#clearly nothing will go wrong and they will most certainly look back at these memories in near tears

[asterouslyaesthetic]

happily ever after is meant to be you - chapter two

Juliana sets down her spoon on the upside down lid of her jam jar, dipping her hand into her bag to fetch a napkin. The extra ones that come along are set down on the blanket, for when Kieran needs it. "Besides," he adds, a faint pink coloring his cheeks. "Um, there's actually somethin'...it's back at Apple Hills, but I wanted to show ya something." "I don't have anything to show you," the brunette complains, without giving much thought to her words. A sigh accompanies her words. "You should come to Uva next year. I can show you around Mesagoza." Surprise flickers in his gaze.  "Wowzers! That sounds great," her soulmate breathes out. There is little doubt in her mind that she'll be dreaming of his shy smile for ages to come, once her nerves die down. He looks so happy, as if she's just promised him the world—and oh, she's melting into a puddle, even if she can't understand his reaction. And then, she puts herself in his shoes, and— Well, Juliana gets it.

Juliana meets her soulmate during a school trip to Kitakami, shortly after joining Uva Academy. She never ends up getting his number—or, more precisely, his sister's.

And when she meets him again, he doesn't seem very interested in resuming their budding relationship.

Important Tags: Juliana/Kieran, Soulmate AU, Eventual Angst, Will Follow Teal Mask -> Main Story -> Indigo Disk

[cobaltperun]

Woe out the Storm (11) - Holding out for a Hero

Wednesday Addams x female Reader

Summary: It took some time, but eventually you came to realize only Wednesday Addams could look at the raging storm of chaos and destruction and make a home out of it. Only she could listen to the cacophony of the roaring thunder and hear a melody.

Story warnings: Wednesday Addams, violence, slow burn

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Word count: 5.1k

-Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat-

Wednesday woke up in a bed that was softer than her own, though not uncomfortable, something about it made her feel uneasy in a good way. And then the memories of her last waking moments came to her mind, and she couldn’t help but hide her face in the pillow.

Which wasn’t the right choice…

Her being in your bed only reminded her that you spent the storm last night outside. Well, in your shed, but she knew that was hardly the right protection from the storm for you.

She couldn’t even comprehend what possessed her to sleep in your bed, to blatantly ignore her allergy in favor of… whatever this was. It felt wrong, it felt like she was intruding on something, like she was forcing herself into a part of your life she had no business being in. That was how she felt.

She most certainly didn’t feel like she was trying to fill the void left by your absence.

So, she just remained there, after all, with you and Enid gone, she had nothing to worry about. No one else but her and Thing would know about this.

~X~

The damn rain was persistent. It’s been raining since last night and there were no signs it would stop anytime soon. Speaking of persistent, Enid was in your shed. She came to tell you the mayor died, but she stayed for other reasons…

“You have to go back to our room, Y/N! Look at you, you’re exhausted!” she exclaimed, worried and anxious for multiple reasons connected to you staying in the shed.

“Forget it,” yet you remained stubborn, lazily leaning back against your chair and throwing your head back. You really were exhausted. There were so many electronic devices in the shed and that was enough to make you even more on edge than you already were. One moment of weakness and you’d likely blow the entire shed up.

“Wednesday made a mistake, but you shouldn’t ruin all of your work over it!” Enid argued, throwing her hands down in frustration.

You narrowed your eyes at that. Wednesday… You cooled down, significantly, but you were still angry at her. Well, anger wasn’t quite the right word. “Why couldn’t she just take me with you? I could have done something,” you sighed, you were hurt, you were frightened by what could have happened. It was a similar feeling to seeing that person a few nights ago, only this time it wasn’t for you, but for Wednesday and Enid. Why couldn’t Wednesday just trust you to be able to help her?

“And put you in danger as well? Come on, Y/N, didn’t she do enough already?! She placed you in a bathtub filled with water!” Enid clearly couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’ve done more than I did, you just accepted her right from the start and that’s how she responds?”

“Stop, Enid,” you closed your eyes, hoping she would get a hint and give up.

“I won’t stop, Wednesday doesn’t appreciate what either of us did for her,” she was hurt, she believed Wednesday didn’t care. In fact, you were willing to bet Enid was even more hurt by the fact Wednesday didn’t take you along than you were. To Enid it probably looked like Wednesday was more than willing to put her in danger while simultaneously making sure you weren’t in danger, at least the same kind of danger.

“And part of that is our fault as well. Yes, she’d cold, she doesn’t show her emotions and all that, but she’s honest. We both got exactly what she said she was, so you can either give up on being friends with her, or understand that’s how Wednesday works and accept it,” you’d accept it, but you just needed to get away from her for a few days so you could properly figure out what to do. You were trying to make sense of what you were feeling, because, whether you were willing to admit it or not, you knew you had it bad for the girl.

She was just… special. The way she accepted you, the way she wasn’t bothered by being seen with you in places that would imply a much more intimate relationship between you two, the way she wasn’t afraid of your lightning. You hated to admit it, but you craved that, and she was giving it to you, regardless of that probably being unconscious on her part. It wasn’t just her acceptance of you, she was ambitious, smart, not the easiest or warmest to approach to, but easy to be around as long as you knew what you were getting into. Wednesday would judge based on opinions, or behavior, but never for things out of your control, and you admired that. And, as you said to Enid, with Wednesday you got exactly who she said she was. If she said she wasn’t a friend material, she most certainly was right, she wasn’t a friend material in a more accepted definition of a friend.

And you were so stupidly drawn in by everything Wednesday you just knew you couldn’t let go. But she did hurt you, and she did make you angry, and she was reckless and made you worried. For all of that you needed some time away from her, and hopefully that would get the message across to her.

“I really can’t change your mind?” Enid asked, even if already knew the answer.

“Nope. My mind’s made up.”

~X~

You would be a liar if you said you weren’t expecting Thing to show up. “You’re not off the hook either, buddy,” you said as you looked at him. Unlike with Enid you couldn’t avert your eyes, you needed to watch the hand to know what he was telling you.

You wondered if anyone ever used Thing for ‘Talk to the hand’ joke.

He began signing, telling you basically the same words Enid did. That you needed to come back to your room for your own sake.

“I’m good here,” you refused, even if you weren’t, as you said, good here.

‘Wednesday misses you!’ he revealed, even if the statement didn’t make much sense. Still, you figured there must be something you wanted to accomplish because, even, or rather especially, if it was true he’d likely lose several fingers.

“Thing,” you sighed, not willing to hope. “She made her decision, and so did I.”

Yet, Thing remained stubborn. ‘She loves you!'

Your eyes widened at that, and you nearly lit up like fireworks from momentarily losing your focus. That would be a dumb way to die, especially since you'd take Thing with you, and you were sure Wednesday would bring your soul back to torment you for the rest of her life if that happened. “Come on, Thing. Sure, she doesn’t hate me, but she loves me? Don’t give me that,” you couldn’t just believe him, even if you were sure no one in this school knew Wednesday as well as Thing did. Hell, there might not be anyone in the world aside from her parents who knew her better than Thing and you were sure he could give even them a run for their money. It really depended on how much time she spent with Thing as a child.

‘She does!’ Thing remained adamant in his beliefs and kept claiming that.

“If she really misses me, well, first she needs to apologize for tying me up and leaving me in a bathtub. Then we can talk,” there, a compromise, you set definitive conditions for your return, and you were sure Thing would tell Wednesday what you wanted. Somehow, with Enid and Thing coming to talk to you, you almost felt like you and Wednesday were going through a breakup. Their reactions definitely backed that feeling up.

~X~

Reuniting with her uncle Fester and attending a funeral kept Wednesday’s mind off of you and Enid leaving. She was genuinely happy to see him and she always got along with him. And since he needed a place to lay low she had just the spot for him.

“This place belongs to a friend,” she said as they entered the beekeeper house.

“You actually made a friend? That poor kid will be going home in a body bag,” it was an understandable assumption.

Yet something clutched Wednesday’s heart and refused to let go as she looked away from her uncle. Eugene was still in a coma, she was told by her mother you might die for her, her vision made it clear you could be attacked by the monster, and you were already attacked a few nights ago, Tyler got hurt, Enid could have been hurt as well. It seemed like all she accomplished in her investigation was to get people hurt. She wanted to take it all back. To join another club and skip attending, to never start talking to you more than she needed, and the same went for Enid and Tyler, if she could take it all back and make sure you didn’t get close to her none of this would have happened to the four of you.

Only those who were Addams were safe, it seemed. The rest got hurt by being close to her.

Like Nero over a decade ago.

She truly was meant to be alone. Rejected by society and causing pain to those that didn’t reject her.

“Oh! I like a hideout that comes with snacks,” Fester’s excitement made her snap out of her thoughts.

“Those bees are hibernating. They’re practically Eugene’s children,” yet he still reached in to grab them. “That means do not eat them!” at least she could keep something precious to Eugene safe while he was in a coma, if she couldn’t fix what happened with you, Enid and Tyler.

Fester turned around, obviously puzzled by her reaction, but he put the bee back. “You know, when you give me that death stare of disapproval, you remind me of your mother,” he pointed out.

Great. Another reminded of her mother and what she said.

“Speaking of scary things, you know what kind of monster you’re dealing with?” he asked gleefully, much like a child that was excited about a new toy.

“I haven’t been able to identify it,” she handed him Xavier’s drawing and the moment he looked at it he seemed to recognize it.

“Oooh, it’s called a Hyde,” he revealed and handed the picture to her.

“As in Jekyll and Hyde?” she asked.

“Mhm.”

“You’ve seen one before?” finally, she was getting somewhere.

“In ’83, during my vacay at the Zurich Institute for the Criminally Insane. Where I got my first lobotomy, but you know lobotomies. They’re like tattoos. Can’t just get one,” he wasn’t focusing on what was important and she needed him to do that.

“Tell me about the Hyde,” she reminded him of her goal.

“Ah, Olga Malacova,” he seemed to be reminiscing. “Jeez. She had it all. Beauty, brains and a penchant for necrophilia,” he was getting sidetracked again. “Olga was a concert pianist until one night she transformed in the middle of a Chopin sonata. Massacred a dozen audience members and three music critics.”

“What triggered her? Or did she just change on her own? How was she stopped?” she needed to know all of those information. At least now she was certain the monster, the Hyde, was also a human.

“No idea about the first two, but a raiju stopped her. Raiju are usually handy when dealing with outcasts as strong as Hydes, fight fire with fire, or fire with lightning in this case,” again with raiju being useful. It was as if the entire world wanted to make fun of her for getting attached to you, a raiju.

“There’s never been any mention of Hydes in any outcast book,” she was frustrated, but she couldn’t let him know what was the other reason for her frustration. “And Nevermore is reputed for having the best collection,” she nearly snapped, irked by everything going on.

“You try Nathaniel Faulkner’s diary?” Fester suggested and her silence and turning around to face him again clued him in that she didn’t. “Mmmm! Before he founded Nevermore, Faulkner traveled the world, cataloging every outcast community.”

“How do you know this?” it wasn’t an information she expected Fester to have.

“You think your parents can’t keep their hands off each other now, oy vey. I showed up unannounced one night in Gomez’s dorm room, let’s just say I wasn’t interrupting a pillow fight,” he chuckled at his own joke.

“Uncle Fester!” she was growing tired of unnecessary details. “The diary, where is it?”

He gave her a restrained laugh and focused once again. “Nightshades Library. Your dad parked me there and said I should settle in for a long stretch and that’s when I found this nifty little safe. I was hoping for a stash of cash or jewels, but instead I found a diary.”

“We’ll sneak into the Nightshades Library tonight. In the meantime, lay low,” she instructed him, hopefully that would be enough to keep him out of trouble.

“Is Elijah’s kid coming with us? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a raiju shift!” his words made Wednesday freeze for a moment.

Of course, her parents told him about you.

“She’s not, and she won’t shift,” she opened the doors and left before he could reply. Only then did she remember to remind him of one last crucial detail. “And leave the bees alone!” she warned sternly, and just in time as he turned to grab the bees the moment she first stepped outside.

~X~

Thing was more than a little annoying. He actually went to talk to you, traitorous hand. ‘Just talk to her and apologize!’ Thing had the guts to demand that of Wednesday.

“Do you want me to apologize for putting people in danger or for keeping them out of it, make up your mind,” Wednesday was losing her patience with him with every word he said.

‘You miss Y/N!’ he claimed, as if he could understand how she felt.

“Don’t get involved with this, Thing. I won’t warn you again,” she seethed, already feeling the turmoil in her heart due to his bold, albeit true, claim. She did miss having you around, even more so now that she knew what the monster was.

It was ridiculous, how she wanted to share her information with you, yet wanted to keep you as far from the case as possible in order to keep you safe. It was a paradox of sorts. “I have more important business to attend to,” she stopped paying attention to Thing’s persistent attempts to get her to talk to you. She wouldn’t. You made it clear you were angry at her.

You made it clear you didn’t want to see her.

And if this would keep you alive, then this was the best option.

For you, at the very least.

And for Wednesday as well, after all, she’d rather know you were alive and well, than carry the guilt of your death on her consciousness.

~X~

Despite an unwanted interaction with Xavier things were going as planned and Thing opened the safe holding the diary.

Wednesday took it and then a pocket watch caught her eye. “Was that Faulkner’s?” she asked, assuming it was, but somehow she still felt the need to ask.

“Hmm? No, I think it was some raiju’s from way before Faulkner. Faulkner believed it would keep the school safe or something,” Fester told her.

Wednesday frowned, again with a raiju. Knowing her luck it probably belonged to Diego, Goody’s raiju, and she wanted nothing to do with it. But her fingers still brushed against it and her head snapped back.

When Wednesday opened her eyes, she was in the middle of a burning field, Diego, Goody’s raiju, was in his beast form, staring down Crackstone.

“Cursed beast, I shall vanquish you where you stand!” Crackstone yelled, sending torrents of fire toward the blue wolf, yet the raiju remained still, countering the flames with his lightning. It looked like Crackstone was trying to restrain him, but whenever he managed to do it, Diego would simply turn into lightning and move.

Seeing the exhaustion on Crackstone’s face, Wednesday realized they’ve been fighting for a while and the pilgrim was at his limit. And Diego knew that too, as he shifted back into his human form, not a single wound on his body, though it was littered with old scars. “You’re wrong Joseph. I’ll vanquish you, I shall end Goody’s quest for vengeance tonight,” he raised his hand, gathering lightning around it to end the man’s life in one attack. “Your ambush was a mistake.”

His eyes were yellow, and Wednesday thought she figured out how it worked. Red eyes turned to orange when shifting, orange turned to yellow, and yellow to blue, indicating increased heat of lightning that came with shifting into the beast form. The stronger the raiju, the hotter the lightning, she supposed.

But then Crackstone began laughing. “You are a beast cursed by arrogance, be judged by God, my own and your own!”

Diego looked puzzled for a moment, but then a figure appeared behind him. Wearing a battle armor similar to that of a samurai and wearing a cloak to cover the head, the most striking feature of the figure were completely blue eyes and Wednesday recognized them. Those were the same eyes she saw in her vision.

Lightning burst from the figure, forcing Diego to jump to the side and shift, at the very least he was doing much better than you did, as he immediately countered. He fired bolts of lightning from his mouth, destroying the ground around the hooded figure, man, Wednesday guessed judging by the size and shape of Diego’s enemy.

Yet the man merely raised his hand, halting the advances of Diego’s lightning bolts with his own lightning. Was he a raiju too? With his eyes already blue despite not being in the beast form? By Wednesday’s logic it would mean he was stronger than Diego, and from the looks of it that was the case.

Diego landed on the ground and paused, waiting for the man’s attack. It never came, the man was simply content with observing him. Diego’s howl mixed with the sound of thunder as massive amounts of electricity began surrounding him. His body began turning entirely into lightning and he rushed the man, hitting him right in the chest and lifting him off the ground. Diego’s attack was brutal, zapping and slamming into the man from different angles repeatedly and gaining speed and power with every attack.

To finish it, he fired three more lightning bolts from his mouth and landed back on the ground.

Wednesday watched in awe as lightning danced around Diego, following his every whim, and responding to his will. Not a single spark was wasted, he was in complete control, and Wednesday wondered how it would look like when you achieved this kind of control.

The other raiju got up, the cloak covering his head was gone, revealing that it was, in fact, a man. He looked like he was around forty, with blue hair that spiked up as if constantly pushed up by lightning. His smirk revealed sharp teeth, and an angry, almost animalistic look on his face made the sight of him chilling to most people.

The beast and the man clashed, lightning bursting around both of them, destroying and reshaping the field. They rose up to the skies, clashing so fast Wednesday barely managed to keep up with them. She could see Diego biting down on the man’s forearm, yet his teeth didn’t pierce the man’s skin, instead the attack only left Diego open for a lightning strike right to the mouth and the blood coming from it made it clear Diego’s throat got severely damaged.

Yet, Goody’s raiju didn’t stop. He backed away, charging up lightning and forming a spear out of it to send straight at the man. Judging by the intensity of lightning Diego gathered, Wednesday guessed it was one of his stronger abilities, yet the man just caught and crushed the spear in his bare hands.

The man created a tornado of lightning around him and Diego, trapping them both, yet he didn’t seem worried in the slightest as the tornado closed in on them and exploded in a burst of lightning and sparks. That display, done by simply clapping his hands together, was more powerful than anything Wednesday saw you, your father or Diego do, and it left a massive crater on the ground and Diego severely injured and covered in blood. The man didn’t take any damage from his own attack.

Despite taking all those hits, and his own attack, the man just brushed the dirt and dust off his armor, as if asking Diego if that was all he could do. Diego, defiant to his likely end, got back up, much to the man’s clear amusement. The man disappeared, he didn’t even zap like you did, he just vanished and appeared in a burst of lightning next to Diego. His fist, engulfed by lightning, just barely missed Diego, but then an arc of lightning came as a follow-up to the uppercut, catching and wounding Diego.

The wolf howled in pain, whimpering as lightning, probably for the first time in his life, left him paralyzed. What followed was an effortless toying with the wolf raiju, slamming him into the ground, just slightly shifting to the side to dodge the counterattack, and then hitting Diego with another lightning until Goody’s raiju shifted back into his human form.

He didn’t look hurt, and that made Wednesday think the injuries to one form didn’t transfer to the other. The pain probably did, as Diego fell back, writhing on the ground from the aftereffects of lightning strikes he endured.

“Without beast,” Diego gasped, barely able to sit up and though he didn’t finish his sentence Wednesday understood what he meant. The enemy had defeated him without even using the beast form raiju had.

“Beast?” for the first time the raiju spoke. He laughed, throwing his head back and covering his eyes. “You have grown arrogant, my beast!” lightning crackled in the man’s hand. Wednesday didn’t understand what he meant but seeing Diego’s eyes fill with terror she realized Goody’s raiju finally understood something.

“Raijin,” he hung his head low, accepting the defeat and imminent death as lightning struck him. His enemy disappeared in a flash of lightning, and Wednesday watched as Diego’s eyes, blue, not from being a raiju, but from the amount of lightning that struck him, clung to life.

“Diego!” that was Goody’s voice, she made it to the battlefield only to grasp her raiju’s hand as he breathed his last breath.

Wednesday gasped, her vision was over, and she realized Fester and Thing were next to her. Thing stuttered as he asked her if she was okay.

“What happened? You were unconscious for fifteen minutes! Morticia’s visions never lasted that long!” her uncle was equally worried.

“I’m fine,” she said, despising how shaky her voice was, even if most people wouldn’t notice it. She finally knew what attacked you, and considering how easily Diego was defeated it was a miracle that you didn’t get killed at the mayor’s office. But there was no mistaking it. Those blue eyes were the same blue eyes she saw when she touched you that night. And it didn’t make any sense. How was the same person alive over four hundred years later? Or was the power passed down in that form? She didn’t understand it, and she needed to because if that was after you now, she’d need all the information she could get her hands on to make sure you survived.

~X~

“These are some sweet digs. How’d you swing your own single? And where’s the raiju kid?” Fester asked as he looked outside the window of her room.

“My former roommates couldn’t handle my toxic personality,” she refused to answer questions related to you. As she flipped through the pages she was looking for two things, the Hyde and, as much as she wouldn’t admit it, raiju. The Hyde was the first one she found and she showed it to Fester. “Here it is. Faulkner describes Hydes as artists by nature but equally vindictive in temperament. Born of mutation, the Hyde lays dormant until unleashed by a traumatic event or unlocked through chemical inducement or hypnosis. This act causes the Hyde to develop an immediate bond with its liberator, who the creature now sees as its master. It becomes the willing instrument of whatever nefarious agenda this new master might propose.”

“Anyone willing to unlock a Hyde is a next-level sicko,” Fester commented, but that wasn’t important to Wednesday, no, another information was much more crucial to her investigation.

“That means I’m not looking for one killer, but two. The monster and its master,” the knocking on her door made her put the diary away before anyone, likely Thornhill, could see it. And it was Thornhill, luckily, Fester managed to hide in time.

Thornhill sighed as Wednesday approached her. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I was just working on my novel,” she easily lied to cover up what she was actually doing.

“Enid has requested to room with Yoko for the rest of the school year,” Thornhill’s words made Wednesday feel like someone was stabbing her in the back with a serrated knife.

“She did?” she tried to keep her voice neutral, as if she was already expecting this. Somehow, the reality of Enid leaving only now became something she fully understood. Because up until now  Enid’s departure, as well as your own, felt temporary, as if it would end when Enid and you decided you had enough.

“When there’s a falling out, I like to get both girls’ perspectives on what happened, you two seemed as thick as thieves,” Thornhill continued, clearly expecting an answer from Wednesday.

Wednesday turned away and took a few steps to distance herself from Thornhill. “Ultimately, thieves turn on each other. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

“Deflect all you want, but you and I both know that you care about Enid. And you have to admit she managed to bring out a spark of warmth in you,” well, Wednesday found that to be rather offensive. “Oh, don’t worry,” Thornhill raised her hand slightly. “Just a tiny spark.”

Wednesday crossed her arms at that, though she remained silent.

“Barely perceptible to the average eye, but I noticed. Part of the dorm experience is making friends with people that you wouldn’t normally connect with. And those friendships often turn into lifelong bonds,” Thornhill was trying to get her to fix things with Enid, but she wasn’t saying a word about you.

Wednesday didn’t need any more of those lifelong bonds, the one her mother claimed she had with you was already enough of a torture, even for her. “I would rather buy a rope.”

“Is it really so difficult for you to admit that you made a friend, and now that she’s gone you might actually miss her?” Thornhill asked, consistently focusing only on Wednesday’s relationship with Enid. Perhaps starting off on the wrong foot with you really did make Thornhill see you as only a lightning beast that could lose control.

“I’ll survive alone, I always have,” Wednesday refused to comply, if Enid made her choice, then so be it.

“Well, if that’s your decision, I’ll submit the forms to Principal Weems,” she seemed disappointed, she even shook her head slightly before turning to leave.

“What about Y/N?” Wednesday asked before she could stop herself.

Thornhill turned around, sighing heavily. “She can’t room anywhere else, so whether Principal Weems forces her to come back, or she willingly comes back here, there’s no other room for her. I managed to keep her absence hidden from Principal Weems, but I suggest the two of you find a solution before other people find out. Acting this recklessly could cause Y/N to shift, and even if she doesn’t, taking this additional risk alone might be enough to get her expelled.”

Wednesday swallowed the lump in her throat as Thornhill left. You were aware of the potential consequences, and dangers of your choice, yet you still made them. Wednesday wouldn’t get involved.

“Raiju kid will be fine,” Fester came up to her with a grin on his face. “If she’s anything like her dad she’s resilient and as adamant on staying in control as Elijah was at her age,” that brought some comfort to Wednesday, but she refused to address him when it came to you.

Once left alone, Wednesday went back to the diary and began flipping through the pages again. Aimlessly she began walking around, the diary in hand, until she sat down on the bed and moved to lie down. Your scent caught her attention and she realized too late that she, once again, went to your bed instead of her own. It wouldn’t hurt to spend the night there again.

So, she continued flipping the pages until she found what she was looking for. Faulkner’s notes on raiju.

The images revealed various beasts, with varying amount of lightning coming from them. Faulkner noted the solitary nature of raiju, their struggle with water, the docile behavior unless there was a storm going on. The beast form, was, in fact, something raiju had no control over, shifting into an animal closest to their nature. The beast form was driven mostly by instinct, unable to speak or fully comprehend human speech. He confirmed Wednesday’s theory on the eye color and the heat of the lightning, and she took note of the control indicator in the beast form. The less lightning came out of raiju’s body while they were in beast form the more in control they were. By the end of the text Wednesday thought she didn’t learn anything new, or significant, other than the level of control and the nature of the beast form, only for the biggest revelation to strike her right at the end.

‘Raiju aren’t natural outcast community, they were originally normies, punished by Raijin to turn into beasts during storms and forced to, during said storms, follow his command. As Raijin created more raiju some escaped, spreading around the world, and passing down the ability to transform.’

Wednesday closed the diary and left it next to your bed, her mind filled with thoughts of you, of your argument. As rain once again began falling she barely stopped herself from going out to get you.

A/N: Surely you didn’t think we’d have raiju without raijin being involved, right? Four chapters to go people!

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Revenant!Jazz thoughts Pt.2

Continuing from this post

This time, I’m thinking about Vlad and his reaction to all this. In the show he doesn’t particularly seem to care about Jazz in any way, probably because of his hyper focus on Danny and Maddie. I doubt he’s registered Jazz as a threat of any kind, much less to him.

If Danny winds up Bat-dopted, Jason or classic “Bruce stole another one” and the news catches wind of the new Wayne, Vlad would be livid. Danny is supposed to be his son afterall, doesn’t matter that it was Maddie who severely wounded her own son.

In the midst of Rogues dropping like flies, Jazz sets a trap for Vlad by baiting him with Danny. Her brother is never in danger, not with her around and certainly not with the bat family lurking nearby, but Vlad cannot help himself- he tries to kidnap Danny by overshadowing the adoptive parent. Jazz allows it to happen only until Vlad takes Danny out of the public eye, then straight up punches Vlad out of the person he’s overshadowing, sucking him up into a thermos she stole from the GIW and throwing it into an abyss.

Wouldn’t someone recognize Jazz then?

Beyond the walking dead look that came free with reanimating, Jazz walks, talks and looks completely different then she was in life. Memories shape us and without most of hers Jazz wouldn’t be quite the same anymore. Where she once walked with a relaxed gait and a calm demeanor, as a Revenant Jazz masters the murder strut, because that’s pretty much the only thought going through her head on a constant loop….Other than ‘make Danny Safe’ of course.

Who killed Jazz? (Asked by @someonebored0100 )

Originally I was thinking it would be either the Fenton parents in the GAV or the GIW, but then a delicious angst idea popped into my head….

Batman chasing down Joker led to him slamming into Jazz’s car, which resulted in her death and a new son for him to care for….

Batman says nothing when he brings in Danny, marks down Jazz’s death as a murder and does not go out as Batman again for a week.

Was Jazz autopsied?

Thee death rate in Gotham must be higher than any other city in the world, so the coroners embody (pun not intended) the phrase “overworked and underpaid”.

So no, she wasn’t autopsied, but they did make record of the punctured artery and removed the shrapnel by request of Batman for testing.

What happened after Jazz’s body disappeared from the Crematorium?

Bruce Wayne paid for the cremation personally, so it’s understandable the mortician would be Panicking at the very likely notion that someone stole a dead body paid to be cremated and sealed into an urn by Bruce Fucking Wayne.

If the mortician cremates an unclaimed body and slaps the wrong name on it, we’ll, add it to the list of morally questionable things he’s done as a mortician in a Gotham.

Thoughts about Jason’s reaction to a true Revenant?

Her veiny visage, with the broken sclera and eyes that seem to absorb light and give none back, horrifies Jason to the bone. Did he look like that when he dug himself out of his grave? Did the Pits actually do him a favor? It makes him wanna puke just thinking about how accurate his zombie jokes could have been… then makes him swear to stop telling those same jokes because clearly he’s no longer one of the walking dead if he looks better than this dead woman who looks just… horrifying.

Though once Jazz kills the Joker in the same way the clown killed Jason, he seeks out the Revenant and after doing some digging… swears to do whatever he can for her.

If this is Dad!Jason, then he’s very upset for Danny and Jazz’s tragic history.

No hardcover pairing this time?

Maybe? Doubtful, but it could happen. I don’t think it should though.

Does Jazz have a vigilante persona in this one?

Hmm, not exactly. She’s not tying to hide anything, definitely not her less than living appearance. She wears boots, a canvas jacket, jeans and gun holsters with hair that looks like a drunk toddler attacked it with dull scissors.

She doesn’t save anyone, not directly, but ending the rogues that killed so many earns her the name “Reaper” and it sticks.

What’s Danny’s reaction to all this?

We all know about the dark timeline that resulted from The Ultimate Enemy, Dan.

The Fenton parents are still hunting him down, Sam and Tucker are trying to move to Gotham, he’s been adopted by a Kevlar-clad billionaire furry who acts like a himbo with way too much ease for it to be all an act. He’s got a home that’s not an active threat to his afterlife and the food is the farthest thing from radioactive.

(Alfred Pennyworth nearly had a heart attack at the mere thought of a child eating radioactive food and that a piece of toast on his plate was a punishment.)

But… Jazz is dead.

It’s true that they hadn’t had the best relationship for the last few years, especially after his accident, but Jazz had become his rock. Sam and Tucker were his best friends, but they had no real idea what it was like to grow up a Fenton. Sure they had some context clues (was the giant portal entrance with the on-button inside not a giant warning sign?), but Jazz had kept him alive even as a kid herself.

She worked herself to the bone to make sure he had food to eat, some hours to sleep at night, and a shoulder for him to put some of the burden on her as Phantom. In the end, she hurt their parents to get him out of the lab and away from them.

She had died trying to get him to safety.

He’d seen her car, the wreck, the blood, the still radioactive substance he called his blood… he sat in the driver’s seat and cried for his sister- he wanted Jazz to tease him and call him ‘little brother’ again.

Sure, he had Cass now and several brothers, but nothing could ever replace Jazz.

It’s the thought that Jazz would be upset with him that keeps Danny from turning by his grief into a ghostly wail, to wreck everything and everyone.

Then he meets the Reaper. And he knows.

“Little Brother.”

/////////////////////////

What about the ending for Jazz you talked about?

That’s gonna be in another post, this one was getting long enough as is.

[fkmarrycill]

One Shot: A Small Favor

Tommy Shelby x reader

630-ish words (635 in Google Docs, give or take some final edits in Tumblr 🤷🏽‍♀️)

🔞 For implied sex and foreplay

I'm slowly easing back into writing, and this scene was inspired by #16 on this list of smutty prompts. The idea just screamed Tommy to me. Thank you for reading! ❤️

She sets her lipstick on the dressing table and admires her efforts for tonight: hair twisted into a low chignon, lips an enticing shade of deep red, eyes lined for subtle drama. Her black, off-the-shoulder gown skims the dangerous curves of her body, and diamonds sparkle in her ears and on one of her wrists.

There's just one thing marring the sophisticated look she was going for: an angry, purplish bruise on her collarbone. She stares at it in the mirror. It's not large, maybe the size of her fingertip, but it's all she can see now.

He approaches from behind, resting his hands on her shoulders and kissing her neck. “Is something wrong, love?” He traces a finger on one of her ears before gently nipping her earlobe.

“You damn well know the answer to that, Tommy. Look at what you did! I told you, not tonight! Churchill could be there!”

“He loves the arts, as I'm told, and certainly will be in attendance at the opera. And, lucky for me, the only thing that he loves more than arts and this fine country is a bawdy story.” He winks at her reflection and kisses her on the top of her head. “This one tells itself quite clearly, with no need for a single word of elaboration, yeah?”

“You already planned to meet with him, didn't you?”

“I may have offered to buy him a drink during intermission and meet my wife, yes… Did I not mention that?” He murmurs before sliding his hands up her ribcage, skimming her body just below her breasts, before cupping them in his hands over the fabric and grazing his fingers on her nipples.

She lets out a soft moan but quickly recovers. “No, Tommy, you most certainly did not.” She wriggles out of his grasp and heads to her closet, returning shortly to the mirror to arrange a floral-print scarf around her neck. But Tommy's handiwork from their earlier lovemaking refuses to be concealed, peeking out just below the edge of the artfully arranged silk.

She yanks the scarf from her neck and sighs in frustration before balling it up and throwing it at him.

“Oi,” he barks gently, as he often does when mildly scolding their children. He lets the scarf fall to the floor, grabs her hands, and pulls her close. “I won’t apologize for marking you up,” he says with a stern shake of his head. “Everyone should know you’re taken.” His gaze is intense, but there's still the softness of love to it, nothing like the unnerving, steely glare reserved for his enemies. “Everyone, including Churchill, should know you're mine, that Thomas Shelby, OBE, is a man who loves his wife passionately. He's no longer the fucking thug who dirtied his hands with whatever needed to be done, he's an MP who is uniquely capable of meeting the needs of his city, as much as those of his woman.” He adjusts the bowtie of his crisp tuxedo before whispering in her ear, “Now, if you forget about the mark and make polite conversation for a few short minutes, I'd be more than happy to fuck you in the car on the way home. I know you like that, love. I have very, very fond memories, as you do, to prove it. What do you say?”

She scoffs, but the flicker of desire in her eyes does not escape Tommy's notice. She might be a little embarrassed by the evidence of their time alone, but she never objects to feeling completely possessed by him.

“Fine. I'll play along.”

“That's my girl, he says, placing a hand on her lower back to usher her through the bedroom door. “Let's say goodbye to the children and go.”

[satforsatoru]

𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫

➪ 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐭. 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

ive been an academic victim on the weekdays and a party girl on the weekends but im back hopefully

The obnoxious ringing of a phone alarm cut through the layers of sleep, forcing you to wake. Without opening your eyes, you already knew something was off. It was a Saturday, so you didn’t have an alarm set, meaning that it was something else. 

The sinister thought caused you to bolt upright, searching for the source of the annoying noise. You didn’t find a phone, but something far more startling greeted your eyes. 

Splayed out on the other side of the bed, was none other than your co-worker and friend, Geto Suguru. He laid on his stomach, face hiding in his elbow and hair spread out around him. If you weren’t so horrified and confused about everything about this, you would’ve taken a moment to appreciate such a pretty sight. 

You slowly backed out of your bed, trying to piece together the moments before this, but all you could pull from the depths of your memory was going to a bar with Shoko and Utahime. A chill went up your spine and you hurried to check your state of dress. 

Completely clothed, you thought in relief, but you noticed that they certainly weren’t the ones you’d gone out in. What had happened last night? And most importantly, why wasn’t Suguru getting up when it was his phone that was blaring so loudly? 

“Suguru!” You hissed, pushing at his shoulder, a raging headache beginning to take hold of you. Between the hangover that was making itself known, the continuous alarm, and your current situation, you were expecting an awful morning. 

A low groan left him and you paused at the sound. Had his voice always been that deep? Shaking yourself as if to physically rid yourself of your thought process, you pushed at him again. “Wake up, Suguru, your alarm is ridiculous,” You grumbled.

The ravenette didn’t move and, for a moment, you feared that he still wouldn’t wake up until you saw his head move to the side and his eyes peek out from under his hair. “‘Mornin’,” He rasped, lips curving into a smile. 

You had to take a pause, struck by not only his soft smile and morning voice, but the way he was hugging one of your pillows like he belonged there, comfortable in your bed. “Your alarm…” You deflected, covering your face to orient yourself. 

You heard a soft chuckle, some rustling, and then the screaming phone was finally shut off. “What do you remember from last night?” Suguru spoke, sitting up. You shook your head and crossed your arms, still awkward, even in your room. 

“Nothing besides initially going out,” You sighed, still racking your brain. “You’re not going to ask what I’m doing here?” He grinned, running a hand through his hair. You shifted on your feet and shot him a look. 

“I assumed that would go without saying…” Suguru’s grin widened at your words and he cocked his head as if questioning you. “Really? You don’t remember calling me and practically demanding that I come to help you out since apparently your getting black-out drunk was my fault?” 

You could only blink owlishly at him, already mortified because you knew exactly what he was getting at. During work, one of your coworkers had been all over Suguru, although there was obviously something between you two, even if that something was unlabeled. 

When he hadn’t fended her off, but instead indulged in it, you felt jealousy burn hotly in your system, before that gave way to defeat. Shoko had reasoned that the only way to get rid of it was to go out and find your own ‘distraction’. Utahime had largely been against the idea, but she didn’t want to pass up on a fun night, so she opted for being designated driver.  But, clearly, if you ended up with Surguru in your bed with you unable to remember how it had happened, something had gone very wrong. 

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, not at all knowing how to respond to him and his piercing gaze. “At first, I assumed it was drunken ramblings… but it was hard to ignore when you told me that I should only ever flirt with you…” He continued, a teasing lilt to his voice. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you and make you come all the way over here, but-”

“But you were jealous?” Suguru finished, running a hand through his hair, not even trying to bite back his smirk. 

And just like that, the butterflies fluttering in your stomach turned to a lead weight that made you uncomfortable. At first it seemed like Suguru was teasing you, but now it felt as though he was just here to mock you and your feelings. 

“As I was saying,” You muttered, looking away, “I’m sorry you came all the way here, but I’m fine now and you don’t have to stay,” You finished, making your way to your bedroom door to open it. 

“Hey, wait, you’re trying to get rid of me already?” The ravenette called out, catching your wrist in his hand. You just avoided his gaze, not knowing exactly what he was getting at. “You don’t think I’d do this for just anyone do you?” He murmured, stepping closer to you.

“I’m just confused,” You sighed, risking a glance at him. A small smile pulled at his lips and his hand moved from your wrist to your hand. “I should’ve made it clearer, the way I feel about you,” He started, pressing his lips to the palm of your hand.

Your face burned, but you didn’t turn away from his gaze. “Well, how do you feel…?” You asked quietly. His smile widened and he drew you impossibly closer to him. “Knowing that I’ll see you every day, makes waking up in the morning so much easier for me. We’ve been dancing around each other for a while now, but… I want to define what we have. I want you to be mine,” He asserted, his hands snaking around your waist.

The flutters in your chest were back with a vengeance, but before you could let embarrassment take hold, you were grabbing Suguru by his collar. 

His sound of surprise was almost immediately muffled by your lips as you pulled him closer. Words weren’t your strong suit, but you knew there was no way for him to misinterpret your actions. With hardly any hesitation, the ravenette was sinking into the kiss and taking control of it, his arms tightening around you. 

All too soon, however, it was over and you were met with his fond smile. “Can we go back to bed? I think we both deserve it,” He grinned pulling you closer to him. 

And who were you to turn down being held by your new lover?

requests are open and reblogs are appreciated!

[mymoodwriting]

5.2k, android!Key, yandere, possessive behavior, alcohol consumption, drug use, police investigation, missing persons case, manipulation, loss of time, amnesia, delusions, adrenaline, rash behavior, kidnapping, needles, sedation, invasive technology, smut, fingering, breast play, penetration, vibrators, aphrodisiac, over stimulation, memory play, brainwashing, mind control (@starillusion13)

“Please, come back soon.”

Your eyes shot open and you took in a shaky breath. As you composed yourself you recognized your surroundings to be your room and the lack of sunlight let you know it was still night time. You reached over to your phone on the nightstand, checking the time. You groaned as you realized your alarm would go off in a minute and decided to just get up. Oddly enough you felt well rested, but this vague uneasiness was present. A dream you just had lingered in the back of your mind, but it was nothing but a blur that was fading away. There was no point in dwelling on a dream so you got ready for work.

What you should have been focusing on was your current case, and that’s what stayed at the forefront of your mind as you made your commute to the precinct. For the last week you had been investigating the disappearance of some individuals of interest. Unfortunately hundreds of people were reported missing everyday, but law enforcement rarely cared about those. Many were homeless junkies who probably just move to another city, or were later found dead of an overdose somewhere. Others were just average people who probably left without telling their loved ones. Or got mixed up with the wrong type of people. At least that was always one of the answers given to those who made a missing persons report. 

It was extremely heartless, but most officers had murder cases and high-end robberies to investigate. Except for this situation. You had been given a missing persons case, well, multiple in fact. These people weren’t your average blue collar worker or someone society cared little for, but someone whose disappearance was concerning. From the stack of files on your desk you actually recognized a few names. These types of people don’t just go missing, and there haven’t been ransom calls either. It seemed clear that someone was targeting the wealthy class, but that was the only real connection among all the victims. Many of these people never really crossed paths with one other. They all had different backgrounds, professions, and social circles. The only place these people could possibly co-exist together was at big events like a charity auction or gala. Which does nothing to help identify a suspect. You had very little to go off of but your boss was certainly pressuring you to find something since those related to the missing individuals of the case were pressuring him. You could only imagine the type of threats and incentives he was receiving.

As you walked into the precinct you greeted your coworkers, although a few gave you strange looks. You ignored them all, wanting to look over your case and see if you had any new leads, or new names to add to it. When you got to your desk you saw that it was a complete mess, likely someone going through your things, and clearly some files were missing. You wouldn’t be surprised to find out one of your coworkers wanted to solve this before you to get a promotion or some kind of extra reward. Some of the others had wanted this case, but it was given to you regardless of what your coworkers said. This was just childish behavior. For now you focused on tidying up and then hunting down your missing files. You started by going over the case data on your computer and getting rid of unnecessary things. Although before you got to the second part of that plan one of your friends came over, rather surprised to see you.

“There you are. About time you came back to work, how was your vacation?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been gone for two weeks. The boss said you suddenly asked for vacation time. He was super pissed but you were unreachable so he had to give your case to someone else. You’re gonna get an earful soon enough.”

“What vacation are you talking about? I was literally here yesterday and-”

You glanced down at your computer screen, finally noting the date displayed. It really was two weeks later, but those two weeks didn’t exist in your memory. You just went to bed last night and woke up in the future.

“Y/n! My office, now!”

“Looks like it’s time for that scolding. Good luck.”

Your friend scurried off and you made your way to the boss’ office. You shut the door behind you, feeling the heat in the air, he was certainly fuming.

“Sir, I-”

“I know you’re a hard worker y/n, which is why I gave you such a high profile case. So tell me why you ghosted me and took two weeks off! This case is time sensitive and extremely important! Do you have any idea what’s been going on!?”

“No. Not at all. I don’t remember what happened to me the last-”

“So you were out getting wasted?”

“No, I-”

“There are so many people with eyes on this case, important people. You think they were happy to find out the lead investigator went M.I.A and someone else had to start over with this!?”

“Sir, I’m also-”

“They want you dismissed.”

“What?”

“You abandoning such a case doesn’t sit well with anyone who was keeping up with it. They want you to turn in your badge and gun.”

“You’re joking, right? I have been missing for two weeks and you couldn’t care less! I never submitted a time off request and I have no memory of those two weeks!”

“What are you talking about? I have your request in the system, and I never even approved it!”

“Sir, please, just listen to me. You know me, I don’t drink, I don’t do drugs, but I’m missing time. When I woke up this morning I found out two weeks had passed, and I don’t know what’s going on. This could be related to the case.”

“How so?”

“Like you said, this is a high profile case, it’s not really a secret who’s working on it. I was out investigating last night, or two weeks ago, however you want to look at it. I was following a common route one of our victims was known to take. I was in an area filled with high profile people and then… then… everything’s a blur… I woke up this morning and that’s it.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m not entirely sure… maybe I was kidnapped and interrogated… either by the culprit or someone who wanted information on the case… then they wiped my memory and dropped me off at home…”

“Y/n, you know-”

“I know, I know, this is all speculation, but you know I’m telling the truth. I’m missing time, and surely my sudden disappearance disrupted the case. It’s probably what they wanted.”

“Y/n-”

“I can do a drug test. You know it’ll come back clean, and I can get a brain scan. Surely there would be some sort of evidence of my memories being messed with and-”

“Stop, y/n, just stop. Everything you’ve said so far sounds crazy, and nobody’s gonna care. Someone else has already taken the case, and you do need to be reprimanded for your actions.”

“I’m not crazy! Something happened to me and it could be crucial to the case!”

“You’re already off the case. Whatever you have, you need to hand over to detective Choi. Then we’ll see about a disciplinary hearing.”

“No!”

“No? This isn’t open for discussion.”

“I’m not crazy! Something happened to me and I went missing! But because I’m not some member of high society you all couldn’t care less!”

“You keep talking to me like that and there won’t be a disciplinary hearing!”

“I don’t need one! None of you seem to care about what happened here, so screw you! I quit!”

You slammed your gun and badge down, loudly storming out of the office. Everyone watched as you went to your desk and grabbed your things. Then your friend quickly came over to your side, stopping you.

“Woah, woah, hey,hey,  what happened!? Are you okay? I heard-”

“I’m done.”

“You don’t mean-”

“I do. I quit.”

“What!? Why!?”

“Cause no one listens to me.”

“About what? You just got back from your-”

“No, no I didn’t. I wasn’t on some two week getaway. I don’t remember anything from those last two weeks. The last thing I remember was investigating those disappearances and instead of concern I’m met with disappointment and disciplinary action. So screw everyone, I quit. I hope they find those missing rich kids.”

“Y/n, don’t you think this is rash? Look, just go apologize to the boss and-”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“What is it?”

“If I do go missing, add my case to the others. I’m sure there’ll be a connection.”

With that said you made your way out of the precinct, not looking back. The adrenaline of the moment kept you going until you made it back to your apartment. You screamed and threw your things once the door was closed, collapsing to the ground. Now you could look back and reflect on your actions, realizing how stupid and impulsive they were. You had no idea why you reacted that way. Everything that was said just pissed you off little by little until you snapped and quit. In the moment that felt so good, but now you were just so confused about your emotions and actions. It didn’t seem like you at all.

Once you calmed down you got up and went to shower, needing to clear your head and process. The sane thing to do was go back and apologize, but you couldn’t do that, at least not empty handed. You had to continue this investigation without any information or authority. Thankfully you still had some case files at your place along with your own notes to look over. Although you didn’t necessarily need them. You knew where you needed to go. Back to where your memories ended. You had to admit you were a bit nervous. The last time you went out you lost time, a lot of it. You didn’t know what happened to you, and you also had no idea why you returned. To go back now, there was a chance you wouldn’t return at all. Still, you needed answers, and this was your job, even if it was just a moral obligation now.

You cleaned around your apartment and organized all the information you had about the case, getting rid of anything that wasn’t important and leaving it in your spare room. It was starting to get late and you knew you had to get going. The area you had been to before was only alive when the sun went down. You grabbed your bag and headed out. There was a strange sense of familiarity as you walked the streets, passing the same places again and again, although it was strange remembering you had been here two weeks ago and not yesterday. Things felt different and the same all at once. You kept to yourself as you walked, mentally going over what you had done before, and then you stopped. Where you stood was as far as your memories went. You had no idea where you went next or what you did. So you were stuck. You looked around, trying to see if anything triggered a memory.

“If you’re looking for a good time, you can find it at the Pleasure Shop.”

A gentleman suddenly approached you and handed you a black card with a luxurious letter ‘P’ on it. You examined the card and looked at the gentleman, a strange sense of dejavu creeping into the back of your mind. There was something familiar about this whole interaction. The gentleman kept a smile on his face, gesturing to a building across the street. You looked over and when you looked back you were completely alone. The streets were empty and the night was quiet. Something told you to go to this Pleasure Shop, so you made your way there. The building was very dull, it didn’t stand out in any way and was probably constantly overlooked. Even the shop name above the door was small and blended with the plain wall. You looked for a handle but there wasn’t one. Instead there was a small scanner. It wasn’t big enough for a whole hand, and too small for a simple finger print, but you soon realized it was the perfect size for a business card, like the one you had just been given.

You placed the card against the scanner, hearing the machine do its thing before beeping twice. You could hear something unlock and then the door slid open. There was a dim light coming from the inside. It probably wasn’t a good idea to enter, but something compelled you to do so. You stepped through the door, cautious with every move you made. As you walked forward the door shut behind you. Before things got darker the place came to life. White lights came on, illuminating your surroundings and your path. On the other end of the room there was a bar and a bartender, as well as a small little couch and table off to the side. There was only one seat at the bar, which was certainly an odd choice. You took small steps forward and then came to a stop. The bartender was motionless, and now that you were closer you could see the wires and tech on them, they were an android, and not just that. They had the same face as the gentleman who had handed you the card for this place earlier. It was probably a business tactic but something certainly felt off here, along with a stronger sense of dejavu.

“Welcome back.”

The android suddenly speaking startled you, making you yell and take a step back. They still hadn’t moved though. Although those simple words made you question something.

“… back? Have I been here before?”

You got no response. It was likely the android was programmed to say that to all customers and it meant nothing but now you had to approach the bar if you wanted any more information. You did so quietly, and took the only seat available to you. The android merely took its hands off the table, letting them rest at their side, not a word spoken. You stared curiously for a moment then a realization came to mind. You held out the card you had been given and the android came to life.

They took the card and scanned it, their right eye glowing a soft blue. They placed the card down on their side of the bar and turned around to grab a glass from the wall behind them. You didn’t understand the design as there was no alcohol visible and all the glasses on the wall were empty. Still, you watched as the android placed an empty glass before you. Although it wasn’t empty for long. As they slid it across to you it seemed to magically fill from the bottom with a mercury colored liquid. Your eyes went wide, and then the memories came flooding in.

Two weeks ago you had been in the area looking around for leads when you had been approached by a gentleman offering you a card to the Pleasure Shop. It sounded like some club, and you figured it was a good place to go and ask about your missing persons. When you saw the building you definitely thought it was some high-end place that was meant to be on the down low. Especially when you realized the only way in was by scanning the card you had been given, meaning this place was invite only, definitely something the wealthy class would partake in. You went inside, finding a place with no business and feeling like you hit a dead end, but your detective side told you not everything was what it seemed. You walked to the bar, realizing the bartender was an android with a familiar face. Probably some marketing strategy and budget restraint. You took a seat, asking the bartender for a drink but they didn’t move, which you found odd. Then you thought to pull out the card and explain but the android soon came to life and took the card from you, scanning it. 

Now you were intrigued, moreso when you noticed the layout behind the bar. You were very confused about the empty glass handed to you until a liquid appeared on its own. You stared at it for a moment, looking at the bartender but they were motionless, not even looking your way. You figured you should at least enjoy the drink so you picked it up and held the glass to your lips. The drink had a lovely taste, and you had it all at once. Just as you put the glass down you began to feel dizzy. For a second you were worried and then a breathtaking euphoria took over all your senses. You felt so at ease, and so happy, all your worries completely washed away. You nearly fell out of your seat, but you vaguely noticed the bartender holding you up before taking you into their arms and carrying you elsewhere. In the moment you couldn’t put the pieces together, but you were absolutely on cloud nine. When you closed your eyes you found yourself somewhere completely different and beautiful, feeling as if you were living in a perfect world. There was no pain, or sadness, nothing but joy and endless wonder.

Time had no meaning, not that it mattered. You thought this could last forever, but eventually you laid down on the beautiful meadow. The soft grass becoming solid. You suddenly found it hard to move, your entire body feeling cold. The beautiful blue sky began to fade from your vision, replaced by a white light hanging above your head. You shook your head, reality starting to settle back in, and you were trying to properly snap out of this daze as soon as possible. You soon realized you were strapped down on a table, arms and legs restrained. You tried to free yourself to no avail. You took in your surroundings, noticing your things spread out on a table nearby, and some medical equipment around. This seemed to be some sort of lab. Then you heard a door open, seeing the android walk in with a tray.

“Who are you!? What do you think you’re doing!? Let me go!”

The android set the tray down on a cart nearby, bringing it over. You could see a needle and some tech but you had no idea what it was for. Either way, you were nervous.

“I am the keeper of exquisite beauty, but you may call me Key.”

“Who’s doing this!? Where is your owner!?”

“I move independently and follow my primary directive. May I ask, what is a detective such as yourself doing in the area? Law enforcement is rarely seen in these parts. Does it have to do with the missing persons case? Record shows you are the detective in charge.”

“I was investigating! This is kidnapping and obstruction of justice!”

“I’ve never had a detective here before, but I care more for your beauty than profession. You are an exquisite specimen indeed, although I understand your career can lead to problems.”

“Exactly! If you don’t let me right now you’ll have my entire precinct on you!”

“Which is why I have already taken care of such matters. No one will be looking for you for quite some time. That is enough for me to take care of matters pertaining to you.”

“… what?”

“I don’t usually let such a wonderful specimen leave my care but you are a special case. I must tie up loose ends and ensure you return to me.”

“… what are you talking about? What are you gonna do to me?”

“Nothing harmful. I take very good care of my things.”

“I’m not some thing! And I’m definitely not yours!”

Key grabbed the needle on the cart, filing it with some liquid before looking for a vein on your arm. You tried to struggle, but he seemed completely unbothered and managed to hold your arm still as he pushed the needle in. All you could do was watch the contents be emptied out into you.

“What is that!? What did you give me!?”

“A sedative.”

Key put the needle down, grabbing the other items off the tray. Now you could see what they were. It was similar in design to what he had, like a headset, but less complicated. He gently lifted your head and adjusted the device on you. It wrapped around the back of your head and stayed in place by hooking onto your ears, although a disc seemed to completely cover your left ear. You had kept up your struggles but now you had little to no strength. You heard this device on you come to life, feeling something slither into your left ear. You screamed and tried to shake it off you but Key grabbed your head holding you still. His right eye glowing once more.

“It is a momentary discomfort.”

You felt strange knowing something was crawling around the inside of your head, but you soon adjusted to the sensation, beginning to feel oddly calm. Perhaps the sedation was really taking hold.

“Good, now we may continue.”

Key’s hands moved down your body, and that’s when you realized you were in different clothes. It seemed to be a white hospital gown, although this one had buttons going down your right side. He began to undo them and open the gown, revealing your naked body. He took in the sight before him, seeming to enjoy the view as a satisfied smile appeared on his lips.

“Beautiful.”

You heard a click and then felt Key pushing your legs apart, having them hang off the side of the table. Now you were completely exposed to him. Key unlatched a part of the table and folded it down, allowing him better access to you. Soon enough you felt cold fingers running along your core, followed by a little shock to your clit. You jumped a bit, still held down by your restraints.

“An exquisite specimen indeed. My data shows this would be a first time for you, I am honored.”

“No… no I…”

“There’s no need to be shy. A profession like yours would not leave you with much time to socialize.”

You felt his fingers along your center once more, and then one effortlessly slid in, coated in some warm lube. It was a new sensation, especially when you felt his finger start vibrating. It was a low thrum but a pleasurable one nonetheless. His finger moved agonizingly slow, as if he was being delicate with you. Then a second finger was added, the same wonderful thrum sending ripples of joy across your body. With two fingers he managed to go deeper, finding your sweet spot and starting to tease that. One sensation was piled atop another and another. Despite being exposed, despite the coldness of the lab, you felt warm. A little bundle of heat forming down below, slowly growing and growing.

“I have something more for you.”

You barely registered Key’s words, more focused on the sudden empty feeling inside you. Although that didn’t last before you felt something bigger against your core. You glanced down just as you saw Key pushing in his cock. He was slow and attentive, not wanting to cause you pain. The stretch made you throw your head back in ecstasy, feeling something indescribable. This was your first, and he was so gentle. As he went in inch by inch, you began to feel a familiar thrum, letting out a desperate moan. You felt as if he would keep going forever, but eventually he came to a stop, letting you feel every bit of him and adjust before he started moving. Of course he had such patience to move slow and steady, nearly pulling out all the way before going right back in.

Vibrating fingers began to trail along your body, making you squirm and lightly pull on your restraints. You still didn’t have much strength to move, not that you’d want to get away from this. As his fingers reached your nipples you mewled, feeling the vibrations tickling something delicate inside you. He stayed there for a moment before one of his hands trailed up to your face, losing their vibration. He ran his thumb along your lips before pushing a finger into your mouth. A sweet taste coated it and you couldn’t help but suck on it like a lollipop. You were starting to feel dizzy as he swirled his finger around before pulling it out with a loud pop. That same finger trailed down your chest, leaving a cold trail of your saliva before getting down to your core and massaging your clit, that wonderful thrum returning.

By now Key was moving faster, the vibrations stronger. The heat was only getting bigger and bigger, meaning you were so close to the edge. Key was well aware of this, yet he unlocked the restraints on your arms and pulled you up closer to him. You could see his face through hazy vision, seeing that satisfied grin still present. He kept a steady rhythm regardless of his pace. That was the thing about sex androids. Their stamina was endless and if you let them, you’d be completely at their mercy. That’s exactly where you were, having completely forgotten just what kind of predicament you were in. By now your body lazily moved with his, wanting to get as much pleasure as you could. He kept an arm wrapped around your waist, the other down between your legs before moving it away and caressing your face.

“Cum.”

It was a command your body had no choice but to obey. You felt yourself fall over the edge, throwing your head back as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your entire body shook in his grasp, squeezing him tightly as he kept moving and the vibrations continued to shake your sensitive self. Not to mention the other sensations. You swear your vision went white, but it wasn’t for a moment. All the right things were firing off, overwhelming you with this euphoric feeling, but there was no coming down from it. The same sensation kept playing in your body over and over again for a good minute, as if you were going through one orgasm after another and another. It was a feedback loop of pleasure that left you with your mouth hanging open and drool dripping down onto your chest.

The feeling did eventually settle down and you found yourself resting your head against Key’s chest, breathing heavily and very overstimulated. He had stopped his movements, everything still, but he remained inside you. As you were coming down from your high Key grabbed your chin and lifted your head to meet his gaze. You couldn’t see clearly but a stupid smile decorated your lips. Now that you were getting back to yourself you began to remember the circumstances that brought you here. You tried to move away, but your strength wasn’t there, and the smallest move just sent tingles along your body, hitting you with just a fraction of what you had just experienced. It was hard to do anything, and once Key noticed you regaining your senses you felt a subtle thrumming between your legs. A shaky moan escaped you, still very sensitive after that experience. Yet, you had some sense of self.

“Wat… what are you… doing…?”

“Providing pleasure. You see when humans achieve orgasm, for that small little moment the mind is blank. No worries, no pain, just pleasure. The little device on your head is monitoring your brain waves with the intention of learning how to mimic that blissful state of mind. It managed to do so a moment ago. That seemingly endless orgasm as it kept those particular neurons in your brain firing. Of course it takes a bit to perfect, but we have plenty of time.”

“… you… you did this… to others… didn’t you…”

“My beautiful specimens need to be taken care of. My drinks are nothing compared to the bliss of a blank mind.”

“… why… how… how are you…”

“Like I said before, I’m the keeper of exquisite beauty. I don’t care for status.”

“… that means… others…”

“When I see a wonderful specimen I will have them. Although, when it comes to you, I need to do more. You have valuable information, and there’s something I need you to do for me.”

“… what…?”

You didn’t get a response as Key pressed his lips to yours. That sweet taste from before hitting your tongue and making your mind fuzzy. You were in too deep, and Key wasn’t going to let you get away.

You yelled and jumped out of your seat, stepping away from the bar. You were breathing heavily as the memories settled in, showing you the truth. You couldn’t believe it, you didn’t want to believe it, but every ounce of your being was telling this was real. This whole time Key had merely been watching you, silently. You knew you needed to leave this place, you needed to leave this place now.

“Sit.”

Key’s voice startled you out of your own thoughts. His eye was glowing again, and something inside you seemed to calm down. After a moment your body moved on its own, going back over to the bar and sitting down. You were terrified. Even if you remembered being in this place, remembered what Key had done to you, there were still gaps in your memory.

“Did you do as I asked?”

“… yes…”

Your lips moved on their own, and you had no idea what he was asking about, but you knew what the correct answer was.

“You quit your job?”

“Yes.” Your eyes went wide. “How-”

“And destroyed all the vital data from your case?”

“Yes.” You were starting to panic. “What does this-”

“No one will be able to track you here, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” Key pushed the drink closer to you. “Drink.”

Your mind was racing, yet your hand moved to grab the glass, lifting it off the table. You fought against your body, the adrenaline in your system filing you with panic.

“You… you… your responsible for all the missing-”

“They’re in good hands. As are you, now drink.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from placing the glass against your lips and tilting it up, opening your mouth to welcome the sweet liquid. As soon as the glass hit the table you felt dizzy, trying to fight against this feeling, but it was all too familiar, and comforting, and so wonderfully rewarding. A smile spread across your lips before you collapsed onto the bar table. Entering a blissful dream you wouldn’t wake up from again. Key watched on with a smile on his face. Another exquisite beauty for his collection.

[whumpwillow]

Demon's Haven 17

they are so so comfy

—  

masterlist

warnings: past torture, blood, whumpee wondering when caretaker will hurt him, self-worth issues

—  

“Just focus on getting better. Okay? That’s how you can help.”

Envy didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know when the witch would stop pretending to care about him. Even if she was willing to take in a random demon—an already foolish move for any witch or human alike—she couldn’t possibly be alright with the idea of taking care of a demon prince. He and his brothers had a…reputation.

He wondered when she would stop being nice to him. When it finally caught up to her that he was cruel and evil and beyond saving. That he wasn’t worth her time except to cause him pain and show him just how wrong he had been.

He knew that’s what he deserved, but he selfishly wanted to enjoy her kindness while it lasted, however long that was.

Haven helped Envy back onto the bed, which involved him not standing and instead flopping onto the mattress as if he were climbing into a boat and then floundering embarrassingly. He felt his cheeks grow hotter by the second. The witch guided him onto his back and he was grateful to relieve the pressure on his ribs. She put a hand on his head and lowered him until he was resting on a pillow, then picked up a few more off the floor. She smacked the pillows with her hand a few times to fluff them, then placed them on the bed as well, Envy sandwiched in the middle. He could hardly remember the feeling of such luxury, even when he had lived his whole life immersed in it up until the angel took him. It felt foreign to him now.

“Good night…Your Highness,” she said.

She added the title as an afterthought. He hadn’t heard it in years—his subjects had simply used “My Lord” and his brothers, well, nothing at all.

“Envy is fine.”

Haven smiled. “Good. I’m not even sure how to do a curtsy.”

He smiled at that, and for some reason, his fear dissipated. That was, until he realized he was lying in her bed and she was clearly not.

“Oh!” he exclaimed.

Envy threw the blankets off himself and was about to try another disastrous climb off the bed when Haven stopped him. She put a hand on his shoulder—the less bruised one—and gently pushed him down until he was once again nestled among the pillows.

“No, no, please, just stay there,” she said, a bit exasperated.

He looked up at her helplessly. “I can’t just take your bed from you.”

Haven crossed her arms over her chest and erected her most put-upon expression. “You can and you will. Now go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

It was all he could say before he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

 …

Envy woke not knowing where he was.

It wasn’t the cell. The cell was dark and cold, made of stone, and it certainly didn’t have a bed. It smelled of iron and copper and stinging silver, not the fresh and comforting scent of chamomile and lavender. Envy lie buried in soft sheets among various blankets and pillows—not the silken quality he’d been used to at his House, but which was still leagues better than waking up in chains with blood streaming down his back from the previous night’s whipping.

He wasn’t in his cell. He wasn’t back at his House. And he wasn’t in chains.

He processed this information for the few seconds it took him to remember what had happened last night and over the past few days. The memories resurfaced blurry in his mind, a haze of activity after so long spent in nothingness. He’d been summoned at the best possible moment and subsequently spent three fearful days and nights in a summoning circle before making a soulbond with a witch.

Haven.

She saved him. She could have sent him back—and really, it would have been the logical choice. Who in their right mind would make a soulbond with a demon just because he begged for it? The angel certainly hadn’t ever cared when he begged for anything, though it didn’t stop him from trying.

She’d cut herself. Spilled her own blood into his just to save him from his personal torment. Helped him stand. Supported him on that dreadful walk through the city where he felt he might collapse into nothing but a pile of bones at any moment. She’d taken him inside her home, tended to his wounds, cleaned him, comforted him…

And now he awoke in her bed.

Envy hiccupped. A sob rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down. He sat up and drew his knees to his chest—still wrapped in bandages. The place he awoke in was a mess, but it was a lived-in sort of chaos. Not one that he was familiar with. Sunlight streamed in through gauzy curtains half-drawn over dusty windows. Plants grew from a box just outside it, and more rested in pots on the sill. Some hung from baskets attached to the ceiling with thick rope tied into mesh holders. Books lined the shelves. Clothes littered the floor.

Haven, the witch herself, had curled up in a chair that resembled a giant nest. The cushion it held was just a circle set into a wooden frame, and Haven had surrounded herself in it with blankets made of patchwork cloth scraps of all different colors sewn together.

It wasn’t a dream. It took a few moments for this thought to settle in, for Envy to realize that he was really, truly, out. He was safe, if only for the moment. It felt strange to him after so long spent in darkness, wishing for some kind of reprieve, anything, anything. He almost couldn’t believe it was real.

Haven had been so kind to him. More than he deserved.

Then he remembered what he’d told her. His name—and all that came with it. His identity, his past, his wickedness. He remembered the fear on her face, the way she’d jumped from the bed and backed away, the way her eyes scanned the room as if to search for a weapon. He had no illusions that she wouldn’t hurt him if he gave her aim to, so he was determined not to give her any reason. He’d make himself as nonthreatening as possible. Take up as little space in her cluttered home. He’d live like a ghost, if that was her wish.

He sat, still and motionless, until Haven awoke. He didn’t want to disturb her accidentally, for he’d already caused enough problems already and didn’t want to test how far her patience could extend before it snapped. He wondered vaguely what it would take, how far he could push until she hurt him like the angel had. What he would need to do to be punished.

He swallowed the thought. It lingered inside him, thick and heady like molasses.

He held himself still, arms wrapped around his legs drawn up to his chest. Moving through the sheets made noise, however slight, and he didn’t want to wake the very person who had given up her own bed for him to sleep in. It wasn’t bad. The morning was rather pleasant. He was clean, and not in chains, and not in pain. He hadn’t slept in a proper bed in ages so he wasn’t used to the softness and spent a few minutes just admiring the sensation. He let his eyes close and tilted his head back, feeling the warm sun on his face, sighing.

“Envy?”

He jolted. The movement sent a pillow to the floor, causing him to wince. All at once, whatever peace he had managed to gain in the previous moment had fled him during this one.

Haven shifted in her nest-chair and let out a small groan. She reached her arms up above her head and stretched, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Envy waited patiently, unmoving. The witch squinted at her resting place, momentarily confused like she didn’t know how she’d gotten there.

Haven sat up in her nest chair, a variety of multicolored pillows falling to the floor around her. A blanket slid off her shoulders to pool around her hips. She still had on the same dress from yesterday.

“I—” Envy began in a weak voice.

“You’re awake.”

He nodded.

Haven stretched again, then glided out of the nest-chair amid a tumble of pillows and blankets. She padded over to the bed, and Envy willed himself not to flinch. All she did was pick up the fallen pillow and set it back at the head of the bed.

“Sorry…” Envy began.

Haven held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Did I wake you?” he asked tentatively.

Haven shook her head and smiled. She reached toward him and Envy ducked on instinct, thinking she was about to hit him, but she merely went to touch a bandage that had come loose at shoulder, but paused when she noticed his reaction. She gave him a sheepish look.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine.”

She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Envy eyed her movements warily. He set his hands down on the bed, but kept his legs pressed against his chest.

“How are you feeling?” Haven asked.

Envy opened his mouth to respond, then thought better of it. He needed to give her an answer, to not say anything would be rude, and even when he thought he could push her to hurt him, he didn’t want to, he just wanted an end to the pain. He was in so much pain.

It came back to him once he awoke, the effects of his wounds. The pleasurable feeling of being clean and sleeping on a soft mattress rather than a cold stone floor greatly lessened the effect, but the sensation was still there. The licks of the whip that cut into his back, burning fire in stripes down the skin that tore and rended the flesh. The holy water that had marked him, had turned his insides to molten gore. The weeping wounds, the dark bruises. The bone-deep exhaustion that still plagued him, no matter how much he slept.

“I—” Envy began.

He could tell her the truth. He was already pathetic enough as could be, falling all over the floor and weeping in her arms. But he could tell her he was alright, and save some face at least. It had nothing to do with him not wanting her to worry.

“I’m alright,” he lied.

“Hm,” Haven murmured.

Her eyes narrowed, like she didn’t believe him. Envy wondered when she’d gotten so good at reading him. He attributed it to his exhaustion—he was usually much better at this back in his own realm.

His old life.

Haven set a hand on the bed, an inch from his own. “You can tell me,” she said. “If you’re in pain. If you’re hurting. If you feel like you want to cry, or scream, or do whatever it is that would make you feel better.”

She looked up at him then, quick enough that it didn’t give him a single second to recover from her statement and he was caught in full view during the throes of his misery. His eyes had begun to well again with blasted tears and he cursed himself for it. He just couldn’t seem to stop.

Haven smiled gently. “I told you before. You needn’t soften your grief around me.”

A sob escaped him, one he had barely been holding back. Envy clenched his teeth, wishing it was enough to will some semblance of composure back into his expression, but the tears had already started pouring down his cheeks. Awful, wretched sounds came from deep within him, from a place he tried his hardest to bury.

“It hurts,” he whimpered.

Haven nodded, and drew him in close. Envy curled into her easily. She wrapped her arms around him, one hand on the bandages covering his back, and the other in his hair. She brought his head toward hers and their foreheads touched, and at once, all the thoughts in Envy’s mind that told him he was unworthy, were silent.

—

next

(taglist in reblogs)

[the---hermit]

what's a historical fact or event that you think is super cool and more people should know about and appreciate?

Hello anon! This got briefly lost in my drafts, sorry.

There's so many cool history facts, here you can find the masterlist of my random history fact series (I have not written new posts for this series in a while, but I will get back to them in the future). Some honorable mentions of weird/not talked about historical facts are:

The 1932 emu wars in Australia, in which you guessed it the birds won against the Australian government.

The fact that the Roman emperor Claudius tried to hide when we was about to be crowned because he thought the guards wanted to muder him. This emperor is really interesting because he has always been looked down on. He didn't fit the physical standars of his time and was highly criticized for that, he was old when he got power, but he is also responsable for allowing non-Romans into the senate.

The emperor Hadrian had a major mental/emotional breakdown when his lover Antinoo died. From then on he started dedicating to his lost lover cities, temples, a huge amount of statues, and if I am not wrong he also dedicated a constellation to him.

On the same not of Roman queer history the emperor (or empress) Eliogabalus was trans. She was amab but there's sorces that very clearly state she offered half of the empire to the doctor who could give her a female body.

Jesus wasn't born in the year 0, it's probable he was born around 4 B.C. This is one of the funniest historical fact I know, and very little people know about it. It's all because a monk messed up the calculations. Also the fact that Jesus existed as a human in more or less that time is the only certain thing we know as historans nothing else can be proved because of the lack of certain and unpartial sources.

The iust prime noctis is only one of the many myths we have surrounding the middle ages. It is the right of the landowner to have sex with a woman on the first night of her wedding, if you have seen the movie Braveheart you know what I am talking about. Anyway it's only a myth, and if you think about it it makes sense, do you honestly believe people would not have rebelled against it? The lack of records of such rebellions proves it's only a story.

Witch hunts aren't the highlight of Medieval times. Although there certainly were some witch trials during the middle ages the most violent and the majority of trials were during the Modern era. Violent trials are a thing especially for me late 1400s to the 1600s, although we have trials that go all the way into the 1700s, amd of course there were some during the middle ages.

On the topic of witches (which as you might know is very dear to me) did you know the Italian town of Triora is called the city of witches because of how heavy the trials were in 1587-1589, almost all women of the town were processed as witches.

Not really an historical fact but historical terms that aren't really spoken of are the time periods. They are only a practical tool that helps us difine the past so you have always to keep that in mind, but also we are not living the Modern era, we are living the Contemporary era. The Modern period is usually dated from 1492 (when Columbus found the American continent) to 1815 (when Napoleom was defeated). The Contemporary era starts from 1815 and goes on till today.

I could go on, and I could talk more of some of these topics, these were only the first few things that came to mind!

(Disclamer: I wrote this all thanks to my memory so there could be some details that aren't super precise, but if you find these topics interesting and look more into them you can find lots online)

[tsaritza-mika]

Random Character Thoughts - Julian

I see a lot about people recognizing that despite clearing up the whole murder thing and defeating the Devil, that Julian is still likely gonna have some battles with depression. Things suddenly going right, and having a great support network isn't going to change that, but it certainly does help. What I don't see is people wondering about the kind of PTSD that Julian's also going to have to deal with for a long time. I mean, just think about it for a second.

He was accused, and almost executed for supposedly murdering the person who held the highest position in Vesuvia. There were wanted posters everywhere with his face, his reputation would have been destroyed because who would want to hire the services of a doctor that had murdered his most important patient? We know that there's obviously a lot of love for him in the South End, but that's just a single part of the city. And with what he'd been accused of doing, you'd have to wonder how many favors and/or deals he or Mazelinka had to make to break him out of his cell and get him across the city to the docks without being caught.

Then he spent three years of his life having to constantly be aware of those around him, looking over his shoulder the whole time, because if the wrong person were to know of him, he could have been tossed either in some random ship’s brig, or a prison carriage to be shipped back to Vesuvia for whatever reward may have been offered for his recapture. Three years of never knowing if he could truly trust anyone’s motives, and hoping that he was far enough out of the reach of Vesuvia’s political influence to stay alive, and that they never learned of Portia, Mazelinka, or his adopted family back in Nevivon because all of it could be used against him. Three long years of nothing but the clothes on his back and whatever coin he could manage to get.

We see just a peek at all of this while going through his route, but none so clearly as when in the palace library. When he and MC are startled by the loud bird call outside the window, he literally panics. He’s tense as all shit, his breathing is labored where he was once calm, and he’s terrified that MC will be dragged away to face the gallows with him. He also reiterates these fears earlier when he’s out with MC, and when MC and Portia track him down at the Raven, and despite needing to get the kick to try figuring everything out, neither Portia or MC really know that he’s had to live keeping everyone at a careful distance for the last three years. Because if he didn’t it could mean losing everyone and everything he loves most in the world, and it literally would be all because of associating with him.

All of that topped off with the confusion and uncertainty of losing his memories, being forced to swallow a plague beetle and whether or not he even did commit murder, and then whatever lingering bitter feelings were leftover from his tryst of a relationship with Asra, and you’ve got a fucking mountain of issues to work on for at least the next few years at best. I think it’s very likely that all of it still causes him no shortage of nightmares, as well as the occasional panic attack if he gets to a point of being just too stressed.

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

As per the poll Tuesday, we've got Gremlinverse (delayed to noon because of errands I had to run) shenanigans: specifically Jak discovering disadvantages to his new size.

At first, Jak had enjoyed the Underground's reaction to his new stature. He was used to being underestimated, but when what seemed to be a ten year old kid blew up a deathbot, their reactions were so much funnier. They were nicer to him, too. Well, that might’ve been because they were patronizing him. That's what Daxter seemed to think. Tess, on the other hand, was sure that it was more about guilt.

Seeing their tank so much smaller and more vulnerable, she insisted, was a wakeup call. It meant they had to come to terms with the fact that they'd repeatedly endangered the very people the Underground had been supposed to protect.

Jak thought it was a nice sentiment, but unlikely. After all, Torn hadn't thought twice before giving up little Mar’s location to Praxis when he thought Ashelin's life was on the line.

Besides, he didn't need hollow contrition. "We're sorry" was easy to say, but meaningless if they were still treating him like a glorified errand boy.

They hadn’t sent him on any real missions since he'd come back from the Nest, but that may have been because Sig was watching them like a glinthawk, just waiting for one of them to cross a line. But that brought Jak to a new problem: the longer he hung around headquarters, the more they started treating him like an actual kid.

He had almost seventeen-

Okay, that wasn't true. He had twelve years of memories and experience. Just because his body was small and his emotions were big didn't mean he suddenly didn't understand anything! And it certainly did not mean he required assistance getting up onto taller objects!

The first time it happened involved Jak dangling from the Underground leader’s grip. He glared, looking like he wanted to rip Torn's hair out. Coincidentally, Torn also looked like he wanted to rip Torn’s hair out.

"What, so Mar and Daxter can sit on your nasty table, but I'm not allowed?" Jak challenged.

"First of all-" Torn closed his eyes and took a calming breath. "Mar is a toddler and he was getting underfoot. Daxter was a rat and you would've stabbed me if I'd thrown him off the table."

From the spartan bunks along the wall, Daxter snorted and looked up from trying to remember how shoelaces worked.

"Well, he got an accurate read on that, at least."

Jak folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. It was actually a very endearing expression, but Torn had been around him too long to be swayed by it.

"Well you're the one who made me work for you guys, and technically I wouldn't have shrunk if you hadn't betrayed us to Praxis, so if I climb on stuff you're just going to have to deal with it."

Torn lifted Jak a little higher with a frosty look. "Watch it, brat. You cause trouble on purpose and I might just put you in the Junior Freedom League to straighten you out."

Clearly, this was the wrong thing to say.

The next thing Daxter knew, Torn had dropped Jak with a high-pitched wheeze of pain. The former KG was doubled over and in clear distress, and Jak was on the table again. The former ottsel shook his head and went back to fighting with the boot laces.

"Brutal," he commented, "but not unprovoked."

The next time someone tried to pick him up without permission, it was Brutter.

Compared to Torn, Jak was far more forgiving with Brutter. Most likely because Brutter had treated him like an equal from the very beginning, and even now acted as though nothing had changed. So when Daxter brought Jak with him to do a little pro bono pest control on Brutter's fishing boat, the Lurker hadn't had any objections to letting Jak crawl through the vents with the plasma swatter. (Jak could tell why Daxter liked the swatter so much. It made a really fun splat when hitting metalbugs.)

He'd chased the pests from one end of the cabin to the other, filling his pockets with metalbug gems as he went. Under normal circumstances they would have been Daxter's pay, but Jak was the one crawling through the dusty vents. If Dax wanted them, he'd have to come take them.

Almost unrecognizable with dust and bits of metalbug exoskeleton, Jak had finally crawled out and bumped into Brutter's leg. As if on instinct, Brutter reached down without looking and scooped Jak up off the floor.

"Hey!" Jak yelped.

Brutter's eyes snapped down to the filthy kid he was holding under the arms, and he blinked twice before letting out a loud hoot of laughter.

"Brother Jak!" he laughed, setting him down, "You not little baby Babak! You big kid! I forgot we not home with tribe for a moment."

He took off his glasses and wiped them on his coat, then squinted at Jak again.

"Oh, Jak really is that dirty. Was not imagining baby Babak hair then."

Jak rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah. No charge for the extra vent cleaning as long as you don't tell Daxter about this."

"My lips are sealing, Brother Jak," said Brutter agreeably. He stepped back and obligingly did not cough when Jak sent up a cloud of dust and lint while brushing himself off.

"Many thanks for stopping to help with buggy pests! I am not wanting to drag you two away from hero business."

Jak flashed a genuine smile at Brutter. "Hey, we can always make room in the schedule for a brother. That's what a tribe is for, right?"

Brutter laughed again. "Ah! Brother Jak and Orangey Pal should have been born Babak. Already you have the heart of one."

Jak’s smile widened. "Really? Uh, th- thanks, Brutter."

Alright. The rest of Haven's current leadership could go kick rocks, but "Captain" Brutter was okay. He still went out of his way to make Jak feel accepted.

Daxter's voice echoed up the hall as he made his way in from the deck.

"Found the problem! One of these fish swallowed a metalbug egg."

He dragged the offending carp behind him, wrinkling his nose the whole way. Between thumb and forefinger he held the split fish carcass out towards Brutter.

"Ugh," he gagged, "Now I gotta sweep the whole harbor and make sure there's no submerged nests. That's disgusting."

He glanced up and blanched.

"Speaking of disgusting: Jak! What happened to you?!"

Jak didn't think he was that dirty.

Daxter did not agree.

And unfortunately, Daxter was now bigger than Jak.

When they got back to the newly christened Naughty Ottsel and Daxter threatened "tub or dish pit sink", Jak remembered that being the smaller one came with some distinct disadvantages.

And that this was most likely karma coming back to bite him for all the times he'd (literally) dragged Daxter into his reckless exploration.

"Dax-" Jak ducked and slid behind a table. "Look, I'll just rinse off in the bay. It's fine."

"Fine?!" Daxter sputtered, "You're a walking health code violation! Hey-! Get your metalbug guts-coated hands off my tables! I have to sanitize those now!"

Tess watched with some amusement from behind the bar. "Hon, you're gonna need a real bath eventually. You have the kind of hair that requires regular maintenance if you don't want it to break."

Sitting on the counter, Mar waved a pudgy hand in front of his face. "Jak stinky," he agreed.

"Traitor!" Jak hissed from under the table.

That was all the distraction Daxter needed. The gangly teen stooped down and seized Jak by the ankle. What commenced was a skirmish that rivaled the fights Krew used to host in the Hip-hog's boxing ring. Chairs were knocked over, paintings fell from walls, and at least one table was overturned.

Mar watched with interest as Jak dodged and squirmed and overall did an excellent impression of a fluid. When the insults started getting particularly creative, Tess sighed and leaned forward to cover Mar's ears.

Several patrons entered, only to take one look at the two boys tussling amid upended chairs and immediately back out again.

"Sig!" Daxter hollered at the next person to enter the bar, "Sig, gimme a hand before he contaminates the whole establishment!"

Jak slid out of Daxter's grip and made for the door. "Don't you dare, Sig!"

Concerned, the Wastelander shut the door and turned to Tess for an explanation.

"It's Wash Day," she said with a shrug.

"Ah." Sig narrowed his eye. "What kind of product you got?"

"Um...I've got a hydrating brand from uptown," Tess answered, "And I have a little bit of that hair mask you use, but there's not much left."

"That's not bad." He snorted. "I thought you were gonna say bar soap with the way he's flippin' out."

Sig set down his Peacemaker and waded into the fray. He caught Jak by the back of the shirt and hefted him up under one arm like the world's angriest suitcase. Before Daxter had time to thank him, he'd been hoisted up by the scruff of the neck.

"Well cherry, if your plan was to take Daxter down with you, you've certainly managed," Sig said dryly. "Now you both need a wash."

Tess pushed off the counter. "I'm gonna go run a bubble bath. It'll do you good."

"No!" Jak kicked and squirmed, but Sig’s grip held firm. "I'm not a little kid! Nobody is bathing me! Besides, they're just gonna send me out to crawl through sewers again or something anyway. What's the point?!"

When he looked up, Sig was scowling.

"They better not send you back out today," Sig threatened. "I got some Wastelander friends coming by to make sure you and Mar are okay. If you aren't there when they turn up, they're liable to turn the city upside down looking for you."

Jak stopped squirming. "Huh?" He wrinkled his nose. "Why me? What do they want me to do?"

Sig took the moment of peace to hurry up the stairs behind the bar to Tess’s apartment. Gooseberry scented soap already drifted in occasional bubbles from the tiny bathroom.

"Well, most likely they're gonna want you to go home with them." Sig glanced down at Jak and prayed the spitfire would take it well. "It's where Mar was born. We were thinking you could stay for a while, y'know? There's room for you both."

Tess poked her head out of the bathroom. "Hey, sorry, but we've got kind of a bubble apocalypse in here. Mar got a little excited with the soap bottle."

Mar was not the slightest bit sorry.

With a snort, Sig finally set the boys down. "You see the state of these two? What can it hurt?"

Tess grimaced. "Yeah...you guys leave your clothes in my shower before you get in the tub, okay? I'll put out something clean you can change into."

Daxter nudged Jak. "You first, squirt."

Jak leveled a chilling glare at him. "Just so you know, I am going to use up all the hot water."

"This is why we use hot springs baths in Spargus," Sig sighed. "We don't have to bother with who gets the hot water. Jak, rinse your hair real good and when you get out I'll show you how to wash it without drying it out."

"Uh...it's supposed to dry out?" Jak raised an eyebrow at Sig. "That's what happens after you get out of water?"

Sig drew a hand down his face and groaned something that sounded like "Damas owes me for this", but they couldn’t be sure.

[aarcanegrimm]

16. The Dragon Valkyrie

Masterlist

A new point of view, a meeting filled with tension. Ella is mad that Julius didn’t warn them if a potential trap and makes it known.

Warnings: none

Fuegoleon prided himself on his keen eye and aptitude for figuring things out. Nozel was equally as sharp as he, though in the last few years he had watched as his rival had crumbled the same way his now wife had after the youngest Silva vanished. The difference was Cordelia healed, worried still, had nightmares sometimes too but she had healed and it was quite obvious that none of the Silva’s had.

He shook his head as he looked between the knights sitting battered and bruised before them- four Black Bulls, two Golden Dawn and two Crimson Lion’s.

From what he could tell from Julius’ expression he had in fact called them into this Captain’s meeting- most likely to discuss their mission to the dungeon. Something had clearly happened.

His own two knights were shaking, teens who had clearly seen something unexpected for their first mission and he felt horrible while (though shaky) Mimosa and the other Golden Dawn knight looked as composed as possible – good on them he supposed. It was the Black Bull’s however, who pulled his attention, the shorter boy seemed to have stars in his eyes as he loudly introduced himself- the magicless one from the exam some weeks ago- the taller as meek and powerful as he had been then too… and the cheery berserker always sent a chill down his spine.

The girl caught his eye, besides Yami standing beside her seemingly glaring at the cut along her forehead as though it would vanish under the stare and the way her fist clenched at her side- the other held in a sling (apparently she had dislocated her right shoulder) he recognised her. He remembers her from the exams as well… stood beside Yami’s chair, watching the crowd below with eyes that seemed far older than herself. He wanted to chuckle at the memory of how he had whipped back around when he saw her first- her hair a coppery colour and eyes a somehow familiar dark pink in the dim lighting.

“Should they not be in the infirmary still?” Fuegoleon heard Charlotte question even as his mind still wandered, the soft snores of Dorothy at his side didn’t help the lost thoughts.

Had the girl’s pinkish eyes been more purple one would think with the muddy copper hair she’d sported she was a Vermillion bastard- what a funny thought. Now her hair was a plain brown, dull just like those far too old eyes as she stared down Julius.

“It was a trap.” She declared. “Had Alder not been with us… had Luck and I not been there to sense the traps we’d still be stuck.”

What was her name… Who is Alder?

“Alder was there!” Julius exclaimed, eyes gleaming. “I-I mean are you certain? Dungeons are filled with traps already.”

Who the Hel is Alder?

“Yami taught me the difference between manmade traps and naturally formed ones in my first week of training with him Julius.” She replied- the wizard king seemed to… lean back in acceptance? She was a child she cannot talk to him that way.

“Mind your tongue girl.” Poizot said for him- the girl only levelled him a glare that could rival Meroleona’s… perhaps she is a secret Vermillion after all… he needs to talk with his sister. Fuegoleon shook his head again, clearing his thoughts as he watched everything unfold.

“I will mind nothing- he sent us on this mission knowing something would go wrong and had any of us died instead of being stood in front of you I would let Alder have him- Oak too.” She growled.

“Yami seems to have rubbed off on you Ella keke.” Jack snickered as he looked towards the angered teen.

Ella. That’s her name is it? And for the love of gods who is Alder… who is Oak?

Nozel seemed to flinch slightly as he finally looked up from the table to see the group of knights.

“Had I not been there Mimosa would certainly be missing an arm and both Dorien and Nikolas would. be. dead.”

His eyes snapped to his young cousin’s left arm covered in gauze- how had he missed that when she walked in.

“I did my fair share of-” the Golden Dawn knight started.

“You did your fair share of nothing Klaus besides yap about your superiority of being a nobleman until Asta saved your ass while we were fighting those… those rogues.” Ella was on a roll apparently as she turned her glare towards William instead of Klaus. “I would have thought you’d teach your knights differently Captain Vangeance.”

“I apologise and will correct such chatter amongst my knights.”

“Have more commoners in your squads.” The tall black-haired bull said. “I know I could have chosen any one of your squads… but because of attitude like that I’m glad I didn’t.”

Unfortunately he had a point.

“I…” Klaus looked apologetic and Mimosa extremely uncomfortable- her eyes darting towards Fuegoleon with a grimace.

“Mimosa is this true? Your arm?” The Crimson Lion Captain questioned his shy young cousin. She nodded.

“I was grabbed by… by one of the men in the dungeon. He- he tried to…” Mimosa’s voice shook and before Fuegoleon could even move Ella had pulled her in for a tight hug, talking softly.

“Shh Mimosa it’s okay.”

Fuegoleon had made strides across the room until he was kneeling before her.

“What happened Mimosa?” He asked gently.

“His hands were on me.” Her lip shook. “But I fought him off- kicked him and used my plant magic after the surprise wore off and then… he had fire magic- grabbed my arm again and… it burnt really bad- I healed most of it.”

“Then Ella sent this giant water dragon at the bastard!” Asta announced, with a grin aimed at Mimosa. She smiled back clearly relieved he took over (and with a blush- not that he noticed… keen eye Logi’s ass). “I thought it was Alder at first before I realised he was still behind Yuno and I with Dorien and Nikolas- then he shot off towards Yami… Ella got a new spell Captain and I got a new sword- how cool!”

All eyes looked to the pink eyed girl who just shrugged and stepped away from the Vermillion’s back to Yami’s side.

“I do apologise for sending you… I did know something would happen but I did not know what.” All of the Captain’s turned at that. “I apologise Ella, Asta, Yuno, Klaus, Luck, Mimosa, Nikolas and Dorien please expect an increase pay for your next month of missions- I would pay for your medical but as Magic Knights at your age they are free.”

“I accept that.” Nikolas said, rubbing at their forehead where a large bruise lay. Dorien’s hand moving to tap his chin. “Dorien says thank you as well.”

Fuegoleon only placed a hand on Mimosa’s shoulder, gentle enough to be a comfort before he turned to fully face Ella.

“Thank you Ella- I’m glad all of you are safe but as Mimosa is my cousin I must thank you properly.”

“It’s fine.” She said all too quickly, eyes darting away- those familiar pinkish eyes (again Logi’s ass)- avoiding eye contact at all costs. “I’m just glad we all made it out in one piece.”

“I think we’ll be upping your training now.” Yami grumbled to the girl.

Then it hit… Yami was training her- a stray memory from a few years ago where Yami was grumbling about some ‘brat’ bugging him and yet living at the base.

~~*~~*~~*~~

The Captain’s had been out, drinking and relaxing away from their hectic squads while Yami and Jack prepped a round of cards for them all- Charlotte and Dorothy not joining in favour of *girl time*.

“She’s a pain in my ass.” Yami muttered to Jack beside him, Fuegoleon on the slashing captain’s other side listening with little interest.

“Keke, kick her out then.”

“Lyra would kill me and then Morgen would help her.” Yami slurred. “Brat wants me to train her even though she’s like… eleven now? Been living with us for a year already”

“Who would want you to train them?” Nozel cut from across the table, on one of those rare, good days. “Some wild creature?”

“I’d call her that.” Yami snorted, throwing back a pint of beer- calling for another soon after.

“Oh that young girl who was with you outside of the Captain’s meeting the other week?” William asked- and Fuegoleon couldn’t deny it now, he was intrigued in the conversation even as he sipped slowly on his wine. “Ella was it? Very shy girl- but training for what?”

“She wants to join the Bulls- I use a sword, she’s pretty decent with one and has a great sword and knife set that looks more expensive than our wages- and wants me to help her use her sword as a conduit or some shit. She’s stubborn I’ll give her that.”

“Says the man who bought her a book on sword fighting techniques Keke- and those weights I told you about.”

“Sounds like she’s got you hook line and sinker Yami.” William laughed. “Why gift her anything at all if you don’t like her a little bit?”

“It was her birthday- that day I took her to the capital.” Fuegoleon turned his head at the serious tone in the Black Bull’s Captain’s voice.

“And?” Poizot questioned.

“Not my story to tell- just that she’s had a rough life for only being eleven.”

~~*~~*~~*~~

He can see why Yami finally agreed to train her. She clearly had a stubborn streak- and the amount of mana Fuegoleon could feel on her from that day at the exams and now… he gets it, she’s powerful, she needs the training- the question is why did she choose Yami?

~~*~~*~~*~~

Ella didn’t like the way Fuegoleon watched her, like there was something he was figuring out… and by the gods she hoped he wasn’t figuring anything out. She was already mad that Mimosa could have seen the colour drain from her hair in the dungeon let alone if the Crimson Lion Captain could recognise her.

It was Nozel though that she was more worried about.

He was so, so fucking close and she wanted to leave, to run away again. She clenched her good fist again, angry- she was so mad at Julius for sending them in even though she knows it couldn’t have been his fault that it was a trap… but he knew something was going to go wrong… she was mad at how dishevelled and broken Nozel looked, like her disappearance had actually hurt him- had brought him to the end of the world but he had broken her so much in her last life.

A phantom itch in her wrist grounded her as she kept her eyes on the Wizard King- don’t look at Nozel, no matter what do not look.

Ella let out a sharp breath through her nose, like when the Dragons huffed out steam, it was grounding, calming enough that she could tear her eyes from the calm faced Wizard King. She was still pissed beyond measure, but calmer. Yami placed a hand on her good shoulder, grounding her again.

“Alder going to be jealous of that new spell?” The Bulls Captain joked- easing the tension in the room.

“Alder is sentient, whatever shit I pulled in the dungeon wasn’t… I don’t think so anyway.” She beamed up at him- forced but still an honest smile.

“Who is Alder?” Captain Vangeance’s softer voice brought Ella away from Yami. She blinked at him, pezzottaite eyes gleaming bright as a mischievous smile etched on her face.

“My dragon.”

[vsnotresponding]

CHAPTER 13 - COMEBACK - KARMA

masterpost

It didn’t work.

In spite of what happened on the meeting, the khadae managed to convince the shahin not to stop the process, going over Sher’s orders. I haven't seen him since. It’s not like I could have, even if I wanted to, because the shahin has also ordered me to focus back on working with the Iria instead of wasting my time in meetings that don’t pertain to me.

It wasn’t a pretty conversation. I flinch now remembering it, sitting in my study looking at the papers full of data and blurry reports. For an instant, I wanted to scream at him that he was who made me lose my time when I could have been working, that if it weren’t for that, if he had allowed me to stay with Ira instead of passing my responsibility to Sher, nothing would have happened.

I didn’t. I closed my fists tightly, looked at the floor, and left without reproach. I ignored Sahare when she found me and asked about Sher, even if I don’t have anything against her. But she reminded me of my brother, who I understand less by the day, confusing me, his behavior erratic and illogical to me, who seems to want to help me to then throw me to the lion.

As I always do, I focused on work. I now help Emhi with the rookies, explaining the theoretical side to being an imitator, leaving her to her swords and stuff. I substitute Áine when, exhausted, she takes a break from restlessly watching over Ira to see if something changes. Most of all, I help Garvan when he starts to get trouble in the infirmary, now that he’s substituting the sahira.

He’s not as good as her, and certainly khithi would rather she was there than not him, aldamu as he technically is. But his charm helps him manage imitators and khithi, or at least that’s what I see when I’ve seen him in the tunnels under the palace. I haven’t dared to go into the ones housing the khithi, but I help him with the injured imitators often, I take the chance to ask about the prisoners they’ve taken in the protests after the Iria, worried about Ira’s friends.

I spend my days alternating between the énna infirmary, my study, and Ira’s room, trapped in the routine of solving tiny problems while I find myself dominated by a monstrous one I don’t find an exit from.

So when one night Garvan barges in to my study basically begging me to get Áine because of some anomaly he’s found in the dima of some khithi’s blood, I don’t doubt in running to the isolated area of the palace where we decided it was best to keep Ira. Even if I have morning lessons with the rookies tomorrow, even if it’s way past midnight, even if entering that small and almost claustrophobic room makes memories I’d rather forget resurface.

Even if seeing Ira’s immobile body reminds me of everything I’ve done wrong, everything that’s happened because of me, the void in my stomach, the almost nostalgia at afternoons doing experiments, the easiness—warm memories substituted now for the clear moonlight falling over white sheets and closed eyes.

Distracted, I start to tell Áine what I’m doing here. Looking up, I freeze in place, the door slowly closing behind me, my body paralyzed.

Ira is looking at me, smiling like she never has before, sweet and weak. She hesitates, separating herself from Áine. I blink trying to make the illusion disappear, I think that I’ve must have fallen asleep on my desk and that this is only my brain trying to make me feel better, but the vision stays.

Waves of emotion hit me. Relief, first, because she’s not dead, because, somehow, it worked, and she looks like the Ira we got to know. A sob escapes me, almost a whisper, but it’s clearly heard through the rain that hits the window at her back.

I’m relieved and hopeful and happy, because she’s okay and because I have really hated these past weeks with nothing more than silence and closed eyes answering my questions, entire nights curled up in between the bed and the nightstand, back against the wall. Fighting sleep to guard her after Áine had fallen asleep, just in case, waiting for something, anything, my voice telling her about my mother and letting my memories flow.

My eyes tear up, and I feel tears gathering to be freed. I let them go, even if I hate crying in front of other people. Everything is too much, because for some reason she opens her arms in an invitation, because I simply need them to fall.

I stumble with some bandages on the floor, my legs moving on their own accord, and I doubt, knees against the mattress, because I now can believe that this is a dream.

“Come on, you can hug me too, little ara.”

I ignore her raspy voice, almost mute. I hug her, and it’s almost like she’s the one comforting me after almost dying. I think that this is not another accident, that, this time, I won’t lose anyone I care about. Áine joins our hug and I feel her silently sobbing on my shoulder, I feel her relax after weeks in constant tension, in constant alert.

I join her.

But its starts to be too much for Ira, that suddenly moves away from us, letting go a pained whimper, clenching her good hand and her jaw, and closing her eyes, a grimace on her face.

“Are you alright?”

“Ira?”

She nods. Then repeats the movement again. Slowly, she opens her eyes to look at us.

“It hurts a little. Touch.”

“Ira, you should have told me that before. Your body is already too sensitive lately for you to—" Áine has gotten in one of her “you are sick, and you’ll do whatever I tell you to do” mode, she looks at her with a frown, her cheeks painted with the trail of her tears.

“I’m sorry,” I say, instead, smiling embarrassed in her direction, apologizing both for hurting her and for Áine, that keeps reprimanding her. I close my fist around the sheets besides my leg as a substitute for playing with my creation in my ear, because she’s not there.

“It’s fine.” She smiles back at me, tired, but calm too.

We half listen to Áine finish her sermon until she’s finally done. She looks at me.

“Garvan said he needed me?” I nod. I’m reminded of the anomaly he was talking about, how it might be due to the recent activity of the Iria, another little clue to the puzzle that’s the island’s illness.

“I think infirmary two is getting out of his hands.” I avoid saying who exactly is at infirmary two, but Áine knows.

“You can’t leave him alone…” she shakes her head and stands up, rubbing her hands on the cloth hanging from her waist, walking to the door. “I’ll tell Alanna to bring you some food,” to Ira. “But you should rest, and about… about what happened…” Ira looks at her bandaged arm, hand to elbow. “We’ll tell you when you get better. Rest for now.” She looks at me intently before closing the door, I understand that she wants me to stay just in case to watch her.

I nod, and then she’s gone.

The air turns weird immediately, the overflowing emotion of before banished. Ira's sitting, back against the window, her shadow a dark spot on the white sheets. I sit on the mattress’ edge, fist still closed, eyes on my knees, uncomfortable, though happy because she’s alright.

I can feel her eyes on me, fixed, for some seconds. Then I see her looking around the room out of the corner of my eyes, the lack of imitations on the walls, her creation on her hand, bright, dimly echoing her heartbeat.

“You aren’t wearing your creation.” I open my eyes, and try to focus on looking forwards to avoid turning to look at her face. Her hand closes around her creation.

Oh, shit.

“How are you feeling?” I try to change topic, but I know I spectacularly fail. She straightens.

“Well, I guess… Tired, the pain is manageable,” I flinch, remembering her screams. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“You didn’t make one,” I try to joke, because technically she didn’t ask me anything. She softly slaps my arm and I flinch again.

“You know perfectly what I’m talking about.” I sigh.

“Áine said she’ll talk to you when you are feeling better.”

“Are we doing this again?” indignant, her voice barely audible breaks even more. “Really?”

“Last time’s excuses…” I force myself to look at her. “They might not be excuses anymore.”

Her eyes open at the same time her pupils shrink, a fleeting expression of fear before her fist squeezes her creation. It lets out a dim glow. Before she can add anything else, I keep talking.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” I don’t like this, but she’s right. We might not exactly know how the qudra affected her abilities, but hiding the truth will only make us lose all the progress we hardly won.

“I…” she closes her eyes, blocking her memories. “I was in front of him and… and then I fell and touched it and…” A sigh, heavy. Her brow burrows, eyes open, looking beyond me. “I saw the protests, Karma. I saw the people and the rain and the heat and smoke and—”

“Ira,” I stop her, softly putting my hand on top of hers, that squeezes her brighter by the second creation in a death grip. I retire it immediately when her gaze focuses on me, holding it. “Ira. Breathe.” I breathe in and out deeply, exaggeratedly. She follows me, the glow dims.

I sigh, relieved, glad for the lack of imitations around us. I decide that, whatever we do, she’ll get angry at us, for what happened, and she’ll end up afraid of what we now know she can do too.

“I’ll tell you everything, but you need to promise me that you’ll try to stay calm as much as you can.”

“You can’t tell me to stay calm when—”

“I know,” I stop her again. Gathering my courage, I make an effort to not look away when I look at her, her gaze bright in the partial gloom of the room. “I know, Ira, but what I’m going to tell you will upset you and, definitely, you can’t control yourself anymore because of us, so I need you to promise me that you’ll do everything in your power to focus on breathing and keeping a blank mind.”

She nods, jaw tense, and looks away, confused and doubtful. I tense, too, stand to seat on Áine’s chair to see her face, even if she looks away.

“People died.” I start with the worst. She jumps at my words and I see how, physically, she forces herself to relax. “The island felt it all, it… it was bad. You recall the accident?” she nods. “It was a hundred times worse.”

She squeezes her eyes shut, the creation starting to light up again. Her fist closes and it stops. She doesn’t say anything, so I force myself to continue.

“The protests… they ended up stopping, after a while. Um…there are no protests anymore. Everything has calmed down.” She decides to talk.

“That’s what they told you, you don’t know if it’s true.”

“Emhi hasn’t gotten out of the palace since then.” I think she liked the imitator, that she can trust in what she told us. “She’s told us, it’s all calm now.”

She nods, dubious, but doesn’t argue back. I sigh, because now comes the hardest part, but for me. Ira notices, watches me, face tired.

“You were dying.” I pause, closing my fists over my pants. “You were dying and we couldn’t do anything to help you, everything we tried failed.” I clench my jaw, trying not to remember how I gave up. “We gave you suicide doses of alziwaq—nothing. I begged my brother for your creation—we barely got any signals of improvement.” I pause when she stops looking at me to focus on the creation in her palm, which she moves to make it roll on it. I sniff, blinking, look at the corner of her bed. “I think your heart stopped once or twice, that you died for a few seconds, more than once. But we couldn’t do anything because it wasn’t your body that was failing, but your mind and…” I force myself to look back at her once more, to accept the consequences of my crazy idea. “We were desperate, I was desperate, and—”

“What did you do to me?” she interrupts me. Her voice shakes a little, for fear or rage I can’t tell, her loss of voice heartbreaking. My gaze falls, her creation lights up, but there’s nothing for her to connect to from here.

“I’d been working on something, before… everything. And, I’m truly sorry, but it was our only chance and—”

“Karma,” she stops me again, serious, hard. I raise my head slightly without facing her. “What did you do.”

“I call it qudra,” she moves backwards at my words. “It’s based on the legends, it’s—”

“What does it do?” she doesn’t realize that her creation has started to heat up. I don’t think about warning her.

“We don’t know. Not all, yet.” Here I go, I talk faster: “Do you want to know what happened to my creation? I had to leave it before coming here, like every other creation and imitation that was around.”

“Why?” She’s the one not looking at me now, the heat disappearing as does the brightness, the room suddenly cold. I pause.

“When we gave it to you, everything just… exploded. Not like it used to,” I add. Not like the sudden decomposition of the elements that constitute imitations, no. “First an expansive wave, then they just… broke, shards of crystal flying around,” I turn one arm, so she can see the white thin lines that cover it, the light of her creation fully disappearing. “My creation held, but it burnt me a bit. We are all okay,” I add, because her hands have started to shake. “Ira, truly, no one got badly hurt.”

“But,” she interrupts me. Looking at me again, her eyes also dimmed, guilty under the moonlight, she’s back to clenching her fist around her creation. “I was out of control. That’s why I need to calm down.”

I nod, head low, her fist clenches even more.

“Tho, we don’t know why yours didn’t seem affected, or why she didn’t get destroyed.”

“Because she’s broken.” Her hand opens and she starts playing with her. “I guess they broke it when they took the earring out.”

“I’m sorry,” I think about what to say next, about the disaster we find ourselves. “I know how important a creation is to a creator, almost a family heirloom, I—”

“It doesn’t matter.” She holds out the creation towards me. “Take it.” I look at her, confused, but her eyes are on the floor. “I don’t want to do anything dangerous by accident, I don’t want to even try to connect. If you keep her,” she explains, “I won’t be tempted to.”

“Oh. Okay.” I wasn’t expecting this. “Alright.”

I carefully take her from her palm, the surface rough, the edge catching onto my skin when I move a finger over it, feeling the texture. It cuts a little.

The silence stretches and I fidget on the chair, I stand up when I can’t take it anymore and roam the room. I end up sitting on the floor, on the bed’s other side, back against the wall, legs to my chest in front of me in between the wall and the bed. Ira, still seated against the window, watches me move, leans her head to a side when I sit down.

“Won’t you offer to leave, little ara?” I huff, amused, relieved because the tension seems to be lifting, because of the nickname she won’t get tired of using. I shake my head.

“Trust me,” I play with her creation in between my fingers, “I’d love to. But we decided it was better if we didn’t leave you alone, you know, just in case.”

“I guess it’s for the best.” She sinks on the pillows at her bag, caresses the edge of the sheet that covers her to her waist, looks at her white tunic they put her in when we brought her here. I see worry cross her face, insecurity, strangeness.

“Anyways…” I look for something to distract her with. “What with the nickname? You perfectly know that my name is Karma.”

“Yeah, well, you do look alike the shahin like, a lot.”

“Eh.” I fidget in place. I don’t like being compared to him. “I’m aware of that, but, ‘little king’? I’m not even the heir. And I’m… I’m not like him or my brother in their… way of being.” She shrugs, amused. Now the uncomfortable one is me.

“You do get bossy when we work.”

“No I don’t!” I don’t. Nope. “And, either way,” I add, because I’m aware how in denial I sound, “Áine is the bossier of the two of us.”

“Whatever you say.” And she pauses, looks at me straight in the eyes before continuing without being able to keep her smile at bay, her voice hoarse. “Little ara.”

I huff, fake crossed, to hide my laugh, short but amused. I have to admit that I might enjoy the nickname, even if just a bit. It makes me feel… important, in a way. Also, it feels good, being able to joke after the torture of the last days, weeks.

The silence stretches, comfortable now, relaxed. It allows me to think, hands busy with the creation. The past few weeks might have been hell for us, but they were so much worse for her.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” she looks at me puzzled when I break the silence. “When you were unconscious?, we… we heard you scream and—”

“Maybe later,” and her eyes move away from me.

“Oh. Yeah. Sure, of course.” An uncomfortable pause, I think that I fucked up again, shrinking. The movement gets her attention back to me, she rubs her face, sighs.

“Hey, it’s alright. I know you must have a bunch of questions for me but… I just need to…” she looks at her bandaged hand, rubs a thumb over it, frowning. “I just need to precess what happened.”

“I get it.”

“Yeah” she smiles at me, then. “Yeah, I now.”

And I smile back at her.

tag list (ask to be added or removed): @my-cursed-prince @on-noon @aquil-writes @dotr-rose-love @e-klair

[autistic-beshelar]

1, 12, 20

the character everyone gets wrong

oh you fucking KNOW i'm gonna say mollymauk. EVERYONE gets him wrong.

the people that like him woobify him and act as though he's just a teeny baby who has never done anything wrong ever (these are also often widomauk shippers who sexualise/romanticise the 'socially casually shove him against the wall' scene).

and the people who hate him are often straight up fucking vile. one breed of these people are the youtube ableists who also hate taliesin for crimes of stuttering or taking a minute to find abilities. there's also people who have called him a terrorist sympathiser???

and generally people think he's just a complete asshole, manipulative bastard, and refuse to acknowledge that 1 - he was 2 fucking years old and raised in a circus by a man who planned to feed him to a lizard and 2. ALL of the mighty nein were assholes in the beginning!!! molly had some fucked up morals, but he made an attempt at having them, for the most part. caleb murdered his family. beau tried to strangle a six year old. fjord wanted to unleash an ancient evil god to get a cantrip. they were all fucked up in the beginning, the entire point of their campaign was that they gradually became better people, and molly's death, their grief for him and their memory of him was a major catalyst for that, particularly for beau.

it really irritates me when people say 'molly had too much of an influence on the rest of the campaign' bc like. that was the point. that was the whole story. they knew someone who was bright and shining and tried very hard to be and to bring joy - and he died. and he was also fucked up, and petty and bitchy and mean and they loved him. the mighty nein campaign is about grief and growth. you don't have to like molly, but it's so disingenuous to act as though his character and his death weren't important, when they defined so so much of the campaign, and of the characters' development.

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

so you're actively willingly making me return to my hunter x hunter bullshit?

[pensive emoji] illumi zoldyck. my beloved who i have not thought about in so long

he's just so FASCINATING. because hxh is so much from killua's perspective, of course we're going to see illumi at first for, well, exactly what he is - an abuser, a manipulator, a villain.

but then you meet his family and they're all like that. illumi to me is so much a representation of cycles of abuse - an abused child who then went on to abuse his younger siblings - and cult upbringings. illumi knows NOTHING ELSE outside of what his family has taught him, he has no experience or understanding of the outside world unless it relates to his family's work.

he's also very different to the rest of his family in terms of his behaviour - while the rest of his family are also assassins, he's the only one that reads so clearly as Off, and to me reads clearly as neurodivergent - the flat affect that's so contrasted with his animated voice, the tendency to ramble to himself, the unstable emotions, the unusual posture. and there's also so much to unpack about the fact that illumi isn't the heir, despite the fact that he's (certainly in the beginning of the series) a thousand times more powerful than killua, upholds his family's values, excellent at his job, and actually WANTS to be an assassin.

man. he's just so fascinating. it's such a great look at how the situations people are in affect how 'good' or 'bad' we are able to be. illumi is a bad person - but how could he ever have been anything else?

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

stares at dragon age inquisition

tedious doesn't BEGIN to cover my fucking issues with inquisition but it's certainly part of the problem. there's just... so much wandering around doing fetch quests and it's so unnecessary. they created this BIG OPEN WORLD!!! and it just felt so... empty?? like dragon age 2 had three dungeons and a dodgy back alley but somehow there was so much more life in that game.

i never finished inquisition, partly bc i fucking despised what they did with hawke (the OOC ness, not the leaving them in the fade), as well as the anti-mage pro-templar propaganda, and the fucking. dont get me started on cullen. but also the game was just boring tbh. whereas origins i have played like 7 times and will undoubtedly play again

[pengspoems]

Understanding

(Sorry for not posting last week)

You live your life, thinking most of your childhood is normal. Not great, but not bad. But, when you are seventeen, you wake up with the knowledge that what happened to you wasn’t your fault in anyway shape or form. You were the victim.

You were excited at the prospect of analyzing serial killers background for your essay. A topic you would actually find interesting, that was until you realized you shouldn't be able to relate as much as you are to how they grew up.

The night after you discovered this, you couldn’t sleep and spent hours staring out your window into nothingness, trying to piece together what exactly it meant.

Why the hell everyone else around you had a better chance of getting along than you did?

It didn’t make any sense.

You didn’t even know how to process it. All you really knew was that it made absolutely no fucking sense.

And so, when the realization hit you in the middle of the night, you had a momentary lapse in judgment and ran. Because there was nothing else to do.

You left the dorm, locked the door behind you, and sat on a park bench in the quad. The grass was still wet and the wind blew the scent of freshly cut gra. It smelled fresh.

With everything that had been going wrong with you, it smelled like fresh, clean air.

You never had close friends growing up, never had anyone else's family and childhood to compare yours to. You thought your childhood was normal, when did it go so wrong.

Your sight slowly burned away from the tears building up in your eyes. You sniffed as more fell down your cheeks, stinging and bringing back memories you thought you'd buried long ago.

You felt like the weight of the world was resting on your shoulders. That it was all somehow falling onto your lap.

How could you not have seen this coming?

How were you supposed to react to something like this?

A small sound pulled you out of your head. Your eyes scanned over the area and found a boy who looked about your age sitting on the bench next to you.

He had black hair and a scar running across his nose. His glasses were slightly askew and his shirt was untucked and unbuttoned. For someone so calm, he certainly seemed rushed.

"Hi." Your voice came out as barely a whisper as you stared blankly at him.He flinched and glanced between you and the ground before nodding.

"Hey, uh, are you okay?" He spoke softly but clearly enough for you to hear him despite the distance between us. His voice was thick with emotion and anxiety, and his gaze flickered between you and the ground again.

You had no idea why he was here, he didn't seem to be a great person for comfort.

How do you tell someone who has gone through what you went through in an effort to escape their past that you feel like you can't breathe?

You swallow hard and force yourself to sit upright. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry to bother you..." He looked at me unsure.

"Do you want a hug?" I just stared at him, when was the last time I had a hug.

I nodded, "Sure," He wrapped his arms around me slowly, you melt into the hug. You just sit there together for a bit.

"Thank you..." you whispered to him. He just gave you a quick gentle squeeze and let you stay there.

[paradisetemporarilymisplaced]

So I was being a basic bitch the other day and listening to my true crime podcasts when it occurred to me just how suspicious Nile’s “death” would look to everyone not in the Guard, leading me to a train of thought that, 2200 words later, absolutely got away from me but I can’t let go so I’m inflicting it on all of you!

To set the stage, we know the movie takes place over approximately a week. Here’s what happens to Nile from the military’s point of view:

She dies is very seriously injured

She heals without a scratch

Just before she’s supposed to be shipped out to Germany, she vanishes, leaving two men concussed (and presumably reporting being knocked out by a woman with short hair wearing civilian clothes)

She goes AWOL for several days

They get word from the CIA that she is to be reported killed in action (details unclear)

So, at the beginning of this very weird week, the USMC has to tell Nile’s family of her death critical injury. What her family was told depends on how long she was dead – a Google search tells me that family will be notified in person within 8 hours of a soldier’s death, but we don’t know how long her first death lasted. For an injury, however, they’d get a phone call to notify them and the unit would arrange for them to visit as soon as the soldier is transferred out of a combat zone. Like I remember when I was in high school, a guy from my church who was a Marine was really seriously injured in a helicopter crash in Iraq and from what I could tell, his parents were told immediately and were flown out to Germany to see him, so it stands to reason that Nile’s family would have been informed relatively quickly after her throat was slashed, one way or another.

And then, she goes AWOL. Her family would be notified while the USMC tried to figure out where she went, not least because the military would want to know if she’s contacted them. (And it’s possible that her family may have been on the way to Germany to see her since we know that’s where she was supposed to go!) So for several days:

Nile’s mom and brother have no idea where she is

They know she was seriously injured and most certainly should not have been moving around on her own

They can’t get a hold of her

The military can’t tell them anything

And the next thing they know for sure is that she was “killed in action.” After being injured and vanishing into thin air. And they presumably cannot produce her body or any concrete evidence of her death. In any case, something sketchy is going on, so they’re like. SMELLS LIKE A MILITARY COVERUP.

In a surprise to probably no one, there is a well-documented legacy of mysterious US military deaths, particularly of women of color (TW for sexual assault in these links). The cases of LaVena Johnson and Vanessa Guillenin particular have made national news because of their families’ persistence in seeking justice. Likewise, Nile is a Black woman, and her mom and brother are most certainly hypercognizant of (a) state violence against Black people and (b) these high-profile cases of suspicious military deaths. So her family are seriously side-eyeing the situation, knowing that (a) the military has a serious incentive (and a documented history) of covering up things that make them look bad and (b) nothing about Nile’s disappearance and supposed death are adding up.

And Andy’s right. Nile does come from warriors. And you know who else does? Her brother.

Don’t get me wrong. Nile’s mom would absolutely not back down. She’d know something was up and want to get to the bottom of it. But based on what I know about Gen X parents (mine), they’re not the most technologically savvy. Like they can use the internet, but they didn’t grow up with it the way we young millennials and Gen Z did. So Nile’s brother takes the lead. And what do zillennials do best?

Social media.

Nile’s brother starts going hard on any site he can, trying to get the word out to see if anyone knows what happened to his sister. He starts a Reddit thread. He starts a Facebook group. He reaches out to the media and true crime bloggers and podcasters à la Sarah Turney, getting loud and being a general nuisance in hopes of getting some answers. He gets his friends and Nile’s friends involved. Maybe eventually Dizzy, Jay, and others from Nile’s unit hear about it and reach out, telling him what they saw and how weird it all was. He’s drumming up interest, and soon “Nile Freeman” becomes a household name (at least among the true crime fans).

Copley is, of course, trying his best, but at this point there is just so much that it’s impossible for him to scrub everything. Sure, he can erase new footage of Nile and the Guard, but what can he do about Reddit threads and podcast episodes that are speculating something weird has happened? Maybe he could hack the sites and shut those things down, but honestly, that’s the last thing he’d want to do, because that only adds weight to the theory that Nile’s disappearance is a military coverup. So eventually he has to tell Andy what’s going on.

Andy, obviously, does not take the news well. However, she is also completely computer illiterate, because that’s Booker’s job and he’s the only one who ever bothered to learn what the internet is in any meaningful way. (She probably calls Booker for advice, and for the record, I think Booker would have no qualms about shutting down conspiracy threads, tinhats be damned, but Copley is too concerned about the consequences. He’s ex-CIA for crying out loud, he knows how it’ll look if they scrub every mention of Nile’s name from the internet.) Maybe she confers with Joe and Nicky but, let’s be honest, they’d be equally unhelpful. So at this point, she knows they have to bring in Nile.

But the thing about Nile is that she, too, knows how to use the internet (duh). Aside from her being a young millennial/digital native, we know from the cave scene where she’s giving Booker suggestions on how to track Copley that she clearly is even more computer savvy than the average person. And for that reason she almost definitely took over the day-to-day tech stuff after Booker’s exile. So I think it would be foolish to expect her to be unaware of what’s happening. She’s not contacting her family or posting on the message boards or anything, but she knows what’s up. So Copley and the team probably sit her down to “break the news,” but we know the girl does not have a poker face (see: literally shooting herself in the foot and not being able to play it cool whatsoever) and cracks immediately, telling them she’s seen everything about her case – she’s not interacting with any of it, she certainly didn’t instigate anything, but she knows. (And she is so goddamn proud of her brother.)

At this point, I’d like to pause and consider Nile’s role in the overall narrative of this movie. She’s set up as a foil to Andy, obviously, but she’s also a foil to Booker. Booker, who, like Andy, is a serious pessimist, but who, unlike Andy, still has very fresh memories and trauma associated with being the new kid, which have destroyed him. In his mind (and Andy’s), if Nile communicates with her family, she’ll become just like him in a century or two – bitter, alone, and stuck with her grief and memories of watching her family die and knowing they died resenting her. It’s a small sample size, but this is the only experience they have to go off of.

But it doesn’t have to be like that.

There’s been a lot of discussion of TOG being a fundamentally queer movie – a group of people brought together because of something inherent about themselves that is different, that must be hidden, that causes others to hate, fear, and reject them. Booker’s backstory is the archetypal traumatic “coming out” story – his family learns who he is, hate him for it, and attempt to cast him out of their lives. He’s stuck with his trauma, his pain, his loss, and it consumes him.

But what if Nile’s family would be the opposite? What if her “coming out” to them as immortal is met with acceptance, love, celebration? What if her family is just overjoyed to have her back, and they don’t care what the circumstances are? I'm reminded of this incredible post from @shitty-old-guard-deaths a while back, where Nile’s mother hits Booker with a frying pan because “my baby let me believe she was dead for FIVE YEARS based on your bad advice???” (which may or may not have inspired this whole tangent). Nile takes the advice of someone who did the same thing she wants to do because she doesn’t want to risk her family’s rejection. She wants the good memories with her family and is afraid that showing them her true self will bring her unbearable pain, forever replacing those memories. But, with high risk comes high reward.

Anyway. Nile and the team are trying to come up with a plan for how to handle this whole thing, but she’s not really participating because she’s too afraid to hope. Until finally, quickly, so she doesn’t lose her nerve, she suggests she reach out to them, knowing that, realistically, that’s the only solution before things snowball even further out of control. The team is shocked, but realize that she has a point. They decide that Copley should actually be the first point of contact, posing as a US government official to talk with them and test the waters.

So Copley goes to Nile’s family’s house to talk with her mom and brother. They’re probably distrustful and apprehensive, but nonetheless secretly ecstatic that their work has paid off. They talk and review all of the information that they’ve collected, including testimonials from the people on Nile’s base and recent sightings (along with photos) of Nile (with the same three people) over the last few years that people have sent them but they haven’t posted publicly. At this point, Copley’s like, yeah this is about to blow up, we gotta put our cards on the table. He convinces them to come with him to some safe house/black site/whatever he can get that is technologically impenetrable (I’m picturing them in like, an interrogation room at a police station kind of deal), takes their phones, locks the doors, and brings in Nile.

What follows is the most delightful reunion scene of all time, bringing Joe, Nicky, and even Andy to tears as they watch and listen from outside the room. With Copley’s help, Nile tells her mom and brother about her immortality and what’s been going on since she died (within reason, of course), and they are thrilled. They don’t understand why (because no one does) but they don’t question it and they see it as a gift from God – she’s been resurrected, she will live, and she has a purpose. Her mother and brother are so happy to see her again and are willing to agree with pretty much anything to stay in her life as long as they can.

So. They set up some complicated agreement (they bring in the other three for support/intimidation as needed) setting the terms of their relationship. They swear Nile’s family to secrecy, maybe bringing up the lab to show how high the stakes are, and they readily agree. They come up with some cover story for Nile’s brother to share on the message boards (maybe that the government has opened an investigation but because it’s an open case he has to shut it all down? Tells people to direct their tips somewhere else? Something to that effect). There’s still speculation, of course, but without Nile’s brother at the helm providing the energy, the hype dies down as news stories are wont to do without any movement. And Nile’s family goes to work for the team. The experience has taught them that Copley can’t possibly do everything himself, especially when it comes to social media, so Nile’s brother takes the lead on the day-to-day tracking/social media while Copley and her mom focus on finding jobs and scrubbing their traces afterward.

So there you have it: Nile gets to integrate her biological family into her found family and spend the rest of their lives with them as it should be, Copley gets some badly needed help managing the reality of social media, the team finally has a positive narrative surrounding outsiders Knowing About Them AND about interacting with people from their previous life, and the audience gets the happy ending to this very lovely and very queer story to counteract the pain associated with Booker’s family.

Plus, you know, I’m a sucker for both a good government conspiracy theory and for Nile getting every good thing she deserves.

[shadycrushcollector]

Nervous Love

Kate Bishop x GN! Reader

Crush One Shot #2

Warnings: Brief Mention of a Sleezy guy, nothing else (I think, Pls correct me if i’m wrong)

Summary: Kate didn’t expect these feelings, especially after how long she’s known you, and she doesn’t quite know how to act.

Word: 903

Kate Bishop wouldn’t necessarily be the person that people describe as soft spoken and timid. Rather she’d be the boldest person in the room, willing to do things regardless of the consequences and detached from the fear of embarrassment. She consistently risked her reputation, pulling stunts that many would call absolutely reckless. Like breaking the belltower that one time, it certainly wasn’t on purpose, but she never fully considered the consequences of hitting that old bell.

And yet somehow with you, now at least, it’s entirely different.

You’d been friends for years, having met several different times in so many different locations that the coincidences couldn’t be ignored. You’d first seen each other in passing on the streets of New York, you were rushing somewhere, and she had managed to lock eyes with you but neither said a word. Then a week later it was a coffee shop where you hadn’t even recognized it was the other, then a month later where you once again met when you were on your way out of a club. 

At that point Kate had acknowledged how many times she’d seen you around, but also your drunkenness and the sleazy guy that was following you out. He was yelling after you, clearly making you uncomfortable and so she walked up to you and pretended to know you. Since then, you were attached at the hip. Closer to each other than either of you had ever been close with another person, sharing secrets, jokes and so many memories.

So why now, with Kate waking up next to you yet again (something that wasn’t even that uncommon), did she look at you and feel the breath get sucked from her chest. In that moment with your face smushed into your arms as you lay on your stomach, she felt like you were the most beautiful person in the world. And she had never quite felt this way before for you, of course she thought you were attractive, but she thought all of her friends were. This was something so different.

After a moment she heard an alarm start to go off and she frantically sat up and went to search for the noise before you woke up and noticed her staring. Her movement however sped up you waking up and you soon groaned and rolled onto your side, facing her, so you could stretch. And as her hands finally found the phone that signaled it being 9AM your eyes opened up, and you looked at her with a smile.

“G’Morning” You said your voice a little thick from sleep still. Kate looked over from the phone she had in her lap, and gave you a light smile and a shaky laugh. 

“Ha-Hey, Sorry for waking you up” She said, reaching up with one hand to press back her messy hair. “Di-Did you sleep okay?”

You quirked up an eyebrow and sat up on your arm, Kate never stuttered. “You doing okay?” You asked cautiously, reaching out with your other hand to touch her arm. Her heart picked up speed as she tried to stealthy watch your arm so it wouldn’t surprise her once it made contact, but even that wasn't smooth and enticed you to halt your movement. You looked at her awkwardly, and instead just placed your hand on the bed. 

“I slept okay” You finally answered before moving to roll off the bed.

With your back to her she bit down on the inside of her cheek, you’d been wearing one of her oversized hoodies and a pair of basketball shorts since your sleepover hadn't been planned anyways. She thought you looked amazing and just didn't quite remember to actually listen to what you might've been saying and was snapped back to reality when you said her name a little bit firmer.

“Kate seriously, are you okay? What’s up with you?” You said worried, before trying to make the situation less tense by joking “If you had a ~Dream~ about me don’t have to be so weird about it.” And with that she finally snapped back to reality. 

“Hah No! I didn't!” She was smiling and it seemed like she was more normal than before. “I don’t know, just started thinking.” She shrugged.

“Oh yeah, and what would you happen to be thinking about?” You joked yet again and slightly wiggled your eyebrows as you fell back onto the bed again to lay your head in her lap, with phone in hand. She sat quiet for a second, yet again her heart picking up the pace. She felt so uncharacteristically flustered, this wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

“Something feels different” She finally, and quietly, stated. 

“What do you mean?”

She shook her head after a moment before placing her hand on your head, to lightly stroke your hair. You in turn reached up and held her face lightly, “Kate, you can tell me anything. You know that?”

She took in a breath, her mind moving a mile a minute, she could barely keep up. Though she seemed to be trying to figure out what exactly to do next, for once she was considering the possible consequences of everything she could say next. After a moment she looked directly into your eyes and smiled at you, one that was so much softer than she had ever looked at you before.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?”