Her arms enveloped between his. Confusion blurred the lines of what she already knew about him. He had blood on his hands... Murderous blood! And yet there he was willing to give it all up for humanity- no for her? His actions were conflicting as much as what she felt for him.

"Bring him back to the light...."

Suddenly he let go, backing up a tad, gripping his gem slightly bending over in pain. The glow coming from his gem was evident. Connie also heard the voice, but for now it wasn't important as the apparent pain he was feeling. Stepping towards him she was about to lay her hand upon his shoulder.

"No...!" He said gripping her wrist slightly, though not as tight. Hearing her gasp from the shock. He then saw what he had done and slid his hand down into hers. Shaking slightly from being in pain. "Leave...me..." She wanted to ask more, wanting to help him. But this seemed much deeper than a gem problem. No matter his past actions, she couldn't leave his side like this.

"You're in pain-"

"I'm fine!" He shouted at her whilst letting go. Catching her gaze his eyes bore into hers as if begging for her to comply. Connie never saw this side of him before. Nodding she backed away, heading towards the entrance. Once the door shut behind her, she leaned against it and slid to the floor. Thinking about what she had just heard and witnessed. 'If what he is saying is true....could it be that he's crying out for help? His gem half is still a part of himself.' She then remembered the look  in his eyes before he hugged her...before she left. 'Those pleading eyes....'

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

That night Steven sat in his chair right in front of the fireplace. His mask laying on the small table beside him. His eyes watching the flames dance before him; rubbing his temple as his inner self, his gem side, raged war beneath the surface.

'You're beginning to like her more than you think.'

'Shut up!'

'She can help us, bring both of us out of despair.'

'We are perfectly fine!'

'No we are not'

Flashes of blood upon his hands haunted his memories. They we're prominent in his nightmares no matter how much he tried to repress it. Once again they came as he groaned in frustration, trying to make it stop and failing to do so.

A beam of white pure light aimed for him as he was paralyzed in fear. Suddenly the image of one fused gem, from a Sapphire and a Ruby, jumped right in front of his line of vision. He barley had time to call out before it hit her. She cried out in pain, her visors vanished as her three eyes looked at Steven with love and sadness.

"Garnet!!!!!" he cried out but it was too late. Suddenly a hit to the back of his head caused him to see nothing but darkness. When he came too, he was in a bed of sorts, and standing next to it, a certain heart-shaped gem.

"S-Spinel...w-what happened?" her eyes were downcast as she revealed two...shattered gems of a Sapphire and Ruby. Steven gasped and began to cry out in pain. Spinel pulled him close and held him as he continued to cry out in pain. Once he had physically stopped from dehydration, Spinel gave him a small glass vile filled with a green liquid.

"Shh, here this will return your strength. You will need it soon I promise." Without any hesitation he shakingly took the glass vile, lifting it to his lips and drank every last drop. The room began to spin as Spinel began to sing softly, running her fingers through his hair, as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Steven reached up and touched his huge scar, as the vision of White making him bleed for the first time right before he let Garnet... Then the beast from his past appeared. The images where too much to bear as he began to scratch his scar. His hands, normally covered by gloves, bore a similar corrupted scaly pattern with fingernails sharp and black. He scratched so much until fresh blood appeared.

'STOP! We can fight this!'

'The Pain...it's too much!'

'I know! I can feel it too! But we can't do this anymore! We have to let her help us...'

Soon he slowed down to a stop and took his hand away from his face. Seeing the blood drop from his fingers down to his skin.

"Oh Steven, you hurt yourself again huh?" Spinel's voice spoke as she stepped out of the shadows with a tray of the same elixir from his memory. The look in Steven's eyes conveyed almost no emotion as fresh blood dripped from the side of his face.

'Don't. Drink. That.'

'I- I need it....'

'NO we don't!'

Spinel put the tray down next to his mask. Letting him grab the drink as he downed it all. While she got a wash cloth and a bowl of water to clean his wounds.

'NO!!! Please! I can't take it-'

But it was too late as the elixir took it's affect and silencing the gem within himself. Spinel by his side cleaning up the blood that spilt from his face.

"There there, all cleaned up, now how about we take that anger and use it against some one else, oh say perhaps the human zoo?" Her suggestive and manipulative tone were strong and evident in her voice. But he knew the games she was playing. Even if he was in this state.

"Nice try Spinel" he spoke making her smirk disappear. "Now leave me alone before I call lion upon you." Sighing she got up and did so, still the elixir she gave him had weakened his powers considerably, it wouldn't be long before the Diamonds would realize that she is stronger than him and more deserving of being a ruler and not a toy.

After all, her gem is a perfect cut and in this world, perfection matters. Besides he couldn't resist his hidden desires for long. Each little dose was another step in bringing his true self out. Tonight was the final push over the fine line of an edge he walked. Smirking she walked out. hid amongst the shadows and awaited with baited breath.

'The truth from within you will come out... you'll remind yourself just how much of a monster you are.'

Steven groaned in pain as he walked towards his bed. A more comfortable position to be in than the chair. No matter the pain, he had a bet to win. He wasn't going to go down without a fight. But then his nightmares began again.

~~~~~~~~

A scream...a plea for help....a yearning for freedom......

Steven heard it all and yet couldn't care less. I'm fact caring was hardly in his veins. Not even a hint of mercy was there as he raised the weapon in hand. Watching and listening to the sweet sounds of a cracked whip. Unfortunately, gems don't bleed.

But humans do.

Lion couldn't have all the fun now right? That would be selfish of him. Especially since he wanted so much to see the suffering in their eyes. Drops trickled down skin into a pool on the cold stone floor. The site of blood is what he craved, and yet despised at the same time. It was almost as if he was a vampire. He certainly had the sharp fangs, well more monstrous than vampiric, yet he wasn't dead. Nor had the power to actually suck blood among other things. However the matter he loved it all.

A few strides closer, biting his glove and pulling out his beastly hand, he scraped the back with his index, middle and ring finger. Bringing it up to lick against his contradicting tongue. You see he can control his healing powers. But if he could heal, he certainly can destroy.

The smirk of ecstasy he felt when the taste of blood flooded his senses. He took sharp and deep breaths, smirking as he listening to the whimpers and painful moans of his victim. The sounds were glorious.

Chuckling darkly, he stepped back and raised his whip once again. Only stopping briefly in between so his victim couldn't be numb to it. Red was all he saw, red was all he desired to see. His victim spewed blood from his mouth, scratches became gashes and consciousnesses was something lost.

Was there a bet he desired to win? Oh yes of course. But where was the fun in breaking the rules a little? Besides this human was already here, it didn't count. At least not to him.

But Steven didn't care, all he saw was the blood. All he saw was his desires unfold before his eyes. After awhile he let the whip drop to the floor, seeing that the victim was nearing death. 'Oh we can't have that now can we.' So with a smirk he licked his hand, pressed it against the poor human and watched as they were revived like new.

Only to restart his sick game.

Over and over

And why stop there? For a gem their fate wasn't so satisfying to watch, but he craved it all. Picking up a few amethyst gems from the human zoo, he began to squeeze them. Tighter and tighter, hearing the cracks brush against the shards until they snapped like a rope. Steven began to laugh, inwardly until it became louder and louder.

Maniacal and full of twisted joy. No longer was he feeling the emotions of man, but a beast. The scars of his past grew more and more around him as he blacked out. Eyes shining and a full on red glow surrounded his aura. Not reddish-pink, not pink, red like the blood of his victims.

Hours passed, blood washed away from his hands, and a hungover type feeling rang in his head. Aimlessly wandering the halls as if the past few minutes were blacking out of his mind. Looking down he saw the scars, of what appeared to be gem shards and a whip handle, on his uncovered hand. Quickly putting his gloves back on before anyone could see. Not wanting to relive the shame White forced down his soul.

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

Early the next morning, Connie was awoken by a loud roar outside her balcony double door window. Looking out towards the window she gasped upon seeing Steven's head lion. Gulping she froze not knowing what to do. Lion tilted his head and soon pawed at the doors making it wiggle and squeak. Connie couldn't help but be amused at the situation. 'Why your just like a cat aren't you?' she thought giggling. Deciding against fear to open the door. Lion almost knocked her down as he licked her face. A much friendlier look than he had previously shown. Laughing she gently pushed him away.

"Okay okay boy down." Lion then walked away and came back with clothes in his mouth. A blouse, a corset/bustier that is worn over a top, leggings and a midsize skirt along with knee length boots(and socks). 'So your a lion with fashion sense.... Why am I not surprised?' He dropped them in front of her then nudged it closer with his nose. The begging look in his eyes made her sigh and laugh. "Okay okay, since you are such a fashion expert." she whispered a bit more knowing others would be asleep. Going into the bathroom she quickly changed and stepped out. Lion then gestured for her to get on his back.

"Where are we going?" Lion growled in annoyance than fear. "Okay geeze hold in a minute Mr grumpy" she said sighing climbing onto him and gently grasping his mane. "Now where are we going?" Lion pushed the door open and began to walk down the halls until he reached another more hidden in the shadows door. When they went through and the door slammed shut, Lion began to leap down the winding staircase. Connie yelped and leaned forward trying to keep her balance.

Soon they found themselves in a large room filled with lit candles. The light revealed some sort of hidden armory filled with weapons. Some which hung on the walls looking worn down from battles long ago. As she looked around a faint sound of clashing swords and someone grunting echoed from a large room. As they hid behind pillars and shadows, she gasped before quickly covering her mouth at the site.

Pearl was dueling a hologram of herself. Her battle moves were strong yet elegant as she came head to head with her opponent. She left no room for anyone to take her down(which only confirmed she was doing it with the purple gem, Amethyst, on purpose). Once again she was mesmerized by her sword-fighting. Her stamina, strength and intelligence to outwit her opponent was beyond any level of skill Connie had ever seen before.

She got off Lion to get an even closer look amidst the shadows, still behind a pillar. Her eyes glued to the duel that commenced. It was as if she was apart of a great battle from long ago. The ghost of a great warrior seemed to have overtaken her. Her look and body posture so intense and focused. Soon she swung her sword as it pierced her hologram self, watching as it lowered the sword in hand.

"Defeat accepted! Do you wish to battle again?" Pearl removed the sword, taking deep breaths before shaking her head.

"Not today"

"Very well then" with that she was gone leaving just the real Pearl alone.

"You can come out now Connie." She gulped and stepped out of the shadows facing her with a mixture of guilt and wonder.

"How did you know it was me?"

"I can tell by how you were breathing." She said before putting her sword in her scabbard. "I see a certain lion has brought you here?" one glance at lion made him blink and then put his head down slightly in shame; though he still tried to look fierce(and failing since he only looked really annoyed).

"He didn't mean any harm." Connie defended as Lion stepped out beside her nudging her arm. Making her gently pet his mane.

"I know, he does things like this from time to time." Gentling her voice as she recalled some not so nice memories. "It's his way of coping from obeying Steven's orders... Before the incident Steven endured, he and lion were almost inseparable. Like trying to redeem himself from the horrible things he has to do..." Connie's heart sank and hugged lion tight.

"What incident?" Pearl snapped out of it immediately upon hearing her question. Shaking her head out of her daze.

"It's...in the past..." waving her hand she cleared her throat and stood up straighter. "Now you know where I train. I imagine you must have a lot of questions." Connie nodded eagerly, wanting to know more as her curiosity sprang back up. "Well it's a long story but in short, thousands of years ago, I was apart of a the great gem war that began era two. Which was on earth so I knew how to sense the difference between gems and humans. hence why I was able to know it was you behind the pillar."

She paused before continuing while looking around the room. "I suppose I continue to train like I do for sentimental reasons. My way from coping from the war and what happened after...." Painful memories and tears formed in her eyes threatening to spill. She blinked them away and took a deep breathe felling the handle of her sword against her fingers. "Now you know why I do this."

"Could you teach me?" Connie asked with a hope in her voice. Pearl shot her head straight up as she looked at her.

"You want me to do what?! Why?"

"Listen, Pearl I'm so sorry of what you had to go through. I can never understand that kind of pain." She paused in a way to give silent respect before continuing. "But you have an amazing skill! I've never seen anyone so talented in this than you, well anyone that is real."

"Well thank you, Connie, but I still don't see why-"

"Pearl, I'm light years away from home. In a place where I am quite literally out of my element and while I can learn all about this world; if I don't have a way to defend myself, then I'm a sitting duck!" She then lowered her voice. "I know I can handle myself Pearl. I can do this. If you became my teacher I can do more than just take notes. I can show I have a purpose in Steven's court. That I'm worth more than what they think. If I am supposed to be representing for Earth, I have to show that I'm willing to defend it! It's still my home after all. I want to protect it until it's final moments, with all my heart. And be there to defend humanity as we move to a new era for us. Please, let me prove it to you."

With a smile and tears filling her eyes, and one hand over her chest, the other wiping away her tears that had fallen from her touching declaration and desire to help. Sighing she pulled out another sword and scabbard, handing it to Connie. Just a temporary fix to see if she can really hold up to her word. If so she, then she will be on her way to earning her own sword. She accepted eagerly as she attached the scabbard to her body.

"Show me your potential in your actions. Prove your worth." With that said Connie's eyes transformed into a determined look as she faintly remembered her fencing lessons. Pearl looked her over and smirked slightly. There it was. The untapped, yet undisciplined potential.

"Good but remember everything begins with your stance"

[samotchkaficrecs]

My Hero Academia Fic Recs! #1

Hola!

i’m finally making an actual mha fic post... yay!

since most of these fics are suited to my fanfiction tastes i will be making another in the future with many different ships (to float anyone’s boat). 

[Also if there is a star (★) next to any fic, it’s one of my highly recommended]

Anywhoo, let us begin! 

TodoDeku

before the world catches up  by -  silent_academy (white_silence) 

Shouto was promised the world when he was born. Unfortunately, fate isn't kind, and he's left with nothing but a broken heart and blazing scars.

Izuku was never "destined" for greatness, but he was sure as hell going to make his mark on the world. With determination and a will to protect, he sets out on the hero's path.

Or, the one in which Shouto is born Quirkless, and Izuku... is not.

Somehow, things work out anyway.

(currently on hiatus)

 ★ The Wooing of Todoroki Shouto  by -  crispykrimi

He clasps his hands together and presses them to his forehead. “Please teach me how to seduce someone!”

What follows is the most awkward fifteen minutes of his short life. His friends volley suggestions at him, everything from suggestive comments to practically crawling into Shouto’s lap and kissing him. His head is starting to feel a little fuzzy when someone (goddamnit Kirishima) suggests a strip tease, and really, he has to draw the line somewhere.

“A-ah… Maybe seduce was too strong a word. I don’t know if I could actually do any of those things… I think a better word would be- woo? I want to woo him. P-please teach me how to woo someone.”

(complete)

★  If I'm Being Honest....  by -  I_dont_know_man 

Midoriya scrunched up his nose in confusion. “Uh, Shouto, why are you glaring at me like that?”

“I-” Todoroki began to lie, until nausea slammed him like a door to any room that Bakugou entered. “I--” Todoroki grit his teeth, and glared daggers into the wall behind Midoriya. Goodbye, friendship. It had been absolutely divine while it lasted. “Because you’re very attractive.”

They say honesty is the best policy, but it sure as hell had a knack for Todoroki making a complete and utter fool of himself.

In which Todoroki is placed under a mysterious truth-telling quirk and suffers, Uraraka laughs at him, Midoriya is confused but smitten nonetheless, and Twitter is the thirstiest site on the planet.

(complete)

i feel your warmth, and it feels like home  by -  orphan_account 

The five times where Shouto remembers that Midoriya is more buff than he lets on.

(alternatively titled the-one-where-shouto-internally-nosebleeds-and-tries-to-act-casual)

(complete)

Trust Fall  by -  Esselle 

' "So, on my signal then."

Midoriya laughs. "No signal. You just fall, and I catch."

"What?" Shouto asks. "But how will you know? What if you're not ready? What if—"

"It's about trust, Todoroki-kun," Midoriya says. Shouto can't see his face, but he senses there's a grin on it. "Do you trust me?" '

(complete)

KiriBaku 

Can't Hear the Fireworks of Your Art  by -  cereal_whore   

Bakugou's hearing is slowly deteriorating due to being in close proximity of his quirk, and his constant usage of it. After a visit to the doctors, it's concluded they can never reverse his hearing.

Everyone else: hol y sh ti hes dying (excluding Shinsou, who's too tired to care anymore and is at peace with the idea of Bakugou being the local cryptic)

Or: Bakugou literally disappears for one day, and everyone suddenly thinks he's dying even tho he just rlly needs a hearing aid. none of these hormonal teenagers have basic communication skills. Todoroki is also really trying his best in spite of Bakugou continuously calling him "Canadian Flag Fucker".

(ongoing)

kiss me on the lips  by -  Lulatic

“So, you’ve really never kissed anyone? Really?”

“No, okay? You fucking happy now? What does it even matter--”

“Would you like to?”

(complete)

★ The Beauty of a Beast  by -  starofjems 

Once upon a time a lonely beast lived in a manor deep in the forest. He dreamed of the day his true love appeared to break his curse... When a beauty finally appears in his life, it is not quite as he imagined. For who could have thought a beauty would be more of a beast.

Or

The beauty and the beast AU nobody asked for but here it is.

(complete)

Ghost Hunters  by -  PoutyBats

“What, like a ghost sex hotline?” Sero snorts.

“I mean, she was kinda cute-”

“I swear on my life if you don’t shut up I can guarantee that there will be three new ghosts in this house come morning!” Bakugou rubs his temples, aging by the minute.

-

Kirishima, Bakugou, Ashido, Kaminari, and Sero are part of a ghost hunting squad.

[kiribaku isn’t really the main focus, but it’s here anyways]

(complete)

Love Potion No. 9  by -  I_dont_know_man

"It's alright bro, I get it. Not everybody can handle all this pure manliness." Kirishima flexed a hardened bicep facetiously, grinning like the idiot he most certainly was.

...

And Bakugou - Bakugou blushed.

For the mere second time in 17 years of life, no less, and he was pretty sure that blushing over accidentally calling All Might ‘dad’ that one time didn’t count. Bakugou was an aloof, detached, analytical sort of person. Bakugou didn’t fucking blush, alright?

Just what in the ever-loving fuck was going on here?!

In which Bakugou finds himself victim of a love spell, Kirishima tries his Best, and the entirety of Class 1A waits for the other shoe to drop.

(ongoing)

Multi/ Misc/ Minor Ship 

★ Blue Monday  by -  Adox    [multi]

Eight years ago, three boys went missing, only remembered by their disappearance. Unless you’re Izuku Midorya. After his (arguably) best friend Katsuki Bakugou vanished, he’s been searching. Hoping. Even after the investigation was closed. Three names ring clearly in his head.

Eijiro Kirishima.

Denki Kaminari.

Katsuki Bakugo.

Jiro loves her new family, they’re the only fosters who seem to give a shit. However, she can’t help but notice the picture frames turned on their side, and the child’s bedroom that hasn’t been touched in years.

Todoroki just wants to help his new friend, even if that means endangering his many, many scholarships.

And Bakugo waits.

(ongoing)

Karma in Retrograde  by -  Mistystarshine, ohmytheon    [misc]

When Dabi is struck by a de-aging quirk that regresses him to the most influential part of his life, he finds himself turned back into a sixteen-year-old U.A. General Studies student with lots of self-esteem issues, parent problems, a destructive quirk that he can't manage, and no memory of the years that he's lost - not to mention the fact that his little brother is now the same age as him and one of the top students in the U.A. hero course. In U.A.'s attempt to make up for what they missed and help the Dabi of the past, present, and future, he is placed with the only students that know him and have yet to find out what truly makes the difference between a hero and a villain. There, they must face the question of whether he can change or his destiny is already set in stone.

(ongoing)

A Night to Remember  by -  hanwritesstuff (hannahkannao)    [multi]

“Huh?” Izuku narrows his eyes and looks at the poster. It doesn’t make sense when he first reads the words, when they first roll off his tongue. “‘Yuuei High School’s 24th Annual Future Heroes Gala’? What... is this?” He feels like he should know, but he can’t think straight after staying up so late last night.

“Well.” Kirishima grins. “When I saw the poster, I texted Amajiki-senpai and he told me all about it.”

There’s something particularly mischievous in his smile that has Izuku worried.

“Long answer, it’s pretty much the only school dance Yuuei has and it’s third-years only,” Kirishima continues, “It’s supposed to be a celebration of everything we’ve done over the past three years, so it’s super fancy and formal and there’s slow dancing and and stuff like that -”

“Short answer, it’s hero prom!” Hagakure interrupts, barely getting the words out before at least four people erupt into cheers.

(complete)

★ I want to kiss (your dumb fucking face)  by -  gingerbreadshinsou    [shinsou/ monoma] 

Monoma develops a big gay crush on Shinsou from afar and his life descends into absolute chaos

[The Monoma Neito coming-of-age fic absolutely no one asked for]

(ongoing)

[i know i have already put this one on another list, but it’s just so amusing!]

tell your boyfriend if he says he's got beef that i'm a vegetarian and i EAT LEAF  by -  hanwritesstuff (hannahkannao)    [misc]

“Which one of you fuckers just AirDropped me loss?”

(complete)

★ shock your soul  by -  montparni    [kamisero]

Twelve years of Halloween; or, Kaminari Denki grows up (but not too much), makes some memories, and learns to look right in front of his eyes.

(complete)

Rock, Paper, Scissors, Shoot!  by -  xX_KUUHAKU_Xx    [kamisero]

"I could wear just my boxers and I'd win every round. Now let's play."

---

In which Sero and Kaminari decide to face off on a rock, paper, scissors game with beer and stripping being a part of it.

(complete) 

Thus With a Kiss, I die  by -  DomineeringScarves

Kaminari finds himself head over heels for the newest addition to their class, Shinsou Hitoshi. Normally the flirty blonde would just present himself with open arms but there's a major problem with his infatuation. There's unspoken rules in 1-A and Kaminari is part of the Bakusquad...whereas Shinsou is a part of the Dekusquad. The two can't be together. It's just not possible. There's no way Bakugou would ever allow one of his extras to date Deku's friend.

There's only one thing left to do, give up and move on. Too bad Kaminari can't seem to escape Shinsou.

Aka the fic where Kaminari is Romeo and Shinsou is Juliet and they have to secretly date so their squads don't fall into an all out war.

(complete)

★★★

Aaaand thats a wrap! thanks for viewing and i hope you all found some fics that intrigue you! 

Au revior!   

[ladygoshawk]

Day One - Carnation: Fascination, Distinction, Love

The raven-haired woman threw her head back to laugh, a pure, joyous sound. On either side of her, a kitsune kit and a human girl-child giggled with her. The sounds tapered off after a moment, but the smiles remained as the woman leaned over the kit and pointed to the bound paper in his lap.

“I don’t think that’s the character you want to use, here, Shippō.” She giggled again. “With the others, it says something completely different. Try again. What else could you use?”

High in a tree to one side of the clearing they sat in, unseen, unheard, entirely undetected, a silent watcher brooded.

She made no sense. A priestess with respectable power but no training to speak of, she had what appeared an extensive education that she continued to pursue in spite of the trials of her quest for the Jewel shards and Inuyasha’s sometimes aggressive opposition to the “waste” of her time. The boy was clearly a fool, yet she persisted in calling him “friend” while also desiring a closer, romantic relationship with him. She seemed to alternate between the roles of elder sister and mother to the kitsune kit, a yōkai that even most other yōkai would not take in, apparently as the situation dictated. She and the yōkai slayer behaved as siblings who actually held affection for each other. She even treated the monk as a wayward elder brother, scolding him affectionately for his wandering hand.

“Lady Kagome? Rin doesn’t understand this one.” The little girl at her side pointed to the book in her lap.

The woman leaned over to see. “Ah. Remember how we figure things out?”

“From the con…text, right? Rin thinks she knows what it should be, but these don’t quite match.”

She treated the little human girl exactly the same as she treated the kitsune kit, as if there were no difference between them at all. Evidence gleaned from long hours of observation suggested that she truly did not see any difference. As if only their disparate personalities mattered at all.

Even after the end of the Jewel quest and Naraku’s defeat, though the end of their quest should logically have led to the odd little group’s dissolution, she spent a great deal of time with her companions. While they clearly lived in the little village of Edo and she could most often be found among them, the home she mentioned so frequently did not seem to lie within the village confines. She had worn a path between the village and the clearing she currently sat in with the pups. It contained at its center a dry, magic-saturated well that gave no clues to what sort of home she could have that required such a portal to access.

“I think that’s enough for now.” The priestess clapped her hands together sharply and then reached for the cloth-wrapped bundle at her side. “You guys are doing great. Let’s have some lunch!”

All of these things, contradictions and anomalies at every turn, had served to foster a fascination in him for the strange human woman. It seemed he found a new question about her every time he came into contact with her group. Over time, she gained the distinction of a puzzle he wished to solve. When they defeated Naraku and new details came to his attention, he devised a plan to observe her. Occasional opposition had not served to satisfy his curiosity, nor had the occasional alliance.

His ward required education and exposure to humans who were not abusive as those of her old village had been. Fostering her to Edo’s elder miko answered that need and provided him reason to “visit” the village on a regular basis. Two proverbial birds, one metaphorical stone.

Months later, however, he still had not made any real progress at understanding the infuriating female. His questions and confusions not only remained unanswered, they continued to increase as he watched her. Items she brought from her home, mostly to entertain or educate the pups, often appeared entirely outside his centuries of knowledge and experience.

Far below, the pups cheered as the priestess revealed the contents of her cloth-wrapped box with a flourish. “Okay, okay, sit down, you two!” The woman giggled. “No jumping around the food, you’ll spill it. If you were that hungry, you could have said so!”

“Did you make it?” the kit asked with excitement.

“Well, my mother made the dumplings.” She handed chopsticks out. “I made the rest, though. Hey, now, there’s plenty for all of us! One thing at a time, Shippō.”

Not to mention the woman’s very strange, inexplicably well-made clothing. While no longer the ridiculously short, ineffective outfits he had first seen her wear, her clothing provided a whole host of additional questions nearly every time he saw her. Especially since Naraku’s defeat, what she wore looked very like the clothing he expected of the daughter of a wealthy shrine, but upon closer inspection had clearly not been created using the techniques – and often the cloth – that he considered familiar.

He had taken the opportunity, on one of his regular visits to Rin, to examine her strange items up close and still could neither explain nor imagine where the priestess could have obtained them. At least, nothing more specific than “from home”, which is all she said – nervously – when he actually inquired. If any of the group ever spoke more specifically of this vague “home”, they never did so within his hearing. Not even when they had no idea he stood within hearing distance.

Briefly, he considered merely coming out and asking his questions plainly and directly. In theory, he would have his answers immediately and be freed of this perplexing fascination. He could then turn his attention to other things.

He quickly found that he had no real desire to do so. Her tense discomfort when he spoke of the things he found strange, even if he did not ask any questions, made him suspect she would not necessarily provide entirely forthcoming answers. Yet he could think of no subject he particularly wished to turn his attention to other than the priestess known as Kagome. She occupied his mind, engaged his intellect in many more ways than one, and there truly seemed no reason to rush his answers. Given sufficient time and investigation, he felt confident he would have them within his grasp. With Naraku dead, he felt no urgency to move on to anything else.

Sesshōmaru, Lord of the Western Lands, was content to spend his time on his intriguing little human puzzle.

“Lady Kagome?” Rin sounded perplexed as she clutched a rice ball in her hand.

“Shippō, you’ve got rice on your face.” The priestess chuckled. She handed the kit a cloth before turning her attention to the girl. “Yes, Rin?”

“Rin…heard the ladies say something to each other that Rin wants to ask you about, but Rin is afraid it will make you angry at Rin.”

The woman let her hands, occupied with another rice ball, rest in her lap. “I would never get angry at you for something someone else said, honey. You can’t control what other people say.”

“But Rin does not want to make you sad, either.”

She reached out with one hand to gently tap the little girl on the nose. “Well, I don’t know what you heard them say, but I can’t think of anything they’d say that could really make me sad. So go ahead and ask your question, sweetie. What they said is not your fault, no matter what.”

The little girl hesitated. “Um… Are you…going to marry Master Inuyasha?”

“Oh dear, are they still talking about that?” The woman’s laugh sounded easy, open, with none of the tense upset their hidden watcher had expected. “No, sweetie, I’m not. He’s my good friend, but we’ve never worked very well as anything more than that.”

“Does that mean you won’t be coming to spend time with us anymore?”

“What? No, of course not!” She sounded truly startled, even concerned. “Rin, honey, what did you hear the ladies saying?”

“They… They said that they are glad that you still come to the village, because Lady Kaede does not move very fast anymore, but they are afraid that you will stop coming if Master Inuyasha does not hurry up and marry you soon.” The little girl sounded devastated and on the verge of tears.

“Oh, for—Rin, honey, come here.” Kagome set her food down and shifted around, pulling the little girl into her lap when she approached. The kit must have looked worried as well, because she beckoned to him. “You too, Shippō.”

She took several moments to settle the pups in her lap. “Now listen up, because I’m going to say something very important, and I want you both to remember it.” Her words sounded stern, but her tone seemed warm, even comforting. When both pups nodded, she continued.

“Inuyasha and I decided a long time ago that we’re better as good friends than anything else. At least two winters ago, even before we got rid of Naraku. I kept coming back to help fight Naraku after that, right?”

Both pups nodded again. She nodded with them. “Yes, I did. And I’ve kept coming back for visits every chance I get ever since we got rid of him, too, haven’t I?”

Another round of nods. “Yes, I have. Do either of you know why I kept coming back to fight Naraku? I’ll give you a hint. It’s the same reason I keep coming back to visit even now. Do you know?”

After a pause, the pups shook their heads. She chuckled and appeared to squeeze them, one with each arm. “This is the important part I want you to remember. I came back to fight Naraku, I come back to visit, and I will always come back for as long as I can…because I love.”

Sesshōmaru quirked one eyebrow upward in surprise.

Unaware of his reaction, she continued. “I love both of you. I love Inuyasha as a very good friend. I love Sango like my sister. I love Miroku like my brother. And I love Kaede like my grandmother.”

She squeezed the pups again. “I love the people in the village, and I love this land. I love helping when I can, and I love learning what this place has to teach me.”

Love? Surely the woman merely told the pups a comforting tale to reassure them. He could, perhaps and just barely, see so ridiculous an emotion as motivation for her continued visits after the spider hanyō’s defeat. It certainly matched much of the rest of her behavior, in his opinion. But during her quest to collect the Jewel shards, opposing a being that had wrought destruction the length and breadth of the lands?

Evidently, the kit shared his confusion. “But Kagome,” he ventured slowly, “I thought fighting’s supposed to be for honor and glory, or vengeance, or duty. And Naraku was really scary!”

She sighed. “I suppose some people do fight for those reasons. Vengeance, honor, and glory are probably the worst reasons to fight, at least in my opinion. Especially vengeance. To me, they just seem like excuses to be a bully, to hurt others as much as you’ve been hurt, and where’s the point in that? Duty seems slightly better, but I think even that depends on the situation and whether there’s any other way to do what needs doing.”

Pausing thoughtfully, she tilted her face toward the sky. “I think that’s true of any situation, really. If there’s another way to solve it, it’s better to try that, first. Anybody can pick a fight, and we can pick fights any time, but the very best fight is the one you never have to fight at all.”

Nonsense. She filled the pups’ heads with absolute nonsense.

“If you really, truly cannot avoid a fight through talking things out and looking for other ways to solve the problem, then I think the best reason to have for going into a fight is love.” She looked back down at the pups with a smile. “I was able to fight Naraku every day, to keep looking for all those Jewel shards, because I didn’t want them to do anything to hurt the people I love. I knew that if I left the shards free in the world, they would be used to do things that might hurt my friends, or this village, or these lands. And I knew that if we didn’t get rid of Naraku, he would go on hurting innocent people and collecting shards to do things that would hurt my friends and maybe even my family. It’s the love I feel for my friends and family, and for this place, that gave me the strength to keep fighting even when things got scary.”

Ridiculous! Strength from emotion? From so weak an emotion as love? Preposterous!

Irritated, Sesshōmaru turned on his branch and dropped to the ground away from the clearing. He moved easily into the long, ground-eating stride he used when not being immediately followed by a small human girl or an even shorter-legged gami retainer. The foolish words of a silly slip of a woman should not have any power to affect a daiyōkai, much less a Lord such as himself, yet as he walked he found that they…did. Irritation, restlessness, even frustration plagued him, but none of the disgust or dismissive disregard he thought he should feel.

He slowed to an unhurried amble as it occurred to him to wonder why her tale to the pups had affected him so, and whether what she’d said was truly ‘merely’ a tale. Based on the small pieces of her story he’d gleaned over time, he’d always believed that she sought the Jewel shards and fought Naraku out of a sense of duty. Casting his thoughts back over the course of his knowledge and direct observations of the woman, he began comparing what he’d believed with what she’d just revealed, attempting to decide which fit her behavior best.

Much of his observation of her performance in battle had come from battles in which he had been her opponent, but he had participated in a few as her ally. By necessity, much of his attention had been directed elsewhere, but he had noted a great deal more in retrospect than he had consciously recognized each time. Considering what he could recall…

Disturbed, he went completely still as his memories realigned into a new configuration the moment he applied her interpretation of ‘love’ to them.

He had never understood her propensity to throw herself between a disabled friend and whatever foe they faced. He’d seen her do so several times, and she’d faced a battle-maddened, yōki-overcome Inuyasha at least twice in much the same way. Even when the group had opposed him, she’d faced him fearlessly. Or…no. She had scented of fear, but her actions had contradicted it. Another contradiction, and what he’d never understood. Before now.

If he read her fear-scent not as fear of a foe but as fear for an imperiled companion…

She threw herself into danger over and over without concern for herself, he thought, stunned. She did so to protect others. For ‘love’.

Outwardly, he must have appeared very much like a stone carving, immobile and expressionless, unseeing. Inside, however, his mind whirled at first through shock and outraged confusion. After a long moment, he set these aside as unproductive wastes of time and focused instead on applying this new insight to everything he knew of the little priestess.

It made sense.

The evidence of her behavior bore it out.

Things he’d puzzled over after hearing her say them suddenly became clear.

But how could this be? Love was a foolish emotion that created a weakness exploitable by enemies! As witness his mother, who had allowed her affection for his father to leave her open to devastation she would nurse for centuries when he forsook her for the arms of a mere, powerless human woman. Or his father, whose professed love for that human woman caused him to make the foolish decision to go into battle already gravely injured. He’d killed his opponent at the cost of following him into death immediately after. Immeasurable power, centuries of life, wasted to stretch out the meager human span afforded a single weak human!

Yet somehow, an impertinent slip of a human priestess had discovered a way to turn that weakness to strength, something the Great and Terrible Dog General had not found even with all his power, cunning, and centuries of life! It made no sense!

Suddenly enraged, he resumed moving among the trees, going at a much faster rate than before. He wished to move, to find something to kill, rend, tear asunder. Away from the village, where his rampage would not upset his ward or the priestess.

As the thought flitted through his mind, he broke into a clearing he had never noticed before and came to an abrupt halt once more. The sight before him arrested his attention, killing his anger as if it had never existed.

The early afternoon sun refracted through the mist thrown from the base of a long, narrow waterfall. Rainbows scattered across the small pool at its foot and over the grassy banks to either side. A colorful array of wildflowers nearly carpeted both sides of the pool and the grassy meadow beyond, complementing the rainbows until the whole area lay awash in color.

I will bring Rin here on my next ‘visit’, he thought as a sense of peace washed through him. She will enjoy the flowers. And she should see the waterfall just like this. It will please her greatly.

For a moment it seemed foolish, a daiyōkai of his stature wishing to please a tiny human girl-child. He shook the feeling away, though. He was Lord of the West, and if he chose to do something to please his ward, then he would do so and let no one question him over it. There was very little, he realized, that he would not do for the little girl who had first chosen him. He did not care who knew it, either.

That thought even stopped his breath for a moment as it settled gently into place beside his afternoon’s preoccupation.

It…fit. He would step between Rin and any danger she might face. Had, many times. He had, in fact, taken notice of Naraku at all merely on Rin’s behalf. Before he’d kidnapped Rin, the spider hanyō had been a mere nuisance, beneath Sesshōmaru’s notice once he had failed as an ally to wrest Tessaiga from Inuyasha.

In truth, very little existed that could offer true threat to Sesshōmaru. Particularly after he produced Bakusaiga from his own yōki and surpassed his great father, he had nothing left to prove to any living being. Yet he realized as he stood there, awash in peace and color, that he would easily risk himself to protect Rin. To see her safe and happy, no matter what.

Just as the priestess Kagome, admittedly much more fragile than he, had done for her companions during their quest for the Jewel shards.

She had called it ‘love’.

Apparently, he also possessed within himself the capacity for this strange, weak emotion. The emotion that had led to his parents’ downfall and his father’s death. The emotion the priestess had somehow turned into enough strength to repeatedly defy not only the spider hanyō Naraku but the most powerful living daiyōkai. Successfully.

He settled at the base of a tree at the edge of the new meadow. The only being he knew of to turn this weakness he had discovered within himself into acceptable strength also happened to be the object of his continued fascination. His imperfect understanding must be remedied immediately. He must revise his plans.

The priestess Kagome had what he needed, and he would have it from her as soon as possible.