#but without anything to disrupt the balance he is always coming down on the ''keeping this to myself is better'' end

[ryutarotakedown]

i don't think he had a concrete plan for her exactly but i also don't think he would have forgotten about her. ryuunosuke says that kazuma called her a close friend, and he absolutely did consider her in the equation when he smuggled ryuunosuke onboard, it's just that his solution was to Not Tell Her because it would have put her in danger

(the rest of this is under the cut because i blacked out and started rambling. also disclaimer that i haven't played 2-4 and 2-5 in forever)

and so i think that's probably what he planned to do for the study tour in general as well. like it's important to remember that kazuma never actually intended to go through with killing gregson - he only said yes to jigoku's offer because it was the only way he could ever get to go to britain, and the reason why he actually ends up drawing his sword on gregson is because he was infuriated that gregson wouldn't tell him the full truth about his father. it was very much an impulse thing

so like, what is kazuma's plan? all he's really planning to do is figure out the truth about his father, a process probably involving several death threats but zero actual murders, and (since he's convinced barok is the one behind it already) somehow maneuver barok behind bars while doing so. he wasn't planning to do anything "illegal," unless you count the destruction of property re: cutting his dad's wax head off, although even that probably wasn't part of the plan because how could he have known his dad had his own wax exhibition. so—

so there really isn't much he has to tell susato, in his view? like ideally he would choose barok to go against (not very difficult since barok would immediately come out of retirement to face a japanese exchange student anyway), he'd get his client off (ha), his client would die afterwards mysteriously, and he'd choose to take on whoever was framed for the death as his new client* and expose barok in the process. it would be beautiful and glorious and right

*if no human person was framed and the death was, like, a cliff collapse or something, he'd probably try to investigate it himself. rope the police into it. if gregson's involved he might panic and assign a fall guy anyway and then kazuma can go back to the original plan. and if not, well, kazuma's a defense attorney. all he has to do is keep taking cases

and all susato has to do in that is be his judicial assistant as she's always been, right? so he doesn't have to tell her anything. in fact it would probably be safest if he didn't, because susato studied to be a judicial assistant for his sake and it would be unfair if he repaid her by dragging her into all of this. it's his past, he's dealing with it himself, and he can admit that he needs her and ryuunosuke by his side for emotional support, but he's never telling them the truth if he has the choice.

also it is important to note that kazuma always chooses to interact with susato on Professional Terms, not just calling her "judicial assistant mikotoba" but also framing his greeting to her in 2-3 by thanking her for guiding ryuunosuke and in 2-5 freeing her from her duty to him so she can go with ryuunosuke back to japan. i think that dynamic is a sort of dance they developed over time, because susato does refer to kazuma very familarly (first-name terms) but she also says he's always talking to her about how he wants to reform the judicial system in japan, and she tears up and says it was an honor to help ryuunosuke in 2-3 - this is ymmv but imo it's a mutual thing they've agreed on (edit: not like, out loud, they're not emotionally open enough for that, but i think they settled into the pattern), to talk to each other in terms of duties and obligations despite the fact that they are genuinely very close. and in that case, it's not susato's job to help kazuma sort out all of this, is it? so at the time of setting out from japan, at least, kazuma's main connection between susato and the professor incident is to keep her out of it

(obviously once we step out of Kazuma Asougi's Very Unbiased Mind there is a very different picture going on where after they arrive in britain susato and ryuunosuke are scrambling to figure out why the hell kazuma is acting so angry and distant and strange, what do you mean he killed your father? susato asks. i thought your father died of illness? and kazuma is naturally completely unprepared for all of this. he wants susato by his side, of course, as someone to bounce ideas with and who can keep him in check, but he'd never wanted her to be entangled with all of this)

(is this why you wanted me here, kazuma-sama? so i could see you like this?)

anyway tl;dr i somewhat agree with the people in the notes saying that he probably didn't think about it all that much, but not because he doesn't care about her, but rather the opposite: he loves her too much to want her to ever get caught up in this whole thing, and he's confident enough to believe that he can keep her and ryuunosuke away from it, even if that idea falls apart under more than five seconds of scrutiny

wait if kazuma hadnt hit his head and his plan actually worked what did he think susato would do. what was the plan for her . what was the plan for susato please kazuma

[kislnd]

possessive - george clarke~

synopsis: george has to collect a tipsy y/n after a night out with her friends - there he is introduced to one of her old coworkers.

notes: i managed to accidentally post this several times before finishing it lol (pain) 😭 thanks to anon for requesting this plot x

warnings: alcohol & angst (good resolution dw guys)

word count: 2.4k

masterlist

"are you almost ready?" george called out to y/n, who was in the bathroom finishing up her makeup. she knew her friends were here to collect her for their night out and george was just making sure she didn't end up keeping them waiting for too long. "yes, just give me a sec!" she replies, throwing a brush in the general direction of her makeup bag haphazardly.

"all done," she smiles, coming out of the bathroom, finishing touches all complete. "you look gorgeous y/n." george beams, wrapping his arms around her middle. "thank you." she returns the hug and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to walk towards the front door, with george following behind her. "have fun and be safe," he says, "and when you're ready to be picked up just give me a text." y/n nods, she was always grateful that he was willing to do things like that for her no matter what time of the night it was. "see you later then," she grins, a grin that he couldn't help but reciprocate, and steps outside to join her friends.

the pub that y/n's friends had chosen was a local one, but one that she had walked past countless times without ever giving it a second thought. she wasn't sure what to expect upon entering the establishment, but that didn't make her nervous. she had always thought that trying out new things or places was one of the things that kept life exciting.

once over the threshold, her senses were immediately flooded - loud music blaring from what appeared to be karaoke (something she anticipated she would have to pry her drunk friends away from later in the evening), several conversations, most of which were shouted in a desperate attempt to be heard over the music, and a strong smell of alcohol. at least, y/n thought, the people seemed to be enjoying themselves.

"we can either sit next to the speaker and go deaf or nearer to that group," one of her friends gestured to a fairly large group of rowdy guys near the bar, "and also go deaf." they all laugh at this, although their laughter was short-lived - the options really weren't good. "i vote anything but that," y/n scrunches her nose up thinking about the group - if they were already unpleasant from the safe distance at which she was observing them, god knows how insufferable it would be to spend a few hours practically on top of them.

after some deliberation, y/n and her friends settled on a table closer to the music. with everyone situated and ready for the night, a few of the girls made their way to the bar to grab some drinks.

"is that everything?" y/n questioned, scanning the array of drinks that had been poured for them. "seems about right," her friend shrugged, "we'll figure out if we ordered everyone something when we give them out." y/n nods, she was right. thankfully, enough of them had come to the bar to help out that what would have otherwise been a horrendous balancing act, was actually a swift and tidy transportation of drinks. y/n placed the last few glasses down on the table before turning to one of the girls and saying quietly, "i'm just going to pop to the toilet."

"do you want one of us to come with?" she asked, to which y/n shook her head - the bathroom wasn't far from where they were sitting and she wasn't worried about anything else. they had specifically chosen to sit across the room from the disruptive group of guys so she figured they wouldn't bother her.

either way, y/n decided she would move as quickly as possible, sliding past the few people nearby and into the room. she didn't want to spend more time than she needed to in there - pub toilets were unpleasant at the best of times and she also didn't really want to miss out on anything. nevertheless, she took a moment to freshen up - her makeup was still in position and her hair didn't seem to be so different from when she originally styled it so she simply gave her hands a wash and made for the door.

grabbing the cool metal handle, y/n threw the door open and set off with the intention of walking briskly back in the direction of her friends. instead, her stride was broken by a figure colliding with her as she stepped out of the bathroom. "oh!" she jumped back, her body flush with the door, "i'm so sorry." she exclaimed. the person, whom she had now realised was a man who had just come out of the bathroom himself, smiled warmly down at her. "don't worry, i wasn't really looking where i was going." y/n studied his face for a moment, she could've sworn she recognised him but she couldn't quite put her finger on where from. "sorry," she brushed a stray piece of hair out of her face, "do i know you from somewhere?" she paused, wondering if that had been a strange question, "i just feel like you look familiar," she added.

"you're y/n aren't you?" the man cocked his eyebrow, but didn't wait for a response. "we used to work together." realisation hit y/n, she couldn't believe she had managed to briefly forget him, they had spent almost every day for a number of years side by side. she couldn't even blame this one on alcohol. "of course!" she laughed at her own silliness and also in the hopes of relieving some tension - she was praying she hadn't offended him. "we had some good times." she smiled. much to her relief, he smiled back, "absolutely, i can't believe how much time has passed. i'd love to catch up with you." y/n liked the idea - she had to admit that she had wondered what he was up to and this would be the perfect opportunity to check in. however, she also recognised that she was here with her friends and it would be wrong to abandon them, especially when they were the ones that organised the evening.

"i'm kind of with people at the moment," y/n gave him an apologetic look, she had tried to word it kindly, in a way that didn't seem like a harsh refusal of his offer. "no worries, just whenever you have a free moment later on," he smiles, "drinks on me, of course." y/n returns the smile, "see you later then."

//

y/n could feel her head growing fuzzy and she could tell her friends felt the same, so it had been a collective decision to end the night there. with everyone calling taxis or friends to collect them, y/n decided to drop george a text to come and collect her in around half an hour's time. as promised, she found her way to her ex-coworker's table, telling herself that she could only accept one drink out of politeness and as to not hate herself too much the next morning.

"so what'll it be?" he asks grinning, digging into his pocket to find his wallet. "just whatever you're having," y/n slid into a chair and waited for him to return with the drink. soon enough, the drinks arrived and after getting over some initial awkwardness, they were back to chatting like old friends. y/n was so caught up in conversation that she hadn't realised george had texted her numerous times that he had arrived until he entered the pub himself and informed her.

"i've been trying to get you to come outside for a bit now," george says, approaching the table where they were sitting. he wasn't angry, he was aware that y/n would be caught up with her friends and therefore a little slower to check her phone, but he was confused. who was this guy? he'd met y/n's friends on countless occasions, and she often mentioned them, but this stranger hadn't ever seemed to come up in conversation. "i'm sorry," she looked up at him with flushed cheeks, the alcohol had definitely gotten to her. george was about to open his mouth to ask her who the mystery man was but before he could get there, she interjected, "this is my old coworker, from when i worked at the shop."

suddenly it made sense - maybe y/n had mentioned him in passing, he was sure she'd talked about her time at the shop a couple of times previously. "well nice meeting you," george didn't really feel like engaging in any formalities, all he really wanted was to get y/n home and go to bed. "we'd better get home." he smiled somewhat apologetically, and took y/n by the hand in an attempt to coax her to stand up. "honestly, please join us," the man, who george still didn't know the name of (nor did he really care to find out either), said. "we were only just beginning to catch up." george glanced at y/n, although he wasn't so sure if she was in a good position to be passing judgement.

"that would be nice," she smiled softly, "george?" she looked up at him with big eyes, eyes that he often found very hard to resist. george still wasn't sold on the idea. "are you sure? it's getting quite late now." he questioned, in the hopes that she would agree and they could go. he really was not a fan of how eager this guy was to spend time with her, and it was made worse by the fact that he hardly knew the guy. "please?" y/n tightened her grip on his hand, willing him to just take the seat next to her.

at this point, george obliged. it was clear y/n was enjoying herself and this guy didn't make her uncomfortable. it was not worth ruining her night and mood by forcing her to come with him. "alright." he said flatly, admittedly through gritted teeth. y/n raised an eyebrow at his tone but brushed it off, maybe he was just tired and besides, he absolutely could tolerate sitting down and talking for a short while.

//

the more he talked, the more george was sure he couldn't stand the guy. the way he looked at y/n with such blind adoration in his eyes, the way he kept reaching out to touch her on the arm briefly during the conversation and his body language, completely focused towards y/n as if he wasn't there - it was all far too much.

george made a point of blatantly checking the time and announcing it to the table, "right, i think we should call it a night here?" he turned to y/n, who was obviously more tired than she had been when he first arrived, who solemnly agreed. george stood up first, quickly helping y/n up and wrapping his arm around her shoulder protectively. "thank you, that was a lovely evening," her former coworker smiled, "we should do this again y/n." the fact he had purposely left george out of the conversation, without even having the decency to offer an invite to him (or to any of her friends) confirmed every suspicion.

george's body stiffened, his grip on y/n tightening slightly. "i don't think that would be appropriate." he said calmly, masking how truly infuriating it was for him to be witnessing this behaviour. "we're leaving now." he didn't give y/n a chance to wave goodbye or say thank you to her old friend, and instead took off briskly towards the exit and to the car.

"what was that about?" y/n looked puzzled, to her the night had simply been catching up with someone from her past and nothing more. "could you seriously not tell?" george himself was dumbfounded, it was beyond him how she could be so oblivious. "tell what?" y/n snapped back at him, "all i could tell was that you hated him. your face was sour the entire night."

"well forgive me for not taking a liking to the guy who was practically undressing you with his eyes," george began to raise his voice, he didn't like getting angry and wouldn't ever want to upset y/n but it was impossible to contain his rage in the moment. "he was not!" y/n protested, "he is just an ex-colleague, what has gotten into you?"

"to you maybe," george still felt disgusted, "i mean, did you even notice that he was constantly trying to touch you?" y/n shook her head in disbelief, "i think you're being dramatic. even if he was flirting with me, why would it matter?" silence clung to the air. george stared at the ground helplessly, he knew that no matter the number of ways he tried to explain this to y/n she would just be adamant he wasn't making advances on her. "i like you not him." she reached out to touch him on the arm, "george, i'm not angry at you. i think i was just surprised."

y/n stepped closer to him carefully and slotted herself under his chin, wrapping her arms around him in the most reassuring hug she could muster - he did the same. "i'm sorry." he mumbled into her hair where he had buried his face, "it's hard to not get jealous when you have such a beautiful girlfriend." y/n grinned, "you are silly." she paused, contemplating whether or not to share her thoughts. "and for the record, i do think you are extra hot when you're jealous."

"oh?" george raised his eyebrow, "well, as long as you don't keep meeting up with random co-workers that definitely have a crush on you, i can live with that." he chuckled. "don't worry, you definitely scared him away." y/n laughed, "i am not at risk." george mocked offense, "hilarious y/n," he smiled sarcastically, guiding her towards the car and opening the passenger door for her to climb in before getting in himself.

"i do love you, you know," she stared out of the windscreen in thought. "i know you do, and i love you," george patted her knee, "let's just worry about getting you home now."

[ggblasts]

Spotted: Byren Coleman, the long-lost prince of the Upper East Side, making a grand return after two long years away. The last time anyone saw him, he was jetting off without so much as a goodbye, leaving Manhattan to wonder why the prodigal son had disappeared. But just like that, he’s back, and as always, his timing couldn't be more suspicious.

Word around town is that Byren's sudden reappearance coincides a little too perfectly with Blaze Martinez’s mysterious return from his summer-long vanishing act. Could Blaze, with his enigmatic eyes and secretive vibe, have something to do with Byren’s return? The two were always close, but rumors are swirling that something far more secretive might be going on between the two. Have the two been in contact during Byren’s absence, or is this all just one big coincidence?

And let's not forget the other Coleman, Briar, the queen of the Manhattan scene herself. Byren has always been protective of his big sister, but her own recent reentry into the city’s social circuit raises even more questions. Was it Briar who called her baby brother home, or is she just as surprised as the rest of us? With Briar’s own movements under scrutiny, we have to wonder how much the siblings know about each other’s plans.

Whatever brought him back, Manhattan hasn’t forgotten Byren’s golden-boy charm. Heads turned the moment he strolled down Fifth Avenue like he never left, and whispers followed him all the way through Central Park. But this city isn’t the same as when he left it. Gossip has a new set of players, and Byren’s return may disrupt the balance in ways none of us are prepared for.

One thing’s for sure: Manhattan loves a comeback story, but it loves a scandal even more. With Blaze’s secrets still locked behind those striking eyes and Briar navigating her own drama, Byren’s return has all the makings of a plot twist none of us saw coming. So what’s the real reason behind his return? And who will pay the price for it?

Keep your eyes peeled, Upper East Siders, because if Byren’s return is anything like his exit, this is one mystery that’s bound to explode.

XOXO, Gossip Girl

@byrencoleman

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

To Die For (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! It is with great joy and a little bit of sadness that I present you all with the final part of “Love Goes”. This part in particular is inspired by Sam Smith’s “To Die For”. Pieces from Endgame are used but very little. 

Summary: The aftermath of Endgame, how will Wanda navigate and what will happen to Y/n. 

“I long for you, just a touch of your hand. You don't leave my mind. Lonely days I'm feeling like a fool for dreaming… Sunshine living on a perfect day while my world's crashing down.”

Hope. That was all Wanda had left. She knew that she couldn’t let it waver for even a moment. Allowing the hope within her to waver would be the same as accepting defeat. Accepting that you weren’t coming back. That was something she would never allow herself to believe. 

Like you told her, you and her were a happy ending. It’s the only ending she could ever envision for herself. The only life she wanted. The only life she’d accept. You and her. Together. Happily.

It had only been a week since the fateful battle and you had been transferred to a S.W.O.R.D. facility since. What worried Wanda most was that you still hadn’t woken up and hadn’t shown much progression since arriving. 

She could still feel you though. 

Wanda would allow herself glimpses into your mind and could see the vibrancy that still existed within. Your heart was still beating, and your mind was still your own. Even if you weren’t awake, you were still you.

The thought brought comfort to Wanda despite the circumstances. It kept hope alive in her heart.

It was only a matter of time until you were awake and in her arms again. At least that’s what she kept telling herself. 

The situation could have been worse though and she knew that. Shortly after you were transferred to the facility she learned the full details of how exactly Thanos was defeated. How Tony and Natasha had given their lives in exchange for the outcome. As much as the news saddened her, she couldn’t help but feel a selfish sense of relief that you hadn’t been dealt the same fate. 

Her life – her heart - felt as though it was hanging in the balance. You were all she had. All she wanted. If she lost you she knew there would be no recovery for her. She’d drown. Sink to the bottom with no chance of resurfacing if you weren’t there to pull her back up. 

The warmth of your hand in her own anchored her. It always did, but not as much as being in your arms, or hearing your voice. “I’m drowning.” She whispered against your hand. “I’m drowning, Y/n. I need to hear your voice, see you open your eyes, and have you hold me and tell me everything is going to be okay. I’m drowning, and you can’t save me until you wake up.” Her lips trembled slightly against your hand as a single tear fell down her cheek.

The days and nights had blurred together for her. Both of which were spent unwaveringly at your side. The only disruptions often came in the form of varying people in the facility checking your vitals or injecting new medications into your IV that they informed her should wake you up soon. 

Besides the worry and fear she constantly felt, there was a sense of bitterness that the only one who had come to see you or her during your time in the facility was Fury. That was only when you were still at S.H.I.E.L.D’s location. It was upsetting to her that Steve had yet to visit you considering the history you two shared and how close you two had always been. Considering how you had been willing to risk your life for him on multiple occasions. 

Today was Tony’s funeral and she was reluctantly leaving your side to pay her respects for a short while. Also, to give Rogers a piece of her mind.

When the funeral concluded she wandered over to the lake to collect her thoughts and emotions. Taking in the beautiful day around her, a stark contrast to how she felt internally. The perfect day felt wrong when it still felt like her world was crashing down within her. 

As she was staring out the lake, preparing herself for what she wanted to tell Steve, Clint walked up to her. “Hey, kid.” 

Wanda kept a neutral face and merely nodded at him. “Hello.”

There was hesitation in the way Clint stopped at her side. “You have every right to not want to talk to me right now.” He began seriously, his head ducked shamefully. “I wanted to go visit Y/n… Check on you. I did. I just-… It’s been hard accepting that Nat’s gone, you know? It’s not an excuse for not being there. It’s just where my head was. I’m sorry, Wanda.” 

As much as Wanda wanted to ignore him, she knew she couldn’t. “I understand.” She replied softly, her gaze still on the lake before her. 

“I wish there was a way that I could let her know that we won. That we did it.” Clint admitted quietly to her.

Wanda shifted her gaze to him. “She knows.” There was a small pause. “They both do.” Despite not being awake, she liked to believe that you knew.

Clint wrapped a comforting arm around her and she leaned into the embrace. 

“Wanda.” A somber voice caught her attention as she turned to find Steve standing there with his hands folded behind his back. “A word?”

Clearly not wanting to be caught in the crossfire, Clint stepped back. “I think that’s my cue to go.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Wanda’s head. “I’ll do better, okay? Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be by to visit Y/n soon.” Wanda nodded slightly at his words as he walked away. 

When Clint was out of the vicinity, Steve stepped into his place. Wanda’s jaw clenched. She was more upset at him than anyone. She knew if roles were reversed you would have been uncompromisingly by his side.

“What do you want?” She asked, her tone cold.

Steve’s face remained neutral despite her tone. “How is she?”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips at his question. “How is she?” she shook her head in disbelief. “You have a lot of nerve asking that when you’ve had a whole week to go see for yourself.”

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. “Look, Wanda, I understand you’re upset with me but I-“

Wanda rounded on him, her eyes livid. “Upset? I am far passed upset, Rogers. I’m furious. Y/n needed you and you abandon her. She would have done anything for you! She idolized you!”

Each of Wanda’s words impacted Steve, she could see that, but she didn’t stop. He took it. “She thought you were her family and you couldn’t even be bothered to go see for yourself if she’s okay! You don’t even care-“

“Enough! That’s not true!” Steve roared. The accusation that he didn’t care seemingly being the final straw. Wanda recoiled in surprise. “I feel guilty, okay? I feel like the only reason that she’s in there in the first place is because of me. I couldn’t face her. I didn’t deserve to.” His volume didn’t lower as the emotions he was holding in finally boiled over. 

“You know she wouldn’t have blamed you.” Wanda eventually replied, her tone still clipped.

Steve rubbed a hand down his face. “I know, but I do. I blame myself. She was trying to protect me, and she only felt like she had to protect me because I couldn’t stop him the first time. She got hurt because I couldn’t get to her fast enough. She’s my family too.” 

As much as she wanted to be angry with him, she found it much more difficult when she learned of the guilt that seemed to be weighing heavily on him. “You know Y/n would have done that either way.” She confessed quietly. “She would have tried to stop him regardless of who she was defending. That’s who she is.”

A weak nod was his only response. Wanda wasn’t sure if he believed her. “How has she been?” Steve repeated, hoping for a genuine answer this time.

“She still hasn’t woken up.” Wanda began unsteadily. “They keep injecting her with new serums everyday saying that each one will wake her up, but it never does.”

Steve closed his eyes at the information, his expression distressed for just a moment until he schooled his features and put on a brave face for Wanda. “She’s going to wake up. I know she will.” 

Hearing the words she had been telling herself from someone else brought Wanda a small sense of comfort. “I know she will too.” She turned to him. “I’m going to get back to her now, she needs me. Go see her.” 

“I will.” He nodded firmly, his words definitive. “I have to return the stones in an hour and try and see if I can undo something. As soon as I do that I’ll be immovably by her side. I’ll stay with you until she wakes up. You have my word. She has my word.” There was purpose in his voice. 

Wanda quirked her lips up slightly at him and nodded without a word. She knew he meant what he said. She walked off to her car to begin the drive back to S.W.O.R.D’s medical branch of the facility. ___________________ Her heart dropped when she entered your room, only to be met with an empty bed. On numb legs, she ran out and stopped the first worker she saw. “Y/n Y/ln. Where is she? She was here just an hour ago.” 

The employee looked around nervously. “She’s been moved. I believe it would be in your best interest to speak to the director.”

Wanda’s brow furrowed in confusion. “The director? Why?”

“His office is located on the second floor, third door on the left.” The employee informed her meekly before scurrying away. 

Practically running, Wanda reached the office in minutes, throwing the door open. “Ms. Maximoff.” The man who she presumed to be the director greeted her, an unnerving smile on his face.

“Where is she?” Wanda demanded, not caring about anything other than being reunited with you. “Is-is she okay?” Anxiety began to build within her and press against her chest making it harder for her to breath. Her nails dug into her palms.

The man gestured for her to sit in an empty chair, she ignored the request. “My name is Tyler Hayward. I am the director of S.W.O.R.D.”

Wanda merely stared blankly back at him, her jaw clenched tightly. “Where. Is. Y/n?” She enunciated sharply, her patience fading. 

The unnerving smile never faltered on Hayward’s face. “That is the unfortunate part, Ms. Maximoff. You see, while you were gone Ms. Y/ln suffered from some brain hemorrhaging. We were able to stop it, but it seems her brain has suffered an extensive amount of damage. We ran some tests and it appears she has lost all cognitive function. She is just a shell now. She only has another day or two at best. I’m sorry.”

Wanda’s world stopped at his words. She immediately shook her head. “That’s not true.” She said shakily as tears began streaming down her cheeks, the weight on her chest getting heavier, forcing her under. She couldn’t breathe. “That’s not true. Let me see her.” 

Hayward gestured forward to the large window in his office. “They’re running some tests on her now, but so far the data has remained conclusive. There is no longer brain function.” Numbly Wanda walked up to the large window and glanced down, feeling the life drain from her at the sight of you. Pale and on what looked like an experimentation table, surrounded by several S.W.O.R.D. scientists.  “I’m afraid it’s time to start talking about letting her go.”

Wanda spun around to face him angrily. “Let her go?” she cried, her voice cracking. “She’s all I have.”

Hayward held his hands up slightly. “It’s only a matter of days before she’s unable to breathe on her own and her heart stops being.”

Empty. That’s what she felt at his words. She wanted to scream. Her powers reacted to the emotion she was feeling before her mind did as the glass she was leaning on shattered. Without hesitation she floated down to where you were. Her heart hammering in her chest the closer she got. 

The world around her went dark and the only sight she was able to take in was the way your chest weakly rose and fell with each breath. With shaking hands, she raised them to your temple as feeble wisps of red floated from her fingertips and disappeared into your mind. 

All she saw was darkness. 

“I can’t feel you.” She whispered brokenly, the pain in her chest overcoming her. The sensation composing her entire being as everything within her collapsed. She was alone, and she knew she wouldn’t recover. Then everything went dark around her. ________________________________

“Darling, have you seen my notebook? I’m running late for my meeting with my editor and I can’t seem to find it anywhere.” You questioned hastily as you rushed into the kitchen and skidded to a halt in the entry way. Looking around the area with a frazzled expression on your face.

Wanda looked over from her place by the stove and waved her hand, the notebook floating from under your arm to directly in front of your face. “You mean this one, dear?” She asked with an amused smile. 

Sheepishly you plucked the notebook out of the air as you made your way over to her. “What would I do without you?” You leaned forward so your lips rested gently against her own.

“Mmm,” Wanda mumbled with a smile as she spoke against your lips. Her arms resting comfortably over your shoulders. “I believe your mind would fail you, sweetheart.”

Your hands fell to her waist as you pulled her closer. “That’s for certain.” You replied easily with a loving smile. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

A small blush spread over her cheeks. “You have not but thank you. You look beautiful as well, darling. I’m beginning to get jealous that your editor gets to spend the day in your presence. Speaking of…” she trailed off and glanced pointedly at the clock.

“My meeting!” Your eyes widened as you pressed one last loving kiss to her lips. “I’ll be going now. I love you, darling. I’ll be home soon!” You shouted as you began running out. 

Wanda shook her head at you, the smile on her face never faltering. “I love you, too, dear!” She called after you, pretending to catch the kiss you blew to her as you rushed out the door. She sighed happily and leaned against the wall of the kitchen. 

The end.

 . . . . . .

“Glad you were able to make it, Rogers.” Fury said seriously as he shook Steve’s hand. “And Ms. Romanoff. Welcome back.” He shook her hand as well. 

Steve nodded easily in response. “Of course. You know that I’d be here in a heartbeat for Y/n. Wanda as well.” Both followed Fury into a large make-shift tent located in the woods. 

“What exactly are we dealing with?” Natasha asked, confusion lacing her words.

For a moment Fury seemed to ponder her question. “We’re not entirely sure.”

“Does Wanda even know that she saved Y/n? That she was never gone?” Steve questioned seriously, his arms crossed as he stared at the screen before him. 

Fury shook his head. “No. It seems Hayward convinced Wanda that Y/n was gone, no brain function. What Wanda didn’t know was he had gone rogue. Every serum they injected in Y/n kept her in her comatose state rather than attempt to wake her up like they were telling Wanda. I’ve looked at the files that my inside contacts gave me, and it seems Y/n should have been up in the first day or two to recover from minor brain swelling.”

“Why are they doing this though?” Natasha questioned as she looked over the chart. Steve’s jaw was clenched as he listened to each detail.

Taking the chart from Natasha, Fury turned the pages until he found what he was looking for and handed it back to Natasha. “Right there. It seems that Y/n carries a rare mutant gene that they could extract and essentially build an army with. They believed that if they removed Wanda from the picture they could continue the experiments and eventually wipe Y/n’s memory to use her as a weapon. Turn her into a super solider… but much worse because of her powers.” There was an edge to his tone. “They are very interested in her ability to manipulate earth and metal. They had considered Wanda briefly as well, but the perfect opportunity presented itself with Y/n. That’s why they insisted on her transfer to their facility.” 

“How do we get them back before Hayward gets to them?” Steve questioned quietly, a dangerous tone to his voice.

Instead of answering Fury gestured to the woman who had been sitting and listening to the conversation. “Wanda isn’t letting anyone with ties to your past in. Fury already tried. She won’t let you or Natasha in.” They both stared at her. “I didn’t introduce myself. Sorry, my name is Darcy Lewis. Astrophysics. Big fan.” The bespectacled woman rambled. 

Natasha smirked, an amused glint in her eye. “Okay, Darcy Lewis, what’s our next step?”

“We’ll do whatever it takes.” Steve finished powerfully as they all watched you and Wanda share a sweet kiss before the credits began to roll on the screen before them.

Well, that’s all folks! 13 parts completed! It’s been a journey writing this and it is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written. This story has become my baby and it always brings me so much joy to read your comments and seeing others enjoy it. I had a plan for this chapter since the moment I began writing this story but it was so hard when it came down to writing because of the most recent episode of Wandavision, so I tweaked it a little. Was it a sadder or happier ending? You may never know. Thank you all so much for taking this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed. 

As always, thoughts and comments always welcome. :)

p.s. I brought back Steve and Nat but I couldn’t figure out how to make Tony surviving make sense or fit the story, sorry. Still love Tony. 

[misscheshirecat]

~

What was he apologizing for? Every time the word 'sorry' came out of his mouth Cat was left more and more confused. He had said it enough, but didn't know the intention behind it. Did he carry the same guilt she felt on her shoulders? Cat didn't hate Mason. Quite the opposite. She cared about him a lot and just wanted the best for him. There would always be love for him somewhere in her heart but he'd left her to the hyenas without so much as a reason why, and that had led her to keep her heart caged up. She wouldn't let anyone as close as she had Mason ever again. She promised herself that. She knew she didn't deserve to feel the pain and heartache all over again for someone that would leave her to turn to dust. No, she kept a labyrinth of walls around the impenetrable cage. She had to to protect herself.

"You don't have to leave," she told him. She didn't want him to. She wanted answers from him, thinking against her better judgement that she would be able to get them from him. She looked up at him and watched as his eyes scanned the bottles of alcohol lined up on shelves behind the bar. It was almost sad. If only he had looked at her with longing at the end of their relationship like he did those bottles. What a horrible, wicked thought that was. Cat's gaze followed him as he set the box down by her feet. Her eyes became locked on the box, unable to look elsewhere as her curious mind wondered what was all inside. At the same time she didn't know if she would even be able to stomach looking.

"Stop apologizing," she finally demanded before locking her sight on his eyes. She hadn't intended for the comment to come out so harsh, but she was tired of dancing around the question in her mind that had haunted her for far too long. "I don't know what you're apologizing for, so just stop. Do you even know why you're apologizing? Is it for coming here and disrupting the life I tried so hard to have without you or because you uprooted my life and made it do a one-eighty?" She went to stand, carefully stepping over the box in her heels, and wobbling a bit as she tried to keep her balance, not wanting to make him think she was too inebriated to stand. She kept together enough until the end when she grabbed onto the nearest person's arm that wasn't Mason. She didn't care if they were a stranger she simply shot them one look and they were gone before they could complain. She huffed before standing up straight to make herself feel like she could compete with the height difference. "Just tell me one thing. One thing and you can leave this box and me behind forever. I just need to know why. Why you didn't love me anymore and what I did wrong. I don't know what I did and I deserve know. If you're going to apologize for anything then apologize for never giving me an explanation. I can't...I can't keep carrying all this guilt on my shoulders for failing you anymore. I did everything I could to be the best for you and it still wasn't enough. I just want to know why I wasn't good enough."

What he wouldn't give to settle into a barstool himself, order a whiskey on the rocks, then maybe one, two, three more. He had been right to keep himself far away from establishments like these, other than going by to see Emily. It was tempting. Enough so that he was so distracted by his own thoughts, he didn't quite realize that Cat was about as wasted as he'd liked to be, or even hear part of what she was saying. It wouldn't have made a difference, he would have never thrown out her things. If he'd known they were in the house all along, he still wouldn't have done anything with them, maybe not even return them to her. It felt like he was letting go, finally allowing himself to accept the fact that she was gone, that he couldn't keep anything good but for so long before he destroyed it. It hadn't been intentional. He really and truly hadn't intended to let their relationship crash and burn. Or himself.

"I'm sorry," he said softly, still awkwardly holding onto the box as his eyes flickered away from the shelf of alcohol to her face. She was right. It was unfair. Him showing up here. Everything he'd done to her was unfair. She had given him everything she had and what did she have to show for it but confusion and a broken heart? She deserved so much better, she always had. That was why he'd put them in this position in the first place. Was he foolish to assume she'd had an easier time moving on than he had? What about him was hard for her to get over?

"I'll leave," he spoke again, not bothering to explain he hoped she'd be gone by now, that he had nowhere else to leave them. He didn't know where she lived now. He didn't know... anything about her, now. Nothing about him made sense to her because he didn't let it, because he decided for both of them that it was better if they became strangers. His eyes moved to the bartender, then down to the small pile of memories he was clutching, lowering it to the ground by her feet. She could take it, she could leave it sitting there all night, she could tell one of her coworkers to throw it out. Whatever she needed to do, but he couldn't be the one to do it. And he couldn't take it back home now. He was never going to do better if he held onto the past, and as much as he wasn't sure that he deserved to do better... him doing worse hurt other people. He couldn't keep doing that, and he couldn't let himself continue to be a walking disappointment to anyone that had the nerve to love him once. Including her. "I didn't mean to interrupt your night. I'm sorry."

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Be Here | The Mikaelson Boys

Hey lovelies! You ever just take a year to write a part two? Well, thanks to @hellotvshowtrash 's writing challenge I have finally written the second part to Come Back. I straight up just sat down and wrote this in less then two hours. The muses have blessed me and said Elijah Mikaelson reunion fic or nothing. I am not stupid-- I will not deny them. Shoutout to Lottie (@imdreamingwiththestars) for making me miss these boys <3

Description: Elijah was dead and now he's not, stand-alone sequel to Come Back

Pairing: The Mikaelson Boys x Fem!Reader, Mainly Elijah

Prompt: "What was it like to die?"

Warnings: rushed writing, mentions of depression

Word count: 2k

Tags: Soft Angst and then Fluff

It’s been two years— well, almost two years. One year, eight months, and seventeen days. But who’s counting, right? Certainly not you. Certainly you wouldn’t be stupid enough to honestly believe that he’s coming back. Even after the promises. His promises and their promises— it doesn’t matter. Both mean nothing. You don’t blame them but you would be naive to believe them.

Still, you keep count— just in case. There’s no harm in that, right? Two years— one year, eight months, and seventeen days— without Elijah Mikaelson. Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, your throat closing like it’s been only a few hours. Maybe there’s a little bit of harm.

You press your face harder into the sweater curled under your head. It doesn’t smell like him anymore— there’s no cinnamon left, none of his at least. None of the sugary vanilla that used to encase her like a NOLA bakery. Only traces of Kol’s nutty cinnamon blend— he must’ve snuck in here last night at some point. Both him and Klaus occasionally do. You don’t blame them for that either— you don’t have a monopoly on missing Elijah Mikaelson.

Slipping out of his sheets is harder than you would admit if either of the brothers were to ask you. It’s not like they’re warm or anything— they’re just as ice cold as the rest of the room— but they’re his and the thought of going the rest of the day without them just doesn’t appeal to you the way it should. Voices flit up the stairs but you don’t strain hard enough to make out the words. You could if you wanted to but there’s no point— you don’t care anymore. Not about trivial things— not about talking. You only do it when you have to these days.

The trek across the room to the door takes what feels like an hour. In reality you’re sure it’s only seconds but, well, this time you aren’t counting so who knows— maybe it did take you an hour. Sun is filtering past the curtains now, painting a stripe through the dim room and across the oak floor. An hour. You pause beside his dresser, debating going in to dig out a new hoodie. You haven’t taken a new one in about three months but your stash is running sparse. It’s not a hard decision, pushing past the dresser and leaving it untouched— you’ll need it more later.

In the hallway things feel different. You can’t put your finger on what it is exactly. There’s a slight shift in the atmosphere and a little more of a kick to the energy in the compound. It feels alive— like everything is humming. The hair on the back of your neck raises instinctively, the answer on your tongue but not quite forming. It’s probably nothing— you haven’t slept in two weeks. It’s probably exhaustion. You’re a vampire but you’re not impervious to sleep deprivation. Time marches on whether or not you acknowledge it— whether or not you reject it. You’ve learned that the hard way.

It’s why you keep padding towards your room, feet soft on the hardwood, trying desperately not to draw the attention of whoever’s in the kitchen. The electric charge in the air follows you to your bedroom, increasing ten-fold when you cross the threshold and halting your advance. You haven’t been in here in weeks but for some reason it feels like everything’s been disturbed. Not in a noticeable way— there’s still a thin layer of dust over everything— but something’s off. Your stomach rolls as you glance around at your things, the pressure building as your neck tingles. You could honestly just fucking scream.

Still, you push further, braving the sudden unknown of your room with a burst of stamina you haven’t felt in months. Breaching the doorway feels like being sucked into a new planet, one unrecognizable and dangerous. Thankfully you don’t need oxygen because you’re pretty sure there’s none in your room. Your chest is tight— heavy— and you make quick work of changing into a new pair of shorts and a Rolling Stones t-shirt that’s been hanging untouched in your closet for at least a year. You haven’t been afraid of it, per say, but you certainly weren’t ready to wear it. Today feels like the day though.

It isn’t until you go to sit on the bed, not bothering to even try to balance as you put your socks on, that you’re finally rewarded with a clue that you may not be as crazy as you feel. It’s warm— the bed is warm. Not the whole bed— because yes, you do reach out to check— only the part you happen to sit on. It’s warm like someone was just sitting here minutes ago and you spring up as quickly as you went down, closing your eyes and pulling in as much air from the room as possible. You’re getting to the bottom of this now. When the air reaches your nose some of the pieces begin to click together—

Cinnamon.

Only a faint trace of it but still your chest jumps— is it— no don’t be stupid it couldn’t be. You thump a hand against your chest to clear the feeling as you force your legs to carry you out the door. You realize too late that you only have one sock, your bare foot pressing against the cold wood of the staircase, but you’re too far and too determined to go back now. You’ve got to find Kol and you have a pretty good idea you know where he is.

Sugar wafts to your nose as you press towards the kitchen, mixed with a touch of citrus— Klaus must’ve picked up your favourite pastries. As you reach the door voices flit stronger to your ears. You can make out Klaus’ hushed tone but not his words, followed by a comment from Kol that you can’t decipher. Good, they’re both here.

The kitchen is by far the brightest room you’ve ventured into in months, the countertops gleaming so bright you have to squint, throwing a hand over your brows. When you blink, clearing the glare however, you notice something peculiar— no pastries. You could have sworn you just smelled them—

“Love, you’re awake.” There’s a whoosh of air followed by two hands on your face and the lingering scent of honey shampoo.

You smile weakly up at Klaus, shrugging. “Was never really asleep.”

Another pair of hands wrap around your stomach, pulling you into a nutmeg chest, lips finding your head. “That’s not healthy, darling. How long’s it been now?”

Shrugging again— this time at Kol— you let your eyes wander the kitchen, nose wrinkling at the heady sugar scent. “Two weeks, give or take.”

You can’t locate the source— but, then again, you can’t see past Klaus’s worried eyes. You watch as he tosses a look behind your head, presumably at Kol. When you roll your head back though you find that his brother’s brown eyes aren’t meeting his stare but are also tilted behind him. You chest jumps again, the air thickening, energy coursing through you— what the hell is going on?

You push away from the boys, arms crossing over your chest as you turn to the source of whatever’s got the compound disrupted this morning. Opening your mouth, you go to make a snarky remark— or to scream, you aren’t sure— but when you finally see it all that comes out is a soundless gush of air. All words are lost as your eyes drag over the back of a familiar brunette head, passing down a muscled back and over sweatpants you haven’t seen worn in years. One year, eight months, and seventeen days. It’s all you can do to poke your tongue out of your mouth, sweeping it over your dry mouth and tasting sugar.

There’s just no way.

You take a step backwards, back slamming into one of the brothers but unable to tear your eyes away from the figure long enough to see who. “What— what’s happening?”

Always the noble one, Elijah Mikaelson doesn’t keep you waiting, whirling on his feet, a box of pancake mix in his hands. “Couldn’t have waited ten more minutes, baby?”

You’re not alive but for a moment it feels like your heart stops as you drink in the man in front of you. Brown hair, brown eyes, stubble on his jaw the same as the day he died. Your vision clouds over, tears tugging at the corners of your eyes but you refuse to blink them away. You’re not risking clearing a vision this clear.

You take a tentative step forward, afraid that if you move too quickly the mirage might evaporate. “Elijah?”

“Hey baby.”

If your dead heart stopped upon seeing his silhouette then it restarts when he passes you the familiar, crooked smile that you fell in love with all those decades ago— the same one you’ve been longing for since the day he left you.

Fuck tiptoeing.

You’re across the room in record time, your hair flying behind you as you launch yourself into his arms, praying to whoever will listen that your body hits something solid. There’s a muted thud followed by his arms wrapping around you— his physical, cinnamon sugar scented arms. At his reciprocated touch you finally let yourself sob. You can’t remember the last time you actually let yourself cry but you are now and it’s finally out of relief.

Your hands attack his face, palms deranged and fingers haphazardly dragging across his neck and jaw and scalp. Your shoulders are shaking, tears hot against your face and pooling over your lips but you refuse to look away from his gaze. He looks just as wild as you feel, brown eyes ticking rapidly over your features. It’s all you can do to smash your mouth against his, crying through the kiss before laughing because he still tastes like your Elijah. Like cinnamon buns and sweetness.

“This can’t be real— you’re dead. I saw you die!” You sob against his lips.

He presses his mouth back just as hard, hands digging against your skin and clawing at his band t-shirt. You reciprocate by squeezing your thighs harder around his hips, pressing your body as close to his as you can get. It’s not enough but you feel like you can finally breathe again when you crush your arms around his shoulders.

“I know—” he finally murmurs into your mouth— “but I’m here. Right here.”

You pull away, hands still carding through his soft hair, pulling at the damp strands. “‘Lijah you were dead— I— I thought you weren’t coming—”

Your chest feels heavy again but he’s quick to move, cutting your destructive train of thought with his cinnamon and honey lips. You don’t mind— he could do anything right now and you would still cling to him like your life depends on it. Kissing him has been at the top of your list for two years now— you’re not going to refuse. One of his hands lowers, hooking around your thigh and tugging you higher up his body. You’re not the only one whose life depends on staying as connected as possible.

“It’s real— I’m real. I promised you, baby. I’m back— I promise I’m back.”

Just like that you’re back to giggling against his mouth, arms anchored behind his neck. Soon your head is falling back, the euphoria rolling through your body like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You would never wish for him— for any of them— to leave you again but this feeling makes every gruelling day worth it. He’s back. As if to prove it his lips find your neck, kissing over your skin feverishly.

After a few moments of soaking in the attention of the resurrected man you finally pull yourself together enough to attempt a true conversation like a respectable woman.

“What was it like to die?”

He chuckles against your skin, shaking his head, his lips never leaving you. “I’ll tell you later— there are a few matters we need to sort out first baby, starting with getting you out of that fucking t-shirt. It’s been too long.”

Who are you kidding— he’s right and you hum your agreement, lips searching for his, desperate once more—

“One year, eight months, and seventeen days too long.”

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Just friends

Pairing: Sky x reader

==============================

After an entire night of sipping beer and looking for someone to connect with, Y/N finally found a guy that truly stood out. Tall, broad shoulders, dirty blonde hair that reminded her of a certain Specialist she wanted to forget and those eyes….Phew, those emerald green eyes that drew her in with their promise of a good time she’s been looking for truly captured her attention.

Standing a little too close to him in order to keep up a conversation with music blaring, Y/N allowed herself to lean into his lean body, his hand resting on the small of her back. His lips called out to her, or the beer in her system made it seem so. Whatever the case may be, she didn’t really care. 

Y/N wanted someone to feel close to and he looked like someone appropriate; similar to the very cause of the aching heart she’s trying to ignore. The way he looked at her showed he’s just as interested as she is, but his eyes kept glancing at something or someone behind them.

Irritated with his loss of focus, with her index finger on his chin, Y/N demanded his attention unapologetically.

“Ignore a fairy and she leaves.“ Y/N said with a light tone, but she hoped her pursed lips and slightly narrowed eyes were a warning he’d read.

Chuckling, the guy, Porter, nodded, licking his lips. Following his gaze, Y/N turns. Tossing her hair over her shoulder to make sure nothing obscured her vision, she gnaws on the inside of her lower lip.

On the far end of the room stood a handsome guy taller than Porter. He’s leaned against a wall, muscular arms crossed over his chest, hair floppy with blond bangs that fell on his forehead. He held a pensive look on his face, lips pressed together and dark blue eyes sending daggers Y/N’s way. 

Sky.

“Who is he?“ Porter breaks up the little staring contest with a question. Turning to him, Y/N gives him an innocent smile, shrugging.

“No one important.“ She informs him, placing a hand on his chest. Trailing it upwards, she holds onto his shoulder and looks into his eyes.

Raising an eyebrow, Porter glances at the guy and at Y/N once more, tilting his head. “Not a jealous boyfriend or anything?“ He questions, unconvinced by her previous answer.

Y/N sighs, faking a smile that never really failed to trick those around her; especially not him. She could never fool him, even when she tried. Somehow, he always knew better.

“Nope.“ She says, popping the P for effect. Feeling her heartbeat quicken its pace, she keeps that smile frozen on her face as if she had used her ice powers on herself, knowing it’s rehearsed to perfection.

“Does he know that?“ Porter asks, smirking. 

Rolling her eyes, Y/N let him go, moving out of his embrace. 

It took her a moment to stop herself from blowing up on the guy, annoyed by his constant questioning. She figured he’s a senior in Specialist training looking for a way to blow off steam that wouldn’t ask too many questions, but Porter proved to be anything but.

“Be right back.“ She taps his arm, turning around and walking towards the door.

Leaving the basement, she sits on the steps. They’re cold but she’s used to cold - she’s the ice queen anyway. She knew she’d have to be waiting patiently only for a short time. Moments later, the door opens again, the man who couldn’t keep his eyes off her coming outside.

“Took you long enough.“ She huffs, focusing her eyes on the ground in front of her instead of him. She didn’t have to look at him to know who it is. She knew by the sound of his footsteps, the left one always releasing a slight creak on the floorboards as he stepped with his entire foot while he only stepped with his heel on the right one.

Taking a seat next to her, Sky doesn’t look at her either.

“He’s not good enough for you.“ With those words, Y/N feels his piercing gaze on her. The emotion in Sky’s eyes is fathoms deep, yet they carry the warmth and life of the sunlit surface. They have a thousand hues of blue and a small touch of hazel radiating in softly swooping arcs and they leave Y/N breathless, as they always do.

Blood rushes to her face, turning up the temperature in her head to a dangerous level and it wasn’t from his eyes on her…it was that statement. His sentence had pissed her off enough for ice to swallow the steps they sit on; enough to lose control.

“You don’t get to say that.“ Y/N spits, standing up. Body rigid from anger, hands clenched so tight she felt her knuckles turning a pale color with a disruption in blood circulation. “Or anything to me. Ever.“ She turns to him with narrowed eyes.

Sky didn’t look away, no matter how cold her glare got. She hated how he could withstand it as it tore her apart.

“I only have your best interests in mind.“ Sky dares to say, fixing his tender gaze upon her as if his words were meant to calm the storm inside. His fingers twitch, like he can’t decide if he should reach out or keep physical contact to a minimum in fear of making the situation a lot worse.

Looking up in disbelief, Y/N releases something between a choked sob and a chuckle. Biting her lower lip to keep herself from shouting, her eyes fall back on the man before her.

“Don’t. Just…don’t.“ Placing a hand on her hip, she uses the other one to point her index finger at him.

“You said we were friends and then you kissed me! And then you told me we would never happen!” Shaking her head, Y/N sighs. “You can’t do this to me. You can’t stare down every guy I talk to or tell me they’re not good enough or...” Pausing, she stops before she breaks her own heart. 

She thought, ‘Friends don’t look at friends the way you’re looking at me now’, but what’s the point? He’s determined it means nothing. That she means nothing.

Standing, she points her finger at him again, “Stop. Alright? I’m tired of waiting, I’m tired of arguing! Just leave me alone.” 

Standing as well, Sky seems to have made up his mind and went for it. He grabs her finger, wrapping his hand around her entire fist with ease, pulling her closer to him. Flush against his firm chest, Y/N dares not look up, feeling his raging heartbeat through the palm pressed over his sternum.

“I never meant to hurt you. Do you know that?“ He whispers. His warm breath reaches her forehead, fanning away a couple of loose strands of her hair.

"Sky, I can’t do this right now.“ She feels her head spinning. Being so close to him was too much too fast. Especially after he broke her heart.

“You’re my best friend.“ Sky’s voice breaks, his chin resting atop her head. 

She could feel him pulling her closer, pressing his body against hers in a mock embrace, but she’s just a frozen statue in his arms. There is no way for her to relax. If she did, she’d break and she never wanted to break in front of him. Not again.

Placing both palms against his chest, ignoring the way his heart rushed with the contact, she pushes with all her might. Moving away as Sky stumbles backwards, Y/N turns her back on him. Feeling her chin tremble as his warmth leaving her body renders her as cold as the ice in her veins, her eyes close She never found the cold bothersome, not until she felt the warmth of Sky’s embrace and tender kisses.

“Yeah, well…things changed. You know very well how that came to be.“ Y/N’s response is surprisingly calm, but she’s certain Sky could read her emotions even without looking at her properly. After all, he knew her for so long…In a way, they grew up together.

“Why am I to blame for that, huh? I can’t help how I feel.“ Sky defends, lips parted as Y/N scoffs, turning back to face him.

She shakes her head slightly. It feels surreal that she has to have this conversation with him again.

“You left me standing there without a word. I poured my heart out and you had nothing to say! You couldn’t be with me? You’re not good enough? You can’t give me the answer I want? Well, guess what? I can’t give you the answer you want either.“ Y/N’s voice trembles as she speaks, feeling every muscle in her face clench under the pressure of keeping a straight face. Her entire body shakes, but she’s determined to keep herself centered.

Going to a dance with her best friend was meant to be fun and an experience she’ll never forget. However, the entire night she was stuck with Riven while the guy she wanted to dance with was away flirting with Stella, Bloom, everyone but her. She didn’t mind Riven, he’s definitely someone she considers to be very close to her heart, but she was in love with his roommate.

The guys took her home, Sky walked her to the door to make sure she got in safely. It gave her butterflies, but it was just who Sky is. He always made sure she was taken care of and protected. Always.

However, that night, Y/N was unsheltered, vulnerable in every way possible. She couldn’t keep her secret any longer.

Turning back, she looks at him, shaking. Averting her gaze to the right, only to focus it back on him, she wraps her arms around herself for reassurance.

“Everything okay?“ Sky steps closer, tilting his head.

Shaking her head as an answer, Y/N musters up some courage fueled by years of jealousy and heartache.

“Do you love me?“ She blurts out, slightly bouncing on her feet though the heels she wore made her feet hurt.

Sky smiles widely, rolling his eyes at her playfully before answering. “You know I do.“

Shaking her head furiously, feeling her heart beating so fast her head is pounding and her knees are weak, she explains.

“No, I mean. Do you LOVE me?“ she emphasizes, leaning on her right leg more for balance. She watches the look of realization cross his face, confusion taking place. He didn’t say a damn thing, just looked at her like she had uttered the most atrocious insult.

Blinking fast, she bites her lip so hard, feeling a metallic taste of blood in her mouth as a result.

“Sky, do you?“ Her voice cracks, the last part coming out almost as a whisper.

Sky stares at her, searching for an appropriate answer in her eyes in hopes of escaping this entire conversation, but he’s dead silent.

“Say something!“ She whisper shouts, desperate for a reply. She had opened up to him, completely vulnerable and at his mercy and all he gave in return was a lost stare and fast, shallow breathing by the way his chest moved.

Until he moved toward her, pushing her against the locked door. Before she has a chance to say anything, his lips capture hers and her eyes widen in shock. Arms wrapping around her waist gave her courage to entangle her hands in his hair, drawing him closer to her.

Breathless, she couldn’t think, she didn’t want to. Being in the moment, drowning in his tender, yet passionate touch was more than enough.

But as unexpected as the kiss was, so was the moment Sky broke it. He steps back, lips swollen and smudged from hers, even more kissable than before. He opens his mouth and Y/N’s ready to hear him say it back, to promise her they would try, but when Sky speaks, her heart breaks.

“I…I can’t give you the answer you want.“ Sky spoke slowly, continuing. “You’re…you’ve always been out of my league.“ Taking a step closer, he keeps talking as she grimaces at the unwanted closeness. Moments ago, Y/N wanted him closer, but it made her queasy now.

“You’re just so…perfect!“ He exclaims, outstretching his arms in her direction.

She tries to step back, tensing up as she realizes she’s backed against the door already. She has nowhere to run.

“I’m not good enough for you. I will NEVER be good enough to be with you.“ Sky’s arms return to his side, understanding she’s not interested in any sort of touching.

She nods in disbelief, not believing his logic nor the words he spoke. “You don’t get to use that as an excuse. Especially when it’s not true. But if this is the way you want to handle things….Then this is goodbye.“ 

Barely holding back tears, she watched Sky turn around, leaving her broken and alone with her heart bleeding on the ground after he so carelessly tossed it from his hands.

What hurts is that he didn’t even try to fight for her to at least remain a friend. He didn’t even try to stay. He simply stole her peace of mind and stomped on her heart and left.

In the end, the night was definitely one she wouldn’t forget, simply not for the good memories.

“I just want you back.“ Sky’s eyes brim with tears he hadn’t shed in years, leaving her speechless, but firm as he continues. “I’m not me without you.”  

Y/N couldn’t give in. Sometimes you have to take care of oneself and this is one of those times. She gave him every chance and when it came down to it, he didn’t take them. 

“I wanted many things and I didn’t get any of them. I don’t blame you for not loving me back, Sky. I don’t. I just wish you would understand how it feels for me.“ She says softly, feeling a crack in the tall, icy wall specifically meant to keep him out of her heart.

“I never said I don’t love you back”, Sky breathes out as the door opened again, Porter stepping out. 

Porter’s eyes immediately find hers, showing his concern and caution. “Everything okay here?“ Porter asks.

Folding her arms across her chest, she releases a shaky sigh. Did Sky really just admit he loves her too? Was it serious or just a way to keep her close?

She can’t make that into something it’s not. Not again.

“We’re okay. No biggie.“ She plasters a smile that Sky could read as a fake one a mile away, but Porter seems to be clueless.

“Want me to take you to your room?“ Porter returns her smile, standing in front of her. She notices he keeps glancing back at Sky, unsure of what went down moments before he arrived.

“Unless someone has something against it?“ She looks at her former best friend, hoping he’d give her a reason to stay. One word would be enough, to say that he really does love her again. She saw him saying it in her mind a thousand times, but in reality, his lips parted without a single word leaving his mouth. 

He didn’t care that much after all. If he did, it wasn’t enough. It’s just not enough.

Taking Porter’s hand, she smiles genuinely now, pulling him along without looking back.

“Let’s go.“

And all Sky can think of as he watches them leave is that it might take his whole life to make it right, but he truly felt he did the right thing for her; for them. He never dreamed it would have broken their friendship. 

Perhaps he’s guilty for the kiss he’d have died if he didn’t feel against his lips that night, because letting her go without ever tasting her would haunt him forever. 

Joke’s on him - the kiss, she, would haunt him regardless. It was the first time he felt connected to anything, but he isn’t good for her. Not now when his father is back and adamant on ruining his life.

He must protect her from Andreas and he will. Even if it costs him everything.

PART 2

[messymessyml]

Breaking and Entering

I'll be moving this one over to AO3 at some point (done, available here), but I'll start this off on Tumblr. This is a lighthearted, multi-chapter Jasonette story.

Summary:

Marinette is away from home when a curious visitor drops in. The kwami don't see any problem letting the man in; the question is: what will the guardian think when she realizes an intruder was in her house while she was gone?

Chapter 1 is below the cut.

Chapter 1: What did I come back to now?

Marinette felt a wave of relief hit her as her key turned smoothly in the lock. She was more than ready to unload her bags and take a well-deserved night in after a whirlwind week of consulting with clients in Metropolis. She’d decided to take Tikki and Sass with her and rent a hotel for the week as most of her clients were only available for early morning consultations, and while it was the most effective way to make sure she didn’t miss a meeting, she was glad to be back home.

Gotham may not be as glitzy or have as many potential clients as Metropolis, but it more than made up for that with the anonymity that Gotham allowed her. The local mentality of ‘take no shit’ and ‘mind your own damn business and I’ll mind mine’ allowed the kwami and her freedom that they wouldn’t get in Metropolis, a city crawling with news stations and a baffling love of all things mundane. Half the time when she visited Metropolis it felt like she had a target on her back; the paparazzi were worse in Metropolis than they ever were in her Parisian hero days and that held for her professional pseudonym as well as plain Marinette. It was a wonder that with so many news outlets (and Superman to report on for crying out loud) that she was still the topic of a news piece twice in the past week: once as MDC and once as plain old Marinette. In all seriousness was helping with a local tree planting event for Earth Day that newsworthy?

‘Enough of that’, she thought, realizing that although her door was now unlocked, she’d thought so much about arriving home that she hadn’t even fully opened her door. A slight twinge of embarrassment hit her. Carrying her tiny friends everywhere was always a blessing, but sometimes, she mused, it might be nice not to have an audience for every action she took—no matter how embarrassing.

Letting go of that train of thought, Marinette stepped through and closed her door behind her, feeling tension bleed out of her shoulders. The underlying scent of vanilla and blossom honey hit her nose as she strode over to the kitchen island. She set her bags to the side and took a hold of one of her swinging barstools with the intention to sit for a bit before making any attempt at dinner for the kwami and herself. Absently tracking the path Sass and Tikki took as they flew in the direction of the room where she kept the Miracle Box, she hesitated to sit as she noticed a slowly building feeling of unease hit her. Something, she thought, was off.

Sharpening her gaze and gripping the barstool a little tighter, Marinette scanned her apartment. At first glance, the living space looked unchanged from how she left it; the furniture was where it belonged, and her shelves and wall art were unmoved. As she looked closer though, she saw items around the house that were shifted a bit more than they would be if the kwami had decided to explore while she was away: the living room rug was centered, the dishes she had left to dry right before leaving the house a week ago were put away, and the barstool she was currently grasping was a bit more level than it had ever been, thrifted as it were. The kwami were a joy to interact with and an honor to serve as their guardian, but cleaners and tinkers they were not.

Marinette released her grip on the stool, rounding the kitchen island to open the cabinets. Like she thought, the dishes she had washed a week ago were put away and the towers of plates and bowls looked straighter than they were normally. Her gut churned as the beginning stages of worry started to fill her.

A chorus of greetings from behind her met her ears, disrupting her thoughts. Turning, Marinette saw the kwami flying towards her from the hallway.

“Marinette, did you have a nice trip?” Mullo squeaked.

“Guardian, I hope all went well on your trip. It is wonderful to have you back home.” Wayzz said.

The other kwami threw in their own noises and words of agreement, mirroring Wayzz’s welcome.

Marinette couldn’t help her small smile, replying, “My trip went well, and I am happy to be back here with you all.” She paused, hesitating before she asked, “Did anything happen while we were away?”

“Not much, Pigtails.” Plagg swam leisurely into view, tailed closely by Tikki, both twirling as they approached. “Some fighting outside, and a bit of a showdown on rooftops at the end of the block, but no damage to our building.”

Wayzz intercepted Plagg’s path, floating into the center of her vision to say, “That may be true, Plagg; however, one of the combatants took a breather on our balcony by using the garden for cover. He didn’t seem injured, but he was breathing heavier than was wise. Most of us hid in the box while I continued to strengthen the wards on the outer walls and windows.”

Marinette interrupted, “No one entered the apartment?”

Wayzz hesitated, then said “The man stayed hidden as best he could, but he was quite large, and I could feel the shifting balance; if he stayed on the balcony, he would have drawn fire here. I strengthened the barrier outwards then loosened the barrier on the balcony doors, undid the latch for him, and asked Trixx to hide us from view. He had a protector’s spirit and none of us could feel an intent to harm any but the ones he’d been fighting outside. I am sorry, Guardian, for making this decision without your input.”

Marinette took a deep breath to fend off the impending tension headache, unclenching the hand she had used to subconsciously gripped her other wrist. She loosened the muscles around her eyes to soften her gaze. “It’s alright, Wayzz. I wasn’t there, and I trust your intuition. What did he do?”

“He seemed distrustful of the open door at first but ended up entering almost silently and quickly moved to scan the apartment.”

Trixx added, “I made sure he could not see the Miracle Box and that he was not visible from the outside at any point, but he stayed away from the windows for the most part.”

Roarr piped in, “He has a fierce spirit, and I agree with Wayzz that he has a strong protective streak.”

She heard some murmurs of agreement from the other kwami, some of them breaking out into small discussion pertaining to the man’s character. “If so many of you saw him, did you leave the Miracle Box then? What did you see?” Desperately, Marinette wished that the immortal beings she called friends could get to the points.

“Some of us came out to see, but most of us stayed in the box. Trixx’s illusions held; he didn’t see or hear any of us.” Barkk confirmed.

“Yes, he mostly stayed in the living room. He sat right here for a while!” Saying this, Pollen surged towards the end of the couch, landing with their back to the armrest in a bored sprawl. “Like this!”

Plagg, swaying upside down near the ceiling, lazily added, “He wasn’t much fun. All he did was check his guns then started cleaning the place. Boring.”

“Guns?! Cleaning? Why?” Alarmed, Marinette’s heartbeat started to pound at the picture painted by the kwami. They had let a large combatant enter her apartment and all he did was inspect his guns and clean??? ‘This can’t be real’, she thought. ‘Was I caught up in one of Scarecrow’s attacks on the way home?’

“He had good manners at the least.” Kaalki sniffed. “His gear smelled of money and he fixed that stool of yours that never would have entered the premises if you had listened to me from the start. At least now it isn’t horrendously squeaky.”

“Hey!” Mullo protested.

Kaalki just turned away.

“He needed the protection.” Wayzz apologetically said. “He didn’t seem interested in your workroom and he wouldn’t have been able to find the box, so we observed. He cleaned a bit and left after checking that the coast was clear outside.”

Marinette allowed her shoulders to sag. “Alright. If you’re sure.” Glancing around, she gave the kwami a smile, eyes hesitating on the glass doors leading to the balcony, she absently added, “Thank you for keeping an eye on things while I was gone.”

Striding over to the doors leading out to the balcony, she peered out. Nothing seemed out of place out here, but she couldn’t be certain. Checking the door handles, she noticed that one of the kwami or her mystery visitor must have relatched the lock. Unlocking it, she stepped out and went to sit at her patio table. Leaning back in her chair, she let her head tip back to view the sunset, partially obscured by the balcony two floors above her own. Her apartment building had mostly staggered the balconies to allow more light to reach its inhabitants, a must in Gotham’s dreary weather.

After a few moments, she let her head droop forward to land in her hands. As much as she loved them, the kwami’s survival instincts always seemed at odds with hers. She couldn’t tell whether that was due to her anxiety amplifying everything past the point of reason or that the kwami’s inherent existence rendering most danger obsolete, but while some intruder might not be a danger to beings that could turn intangible and invisible at will, she was definitely a bit more breakable (‘Mortal’, her brain whispered) than them. If she had been here? Who knows how that visit might have gone?

Taking a few more minutes to calm her body’s response, a few deep breaths, and a moment or two of gratitude that nothing bad had happened, she straightened a bit as the evening wind started to pick up and a splash of white started to flutter at the edge of her vision. Glancing up, her eye caught on a piece of paper at the other end of the table that was weighted down with a rock she had decorated a while back with paintings of ladybugs and cats playfully chasing each other across a meadow. That particular rock usually spent time in the catnip bed Plagg had insisted on and Tikki had seconded as a nod to both kwami. Curious, she reached out and grabbed the sheet of paper underneath. Opening it, she read:

Dear Stranger,

I was in a bit of a tight spot and hanging around your balcony when your door swung open. Haunted house, much? Hope you don’t mind, but I ended up using your house as a temporary safe house while you were gone. Don’t worry, I made sure no one saw me entering or exiting, so you shouldn’t have any problems from the type of shit that follows me.

On the topic of haunted houses, are you sure yours isn’t haunted? Your house is unnervingly the calmest- and safest-feeling place I’ve been in a while, but I kept seeing blurs out of the corner of my eye and I was NOT concussed. Might want to talk to someone about that.

I ended up tidying a bit while you were gone, hope you don’t mind. Fairs fair, you (unknowingly, I know) lent me a place to stay, I tidied up a bit. Stay out of trouble, alright?

Cheers,

- Red Hood

The Red Hood? The RED HOOD is who they let into the house? For kwami’s sake, what were they thinking?!?

[nightingaelic]

could you do Fallout New Vegas companion’s reactions to a Courier Six who is also the Lone Wanderer telling their stories from their time in DC? (bonus points for Arcade’s reaction to them hating the enclave, and if that would make him decide to keep his past hidden even longer, or if he would still tell them?)

The logistics and implications of this make my head spin. This is also super long, honestly I should just quit writing reacts and start writing fics OH WAIT

Getting the courier talking was a tough thing to do, but on nights where the moon was full and the coyotes' howls were miles away or at least behind some stout walls, on nights where they were a few beers in and they hadn't seen another living soul in a few days, that Mojave Express deliverer started to reminisce. That wasn't really the surprising part, though. No, the surprising part was what they would remember, fondly or not-so-fondly: A world apart from the desert, a continent away on another coast, and stories of life in a vault, a missing father, pure water and a Brotherhood divided.

Arcade Gannon: Arcade didn't mind these moods, at least when they first cropped up. He nodded along as the courier talked about living in their father's shadow, about feeling cornered by their own family's legacy. He hung on their words about living in the cradle of America's history, about Project Purity, all of the gritty details of modifying a GECK to bring water to a devastated wasteland.

Eventually though, the courier's memories soured, with the arrival of Enclave remnants in their life. Arcade folded into himself with every harsh word, every jolt of plasma that had disrupted his friend's world relived in horrific detail. They gestured angrily as they described their newfound purpose, their battle for power with the fractured Brotherhood of Steel at their back, and their smug satisfaction at the moments they were able to crack open Raven Rock and the Enclave's mobile base crawler and lay waste to their tormentors.

It took a few rounds of these stories before the courier noticed he shrank and grew quiet whenever they neared the end of their story about breaking into another vault to find the GECK. They stopped abruptly one night. "What's up with you?"

"Um..." Arcade scratched the back of his neck and looked away. "Nothing. Nothing, I just... have some personal experience with the Enclave, myself."

The courier sighed. "Yeah, there's a few people walking around the West Coast that have similar stories to mine. Arroyo's full of them, for one. Is it something like that?"

Arcade took a deep breath. "I feel... well, it's a lot closer to home, for me. Close enough to raise questions, so I don't talk about it much."

"Close enough to..." The courier twisted their face up in confusion for a moment, before realization set in and their eyes grew large. "You were... your... oh."

"Mmm-hm."

"Well, fuck me." The courier smiled and popped a cap off of another beer. "I've been doing all the talking, haven't I? Let's hear your story about working with the guys in power armor who ruined my life, right after dad did."

Craig Boone: Whenever the courier started up like this, Boone couldn't help but notice a familiar twinge of regret and self-doubt in their voice. It shone through most clearly when they spoke about their time with the Brotherhood of Steel, the men and women they'd fought alongside and lost during their struggle against the remnants of the Enclave. It was there, too, in their story about returning to the vault they grew up in, setting the chaos that had arisen in their wake to rest, but not being able to go back to the way things were.

Boone didn't pry. He knew that feeling well. Instead, he cracked open bottles of beer, liquor, soda, whatever they had on hand during their nights in the desert, and just listened. He'd done the same for Carla, when they were younger and new to each other and he couldn't get enough of her voice and how it flowed endlessly, easily, the way his never could. He absorbed it all now as he did then: The joy, the pain, the loss, the fear, the triumphs and falls and abandoned dreams that filled the courier up and drove them to travel west, beyond anything they had ever known.

That last part stumped Boone a bit, though. "Why didn't you stay?" he finally asked one night.

They looked surprised. "Stay? Stay where? I didn't have a home anymore."

Boone shook his head. "With the Brotherhood. Or some other settlement."

"Like Megaton?" The courier sighed. "I thought about it. Close to the vault, friendly people, easy work... I guess I just didn't want to wind up... stuck."

They flushed red and looked away from him. Boone knew why they were embarrassed, but he also knew the truth in their words.

Sometimes the courier cried after they had finished, though they did their best to hide it. Boone pretended not to notice. He was pretty sure they knew he was pretending, but he was also pretty sure that pointing it out would be worse than just letting it be an open secret between them. The silence between them endured, but something grew inside it and flourished. Some kind of deeper understanding.

Lily Bowen: The more the courier spoke, the more Lily made connections in her muddled mind. Of course they knew the basic layout of most vaults, they had grown up in one. Of course they were extra-sensitive to the Mojave heat, they had come to the desert from the cooler of the two coasts. Of course they'd been extra-wary around the super mutants or nightkin of Jacobstown, they had only known angry super mutants looking to grow their own numbers through any means necessary.

Their shared experience of growing up inside a vault reminded Lily of happier days, and she often asked questions about Vault 101 during the courier's stories. "Were you sweet on anyone inside your old home?" she asked, with a big smile befitting a proud grandma.

The courier blushed. "That's not very polite, Lily."

"Oh, I'm sorry, dearie."

"No, no it's okay." The courier smiled. "There was a boy who picked on me a lot, but I never figured out whether he did it because he hated me or liked me. His name was Butch. And there was Amata, my childhood friend. She was the daughter of the Overseer."

"Daughter of the Overseer?" Lily grinned. "I'm sure she was a lovely young woman."

The courier looked a little misty. "Yeah. She was. Probably still is."

Lily pulled a handkerchief that used to be a small tablecloth from inside her overalls and handed it over. "Maybe we can go back there together, pumpkin," she offered. "I always wanted to travel to the capital. We can visit your friends, see the sights."

"Yeah, maybe someday." The courier accepted the gift and blew their nose. "I've got some things I need to finish up here before I even think about wandering back east, though."

"Then let's make a list and do our chores," Lily said happily. "Number one?"

"Ohhhh, man." The courier smiled up at her. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul got a faint smile on his face whenever the courier started up like this, as if their memories reminded him of another place he had come from, another time. While they couldn't have more different backgrounds, pasts- hell, he had several hundred years on the courier, even if they shared the same road today- there was something in the description of the other roads they had walked that made him feel warm on a cold night.

"What's on your mind?" The courier asked him one night, when Raul's smile grew larger than usual.

"Nada, boss," he reassured them. "You're just a good reminder that I can change my mind about the future anytime I'd like. Tell me the one about that radio DJ again."

"Again?" The courier rolled their eyes. "Why? I could tell you a million stories about Underworld and all the ghouls that lived there, but all you want to hear about is Three Dog. You'd probably have more in common with the Underworld folks, honestly."

Raul nodded noncommittally. "Sí, but my favorite stories are about people who had to rise above bad situations and become someone uncommon. Anyone who's able to do that is either fighting for something great or running from something terrible. Sometimes both."

The courier shot him a skeptical look. "Three Dog's holed up in his radio station 24/7, he's not running from anything or out fighting for anything. All that stuff about 'the good fight' is a load of bull."

"Now, now, Six," Raul chastised. "Just because he looks like your average pendejo doesn't mean he isn't doing his part. You even told me his radio show is inspirational for the Capital Wasteland folks."

The courier held their hands up in the air and bobbled them, as if balancing an invisible scale. "The duality of man. Being an average pendejo, or convincing everyone around you that you aren't actually an average pendejo and can pull off miracles."

Raul laughed. "And which one are you, boss?"

"Eh, I'm still figuring it out."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Cass was never one for fixating on her own past, but she couldn't help but sympathize with the courier whenever they deigned to add onto their unbelievable story. It was hard enough for her to navigate her own damn life: She couldn't imagine being called upon to steer an entire area's destiny.

After another night of recalling their life inside a vault with their dad, then their unexpected loss of him right after being reunited on the surface, the courier stopped suddenly. "I'm sorry," they said.

Cass paused her swig of precious whiskey. "What?"

"I keep going on and on about my dad, and here you are not knowing what happened to yours."

"Eh." Cass took her drink and waved her hand around until the burning swallow made its way down. "S'loads of people in the wasteland without a clue what happened to their pops. I'm not special. In fact, I'd say it probably hurts a bit more, what happened with yours."

"Well, all the same." The courier sank deeper into their seat and examined their own bottle of spirits. "I feel like an open book, tonight. Anything you want to know about where I came from that I haven't already spilled?"

Cass thought for a moment. "Tribals."

"What about them?"

"Does the East Coast have them? You're not the first traveler I've met from there, but none of you have so much as mentioned any tribals out east."

"Mmm." The courier looked thoughtful. "I guess we do have them, though maybe not in the traditional sense. There's a mess of them in Point Lookout for sure, and at least one tribal group in the Capital Wasteland outright, but beyond that things are more... loose. Fewer intact families, fewer intact homes."

"Huh." Cass took another drink. "Maybe that's where my dad went."

She let the courier stew in the awkward silence for a bit before she grinned and reached out to smack them. "Just kidding. Keep going. I want to hear about that giant robot again."

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica usually sat and listened, spellbound, picturing a chapter of her order that had realized the very thing she kept trying to tell the Elders and made the ultimate sacrifice to follow their hearts anyway.

Well, maybe Elder Owyn Lyons hadn't come to the same realization as her, but he had had a change of heart that split his company and cut them off from almost everyone they had ever known. It had been five years since the High Elders had instituted radio silence toward their East Coast chapter, and so far there had been no attempts to re-establish contact.

Veronica prodded the courier for any info she could get about the Capital Wasteland Brotherhood of Steel. The courier let slip pretty early in their friendship that Elder Owyn Lyons had passed away, which wasn't unexpected. The man was 76 years old, after all. She learned on one particularly emotional night that his daughter, Elder Sarah Lyons, was also dead, something she wasn't sure even the Western Elders were aware of. That memory was clearly painful for the courier though, so Veronica didn't press for details.

"And the Enclave?" the Scribe asked one night, arms wrapped around her knees. "Are they completely gone?"

The courier grew cold. "Yes. I made sure of it."

"Right." Veronica nodded. "So the Brotherhood took over the air force base they were at. It must have been chock-full of tech and resources, if it was the Enclave's last stand."

"It was." The courier sighed and shifted in their seat. "And it woke up some of our brothers and sisters to their original mission in the Capital Wasteland. I thought maybe that selfishness had died with Liberty Prime, but... well, I didn't like it, so I left."

"Mmm, yeah." Veronica nodded again, sympathetically this time. "I know how you feel. Felt."

"Feel," the courier agreed. "I just wish there was more I could've done. Maybe there wasn't anything else, short of seizing power."

"You'd definitely get pushback for that in the Brotherhood," Veronica agreed. "But you might get that chance out here in the broader Mojave."

ED-E: At first, ED-E enjoyed the stories, trumpeting and cooing various beeps at the appropriate moments for emphasis. The one time the courier began badmouthing the Enclave, however, the eyebot waited until they had finished before playing back the first tape that Dr. Whitley had recorded before its trip.

The courier listened to the scientist's words from years ago, deflating slightly as it played out. When the tape had finished, they stood up and checked the eyebot over. "He sent you toward Navarro, huh?"

ED-E beeped affirmation, and the courier sighed. "But Navarro was already gone. I'm sorry. I guess I'm... well, me and the Brotherhood of Steel back east are responsible for your previous master's decision to send you away. Might be responsible for more, too."

ED-E beeped sadly. The courier pressed their forehead against the eyebot's metal dome in apology.

Rex: Well, surprising for most. Rex was not most. As soon as the courier got really into their recollections, Rex usually yawned and went to sleep. He stirred when he felt their hand reach down to scratch the ruff of his neck, or pat the glass dome that held his brain.

"Good dog," the courier said, through the veil of sleep. "You remind me of another pup that used to follow me around."

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Enforcers Part 1: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: As a Kitsune, you're tasked with sniffing out the illegal activities of the underground and reporting them back to the Civic Service Bureau. You'll be partnered with a Leviathan, who is the muscle to carry out the arrests, but can you handle what he brings to the table?

wc: 2.1k

tw: none

masterlist

“Chins up, kitsune! Leave your confidence at the door, and become one with your fear. For the first time in your lives, you will come to stare death in the face. And, unlike at that rubbish academy you were at for the last four years of your life, this is the real deal.”

You look at the man pacing in front of you, his blonde hair slicked back and eyes covered with a pair of peculiar glasses. He’s wearing the standard grey uniform for the upper ranked kitsune with a spotted tie, which would normally be out of uniform, but he’s the head of communications in the Civic Service Bureau, so it doesn’t matter.

“There’s only one thing separating you from a Leviathan in this world. You there, tell me what it is!” Nanami Kento points to the pink-haired boy beside you and Yuji Itadori gulps.

“Uh… cool haircuts and tattoos?”

You groan internally, wondering how he made it through the four years of training without dropping out. “Incorrect. Y/n, tell me what separates you from a Leviathan in the Civic Service Bureau.”

“Our lifespan.”

“That’s right. On average, a kitsune will live ten to twelve years longer than their headstrong and combative partner, hence why there are more of them than there are of us. But that doesn’t mean be reckless. The entire bureau relies on the intel, insight, and reports you bring back from the field. Now, if you think this isn’t the desk job you were promised, you are free to leave. You were only invited here based on your ability to spy and not be caught. But if you’re ready to serve your nation in the most honorable way, stay here.” Not a single person out of the four of you shifts their movements. “Perfect,” Nanami murmurs, eyeing you all carefully. When his eyes rest on you, you notice the different assessment he gives you. It’s the one thing everyone does the first time you meet:

Is she as good as her parents were?

You’re here not only to answer that question but to exceed it. Your parents raised you for this moment - to take on any task thrown at you, spy as well as they did when they were in the Kitsune. You would do all of that and more, then when it came time for you to settle down, you would marry a fellow Kitsune and live in the Grand Sun District with your peers. The trajectory of your life looks like an arrow, shooting straight for the stars and never coming down until your own star wanes into the night. But by then, there would be a legacy tied to your name, and no one would be able to besmirch your reputation. Ever.

“Alright, you will all be paired with your Leviathan after dinner. Go and freshen up; you have a long night ahead of you.”

“Sir!” You all salute the man with fervor, then you’re ushered to your temporary dressing quarters where you’re instructed to shower until you’re thoroughly cleaned, then to dress in the standard Kitsune uniform - a light grey shirt and grey pants, with a grey jacket. As you stand in the shower and wash, you remember your parents’ words:

“You’re the reason there’s still good in this world. As a Kitsune, you give balance to the chaos of the universe.”

They always made the job seem like a superhero’s task, but you learned much more about the types of jobs you would take on when you went to the academy. But you’d risen to each and every challenge, no matter what, and graduated second in your class, behind Nobara Kugisaki.

As you slide on the pants provided to you, you wonder who they’ll pair you with. In the past, each Leviathan was paired with their equal Kitsune, which meant you would be paired with the second-ranked in the incoming group. But they changed that rule when Gojo Satoru switched from being first in the Kitsune to being first in the Leviathans a year ago, disrupting the entire ranking system. Ranks from the Academy were just a formality now, thanks to him.

“Fall in line!” You toss your jacket on, then join the other three in the main room, coming face to face with Yuki, the head of the Kitsune and Reconnaissance.

“You all look like a spry bunch. But I hate to say that the Leviathans you’ll be paired with are tougher than last year’s group. Excluding Gojo, of course.” You all hold your breath, but she smiles, turning to Nanami. “Dinner should be ready soon.”

_____________________________________________________________

The cafeteria is silent with Yuji, Nobara, Maki, and you eating as quickly as you can, trying your best to scarf down the tasteless meal before introducing your partners. Finally, once you swallow down your water, you stand, grunting.

“Alright, I’m done.”

“Hey, hotshot,” Nobara huffs. “We don’t meet them until they’re ready. And you know how Leviathans are.”

“Slow, lazy, quick to anger,” Yuji groans and Maki nods, shrugging.

You sit back down, tapping your fingers on the table. “Perhaps they could speed it up.”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Yui wonders innocently, pulling apart his bread roll.

“I want to get to work,” you admit, cracking your knuckles. “I’m itching to sniff out and dismantle some organizations.”

“Just because your parents took down the Motivir Group doesn’t mean you have to live up to their reputation.”

“Doesn’t mean I can slack off, either,” you grumble just as the doors to the cafeteria slide open. Yuki walks through, her brow raised curiously.

“It seems that they’re ready. Are you all set?”

The walk to the auditorium seems longer than it actually is as you pass by endless barracks, one of which would end up being where you stay in an adjoining room to your Leviathan. As your shoes clang on the metal rafters connecting the barracks to the main building, your heart beats feverishly in your chest. Of course, your Leviathan will be impressed that you’re the daughter of two prominent Kitsune, but would they expect you to--

“Watch your step.” You descend the staircase to the lobby of the auditorium and wait patiently for the doors to open. When they do, they reveal the hundreds of waiting Civic Service Bureau members, including the head of communication (Nanami Kento), head of surveillance (Mei Mei), head of foreign affairs (Yuta Okkotsu), Gojo Satoru, and of course, head of the Leviathans, Toji Fushiguro.

He sits in front of his group on the right side of the stage, elbows on his knees as he watches you all parade to the left side where the other Kitsune are seated. A scowl is painted on his face as he eyes each of you, and the Leviathans behind him look equally as bored, whispering to each other and snickering. You analyze the group, taking in their all-black attire and various haircuts, piercings, and tattoos.

When you look over to the Kitsune, they all look polished - hair slicked back, arms and legs free of any visible markings, and light grey attire. The only piercing you see among the crowd of your peers is in the ears, and even those are easily hidden. It wasn’t that you all were prudes or traditional, but to blend in, you had to be a blank slate, mentally and physically; adult tabula rasa.

“Is this thing on?” Toji groans, tapping the microphone just handed to him. You take your seat as he begins to speak, grumbling his words without enthusiasm. “Right. As you all know, today is the day when our newest members are paired with their partners and sent off on initial missions for an assessment of compatibility, blah, blah, blah. I’m going to skip the bullshit and get straight to the fun part.” Yuki mutters a string of curses as she gets up and snatches the mic from him, pushing her partner off to the side.

“Apologies, you all. We do have to read the pledge of the Civic Service Bureau before we continue.” You all stand, tapping two fingers to space between your brow and then to your heart, where they rest as you chant:

“I pledge allegiance to the Civic Service Bureau and to keeping the nation safe with authority, strength, and boldness.” The words echo in the auditorium, and then you all retake your seats.

“And now, a memorial to our fallen Kitsune and Leviathans.” The lights dim as the hologrammed faces of various Leviathans appear above the crowd. In addition to the many faces, there are two outlined in gold: Kitsune.

“Did you hear about the Leviathan that got his Kitsune killed while on a mission last year?” Maki whispers to Yuji, and you frown, turning in your seat.

“Huh?”

“Yeah,” Yuji answers. “I heard the Leviathan didn’t execute the raid properly, and the Kitsune was murdered by--”

“Shh!” Nobara hisses, turning back to watch the faces fade into the light, and the lights come back up as Yuki brings the mic back up to her lips.

“Alright, now I’ll pass it back to Toji so he can… do his job.” Yuki glares at the man and passes him the mic as he grins at her lazily.

“Thanks, Yuki. Such a riveting presentation. Let me start off by saying this year’s Leviathans have the grit and determination that moved even the Grand Council.” The Leviathans roar in response to this admission, acknowledging the head members of the Civic Service Bureau, who were conveniently not present. “Now, at the head of this year’s class, we have my own son, Megumi Fushiguro.” The black-haired, green-eyed man comes up to the stage, forgoing anything other than a blank look as Toji clasps his arm in solidarity. “He will be partnered with Nobara Kugisaki, as directed by the Grand Council.” Everyone claps as they should.

Nobara and Megumi shake hands, then move to the back of the stage to stand together.

“Next, we have Noritoshi Kamo,” Another blank-faced black-haired man. “And he will be paired with…” You anticipate your name being called second, thinking maybe they’ve reinstated the rank pairs rule. “Maki Zen’in.” You watch her walk up to Noritoshi and shake his hand, then join Nobara and Toji’s son. “Next, Choso Kamo and Yuji Itadori.” The two men forgo the traditional handshake and instead perform their own special handshake, no doubt practiced for this very moment. You look up to the elder Fushiguro, wondering who in the world was left for the daughter of heroes.

“This year, as we mourn the tragic loss of first-year Kitsune Yu Haibara, the Grand Council has moved to reassign his Leviathan in a show of forgiveness. So, for the second time - and for the first time in history - Geto Suguru will be paired with Y/n, as directed by special order from the Grand Council.” You don’t move from your seat as the massive man walks up to the stage, his black eyes roaming the crowd for his partner - you.

“Go,” Yuki urges you, but you can’t move.

There has to be a mistake.

“Y/n, please come up to the stage….” Toji rumbles. “Before I lose my patience.”

No. There’s something wrong.

“Get up there.” Yuki grabs your arm and lifts you out of your seat, pushing you toward the stage unceremoniously. When you finally stand in front of Geto Suguru, you look into his eyes and see… nothing. He stares at you, his silver nose ring shining in the lights, just like his long, black hair. But you don’t even shake his hand, opting to walk to the back and stand there, dumbfounded with crossed arms. Geto joins you, looking equally as miffed.

“Okay, great. So, that’s over, and now I can take a nap. Go have some light desserts, talk, get to know each other, and then go to your barracks.” Once everyone files out, you follow, searching for Gojo and Nanami. When you find them conversing at the chocolate fountain, you interrupt their conversation, temper flaring.

“Who chose that failure to be my partner?” you growl, pointing your finger at the man who lingers by himself at the back of the room, arms crossed over his chest as he observes the others.

“Whoa,” Gojo holds up his hands, taking a step back. “That’s a Grand Council question.”

“Partners can't be reassigned except in extreme circumstances,” Nanami reminds you. “This seems like an extreme circumstance, y/n.”

“He let his Kitsune get killed!” you yell, catching the attention of a few others nearby. “If you think my parents will allow this to--”

“Your parents are still under the directives of the Grand Council,” Yuki mentions, walking up to you. “They can’t get you reassigned even if they tried.”

“We’ll see about that,” you hiss, striding out of the lobby and to your assigned barrack before closing yourself off.

[mxpseudonym]

Indulgent

Pairing: Michael x Fem!Reader

Summary: Michael is your father’s easy to tease business parter and you are one lucky bitch. In which Michael Gray is an ass man and a thigh man who gets lost in the wap.  

Length: 2153 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Spicy, Smut, Oral Sex, Michael is a little punk as usual 

A/N: Michael won the spicy scenario contest! This was v fun to write and honestly, we love a cocky yet generous lover on this blog. Shout out to all my thick thigh thirsty bishes. 

--

"Are those new?" Michael asked, only shifting his eyes from the documents he was signing for a moment. You lifted your leg, showing off your new french stockings to your father's business partner. Bringing Shelby Company Ltd documents to be signed by Michael Gray himself was the only errand of your father's that you volunteered to help with. The ever serious, young businessman was easy on the eyes and easy to rile up- your two favorite things. 

"They are, Mr. Gray. I'm surprised you noticed. I didn't think country boys cared about such things, even when they become handsome company men." 

You couldn't help it. Calling Michael a "country boy" was your favorite jab as it was the one where he gave you an annoyed glare, much like he was now. He ignored you, however, and returned your documents to their folder. 

"Of course, I noticed. And did you buy them yourself?" 

"I did. I buy all of my lingerie." 

You smiled cheekily as you stood. You headed towards the door, documents in hand, when Michael stopped you by gripping your wrist. You turned and felt your back hit the wall next to the door when he took a step closer. 

"Are you wearing it now?" 

Though you'd been hoping for this moment, you still felt the heat warm your cheeks at such a question. Micheal's hand reached up, his knuckles brushing against your stomach and dragging the fabric against your skin. "Is there more under this?" 

"Yes," you finally answered softly. 

"Can I see it? Please?" 

As Michael scrunched up the fabric of your beaded dress, you thought about how devious he sounded whenever he used polite words. You'd be better off if he'd just commanded it. Michael pulled your dress up until it was above you bralette, and you shifted under his gaze. He let out a soft grunt and reached up. 

Your breath hitched in anticipation, ready for his touch. Instead, you heard the click of the lock next to you. It wasn't necessary. You strategically came after hours, and the office was empty. If anything, it was a signal to you for what was about to come. 

"Hold this."

It took a moment before you realized he wanted you to stand here, back pressed against the wall of his office, holding your skirt by the hem, so a man you hadn't even had dinner with had his way with you. Who were you to disobey?

Michael kneeled before you, still eyeing you with a look of satisfaction and renewed hunger. He found your waist, caressing up to your ribs then down to grasp your fleshy backside covered in silky, lacey delicates. 

If his touch hadn't already set your face aflame, the eager moan that left you at the feeling of Michael's unforgiving groping would have done it. 

He swore under his breath before leaning in and pressing his lips against your stomach. His hands slid from your backside down to massage your thighs as he placed open-mouthed kisses against your tummy. Every so often, he'd bite down, quick to cover the teeth marks with a hot, soothing tongue before you could complain. 

You'd slept with a few people before, but this was a different kind of act. Were you always this sensitive? Or perhaps it was the way Michael seemed to be trying to consume. Your new stockings were a bit tight on the lining, and the garters pressed into the meat of your thigh as you were still getting used to adjusting the clasps. The combination made the pudge of your thighs spill over in a way you weren't sure about, but Michael couldn't get enough of. 

His nimble fingers played with the hems of your stockings, dipping under them almost absentmindedly before letting the material snap. His fingers slipped under the straps of your garter as well, teasing you further until he moved from your stomach, now littered in love bites, to lean down and bite at your thighs. You could feel the hot dampness of his tongue through your stockings for only a moment before he moved on. 

"Michael," you gasped loudly when he shamelessly pressed a kiss to your mound through the fabric. He paused. You thought you'd upset him, but after a moment, you felt a soft vibration against your hips. He was... laughing. 

Michael looked up at you through his eyelashes, and you almost gasped at how boyish he looked in that moment, the first time he'd looked straight into your eyes since moving down your body. 

"Y/n, you can take more, can't you? I even haven't done anything yet." 

There's a wicked smugness about his words that left you pouting. "Stop that." He gives the order seriously, and you take your bottom lip between your teeth instead. "Good girl."

Your fingers clenched around the hem that was now anchored at your bust. Everything Michael was saying went straight to your core. Though he was teasing, you hoped Michael was right about you being able to take more. 

His unspoken statement of "are you this wanton already" was apparent. He'd hardly started, and you were already trembling and so close to the edge. It wasn't your fault, you decided. He was the one who was as calculated as ever, even in the way he unclasped your garters to tug your shorts down your legs. 

"Can you multitask?" He asked, arrogant as ever. You nearly slammed your legs closed around his stupid face. However, he reached up and pulled down one of your hands, guiding it to hold up your leg by the back of your knee. Your back pressed harder against the wall as you adjusted to your new balancing act. 

Gingerly, Michael leaned forward and kissed your aching pussy, making your breath hitch. He leaned back and looked up at you, the glint of his lips apparent even before he slowly licked his lips. You said his name weakly, meaning to scold him for being vulgar. He pushed all of your words away, however.

"You're so wet."

He was leaning in again, and you could only tilt your head back in delight but also disbelief that this was even happening as Michael indulged. 

Indulgence was the perfect word for it. Michael wasn't one to rush, but he'd never waste time. His nosed skimmed the soft hair on your mound as he nudged your clit. Michael moaned when his tongue laved over the length of you. He was eating you well. He was eating you for fun. 

You hadn't thought about staying quiet due to your whereabouts, and you were glad for it seeing as you would have failed. Your cries filled the air of the office, making both of you even hotter. Michael dipped between your folds, prodding your entrance with a stiff tongue and making you a bit dizzy as the heat that had rushed to your face ran between your legs.

Michael, for a moment, took inventory of the situation without stopping his efforts. Maybe something was off if he had this good of a time, not that that would have hindered him. Your thighs were warm around him, you were positively trembling, and making you cum as a way to shut you up was becoming addictive. He can hardly keep up with your bucking hips as you cum from his tongue, circling your sensitive bud. As you panted, you could feel Michael's breath against your still twitching cunt as he spoke into it, almost to himself. 

"Mm, you taste sweet. Dripping too."

Though this wasn't planned, there was a natural flow to these things. Michael had fully expected to be inside of you by now. But you looked enticing in your lingerie, and your skin was so soft he couldn't help but kiss the inside of your thighs. And you were whining for more? He could feel himself bulging against his pants, and yet he couldn't stop himself from diving back in. He needed more. 

He fired you from the job of holding your leg up and threw it over his shoulder instead. Your hand clenched his hair, earning a deep groan from the man beneath you. Your hips rocked against his mouth, and he quickly matched your rhythm, never letting you escape from the pleasure you instinctively felt was too much. 

"Ah, Micheal, please," you panted. A sudden pinch to your backside made you jump and look down at him with wide eyes. 

"I said hold it," he said, face glossy with you. You realized only then that you'd dropped your dress, and it was disrupting his progress. 

"S-sorry, Mr. Gray" 

"If you can't hold it, bite it for Christ's sake," he said, dismissive as ever. And yet, the was a glint in his eye from you saying his name that way made you realize it was a new command. Michael looked you over, your eyes teary from your dress now stuffed in your mouth like a gag and a muffled whimper coming from you when he hungrily licked his smirking lips.

Seeing you like this was more than he could ask for. Your cries were muffled but no longer held back. He looped an arm under your leg, keeping your hips still with a firm hand. The least he could do was release anything holding him back as well. 

You came again from his mouth alone, and yet you felt a stiff finger slide into you before you were even sure your waves of pleasure had subsided. Michael's tongue flattened against your bud, and your head fell back, eyes clenched shut. Having something to clench around was more than satisfying.

"Can I have you like this all the time, love?" Michael asked, watching your face as he added a second finger with ease. Your whimper at the initial feeling turned into a loud moan when he curled them inside of you. "Maybe not, though. You can barely keep it together. You should see yourself right now, y/n."

"Mm!" Even if you weren't gagged, you still would have had trouble calling his name. Every thought left your head. Only the chase of more releases and the sound of Michael's voice remained. 

"Can't help that you're addicting, y/n. I did want to have you over the couch or something, but that'll have to wait. I want to tire you out just like this. You're a tight little thing too. Squeezing the life out of me, just from a couple of fingers." 

He chuckled, and the familiar embarrassment that also made you more aroused shot through you. He pressed deep into you and massaged your walls, pushing you off the edge once again. He let you pull his hair with both hands, only groaning as his head tilted back from the force. 

Even like this, he didn't stop. Instead, he used the added wetness to add a finger. 

"Sorry, I'm greedy. Can I have one more, y/n? Just one more okay?" He said it so casually you'd think he was saying one more cigarette or one more pint. He pulled the dress from your mouth, revealing the ache in your jaw that you couldn't be bothered with yet. 

"I want to hear you." 

He pressed a hand against your stomach, holding the dress and your hips still as he leaned him and attacked your clit once more. The tightening coil in your lower belly was almost overwhelming now. 

"Oh god, too much, too deep," 

"Hm? You're not making sense, love," Michael said just as he began a steady pace of pressing the sweet spot deep in you. "It's too much?" You only responded with your eyes rolling back as you shivered. "You're this worked up from my fingers. How do you think you'll be when I actually get inside of you?" 

The thought itself made your walls flutter around him. Your body tensed and released as you cried out. Michael continued until you were calmed, merely whimpering. He freed you, and you slowly found yourself panting on your knees. 

Through hooded eyes, you watched Michael lick your cum from his fingers. How did this country boy end up this way? He pulled his handkerchief out and cleaned his hands, then his face. 

"Sorry, you didn't get a taste, love. Here." 

Michael let you slump forward into his arms, wrapping you in his warmth before kissing you. His tongue pressed past your lips before you could even think to stop it. As he intended, you could taste yourself all over him. 

Something stirred in you, but you were too spent at the moment to do much more than getting drunk off of this sinful kiss. Michael kissed you fervently until finally, they came soft and lazy. When he pulled away, he cupped your cheek. 

"That was good," you finally said. You leaned against Michael's chest and closed your eyes, allowing a small smile to grace your lips. "For a country boy." 

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Royal Rakshasa Guard (Aureus)

Relationship: Male Monster x Female Reader

Summary: Out and about when you weren’t supposed to be, you get caught by one of your favourite guards.

The Gilded Guard

One then two then three.

The blade swished and moved around you, whipping around your head, but the two of you were one and melding together. Like a leaf, it could sway and float in the air without disrupting those around it, one with a serene atmosphere. You had heard this before, but not intentionally.

Sweat built on your forehead, seeping into your hairline as you continued to keep in time with the beats of every hit: dodging and weaving as your opponent continued with their attacks. You were lucky for the helmet guarding your face for protection and recognition, the head of your King father’s military was relentless when it came to training rookies, and not once did he seem to slacken.

“Again,” his voice was strained from the possible exhaustion. “Up, on your feet—widen your stance, boy.”

“Sir.” You obeyed gruffly, your short posture seemed to help keep your balance for the most parts, but you found yourself constantly being thrown off your feet every so often. It was no wonder Aureus was the perfect fit to be your personal guard: protective, loyal and true, looking for the best of everyone around him but himself.

The sword in hand wasn’t as long and sweeping compared to his spear, easily able to knock you off and hit in places where you knew it would leave bruises. But for every hit meant it would be easy to shake off the fall. Get up, up before he strikes you whilst you’re still down.

His golden eyes seemed to mistakenly hold some pity for you, not as much as all the other times you had trained. To him, some lackey who was shorter and skinnier than all the other boys appeared out of nowhere, a wooden sword in hand and always wearing a helmet. The only thing he could see where your eyes: bright and eager, your small exterior attempted to hold some power when you spoke that one early morning in the training yard.

‘I require a shield and sword. Mornings before dawn for your lessons so you teach me to become a warrior.’

“Twist your arm more—turn into the strikes—yes, better. Again.” Your personal guard was as tall and lean as any other knight of a high rank: dressed in the shining armour that held no scratch nor scrape to the material, as clean and glistening as golden coins. His name held a fitting meaning.

Marvelling at his looks didn’t help you allow to concentrate, subsequently, the earth met your body as you crumpled to the ground with a grunt, squeezing the wind out your lungs. You attempted to get back up again, the soreness to your body didn’t help when all you wanted was a hot bath for your muscles, but Aureus dismissed you. “We finish for this morning, lad.”

“But I’m far from done,” you caught your breath, panting. “Do we not have another 5 minutes, Sir?”

The Rakshasa’s charisma grew on the broadness of his smile, his face relaxing with ease. “I must attend to the Princess, she will be up and ready for her sewing by now. I must leave, until tomorrow.”

“Oh.” You realised too late, your guard down. “Thank you, Sir. Until tomorrow.” You hurriedly bowed and took off the opposite way, hoping that Aureus didn’t say anything in question. The Rakshasa watched quietly, observing your retreating form as you scurried across the courtyard, opposite to where the barracks of where the recruits stayed. Sighing to himself, he collected the wooden swords and spears back up before making his way to where he needed to go.

Only now did the sun begin to reach the red mountains, kissing the amber sky and reaching towards the town in surrounding golds and oranges. The golden sands surrounding the town grew with life as people grew bustling with their businesses: royal guards swapping in patrol with those of the night-time shift, with the head of the guard greeting those he spotted.

The dusky hues were bold and bright across the empire of sands, glittering brightly like gemstones across the palace tiles, giving the name of the Ruby City a fitting name.

Aureus stretched as he made his way through the courtyard to your apartment, greeting the maids as he passed, approaching your door and knocking curtly. The small “come in!” from the inside brought him to open the large wooden door, greeting you was always a treat for his day.

You always somehow managed to be awake before he arrived: stretched like a cat in the sunlight by the window, calmly and quietly proceeding with your embroidery. What you were sewing was indistinct to Aureus, just from how crooked your stitches were.

“Good morning, Aureus,” you smiled to him earnestly, your cheeks flushed with morning glow. “Had a productive morning so far?”

“So far strenuous, but my morning has brightened by being in your presence.” He greeted, bowing dutifully. His golden armour shone even in the shade of your apartment. “His Grace has asked for your presence for breakfast.”

“Very well.” you hopped down and placed your things down, passing him slowly, almost dragging your body across as if you were in pain. Your knight was quick to notice something was wrong practically immediately, “Princess, are you well?”

“Yes, I just—didn’t sleep very well last night. I will need a bath for my muscles.” You corrected sincerely, though Aureus didn’t respond with your explanation. His ears flattened against his head, his expression drawn from the notion. It was interrupted when he felt you link arms with him. “Come now, let me greet my sisters.”

Your sisters Marguerite and Cassia had been ten-and-two and eight compared to you near to your adulthood. Though they had taken on the more devoted roles of court, they were better ladies compared to you. You would know they would be better rulers compared to you when the issue of the throne would one day come.

“Oh, looks who finally decided to join us,” Marguerite was the first to announce your arrival into the large dining hall, smiling when she spotted the Rakshasa behind you. “How was your morning, dear sister?”

“Swell,” you quipped, coming round to kiss your father on the cheek. “What is the agenda today, father?”

“Lords and their sons come from the west in hopes of joining kingdoms through marriage,” the emperor was small and kindly from his seat at the head of the table. “You and Marguerite will be there to welcome our guests, and I shall match you with suitable sons.”

Your smile dropped from your face and you silently took your seat, the middle sister being the one to voice her opinions as bitterly as you had been thinking. “I suppose I shall send off my freedom now. At least some people get their freedom now to defy the norms of society.”

“No-one is doing that,” you warned quickly. “We all have our duties as women and young girls. We do what father thinks is suitable for us.”

“Yes, suitable.”

You rose from the table, Aureus was quick to follow you out as you said your excuses of not being hungry, straining in the corset of your dress as you left. You didn’t need to say much to Aureus as you went back into your room, the Rakshasa hovering in the doorway. “Princess?”

“You are free for the rest of the day, Aureus,” you forced a smile, strained as you had been in your clothing. “I don’t think you would want to spend it with me.”

“Quite the contrary, Princess,” he couldn’t help the smile to adorn his features, dazzling teeth on show. “But if you wish for me to leave you be, I shall have someone stand outside your room.”

He bowed courteously, his smile radiant as he took his leave. He would leave you for the rest of the day, knowing that you wouldn’t need him for your studies and lessons, but lingering close by if anything were to happen. Though he knew of your duties that were required, he knew of the love so unrequited that it stung his chest whenever you were nearby. A protective love – perhaps at first – but he saw your drive and wants, your dreams and strength, something that made him swell with pride. Had you been able to marry whoever you wanted, he would’ve been hoping your heart would’ve felt the same for him, but he didn’t believe you felt that same way within your chest.

The next day came and he had left his post earlier than expected, leaving another guard to train the rookies as he had decided to go to your room in hopes of speaking to you about his… feelings. A heartfelt confession, perhaps? No—you could decline his feelings that same day, but there was no hope in trying.

He had reached your apartment with his legs carrying him quickly, knocking once, then twice at the door, loud enough for you to hear, and when he heard movement from the inside, he was left bewildered when the person he wasn’t expecting opened the door.

You were there more ready than he had expected for the day, your hair tied in a neat knot, bare with little makeup on that you were required to wear at court. You seemed just as stunned to see him there, rigid in place with what you were wearing. Instead of wearing the normal heavy garments, you were dressed in boy’s trousers, a training doublet and breastplate were too bulky on you and hid your lithe figure, making you appear more boyish to what you normally wore. In your grip was the same helmet the boy he trained wore, tarnished and beaten with age.

You seemed to be outweighing whether to speak or close the door on him, your eyes shifting, “I can explain.”

“Oh,” Aureus piqued, a smile growing. “Knowing that you were the one that punched that boy’s tooth out makes this a whole lot better.”

“Please, Aureus. Don’t tell my father—if he were to hear of this-” your eyes were wide and frantic, but he was quick to step in and close the door so no soul could hear. “He will not be pleased if he finds out.”

“He doesn’t need to know, Princess,” the Rakshasa assured slowly, taking your hand into his, kneading your fingers carefully. “I will not tell a soul.”

You looked at your hands connected with awe, your eyes searching his own for something you didn’t know, but there seemed to be relief bubbling over the surface of your vague expression. “If there is one thing I must ask, would you continue doing something for me?”

“Continue what, Princess?”

“Continue training with me,” you hushed, squeezing at his paw. “I do not want to stop something like this with you. Even if I must cover my face, I do not want to lose this opportunity.”

Aureus’ laugh was full of mirth, gently bringing you to him in a reassuring hug, nudging you with his head. “Then this will not stop, my Princess.”

-

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[diavolosthots]

Hi there! I love your writing so much, your angst is one of my favorites to read because they always hit me in the feels. Can I request a hc or imagine (I can’t remember what they’re called) about Diavolo x Satan where Satan feels insecure because he thinks that Diavolo is with him as he was once a part of Lucifer, who doesn’t hold romantic love for Diavolo. You can add some smut if you want, I’m perfectly okay with the angst either way 😁!

I wrote this and posted it on AO3 first but here it is. Hope you like it anyway!

Warning: like 1 dust crump of slight NSFW if you look hard enough

Love's Poem (SATAN X DIAVOLO)

Love is such an unpredictable thing.It comes so unexpectedly and knocks you over, or it will come gently and embrace you in its arms. Love is also odd. You may feel it strongly, almost too overwhelming, you will find peace in it, almost as if a blanket is draped over your shoulders. Love may come in full force, or it will come agonizingly slow. In Satan’s case, love could’ve been anything, but it was always there, he noted. Despite his exterior and the picture people painted of him, he always wanted to feel it, to experience it, to have it… and only in his books did he ever find it. It’s almost sad, really, pathetic. Or at least, Satan thinks so. A millennia old being holding on to such a childish dream, and yet… he can’t seem to let go of it. He has hope for it and he longs for it, but he isn’t foolish. He won’t blindly reach out for it. “Patience is a virtue.” he says, even if he finds it hard to be patient for a lot of things. He craves to be in love so desperately, laying there day and night with his nose buried in a book that tells of things he has yet to experience. A poem. A poem is what he yearns to create with someone else; a poem of their lives together. 

In all his yearning and waiting and desperation, though, he failed to realize that the poem had long started to be written. He failed to realize its soft touches, its gentle glances, and its sweet words calling out to him. He was so preoccupied with the paper it was supposed to be written on that he failed to notice the ink creating words on it. When he finally did notice, though, it was neither calm nor overwhelming. It was there, and Satan felt as if it had always been, because it had been. Still, when he realized whom he held it for, he was taken aback. Diavolo was never someone he excessively thought about… or so he thought. Diavolo, too, took a while to see Satan in such a new light and only when the two of them shared a moment over some literature did the Demon Lord realize just how deeply he could feel for the fourth born.

But Satan was unsure. He was questioning the demon’s motives, and quite honestly, he was scared. Scared of giving his all only to be left in the dust. To him, as much confidence as he bears and he truly does, coming from the Avatar of Pride himself and all, to himself, Satan was no one special. He’s attractive, very much so, and of course highly intelligent, but he also realizes how much of a brat he can be, or a bore, depending on the day. Diavolo was a manchild with insecurities, and Satan had said that more than once. Yet, their relationship blossomed and Satan found himself quite attached to the man, and vice versa. Diavolo felt like he had someone to confide in, someone who gave it to him straight but also comforted him. Someone he could experience things with and have a calm, peaceful evening with every night. Satan appreciated being brought out of his room, in which he would otherwise have been holed up in, and although he wasn’t after Diavolo for the money, status, or fame, he also appreciated the extravagance that his life brought to him. They balanced each other out, in the most unlikely ways, and both of them knew it.

Still, on one some days, Satan felt more like a shadow than anything. “Lucifer will come by today” again. “You won’t believe what Lucifer told me earlier” yes he will. “Lucifer” this “Lucifer” that. He understands that the two of them are close, after all Diavolo considers the first born his best friend. It angered Satan, though. Was he not enough? Does Diavolo still have to bring up Lucifer when he knows how the former feels about him? It’s not for a lack of communication, either. Satan has voiced his distaste quite a lot and changed the subject on more than one occasion, but a part of him also feels terrible for wanting to keep the Prince’s best friend away. “Satan!” especially when the guy so happily calls his name. “Hm?” It was nice outside, although when is it not in the Devildom. It rarely ever rains or snows or storms, and the temperature is always perfect to the demons. Satan was sitting under one of the trees in the courtyard at the House of Lamentation, reading one of his many books although he had a feeling that won’t last long. “Hm? That’s all I’m getting?” The pout that graced the Prince’s lips made Satan smile and a soft blush tint his cheeks. He looks up at the man, pursing his lips up into a kiss and waiting for Diavolo to take it. This is what he means when he says he wants a romance like in the books he reads. 

Diavolo leaned down to give one to him happily before falling into the grass. Somewhere behind them, they could hear Barbatos gasp, probably because the butler knows just how clumsy his Lord could be, but Diavolo waved him off and laid his head in Satan’s lap, who laid his book on top of Diavolo’s face. “Hey! I came all the way here and I got the cold book?” “You disrupted my reading” all meant in good humor, of course. Diavolo pushed the book off of his face and reached a hand up to brush along Satan’s cheek, which made the latter blush deeply. He’s still not fully used to this type of affection. “Hm… you look so handsome today. Did you do anything special to yourself?” Satan rolled his eyes although he did manage to turn his head and kiss Diavolo’s hand before it moved behind Satan’s ear to scratch it. Satan groaned softly, shivering slightly. Diavolo knows damn well that that is one of his weak spots. “There it is…. Good kitten.” Satan knows it’s a mock and although he’s blushing profusely, he’s also flicking Diavolo’s forehead, making him laugh. “Watch it. Kitten’s can claw.” Diavolo only growled playfully in response. 

“Can you believe us? A few months ago you didn’t even like me.” That’s not entirely true, he was just vary of the Demon Lord for over a few millennia, “and then Lucifer told me to just go for it.” Ah yes, Lucifer. Satan held back the urge to roll his eyes. “And then he said ‘Lord Diavolo, you would be not only blind but also a fool if you let this opportunity pass’ because he knew way more than either of us did.” The hell he did. “And you know what I said?” No, but he’s sure that Diavolo’s about to tell him. “I said, ‘Lucifer, my friend, don’t you worry. I will never take your beloved brother and son without first asking for permission’” Satan’s eye is twitching now and he finally found it in himself to say something, too, “is that all?” Diavolo’s smile slowly dropped when he saw Satan’s reaction and he was genuinely confused, slowly lifting his head from the guy’s lap and looking at him confused, “yes? Is something the matter?” He’s trying. He’s trying so hard not to snap right now so he just closes his eyes and just breathes for a couple of moments, “you know Lucifer said that when you--!” 

A growl escaped Satan and this time he actually did snap, whipping his head around to look at Diavolo. “Yeah? He said that? Must be nice. Anything else he said? Anything else he would like to add to our relationship or does he want to include himself next?!” Diavolo just stared at him blankly for a moment, unsure on how to approach this, “what? No. No, it’ll always be just us.” Blatant. Fucking. Lie. “apparently not! It’s Lucifer this, Lucifer that, and if you want Lucifer that badly, you can go and get him. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know that he ruined yet another thing!” anger is getting to him and the next thing he says was neither thought out nor actually meant to ever leave his lips, “you’re probably just with me to get back at Lucifer, am I right? Poor little Lucifer wouldn’t give you his heart so you go to the next best thing; me!” Diavolo was taken aback by that last statement and for a moment he just stared at Satan, his mouth hanging open, but it soon turned into a glare. 

“Is that what you think? That my feelings are a lie? If you believe me to be such a liar, why are you with me?” Because he loves him, duh. He hates how much he feels for him but he can’t stop it, that’s why constantly hearing about Lucifer drives him insane. “I only want you, Satan, and I thought I made that pretty clear, but apparently not.” Diavolo sat up on his knees and for a moment he thought the guy was going to get up and leave, but he didn’t. Instead, he slammed his hands flat against the tree Satan was leaning against, glaring down at the fourth born before his eyes soften. “Stop being so jealous of your brother.” “I’m not jealous! You’re the one who only ever talks about him when your attention should be on me!” No matter how nice Diavolo was being right now, Satan is still glaring at the Lord, who turned his head and nodded at Barbatos. For what, Satan didn’t know, but it was for something. “Look at me Satan.” His eyes turned back up to look into Diavolo’s gold ones, holding so much softness and love, “I love you and only you.” 

Satan rolled his eyes and he was about to push Diavolo off and away, but the latter cupped the blond’s face and kissed him softly before resting his head against his. “Lucifer is my best friend, yes, but you’re my lover and if I wanted to pursue anyone other than you, I would’ve, but I didn’t. Don’t be angry.” Although it is hot when Satan gets angry and if this wasn’t such a serious discussion, Diavolo would’ve definitely made a move. The blush returned to Satan’s cheeks and he tried turning his head away, but Diavolo wouldn’t let him. “No. Say it back. I know you do.” Satan mumbled it under his breath because he knows he loves the guy too. “What? What’s that?” “I love you too…” “a little louder, Satan.” The blond glared at him and Diavolo couldn’t help but laugh, kissing him again, this time a bit deeper before he grabbed Satan’s hips and fell back into the grass with him, making sure the demon landed on top. “I said I love you too…” He’s been atop Diavolo so many times, but every time he feels like it’s the first time. “There you go. It’s way easier being honest, isn’t it?” Diavolo’s hips playfully snapped up against Satan’s and the blond’s blush deepened, barely able to steady himself on Diavolo’s chest.

“Whatever… Just don’t forget I’m your only one.” 

[kaile-hultner]

Nihilism is so easy, which is why we need to kill it

(I initially published this here a couple weeks ago.)

So last night it dawned on me that, after over two years of being relatively symptom-free, my depression snuck back up on me and has taken over. It’s still pretty mild in comparison to other times I’ve been stuck in the hole, but after 24 months (and more) of mostly being good to go, I can tell that it’s here for a hot minute again.

How do I know? Well, it might be the fact that I spent more time sleeping during my recent vacation from work than I did just about anything else, and how it’s suddenly really hard for me to stay awake during work hours. I don’t really have an appetite, and in fact nausea hits me frequently. I don’t really have any emotional reactions to things outside of tears, even when tears aren’t super appropriate to the situation (like watching someone play Outer Wilds for the first time). And I’ve been consuming a lot of apocalyptic media, to which the only response, emotional or otherwise, I can really muster is “dude same.”

For a long time I was huge into absurdist philosophy, because it felt to my depressed brain like just the right balance between straight up denying that things are bad (and thus we should fix them, or at least try to do so) and full-blown nihilism. This gives absurdism a lot of credit; mostly it’s just a loose set of spicy existentialist ideas and shit that sounds good on a sticker, like “The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.”

In the last couple years, while outside of my depressive state, I went back to Camus’ work and found a lot of almost full-on abusive shit in it. Not toward anyone specifically, but shit like “nobody and nothing will care if you’re gone, so live out of spite of them all” rubs me the wrong way in retrospect. The philosophy Camus puts out opens the door for living in a very self-destructive fashion; that in fact the good life is living without care for yourself or anyone/anything else. The way Camus describes and derides suicide especially is grim as fuck, and certainly I would never recommend The Myth of Sisyphus to anyone currently struggling with ideation. That “perfect balance” between denial and nihilism is really not that perfect at all, and in fact skews much more heavily towards the latter.

Neon Genesis Evangelion has been a big albatross around my neck in terms of the media products I’ve consumed in my life that I believe have influenced my depression hardcore. It sits in a similar conversational space to Camus’ work, in that it confronts nihilism and at once rejects and facilitates it. A lot of folks remark that Evangelion is pretty unique – or at least uncommon – in its accurate portrayal of depression, especially for mid-90s anime properties. The thing I notice always seems to be missing in these discussions is that along with that accurate portrayal comes a spot-on – to me, at least – depiction of what depression does to resist being treated. This is a disease that uses a person’s rational faculties to suggest that nobody else could possibly understand their pain, and therefore there’s no use in getting better or moving forward. Shinji Ikari is as self-centered as Hideaki Anno is as I am when it comes to confronting the truth: there are paths out of this hole, but nobody else can take that step out but us, and part of our illness is that refusal to do just that. Depression lies, it provides a cold comfort to the sufferer, that there is no existence other than the one where we are in pain and there is no way out, so pull the blanket up over our head and go back to sleep.

Watching Evangelion for the first time corresponded with the onset of one of the worst depressive spirals I’ve ever been in, and so, much like the time I got a stomach virus at the same time that I ate Arby’s curly fries, I kind of can’t associate Evangelion with anything else. No matter what else it might signify, no matter what other meaning there is to derive from it, for me Eva is the Bad Feeling Anime™. Which is why, naturally, I had to binge all four of the Evangelion theatrical releases upon the release of Evangelion 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon A Time last month.

If Neon Genesis Evangelion and End of Evangelion are works produced by someone with untreated depression just fucking rawdogging existence, then the Eva movies are works produced by someone who has gone to therapy even just one fucking time. Whether that therapy is working or not is to be determined, but they have taken that step out of the hole and are able to believe that there is a possibility of living a depression-free life. The first 40 minutes or so of Evangelion 3.0+1.0 are perfect cinema to me. The world is destroyed but there is a way to bring it back. Restoration and existence is possible even when the surface of the planet might as well be the surface of the Moon. The only thing about this is, everyone has to be on board to help. Even though WILLE fired one of its special de-corefication devices into the ground to give the residents of Village 3 a chance at survival, the maintenance of this pocket ecosystem is actively their responsibility. There is no room or time for people who won’t actively contribute, won’t actively participate in making a better world from the ashes of the old.

There are a lot of essentialist claims and assumptions made by the film in this first act about how the body interacts with the social – the concept of disability itself just doesn’t seem to have made it into the ring of safety provided by Misato and the Wunder, which seems frankly wild to me, and women are almost singularly portrayed in traditionalist support roles while men are the doers and the fixers and the makers. I think it’s worth raising a skeptical eyebrow at this trad conservative “back to old ways” expression of the post-apocalypse wherever it comes up, just as it’s important to acknowledge where the movie pushes back on these themes, like when Toji (or possibly Kensuke) is telling Shinji that, despite all the hard work everyone is doing like farming and building, the village is far from self-sufficient and will likely always rely on provisions from the Wunder.

As idyllic as the setting is, it’s not the ideal. As Shinji emerges from his catatonia, Kensuke takes him around the village perimeter. It’s quiet, rural Japan as far as the eye can see, but everywhere there are contingencies; rationing means Kensuke can only catch one fish a week, all the entry points where flowing water comes into the radius of the de-corefication devices have to be checked for blockages because the water supply will run out. There is a looming possibility that the de-corefication machines could break or shut down at some point, and nobody knows what will happen when that happens. On the perimeter, lumbering, pilot-less and headless Eva units shuffle around; it is unknown whether they’re horrors endlessly biding their time or simply ghosts looking to reconnect to the ember of humanity on the other side of the wall. Survival is always an open question, and mutual aid is the expectation. Still: the apocalypse happened, and we’re still here. The question Village 3 answers is “what now?” We move on, we adapt.

Evangelion is still a work that does its level best to defy easy interpretation, but the modern version of the franchise has largely abandoned the nihilism that was at its core in the 90s version. It’s not just that Shinji no longer denies the world until the last possible second – it’s that he frequently actively reaches out and is frustrated by other people’s denials. He wants to connect, he wants to be social, but he’s also burdened with the idea that he’s only good to others if he’s useful, and he’s only useful if he pilots the Eva unit. This last movie separates him and what he is worth to others (and himself) from his agency in being an Eva pilot, finally. In doing so, he’s able to reconcile with nearly everyone in his life who he has harmed or who has hurt him, and create a world in which there is no Evangelion. While this ending is much more wishful thinking than one more grounded in the reality of the franchise – one that, say, focuses on the existence and possible flourishing of Village 3 and other settlements like it while keeping one eye on the precarious balancing act they’re all playing – it feels better than the ending of End of Eva, and even than the last two episodes of the original series.

I’m glad the nihilism in Evangelion is gone, for the most part. I’m glad that I didn’t spend roughly eight hours watching the Evamovies only to be met yet again with a message of “everything is pointless, fuck off and die.” Because I’ve been absorbing that sentiment a lot lately, from a lot of different sources, and it really just fuckin sucks to hear over and over again.

It is a truth we can’t easily ignore that the confluence of pandemic, climate change, authoritarian surge and capitalist decay has made shit miserable recently. But the spike in lamentations over the intractability of this mix of shit – the inevitability of our destruction, to put it in simpler terms – really is pissing me off. No one person is going to fix the world, that much is absolutely true, but if everyone just goes limp and decides to “123 not it” the apocalypse then everyone crying about how the world is fucked on Twitter will simply be adding to the opening bars of a self-fulfilling prophesy.

We can’t get in a mech to save the world but then, neither realistically could Shinji Ikari. What we can do looks a lot more like what’s being done in Village 3: people helping each other with limited resources wherever they can.

Last week, Hurricane Ida slammed into the Gulf Coast and churned there for hours – decimating Bayou communities in Louisiana and disrupting the supply chain extensively – before powering down and moving inland. Last night the powerful remnants of that storm tore through the Northeast, causing intense flooding. Areas not typically affected by hurricanes suddenly found themselves in a similar boat – pun not intended – to folks for whom hurricanes are simply a fact of life. There’s a once-in-a-millennium drought and heatwave ripping through the West Coast and hey – who can forget back in February when Oklahoma and Texas experienced -20 degree temperatures for several days in a row? All of this against the backdrop of a deadly and terrifying pandemic and worsening political climate. It’s genuinely scary! But there are things we can do.

First, if you’re in a weather disaster-prone area, get to know your local mutual aid organizations. Some of these groups might be official non-profits; one such group in the Louisiana area, for example, is Common Ground Relief. Check their social media accounts for updates on what to do and who needs help. If you’re not sure if there’s one in your area, check out groups like Mutual Aid Disaster Relief for that same information. Even if you’re not in a place that expects to see the immediate effects of climate change, you should still consider linking up with organizing groups in your area. Tenant unions, homeless organizations, safe injection sites and needle exchanges, immigrant rights groups, environmental activist orgs, reproductive health groups – all could use some help right now, in whatever capacity you might be able to provide it.

In none of these scenarios are we going to be the heroes of the story, and we shouldn’t view this kind of work in that way. But neither should we give into the nihilistic impulse to insist upon doing nothing, insist that inaction is the best course of action, and get back under the blankets for our final sleep. Kill that impulse in your head, and fuck, if you have to, simply just fucking wish for that better world. Then get out of bed and help make it happen.

[asian-hero]

oh also, wouldn’t it be funny for like, momo, iida, bakugou (basically the parent friends) finding out that their s/o listens to their music on full blast when they’re using earbuds/headphones and is just choosing to go deaf?? (totally not exposing myself lmao -❤️)

A/N: Honestly that’s me too, and every time I have to get my hearing checked I get nervous because of how loud I play my music 

Bakugou Katsuki

Katsuki would be the first to judge you, but have absolutely no room to talk

This man, while it may seem as though he’s reckless and careless, he’s anything but. Of course, he goes to bed at eight, but he also makes sure that he eats a balanced dish for every meal of the day in order to get all of the nutrients that’s needed to sustain his body, he also keeps up with his hygiene, and he also makes sure that whenever he’s listening to music or watching a video, he tries his best to turn it to the lowest volume he can while still being able to hear what’s playing

Though, of course, with his quirk comes some negative setbacks, such as being hard of hearing, which is why he often ends up yelling most of the time, just so he can hear himself and make sure that he’s saying the right thing

However, when he walks up to you one day, screaming your name, he’s extremely surprised to see that you don’t flinch, or even acknowledge that he’s there. At first, he just assumes that you’re trying to be a smart ass by “pretending” to not hear him, so he yells your name again, a bit louder than before. When you still don’t respond, he wonders if he did anything to upset you that day, and takes a seat next to you, finally gaining your attention when he puts his hand on your thigh

Of course, you jump slightly, turning to face him while pulling an earbud out of your ear, looking at him with such a confused expression while asking if he needed anything from you. He stares at you for a few moments, just silently wondering how loud your music was playing for you not to be able to hear him. So, like the gremlin he is, he pulls your other earbud out, and puts them both in his own ears, finding himself surprised when the noise blasting from your phone hurts his ears

Not even a second had passed when he rips them out and yells at you about why your music is up so loud, if you want to go deaf, if you have hearing problems. When you tell him that’s just how you like it, he looks at you as if you’re the stupidest person on the planet. 

Snatching your phone away, he holds down the volume button, and you watch as it slowly lowers down to a more acceptable range for him. He then shoves the earbuds back into your ears and moves your phone away from your grasp, not allowing you to even try and touch the settings

Though you’re annoyed at the fact that your music is much quieter, you feel a sense of giddiness in the pit of your stomach, knowing that Katsuki cares about you, even if it is in his own harsh, abrasive way

Resting your head on his shoulder, you close your eyes, allowing yourself to drift into another place, all the while Katsuki has a pretty pink blush on his cheeks, though if anyone were to call him out, he’d shove you off and vehemently deny it

Iida Tenya

Tenya, while he means well, can often be overbearing and obnoxious when it comes to the sake of your health

Most of the time, he’s extremely strict and responsible, purely because that’s how he’s always been, ever since he was a little kid, but he also tends to be a bit more strict when it comes to you, because he wants you to thrive and be happy and healthy, so he often asks you questions like “have you eaten yet?” or “when did you go to sleep last night?”

It’s very sweet, and you know he comes from a place of good intentions, but sometimes it can be rather annoying

One day, while the two of you were just relaxing on the couch, with him reading a book and you scrolling through your phone, your music blasting through your headphones, he noticed just how loud you were playing your music. After all, he was able to hear it, and he wasn’t even wearing them, so he worried about how loud it was for you. Setting down his book, he gently called your name, waiting to see your response. When you didn’t respond to him, he called once more, except a little louder, and in the tone he usually reserved for scolding your classmate. When you still didn’t respond, he moved himself in front of your face, making you freeze a bit in surprise, before a cute smile brightens your face

Pulling your headphones out, you tilt your head in confusion, asking if everything was okay, how his book was, just mundane things that were making Tenya question whether or not he should scold you for your unhealthy habit. However, his rational side took over, and he asked how loud you were listening to your music, since he could hear it

When you sheepishly smiled, rubbing your neck in embarrassment, he sighed, shaking his head as he started his little rant about how you shouldn’t listen to your music that loud, that it could cause serious damage to your eardrums, and that it would impact your overall health. Of course, he didn’t use his “strict” voice with you, but he did make it sound as though it wasn’t a request to turn down your volume, more so of a demand. You told him that you’d make more of an effort to be conscious of your volume, and that seemed as good enough of an answer for him

So, as the two of you got back into your positions, with you resting your back against his arm, and him going back to the page he bookmarked, you two fell into another comfortable silence, with your music being lowered down significantly

Of course, whenever he wasn’t with you, you’d subconsciously turn it back up, being used to it blaring through your headphones, but whenever he was with you, he’d simply take your phone from your hand, lowering the volume while giving you such a sweet smile that you couldn’t really deny him

Yaoyorozu Momo

There’s a reason for why many people considered Momo to be the “mom friend” of the group

She’s always the one that’s checking up on her friends, making sure that they ate well that day, if they were doing alright, and if anyone needed something, she’d be the first to show up on their doorstep with at least several different kinds of items

When it comes to you, her partner whom she absolutely adores and wants to see succeed in everything that you set your mind to, she almost becomes a mother hen of sorts. She’ll always be fussing about, making sure that you’re as comfortable as possible, even going out of her way to get you things that she knows you like, just so she can see that adorable smile across your face

Momo also texts you at least five times a day, one saying good morning, one asking if you had anything for breakfast, another for lunch, asking if you wanted to eat dinner together, and finally, one that told you good night and just how much she loves you. Every day she texts you that same five core messages without fail, and if you don’t respond to her within thirty minutes or so, she’ll just show up to wherever you are and check in on you herself

So, while the two of you were working out together, of course in her own private gym, she finally noticed one of your bad habits: having your music turned up to max volume while having your headphones in

At first, she was simply doing some cardio, while not-so-subtly checking you out as you lifted weights. However, she could hear something very faintly, almost as though someone were playing music from the floor above. But as she finished up her run and headed closer to you, she noticed that the noise was getting progressively louder and louder, up until she was standing right next to you, and she could hear your music perfectly clear. She waited until you finished up your final set, not wanting to startle you when you were working out, but as soon as you put the weights back, wiping the sweat from your forehead, she simply plucked out one of your earbuds, a small frown on her face

When you asked her what was wrong, she answered you by asking if your ears were hurting, or if you needed something to aid your hearing. At first, you were confused, unsure of where she got that idea. However, as she continued to glance at you, and then to your headphone, then back to you, you finally realized that she could hear you from across the gym. Laughing, you told her that you like to blast your music whenever you’re working out, and that you didn’t mean to disrupt her workout

She instead told you that you could never bother her, but she was concerned about your hearing, and suggested that you lower it just a bit, or, even better, just play it through a speaker, since she didn’t mind your music taste. Because you didn’t want to worry her, since she was always making sure that you were happy and healthy, you agreed to play your music out loud instead

So now every time the two of you go to workout, you connect your phone to the speaker, and the two of you jam out while you work out, and your sessions often end with the two of you dancing together, albeit a little silly. Though you wouldn’t change it for the world

[queenxxxsupreme]

Omg Kacey you should write about the dad witchers being reluctant about getting their child's first ever pet, since you know dad's usually don't want the pet but always end up falling in love with it 😅

A/N: Sooo I did a thing and combined a few of these together for a dad!witchers fic...... I hope this turned out well cause I don’t normally combine asks like this...

***

Lambert

“No. No way! Absolutely not!”

“Lambert-,”

“No, Y/N! Don’t even use that tone with me! You know cats don’t like witchers! Do you know what I am? A witcher, Y/N!” Your husband threw his hands into the air rather dramatically. 

You faked a look of surprise, eyes widening and mouth falling open.

“Really? A witcher? After all these years, you never thought to tell me? I had absolutely no way of knowing.”

“That attitude is not necessary, Y/N.” Lambert muttered. He turned his head to look in the direction Eva was in. 

She sat in the grass beneath the tall oak in the front yard. The calico kitten that you brought back from your trip to town was bouncing around in the grass next to her. 

“Lambert, Eva is excited that she found it.” You lowered your voice as you followed his gaze to your daughter. “It’s young and needs a home.”

“It probably has fleas. And it stinks. I can smell it all the way over here.” The witcher grumbled. 

“Lambert, please.” Your eyes found him. “It would break her heart if we had to find another home for it.”

Yellow eyes searched yours for a few moments before he groaned loudly.

“Fine. She can keep the mangy thing. But I don’t want it anywhere near my bed or near me. Don’t want its fur making me itchy.”

“I didn’t think witchers were allergic to anything.”

“We aren’t…. I just don’t like cat hair.”

“Okay, Mr. Grumpy.” You gave him a smile, placing your hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

He muttered something incoherent under his breath, eyes flickering back to the cat. 

***

A few days had passed since the kitten came to live within your home. Lambert kept his distance from the cat promptly named Patches due to the patches of orange, black, brown, and white fur it had. 

The witcher was currently in the living room taking a nap on his favorite chair that sat nearest to the fireplace. 

A pressure on his lap began to pull him from his sleep. He shifted around a bit. The weight moved from his lap to his arm. 

Whatever it was, it was warm…. And it seemed to have four points of contact. 

As those thoughts went through Lambert’s head, he found himself suddenly awake and looking down at the cat. Patches looked back up at him and meowed rather loudly. 

“Ah! Fuck!”

Patches continued to walk along his arm, perfectly balanced on his forearm. Its tail flicked back and forth. 

“Y/N!”

“Mommy’s outside with the horses.” Eva spoke from the kitchen table.

“Eva! Eva! Come get the cat!”

“I’m coloring, daddy.”

“Eva Marie!” 

“Daddy, he’s just a little kitty. He’s not gonna hurt you.”

“Eva, come get this cat-,”

“You’re scared of kitty cats!” Eva giggled. “Wait until I tell Uncle Geralt and Uncle Esk!”

“I’ll give the kitty cat to Uncle Geralt and Uncle Esk and let him have it.” Lambert muttered under his breath, mimicking the way Eva has said Eskel’s name. She had yet to learn how to properly say Eskel’s name and was still calling him ‘Esk’ just as she had when she was learning to talk.

Patches meowed again then jumped up onto Lambert’s shoulder. He tensed up, eyes closing tightly as he prepared for something to happen. 

“What are you in here yelling for?” You closed the front door behind yourself. 

“Y/N, I swear. This damn cat is about to be coyote food if you don’t….” Lambert trailed off as Patches curled up on his shoulder. “What-What is it doing?”

“Looks like Patches is getting ready to suck your blood.” You giggled. You moved towards the table, admiring Eva’s drawings. 

Lambert’s glare on the cat softened as he realized it seemed to be falling asleep on his shoulder. Its heartbeat was slowing down and it made a low purring noise. 

“I think daddy’s scared of Patches.” Eva whispered to you. 

You looked over at your husband. He was no longer as tense as what he had been. He even had one hand up on the cat to pet it. 

“I think he’s getting used to him.” You leaned down to kiss her head. 

Eskel

Rain trickled down from dark clouds above the house. Eskel guided his horse towards the barn. Both were eager to get out of the rain. But as Eskel neared the barn door, Scorpion began to pull against the lead and grunt.

“Easy, boy.”

Scorpion made noises of displeasure, backing away from the barn as if something lurked inside that posed a threat. His ears were pressed flat against his head and his nostrils flared. 

Eskel knew what he was trying to say and wouldn’t press him to go any further. Curious and concerned about what was in the barn, he tethered the horse to a post just outside of the barn before entering the structure. 

Though the barn was pitch black, the witcher had no trouble seeing in the dark. 

He could hear the goats before he saw them. They bleated from their enclosure to the right, wanting his attention immediately. He’d greet them after he found out what had Scorpion so upset. 

Venturing further into the barn, your horse stuck its head out of its stable. 

Eskel was confused. The animals in the barn didn’t seem concerned or distraught. Why was Scorpion so afraid?

As he was turned to leave, he caught an unfamiliar scent in the air. It was the distinct odor of wild canine. 

The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he began to follow the scent trial to the very last stall on the left. Peering over the stall door, Eskel spotted a pair of eyes peering up at him. 

***

“Y/N!” He shouted your name as he entered the house. The force at which he barged in spooked you, making you jump to your feet. He was never so loud and disruptive.

“Eskel! What is it?” You panicked, fearing something terrible had happened. 

“There’s a wolf in the barn. Have we lost any of the livestock since I’ve been gone?” He asked, moving towards the window at the back of the house that faced the woods. “Is Lil Bleater still in here?”

“Oh, Eskel.” You put your hand over your heart and laughed softly. 

He turned his head to look at you, eyes widening. Why were you laughing?

“It’s just a pup.”

“And a pup means the mother is nearby. I wanted to make sure you, Nadia, and Bleater were safe before I remove it and take it back to the woods-,”

“NO!” Nadia shouted from the hallway.

Both you and Eskel looked in her direction. 

“Daddy, you can’t take her back!” Nadia shook her head, brows furrowed together as she moved towards you. She tugged at the skirt of your nightgown. “Tell him, mommy! Tell him!”

“We found the pup in the woods a week ago.” You put your hand on her head as you looked at your husband. “It was crying out horribly. Its family had been killed by hunters. So we took it in. Everyone in the barn has adjusted to it.”

“Y/N, it’s…. It’s a wolf.” Eskel spoke quietly, not wanting to upset Nadia. “It won’t stay small forever. It’s dangerous.”

“I know, love. But right now…. Now it’s just a baby.” You offered him a little smile. “It’s just a helpless little thing. Think of when you found Bleater.”

“She’s a goat, Y/N.”

You fell silent. You knew Eskel wouldn’t be happy with the wolf pup being in the barn. It would be dangerous for Nadia and you knew this, but she never went outside without either of you with her anyways. You’d never let harm fall on her. 

You brushed your fingers through Nadia’s hair, looking down at her. 

“Come on, darling. We must go back to bed. I’m sure daddy will come tuck you in momentarily.”

“What about Luna, mommy?”

“Luna?” Eskel repeated. 

“The puppy.”

Eskel sighed, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes. 

“Nadia, love. It’s not a puppy–,”

“But she is, daddy! She’s a puppy and she gives me kisses and nibbles on my fingers when I give her leftovers from dinner!”

“You’ve been feeding it?” Eskel’s eyes shot up to you. 

“I wasn’t going to let it starve out there.”

“I won’t let you take her!” Nadia dashed towards the door but her father was quicker, stepping into her way and placing a hand on the door. 

“Nadia, I’m– I need you to calm down for a moment.” 

“Don’t take her, daddy!”

“I’m not, love. I just need you to calm down. Take a deep breath and calm down for me. Okay? Can you do that?”

Nadia took a deep breath, her brows still furrowed together as she looked at Eskel. 

“It’s late and you need to sleep.” He kissed her temple. “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, daddy.”

“In the morning, we can talk about her. About Luna. For tonight, she can stay in the barn.”

Nadia threw her arms around Eskel’s neck, squeezing him tightly. 

“Thank you, daddy! Thank you! Thank you!”

Eskel looked at you as he rubbed her back. 

“We’ll introduce you to Luna in the morning.” You moved to kiss him. “Let’s get little Nadia to bed.”

Geralt

Geralt placed his sword down against the wall next to the front door. He brushed his fingers through his hair, letting out a soft breath as he listened to what was going on throughout the house. 

The house was silent which was quite odd. Bram and Lana were quite a loud pair and always kept you and Geralt on your toes. 

The witcher furrowed his brows, listening carefully for the teenagers. They were out in the backyard. 

“Ew, Lana! Get that thing away from me!”

“Calm down, Bram.”

“Where are you going with that thing?”

“I’m taking it into the house.”

“Are you mad? Mom and dad will kill you!”

A hand on the small of Geralt’s back surprised him. You stood next to him, having just walked into the house. 

“Is everything alright, love?” You asked, brows furrowed together. “I scared you.”

“Just listening to the kids.” Geralt shook his head softly. He leaned down to kiss your forehead. “How was your trip to the market?”

“Bountiful. Found Bram new trousers. He’s as rough on clothes as you are.” You began to pull the items out from a basket and satchel you placed on the table. “I also found him a few books I thought he might like. They’re those old folk stories he likes.”

Geralt picked one of the books up, inspecting the cover page. He hummed. 

“He used to read these to Lana when she was little.” 

“He did.” You smiled. “And for Lana, our wild one, I found a few little trinkets and a lovely dagger I thought she’d like. It has a pretty ruby-,”

“Mom! Dad!” Bram came through the back door, unknowingly interrupting you. 

“Hello, Bram.” You greeted him.

“Lana’s going to be in- Ooh, what did you bring home?” He was quickly distracted by the knickknacks you placed on the table. 

“The trousers, the books, and the ring are yours.”

Bram picked up the ring to examine it. 

“It looks like one that Uncle Jaskier wears.”

“It’s very similar. I thought you might like it.”

“Mom! Dad! Come take a look at this!” Lana spoke excitedly as she moved towards the kitchen. 

Geralt lifted his head to look at his daughter. His stomach dropped at the sight of the creature she held in her hands. It was a long black and brown snake. 

“Lana! What are you doing with that thing in the house?” You sighed.

“I wanted to show you the little guy. He looks really cute, doesn’t he?”

“Lana, go put that thing back where you found it.” Geralt spoke rather quickly. 

“Are you afraid of him, daddy? He’s just a little snake.” Lana took a step towards Geralt, who became rigid as he watched the animal carefully. 

“Lana, you’re such a creep!”

“Bram!” You scolded your son. “Lana, we don’t bring wild animals into the house. You’re fourteen. You should know that.”

“But there was a hawk outside and I didn’t want him to get eaten.” Lana frowned, looking down at the snake. It began to slither up her arm towards her neck. “Do you think we could keep him?”

“Absolutely not.”

“But dad!”

“It could be venomous, Lana.”

“Dad, we were talking just last week about getting a pet!”

“A dog, not a snake. Take it out into the forest far enough away that it won’t attack the chickens.”

You could see the tears well up in her eyes as she looked down at the snake. She nodded her head obediently and turned to leave. 

“Bram, go with your sister. Make sure she’s safe.”

As your son left the house, your eyes found Geralt. 

“You’ve faced monsters as big as mountains and yet you’re afraid of a snake?” You moved to put away the items remaining in the basket.

“Y/N, you can’t honestly expect me to let her have one of those in the house, can you?” Geralt furrowed his brows at you.

“It’s a harmless garden snake, Geralt.”

“It could constrict around her.”

You said nothing, humming softly as you moved past your husband. His hand found your arm.

“Dove.” He murmured. “It’s a dangerous animal.”

“I like them.” You looked up at him, searching his golden eyes. “And I think it’s cute that you are fearful of them.”

“Y/N.”

“Fear is a good look in your eyes, dear husband.” You tried to walk away but Geralt slipped his arm around your waist, drawing your body to his. You giggled, allowing him to lean down and kiss your lips. 

“I don’t understand why you like those things.”

“Well I do. And so does your daughter apparently.” You placed your hands on his biceps. “I think…. Geralt, I think you should let her keep it.”

“Dove-,”

“I had a snake when I was young, you know. They are very intelligent and fascinating creatures. And I think she is mature enough for one.”

Geralt turned his head to look at the door. 

“Bram doesn’t like them. Snakes.”

“Then we get him a dog.” You grinned, slipping out of your husband’s arms. 

“But we agreed on one pet.”

“Well we can’t get one a pet that the other won’t like.” You reasoned. 

“You are nothing but trouble, dear wife.”

“Always have been.” You winked at him. 

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

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