#chronos you better watch your back

[chthonic-kids]

i will shove that crusty old titan back into tartarus myself to keep her happy

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Cheshire behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“You can think about it for a little, if you wanna,” Billy offers, not sure what else to say aside from maybe suggesting committing lab-arson, which the other genomorphs probably don’t deserve even if Dr. Desmond and whoever wrote Lynn’s uploads almost definitely does. “Or you can pick one way now and then the other next time, it’s fine to change your mind and all.” 

Lynn stares at him for a moment longer, then just turns stiffly back to the sink and goes back to washing the dishes. 

Well, Lynn just doesn’t really like to talk all that much, Billy’s still pretty sure, so it’s fine. It’s not like Lynn didn’t hear him, so it’s just up to the other what he does or doesn’t do about the dishes. 

They should do a chore chart, maybe, Billy reflects, mulling the idea over briefly. Do chore charts actually work, or is that just a TV thing? It’s probably worth a try either way, he guesses. Like, even if it’s mostly a TV thing, if it works it works, right? 

Though Lynn might think it’s stupid or not like it. But also doing chores is supposed to be good for kids, Billy guesses. Like–he’s always really hated them, because mostly when he had to do chores it was foster families pawning off all the housework on their foster kids or whatever, but . . . yeah. He didn’t mind doing things like cleaning up his room or clearing the dishes or things like that, before, so . . . yeah, again. And the League got them a really nice apartment, so keeping it nice is important, he thinks. 

Also, it’s just the two of them, and nobody’s gonna be screaming at either of them if it does get kinda messy sometimes, so . . . 

Just–yeah. 

Again. 

Later thing either way, Billy reminds himself. They’re still not figuring out everything day one, no matter how much he thinks about it. Maybe they can do up the chore chart together and that’ll be easier, and Lynn won’t mind it as much and–

He’s really nervous, Billy re-realizes resignedly for about the thousandth time of the day. Like way too nervous. So like, he needs to calm down about that. Kids pick up on that kind of thing, for one, even if they don’t get what it’s actually about. 

Lynn finishes up washing the dishes–or at least the dishes so far, anyway–and then starts wiping down the counters instead, and Billy feels dumb for not thinking of doing that himself and then goes looking for the broom because his parents always swept after they wiped down the counters, and also because it seems like a better idea than interrupting Lynn again to offer to do the counters. And it’s teamwork this way, he figures, which Lynn probably needs to get used to? Billy’s not sure if Cadmus would’ve taught him much about teamwork. Or, um . . . literally anything at all, considering. 

Then again, about five seconds into Lynn waking up for the first time Aqualad and Robin and Kid Flash talked him into being their new best friend and starting a superhero team with them, so maybe he’s already figured it out. 

. . . well, the practice can’t hurt anyway, Billy figures, and then finally finds the broom in a weird out-of-the-way side closet and brings it back to sweep the kitchen floor with. Lynn stares blankly at it for a moment, then stares blankly at him for a moment, and then goes and puts the cookbook away. 

Billy sweeps, humming contentedly to himself, and makes sure to get all the corners. Lynn watches him blankly and doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t seem upset or anything so Billy figures he’s doing an okay enough job. 

Maybe he needs to look up how to do chores better, actually. He always got the windows all streaky when he did them in foster care, and he didn’t care there but he definitely cares if Lynn won’t get as much sun or will feel like Billy doesn’t care about keeping the apartment nice for him or–

He’s still way too nervous, Billy re-realizes, and then just makes himself stop worrying and just goes and grabs plates and silverware and puts them all on the coffee table. He sets it kinda like a kitchen table and gets them both a glass of water and brings over the shiny little napkin holder Batman bought them too, because he’s still not sure the actual kitchen table won’t be too much pressure but Lynn went to all the trouble of cooking so they should at least use, like, actual dishes and stuff for it. It looks nicer, and hopefully it’ll make Lynn feel appreciated. 

Lynn watches him the whole time and doesn’t say anything, and then goes and turns a dial on the oven and then sticks in the salmon and asparagus too. He doesn’t set any timers or check the potatoes or anything, which is what Billy’s used to seeing people do while they cook, but he still seems like he knows what he’s doing. He does it all a little unfamiliarly, but–otherwise, yeah. 

Billy doesn’t really know what to talk about right now, honestly, and has to resist the urge to go fiddle with . . . things. Something, he doesn’t know. Maybe he should go look at the potatoes? Or maybe they could reiterate the “no” talk or he could mention the chore chart idea so Lynn knows he’s planning on trying it later and can think about it in advance, or maybe he should ask Lynn if the other’s thought of anything he thinks they need or that he just wants to have around, or maybe he should just calm down for five minutes and just be okay being quiet for five minutes, geez. He’s already been talking Lynn’s ear off as it is. 

He’ll figure out if Lynn likes quiet or maybe will be more talkative once he gets comfortable or maybe just won’t mind noise in general, obviously. Like–unless Lynn decides he’s terrible and he hates the apartment and his room and the library and the diner and Tawky and–no, no, now he’s really being dumb. Nobody’d ever hate Tawky.

[vibratingskull]

Thrawn x F!reader

Tags : tooth-rotting fluff

You wake up in the night to discover Thrawn giving the bottle to your daughter, a gentle smile on his lips and quiet love in his eyes

You open your eyes in a flash and turn your head towards your chrono. 

3 am. 

Frost! 

FrostFrostFrostFrost FrostFrostFrostFrost FrostFrostFrostFrost FrostFrostFrostFrost! 

You swiftly pull the cover off your body, grab your robe, and pass it on as you head toward your baby’s room. She’s not even 2 weeks old and you’re already slacking off... 

But you can’t help it. This pregnancy and delivery were so exhausting... You dream of a full night's sleep and a good nap through the day. But taking care of Thanan, even with the active help of Thrawn, is such a trial. 

You knew caring for a newborn would be difficult and you prepared in consequence, but DEAR MAKER you could have never prepared for that. You love your daughter, and you would kill yourself and anyone to ensure her safety and happiness, but the amount of labor was unplannable. And despite all the books read, the videos watched, and advice taken from experienced parents and pediatricians, you must admit: You are thoroughly humbled by the experience. 

Even Thrawn seems unsure of himself sometimes.  

He is the most confident of you two and the rock you hold onto when uncertainty threatens to drown you, but it now happens that Thrawn turns his gaze to you in helplessness. You see him hesitate and second-guess himself for the first time since you met him. He hides it well before you to not alarm you, but you know your husband, you came to recognize that flicker in his eyes, that lingering doubt darkening his shining eyes. 

Is he doing well with her? Is he providing proper care? Is he attentive enough? 

You never thought you would see the day when Thrawn would seem lost, but parenthood is apparently a trial for everybody and even your unsinkable Grand Admiral seems to falter before your baby’s tears, wondering in horror if he did something wrong before taking back control of the situation. 

You have the same questions harassing you, and despite your other parent friends reassuring words that you are both doing really good all things considered, even better than most of them, you cannot silence the fear of hurting or failing your baby.   

May the Maker help you in this mess you think as you yawn behind your hand. 

You enter the nursery and check the room’s temperature before approaching the bassinet softly to not startle your baby and wake up Thrawn but when you bend over to take Thanan in your arms, you realize the crib is empty. 

You are seized by the irrational fear that she somehow managed to fall from the crib and break her neck. 

But obviously this is impossible. 

You hurriedly go around the apartment in search of your little one, closing your robe to soothe yourself until you open the kitchen door and discover Thrawn, leaning against the counter, Thanan in his arms as he holds a feeding bottle to her mouth. 

She suckles on it hard and Thrawn observes his baby with a gentle, tender smile on his face. 

You let out a relieved sigh, holding your knees for support as your beating heart slowly calms down, prompting Thrawn to turn his head towards you, shooting you a tight grin. 

“How are you Ch’acah?” He asks, cradling your baby gently. 

“Relieved... I was starting to worry about not finding her.” You raise back up. 

The kitchen light is dim, only the bulb over the sink is on, giving the room an aura of mystery but also quiet peace as the stars shine through the window with their serene white light. 

He lowers his gaze back to her as she yelps, drinking too much milk at once. He takes out the teat from her mouth to let her gurgle, her tummy finally full of warm milk. 

“She started to cry, so I came to check on her.” He explains, slowly rocking the dearest of both of your heart 

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” You ask, approaching them, “My milk is better than formula”. 

“You need to sleep and recover, Ch’acah.” He explains, caressing a drop of milk off her little mouth with his thumb. “ 

“I can feed her at night!” You insist. 

“Sleep.” He closes the matter, “Let me handle the night feeding times, this is the least I can do after you carried her for nine months. It is not the first time I do it.” 

“What do you mean?” You squint. 

“You never noticed?” He tilts his head at you with a soft gaze, “You slept through her crying at night several times.” 

“I... What?” You realize horrified. 

Do you really do that? Sleeping peacefully while your baby cries because she is scared or hungry? 

How could you? 

How dare you? 

You are a terrible mother! The worst of all, the- 

“Ch’acah, do not cry my sweet. It was in no way a reproach.” Thrawn says softly. 

“I am... Horrible!” You gasp, a hand before your mouth as you feel tears filling your eyes. 

“You are not a horrible mother in any measure.” He counters immediately, “You just gave birth, you are exhausted, and you need to rest and sleep, I am here to take care of her.” He opens his arm to invite you into his embrace. 

You come to nudge yourself against his tall body, silent tears rolling down your cheeks. He fondly rocks you both, letting his naturally warmer body heat you up as he presses you tightly against himself. 

“I am failing her...” 

“No, you do not. This is post-partum speaking.” He reassures sweetly, brushing his nose in your hair, “You simply need a little time to adjust. Welcoming a newborn is life-changing, our entire routine is shaken up, and you cannot modify your lifestyle in a day.” 

“You did!” 

“I did not carry a baby for nine months, gave birth to her, and saw my hormone balance completely shift the entire time. I can wake up several times at night without it impacting me, you cannot and you should not.” 

You sniff, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. 

“Are you all right, Ch’acah?” He asks gently, his knuckles caressing your cheek. 

You nod weakly,  slowly accepting the situation. 

“Keep on sleeping for now, I will handle it. We will see in two or three months if you can wake up to feed her at night, for now, you will rest.” He orders tenderly. 

You are about to respond when Thanan hiccups, prompting you two to chuckle lightly at the cute sound. Thrawn lowers his head to fondly kiss her forehead ridges before lifting her up to his shoulder and patting her back. She burps, a bubble of milk on her lips. 

“I did not use formula.” He whispers, mindful of the baby’s ears close to his mouth “I used the milk you pumped this afternoon, do not worry.” He continues, his large hand caressing her little back. 

Seeing that simple scene makes your heart beat faster and your stomach feels fuzzy. It’s almost like love was about to choke you with its ever-growing size. You lay your head on Thrawn’s shoulder and he delicately gives Thanan to you, circling his arms around your shoulders and waist. 

You look down at your baby, her blue skin as vibrant as her father and her shining rubies, already sharp with intelligence... 

You would kill for her. 

You know it. 

For the both of them. 

You press her tightly against your heart and she yawns , ready to fall asleep again. 

Thrawn kisses your temple lovingly, a purr vibrating in his throat and chest. 

“Let’s put her to bed, I will feed her again in three hours. Sleep my love, I will handle it. You can count on me.” 

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin@ineedazeezee @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @obbicrystaleo @germie2037 @leo4242564@davesrightshoe @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni 

[nemaliwrites]

some hecate Thoughts on waxwitch hehe

The boy-shade comes every day.

He’s gone by night, which is the only reason you allow it — or else you would have blasted him out of the Crossroads with nothing more than a crook of your finger, no matter who his father. 

You should, anyway. He’s nothing but a distraction. A hindrance. A danger, even; the green glow of Melinoë’s arm proves that, a lesson she’ll never forget. It’s one thing to have those wings on his back. Another entirely to use them. 

But there’s something you see in his eyes: hunger. Desperation to prove himself. All good things. Necessary things, the same that your ward carries with her in every step she takes. 

It is those who failed and still rise whose next attack is the strongest. You know that better than anyone —and when you’re finished with Melinoë, the Titan Chronos will learn that, too. 

For you, too, have fallen. Wax wings, the Scythe of Time, it’s all the same. Falling is falling. 

So you watch and you wait. If he hurts her, you think, you’ll rip those wings off his back yourself, magick be damned. But when he looks at her, it’s with respect. Head bowed, eyes averted. No blood left in his body, and yet he blushes all the same. 

It isn’t a distraction she uses him as, you see, but motivation. She pushes herself further at the cauldron — though careful not to overextend, not anymore. Spends every free moment she has in the training ground. 

It’s the sound you hear, though, that makes you pause. Around the boy-shade, the princess laughs. She sounds like her mother, like her father, like everyone whose company she should have grown up in had she not the misfortune to be stuck with you. 

She cannot defeat Time with a smile on her face. There is no place in a war for laughter. You should set her straight. Remind her of your task. Her task. 

But…

Laughter so seldom has a place here in the Crossroads. It is a safe haven — but it is not a home. No room here for happiness or love. Only anger. Only grief. Just more weapons to wield like these torches of yours. 

One red eye, one green. An unfinished portrait. A green arm. It’s all the same. Falling is falling. 

In the end, you stay your hand. After all, you were young once, too. 

[ohtobeleah]

Chronos // Robert Bob Floyd

Summary: Bob told you that Chronos carried a sickle, that he used it to cut a hole, a tear in the cosmos between heaven and earth. Chronos did that to separate this world from the next, to separate the known from the unknown.

And while someone by the name of Pete Mitchell told you over the phone that your husband had been involved in a training accident….Well—you felt as if you'd fallen straight into it.

Warnings: Bob Floyd x Pregnant F!reader. F-18 accident. Medical inaccuracies. Birth. Bob Whump, ANGST. Major character death.

Word Count: 6.1k

Author Note: Today is Monday, for most of you it’s Sunday: Please enjoy this oneshot that’s been a work in progress since the 28th of March. ~ Last minute title name change. I’m posting this at 4am my time so blow this up.

First there was a storm of carbon and molten rock which begat granite and soil. Then, the land shook and it cracked and it rose till it spiked the sky. Forest grew and died and grew a hundred times again. And then people grew and died and grew and died a hundred times again. There were storms and seasons and fences and blood. Wonder and vengeance and a whole lot of regret….

And through every grievance, every war, the land and the sky didn't give two shits about any of it. Bob Floyd knew that as he and his front seater, Natasha Phoenix Trance, fell through the sky in a tin bird designed by man, for man to destroy other men….

That it wouldn't give two shits about them either. 

“Extinguishing right engine!” There were far too many sounds coming from every system possible as Phoenix tried to regain control of the F-18 that seemed impossible to wrangle. All Bob could think about in those utterly terrifying moments was you. 

He’d always made it a promise to come home to you. He knew how much you worried about him, how much the thought of being left behind ping ponged around in your brain. How sometimes you'd stay up all hours of the night hoping that wherever he was and whatever ocean he flew across that he was okay. That he was safe and that he;d come home to you. 

Robert Floyd had made you a promise he had every intention of keeping, but he wasn't so sure he could. 

“Phoenix, Bob! Punch out! Punch out!” Maverick shouted through the comms as he chased the rogue fighter jet down. Bob looked around at all the warnings flashing in his face, there was nothing left to save except themselves. 

“Phoenix there’s warning lights everywhere, we’re in hydraulic failure!” All Bob prayed for in those terrifying moments as his colleagues watched on in pure shock horror from the ground below was that he’d get a chance to tell you he loved you again. 

He always told you that he’d come home, that there wasn’t a chance in hell that he wouldn’t. You knew better than to believe Government Property though, Bob knew you knew that there was always a chance. So he promised in the event of his untimely demise that he’d come back to you and wiggle your earlobe. To let you know he made it safe and sound. That you need not worry about him anymore. 

You promised him the same thing, because working from home was just as terrifying as flying a multimillion dollar fighter jet. 

“I can’t control it!” But as the ground grew closer and closer, Bob knew he wasn’t ready to die, he wasn’t ready to leave you behind and he certainly wasn’t ready to not meet his unborn child. 

“We’re going down, Phoenix! We’re going in! We’re going in!” He wasn’t ready to wiggle your ear. 

“You can’t save it! eject, eject!” Maverick shouted again, he was watching on like he’d been sucked into some kind of timeloop. He’d seen this happen before. Only he lost his best friend when to this day he thought it should have been him. 

“Eject! Eject! Eject!” Were the last three words Bob heard escape from Phoenix’s mouth before he was reaching between his legs to pull at the emergency yellow and black striped handle that sent him flying out of the cockpit. He’d been taught how to handle a situation like this, they all had. Every single naval aviator currently on active duty had been taught what to do when they needed to eject. 

But when Bob's head hit the top of the cockpit? He didn’t care for procedures and protocol and what he should or shouldn’t have done in the moment, all he cared about was you and holding on to whatever consciousness he had left as he tumbled through the sky at a rapid pace. Reaching for his parachute in just the nic of time. 

Knowing if he hit the ground where the land had shook and cracked and rose till it spiked the sky that it wouldn’t have given a shit. It wouldn’t have been all that forgiving and it certainly wouldn’t have mourned his untimely demise. 

So Bob faught until he hit the ground with a not so graceful thud, he hit the ground hard—with an almighty groan as his ribs popped and his head throbbed inside his helmet. 

“Ahhh!” He gasped as he clutched at his stomach, forgetting how to breathe as the darkness of tunnel vision claimed its next victim. Unconsciousness overcoming its latest casualty: 

Bob Floyd. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Bob had asked you once when you were wrapped up in his arms in the dead of the night, listening to the storm raging on outside if you knew anything at all about a Greek God called Chronos. When you had chuckled out a soft no as his lips trailed up your neck and his slightly calloused hands roamed your body like they knew every inch, Bob told you that he carried a sickle, that he used it to cut a hole, a tear in the cosmos between heaven and earth. Chronos did that to separate this world from the next, to separate the known from the unknown.

And while someone by the name of Pete Mitchell told you over the phone that your husband had been involved in a training accident….

Well—you felt as if you'd fallen straight into it.

You felt like you'd fallen into the cosmic existence between now and soon to come, plummeting into a realm where time didn’t exist and light didn’t reach. You tumbled into a parallel dimension where nothing made sense, nothing seemed tangible or real. You descended into a world where Bob Floyd wasn’t around. 

“Your husband was involved in an accident during a training exercise this afternoon—“. 

At the sound of Pete Maverick Mitchell’s voice explaining that there had been an accident on base during an exercise—you begun to crack, you started slipping further and further into the unknown because Bob had always said he’d never leave and if he did you’d feel him tugging on your earlobe to let you know he got there safe and sound. 

There was no one tugging on your earlobe though, no soul that had passed on or ghostly figure watching over you. What there was though, was a radiating warmth between your legs. A wetness that shouldn't have been there. 

Had your water just broken? 

“Oh—oh god.” You gasped as you looked down, gripping the side of the kitchen island as you groaned out a prolonged, primal moan. You were in labour there was no doubt about it. “Ahh.” 

“Mrs Floyd? Are you alright?” The voice on the other end of the line asked with a confused undertone as you watched the seconds tick past on the ongoing call. 

“I uh—“ You tried to speak, tried to make sense of what you were hearing, what you were experiencing. Pain in every aspect both physically, emotionally and mentally. “I think my water just broke.” 

“Oh—“ Maverick couldn’t suppress his shock nor could he disguise his sudden state of disbelief. “Oh okay, I’ll uh—I'll have an ambulance come by right away.” You replied with a sharp groan. Doubling over as you felt how hard your stomach had truly become. This was happening, everything was happening all at once and you had lost focus in the pain of both worrying about the state your husband was currently in and the fact your baby was on their way. “Mrs Floyd, someone will be there very soon, I’m gonna stay on the line with you until they arrive.” 

“I need Bob—“ You’d begun to cry as you kneeled on the kitchen floor before you decided that sitting up against the cabinet with your legs outstretched felt a hell of a lot more comfortable. “I need my husband, I can't do this without him.” You felt warm tears streaming down your cheeks as your bottom lip quivered and another painful contraction rippled through your body. Every fibre of your being ignited in a fireball. “Ahhh—I won’t do this without my husband!” 

On the other side of the phone call that had taken a rather drastic turn, Mav looked to Phoenix who was being wheeled into the awaiting ambulance on the tarmac. Bob was next, Pete didn’t have the heart to tell the Weapons Systems Officer that had just escaped death that his wife, who he hadn’t mentioned to a soul beside Phoenix, that his wife’s water had just broken. 

“Phoenix, hey—“ Pete stopped the medics briefly, they looked at Pete like he was risking her life by wasting valuable time. But this was just as important. “What’s Bob's wife’s name?” Pete wanted to know so he could be a little more personal. 

The truth was Natasha didn’t even know, she’d seen the picture of you in Bob's wallet that he’d shown her, but Bob had only ever called you by your nickname. Bob's beloved term of endearment. 

Peach. 

“He’s only ever called her Peach, I don’t even know her name.” Phoenix cried. She was still trying to process what had happened—she felt like the blame was all her own to bear. She’d damn near killed her back seater and she didn’t even know his wife’s real name or that you were pregnant. “I nearly killed him and I don’t even know his wife’s name—“ 

“Hey hey hey.” Mav tried to soothe the clearly shocked pilot. “It wasn’t your fault, it could’ve happened to anyone, Phoenix.” Mav smiled softly as he held the phone back to his ear, he was still yet to call Phoenix's emergency contact, her sister Lily. It wasn’t inherently Mavericks' job to call the emergency contacts listed in Bob and Phoenix’s files, but it was his duty, his responsibility. 

He was going to as soon as he’d informed you, however, Pete wasn’t expecting this call to take the turn it had. “Peach, you there?” 

There was no answer, Simply whimpers. When you’d doubled over in pain in the kitchen you’d left your phone on the island bench top. It was far too out of reach now as you sat trying to breathe through the latest contraction that bodied you. 

“Peach—“ Mav started, but as he did so saw the medics wheeling Bob closer and closer to the ambulance waiting on the tarmac. He couldn’t say anything, not when Bob was still fighting to stay conscious. “Mrs Floyd, someone will be there as soon as they can, I promise.” 

“Bbboooooobb—!” You cried out. “I can’t do this!” It was all too much for you to handle, the immense pressure, the anxiety, the fear of losing your husband. “I can’t fucking do this!” You never thought in your wildest dreams you’d have to do this alone. Bob always said he’d be right with you every single step of the way. And up until right now he had been. 

“Someone’s coming Peach.” Maverick knew you couldn’t hear him, but he couldn’t bring himself to put the phone down. He looked at Bob being wheeled into the back of the ambulance on a stretcher, wondering if his decision to not say anything as of right now was a bad decision. He seemed to always be full of those. 

“Someone’s coming—“

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

By the time Bob was brought back to the North Island Base Hospital, he was very aware that someone would need to call his emergency contact about what had happened. Someone was going to need to call you, he thought it would be best if he was the one who called. 

With a throbbing headache and a few cuts and gashes, Bob let the nurses and doctors tend to his aid without much of a fight. He knew he needed the care, knew it was for the best if he just let everyone do their jobs. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon and if he put up a fight they would only keep him admitted for longer. 

“You got a partner Robert? A wife or husband that we need to call?” Doctor Austin asked as he shined a light into Bob's eyes, watching carefully as he followed the light side to side. 

“I have a wife–” Bob mumbled, his head hurt from when he’d hit the ground not so gracefully but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle as he sat up on the hospital bed with his legs hanging off the side. Phoenix was laying with an ice pack over her eyes on the other bed. “She’s um, she's pregnant, could go any day now.” Doctor Austin chuckled as he clicked his pen light off and placed it into his top pocket. Sending Bob an all knowing look. 

“And you thought it was a good idea to fall outta the sky?” Bob's ribs hurt when he laughed softly, cupping at his side as he did so, laughing with the doctor who had cleared him and Natasha of any serious injury. “My good man, I can't say that's a good mix.” But there were still observations that needed to be made and a few more tests just to be sure. He wasn't out of the woods. 

“Yeah I think you might be right doc—“ Bob smiled softly. “But can I be the one to call her? She’ll probably take the news a little better if she heard it from me.” 

“I’ll see what I can do Lieutenant.” Doctor Austin nodded as he picked up his charts and headed out of the room, leaving Phoenix and Bob in the heavy silence of the aftermath of their near death experience. 

“What’s her name?” Phoenix mumbled from behind the ice pack she kept over her eyes. 

“Y/n—“ Bob replied softly as he played with the wedding band that was strung through his dog tags. “We’ve been together since high school.” 

“Why do you call her Peach?” 

“Because she’s as sweet as the peaches from the orchard my grandma used to own.” Bob couldn’t stop himself from bashfully blushing, a hume all consuming crept across the apples of his cheeks whenever he spoke about you. “We’re about to have a baby, the detachment was meant to be my last before I could access my paternity leave entitlements.” 

“Rough last assignment—“ Phoenix chuckled as she shook her head in disbelief. Bob agreed silently, it was a rough last assignment. “You don’t talk about her an awful lot do you?” 

“I would—“ Bob pressed his lips together. “Just no one really asked.” It was then that Phoenix realised that she didn’t know an awful lot about the man who had gone down with her. The man who sat behind her and had her back in the sky. Her WSO. “And I guess we’re not here for all that long anyway so I just kept her to myself, she’s a nice reminder that even after the rough days we’ve been having I get to go home, safe and in one piece to the woman I love.” 

“Do you guys know what your having?” Phoenix didn't mean to pry, but she felt an overwhelming pressure to get to know the person she had been flying with since being requested for this detachment. Bob shook his head in response. 

“Nah, we wanted to keep it a surprise.” Just as Bob was finishing his sentences Doctor Austin returned, his face looked all kinds of pale and worry was written in the deep lines across his forehead. 

“Lieutenant Floyd it looks as if your wife was just admitted into the maternity ward—“ Bob's heart stopped beating inside his chest as he listened to Doctor Austin. “It appears that she was contacted earlier about your accident and the shock sent her into labour—“ 

“I uh—I need to see her.” Bob mumbled as he slid off the exam bed and nearly fell to the floor. His knees were so weak from the shock and adrenaline from the accident and now the realisation that he was about to be a first time dad. “I need to see my wife, where is she?” 

“Lieutenant, I know this must be a stressful situation for you but I really advise against leaving until we’ve finished with your own test. We still need to get you in for—“ 

“I won’t miss the birth of my baby.” Bob shook his head in defiance. “No, I won’t leave her to do that alone, she needs me—I know she does because I know how scared she is about doing this alone.” 

“Robert—“

“No no you have to listen to me. I can't let her do this alone because I’ve heard her cry about it in the middle of the night.” Phoenix's heart shattered into a million pieces as she watched Bob plead with the doctor and the nurses that had come in to try and subdue him. “She’s scared I won’t come back one day and today was almost that day and now she’s giving birth to our baby alone after I promised I’d be here for her—“ 

“We can’t let you go, it would be against all my medical advice.” Doctor Austin tried to explain. “I understand the difficulty of the situation Mr Floyd but your health and wellbeing is our number one priority.”

“But you have to let me!! That’s my wife! She needs me! Please—“ You needed your husband, things weren’t travelling all that well in the delivery room. You weren’t ready to have this baby—not if Bob wasn’t there with you. Not if Bob had left you behind, he was too young to die. He couldn’t leave you here by yourself to raise a baby, his baby, on your own. He promised he wouldn’t. 

“Mrs Floyd, you are going to have this baby.” 

“Aahhhhhh! I’m not doing this without my husband!” You groaned out. You were covered in sweat and crying your heart out as one of the labour and delivery nurses held your hand and placed a cool washcloth to your forehead. “I won’t have this baby without him, do you understand me!” 

“Someone needs to contact her husband—“ Everyone from the King of England to the Hounds of Hell could hear you screaming. It had been a rather quiet day for the L&D department. Until the ambulance had brought you in. 

“We can’t reach him, but I’ll try again.” One of the intern labour and delivery nurses replied as she rushed out of the room, she sprinted towards the nurses station in a hurry. So fast she almost went straight past it, she came to a halt with a flustered sigh.“I need you to try contacting Mr Floyd again, his wife won’t cooperate—she’s refusing to give birth to this baby without him.” 

“She knows how having a baby works doesn’t she?” One of the older nurses sitting at the desk rolled her eyes. “That baby, no matter the circumstances, isn’t going to wait for anyone.”

“I’ll let the L&D ward know you’re here as a patient but that’s the best I can do at this stage Lieutenant, I can’t in good conscience let you leave this ward without having run through all the proper medical procedures to make sure you’re fit to return to work.” Doctor Austin wasn’t trying to be the bay guy, if anything he wanted nothing more than to send Bob on his way—but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing he didn’t do his job to the best of his ability. “My primary priority is you and Miss Trance here.” 

“You don’t understand!” Bob ran his hands through his hair as his bottom lip quivered. He was holding back tears as he looked up to the ceiling—begging whatever God up there that saved him this morning to work just a little more magic. “She won’t have this baby without me, that was the deal—I needed to be there and now that I’m not—“

“She can’t not have the baby Robert.” Doctor Austin sighed, that was the moment Bob knew he needed out. He needed to get to you, he needed to be there by your side and whisper how beautiful and strong and amazing you are for being a whole person into this world. Because if there was one thing you were, it was strong willed, and you weren't going to have this baby without him. That was a promise. “I’ll go talk with L&D and I’ll be right back.” 

“Tell my wife I’m here!” Bob shouted as Doctor Austin left the room, Bob felt like he couldn’t breathe. There was a pressure mounting inside his chest, like an elephant was perched upon his chest. “I’m—I’m here.” He broke. Tears streamed down his grazed cheeks as Phoenix hobbled over. She’d done a little damage to herself but nothing a little rest and recovery couldn’t fix. 

They were lucky—oh so lucky. 

“She's gonna be okay.” Natasha tried her best to comfort the Weapons System Officer she hardly knew, but Bob was long gone. He’d fallen deep into that hole, the one that the Greek God Chronos had created to separate this life from the next one. He was falling through a helpless paradox of anxiety and fear. You were about to give birth and he was going to miss it. As he crouched down as a whale of pain escaped his parted lips, Bob wished for nothing more than to reverse time.

Because if he could just simply reserve time then he wouldn’t have gone into work this morning. And none of this would be happening. 

***~***~***~****~***~****~****~***

“Desmond, she’s not doing well, at all.” Lily, one of your delivery nurses, pleaded with Bob's doctor to just let him come to your aid. “She thinks he’s dead, something about an accident he was in this morning.” 

“F-18 ejection, he hit the ground pretty hard.” Doctors Austin looked in at you on the bed, in the middle of active labour, fighting every urge you had to push. You weren’t having this baby, not without Bob, the love of your life, your best friend, your husband. “He’s fine, but he’s in for observation overnight and I’m still waiting for his result to come back from his MRI.” 

“If she doesn’t see her husband soon she’s going to need an emergency c-section and I for one am not about to place a panicked mother to be under the knife unless it’s critical.” Lily was your voice of reason. You couldn’t plead with Doctor Austin to let your husband go yourself so she did it for you. “If your patient can walk, hold his wife’s hand while she delivers their child and can sign a waiver saying he waved all medical advice then send him down here before she loses this baby.” 

“You L&D ladies think you know everything—“ 

“Just bring me her damn husband before it’s too late.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Bob felt like he’d been condemned to some eternal hell, time froze as the walls of the hospital room he sat in with Phoenix grew closer and closer. He felt claustrophobic for the first time in a long time. 

“How did the two of you meet?” Phoenix tried to keep Bob's mind from going to places too dark to fathom. He needed a distraction from the fact he was here with her and you were delivering his child. All alone. 

“I was never good at history, she was my partner for this assessment we had in ancient history class once, everyone was doing their research on Pompeii but not Peach.” Bob chuckled to himself at the memory. “No she wanted to do Herculaneum and it turned out to be the only project I ever got an A on for that class.” You were just it for Bob. There was something special about your aura. Your ability to draw him close like a moth entranced by a flame. You took his breath away every time you told him you loved him. 

Your love sent Bob's heart clear out of this world. 

“We kinda just never left each other's side since then.” Bob explained as he sat against the wall on the floor with his elbows on his knees. “She’s always been so supportive of what I do even though I know it scares her more than anything to see me walk out that door every morning and she worries endlessly whenever I’m deployed.” 

“Becoming she loves you.” Phoenix wished she knew a love like Bobs, but her time hadn’t come yet. Bob nodded along as he twirled his wedding band around his finger as it hung from his dog tags. 

“Because she loves me.” 

“Floyd—“ Doctor Austin made his presence known as he chucked Bob a blue hospital gown and cap. “Put those on, sign this form that says you're going against my professional medical advice and follow me, you’re needed in labour and delivery.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Push! Y/n dear you need to push—!” Lily tried to persuade you to push when your next contraction hit but you were too far gone. You weren’t ready to be a mother, not without Bob there to be a father. 

“No! No, I'm not having this baby!” It was the hardest thing to hear as Bob came racing down the hall, his entire body ached from bruises, his head felt heavy on his shoulders from his concussion. But he was okay, he was alive. “I’m not! I won’t! I can’t do this without him!” You cried out in pain as you fought the urge to push, you swore your teeth were about to crush under the force of you clenching. A scream so heartbreaking and primal ripped through you as your body began to betray you. You were fighting nature's course and it wasn’t going well.

“She needs to push—she’s losing too much blood.” One of the nurses stated as a matter of factly just as Bob made it to the door. He froze at the sight of you, how could you look so beautiful in so much pain? He thought he was going to pass out as he took steady, slow steps into the room. 

“I’m here—“ Bob cooed as he came up to your beside. “I’m here Peach I’m here.”

“Bob?” You turned in a delirious state to where your husband's voice had come from. “No no I thought you—“

“I’m okay.” He smiled as he bent over to kiss your forehead and splay his hand on top of your head to push your hair away from your face. “I’m here, I told you I’d be here didn’t I?” 

“I thought you died, I thought you were in an accident?” You could barely focus, you felt so light headed that the world felt like it was spinning. “I thought—“

“Hey, hey you need to push alright? You can push now baby because I’m here and I’m with you and I’m fine.” Bob reassured you as you sobbed and nodded as he kissed your lips softly and held your hand. “You’re so strong, you’re so brave, and I love you so much, please push mama.” 

“This baby is coming whether you're ready or not Mrs Floyd so I’m gonna need you to focus so we can get this baby out.” Lily rounded the bed as she positioned herself between your legs. Bob felt you tighten your grip around his head and everything stopped. Time stood still, your screams were all but drowned out by the excitement and fear in Bob's heart. 

“Yes, Y/n good job. I can see bubs head you’re doing so well! Oh your next contraction I need you to push until I tell you to stop.” Lily smiled as you let your head fall back against the bed. 

“You’ve been telling me to push and now you don’t want me to push!?” You hissed. Bob couldn’t help but to chuckle. He was so amazed by your strength. 

“Yep, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.” Lily chuckled. She knew you were close, barreling towards another contraction. She could see it. “Alright this is the one mama, big push for me and bubs will be here in no time.” 

“Bob! It hurts! Make it stop!” You cried out, Bob wished he could take all your pain and experience it himself. He never wanted to see you in such a state, but your baby was coming, the baby you’d made together. You’d created together late one night or in the early hours of the morning he wasn’t too sure. But what he was sure of was that you could do this. “It hurts!!” 

“Push Mrs Floyd!” Lily shouted. 

“Come on peach push! push!” Bob willed you on as you did. You shouted�� and cried and squeezed your husband’s hand so hard he thought you were about to break his damn hand. But this was it. Your baby was coming. 

“Okay okay the heads out stop!” Lily guided you as you let your head fall back against the bed in pure exhaustion. You were dehydrated, covered in sweat and ready to give up. “So I lied before, you’re gonna give me one smaller push to help bubs out Y/n and that it’s—you're done.” 

“I can’t.” 

“No peach you can.” Bob cooed. “You can because you’ve come this far.” 

“I’m not even sure if you're here or not.” You sobbed as you reached out to caress Bob's cheek. “I’m not even sure if you're here with me or if I’m seeing things.”

“I’m here, I’m real.” Bob whispered in your ear. “And we’re having our baby Peach, just one more little push and it’s gonna be you and me and our little one against the world.” You nodded softly and you shut your eyes and groaned. “You can do it.” 

“Alright let’s have this baby! One more small push!” Lily announced as another contraction tour through your exhausted body. 

“Ahhhhhh!!” You shouted and Bob swore you bust his eardrum, but it was a small sacrifice as the cries of the world’s newest human echoed off the walls. 

“Congratulations Mr and Mrs Floyd you have a little baby girl.” Lily handed you your daughter the second she was born. Placing her on your chest within seconds of her arrival. 

“Oh Peach, she's so beautiful.” Bob cried as tears streamed down his cheeks. He swore he’d never be able to love someone more than he loved you. But as you held your newborn daughter on your chest he kinda thought he’d been wrong. He could love someone just as much as he loved you. Your daughter. 

“She's perfect, hi b-baby.” Your voice was all but a whisper as your head lulled to the side. You felt dizzy, lightheaded as your daughters cried softened. “I love you.” 

“Y/n? Sweetheart are you alright?” You didn’t reply but you looked up at your husband with a dazed expression, a tunnel had begun to form, edges of a dark black hole crept its way into your mind.

Chronos hole—the one between this world and the next. 

“Peach?” Alarms rang out as Lily removed your crying newborn just minutes earth side from your chest as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “No no no no what’s wrong what’s happening to her?” Bob asked as he tapped your cheek softly. “Hey, Peach, no stay with me, stay with me.” 

“Her blood pressure is dropping, she’s haemorrhaging.” Lily explained as she and a bunch of other nurses worked around you. “We need to get her into surgery, Mr Floyd.” 

“Sir, step back—“ An older nurse asked as she placed a hand on Bob's shoulder. He did as he watched Lily take a sample of your blood. 

“I’ll head directly to the lab to drop off the sample.” 

“Just make sure her surgeon has o-negative on the ready.” The only nurse replied as Bob stood there, watching as they wheeled you out on the same bed you'd just given birth in. He didn't even get a chance to say goodbye, he didn't get a chance to tell you how much he loved you. 

“Uh, do I go with her or?” Bob didn’t know what to do, his whole world had been turned upside down and on its head already today, and again it had just flipped once more. There was one nurse left, he didn’t know her name, but she smiled politely at him. 

“No, you should stay here with your daughter, she needs her daddy now.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

First there was a storm of carbon and molten rock which begat granite and soil. Then, the land shook and it cracked and it rose till it spiked the sky. Forest grew and died and grew a hundred times again. And then people grew and died and grew and died a hundred times again. There were storms and seasons and fences and blood. Wonder and vengeance and a whole lot of regret….

And through every grievance, every war, the land and the sky didn't give two shits about any of it. Bob Floyd knew that as he sat with his newborn daughter in the maternity room of the Miramar Base Hospital designed by man, for man to help other men with westernised medical procedures and treatments…

That it wouldn't give two shits about you either. 

“Hey..” A gruff voice came from the doorway, it took Bob all his light and all his remaining energy to look up from his daughter. The light and life of you. “I uh, I just thought I’d come check in on you and Phoenix.” Mav crossed his arms over his chest as he moved into the room. “How’s your wife doing?” 

“I don’t know.” Bob explained as he rocked his little girl, skin to skin was important so he’d stripped off what he could. “She’s still in surgery.” Pete could see the worry written in the lines of Bob's face. But the little girl who cried against his shoulder had him mesmerised. “Sorry darlin, I got you, daddy’s here.” 

“She’s a little beauty isn’t she?” Mav sat down beside the WSO who’d had a longer day then most. “You get a chance to name her yet? Before—?” Mav didn’t have to say before you went into shock. Your body had been through a lot and the nurses believed if you hadn’t held on so long, held back against what your body was telling you it needed to do then there was a possibility that it could have been a rather smooth delivery. Bob took that personally, the only reason you were holding back was because he wasn't here for you when you needed him the most. 

“No, but we’ll name her after, for now she’s baby Peach.” 

“Your wife’s nickname.” Mav replied softly as he looked up. He knew then and there what was about to happen. 

Bob knew there was a Doctor standing in the doorway. He didn’t dare look up. He knew if he looked up he’d be told the worst news of his life. 

Bob remembered that had asked you once when you were wrapped up in his arms in the dead of the night, listening to the storm raging on outside if you knew anything at all about a Greek God called Chronos. He remembered that you had chuckled out a soft no as he trailed his lips up your neck. Bob told you that he carried a sickle, that he used it to cut a hole, a tear in the cosmos between heaven and earth. Chronos did that to separate this world from the next, to separate the known from the unknown.

And while a Doctor by the name of Henry Nardella told him that you didn’t make it through the surgery, that you'd left him and your daughter behind, in a world where nothing made sense without you in it. 

Well—Robert Floyd felt as if he’d fallen straight into it. 

“No, please don't leave me here.” Bob felt like he’d fallen into the cosmic existence between now and soon to come, plummeting into a realm where time didn’t exist and light didn’t reach. He felt like he had tumbled into a parallel dimension where nothing made sense, nothing seemed tangible or real. He’d descended into a world where you weren't around. “No Peach, no.” 

But at the touch of his earlobe, a slight pressure formed at the lobe. So warm and comforting. Bob knew as your baby girl settled in against his chest at the lub dub of his heart beating for you–he knew you were safe on the other side. 

Because you had tugged on his earlobe, just like you promised you would. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

[alumbianchronicler]

EcoberHaunt 2023 - Oct. 3

Magic - White Crow

[Ao3]

Content Warnings: n/a (unless you count Constantine's swearing)

Crossover: DPxDC (A few of my submissions are planned to be crossovers, but the majority won't be. All crossovers will be identified.)

Summary:

Several Justice League members have reported experiencing a white crow visiting their dreams, a strange occurrence which gains importance when the creature is linked to a missing child god.

~~~

The Justice League conference room was quieter than usual, for as many people as were present. Half the heroes sitting around the table were pensively thoughtful, while the others had picked up enough on the mood to be on edge.

After all, Constantine didn’t like coming to the Watchtower when he could at all avoid it, and went to great lengths to do so, so it was significant that he had agreed to attend this meeting.

Of course, he wasn’t here yet, so there was still time for him to have bugged out.

Batman sat watching his colleagues. He had been having a reoccurring dream for nearly two weeks, one featuring a strange white crow. After overhearing Red Robin mention the creature after a 12-hour sleep following three days without, he had questioned the rest of the Gotham vigilantes and realized that they had all dreamed of the white crow at least once in the past month.

He had brought the matter up with Superman, who had also dreamed of the creature one night after working together with Batman, and that was enough to call in Constantine.

Who had better show up in the next five minutes, or he was going to have words with the Occultist.

The disaster in question showed up two minutes later, slumping over to the space at the table left for him and setting down the coffee he had stopped by the cafeteria to grab before coming to the meeting room.

“Don’t,” John lifted a finger to forestall Batman’s words, “lecture me. I’ve been run ragged for the past month trying to find a baby god someone kidnapped, so just… don’t.”

“A baby god?” Wonder Woman echoed, frowning in concern. “Who?”

“Chronos’ ward.”

Her brows raised in surprise. “The Veil-Keeper?”

“Wonder Woman?  What do you know?” Batman asked. He had a gut feeling that this was… too coincidental. The missing child god and the strange white crow... They were connected.

“I don’t know much,” Diana replied. “Just that several of the other gods have been speaking of Chronos’ new ward, a “Keeper of the Balance.” Hades himself has spoken fondly of the young one, apparently.”

Constantine nodded. “And the kid is missing. Half the Infinite Realms are ready to announce war if they can’t find their missing darling.” He waved a hand theatrically and chugged his black coffee with the abandon that could only be obtained after more than two days without sleep. “So, what the hell do you want, Bats.”

“I think I have a lead on your missing kid.”

The occultist’s gaze snapped to the Bat, brows raised. “You what?”

“The purpose of this meeting,” Batman said, “was to bring up a repeated appearance of a strange creature in several people’s dreams. A white crow. It hasn’t caused any harm, but seems to want the dreamer to follow it. No one has yet managed to follow it all the way back to where it is attempting to lead the dreamer.”

Constantine nodded, pulling out a notebook and jotting something onto it. “A white crow… yeah, that’d fit the kid. Has it spoken?”

Looking around, it appeared that though some of the other Justice League members had seen the crow in their own dreams, none could say it had spoken to them.

“It… He has not spoken,” Martian Manhunter spoke up after a few moments, “but I have noted the creature’s emotions. That is the strangest part to me, that he seems to be an actual being within the dream, and not just a dream-creature illusion.”

“Well?” Constantine prompted impatiently.

“He is scared. Batman is correct, he wants to lead the dreamer somewhere, and becomes increasingly desperate as the dreamer follows him further. He feels… as if he is fighting against something. As if his ability to reach out is being pushed to the limit and becomes harder the closer he comes to his destination.”

A few more notes were jotted down. “Right,” Constantine said. “I need to make a call.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Wonder Woman asked.

“I’ll… let ya know after I make the call.”

He turned, walking out of the room without fanfare. The rest of the League watched him for a moment, before Batman stood up and followed after, ignoring any attempts to bring him back and let Constantine go.

“What sort of god is this child?” he asked the occultist in the hall outside.

Constantine swore. “Give me a few damned minutes, Bats,” he snapped. “When I said I needed to make a call before anything else, I meant it. Unless you want several worlds’ worth of the dead to declare war on the planet.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed, obviously wanting to ask about that, but if Constantine thought the message couldn’t wait, then he would ask his questions after it. As irritating as the Brit was, he did know his job.

John grunted and continued striding down the hallway toward the section of the Watchtower set aside for magical matters. He didn’t attempt to stop Batman when the man followed. It would just be more stress and time lost than it was worth to argue with the stubborn ass.

In the magic archives, he kicked a few boxes of paperwork out of his way, exposing a silver circle inlaid into the floor. Once it was completely clear, he pulled a piece of chalk from a coat pocket and began noting down runes around the rim of the circle.

Batman stood to the side, watching silently and memorizing the runes’ arrangements, though he knew Oracle was also receiving the footage through his cowl and was already looking up the meanings.

Finished, Constantine straightened, pulled a vial of glowing green liquid from another coat pocket, and poured it into the circle.

The liquid didn’t touch the ground. Glowing Lazarus green, it slid out of the vial with the thickness of elementary schooler's glue, fell halfway to the ground, then dissipated in the air, the sigils and silver itself beginning to glow the same lurid green.

Constantine cleared his throat, then spoke. “Nocturn. Dreamer of the Realms. Aspect of Dream of the Endless. Ancient of Sleep. I have word on the whereabouts of the Realms' Prince.”

It wasn’t the usual summoning ritual. No chanting, few theatrics. It must be a matter important to the entity being called, for them to be willing to come to something so simple.

Or maybe they were just used to Constantine being… Constantine.

The circle glowed brighter green, and a swirl of darkness formed in the center. It shifted, tendrils of shadow taking on the forms of a multitude of half-formed ideas as it gradually grew and finally took on a humanoid form.

The shifting shadows resolved into a head, with a face like that of a white mask, cracked along one eye, and curling horns stretching out from its head. Its body seemed to hold infinite depth, glimmers of stars visible within the space as it stood twice as tall as either man.  It leaned down to peer at Constantine with glowing red eyes.

“What have you heard, Laughing Magician?”

“Nocturn,” Constantine greeted. “Apparently, several of his lot,” and here he pointed with his thumb over at Batman, “have been receiving reoccurring dreams of a white crow. Manhunter seems to think it’s trying to seek help.”

“A white crow…” the deity echoed, straightening. “I see. My brother will be glad you have finally identified a lead.”

“Yeah, about that, mate. How the hell does your brother, Destiny of the fucking Endless, not know where his adopted son is?”

Nocturn blinked down at him in bittersweet amusement. “We can not interfere in such matters,” he said. “The boy is still mortal enough that we, and my brother in particular, can not act to seek out his safety.”

“Why’d you want me to call you when I got a lead, then?”

At this, Nocturn leaned closer, the twisting shadows of his body swirling dizzyingly. “We may not act directly, but we can facilitate the ease of the search by those mortals who are looking for him. We do not want a war between the Overworld and the Realms of the Infinite any more than you do, but there are those who do desire war. Especially concerning the crimes lately perpetrated by the living against the dead.”

Batman frowned at this. “Crimes against the dead?”

The Ancient’s attention turned to him. “Yes, Gotham’s Son. You will find those answers when you find the Realms’ Prince.”

Before the Bat could ask more about that, Constantine spoke up. “So when you say you can facilitate our retrieval of the kid, what do you mean?”

Nocturn smiled. “Nothing much, Magician.  Simply that which is already within my nature.”

The entity grew in size, overtaking the boundaries of the circle as if it were nothing more than spidersilk, the sigils disappearing into sparks and afterimages. A sprinkle of sand was scattered from the Ancient's hand, and Batman and John Constantine fell asleep.

~~~

Gotham was burning. Gotham was burning, and his sons were burning, and he was trapped in a mire of reaching, clutching hands which refused to let him go.

Batman struggled against the grasping arms, finally freeing himself from them, but by the time he looked up, Gotham was dark. Silent. A burned husk of itself, and him… alive, and too late to save those he was supposed to protect.

He fell to his knees, wishing the hands would come back to pull him away from the dismal failure, but they did not reappear.

In the distance, a white speck appeared, quickly coming closer.

The sound of a crow’s caw triggered some memory in Batman’s mind. He seized on the half-formed thought, pulling it to the fore-front and examining it.

A white crow.

The missing god.

He was dreaming. Gotham had not burned. His children were not dead. But this dream…

Right. The white crow. A child who needed their help.

He held his arm up to the crow, and after a few cautious circles above him, it came in to land on the offered arm.

“It’s taken us a bit, but I think we’ve got your message,” Batman said to the crow, in the softer voice he saved for children. “We’re here to help, and we’re going to find you.”

The crow blinked, turning its head to stare at him with one eye. It seemed to visibly relax, like a great fear or urgency was bleeding away from it.

“Bats! There you are.” Constantine stomped over, stepping out of an alley from the burnt husk of Gotham. The crow startled, flapping its wings, but Batman gently stroked a gloved finger down its back and it settled.

“Constantine.”

“Stupid bloody Ancients. I swear Dream’s more of a pain to deal with he’s pulling that duty than when he’s just being his straight-up Endless self.”

The crow perked up at the mention of an Ancient, hopping from foot to foot excitedly.

“Yeah, kid, we finally figured ya out, and we’re gonna help get you out from wherever you’re locked up. Of course the old Gear-face couldn’t go get ya himself…”

The crow shrugged.

“You know how it is, then,” Constantine finished.

The crow nodded.

Batman stood watching all of this with neutral attention. This part wasn’t his sort of specialty. His skills would be more required when they finally found where the kid was being held and went in to free him. For now, he paid partial attention to the conversation, and the rest to their surroundings. Even in his own dreamscape, he wouldn’t assume there weren’t dangers.

Perhaps especially within his own dreamscape.

He turned back to Constantine and the crow. The occultist was just tying what appeared to be a red thread around the crow’s ankle, and had tied a similar one to his own finger, the tail end of the thread left hanging down several inches.

With another nod, the crow took off, heading into Gotham.

Batman began to follow.

Constantine held him back. “We’re not following from here, mate. Nothing we can do for the kid when he can’t get us close enough to his own dream to locate him.”

The look the Bat gave him told him to finish explaining quickly.

“His dream-self is part of him. When he wakes up, he’ll still have the string, spiritually. This,” Constantine held up his hand, showing the thread tied around his own finger, “sticks with me. We use it to find him while we’re awake, so your crew can kick the asses of whoever snatched him.”

Batman stared at him for a moment, looked after the disappearing form of the crow, and then nodded. “Alright. Wake us up.”

“You heard him, big guy. Care to pull us out?”

They woke gradually, eyes gritty with what seemed to be an entire night’s worth of sand, though Batman’s cowl-HUD told him that they had been asleep no more than two hours. The silver ring was plain metal once again, the carefully chalked runes gone, along with the Ancient they had summoned.

“Remind me not to go traipsing round your dreams again, by the way,” Constantine said, groaning as he pushed himself upright and to his feet. “That version of Gotham was even more miserable than the real one.”

Batman just grunted, standing himself. “You can find the boy?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can find him.” Constantine pulled out a cigarette, putting it in his mouth but not lighting it.  He held up a hand, the red string still tied there, the hanging end fluttering. “Gather your posse. We’ll need to head planet-side to find our white crow.”

[blood-starved-beast]

Hello! As someone who's never played Hades, or its sequal's early access, you are free to ignore this ask as it's just something my sleep-addled mind concocted after watching too much videos and reading metas, but I'd like to bring up someone who's never appeared in tandem with Kronos, despite being just as vital and important to the creation of Olympians but never mentioned much:

RHEA

I just have this thought after the fact that in your tenth meeting with Hades after nine successful boss battle confrontation with him to the surface, he just lets you leave to meet with Persephone, who actually this point is already planning to return to the Underworld, and her return starts the point in which the family relationship between father and son becomes less discordant and more smoother and lighter, enabling other relationships to reunite into a better outcome.

So the thought is that Rhea will become the key to defeating Chronos permanently, a reverse of the reunion between Hades and Persephone, a fight between two grandparents, I guess. Also would be interesting to know what her children's thoughts on Rhea are. And the person who's gonna help us accomplish that is Zagreus.

The fact that the early access stops us at Zagreus's room is suspicious, also it could help confirming the theory of Zagreus being the God of Blood and Life. Chronos stated that what brought him back was spite, but mostly the blood sacrifices. Wouldn't it be ironic if Rhea, whatever state or where she is, is also revived by Zagreus? Could also be a neat sibling development between him and Melinoe.

As I've said, this is just a mad rambling of a theory. You are free to ignore this. I find your analyses on Melinoe and her relationships between the people around her fascinating. Drink water and eat your vegetables regularly. May a kind month grace you.

I feel like if Rhea were to show up, she would've been mentioned by now. Also we do have the dissolution of time spell and one of the ingredients for it is entropy which is made of paper material that I think is more linked to the Fates. And the Fates do have a task in the list of minor prophecies asking Mel to save them. Makes sense that the end goal of the Surface is saving them, or just interaction to get entropy.

And I'm pretty sure the reason why we get into Zagreus's room at the end is cause at the courtyard I presume we will be able to find the frozen in time statues of the family at the House. And each run we'll presumably free one, necessitating the 10 times win against Chronos for the first ending, same as we saw in the first game and getting Persephone home.

[justalittletomato]

Dinner Arrangements (Reader x Maul)

just some fluff and taking the suggestion from @gran-maul-seizure

that Maul would get more feral with his eating the more comfortable that he is with a person

Set when Maul rules Mandalore

tag list: @gran-maul-seizure @hannagoldworthy @patchiefrog @storm89 @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @apocalypticwafflekitten @pixiestookourstardust @eyecandyeoz @id-rather-be-a-druid @dukeoftheblackstar @stardustbee

He counted the attempts, this would be thier 10th. As the chrono struck for the evening hours, the Archivist arrived from the servant's entrance with a tray. 

Upon learning that Maul would pull ration bars out in place of a hot meal, the Archivist stepped in a tray or two ladened with hearty foods. 

Mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, stews, filled with meat that had been set to cook for what he assumed was for some time as tender as it was—other times ( most often)  meat cuts thick and still red. 

“ Your brother mentioned it was better for your health,” a kettle was brought over from the burning hearth of the study. His Archivist measured out water for tea before setting down a plate. “Take what you like” 

He had at first scoffed at the action, The Archivist always did such things, carefully watching and making things in a way to accommodate him better. 

“Coddling” he had said to Savage, the older Zabrak merely raised a brow, “Brother, you can order them to stop.”

Maul gave him a look, “Then they will fuss” as if that was why he did not consider it. “But they do not need to make such an effort on such matters,” Maul added. 

Savage sighed, “Then leave it be” 

In the first few attempts Maul just loaded his plate with some of the meat cuts and when the archivist suggested maybe just a bit of roasted carrot, he just left with the plate in hand. The Archivist left with the rest of the full tray and their own plate. 

Maul left the emptied plate at the door when he was done. 

The day after he took a heapful of the vegetables, again leaving the archivist alone with their own plate. 

With the stew? The mouthwatering scent had the Archivist smiling to see the ladlefuls Maul put into the bowl. A frown formed when he left again to eat alone. 

The bowl was completely cleaned of any stew when the Archivist collected the dish, returning back and noting that the remainder had also disappeared. 

On the 10th day, Maul returned the stew bowl empty and took a loaf of bread from the plentiful tray. The Archivist didn't dare move and watched as Maul took apart the loaf to eat. 

The following days were much the same, Maul returning to eat a loaf of bread or filling his cup with more tea. 

The absolute silence as the Archivist watched this time around as Maul served himself and sat back at the table. Maul not bothering with the knife and staring at the fork with skepticism. Today was roasted nyduck. Maul began to eat, sharp teeth tearing and pulling apart the food he had picked. 

He looked straight at the Archivisit, daring them almost. The Archivist set down the silverware picked up their own piece and ate it without the stifling etiquette drilled in. 

Another dinner later and Maul looked up from his plate, today’s meat was rarer than most days. The red dripping down his chin and most certainly staining his teeth. Yet not once did the Archivist shiver or run off or flat out refuse to continue sharing the table with him. If anything the dinners had allowed for maul to devour and freely gorge himself on what was offered. 

“The cooks must loathe the change” He finally said. 

The Archivist looked confused, “The cooks?” a shake of thier head, “Oh no, I have been the one making your dinners, and I quite enjoy learning what you prefer,” They went back to cutting thier more cooked steak with glee. 

Maul wiped at his mouth, the remaining blood staining the sleeve of his tunic, “You? When?” 

The Archivist continued to eat, “Before we started working, they were a bit off-put by the blood but I set them straight,” 

Not once did they react when he tore and ripped his food, if anything they were pleased to see him eat. Before he could stop himself he felt the corners of his mother raise, a smile if it could be called that. He went back to devouring with gusto. The Archivist was pleased with the sounds of hunger saited. 

[scary-grace]

Skin Hunger (Chapter 3) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

There's no such thing as a good night at work when you work in the world's most infamous brothel for monsters, but your night takes a turn for the worse when you find yourself serving drinks to visiting half-vampire Shigaraki Tomura. You don't mean to catch his interest, and you don't mean to start a conversation. You definitely don't mean to get him drunk. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

“Do you ever think about leaving?”

That’s not a question you hear often. From anyone. “Do I what?”

“You heard me.”

You look up from the mess you’re wiping down on the pool deck of one of the suites in Asylum’s bathhouse wing. Shigaraki is watching you from one of the benches, finishing off the remains of a bottle of champagne the guests left behind. He raises his eyebrows, clearly waiting for an answer. You have one, but he won’t like it. “I don’t like thinking about things that won’t happen.”

“Why can’t it happen?” Shigaraki asks. He made his usual half-hearted offer to help when he followed you in here, but he’s allergic to almost every cleaning supply you use, and he’s so bad at it anyway that it’s faster for you to do it yourself. “Don’t you want to know what it’s like out there?”

“I know what it’s like out there,” you say, miffed. “I went to school out there. I’ve probably spent more time out there than you have.”

A few full moons back, the question of how you both got here came up. Shigaraki was about as disconcerted to learn that you were born in Asylum as you were to learn that his master first got ahold of him when he was five years old. “Then you know what you’re missing,” Shigaraki says. He takes a sip of champagne, then grimaces, probably because it went flat hours ago. “Do you ever think about leaving?”

“Everybody thinks about it.”

“What about you?”

You focus on your work, giving yourself time to think of a real answer. The bloodstain you’re scrubbing out of the tiles has probably been here longer than you’ve been alive, and a lot longer than you’ve known Shigaraki Tomura. After seven months, you’re getting better at ducking his questions. You’re getting worse at deciding which ones to duck in the first place.

Shigaraki’s master has come to Asylum to feed on every one of the last seven full moons, and each time, he’s brought Shigaraki with him. Shigaraki’s master comes to feed on the handpicked victims Overhaul and Chrono have found for him, while Shigaraki’s supposed to feed on whoever he can get his fangs into, but you’ve never seen him drink blood while he’s here. He’s hungry, usually. He usually drinks at least a little alcohol. And when he’s not eating, drinking, or conspicuously not drinking blood, he’s following you around.

You’ve stopped asking why he does it, around the same time as he stopped making excuses for why he’s supposed to. The two of you have settled awkwardly into the truth, which seems to be that if you’re both here, you’d rather spend time together than separately. It’s embarrassing for you to admit that the only new friend you’ve made here in the two years since you left the human world behind is one of the guests. It’s probably about as embarrassing for you as it would be for Shigaraki to admit that the person he’s come the closest to feeding from here is you, and he didn’t even draw blood.

“You know, I really thought we were past this,” Shigaraki says. You look up at him. “It’s not a trick question. Do you think about getting out of here or not?”

“You asked if I thought about leaving, and I said I don’t like to think about things that won’t happen. That implies that I have thought about it, and come to the conclusion that it’s not possible.” You go back to scrubbing. “What are you really asking?”

“Why you think you can’t leave.”

“I can’t blend in anymore,” you say. You raise one hand and tap your ear. Shigaraki’s eyes track the motion. “Most half-humans can pass as human at least some of the time, but I can’t. If it’s not my ears that catch someone’s attention, it’s my eyes. If it’s not my eyes, it’s my skin. There are enough things about me now that are just – off. And the human world might not be like it was in the freak-show days, but it’s still not a good place for people like me.”

“If I’m following your logic, I shouldn’t leave my lair, either. Since I can’t hide being a half-vampire.”

“You can, though,” you say. “I didn’t guess until you smiled.”

For Shigaraki, the price of walking freely in the human world would be never smiling where anyone could see it. That doesn’t seem right. Based on Shigaraki’s expression, your answers aren’t answers he likes. “So if you’re not leaving, what’s the plan? Cleaning up after guests forever? That is how long you live, right? Forever?”

“In theory.”

“You’re going to spend forever doing this.” Shigaraki’s voice is dark with scorn. “No way.”

“Why do you care if I stay here forever?” you ask, stung.

“Because it’s a shitty way to spend forever.”

“And being a vampire isn’t?”

You say it without thinking, and you regret it the instant it comes out of your mouth. Shigaraki looks like you’ve slapped him. His next words come out through clenched teeth. “Why do you think I’ve been putting it off?”

“You can put it off?” you say blankly. “How?”

Shigaraki takes another swig of champagne. You don’t know how much is left in the bottle, but if he’s planning to finish it, you’ve got a problem on your hands. “I have to kill someone,” he says. “To become a full vampire. Pick a victim, drain them completely from life to death, and that’s it. Immortality, special powers –”

Derision drips from his words. “All for the low, low price of never seeing the sun again and dying if I go too long without drinking blood. Who wouldn’t want to be a vampire?”

You know Overhaul has surveillance in each guest area. You don’t know if Shigaraki’s master is watching, or if Overhaul would tell him. “Shigaraki –”

“Except if I don’t become a full vampire,” Shigaraki continues, talking over you, “then I’m mortal. Weak. I’m useless to my master, and he’s already getting impatient.”

He drains the rest of the champagne bottle, then lowers it. It slips from his hand and shatters on the floor, and he startles, looking down at the shards of glass and then up at you, the slightest guilt on his face. “Sorry.”

You give up on the stain and hurry over, shooing him back from the broken glass. He tries to help you anyway, and you warn him off again, more firmly this time. “Stay back. I’ll do it.”

Shigaraki stays back from the glass, but stays close to you. “You don’t know what it’s like,” he says. “He wants me to do it. He says he’s patient, but he’s getting tired of waiting. I was supposed to do it here.”

“At Asylum?” You stop what you’re doing to look at him. “When?”

“The first time we were here,” Shigaraki says, and something lurches in your chest. “Your boss said I could have anyone in a maid’s uniform –”

And Chrono made sure you were in the bar, not wearing one. You didn’t know Overhaul had said that. Shigaraki is still talking. “And instead of killing a human servant I got drunk in the bar with you. We keep coming back, and I keep not doing it –”

“Because you’re hanging out with me,” you say. “Shigaraki, if this is getting you in trouble –”

“You didn’t ask me.”

“Hmm?”

“If I thought about leaving,” Shigaraki says. You keep looking at him, but he’s not looking at you – and he’s scratching again. “You’re supposed to ask if I’ve thought about leaving, so I can tell you –”

You catch the glint of a scrying mirror out of the corner of your eye and slap your hand over Shigaraki’s mouth. “Stop talking.”

Shigaraki’s mouth moves against your palm, setting off a weird buzz. “How come you’re always trying to shut me up?’

“Because I might not be the only one listening.” You leave your hand there for longer than you should. You know it’s longer than you should, because you wait long enough for the hair on your arms to stand up. “Be careful what you say in here. The walls have eyes and ears – and mouths, if you’re in the wrong room.”

“How come you haven’t taken me to see that?”

“I only get sent to clean up there if Chrono’s mad at me.”

Chrono’s been mad at you a lot recently. Everyone you work with thinks that’s why you’re avoiding him, but it isn’t – he’s mad because you’re avoiding him, and you’re avoiding him because you don’t want it to come down to sleeping with him or keeping your job. Like you told Shigaraki, you don’t have anywhere else to go. You know you can’t avoid him forever, just like you can’t stay here forever. But you’re immortal. You’ve got time to put things off.

Shigaraki doesn’t. Shigaraki’s mortal, still – and right now he’s inordinately trashed on champagne, again. You finish cleaning up the glass, decide that the pool deck’s as clean as it’s going to get, and turn to Shigaraki. “Come on. We need to find somewhere for you to sober up.”

“Can’t you use a glamour on me?”

“It’ll stick better if you sober up first,” you say. “It only holds as long as you don’t do anything to break it.”

He’s not making any effort to get off the floor. You hold out your hands and he takes them, swaying on his feet once he’s upright, blinking like his vision’s gone blurry. That’s – not good. You have a spot in mind to stash him while he dries out, but you might have a hard time getting him there. “Can you walk?”

“What if I can’t? Will you carry me?”

“We’ll definitely get caught.” You palm your master rune and glance around at the bathhouse. Asylum’s guest rooms don’t usually come with shortcuts, but you’ve gotten lucky sometimes with bathhouse rooms. “There might be another way out of here. Hang on.”

No passageways on the floor, in the walls, or on the ceiling. You go so far as to check underneath the bench Shigaraki was sprawled out on. There’s nothing there, but as you’re straightening up, you catch a glimpse of something at the bottom of the bath, flickering through the water. You straighten up, cross to the bath, and wade down the steps into the water. Shigaraki watches. “What are you doing?”

You don’t answer until you’ve ducked beneath the surface and confirmed your hunch. “We can sneak out through here. There’s a passage down there and I’m pretty sure I can make it open out somewhere else.”

Shigaraki doesn’t look happy. You can’t tell if that’s nausea or the idea of going in the water. “Wait, can half-vampires cross running water?”

“This isn’t running water.” Shigaraki levers himself upright, only to slump back again. “I can’t swim.”

“You won’t have to swim,” you promise. You beckon Shigaraki forward. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be here when the next guests come through.”

Shigaraki’s hesitant on his way down the steps and into the bath. He’s tall enough to stand if he keeps his chin tipped upwards, but you’re treading water, and your uniform is heavy when it’s wet. You dive beneath the surface and tap your master rune against the tiles at the bottom of the bath, and the passageway opens, sucking you and Shigaraki down into it without warning.

It’s a short trip, and the two of you splash down in a chamber lit not by gas lanterns, but by bioluminescent lichen and mushrooms growing on the walls. The pool you’ve landed in is warm, and shallow enough that both of you can stand. You head for the edge of the pool, and so does Shigaraki. “Where are we?”

“In the foundations, I think.” You find a rock to sit on, and Shigaraki sits down next to you on it. “When Overhaul built this place, he had to build the features that would fuel things like the hot springs. After he cast the spells to keep them from fluctuating, he got rid of most of the foundations – but I guess not all of them. I had no idea this was here until today.”

“I thought you knew everything about this place.”

“Not quite,” you say. “More than Overhaul, though. I’ll probably know all its secrets by the time I’ve been here forever.”

You don’t mean it to come out the way it sounds – bitter, frustrated, angry. Even though you and Shigaraki are as close as you can get to being friends given who you are, he’s still a guest, and you’re still a maid. Silence falls between the two of you, and you’re searching for a way to walk it back when Shigaraki speaks up again. “What if you didn’t have to?”

“What?”

“What if you didn’t have to stay here forever?” Shigaraki’s red eyes, strangely illuminated in the light of the glowing plants, are intent on your face. “What if you could leave? Would you?”

“I can’t leave, so it doesn’t matter.” You were hoping not to come back to this argument. “Can you drop it?”

“If you could,” Shigaraki presses. “If you could, would you leave?”

“And go where?”

“Anywhere,” Shigaraki says, like everything you said while the two of you were still in the bathhouse suite never happened – “With me.”

You stare at him. For a second you’re stunned into silence, but then you remember. “You’re drunk.”

“Yeah. I was too chicken to say it sober.” Shigaraki’s face is flushing, deeper than alcohol alone could cause. “You don’t have to spend the rest of your life like this. You can come with me and do something that matters.”

“Like what?” You brought him down here to sober up, but now he seems drunker than before. “Shigaraki, stop it. This isn’t how it works.”

“Says who?” Shigaraki’s hands grasp your shoulders, and you freeze. “Your boss? My master? They don’t get to make the rules. We do.”

You’ve had seven full moons to observe Shigaraki, and you’ve never seen him get this intense about anything. He’s practically vibrating, and while you can’t call the light in his eyes madness, it’s too close for comfort. “The world doesn’t care about us. So we should change it. Don’t you think?”

If you knew what to say, you’d say it. You look helplessly at him, and he leans closer, lowers his voice. “There are more of us than there are of them,” he says. Us? He must mean half-breeds, and he’s probably right, but why is he talking about it like it means something? “They can’t stop us all.”

He’s close enough that you can smell the champagne on his breath, the dry scent of his skin and the ever-so-slightly softer scent of whatever he uses to wash his hair. Not blood. You’ve never smelled blood on him. “So? What do you think?”

“Ask me when you’re sober,” you say. “Then I’ll know you mean it.”

You’re hoping he forgets. You think there’s a decent chance he will, and then you’ll be off the hook, because you don’t want to think about what he’s asking any more than you have to. Sure, he’s right. Sure, every inhuman species except the werewolves treats their half-human children like trash. And sure, there are more half-humans than there are true inhumans, but the number of true humans in the world dwarfs you all. It would be nice if some things could change. But you don’t think that one half-vampire and one half-fey can do anything about it.

You can’t do anything about it. But maybe you could leave.

You shove the thought away, hard. Your heart is racing. Shigaraki smiles at you, unworried, almost carefree. “If I mean it? I do.” One of the hands on your shoulder shifts, tracing the edge where the human skin of your shoulder meets the fey skin of your arm through your uniform. “But I can wait.”

His touch is ridiculously light, but it draws all your attention. You remember him asking about the other patches of fey skin on your body, about whether he could see them, and your mind floods with the thought of how that same light touch would feel around the edges of the other seams. You order yourself to pull it together, but not before your face flushes, and not before Shigaraki notices. He looks up from your shoulder. “What?”

Before you can answer, or more likely, dodge the question, there’s a tiny splash, followed by a sharp whistle through the air. You and Shigaraki lurch apart, just in time to miss one of Overhaul’s messages. It’s for you. You peel it open with a shakier hand than usual. Bring the half-vampire Shigaraki Tomura to Room 237 at once.

“What is it?” Shigaraki asks. “Are you in trouble?”

Someone is. You don’t think it’s you. “You’re being summoned,” you say. “Let’s go.”

The message said “at once”, but you detour to change into a dry uniform before you bring Shigaraki to Room 237. If he’s soaked, that’s one thing, but it can’t look as though you were involved at the same time. Room 237 is in use, but the door is ever so slightly ajar, and when you raise one hand to knock, it swings the rest of the way open. Chrono’s standing there. Past him, you can see an unconscious figure sprawled on the bed, chest rising and falling rapidly. And past even that, in the far corners of the room, is something – else.

“Come in,” Chrono invites, and Shigaraki steps forward. You couldn’t glamour away his wet clothes, but you at least concealed the fact that he’s drunk. That’s all you can do. You turn to go, and Chrono catches your arm. “You, too. Come inside.”

You hit the brakes, or try to. Chrono’s surprised you. He pulls you in, shutting the door and throwing the room into deeper shadow. The hairs on your arms and the back of your neck are rising. You don’t want to be here. You want to run. You need to run, but Chrono won’t let go of your arm, no matter how much you pull – and now the thing in the corner is speaking, its voice deep and cold. “Tomura,” it says, and Shigaraki’s spine goes rigid. “It seems my meal was too much for me. Be so kind as to finish it.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick. Chrono tightens his grip on your arm to the point of pain. “Make Overhaul heal her,” Shigaraki says. “Then you can finish another time.”

“I’m afraid that won’t do. Too much of her soul already belongs to me,” Shigaraki’s master says. The feeling of sickness wells up stronger than before. “I know you’ve been abstaining, and I certainly admire your commitment to taste, but you are unwell. Human food can only do so much. You need blood to sustain you, and this – I’m certain you’ll quite enjoy it.”

An enormous hand emerges from the shadows. One sharp finger presses against the unconscious woman’s neck and blood spurts out. Shigaraki’s body jerks. You see his hands curl into fists at his sides. “Hurry now,” his master says. “This was quite expensive. Don’t let it go to waste.”

Shigaraki steps forward. His knees hit the side of the bed, and he crawls onto it, his body obscuring the victim’s almost completely. You don’t see his teeth sink into her neck, but you know it’s happened by the way their bodies seize as one, his falling forward against her, her head falling back as her back arches to meet him without ever regaining consciousness. You’ve seen your share of unspeakable things at Asylum, and the only thought in your mind as you watch the victim writhe beneath Shigaraki in her death throes should be horror. It should be horror, but it isn’t. It’s – jealousy.

Not for what’s happening to her. You’d wish that on no one, not even your worst enemy, but jealousy for everything else; for the way he’s pressed against her, the way they seem to move in unison, the hideous intimacy of it all. Death and sex go hand in hand so often in this place, and yet they’ve never been so closely intertwined. The victim’s hand jerks weakly upwards in a last grasp for help, and Shigaraki catches it, holds it down, without pulling away from her throat. The sick, shameful, guilt-ridden fury that rises up within you gives you the strength to pull your arm free of Chrono’s grip at last.

He reaches for you, but you’re faster than he is, and you know Asylum well enough to evade him, slipping into a secret passage just behind the door. From there it’s sidestep after sidestep, taking you high into the upper reaches of the brothel, as far away from Room 237 as possible. No one can chase you here. Even if they knew where you were, you could get away long before they reached you. You could stay in Asylum forever, if you wanted, and no one would ever lay eyes on you again.

But no matter how far you run, some part of you will still be trapped in Room 237, still watching Shigaraki drain the last few drops of blood from a victim who was already gone, still seething with jealousy. No matter how you try to shake the thought off, it clings to you. Shigaraki will drink from thousands over the course of his life as a vampire. Scenes like the one you saw tonight will play out thousands of times, that twisted intimacy unfolding over and over again. More intimacy of any kind than you’ll ever have with him.

You hadn’t realized you wanted it so badly. You hadn’t realized you wanted it at all, but now you do – and now it’s too late.

You shirk your duties until the full moon dips below Asylum’s false horizon, and once you’re certain Shigaraki and his master are gone, you come back to face whatever punishment Overhaul sees fit to levy. But Overhaul doesn’t seem to know. He commends you flatly for keeping Shigaraki out of any expensive varieties of trouble and goes back to tallying the night’s earnings, leaving Chrono responsible for dealing with you.

“Instructive, wasn’t that?” Chrono says to you, almost smugly. “The sight of a vampire feeding often provokes intense emotions. Perhaps we should sell tickets.”

You clench your jaw, but the question escapes anyway. “Why did you make me watch?”

“I know you’ve grown fond of the master vampire’s brat,” Chrono says. “Experience has given me certain advantages to share with you, such as the knowledge that nothing will ever matter more to a vampire than its pursuit of blood. Did you think Shigaraki Tomura cared for you? He will always care for his meals more.”

Of course he will. Why wouldn’t he? There’s nothing you could offer that would compare to that. “Does the knowledge wound you?” Chrono inquires. “You need not answer. I can see it.”

“Then why ask?” Your voice is dull.

“If it wounds you deeply, I apologize,” Chrono says. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to comfort you.”

You hear what he’s actually offering, and some part of you that still has the capacity for anger and betrayal is furious with him. Some part of you feels more hatred for him than for anyone in your entire life – for destroying the only friendship you had in order to corner you into giving in to him. That piece of you rebels. The rest of you is too numb and hurt to care. Maybe this will fix you, comfort you, distract you. You’ll feel something different, if nothing else.

Just as he knew he’d struck true before, Chrono knows he’s won. He holds out his hand to you, and you take it, giving in your fate at last.

[somedaylazysomeday]

Misbehaving - Part Four

Cody is finally back in town! Unfortunately, his timing coincides with Mother Nature.

Commander Cody x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors, do not interact.

Word Count: 5,100

Warnings: Discussions of menstrual cycles and accompanying discomfort, dom/sub undertones, period sex, blindfolds, minor dirty talk, fingering, unprotected sex.

Previous | Masterlist

---

You liked to consider yourself an optimist. 

Sure, sometimes things happened that didn’t quite match up with the way you thought they should. There were always bad days and missed opportunities, but for the most part, things worked out. 

A grand and ironic exception, of course, was that you had gotten your period just days before your boyfriend would finally be back on the same planet. You were still struggling to put an optimistic spin on that particular situation. 

I’ll be there in ten minutes.

The message was glaring up at you from the screen of your comlink. You hadn’t told Cody what was going on, and you weren’t exactly sure why. He was familiar enough with human biology to know that most females had a menstrual cycle and it wasn’t exactly something he could hold against you. 

Still, some combination of irritation and denial had kept you from telling him outright. It was going to be a terrible surprise, you thought morosely, especially given that he liked to be welcomed home between your thighs. 

Two sharp knocks on the door sounded and you glanced over at the chrono. Yep, ten minutes from the holomessage, almost to the second. You hauled yourself up from the couch, grimacing at the way gravity pulled on everything between your legs. 

When you opened the door, Cody was standing there. He was proper as always, helmet under one arm and warmth filling his dark eyes. “Ma’am. May I come in?” 

It was the typical playacting you did when he came over. Cody had insisted on it for ‘plausible deniability’ reasons. You had tried explaining to him that your neighbors weren’t the kind to watch arrivals through peepholes, but he wouldn’t listen. It was very Cody - when he decided on something, nothing short of a GAR command could make him change his mind. (Even then, he would probably want to debate.)

“Yeah,” you agreed, leaning against the wall. Not only did it move you slightly out of his way, but it also took some pressure off your aching spine. 

It was a less elaborate welcome than you usually offered, and Cody’s brow twitched before he stepped inside. The door slid shut automatically behind him, leaving the two of you in sudden privacy. 

“Good to see you, mesh’la,” Cody greeted, hands sliding around your waist. You still felt bloated, but the warmth of his hands was soothing. “You look beautiful.” 

You snorted before you could help it. You hadn’t felt like putting on anything flattering, especially since you had bled on the last two pairs of pants you had worn. That meant you were dressed in clothes that were one wash away from being tossed into a garbage chute, and at least two sizes too big. 

“I’m a mess right now.” 

Cody smiled at you, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve never seen anything more perfect.” 

You couldn’t bring yourself to reply. He was being nice, painfully nice, but you felt so terrible that being called perfect only made you think about how far from perfect you felt. 

Cody’s eyes searched your face. Whatever he found there made his smile fade, which made you feel even worse. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You look upset.” 

“I’m-” You took a breath, trying not to let yourself cry. “I’m not having a good day.” 

“Tell me what I can do to make it better.” 

It came out like an order, and you bit your lip. You weren’t sure if you would have said something rude or burst out in tears, but neither option were how you wanted the evening to go. 

“Change the laws of nature?” Your suggestion made Cody’s head tilt slightly. You scrubbed at your face. “I’m sorry. I’m on my period right now and it’s not fun. Not your fault and I don’t mean to take it out on you.” 

“Hey, don’t worry about that,” Cody soothed. “Why don’t you sit back down. Where does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt, not anymore,” you told him. “I had some cramps right before everything started, and the first two days are always awful, but now it’s just blood and bloat and misery.”

Cody urged you back over toward the couch, and you settled into the tangle of blankets you had surrounded yourself with before he got there. The apartment was a mess, now that you took a moment to look around. You were a mess, why would your home be any different? “I’m sorry, Cody.” 

“You’ve already apologized once, and that was one time more than necessary,” he replied, settling onto the couch beside you. “What are you apologizing for, mesh’la?” 

“I just-” Your eyes watered again as you tried to verbalize it. “I know this isn’t how you wanted to spend your leave.” 

“Don’t worry about that.” Cody seemed utterly unbothered, but how could he be? He had been looking forward to this just as much as you were. “We’re on leave for the better part of a week. We have time. Besides, the galaxy isn’t going to fall to pieces just because we won’t have sex tonight.” 

The finality of that made your chest ache. You were tired and your self-esteem was low, but the hormones were also whirling around inside of you. Most of them were going toward making you mildly irrational, but there were enough left over to make you lonely and long to be filled. 

“I was really looking forward to being with you,” you whined, still trying not to cry. “I missed you so much. In more ways than one.” 

Cody smiled, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “I know,  sweetheart, and that means everything to me. But I want you happy and comfortable. If that means that we don’t sleep together tonight, I’m fine with that.” 

“It’s not that I don’t want to…” You hiccuped. “It’s that I’m… You know…” 

“Does it hurt?” he asked with a frown. 

“No, but-” You cut off, frowning. Had you missed something? It certainly seemed like you had. “I’m still bleeding. And not just a little bit.” 

Cody paused, eyes searching your expression. Whatever he found there, his brow smoothed. Carefully, he said, “You know, I don’t mind a bit of blood. If you want to be together, I’m happy to-” 

“Ugh,” you interrupted, aghast. “You would want to fuck me on my period?” 

“Not if you don’t want me to. But yes, I want you. Like I said, I’m not worried about a little blood.” 

“What if it’s not just a little?” you asked, heart picking up. “My period isn’t light.” 

Cody shrugged. “And? Point is, mesh’la, my plans don’t need to change if you don’t want them to.” 

You thought about it for a long moment. You didn’t love the idea of having sex on your period, but not because of any real reason. It had always just seemed like a taboo. But if you wanted Cody and Cody wanted you… Well, it seemed silly to turn him away because of some outdated societal norms. 

“And you’re sure it doesn’t bother you?” 

Since he had already said as much in several different ways, you wouldn’t have blamed Cody if he’d gotten impatient or sarcastic with you, but he didn’t. Instead, he was patient and steady as ever as he reassured, “No, it doesn’t bother me. I want to be with you.” 

You melted, leaning in with your face tipped up to his so he could kiss you more easily. And he did, pressing his smiling lips to yours until you were well and truly lost in it. All of your worried and inhibitions had disappeared from your mind… until Cody’s wandering hands crept between your thighs and pressed against the thick pad you were wearing. 

Suddenly, horrified embarrassment filled you. Did he think it was weird that you were wearing a pad instead of a tampon? How long had it been since you’d changed it? What if you smelled bad? What if you had a blood clot when he was trying to fuck you? 

You broke away from him, hiding your face against his shoulder. “I don’t know if I can do this.” 

Apparently, Cody understood the muffled question immediately, since he didn’t ask you to repeat yourself. “Why?”

It was a fair question, and you searched yourself to get an honest answer. “The blood might not bother you, but I think it bothers me.” 

Cody was quiet for a moment. “What if I blindfold you?” 

“What?” The question was unexpected enough to jar you out of your self-consciousness, and you pulled back to stare at him. 

Your lover looked calm and helpful, not at all the expression you would have expected from someone who just offered to blindfold you. Granted, you and Cody had done far more adventurous things in your time together… 

“I can blindfold you,” he repeated. “If you want to fuck but don’t like the idea of seeing the blood, a blindfold can make sure we’re good. You can get the relief you want without worrying about the drawbacks. I won’t force you, I’m just saying it’s an option.” 

Your pussy gave a throb at the idea of being stretched by him, and you did your best to ignore the trickle of blood that left you. “I think that would be perfect.” 

Cody’s smile was beatific, and he squeezed your hand as he stood. “Give me a second to get everything set up and I’ll meet you in the bedroom.” 

You watched him leave. You didn’t love that he was wearing shoes and full armor in your apartment, but you couldn’t help but admire the way his boots gave a hint of strut to his step. Besides, if he could make you forget about your general misery, you would gladly clean the floor and call it a fair trade. 

While Cody was working in your bedroom, you occupied yourself in straightening up the living room. Food wrappers went in the waste can, your glass of water went in the sink, and you managed to fold two blankets before you decided it wasn’t worth the effort. 

“Cody?” you asked, with a soft knock on the door to your bedroom. “Are you-? Wow.” 

Cody turned to look at you over his own shoulder. He studied the towel he had laid out on the bed, frowning. “Is this not okay? I can choose a different one. I just thought the color-”

“It’s fine,” you assured him. The dark purple towel had seen better days, so even if you couldn’t remove any stains, it was no big loss. Besides, you would sacrifice every towel you owned if Cody would just let you take a holoimage of him like this. 

Your lover had stripped off half of his body glove, leaving it to hang from his waist while his upper body was on full display. The lamp on the bedside table had been turned down low, and the dim light played beautifully against the swells and dips of his muscular arms and torso. He had pulled pillows and additional blankets to surround the towel, clearly intent on making you as comfortable as possible, and a silk scarf from your closet was neatly folded on the bedside table, ready to be used as a blindfold. 

“Everything look okay, mesh’la?” Cody asked. 

You suddenly realized you had been staring, and nodded to break the spell he had unknowingly cast over you. “Looks fine to me.” 

Cody held out a hand, half-kneeling on the bed already. “Then the only thing missing is you. Ready?” 

You had already taken his hand when you balked. “Actually, I should use the ‘fresher…”

“Do you need to use the refresher?” he asked. 

“Well, no…” you hedged. “But I could probably do with a little cleanup before we get started.” 

“If that’s what you need to feel comfortable.”

You retreated to the refresher attached to your room and did what you could to freshen yourself up, but your period was still heavy enough that you weren’t going to stay clean for more than a few minutes at best. 

“Feeling better?” Cody asked when you joined him in the bedroom once more. 

“Nervous.” 

He frowned then. “Nervous? What are you nervous about?” 

“That you’re going to be grossed out,” you answered hesitantly. “If you are, it’s fine. We can just stop. You know that, right?” 

Cody nodded, his mouth pressed into a grim line. It was only when he started speaking that you realized it was held that way to fight back a smile. “Yes, sweet girl. I know that. I can also promise that I know what I’m getting into. This is hardly the first time I’ve been with someone who’s on their cycle.” 

You blinked. That… was something you had never considered. And it did make you feel better. You didn’t love thinking of Cody with other people, but if he had done this before, he probably wasn’t going to run screaming at the first sight of blood. 

Whether or not you would was still up for debate. 

Your shoulders settled. “Okay, I’m ready.” 

Cody nodded. His hand extended out again, and this time, you took it. He drew you gently toward the bed, helping you position yourself when you laid down. Your hips were centered on the towel while your shoulders were well-supported by the pillows Cody had arranged for you. 

When he joined you, Cody was careful not to rest any of his weight on you. Instead, he lay stretched out beside you, supporting himself on one arm as he leaned in to kiss you. You relaxed into that kiss, the tension leaving your muscles even faster than it had before. One hand rose without your permission, cradling Cody’s jaw and toying with the near-invisible stubble you found there. 

Cody gave a satisfied little sigh at the feeling of your fingers on his skin, kissing you deeper. Simultaneously, he let himself explore you with the hand he wasn’t using to support himself. 

You were fine - eager, even - when his touch traced along your collarbone, but you tensed when he reached your sensitive breasts. However, Cody was as gentle as ever. He cradled the weight of each breast in his hand in turn, brushing your nipples with the edge of his thumb. When he continued working downward, however, you found it impossible to stay relaxed. 

His fingers had just crept under the waistband of your pants when you tensed, breaking the kiss. “Cody?” 

“I know, mesh’la,” Cody soothed you. He removed his hand, reaching for the bedside table. When he turned fully back toward you, he was holding your silk scarf. “Are you ready for me to blindfold you, sweet girl?” 

“Yes.” You weren’t, but you trusted Cody with every part of you. Even your sight. 

That was probably why you were so nervous about this, you reflected, watching the silken material grow closer until you had to close your eyes against it. For all of the ways you and Cody had experimented with limitations - restraints, certain forms of address, even some minor breath play - you had never given up a sense with him. No matter what had been happening between you, you had always been able to clearly see it coming. 

You were smiling despite yourself when Cody finished tying the material behind your head. Perhaps it was only your imagination, but you swore you could feel him pause when he sat back. “What is it?” 

“Just…” You paused, trying to articulate it. “It’s funny - all the things we’ve done together and being blindfolded is the first time I think I’ve been truly nervous.”

“Nervous?” Cody repeated. Out of the darkness, something brushed your cheek and you jumped violently. “Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to scare you. How do we make you feel more in control? Maybe you should tell me what I can do and when.”

It was a clever solution, but it also sounded like it would take a lot of effort, and you weren’t sure you had the mental capacity at the moment. “Maybe you could tell me what you’re going to do before or while you’re doing it?” 

“I can do that, and you can tell me if you need me to stop or to touch you differently,” he assured, thumb brushing the top of your cheekbone. “I’m going to kiss you now.” 

You were smiling when Cody’s lips pressed against yours. The kiss was clumsy at first, and you blamed your fumbling on the fact that you couldn’t see him drawing closer to you. But soon enough, the two of you fell into a steady, comfortable rhythm. 

When you felt a touch against the top of your mound, you jumped and Cody pulled away to bite out a curse. “Sorry, mesh’la. I already got distracted. I won’t forget again.” 

“It’s okay,” you reassured, but Cody wasn’t having it. 

“No, these are the rules for this session. I won’t forget again.” The promise was delivered from much closer than he had been before, and you could feel the heat of Cody’s breath against your throat. “I’m going to touch you.” 

That time, you expected the brush of Cody’s fingers. Even with the way he was mouthing down the side of your neck, you couldn’t keep a frown from your face. Everything was about to become very real. 

He explored along the edge of the pad you were wearing, making you squirm at the warmth of his touch. When he had traced down and between your legs, Cody’s voice rumbled into the very bones of your shoulder. “You ready for me to take these off, princess?” 

You nodded. Apparently, Cody wasn’t going to make you answer him verbally. All he said in response was, “Lay back for me.” 

As you did as Cody asked, there was a slight tugging sensation at your waistline. Cody prompted, “Lift your hips for me and we can get started.” 

After so much time obeying Cody’s orders in the bedroom, your body wasn’t exactly waiting for your input. Your hips raised automatically, helping him ease your underwear down your legs. It was gone, then, and you were jarred by the realization that you had no idea if he had placed them next to you or thrown them across the room. 

“Did you put those somewhere they won’t be smearing blood on the floor?” you asked. Did it threaten the mood? Yes, but so would having to scrub dried blood out of your carpet later.

“Of course,” Cody assured you, pressing a kiss to your hip. “Relax. Let me take care of everything. Do you trust me?” 

“Always.” 

“Good girl.” Another kiss to your hip, then a third on the swell of your lower stomach. 

“Cody?” you asked. A light hum answered you. You would have felt ridiculous, but you could feel his breath on the part of you where your belly turned into your mound. “If you use your mouth on me, I’m going to throw up.” 

A pause. “At the feeling or the idea?” 

“The idea, mostly.” 

“Then I won’t,” Cody agreed. From the sound of his voice, he had moved further up your body. “I am going to use my fingers on you, though. Non-negotiable. I want to do some extra prep work with you on your cycle.”

You nodded again. You knew better than to argue with Cody when he was using that tone of voice. It wouldn’t get you anywhere and would just end with you both being frustrated. As a peace offering, you parted your thighs for him. The slight roughness of the towel until your bare hips was odd, but all you could focus on was that Cody was probably staring at your core. 

“Are you ready for me to start touching your pussy?” 

This isn’t dirty talk, you reminded yourself. Cody’s just trying to keep communication open and effective. Apparently, that didn’t matter to your brain, which insisted on classifying the question as being flirty and daring. You were already blooming for him when you nodded. 

“Let me hear that pretty voice, sweetheart.” 

Well, that certainly didn’t help anything. You had to swallow hard before you trusted yourself to say, “Yes, I’m ready.” 

There was a pause, just long enough to make you wonder whether Cody was going to make you repeat him verbatim before he would move on. Thankfully, he took pity on you and brushed fingertips across your slit.  

Your breath caught in your throat, hips canting upward as if you could find his fingers and force him into you. The sudden, savage surge of want surprised you. The neediness that came with your cycle was nothing new, but faced with the prospect of having those needs met - and met far better than your fingers or toys could manage - was driving your body to previously unknown levels of desperation. 

“That feel good, princess?” 

You wanted to laugh at the idea that he even had to ask, but all you could manage was a dry sounding, “Yes.” 

“Then let me give you a little more.” 

Cody’s stroke was firmer that time, working his way from the bottom of your sex to the hood of your clit. It managed to feel even more dazzling than the first touch had, and you gave a soft moan. That was unusually desperate for you, confirmed by the disbelief in Cody’s low chuckle. 

“My poor little mesh’la needed this even more than I realized,” he mused. “Enough teasing, yeah?” 

The tips of his fingers were at your entrance the next moment, though only one of them pushed inside of you. You were eager for more, but had to admit that one finger felt formidable. The sheer amount of lubrication coating your channel and lips helped ease the way, and you stubbornly refused to think about what else could be causing that wetness. 

Cody worked you slowly with that single finger, patiently petting and stretching you until your inner muscles relaxed enough for him to slip in a second one. You huffed out a breath at the stretch. 

What you hadn’t expected was that being blindfolded forced you to focus more on your other senses. You could feel Cody moving inside of you, of course, but you also felt the way his knuckles occasionally brushed up against your lips. You could hear how wet you were, but also that Cody occasionally held his breath as he watched you take him ever-deeper. His body lay warm against the length of your left leg, and you grabbed his forearm simply to feel the way the muscles and tendons worked as he stretched you. 

Your introspection was cut off when Cody pushed a third finger into you. Your mouth dropped open, a keening noise escaping you as the stretch rapidly went from shocking to uncomfortable to intense to orgasmic. Before you could even begin to warn him, you were tightening around Cody’s fingers and blindly panting out your orgasm.

When the roaring in your ears faded, Cody was still stroking into you. His motions had slowed significantly, but the steady push-pull of his fingers was threatening to build you right back into another orgasm. 

“Cody, please,” you begged, limbs too lax to pull him away. 

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Cody asked. His hand slowed even further, but he didn’t entirely stop. 

“You.” It came out in a gasp, but clear enough to be understood.

“Always so perfect for me.” Cody’s fingers pulled free of you, and you heard the unmistakable sound of him taking off the rest of his body glove. “Do you need anything else from me before I-?” 

“No,” you interrupted hastily. “Please, Cody, I just need-” 

“Shh… I know what you need, sweet girl.” Your thighs were pushed wider - wide enough to accommodate him between them. A blunted head prodded at your entrance and you canted your hips. Cody’s hands closed around your hips, holding you steady. “Be patient. I don’t want to push you into going faster than you should.” 

You sobbed out a breath as he slowly speared into you. Cody was gracefully proportioned, but some magic of your period or the blindfold - or a combination of both - made you feel his length more intensely than you could remember feeling before. He was sinking into your channel at an achingly slow pace, but that just seemed to emphasize the way he stretched you, forcing you wide around him. 

When he bottomed out in you, you froze at the intensity of the full feeling in your lower belly. If you could have removed your hands from his shoulders, you would have pressed them to your stomach. You wondered if you could have felt him lodged in your guts. 

But instead, you clung to Cody. Your fingernails bit into his skin as you used him as both a source of solidity and a handle so that you could move more freely. Your feet were still resting on the mattress, giving you the leverage you needed to push your hips up, and you ground your pelvis against him. 

Cody’s grip loosened enough to let you do it, then tightened again as he groaned. “You’re killing me, mesh’la.” 

“I’m killing you?” you asked, disbelievingly. “Cody, please, I need you to start moving or I’m going to explode.” 

“Fine,” he agreed. “But you’ll tell me if it’s too much?” 

“I promise.” 

Cody took you at your word. He pinned your hips to the bed and started to move. He couldn’t seem to decide whether he wanted to use long, pounding strokes or shorter, deeper ones. He ended up with a combination of both, which you found both hard to anticipate and intensely sexy. 

You couldn’t stay quiet under the onslaught of pleasure. Admittedly, you weren’t trying very hard, but neither was Cody. He was making his opinions clear, a combination of curses, moans, and praises falling from him. The only time either of you were quiet was when one or the other had initiated a kiss. 

Cody panted above you and you picked up on the particularly desperate rasp of it. He was close. That was perfect, since you were also close, but you wanted to see him. 

“Cody,” you said. Cody groaned your name in response, and you realized you needed to be more specific. “Cody, wait.” 

He froze halfway inside of you. “What is it? Do you need to stop?” 

“No, I just need you to take off my blindfold.” 

There was a beat of silence. “Are you sure? What about the blood?” 

Something in your chest shrank at the reminder that you were on your period and that the scene between your legs probably looked a lot more graphically violent than you had been imagining. Even so, you nodded. “I won’t look. I want to see you. That matters more to me than making sure I don’t see the blood.” 

“Give me a moment, sweetness,” Cody requested. The next thing you felt was the gentle brush of his fingers against the back of your head, then the scarf was lifting away from your face. You studied Cody’s face eagerly, taking in every expression and line. 

You didn’t realize you had a lovesick smile on your face until Cody returned the expression. With a gentle brush of your fingers over his cheek, you said, “There you are.” 

Cody nuzzled into your hand - an oddly sweet gesture considered he was balls deep inside of you. “Better?” 

“Much,” you agreed, rolling your hips experimentally. The brief pause hadn’t killed the mood entirely, and the fire in your blood roared back to life. “Mmmm… I’m close.” 

“Me, too.” Cody withdrew partially from you, pushing back in before pulling out a little further, then doing it again. Eventually, he was thrusting into you with luxurious, full-length strokes that almost seemed to be stroking your insides. Every move managed to brush against your g-spot both when he was pushing in and when he was pulling out, and it wasn’t long before you were panting once more. 

“Cody!” 

Cody pressed his forehead to yours, filling your entire field of vision as your body shattered for the second time that evening. It felt indescribably different to squeeze your internal muscles around his cock rather than his fingers, and the thought crossed your mind that you could happily come around him for eternity. Of course, the pleasure would probably kill you rather quickly, so ‘eternity’ wouldn’t be that long. 

He continued to thrust into you, bucking harder and faster and deeper and stronger until your orgasm stretched long enough to have been your second, third, and maybe your fourth. Cody’s hips lost their rhythm, his brow furrowed, and at last he tore himself from you. 

On the rare occasions when Cody didn’t fill you up, you liked to watch him come. There was something so powerful about it, so primal and compelling. But you were still dealing with the aftermath of your extended orgasm, the pleasurable aftershocks, and the inevitable weakness in your muscles that came after a really good time with Cody. 

Dampness seeped down from your inner thigh, dripping onto the towel beneath you as Cody’s hand squeezed the large muscle that lined the top of your thigh. “...Fuck.” 

You managed a laugh at the harshness of his curse. “You okay?” 

“I think I saw the galaxy for a second there.” Cody let out a shuddering breath. “You’re always amazing, but that was entirely different.” 

“It was a lot more intense than usual,” you agreed. “Maybe you were right about period sex.” 

“Not exactly what I meant, mesh’la,” Cody told you. You glanced at him, surprised that he wasn’t indulging in even a bit of gloating. “You were so strong. I know you weren’t sure about trying it, but I’m glad you did. It was very brave of you. Thank you for trusting me.” 

There were a dozen things you wanted to say: that you would always trust him, that there was no one else you could be as confident with, that it was you who should be thanking him. But you settled for a nod, deciding not to try speaking past the lump in your throat. 

In lieu of words, you tugged Cody upward until you could kiss him. He would understand everything you wanted to say.

---

Author's Note - At this moment, I don't have anything more planned for these two. But every now and again, I'll stumble into an idea that's too perfect not to use, so I won't say never!

Thanks for reading!

[vodika-vibes]

Breakfast for Two

Summary: You eagerly wait for Echo to return from his deployment.

Pairing: Echo x Reader

Word Count: 1360

Warnings: None

A/N: This is a birthday present for @kiss-anon. I hope it's fluffy enough~

Divider by saradika

You wake up early, awake and alert before the sun, and while this normally is not something to celebrate, today it is something to celebrate. Because today’s the day that Echo comes home.

You roll onto your side and glance at your chrono, and then make a face at yourself. It’s just barely today, only about 2 am. Echo won’t be home for at least ten hours. You should try to sleep.

You roll onto your back, and then to the other side, and then onto your back again.

You feel like a child again, on the day before a Field Trip. Too excited to sleep, and yet knowing that if you don’t sleep then you’re going to be too exhausted to do anything.

Of course, when you were a child you had your mom to bully you back into bed and back to sleep, but you’re an adult now and you have to bully yourself back to sleep, and it’s not working.

You stare blankly at the ceiling for about 10 minutes, listening to the traffic outside your apartment and watching the lights from the speeders cross your bedroom wall, before you give this up as a lost cause.

If you’re going to be awake, you might as well be awake and doing something.

You roll out of bed, and walk over to the wall to click on the light. You’ll start with some spring cleaning of your closet, something you’ve been putting off because people just keep buying you clothes, and if that doesn’t help you’ll move onto a cup of soothing tea and a bubble bath.

With a plan decided on, you open your closet door and start grabbing clothes. You toss everything on your bed, and then you walk over to your dresser and you empty all of the drawers that are yours.

And now, with your room a mess, you have no choice but to properly go through your clothes.

Even so, though, it only takes you two hours to go through all of your clothes. And yes, you do have a whole trash bag full of clothes that should have been tossed ages ago, and you have two that are filled with clothes to be donated (gifts from your grandparents, mostly. You love them but they still seem to think you’re a child…and the clothes they pick out for you reflect that). But, much more importantly, you now have space in your closet to put more things.

Like Echo’s clothes! Or, even better, clothes for Echo!

But unfortunately, it’s only 4 am, and nothing is open, which means no shopping sprees for you. Not yet anyway.

On the other hand, your eyes are burning from exhaustion, and you feel like you’re actually going to be able to sleep now. You turn off the light, and you fall onto Echo’s side of the bed, and bury your face in his pillow. It doesn’t smell like him anymore, but when you close your eyes and imagine, you can almost smell the scent of his preferred body wash.

Slowly, finally, you drift to sleep.

And then you jerk awake three hours later, when your alarm starts to blare annoyingly in your ear. You smack your chrono to turn off the irritating noise, and you roll onto your back.

The 2 am excitement that had you cleaning your bedroom has faded into regret at lack of sleep, but you do manage to sit up and swing your legs off the bed.

It takes you an hour to shower and dress, though 45 minutes of that hour was just you standing under the hot water of your shower trying not to fall asleep. And once you’re dressed, you slowly meander your way into the kitchen and start the caf machine.

While the caf is brewing you move across your living room and pull open the massive curtains that cover your balcony door, and you slide the glass door open so you can have some air flow.

And then you make a quick breakfast and grab your mug of caf, and you sit at the table on your balcony so you can watch the people of Coruscant start their morning while you try to wake up.

From your place on the balcony, you don’t hear the front door of your apartment sliding open. And you don’t hear the heavy bag landing on the floor next to the shoe rack. And you don’t hear the sound of the bench next to the door creaking as armor is placed on it to be dealt with later.

You do, however, hear the clinking of a mug being pulled from the cabinet, and you turn to look into your home, only for a blinding smile to cross your face as you see Echo, dressed in his blacks, and his curls mussed up, pouring the last of the caf you brewed into a mug, and turn to join you.

You lean back and push the screen door open for him, though you don’t say anything until he’s sitting next to you on the bench, his leg pressed firmly against yours.

“Good morning,” He greets, as he sets his mug on the table and turns to smile at you.

You lean your head against his shoulder, “Morning,” You greet, and you sigh happily when you feel his fingers, feather light, ghost down your spine, “Welcome home.”

Echo hums a response, and turns to press a light kiss to the top of your head, “I’m glad to be back,” He replies, “Missed you.”

You turn your head and press your nose to his shoulder. He smells like his armor, gun oil, and the regulation soap that he and his brothers have to use while working. “Missed you more,” You say lightly.

Echo laughs softly and slings an arm around you to hold you tighter, “You know, I don’t think that’s possible.” He teases gently as he slowly adjusts you so he can press his lips against your forehead.

You lean into his touch, your fingers gliding up his arms, until you’re able to slide your arms around his neck.

“Did you do anything fun while I was gone?” Echo asks, his voice quiet, as though he’s worried about breaking the peace of your reunion.

You hum thoughtfully, “I helped Fives’ girlfriend set up a support network for those of us dating members of the GAR.” You say thoughtfully, “I now have a list of dozens of people I can reach out to for help if I need it and you’re away. Apparently it was a joint idea between Fives and his girlfriend, and they started putting it together months ago.”

“Hm. Well, good.” Echo replies lightly, “I’m glad.”

You smile up at him warmly, “I thought you might be. And I have to admit, it’s nice having someone to talk to who understands.”

He hums and presses his lips against your forehead again, allowing his lips to linger, “And, what do you think of Fives’ girlfriend?” Echo asks.

“I like her,” You reply immediately, knowing his concern is based around the fact that he and FIves do everything together, “She’s quiet, a little reserved, but she’s nice.” You smile a little broader, “No need to worry, Echo. We get along just fine.”

“Wasn’t worried. Just…concerned.” He mumbles.

Your hands come up to brush against his cheeks, “You were worried,” You tease gently, before you pull him down into a proper kiss, “But that’s okay, it’s one of the things I love about you.”

He sighs against your lips and almost melts against you, “Stars, I love you so much.” He murmurs against your lips.

You giggle, “How much do you love me?” You sing-song.

There’s a glimmer of mischief in his gorgeous eyes, and you grin up at him, whoever thinks that Echo isn’t just as much of a troublemaker as Fives has clearly not spent enough time with him. 

“How about I show you?” He purrs out, and you shiver in delight as he guides you back into the apartment, and shuts the curtains behind him, the twin mugs of caf left forgotten on the balcony.

[soccerpunching]

A few hours before the beta, i want to share what i WANT to happen for the raimon eleven (go) after a full school year and Endou decided to go back to playing soccer professionally (i think he deserves to enjoy soccer as long as he can still play it considering goalkeepers retire in the pro field earlier than the field players)

Everyone is happy that they can watch him again as a goalkeeper they looked up to but they're sad that their coach is no longer their coach and they have doubts on whoever's going to succeed him. It was a sad goodbye... but Endou told them there was someone even better than him who could succeed him.

Endou is a coach who focuses on pushing you to do your best but not on the little details considering the how and everytime he realizes he needed help in this part, he asks for his friends to help the team.

If we know anything about crafting a skill, is that it will make you crash down and burn if you're unaware how your body works or how to take care of it. There is also something to be said about finding how things work for you and accepting that it will not be how it works for others.

Thanks to Haruna looking after the team, they never experienced any of that tragedy. Before and especially after the team had Kidou as their trainer (or literally just having a formal trainer once), Haruna set even more focused eyes on strengthening the fundamentals and has learned to individualized training for them. She still does her former role in the team, which is research, support, and attending to resources-adjacent responsibilities.

That being said, the team still needs aid in strategizing, coordinating, flexibility, and resilience during a match that a coach would need to fulfill. Someone who can watch the match calmly and meticulously to aid the team in adjusting to the best course of action in the middle of a tensed match.

Enter Endou Natsumi.

It's simple but let's go over some little headcanons first, Raimon Jr. High's chairperson is Natsumi since chrono stone but before inago started I think she was going with Endou in the country and league he was playing for. She uses this opportunity to learn more about soccer and more about how athletes think and work and what they usually need and how they improve. All of this combined with her already high interest in the sport and everything she learned as a manager for the entirety of middle and high school (maybe even college).

The team had doubts because Natsumi has only ever been in the background in the soccer world until this point. To be honest, she doesn't look like the type to be interested in soccer... but coach Endou vouched for her! He makes crazy decisions but they're not all impulsive. And they trust him. So they did trust her as they trusted him. And it only took one match for them to understand why she's the best candidate for the position.

I know this won't happen but a little creature can dream.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Mango Bat; "tactile take it". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

He tries to push in and out–deeper, sort of, and wider, and it burns and stretches a little strangely and doesn’t really feel, like, good, but . . . but it . . .

But it still feels like a lot, either way. Just shy of overwhelming or overstimulating, weird and vulnerable and shaky and buzzingly warm but just barely uncomfortable and giving Tim a good view and–and– 

“Are you touching your cock too, or is that all just for me?” Tim asks curiously, tilting his head. Kon shudders again, hiding his face for a moment. Tim isn’t looking, but–he hides it, anyway. “Or do you just like your prostate that much? Maybe I should’ve fingered you before this. I thought about doing that for a while at work yesterday. I figured if I called you on my lunch break you could fly over and I could bend you over my desk for it. Ended up having to work through lunch, though.” 

Kon’s thighs tremble. 

The bastard’s not even touching him. 

“You can take a little more,” Tim says, and this time he doesn’t add a “can’t you?” or a “right?” at the end–this time he says it like he’s giving him–giving him permission or something. 

Kon’s everything trembles, this time. 

He pushes–pushes in deeper, opens himself up more, and can’t seem to stop trembling through it. Tries to tilt his hips up a little better for–for Tim to watch and see, for Tim to enjoy the view he’s giving him, for–for–

“Oh,” Tim says, and it’s practically a sigh. It sounds–sounds fond. “Oh, that’s so good, Kon. Let me see.”

Kon spreads his thighs as far as he can, holding them wide-open past stretch in his muscles, and Tim makes a soft, appreciative noise. 

“You can take a little more,” he murmurs, and this time it doesn’t sound like permission; this time it sounds like a reward. 

That’s probably why Kon immediately shoves into himself really deep and wide without actually thinking it through. It burns and the stretch feels so weird and he can’t keep the pressure out, but his prostate’s still just as eager to be touched and Tim’s just as content to watch him and–and his cock’s–his cock is– 

It feels really good, Kon thinks distantly, hazily, and then Tim’s eyes glitter with heat and don’t leave his TTK-stretched hole, and Kon comes all over himself with a shocked choking sound. 

“Oh,” Tim says again, and sounds just a little wondering this time. Kon moans through his teeth, throwing an arm over his eyes, and–and–

And he doesn’t pull his TTK back. Even through the aftershocks, he keeps holding himself wide-open just like Tim told him to. Just like Tim told him he could. 

“Look at you,” Tim says, only looking at his hole–not his face. Not his body. Not even his cock and all the come spilled in a sticky mess all over his stomach. None of those. 

Tim’s only looking at where Kon’s holding himself open for the view.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Love Kai, but Hari needs some love too…

Sooo, Kai’s always busy so he sends Hari to take care and be with Angel. But what if arrowhead falls in love with her? And she also starts liking him back… since you know, her actual partner barely spends time with her. It’s kinda angsty but a fluffy end would be nice.

This has been on my head lately and since you’re one of my favorite authors in here, I gathered the courage to finally send in the ask. Feel free to ignore this request. Love your writing and take care! 💕

"I want you to be responsible for her safety Chronostasis." The dark haired male muttered while reading a few papers that were spread on his desk while the other one furrowed his eyebrows beneath his mask.

"Of course, but why exactly?" Aren't you her partner? He wanted to imply, but decided against it due to his better judgment.

"Being someone close to a yakuza member puts a lot of targets on their back, you should know that by now." He replied without any emotion on his face.

"I do understand that sir. Although as a friend speaking I think you should-"

"Just do what I say Chronostasis." He growled without sparing him a eye, leaving the white haired man to sigh in hopeless and leave the room with a yes sir.

.

.

Chrono has been keeping an eye on Overhaul's partner for about two months... and he swore he never saw a woman with so much loneliness and sadness on her eyes... yet, she carried such a beautiful smile when it came to the normal citizens and children or people she seemed to care about.

He was surprised that Kai was in a relationship with her to be honest... she seemed so out of his league.

One day, he accidentally eavesdrop that Overhayl had canceled one of their dates once again.. it was honestly heartbreaking to hear her sad sigh but soon recover with a fake small skile saying it was okay....

For some reason, he couldn't take this any longer... so he asked his boss to make her company asides from just protecting her from afar like a shadow.

Overhaul had allowed. Without much care.

"Excuse me? Ma'am?" He reunited forces to aproach her on the halls, observing how she flinched but soon looked at his masked face with wonder on why one of the subordinates was talking to her... without getting killed.

"Y-Yeah?"

"I'm sorry overhaul canceled plans with you. But I was wondering, if you want, I could take you to this place you were talking about." He scratched a bit the back of his head at seeing your shocked expression "I swear I'm not a stalker, I'm just a... close worker of your partner. So I happened to over hear it. I apologize if it perstubs you."

"Oh.. not at all!" You smiled, and he had to ignore how it made him smile too "I was hoping I could go there with anyone to be honest... but I don't have much friends and... he seems kinda busy these days" You laughed it off your sadness as usual.

"I'm going to take you there. Don't worry about the money as well. I'm sure it won't make us go more bankrupt as always anyway."

The laugh that left your lips almost felt surreal. He never heard you laugh like that before on those last few months.

.

.

"Can I ask something Chrono?"

"Well, you already did." He mumbled while sitting in front of you on the small outdoor café you had chosen this time. He had been taking you out for a while now.

You snorted at his comment before stirring up your drink with a straw with a feature of wonder.

"Were you the one watching me for these last few months?"

He choked on his own spit. Almost coughing before he reluctantly asked why you were asking this.

" I know I sound stupid sometimes, but I am not." You giggled with sadness "I noticed eyes on me... I was starting to think I was crazy for a second until I notice you with this weird mask watching from a corner some day.. immediately I knew it was one of the hassaikai. You guys seem to like these plague masks a lot."

"Actually no." He laughed it off his embarrassment "we actually hate it. But is Overhaul's choice so we mostly shut up and be quiet about it."

"Ah, it had to be him." You spoke with a smile "But you aren't exactly working right now so... can't you just.. take it off? Is like super hot today." You gesture with your hand at your own face while he scoffed.

"Kai would have my head if he knew this."

"I won't tell. Besides," You leaned on the table "I'm actually curious."

"Nothing fancy about my face but oh well-" He spoke before taking off his mask with a relieved sigh "It is hot, God damn..."

"Hmm..." You tilted your head a bit to the side before smirking "not bad."

"Oh shut up you." He chuckled, his red cheeks totally exposed now.

.

.

After months, you two had become close. Closer than what a bodyguard should be.. but he just can't help it. You had this personality that didn't fail it once to make him smile or worry when you would wear that sad expression.

He would feel guilty about his upcoming crush on you often... very often.

But sometimes... he swore he wanted to beat the shit out of chisaki every single time he found you crying after just a simply conversation with thr male in question that surely didn't even last 15 minutes.

"Am I that clingy? Just as he says?" You spoke between sniffles, watching with a sad expression the outside as he scoffed.

"No. You just want what anyone wants on a relationship... he is just..." he hissed a bit at daring to put more wood into the fire "A bit difficult."

"Just a bit..?" You muttered and he swore he felt his heart completely shatter.

In one second he was at your side and wiping away your tears as you yelped at how close he was so suddenly.

"You're not clingy... In fact, if it means something, I do enjoy your company the most. I actually l..-" he swallowed the words before he made something he possibly would regret "I think you're great. Don't let a minor fight affect your self estem that easily.."

You nodded in awe... never your own boyfriend did that. Made you feel better about some insecurity of yours..

In fact... now thinking about it, Kai never made you feel so at home like... Kurono did.

Oh no.

.

.

.

Months have passed and one day he catched you and Overhaul talking. For a very long time to be exactly.

You left with a more at ease expression quickly greeting him before leaving the house. He arched an eyebrow before he noticed how Chisaki was frozen in place but had still his usual neutral expression on.

Something had happened...

.

.

The break up was, by surprise of many, very calm and with no tantrums come from both parts of you nor Chisaki. Although you did visited the hassaikai still due to how Pops actually liked you... and Kurono.

It didn't take long for Chrono to finally open up about the issue. He was actually afraid of the out come... but he had to be honest with his friend.

"I don't care. She is single now, isn't she?" He muttered after a very tense talk about if he could or not invite you to dinner.

"You're sure about that? It won't bring-"

"Just get out." The dark male hissed, and for the first time Chrono just ignored the threat on his voice and went after you with hope you could accept his offer.

.

.

"We could go to the theme park!" You yelped in joy as he chuckled while shaking his head.

"The last time we went on one of those you were complaining about how your feet hurt. You sure about that?"

You nodded with pout while walking alongside him. His girlfriend of now five months.

"The last time it was because of my stupid decision of wearing those heels... seriously what went through my head to do that?" You whined out loud as he laughed.

It was good until you both bumped into someone...

"Hey Kai." Chrono spoke a bit in worry as you looked up to see the face of your ex.

"Hello Chisaki. How have you been?" You asked politely while the man in question just looked at you both with irritation before sighing.

"Good." He spoke before storming out of the hall, leaving you both to just shrug your shoulders and go on about your day as usual.

.

.

He closed the door before finally sitting down on the bed with the heaviest sigh he could muster. His hands rubbed his face continuously to get rid of the burning sensation he was feeling behind his eyes as he exhaled and inhaled in hopes to calm his beating heart.

After a few minutes he took a deep breath once again before taking a small red velvet box from the cabinet before laying down on the bed... staring at the ring on it with disgust... even though the small tear that left his right eye said otherwise.

"Now what the hell am I suppose to do with this?" Kai muttered in the loneliness of his room.. knowing damn well how you were much happier with the man that treated you better than he did.

[aquarii-if]

Izar stands at the wall-length window behind his throne, overlooking the wide city of Yhada. He watches the millions of Chronian citizens milling about, some are obviously tourists, taking pictures in front of whatever they happen upon that's slightly interesting, much to the local's disapproval as they find their regular routes suddenly blocked by inconsiderate people.

It's astonishing to him, how mundane their lives are. Izar spends every second of his days busying himself with upcoming wars, politics, and all other duties that come with being an Emperor of a galaxy as big as Chronos. Meanwhile, they get to live their lives on easy mode, and yet they complain they don't have enough money, or food, or clothes, or entertainment.

Such ungrateful peasants, if you ask him.

Izar sighs, shaking his head as he turns back to the front of the throne room, planning to walk to his office to continue on with the work he's already late on. He practically jumps out of his skin when he sees the main source of his migraines staring up at him with a smug grin on their face.

"Planning to mope in front of the window all day? I'm sure your rivals would appreciate the distraction." They tease, their grin only growing wider as they watch Izar subconsciously roll his eyes.

"Why are you here? I believe I assigned a very important task for you to complete." Izar reminds them.

They step to the side, moving to stand directly in front of the window next to him. "Yeah, and I feel incredibly offended by that."

Izar raises an eyebrow as they swivel to look back at him, their eyebrows furrowed. "You dared to give me such a task on the most important day of the year?"

Izar crosses his arms, towering over the little insolence as he speaks. "It's May, nothing interesting happens in May."

"Oh, I didn't realize my birthday was so boring!" They sneer.

Izar suppresses a groan. "In what world is that the most important day of the year?"

"This one, obviously. Because I'm the most important person in the galaxy. Look outside, and try to find one person who doesn't depend on my inventions." They mimic the Emperor's stance, a triumphant grin on their face as they watch Izar sigh.

Sometimes, Izar really wishes the inventor of [REDACTED] was literally anybody else. But he'd rather not waste his time arguing with them. "I see. Then, I shall delay the task for another day. You can begin working on it tomorrow, enjoy your day off."

He turns, expecting this conversation to be over. But as always, he puts too much faith in the annoying idiot behind him. "Um, excuse me? That's not enough!"

Izar stops in his tracks, his hands balling into fists at his sides as he tries to keep his voice steady. "What do you mean?"

"I deserve a better apology than that!" When Izar turns, they're standing with their hands on their hips, glaring up at him so harshly that if looks could kill, he'd be incinerated. "You'll announce to everyone in the city that it's my birthday and that they're all invited to the birthday party, which will be held in the ballroom."

The noise that comes out of Izar's mouth when he hears this cannot be described. This commoner dares to demand him to offer up his castle for such a useless practice that is a birthday party. He should send them to the dungeon this instant, but of course, he is not that lucky.

Instead, he decides to handle this in a more mature manner. "I cannot fit the entire galaxy of Chronos into my ballroom. It's big, but not big enough to hold that many people."

They roll their eyes, scoffing. "Fine, then I shall invite only the most influential and actually interesting people to the party. But I still want the announcement."

Izar cannot believe that he is about to agree to this. He is the Emperor of Chronos, the gods themselves fear him, the Queen of Aquarii fears him, this brat should be put on death row for their disrespect. But they're the only person in the galaxies who can help him with his predicament, and at this point in their exchange, they already know enough about him that they could easily force him to abdicate the throne.

So, instead, he nods, letting out a long sigh. "Give me a moment to get everything ready, and I'll notify you once the announcement is out and the venue is finished."

They nod, the smug grin returning to their face. "It was a pleasure to see you this morning, my Lord. I cannot wait to see what you have in store for me."

Oh, don't worry, little brat, Izar cannot wait either.

[caesarandthecity]

Time in Prison

Since the dawn of mythology, time has always been seen as an absolute and relentless power. Saturn, also known as Chronos in Greek mythology, is the god who devours his own children, a metaphor for the inevitability of time that consumes everything. Chronos created time as an infinite current, a force that shapes life, ages, and destroys, never stopping or looking back.

However, the modern view of time gained new dimensions with Albert Einstein and his Theory of Relativity. Einstein taught us that time is not a straight line but something flexible—it can stretch and shrink, depending on speed and gravity. For some, time passes slowly; for others, too quickly. But one truth remains: we can never go back, only move forward.

It is in this paradox that time becomes more than just a concept—it becomes a lived experience, especially when incarcerated. Time in prison becomes its own entity, a prison within a prison—stretched, endless, relentless. Here, time is a cruel dance between Chronos and relativity, a battle fought daily, minute by minute.

Here’s a gift, some advice, a word of encouragement: the more you fill your time with activities that elevate you as a human being, the faster time passes. This is called the state of flow—that moment when you are so absorbed in what you’re doing that you don’t even notice time passing. I rediscovered my love for reading in prison; I would read a book a day. And I didn’t just read—I realized we consume so little of a book, so I marked the pages I loved most, and when I finished the book, I wrote an essay about it. I still have those writings with me.

I redid high school, studied all the subjects; it was a unique experience to go back and study everything I had learned as a young man, but now in another language. I even asked the prison for a calculator to better follow the math classes, but since there were none available, I did the calculations by hand! I studied personal development, religion, and watched the video “Chasing the Dragon” repeatedly, which shows addicts and ex-addicts and their battles against addiction. It helped me a lot to understand my own methamphetamine addiction and where it could lead me.

I decided to work out and started right there in my cell. Of course, my cellmate laughed at first, but I just didn’t care—I kept going. Slowly, I gained more confidence, and that confidence spread to other areas of my life. Even today, I meditate and do yoga every morning, just as I did in prison. I would wake up before the C.O. called us for breakfast. By the time it was time to serve breakfast, I had already meditated, done yoga, brushed my teeth, changed clothes, and combed my hair.

I did yoga straight on the floor, no mat, no blanket, no blocks. It helped me immensely every day, and I became much more aware of my body. And I didn’t care what others thought. To them, it wasn’t normal. How dare I enjoy that moment in prison when they were all there suffering, with their families suffering outside? I heard that many times. But the truth is, it all comes down to choices. I made mine; they made theirs.

I wrote in my diary every day, about the past, the present, and my hopes and dreams for the future. I wrote stories, fiction, and about the reality of my past. I cried a lot—every month, every week, almost every day. I cried asking for forgiveness, I cried accepting forgiveness, I cried always in gratitude, never asking for anything.

Sometimes, I felt like the day wasn’t long enough for all the activities I wanted to do. I even enjoyed the days we were locked in our cells all day, as it was an opportunity to read uninterrupted. Gradually, I created a routine, added new activities, replaced others, and time went by.

Until, one day, the last day finally arrived.

Filling my time and diving into this state of flow made me see the prison experience differently. The walls no longer felt like they were closing in, and the barred windows no longer stopped my mind from flying and building a better future for myself. I thought about creating a list of goals to achieve after prison, but I wanted something deeper than a simple list. I went to understand the etymology of the word "Meta." The word "Meta" comes from the ancient Greek "μετά" (metá), meaning "beyond," "target," or "purpose." Originally used to denote something that goes beyond the here and now, "Meta" carries the sense of transcending, of seeking something beyond the current point—a goal, a change, an evolution.

Understanding that to reach a goal, one must transcend and change, I wrote down all my goals knowing that, to achieve them, I would have to change my current state. With that understanding and knowing I was imprisoned, I chose to use my time to my advantage, filling it with as much flow as possible.

Encouraging Message:

Never underestimate the power of your time and what you can do with it. Even in the darkest places, it’s you who decides how to fill your days. Find your flow, immerse yourself in what helps you grow, and remember: time doesn’t have to be your enemy; it can be your ally in building a better future. No matter where you are, you are stronger than you think.