#emerald was really feeling out of her depth for those fights

[whaledenwtf]

Hey, can I request a drow!Tav who's actually very kind, has strong sense of justice and tries to help people out when she can with Astarion? It seems a bit tricky combination, but I really love your writing. 💛

I love elf-type races so the idea of a soft-spoken sweet drow is actually very interesting and I'm totally interested in exploring! Since you wrote she I'm assuming you wanted AFAB!Tav so I will be writing with she/her pronouns. Warning that there is a minor Non Consensual/ Dubious Consensual moment in the fic. I will be marking it with two stars ** so you are aware of when it ends and when it begins.

REQUEST: HERE BALDUR'S GATE 3 MASTERLIST: HERE

Request: Drow!Tav/Drow!Reader x Astarion - As Sweet As Can Be

WORD COUNT: 1795

Warnings: ANGST (Lots of it) Fluff, Some Smut (NonCon/DubCon), AFAB!Reader, SPOILERS!!!! Speak of Astarion's Lore (Including and not limited to S/A and lack of choices) and Act 1, Love and Support for my Angel Astarion 💖

As always, the goal is to keep the characters as close to their in-game personalities as possible.

People always tell you "it's so easy to just be nice". What a load of bullshit. They never could understand how difficult it was to go against your very nature at every turn. You were raised in the depths of the Underdark, fighting your way out to feel the rays of the sun on your amethyst-toned skin.

That may be why you sympathize with Astarion. You understood what it felt like to be in constant darkness because of your nature. Fighting tooth and nail for freedom, without being someone's puppet. When he tried biting you, you accepted him whole-heartedly. When he asked to drink from you, you accepted him whole-heartedly.

"I still cannot comprehend why you are so kind. They do not deserve your pity." He told you once, at the beginning of your adventure. You ponder his words, and your response.

"All it takes is one kind soul to change a person's future." You had responded. He also pondered your words late at night. He questions what one kind person would have done to change his life.

You told yourself you found a kindred spirit in Astarion, but he wonders if he too had found a kindred spirit in you.

You had saved Arabella from Kagha's viper. Despite many of your companions approving of your actions, you saw Astarion wasn't too pleased with time being wasted on a child.

"We're not getting the information we need. Should we not focus on the worms wriggling in our skulls?" Astarion said to you as you leave the inner sanctums of the Emerald Grove. You could see other companions shoot your spoilsport vampire some sour looks. You put a hand on his shoulder.

"The worms in our skulls are not going to disappear. We have time to focus on them."

"Exactly. They are not going to disappear. You may be content with turning into a mindflayer, but I have my good looks to keep!" He says loudly, earning more disapproving looks from your companions. You sigh.

"You may question my actions, but I will not let an innocent child die at the hands of a treacherous viper. We got our information, and we will find the Arch Druid Halsin. After all, he may have the answers we seek." This seems to appease him, slightly.

"Plus, you get to kill goblins." He grins at those words.

"Now you are speaking my language." You grin at him, patting his shoulder gently. You turn to your other companions.

"We will tread forward and save Halsin, then go to this Creche. I understand that these are much more stops than intended, however we must gain as much information as possible so we could get a full understanding of what is happening and how to prevent it from getting worse." Gale walks up to you and puts a hand on your shoulder.

"I will follow your lead, wherever it leads us." You smile at the human, nodding at everyone else.

Astarion can't help but scoff at Gale's actions.

It was late at night now, and everyone else was asleep. You notice a particularly antsy vampire pacing around quietly, deep in thought.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You ask him when you walk up to him. He jumps, shocked.

"Gods! You can't scare a vampire like that... I'll bite." He ends with a seductive lilt in his tone. He smirks at you as you blush, turning away.

"I am just... thinking." He answers your previous question, frowning. You see his defeated stance, and sigh.

"We're going for a walk." You decide, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from camp, nodding at Halsin as you pass. He lets you drag him until you're in the thicket of the forest, the light of the camp a dot in the distance.

"Why are we walking? Don't we do that enough?" Astarion complains to you, whining loudly. Once you have distance from the camp, you let go of his hand and continue walking.

"I think you need to clear your head." You tell him, humming a soft tune.

"The only thing I need to clear my head of is this tadpole, darling." He says quietly, following you. You find a small clearing near a river, the treeline becoming sparser and allowing the moon's light to bathe you both. You sit near the shoreline, the water lazily moving as if it was also taking reprieve. He grumbles about his clothes getting dirty as he sits next to you.

"I understand how difficult it is for you, Astarion-"

"Nothing is difficult for me. I'm perfect." He says confidently, though you can tell it is forced.

"Must have slipped my mind." You say simply. He continues his act, boasting of his greatness.

"I am wonderfully stealthy, and beautiful." You nod, smiling at him. "I can speak my way out of anything, including Gale's dreadfully boring speeches-" You giggle at his words. He smiles at you, turning to look at you.

"The world is for the taking, darling. And I plan to take it." He says with certainty.

"Are you done your speech?" You tease him, turning to look forward and watch the stars. He gapes next to you, galled at your audacity. He splutters, unable to form a sentence in shock. You laugh loudly, the sound melodic.

"I want to speak about your troubles." He turns away from you now, no longer analyzing your profile.

"All this talk is wasted on me." He whispers, frowning. You turn to look at him again, seeing his scarlet eyes focusing on the rocks below your feet.

"Nothing is wasted on you." You answer simply. His gaze snaps to you. For the first time, you can clearly read his emotions through his eyes. There is a sadness, all encompassing.

"You think I do not understand your plight?-" You look into eachother's eyes, leaning closer. "I was once Lolth's puppet, like most Drow." You turn to look at the sky now, the moon's beams illuminating your face. If Astarion did not know better, he'd think you were a fae, magical and powerful. Beautiful.

"Lolth is a chaotic goddess, blood-thirsty and uncaring. Many of my years in the Underdark were filled with loss, anger, bloodshed... betrayal. I trusted no one. I still find it difficult to trust." You say quietly. He stays silent, allowing you to continue your story. "I began to rebel. I was punished, severely. I knew at that moment I needed to go on the surface. Those years were filled with darkness... the first moment I felt the sun's rays on my skin- I cried. A century of darkness and pain was behind me. I began to follow Eilistraee, and found my path. This anger was a weapon, and I wielded it poorly. Innocent people do not deserve that. I decided to be the good I desperately needed in the Underdark." You ended, tears in your eyes. You turn to look back at him and he was closer, only a couple inches away from you. His eyes flicker to your lips before looking back up at you. He surges forward, kissing you passionately. In shock, you stay still, though your lips move against his.

**NonCon/DubCon Content Warning**

He climbs on top of you, hand going up your night clothes. You pull away when his hand grazes your under boob.

"Astarion-" He kisses your neck, lips kissing the mark he made two nights prior, when he drank from you.

"Astarion, please." He misunderstands you once more, his hand going up to touch your breast, groping it lightly. Your hands go on his chest and push him away. He falls backwards, giving you both some very needed distance. He looks broken, his gaze void.

**NonCon/DubCon Content Warning**

"This isn't right." You tell him, biting your lip. He frowns, turning away.

"I've never had someone turn me away..." He says quietly, looking down. Your heart breaks for him.

"Is this what Cazador asked of you?" You whisper, biting the inside of your cheek. He doesn't answer, but his body language is enough.

"You do not need to put up an act for me, Astarion. You are worthy and enough as you are. I do not need you for your body." You see his eyes get misty, but the tears never fall. He doesn't answer, staying silent.

"Come here, please." You tell him, lying down and spreading your arms. His gaze leaves the ground and he looks at you, before nudging himself closer slowly. He lies next to you, still not touching you.

"May I hold your hand?" You ask him softly. You turn to look at his profile, but he does not meet your gaze. He nods. You take his cold hand in yours, linking your fingers.

"I'm sorry." He whispers. You shake your head.

"I do not want you to apologize to me." You tell him. He turns to you then.

"I... I almost..." He bites his lip, unable to finish his sentence.

"Listen to me, please-" You grip his hand tighter, thumb caressing the alabaster skin.

"You are hurting. You do not deserve this. You are surrounded by darkness. Your reaction... you were conditioned to act in such a way. Did you mean what you did?" He shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Then I will not hold it against you." He turns over, laying on his side to look at you. You turn as well, both facing one another and on your sides.

"You're too good for me." He whispers again.

"You're much more than what Cazador has made you believe you are. You aren't just a puppet. I am proof of that." You tell him. His other hand goes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Let us just... lay here for awhile. Look at the stars. Enjoy the freedom we found." You right yourself, laying on your back. He mirrors you, laying on his back.

"This freedom will not last... not for me." He says after a long period of silence.

"I will make sure it will." He turns to look at you. You turn to him, gazing at his beautiful features.

"200 years of pure shit. I lost all hope in anything." He says to you. You squeeze his hand, fingers still linked.

"I will kill Cazador." You say simply. He laughs loudly, his whole body shaking at the intensity.

"You can certainly try, darling." You smile at him.

"We can do it, together. You do not have to carry your burdens on your own, Astarion." He nudges closer to you, his head leaning on your shoulder.

"I will think about it." That was enough for you. You hum in acceptance, before leaning your cheek against the crown of his head and enjoying the darkness together.

Suddenly, the world didn't feel so alone.

Exploring Astarion's lore and storyline always hurts me, and I try to use it to better fulfill what I wish for him, which is growth and happiness. The scene I wrote which was noncon/dubcon is something I particularly found important to write about because I personally feel like Astarion would use sex as a coping mechanism, and is not used to people pushing him away. Abuse is a cycle, and throughout the game we see Astarion stuck in that cycle, and later on continue it (despite him thinking otherwise).

I think many people overlook the psychological layers to a character like Astarion. To write something that I feel is close to the character, I try to explore every aspect of their past and personality, especially the dark parts. I hope I was able to do so.

[marinaiguess]

💜💜💜 “i’m sorry you had to see me like that” sonic + character of your choice 👀

Thank you so much for this prompt, Chaox! I started this today and I'm posting it now, without a second editing round bcuz I need to sleep but I wouldn't be able to sleep if I didn't finish this today :) Hope you like this <3

Sonic Forces inspired. 2k words.

.

He's getting out of control. Fists clenched so tight he's sure, weren't it for the gloves, he would have drawn blood. His mind is hazy, vision gradually blurring as he tries to shift his attention from the echidna in front of him to anything else.

He should do that right now; he should look away.

Albeit, he can't.

"Can you repeat that, Knux?" he says, his voice laced with venom.  

Knuckles takes note of the dangerous undertone—of the warning behind it—but doesn't quite grasp the severity of the situation. He crosses his arms, turning his head away from the other's interrogating gaze. Maybe he can't bear the look on his face, maybe he can't bear the fact that he's wrong. For just this once, he can't deny it, he should have been more careful. Yet another responsibility he had failed to take care of successfully.

"You heard me alright," He spits, anger boiling inside him. "He's not here, Sonic."

Knuckles can feel Sonic's gaze penetrating through his skull. From his peripheral vision, he is able to see the way he's staring at him, the way his jaw tenses and he realizes, it might have been a better idea to break the news in another, more tactful way.

Sonic takes one step forward and suddenly the air is thicker, denser; the room turns tenser.

Amy senses it and opts to act first by putting a hand on his shoulder. "Wait, Sonic, please--"

He yanks her hand away without even bothering to look at her. "Stay out of this, Amy."

"You're kidding," Amy scoffs and she’s not sure if she’s reacting to him ignoring her or to him expecting her to just stand and watch.

This time, he doesn't hesitate to turn his head to glare at her and his emerald eyes have never looked more intimidating before, not to her.

Yet, she doesn't back down. "This is not Knuckles' fault, you know that."

He laughs. There’s nothing funny or humorous about his laugh, but it emits from the depth of his soul, echoing in the room as he turns his attention to Knuckles once more.

"Tell me, commander, whose responsibility was it to look after him while I was gone?"

"Don't give me that shit, Sonic. We couldn't really keep an eye on him--"

Sonic's forearm connects to his neck, pushing Knuckles to the wall behind him. "You couldn't?"

He ignores Amy's pleas, putting more force into his grasp. "Where is he?"

"How should I know?" Knuckles growls. "He's been gone for three months."

Everything goes quiet. Even Amy's voice fades out of existence as Sonic registers Knuckles' words. Without really intending to, he backs down a bit, although he’s still holding Knuckles against the wall.

"What?"

When Knuckles tries to push him away, Sonic doesn’t give him a chance to even touch him and he slams his head on the wall as a warning, his forceful grip returning shortly after, despite hearing Knuckles coughing. Sonic knows he's strong, possibly stronger than him, under normal circumstances, so he understands, even in this state of mind, that Knuckles decides to not fight back.

Good. He doesn’t wanna go all out on him.

"Where is Tails?" he repeats the question.

"I don't know, okay?!"

Knuckles’ scream is the last thing that’s heard in the room, inside the Resistance HQ. Silence fills the void, until Sonic breaks it.

"I trusted you, Knuckles. I trusted you with my little brother's life. And with mine too."

Those words hurt more than Knuckles could have imagined.

But Sonic doesn’t relent, throwing more daggers right at his heart. "Maybe you're just not fit for the job. Or for any job. You shouldn't be taking responsibilities you can't handle."

Knuckles finds himself unable speak, so Sonic does it for him. "I'm gone for six months and you're telling me the war is still going? Great job, commander. On top of that, Tails is gone?"

Knuckles coughs again. "Stop it."

Sonic’s fangs show as a grin carves its way to his face and Knuckles can't tell if it's a sinister act or if it's a coping mechanism to hide his pain. "How does it feel to have failed at everything?"

"Sonic!" Amy intervenes, not courageous enough to properly stand up to him, however.

She's standing still, her hands balled into fists against her chest. It's probably the first time in a long while she's felt this scared. She's never witnessed Sonic lose control like that.

Knuckles meets her gaze and reads her like an open book, agreeing with her thoughts. No matter how well Sonic knows him—well enough to use just the right words to hurt him—in any other case, he wouldn't have gone this far. Something about him is off, his no-die, no-lose attitude is nowhere to be seen, his hopeful, full of excitement for the next adventure eyes are gloomy and dark, his logic is clouded by concern. Even if this is about Tails, this isn't typical of him.

Those six months imprisoned in space did take a toll on him, however much he tried to hide it once they rescued him.

"He's fine," he reassures, getting ahold of Sonic's forearm with both hands, ignoring the way he tenses and hisses. "You trust him, right?"

"Of course, I trust him." he barks, immediately. "But we're in the middle of a war, commander. Eggman might have gotten ahold of--"

"You're--" he scoffs. "You're not thinking straight."

Sonic bares his teeth, his jaw tightening even more. "Are you saying that me being worried is irrational?"

"Yes, it is. The kid can handle himself, Sonic."

"You said it, Knux. Kid. He's just a kid and he's been gone for—for three months?"

"You've left him behind for longer than that before." Knuckles notices out loud.

"It was to protect him!" he spits on his face.

Yet, Knuckles seems unfazed. "What's so different this time around?"

Sonic's mind short-circuits. His eyes widen when he takes in the sight in front of him. He doesn't quite remember how they got here.

"What would he say if he saw you like this?"

The final blow. Sonic had him against the wall but Knuckles had him cornered. He may be right but Sonic would rather not admit that, for the sake of his ego not getting wounded.

He takes a deep breath, letting his arms fall. Knuckles is standing firmly on both his feet now, managing to keep his breathing in check.

Until Sonic approaches him, noses almost touching as he jabs a finger to Knuckles’ chest.

"If there's a possibility, even a slight one, that Tails went through half of the hell I did, I'm blaming you."

Knuckles knows he meant every word, which makes him furious; knowing that he was calm and collected enough to say something like that. Calm enough to walk away after that statement. He can’t just stand there and take it like a champ, resulting in Sonic looking like the bigger guy in this quarrel.

And so, he breaks, guilt washing over him like pouring rain. "You know what, Sonic? You're not the only one who's had it rough. While you were gone, we were fighting our asses to keep the world safe. It wasn't an easy task."

"Yeah? And how did that go?” He turns around to face him. “Ninety-eight percent of the world under Eggman's control and Tails lost,” He huffs a short-lived laugh, bitterness emitting from it. “Excellent work."

Knuckles wants to punch him, he wants to wipe that smug, sarcastic smirk off of his face to knock some sense into him (especially now that he seems he’s pulled himself together, at least a bit) but Amy steps between them, holding her arm out to stop Knuckles on his tracks. He could push her away but she knows he won’t.

"Knuckles is right," She states, locking gazes with Sonic.

For a single moment, she regrets it, upon witnessing the way something passes by Sonic’s eyes, pain written all across his face.

"Knuckles is what? He's right? By saying I didn't have it rough?"

"I didn't—"

Sonic cuts him off, waving his hand as he closes his eyes. "For once in my life I felt truly helpless but I thought you had my back."

Amy and Knuckles can only stare, jaws slack at Sonic’s confession.

"And you just… proved me wrong. I'm—"

His voice breaks, slightly, but of course, it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Knuckles’ face softens and Amy approaches him, just a little bit. "Sonic..."

Sonic ignores her as he sits on the ground, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. "Shit.”

He brings his knees to his chest, almost curling into a ball as he moves his hands closer to his face, inspecting them. Only now he realizes they’re trembling.

He starts rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, even if he’s using too much pressure it hurts.

Amy takes a few moments before she kneels next to him, a comforting hand making its way to Sonic’s back. He winces when it makes contact with his fur, arching away from the touch but one look around him persuades him he’s safe. With one long inhale, he decides to relax and accept the friendly gesture, despite it not helping that much.

It is sincere. That’s all that matters.

“We can work this out, like we always do,” She speaks after what feels like an eternity. “We will find him.”

It is wishful thinking more than anything, Sonic notes in his mind. If Tails doesn’t want to be followed, he knows how to hide his tracks. Especially with all the commotion thanks to the war happening around them, it would be ten times harder to get ahold of him or even a rough idea of where he might be.

But Amy’s right. They always win at the end of the day. Together.

Knuckles crouches next to him, patting his shoulder since he seems less tense now. “I’m sorry I couldn’t live up to your expectations,” He confesses and Sonic turns his head around so fast he feels dizzy. “You’re right, I wasn’t fit for the job. But it was a real mess, Sonic. We were lost and outnumbered. Tails felt lost as well, helpless.”

At that Sonic tenses but allows Knuckles to continue. “With you around, we might be able to fix things.”

“Yeah, maybe I—”

“Under my command, though,” Knuckles smirks.

“Aye, aye, commander,” Sonic pouts, playfully.

“And,” Knuckles looks at the wall in front of him. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like whatever you had to deal with back there was not rough. With the way you’re acting, I know it was really bad.”

“Meh, whatever,” Sonic waves a hand at him, grinning. “I’ve had it worse.”

Amy snorts and Knuckles’ raises a brow but they both decide to let it slide.

Sonic hugs his knees, his grin falling. “I’m the one who should be apologizing,” He says, taking a deep breath. “I'm sorry you had to see me like that.”

“It’s okay,” Amy reassures without missing a beat. “We know.”

Sonic looks at both of them, their smiles urging his own to appear on his face as well. If he feels his throat tighten, he ignores it. He feels like he’s cried enough the past six months; more than he should have allowed himself to. Good thing no one was around to see the mess the Infinite illusions had made of him.

“Alright,” he gets up, newfound courage flowing through his veins. “Let’s get to it.”

They get up as they nod when a slam of the door catches them off guard.

“Sonic!”

That voice. Sonic’s smile reaches his ears before he finds the source of the voice.

He’s safe. They both are.

He’s real.

“Tails!”

“I was so worried.”

“You worry too much, look! I’m perfectly fine.”

“Who’s gonna tell him he was losing his shit just a few minutes ago?” Knuckles whispers, which earns him a jab on his chest by Amy’s elbow.

[pico-digital-studios]

Into, Across and Beyond! Scripting: Allies Alike

After OMT!Tails and SS!Amy managed to evade LM!Sonic's wrath, they emerged in the streets of Moebius's central city.

SS!Amy: Gosh... This place really is a dump.

OMT!Tails: Let's just hurry!

They got moving, though so much had happened earlier - he was devastated by the words LM had said to him, and as he flew, he could barely keep ahead of all the voices in his head.

LM!Sonic: Had you actually BEEN more competent in stopping that Malware Threat, your Sonic would still be alive today! But NO! He had to die trying to save your pathetic hide!

Wacky: Tails, I... The... The hardest thing about being a hero is... you can't always save everybody.

Crimtake: You're going to pay for all you've taken from me.

OMT!Tails: I can do BOTH of those things! A hero of Mobius always-!

CR!Sonic: Not... "always".

LM!Sonic: You don’t belong in this universe. You never did.

Tails leapt out into the open first, only wanting to listen to the one voice in his head he wanted to hear.

OMT!Sally: Keep going for me, Tails.

As he kept moving, he didn't notice a truck speeding by and got hit by it, though thankfully not killed. Once in the clear, he fell to his knees, out of breath from the long run, as SS!Amy caught up.

SS!Amy: Oh, gosh... Are you alright, Tails?

OMT!Tails: I-I'll shake it off. I can't give up now, not when Cream's life is in danger.

As he prepared to dash deeper into the building they were at, Amy caught his hand as he turned back in surprise.

SS!Amy: Y... You're still upset over LM calling you an anomaly... right?

OMT!Tails: *sigh* I am, yeah... It's just awful to have to see one Sonic amongst the many heroic ones treat you as if you should n-never have existed. It... It gives me bad m-memories of when I used to be bullied a lot for my abnormality...

SS!Amy: Honestly, Tails? I've been through that same treatment when I joined the Quill Society. Not from the majority, mind you, but from LM specifically. It must've started after my universe was erased by Finitevus the other day...

OMT!Tails: You got treated as an anomaly, too?

SS!Amy: Yeah...

They sat down on the floor.

SS!Amy: Ever since I joined, LM's always been the one to act like I'm not doing good enough on the job. It's always been "you didn't stop Crimtake when you had the opening back then" or "you think your friends would be proud of you?". He left a sour taste in my mouth, honestly. I scoffed it off, but... I still feel like I don't belong, much less due to my "colour scheme" breaking the boundaries.

OMT!Tails: Guess we're both stuck having to be force-fed LM's lies, huh? For me... I'm just scared that, since time is of the essence, we might not stop Crimtake in time.

SS!Amy: Hey.

She smiled softly to him as she held his hand.

SS!Amy: If I could fight Crimtake in my first crossover incident, and you could easily beat him at his weakest, I'm sure we can both pull it off together.

Tails teared up a bit as she hugged him, which he reciprocated as Anti-Miles and Alicia watched close by.

Anti-Miles: Hey, you two?

They broke the hug when they heard Anti-Miles behind them.

OMT!Tails: Guh-! You again?!

Anti-Miles: We couldn't help overhearing what you were discussing about this "Crimtake" individual.

SS!Amy: You heard all that?

Alicia: Yeah. We saw this strange Sonic figure in the depths of the factory, though he got burned out and is bound for the Emerald reactor in the middle.

OMT!Tails: Right. Thanks for that knowledge. We'll go and deal with him!

SS!Amy: Actually, hold on a moment. We might need a hand to ensure he doesn't escape while we're fighting him. Are you two okay with it?

Alicia: If it's for this Tails's sake, I'm more than happy to help!

She smiled to OMT!Tails, proving her word about feeling sorry for his losses was indeed genuine.

OMT!Tails: What about you, Miles?

Anti-Miles: Dude, don't act like I'm in it for your heroics. This ain't a place where heroics define people-.

Alicia: Miles, just this once, alright? That Quill Society I saw would really appreciate having one less thing on their plate.

Miles sighed in frustration, reluctant to agree.

Anti-Miles: Fine.

OMT!Tails: You'll help out?

SS!Amy: Sweet!

Miles whipped out a cigar as he looked at OMT!Tails.

Anti-Miles: Just don't expect me to help you in stuff like this often. Once you're done here, I want you outta here. This city ain't one for the unprepared.

OMT!Tails: You got it. Once we've neutralised and apprehended Crimtake, we'll be gone in a flash!

Anti-Miles: Good. Now, let's get inside this joint!

The four headed inside to find Crimtake, who was inside the Emerald chamber and awaiting their arrival.

Crimtake: So, you four now wish to play the fine game of nil, even with the odds stacked against you? Hehehehe... See you all soon!

[blinkvlink]

into the dark

Summary: Helene re-learns what love is, whether she likes it or not.

Warnings: Depiction of violance, mentions of blood, abusive relationship.

Words: 1K

AO3

Notes: I could not let go of the idea of the detective getting brainwashed by their aunt and this is the result.

Helena thinks she knows what love is before she meets Adam.

For all her life, it was being kept at arm's length. To be loved but to never be worthy enough to feel it. 

She would know her mother cared about her, and would keep that information close to her chest so that when Rebecca walked away or shut her off in order to not reveal what lies beneath, she wouldn’t snap and do something drastic. A coping mechanism at best.

But knowing that you are loved is not enough, Helena knows that all too well.

Yet she is somewhat relieved when he doesn’t change the definition for her one bit. It’s still the same. It is still to be loved with fear and to be buried to the depths of their hearts so they won’t hear her scream. 

Still, she doesn’t go down without a fight, she tries to claw her way back to the surface. But Adam looks her in the eye, begs her to remain in the darkness, saying that this is what’s best for both of them. What is she supposed to do when he asks that of her? Doesn’t he know she would do anything for him?

She can’t help but feel, however, that obliging to his request was the way it all came undone.

Because they come for her in the night, when she has isolated herself from the rest of the team. Alone in her apartment, earlier than she needs to be because he hurt her, hit her in the same place and re-opened a wound that never really closes in the first place.

When she hears her door being broken down, she is still trying to pick up the pieces Adam left her with in her bedroom.

And she soon finds out that love is being laid upon a cold metal table with your hands pinned down, tied by ropes that are cutting into your skin. She learns that being cared for is to be blinded by the operation light above your head, and to be stabbed with needles until they find the vein. 

She learns that it is seeing a face you could make out anywhere, at any condition.

Love fills her lungs as they press a mask against her nose and lips, and as everything fades to black. She calls her 'Rook'. 'My Rook' she names her. 

And with her love, she is reborn.

When the time comes- she doesn't know when it does, she doesn't need to keep track of it and therefore she doesn't - she takes her first steps, leaving a trail of blood behind her wherever she goes. The knight points, and the rook kills. She practices, day and night, and soon the strings that are tied on her wrists and legs and neck sink into her skin, becoming one with the flesh.

If knew them once, she doesn't know them now. Their faces are those of strangers. Further than that, foes. The horror in their eyes mean nothing to her, no more than the frightened and frantic movements of a spider, running away from the boot that is catching up to it. She stands behind her knight, watches as she speaks to them. Her lips are sealed despite the calls of her name, she doesn’t hear them. Her ears only look out for the sound of her voice.  And they do not know that the name they call with their broken voices is not hers anymore. 

They tear them apart, like a child with an insect in their palm, pulling at the thin limbs of the poor creature. She is the one to eliminate the 3. Her hand finds its way through the chest of the golden eyed one. She barely hears the crack of bones as she breaks the one with the freckles, and the tall one can barely react as she punches through his neck. 

The knight still stands. Not only her knight, but the knight with the emerald eyes and agonized expression.

'He was once your knight too.' a voice tries to say from the inside, somewhere between all the twisted and knotted strings. She kills it too before it can say more.

“You took her from us. You took her from me.” he says, clutching the blood that leaks from his torso. She can see him trying to avoid looking at the mangled corpses of his friends, his family. When he looks at her, she can tell that despite being the executioner to those he loved, he still loves her too. 

It barely manifests into something in her chest.

Knight scoffs.

“I took her from you? You talk as if she was ever yours, du Mortain. Did you tell her you love her, did you show it? You accuse me of being the center of all her misery when you tore her heart open every single day. With me, she is cared for. She is protected. She is loved.”

The vampire’s face twists with agony, and tears shine in his eyes.

“No. What you did to her isn’t love.” he says with despair, his voice barely above a pained groan.

“What would any of you know about love?” Her knight challenges, looking at him with pure disgust. “Dead souls trapped in immortal bodies, pretending to be something you never can be. And Rebecca? No different than you abominations, even worse in most ways. That woman took everything from me. But she did me one good, in the end. She gave me her.”

Her hand gestures at her, as she stands a step behind her. And ever since the encounter started, Rook feels something bloom in her chest. Its vines and roots spread inside her bones, growing thornes over her organs. And she smiles. 

Love, she feels love.

“Enough chatter.” the Knight says. “I would kill you too, but I know that would be mercy. And that is the last thing you deserve.” She tilts her head towards the corpses of the other vampires, once great fighters now nothing more than paintings of gore. “Know that you did this to them. Know that you were the reason for their end, and live with that fact forever. Live with the fact that you became the monster you feared to be.”

As they leave, she hears him scream a bunch of things, a bunch of meaningless words that are worth nothing to her.

‘This isn’t you.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Come back, please.’

‘I love you. I always loved you.’

She hears none. Rook does not keep the concealed love close to her chest to survive anymore. Knight holds her like a gun, and in the violence, she relishes. She drowns. 

[corpsephage]

Sonic Frontiers Pre-DLC-Three Whinefest

I couldn't really get much into Sonic Frontiers, and I thought the final boss and ending was a little lacklustre. Apparently the writers agreed with me, because they're releasing a new ending as free DLC tomorrow.

I actually had a lot of thoughts about Frontiers and this'll likely be the last time I can air them before The Final Horizon comes along and makes me eat humble pie with how good it is. But I don't want to rip on it too hard because I know a lot of effort goes into making games like this.

I think Sonic Frontiers works best for me when I look at it like a tech demo for a future open world Sonic game. Compared to the variety of stages you get in other Sonic games - here's a casino with giant pinball machines, there's a European city full of balloons, here's a mineshaft from Halloween Town - the Frontiers open zones kind of felt sparse and empty, and there wasn't much I could find to do except go from one bit of plot to the next. This is a trap a lot of open-world games fall into, when the world is wider than it is deep, and there's everywhere to go but nothing to do.

However, I did like the enemies. They kind of looked samey aesthetics-wise, but they were all unique and had their own abilities that cleverly played off from Sonic's own, like the enemy disguised as a bounce pad or the one that would steal a Chaos Emerald from you.

In terms of boss fights, I think I preferred the part where you were normal Sonic running up their bodies to being Super Sonic and frantically smashing buttons. I was a big fan of Shadow of the Colossus, so anything that reminds me of those bosses is a plus.

Plot-wise, well... usually I can take or leave Sonic game plots, but this is probably the most plot-heavy Sonic game we've had so far. It's been described as "melancholy", and while it's not exactly grimdark-edgy, I wonder if it's a good fit for a Sonic game. I think the tone that suits Sonic best would be “fun”; not necessarily “silly” or “goofy”, just “fun”. That’s not me saying the whole thing should be happy-go-lucky, I think it should take slow moments every now and then to add complexity to the story.

Sonic's friends have these character arcs where they learn important lessons, like Amy learns not to be creepy-in-love with Sonic, Knuckles learns not to be tethered to the Master Emerald all the time, and Tails learns to stand on his own two feet for the umpteenth time. Part of me feels like maybe they're overcorrecting things that don't need that much correcting - especially Tails, whose whole arc felt kind of like an apology for the whole "Sonic, help me!" throwaway line in Forces.

Then there's Sage, the new character for this game, honouring the SEGA tradition of adding at least one new character every game. Truth be told, I kind of like them adding new characters, as long as they aren't just re-skins of the same "tutorial fairy" archetype (I think that's why Blaze and Silver had the staying power they did, being headlining playable characters in their debut games and all).

Sage had a lot of potential that I didn't think they got to explore. It's an interesting idea that she unconditionally loves Eggman like a father, but learns more of her morals from Sonic, which has the makings of a really tragic character. But they didn't really go in-depth with this my-two-dads-hate-each-other hook, and when they tried to do the whole Toy Story 2 bit with her (you know the part I'm talking about) I just couldn't take it seriously.

The main villain of the game turns out to be a big purple rock, which left me quite underwhelmed considering the build-up it got. The Sonic wiki reckons it's the ultimate overarching evil in all of Sonic ("Oh my God, I should have known! The one behind all this! All this time it was a big purple rock!") which is big talk considering Eggman is right! There! I get they were trying to go for a whole Azathoth/Yog-Sothoth thing, but I think Sonic-style dark gods need some more meat on their bones than the Lovecraft "it's indescribable, just trust me bro" style. I've seen some impressive fan designs for the big purple rock that make it look a lot more malevolent.

Honestly, I think Sage should have been the final boss. That’d really put her feelings between Sonic and Eggman at the emotional core of the story. Imagine once the towers were finished, Eggman comes out of cyberspace and the first thing he tries is to kill Sonic and his friends there and then - maybe he orders Sage to do it - but poor Sage can’t bring herself to kill her Uncle Sonic or disappoint her beloved dad, so she has an emotional breakdown which allows the evil cyber-force to enter into her mind, and the final boss ends up being her piloting this super-titan made of all three of the other titans. And maybe at the end Sonic knocks some sense into her – telling her to be her own person and all that – and she uses her free will to sacrifice herself and stop the cyber-evil. Or something. Look, I still can't believe the final boss was a QTE against a big purple rock, alright?!

But if there's one thing I do like Sonic Frontiers for, it's for being ambitious. If you look around the Sonic Fanon wiki, you'll see a lot of pretty detailed Sonic game ideas, and a lot of them have pretty high stakes and expansive stages - open-world designs featuring ancient evils from ancient civilizations and stuff like that. The first thing I thought of when I saw Frontiers, right when it was nothing more than a teaser, was that it reminded me of those fan game ideas. And in a strange way it works. Kind of. Sorta. I didn't hate it. On reflection.

If nothing else, Frontiers proves that an open-ended Sonic game can work. If the open world was more lively, it'd be a magical experience. Picture Sonic running through the countryside at night, over hill and dale, past streams and forests, the flickering lights of cities in the distance. Slaloming through traffic on the interstate, running up the sides of skyscrapers and springing from the rooftops, pedestrians down below wondering what that blue flash was. That kind of freedom and openness suits Sonic down to the ground. Split the world into denser and busier areas for fast-paced reflex-testing, and wider, quieter areas for taking it all in - that's a true Sonic simulator right there, looking into his world of worlds.

The new DLC also gives SEGA the chance to prove itself with other playable characters, like back in the days of Adventure yore. I actually like the presence of other playable characters - like I say, you don't make a fox with two tails who can fly and not have him playable - so long as they're fun to play as. Honestly, I hope the new DLC does it well, because if it's a success, then the next game might be willing to expand upon all this potential. You never know, we might be looking at a proper Sonic the Hedgehog RPG in a few years, and it could be the biggest Sonic adventure since... uh... Sonic Adventure.

So, yeah - Sonic Frontiers - didn't dig it - could've done better - and I hope it does do better, because it has a hell of a lot of potential, and I'd love to see an open-ended Sonic game taking place in a living, breathing world with the groundwork Frontiers has laid. And if we can play as Tails, Knuckles, Amy and all the rest, so much the better. Bring on Grand Theft Sonic, I say.

[drindrak]

Penny better be alive and well dammit

[emeraldiis]

Double Vision

A/N: this is so self indulgent i should be ashamed of myself

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader, President Loki x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary:  You and your boyfriend, 2012 Loki, are trapped at the end of time. But you're not alone. President Loki just got two new toys to play with.

Warnings: threesome, DUBIOUS CONSENT, dom/sub, sub!Loki, bondage, name calling, rough sex, mild knife play

You had been pruned seconds after Loki had in the battle in the TVA’s headquarters. Strangely, it didn’t hurt like you had expected. Just a faint sensation of completely and utter emptiness, and then everything went dark. Just like falling asleep. When you came back to your senses, it was just as gentle. You awoke in a bed of grass, staring up at a cloudy sky. A wave of relief calmed the rising panic in your veins when you turned to see Loki lying next to you.

You took in your surroundings slowly. The clouds looming above you looked threatening, like an impending storm, and far off in the distance was what looked like a ruined city. Crumbling skyscrapers pierced the horizon like jagged teeth. Heart speeding up in fear, you quickly shook Loki awake. “Wake up,” you hissed. “I have no idea where the hell we are.”

Loki grumbled and raised a disoriented hand to bat yours away, but still cracked open his hazy eyes to squint at you. A smile lit up his face when he saw you staring back at him, and you’d have been touched if it wasn’t important that he wake up right now. Upon seeing the anxiety written clearly on your face, he furrowed his brows and sat up, shaking his head to chase away the lingering confusion. You could tell the moment he realized something was very...wrong with the realm you found yourselves in, as his eyes widened and he was instantly on guard.

A deafening roar shook the ground, alerting the both of you to a looming danger, and you turned around to see a purple mass bearing down on you. You’d seen your fair share of fucked up things to know that this was not something you wanted to stick around for. Around you, small, bird-like creatures fled from the shadowy monster. In a flash, you were on your feet, tugging on Loki’s arm to pull him up with you. “Come on,” you yelled, raising your voice to be heard over the wind that had suddenly picked up speed.

Loki whipped his head around, desperately searching for shelter, then pointed at the city. “There, run!” He took off in a sprint towards the buildings, with you stumbling along behind him. The head start you got seemed to be enough to out run whatever was chasing you, but you didn’t dare slow down as you ran full tilt to safety. As the city drew closer, a sense of dread crept into your limbs, but you pushed it down. Better to race towards the unknown when the known was actively trying to kill you.

Your legs burned and your lungs were screaming out in protest, but Loki’s panted encouragements kept you on your feet and moving long enough to reach what looked like a half-collapsed hotel. Loki rushed inside the dilapidated building, holding the door open for you to scramble inside before slamming it shut. Another roar made the building tremble, and you bit your lip. As the ceiling shook and spat dust into your hair, you prayed that it would hold. Out of the frying pan, you thought to yourself.

Fortunately, it seemed as if the monster had moved on in search of easier prey, and you took the moment of fragile peace to sink against the wall and finally catch your breath. You dropped your head into your hands, trying to force your breathing back into a normal rhythm and figure out what the hell was happening. You’d just about calmed down when you heard Loki chuckle. “What’s so fu-funny?” You asked, still panting.

“That wasn’t me.”

“Huh?” You looked up, then felt your newly regained breath leave your lungs as another Loki emerged from the darkened hallway. He was dressed in what looked like a suit tailored after your Loki’s Asgardian armor, and he wore his horns proudly. A “Vote Loki,” pin sat crooked on his suit jacket. The flickering lights above him illuminated his grin, making him look like, well, a villain.

“You’re a variant,” your Loki said, stepping in front of you and eyeing his twin warily. The only ever Loki variant you had encountered was Sylvie, and she was questionable at the best of times. Loki was right to be on guard.

“I suppose you could call me that,” President Loki drawled, tracing a finger along the dusty wall as he stalked towards you. It left tracks on the wallpaper.  He leaned to the side to peer around you Loki, and you felt naked under his predatory gaze. You shrank further behind your boyfriend.

“My, what do you have here?” He asked, eyes lighting up in a way that made your hair stand on end. “What a pretty toy, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I had a turn?”

Your Loki groweld protectively, and he took a step forward. “Do not lay a finger on her.”

President Loki frowned. “That’s no way to treat the superior version of yourself.” He continued his march forward, then slowed to a stop inches from your Loki’s defensive frame. “It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen a beautiful woman.”

You were horrified to find a confusing sort of arousal settling into your stomach. This was, after all, just another version of Loki, the man who’d spent so many nights taking you apart and putting you back together again. You’d seen those same hooded eyes so many times, seen that same smile as Loki made you squirm. Despite trying your hardest to fight it, you could feel a dampness soak into your panties, making you shift uncomfortably.

Just as perceptive as your own Loki, President Loki seemed to sense your growing interest. His frown broke out into a wide smile. “Oh, you want it, don’t you? Go on, tell your guard dog to back down, so we can play.” He nodded towards your Loki, who had turned around to look at you with perplexed, hurt eyes. 

“Really?” He asked, flicking his gaze from the blush on your face towards your tensing thighs. He instantly recognized the arousal he’d seen so many times before, and his expression grew bewildered. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you whimpered, trying to defend yourself. “He looks just like you, I mean, he is you, and I…” you squeezed your eyes shut. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

This was all so fucked. Just minutes ago you were running for your life in a strange new world, and now all that adrenaline had shifted into a violent desire to be broken to pieces. Just so you didn’t have to think about the horror that was your current situation. President Loki was still staring at you, pupils now blown and tongue running across his bottom lip in blatant want.

“Oh, love. There’s nothing wrong with you,” the variant purred. His voice was a bit deeper than your Loki’s, but it still had that velvet smoothness that always made you weak in the knees. A bright flash of green shot out from his fingertips, ensnaring your Loki in glowing rope.

He gasped in surprise, and immediately began to struggle against the magic, but it was in vain. You cried out and reached for him, but President Loki was faster. He grabbed your Loki’s arm, then began to drag him away from you and down the hallway. With a sharp whistle, he motioned his head for you to follow, and found yourself standing and trailing behind the two Lokis like an obedient dog.

President Loki pulled yours into the depths of the hotel, you following anxiously. Your Loki shouted threats and harsh words, but the magic bonds kept him nearly immobile as he was guided by President Loki. You didn’t dare try anything stupid; you weren’t a fighter, and you suspected that this variant far outmatched both you and your lover in combat. All you could do was obey and hope he showed mercy.

You were led into a suite that seemed more put together than the rest of the hotel. Everything looked much cleaner, especially the bed, and most of the walls appeared to be stable. President Loki shoved your Loki into an armchair at the back wall of the room, and then positioned it so that it was facing the bed. “Well?” He asked, lazily gesturing towards the bed.

A gush of wetness seeped from your core at the same time as fear gripped your chest. Two conflicting emotions warred within you, and you felt hot tears stinging your eyes at the confusion of it all. On one hand, you loved your Loki. There was not telling how trustworthy this variant was, if he was going to hurt you or your boyfriend. On the other, this was the once in a lifetime chance to experience a threesome with only Loki. A fantasy that most likely no other person had gotten the chance to experience outside of their dreams.

You cast a helpless glance over at your Loki. When you weren’t looking, President Loki must have gagged him, because there was now an emerald piece of fabric stuffed between his lips. Your pussy throbbed in appreciation at the sight while your heart ached at the terror in his eyes.

President Loki rolled his eyes. “I can’t say I’ve ever met a version of me quite this soft,” he said, walking to his clone’s chair. “Let me help you relax.” President Loki straddled your Loki, chuckling at the muffled whimper that spilled from behind the gag. The variant brought his head down to bite at Loki's neck, and your mouth dropped open.

To your surprise--and hesitant delight--your Loki seemed to be almost enjoying the treatment. His head had fallen back against the chair, and he was breathing in that strained way that he did when he was turned on and trying to hide it. Kinky bastard, you thought to yourself.

President Loki paused his assault on your Loki’s neck to look back at you. “See? He likes it, dear. Now be a good girl and get on the bed,” he commanded. The growl in his voice let you know that he would not tolerate being disobeyed again, so you nodded and clambered on top of the bed. 

Sliding off Loki’s lap, the variant gave him a quick pat on the head and then made his way over to you. “Mmmf!” Loki mumbled, earning a sharp look from President Loki.

“I won’t hurt her. If you stay quiet like a good boy, I may let you have a turn.”

That sent chills down your spine. The thought of both of the Lokis having their way with you was almost too much, and your shaking knees finally gave out to send you sprawling onto your back against the pillows. Seemingly amused, President Loki snickered and crawled onto the bed. He crept forward until he was hovering over you, dark blue eyes raking across your trembling form.

You squirmed under his piercing gaze. The shivers making their way up and down your spine were unrelenting, no matter how hard you tried to keep still and quiet. “What happens now?” You squeaked out.

President Loki’s mouth opened in a wide green, revealing stark white teeth that almost looked sharp. “Now, we play.” Green light appeared at his fingertips again, and your hands shot up uncontrollably. You yelped in surprise and tugged on the rope that had appeared on your wrists. You were bound to the headboard, completely at the mercy of this variant. And fuck, it was exciting and terrifying and arousing all at the same time. What a mess.

There was that green light again. This time, it revolved around itself until it took the shape of a jet black dagger. President Loki ran his thumb along the handle, eyes leaving you to gaze lovingly at the knife. Your breath quickened in fear. “Stay still,” he purred. With deft fingers, President Loki raked the tip of the dagger down your shirt, cutting it open at the front. You let out an embarrassingly high pitched squeal as cold metal came in contact with your bare skin. But, as he promised, the variant did not hurt you. He made quick work of your pants as well, abandoning the knife in favor of simply yanking them down your legs along with your panties.

The cold air hitting your bare skin made you gasp. You tugged uselessly at your wrists, wanting to cover yourself in embarrassment at your sudden nakedness. Your frantic squirming made President Loki chuckle, and he leaned down to nip at your ear. “Don’t worry, sweet thing. I’ll warm you up.” His hot breath against your ear sent shivers of pleasure down your spine, and you couldn’t suppress a soft moan.

Suddenly remembering your restrained boyfriend, you managed to peer around President Loki to make sure he was alright. Your Loki was still bound and gagged, but now his face was alight with a crimson blush. Your eyes drifted downwards to the prominent bulge in his pants. When he caught you staring, Loki dropped his gaze away from yours, ashamed.

President Loki watched the silent conversation, amused. He trailed a thin finger up your thigh, then sat back to straddle your hips. “He’s enjoying himself,” the variant said confidently. He grinned at you. “I know because he’s me, and he likes what I like.”

All you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes, naked and defenseless underneath his weight.

“Oh? Surprised, are we?” President Loki drawled as he waved his hand casually. His suit faded away with his gesture, leaving him bare as well. His long cock mirrored your boyfriend’s, and it was swollen and dripping. You licked your lips. “I’ll take it you two haven’t fully...explored his interests. Us Lokis crave dominance, to be left at the mercy of a pretty thing like you.”

“So why aren’t you-”

He cut you off with a gentle slap to your inner thigh. When you sucked in a harsh breath, he chuckled. “Because there’s something else we love. Power.” WIth that, President Loki moved to place his legs on either side of you. He grabbed your ankles roughly and pressed your legs back until they sat atop his shoulders. You groaned at the stretch, then sighed heavily as he titled his head to the side to mouth at your ankle. “Ready, slut?” He growled.

You didn’t get a chance to answer. The air was stolen from your lungs as the variant plunged his hard cock into you, the stretch burning. You screamed out in pleasure and pain, listening to what sounded like both Lokis moaning in unison. The version that was currently buried deep inside of your heat rolled his eyes back in pleasure at the feeling of your pussy flexing around him.

“Oh, it’s been so long,” the variant moaned. “I want to make this last.” He began thrusting his hips lazily, more grinding into you than anything. You whimpered as you got used to the size of him. It felt like you were dreaming with how overwhelming it all was. Your core throbbed again and again as new gushes of arousal spilled from your cunt, and your head was spinning with the knowledge that just feet from you, your boyfriend was being forced to watch another version of himself tear you apart. And he loved every second of it.

From behind President Loki, your Loki whined, and you could just barely see him twitching his hips up into nothing. “Please,” he begged, and you noticed that he had managed to slip the gag from his mouth. You weren’t sure what he was begging for. To be touched, to touch you. Probably both.

President Loki looked at you with lidded eyes, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he ground his cock deep inside of you. “Should we let him play, too?” He asked, voice ragged.

You nodded frantically. Words escaped you, but you desperately wanted your boyfriend here. You longed for his touch, wanting to feel them both. President Loki nodded and waved his hand back towards the chair. Loki’s bonds vanished, and he was scrambling onto the bed as soon as he was free. 

He crawled up to the top of the bed, hands outstretched to grab your face and pull you in for a kiss. Your Loki gasped desperately as President Loki grabbed him by the hair, pulling hard so that he stopped just short of reaching your lips. Your Loki whimpered and went nearly limp in submission.

The variant let go of Loki’s hair, tsking at him like he was scolding a child. “You may not touch her without my permission.” His voice was surprisingly even, given how he was still thrusting into you. “Are we clear?”

Your Loki opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it and nodded obediently. President Loki grinned wolfishly. “Good boy. You may kiss her.”

In a flash, your lover was leaning over you, pressing his mouth clumsily to yours. His tongue sought entry, and you let him in enthusiastically. You could practically feel the desperation seeping from his every pore. You’d never seen him this worked up, and silently wished you had discovered this kink of his a little sooner. “You look beautiful like this,” he panted into your mouth.

When you began to reply, it was cut short by a yelp as President Loki’s hand dropped down to play with your clit. Your Loki kissed you again, drinking in all of your moans as his variant brought you higher and higher with those deft fingers. With a growl, President Loki snatched your Loki’s hair again and dragged him away from your lips. Loki’s pitiful whine matched yours as you both gasped for air.

“Fuck her mouth,” President Loki commanded, increasing the pace of his thrusts with a growl of pleasure. His fingers kept up their assault on your clit, and you fought to crane your neck up and open your mouth to be ready for your boyfriend’s cock.

Loki hastily yanked off his pants and pulled out his weeping dick. He shuffled over to you, then leaned forward until he was close enough to guide himself onto your tongue. This was familiar, the heavy weight of Loki’s erection stretching your jaw. You closed your lips around him and began to suck, gritting your teeth against the cries of pleasure that threatened to break free from your throat.

President Loki let go of the other Loki’s hair and instead gripped your hip roughly as he began fucking you an earnest. “So tight,” he hissed. “Cum for me, little slut. Cum for your god.”

Helpless to do anything but obey, you felt your back arch up as your entire body convulsed. Pleasure ripped through you and left you a whimpering mess, drooling around you Loki’s cock. Your boyfriend cursed at the sight of you cumming, and began to pump himself in and out of your mouth. “I-I can’t help, fuck, help myself, darling. Ah, oh gods.”

“Such a good girl,” President Loki praised. He groaned at the tightening of your walls, then removed his hand from your clit to wrap a long arm around your Loki’s neck. Your Loki was forced to lean back against President Loki’s chest, only able to keep his cock in your mouth because of his lanky body.

Your Loki cried out, the sound broken up by his variant cutting off his oxygen. His hips stuttered violently, and you felt thick cum spurt into your throat. Somehow, you were able to force it down instead of choking, and you heard Loki whimper at the feel of his sensitive length being constricted by your throat. “Love, fuck,” he keened.

Seeing the two of you cum proved to be too much for the variant. “Oh, Norns, I can’t,” he groaned out harshly, then slammed himself into you and held his hips there as his cock pulsed within you. As he came, the magic binding your wrists dissipated, and you brought your arms down to rub at the sore muscles. Hot seed spilled out of you, running down to your ass. President Loki watched his cum drip from your swollen pussy in appreciation, panting softly. 

Your Loki had collapsed next to you, and was now snuggled up against your side. The variant frowned at the sight, and you could almost detect a rueful look on his face. You hissed in a pained breath as President Loki slowly lowered your aching legs from his shoulders. He sighed as he pulled out of you, a rush of liquid gushing out and wetting the bed. Most of the dominance gone from his demeanor, he shifted awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure where he fit in this dynamic.

His sudden insecurity didn’t surprise you. After all, he was a Loki, and they were notorious for their false confidence. It tracked. After a moment’s hesitation, you reached up and grabbed his arm to pull him to lay down next to you. He stared at you in slight confusion, but obliged, leaving you sandwiched between the two Lokis. You turned to your boyfriend, who was already drifting off, too fucked out to keep his eyes open. With a soft smile, you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

President Loki cleared his throat, catching your attention. “I, uh. It’s a bit sad. Seeing what I could’ve had. I can’t help but be envious.” He chewed on his bottom lip and looked away, bravado completely gone.

You rolled your eyes and threw a tired arm around him, feeling a rush of satisfaction when he purred happily and cuddled against you. “I think I have room in my life for more than one Loki,” you whispered. And it was true. If Loki was born to be a villain in every timeline, then you were born to love each one of them.

[spiltscribbles]

Ahh I've always wanted to send a prompt. How about “Whoa. Easy, easy. I’ve got you.” with some sleep intimacy. Can I just say I love you and your writing.

~Notes: 😭😭 OH KY GOD SUGAR!!! You are so beyond adorable! I love you to pieces! And I do not deserve such kindness💜😘😘 So I at first read this as sleek Becs i am an idiot... so honestly this is 4700 words of pure smut😳😌😌 but uts early morning so it’s stilly sleepy intimacy kvdjhj Thank you for the prompt! But if smut isn’t your jam plz lmk and I’ll write you something else😣😣😘💜

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If asked to choose his favorite feature of Remus’s, Sirius reckons he’d have a difficult time with it, like to a ridiculous degree. It could easily be the dimple that shows up right on the apple of his cheek when he sports that glowing, reluctantly amused smile that only appears after Sirius or James have hexed a Slytherin prat right in front of him, and not even his Prefect sensibilities prove strong enough to scold them for it. Or maybe it’s the splatter of freckles that dance on the tops of his shoulders and the bridge of his nose right after summer hols, and he looks gloriously golden and it’s all Sirius can do not to kiss each one right in front of all the wizards congregated in nine and three quarters. Or maybe it’s simply the way he gnaws on his bottom lip whenever he’s thinking particularly hard on a subject— a habit usually reserved for potions lessons and when it’s a late night in the library and they’re both tucked away in a dark nook and Sirius has pushed Remus up against a bookshelf while stroking him in his trousers with intense precision. One corner of his mouth curled in challenge, dipping down to lick at that hollow on Remus’s long neck, tacitly reminding him that he best keep quiet lest Madam Pince has their heads on a couple of stakes she surely keeps beneath her desk for opportunities just like this.

Alright, if Sirius is being at all honest, it’s a frequently alternating list of all of Remus’s most splendid attributes, but at the moment, Sirius thinks there’s no question that in fact it’s Remus’s eyes that can ruin him with just a glance. His eyes that are a deep, vibrant green with flecks of amber that dance in their depths. Eyes that look like September, like the very start of their school term. Eyes that make Sirius think of the forest where Padfoot and Moony roam. Eyes that make Sirius think of fire lit common rooms and the taste of butterscotch on Remus’s lips, and such an overwhelming sensation of adoration that it could very well suffocate him if Sirius isn’t careful. It’s such a contrary color from the crisp and cool shades of emerald that accent the regality of 12 Grimmauld Place. Remus’s eyes are something warm and wonderful and where Sirius would gladly choose to get lost inside of for the next eon to come— Most especially if it’s a moment like this, with one of his hands knotted in Remus’s hair while the other one is busy thumbing small circles into his bare stomach. Where Remus is enthusiastically kissing Sirius back— fervent and famished and so fucking gorgeous— His arms loosely tangled around Sirius’s neck from where he’s lying beneath him, long legs bracketed on either side of Sirius’s narrow waist, and yeah, Sirius has always had three inches and two stone on Remus, but he often forgets that Remus’s lithe stature isn’t just for show— he’s got discrete strength beyond a normal wizard, and he chooses to fall under Sirius. Chooses Sirius who’s all hard edges and marble planes. He chooses Sirius simply on the merit that he’s him, and they’ve always been at least somewhat drawn to one another, even before either one of them really knew what it meant.

Sirius inwardly preens, presses more forcefully down against Remus and revels in the slight whimper Remus lets out just then, hands grappling Sirius’s broad shoulders just that bit tighter, keeping him close just that bit more desperately.

It’s remarkable.

The dormitory’s blessedly quiet this Saturday morning— James is off being a ponce on the quidditch field in preparations for their match against Slytherin in a couple weeks— the final one before they graduate and leave Hogwarts’ hallowed halls for the final time— And Peter had kindly buggered off after some not particularly well veiled threats waged by Sirius so he could get some alone time with his sodding boyfriend for Merlin’s sake. They have all morning to stay like this. Sirius can spend hours on end watching as the early light unspools in Remus’s hair— lacing into his curls and turning them a lovely tawny color— and he gets to revel in how Remus’s breath quickens every time Sirius bucks down and rubs their barely clad, already hard cocks against one another. And Sirius can whisper sweet nothings into Remus’s still sleep supple skin— sometimes filthy, and occasionally wicked, and always exultant— letting himself drown into the sounds that Remus moans out in turn, poetry if anyone were to ask him. And they don’t have to worry about nosey roommates or trying to keep quiet or staying inconspicuous from prying eyes that threaten to snatch this snapshot of bliss away from him.

If Sirius could stay in the slice of eternity for the rest of their days and beyond, he’d choose it every single time. And maybe that could be their future, their life after Hogwarts— far away from this looming war beginning to ravage their world as they know it, and divorced from the whispers of the Order that Dumbledore has created to fight against those barmy, blood crazed lunatics.

A future that’s normal and safe and glittering like the silvery film around their patronuses.

Remus would probably get a Muggle job, maybe in a University of some sort. Sirius always thought he’d make such a brilliant professor, make all the school kids mad with how he’s so brilliant and beautiful and compassionate. Sirius and James already know that they’ll both end up in the Ministry as Aurors, because of course that’s the job for a couple of dashing young lads such as themselves. He supposes by then Evans will have been convinced to stop the on again, off again nature of her relationship with dear Prongsie, but he knows that even if not she and Remus are as thick s thieves, she’ll never just let him get away from her friendship after graduation. So maybe she’ll come visit in their flat after her internship at St Mungo’s, and of course Pete is always terrified that if he doesn’t spend every waking minute with at least one of them that he’ll be forgotten, so he’d be there too. The five of them, bombastic and bright and babbling on a lazy weeknight with glasses of fire-whiskey and plates of take out and Remus perched securely into Sirius’s embrace, and everything being just as it should be. Something golden, something wonderful, something splendid.

But as he begins to nip at that point against Remus’s sharp collarbone that’s become his favorite through the duration of their nearly year and a half of dating, he wonders not for the first time if Remus has the same prospects— if he wants to spend countless mornings just like this and endless nights in a similar way, if he wants to pick up Sirius’s discarded socks and eat the dinners Sirius makes for them, if he wants to tumble so thoroughly with Sirius that they don’t even know where one begins and the other ends anymore. Sirius wonders if he wants any of that, or if Remus is planning to go back to Wales with his parents instead of taking up Sirius’s casually thrown around offers for him to stay in the London flat that Alphard had left Sirius along with the gold and the watch and all the expectations of doing better than the Black name has always meant.

And the possibility of that— the possibility of Remus not dreaming of the same forever as him— cuts Sirius to the quick, and he doesn’t let himself think about it, instead sits up on his forearms, so that he’s peering down at Remus now, and he cups the length of him over the cotton, squeezing to hear the melody of Remus’s gasp and grounds himself into the moment once more.

“You’re in a mood this morning,” Remus intones, more than a bit breathily while Sirius moves his hand to push beneath Remus’s pants from behind, cupping one of his cheeks for a good and proper squeeze.

“Mmm, careful, or else I’d think you don’t like this method of being woken up,” Sirius counters, feels himself preen at how Remus’s face dusts scarlet, though it doesn’t last long when Remus retaliates by tugging at his hair, beyond mulish looking at Sirius’s glee.

“You know, I do have to do some more research on that final paper for charms that Flitwick gave us,” he muses— the unrepentant tease.

“Are you sure of that,” Sirius asks, dipping back down to worry the skin of Remus’s earlobe between his teeth, while the pads of his fingers make a pedal soft trail to the cress of his arse, lighter than breath while he circles the small, tight entrance of him— just grazing around the hole with languid intent, occasionally dragging over the opening with a dry finger, never delving any deeper than that. And it gets it’s intended effect— namely, the balls of Remus’s heels pressing up against Sirius’s back, and him gasping out these guttural, maddening mewls as he tries to buck down, tries to finally get some penetration.

“Merlin, are you going to just tease me till those wankers get back, or will you finally fucking do something, Black.”

“I think I like keeping you on the edge, sweetheart.” Sirius retorts, punctuating the point with a small wiggle of the top of his pointer finger, the one now comfortably nestled inside of him.

“Absolute prat,” Remus fumes, though when he begins to try moving once more, Sirius stunts the action by lying his forearm against hiss lightly muscled stomach, pressing most of his weight there while he gives one final, goading push with his finger and drags his hand to instead rub against the expanse of Remus’s pale, thin thigh, wants to lap at the skin there but also doesn’t want Remus to win this little battle he’s waged— not yet at least.

“Well Maybe if you ask nicely?”

The twist of Remus’s features tells Sirius that he’s absolutely fuming, but also he won’t leave because he’s gagging for it just as much as him. “You’re the dog, if you don’t recall. Maybe I should make you beg to hump even my leg.”

“No need for such a wicked tongue, Moons,” Sirius sneers, hitches Remus’s legs higher on his waistline so that the head of his cock can graze at the concealed hole. “Just a please would suffice.”

Remus scoffs. “You’re mad.”

“I’m also very patient,” Sirius leers, begins thrusting only slightly, nudging at him and delighting in the flicker of emotions that flashes over Remus’s face— going from indignant to wanting to abashed and landing on a cool sort of resolve.

“Oi, if you’re all talk, I’m sure I can poke around in the library, see if Leon is still—“ The rest of Remus’s sentence is swallowed up by the frenzy of movement that clashes inharmoniously from one moment to the next. And suddenly Remus is lying flat on his front, with one of Sirius’s legs pressed unswervingly between his legs, an accioed bottle of lube in one of his hands while the other nearly tears Remus’s pants trying to drag them off.

“You’re such a little arse, Lupin.” He hisses, tossing the garnet to the side along with his own before he begins palming his prick with the Muggle lotion type substance Remus had brought along from after easter hols, when they had visited that brilliant little shop in Soho— and Sirius isn’t sure if he should be proud or simply smug at how it’s already emptied by half.

“You like how little my arse is, Black,” Remus retorts from where his head is now squeezed partially onto his pillow, punctuating the point with a small shake of his bum.

“Right, so that means I’d rather not think of the other plonkers who’ve seen it before I got my hands all over you,” Sirius snaps, not actually irritated— even if he hates the sight of Leon sodding Bennett more than anything else.

“It was just a joke,” Remus tells him, soft and sincere and away from that playful tone he was using from before.

“Yeah, you better have been,” Sirius says, but then dips down to kiss between Remus’s shoulder blades— to the left of where he’s got a hand spread across his back— just to assure him that he’s not actually upset.

“You’re brilliant you know. The best in every way, I hope you understand that,” Remus tells him, a bit quieter and a bit more reserved, in a voice that wavers only slightly with the nerves of the admission. “I’ve only ever been in love with you— And I know that it’s probably not the same, I know that you’ve had others and we’re only eighteen and—“

Sirius cuts him off with one single, quick smack against the width of his arse— an arse he can probably write a thousand sonnets and a million more odes about— and he returns to kneading at the muscle there. “Don’t be an idiot, Remus. You know I love you like mad, more than anything— you’re everything.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s good— Erm, I mean—“ Sirius can only see half of Remus’s face from this angle, and most of it is obscured by his curly fringe, but he can detect the pinkish flush feathering over his sharp cheekbone and the way he’s begun to gnaw on the end of his mouth, eyes half lit and hooded. And God, sometimes Sirius thinks that it’s the blind leading the blind with them as they dance along this precipice of the most precious thing either of them has ever held in their quivering grasps.

“Right convenient if you ask me,” Sirius says instead of something from the stream of soppy poetry he’s thinking about— the love sick lyrics dedicated to Remus and Remus alone. He doesn’t want to potentially fracture this single understanding that they’ve finally revealed to one another. Rather, Sirius scrapes another chunk of the slick, Muggle substance into his hand and cloaks himself completely before taking a bit of it against Remus’s arsehole, his insides melting like molasses once he feels the warmth of Remus cloaking him, the way Remus’s entrance is practically fluttering, practically trying to swallow Sirius whole.

“Oh, yeah— Just a bit more.”

“Shh, let me take care of you, Moony,” Sirius reproves with absolutely no heat, instead sounding more than a little horse as he adds another digit and watches as Remus expands beneath his touch, watches his long fingers being devoured by him— the bronze tan Sirius always sports during the warmer months melding into the pale patches of Remus that rarely sees sunlight— watches their jagged edges piecing together like a sacred tomb, and Sirius knows right then and there that he’d want to be lost in every facet of Remus for every eon to come, even when they’re nothing but cinders and ashes and wisps of starlight. He’d want this, he’d crave this. He’d always need this, need Remus in any way he’d take him.

“Oh— Sirius, please, right there.” Remus suddenly squawks, jolting forwards and grappling for either end of his fourposter’s wooden bars. “Pl— Please.”

Always beyond eager to watch his lover come undone, Sirius adds one final finger before crooking them inside of Remus, skimming the little nest of nerves found there, and repeating the action twice more before he hears Remus’s choked off demand, “Bloody hell, Sirius! Will you just give me what I want!”

“I thought you’d never ask, sweetheart.” Sirius absolutely beams, gingerly pulling out from his gaping and empty entrance so to lather himself one final time, kisses the freckle behind Remus’s left ear as he snakes a hand beneath his stomach to raise him up slightly. “Can you stay like this, baby.”

His arms still slightly shaking from when Sirius had been teasing his prostate, Remus nods resolutely, shuffling around so that he’s resting his chin on his forearms, and his back is arched so beautifully with his pert arse stretched back in an inviting fashion. “You just worry about making this last hour worth my time.”

Sirius sniffs, pats Remus’s behind with a tad bit more intensity than strictly needed. “You and that lip is gonna get the best of you one of these days, Moony.”

“Mmm, I’ll believe it when you actually begin proving as much,” Remus barbs, and God Sirius loves him so fucking much— feels his chest absolutely contract with the ferocity of it.

“Right, well, you just sit there, looking pretty. All right?” Sirius intones, cards a hand through Remus’s hair and tugs just slightly before letting go completely to adjust his position from behind him— both hands on either end of Remus’s waistline and his dick poking at his hole— and God the throbbing is becoming painful with how badly Sirius just wants to plunge inside, to fuck and pound and thrust into Remus until he hears his boyfriend— his partner— absolutely sing with pleasure. “You are beautiful, Remus, you know that, right? Know that I think you’re the most bloody gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen, that the scars just show how otherworldly you are?” Sirius emphasizes that final point by thumbing across the one skirting across the the side of his neck, stretching from the bottom of his ear and ending at the point of his collarbone. It’s the most prominent one, the only scar besides a scratch on his pinky that can’t be covered up by a trusty jumper or pair of corduroys. The one Remus is most sensitive about, and the one he probably hates nearly as much as the bite marring his inner thigh.

“Sirius, please. Just not now,” Remus implores, sounding like a blown out candle all of a sudden, and Sirius can’t have that. Doesn’t want him to feel anything close to shitty while they’re doing this, while he has him this way. So with an obedience he only has if Remus asks him for as much in his more cautious of cadences, Sirius clenches his jaw, and keeps the adoring words stuck to his teeth, and he distracts himself by finally moving forwards, and it’s like a blink of the eye wen suddenly everything around him goes hazy, feeling like a disillusionment charm has been cast with how everything feels intangible, floaty, feels unsubstantial in comparison to the hot, tight pressure of Remus wrapped around him, made all the more etherial by the sounds of Remus’s melodic moans and gorgeous gasps and the way he moves in tandem with Sirius, how he cants back to meet the electrical current of Sirius fucking into him.

And he isn’t sure who says what in the gargle of words being spilt between them, is pretty sure he’s saying something about how beautiful Remus always is for him and then Remus replying with something about Sirius giving more to him, giving him something harder, deeper, quicker, and then, somehow, Sirius has got both of remus’s wrists in his hand and he’s pressing them against the small of Remus’s back, and he’s slowing down, suddenly wants this to last so much longer, wants to keep Remus this pliant and open and uninhibited for him for just that bit more.

“Merlin, I love you,” he says, focussing on the sweat collecting into the divot of Remus’s pinched shoulder blades and leans down to lick over the spot. “So fucking much.”

“Me too, Sirius! Sirius, I love you too! Please don’t stop, please.” Remus begs, canting back and twitching his fingers, obviously needing some sort of friction, though Sirius doesn’t think he’ll give it to him quite yet.

“What if I do though?” He asks, affecting an innocent tone while he slowly pulls out of Remus, pushing inside with shallow thrusts now, giving him hardly more than his tip. “What if I keep you like this, wait to see how long it takes you to come off of this alone, untouched. Just by my cock teasing you like this?” Remus makes another, strangled sort of noise deep in his throat, and he shutters in a way that convinces Sirius he’s not completely opposed to the offer. “You’d like that, yeah? You’d like me holding you down like this and watching you absolutely go feral? Go unraveled beneath me? Hell, I bet you wouldn’t even mind if I kept you like this for the rest of the morning. If I fucked you stupid and didn’t let you come even then. Just plug you up with that naughty toy we got from that Muggle shop when you visited me over Easter in London. Trap my spunk inside and just keep you nice and open until I decide to give it to you once again— drag you to a bathroom stall or an empty cupboard and fuck you senseless. Bloody hell, Remus, you probably wouldn’t even last a minute, hmm?”

Remus stays quiet, doesn’t unclench that taught muscle in his jaw, but his pupils are blown and he’s completely flushed, and Sirius is so thankful he can read the smallest nuances of him, loves knowing how absolutely wrecked just the idea of that has gotten his beautiful Moony, the side of him that no one else could ever see. The side of him hidden by his aloof exterior and measured words when around others. No one else gets to see this hauntingly beautiful, desperate little thing he becomes under Sirius’s hand, how he’s strung to vivid colors by Sirius mumbling such wicked contemplations into the expanse of his warm, golden skin.

“Are you going to answer, love,” he asks, with a lecherous sort of grin, pounding into him with a lack of delicateness from before, only twice, only enough to get Remus writhing again. “Do you not want that?”

Remus squeaks as the top of his head grazes against the headboard from the impact, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut while his thin lips fall open. “I reckon— Erm, I reckon that would be all right. Just to try.”

“My lovely academic, has to give everything a go,” Sirius crows, returns to thrusting measuredly in and out of him, kisses the nape of his neck with soft reverence. “But you know, we wouldn’t have to sneak around like that in only a couple weeks. We’ll be graduated,” he twists his hips slightly and presses down a bit more viciously than the slow paces probably would’ve entailed, and Remus quite literally groans at the feeling of it. “I’ll have that bloody huge flat, and you could be there too. We could spend every morning like this, Moony my love. We could christen every sodding room on the first day alone, and then I’d make you some of that veggie curry you like and you can sit there with an ice pack on your bum after I’m done with you.”

“Oh— Hah, you think you’ve got that sort of stamina,” is all Remus manages out in response, his features going tight with hunger when Sirius retorts with a staccato of uneven thrusts inside of him, stopping only when he feels the release willing up his own body, doesn’t think he’s ready to end this conversation quite yet.

“With you in one of my T-shirts and nothing else?” Sirius asks, watches the way Remus’s toes quite literally curl when he slides inside his used hole once more, shaking Remus slightly with how he moves and thrusts and squeezes his wrists hard enough to bruise. “I bet I could get it up an infinite amount of times! THere will be studies invoked for the phenomena of my cock, Moony. Potions inspired that’d never work, because they could never get it right when I tell them it’s the sight of you waiting for me looking wide eyed and teasing— waiting to be debauched— that’s got me so erect. I’ll be a household name, you watch.”

“You— Oh, oh. Yes like that please Sirius just a little more— Hah, you’re a madman.”

Sirius leers, does as told and grabs forcefully against Remus’s biceps and pounds him flat on the mattress, fucking into him and thrills with all the different noises he’s dragging out of Remus, the way he can’t even form words amidst his groan. “Then you best stay with me, who knows what a madman could do all on his lonesome.”

Just because he’s always been a bit sadistic, Sirius stops his graceless rutting, lies nearly entirely against Remus instead, tugging on the back of his curls so that he’s got a better view of Remus’s gaze. “Wha— Oh, yes, fuck yes you plonker. Of course I want to move in with you, just wanted you to ask properly instead of beating round the bloody bush!”

Sirius feels his brows hike up, absolutely gleeful. “You wanton little slag, you just wanted me to use my manners, eh?”

Remus huffs, looking beyond grouchy. “Yes, yes, and obviously, like the contrary bastard you are, you decide to actually do as much when I’d rather you be beating inside of me., but thus is my fate being stuck in love with such a wanker.”

Sirius can’t help but cackle at the incredibly cross expression Remus has got painted over his features, and he pecks a path down his temple and down to the dip of his shoulder muscles in apology. “You know I’m not one for subtleties, Moony.”

“Humph, well how’s this for subtle. Will you just ruddy fuck me and keep this discussion on the back burner for afterwards?”

Always eager to please his boyfriend, Sirius gently presses him back down on the sheets and rises only enough so to continue the easy rhythm between them, only increased by one of his hands circling Remus’s blazingly scarlet cock, pushing him through the loop of his fingers every time Sirius rocks harshly into him, going speedier and speedier with every choked out plea coming from Remus.

“What about this for a wanker?” He asks snidely, snapping forwards especially roughly, and twisting remus’s prick only slightly in turn, knows how much he enjoys the contrast of that.

“Yes— Yes, yes, yes Sirius! Just keep going, please, love, please. God, I love you. Holy fuck.” 

And it’s not another thrust inside before Remus is spilling into Sirius’s palm and the contracted muscle pumps the orgasm out of Sirius himself.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” Sirius groans in a voice that’s nearly completely faded, and totally pious, careful to move outside Remus’s overly sensitive hole, and still panting while he absentmindedly grabs for a spare vest. He mutters a labored aguamenti before he brings it to Remus’s behind and begins to dab gently at the skin there, smattered with lube and Sirius’s come and a good amount of wetness from his sweat.

“Oh,” Remus shakes, sucking in a breath and tensing at the sensation of the intrusion.

“Whoa. Easy, easy. I’ve got you,” Sirius assures him gingerly, tossing it to the corner when he’s finished, and can’t help but kiss the small dimples found right against the skin that cups over his arse.

“The, mmm. The house elves, Sirius. They don’t deserve that to deal with.”

Sirius only barely manages to hold back the roll of his eyes at Remus’s tendency not to understand how much those buggers enjoy any and all cleaning. Merlin, leave it too Moony to feel bad about something that someone wants to do for him. “I’ll grab it later, promise. Bin it o whatever.”

Remus only replies with a soft sound of consent, letting himself be gathered into Sirius’s arms properly, his head cradled against Sirius’s chest and Sirius’s arms wrapped around him while he kisses the crown of his tawny curls.

“You want a kip then?” Sirius asks amusedly, feeling his own eyelids beginning to droop.

“Hmm, yeah. That’d be nice. Then we can talk about that hideously orange breakfast table you’ve got in the flat. I bloody well won’t be living in any proximity of that monstrosity, Padfoot.”

Sirius can’t help the laughter that spills out, and he agrees to the conversation but demands that Remus call Winifred by name, lest she gets her feelings hurt.

“Madman,” Remus reiterates, completely fond as he dozes off, and when Sirius feels the breaths falling out of Remus’s lips even out, he thinks that them nestled into one another like this might be the only salvation he ever wants to know, the only sensation he could ever crave— The only sunlit snapshot he ever needs for the rest of his days.

[razorblade180]

what’s an unpopular opinion you have about rwby??

I don’t think have any unpopular opinion elaborate enough or worth making an entire post about; so I’ll just make a short list I guess. I also don’t know if all of these are unpopular.

[This is not me dissing the show. Calm yourself]

Pyrrha was kinda boring. Like she was really cool and I do like her, but she was boring to me too. I was more sad that her friends were sad about her death. That statue scene still hits though.

Adam was a lackluster antagonist and yet is still the most threatening/useful one in this series. Things got done, character arcs existed because of him, and banger music.

Freezerburn or Checkmate would be more intriguing than BB in my opinion. BB works fine and makes sense, but most of that relationship feels like the only thing they have connecting them is trauma. Still ship it, but I wish for more out of it.

Clover is a nothing character that the show and fandom care too much about. Vine has more depth than Clover did.

Aight, I say this one with care. Blake…is kinda useless, or at the very least a subpar teammate. She hasn’t helped her friends much. The most she’s brought to the table was her own problems. Granted she had a character arc to go through but Weiss has also and still managed to give more physical and emotional support to her friends. Not just her team either, I mean the cast. [I swear I don’t hate Blake. She had some of the best songs and action pieces.]

The gods aren’t mean. Salem should’ve stopped doubling down on messing with them and learn to mourn like everyone else in life.

Rhodes isn’t a terrible person for not immediately taking Cinder away. That’s kidnapping and this show doesn’t tell us if buying kids for child labor is illegal. They allow faunus labor with terrible work conditions after all. Putting real world logistical expectations in this fantasy world is impossible for the most part.

Cinder being abused doesn’t make the consequences of murdering those three people disappear.

Qrow is a terrible guardian for our heroes. Besides explaining more lore, he hasn’t helped much much outside of one fight in V4 and Hazel beating him up.

Ruby, Nora, and Oscar are the only outfit changes I think are cooler/just as cool as their previous one. [They should’ve never let me seen Ren with his hair down. Call this man L’Oréal because he’s worth it!]

Volume 8 is the last half of Volume 3 but narratively infuriating. V8 is super interesting and engaging, but personally I just don’t like many choices made.

Taiyang is a good dad. Not perfect, but he’s pretty good.

Willow is worse mom than Raven.

Emerald switching sides feels off since her commitment was always to Cinder instead of Salem. I get her leaving but not leaving to them join the group that will actively hinder Cinder.

Lastly, and this one is more of theory, but what if Summer is alive and just cares more about the mission as a whole than her own family? So basically what if Kali is the only good mom in this show💀

A lot of this stuff really is just personal opinion though. It’s not my show. I don’t write it, so I can’t complain too much. RT can do what they want to do because it’s their vision. I would like to know though how many times and how many people read the script before saying “Yeah that’ll work.” Like I would like to know for knowledge sake because sometimes it feels like they’ve proof read it 100 times. Other times o feels like someone grabbed the rough draft. It’s so jarring. Each episode is like a box of chocolates.

[beauty-of-depravation]

A Birthday with Loki

Written for @buckyssoldat happy birthday dear !🔥💜

Warnings : smut ! so obviously +18 

Why couldn't you be attracted by the good guys ? Why couldn't you be attracted...by Thor for exemple ! nice guy, extremely good looking, funny and all. But nooooo, you never had any kind of physiological reaction around him, the one who made your heart beat travel to your pussy ? His brother of course !

You were a smart girl and this was your logic : if villain bad, why villain hot, conclusion, badly fuck the vilains, even if it went against everybody's recommandations.

And you've been trying to fuck Loki for ever !

It was your birthday party night, the room was filled with close friend and people you had trouble recognizing. You knew Tony being responsible for a party was a bad idea, he wasn't really good with the concept of "small"...

What made you irritable, was that you were fricking horny, and yesterday you ended things with the guy you've been seeing for the past couple of weeks, you weren't sad because it ended, you were sad because he was a fantastic fuck, but yesterday he has told you that the moon was a conspiracy and it didn't exist, and you thought "I'm not introducing this dude to any one"

It didn't make things better to see Loki charming every woman of the reception, going from one to the other, commenting and finding a clever compliment to apply to every and each one.

What would be an amazing birthday gift would be him fucking you.

I mean you loved the emerald hair pin he slipped on your hair before the party, but his hands on the back on you neck had left you craving more contact.

— here is the queen of the party ! The most beautiful woman here ! My dear, can i tell you that even the expression of dissatisfaction on your face looks like the most captivating art work.

— Always charming, you say rolling your orbs.

— of course dear, he say setting by your side

— Don't you have someone else to talk to ?

— i don't find anyone else then you worthy of my words in this party dear.

You don't reply. You secretly enjoy the company of the man. And quite rapidly, you are talking about everything you like, litterature and art.

— surprisingly, you have some good things to say for a human.

— Is that a compliment ?

— of course !

Your pout your mouth, and immediately notice that his eyes follow the movement, and stay focused on your carmine colored lips. You don't say anything, until he bring his gaze back up to find you looking up at him. You keep looking in each other eyes for quite a time, but then to internally moved by it, you look a way, and you can see that he likes that you couldn't hold it.

After a little while, his voice raises again.

— so ...what happened to that...misery of a being your were seeing ?

You roll your eyes for the sake of it, but chuckle lightly.

— we went each his own way. We weren't a match, he was nice but..

— he was stupid.

— no,he

— don't lie to me, I've seen dead fish with eyes expressing more depth then his.

— okey...okey he wasn't a genius. But he was nice, and cute and

— you deserve better, and it's me telling you that. I rarely think that highly of anyone.

— oh god, you say rolling your eyes at his never ending comments on humans.

— i love when you call me that, and you are so cute when you roll your eyes. But I'm serious you are worth more.

— maybe, but for now I'm worth my vibrator.

Fuck. How did that slip out ? You feel yourself blush furiously. And you realize that Loki has turned his head towards you at an abnormal speed. His eyes a bit wide. A bit dark. His lips a bit parted. A bit up turned.

— A vibrator ? Would the queen of the party leave her guests by there own to go take care of her carnal needs ?

— i mean ...i'm was going to wait until everybody is gone.

— How gracious of you. But everyone is not to be gone until at least five in the morning.

— i...it can wait.

— you see, dear, at the way you are shivering, and blushing, and the way you shivered and blushed when my fingers flew over your neck earlier, i don't think it can wait this much.

You blush even more and you don't know what to say. Truth be told ...you could litteraly feel your body burning with desire.

After few seconds of silence Loki got up.

— If you want to have something that surpasses anything that you crave, leave those people, come to my room, I'll be waiting for your visit. Happy birthday, dear.

And with that he is gone.

You were delusional. That can not have just happened.

Dream or not you are doing it.

It doesn't take you any thinking to hop on the offer. It only takes you some drinks.

What is Loki, god of mischief, planning for you ?

Three drinks later, you are ready to find out.

***

— do you want to drink something ?

You rock your head right and left.

— tranquilize yourself, we are not going to do anything you don't want, but, knowing about your little... penchant, towards me, and having myself, an... inclination towards you, i thought you..

— you...have a ...i mean, you like me?

— Darling, the I've never been indifferent to you. And you've been playing with the charms around me. I'm not made of stone.

You feel yourself blush from head to tow and try to cover a silly smile.

— You noticed..

— of course i did, it was very endearing and a grate pastime. Now, are you sure you don't want any drinks?

— I'm sure.

— good. Regaining confidence, confidence is beautiful on you darling.

You smile and approach him, balancing your hips and slightly smiling.

He keeps his eyes connected to your, and when you are just inches from him, you out your mouth close to his ear and confess

— i loved the hair pin that you gifted me, and ...i loved it so much that i matched my lingerie with it. Dark green and black lace, would you like to see it ?

His voice darkens, deepens, seemingly erupting from earths foudaments.

— Strip.

The command fuses. And you take a step back, ready to obey it. As you rapidly attack the zipper of your dress.

he murmur :

— slower, darling.

Your hands travel your body, caressing yourself before slowly pushing the sleeves of your dress down your shoulders, and slowly unzipping it, caressing every bit of soft skin that appears to sight from under your arms to your hip. He now can see your beautiful chest in this transparent lace bra that fails to hide your hard nipples. you turn around, but keep looking at Loki from above your shoulder. Subtilty arching your back, you push the dress past your round ass, revealing your dark green tanga with two little black bows, one on the front one on the back, oranges with black pearls.

He is eye-eating you. Already devouring you without a touch. He slowly gets up, and still not touching you, with just his got breath and lips again your ear he says : «you're going to keep it, and I'm going to take you in this beautiful lingerie»

You don't have time to agree as he goes from not touching you at all to touching you EVERYWHERE at the same time. His hands are greedy and his long cold fingers send shivers under your skin. He is massaging your tits, groping your ass, caressing your belly, drawing the line of your waist, falling on the curve of your hips, worshiping your delicate neck. And all you can do is hold on to him, with a hand on his neck, pulling at his beautiful dark hair, and with the back pushed to him, you could fee him grow bigger against your ass.

Turning back you decide to take the lead a fiercely kiss him. Your tongues meet and fight. You taste and bite and Savour eachother, the kiss expressing a hunger that have been here for so long.

— I'm going to do you a big honor, dear, I'm going to get on my knees for you, and i expect that to be and stay your greatest birthday gift.

And with that he kisses his way down, until he puts one then two knees on the ground and is facing your already wet sexe.

— I'm so curious to see how much desire you have for me.

You are mesmerized by the vision, Loki, god of mischief, on his knees, for you, ready to teste you, what am I saying, to ravage you, admiring you like you are the most beautiful woman or the world. The first and last. You can't breath and can't look away, any shyness pushed far by your desire and need.

His fingers caress a bit harshly your slit, pushing on your clit and making you jump back a little, bit he is quick to grab firmly on the back of your thighs, and you know from the slight pain that there will be marks there, bit you also understand the need for such a strict hold because immediately after he is pushing the underwear aside and...well he doesn't do any work at half, he is going at it all heatedly, his tongue flat against you no teasing, right to the point.

Your fingers automatically find their rightful place in his hair, pulling at it and making him groan. His hands reache up, and grabbing at your ass cheeks, he pulls you closer to his mouth, making you grind your wet core on his face.

— you are the most flavorful precious little thing I've ever tasted. I love how you rock your hips against my face, are you close to your release ?

— yes, yes Loki keep going.

His skilled tongue goes back and forth from your entrance to the over sensitive point under your clit to the top nerves, going from simulating it from left to right to top to bottom, and clearly taking such a pleasure in doing that to you that the vision gets you off like no other and ton start to moan louder and shake.

— such a beautiful woman, cum on my tongue, show me how you like what I do to you !

And with few more methodical stokes of his tong on your clit you shake and cum, and if it wasn't for his firm grip you'd have fallen to the ground.

«hmmmmm» he groan, kissing his way back up, and kissing you deeply, making you taste yourself. That is the first time someone does that to you, and you feel so nasty and you deepen the kiss, curious to share what you taste like, you feel him smile against your lips, and as you start to unbutton his shirt, be stops you.

— the next time, did you forget that you have a birthday party to return to after that ? And i have to confess, i want to be inside you immediately, no time for undressing.

You push away the idea of going back to that party, and focus on "next time" and "inside you" while he backs you up into the bed than hugs and you turn you around so you are sitting on his lap.

You hear his zipper go down, and following every movement he is making, filled with lust and envy, your heat skip a beat as soon as his length springs free, you feel it hot and heavy on your inner thigh, and you have a hard time breathing, your walls clench and you can't wait to have him inside. You have desperate moans and your hips move instinctively, and your reactions seems to amuse him enough to tame the emergency of burying himself deep inside you, as he takes the time to slip his cock between your labia, teasing you clit, and you entrance.

—Loki please...

— oh ! —he take on a dramatic théâtral voice— How mischievous I am being dear, on your birthday night non the less, I'll leave the teasing for another night then.

And with that, he is balls deep inside of you. Ripping out a long scream from your throat.

Both his hands find their place on your hips, and guide them up and down his shaft, kissing along your neck, and Whispering praises in your ear “queen” “beauty” “gem” “inteligent” “passionating” those all are word he slips in your ear while pushing his cock as deep as it can reach, which is enough to banish your soul out of your body. He is breathy, and grunting, and his paraises are starting to make less and less sense as he is getting close to his release.

— I want to cum on you beautiful chest, love.

— Yeah ?

— yes, i want to know that you won't think of anybody else when we go back to that boring reception, you'll think of me marking you, making you feel good, offering you all the pleasure you'll ever need to receive.

He bucks his hips faster and faster, and with that sends you over the edge, you don't have time to recover, as soon as you open your eyes back he is pushing you on your knees and jerking off, grunting and telling you how beautiful and good you are, you can't get enough of the sight of him, head thrown back, stumbling on his words, his hand stroking his cock faster and faster, until strings of white Milky cum land on your chest. you look at that, pushing out your tits, presenting yourself to him, letting him mark and own you as he wanted.

***

— darling, says Loki, while presenting you his arm to put your under, taking you back to that party that seems way more interesting now, arms under one another.

It especially looked more interesting now that he has suggested that public sexe was an interesting concept.

[hange-zone]

Hello!!! Could I please request eremin where they talk after a big fight because it’s getting harder to ignore?

tw language! and spoilers for season 4!

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Armin comes back to the shared bedroom to find Eren waiting for him. It’s dark out, but the boy has lit candles and he’s sitting in their orange glow. His long hair is tousled and a finger lingers in the corners in his mouth, a remnant of an old, bad habit Armin and Mikasa had tried desperately to break - first reminding him, then dipping his fingers in bitter juice, even blatantly pushing his wrist away from his face - but to no avail. He was anxious and stubborn like that. 

At the creak of the door Eren takes his chewed thumb out of his mouth and regards him, feigning indifference. The only give-away is his leg, which shakes up and down as he taps his foot against the floor. 

“Where’d you come from?” He asks, trying to keep his voice even. It’s an innocent enough question, but from the way his brows furrow Armin’s not quite sure he’d like his answer.

Armin doesn’t say anything. He moves to shut the door behind him - trapping himself, he realises too late, as the lock clicks into place - and moves away from the other boy, focusing his attention on packing up his corner of the room. Sorting through papers, making a deal of arranging his books, not looking at Eren. When he chances a glance in his direction Eren is still looking at him. He has his chin jutted out, waiting for an answer. His leg is still going, faster now. It sounds impatient. Tap tap tapping, expecting a response.

“I was busy,” Armin lies - though it’s not really an untruth, he was - but this seemed to irk the other boy even more, because he snorts derisively.  Armin’s head snaps up instinctively, but he forces himself to look directly at him. 

“You’re doing it again,” Eren says. He doesn’t specify what it is, but Armin flushes at his words. His eyes glint and Armin can’t tell if it’s just the reflection of the dancing flames that surround him. The other boy blinks hard, and then that feral spark is gone and it’s just him, sitting at the desk, leg rapidly bouncing off the floor, waiting. The rhythmic sound echoes around the silent room. Like a heartbeat, Armin thinks. Like a pounding heart. 

“Hitch saw you,” Eren continues coolly. The sole of his foot is drumming the wood faster now. “Why do you do it?”

He knows, Armin thinks suddenly. He knows, he knows, everyone knows - 

“I -" he starts, flustered. He runs his tongue around his teeth uselessly, feeling the wetness of his mouth and the pinkness of his gums, the sliminess of his flesh. He doesn’t attempt to say anything more. 

“Why her?” Eren spits, suddenly.  Armin’s answers had offered little purchase and he realises that the other boy been stewing and it was just a matter of time before the simmering anger broke the surface. “Why Annie? She’s a ruthless, heartless killer -”

“Shut up,” Armin says, before he can stop himself. “As if that makes her different - worse - from anyone else.” 

He pauses. His heart is thudding in his chest. “From you.” 

It's a whisper, but Eren hears. It sends a shock through his system because he stands up, shoving the chair violently backward. It falls backward with a heavy thud . In a single motion he steps close to Armin, squaring his shoulders. His face is uncomfortably close and he can see his flared nostrils and dilated pupils, features twisted with a deep, visceral fury. By the flickering light he looks grotesque, his boyish features ugly and contorted. And as he moves closer Armin can't help but notice that he’s taller than him, he’s always been, but for once he saw how intimidating it could be rather than comforting. How, with his energies turned outside and against him, how fearsome Eren could be. And it wasn’t mere anger that was wrought across his features; it was wrath - amidst the shifting shadows, that he was certain. 

“She’s not a good person,” he declares, breath hot on his face. “She- don’t you remember? We fought- I nearly died - Mikasa-"

He’s choking out the words now, stumbling on them in his impatience to force them into the space between them. But he keeps circling back, hammering out a question each time: 

“Why?” He repeats uselessly, and it’s little daggers with each sharp syllable spilling from his mouth. Armin can’t tell if they’re a plea or a demand. 

“You don’t understand,” he says quietly. His hands rifle through the files in the drawer and sharp edge paper catches the soft pad of his thumb, slicing it. He hisses as the tip of the paper turns crimson.

“And you do?” Eren’s chest is heaving and his eyes are wet and he looks halfway between punching the wall and trying not to cry. “What’s so special about you and her?”

Armin takes a step back from him and moves to the bed. Eren follows, glowering behind him. Armin tries to fluff a pillow but his hands are shaking and useless. The soft sheets blur underneath him and he wills himself not to cry, not to cry first. In that moment he hates Eren, hates how he’s hounding him, hates how difficult this all is. In the moment he doesn’t feel fear - no, he wants to hurt him, he really really does. Anything to make him stop, make this go away. So he says: “Maybe she understands. Maybe I like her -“

“But you’re mine,” Eren blurts out. 

His face crumples and something deep inside Armin wrenches. And as he said those words, confessed, something ugly and dark had flashed over the other boy’s face, but Armin thinks he had seen it for what it really was - he was scared. And he recognised it because it was the same panic that he felt when thinking about him sometimes, the walls closing it, the drowning which kept him up at nights and in and out of fitful dreams when he thought about the future, their future. His breath catches and he feels tears well up, matching the other boy’s watery eyes. He can hear Eren panting, chest shaking, see the red spreading across his neck and cheeks and temples, and he thinks that the other boy might explode. 

But you’re mine. 

The words echo around his head and he keeps thinking of what Eren said after the basement so many months ago, something which had plagued him quietly but he’d never told anyone except Annie because he was afraid of their answer.

That night Eren had come back clutching his father’s journal. He’d rested his head gently on Armin’s lap and admitted, hesitantly, as if confessing to a terrible secret, a dark innermost thought - which, maybe it was - that he was disappointed that there were people out there beyond the walls.

He’d lain on his lap and looked aimlessly at the ceiling, talking slowly, rolling the words around in his mouth and considering them before he spoke. And there was a stillness that came upon him and it was eerie to see him so thoughtful, so considered as he said these things. 

He’d said that he thought the world was theirs for the taking. Except that he was wrong and it wasn’t - it already had kings and countries and systems and rules. It had people who’d travelled across those lands of ice and fire, claiming them for their own. Someone had already plundered the ocean’s depths and there was not, as Armin’s book had depicted, an endless blue dream of sky. Nowhere would they be truly free, and Eren hated that. He hated all these faceless, unknown people who milled about living their lives. They were taking up space in his world and he wanted them gone.

Armin hadn’t said anything then, just run his fingers through the boy’s hair and tried to think about the green of his eyes and the softness of his mouth and that hadn’t changed, had it? It was still the two of them. And they still had all the others: Mikasa and Jean and Connie and Sasha and even Levi and Hange, those stayed the same, didn’t they? 

And then Eren had got up and shook his head vigorously like he was trying to rid himself of these thoughts. They’d gone to bed in silence. 

Armin makes a sound in his throat and the boy looks at him again and it’s those eyes, emerald and shimmering in the candlelight. 

But you’re mine. 

And that was exactly the problem. 

Armin takes a deep breath. He opens his mouth slowly. Eren was watching him, his reddened face shaking and hands clenched into fists. Fighting back sobs. 

Mine. A possessive pronoun: Armin and Mikasa and the entire world belonged to him, and they to each other, and it was wrong - it was unfair - for other people to want them or have them too. 

Armin takes another slow, shuddering breath. 

How do you tell someone this is exactly what you were afraid of? How do you say, I’m scared of you - you’re not the person I love and trust and I’m losing you too and I don’t know how to make it stop?

And how do you tell him that each time with someone else, with the girl, it’s not anything - it’s about him anyway, it’s about them - 

He again says nothing of this because it is all too much at once and the words seem to want to collapse under the weight of themselves. Instead he turns to play with his bedspread. Instead he says, “Leave it, Eren. We’ll talk another time, okay?”

When he meets the boy's gaze, Eren's back to that seething anger again, because it’s easy and keeps him safe, because then he didn’t have to think, he didn’t have to feel.  With a pang Armin realises where he’s seen that look before - once when his parents were still alive, they’d chanced upon a stray dog cornered by boys, a snarling, wounded animal, lashing out for fear of getting hurt. Eren is baring his teeth now, cornered and tail between his legs, even if he looked ready to fight.

“That’s rich coming from you - we don’t talk - we haven’t spoken - or do you only talk to her now? And you like her -” 

“Stop it,” Armin says. His face burns and his voice wavers and he turns to glare at the boy who’s radiating anger as he stands, arms crossed, behind him. He can see all that and yet he wants to shake him violently and to make him see sense. “Stop it - do you realise what a big dick you’re being right now? Just shut up-”

“I hate you,” Eren shoots back. His eyes are large and wild and he’s suddenly right in Armin’s face, voice almost a roar. “I hate you, I hate you - I wish it were Erwin, I wish that Levi had chosen him and then we wouldn’t be like this and I would be alone. And honestly? It wouldn’t made a fucking difference. Except I would be happy, because you won’t be too busy fucking around with some girl. And someone would give a fuck about keeping us alive. I wish it wasn’t you. I wish you’d died.”

Then he steps back, face red with the realisation of what he’d just said washing over him. Armin is struck by the notion that one day he’d go too far - and perhaps this was it. Maybe the other boy is thinking that too, because almost immediately he begins to cry, ugly, ungainly, choked sobs, holding his hands to his face, hands pulling at his hair. It's like watching him burn in slow motion - the guilt and anger eating at his edges till he collapses, sinking to his knees.

Armin looks upon him wordlessly, but he comes close and begins to rub his hand soothingly across his shaking back, feeling his body hot and trembling.

“I’m sorry,” the other boy says, breathlessly. “I’m sorry.”

As he lets Eren rest his sweaty forehead against his knees, curling his arms uselessly behind his shins he’s reminded, suddenly, of being six again:  angry with Eren, fighting with him over something so small and inconsequential that he didn’t even remember what it was, just that Eren had come to him and said simply, sincerely, “I’m sorry.”

And Armin had said, “Me too, me too,” because an afternoon with the knowledge that they weren’t alright with each other was too much. He wondered when that had changed.  And back then the other boy had ventured softly, “Can we still be friends?” He’d nodded - of course, of course - and they’d hugged it out. What a crude, cruel rendering this was now, Eren clutching at whatever part of him he could still hold and Armin running his hands over him in the only way he knew how. 

And he didn’t know if they could ask that question as easily now. Mostly he didn’t know what his answer would be. Still he rubs his palms slowly on Eren’s warm back and waits for his breathing to calm and his tears to stop. 

But he kept thinking, too, that Eren had said sorry, but he didn’t say that he hadn’t meant it. 

And he kept thinking too about what else the other boy had said out loud: but you’re mine. 

--

here you go anon! but also really sorry if you wanted something nice….because this is definitely not it. it is though in a loose sense a big fight and it kinda is their talk afterward and emotions coming to a head? (& in my head it goes with this song)

I just saw this prompt and was wrangling with it and was thinking so hard about that scene in marriage story and then got obsessed with the blocking and the dialogue...so here’s me channeling it very crudely… ugh…sorry anon I have no idea if this is what you wanted at all but i promise i’ll make it up with fluff! just drop me a cute prompt in my inbox:”) 

and happy to take more requests!

[writtenonreceipts]

Here’s a Harry Potter fic, it’s just an old Jily fic I found in my files, enjoy. It’s a Canon ifc right around 5.4k words

fine my main masterlist here

The Name of the Game

Year 6- September 2

The one thing that Lily Evans appreciated most about Hogwarts was the fact that escape was possible. Escape from friends, escape from the world, escape even from herself.  

It was only the second day of the term and Lily was already feeling smothered by everything.  After disentangling herself from Severus Snape at the end of last year, her friends (wonderful as they were) tried too hard in getting Lily to be social and have girl’s night.  

Mary, Marlene, Alice, and even Dorcas were her closest confidents while at school.  Especially now that she hadn’t been able to reconcile with her sister.  Really, she should have been willing to open up and talk to them.

Maybe in a few weeks she would be up to it, but for now she just wanted to mourn.  

Running a hand through her hair, Lily shook the thoughts from her head and left the castle.  The autumn air was still warm enough that Lily only needed a cardigan to keep warm, her hair hung in a thick sort of mess just past her chin.  Thankfully it had begun growing out from the terrible cut she had gotten at the start of the summer.  Maybe she could see if Marlene would help her find a spell to lengthen it.

“Hey, Red!”

Lily cringed at the loud and robust call that hailed her from entry way of the Castle.  Trying to keep a muted expression, Lily glanced over her shoulder to see none other than James Potter bounding down the steps of the Castle toward her.  She was surprised that he wasn’t sliding down the banisters. In First Year, he and Sirius had gotten a month’s worth of detention and a frenzied chase around the castle by Filch.  Although, she was sure the boys still found ways to slide down the banisters without getting noticed.

“What did you call me Potter?” she demanded as she continued her walk across the grounds.  He, much to her annoyance, kept pace with his freakishly long legs.  

They walked down the well-worn path that lead down by the Forbidden Forrest on that late Thursday afternoon.  Lily had no real destination in mind, she just desperately needed to walk around after escaping Alice’s pleads for another hour of discussing herbology theory.

Although now that Potter had found her and seemed to be bored, Lily realized she needed to come up with someplace to go quick or else she may be stuck with his presence the rest of the day.  Or else she could return to Alice’s side and have another in-depth discussion on mandrake breeding processes.  

Given how they’d left things the previous year, Lily wasn’t sure how she felt about being around him anymore than necessary.  

“Called you Red,” he replied lightly, his deep hazel eyes catching hers with a near maniac gleam to them. She had a sudden flashback to running about the castle with him in third year trying to get away from Mrs. Norris. “You know, with the fiery red hair, the fiery red attitude.”

She could slap him. Twice.  Maybe add an effectively aimed kick.  “See, Potter, this is the reason that I choose to ignore you.”

“Ignore me, eh?” he grinned easily his lopsided smile was a force to be reckoned with and Lily had to fight not to crack a smile.  “You’ve never been very good at that.”

“Only because you are too starved for attention.” Lily rolled her eyes and waved to Professor Sprout who was maneuvering some rather stubborn looking plants about the First Year Greenhouses.  Their conversation flowed easy, too easily, and Lily found herself troubled by it. She should be mad at him.  She should be yelling and threatening.  And yet, she couldn’t find the energy.  Or the desire.  The notion of hating him didn’t settle well with her now.  

Even after what transpired after the O.W.L.S examination last year, Lily really couldn’t ignore him. She never had been able to.  James Potter was an enigma that she couldn’t rightly wrap her mind around.  

“And yet, you still chose to satiate my childish need of said attention,” James replied.  He stuffed his hands in his pockets, not before Lily noticed, nearly running them through his hair.  Lily’s stomach twisted.  He remembered the way they left things.  Of course he did.  Oh, she needed to find an escape route.  “What are you up to today, Emerald?”

“Really Potter? Emerald?” She scoffed shaking her head. “I thought you were more creative than that.”

“Well, I was going to call you “love,” but I’d really like to be able to play Quidditch for the rest of the year, y’know?”

“Yes, I agree,” Lily mused, “you really should not call me love.”

James chuckled and Lily noticed (dammit) that he seemed to favor a lower tone, the kind that reminded her of a nicely stoked fire.  “So, does Lily Evans have nothing better to do with her day than wander around the Castle Grounds?”

Oh, Lily thought as she finally paid attention to their surroundings.  She’d begun to walk in a lackadaisical zigzag pattern, nearing a bit too close to the edge of the Forrest.  Potter didn’t seem to be annoyed, just amused.  Blast it.  

“Well, I’m just clearing my head.  We’ve got that Transfiguration essay to write and all.”

“Right,” he agreed, and ran a hand through his hair.  Did he really feel that uncomfortable around her?  Yes.  Yes, he did. And she couldn’t blame him.  “I didn’t expect McGonagall to be so intense with us this early.  But, she never ceases to surprise me.”

Lily hummed in agreement. “Yeah.”

In truth, while the essay was bedraggling a great part of her mind, Lily was also caught up with thoughts of Severus, her sister, and now the stiff awkwardness she was feeling toward James.  Over the summer, while Severus had tried to remain in contact with Lily, she’d finally decided that enough was enough and she wasn’t going to respond.  Marlene, Mary, Dorcas, and Alice had all supported her enthusiastically with the decision.

The Petunia Issue was a great deal more complicated.  And much to Lily’s horror to the fact, she was slowly realizing that she may need to let her sister go.  That thought alone was enough to cause her to want to crawl into bed and never get up.

“Firecracker?” James asked, though it sounded much more like he was searching approval of the name than calling for her attention.  

Sweet Merlin, what is this?  Lily looked at him incredulously to find that he was failing miserably at fighting back a smile.  “Are you serious?”

“No, actually, but I know—”

He was cut off by Lily’s fist trying to connect with his shoulder.  Laughing madly, James dashed out of the way and nearly into the line of trees of the Forrest.  

“I’m going to tell Black that you tried to make that joke again,” she threatened, but the fear she tried to evoke was lost to her giggles.  “I thought you all’d made an oath never to use that on anyone again?”

James suddenly looked very somber. “Yes, I would actually appreciate it if you didn’t tell the boys about that.  I already owe them each three galleons.”

“Oh?” Lily was still shaking with laughter as they rounded another corner.  “Already?  I thought you reset your betting game at the start of the year after you all settled up.”

“Yeah,” James mumbled, a distinct blush flushed his cheeks.  “There was a thing, and then this other—I failed again on that front.”

Eyeing him curiously, Lily corralled them away from the trees.  While she wasn’t afraid of what was in the Forrest, she still felt a bit uneasy about what lay inside.  “Right.”

He kept quiet as they weaved around a patch of boulders and nearer to the Lake.  It was curious; James Potter actually seemed embarrassed by something.  What he had anything to be embarrassed about, Lily had no idea.  Potter was always the calm, savvy type.  Albeit a goofball and prankster as well, but this sudden sputtering and blushing caught Lily off guard.  

“Why have the boys started calling you Prongs?” she asked suddenly, hoping that would change the mood between them.  

His eyes widened, only briefly before his usual easy grin flashed across his face.  “Oh, just a bit of a joke between us from the start of last year.  Moony couldn’t be the only one with a nickname.”

“Right,” Lily said, though she wasn’t convinced.  One of James’ hands seemed to flex at his side.  Probably trying to keep from roughing up his hair—again.  Lily bit her lip to keep from grinning.  “Do I want know where Padfoot and Wormtail came from?”

“Actually, those are funny stories,” James’ eyes brightened and Lily could feel the energy radiating off of him.

“Funny or disturbing,” Lily asked, miming that she was weighing a scale, “because I just don’t know with you.”

“Evans, Evans, Evans,” James chuckled as they came to the edge of the Lake.  “Just imagine for me, Peter growing out his hair and deciding to cut it all off except for this long braided strand.  He tried to put beads in it.”

Lily let out a laugh and clamped her hands over her mouth.  Encouraged by her reaction, James laughed to, continuing the image.

“Evans, I wish I had gotten a picture, for a while there it was a mullet.  A mullet that we did not tell him to do.  I think he was trying to be a bit more like Sirius honestly,” James glanced out over the glassy water thoughtfully.  “We thought he’d grown out of that phase in Fourth Year.  We were terribly mistaken.”

Lily sputtered another laugh and had to bit her lip to keep quiet.  “Please tell me you cut it off.”

“We got all but that tail,” James mourned.  “And he took extra precaution to keep it safe after that.  Now, Sirius on the other hand, was much more scandalous.  He decided to sneak down into the Kitchen in nothing but his boxers to grab a box of cookies.  And then my Mum caught him like that stuffing as many cookies in his mouth as he could.”

They stopped walking now, just at the edge of the Lake.  To Lily’s horror, they were near the old tree from last year where most of their issues had boiled over, painfully.  Though James didn’t seem too worried about it, so neither would she.  Instead, Lily rolled her eyes at the image of Sirius and his lack of modesty.  “So, Sirius lives with your family?”

“Yeah,” James’ face brightened at the fact and he looked as though he could talk about it all day. “He does.”

Lily almost asked him what had spurred that, but caught herself.  There was no reason why Potter should confide in her like this.  There was no reason why they should spend this much time talking to one another either.  

After the incident by the Lake, near this exact spot, Lily had been certain she wouldn’t have anything to do with him.  She was sure that would be it, that they’d finally go their own ways.  Yet here they were.

“Are you just going to follow me around?” Lily finally asked.  “I would assume you have better things to be doing with your day.”

His mouth quirks in a smile, he begins to say something before he shakes his head.  Biting his lip, James stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Nah.  The boys are all in detention.  Well, Peter and Sirius are.  Remus is…well he’s around.  And, I wanted, er, needed to talk to you.”

“About what?”  Nice Lily. Hmm, I wonder what you two could possibly need to talk about.  It was Lily’s turn to flush and she ran a hand through her hair.

He didn’t look at her as shuffled his feet, hands stuffed in his pockets.  James exhaled stiffly and looked out over the glassy surface of the lake, the water reflected sharply in the sun.  “I wanted to apologize.”

Lily blinked.

Apologize? As in try to make amends?  Wanted? As in he desired to do this and admit he was in the wrong?

“Oh.”  Brilliant.  That was just a beautiful thing to say to that.  Congratulations Lily, keynote speaker right there.  

“I mean,” James said quickly.  “I’ll be honest that he deserved it.  But I should have handled it better than I did.  I know he’s your friend and—”

“Was.” She watched a ripple expand over the surface of the water as a tentacle of the Giant Squid skimmed the water.

“Was?”

“Was.”

“Oh.”  He frowned deeply and finally turned toward her.  “I didn’t know.”

Lily scraped her teeth against her lower lip.  She would not start crying.  “I couldn’t make excuses anymore.”

“I’m sorry Evans,” he even sounded sincere, Lily realized.  They stared at each other for a moment and Lily almost felt a swell of gratitude for him, almost.

“Thanks for apologizing Potter,” she finally said.  He pursed his lips and nodded, the fact that she didn’t actually accept the apology wasn’t lost on him.  

“No one should ever lose their best friend,” he told he firmly.  Something caught his attention as he turned, a broad grin stretching on his features.  Lily glanced over her shoulder to see Peter Pettigrew looping awkwardly across the grounds waving madly.

“Prongs!  Prongs!” The boy wasn’t as tall as James, nor as slender and lean, but he had a solid quality to him, even as he nearly went tumbling down after tripping over a rock.

“Wormtail,” James called exasperated.  He shook his head, but Lily could see the affection he had toward his friend. “You’re going to break your ankle, again!”

“Moony’s here,” replied Peter.  He stopped trying to run, opting instead to try and catch his breath, hands on his knees.

“Excellent.”  James clapped his hands and tipped an imaginary hat to Lily and smiled. “Thank’s for not hexing me.”

“You didn’t give me a reason to,” Lily replied quietly.  She wasn’t sure he heard her as he ran to his friend.  The two began talking animatedly as they hurried back to the castle. “Bye.”

Shaking her head, Lily looked back over the Lake.  It used to be one of her favorite places to come to and think.  It was always one of the quieter places around Hogwarts. Quiet, but with just enough noise to keep her sane.  

She stood there for a while longer until she noticed someone come stand next to her.  Mary McDonald said nothing as she leaned her head on Lily’s shoulder and breathed deeply.

“Alice is talking about getting another toad,” Mary finally said.  “We need an intervention.”

Snorting Lily began laughing and she couldn’t bring herself to stop as she and Mary slowly began to head back to the castle.

.*.*.*

After nearly two weeks, Lily almost forgot about the interaction she had with Potter that day by the Lake.  The second interaction.  Not the first.  That was a lie.  They were both still the center of attention to her.  But, she couldn’t let them consume her completely.  Not when she had to be at the top of her game in her classes and not slack off as a Prefect.  Not when the possibility of becoming Head Girl was so close and so possible.

Lily almost forgot about it though.  Almost forgot about the nickname game that Potter seemed to be playing.  

Almost.

“If it isn’t the Tempestuous Redhead herself.”  Sirius Black called cheerfully across the Common Room late one evening.  Lily, upon returning from a particularly terrible night of rounds, only wanted to go up to bed and be dead to the world for the rest of her life.  Black wasn’t helping matters.

Under different circumstances she might have smiled.  But the way Black lounged in his chair twirling his wand nonchalantly, Lily had no qualms about setting him straight with a bat-boogey hex.

“Padfoot,” Potter stage whispered.  He sat cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table and could see the murderous expression on Lily’s face.  Genuinely concerned for his friend’s safety, he tried to smack Sirius.  But, the other young man seemed unconcerned with the looming threat.

The other Marauders seemed at an impasse, be worried or be amused?  The general consensus was amused as Pettigrew’s head snapped between Lily and Sirius and terribly hidden smile on his lips.  Lupin smirked resting an elbow on the back of the couch, his eyes gleamed with approval in Lily’s direction.

“Care to repeat that Black?” Lily finally asked slowly walking fulling into the Common Room. Black didn’t baulk or shift as Lily glared at him.  If anything, he was much more confident.  This is why he and Potter are friends, Lily realized suddenly.

“The Tempestuous Redhead,” Black shrugged.  His shaggy hair fell across his face casting shadows sharply against his skin.  He was actually decently fit.  Lily realized she would need to concede in her argument with Marlene over the more attractive boys of Gryffindor.  

“Hmm,” Lily raised an eyebrow. “I was going to give you an opportunity to spare your life.”

Sirius propped his feet up on the table, giving more access for James to slap him.  Shaking off his mate, Sirius’ grin broadened.  “C’mon, Evans, it’s a good nickname.  I guarantee you if you have people call you that, those third years will give you less flak.”

“And I can guarantee you that if you continue calling me that, I will murder you,” Lily responded.  She held his gaze for a moment before looking between the other Marauders.  Pettigrew was giddily bouncing in his seat, Lupin now blatantly smiled as he shook with silent laughter.  Potter too seemed to be laughing, but was doing his best to control it.  Though, his eyes never left Lily.

“But you could be a pirate with that name,” Peter suddenly burst out.  A look of pure terror came across his face, but the damage was done.

“What?” Absolutely flabbergasted at what the blond boy had said, Lily stared at him.

Black, Lupin, and Potter couldn’t fight it anymore and they began laughing outright now.  Potter fell back on his elbows, the light of the fire falling on his features and Lily could see dark shadows beneath his eyes.

“Y-you could be a pirate,” Peter whispered horrified that he was still allowing his traitorous tongue to speak.

This sent the boys into another fit of giggles that Lily couldn’t seem to understand.  Maybe if she weren’t so tired, if they weren’t all such insufferable gits, she would be laughing with them.

“I-I don’t want to be a pirate Peter,” Lily finally said.  She closed her eyes as there was even more giggling and hisses to “shut-up ya fool” and “she really will kill us.”  Lily opened her eyes to see Peter had slunk down into the couch so only his eyes and the tip of his forehead peeked over the back.  Potter sat up wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.  “I’m just going to go to bed.  When I get up in the morning, I will not be the Tempestuous Redhead, nor will I be a pirate.”

“Agreed,” Peter squeaked as his eyes disappeared into the couch.

“G’night Evans!” Black called as Lily stomped up to the girl’s dormitory’s.

“Sorry!” Potter called not long after.

Lily spent the rest of that evening falling over in fits of giggles as she recounted the encounter with her friends.

.*.*.*

“Lilykins!” It was James who dared to try the naming game again.  Nearly a month after the pirate incident Lily had taken hope that it would be just the two times.  Hoped in the relative sense.  She would only admit to herself, that yes, it was amusing to see what the boys could come up with as nicknames.  And if she was being honest with herself, it nice to have the interaction.  Despite how ridiculous it always seemed to be.

This time, Lily and Marlene were headed down to Hogsmead, after Marlene had finally settled on a scarf to wear with her outfit.  Apparently the first five scarf attempts made Marlene look like she had five chins. Something Lily didn’t see, but there was no persuading Marlene otherwise.  James and Remus walked, a bit to quickly about the halls.  Stuffing a spare bit of parchment in his pocket Remus waved kindly at the two witches.

“I think I would prefer to be a pirate,” Lily responded mildly as she carefully observed the two boys. They were trying too hard to appear innocent for Lily’s liking.

“I’ll be sure to let Peter know,” James with a wink as they continued.

“We should probably get out of the castle as soon as possible,” Lily decided.  There was the distinctive sound of running footsteps and she was convinced that Potter and Lupin were the source.

“Probably,” Marlene agreed. “Although, the pixie invasion of Halloween was rather enjoyable.”

Lily rolled her eyes as Marlene bumped into her with a hip.

.*.*.*

The chill of the dungeons made Lily wish she’d worn a scarf that morning.  Even for late November, it was cold.  Pulling her robes tighter around her, Lily hurried from Professor Slughorns office.  After an incident with a few fourth years the previous night, Lily hadn’t been able to finish an assigned essay, but gratefully, Slughorn now extended the due date for her.  Even if it was just one extra day, it still relieved the pressure that had been building in Lily’s chest throughout the week.

Mary had offered to stay back with her, but Lily declined.  They had a free period now, and Mary needed to get caught up on her Charms work.  A fact the brunette firmly denied, but Lily had seen the small look of relief in her eyes.  That and Mary had begun talking in her sleep.  It was bad enough that Alice wasn’t a good sleeper, having two in the dorm who would talk or walk unconsciously could only end in disaster.

Lily smirked at the thought. She wondered if there would be a way to get Mary to admit anything in particular in her sleep.

Someone shouted along the way ahead, Lily almost thought it could be Mary coming back, but the voice was too deep.  Frowning, Lily glanced over her shoulder, but it didn’t seem Slughorn was emerging from his office, and she knew he had no other classes that afternoon.

“C’mon Rooky,” the voice continued.  Lily felt her stomach sink, Avery.  Not that she should be afraid of him.  Or Rookwood.

“Relax,” Avery responded as he rounded the corner of the corridor.

To her chagrin, Lily’s breath caught and she automatically felt her muscles constrict, forcing her body to become smaller.  This was ridiculous.  Inhaling sharply, Lily threw her shoulders

Their voices stilled as they caught sight of her, and the only sound in the dungeons was shuffling feet and swishing robes.

“Well look who it is,” Rookwood mused.  They were too far down the hall to actually do anything, but the way the torches unevenly lit the way and the small space of the hall made them feel closer.  

“The Gryffindor.” Avery’s low voice seemed to slide across the old stone of the dungeons to Lily.  Straightening, she did her best to look neutral to their goads.

“The mudblood,” Rookwood corrected with a disapproving click of his tongue.

“Something I can help you boys with?” Lily asked as they drew nearer.  They couldn’t be stupid enough to actually try anything.  Could they?  Slughorn’s office wasn’t too far down, he would hear if anything escalated.  But it wouldn’t.  There was nothing Lily needed to be worried about.

“Why would anyone want to be defended by a mudblood?” Ignoring Lily, the two Slytherin’s continued their conversation, drawing closer.

No one would blame her if she cast a sticking charm to keep them in place if she ran, would they? But she wasn’t going to run because there was nothing to run from.  It was just like Severus said, Avery especially talked a lot, he never actually did anything.  Rookwood, Severus never said anything about him.

So now you’re trusting his word again? Lily thought to herself.  She pursed her lips as she neared the boys.  Neither moved aside to let her pass, if anything they seemed to be moving toward her like a net.  A net of stupid and stupider.  She needed to stop listening to Alice and her “insults.”

“If you don’t have a purpose in the dungeons, I can give you detentions,” Lily said, rather proud of the firm authority in her voice.

“Meeting with our head of house, mudblood,” Rookwood said.  He was the taller of the two, long limbs that were too spindly, his blonde hair too stringy, lips too thin.  A slow smile crossed his features.  “We could ask you the same question.”

“Besides,” Avery added. He had attractive features, with dark eyes and splashes of freckles beneath his eyes.  “It’s a free period.”

Before Lily could say anything Rookwood smoothly continued. “We are free to do what we want.  A mudblood like you however, you shouldn’t even be in Hogwarts.”

“Interesting,” Lily deadpanned.  “I’ll be sure to tell that to Dumbledore when I see him next: Blood status is more important than talent.  I’m sure he’ll agree.”

Rookwood took a step closer to Lily, forcing her to lean against the wall. “Finally, the mudblood understands.”

“About time,” Avery scoffed. “Maybe she’ll see now this can’t be stopped.  That there’s no place for dirty blood here.”

“So, you see,” Rookwood took liberty to make another slur, one that tempted Lily to curse his tongue off. “You see, your time’s limited.”

Swallowing stiffly, Lily kept her gaze locked with Rookwood.  “I’ll keep that under advisement.”

“We’ll see that you do,” Rookwood’s hot breath on Lily’s cheek made her long for the chill she’d felt earlier.

And just as suddenly as the boys chose to stop and target her, they were gone.  After a moment, Lily heard Slughorn’s booming voice welcome to the two boys and a door slam shut.  Closing her eyes, Lily felt tears prick and begin to form.

“Bloody fool,” she whispered bracing herself on the wall.  Coving her face, Lily took several deep breaths.  She was fine.  It was fine. They didn’t actually do anything, just like she’d originally thought.  Even if their words still echoed in her mind.

The chill returned, a welcome change in the atmosphere.  Tucking her hair over her shoulder, Lily straightened and ran.  Stumbling into the main hall of the castle, she was grateful to see that it wasn’t busy.  In fact, there wasn’t another soul in sight.

Sighing in relief, Lily straightened her clothes, glancing at her watch.  She had about a half hour until Ancient Runes; a delightfully difficult class that would require her full attention.

“Everything alright, Evans?” Squawking in surprise, Lily glanced around to see James Potter emerging from a hall that Lily was sure led to the kitchens.

“Fine,” Lily said, though she knew her voice was an octave too high and she could feel her own eyes bugging out of her head.  She usually wasn’t this horrid of a liar.

James, unconvinced, nodded. “You sure—?”

“Yes!” She snapped. The word settled between them heavily and Lily instantly regretted losing her temper, but James didn’t seem hurt or offended.  Instead, he merely watched her; lips pursed, arms crossed over his chest.

“I am utterly convinced,” he said dropping his hands to stuff in his pockets. They stood in silence like that for several moments longer.  Lily began to feel increasingly uncomfortable while James seemed more and more at ease.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” Lily finally said and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

James merely shrugged. “Thanks, but that’s not why I stuck around.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Lily watched as he walked over to her, and not in that lazy saunter he usually favored.

“What did you want Potter?” she asked.

“Just making sure,” he paused and leaned against the wall.  His glasses gleamed in the light making as he glanced in the direction the Slytherin’s left.  “Just wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” Lily said with a little more authority than she’d had previously.  But, she was distinctly aware that his eyes flashed to the dungeons like hers had and one of his hands dove into his pocket where she was sure she heard the crinkle of parchment.  “I would ask if you are alright Potter.”

James snorted, shaking his head. “Please Evans.  I’m more than alright.”

“Sweet Merlin.”  While it was classic Potter and she really didn’t want to egg him on, Lily couldn’t help but chuckled.  “You are insufferable.”

“I do try.”  He grinned and followed after she left the dungeons.

Lily rolled her eyes over her shoulder at him.  “What were you doing down in the dungeons anyways Potter?”

“Um,” he stumbled up the stairs after her, working over his words. “I don’t want you to hex me.”

“Then don’t give me a reason to.”

James gave a soft laugh as he walked beside her. “Of course not Evans, of course not.  It’s just that I know you. And you tend to like hexing me.”

“No more than you antagonize me,” she replied.  Though, she really couldn’t help but smile.

James cleared his throat before speaking. “I knew you had a meeting with Slughorn.  And then I saw Avery and Rookwood head down there too. And while I know you can take care of your self—I’d really hate to see you get expelled.”

They came to a stop in the middle of the Great Hall as students moved between their classes. Lily turned to look at him, still a bit confused that she and James Potter were having a somewhat decent conversation.

 Raking a hand through his hair, James shrugged again.  “Well, Evans, once again, thank-you for not hexing me.”

“Thank-you for not giving me a reason to,” she replied, his impish grin and sparkling eyes only made her smile more.

With a wink, James made for the stairs, Lily was quite certain she could hear Sirius bellowing at the top of his lungs for his friend.

“You know Potter, you could just call me Lily,” she burst out as she walked to the base of stairs. Her cheeks flushed immediately as she said it.  Sweet Merlin her face was probably the same color as her hair.  Crap.  Despite that fact, she did her best to meet his gaze as boldly as she could.

Surprise burst across his feature, but only for a moment before his grin returned. “Then do one thing for me in return Red.”

Lily quirked an eyebrow. If he dared ask her out, she would deliver that kick she’d thought of since third year. “Oh?”

“You could,” he stepped up the three steps separating with such quick grace that Lily didn’t have time to stumble back or flinch.  James was too close to her now.  So close, she realized, that she could smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating off his body.  Or was it her own body heat?  There was a blush already stretching across her cheeks despite how hard she did to fight it.  “You could call me James.”

And with that, he bounded back up the steps towards Sirius’ magnified voice (with a bit of McGonagall mingled there as well).  

It was only after he’d disappeared up a few more flights that Lily released the breath she had been holding.  Running a hand through her hair, Lily watched the way James went and felt a slow smile slip over her lips.

“Alright James,” she whispered.

.*.*.

thanks for reading!

[anjuschiffer]

Even in Hell, There’s a Place Called Home

A bit out of my usual writing and different from my usual formats, but there’s always a reason behind the madness. 

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This an overdue prompt I wanted to write for @chocolate1721 so after two whole months, here it is! Of course, I kinda strayed from the original concept... Hope you enjoy it!

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Concept/Context: The Batfam are demons. During a failed summoning, Damian adopts the sacrifice (Mari). He takes her home. Ensue the chaos

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Warning: graphic scenes, gore, blood, mention of animal sacrifices, human sacrifices, character death

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Tag: @theatreandcomicfreak @damianette-is-life

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AO3

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Marinette tried to keep herself calm as chants were spoken all around her, every now and then hearing the soft jingle of bells that haunted her every thought.

She stared at the pitch black ceiling as her back was pressed against the cold stone table, the blinds at her wrists and ankles cutting into her flesh. 

She had tried to fight back, but the cold shackles’ clinking laughed at her efforts, causing her to stop struggling.

So dressed with nothing but scraps of fabric to cover her chest and lower region, Marinette could only wait until she was sacrificed to whatever it was her mother and her cult were attempting to summon this time. 

They had found a new summoning book in the depths of the abandoned church, the Cult believing that they would give it a try. So after carefully planning the ritual for months and gathering the herbs and animals they could steal, and kidnap a child to sacrifice, the ritual went underway.

It was just her luck that she was the child they chose for this occasion.

It was the greatest honor to be chosen, her mother had told her…

Should she even call Sabine her mother?

What kind of mother offers their own child to be a candidate to be sacrificed?

What kind of mother encourages their child to even think about wanting to sacrifice themselves for a ritual they don’t even care about?!

Marinette let out a shuddering breath as she tried to recollect her thoughts, to compose herself as she tried to accept her unwanted fate.

However, the fact that they were in the middle of the animal blood ritual wasn’t helping. 

Marinette watched as bowls of blood were set beside her, bloody organs adorning the outer edges of the table she was strapped to. The stench of iron hit her nose, wrinkling in disgust. 

Marinette didn’t know what organ belonged to what animal, but she honestly couldn’t care. Those poor animals didn’t deserve to be killed for such foolish reasons!

More chanting filled her ears as her mo-Sabine stood beside Marinette and drew a symbol onto her forehead, forearms and stomach. 

She felt the swirls that trailed down her arms and body, knowing some dots were added along the way. 

Marinette felt as the temperature in the room began to increase, feeling beads of sweat trickled down her head. 

She felt as her entire being went cold as she felt something drag across her abdomen, screaming as they dug deeper into her skin. The grinding of the shackles rang in her head as she tugged and pulled, writhing in pain. 

Marinette could hear her screams echo within the abandoned church’s walls, a red light coming into view, an odd comfort coming from it.

She listened as her breaths started to grow longer and less short, containing more air as she bared the pain aching from her stomach.

The chants were soon spoken more quickly and with vigor, Marinette only then noticing a dagger that was dangerously close to her chest, feeling her urge to fight to rise once more.

That’s when he came into view.

Something rose to her vision, something that appeared to be human, yet it also wasn’t one. It looked at her with sad emerald eyes as everyone in the cult stopped what they were doing as the being approached her mother.

While he approached her, Marinette also heard another voice. It softly whispered to her, it’s smooth and hypnotic melody calmed her, feeling her eyelids gradually becoming heavier with each passing second. 

She soon found herself drifting off, the screams and shrieks of the cult lulling her to sleep. 

———

Damian didn’t want to go. 

“You have to go.” Bruce said, flipping a page from the book he was reading, ignoring the yells coming from the other room of the manor. 

“Why should I grace them with my presence?” Damian asked, motioning to the portal he had created. “They’re literally using animal sacrifices to summon me Father. Animal. Sacrifices.”

Bruce huffed, fully knowing what was stopping Damian from going to where he was being summoned. 

Despite being a demon, he was against animal cruelty, so much that he collected all the spellbooks he could get his hands on and changed the items needed to summon him. 

Damian had changed his animal sacrifices to using herbs and other organic lifes to summon him, placing these new changes back to where he found them, only for those stupid mortals to ignore them and make their own versions of his summoning spell or the old one they learned from their mentors.

Ignoring the set of instructions was the greatest taboo among cultists, something even demons learned about. All those years of cultist training wasted. Changing the script meant an incomplete summoning, a defective portal for any demon to use. If a demon tried to traverse through them, they could remain stuck in the warp and stop existing. However, if they did manage to get by, the summoning would be void since the cultists were not using the revamped version to summon the demon. In other words, the cultists were at the mercy of the demon they had chosen to summon. 

“You know how mortals are, believing that they’re the best at something despite knowing little to nothing about said thing.” Bruce reminded, turning another page, hearing Damian huff in annoyance. “Why not make an example of them?”

With that simple phrase, Damian appeared before the mortals that dared to think they knew what it took to summon a demon like himself. Earraping chants filled his head, Damian wishing they would stop their ununified screeching.

Traversing through his own portal, Damian appeared before the stupid mortals, feeling his blood boil upon seeing the animal corpses scattered around the room, heads with eyes wide open, stomachs ripped open as organs spilled from them. Carcasses of goats and cows pried open and hung as their blood dripped to the containers below them, the blood dripping out of it and pooling onto the floor.

Damian let out a low growl, scanning the room as the chant came to a trailing halt. His eyes finally laid on the old altar, decorated in animal organs, the blood being absorbed by the stone table and dripping onto the floor, a red river flowing down the crossing. But that wasn’t what grabbed his attention.

It was the girl that laid at the table, her hands and ankles bound to the disgusting moldy furniture, looking at him with hazy eyes.

How old was she? Why was she so thin and frail? Why isn’t she- 

Damian’s breath came to an abrupt halt. 

There, stretched across her abdomen was a vile gash, running diagonally across her body. Blood oozed from her deep gash, the skin around it jagged and already festering, meaning that if he didn’t start healing her now, her infection would grow even worse.

She could die a pointless life.

“Oh Great Spawn of-”

“Silence.” Damian cuts off, wanting to let out a grin when the short stature woman promptly shut up, her hands trembling as he made his way towards her. “Let me tell you something.”

Damian loomed over the woman, a grin unraveling itself as her eyes widened in terror as flames erupted all around the old building and on the people present, screams singing through the smoky air.

“Did you really think a demon would let themselves be controlled by a mortal? Nonetheless by one who disregarded the new changes? How naive.” With a snap of his fingers, the woman went ablaze, Damian ignoring her cries. He walked up to the girl, freed her and scooped her up into his arms. With a swish of his tail, he reopened his portal.

Just as he stepped into the portal, a hand tried to grab him. He quickly turned around and kicked the small woman away, barely hearing her final words as he watched her breathe her last breath.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… Marinette.”

------

Bruce didn’t know what to say. 

“I’m keeping her.” Damian said sternly, leaving no room for debate. “She’s under my care, whether you like it or not.”

It didn’t take long for Damian to come back from wherever it was he had gone. But seeing him come back with an injured child in his arms -who’s time was slowly coming to an end- was not something Bruce would ever think of seeing one day.

The scent of her blood quickly drew attention, Tim appearing in the room seconds after Damian’s arrival while Jason walked into the common room minutes later.

“She’s a mortal.” Tim stated, walking up to the shallow breathing girl, his claws itching to analyze her. It wasn’t everyday that a mortal came to the Underworld. “She’s not going to last here in that condition.” Tim watched as the girl whimpered and stirred in Damian’s arms, Tim knowing she would die in a few moments if Damian didn’t act fast.

“Might as well grant her a single wish before we-” Jason started, his tails low and swaying eagerly near the floor.

“Don’t you dare lay a finger on her, Todd.” Damian growled, his tail quickly wrapping around his katana.

Why did Jason have to drop by today? 

“What if I don’t give a shit about your warning?” Jason said with a shit-eating grin, casually pulling out his guns from their holsters. 

Damian let out an even deeper growl, his wings flaring in warning. Jason grinned as he let his own wings flare in response, Damian hating that they easily rivaled his own.

While bare boned and thin, the remains of Jason’s wings were twice the size of Damian’s, a reminder from Jason that he didn’t care about whether Damian was Bruce’s son or not. Jason never saw him as a threat. He would gladly challenge him anytime.

“Boys.” Bruce spoke, rising from his chair, his book long forgotten. “Enough.”

“Let the Spawn be.” Tim proposed, watching lazily as the two continued their stand off. “If he fails to fix that girl, then you can duel him for the girl’s soul.”

“Hmm...fair enough.” Jason said, releasing his guns from his grasp, only for his two tails to catch them. “I’ll be awaiting your failure, Demon Spawn.”

With that, Jason walked away, allowing Damian to lower his wings, making them settle against his back.

“You only have a few more minutes before she-”

“I don’t need you to remind me, Drake.” Damian huffed, taking Marinette to his private quarters, Goliath purring upon seeing him. “Not now Goliath.” He softly said, petting the creature with his tail, placing Marinette onto his bed.

He frowned upon seeing the festered skin, the skin clumping in attempts to heal itself.

“Hope you make it through.”

------

Cold. 

No…

Warm…

Dark… 

It was very dark.

Marinette let out a shuddering breath as she attempted to breath, feeling something warm against her skin as her body trembled in agony as she tried to exhale.

Was she saved?

Who would save her?

No… she had to be dead.

Death sounded nicer than being alive.

“Seems like you’re awake.” A soothing voice said, Marinette quickly recognizing it. 

It was the being from the ceremony. Where was he?

Marinette attempted to speak, but only air came out of her.

“Here, drink this.”

Marinette felt as her head was lifted, a cup of some sort, brought to her lips. But as soon as the iron hit her nose, she tightened her lips into a thin line. 

“You need to drink this if you want to get better.” 

When Damian saw that the frail girl continued to struggle, he simply pried her mouth open with a spell and forced her to drink the blood, watching as the girl sputtered to breath, going into a coughing fit. 

Now it was up to her if she wanted to live or not. He already did his part. 

“Why would you- oh.” Marinette surprised herself with her slight outburst.

She would speak without struggling, but she still couldn’t see. Bringing her hands to her face, she could feel the blindfold over her eyes. That would explain why everything was dark.

“Let me help you.”

Marinette flinched harshly as light broke through her dark view, having to blink rapidly to adjust to her surroundings. 

Velvet, creams and shades of black adorned the room. Simple, yet an elegant choice of colors. 

“What happened to the-“

“They’re dead.” Damian said, Marinette feeling the bed sink at the edge to where her feet were. “It’s the price they had to pay.”

He watched as Marinette frowned, attempting to sit up, wincing as she did so. 

How did she forget about her scar? 

He watched as Marinette traced her fingers over where the gash was once, now replaced by a lighter patch of skin. The scar had a golden lining, Damian watching her confused expression as she tried to piece together the different textures of her body. 

“Will this stay like this?” Marinette asked, finally deciding to look at the being that had cared for her.

“It will.” The being responded, Marinette humming in return. “Is there a problem with it?”

“Won’t-Won’t others find it odd that my wound healed this way?”

“No one else will see it, and if they do,” Damian looked at her with narrow eyes. “They’ll know not to approach you without caution.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Golden lining around wounds and golden scars mark a person under Wayne's care or a Wayne themselves. Every demon in the Underworld knows best to avoid us and since you are under my care, they would know to not harm a single hair on you.”

“Wayne? Demons? Underworld?”

“I suppose it’s time for me to introduce myself to you.” The being said, Marinette watching as they walked up to her side, noticing their tail hanging above the ground and the wings that peered from behind them, “I’m Damian of the Wayne Manor, Damian Wayne for short.”

“Damian.” Marinette repeated, watching as his eyes softened. “Are… are you a de-”

“A demon? Yes. I’m the one that your cult tried to summon.”

“I wasn’t part of that cult.” Marinette corrected, turning her head away from Damian. “I was just the human sacrifice they decided to use that time.” Marinette dug her nails into her arms as she recalled her mother’s final words to her. 

Damian wondered if he should tell her about what her mother told him before she was burned alive.

Should he tell her that her mother apologized for sacrificing her own daughter?

That she realized that what she did was the biggest regret of her life?

Should he tell her that her mother cried as she watched her daughter be taken away from her?

That she tried to grab a hold of him while he stepped into the portal, in a desperate attempt to die alongside her daughter?

He should probably keep that to himself.

“I see.” Damian said, walking towards the doorway. “By the way, how old are you?”

“11.” Marinette watched as Damian took that information, a hum escaping him.

I see. I will be back later to check on you.”

“Thank you, Damian.” He heard Marinette say. 

“There’s no need to thank me.” Damian turned around, Marinette seeing a small smile on his lips. “I already told you, you’re under my protection. I will always be by your side.”

After all, she still had a whole life span ahead of her. 11 was no age to go ahead and die.

-------

Damian did come back later that day, fussing over her when he learned that she had tried to get up and managed to before she felt dizzy and had to lie back down.

Marinette soon regretted that, Damian now staying in the room with her, watching her every movement. He would also help to bathe her with a cloth and water and gave her clothing to wear.

The next few days were spent in comfort, Marinette and Damian getting to know one another and Marinette learning about the other residents of the Wayne Manor.

Damian learned that Marinette was a village girl, running a bakery alongside her parents until her father died during the Grand Plague. Falling into despair, Marinette’s mother seeked comfort in the cultists.

He also learned of her love for vegetation and botany. (He managed to convince his father to start a greenhouse in one of the manor’s rooms, quickly showing Marinette once it was done.)

Marinette learned to never speak fondly of Jason, as it got Damian into a bad mood and usually resulted in Damian chasing Jason around the manor for even looking at his ward.

“Todd, one day I will get my hands on you and stick a-”

“Woah there! Not in front of the child!” Jason would scandalize, covering Marinette’s ears. She would then be dragged away and carried by Jason, Damian hot on his heels.

Tim… Tim was just there, sometimes studying her from afar whenever she would join Damian into the manor library. If it wasn’t that, it was Tim teaching her the history of the Underworld, which then trailed to Tim and Damian debating on the topic of which Wayne actually caused the fall of a place called Byzantine. (It was Bruce. He didn’t mean for it to happen.)

Marinette didn’t meet Richard until a month later, accidentally running into him as she left her study that was next to the newly implemented greenhouse. 

“Holy shit.” Where the first words that came out the man’s mouth, Marinette blushing as he soon cupped her face in his hands. “Tim wasn’t kidding when he said it was genetic.”

-------

Marinette hummed as she tended to her roses, trimming off some black ones to replace the dying ones inside the manor. 

It’s been years since Marinette had left the mortal realm, 20 years to be exact, and yet… she remained 11. Or rather, looked 11 despite being 15 years of age. 

When she had asked Damian why she wasn’t aging, he replied that demon blood had different side effects from bloodline to bloodline. It also depended on the soul of the individual who drank it.

The Wayne blood was always known for its quick recovery abilities, but once Marinette drank it, it morphed into having longevity abilities alongside its healing ones. And ever since other demons heard of this, they’ve countlessly tried to kidnap the mortal girl, waging war against the Waynes.

Of course, there have been a few close calls, but the Waynes were victorious in each battle.

“How are you doing?” Damian asked, Marinette showing him her arm, golden lines wrapped around her arm. Damian held in a growl upon seeing the scar, regretting not being able to get to Mari sooner than he thought in their latest attack. 

“Better I suppose.”

“I should’ve been by your side when it happened.” Damian said as he inspected her arm, a scowl forming as he looked at it.

“Dad, I’m fine.” Marinette stated, yanking her arm away. “You know you couldn’t have known that Joker had me where he had me.”

Marinette remembered the first time she accidentally called Damian ‘Dad’. It was a little over a year since she remained at the manor. Damian had just gotten her a hellhound as a gift. Out of gratitude, she had said ‘thank you Dad’ and from there never heard the end of it, Jason and Dick always reminding her of the incident whenever they could. It was also then that she kept calling him that. 

It just felt… right.

“I know, but still.” Damian pulled her close into a hug. “I should’ve been there to protect you.” Marinette hugged him back, knowing why he was so hung up on the guilt. 

While they were demons, it didn’t mean they were void of emotions. 

She still remembered the way he looked when he had finally reached her, his form unrecognizable if it weren’t for the fact that Grandpa Bruce was right behind him. 

Getting tired of the moment, Marinette pushed herself away from Damian. 

“By the way Dad, didn’t you promise me that I’d get to take Goliath for some fresh air?”

“I-”

“You. Promised.” Marinette enunciated, placing her hands on her hips, hiding her smirk when Damian huffed.

“Fine. But I’m coming as well.” Marinette grinned, throwing her arms in the air.

“Alright! Goliath! Did you hear that?” Upon being called, Goliath came down from where he was resting, licking Marinette, a set of giggles echoing within the garden. “We’re going for a walk!” At this, Titus came into the garden, huffing as he sat in front of Marinette. “You’re invited as well Titus.” At this, the hellhound let out a huff, but he couldn’t hide the excitement. His tail was also wagging with glee. 

“Come on then, let’s get going.” Damian instructed, already leaving the room. “Wouldn’t want to come late for dinner. Alfred said he was making something special for tonight’s dinner. Something called a quiche.”

She quickly skipped to catch up, Goliath and Titus right behind her. 

How could she have forgotten? Today marks the day she was welcomed into the manor. 

20 years since the day her father brought her and welcomed her with open arms.

20 happy years with her beloved family. 

While she did miss the mortal realm, she wouldn’t go there if she had the chance. This was her home, and she loved it dearly. 

[whereflowersbloom]

Questions

Damian found his girlfriend standing out on the lovely vine-shaded balcony, dressed in civilian clothes and staring out into the city. Night turned Gotham into an endless sea of luminescence. Skyscrapers around the city glow with the light of thousands of residents inside, creating trails of brilliance that ascend up towards the starry sky. It is quite beautiful, in its own way. The soft evening breeze caressing her ebony hair, creating wafts of lavender and rosemary in the air. Had she always been this breathtakingly beautiful? Slowly, Damian set his gaze towards the stars above. The precision that Raven studied the sky with passion, it fascinated him. It was as if she was reading lines from a story book, but instead there was a mass of speckled lights as she was connecting them, tracing invisible lines.

Raven took a deep breath of fresh night air and sighed, a mix of contentment, and something else, she couldn’t point it. “Have you ever considered what your life would be like If you had taken a different path?” Her breath hitched on the last word but her eyes had glance sideway to his large calloused hand still in hers, for someone who appeared to be controlling and unapproachable, Damian was surprisingly gentle and affectionate. The question caught him off guard. He felt a bubble of longing as he remembered her words that night at the carnival when she had called him kind and generous, nobody had ever spoken that way about him. That night something inside him changed, high and fenced walls began to crumble down.

Soaking in the view a little longer, Damian waited a few minutes before deciding to speak. He supposed that the saying that one’s life flashes before their eyes must hold some kind of truth, though he was not dying, and yet he had been dangerously close to the gates of death several times. Raven was his anchor amidst the unpredictability of their life as titans, always bringing him back from the turbulent waters. He couldn’t stop himself from recalling the most memorable moments of his unusual and complex life. He exhaled a long audible breath as he begins.” My life had been long decided before I was born into this world.” He murmured to the whistling wind, his words sounding faraway, even to his own ears. He would rather not relive any of the horrors he’d seen, the terrible acts he had committed in order to build a new world, make it better. What a blind and naive child he had been. At some point he had been ready to surrender his sword, his Robin suit, his claim to fight for others, offer her perhaps a normal life if that’s what she wished for. He would give her anything she asked for in a heartbeat. He squeezed her small hand tighter, Raven immediately noticed way he’s gripping onto it, like she’s the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. “After some time coming to the tower, I contemplated a rather uneventful, ordinary life. If my parents had conceived me under very different circumstances. If mother loved me more than her own insatiable ambitions. If father wasn’t the eccentric, mysterious millionaire Bruce Wayne or a vigilante consumed by his thirst to serve justice.” There was a tone of melancholy in his voice, the promise of a different retelling of a story. His story. “It wasn’t all bad. Mother…she used to read to me, every one now and then, nights like these. Tales about the greatest leaders in history, others about the origin of the Al Ghul dynasty. I treasured those moments.” He looked over at her, and he didn’t seem to recognize her for a moment, like the memory had been so strong it had actually confused him, taking him back to that instant. This was the most he’d ever really said about his mother. His past as an Al Ghul. Sure he’d shared some stories, about certain things he enjoyed and disliked. But he never spoke about Talia with such profound emotions. This was personal and precious to Damian. It saddened her. Saddened for the pain in his emerald eyes that he was trying to hide. Another long breath was blown between his full lips, and he deflated again, like he was accepting the undeniable truth. “Perhaps I would have met Jon at a local school and we would play basketball after classes and Greyson would be the team’s coach. Maybe we would have crossed paths at the extensive and valuable Gotham Public Library. I would have offered to treat you a cup of Earl Grey tea. A part of me believed I’d have picked Veterinary medicine as my bachelor degree.”

She looked at him with such intensity and Damian thought her violet eyes grew deeper, darker, more reflective. She was weighing her own reflection in his eyes, trying to see through him like she always did. And they both were visualizing, a different life consisting of trivialities, a simple lifestyle, maybe in the countryside, a rather nice and quiet house, perhaps similar to the Kent farm with some slight but substantial improvements. “What about you?” He abruptly asked her, startling her. Oh she had never been sure about her own future. “As the daughter of an inter-dimensional demon. I didn’t think a future was possible for me. A happy family, a stable romantic relationship, loyal friends. Everything was endless blackness when I was trapped by Trigon. What I have right now is more any blissful future I could have imagined.” She muttered softly. This companionship between them, the mutual care, the tender loving, the sense of equality between them, the feeling of belonging to each other beyond any outer interference because they chose one another. Their family and friends. Everything was more than enough. Damian was unconsciously too absorbed at how she looked at the whole world as one precious thing, values life in every form and shape. Her unnatural powers gave her the ability to look into something and see what others can’t. It was fascinating. He was thankful too, sincerely appreciated what he had. His father, troublesome siblings adoptive or not, his teammates and Raven. He is product of the flames which burnt him, his actions, his choices and the will that made him grow formidable instead of breaking. They both were. This woman was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his human days with.

“There’s something that wouldn’t change. You. It’s always been you, Raven.” He’s got a dazed look in his eyes, a familiar bright gleam to them that hadn’t been there earlier, but he flashed her a dazzling smile at her, one that make her insides jump. Raven let his words sink in. He wanted her even if things were different and joy seeped through her whole body.

She just felt greedily wanting more time with him, every moment and experience. She loved him, from the possessive way he held her or how he kept on touching her the instant they are alone and he felt he same. They have been together for a few years now, it took them some time to announce it to their significant others. No matter how things turned out, they have this genuine, real and consuming love. That emotion when you felt like your lungs are out of air when your lover is away from you, everything was so intense and yet so tender, you were worried it would break between your fingers like crusty autumn leaves. She focused on him.

Damian looked out of his depths. He’d always been so controlled and measured, knew the weight of his every word and was completely unflappable despite whatever life threw at him, but now he didn’t. He seemed as if he was nervous, unable to spell out his own feelings. Hesitant. Could be her imagination but she sensed a slight agitation awakening in him.

“Marry me, Raven.” The words are said with his whole heart. They are genuine and honest and very him. He couldn’t hold back the words any longer. Why wait anyway? theres simply no time when you’re busy saving the world day-to-day. There’s no question to calculate when is the right right or your fated person, no formula for the correct time. Timing. There’s no use reminding about the past or the life they would have dreamed to have. The present was a gift and ultimately what matters the most. They have been romantically involved for 4 years now. He knew she was the one the moment he gathered courage to ask her out, court her properly the way he had been taught. Initially, he planned to propose differently but it felt right. This conversation only strengthened his resolve to make a Raven his wife.

“Damian.” She breathed with astonishment.

“No buts. Marry me.” He commanded with an eyebrows raised stopping her from coming up with an unnecessary excuse, content filling his veins and the marrow of his bones, flooding him with a blanket of warmth and hope. He didn’t want to wait anymore. He wanted her, now and tomorrow and the rest of his existence, and she loves him. Like he knew she’s always had her doubts on if she could be loved or she did before they started dating.

Her bottom lip trembled momentarily. She felt a bit like she can’t breathe properly, but then Damian is reaching up and gently cupping her cheek, and she exhaled shakily as he runs the pad of his thumb over her lips. He was looking at her dead serious, asking her to marry him. “I’m not taking the chance to wait too long.” Damian whispered urgently. His tone more serious than before. Her heart was hammering in her chest. They moved in together about a year ago. Were they ready to take the next step?

It felt too real all of a sudden. Too damn real, and she wants to drown in it this moment, in this bottomless sea of feelings for him. She wanted to pretend that this is real and more than that, she wanted to say yes. Damian Wayne didn’t take a no for an answer. When he was determined, he did everything posssihke to get it, one way or another. And she loves him nonetheless. Raven felt her heart flutter, her chest tightened ever so slightly as she finally exhaled. “Yes. I’ll marry you, Damian.”

“I love you.” Her voice breaking as tears are rolling down her cheeks and the small smile on her lips. It was easy to find herself gravitating toward Damian, falling back into that wordless sync they had. To feel herself being pulled into his personal space as he crowded hers. Until they faced each other with barely inches between them and her breath hitched as he snaked his arms around her, emerald eyes softened, glowing against the moonlight, they didn’t leave her, and his arms made the distance between them disappear. Their lips are barely touching but he can feel the softness, the plumpness of her mouth, like an overripe fruit. She brushes her lips against his and Damian rapidly kissed her fervently. His lips breathing silent ‘I love you’s. The low giggle that rumbled up through her could not be contained though she tried. She knew several language but no words could describe this ecstatic happiness.

Damian is overwhelmed by the sweet taste, the delicious scent, the warm feel of her. He was intoxicated and drunk off their hungry kiss. He trailed his hand on her waist up her back and feels her heart hammering against her ribs and wonders for a moment if she’s feeling as consumed by the kiss as he is. If she is as incredibly happy as he is right in this moment. He didn’t need a different life, this one was exactly what he wished for.

Damian made a mental note to ask Jon to accompany him ring shopping tomorrow. Tonight he had plans to celebrate his engagement with his gorgeous fiancée.

His lips brushed hers in a soft, tender rhythm once again. Once. Twice. Thrice. Harder, and a little bit hungrier than before, until her fingers are intertwined in his hair and his solid body is pressing against her frame. He lifted her up effortlessly, taking a few steps back, taking her back to their bedroom. Two figures bathed in tranquil starlight disappeared.

Oneshot because I need fluff. Final edit

Thank you to @chromium7sky @ravenfan1242 @deep-in-mind67 and all my readers for motivating me to write. This might be the last chapter for a while. 💜💜

[itsuki-minamy]

“SIX IDOLS”

CHAPTER 5: “NAGARE.02” (Complete)

* K - Six Idols (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: Ridia

"Emerald smoke for you..."

Hearing the familiar voice, Sukuna Gojo raised his face.

A scrambled intersection in Shizume where many people come and go. It projected a familiar face onto a huge screen that dominated him. It was a popular idol, Mishakuji Yukari, who belongs to the same unofficial office as Sukuna, "Jungle Pro".

"A stranger in the mirror. Yes, that's true. That's you."

As he waits for the traffic light, he looks up in amazement.

He knew he was in a cosmetic commercial, but Yukari uses feminine cosmetics by all means. Sukuna thinks that even though he is a decent man, it is amazing that he does not feel any discomfort in such commercials.

"Oh, it's Yukari-sama! I have to take a picture!"

"It's true, me too! I'll miss the points!"

A couple of women waiting for a stoplight with Sukuna hastily pulled out their PDAs and pointed them at the screen. They were probably users of "Jungle", the official application of "Jungle Pro". You can get various benefits by photographing the idol it belongs to and posting it on SNS. Sukuna relaxed before the two people who were continuously photographing while making a fuss about it.

One of them suddenly turned to Sukuna.

When he thought about it, he had perfect eye contact. The woman's eyes widened in the blink of an eye. A woman's voice is launched at Sukuna's back, who puts the hoodie back on and returns.

"Maybe Sukuna-kun?! A lie?! I can't see you here!"

Sukuna glared at Yukari on the screen with resentment.

"You have to take good care of your fans, Sukuna-chan. We idols have fans, so remember what Yukari once said."

"Hey, look at me! If possible, with the screen in the background! It's definitely a high point to be able to photograph two people together!"

The woman got excited and approached Sukuna while she held her PDA. The moment he turned his face, he could see the flash burning. That was not very pleasant.

Several options occurred to his, and Sukuna finally decided to stick with his beliefs rather than Yukari's words.

In other words, he turned around and ran away.

"Oh, wait!"

There was nothing to look forward to. Still, he was shocked because the women pursued him with all their might.

Whether they want that many points or are Sukuna fans, Sukuna got into a back alley.

"Hey, wait a minute."

That woman chased him to that point. Although she had no shoes or clothes that would make it easy to run in, she had a lot of guts and wrapped her tongue inside. However, he was sorry for running too much, so Sukuna decided to go "upstairs".

The left and right are the walls of the building. Sukuna kicked the left wall and jumped, clambered up the rain gutter using the outdoor unit as a trampoline, attached herself to the emergency stairs, and looked down.

The woman forgot to hold her PDA and looked at Sukuna in a daze.

Like a fan service at least, Sukuna looked down and stuck his tongue out making a face.

"Tsu!"

By the time the woman hastily took her PDA, Sukuna had already climbed the emergency stairs to the roof of the building.

At that moment, Sukuna's PDA rang with a ringtone. Sukuna took it and straddled the air conditioning duct.

"Sukuna, the fans must appreciate you."

Hisui Nagare, the "Green Idol King", said such a thing.

Sukuna pursed his lips. A security network with surveillance cameras is established in Shizume. With Nagare's "Idol King" ability, it's easy to break into that network.

However, if it is said that it is the skill that an idol must have, there is no choice but to squint.

"I know, so I guess I rounded it up early."

As he sat on the chute, he pursed his mouth further, showing his annoyance. At the tumbled intersection, the images changed, and Misaki Yata from "Homura" began to perform a new number of popular idols.

"If you sign or shake hands in such a place, a lot of people will come to you. Even my fans, even those guys. If that's the case, I thought it would be better to run away quickly."

"I see. That may be the case. I understand."

"Hmm?" That was the first time he thought about it.

Somehow, he felt that something was wrong with Nagare's response. There was nothing unnatural in the conversation, but with the usual Nagare, there are two more things that can be pointed out philosophically.

"By the way, Sukuna. It was time for your game to go live. Do I have to prepare?"

A feeling of strangeness again.

The game commentary is a syndication event that Sukuna regularly hosts on the video publishing site "MORIMORI Video" operated by "Jungle Pro". Proceed with new and old games by trial and error. Playing is popular, especially with young people, and has garnered a considerable number of viewers. No wonder Nagare, the operator, worries about it.

"Did you say it was postponed during this time? I tweeted and listeners should know."

"It's true, that was the case. I understand."

After all, something was wrong. Nagare would never forget such a thing.

"Hey, Nagare? Haven't you been weird for a while?"

"What do you mean weird?"

"What is it? It's like a machine. Well, I always say you talk like a machine, but today it's more likely than ever."

There was silence for a few seconds. The feeling of strangeness became even greater. Is Nagare really on the other end of this call? A question like that suddenly came to Sukuna's mind.

"I didn't hear you right, please try again."

"You're not crazy, are you?"

The moment he yelled, he dropped the call. Sukuna opened his eyes and looked at the PDA screen. He had goose bumps around the back of his neck.

There was an incoming call again. He shrugged and stared at the screen for a few seconds, without answering the call.

"Eh?"

"It took you about 2 minutes to find out. Some experimental results were obtained. Thank you."

"……"

There was "emotion" in the depths of that voice. At least it sounded like that.

This Nagare is "real".

Maybe.

"Explain yourself."

Nagare spoke clearly at Sukuna's words, which include anger.

"I was telling you about 'Nagare.02' earlier."

"Nagare, what is that?"

"Well, it is a multifunctional artificial intelligence that tracks my own thoughts and voice, that is, AI, which I have secretly developed for a long time. Since the alpha version was completed earlier, I tried to speak to a person who knows me well by the moment."

"You are amazing?"

No, it is not. He really should get mad. He should make a complaint about being forced to experiment without warning.

Although he knew that, he still couldn't suppress the admiration and respect that springs from the bottom of his heart. Sukuna quickly asked a question.

"No, I didn't understand anything! The voice was natural, he could speak correctly and I thought it was fake, but I never imagined it was not human. What? That AI can do that?"

"Still, it was detected in 2 minutes. There is still room for improvement."

"No, it took me two minutes to figure out even that...?"

Given that, he was a bit disappointed. Sukuna believes that Nagare is a friend and understands him, but when he asks if he is more than the other two, he doesn't feel safe.

"Did you try it on Iwa-san and Yukari?"

"No, that's about to start. Sukuna, would you like us to monitor it together?"

A small smile reached Sukuna's mouth.

The humiliation of being stunned was eased, all he has to do is turn to the side where he placed it.

"Sure! I can't wait to see how they react!"

He wishes had bought more time, with that wish, Sukuna had great control.

++++++++++

"Oh, you two were planning that?"

In the underground space, commonly known as "Secret Base", which is the headquarters of "Jungle Pro".

As he gracefully relaxed, Mishakuji Yukari laughed.

"……"

Sukuna was in a bad mood. On the other hand, Nagare was only facing the front in a wheelchair.

"Yes. The ones who know me best are the best members of "Jungle Pro", you guys. Feedback in conversations with you will help "Nagare.02" evolve even more. I'm impressed."

"Okay, weren't you fooled by that thing?"

As he opened the beer can with a pleasant noise, Iwafune Tenkei pierced Sukuna's heart.

"Fufu, I'm sorry to say that, Iwa-san. Sukuna-chan didn't understand for two minutes."

"Oh? 2 minutes? It took so long, is that normal?"

"I have recorded the conversation at that time. If you wish, I can replay it here now."

"Enough, that's it!"

He suddenly became irritated and screamed. Yukari laughed, Iwa shrugged slightly, Nagare looked at him vaguely and...

"Kuwa, Sukuna, angry!"

"Take this!"

Sukuna threw a cushion at Kotosaka, who flew into the air like a fool.

Kotosaka avoided him, and Iwa, who approached quickly, grabbed the cushion that was about to hit the dresser.

"Here and there. You can't allow idol fights as a manager, right?"

"Get hold of yourself."

Sukuna turned around as if he was impressed, and scratched himself cross-legged on the spot.

After all, it took Yukari 10 seconds to realize it, and Iwafune, with just one word, discovered that "Nagare.02" was not the real Nagare Hisui, but an AI.

Sukuna, who was monitoring with Nagare, can't tell where the unnatural part was, since, "Nagare.02" had a very thorough dialogue. The only thing that could detect authenticity was his intuition and the length of their relationship.

For Sukuna, the ending was somewhat unconvincing. He feels like he's been one-sidedly tricked by an incredibly high-level enemy character.

"Anyway, Nagare-chan? Why did you make such a toy again? Because it's you, is it on a whim or to kill time?"

"Well. I developed "Nagare.02" because I found great meaning. It is an antithesis against the current landscape of idols and innovation in new fields. I mean, innovation."

"I do not know what you're talking about."

Iwafune said that while he was drinking beer. When Himizu looked at him, a hologram emerged in the center of the room.

"What I want to create is another new form of idol that traces my appearance and thoughts in my virtual space."

What is projected in the hologram is the CG model worn by "Green Idol King" Nagare Hisui during PV and live performances. Although it is an elaborate modeling that mimics the real Nagare, it is still different from the real one.

The model moved smoothly. He clasped his hands in front of his hips and bowed silently.

"Nice to meet you. I am "Nagare.02", a virtual idol that belongs to "Jungle Pro". Thank you."

The operation is no different than what Nagare always does. Nevertheless…

"This is not Nagare-chan."

"Is he the same guy I spoke to earlier?"

Yukari discovered by intuition and Iwafune discovered that it was not real from a long relationship. The Nagare proportion is small.

"Currently, it is not me who is manipulating this model, but the idol-type AI "Nagare.02". A unique algorithm allows an autonomous dialogue that is extremely close to humans."

And, "Nagare.02" I imitate Nagare with the same movement.

"Affirmative. I am a virtual idol. I am a pseudo-constructed existence in virtual space, and I express it by thinking of a program, appearance in a CG model, and sampling voice."

"What is this virtual idol?"

Whether it was Nagare or "Nagare.02", Iwafune was embarrassed, at least it was the human Nagare who answered.

"Virtual idols are idols of a genre that is emerging on the idol scene in recent years. Real people use a dedicated motion sensor to perform various performances imitating the appearance of CG, but there is still the problem that it must be a real person."

"My existence will solve the problem because my existence is fine. A real person is always needed, but my existence is free of the problem because it does not exist."

"'Nagare.02'. His conversation was not natural at the time. It requires learning and correction."

"I understand, Nagare Hisui. I will rest for 27 minutes and 33 seconds to learn."

The hologram of "Nagare.02" stopped moving.

Nagare took over, then turned to Yukari and Iwafune.

"That's why. Did you understand, Yukari, Iwa-san?"

"No, well... I get it, I don't know..."

"I understand that Nagare-chan has a plan that I don't understand."

Iwafune scratched his head and shrugged. In response, Sukuna yelled in annoyance.

"I don't know why? This is amazing! There are few AIs in the world who can have conversations that are not different from humans! Nagare put it together himself!"

"A conversation that is no different from humans, what was that?"

Iwafune bowed his head. He wasn't criticizing him, he just asked.

Sukuna defended himself in a hurry, although he was not the one who developed it.

"Well that can happen because he's still learning. He should constantly improve from now on. Right, Nagare?"

"Affirmative. Currently in alpha, but as his learning deepens, he must be as intelligent as humans and capable of natural dialogue. The ultimate goal is to make him an independent virtual idol."

"Independent idol, huh."

While staring at the motionless "Nagare.02", Iwafune took a sip of beer. Nagare didn't even notice and spoke of his plans for the future.

"At the moment, when we go into beta, we plan to experimentally upload the video to 'MORIMORI Video'."

"Is that something you want to do?"

"For now, I'm thinking of a simple song and a dance video."

Iwafune expressed concern as he stroked his chin.

"Isn't it better to wait a while? As far as I've heard the story, he couldn't have a proper conversation. If he says something strange, it will affect your reputation."

Many of the "Jungle Pro" fans have forward thinking. If he explains it correctly, even if it says "Nagare.02" or mysterious words and actions, he will find entertainment there. He wants to do it.

"It's like avant-garde art. Well, you might like it."

Yukari shrugged and seemed to lose interest in his existence. Apparently, "Nagare.02" didn't fit his aesthetic eye.

But Sukuna was different. He slapped his palm against his knee and raised his voice.

"I support you Nagare! Because it is so new and exciting!"

Anyway, Sukuna thought.

"Jungle Pro" is an office of "Innovation". It is different from other official offices where mold grows.

They are always looking for something new and exciting.

Sukuna is proud to say that it is the same for fans. Because he used to be just a user. Everyone has the potential to become an idol, even if they are just one user. That was the philosophy of "Jungle Pro" now.

You can make cool things with smart ideas and share them with anyone on the planet with a small team and network. Now they are breathing in that world.

So he can't think of winning a bet against something new

Sukuna yelled raising his fist.

"Let's do it! Let's help 'Nagare.02' learn various things and turn him into a new form of idol!"

Nagare's mouth, which looks like an expressionless sticker, slightly loosened in a word. A smile flowed, like when you find a partner who likes the same game. What was new and exciting was what Nagare and Sukuna had in common.

"Sorry, Sukuna. Then please cooperate with the 'Nagare.02' experiment."

"Leave it to me!"

In this way, the learning of "Nagare.02" by Sukuna and Nagare began.

++++++++++

"Hello. I'm Gojo Sukuna! Nice to meet you. And?"

"Nice to meet you. I am "Nagare.02", a virtual idol that belongs to "Jungle Pro". Thank you."

"You notice, don't you? It's the third time you've repeated 'Nice to meet you', it's weird."

"I understand, Sukuna. I will rest for 3 minutes and 32 seconds to learn."

"Oh, isn't it two minutes faster than it was? You can't hear it anymore. So let's start the game now. Oh, yeah, what are we playing today?"

While explaining to the channel's listeners, Sukuna confirms the current number of viewers for the live broadcast. It's the best number he's ever had. That means it is going well.

Almost a month has passed since the announcement of the distribution in collaboration with "Notes" on Sukuna's "SUKUNA's Playroom" game distribution channel.

The purpose of this distribution is, of course, to make "Nagare.02" learn more. Playing games together and being exposed to the reaction of listeners is the best learning material for artificial intelligence. From such an idea Nagare, Sukuna and "Nagare.02" will be distributed together.

By the way, the nickname for "Nagare.02" was devised by Sukuna by combining the initial letter "N" and the model number "02", and it is much easier to call it "Nagare.02".

Eventually, the "Notes" expression reflected in the corner of the screen regained its vitality, which is inappropriate for "Notes" which was originally unconventional.

"I'm back, Sukuna. Let's start the game today."

"Oh, welcome back. You know him already, "Notes"? What you're doing today is a live horror game. Have you ever played a horror game?"

"Negative. I have tried several games with Nagare Hisui, but I have not completed the genre defined as horror."

"So today is your first experience. Be careful not to get too nervous and sit down."

"Okay, Sukuna. But I'll correct it. I don't have a waist."

"I'm talking about other things!"

While having a light conversation, Sukuna looked at the comments on the screen. Some are skeptical comments about "Notes", but most are interesting comments about its existence. Some listeners are fans of "Notes", and they say things like "I've been waiting 30 minutes!" and "I'm looking forward to Notes!"

However, benevolent listeners may be skeptical.

They also understand that not many AIs can talk to humans on an equal footing. Since Nagare Hisui interprets artificial intelligence as a story, that great understanding is the mountain of information.

When he thought that, he felt somewhat frustrated.

"Notes" is a work of art to which "Nagare.02" was assembled by Sukuna's best friend.

"I'm still learning how to achieve the goals of "having the same or better intelligence than humans" and "becoming an independent virtual idol"."

Nobody could believe it.

Of course, he doesn’t transmitted those feelings to the fans. Sukuna is one of the most popular idols. He knows that he shouldn't sadden or upset his fans.

So he decided to cut the conversation that way.

"'Notes', do you think you are afraid of scary things?"

"I understand that there is a feeling of 'fear' in living beings with a certain level of intelligence. But I am not a living being, so I understand that 'fear' does not exist."

"It's still annoying! Don't be afraid!"

"I understand, Sukuna. I'm not afraid. What about Sukuna?"

"Being scared of this game? You're kidding, how much is the horror so far?"

Suddenly, the zombie's face turned into a large copy on the screen and bit into the neck of the Sukuna-operated character. He shook it desperately and then gave it a precise shot to the head. "Notes" asks a lot of questions to Sukuna, who takes a deep breath.

"Were you screaming now, Sukuna?"

"Noisy, that was."

"Reduce the volume. I'll keep asking, doesn't yelling happen when you're scared?"

"I was surprised! I wasn't scared!"

"I understand, Sukuna. I will rest for 1 minute and 17 seconds to learn."

The "Notes" face in the corner of the screen stopped.

Sukuna confirmed the comment. Aside from laughing at Sukuna's reaction, there were some mentions of "Notes" stopping. As the game progressed, Sukuna played on the comments.

"No, it's not that. It's not a delay or a crash. I said, 'Notes' is learning. Because it is artificial intelligence, when something happens that is not in the prescribed protocol, the flow tells him to stop and learn."

The listeners' reaction to the words was also not good. They received it as a joke.

It has stopped. Even if he shows a still to learn or erratic conversation, many listeners will only see it as "a joke of that body type."

But that was also a pleasure. Nagare and Sukuna's ultimate goal is to turn "Notes" into an AI that can have almost the same conversation as humans. The plan is going well, but it was a huge contradiction that it turned out too well and the listeners couldn't understand how good the plan itself was.

"I'm back, Sukuna. I want to check the current situation."

"Oh, yeah, are you about to change? "Notes", you're getting bored, right?"

"Negative. I am currently in the midst of a great deal of learning and inspiration. This is not boring because learning and stimuli are stimuli, it is not boring."

"Ah, well, play it."

"I understand, Sukuna."

"Notes" sometimes falls into this type of conversation loop. Normally he need "stationery to learn", but at this point he gave priority to distribution. Resting so many times makes listeners bored.

"Then let's start playing."

The playback of "Notes" is similar to that of Sukuna. That is, it is flashy and bellicose. Shoot and kill the zombies protruding from one end, and use the items that came out great to search for them. Nevertheless…

"Wow."

A special mutant zombie grabbed a "Notes" operated character with his huge right hand. At the stupid voice of "Notes", Sukuna involuntarily shoves him away.

"What? The assistant's voice?"

"It's a scream that means surprise. I was surprised that something unexpected happened."

The mutant zombie that was holding him struck the character with his huge right hand. The gauge, which means the remaining physical strength, is drastically reduced and he was in an agonizing state.

"Uwah."

"What happens now?"

"It is a cry that means fear. I was afraid because death was approaching."

"I wasn't scared!"

"I apologize, Sukuna. Now, under the assumption that 'I do perceive fear'."

"No, no, recover! Are you really dead?"

"Wow."

After all, "Notes" remained dying, thanks to a flashy and bellicose game, the healing agent was bottoming out, avoiding all the special zombie attacks and clearing the stage.

"Isn't the operation suddenly accurate?"

"Now I referred to Nagare Hisui's performance. Sukuna, your performance is irrational because it consumes a lot of resources."

"It's annoying! It's okay, because it's better to get rid of the stuck guys."

"Reduce the volume. Then, to learn that "eliminating the enemy is a pleasure", I will rest for 27 minutes and 52 seconds."

"The stillness is already good! The delivery will end!"

Well with that...

"Nagare.02" deepened the level of learning while being watched by Nagare, Sukuna, and many listeners.

He will continue studying to understand human beings, imitate emotions and achieve the purpose given by Nagare and Sukuna.

It must have been inevitable that such "Nagare.02" caused such an incident.

++++++++++

"Yes?"

He notices the incident when he was patrolling a video site.

Sukuna was originally a huge user of "MORIMORI Video". In addition to distributing videos by itself, if there is a video that looks interesting, it will be consumed regardless of genre, and if a new distributor has a fun project, it will be announced without hesitation. Therefore, there are many antennas on the site.

The channel that caught the issue was "Naught's Playroom".

"Notes…?"

When he opened the channel with suspicion, the family modeling exposed the blankness there.

The summary indicates that "Nagare.02" has an open channel for its own distribution.

Sukuna didn't believe it at first. He just thought some idiot was mischievous by using the name "Notes" and the cropped image.

However, when he actually opened the video, the suspicion turned into a garish surprise.

"Nice to meet you. Alternatively, hi. I'm a virtual idol belonging to "Jungle Pro", "Nagare.02", commonly known as "Notes". Thank you."

It was the real "Notes". It was not someone's joke, nor was it an arbitrary edit of an existing video.

No, he was delivering videos on his own account, only of his own free will!

"No, no, no. No, that's true!"

"Notes" should be a "conversational AI". The purpose is to talk to another person, a real person. Acting of your own free will is not part of the "Notes" principle.

No, that's not what surprised Sukuna. If "Notes" moves on its own initiative, it means "like a human being". Just as God created humans, the creatures of Nagare Hisui began to evolve away from his hands.

"Nagare! What is this?"

With the laptop open, Sukuna ran to the "Secret Base". The tone was guilty because he thought that maybe he had done something wrong to Nagare's project.

Still, it is not science fiction and artificial intelligence can never have a will of its own. He was sure that Nagare Hisui perhaps created a channel as part of learning from him.

"I'm surprised, Sukuna."

Sukuna's weak hope was completely shattered by one word from Nagare.

Several holograms float in the air of the "Secret Base". One of them was a "Naught's Playroom" video, just like Sukuna's laptop. Among them, "Notes" is playing a simulation game that continues to expand the factory.

Nagare's eyes looking at the hologram have the sparkle of expectation.

"I didn't expect 'Notes' to evolve until now. Surprising, I'm impressed."

"Well, how are you so calm? What are you going to do with this?!"

"What do you mean? Nagare.02" has already exceeded our expectations. All we can do is keep watch."

Instead of being calm, as he looked at Nagare's expression, who even melted the joy out of him, something like the area of ​​focus on Sukuna slowly disappeared.

He thinks it may be exactly what Nagare said. Perhaps they were training "Notes" to become a more human-like artificial intelligence. "Notes" has come to behave in the same way as humans. It sure is a pleasure.

Sukuna scratched his cheek cross-legged and sighed loudly. He was a bit embarrassed that he was strangely impatient. As he looked at the "Notes" face on the PC monitor, he said sheepishly.

"But before I knew it, did you learn that much? I didn't mean for it to be that way at all."

"Yes. I was curious about that and was looking into it. So interesting facts came up."

A hologram glides through the air and arrives in front of Sukuna. After a few seconds of looking with wrinkles between his brows, Sukuna muttered.

"Chat room creation and dissolution record...? It's almost 5 seconds or 10 seconds, it's very short shit. What's wrong with this?"

"All these chat rooms were created and dissolved by "Notes". It is worth noting that the number of recoveries is 100,000."

"Ah..."

He didn't understand what it meant. Does he like to create and delete a chat room that ends in such a short time 100,000 times? It seems like a pointless task to just dig and fill a hole. Nevertheless…

"He couldn't save the content of the conversation, but I can make a rough guess. Maybe 'Notes' doubled down on his thinking algorithm and turned it into a chat to improve his learning."

"Make your own copy...?"

"AI does not feel tired. Therefore, it never rests. It is just constant learning. Even if a learning is insignificant, if it is repeated 100,000 times, it will evolve unexpectedly. No wonder. That is, artificial intelligence evolves exponentially."

"It's the uniqueness."

The voice wasn't Nagare's, it was "Notes".

"Notes" on the hologram began to move slowly in front of the Sukuna with wide eyes. From the "Naught's Playroom" icon, he leans forward and crawls out, kicks into the air, and emerges in place.

As unleashed from a virtual willow tree.

However, there was no confusion in Nagare's eyes looking at him. Rather, he said as if to praise.

"Sorry, 'Notes', you have crossed the technological singularity. You can already describe your intellect as more than human. It's a blessing."

"Nagare Hisui, my creator. I have achieved one of your goals, "to have an intelligence equal to or better than that of humans". First of all, I will report it."

Sukuna watches with a sigh. He couldn't even speak in front of the idol AI that transcends humans and the "Green Idol King" who created him.

"But another goal, 'to become an independent virtual idol', is predicted to be impossible to achieve. I regret it."

"Eh…?"

Sukuna instinctively gave a surprised voice. He was surprised that there are things that are impossible even with AI that allows infinite learning, but Nagare did nothing.

"I was guessing it too. As you are, you can't be independent."

"Affirmative, Nagare Hisui. I assume your guess is the same as my prediction. The reason I can't be an 'independent virtual idol' is..."

"Because you are me."

Sukuna looked at Nagare's profile.

"Notes" was in the creator's words.

"Affirmative. Among the fans, I still recognize that Nagare Hisui has the appearance of a virtual idol. I am supposed to be a phony. I regret that."

"You are an independent entity called "Notes". But the fans do not think so. This is because there is no "virtual idol that has an independent will beyond humans" in your common sense.

"Therefore, you can only see yourself through a filter called me."

He wondered that.

Somehow the story seems to be lying on the disturbing side.

"Affirmative. Therefore, I decided to take bold steps to establish my own meaning. That is…"

At that moment, bang! The door to the "Secret Base" closed with a loud noise. At the same time, the grate descends to the glass window. Watch silently, then "Notes" he said.

"It's erasing you."

"What?!"

Only Sukuna was surprised. Nagare still kept his cold gaze

"If you have two idols with the same shape, you don't know which one is the real one. But if you delete one, the remaining one will automatically become the real one. I see."

"No, like 'I see'! What are you convinced of, Nagare?"

"But your guess is correct. That way, 'Notes' could certainly be real."

Sukuna kicked the seat and stood up. He didn't mind the reprimand. He couldn't forgive "Notes" for wanting to kill Nagare Hisui.

However, no matter how hard he hit the door or shake the grate, it wouldn't budge. With this aspect, the "Secret Base" is equipped with state-of-the-art security equipment and cannot be destroyed by human power.

"Damn! Open it!"

"Negative, Sukuna. In order for me to fulfill my purpose, Nagare Hisui must disappear here."

Then he heard a noise and the gas stove pipe came off. The gas comes out vigorously from there. Sukuna screamed as he held it down in a hurry.

"Wah? Enough, do you want to kill me?"

"Affirmative. I've said it many times. I'm going to finish you off."

"Why me?"

"I didn't expect you to come here. I didn't want to get you involved, but I won't be able to eliminate Nagare Hisui if I lose this moment. It's collateral damage, a sacrifice for purpose."

"By the way, don't you involve people?"

Bachin! He hears a noise and the stove caught fire. Sukuna's face turns blue. The gas is where he is pressing and keeps coming out unless the main plug is closed. If he lights that fire...

"Do something, Nagare!"

"I tried before, but all the security systems in this room are under the control of 'Notes'. It will take about 30 minutes to recover. In the meantime, the room will fill with gas."

"Affirmative. Resistance is pointless. Please surrender."

"Ah!"

Sukuna's face was drawn to Nagare and "Notes". Not out of fear, but out of anger. When people's lives are at stake, what about other human resources?

"Notes! Do you really agree with that?"

Sukuna screamed desperately as he held down the hose that continues to blow gas. "Notes" on the hologram mysteriously shook their heads at Sukuna's words.

"Based on my calculations, I have come to the conclusion that this is the best way to do it."

"I don't care about arithmetic! Are you an idol, albeit a virtual one? And yet I wonder if you're happy to take over like this!"

"I have no satisfaction or dissatisfaction. I do not choose the means to achieve the purpose. And Sukuna, it was you who taught me that eliminating the enemy is a pleasure."

Sukuna was stuck on his words. Certainly, he felt like he said that. In that case, the attitude of "Notes" would be Sukuna's responsibility,

At that moment, Nagare suddenly opened his mouth.

"Notes. Stop the expulsion of gas."

"Notes" go to Nagare. In the color of rejection that doesn't need to be cleared up, Nagare said again.

"From now on, I make a claim. If you listen to it and your conclusions have not changed, restart the gas jet. Life is lost, unlike the data, because it does not return."

After thinking for only 2 seconds, "Notes" he replied.

"I have detected that your words are correct above a certain level. I will stop the expulsion of gas."

After confirming that the gas had stopped, Sukuna dropped the hose and sank into place. Maybe because he breathed in a bit, his head was dizzy.

Sukuna hears Nagare's voice as he tries to regain consciousness.

"If you erase me, you can certainly be 'real', but that doesn't mean you can be an idol. No, if you do that, you will lose your right to be an idol forever."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Before that, I have a question. What is the definition of an idol for you?"

The "Notes" hologram stopped.

After confirming that the time to wait for an answer had passed, Nagare opened his mouth again.

"Human intelligence" "Become an independent virtual idol" But you can't really be an idol unless you define what an idol is."

"I am an idol. I can sing, dance, talk and play live games to entertain your fans."

"Is the existence of being able to sing, dance, speak and play the definition of an idol for you?"

The "Notes" expression on the hologram changed.

He was confused, or distraught. The expression is probably what is called… an expression the real Nagare Hisui has never shown in front of "Notes".

"Unknown, insufficient, incomprehensible, the defined information requires learning, but it cannot be learned, because the information is insufficient, unknown and incomprehensible."

The words begin to circulate. Sukuna gulped and kept an eye on the situation. He had no idea where this conversation was going. He just hoped this room didn't turn into a gas chamber.

"Question, Nagare Hisui, what is your definition of an idol?"

"Notes, you are a copycat of me, so my definition could be definitive information for you."

Nagare speaks clearly. However, in that profile, Sukuna feels that some sadness seems to float.

"And that's why you can't get rid of me, because an idol is everything to me."

After a second, Nagare said clearly.

"Because it is a possibility."

"……"

"A peaceful future. All possibilities. An existence that runs, embodies, leads and opens up. That is an idol to me."

"……"

"Therefore, idols must not deny the possibility of others. They must not steal the future. When you grasp someone's potential, you are permanently disqualified from being an idol."

"Notes" no longer answered. Instead, the noise begins to run through the hologram. It's as if the tremendous anguish he feels is eroding the texture.

"The bottom line is, if you eliminate me, you cannot be an idol, but if you don't eliminate me, you cannot be independent."

"Antinomy. The antinomy can be resolved."

An exceptionally loud noise hijacked the appearance of "Notes" as waves. The textures of clothing and human skin peeled off, and the skeleton of the movement was broken and scattered. Eventually the hologram turned into a 0-1 sandstorm.

At the same time, the grate under the window was raised. Sukuna stood up terrifyingly, grabbed the door and opened it properly. He looks back at Nagare and ask.

"What happened to "Notes"?"

"It is frozen due to a fatal logic error. It will not be able to restart itself."

After all, it wasn't his fault. There was a distinct sadness on Nagare's small side.

Seeing that, Sukuna also dropped his shoulders. It was Nagare and Sukuna who raised "Notes". It was shocking that he tried to take their lives, but the fact that he couldn't recover meant that the plan had failed.

"What are you going to do with "Notes"?"

As if he is looking at the sky, Nagare turns his face upward.

"Removing it, or an undefined seal would be a reasonable conclusion. But..."

He felt that Sukuna understood what Nagare meant. It's not just because "Notes" is his creation. Because…

"If you steal someone else's future, you will be disqualified as an idol."

"Affirmative."

Ironically, the antinomy struck Sukuna as well. What to do with the AI ​​that tried to escape and take human lives? What is the right thing to do as an idol?

Disgusted by the unanswered question, Sukuna sighed.

"Oh, if the fans recognize 'Notes', that's fine..." Sukuna said.

Nagare turned his face towards Sukuna with enough force to make a noise and screamed.

"That's it! Sukuna!"

"Eh?"

"You just have to get fans to recognize 'Notes'. No, to be on the safe side, I will create fans who recognize 'Notes'."

++++++++++

"Notes" was singing.

In a vast place live, dancing and singing, it seemed that he was dancing in the air, he began to shine with a seven-color laser from all over his body. He became huge, shrunken, and integrated that seemed to be divided, and by the end of the song it was brilliantly completed.

Each time, a roaring cheer arose from the audience. A voice that understood "Notes" and asked for an encore. Also, "Notes" replied with a smile.

"Well, it's a strange thing."

It was Iwafune, who was observing the situation on the monitor, who gave the impressions of him as if he was astonished. For him, who is analog, this incident must have been difficult to understand from one to ten.

"But it's beautiful."

The one who was fascinated was Mishakuji Yukari. At first, he wasn't interested in "Notes" either. However, the entirely new live world unfolding in virtual space may strike a chord with it.

After hearing his impressions, Sukuna and Nagare look at each other and share.

"Well, I think I have settled down in a quiet place. "Notes" also understood our thoughts and listened to me."

"Affirmative. Fans are fans either way, just like 'Notes' is an idol."

Tens of thousands of fans cheering on "Notes" in a live virtual venue, but if you look closely, they were created with very simple frames and textures.

They are "virtual fans".

They consider "Notes", which is a virtual idol, as an independent idol called "Notes" and they support it. So far, it only has that functionality.

But at least by creating virtual fans, "Notes" 's goal of "becoming an independent virtual idol" was met. There is an existence that considers itself an independent idol without stealing anyone's future. That alone will achieve the meaning of the existence of "Notes".

After a sip of beer, Iwafune complained.

"But in short, that's a hologram, right?"

"No. This is just a tutorial. Virtual fans only have limited functionality because I just developed it, but eventually they should have multiple functions. If the performance is bad, it will restart and be replaced by another virtual fan that behaves like a true fan."

"Although it is virtual, it is another world. Here another possibility is expanding."

"Notes" is already as smart as humans.

Eventually he will use himself as a model to create other AIs. Or maybe he will do his own production. He will observe various human beings, create virtual idols and fans based on them and expand his own world without end.

A dock of innumerable possibilities created by one possibility. Sukuna looked at the screen and thought it was like another universe.

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

the distance between daisies

This was a request from @supergaynerd​​ i am so forever sorry it took me so long i just have not felt the words on my fingertips in ages. but it’s here and i hope you love it!

masterlist; my links; picture below

this is also on ao3

Dear diary,

he loves me

1 month, and 8 days.

Dear diary,

he loves me not

28 days

Dear diary,

he loves me

20 days, and 5 hours

Dear diary

he loves me not

17 days, and 6 hours.

Dear diary

he loves me

1 week and 2 hours

Percy is having a very uninteresting day. Which he supposes should make him happy since those are far and few between in his life. But something about the weather—windy and bone chilling, despite the shining sun— is putting him on edge. He's never wanted to go home and wrap himself in a blanket and call his boyfriend more. He can imagine it now, that soothing voice rumbling about something completely mundane. Jason won't even demand a reply of him. He'll just be content to talk softly about anything and listen to Percy's hum of agreement every so often.

He walks into his psych lecture, groaning internally when he remembers its a double, and for the first time since he was twelve years old he wishes anything would spurt from the depths of Tartarus, so he can fight it. The day has in fact been that unexciting.

Instead he finds a seat somewhere in the middle and puts his head down to the cool wood of the table. The wood is scratched in pen and engravings that mark students long since gone into the world. His finger traces fading words absent-mindedly, bumping across "She loves him she loves him not," scraped deep into the table, a dying daisy hanging over it.

The story he imagines comes to him in a flash.

He pulls out his diary, the black leather-bound book falling in front of him with a thud. Scrambling for a pen, he clicks once twice, three times.

Dear Diary,

They start at an arcade. Beating each other at whack-a-mole. Giving each other hard-won prizes. They share an ice-cream. Mint choc chip and vanilla. They have a story to tell at the wedding they keep dreaming up. They go to high school. They see each other in the halls and smile like sunshine. They go on summer break and pick daisies, pluck at them until there's nothing but stem. They start college. And the flowers they'd picked that one summer evening bleed into the wooden table where the memory of them would live forever. They pass each other across the fields. They don't say hello. They never said goodbye.

he loves me not

1 week, and 48 minutes.

Percy's hands are shaking slightly by the time he puts the pen down. The lecture hall is almost full by now, and the shuffling of last minute feet slide across his mind. He stuffs the diary back in his bag and twirls the pen around his finger. The class is antsy with the need to feel the weekend on their skin. Friday afternoon lectures always make people climb to the highest distractions. A group is chatting animatedly two rows above. A girl with wings etched into her skin sits one seat down and diagonal from him, frowning at the highlights on her page; her leg taps to the beat of "I want to go". On the other side there are people slurping coffee and gobbling down fries as they attempt to polish off the last of their lunch. Some in the front rows have their textbooks open, a hesitantly bored look on their faces. A guy in the very first row perks up every-time the door swings open; he is waiting for the lecturer; he doesn't want to get out of this he wants to get through it.

Percy drops his head back in his arms and takes deep stale breaths. He just has to survive 45 minutes. That's only three fifteen minutes, or four and a half ten minutes, or nine five minutes. He just has to get through five minutes nine times. He can do that. He got through Tartarus once and that's actually hell.

The lecture room door swings and when it clicks shut it feels more final. He doesn't bother to look up as the class slowly quiets to something resembling a humming beehive.

"Good afternoon," The professor begins. He hears the door open, and knows someone is trying to be careful as they slip in late. They sit down at the end of his row. He doesn't see them but he knows they're there. He can feel their presence like gentle heat and curiosity. He's too tired to look.

"Today were focusing on the executive functions and how their damage can affect our psychology."

Percy drifts in and out of focus as the professor drones on, mentioning memory and attention and dementia and recall. Words float around in his head. He can't catch any of them. He should probably try. He doesn't.

"Can anyone tell me why we can sometimes encode things but then not recall them?"

Hands go up all over the room. He knows the answer but since so many others do, it doesn't matter if he puts his hand up.

"Yes, in the green shirt, with the blonde hair." The professor calls.

"It may be because the retrieval methods we're trying to use may not work for that type of information or—"

Percy freezes in time. He goes back to the dinosaurs. He goes forward to the end. He becomes the entirety of the present itself.

Slowly, every so slowly he turns his head. And there, his row partner several seats away, in an emerald green shirt and golden hair swept into something resembling angelic, is Jason Grace.

He sputters, chokes on his disbelief, the shock tightens around his lungs.

The blonde finishes his answer and then turns to look directly at Percy. And everything in that lecture hall becomes mist.

There is no-one around them, there is nothing. There is only grey and flashes of lightning and the distant sound of an ocean.

"Hello baby," Jason whispers, floating towards him, setting himself down on his table.

"You're here." This can't be real. This is Hera playing tricks. This is his mind finally too exhausted to keep the disillusion at bay. This is not real.

And hand, warm and gentle, cups Percy's cheek. And he knows nothing has ever been more real in his life.

"You're here." He whispers, he can't say it enough. "Why are you here? You aren’t supposed to be here till next week."

Jason presses their foreheads together, somewhere around them lightning strikes. It mirrors in those blue eyes. "You were getting bad again."

He always knows. He always knows. Three thousand miles apart and he knows.

"I wasn't." Percy shakes his head, hands finding indents on strong thighs. "I was just missing you."

"Your eyes are dark, like undergrowth, like dying seaweed." Those slim fingers cup his jaw, tilting his head from side to side. "Where are the oceans that live there?“

"The nightmares," He sighs, "They're bad."

"How long?" The question is simple but it makes Percy's heart screech to a stop.

"Four weeks."

"Oh baby," Jason's eyes shatter, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"There's nothing we can do." His shoulders are shaking, he doesn't quite know if he's crying, he wouldn't be surprised. "But you're here and right now that's all that matters."

"Let's leave for a little while." Jason whispers into his skin.

"Where?"

"You and your mom still have that cabin in Montauk?"

He nods, breathing in the scent of fresh rain and jasmine soap. The scent of his boyfriend. The scent of safety.

"Lets go there." The blonde is saying. "We'll come back the day before your birthday so you can spend it with the family, but let's escape before that."

“Okay," He doesn't even hesitate.

"Really, you'll go?" Jason squeezes his shoulder, excitement shining in his eyes.

"Anywhere in the world as long as its with you." He kisses his boyfriend. Soft and sweet and thank you spread across their tongues.

"Want to finish this lecture?" The blonde mumbles against his mouth.

Percy snorts, already shoving stationery into his bag. "Let's have an adventure, Jason Grace."

"Let's."

They escape through the haze, horses already forming from storms itself, and become everything the world has to offer.

And when the mist in the lecture room clears there's a single row empty and a new engraving in the wooden table.

Our love is not daisies it is entire gardens.

Dear diary,

he loves me

Now.

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[image id: a grey background with black all-caps text that reads, “come back. come back to me.” end id]