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albatmobile · 1 month ago

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Cardinal Sins Chapter 10

𓅪 Living with your vigilante boyfriends for the past year has been amazing, well, almost. Butting heads, old wounds resurfacing and a deadly threat still looming overhead could threaten the sanctity of everything you've ever fought for. Will you finally overcome your tainted past and survive the trials and tribulations, or will your relationships and your faith crumble under the pressure?

Rated: E | 10.5k | TW: violence | Contains: reconciliation, a new player enters the arena, court shenanigans, smut, praise kink, anal sex, oral fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist] Previous in Series: Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds

Chapter Ten: Ready to Let Go

A week later, you get a letter saying your parents want to see you this upcoming weekend. You can’t help but think that maybe things could be looking up after all.

While reading the letter, you suddenly feel eyes on you. Your eyes shoot up instantly, catching a brief glimpse of blonde hair. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear the person had been Samantha. You blink exaggeratedly before rubbing at your eyes to confirm that you’re 100% just sleep deprived and that it’d all been a mirage. After all, it’s not easy to get much sleep when every time you close your eyes, you just see him.

You don’t know what comes over you, but you don’t mention your parent’s letter to anyone. It’s for the best anyway, considering both men are more preoccupied with putting a cranky, sugar-crazed Lian to sleep than they are with the wrinkled paper in your hand.

“She get into the snack cabinet again?” you ask, highly amused with the entire situation.

Roy’s tired, light green eyes narrow. “What do you think?”

You snort, “When you’re tired, you sound just like, Jay, baby.”

Roy sticks out his tongue, which you quickly suck into your mouth. Your lips meet his chapped ones briefly before he’s forced to pull apart when Lian begins to wail.

“I’M NOT TIRED!”

“That’s exactly what someone who’s tired would say,” Roy responds tonelessly with a sigh.

“DAD, I’M NOT,” she cries. Seeing dad isn’t going to budge, she switches her tactics. “DADDY!”

Jason just shakes his head as he reaches down to scoop her up into his muscular arms. “You want me to read to you?”

The red, tear-faced little girl sniffles as she weighs her options. Her dark eyes move from Jason, to you, then to Roy before falling on Jason again. She gives a cute nod and cuddles into his neck while she pouts at her exhausted dad. As Jason carries Lian to her room, you hear the little girl mumble to her daddy, “Dad was mean to me.”

Jason laughs, “Dad gets mean when he’s tired, just like another Harper I know.”

With Lian finally being put down for a nap, Roy wastes no time in picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

“The fuck, Roy!” you exclaim as you grasp at his shirt. You know there’s no way he’d ever drop you, you know, considering he does the whole hero thing for a living and all, but still, being upside-down is never comforting.

Instead of responding, he drops you down on the bed before slinking over to you.

“Wanna makeout?” he asks.

You smirk lightly. “I thought you were tired.”

“Yeah,” he says as he straddles you. You quirk a questioning brow as he then leans down so that his lips are mere centimeters from yours. “That was until you fucked my tongue.”

Your nose wrinkles in distaste. “What a fucking gross way to describe what I did.”

“Just kiss me already, princess,” he murmurs before capturing your lips with his. His soft hands gently come up to cup your cheeks, deepening the kiss steadily as he does so until, eventually, he teasingly slips the tip of his tongue into your mouth. You flick at the appendage, chasing after it when it retreats to lewdly draw him back into your mouth.

Jason walks in to see Roy straddling your torso, grinding down into you while the two of you gasp dramatically into each other’s mouths. At the clearing of Jason’s throat, Roy breaks away but only briefly to throw his shirt off, then yours, before diving back in.

“Baby,” you whimper breathlessly. You feel the bed shift and easily break away to drag Jason in for an equally salacious kiss. “You guys should fuck and let me watch,” you say, the words rushing out from your saliva-covered lips before you can stop them.

Both men pull away from each other abruptly, looking from each other, to finally stare dumbfounded you.

“You wouldn’t be jealous?” Jason asks. The tone of his voice carries a hint of guilt, though why, you can’t place.

You shrug. “Of course not. You’ve both watched me fuck the other; why wouldn’t I want to see that, too?”

Roy just smirks devilishly. “Oh, you have no idea the dirty shit I’m thinking about right now, baby,” Roy purrs and makes to pull Jason back in, but the raven-haired man stops him gently.

“We should tell her,” Jason cautions quietly, as if the conversation is meant to stay between Roy and himself. “It doesn’t feel right.” Roy gulps inadvertently in response as the mood suddenly shifts. Jason exhales as he faces you again, “We fucked while you were in your coma.” The last part of his sentence comes out somewhat hesitantly, like he doesn’t want to beat around the bush but also doesn’t want to completely sour the mood.

You blink owlishly as you take in the news. “I feel like we’ve already been over this,” you start with a smile easily forming across your heated cheeks. “I don’t care who fucks who as long as it stays between the three of us,” you say, feeling your cheeks heat up even more as you do.

“We’re in the clear?” Roy asks impishly as he quickly looks between Jason and you. “You’re not mad?”

“I won’t be mad as long as you show me exactly what you two did,” you supply coquettishly.

Before either of them seems to process your demand, you’re already scooting back on the bed, undressing as you go. Once naked, you lean against your shared pile of pillows. The act seems to spur them into action as they giddily rid themselves of their clothes, too. They’re making out again as you slowly spread your thighs, gently trailing up and down the soft skin of your inner thighs to tease yourself for what’s to come.

They’re both entirely too eager and swiftly move on to the next step as you finally grant yourself some relief by delving between your wet lips. It’s then that Roy begins stretching Jason’s ass, his light green eyes flickering between Jason on his knees and you on your back with your legs spread. Jason seems to notice his divided attention and arches his ass to further present his twitching hole to your boyfriend. All the while, the doggy-style position means that Jason’s facing you head-on, which only serves to make you exaggerate your moans even further.

You finally tickle at your inner folds, dragging lewdly through your slick as you watch Roy’s thick mechanical fingers steadily bob in and out of Jason’s ass. You try to take your time and pace it so that you’re not too close by the time Roy finally pushes into Jason’s tight hole. From here, your eyes flicker greedily between your hot boyfriends, catching their sex-dazed eyes as you do.

“You’re shit’s so fucking tight,” Roy groans in appreciation as he places his hands on Jason’s cheeks to spread them. “Taking my cock so good, Jay,” the redhead praises breathily.

“Well,” you and Jason correct absentmindedly in unison, pause, then laugh.

“To think you guys call me a fucking loser,” Roy chides half-heartedly as he picks up his pace once again, earning a surprised moan from Jason’s supple lips.

It’s only been a few minutes into them fucking, but you find yourself shaking, leaving you embarrassed after having come so soon without any real stimulation. You move to close your blushing thighs when Jason suddenly stops you.

“When have we ever just let you come once, babe?”

You groan shakily in response to Jason’s rhetorical question and allow your thighs to ease back open. He’s close enough already to reach your slick-covered pussy and wastes no time in teasing your sensitive folds. Your whole body reacts to the first contact, arching lewdly with your chest bouncing as you do so as you let out a wobbly exhale.

“Never,” you breathe.

Jason’s tongue travels across all the familiar spots he knows drive you crazy, even going so far as to slow down his movements to achingly tease you further. If he’s going to play games, so are you. Though every moan is very much real, you turn up your reactions, feeling his ministrations below fervently speed up as you do so.

“Such a fucking slut for her pussy, aren’t you, Jay?” Roy teases Jason gruffly, followed by a smack on his ass that sends Jason surging forward into your cunt. The added pressure leaves you panting and pushing further against his mouth for greater friction. Jason only allows this for so long, though, before he goes back to playful flicks, light pressure and avoiding your throbbing clit.

“Mmm,” Jason moans against your slit. The vibrations are nearly too much and, if it weren’t for Roy’s next words, you know you’d probably be the one coming undone instead of Jason.

“Show her that’s our pussy, love,” Roy says, his half-lidded eyes never once leaving yours as the words leave his smirking, chapped lips.

“Please,” you beg, quaking when Jason doubles down and actually gives you the friction you’ve been so desperately chasing after. His heavenly tongue soon slinks in and out of your dripping hole, slurping up your want as he goes along. With one hand clenched like a lifeline in the sheets below, your other quickly moves to fist Jason’s inky locks to force his mouth exactly where you need it. “Yes! Right there, Jay. Don’t fucking move,” you breathlessly curse at him.

If your eyes hadn’t already rolled all the way to the back of your head, you’d probably notice the animalistic look behind Roy’s usually tame, verdant gaze at the erotic sight. Instead, all you can focus on is Jason’s unrelenting mouth and the intense pleasure it’s causing.

You think your pornstar-worthy moans will cause Roy to crumble first, but surprisingly, it’s Jason whose hips sputter out a large bout of come first. His breath catches hotly against your pulsating pussy and you inadvertently whine for more.

“Shit, babe,” Jason pants. When he pulls away, saliva and your want string from his mouth, connecting the two of you until he tiredly wipes away at it.

Without another word, Roy pulls out, looking mischievous as ever. “What?” the redhead questions cheekily you as soon as he sees your dubious look. “Really weren’t going to tell me how much you’ve been holding back on me and ol’ Jay here, now were you, princess?”

“Shut up,” you groan half-heartedly, wishing you had a free pillow to knock him over the head with. “It’s probably because neither one of you has ever eaten me out like that before,” you admit and blush profusely when Jason looks your way.

“Fair enough,” Roy continues the banter easily as he slinks across the mattress towards his panting lovers. “So,” he drawls, “we’re definitely going to have to do this again and we’re definitely going to have to soundproof these walls.” You snort and Jason chuckles tiredly, though you and Roy are still very much ready to go. Roy seems to realize this too and smirks wolfishly as he slinks over to take over Jason’s spot between your legs. “You know, I can’t lie, I’m kinda hurt over here, princess,” Roy says, though he sounds anything but. His soft hands trail up and down the mix of slick and saliva that covers your inner thighs. “Saying I haven’t been taking care of you right.” His verdant eyes flicker up at your expectant form as he forms his next question. “That can’t be right, now can it?”

With this, his impish tongue pokes out to trickle across your sensitive outer lips, spurring a light sigh from you.

“No,” you respond breathlessly once Roy stops his ministrations in anticipation of an answer.

“We can’t have our princess feeling unsatisfied, now can we?” he continues teasingly.

You both fully know that they’d never leave you unsatisfied with anything when it comes to the bedroom. It’s not at all what you’d meant at all when you said that they had never eaten you out like this before. It’s just never felt so intense.Them fucking, coupled with Jason’s expert tongue, left you with an orgasm you’d never experienced before. You can’t deny, however, that you’re ready for Roy to try and outdo him, though.

Having taken his spot, Jason moves to lay beside you, gently guiding your chin and, subsequently, your attention over to him as he gently and slowly captures your lips with his own. You find yourself melting against his body, but Roy’s swift to remind you of his promise.

The redhead pries your thighs back open as he achingly teases his way from above your clit all the way down to your twitching hole. If Jason’s tongue was heavenly, Roy’s is downright sinful. While both know exactly how to push you over the edge with their mouths alone, Roy’s definitely pulling out new tricks that leave you gasping and sighing against Jason’s lips. With Jason’s hand placed strategically over your lower stomach, all of Roy’s movements feel amplified and, having just come down from an orgasm, you’re already feeling overly sensitive in the best possible way.

With a strategic plunging of his tongue in and out of your wet pussy, coupled with his cool, metallic thumb flicking at your clit, you feel another orgasm steadily approaching. Before you’re completely pushed over the edge, however, Roy suddenly retreats from your aching cunt.

You pull off of Jason’s lips in an instant, turning to ask Roy what’s wrong only to have to stifle a laugh as he waddles over on his knees to come all over your abused pussy. The redhead comes with a shaky exhale and groan as his hips jerkily rock into fist while he empties out his entire load all over your slick folds.

“You get off on eating my pussy, baby?” you ask teasingly, channeling Roy’s usual cheekiness as you watch him come undone.

“Fuck yeah,” he replies through his panting, sounding completely fucked-out. “Always.”

You lose yourself in the redhead’s minute reactions that follow and miss how Jason’s hand trails down your lower stomach all the way down to your entrance. When his calloused fingers breach your entrance, you gasp. Your hips sputter against the filled feeling and friction he’s supplying and quickly meet his knowing thrusts with shaky ones of your own.

“Your turn,” Jason says suddenly against the sensitive shell of your ear.

“Fuck,” you curse as he swirls his fingers through Roy’s want before abruptly fucking it into your cunt. “I’m not gonna last much longer,” you admit breathily.

“Good girl,” Roy praises you with his voice leaving tantalizing vibrations across your cunt as he does.

Sure enough, with Jason fucking Roy’s come directly into your g-spot, you find release a few moments later. Your second orgasm is more intense than the first and you’d probably be embarrassed by your reaction if you hadn’t been met by your loves wanton eyes on you when you shakily focus back on them.

“So fucking good,” you admit, though suddenly, neither are looking at you. Well, not your face, at least. No, both men’s eyes are trained on your dripping pussy where your orgasm has lewdly pushed the sticky white substance back out and onto your slick folds.

Without warning, Jason swoops down and erotically slurps up the combination of saliva and come. You half prepare yourself for him to coax it between your lips, but he moves Roy’s way instead. Completely entranced by the entire interaction, Roy willingly presents his open mouth for Jason to spit inside, with Roy swallowing obediently. A small stream trickles out from the corner of Roy’s chapped mouth, something Jason notices and quickly corrects. He lewdly laps at the fluids before forcing it back into Roy’s mouth with his dutiful tongue.

The two of them lose themselves in each other’s lips for a moment before leaning down to press gentle, wet kisses against your blushing cheeks and lips.

Completely spent, the three of you collapse backward onto the mattress together, panting lightly as you do.

“So, which one of us is cooking dinner?” you ask. The remnants of your orgasms have left you entirely too tired to cook like you’d been planning to. Not to mention, you hardly feel like moving from your bed for the rest of the evening.

It’s quiet for a beat as the bed’s other inhabitants obviously are feeling much of the same.

“Pizza?” Roy tries.

“Pizza,” Jason agrees.

•••

Later that same day, you contemplate your options. You know visiting hours are only for another hour. You’ve sat on the decision all day, but you’re no where near being closer to having an answer. With Jason and Roy out picking up food, you know this may be your only chance to slip out undetected.

You need to know.

Before you lose the will to go, your feet start moving.

You know they’ll be back any second, so Lian will be fine and even go so far as to tell yourself that if you run into them, you won’t bother going.

When you call the elevator, you’re 90% sure it’ll open to reveal your partners, but the elevator car is empty.

What the fuck are you doing? You berate yourself as you step inside and hit the button for the lobby. Your breathing quickens as the realization of what you’re doing crashes over you. You make to hop off, to go back inside the apartment and go to Lian’s room to play with her, but ultimately, the doors slide shut, sealing your fate.

By the time you’re across the street, you watch as your loves walk into the building, holding hands. Your heart sinks at the sight. Logically, you know you should call out to them. You should call out to them right now, but you don’t. The last thing you need is for them to talk you out of it when you’re already seconds from bailing as it is.

With a heavy heart and unsure gate, you walk away from your family.

The prison is a decent ways away, luckily Gotham City taxi drivers are a different breed. You make it to Blackgate in under 20 minutes.

The whole sign-in ordeal takes another 30 or so minutes, leaving only 10 minutes to speak with them by the time you’re being escorted over to the visitation room. The guard who ends up walking you over to them has been giving you weird vibes the entire time, but you ultimately end up blaming his behavior on your uneasiness with the situation. It definitely doesn’t help your unease that the entire visiting section is completely empty.

As you sit down on the visitor side of the glass partition, you still can’t help but wonder just what’s made them change their minds. Why is this time different?

Before you can question their goodwill any further, the guard strikes.

It all happens so fast. One second, you’re waiting for your parents to join you and the next, you notice movement in the glass. Before you can react, you’re punched in the face and knocked to the ground. You scramble to get up and retaliate, but the guard, who’s now disguised by an owl mask, holds you down with a chokehold. Your face heats up as your blood floods to it, feeling as your eyes bulge out of your head before, ultimately, passing out.

•••

“LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!”

The wretched sound of scratching overtakes your senses as you watch a large group of disheveled people scratching at glass in front of you.

Their voices soon overtake each other, panicking as a putrid green fog overtakes your vision.

You laugh, but it comes out as his laugh.

“Let the fun begin,” you say, though your voice ends up coming out as Joker’s.

Suddenly, the dream halts, though your surroundings still feel hazy, as if the last few dregs of the dream, nightmare, are still overtaking your senses. You attempt to stir, but everything feels like you’re wading through water.

“That’s it,” a distorted voice encourages you.

Huh?

You try to open your eyes, but they feel heavy- like, way heavier than usual. Your mouth feels cottony, reminding you of the time in the library when you and… you and…

Your loves.

Your eyes slowly open to reveal a dark, cavernous room.

The Batcave? When did you get here? The last thing you remember was…

Oh.

You blink, attempting to clear the blurriness from your vision, but it doesn’t help any. If anything, it only causes you to fall back into the comfort of closing them, becoming instantly met with a large boat. It almost looks like the one Damian had…

Damian.

Your eyes flash open to see a dark outline of a man in front of you. All the while, your breathing picks up as you attempt to remember just what the fuck is going on, but the pounding in your temple becomes far too overwhelming.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” the voice jokes sinisterly. “I’ve been dying to introduce myself to a fine specimen such as yourself.”

“Sthpeth-imn?” you slur, then immediately shut your mouth. What the fuck did this dude do to you?

“You can call me Dr. Crane for now.” His voice suddenly becomes closer, causing you to flinch. “Oh, no. Don’t be worried. No,” he reassures you with a comforting voice, though you feel anything but comforted, “this is all a part of the plan, don’t you see?” He sounds somewhat giddy now. “You’re the perfect specimen. All the others failed me- failed my genius, but not you. No, your body accepts it. It accepts what everyone else’s should’ve. I was right all along and they tried to tell me-“ he cuts himself off, chuckling darkly. “Well, they tried to tell me I’d failed,” he guffaws before growing interested in you again. “But, you see, I don’t fail and you’re the proof. The unkempt man circles around you, eyes flitting across every inch of your body as he observes your every minute reaction. “You know,” he starts conversationally, “when they first told me you were special, I didn’t believe them, but now-."

“H-” you try to ask, 'who,' but the words aren’t coming out right. “Them,” you finally manage as you attempt to ask him who else is behind this.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he responds placatingly. “By now, you’ve inhaled a majority of the vapor. All that’s left to do is let it take over.”

Crane mentioned vapor; however, the man seems largely unaffected by the greenish smog that hangs in the room. He doesn’t appear to be wearing a gas mask of any kind, either. If you’d been in your right mind, you probably would’ve attempted to interrogate the doctor, but right now, you’re focused on escaping. You’re under the influence of an experimental concoction and you don’t want to give it any more time to take effect.

Your breathing quickens even more and you struggle against your rope restraints on the examination table. Through the haze of whatever concoction you’re breathing in, you notice a small table filled with medical equipment next to you. You fight the shivers that spread across your body as you eye a promising scalpel.

Pretending to be more out of it than you are leads to Crane dropping his guard. He turns around and presses play on an old radio. Classical music fills the muddled air as the doctor begins to rifle through a small closet off to the side, but you don’t wait to see what he produces as you make a grab for the sharp instrument and begin to saw haphazardly against your restraints. First, your left hand, then your right. You feign being restrained when he begins to dance to the crescendo of violins and rapidly cut through the ropes around your ankles the second he turns back around to grab… a rotten sack?

Yeah, you’re not sticking around to find out what the fuck that’s about.

You can’t pretend you’re restrained any longer now that all the ropes are so obviously broken, so you gather every bit of sanity within yourself to slip from the metal bed to stumble over behind the man who’s too busy shoving his head inside the bag. You use the sack around his head as a weapon, quickly wrapping the remnants of rope around his neck and tugging hard, falling to the ground as he vehemently reacts. His skinny body ends up on top of you and you will yourself to follow your instincts, to follow your training, but you can hardly stay present in your mind as it is. Everything feels like a dream. The actions you make feel as if you’re wading through a mental flood to accomplish them and you know your strength isn’t anything like you’re used to, but it’s what you’ve got, so you use it anyway.

“AGH!” he exclaims as his bruised hands attempt to pry the rope off his throat. You feel him shift as he tries to turn around to grant you the same courtesy, but you shift your hips at the last second and end up on top of him. You’re panting with snot streaming from your nose as you use everything within yourself to choke him.

“Out, out,” you repeat, willing your crippling visions away as you beg him to just pass out already. After speaking, you feel droll leaking out of the corners of your mouth but you don’t dare to attempt to wipe it away. You’re giving everything into your power around the rope, screaming when your hands grow numb, whether from the white-knuckled grip you have on the hold or whatever he’s injected you with, but you can’t give up now.

All the while, his fists clash into your sides. It’s a relentless pain that only serves to keep you in the moment as you continue to drift in and out of reality.

Seconds pass, possibly minutes, before he stops struggling. The punches cease and soon, the noises spewing from his throat cease as well. Even though your hands are purple at this point, you keep the hold on him for as long as you can before you feel yourself falling to the side of Crane’s passed-out form. Upon landing on the stone ground below, you heave, effectively losing whatever’s in your stomach to the stone below.

Scratching.

You hear it as if it’s happening in this very lab- no, you can practically feel it against your skin as you gasp and shake on the ground.

You need to get up. You need to get up. Get up. Please, get up. With this mantra on repeat in your head, you force your head off the ground. Your head feels entirely too heavy for your neck and you end up failing it around like a newborn baby as you attempt to get a grip on your mind, but it’s nearly impossible.

You think about your family, but it only makes things worse. Instead of seeing Jason, Roy and Lian, you see flashes of your parents, then Bruce. You try to calm your breathing at the calming thought of your father figure, but your pulse continues to vibrate throughout your veins in a way that makes everything hard to focus.

SLAP!

“No,” you mumble incoherently. With your visions crashing down upon you, you finally manage to make headway in standing by tugging yourself back over to the examination table and using it to support your weight as you struggle to stand. Your legs feel like absolute noodles and any time you try to move away from the table, your knees give in.

It’s then that you notice two vials of liquid on the very tray you’d stolen the scalpel from. One a half-full, toxic green and the other a deep indigo. Half-delirious, you snatch them up as quickly as you can manage, realizing only then that you’re completely naked. You stumble over to pick up a lab coat off the hook by the door as you slowly inch out of the room, placing the vials in the pockets as carefully as you can in your state of mind.

You’re half expecting whatever building you’re in to be a maze in the way Cadmus had been, but the sight that meets you shocks you. Laid out before you is an actual maze. An absolutely gigantic one, in fact.

What the fuck.

Using the stone walls as support, you begin your arduous trek.

You catch flickers of your parents as you wander aimlessly, following their familiar forms, only to come to a halt just when you think you’ve caught up to them. You find yourself having run into a dead end what feels like hours later, though you figure it’s only been minutes.

You heave a sigh through your pants as you force yourself to turn around to find Bruce.

“Help,” you manage to wheeze out through your dry throat. “Safe-“

Bruce’s mirage cuts you off, “Follow.”

Though you know it’s only a figment of your imagination, the man moves quickly, like way too quickly for you to keep up with. You try to run but end up flailing and tripping over your own feet. You try to beg him to wait for you, to help you, but the man only gives you an unimpressed look. You soon realize that he’s not going to wait for you; he’s not going to budge. It’s his pace and it’s clear that you either need to catch up or find yourself left in the dust.

Dragging yourself across the stone floor, you ignore the way the porous material scratches and cuts at your skin. You need Bruce. He’s your lifeline and your only way out of here, you hazily reason. Regardless, he disappears around a corner to the left of you and, by the time you’ve dragged yourself over there, he’s disappeared completely.

“COME BACK,” you scream out as you desperately search around for him. “PLEASE!” you try again. “Don’t leave me…” you mumble, feeling out of your body as your head bobs lucidly while you continue on your search. Your breath huffs out against the stones and you allow yourself only a few seconds to rest your head on their cold surface before once again forcing yourself to stand.

At this point, you’re flitting in and out of reality nearly every other second. You can hardly keep track of what’s real and what’s not, but you continue to move your feet as fast as you can. You break into a drunken-looking run, crashing against the stone partition at the end of this section of the maze. Groaning in pain, you notice that the impact has wedged the wall slightly open, revealing a sliver of light through the crack.

Panting, you press against the stones, groaning in pain when the hidden entrance rumbles open, sending you tumbling inside.

“Agh!”

You think you pass out for a moment, but you’re not entirely sure. When you come to again, you find yourself in what appears to be another lab, though this one looks as if it was left in a haste.

There’s a sink to your right, so you stumble to get up and over to it to begin drinking from the tap. When the water hits your tongue, you feel slightly more awake, but end up choking on the liquid and find it hard to breathe while you try to swallow around it. Nonetheless, you force yourself to down more of the liquid, relishing in the way it clears your mind.

By the time you’ve gotten your fill, you feel more in control of your actions, enough to suddenly notice the partially covered glass box in the middle of the room. Curtains have been hastily drawn around it, but a portion of the glass behind it is still visible.

Thereupon the glass is…

No, it can’t be.

Scratching.

”STOP!” you beg, clutching your head as the visions flow freely once again. “No more, please! NO MORE!” Your voice is completely fucked. You can’t be sure if you were screaming while you were out earlier, but fuck if it doesn’t feel like you’ve screamed your throat raw.

Weighing out your options, you hobble closer to the glass, tugging the curtains back haphazardly only to find bloodied streaks covering the visible portion of glass. What’s worse? All the discarded files you’re currently stepping on. It’s hard to read; your brain can hardly focus on escape as it is, but you understand enough to know these are lab reports. Each report is adorned with a photo of an unkempt person, dead behind the eyes.

“No,” you mutter hazily. “NO!” With this, you use what little strength you have to tear down the curtains and end up taking the rods down with it as well to reveal the stolen microwave emitter. You sharply exhale, feeling your entire body shake as your mind attempts to shut down again. You won’t let it- you refuse. “FUCK!” you exclaim as you slap yourself across the face once, then twice, to keep yourself alert.

SLAP!

Waves of images flood your brain. Images of family in all its forms. Leaping from one broken home to another, creating your own version of safety only to have it all be threatened. Bruce- he…

You’re panting again as you slowly make your way back out into the labyrinth, catching a glance of a sticky-note on a bulletin board in the room as you get to the threshold. The yellow paper reads: Gotham Marina 4/1 REDEMPTION!

With newfound energy from your discoveries, you now notice the overwhelming feeling of being watched. If this is The Court you’re dealing with, you know the only way out in your state is to outwit them.

“You think you’re the first ones to drug me?” you call out shakily as you clumsily enter back into the stone maze. You manage to swallow down the lump in your throat as you address your watcher again, “YOU THINK YOU’RE THE FIRST ONES TO INVADE MY MIND?!”

Instead of a response, you’re met with a coolness at your ankles. Upon looking down, you notice that the same sickly fog in Crane’s lab trickling along the floor like a threat for what’s to come.

From here, your visions grow worse.

Water.

A ship.

Fog.

Scratching.

SLAP!

You let out a guttural scream, wishing it will somehow rid your brain of these crippling thoughts, but it only pains your strained throat further. You’re running out of gas. At this point, the whole labyrinth just seems like a cruel joke. You finally feel like you live up to your supposed purpose: a lab rat.

You watch yourself leap from one family to another as if they’re atop clouds, searching for, well, you’re not sure. Your parents reject you, sending you leaping again as the fluffy structure disappears out from under your feet. It’s then that you see Bruce, the manor, all the people you grew up with. It feels like home, but while Bruce doesn’t send you packing, your stay is merely temporary. Your distorted vision shows the man holding a scale, weighing out everything you’ve done. When one side outweighs the other, he suddenly casts you aside, sending you crashing through the now smog-filled sky. You see Bruce peering down over the edge of the cloud to watch you plummet without a care right before you hit the final cloud in the sky.

You’re panting as you sit up to see Jason, Roy and Lian having a tea party. You want to laugh. This whole situation is insane and the visions are unlike anything you’ve experienced before. You truly have no fucking idea what’s going on, let alone what’s real and what’s not.

Whatever is real and whatever is not is hardly relevant, however. What is relevant is the message behind it all. You realize that, no matter what you do, the fear of being disowned again cripples you to your core. Logically, you know you’re in too deep now- the point of no return. There’s no way to come out of this situation unscathed, you realize. Whether at the cost of your life, the city, or your family, these elements can’t all be saved without the destruction of another.

Something has to give.

Lian suddenly gets up from the table and you think she’ll invite you over, but she appears upset.

“You left me,” she says. Your mind goes blank. “You left me just like my other mommy.”

“I,” you start, then quickly trail off. She’s turning away, facing back to where Jason and Roy are now standing and looking at you with disgust. “I didn’t want to fuck this up,” you plead, grabbing her by the shoulders so she faces you again, but she easily brushes your hold away to round the nearest corner of the maze. You give a jerky gaze back to the table, but both your loves have disappeared as well. With nothing left, you chase after her. “LIAN! I DIDN’T WANT IT TO BE THIS WAY. I WASN’T SUPPOSED TO END UP LIKE THIS. I WASN'T SUPPOSED TO END UP LIKE THEM- PLEASE BELIEVE ME! My parents...” Your throat feels raw, but screaming feels like the only way to reach her. “I DIDN’T WANT TO LEAVE YOU,” you finally yell. The sound echoes emptily as it bounces across the cold stone surrounding you. You’re crying now, tears streaming down your face as you clumsily search for her. Finally, you round an unfamiliar corner to find her being comforted by Jason and Roy. “Lian!” you exclaim as you blearily scramble over to her.

“You’re not my real mom,” she says quietly, causing you to stop flailing. You brace yourself against one of the walls as you pant, head pounding, heart pounding uncontrollably as your vision tunnels around you. The only things you can clearly make out are Lian, Jason and Roy, but it only serves to make you more panicked. “And you did leave me,” her dark eyes stare you down hauntingly, “just like her.”

This time, she’s ushered away by your loves who treat you like you’re not even there. You don’t attempt to chase after them, fuck knows she’s better off without you... They all are.

You crash through the last cloud, finding yourself on the stone-cold ground as you catch your bearings.

You want to give up as you slink to the frigid floor below. Tears flow freely from your stinging, puffy eyes as you rock back and forth on the rough ground. “I’m sorry,” you mutter, hating how the sound of your voice plays on repeat all around you. “I made a mistake,” you sniffle wetly. “I made a fucking mistake. I can’t do this alone, I can’t-“ you choke. “I can’t be alone. Please, don’t leave me,” you brokenly whisper to the empty maze.

Through your blinding thoughts, you hear a semi-familiar voice. You’re unable to place it, but you can’t help but follow after it.

“Go right,” the voice says, echoing along the stone chasms surrounding you. Your legs jerk in the direction, staggering to follow after the sound. “Right.” Again, you clumsily chase after the voice. “Make a left at the opening.”

Upon taking the left, you lumber out into the center of the maze whilst mumbling the directions lucidly.

“There is no hope,” the voice suddenly booms, sounding as if it’s right behind you. However, when you turn around, you’re only met with more fog. “There is no savior.” At this point, you’re spinning around, looking erratically for the source. “Not this time.” From here, a familiar man emerges menacingly from the thick smog.

“Talon,” you hiss incoherently.

“That’s right,” he praises you. Similar to Dr. Crane, he begins to circle you as if studying your every movement. “We finally meet. I hear you have a penchant for ruining plans.” You have no idea what to say to that, so you remain silent. Your brain is thrumming in pain and delusion, but you fight to push past it, and you force yourself to circle around the killer. “You won’t mess up mine, though. You see, I have a penchant for pushing people to their limit,” he says. “I like peering between the cracks in a person’s psyche to see how I can melt it down, mold it to fit my wants and needs.” He suddenly surges forward, pinning you against the stone wall behind you. “I’m going to manipulate you in ways that haven’t been studied yet, but I’m guessing you’ll be a really good test subject. After all, that is your purpose, right?”

“Fuck you,” you spit, growling when his face comes within centimeters of yours. “You talk about control and yet you’re not even the one in charge.”

He presses you deeper against the cold, scratchy surface. The threat his strength alone brings is threat enough. Knowing you’re in his territory and he has weapons at his disposal while you’re just stuck with your hands is the even bigger threat.

“Do you feel in charge?” he asks, though you can tell he’s just teasing you. It’s as if he finds the whole situation largely amusing; as if he already knows how this is going to end.

Well, he doesn’t.

You technically don’t either, to be honest, but you refuse to let this be the way you go out.

“I’m in charge here,” you pant, whimpering when his thick, gloved hand comes up to choke you. Your hand immediately covers his in a lame attempt to pry it off, but it’s useless. “This is my mind,” you hiss through the abhorrent pressure. “You can’t hurt me in here.”

“Is that so?” Talon scoffs, backing off immediately. You gasp, drawing in as much tainted air as you can and regret it instantly when the woozy feeling the gas brings washes over you once again. “Let’s test that theory, then.” With this, he draws his swords and charges at you.

You roll yourself along the stone wall and quickly flee to the closest portion of the maze. Your movements are jerky, unstable, but it’s all you’ve got. At the very least, you’re just glad you’re able to move. This doesn’t mean, however, that you’re moving in any semblance of fast, meaning Talon’s able to catch up to you easily. The man, though he’s completely covered by his mask, is clearly enjoying the chase.

His sword crashes to the left of you, clanking against the stone as it makes abrupt contact. The sudden movement has you crashing into the opposite wall. You drop down to avoid another swing and stumble to get back up to run barefoot down a different section of the labyrinth.

It’s here that you manage to lose him for a second, though you soon hear his sword scraping menacingly against the walls as he searches for you. He’s rapidly approaching and you have no idea what to do. Your brain screams, begging for you to give in to the poison, but you know that if you give in now, you’ll be dead before the days up. You shake your head, pinching yourself wherever you can to keep yourself awake and alert as you search for the exit.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” he sing-songs. “How much longer can you keep this up?” he calls out tauntingly. “No, really, I want to know.” His dark, damning voice is close. With two options in front of you, you pick the one on the right, only to run into a dead end. “You know I can hear you.” He sounds like he’s talking through a smile. “I can end this any time I want.”

You don’t know what comes over you, but you’ve had enough. You’re not some owl’s fucking prey.

“Then, do it!” you scream. “DO IT!”

He’s on you in a second, but you’re already nearly out of the dead end. The man tackles you to the ground, chuckling darkly as he does.

You’re fucked. You’re absolutely fucking dead.

The sound of clanking glass draws your attention, but Talon’s too focused on subduing you to notice it. You’d completely forgotten that you have two vials of their shitty concoction in your stolen lab coat. If this is the only chance you have for a distraction, you know you’ve got to use it. You only hope some of the liquid will survive for analysis, but you’re mainly just focused on, you know, not fucking dying.

“I know you want me to kill you, that you want me to end the misery you’re experiencing,” he gibes as he presses his sword against the scar on your neck, “but I won’t.” With this, he uses his other hand to draw up the hanging cloth portion of the bottom of his mask to reveal a pleased smirk. “I have other plans in mind.”

He did say you have a penchant for fucking up plans, didn’t he?

With both his hands preoccupied, you shove yours into the pockets of the lab coat to produce the purple vial. Though he catches onto what you’re doing fast, it’s not fast enough. You break the vial against the floor, stabbing the sharp edges of the broken glass into his exposed neck.

“Taste of your own fucking medicine,” you manage to slur out as you wiggle out from under him.

While he continues to react to the substance, you make a break for it. Though you’re delirious, marks and blood along the stone labyrinth help you recognize ways you’ve been down and ways you haven’t. By sheer dumb luck, you stop to catch your breath right by, upon closer inspection, what appears to be a door. You can only hope it’s not another fucking lab.

You push with the rest of your strength, screaming in agony as you do so. The door whines and groans under your force until it’s forced open to reveal-

“Oh, no fucking way,” you mutter weakly as you stumble into the very room you’d been in a week prior.

The Court’s headquarters are hidden behind the fireplace you’d found at their secret meeting location. You hardly have time to think of how you’d been right as you stagger through the familiar space.

The hall you’d been in for the court meeting is eerily empty, allowing you to run out through the front door as if on autopilot. When you emerge, you keep running without stopping until you reach the law firm- safety. You don’t know what time it is, let alone what day it is, as you storm inside the dark office. Luckily, the place is empty. Though there's an abundance of cars and activity outside, the clock inside reads 1:03.

Panicked, you begin to rifle around the filing cabinet and soon find your discarded gown. You waste no time in pulling it on, quickly shifting into a fighting stance when you hear rustling from outside the building. Those owl fucks aren’t taking you back to that place. No. You won’t let them. You’ll die before you become someone’s experiment again.

Willing all the sanity you have left and gathering up the remnants of your depleted energy, you storm out of the building with rabid eyes, paperweight from one of the desks loosely in your right hand as you come face-to-face with Red Hood and Arsenal. Upon your entrance into the alley, you swear you see the familiar gleam of familiar sais, but it’s gone before you can question if you’ve imagined it or not.

“What happened?” You’re looking at them, but you’re far too out of it to tell which one of them is talking. “Who did this to you?”

You shake your head. They’re not fucking real. None of this is.

Panic swells over your entire being, feeling yourself begin to shake. You’re freezing, but it’s the only feeling keeping you grounded as you fight through the fog that’s overwhelming your mind. You’re shivering, your mouth wobbling as you try to think of something coherent to see if it’s really them, but nothing comes out.

You suppose it’s good that neither of them has tried to attack you just yet, but it doesn’t necessarily clarify that it’s not The Court. You know now from firsthand experience that they like to play games, so who’s to say this isn’t another one of their fucked up tests?

Were they going to leave again, just as they had in the maze?

“I-“ you say, attempting to catch your breath while you wonder if they’re actually real or not. “I’m the one in control of my mind,” you hiss at them. “I CONTROL ME!” you shout crazily, lifting your arm with the weighted weapon as if begging them to dispute your words. “Neither of you are real,” you whimper, shaking your head rapidly as you back away from their advancing forms. “NONE OF THIS IS FUCKING REAL!”

“Baby, we’re here to save you.”

You hear Roy’s voice as clear as day, but your vision is still too hazy to confirm if he’s merely a vision or not. You know you’re lucky to have made it as far as you have, though part of you worries that you’re still inside, that maybe you haven’t left that wretched hell at all.

You feel yourself slipping, wanting to believe so bad that it really is them.

“I don’t need anyone to save me,” you growl. Contrary to your words, however, seconds later your arm begins to shake and soon, your whole body follows suit. Without warning, you crumple to the pavement in front of them and begin to sob. Your hands clench around fistfuls of your hair as you begin to shake and rock back and forth. “I just want this to end. Please!”

“It’s over,” Jason’s voice assures you, whispering your name like a promise. “It’s over.”

Somehow, you believe him.

“It’s over,” you conceed before promptly passing out.

•••

This time, when you wake up, you find yourself in your bed.

You quickly snap your eyes shut again as you tune into the noises in your surroundings.

The shower’s running and you hear the TV on low. Upon listening closer, you realize that it’s on The Food Network, undoubtedly Jason’s choice. You battle internally with yourself: to open your eyes and trust that this is real, or play opossum and try to figure out how to actually get out of the maze- out of your head.

While you’re going back and forth, you suddenly hear Jason’s deep humming reverberating from the bathroom, meaning the weight you feel beside you must be Roy. Your heart beats fast, wanting so badly to believe that you escaped. You take a leap of faith and open your eyes. Roy’s light green ones latch onto yours immediately.

“Hey,” he greets your dazed form quietly. You close your eyes again, willing the scene to change, but it doesn’t. When you open them again, Roy’s still there, staring at you with concern. “Jay!” Roy calls out. Not even seconds later, a distressed Jason emerges in the doorway of the adjoining bathroom, completely wet and completely naked.

For some reason, all these little quirks somehow add up to let you know that this is actually real. You had managed to escape The Court of Owls all on your own.

“What happened?” Jason asks as he approaches you slowly. “Are you feeling alright?” Are you sane again? You open your mouth to speak, but your throat is too raw to speak. “I’ll make you some tea,” he says instead. You watch lazily as he grabs a towel and swiftly exits without another word.

“We were really worried,” Roy says. His voice is deep and gravelly. It feels entirely intimate and this is exactly what you need after the hell you just went through. “Did someone take you?” he asks as he cautiously curls around you. When you don’t tense, he allows himself to relax into you, drawing circles across your shoulders as he does. “When we came back, you were gone and Lian was playing alone in her room.”

You attempt to swallow around the lump in your throat, but it’s too dry to do so. Guilt floods every atom of your being, so much so that the shame visibly heats up your cheeks. As a cop-out, you motion to your throat and he seems to understand that you’re unable to speak. You watch as he frowns and turns toward the TV, though his eyes are glazed over as if deep in thought.

Jason returns minutes later with a tray containing a steaming kettle and a teacup filled with honey and a filled infuser.

“It’s chamomile,” he says as he shifts uncomfortably, awaiting your first sip.

You’ve only ever seen him act like this when he needs to apologize to you. Had you not already been feeling so guilty, you might actually kind of find it cute how nervous he was for you. However, all you can think about is how angry they’re both going to be with you when the truth comes out. You practically already know their reaction, having seen how they abandoned you in the maze after Lian had… It wasn’t real, you reassert to yourself.

“It’s good,” you manage to rasp out after a few sips. The hot liquid coats your throat, silencing the pain for a brief second as you swallow it down. After another cup, you gently clear your throat, grimacing lightly when sharp pain erupts from the action. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“Don’t be, baby,” Roy coos gently. “What happened to you wasn’t your fault at all.” While you’d like nothing more than to lie and shift the blame, you know you can’t. Regardless of what you saw in the labyrinth, you know you owe it to them to take the blame, to tell the truth.

“But it was,” you breathe. They both look at you curiously, leaving you to shrink into yourself. “I left here willingly.” You don’t bother to watch their expressions change as the weight of your admission hits them.

“So, you willingly left Lian alone?” Jason asks curtly. “What? To take down The Court on your own like that dumb shit you pulled at the dockyards?”

You hang your head in shame. “My parents,” you reply through a voice crack. You clear your throat again, taking another sip as you finally look at both of them again. Jason’s face is completely blank, while Roy’s is entirely betrayed.

Fuck.

Though you had to know this was coming, it still doesn’t make their reactions sting any less.

“You left our kid to go see some fucking deadbeats?” Jason hisses, brows furrowing as if you might’ve actually lost your goddamned mind. “The fuck is going on with you? This isn’t like you at all, so what the fuck is actually going on?”

“They sent me a letter. I wasn’t planning on going,” you admit. “Being alone in the house, though, all I could do was think on it. Time was running out and before I knew it, I was outside the building watching the two of you walk in.”

“And you didn’t say shit to us?”

“No,” you whimper, feeling tears coming on. It would’ve saved so much pain and so much misunderstanding had you just reached out to them. Now, well… “I fucked up. I really did,” you sob. “Maybe I’m tired of always making the right decisions,” you manage through a gross sniffle. “Maybe I’m tired of needing backup. Maybe I just want to do shit for myself and know I can take care of the aftermath without… I don’t need anyone,” you wail, “but I want to rely on the two of you and all this shit with the family, Bruce and now knowing that my parents are fucking through with me, it’s all too much. I think,” you cut off with a hiccup, “I think I broke down. Mentally, you know? Even if I hadn’t been abducted, I’d still feel bad for leaving how I did. It wasn’t right and it’s not what a mom does.” You hiccup again as you wipe away the stream of tears leaking from your eyes.

“So, what happened?” Roy asks. You can tell he’s still distraught that you left your daughter alone, but you know he feels some relief knowing she was alone for only a minute or two. Doesn’t make it any better, though, you know that as much as anyone in the room.

“I went there and they didn’t show up.” You shrug nonchalantly, but the words kill you inside. You’ve officially been discarded. There’s no making up with them, no redeeming any sense of the relationship with either of them. Dead. That’s all they want. They want you dead. And then Bruce… You sigh, “I just wanted to give them a chance, just like you’ve both done with your parents. Didn’t matter, anyway. The guard must’ve worked for The Court because he punched me.” You motion to the bruise that’s undoubtedly adorning your face before continuing, “It was all a trap, though. I woke up in some underground lab, completely drugged off my ass.”

From here, you tell them everything: from Crane to Talon, the maze, the sticky-note and even your vision and the subsequent glass container that followed.

“You should’ve let us come with you,” Jason insists irritably. You can tell both of them are still processing everything, so you try not to take his reaction to heart.

“What good would that have done?” you ask. “So we’d all get captured and experimented on? No,” you shake your head, “I don’t think so.”

“But you’re injured,” Roy says like it explains everything. “You should’ve told us, at the very least, so we could keep an eye on you.”

“You really shouldn’t be out in public with this threat looming without us, especially not while you’re still recovering,” Jason agrees.

“Excuse me?” You can hardly believe what you’re hearing. “In case you’re both forgetting, I didn’t need your help.” You think back to your issue with them the other night and decide to bring it up. “And I don’t fucking need you guys to do the dirty work without me either,” you snap.

“We just don’t want to lose you again,” Roy cries out suddenly, urging you to understand their perspective.

Regardless of all the facts, you’re still the love of their lives. You know they wouldn’t know what to do without you and you the same with them.

“It’s nothing to do with your abilities,” Jason adds sincerely.

“But it is,” you insist, “and you guys always say the same shit. How many times do I really need to prove myself before it gets through to your heads that I’m an asset, not a hindrance? You’re not doing me any favors by letting me tag along,” you say pointedly. “When are you guys going to realize that I’m doing this to put an end to what I started and that you two are just along for the ride.” You watch their faces for any tells, but both of them just appear to be taking in your words. Good, you need them to really fucking hear this. “You always tell me that I’m strong, but when are you guys actually going to realize that I am strong?”

It’s quiet and you watch as they turn to each other, having a silent back and forth before finally turning back your way.

“You’re right,” Jason says as he joins the two of you on the bed. Your stomach flips, finally feeling heard. You’ve finally proven yourself. There’s zero doubt left in anyone’s mind of what you’re capable of after a stunt like this. “We love you a lot and it’s hard not to get possessive over you. We just want to keep you safe but it’s clear you don’t need us to protect you at all.”

“I’m sorry for hiding shit again,” you breathe. “This whole day was completely fucked on my part and it’ll fucking haunt me forever how I handled this shit.” It’s quiet for a moment as the three of you come to terms with the past six hours. You sigh, “Seems like we can have all the conversations we want about our contentions, but it’s putting in the actual work that’s the hardest part.”

Roy shuffles up against your side quickly. Regardless of everything, you know all he wants is to support you after everything you’ve just been through. “Of course it is, baby,” he murmurs as his hands trickle lightly up and down your arm. “We know it as much as anyone. I’m nowhere near perfect either and, as much as I love him, neither is Jay over there either.”

Though you feel his eyes on you, you can’t quite bring yourself to look over at him yet. It’s a complete cop-out. One that you know both of you are completely aware of, though it doesn’t stop you from avoiding his reaction any less.

“I’m just glad we’re all able to talk about it instead of those huge blow-ups like before,” you say, feeling vulnerable as you finally force yourself to meet Jason’s emerald gaze.

“Definitely on the right track,” Roy agrees with a gentle kiss to your forehead.

The two of you both turn to Jason at the same time, who, in response, blushes and crosses his arms over his chest. He seems to catch the action and awkwardly uncrosses them, seemingly out of embarrassment. It’s really fucking cute. Instead of responding, he simply clears his throat. “You should rest,” Jason insists. “Whatever they poisoned you with will still probably working its way out of your system for another few hours.”

With the info from Poison Ivy and the Cadmus scientist, coupled with your visions and the now-placed microwave emitter, you attempt to piece together the puzzle, but you’re still missing big chunks of the bigger scheme.

Was Dr. Crane the other benefactor Grandmaster had been referring to in the meeting? What did the subway systems have to do with anything? And, what were the trials in the lab reports you’d found referencing?

There are still so many unanswered questions and time is clearly running out. April 1st is less than a week away, which barely leaves you enough time to prepare for a formidable attack that keeps looming closer and closer. With such doom eminent, you know you have to get as ahead of The Court as you can before April materializes.

After they’ve gone to sleep you get a text.

Possible Spam: Balcony

Without a word, you tiredly slip away from your sleeping lovers in hopes of answers.

A/N: next chap, the puzzle finally comes together. chap 12 is the boss battle where everything changes AGAIN rip lmao and chap 13 is a wrap-up / an epilogue of sort

[next: coming soon] || masterlist || pinned || ways to support

#jason todd x reader #reader x jason todd #reader x jason todd x roy harper #reader x roy harper #jayroy #x reader #my fic: cardinal sins

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shinyhappysims · 1 month ago

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sulsulchatroom.net Conversation Log

xBabyDoll69x: hey babe. tired of ur wife?

MightyThaiger: yes. yes i am.

xBabyDoll69x: u wanna come have a good time with me? ;)

MightyThaiger: no. no i don’t.

xBabyDoll69x: :((( why r u even on here if u don’t want to hook up?

MightyThaiger: i’m a faithful husband. i just need to vent.

xBabyDoll69x: i’m not a therapist cupcake. i jst wanted sum dick

MightyThaiger: please. i have no one.

xBabyDoll69x: ugh omg this is what i get for being so hot and sexy and caring and understanding…what’s wrong?

MightyThaiger: it’s just… im married to this woman who takes our religion very seriously. like of course i believe but i worry about our kids.

xBabyDoll69x: i wld just take them and go. how many kids do u have?

MightyThaiger: …16

xBabyDoll69x: holy shit dude nvm

MightyThaiger: yeah. anyways i converted to christianity when i was in college. growing up my brother was a troublemaker, so my parents left me to my own devices and focused more on him, i guess bc i was mature enough to look out for myself. the church were the first people to let me know that i wasn’t alone. hearing that god having a plan for me made me finally feel like i had a purpose.

xBabyDoll69x: ur parents shouldn’t have done that to u. u might have been mature but u were still a kid with needs.

MightyThaiger: it was really hard for me to not resent my family. dad passed away right after i graduated. i got married two years later and my mom and brother don’t like my wife so it was the perfect excuse to distance myself.

xBabyDoll69x: what abt ur wife and kids? and why tf do u have 16 of them?

MightyThaiger: wife is gung ho abt gender roles. our oldest daughter is so smart. she reminds me of my mom, who’s the strongest person i’ve ever met. but i’m supposed to hate that. i’m supposed to beat all the personality out of my daughter and force her into this little box of being a quiet servant. my wife talks constantly about how much she hates our daughter. it breaks my heart. and we have 16 kids because my wife doesn’t believe in birth control and wants to have as many children as god “blesses” us with. i want my children to find the same joy i found in god but… not like this.

xBabyDoll69x: what in the sim bob duggar… srsly tho do u think u can convince ur wife to tone it down a bit?

MightyThaiger: heh. that’s funny. i’m supposed to be the head of the household but my wife does whatever she wants. i shouldn’t have ever offered to build that damn church with her and her cousins. i could have probably made up with my family by now, but they won’t talk to me anymore. they assume anytime i try to talk to them i just want to get them to convert.

xBabyDoll69x: i’m so sorry. this is devastating. r u sure u don’t wanna come over and take ur mind off of it?

MightyThaiger: tempting, but no. i made a vow, for better or worse. too bad things probably won’t ever get better.

MightyThaiger has left the chat.

#fundie simblr #fundie sims #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 legacy #ts4 story #ts4 #simblr #shs: jamilah

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i-heart-yellowstone · 2 months ago

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13 - Families Looking For Answers

Part 14

Raised Fair Share of Hell

Tag list @bvbwestfall @hcwthewestwaswcn @child-of-of-the-sunshine @elenavampire21 @keep-the-wolves-close @kmc1989 @tallrock35

Kayce rode up on his horse to the exact spot where his mother was killed after her horse collapsed onto her legs and seriously injured her where she ended up dying. He dismounted his horse slowly walking over to his father who was leaning on his palms that rested against the wooden fence. “You come here much?”

“Every chance I get. Been 20 years. No - 21. 21 years and it feels like yesterday. I still feel her, smell her. Been half a man without her. It’s not an excuse. I was just a better father when she was with me.” John bent his head towards the dirt underneath his boots simply staring at them before he finally looked back at his son. “Hope you never know what that feels like, son.”

Kayce raised his head up scanning his brown eyes over the bright blue sky above him. He shoved his hands inside the pockets of his brown jacket. “I already know what it feels like.”

“Alissa still refusing to talk to you?” He questioned his son.

Kayce gave him a one word answer. “Yeah.”

“What happened, son. You haven’t mentioned her or Faith, Kayce. So please help me understand what has happened between the two of you.”

The youngest Dutton child heavily sighed, avoiding his father’s gaze. “I don’t want to talk about this now, dad.”

“Well too bad because we’re going to talk about it right now.” John takes strong strides up till he is in his son’s face.

Kayce snaps getting in his face. “Her father hates me. He hates me for accidentally getting another girl pregnant before he knew his own daughter was having a baby of her own. And I’m starting to hate myself because I’m getting closer to realizing that you might have been right. You were right that I should have helped Monica while she carried the baby but after I shouldn’t have stuck around!”

John ran a hand down his face. “Listen to me, son. Alissa Lambert is probably the best thing for you like your mother was for me. You need to start realizing that before you lose her.”

“She wants nothing to do with me, dad. She looked me in the eye and said “I don’t hate you but I’m not sure I love you anymore”. I’m not seeing hope that we will get back together.”

John grabbed his son’s forearm forcing him to look him in the eye. “You need to do whatever you can to get her back. Don’t let her disappear from your life. You don’t deserve to be unhappy, neither does Alissa and especially not keep Faith from having both her parents in her life.”

“I’ll do the best I can, dad.” Kayce nodded his head before the pair turned around staring back at the empty field with nothing more to say.

Alissa’s pov

Closing the bar door I locked it up tight making sure the horse wouldn’t escape before I headed upstairs until I quickly entered the living room and flopped down on the main couch covering my face in my hands.

The past few days have felt like an eternity. My emotions have been all over the place after the intense fight that me and Kayce had when he told me about seeing me sleep with Ryan. I didn’t know what to feel about our argument.

Footsteps creaked against the old wooden floor of our old ranch farmhouse and I wasn’t able to know who it was until the person spoke to me. “Honey, can I talk with you?”

“I guess so, mom.”

My mother Margaert stepped around my legs and sat down gently beside me on the couch cushions. “How have you been feeling lately?”

“I really don’t want to talk about Kayce right now.”

She attempted to hide the question she was really asking me. “I’m not asking about him. I’m asking about you.”

“Mom.” I sent her a warningful glare dropping my hands from over my eyes. My mother was secretly a noisy person. She means well but I wasn’t really interested in having any conversation about me and my best friend. Griffin, my father, always wanted the best for his daughters. He had raised us like we were sons to him, more so than innocent daughters. Except he didn’t have much care about the youngest Dutton when he found out he got another girl pregnant.

She lowered her gaze to her hands in her lap. “Look I understand that you two aren’t getting along. But he is a good guy. You’ve been best friends for as long as I can remember so please just tell me what is going on between you two?”

“We had a fight after he saw me sleeping with one of his father's ranch hands.” I throw my hands up in the air already knowing she would have some response back but I didn't let her finish. “And I don't want to hear you scold me because Ryan and I had agreed it's no strings attached sex. We literally met at a bar and came back here whIle you and dad were asleep with Faith. Urgh! I just can't believe he was spying on me.”

My mother gently touched my shoulder. “I won’t tell your father about this. But I will tell you that I still see a future between you two.”

“How do you see a future between us when he keeps going back to Monica Long?”

She briefly paused biting her lip that she only ever did when she didn’t have an immediate answer. “I’d say give him some time. He’s raising two kids by two different women. He’ll figure out that he’s the son of a rancher and should be with a rancher's daughter sooner or later.”

“Yeah maybe you’re right, momma.” I slowly nodded my head in agreement with her.

My mother wrapped her arms around me hugging me for a few minutes whispering in my ear before we heard someone coming down the hallway. “Plus one thing is for certain. You and that Dutton boy will always look out for each other.”

“Lissa, there you are. There’s something we need to talk about on the front porch.”

Laying back against the couch I attempted to read her face to see what this conversation would be about. Unfortunately that was no luck given the fact that she was sending me a stone cold emotionless look. “Alana, I don’t want to talk about Kayce.”

“We’re not gonna talk about him. You are going to talk to him and finally settle this thing between you two once and for all.” My sister declared to me, snatching me up from the couch and dragging me upstairs and into her bedroom.

She locked the door behind me, reaching inside her dresser drawer taking out some forms that she pushed into my hands. “What is so important we have to talk about this very moment - huh - divorce papers, are you serious?”

“Look I am not the one who came up with the idea.”

I cut her off before she could say more. “Daddy gave you these to give to me didn’t he?”

“Yeah he did. He wouldn’t let me leave until I willingly took them from him.” She admits lowering her gaze to the boots she was wearing, seeing me throw down the papers on the bed before I shoved her out of my way leaving the bedroom. “Alissa, wait. Where are you going?”

Stomping down the hallway I grabbed my phone and care keys heading out the front door. “To the bar. I need to drink with Beth.” Slamming the front door I got in my truck to go pick her up , simply needing to distract myself from everyone being so focused on me and Kayce when both of our families had people coming after our generational ranches.

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tojiscumdumpster · 1 year ago

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CHAPTER SEVEN - TOJI

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀✧ summary page

Within the next few minutes, I’ll be dead. I knew this the moment I saw that blue-eyed freak reappear after when I thought I killed him. Fucking sorcerers and their cursed technique bullshit. Maybe I was too confident thinking I would win the second time. I doubted myself at first, but then I calmed down… No.

I was just too confident.

A world like this wasn’t meant for a monkey like me. I was born into a fucked up family that treated me like shit because I didn’t have any cursed technique. The scar on my lip reminds me of it every day. I got over it, though. I accepted this was my faith. I served my purpose, and it was time for me to go.

Still, I can’t help but wish I made it out alive. That I had a little bit more time.

“Nah,” I replied, vaguely.

How am I supposed to answer some cliché question like that?

Any last words?

Why would I tell him that?

Tell him about the thoughts and images that’s in my head.

Tell him that I had a wife who I actually saw some good in me. Good enough to get pregnant and raise a kid together. Tch, me? Toji Fushiguro? A husband and father? I never thought I would live to see the day. And of course, it didn’t last long.

My wife died because of an incurable sickness. I never felt pain before. Not when I’m standing here with half my body blown off. Not when my family tortured me. But the day she died, I felt pain. I didn’t cry. I just felt empty. Felt like I had no reason to be decent anymore. How was I supposed to raise a kid by myself?

She told me I was going to be okay.

I wasn’t okay.

I’m a fucked a person.

A fucked up father.

. . . I was never made to be a fucking dad. Me selling my son to my family is better than what I could’ve done for him. It wouldn’t make any difference if I was or was not in his life because I would never be good enough to be a father. . . A person. . . But I met. . . Her.

In my final moments, I think of my late wife, my son, and—

“Dad!” Megumi’s deafening voice wakes me up. “It’s almost five. We have to go to the store.”

What the…

What the fuck was that?

Lately my mind has been clogged with thoughts and what feels like memories I used to have. Could never decipher them, but that dream was probably the clearest I had.

Me being on the verge of death (wouldn’t be the first time), apparently being killed by some blue-eyed fuck. Giving Megumi away to the Zen’in Family? Like fucking hell. I would endure the shit they put me through every day for the rest of my life knowing it would keep my kid safe. I just don’t understand these dreams I’ve been having.

Are they signs? Is my judgment day coming where I would have to atone to my sins? Some bad shit about to happen to me? Megumi? I don’t fucking know.

I don’t care for karma. I don’t care for faith, destiny, or any of that manifestation bullshit. But I do believe in purpose, and sometimes I feel like I don’t have any. That there isn’t any.

I’m a dad. For what? To fail my son. I was a husband, had my flaws but shit, I tried. And for what? To lose her only after being parents together for eight years? It was unexpected. Nature calling, and at the moment, I never hated whatever fucking god above so much because they took her away from me.

From me and Megumi.

Please take care of Megumi.

It’s like I can hear her lecturing me about all the times I had our kid eating take out or having him walk home alone from school.

Take care of Megumi. . . Yeah, I’m trying.

I have to do better.

I need to.

The little purpose I have is left for him.

“If you can’t go anymore, can you at least give me the money so I can go by my-”

“No,” I interrupted, clearing my throat. “No, let’s go. Sorry, kid. Your old man was dozing off.”

Here’s another thing about being a parent. Being around other parents who force small talk while their kids go off and buy shit. Because we’re parents, that means we have to share funny stories and randomly show baby photos to people you don’t even fucking know. Why? I don’t know, but I bet the mom next to me that has been talking my ears out for the past fifteen minutes could tell you.

Having Megumi as my kid means he’s going to have most, if not some, of my traits. One of them being how much of a loner I am that appreciates his space. After my failed attempt to walk around with the kid to maybe have some father-son bonding, I figured I just stand at a comfortable distance and let him do his own thing.

No pressure. I’m on his time. Not the other way around.

Still, me standing alone was not a fucking invitation to talk to me.

I respect women. I do, but I’m two seconds away from telling her to fuck off in the nicest way possible.

Though, I have a reason why she approached me to begin with.

How she’s invading my space, trying her hardest for me to look at her tits. The extra pout she gives her lips while talking to me. How she’s still asking me one off questions, despite my vague one word answers.

She’s looking to get fucked, but she’s just too shy to say it.

Attractive for most part. Probably five-foot-ten, maybe in her late thirties. Strong perfume. Hair drops right below her jaw.

Hm, not my type.

“So, here’s another photo-”

“Sorry, why are you showing me these again?” I abruptly asked.

“I—” she stumbles over her words, pushing her hair back while giving me a timid smile.

“Seems like you had other reasons.”

“Like?”

I shrug. “To get fucked.” I can tell that my brute honesty throws her off a bit, but she gathers herself.

“Are you offering?”

“No.”

She’s probably taken back by my response. I wouldn’t know because I casually walked away to the next aisle.

Back in Tokyo, I gained attention, but in America? The women here look at me like I’m a fucking piece of meat. Not that I don’t mind, but shit.

What would help if they didn’t waste both our time with trivial chit chat and just cut straight to the chase.

Anyways.

Told the kid I’ll be walking around the store if he needs me, and of course he replies with whatever . Like I should be surprised.

He’s my son, after all.

Pretty packed for a Tuesday night at the store. Guess all the parents are out buying their kids shit, too. While Megumi is getting his supplies together, figured I could go to the meat section to make dinner tonight. Probably hot pot for the kid and offal for me.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing this parenting shit right. You know, letting Megumi be by himself to buy things while I roam around. Probably not because I see families throughout the store and they look happy, for the most part.

The look on their faces, the light conversations they’re having about who knows what. . . I can tell this is going to be one of those fucking nights for me.

Remember there was a point in my life where I was content with the small family I created. My wife. Megumi. Living in the shittiest apartment building back in Tokyo and barely making ends meet.

I came from a wealthy family. One of the wealthiest in Japan. I was supposed to be a silver spooned brat that was grateful to be born into money, only later to be beaten and emotionally abused, which eventually left me in the streets.

And you know after all the shit those Zen’in fucks put me through regardless of the amount of money I had access to, I’d always choose what I had with my wife and my strained relationship with Megumi.

But of course, any good that happens to me is only temporary. Can only imagine how long I have left with Megumi until he turns eighteen and moves far away from me if he decides to go to college.

Is it wrong for me to wish my kid would cut me some slack? Probably, but that’s not something I would ever ask him. Though, I can fucking admit that it stings how he addresses me has changed over time.

Daddy to Papa, now to Dad. Soon he’ll start being formal and shit by calling me father or even my first name. I guess I should be grateful he’s calling me anything at all.

Damn, if I liked alcohol, I would’ve said I need a drink right now. Maybe a few. Being in family settings makes me feel the emotion I hate feeling the most. Vulnerability .

It makes me feel weak, like I’m pitying myself. I don’t care for pity. I don't care to say I didn’t deserve to experience trauma. It happened. There’s shit I can do about it. No point for me to keep thinking about it.

It’s just hard when your son doesn’t even want to be seen with you in public to go school supply shopping.

I need to clear my head.

Already worked out twice today, and clearly that’s not working. Maybe some pussy. It’s been a while since I last had sex. Maybe I need…

Y/N .

Here I am again thinking about her at the most random fucking times. I said I need her. Would I ever tell her that? Most likely not.

How can I tell a woman that I don’t know that I need her? To be around her and have her bubbly personality overshadow my grumpiness. To stare at her in dead silence and think how fucking pretty she is. How good she smells. How can I tell Y/N that?

She’s good company.

That’s all she is…

Soon she’ll see I’m no good.

“Miss L /N told me you’ve been doing good in class, kid.”

Been home with Megumi for about two hours now. School shopping is not fucking cheap, to say the least. My job pays well, but the cost of shit in America is still something I’m trying to adjust to, especially in comparison to Japan.

Megumi is the only reason why I haven’t gotten broke yet.

“Yeah,” he responds flatly.

I stuff my mouth with a piece of meat. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Alright.”

There goes that loud silence.

I continue, trying to keep conversation. “Food's good?” He nods. “Think you got everything you needed for school?”

“Yes, Dad.” Annoyance fills his voice, making it very clear that I’m bothering him.

“Everything’s okay?” I asked.

“Can’t we just eat in silence? Why are you forcing conversation?”

Oh.

“Sorry, kid. Just trying-”

Megumi pushes back his chair, standing up with his plate in his hand. “I’m going to my room. Thanks for dinner.”

What the fuck am I doing wrong?

I talk, he’s annoyed with me. I don’t talk, I feel like he’s being neglected again. Not sure if I’m giving Megumi too much space or just enough space, but it’s kind of fucking hard when I don’t how he feels.

When you come from an abusive family that doesn't know how to give or receive love, it passes onto you and potentially it’ll pass onto your child.

That’s what I’m trying to prevent.

I was scared as shit when my wife first told me she was pregnant. I mean, how the fuck was I supposed to be a dad? I don't know what it feels like to have one. But I knew I was going to be okay if I had her by my side.

I’m a fucked up person. . . A fucked up father.

“Fuck, I need to take a walk,” I say to myself.

I get up to put the leftovers in the oven so I can finish later. Before I walk out the door, I tell Megumi I’m stepping out for a while and guess what he says?

Whatever.

Patience, Fushiguro. Patience.

Be kind to yourself, Toji . That’s what Y/N told me the other day. I have messaged or contacted her at all since I got her number yesterday. Maybe I need to talk to her… see her… just for a little bit.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

discussion question #3 — the more we see toji and megumi's relationship, struggles are shown between them. more so, on toji's part. do you think he should continue making small talk or allow megumi to come around whenever he's ready? looks like toji is afraid to let that happen because he doesn't want megumi to feel neglected. thoughts?

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meowmeow-motherfucker · 1 year ago

Text

Covenant- Chapter 2

Summary: With the five year anniversary of the attack on New York approaching, Odin and Fury come to the agreement that an arranged marriage between Asgard and Earth would show good faith toward all future interactions. When Odin refuses Jane’s candidacy, Agent Coulson is tasked with finding a suitable wife for the prince of Asgard.

Pairing: Loki x OFC Claire

Warnings: Odin is a bad parent, arranged marriage, sexist societal norms, Loki being a dick

Read it on A03 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51197938/chapters/129363727#workskin

Covenant Chapter 2

New York

The following day, after a night of drinking, eating way too much greasy pizza, and binging action flicks, Claire went back to talk to Thor. The reality of her fate hadn’t quite settled in yet and Claire wanted to get some answers before she had time to overthink.

Claire had half expected Clint to drop from the vents again, but her elevator ride went undisturbed. It took her longer to find Thor, because people kept stopping her to congratulate her or talk to her. She hadn’t considered how quickly the news would have spread, and wished the floor would swallow her whole.

While the fifth person was talking her ear off about how lucky she was, Claire finally spotted Thor and Jane.

“Nice talking to you, gotta go!” she bolted toward the couple, leaving the woman in the dust. Thor turned toward her thundering footsteps and grinned, waving excitedly.

“Claire! How do you fare?” Thor asked as she drew near.

“Um…surviving,” Claire mumbled. “Do you have a minute? I was hoping to pick your brain.”

“Of course! Anything for my new sister!” Thor said cheerily, wrapping her in a tight hug that made her spine pop like a sheet of bubble wrap. “Are you preparing for your journey?”

“Yep. Totally,” Claire lied, wincing as he released her. “Actually no, I’ve been too focused on everything that’s about to happen to even think about packing. I was hoping you could tell me about Loki.”

“Ah,” Thor said gently. He turned to Jane and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Excuse us, my love, I shall be back soon.”

“Okay. Bye Claire.” Jane offered her a small wave, which Claire returned before she and Thor left the room.

“What would you like to know?” Thor asked as they walked toward the elevator.

“What the hell am I walking into?” Claire asked. “Loki wasn’t the most sane person when he came here, and he’s been in prison for the past five years, right? So safe to assume, he’s a basket case.”

“The years have not been kind to Loki, it is true,” Thor mused. “When I saw him last…he was not well. But I don’t wish for you to despair- he will not harm you.”

“I know- the contract is very clear,” Claire shook her head. “I can handle myself; that’s not- look, I know about what he was like when he was here, and clearly his mental state hasn’t improved since then. And I can’t exactly judge, but I need to know. What was he like before?” Claire asked. “I can work with shitty mental health, but didn’t you say he was at least a decent person when you guys were younger?”

“Oh yes,” Thor grinned. “Loki has always been mischievous, but underneath he was studious and honorable. He will treat you as you deserve.”

“So you think we’ll get along?”

“Oh, I have no doubt,” Thor said quickly. “You both are strong-willed, but in time I think- I know you will come to understand one another and who knows? Perhaps you will grow to love one another.”

“Yeah, that’s what every girl dreams of; maybe falling in love with her husband,” Claire snorted. “God, what was I thinking?”

“You were thinking to spare Jane and I from being forced to live a lifetime apart,” Thor replied. “You sacrificed your future for ours. For that I thank you. It was most admirable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Claire brushed him off, the sentimentality making her feel nauseous. “I expect a fantastic wedding present.”

“Name it, and you shall have it.” Thor said with all seriousness. Claire didn’t really want anything, and she’d been joking about the gift.

“A talking llama.”

“A what?”

“A talking llama!” Claire insisted.

“I have never heard of such a thing.” Claire slapped Thor’s bicep as she laughed.

“I have faith in you, big guy,” she cackled. “Now, what else can you tell me about him? What was he like when you were kids?” Thor smiled.

“Have I ever told you about the time Loki stabbed me?” he asked excitedly.

~~~~

The two weeks waiting for Njord to return passed both too quickly, and too slowly. During the day, Claire spent her time going through her things and deciding what would go with her. Her furniture was sold, books were sorted, clothes were folded. She put in information requests for any and all intelligence S.H.I.E.L.D. possessed about the god of mischief and to her surprise, received it in less than 24 hours. Records was notoriously slow, but she supposed the fact she was about to marry the guy meant she had a right to file requests being fulfilled expediently.

Her nights were spent doubting every decision that led her here.

With one week burned, Claire shifted into research mode. The intelligence folder was lighter than she was hoping for, so she turned to the greatest possible resource: the internet. She spent days scouring every corner of the web, padding her intelligence folder as well as she could.

Phil came by several times to help her pack. Since she was traveling via bifrost, Thor had advised against taking too much at once. Phil helped her decide which books to put into short-term storage. The clothes and books she decided not to keep were hauled away by junior S.H.I.E.L.D agents to be donated. Phil made arrangements for whatever food she didn’t eat to be donated to a local food pantry.

With two days until her departure, Phil was at her apartment once again to go through the bags she’d packed and make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. Claire was becoming slightly unhinged as her time on Earth dwindled. She’d made a list of every food she needed to eat ‘one last time’, and decided to spend every penny she had on food, booze, and books.

“Are you sober enough to have a serious conversation?” Phil asked.

“Sure,” Claire said, taking another sip of her whiskey. She really wasn’t, but she didn’t care. “Shoot.”

“What are you planning to do about your special project?” Claire’s heart twisted. Her mother’s murder, her ‘special project’ as she and Phil called it, had never been solved. Orphaned at sixteen, Claire had been trying to solve the mystery ever since. Fourteen years later, Claire had identified a number of Hydra agents who’d been present, but she still didn’t know why her mother had been targeted. Why she had been targeted.

Phil was the only family she had left. He’d been in her life since she was a child, and had taken her in after her mother’s death. He’d been the one to nudge her in the direction of S.H.I.E.L.D, sponsor her late entry into the academy. He’d also notified her of an opening on Captain Rogers’ S.T.R.I.K.E team, which would have been an excellent addition to her resume.

It also would have given her an opening to question Brock Rumlow, but Rogers picked Rollins instead. She was still pissed about it. For all his talk about equality, the man still seemed to favor men over women.

But in the massive disruption that occurred at the DC headquarters in 2014, her suspicions about Rumlow had been confirmed. Both he and Rollins were confirmed to be Hydra, as had many other agents she’d befriended over the years. Friend had turned against friend, not just in DC, but at every headquarters S.H.I.E.L.D operated out of. A number of the agents on her list were confirmed Hydra agents, but it was difficult to extract information out of a corpse.

“I don’t know,” Claire said softly. “There’s not much I’ll be able to do off-world.” The thought made her burn with rage. Her mom deserved justice. Putting the investigation aside, for any reason, made her beside herself with guilt. Working for S.H.I.E.L.D was different- her work as an investigator of 0-8-4’s allowed her to travel far and wide, and poke her nose where it didn’t belong, something she used to further the investigation into her mom’s case when she could.

Once she moved to Asgard...everything else would come to a standstill.

“Leave me a list,” Phil said. “You still you have the DNA from the crime scene, right?”

“Of course.”

“If anyone on your list gets injured, I’ll get something to compare to what you’ve got.”

“How are you going to get anything out of Medical?”

“If you must know, one of the staff owes me a favor,” Phil replied. “It’s not the end, Claire.” He knew how deeply this affected Claire. The death of her mother hung over her like a dark cloud, and as the years passed with one dead end leading to another, her guilt grew.

“Feels like it.” Claire drained her glass and set it aside heavily . Silence settled in the apartment as Claire

“ I got you something,” Phil produced a small wrapped package, holding it out to her. “Here.” Claire leaned over to grab the package, eagerly tearing into the paper to reveal a thick book on Norse mythology.

“Thanks, Uncle Phil,” Claire laughed, thumbing through the selection of tales. “I’m sure this will be very helpful.”

“Of course. I’d hate for you to go to Asgard without knowing anything.”

“ You’ll go with me, right?” Claire focused on the cover of the book, fingers trailing over the intricate knot work illustration. She glanced up, her eyes full of sudden doubt.

“ Of course I will. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure you show up in style,” Phil assured her. “But first, you need to sober up.”

~~~~

Asgard

For the first time in nearly five years, Loki woke in his bed in his chambers. It was still early in the morn, before the palace residents came alive to assume their duties. Servants were no doubt already awake and bustling about, preparing the morning meal and helping prepare their betters for the day.

As if on cue, Loki heard the main door to his chambers open. Within a few moments, Loki’s personal servant Astrid entered his sleeping quarters. He watched as she set about opening the curtains and putting away his laundered clothing. She disappeared into the large bathing room off his sleeping area, and he heard her start running a bath for him.

It was all so familiar and comforting. Like he’d never left. Loki’s eyes began to sting, and he was grateful to still be under the blankets. He absolutely was not crying. To cry over something so small would be foolish, indeed. He was not a child.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Astrid called to him gently. “I’ve started your bath.”

“Good morning Astrid,” Loki replied softly. “It is nice to be back.”

“It is nice to have you back, sire. Now come along, today is a big day for you.” Loki stomach sank like a stone.

His future wife arrived today.

Not for the first time since his release from prison, Loki wondered if he’d been a fool to agree to this.

“Come, come!” Astrid chirped, pulling the blankets down from his face. “Yes, yes, I know, but you cannot meet your future bride looking like a ragamuffin.” she chastised him when he groaned. She ushered him into the bath quickly, making quick work of wetting his hair.

“Gods, Astrid, must you remind me?” he sputtered as she scrubbed his scalp with determination.

“Oh, hush. One should think this is a happy day!” Astrid replied as she worked. “Perhaps it is simply because I have cared for you since you were a boy. To think, you will be married soon, with little ones of your own!”

“Ugh.” Loki groaned, sinking down into the water to rinse his hair.

“My goodness,” Astrid said as she began to scrub his skin. “If I did not know better, I would say His Majesty is not looking forward to meeting his intended.”

“Of course I’m not,” Loki grumbled, arms crossing over his chest as he scowled at the sudsy water. “I may be out of prison but I’m not free, Astrid, not really.” Astrid made a noise of sympathy as she scrubbed his shoulders.

“Sometimes what we want blinds us to what we need,” the older woman said wisely. “This could be a blessing in disguise.”

“It feels like a death sentence,” Loki spluttered as Astrid dumped water on him. “Well it does!” The woman clicked her tongue at him in disapproval.

“I’m sure she is perfectly lovely. No doubt this will be a big change for her as well,” Astrid said as she climbed out of the stone tub. “I shall leave you to collect your thoughts. Do not dawdle, Your Majesty.” she gave him a knowing look before leaving him alone in the bath. Loki sank into the water up to his nose, blowing bubbles in the cooling water as he exhaled. Astrid was right. There was no sense in delaying the inevitable.

Loki dried his body with magic as he walked out of the tub, making his way to the changing area where Astrid waited to help him dress. He didn’t speak as she wrangled him into his leathers with practiced precision and combed his hair.

“There. You look very handsome,” Astrid said with satisfaction as she straightened one of the panels on his chest. Loki noticed her eyes misting, but he supposed the room did need dusting. “Do try to be charming, won’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” Loki rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Astrid.” She curtsied as well as her aging knees allowed and he left without a backward glance.

~~~~

“You’re pacing.” Frigga said from her seat. Of course she was calm- her life was not changing for the worse today. Throughout breakfast and his morning’s preparations, Loki had felt increasingly ill at ease as the time passed. Based on the slant of the sun’s morning rays, he had barely twenty minutes of freedom left. The bifrost had already announced the arrival of the delegation from Midgard and his future wife. Loki pulled on his collar, convinced he could feel it tightening around his windpipe.

“I am tense.”

“Anyone could see that, my darling. Relax,” Frigga coached him, setting her needlework on her lap to look at him consolingly. “What troubles you?”

“Aside from the obvious?” Loki scoffed. Frigga’s gaze turned scolding before she resumed her needlework.

“I ask because I care.” she murmured, lancing Loki with guilt. He sighed, moving to sit beside her and letting his head fall back against the wall in exasperation.

“I am going out of my mind with worry,” he confessed. “I know nothing about her! What if-”

“Darling, you will exhaust yourself with that line of thinking,” Frigga said gently. “What is it exactly that worries you so?”

“What if she despises me like everyone else?” Loki hated how small he sounded, like a child whining to his mother. It was a valid fear, one he hid deep inside himself.

“Nonsense. She will love you.” Frigga abandoned her needlework to brush an errant hair from his face, the love in her gaze searing him as always.

“You know this for a fact?”

“A mother always knows.” Frigga said simply, her sly smile making Loki think she knew more than she let on.

“What did you see?” he asked. He did not fully understand his mother's gift, but he knew enough to trust it. “Mother, please tell me something!”

“You know I cannot!” Frigga argued. “To do so would risk everything, and I’ll not risk your future happiness.”

“Happiness?” Loki couldn’t help but scoff. “That could mean anything.”

“Precisely. Anything is possible, ” Frigga smiled warmly at him. “Now, are you prepared to meet your betrothed?”

As ready as he was to see Thanos again.

“How do I look?” Loki asked nervously.

“Very handsome,” Frigga tugged at a panel on his chest, adjusting it ever so slightly. “Remember to be courteous. This is a big adjustment for both of you, but more so for her. She will likely be overwhelmed. She has left behind everything- for you.”

“I did not ask- yes, mother,” Loki grimaced as Frigga continued to fuss over him. “I will remember.”

~~~~

Claire felt ill, and she blamed it entirely on that awful mode of transportation. The bifrost was breathtaking in beauty, but traveling inside it was like being sucked into a powerful vacuum. Everyone in the small party from Earth was disoriented and looking a little green around the gills as they reoriented themselves. Njord, of course, looked perfectly at ease, and Claire hated him a bit more for it. The smug man had been all too eager to whisk away from her home, watching on impatiently as she’d said goodbyes to the few people who’d come to see her off. Phil had traveled with her, of course.

“Welcome to Asgard.” A rich, velvety voice boomed from beside them, and Claire looked up to see a tall, broad shouldered man in golden armor. He pulled a massive broadsword from its resting place in the center of the floor, resting his hands atop it as he regarded them coolly. If Claire’s book was right, she was looking at Heimdall, the ever-watchful guardian of Asgard.

“Lady Claire, this is Heimdall. He is the keeper of bifrost and a faithful guardian of Asgard,” Njord explained. “Heimdall, this is Lady Claire. His Majesty Prince Loki’s intended.”

“My lady,” Heimdall gave her a respectful bow. “I hope you feel welcome in your new home.”

“Thank you. Nice to meet you.” Claire nodded respectfully as Njord complained that they should hurry.

“And you, young mortal.”

As Njord led Claire and Phil from the golden dome that housed the bifrost, they were awestruck by the sight in front of them.

The rainbow bridge stretched on ahead of them- for miles it seemed- with endless ocean on either side. Pristine beaches were visible in the distance, beyond were fields of such rich green Claire was reminded of Ireland. Tiny specks of farmland were visible past the open fields, crosshatching lines of crops jutting up toward the sky.

But beyond that-

“Holy shit.” Claire muttered what they were all thinking.

The golden (literally gold, if Njord wasn’t kidding) palace stood tall and gleaming above everything around it. It was behemoth, a grand sprawling beast that shone like a diamond in the early morning sun.

“That will be your new home, Lady Claire.” Njord said proudly as she gawked at it open-mouthed. His judgmental gaze dropped to her gaping jaw and Claire shut her mouth lest he comment on her teeth. “Is it not most impressive?”

“It’s something, alright,” Claire replied. “It’s very different from what I’m used to.”

“Yes, well,” Njord sniffed. “Some things can’t be helped,” He shrugged when Claire glared at him. “Come along.” He urged the two of them along the bifrost, leaving the golden dome and Heimdall behind. They walked in awed silence, Claire and Phil occasionally pointed objects of interest.

The sun had already risen yet the moon still hung in the sky, bright and full behind the mountains in the distance.

They spotted buildings built into the mountainside shaped like temples, libraries and universities. It seemed like there was something to see everywhere they looked.

They passed through a golden gatehouse close to shore, and two guards joined their small group to escort them through the city to the palace. Beyond the gatehouse, they passed through the fields and farmland they had seen from the bifrost dome. Eventually, the rural landscape began to bleed into small town-esque land, populated with homesteads here and there, but the landscape changed again shortly after, the houses growing more in number and closer together as they approached the city.

“The city surrounding the palace is divided into sections. There is some farmland near the shore, which we’ve just passed through. The areas surrounding the palace are more densely populated.” Njord said in a bored tone as they passed into the city itself.

Here, the streets bustled with activity. Overlapping shouts from merchants interspersed with guards calling to each other as they patrolled, the occasional bleat from livestock, all over a low hum of people chattering. Though it was early morning, people milled about shopping, working, shouting and laughing as they went about their day. The buildings on this street were clustered together like gossiping women, the streets paved with cobble stones. It was quaint and charming, and Claire wanted to stop and inspect the colorful stalls but Njord urged them on.

Claire would have liked to slip by unnoticed, but the guards and probably the obvious non-Asgardian clothes that Phil and Claire wore made them stick out. It didn’t help that the crowd parted as they walked; people stopping what they were doing to gawk at them. One little girl watched Claire with wide eyes, her round face lighting up with glee when Claire waved at her. Further ahead, one child ran into the street, a dark haired woman pulling him back into the crowd by his little arm.

“Do not engage with them,” Njord instructed from behind Claire. “They are beneath you now.”

“They are not-”

“Yes, they are,” Njord said sharply. “You are to be a princess. The first princess of Asgard in a millennia. They will be fascinated; that is natural. But you cannot indulge them.”

“I hardly think waving-”

“That is my point, Lady Claire, you do not think. You are not here to think.”

Njord was two syllables away from getting stabbed. Claire remained silent as they continued walking, her curiosity getting the better of her as the streets began to change. The streets leading toward the palace remained well-kept and attractive, but others leading deeper into the city grew dark with shadow despite the sun fully beating down. Claire paused at the mouth of one of the streets, looking down the long lane with curiosity. She could see dark shapes sitting in doorways, debris floating along the grimy cobblestones.

“What’s down there?”

“Those are the slums, Lady Claire,” Njord’s lip curled with disgust as he spared the street a cursory glance. “You’ll do well to stay away from that area.”

“Yes, it would be terrible if I got some poor on my fancy new clothes.” Claire snapped. Njord narrowed his eyes, reaching out to pull her along. Claire pulled away from his grasp, following behind stubbornly when he began walking toward the palace again.

“ Speaking of clothing,” Njord said in a clipped tone. “Once we reach the palace, you will have an opportunity to change out of...whatever this is.” he gestured toward her.

“No thank you,” Claire replied. “I will change when I want to, not when you tell me to.”

“Do you not wish to make a good impression upon your new family?” Njord asked. “Although I suppose it is better they see you as you are, so that your transformation will be all the more impressive.”

“I think it would be better if you stopped talking,” Claire growled. “You’ve made it clear you don’t like me, and I don’t like you either, so let’s just get where I need to be and then we don’t have to speak to each other again.” One of the guards escorting them coughed, his cheeks growing red beneath his helmet. Njord glared at the man with fire in his eyes, and the guard sucked in his cheeks as his companion cleared his throat.

“That is a most excellent idea, Lady Claire,” Njord huffed, ignoring the guards trying to contain their laughter. “It is not much further. Come along.”

The golden palace loomed larger than ever now. The noise of the marketplace had begun to fade. In front of them, the cobblestones stopped, the path turning smooth as the streets of the city continued on to the left and right. Njord continued onto the smooth path, leading them to another gate. As they approached, the gate opened, letting them see the ornate gilded doors beyond. Njord led their small party through the gate, the guards flanking the gate bowing respectfully as they passed.

The gilded doors opened before they reached it, revealing another pair of guards and an older woman awaiting them.

“Welcome to Valaskjalf,” the woman greeted them with a curtsy. “Please, allow us to take your things.” two men stepped forward to take Claire’s and Phil’s luggage, whisking it away without a backwards glance.

“Lady Claire, Son of Coul, this is the head housekeeper of Valaskjalf. She oversees everything within these halls.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Lady Claire.” the woman curtsied again.

“Nice to meet you.” Claire replied, smiling awkwardly.

“Your rooms are already prepared for your arrival, and I shall be glad to direct you there myself,” the woman said. “Of course you will each have a staff assigned to you, but should either of you require anything, please do not hesitate to send for me.”

“Oh, thank you- wait, staff?” Claire asked in confusion.

“Yes, of course,” Njord replied with a bitter laugh. “You must forgive Lady Claire, she is not used to such finery. But of course, she is expected in the throne room and cannot see her chambers yet.”

“Surely the lady wishes to change?” the woman looked at Claire questioningly.

“The lady has already decreed she did not wish to,” Njord replied. “Isn’t that correct, Lady Claire?” he preened in satisfaction. Claire wanted to punch his teeth in.

“Yep.” Claire said through gritted teeth, smiling reassuringly at the housekeeper.

“As you wish, Lady Claire. I will be happy to direct you to your chambers when you are ready.”

“Thank you,” Claire replied, shooting a dark look at Njord. “Shall we?”

“But of course,” Njord nodded. “This way please.” He led them deeper into the palace, down long winding halls with cavernous painted ceilings and lit torches. Claire felt almost as though she’d stepped back in time. The city outside looked like the animation of Beauty and the Beast come to life, and the palace ceilings made her think of the Sistine Chapel.

There were no windows in these halls, the only light coming from the flickering torches. Claire could see daylight up ahead, so she kept walking and tried not to think about Game of Thrones. The dark hallway finally ended, spitting them out in an open-air passageway lined with columns. Beyond the columns Claire could see a sprawling garden, filled with tall flowers swaying in the delicious breeze. She could hear the sound of moving water from somewhere in the garden, and Claire inexplicably felt at peace. Her nerves dissipated as she followed after Njord, his figure turning a sharp corner before two massive golden doors came into view. Torches and guards flanked the doors, their armor glinting in the flickering light from the torches. Identical hallways branched to either side and Claire wondered where she would end up if she followed them. As the trio approached the guards opened the golden doors to allow them entry, and Claire stepped into the fanciest room she’d ever seen in her life.

Everything was gold. The marble pillars gleamed in the natural light coming from the high windows lining the walls. At the far end of the room, an old man with frizzled white hair sat upon a throne, with a middle-aged looking woman in a blue dress standing to the side, waiting for them.

“Soooo, how are you feeling?” Phil asked as the doors to the throne room closed behind them. Claire had been tense before they arrived in Asgard, but the altercation with Njord was close to putting her over the edge.

“Honestly?” Claire asked as Njord began his over-the-top introduction. “Decidedly unhappy. With Njord, with the whole situation in general. Really; arranged marriage? That’s the best way to form an alliance nowadays?” she scoffed.

“You agreed to it.” Phil deadpanned as Njord was dismissed. Claire locked eyes with the emissary, glaring at him as he shuffled back toward them. He passed them on his way out and Claire turned back to Phil.

“I’m claiming temporary insanity on that one,” she said bitterly. “You know how I feel about marriage in general, but arranged marriage?! It’s like a social experiment gone wrong.” Let’s watch as we force two strangers to cohabitate and fuck and hope they don’t kill each other!

“I’m not thrilled either, if it’s of any consolation.” A voice beside her said. Claire whipped around to see a dark haired man standing beside her dressed in leather armor accented with splashes of dark green and gold. His inky black hair fell to his shoulders and his emerald eyes glittered; a striking contrast to his pale skin. Despite having never met him, Claire recognized the dark prince of Asgard immediately. Damn, he’s tall.

“Silence!” Odin said before Claire could speak to the newcomer. “Lady Claire, this is my son Loki,” the man beside her snorted derisively. Odin spared him a withering stare before looking back at Claire, forcing her to stop staring at Loki. “In four weeks’ time, he will be your husband and you will become a member of the royal family. When the time comes, you will be granted a golden apple from Idunn’s orchard to ensure the endurance of our treaty with Midgard.”

“Right,” Claire said quietly. “What about visits? I have friends, family. I can’t just leave them behind.”

“You may visit Midgard once per year.” Odin permitted. Claire scoffed in disbelief.

“Once a year?!” she balked. “That’s not enough time! We don’t live forever!”

“Enough!” Odin said loudly, holding up a hand to stop her. “My decision is final.”

“Fantastic,” she quipped sarcastically. She turned her gaze to Loki as Odin started speaking again. “So…how are you feeling about all of this?” she asked. Loki’s green eyes settled on her and Claire knew he was sizing her up just like she was doing to him.

She had not yet changed out of her Midgardian clothing, dressed in smart black pants, a purple under shirt and a sleek leather jacket. She wore dark spectacles pushed up into her dark hair which she wore in a loose braid. This was the woman Midgard offered to him? She did not look like a woman of standing.

“Abysmal. Odin would have me tamed, like a beast condemned to a life in chains. My surroundings may have changed but nonetheless in shackles I remain.”

“Well you did try to take over my planet.” Claire snapped.

“Do you truly wish to discuss this now?” Loki asked heatedly. “I had my reasons, mortal, not that you would understand them.”

“Try me.” Claire returned hotly, glaring up at him. A sparkle on her face caught his attention, and Loki looked closer to see she wore a purple hoop through one of her nostrils.

How odd.

“If you’re quite finished,” Odin interrupted their spat by banging Gungnir on the golden floor. The woman to his side gave Claire a small, tight-lipped smile of what she hoped was encouragement. “There is much to be done. Son of Coul, you may retire to the chambers we have provided you,” he said as a servant appeared beside Phil to lead him to his room. “Lady Claire will accompany the queen to begin preparations-”

“Is that your mother?” Claire asked Loki quietly as Odin droned on. She could practically feel his annoyance before he answered her.

“Queen Frigga.” Loki answered shortly.

“And you’re close?” Claire asked, looking up at Loki. “I hear things.” She explained when he raised a brow at her. She wore diamond studs in her ears as well. Was this typical of Midgard?

“From that oaf Thor, I’m sure. He knows me so well.” Loki said sarcastically.

“About as well as one brother can know another, I suppose. We’re friends.” Claire shrugged. She decided to ignore the feral grimace Loki made at the mention of his brother. “So what made you say yes?” she asked.

“Pleasure to meet you too, darling.” Loki laughed sardonically.

“Hey, it’s nothing personal. I think marriage is dumb and people who willingly enter it are even dumber, but I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time, I guess.”

“I wasn’t given much of a choice in the matter,” Loki said derisively. “Marriage or incarceration. I’m simply trading one cell for another.”

“Felt that.” Claire grimaced.

“What?” Loki asked, looking down at the mortal with confusion.

“Nothing,” Claire said instead of explaining. “You haven’t answered my question.” Loki rolled his eyes.

“I agree marriage is foolish and I’ve never spared it much thought, but as part of the royal family I’ve always been expected to wed. Yet despite my title and status as one of the most eligible bachelors in Asgard, no family will have me.”

“I wonder why.” Claire answered dryly, shrugging when Loki glared at her sharply. “I’m just saying, the whole killing-80-people-in-two-days thing would put off most people.”

“But not you,” Loki murmured thoughtfully. “How odd. Are there not many options for suitors on Midgard these days?” He found it rather difficult to believe an attractive woman such as her had failed to secure a match until now. She was annoying, but from what he’d seen of her walk through the city she seemed charming enough. Surely some weak Midgardian man would appreciate that. Would that he had; if only to spare Loki having to deal with her for the rest of his long life.

“I’m not most people,” Claire replied. “And that’s rude. I happen to have high standards,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Loki spied silver rings on her fingers, as well as…claws? “And most people are weirded out by my fascination with serial killers.”

“What?” Loki scoffed, tearing his gaze from the black polish on her claws. “I’m not-”

“80 people in two days,” Claire repeated. “Try again, sugar plum.”

“Don’t call me that,” Loki hissed. “Besides, it’s not as if I killed them all personally. They were simply-”

“Collateral damage?” Claire guessed. “You made a pretty big mess for someone who wanted to lose.” She raised a slim brow at him in challenge, rankling Loki further.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” he said tersely.

“You think I haven’t done any digging? I was there, but I also know several of the Avengers personally. I wasn’t about to show up to the party without doing my homework; I’m not an idiot.”

“Clearly you are since you’ve agreed to marry me,” Loki hissed. “I’ve had enough of this inane conversation. You have duties to attend to, as do I.”

“Look, aside from completely upheaving my life, I’m still seventy percent optimistic that we’ll figure this shit out.”

“Figure what out?” Loki asked impatiently.

“I know, I know, I’m just a measly little human, but we actually have a lot in common. Daddy issues, mommy issues…” Claire trailed off when Loki growled beside her. She could practically feel the anger radiating off him, but continued to push him anyway. She was curious how far she could push his buttons before he stopped with the sexy growling and attacked her. “Plus you’re really hot.”

“I beg your pardon?” Loki balked, looking back at her to see her eyeing him up and down hungrily. “Excuse me.”

“What?” Claire gave an unrepentant grin. “I said what I said.”

“Is that why you agreed to this?” Loki asked. “Because you find me desirable?”

“It didn’t hurt,” Claire smirked. “Look, I like Thor. He’s nice. But I have zero interest in fucking nice.”

“But you do have an interest in fucking me?” Loki asked conspiratorially as Frigga approached to collect Claire.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Claire winked at him, her wicked mouth forming a devilish smile. The white of her teeth against the burnt umber of her lip paint made her appear almost predatory. “Later.”

Loki was left staring after her in awe. She was quite surprising, this mortal. She did not flinch from him, but instead challenged him head on. And she desired him. Openly.

Perhaps this venture would not be a total loss after all.

He turned to leave the throne room, only to be confronted by the steely glare of Phil. He returned the glare coolly.

“Pleasure to see you again, Son of Coul.” He said calmly.

“Save it,” Phil snapped. “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how angry I am about Claire having to marry you. But seeing as I can’t do a damn thing about it…” Phil clenched his jaw angrily. “If you hurt her, I will kill you.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Loki chuckled lightly. “Don’t fret, Son of Coul, I have no intention of laying a hand on your precious niece. Marry her I must, but Odin has made quite clear the consequence should anything happen to her.”

“Oh, I can sleep peacefully now,” Phil replied sarcastically. “But just to be clear; she is protected.”

“I am capable of reading, Son of Coul. The treaty is quite explicit that her well-being is tantamount to my freedom and my life. I would be a fool to risk that,” Loki grinned as a guard approached to escort Phil to his chambers. “I do hope you find your chambers comfortable.” he added as Phil was led away to his guest rooms.

~~~~

“I am so pleased to meet you, Lady Claire,” Queen Frigga said excitedly as she led Claire out of the throne room. “It will be grand to have another lady in our family.”

“I’m sure dealing with three boys is a challenge,” Claire said diplomatically. “I’ve seen Thor eat, I can’t imagine what he was like during his growth spurts.”

“Oh Norns, the stories I could tell,” Frigga laughed politely. “But there is plenty of time for that! For now, let us show you to your chambers and you may change for supper.” the housekeeper Claire met earlier appeared at Frigga’s side, seemingly out of thin air.

“What should I change into? I didn’t really know what to pack.”

“Not to worry, dear. I’ve had several dresses made in anticipation of your arrival,” Frigga smiled warmly. “They will of course need alterations to fit you perfectly, but there is time for that.”

“Oh. Cool,” Claire said dumbly as she followed the women down the winding halls. Claire was not a dress wearer. “Earlier, you said something about a staff?” she asked the housekeeper.

“Yes, my lady,” the woman nodded. “I have assembled a team of my best. They are waiting to meet you and are eager to serve.”

“As is customary, you shall have a guard posted at your door for protection, two ladies to assist with dressing and styling your hair, a chambermaid to tidy your rooms and a personal servant to assist you with bathing, dressing, and anything else you should require.” Frigga explained.

“Bathing?” Claire balked. “I can- I mean, I don’t want to seem ungrateful but that really isn’t necessary. I can bathe myself.”

“It is your preference of course,” the housekeeper replied as they began to climb a set of stairs. “Your staff will do anything and everything you require, you merely need ask.”

“You are fully within your right to dismiss any member of your staff should they displease you,” Frigga added. “Should you dismiss them, they will be replaced quickly and with little disruption. Your personal servant will oversee everything and handle matters such as your correspondence and setting appointments. Should you travel, they will travel with you.” Frigga said as they reached the top of the stairs.

“How often will I meet with Loki?” Claire asked. Frigga and the housekeeper led her away from the landing and down a hallway.

“Many times, dear,” Frigga said gently. “There are official functions you will attend together prior to the wedding, but I remember well how it felt to arrive in a strange land to marry a strange man. I have already made arrangements for the two of you to become acquainted in the coming weeks.”

“That’s very thoughtful, thank you,” Claire smiled. She liked Frigga already. There was a calming air about her, and Frigga seemed kind and caring. “I take it you and Odin-”

“Oh yes,” Frigga chuckled. “We were betrothed for many, many years before I made the journey here to Asgard, but we did not meet until I arrived at the altar.”

“Yikes,” Claire cringed. “That sounds like a nightmare.”

“It was terrifying,” Frigga giggled, a fond look stealing over her face as they turned a corner. “I was shaking so horribly, I thought I might collapse! But I survived, and I have a wonderful marriage to show for it.”

“That’s...great.” Claire replied, slowing as she spied a line of people standing against the wall outside of a set of double doors.

“Here we are,” Frigga said jovially. “Your staff has prepared everything for you.” In unison, the five people outside the doors moved to pay their respects. The guard bowed at the waist, his armor clinking as he moved. The women curtsied, delicately and perfectly.

“May I present your ladies: Helga, Koza, Kari, and your personal servant Ragna.” As her name was spoken, each of the women bowed their heads in respect to Claire. Claire had seen many odd things in her line of work, but she had never before met a person with pink skin.

“A pleasure to meet you all,” Claire smiled. “I’m sure we will get along wonderfully.”

“That’s the spirit,” Frigga’s hand settled on Claire’s shoulder. “Come, come, let’s get you settled. Fetch the seamstress at once.” Frigga said as the door was opened. She allowed Claire to step inside first, following shortly after.

The door opened onto a spacious and lush living room. A fireplace crackled at one end of the room, a gilded mirror hanging above it. Built in shelving flanked the fireplace, tastefully decorated with items Claire was sure cost a fortune. A large white couch took up much of the wall beside the door, but what drew Claire’s attention were the tall windows lining the opposite wall. Floor to ceiling window panes bathed the room in buttery sunlight, the delicate lace of the curtains fluttering in the gentle breeze. A dining table sat against the wall opposite the fireplace, with an open door beside it. Claire followed the door, stepping into a bedroom with a sprawling bed and a desk. A room divider stood sentry in the corner beside another crackling fireplace. The bedroom led to a bathroom with a sunken stone tub and a beautiful vanity.

“Are you pleased?” Frigga asked hopefully as Claire returned to the bedroom.

“It’s beautiful,” Claire smiled. “Thank you so much. I love it.”

“This shall be where you stay until you marry. You may decorate any way you wish. Once you are wed, you will move to Loki’s chambers in the East wing.”

“Your Majesty?” one of Claire’s new staff stepped into the doorway. “The seamstress is here.” Frigga clapped her hands excitedly, eager to introduce her new daughter to the fine dresses she’d had made for her.

“Wonderful, show her in!”

~~~~

Several hours later, after Claire had been undressed, measured, dressed, pinned, then undressed again, it was mercifully time for dinner. Claire was annoyed beyond measure (ha) at having been subjected to feminine torture. She had never enjoyed wearing dresses and now it was all she was allowed to wear. She had tried to be excited- after all, the fabrics were sumptuous- but trying on dresses had never been her idea of fun.

To make matters worse, she’d already disappointed her future mother-in-law. Frigga was obviously excited to have her and Claire wanted to share her excitement, but being told she wasn’t allowed to wear pants was crossing the line.

So now she was at a massive feast- the pink skinned woman from earlier had shown her the way (Kira? Ragna?)- attempting to drown her sorrows in fantastic wine while people stared at her from their tables. Whether they didn’t approach out of fear, respect or maybe Frigga had asked them not to bother her; Claire didn’t care what the reason, she was just grateful.

She was not, however, grateful for the person sitting to her left.

“Are you attempting to drown yourself or make this event a better one?” Loki asked from beside her. “I believe that is your fourth.”

“Ha ha,” Claire replied flatly. “Look at you; able to count to four.”

“If you find that remarkable, you would overwhelmed by my ability to count beyond one hundred.”

Claire had been subject to such stimulating conversation since dinner began. She and Phil had already spent several minutes gushing about their new digs when Loki arrived like a storm cloud. Claire knew before she arrived that it would be a while before they got a feel for each other. Right now they were like two liquids trying to reach equilibrium, and all through the courses- a tiny salad with red and purple leaves and vinegar-y dressing, a spicy squash soup, and succulent roast lamb and fish, seared vegetables and broiled potatoes- they had been trading sarcastic barbs like merchants traded coins.

“Is there a reason you’re showing off your ability to imbibe?” Loki asked. “Are you unhappy with your chambers? Your new wardrobe perhaps?”

“Nope, this wine is just really good,” Claire said as she drained her goblet for the fourth time. “I think my cup is broken.”

“I am surprised it is intact, actually,” Loki remarked coolly. “I half expected you to smash it on the ground just as Thor would.”

“I can do that?” Claire asked excitedly. “I wanna smash stuff- hey!” she protested when Phil pulled the cup from her hand.

“No smashing,” he chastised. “This is our first night here, we need to make a good impression.”

“Yes mom,” Claire sneered. “Can I have my cup back?”

“Are you going to smash it?” Phil asked.

“No, I need it to keep drinking.”

“Perhaps you should stop,” Loki advised from her left. “Otherwise you’ll have a terrible case of veisalgia.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Claire replied, like a mature adult. “If I want to get blackout drunk, I will.”

“I am only offering advice, darling, you do not have to take it.”

“Aw thanks, sugar plum ,” Claire simpered, grinning unrepentantly when Loki glared at her. “So what is veisa- what did you call it?” she giggled. She was starting to feel the wine. Had the torches always been swirly? Oh, that lamb was sitting in her stomach like a stone. “Is that like a hangover?”

“Yes,” Loki huffed. “You are rather annoying, were you aware of that?”

“You’re annoying,” Claire scoffed. “So’s your-” a loud hiccup escaped her, to which Loki rolled his eyes. “Your face.”

“My face?” Loki balked. “What is wrong with my face?”

“Nothing,” Claire grumbled, scooting down in her seat to sulk like a child. “That’s why it’s annoying.”

Loki didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. Either way, this was shaping up to be a most amusing meal. Claire had clearly over-served herself and it was catching up to her.

“Do you always over-indulge?”

“Everybody has vices, sugar plum. Some of us drink really good wine, and some of us try to take over planets.” Claire giggled like she had told a hilarious joke, but Loki’s jaw flexed as rage boiled beneath his skin.

“You think to mock me?” he asked lowly, shifting in his seat to lean into her personal space. With her so low in her seat, he loomed over her. “You know nothing .” he snarled.

Something sparked in her blue eyes, and for a moment Loki thought he’d frightened her, but before he could feel the thrill of satisfaction, she grinned up at him.

“Talk more,” she pleaded. “You’re really sexy when you get all growly like that.” Loki made a noise of disgust before he shot to his feet, grabbing her empty goblet and smashing it on the stone floor.

“Another!” he shouted, leaving the great hall and his drunken future wife behind. She could drink herself into a stupor for all he cared.

#covenant #loki fic #loki x ofc

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 3 months ago

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Shmuel | The Cost Of The Truth | Romantic

Dialogue prompts: “I didn’t know you could love me like that” & “I will never be enough for you, will I?”

When both you and your father Nicodemus take an interest in the Preacher Shmuel so despises, your marriage is bound to collapse.

Requested by Kacey, Mae & Katie

You don’t like having to sneak around your own home, but you have no choice. Upon returning to your house from visiting your parents, you’ve slipped upstairs to the study without making a noise.

Once there, you take out whatever you had been hiding underneath your cloak. A small scroll, able to fit inside the palm of a hand, sits between your fingers, unsealed. As you look over your shoulder towards the door, a sigh of relief floods you as you find yourself completely alone.

You unravel it, thumbing at the inscription on the parchment. Your father’s hand is all too familiar as you swallow hard upon reading what he has written. A report about Jesus of Nazareth. It is detailed, hastily scribbled as if he had been afraid to be found out writing such a thing, and quickly rolled up into a scroll without allowing the ink to dry, causing it to be a little smudged here and there. In spite of its messy appearance, the report can still be read clearly.

Nicodemus had pushed it into your hands upon your departure with a whispered order. “Don’t show anyone.” Not your mother. Not your husband. Nobody. A member of the Sanhedrin cannot be seen voicing a decree of faith as strong and scandalous as your father’s.

Your heart swells and beats for every word about this Preacher from Nazareth, Who is so much unlike any other prophet that had brought the Word of God to the people. Words and actions so unlikely that there was no other explanation but for Him to be the Messiah, the One that had been promised - a proclamation that would not sit well with the religious leaders. After all, it meant that everything everyone had ever believed about the coming of the Messiah would turn out to be false. A dangerous mixture of pride, dogma and tradition lingered at the horizon.

Downstairs, the door opens and closes. “Darling, are you home?” Shmuel’s voice fills the home, and you quickly hide the letter in one of the drawers, straightening yourself out before heading for the door of the study.

“I’m here.” you greet him, meeting him in the hallway. He removes his headdress and grabs your hand to kiss your knuckles. “How was work?”

Shmuel sighs. “It was difficult today, but Yanni and I are making progress. We’re going to get some members of the Sanhedrin on our side so that we can finally tackle the issue from its root.”

“Issue?” you feign ignorance.

“Jesus of Nazareth.” Shmuel says the name with such disdain that it causes your throat to run dry.

Your husband mistakes the draining of colour from your face for fear of the Preacher in question.

“Don’t you worry, my dearest. He will not be a problem to our people for much longer. Everything will go back to normal before we know it.”

He squeezes your hand, then frowns a little as if realising something.

“Have you prepared dinner yet? I can’t make out any distinct smells of food.”

You quickly force a smile on your face.

“I was about to start. I’ve visited my parents, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. How are they doing? How’s your father?”

You let out a sigh. “He’s recovering slowly but surely.”

Shmuel gives you a smile as he ushers you towards the kitchen.

“That’s good to hear. Now, let me tell you that I’m starving.”

“Okay, I’ve received the message.” you sigh, part of you relieved that he doesn’t inquire further about what you had discussed with your father. As he heads to the bedroom to change into something more casual, you start working on dinner.

—

A while passes and Shmuel is talking about Jesus more often than not. The letter from your father still burns inside the drawer of your desk, calling out to you, waiting to be shared. However, Nicodemus had meant these words for your eyes alone. It feels heavy on your heart. You love Shmuel, you truly do, even though your marriage had been an arranged one. The fact that you cannot share your newfound faith with your own husband is like a burden in and of itself.

A flurry of memories has been dancing around inside your mind lately, consisting of your first years of marriage to the rabbi whom was just a student at the time of the wedding. A pious, diligent and ambitious young man with a soft smile that made you weak at the knees. When Nicodemus and Zohara made the right arrangements with his parents in Jerusalem, you were overjoyed to hear the news. After all, you had plenty of friends who married men they ultimately didn’t grow to love even after years of being together. You already knew that you loved Shmuel before the entire topic of marriage even came up in the first place.

And it turned out to be a good match. The pair of you grew to love one another deeper as time went on and you really felt like you and him were equally yoked. Everything about what you felt for him was visible even in the little things you did for him. Not only were you a homemaker who never complained about his late hours at work, but you did small things, too, like baking him a cake for his birthday or stitching up holes in his clothes before he had even noticed them himself. “I didn’t know you could love me like that,” was something Shmuel tended so say every so often, for it was a mystery to him how you could show him such genuine appreciation. “A love like this is something I didn’t know even existed.”

Until a love greater than that suddenly seemed to exist, too. A kind of love that was different from the romantic type of bond two people could form with one another. A spiritual, divine love. A love between God and mankind, rooted in undeserved mercy and grace.

A love that according to you can go hand in hand with your marriage to Shmuel, but a love that according to him cannot coexist.

It tears at your household and rips it apart at the seams. No longer equally yoked. You are fully aware what choice you might have to make, even if it meant ripping your own heart to shreds. Your marriage has been crumbling. Shmuel knows — suspects something — but he doesn’t outwardly say it just yet.

You adore him. You’d do anything for him. He’s still the man you want to grow old with, to father your children, to have it all with.

But for that to happen, something has to change. Sooner or later, it has to change in order to—

“—What is this?!” Shmuel barges into your shared bedroom one morning still in a state of undress. If he didn’t have such a furious look on his face you’d have snorted at the way his beard is trimmed only halfway.

“What is what?” you look up from brushing your hair, turning to him to face him better. He hands you a letter all too familiar and your heart sinks into your gut like a heavy stone to the bottom of the Sea of Galilee. “It’s a letter.”

“I can see that.” Shmuel hisses. “But to whom, and from whom? And the contents? Not to mention the location where I found it! It seems like you deliberately hid it from me.”

For a moment, you consider telling him off for fingering through your personal belongings, but you know you’ll only end up arguing even more than this will cause you to. You swallow hard, but don’t feel any shame. “My father wrote to me.”

“About Jesus of Nazareth. And you happened to forget to tell me?! Especially that he believes the words of this heretic? Because that is what I’m getting from this message!” He throws the parchment into your lap and glares down at you.

No guilt tugs at your heart — only pity, and the wish that things were different — and you let out a long sigh.

“Shmuel, listen. My father and I have been talking about Jesus for a long time, because there is a lot to be said about Him, both His words and actions, and my father has been—”

“—Believing in that heretic! That’s blasphemy and he should be brought before the Sanhedrin! Your father could get stoned for this!”

“He knows the rules— Just listen to me, Shmuel! You have always greatly respected my father and his words, why not now?”

“Why not now— Are you even hearing yourself, (Y/n)?! Jesus is a heretic! A blasphemer!”

“And what if He is not? What if that everything you knew about the Messiah turns out to not be true?!”

Your husband grits his teeth as he narrows his eyes at you.

“And what if He is? He claims to be the Son of God! You… You don’t believe in Him, do you?” He shakes his head, pointing a finger at you. “Tell me you don’t, (Y/n). I love you, but I can’t be with a woman who…”

His voice trails off, but he has said enough for it to sting you to the very bone. You swallow away the lump in your throat. Your silence, Shmuel realises, speaks volumes. “You… Have strayed from the path of faith.” Something shifts in his gaze. Something you’ve never seen on him before. You don’t like it one bit.

“No. Quite the contrary - it’s been gaining its true meaning. Now that the Messiah is here—”

“Do not call Him that!”

You stand up firmly, meeting Shmuel’s gaze, almost standing chest-to-chest with him as you look up unwavering.

“You do not get to dictate who I do and do not believe in!”

“You’re my wife, (Y/n). You should listen to your husband!”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“No, you have no idea what you’re talking about!”

The two of you lock eyes. Your heart clenches inside your chest painfully, for you don’t want to argue with him, nor do you want division in your household.

“Where is the Shmuel I know?” you whimper, “The kind man who was eager to learn from my father? The one my father spoke so highly of, because you were always so keen to put the Word of God into practise more than your peers? What happened to you?”

“I could say the same thing about you.” Shmuel hisses, “Where is the respectable woman I married? The one who was always so happy to see me after a long day at work, who always listened to me talk about anything, the woman who always prepared me dinner and was there for me when I needed her?”

“She’s still here.” you counter, “But the way you have been acting ever since Jesus showed up is not the man I know and love.”

“Things change, (Y/n).” Shmuel sounds sharp and almost accusatory.

“I know.” Your voice wavers, tears brimming on your eyes. “I know.”

When Shmuel gives you an expectant look, you don’t reply to it. “So… Are you going to do something about it?” He frustratedly asks.

“About what?”

“Going back to being the woman I used to love.”

Used to love.

Whereas you had not let it cross your lips, for you still loved him deeply, Shmuel was suddenly more firm on where he stood.

“Used to?” your voice breaks. “So you don’t…” you trail off, not daring to say it out loud.

“I can’t. I can’t love a follower of that heretic. A follower of the Man claiming such ridiculous things…”

Shmuel’s own dark eyes are swimming with tears as well. He refuses to spill them in front of you, not wanting to show weakness or vulnerability, not even when your entire marriage may very well depend on this moment.

“This is heresy. You are a weak-minded fool falling for the words or a lunatic. Choosing His words over your own husband’s. I can’t love a woman like you.”

That does it. The tears fall and roll down your face as you choke back a sob.

“Take it back. You don’t mean that, take it back.”

For a moment, you see a flash of guilt cross his face. It hardens just as fast.

“No. I will not fail this test Adonai is putting me through right now.”

“Test?!” you gasp, offended, “Shmuel, don’t be ridiculous! How could you ever even consider that this would be God’s way of testing your faith—”

“—Because you’re just like them!”

With widened eyes, you stare at him for a long moment. “Like them, huh? I… I will never be enough for you, will I? You won’t even hear me out as much as you’ve heard out Jesus. You have made up your mind already.”

Shmuel steps closer to you, glaring down at you.

“I want you out of my house.”

“Very well.” you whisper, knowing it’s better to sleep about it for a night or so, taking a little distance to process the situation.

Your heart is heavy as it teeters on the precipice of shattering inside your chest. Your husband’s eyes drill into you as he watches you start packing a few essentials.

“Your family deserves all the shame coming your way.” Shmuel spits like his words are poison, “Both you and Nicodemus are a sham. I hope it was worth it, losing everything we had for this…. This heretic Preacher.”

You close the flap of your bag and pull it over your shoulder. “I’ll be headed towards the inn.” you say, “Will you come and get me when you’re ready to talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ll be sending you away.”

Shmuel is looking at you with so much hatred in his gaze that you suddenly doubt if you’ve ever been married to him in the first place, or if he’d ever truly loved you at all.

“Okay.” you whisper. It would make following Jesus around the cities somewhat easier, you suddenly think, but it’s accompanied by a bitter hurt that clenches inside your chest and sends a wave of nausea through you. “I’ll see you around, then. I… I love you.”

“Don’t you ever say these words to me again, woman.” Shmuel hisses. “You’re just like the rest of them, you Jezebel, you—”

You close the door behind you, trying to fight your emotions as you refuse to hear him yell these lies told right into your face any longer. Shmuel does not yank it open again, instead stares at the wood for a long while, unable to stop his own tears.

With a heavy heart, you head for your father’s house, your blood rushing inside your ears as you head through the streets, feeling torn to shreds.

For a moment, you halt to rest and look up at the sky, drinking in the sight of the moon. Your tears glitter in its light. Looking over your shoulder, you hope Shmuel will come running, to follow you, to keep you from leaving him and begging for you to tell him more about Jesus, and that he believes that He is the Messiah…

…But he doesn’t come.

The alleyway remains empty.

“You know the truth, even though it offends you.” you whisper into the darkness, “Now it’s up to you what you do with it.”

A silent plea to the man you love so deeply.

Shmuel cries silently in the hallway and gazes out of the window, hoping you’d round the corner, praying you’d return straight for the door, to tell him that you’ve made a grave error in your judgement and that you want to be with him over anything else. That your beliefs had been muddled by pretty lies and that you’d do anything to get back on the path of good faith.

The road leading up to your home also remains void of you.

Shmuel looks up and looks upon the same moon.

Three hearts break that night.

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #chosen x reader #shmuel #the chosen shmuel #shmuel x reader

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sayingyournames · 1 year ago

Note

I have a question about Sirius in You Wouldn’t Like Me. I know that they’re genderfluid, but I do wonder why he is so fixated on presenting in a very feminine way but has mentioned multiple times that he never identifies as a girl, and their trans identity is really at the forefront of the fic. I just am confused by it.

hello anon! i am going to answer this in good faith, because it sounds like you’re just curious and i don’t mind to delve a little deeper into sirius’s mindset for u xx

so, first of all - trans people can look like anything! anybody of any gender can be feminine, or masculine - or neither, or both. sirius presenting in a mostly feminine way and not wanting surgeries doesn’t make them any less trans. you do not need to take hrt or change anything about your physical appearance to be trans. okay? cool.

for sirius in this fic specifically? ‘womanhood’ was something he was forced into. it was never on his terms, it was always just to fit the mold that their parents wanted. he never got to have any kind of ‘normal’ or nurturing childhood, didn’t get to explore the kind of clothing they wanted. so yeah, he spent most of his teen years pushing back on anything ‘girly’ bc it just. it hurt to much to get close to.

but like. once he gets moved out and settled and on hrt and his body starts to take a shape that they can actually look at in the mirror? it opens up so many possibilities. wearing dresses feels right with broad shoulders and dark hair on his belly and legs and armpits. having tits looks good when his chest hair starts coming in. listening to pop music and getting piercings and painting their nails? it all turns into something that he can do because he wants to, bc it’s on their terms.

and besides that, he realizes there are no fucking rules anymore. there’s no one to tell them ‘no’ or to yell and scream and trade his black velvet for pastel florals.

Wife talks about this a lot, actually, bc she’s a trans woman and she’s a butch. when we met, and allll the way back to when she first came out, she was very femme bc it felt like the only thing she could do to overcompensate for how - wrong - her body felt. but as a kid she was a tomboy, and wanted to grow up to look like corky from bound. it wasn’t until she was on hrt for about a year that she finally felt comfortable in her butch identity. this is not how it happens for everyone - there is no wrong way to be trans - but this is the kind of thing i have experience with, so.

and i’m genderfluid, genderless - but my aesthetic leans very femme. so i project a lot of that onto sirius. anyway.

idk if this clears things up for you, or if it’s just me rambling about my gender thoughts, but.

#trans sirius black #fic: you wouldn’t like me #this isn’t from the ask game btw i got this message a few days ago!

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friendly-books · 10 months ago

Text

Side Jobs live blog

Side Jobs

A restoration of faith

“The kid lifted up her Oxford shoes and mule-kicked her leg back in my shin.” pg. 2 Ha I love this kid already

“I’m up on North Avenue, and it’s after dark. I’m not leaving a nine-year-old girl out here by herself.” pg. 3 That’s a good way for the kid to be ACTUALLY KIDNAPPED

“What happened to your car?”

“Broke down this afternoon.” pg. 4 The Blue Beetle mention!

“It belongs on the set of El Dorando,” she snapped” pg. 5 Ha

“Sucker,” she called back, her voice merry.” pg. 7 Ha I love this kid so much spunk

Oh no a troll

Poor kid with neglectful parents

“A ten-year-old girl’s world should be full of music and giggling and notes and dolls and dreams-not harsh, barren, jaded reality.” pg. 13 Did Maggie have this? Before the Red Court Did Harry have this before his dad died?

“Her eyes were bright with excitement. “That was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. I want to be a wizard when I grow up.” pg. 22 Ha

“Hey thanks a lot of help, Officer”-I squinted down at her badge “Murphy.” pg. 22 Murphy! Holy cow Murphy attacks a troll. So cool

Vignette

“I have nightmares about Hell, where all I do is add up numbers and try to have conversations with people like you.” pg. 28 Ha

“Yeah. Advertising is all about lying” pg. 29 Ha and Bob’s not wrong

“You suck at lying, Harry. You really do.” pg. 29 Ha and yeah Harry isn’t great at lying

“Why do you do it?

I squinted up at the skull. “Because someone has to” pg. 30 Yep

Something Borrowed

“Oh for crying out loud, Dresden.” Billy said, his tone amused. “He’s just fitting the tux” pg. 32 Ha

Poor Kirby

“For one thing, this” she said, flicking a hand at me. Then she gave me a second, more evaluating look” pg. 37 Rude

“Billy put his face in his hands” pg. 39 Ha

“Once my mouth was open and my lips stared moving, it was pretty much inevitable.” pg. 40 Ha

“Don’t get paranoid Harry” pg. 42 Given Harry’s life I feel like he should be more paranoid

Oh no the apartment

Oh dear Bob and Murphy meet

Oh no Faeries

“A faerie has taken her place” pg. 49 Oh no

“THE WORST THING about being a wizard is all the presumption; people’s expectations.” pg. 51 That’s the worst thing?!? Really?

“I keep meaning to go back and fix that, but there’s never time

I had a marriage like that” pg. 52 Ha and which one?

“That’s why you have to be careful what you choose to Look at. I don’t like doing it, ever. You never know what it is you’ll See.” pg. 58 Harry knows that well

“I let out a battle cry. Sure, a lot of people might have mistaken it for a sudden yelp of unmanly fear, but trust me: It was a battle cry” pg. 59 Ha

The trust Murphy has to run into the fire

The pure force bridge is cool

Good thinking with the sprinklers

“Jenny Greenteeth would kill Murphy too” pg. 81 Oh no wait why am I oh no-ing I know Murph is going to be fine

“The next thing I knew, I was smashing my blasting rod down into Jenny Greenteeth, screaming incoherently and pounding as hard as I could.” pg. 82 Protective Harry

“For one second, for one teeny tiny instant, I felt her mouth move. I felt her head tilt, her lips soften, and my oh-so-professional CPR-just for a second, mind you-felt almost, almost like a kiss.” pg. 84 No that’s not how CPR works

It’s my birthday too

“I mean, you didn’t get my dad one, and you’re friends with him” pg. 91 Harry get your friends birthday gifts

“I’ve seen you two fight.” She lifted both pale eyebrows. “What? Have you seen how many brother and sisters I have? I know my siblings conflicts?” pg. 91 Ha

Oh no Thomas is in trouble no wait nevermind

I can’t tell if Harry would like LARP

“If you weren’t my brother, I’d probably tell you that you have some awfully nerdy hobbies” pg. 104 Ha and pot meet kettle

Oh no Molly

“The streetlights just went out” pg. 110 Oh no

“And then it went dead, along with the lights, the music playing on the speakers, and the constant blowing sigh of the heating system.” pg. 111 Oh no

Oh no Black Court

I love the Cobbs

Cool gravity spell

Nice job with the garlic

“First, anytime I’m not shooting my mouth off to a cliched, two-bit creature of the night like you, it’s because I’m up to something.” pg. 145 Ha

“Right after my dad died, they put me in an orphanage. It was Christmas time. On the television, they had a commercials for Rock’em Sock’em Robots. Two kids playing with them, you know? Two brothers” I shrugged. “That was a year when I really, really wanted to give those stupid plastic robots to my brother.”

“Because it would mean weren’t alone.” Thomas said quietly

“Yeah” I said “Sorry I forgot them. And happy birthday.”

He glanced back at the burning mall.

“Well,” my brother said, “I suppose it’s the thought that counts.” pg. 148 Aw my heart

Heorot

Gard and Harry bonding moments let’s go!

“Just basking in the glow of your compassion, Officer.” pg. 154 Ha

Caine is terrible

“I glowered at him. I’m not sure I could take it if my dog was smarter than me.” pg. 164 Ha

Caine starts a fight let’s see who wins

It’s just beer Caine needs to chill

“Marcone is behind this? That son of a bitch is going to be sorry he ever looked at that-“

pg. 169 Harry you should know Marcone better than that.

Also Marcone mention!

“Me and polite have never been on close term.” pg. 179 Ha

“It hunts in the wizard’s territory. The wizard will come to face it. The Erkling will give us great favor when we bring the wizards head.”

“Gosh. I felt famous” pg. 186 Ha

“Enough talk” pg. 189 Gard is going into a rage fun

Gard is a Valkyrie cool

“Then she leaned down and kissed me on the mouth.” pg. 209 Whoa

Day off

Aw Harry’s playing D&D with the alphas

“Again with this decision.” Andi sighed “I mean I know he’s the actual wizard and all, but Christ.” pg. 212 Ha

“Sorry about your wraith, there, Darth Wannabe.” pg. 218 Ha

“I’m a-fixin to defend myself” I drawled, Texas-style.” pg. 218 Ha

“Molly,” I said, trying to be polite, “I can’t stand the sight of you. Go away.” pg. 222 Ha

An explosion happened and Harry didn’t cause it shocking I’m shocked

Kirby and Andi have fleas ha

“Mister the cat, appeared exactly as he always did” pg. 228 So cool

“Andi. Please don’t tell me that you and Kirby have been getting down while you were fuzzy” pg. 230 Why would they do that?

Molly set the lab on fire she’s taking after Harry

“At least it couldn’t get any worse.” pg. 233 Harry you know better than to say that

What a mess Harry shouldn’t take a day off.

Backup

Oh Thomas narrating

“He’s Gandalf on crack and an IV of Red Bull” pg. 241 Ha

“He’ll spit in the eye of gods and demons alike if he thinks it needs to be done.” pg. 241 Yeah that’s Harry alright

“My name is Thomas Raith and I’m a monster” pg. 242 No Thomas you’re not a monster :(

So there’s a secret Oblivion war going on

Lara people aren’t pets

The Hunger is terrifying

Justine!

Oh no Harry’s in trouble

Thomas can do magic!!!

“He’ll whip out some kind of half-divine, half-insane philosophy cobbled together from the words of saints and comic books about the importance of handling power responsibly.” pg. 258 Yep

“Harry’s a master of the skill-as in simultaneous doctorates from MIT, Harvard, and Yale and a masters from Oxford.” pg. 258 It’s interesting to see other people’s perspective and opinions on Harry

“Locks, though, never seemed to pose a much of an obstacle to my brother.” pg. 261 Ha

“Harry had occasionally accused me of being reckless and overconfident-which is, believe me, staggering magnitude.” pg. 267 Ha

“He’d turned into a neat freak a few years ago, for some reason, though he’d never talked about why.” pg. 269 Ha

“It’s a little bit creepy, actually. My brother’s got a voodoo doll of the entire town.” pg. 270 Ha

“I think that genuinely speaking, you don’t have secrets from your brother, man.” pg. 272 Yep unless you count the whole I didn’t tell you were brothers for awhile bit.

“Bob made a whistle sound.

What the hell? How? He doesn’t have lips?” pg. 275 Ha

The Oblivion War is scary

Aw Bob is protecting Harry

“Scratch one ghoul. My brother hates ghouls with a passion so pure it’s almost holy.” pg. 283 Yep it’s we deserved

“But the bitch had messed with my brother.” pg. 285 Protective Thomas

Thomas just feed the bad girl to his hunger

“Sometimes I feel completely unappreciated.”

I found myself smiling

“Wow” I said “what’s it like?” pg. 291 Ha

The Warrior

Aw Michael’s a coach

“I’m pretty sure there won’t ever be a place like that for me.” pg. 297 Aw Harry :( you’ll get a family home soon

“She had a bruise on her cheek a couple of days old.” pg. 299 Oh no why does the kid have a bruise on her face?

“Hi” I said, trying to be unthreatening as I could. I had limited success. Tall, severe-looking men in long black coats who need a shave are challenged that way.” pg. 299 Poor Harry

I love Harry interacting with Michael and Charity’s kids

“Let me poke around and shine a light on things, so we know what’s going on. If it turns out to be nothing, no harm done.”

“And if it isn’t?” Charity asked

“I kept a surge of quiet anger out of my voice and expression as I looked at her levelly. “No harm gets done to you and yours.” pg. 304 Yes protective Harry

“It’d take one he-uh, heck of a serious counter measure to stop me from finding it.” pg. 311 Ha

“I didn’t want to go off and leave…”

You

“The sword…”

Unprotected

“Here” I finished” pg. 311 Just your friends you’re worried about them Harry

I don’t think Chuck should be drunk and working especially if he’s a electrician

“I’ve been in burning buildings, man, and take it from me, this place…” I looked around at the wooden framework. “Fwoosh. I’m just saying Fwoosh.” pg. 321 Ha and you definitely caused those building fires Harry

“Harry Dresden. Saving the world, one act of random destruction at a time.” pg. 322 Ha

“I don’t blame myself,” I said.” pg. 324 That’s the biggest bold faced lie I’ve ever seen.

Yes you do Harry

Butters!

Oh someone in the church is behind it. A Fundamentalist maybe?

“Watching life through the window and obsessed with how things might have been”

“Dear God,” she said. “You’ve just made Dickens relevant to my life.”

“Weird, right?” pg. 341 Ha

Oh no Alicia

“The son of a bitch hurt my little girl.” pg. 352 Holy Cow Michael swore! :0

Yes Michael vs Douglass

“Michael,” I said, gently, “you can’t. If this is how it has to be, I’ll do it. But you can’t, man.” pg. 366 Is Harry saying he’s willing to murder so long as Micheal doesn’t

Uriel’s here

“Very kind,” he said and took a swig from the flask.” pg. 368 Uriel drinking alcohol

I love how Uriel tells Harry how all the little things he did helped.

“I nodded slowly. Then I said, “Let’s talk about my bill”

Jake eyebrows shot up “What?”

“My bill,” I enunciated. “You dragged me into this mess. You can pay me, same as any other client. Where do I send the invoice?”

“You’re…you’re trying to bill the Lard Almighty?” Jake said, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

“Hel-uh, heck no,” I said. “I’m billing you.”

“That isn’t really how we work”

“It is if you want to work with me,” I told him, thrusting out my jaw. “Cough up. Otherwise, maybe next time I’ll just stand around whistling when you want me to help you out.”

Jake’s face broadened into a wide, merry grin, and laughter filled his voice. “No, you won’t” he said, and, vanished.” pg. 373 Ha and yes Harry won’t not help people

Last Call

Oh no Mac is hurt

Oh no someone’s messed with Mac’s beer

Caine? Again? What is this guys problem?

Caine is the worst

Caine attacked Murphy critical fail on Caine’s part

“You put on a good show act, Harry. It would have fooled a lot of people. It looked…”

“Natural on me,” I said “Yeah” pg. 394 Ouch

“I tried the door, just for the hell of it and-

It opened

Well, dammit. I much prefer making a dramatic entrance.” pg. 420 Ha and come on let Harry have his dramatic entrance

Oh Dionysus cool

“Then she smiled, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed my cheek” pg. 419 Aw

Love hurts

“They weren’t a married couple. They were brother and sister.” pg. 423 Ick doesn’t even begin to cover the feeling I felt reading that

Oh no mental magic

“We don’t exactly have orbital satellites for detecting black magic.” pg. 426 They don’t? Then what does Gatekeeper do? I thought that was his job. How did the council find out about Harry, Justin, and Molly? Gatekeeper clearly knew black magic was afoot back in Proven Guilty.

Oh boy is it awkward between Harry and Luccio

Evil state fair?

Don’t be mad at Will, Harry he’s concerned about you.

“She stopped before she could say who Kincaid was like.” pg. 436 Was she going to say Harry?

“Murph tittered again” pg. 443 Oh no they’ve been caught

Is it the ride itself? The ride operator? The guy trailing them?

“I bent my head down to her mouth and kissed her gently.” pg. 445 Yay Harry/Murph moment but now isn’t the time

“It just isn’t fucked-up enough to really be you and me” pg. 447 Ha I love this is how they realize that they’ve been whammied

“But hey. On the other hand, he had swindled me out of swindle me out of twenty dollars.” pg. 448 Harry you bribed him

Oh no Red court vampire

“He’s completely irrational” pg. 452 Ha

“Mortals are like mayflies, Wizard. They live a brief time, and then they are gone.” pg. 455 Scary how some immortals view humans

I’m glad Harry and Murphy burned the belt.

Aftermath

“I cant believe he’s died.” pg. 463 I’m still not over it.

“I’d been able to learn a few Martian phrases over time” pg. 466 Ha

“Lake Michigan is jealous and protective of her dead.” pg. 466 Such a good phrase

Poor Murphy she’s not a cop anymore and now has to deal with Harry dying

“He always told us if we ever needed him but couldn’t find him, we were supposed to go to you. That you were the person in this city who could help us better than anyone else.” pg. 475 Aw :)

“Georgia’s pregnant” he whispered. “Seven months.” pg. 475 Yay Georgia’s pregnant nothing bad is going to happen to her or the baby. I refuse to believe it.

“And, if things got hot when we went after the bad guy, he would have been there, throwing fire and lighting around as if they were his own personal toys, created especially and exclusively for him to play with.” pg. 485 I love how other people describe Harry. It shows how Harry is viewed through mortal eyes. Yeah it would appear like Harry like that when he starts setting things on fire with his mind essentially.

“Watching Dresden operate was usually one of two things: mildly amusing and positively terrifying.” pg. 485 That’s quite a difference

“Quirky nerd gone. Terrifying icon, present.” pg. 486 I wonder if Harry knows this is how people view him? I wonder if Harry knows this is how Murphy views him.

“Seeing Dresden in action filled you with the fear that you had just become a casualty of evolution-that you were watching something far larger and infinitely more dangerous than yourself, and that your only chance of survival was to kill it, immediately, before you were crushed beneath a power greater than you would ever know.” pg. 487 Scary and such a good quote

“Dresden was gone. His cheesy jokes and his corny sense of humor were gone. His ability to know the unknowable, to fight the unfightable, to find the unfindable, was gone.

The rest of us were just going to have carry on as best we could without him.” pg. 488 Sobbing

“On the other hand…maybe I just give John Marcone a call and tell him how you’re helping some of his street-level guys run some deals behind his back.” pg. 498 Marcone mentioned!

Hendricks!

“I had to go see “Gentleman” John Marcone.” pg. 501 YES! Let’s go Marcone :)

“He had eyes the color of several-days-old grass clippings.” pg. 509 Interesting with how Murphy describes Marcone’s eyes vs with how Harry describes them

“Hendricks eyed Gard

Gard rolled her eyes and withdrew a twenty-dollar bill from her jacket pocket. She passed it to the big man.” pg. 511 Ha

“Don’t confuse yourself with Mr. Dresden, Mr. Borden,” Marcone said, his voice level and cold. His eyes were something frightening, pitiless. “You don’t have the power to threaten me. The instant you begin to change, Ms. Gard here will fire in Ms. Murphy-and then upon you.” His voice dropped to a barely audible murmur. “The next time you offer me a threat, I will kill you.” pg. 513 Nshslsbshevakbsn I didn’t learn my lesson from last time. I choked on my drink again when I read it. I think I almost hacked up my lung. Ahhh!!! It’s so bi and Harry’s not even there. Will didn’t even threaten Marcone or at least not as much as Harry usually does. And Marcone throws a knife at him.

“Someone is rounding up those mortals possessed of modest supernatural gifts.”

“Talent search” pg. 516 Oh no

“Someone started picking up on the little guys in town within a few hours of Dresden’s shooting.” pg. 517 Monsters closing in already

“I’m sorry. About Dresden. He was a brave man.” pg. 518 Glad Gard said that.

“That was when we had the nightmares.” pg.528 Ah that’s the psych/bad dreams from the end of Changes.

“Dresden hadn’t been muscled as heavily as Will. Harry’d had a runner’s build, all lean, tight, dense muscle that…” pg. 535 Murphy I see that train of thought. Good Harry/Murphy moment and Harry’s not even there.

“I mean that if Dresden just blew up the Red Court…that means the status quo is gone. There's a power vacuum, and every spook out there is going to try a fill it. The rules have changed. We don’t know how these people are going to react.” pg. 536 Yep things are going to change now. I can’t wait to see the repercussions

“The man had gills” pg. 552 There’s fish people? What hole in Lake Michigan did these guys crawl out? Why now after Harry��s death? As far as I know there haven’t been any fish people before.

Such a good fight

“Dammit, Dresden,” I said into the silence in a choked voice. “Dammit. Here I am doing your job. Dammit, dammit, dammit.” pg. 576 Sobbing some more

“That’s formor magic,” she said quietly. “One of their lesser sorcerers and his retainers.” pg. 578 Who’s the formor?

“This is the second time the formor have attempted to move on Chicago-and failed” 578 When was the first time?

“My boss is always pleased to find those with proper”-she pursed lips-“frame of mind.” pg. 579 Oh Donar Vadderung/Odin is hiring? Well that’s some foreshadowing

“Was she telling the truth, you think? That Marcone’s the one standing in the gap now?” pg. 582 Yes Marcone will help out in for supernatural threats

“The Justice League of Chicago?”

“We’ll cover his beat.”

“Until Dresden gets back.”

“It doesn’t seem to be. But…There’s this voice inside me that keeps pointing out that we haven’t seen a body.” pg. 582 Yes can’t wait for the next book.

Final thoughts

I love how the story shows Harry at the beginning and how Harry met Murphy. I loved Faith. I love the interaction between Harry and Bob. I loved Billy and Georgia’s wedding. I love that Thomas being Harry’s brother is the worst kept secret. The Cobbs are wonderful. I love the bonding between Thomas and Harry. I love the Gard and Harry bonding on an adventure. No one messes with Mac’s beer. I love that Harry’s D&D character says Gard’s catchphrase. Gard clearly made an impression. I love Harry playing D&D with the alphas. Harry’s day is frankly a comedy of misadventure. I can’t believe Kirby and Andi got fleas. I’m glad Luccio took the scene well. I love how sarcastic Thomas’s narrative is. I can’t believe Thomas has magic. That’s so cool I wonder why he didn’t tell Harry. I love how much Thomas admires Harry and how protective he is of Harry. I love is how much Harry helps people without meaning to. I love that Michael is Alicia's softball coach. I can’t believe Michael swore that’s such a big deal. I can’t believe Harry offered to kill a man so Michael wouldn’t. I love that Uriel tells Harry all the lives he has helped. It’s hilarious that Harry tried to bill Uriel only Harry would try to do that. I love that even Uriel knows Harry won’t stop helping people. Wow Mac gets attacked. Interesting to see other powerful characters from other patrons. So now the Greek and Norse gods are real in this world. I wonder what others? All others? Jim just giving us Harry/Murphy then taking it away. I love how they both realize that we’re hot with the spell. Oh boy still not over Changes. Everyone is in denial about Harry including me. Yay Georgia’s pregnant! I love the different pov and how people view Harry. I love how we got different perspectives on magic and Harry from Thomas and Murphy. I loved all the Marcone stuff all of it. I love how it shows that Marcone views Harry as a worthy opponent. Now the shipper in me thinks this scene is gold. Marcone really does let Harry get away with things that he doesn’t let others like threats and backtalk. I wonder if Marcone would have hurt Will if it was Harry present and not Murphy? And Marcone even warns Harry not to test him back in Death Mask while here he only does so after he’s knifed Will. I love the dichotomy between how Murphy describes Marcone’s eyes as the color of several-days-old grass clippings vs how Harry describes Marcone’s eyes as worn dollar bills. I love how Murphy then describes Marcone’s eyes as something frightening, pitiless. Harry really was a deterrent to the evil side of the Supernatural side and now they’re coming in now that Harry’s gone. I love the Harry/Murphy moments we got in this story. I hope we learn more about the Formor.

I’ve learned my mistake now. No more eating or drinking while reading the Dresden files.

Onto Ghost story!

#the dresden files #harry dresden #john marcone #wizardbaron #side jobs

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3-2-whump · 8 months ago

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(You don't have to reply to this publicly if you don't want to)

I read your post on adoption trauma and it really hit close to home for me. My adoption experience was a lot different (same race adoption, domestic vs international, bad adoptive parents, etc) but I still feel a lot of the same frustrations.

I can't claim to understand through racial aspect and I don't want to equate my experience to that (that's a whole other level of hurt I can't even imagine), but I think it's important to note that there's another culture that gets lost in adoption: *familial* culture.

I don't know my genealogy. I don't know how my family celebrates holidays. I don't know their little inside jokes and how they show affection and all their favorite things. I don't know my half-siblings but they know me. They know our mother. They know her hugs, her smile, her laugh.

And even though I know *who* my parents are and I could contact them, it still feels like forcing a piece from another puzzle into a completed one. I will never have that relationship with them. Of course, that's my personal experience and I know it's different for others, but that's how it feels for me. That rift is permanent, even if I take the risk of rejection and try to build a bridge.

Anyway, didn't mean to blabber in your inbox. Just had a lot of feelings and thought I might share. Also hi, I have a whump blog as well lol. It's @the-whumpening but most of my stuff has some of your squicks so don't feel obligated to check it out.

Oh yeah, there is definitely a loss of familial culture for both of us. I didn’t highlight it because I thought it was just an implied, a given -but you’re totally right, it is there, and we should address it.

I don’t know my genealogy either, or how my birth family observes holidays like Lunar New Year, Mid Autumn Moon Festival, Qing Ming, and the rest. I don’t know if you care about such things like religion but I don’t even know what mine practiced, or if it’s a faith I would have preferred to grow up in. I know I have a blood sibling; that much is implied through my story, but aside from that, I can only make guesses.

I think it’s cool though that you *know* who your birth parents are -something that will be a miracle for me to find- and I fully respect your decision to not want to contact them, but it must be kinda weird, I imagine, for both of us to imagine a world without our rifts you so accurately mentioned…

Thanks for chiming in! If you want to talk about it more feel free to message me.

#whump asks #about the author #adoption trauma

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twilightmalachite · 1 year ago

Text

PORTRAIT - Ah, still delay—thou art so ■■■ 5

Author: Akira

Characters: Akiomi, Arashi, Makoto, Izumi

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Besides. My family is normal. A normal, loveless family, just like any other."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Modeling Office

About an hour later…

Akiomi: Hah… Hah… T-They’ve finally calmed down…

Izumi: ……

Akiomi: Or rather… Sena-kun got tired from crying and fell asleep. It’s already late at night—Kids this age should have gone to bed long ago.

Makoto: ……♪

Akiomi: (Ahaha, Yuuki-kun’s even sleeping while he squeezes Sena-kun’s hand tightly. They must really be close. Seeing something like this makes me feel at ease.)

Arashi: …Good job at work today, Akiomi.

Akiomi: Oh! You brewed me some coffee, huh? You’re so considerate, Narukami-kun.

Arashi: All I did was press a button.

Akiomi: Still, I’m happy to have been thought of. Good kid, good kid♪

Arashi: Please don’t pet me. I’ll hit anyone who is unpleasant.

Akiomi: You can’t jump to hitting others. You can get away with things like that since you’re still a child, but for adults like me, you’d get in trouble with the police immediately.

Arashi: Even though Akiomi’s a child, too.

Akiomi: If that’s what you think, then if only everyone else would treat me as they would any other child.

But alas, the others from the other agency didn’t help and instead just watched helplessly from a distance.

Arashi: Because adults are basically all useless.

Akiomi: What happened for you to have so little faith in adults at your age? Poor thing. You must’ve had a rough life, huh, Narukami-kun.

Arashi: I told you to please not pet me.

Besides. My family is normal. A normal, loveless family, just like any other.

Papa and Mama, me and my big brother, we all don’t care about each other.

If we’re talking about having it rough, those guys seem to have it worse. Though I don’t know much.

Akiomi: Right… I had gotten curious, so I asked the president and some others about it earlier…

There's a rumor that Sena-kun’s so-called monster parents had gotten into a full-blown fight with the agency he belongs to, it seems.

Apparently they had complained a lot about how their child was being treated disrespectfully, and the agency lost their temper and told them to just leave if they didn’t like it.

And so Sena-kun was transferred to our agency as a result.

Though I’m sure the president wasn’t too keen on taking in such a landmine, either, but…

Our motto here is that we’ll take in anyone and turn them into a splendid model.

If he had refused the transfer, Sena-kun’s parents probably would’ve spread negative criticism of us all over the place… In fact, just that had apparently inconvenienced his former agency quite a bit.

Arashi: What a seriously horrible family.

Akiomi: Yeah… I try not to speak bad about other people, but…

Wouldn’t you think adults of that age would have shame?

Arashi: Because adults are the worst.

Akiomi: I feel Sena-kun’s parents are a special case, though…

Still, even I think it’s the worst how Sena-kun’s parents don’t seem to consider his own feelings one bit.

I can tell Sena-kun definitely didn��t want to be separated from his beloved friend, Yuuki-kun.

It looks like his parents forced their son to transfer without any thought to his feelings.

Arashi: Hmm. It’s a pity, they seem to be really close.

Izumi & Makoto: ……♪

Akiomi: You can say that again. To tear two good friends apart just because you’re not pleased—It’s just plain cruel.

I bet Sena-kun must’ve really hated it too. That’s why he was crying and lashing out in desperation, as a way to express his disapproval. That’s probably what the huge fuss was over earlier, wasn’t it?

Arashi: If he hates it so much, he should just go back to his old agency.

I don’t wanna work with this guy.

Akiomi: Is that so? He’s fastidious, just like you. You might be able to unexpectedly get along with him, you know!

Arashi: Who is fastidious? Is that an insult? Should I be getting angry?

Akiomi: If you consider it a weakness, it’s a weakness. If you consider it a strength, it’s a strength! Any personality trait can be marketed in our line of work.

It all comes down to how you present it, and how you sell it.

Arashi: ? ? Sounds difficult.

Akiomi: I don’t fully understand it myself. But, recently, an idol I sorta like said something like that in an interview.

His name is Sagami Jin, have you heard of him? He’s around my age, and he’s an idol with so much momentum right now that he could knock flying birds out of the sky…♪

Arashi: Flying… birds? What about a bird?

Akiomi: Ahaha. …But anyways, this’ll cause a bit of trouble.

So if you don’t have any urgent work to do, Narukami-kun, you might wanna stay away from the agency for the time being.

I wouldn’t want you to get dragged up into something troublesome.

Arashi: That’s true. …But, if I don’t come here, then I can’t see Akiomi.

Akiomi: ? Did you say something?

Arashi: …… (Doesn’t say anything and kicks Akiomi in the back)

Akiomi: Ouch!? Seriously, why do you skip to violence so quickly?! What are your parents teaching you!

Arashi: You never told me I couldn’t kick.

Izumi: ……?

(What’re these guys doing… They’re making a racket right next to us, even though people are sleeping.)

(But, it’s nice… It kinda actually feels like something a close-knit family would do.)

(I wish I could’ve been born into a family like that.)

Makoto: Mn… Onii-cha, aaan…♪

Izumi: (If only Yuu-kun could’ve been my little brother for real.)

[ ☆ ]

← prev | story directory | next →

#portrait #scout #translation #makoto yuuki #izumi sena #narukami arashi #akiomi kunugi

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kiyosimp03 · 2 years ago

Text

Part 3 of the Ultimate Assassin! Kiyotaka Ishimaru AU

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40774683/chapters/115922095

After Kiyotaka came back from his forced holiday, Mondo still insisted on sticking on him like 24/7. At least this time it was being useful as his wounds still hurt pretty much. Also it was much easier to convince his father to let him back to school, with someone looking out for him. Even if Takaaki had stated several times that he would like Kiyotaka to leave Hope’s Peak entirely. But seriously Takaaki, have faith.

Well now back to the Point. It took literal days until Mondo had deemed Taka fit enough, to meet up with his Gang again. When Mondo left, he proceeded to have a Phone call with Junko. In which she said, that she would like Kiyotaka to recruit Nagito Komaeda, since he could proably handle the Danger of Nagito's sole existente better than Junko herself.

Hearing that Kiyotaka preapared himself for every possible scenario. For the most dangerous Kind of Person even, but not for that traumatized kid with selfesteem issues that is additionally riddled with cancer.

So in order to not recruit him for Junko‘s plans he sat down besides Nagito to do something that no one did try for a very long time: talking to him. Even if that meant getting hit by a truck once or twice.

As if the Universe wanted to see how true that was See how their one of their conversations went:

„ (..)so Nagito, since you seem to have such an Obsession with hope, how about you try to have some yourself?" Kiyotaka asked.

But before Nagito could ramble about how even Kiyotaka will grow tired of his bad Luck, a truck crashed into the Hope’s Peak Campus, right into Kiyotaka. While luckily no one else got hurt, Mondo's heart stood still for a second „TAKA!"

Just as he ran to retrive his boyfriend, Kiyotaka somehow stood on his legs again. His hair was white. Then he looked at his sleeve, Red Drops of blood. Shortly before he collapsed he told Nagito and Mondo not to worry. After that, his hair turned black again and Kiyotaka lied on the floor.

But he was very determined to not having to spend a day in bed again. So he pulled himself up. Ignoring the pleas of his worried boyfriend and went to his room. There he pulled out his protective gear and some tools. At this rate he will soon be able to get thrown out of a plane without even getting a scratch.

To Mondo‘s and Takaaki’s despair, of course.

‚Save the Taka‘

Demon: So you are telling me that there’s a child with incredibly bad luck, right?

ButterCorn: Yes.

Demon: and understandably no one wants to be around him, because everyone who is will get hurt even worse than him?

ButterCorn: Yeah.

Demon: and of course my dear baby son wants to spend time with him, for the sole reason that he is literally too kind for this world.

ButterCorn: Typical Taka, right?

ShineBrightLikeADiamond: At least he can improve his safety gear like that.

Demon: My son shouldn’t need to wear safety gear to school!

Demon: and he would even need it if he wasn’t so intent on helping people who clearly don’t deserve it.

ShineBrightLikeADiamond: Well Nagito didn’t do anything.

Demon: Well, he still is the reason a fucking truck crashed into my son!

(…)

Daiya => Kiyotaka

ShineBrightLikeADiamond: [Screenshot of previous chat] i won’t ask any questions, but i sure am very confused.

Everyone’sMom: and i hope it’ll stay that way.

After Kiyotaka put away his phone he was contemplating how Nagito could help him with his Plan. It was almost too easy. Make Nagito and Junko meet up and let a truck crash into Junko. If she survives that, he could just mess with her vitals in the hospital in a way that could be blamed on the truck, or whatever had hit her.

But did he really want to fulfill his job on the cost of Nagito‘s self-esteem? Adding another trauma to the kid that already has to live with the knowledge that he was partly responsible for his parents death.

Damn it! Since when did he care about such things? Kiyotaka clenched his Hands to fists. Fuck his Morals. Where did he even get them from? More importantly, how does he get rid of them?

Well there was no purpose in answering this question. Instead he straight up walked out of the Nurse‘s room and went to his dorm room instead. Where some of his classmates already awaited him. Namely, Mondo, Yasuhiro, Leon, Aoi and fucking Junko.

He sighed and asked them why they were in his dorm. Soon he found out that all of them thought that Taka derserved a break from the chaos of the last days. So they offered to take care of his Hallmonitor duties while he could do whatever. They even had gotten the Headmaster’s okay, if he wanted to skip a day of school.

All because they already knew that he wouldn’t stay in the Nurse‘s office anyway. But how was he supposed to relax, not knowing what danger Junko had planned for his boyfriend. And the others too of course.

Still he chose to attend his classes in peace. For once.

At least that was the plan. Until the fire Alarm went off and everyone walked out of the Building. He contemplated whether or not he should do so too, since he was technically on vacation.

But his boyfriend was still in the probably burning Building. With Junkrat. Of course the others too, but Junkrat could burn for all he cares.

So in the Building he stayed and grabbed a fire extinguisher. Soon he saw some little Monokumas on his way. Armed, but not there to fight him as these robot bears somehow seemed to know that he was involved in Junko‘s litte game.

He looked down on the teddybear „Monokuma, what happened?“

Instead of giving him an answer the bear only told him that this information was classified. To which he obviously decapitated the thing. The next Monokuma on his way was still not able to tell him, but at least it led him in the right direction.

Suddenly something exploded.

Seconds he stood before the Chemistry Lab. It was Locked.

Then Junko walked up to him. She was literally eating Popcorn.

„What did you do?“ Kiyotaka asked.

„Oh i thought i would have some fun with our classmates and Nagito“ Junko laughed.

Then she was going on about how good the despair on his face looked.

To which Kiyotaka hit the door. While Junko told him something about what a tragic story this was „and the Hallmonitor would even have been in time, weren’t it for the missing Key“.

Soon Kiyotaka‘s hair became white. He raised his fist.

Junko smiled „Yes Taka, feel the despair“ .

Instead he ripped the door out. Then he looked into the Lab

Fire everywhere and Nagito in the middle. And the others, passed out on the floor.

So he took Mondo in a bridal carry and called help. All while attempting to comfort Nagito. Meanwhile Junko shot photos of the whole thing and put them into the classchat:

Fashionista [Photos of Kiyotaka bridal carrying a passed out Mondo]

NaEGGi (Makoto): what happened?

Fashionista (Junko): The Lab was burning!

NaEGGi (Makoto): what? That’s horrible!

Fashionista (Junko): Yeah and the door was locked. Like, no one could find the key in time.

Fight Club (Sakura): is everyone okay?

Fashionista (Junko): Yes. Luckily @Everyone‘sMom, punched the door open, once we knew that we wouldn’t find the key. So everyone who took Taka’s duties for today is currently staying in the med bay. Nobody’s life is in danger right now.

Soon all the students were advised to stay out of the school Building until the situation is resolved.

On the Campus Kiyotaka decided to distract Nagito from the Situation and invited him for some Ice cream. Which none of them got to eat, as a really big bird stole it after they had purchased it. After that there was a Storm, and a wind strong enough to blow a person away. Namely, Nagito.

[If Taka hadn’t held his arm]

(and if Kiyotaka hadn’t worn the super heavy protection armor he called his school uniform)

After they were totally drenched from the pouring rain, they went back to school.

Sometime later they sat at the cafeteria. Where Nagito asked Taka, why he would even wanted to be around a hopeless case such as him. To which Kiyotaka literally turned into a motivational speaker, telling Nagito that he shouldn’t look down on himself like that.

At least in the evening, without anyone to distract him and Junkhoe being somewhere else entirely, he could finally chill for an evening and log in on his Tumblr account for the first time since he took the Hope’s Peak mission.

Finally on his favorite Hellsite again.

Time for a poem to celebrate:

„Remember , remember, the 5th of November,

When the US american Tumblr users didn't know whose shoelaces to steal,

the rumours of putin stepping down were quite a big deal,

out of nowhere Georgia flipping blue,

in Nevada nobody knew if the counting was to do,

a confession so homophobic and gay at the same time,

makes good for a superhell rhyme,

the new system of a down music not to forget,

oh and the ray ban sunglasses.

And two years later,

the same date,

Elon Musk seals twitters fate.

All in all,

gunpowder, treason and plot.

I see no reason,

Why gunpowder treason,

Should ever be forgot.

Like Corona was.“

Of course reblogging and scheduling things again, looking at whatever is going on with the tumblr fandom and of course talking to his mutuals of the Goncharov and Vanilla extract fandom. Also finally listening to all the Welcome to nightvale episodes he missed! Life was good this evening.

Luckily everyone was soon out of the hospital again. Which meant that he could torture Leon in the class chat:

Mom (Kiyotaka): @SuckMyBasedBalls: you’re late.

SuckMyBasedBalls (Leon): and you are texting in class

Mom: only because the teacher asked me to. I guess @420 (Yasuhiro) is with you?

420: Yep.

Mom: well if you’re not coming today, i recommend that you must really Watch Goncharov 1978 today, a true classic and nearly 4 hours long.

Donuts: Are U Okay Taka?

FightClub: it would be good to check in with the nurse Taka

ButterCorn: Sakura is right Bro, if you’re already at a point where you recommend them a film instead of reprimanding them you should definitely check in with the nurse. You know what? I’m taking you to the hospital.

Mom: I’m fine my dear. I swear. I’ll even check in with the nurse later but now, everyone: attention to the lesson please.

Save the Taka:

ButterCorn: Taka isn’t well

Demon: how so?

ButterCorn: Leon and Yasuhiro are skipping classes today and he recommended them a film they could watch Goncharov it is.

Demon: WHAT?

ShineBrightLikeADiamond: I didn’t expect him of all people to be a fellow tumblr User, but okay. Believe me he is fine, those two will suffer way more that way.

ButterCorn: Daiya wtf are yer implying?

ShineBrightLikeADiamond: You’ll see Mondo, you’ll see.

Sometime later in the class chat:

420: WTF Guys

SuckMyBasedBalls: We can’t find the Movie

420: Only a Bunch of analysis and spoilers

SuckMyBasedBalls: which make us want to see that film even more

Fashionista: What?

420: Taka, could you please send us a link, we are already looking for hours.

Mom: No. Go and drink some Vanilla Extract.

420: What.

ButterCorn: Guys, why tf are ya even awake?

ButterCorn: especially you Taka, you already don’t sleep enough as it is.

Donuts: Yeah, how didn’t you collapse already

Soldier (Mukuro): he brews his coffee with Energy drinks that’s how

Mom: You are right, but may i ask how you knew?

Soldier: obviously i was joking.

Soldier: WAIT. WHAT?

NaEGGi: i hereby revoke your rights to the coffee Machine

FightClub: a punishment that i will enforce

ButterCorn: Count me in guys. Sorry Bro, but your heart will surely thank me one day.

Soldier: i‘ll help you guys

Chihiro: i‘ll send you a timetable for the shifts

RichBitch (Byakuya): sorry Hallmonitor but they are right. Like, are you out of your mind?

Mom: i may be but at least i voted in the Bug race 2023.

BestSeller (GenocideJill): Now i know what you are Talking about. Me too! Down the horse Plinko the rest of you. Glad to see a mutual here. What‘s your favorite sexyman?

BestSeller: If you say Onceler, you‘re valid, but i‘ll kill you anyway.

Mom: Can i say Pika Man?

BestSeller: No.

Mom: Cecil Palmer then.

BestSeller: Relatable, bitch.

ButterCorn: i feel a little bit jealous.

Mom: No need to be Dear.

BestSeller: [picture of Tumblr Pika Man]

ButterCorn: What the fucking shit is that?

Mom: Watch your fricking language Mondo.

BestSeller: the thing you were Jealous of a few seconds ago.

ButterCorn: Please just swear for once Taka!

420: Pls just curse

RichBitch: I never thought that i would have an agreement with the Biker and the addict in my entire life, but Ishimaru. You really should just curse.

After that Kiyotaka laughed for like 10 minutes. Because that’s when Mondo came into his room and took his phone out of his hands. Kissed him. And somehow convinced him to go to bed (read: carrying a not so struggling Ishimaru to Bed, while said Ishimaru is complaining about wanting to stay awake until he lands on his bed and falls asleep).

— Save the Taka —

ButterCorn: [screenshot of the class chat] TAKAAKI WTF!

Demon: Oh that’s how he manages it to stay awake for that long.

ButterCorn: Thats all ya gotta say !?

Demon: Well yeah, I’ve pulled that trick myself a lot of times, before the government forgave my fathers debt. So i could work more than some extra shifts. Wasn’t exactly the best thing for my health.

ShineBrightLikeADiamond: Interesting

Demon: it would be nice if my son wasn’t alone with the coffee machine anytime soon. @ButterCorn

ButterCorn: Yes sir!

Demon: Also for the love of god, please try to get my son comfortable with swearing. I beg you. (When he doesn’t have the white hair, but honestly, i still have questions about why my son out of a sudden gets white hair, since he is in Hope’s Peak )

——————

ShineBrightLikeADiamond ——> Kiyotaka

ShineBrightLikeADiamond: [screenshot from save the Taka]

Everyone’sMom: Aww, almost cute how they care. Even if their efforts will be definitely in Vain. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

ShineBrightLikeADiamond: i, once again, am scared.

#ishimaru kiyotaka #class 78 #ishimondo #mondo oowada #talentswap #takaaki ishimaru #daiya oowada #ultimate assassin kiyotaka au

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