#gotta change your name every century at least

[bluebellowl]

Last sorta comic like page from that comic. I did more works from that evening but that’s singles.

I don’t think Ingo would like motorcycles very much they’re small and fast and unpredictable and there’s no seatbelts. Page 7

[byenycfm]

Devan McCahill || 31 || Apt# 412 || Avan Jogia || Closed

Personality:

Devan is a man of charisma and audacity, the kind of individual who you either immediately take to or absolutely don't. He's devious, quick-witted, and smart — both academically and street-wise, a quite deadly combination, both in the old world and especially this new one. The duality of this man is shown quite clearly in how he has a worn, cracked-spine paperback book of the Aeneid tucked in one back pocket of his jeans and a handgun in the other, perhaps equally well used, especially in this present day. From the moment they were born, they had it hammered into them that their soul was damned for the greater good, and that does something to a young boy’s mind. After all, if you’re already going to hell, what would or should stop you from doing what needs to be done? Devan is a rule breaker, a troublemaker, a firestarter, but with enough moral fibre to not be a bad guy, per se. In every stage of his life, every aspect of his being, “do what needs to be done to make the world a better place, even if you gotta do some really bad shit to get from here to there,” has been an overarching theme. To Devan, judging every detail for good or evil will not change anything for the better, it will just stagnate progress; it’s about the bigger picture, the long term future type shit, that’s where you gotta look. You can’t win a fight weighing every stone in your hand; you find the biggest rock you can and just make sure you toss it at the right target.

Biography:

Devan was born to a young Indian-Irish woman in Swords, Ireland, and never really knew his biological father, who’d already been in prison for battery of his mother by the time he was born. It was her new boyfriend, a rough but kind bloke from Ballymun, who stepped in to take over the father role, and although it had still been a relatively new relationship by the time he was thrust into this world, the man took to it readily. Perhaps that was for the best, because even from a very young age, it was clear that Devan would be at least three-and-a-half hands full to handle.

To call them a precocious child would be the understatement of the century. By the time they were two years old, they were already reading their own books, and their mother and her boyfriend were frequent visitors to the local library just to keep them sated; if there wasn’t a book in the young boy’s hand, they'd find their entertainment elsewhere, usually in ways that ended up with something breaking. This is a trend that carried over well into adulthood – a lot of Devan's life choices can be summarised to, “just trying to stave off boredom.”

Things took a turn for the worst just after he started primary school at 3 years old. Due to his mother's work and his school being incompatible on some days, there was an arrangement made with her boyfriend's parents – who already saw the two as their own family – that he would stay the night with them so she wouldn't have to worry about anything. Her boyfriend brought him home at noon, after school, somewhere in the middle of the school year, and they had found her dead in the apartment she shared with her son, her throat slit. While the police and ambulance would be called immediately, they'd later determine that she was murdered in the middle of the night, and the main suspect was Devan's recently released biological father.

From there on, his life changed significantly. As an adult, they don't really remember their mother or exactly what happened to her, perhaps a cognitive response to protect themself from what they'd witnessed. His mother's boyfriend's parents immediately put an adoption into motion so he would still have family and he wouldn't be lost in the foster system, and so he immediately went to live with them – at first, the only thing that really changed for him was that he didn't get to see his mother anymore, his last name changed, and he had to see a lady for a whole year who wanted to talk to him about how he felt and what he was thinking about.

The next twelve years were spent being trained in parkour, hand-to-hand combat, endurance training, and indoctrinated into a mindset that his soul was to be damned for the sake of others. Alongside their cousins, who received the same training, just like the previous generation had been, they were made to patrol Dublin City, and protect anyone who needed it. Growing up, Devan slowly became aware that their family had a reputation, not only in the city or even the county, but in Leinster as a whole, and the family-owned pub – which would serve as a gathering place for the majority of his family and their family friends – was considered a place that if you were in trouble, someone made you feel unsafe and the Gardaí couldn't or wouldn't do anything with it, you could find help there. If you crossed a certain line and you had been put on that family's radar, justice would be swift and brutal. If you were lucky, you'd end up in a hospital, and if you weren't, you'd see an early grave.

Devan was already very used to the feeling of soft tissue splitting under his knuckles and bones breaking under the weight of his tire iron by the time he was fifteen. And when they were sixteen, they got their tattoo, a Celtic cross with the top right cut out so the circle formed a G, so styled for ‘Gaffney’, their adoptive grandmother's maiden name. Every child who had proven their skill and loyalty to the family would be offered to receive the tattoo at sixteen years old, and few – very few – would reject it and be disowned from the entire family. To Devan, rejection with such a steep price wasn't an option. They'd continue to do what their great uncle and his eldest son told them and their cousins to do, the years of violence and looming post-death doom already numbing their young minds to the brutality of what they did for ‘the sake of the greater good'.

Regardless of his home life and his family's brand of ‘chores’, Devan found his peace in books – any book – and language as a whole. If he had free time, he'd spend it in second-hand bookstores or learning new languages, something he took to like a piranha to bloodied water; rabidly and single-mindedly. The fact that they didn't care what they read rather than that they had something to read gave them access to an incredibly broad range of knowledge; not always very deep, but enough to make them tiresome to debate with. And debate he did, to the frustration of many of his teachers and even his classmates. He got his leaving certificate when he'd just turned fifteen, having skipped his transition year, and after a little bit of debate between his adoptive father and his father's cousin, Devan was allowed to pursue a further academic career so long as it wouldn't get in the way of his duties towards his family.

By the time he was twenty-two, he held an MA in Art History and a BA in Archaeology, but more importantly, a better perspective of his family, since he had enough time and experience away from them for the majority of his academic career after secondary school. Although they were indoctrinated to believe that what they did was a good thing, Devan saw their family for what they actually were: a gang. Not even ‘a gang but with good intentions,’ because the fact was that just about every gang started with good intentions and trying to fill a need their community had. But beyond that, it became even clear that he and his cousins, just like his father and his cousins, were nothing more than a means to an end. They weren't unloved or even unwanted, but at the end of the day, they were trained from a young age to be a blunt weapon to throw onto the streets of County Dublin. This became especially clear to Devan when he expressed a wish to see the world to his father, who wholeheartedly supported him in it, but his father's cousin, his great uncle's appointed commander, did not.

Months of arguing later, the topic was deemed settled by said commander, and Devan's chances of actually doing something they wanted to do with their life – even if it wasn't exactly clear to them what they wanted to do with their life – seemed grim, condemned to the fate of an early grave or otherwise inevitable prison time. It was their father who, one night, came by their apartment, gave them access to the money he'd saved up over the years, a plane ticket to mainland Europe, and his blessing. Devan never looked back, and hasn't returned since, knowing there are consequences waiting for him.

Between his degrees, his training, and his inability to stay put, Devan fell into the world of art and antiquity theft, first on commission from people who had money to spare and didn't trust law enforcement to actually care – art theft was and still is, after all, one of the most tolerated crimes, and lucrative to boot, given the article is genuine. He made his name getting the job done, with his occasional collaboration with the likes of Interpol and the USA's FBI solidifying this reputation. Regardless of his intermittent work with law enforcement, Devan found most of his contacts to be more criminally inclined – after all, the echelons in which he did his work, business was business, and being able to hold his own helped that a lot.

They'd been in New York City for a meeting with one Sada Vang, their cab had almost made it to the Holland Tunnel on Jersey City's side when their driver was told it was blocked off, and would possibly be reopened the morning after; they had no choice but to redirect to a hotel nearby and wait until such a time came. It never did. That evening's news said Manhattan was under quarantine due to some unknown virus and by the morning, not only had the Tunnel not been reopened, shit had hit the fan in a significant way. The first time he actually saw what people would later come to know as 'chompers', it didn't really register in Devan's mind that that was what it was, but, as used to violence as he was, he did note that that particular violence was less human, more animal.

The following months, Devan would frequently find themself in the company of other survivors – initially scared people who would prove to not be cut out for the end of the old world, and they quickly learned that trying to save those who couldn't or wouldn't save themselves would lead them into an early and absolutely unwanted grave. Or worse. It was a few weeks before proper snowfall that he'd find the people he would spend the winter with, who knew what it took to survive, most whom didn't need any babysitting at all. Unfortunately, Demeter's wrath brought with it its own difficulties, lack of supplies, lack of food, lack of a lot of things that they had to send people out for to find, at any cost. And those who returned spoke of an apartment building of survivors, the name of which sounded very familiar to him.

So once the snow had melted, they decided that maybe it was time to go to a meeting, hoping that being months late wouldn't be held against them.

Pre Outbreak Occupation: Private Detective Previous Zombie Experience: His very first was seeing a woman eviscerated by a few. Over these past months he's been forced to kill his fair share of them. Marital Status: Single Children: N/A Residence: Apt. #412 Years residing at The Wexley: Post Outbreak New Arrival Connections:

Sada Vang - Business Associate

[monsterlovinghours]

What about the Dons in DnD world? 🤔

I'm sure some are really easy but fell free to do an in depth analysis on their role and backstory. (The easiest one would definitely be Scarabee 👀)

Ooooohh. Since I'm on my phone and typing out long things is hard I prooooobably won't go too in-depth but I invite y'all to reblog with your own thoughts and opinions!

-A while back @realmonsterboyhours drew Bajo as a tiefling and now I can't see him as anything else. He's also bard coded, he's definitely got the charisma for it--he also plays that sexy flamenco guitar.

-You're absolutely right though, Scarabee is a no-brainer. Obviously a warlock, he's got a patron already part of his lore. Has just about every spell or potion ingredient you could think of up in his attic. As for race, I could see a half-elf. Like, there's something of the fey about him, but he's been human or at least knows what being human is like.

-Zhuk is an orc and I'll die on this hill. He's big, he's beefy, he's large and in charge. I'm also going with barbarian, based solely again on art drawn by @realmonsterboyhours of him holding a sledgehammer. Imagine big-ass swords in those meathooks of his. Or a giant axe. Or just picture him saying "fuck it" and beating someone to death with his bare hands. Look at me and tell me he wouldn't do it. Not because he isn't civilized or intelligent but because someone's gotta do the dirty work.

-Cia is an elf druid. I mean, *look at him.* Mans is about as fey coded as you can get and looks like he didn't see something that wasn't a tree until he hit triple digits. If you took the daddy energy out of Halsin, you'd be left with Ciaróg. Also, he helps his tiefling husband with his rose gardens and how cute is that??

-Gio is an enigma. He's absolutely an eldritch horror, but just for funsies, I think he'd take the form of a drow. After a couple of centuries he might change his form, but drow is his favorite. He has a lot of arcane knowledge, things that beings of this plane shouldn't know, so he just tells everyone he's a wizard. Did a lot of studying, you know.

-Saft a half-orc artificer. He's a bit of a big boi, sturdy and thick, but despite his size and his brutish heritage, he can tinker with the most delicate mechanisms. Mostly uses his knowledge to make explosives and weapons; incendiary devices are his favorite. Has built so many guns.

-Bjalla is a vampire. "hhhh but what's his race" LISTEN HERE I'M NOT CHANGING WHAT'S ALREADY PERFECT. Of course he's a fucking vampire, what else would he be? And yes, I believe he would be a rogue. No, I am not saying this because I'm also madly in love with Astarion. There will be no further questions. He's canonically an assassin, you can't tell me he wouldn't be a rogue. Yes, I have a type, leave me alone dammit.

-Mozzie gives me dwarf energy, though his size doesn't quite gel with that idea. Maybe an earth genasi? Something earthy idk. He also gives ranger vibes, someone who travels a bunch. Though in this realm of high fantasy, since internet isn't a thing, he deals in information. He can gather intel, spread rumors, manipulate the flow of knowledge from one person or place to another.

-Lag is a firbolg. He's big, he's fluffy, he's a big ol sweetheart who couldn't hurt a soul if he tried. Also probably a druid, though he's less concerned with plant life and more with animals. He's the fauna to Cia's flora.

-Devlin is a shifter. Like, it's obvious, right? Clearly he's a shifter, he's werewolf coded. And honestly, I think he's our cleric, just because I had the idea that the deity he worships is so ancient and he's been cursed so many times, he's actually forgotten its name. But also how funny would it be to have a cleric that bestows blessings and makes things holy by literally absorbing the curses and evil magic. It's fine, he's fine, it doesn't hurt! Not anymore, anyway.

[hyenahunt]

Saga: Rivals - 5

Writer: Akira

Season: Winter

Characters: Hiyori, Jun

Proofreading: moricchiichan (JP) & hyenahunt (ENG)

Translation: kotofucius

Jun: And y'know, it makes me wonder... is it really okay for me to be so lucky?

Location: Reimei Academy Dormitory

Time: That evening, the same day

Hiyori: Jun-kun, I'm home!

Would you just listen to this~! Goodness knows when, but at some point they set a rule that residents are to wear standardised roomwear while in our dorms!

I took all that trouble to dress up and everything, but they forced me to change!

Those high-and-mighty bigshots certainly love enforcing such pointless rules, don't they~ Perhaps they can’t quite relax unless they have us children bound up in their regulations.

Hiyori: ...Whoopsy-daisy! Ahaha, hello to you too, Bloody Mary ☆

Come, come, come to me! What a spoiled little pup you are, my sweet, blood-stained Mary!

Fufufu~ Jun-kun, perhaps you should learn a thing or two about being loveable from her!

Jun: ......

Hiyori: What's this, have you nothing to say?

Any other time, you'd be all, "Don't call her name so loudly, she's supposed to be a secret!" or like, "Just where have you been off to until this time of night?" So on and so forth.

It's starting to make you sound rather like a possessive husband, you know?

Jun: ......

Hiyori: Whoa, what’s the matter, Mary? You won't find a scrap of food inside this paper bag, so don’t go poking your nose in!

Jun-kuuun, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten to present our dearest Queen with her most scrumptious feast?

What an absolute goose you are! Oh, my poor, poor Mary! I’ll fill your bowl to the brim right away~���

Jun: ... I just fed her 'bout an hour ago, so please don’t give her any more food, ‘kay~?

Dogs will eat every last crumb they're fed, so we’ve gotta take care of just how much food we give ‘em.

Hiyori: Ah, alive, were you? Then you should have at least said something — It isn't as though I'm asking you to wag your tail ♪

Jun: ... Sorry. As you can see, it's a lil' hard to talk in this state.

Hiyori: Nn? I had no idea as my eyes were on our lovely little Mary this entire time, but what are you doing, Jun-kun? A new religious ritual of sorts?

Jun: ... Sit-ups.

Hiyori: Whatever for? Jun-kun, you’re almost excessively buff the way you are already. Wouldn’t gaining any more muscle only work against you by slowing your movements?

People tend to expect femininity out of us as Eve, so I do believe it’s undesirable to bulk out our bodies too much.

Don’t you agree, Mary~? Kiss, kiss ♪

Jun: ... Couldja brush your teeth before kissing her? Mary's gonna catch something from you.

Hiyori: Ah, that's the most hurtful comment of the century! I’ve already taken care of my teeth and all other cleanliness matters before I got here, so I'd rather you refrain from any statements implying I'm dirty, yes?

But well, Mary is indeed rather frail... We truly must treat her with care.

Yes, yes, how it delights me so to know you cherish her in your own way, Jun-kun.

Jun: Well, I gotta fulfill my duties as one of her owners, yeah~? And we've got a little bond going on by being in the care of the same dumbass... Whew.

Huff. I tripled my workout routine just ‘cause today’s a day-off, but that might’ve been a kinda dumbass move.

I've strained my muscles and now I'm sore all over~ Well, I've got no one to blame but myself.

Hiyori: You've got that right. I do wish you’d stop training inside our room — you stink it right up with your sweat.

Jun: And you keep filling the room up with fragrances without asking me, so we're even.

On that note, didn’t we agree to not complain 'bout any inevitable sounds or smells from each other?

Hiyori: True, but you ought to let me complain, at the very least. That’s the secret to stress-free room-sharing.

There is nothing good about letting frustrations grow pent-up, really.

Jun: You've got a comeback for everything, huh... Geez, I just can’t win any argument with you.

Hiyori: Ahaha. In fact, is there anything in which you can win against me?

Jun: Um, whuh~? How much muscle I've got, I guess...?

Hiyori: Is there nothing else you have to be proud of? Wait, don't tell me... did you spend our long-awaited day-off just shutting yourself in, Jun-kun?

Hiyori: No, no, that simply won't do! You must soak up a little more sunshine! I mean, you’ve been so gloomy lately, Jun-kun — at this rate, you’ll wake up being covered in moss one day!

Jun: Hmph. I can’t run around grinning my head off all day long the way you can, y’know~?

Hiyori: Anyone and everyone can still put on a smile at any time, no? That's the strength of humanity, and precisely what makes it so precious.

Well, I can certainly understand why you’d be frowning, of course.

After all, you're soon to finally realize your greatest wish, of facing off against your arch-nemesis... Sagami-sensei.

But that being said, it's not like you're out to kill each other, either — if you don't soften your features a little you'll scare our fans, you see! Everything depends on your pretty smile when you're an idol... ☆

Jun: ... that’s actually not the reason I’m looking glum. In fact, I’m feeling more happy and refreshed than anything else over getting to fight Sagami Jin.

But things’ve been looking pretty dark around CosPro recently, y’know?

Some of my old peers have quit, and they're the ones who strived together with me back when I was at the bottom of the barrel with them.

Yet I'm the only one who gets to grasp glory in comfort as a member of Eden — and now, I'm even getting the chance to face off against the target of my revenge...

Jun: And y'know, it makes me wonder... is it really okay for me to be so lucky?

Hiyori: Fufu. There’s no need to feel guilty over the blessings and happiness you have.

In fact, if you've come to realize what a fortunate position you're in, you ought to offer a loving hand of kindness to those in trouble and hardships.

Jun: Seriously? Is that the noblesse oblige thing you love going on about~?

Hiyori: It is indeed. Love and happiness are the sweetest of fruits that one can never get enough of, but if you feel you’ve been bestowed with too many, then you can share them with others.

We can’t do anything about those who've lost hope and quit, but there are still people suffering a living hell, unable to escape from CosPro no matter how much they may wish for it.

And as Eden, there must be something we can do for them.

After all, Ibara has been replacing the executives as he steadily comes to power, and we’re becoming the face of CosPro both in name and reality.

If our people are tormented and struggling through such painful hardships, then it is the duty of us nobles to show them compassion and guide them to salvation. No — we have the duty to protect them...

It is for that reason they pay the taxes that allow us our comfortable lives, after all.

If exploiting the people is all we’re good for then, why, our heads ought to roll. But being idols is our life's calling... so we can’t just let things end here, can we?

No, it is far too soon for us to ascend to Heaven where our God resides ♪

✦✦✦✦✦

← prev ✦ all ✦ next →

[smaragaide]

Hi. I have officially read all of your fics. I started with Awakening and was kinda bummed it wasn't finished and so I went and read all your other stuff.

I know it's not cool to bug an author to update but will you PLEASE consider finishing Awakening? Honest to God, I coulda swore you were GRRM with that story. It felt like GOT.

And I gotta tell you, House of Green and Black is a freaking masterpiece! I gotta know how it ends. It just too good. This could be its own novel with different character names and stuff. That's the kind of book I would BUY. No joking. I'd pay money to see this movie.

Gonna stay Nonnie cuz i don't want you to think I'm a freak and stalking you and stuff.

Please consider finishing at least the House story. If they don't end up together and the kids aren't ok I'll just die not knowing.

Sorry if I'm bugging you or creeping you out. I didn't know how much I could love this story.

You're not bugging me. You're not creepy or stalking.

I haven't written in years. I don't want to make promises I can't keep. I'm in a different place that when I started writing all my stories.

I didn't really outline Awakening to the end. I know where I was going to take it. I tried to keep that more book canon for Winds of Winter.

House, oh man. When I started that story, I never believed it would become this massive detailed plot. Several chapters in, I knew this was going to be a longer story than I had planned and then it started writing itself. That's when I had to actually learn how to write I suppose. I outlined, made an actual map, I have docs full of dialogue and scenes that came to me in the middle of the night, I made this massive timeline to keep all the details of the characters and events in check because time and fate is a big theme in this plot.

A person here that I hold very dear, said that I could change names and GoT references and this would or could be an original novel. I did go to some extent to choose new character names and places and how to include a fictional country in the real world of the early 19th century.

It's an undertaking I started and became overwhelmed when I had a mental/emotional crisis and haven't been able to come back to yet. I thought by not finishing it, and writing an original novel instead would be a good idea. But then I also don't think I'm a good enough writer to do that. So perhaps I should finish this story the best I can on AO3.

I should be the one apologizing. Anyone here that knows me, knows I'm long-winded as hell. And cursed with over-sharing.

Please believe that I love this story. Writing PxS stories has been one of the very few things that have made me happy over the past few years.

I still think House has a killer twist ending. I had a couple people try and guess and everyone was wrong. That gave me some hope that maybe I still had people guessing to the end.

However, I'm scared I'm not good enough to write it the way it should be. Or I'm the only one who thinks it's good and it's actually not and then I'll be eternally depressed.

As you can see I have a serious confidence problem that I'm attempting to deal with.

I just don't want people to think I'm going to pop back into writing. I'm in a weirdo phase and not sure if I can still do this or not.

I love and appreciate every single reader that has enjoyed any of my stories. I just wish I had a better answer that wasn't depressing as shit. I feel like Debbie Downer from SNL. Like everything I say has a 'wah-wah-wah' trombone afterwards.

[moonlight-at-dawn]

Alvin/Alphen

I'm too much of a coward to actually put this in the larger fic I'm working on, so have this dumb scene as a standalone XD

--------------

Four people sat at a table in the cozy kitchen, staring at a book in front of one of them. The book had yellowed pages, and some of those pages had knicks and holes from the ravages of time and hungry insects. A teenaged girl with dark hair cut in a short bob skimmed over the lines of text with a finger, searching out something in particular. She mumbled under her breath as she reviewed, reminding herself of what the old script said as she had to do some translation as she went.

A young woman with long pink hair stood up and went to the window, opening the blinds and letting more sunlight into the room. As she went back, she stood behind her husband and set her hands on his shoulders, gently rubbing away some of the tension that had built there in anticipation of what the younger girl had found in her book.

“Didn’t you mark the spot, Rinwell?” asked the fourth member of the group, a teenaged boy with hair of a deep auburn streaked with pinkish highlights. He seemed impatient and bored, an impression that was deepened as he stretched arms over his head and yawned without reservation.

Rinwell glared over the book at him and frowned, “This book is so old, I didn’t want to risk messing up the binding with even a bookmark. I’m close, but every time you interrupt me, it’ll take longer, you know.”

“Right, right. Sorry,” he let out a heavy sigh and turned a rueful look to the two adults. “I guess you’re probably more impatient to hear it than I am, huh, Alphen?”

“I’m curious, at the very least. It’s not like a few more minutes will make a difference, though.” He leaned back in his seat and turned his face up to his wife, smiling as she leaned over him and kissed the tip of his nose.

“I found it!” Rinwell exclaimed. Fidgeting in her seat as if to get more comfortable, she took in a deep breath and focused a moment, mumbling at first before she began to read more clearly. “Some of the lines were written at different times, and the handwriting changes. Let’s see…

“Alvin Marshwood, a soldier under the banner of Lord Gresham Lavtu. Deserted from service at age 20. Description: 176 centimeters. White hair. Blue eyes. Tan skin. Skilled with sword, use caution when apprehending. Never found, presumed fled to another nation.”

Everyone was silent for a moment as they took it in. Law began to snicker, and everyone turned to him as he laughed. “Alvin!?”

Rinwell flushed, turning the book around, “That’s what it says, best as I can tell! But everything else sounds like Alphen, right? It’s gotta be him!”

Alphen looked over the text with a faint scowl at Law’s continued snickering, and shook his head. “It definitely says Alphen, some of the alphabet has changed over the centuries, that’s all. It, it’s me alright.”

“Alvin,” Law repeated, laughing harder. “It sounds like something you’d name a chipmunk! Aw, come here, Alvin, you want some of these acorns?”

Shionne swatted the boy over the head with a solid thump and frowned at him. “Must be hollow in there, only explanation for saying something so stupid.”

Choosing to ignore him, Rinwell leaned forward and looked at the words again. “Can you teach me how the alphabet used to be, Alphen? I don’t want to make a mistake like that again!”

He nodded, joining her in ignoring Law’s comments and his continued laughter, even after Shionne berated him. “That’s a good idea,” he agreed, with a brief glance at the boy. “But, hm, I gotta say… It’s annoying they thought I ran away from the military. I hope that didn’t make life harder for my family. Deserters were considered some of the worst kind of criminal. But, well, I guess the Renan invasion was only a few years later, so it probably wasn’t a concern for long.”

“Yeah, the records stop about three years after your entry. That must’ve been the time. That makes it, hm,” she paused, lips moving as she did some math, “About a year from when they took you until the ceremony, then two years of restoration on their part before they did the full invasion. I guess, with Helganquil technology, that would be possible, huh?”

“Guess so,” he agreed.

[razorblade180]

Post Adventure

After a long and thrilling day, Yanfei drags her feet back into the office. Treating Itto and Shinobu was fun but she was glad to get back into the normal flow of things. At least, that’s what Yanfei thought. As the light of dusk came through the window and she leaned into her chair, Yanfei began to feel just how frazzled her body and mind truly were. She sighed anxiously.

Yanfei:(Change of plans. No more work today; and maybe not tomorrow if I’m being honest.)

knock knock knock

Yanfei:Sorry, I’m closing for the day. Please leave a forum at the door with name, address, reason for your visit.

Aether: Aether, wanderer, and here to talk.

Yanfei:Huh? Heheh, oh it’s you.

She found the strength to get up and let him in. Yanfei made sure to put the close sign up before giving him a hug. Circles under his eyes really showed how tired he. To be fair, Yanfei suspected she looked similar. Aether walked passed the client seating and went for her cozy chair. Instead of trying to defend it, Yanfei didn’t hesitate to walk over to him and sit on his lap. It was only fair.

Yanfei:What brings you here? I thought you’d be home resting?

Aether:Don’t laugh but…the last place I wanna be is inside an adeptus abode.

Yanfei:Ah, yeah that would be rough. I gotta say, it’s pretty flattering to visit me after spending stuck in the same room.

Aether:You make it sound like that was the bad part? It was you who was pretty much spearheading the way out; always thinking.

Yanfei:It was a team effort. I could only think because of the info everyone provided. Not to mention most of the heavy lifting was out of my depth.

Aether:Says the one lighting up dark spirits. You held your own.

Yanfei:*leans on him* Is adventuring always that treacherous?

Aether:There’s calm days. This was pretty out of left field.

Yanfei:That’s good. I think I’d give myself gray hair if I knew you did that every day.

Aether:Maybe I should write my own will.

Yanfei:Not funny. I don’t wanna think about you going too soon. My heart would ache for ages.

Aether:Sorry. *wraps arms around her.* I guess that would be a long time for you, wouldn’t it? Though, I’m sure there’s plenty of people after me that you’ll find.

Yanfei:Heh, yes and no. While I don’t lean too much into adepti lifestyle and live a pretty human life, there’s a few mindsets I’ve adopted. Death do us part is human way of showing devotion.

Aether:Oh?

Yanfei:Adepti and mixed bloods can live incredibly long, like Ganyu for example. Aether, I’m always going to love you. Centuries can go by and I very may find others through the time, but it’ll never diminish or replace the time I was with you. In a thousand years, I will still love you.

Aether said nothing. Yanfei felt him hide his face in the crook of her neck. His hands held on just a little tighter to her waist. She really liked the feeling. This closeness. Her body sunk into his as she brought her hand up to run her fingers through his hair. A tightness gripped her chest and her throat became a little dry.

Yanfei:Aether? Can you take a couple days off, please? Down there I…I really thought that was it. We could’ve-

Aether:It’s okay, we’re okay. I think we both deserve a little rest.

Neither of them cried, but they could feel their bodies trembling, still processing everything. In the end, all they could do was hold each other, and gently doze off in the warm glow of the room. Finally, proper rest.

[zekekaiju]

So this is a short story I wrote to practice dialogue. The concept might be adapted into a longer story later but for right now it's short time travel story

Interview with a Time traveller

(transcript of an audio recording)

"You say your name is Rob Doe, is that right?"

"No I said I go by Rob Doe that's an alias obviously."

"And you're a time traveler?"

"That's what it says on my official time traveler ID."

"Forgive me for being doubtful but you look so ordinary. Do you have any proof?"

"Wait for it."

"Wait for what, what will-"

"Everybody down on the ground empty the register!"

"I emptied their guns, switched them out for blanks"

"You at the booth get down"

"Nope"

Bang bang bang

"Bahahah that is never not funny,"

"What the-?"

Wee wee wee oh

"I also called the police ahead of time."

( The next several minutes involve repeated questioning by local pd and at some point the tape is turned off)

"This won't convince you, it never convinces anybody but you'll at least play along."

"And why do you say that?"

"Because I'm either crazy, desperate or telling the truth and you can't afford to be picky. Your editor pays you by the article and has a dubious connection with journalistic integy. I only got about ten minutes before I have to be sometime else so shoot."

"Why the rush, you're a time traveler you have all the time in the world right?"

"Oh, contraire, I can be at any time at any time, but I still only live as long as the average person. Also I broke time travel law and now the correction officers want to detain me."

"What do you mean by time travel laws? I mean what did you do?"

"Unapproved chronal tampering without correction. Time travel casually is for sightseeing. Plus I don't have any of the permits, didn't log a travel plan or really do any of the paperwork ."

"So you've been changing the past without permission. Why and why can't they just correct it? Seems relatively easy just find out what you changed and put it back."

"The historians run the future, and they're worried if things change too much they won't anymore. They are reading from a chronically isolated history book, so it doesn't change. But I stay out of the big stuff. I don't change major world events, I mean not intentionally. I've probably changed a few but it's through ripple effects. That robbery I stopped, the waitress died. Not a big deal in the grand scheme of things but she goes home to her kid tonight and maybe that stops him from being the next hitler. As for why, why not? I was already in trouble in the future might as well break the law"

"Aside from the time police, why don't you change major world events, kill Hitler, stop world war 2 those kinds of things?

"Hitler ain't the problem. The problem is the economic and social distress caused by WW1 and that's caused by a rising desire for land, centuries old grudges and a multitude of secret treaties. It's a society problem and I can't change that, it's too big. I've stopped eleven hitler's there's always another. People are starving and there's always someone willing to take advantage of that. Besides, the further back you go in time the more dangerous it becomes."

"Why's that? Is it the technological and environmental differences?"

"Well there is a heck of a learning curve and some places are rather unpleasant till you learn the tricks but the bigger issue is the time bears."

"The What?"

"Time is like a river. That's how I visualize it, visualization is crucial for time travel. If you can't effectively visualize time as a traversable medium you can go nuts or your face might explode.

Time is a river, we're all fish, time travelers are salmon and we can swim upstream. After every generation starting with your own birth there is a waterfall. At the top of those waterfalls there might be a timebear. Timebear eat time travelers as they pass over the falls just like a salmon. The further you go back the more likely you are to get eaten."

Beep, Beep,

"Shoot I gotta go there's a trucker with a loose tire I have to tighten up. If you wanna finish this later just come by here sometime I'll be waiting. Ma'am here's the money for the meal I gotta go bye."

(Here the recording ends with the sounds of rapid footfalls and a door slamming)

[spasmsofthought]

flashes. (dick grayson x reader)

I’m not really well-versed in DC, at all, but I wanted to give this a shot. let me know what you think! It’s a bit of a mess, so please take this with a grain of salt and some grace. sorry if he feels ooc; I tried my best but I am by no means an expert or even an amateur. please be kind. idk if i’ll write anymore for him, but i wanted to try. it might be trash but it’s out there now xo

-- 

It’s not like Gotham is known for being a walk in the park. The city is all alleys in the middle of the night, dark vapors rising from sewers, and secrets in the shadows. At least, in your experience. 

There were no gated communities or fences to keep the darkness out in the apartment complex you lived in with your family. Only survival and common sense keeps you returning to your bed and food on the table.

So, when your younger (genius) brother is offered a scholarship to Gotham Academy on what feels like a whim, the world shifts. 

When your mother still works, though, it means you are the de-facto adult during the day. Your job keeps your busy in the mornings, hers during the afternoon and night. You’re just getting into learning what it’s like to handle a job and bills of your own, even though you’re still living with your family (part of it is to save money, part of it is because you just don’t want to leave). Your family is the only real home you have ever known. Why leave to only find inadequate housing where you have to worry about your safety and theirs separately?

So, like every month, you swap out of your work clothes, put on your newest (at least 2 years old) pair of jeans on, the only blouse you own that hasn’t faded or stretched or shrunk from countless wash cycles, and grab the bag you’ve stored in its own special place in the cabinet by your family’s loud, old, run-down fridge. 

You chance a ride on the bus, hopeful for no public catastrophes today. You listen to your small, but loved, playlist through the one earbud that works during the ride and you almost want to leap with joy when you step back down on concrete like this is what it is like everyday.

The architecture is a thing to behold. There is no wonder why this is acclaimed as the most prestigious private school in Gotham. Light is everywhere, and it’s like the outside world doesn’t exist. Every month you step on this campus it’s like you’ve never seen it before.

The grounds are meticulously groomed, everything in lines and straight edges. Concrete and nineteenth century buildings both cast heavy, sharp shadows in the late afternoon sun. There are some students lingering about, all grouped up and chattering in their similar uniforms. Compared to public art, haphazard graffiti, and buildings of all shapes and sizes, this place feels foreign. Different. It makes you feel strange and unwelcome; like entering a different world altogether. 

When you enter the pristine, elegant office, the entrance door propped open, there’s two figures you immediately spot: the secretary and the man standing in front of her. Your brother is yet to be found. He’s running late again. 

“Hi, hun, take a seat,” Grace’s sweet voice soothes from her position behind the desk. “He should be here any minute.” The man standing in front and a little to the right of her glances behind for second, casually swiping a look at you, before he turns forward again. 

“Thanks, Grace,” You exhale as you sit down. 

The chairs are nice, soft fabric and cushioned, but small. You so desire to bring up a leg to draw close to you, but it’s impossible without making yourself a human pretzel. And you don’t want to dirty it with your less than perfect shoes so, instead, you chose to bring the bag onto your lap and you pick at your cuticles, resisting to bring your nail to your mouth and chew on it anxiously. 

There’s never been anyone else in here when you’ve come before. Grace can make polite chatter, but then she leaves you in relative silence. It makes you feel anonymous. The man uttering sweet words to the secretary and then glancing at you again before sitting down next to you does not. You stop fidgeting with your hands and intertwine them together instead. 

A flash of the ceiling’s fluorescent lighting on glass against your eyes is what you first get a taste of, then all polish and silver, or something like it, cradling a wrist. The watch looks heavy, expensive. It looks like it could buy your family a newer, safer, apartment in a suburbia far away from here. 

“Hey,” Smooth as honey it drips out, and you are drawn to blue eyes and ebony hair. There’s a softness to his face and his eyes are warm. It would only take an hour, you think before you stop the thought from going any further. An hour to do what? You’re not sure, but the list expands the longer you take him in.

The first thing you ever learned on the streets when you walked by yourself to work was how to be aware, vigilant; on guard. Men were unpredictable creatures who were driven by greed or lust or power, and any of the good ones were swooped up and carried away to better things or dead before any second glances could take place. Or carrying on just fine behind their high fences and impenetrable walls. Just because this one introduces himself first does not mean he has proven otherwise. 

“Hi,” is all you can offer, a quirk of lips to his gesture of kindness.

You glance towards to door before your eyes make their way back to him. The gesture doesn’t offend him. There’s a familiarity to his face, but you decide to not spend time right now trying to figure it out. It already only tells you one thing: this guy is way out of your league. 

Grace gets up from her seat, rounds her desk, and makes her way out of the office, leaving you two alone. You watch her the entire time. 

“You waiting for someone?” 

“Yeah,” You nod even as the word comes out, “My brother.” 

He leans back like he’s got all the time in the world, and there’s a perusal that makes you taste butterflies and gulp down caution at the same time. You wonder if he saw the scuff marks and stains on your worn-out sneakers, or if he notices that you still haven’t had the chance to wash your three-day old hair and that’s why it’s up and back, and that your blouse is definitely from the clearance rack at Goodwill.

“Your favorite one?” 

Out of self-preservation, you try to hide the reaction to the humor you feel, “My only one.”

“I think that’s the same thing.” You almost want to roll your eyes. But there’s a genuineness in his conversation, like he means the words he’s saying to you. Like this isn’t a game. 

“Sure,” You shrug, “You’re allowed to be wrong.” 

“My name’s Richard.” It’s old-fashioned. It’s something you don’t really hear rolled off of tongues in your neck of the woods, that’s for sure. A hand comes out and rests halfway between you and him, and it’s one of the most graceful things you’ve ever witnessed in your entire life. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” You smile. Your hands stay clasped in your lap. 

“You gotta earn a handshake from my sister,” A voice pops up from the open door way. You swing your head around and watch for a moment as your brother makes his way towards you.

“Hi, J,” Your stand, open your arms wide, bag moved from your lap into one of your hands. His solid presence allows a brief hug before he steps back again. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude--” 

The man sitting next to you has chosen to rise as well and you’re closer than you thought you would be when you turn back to him. You notice now that your height means your eyes literally meet his lips straight on. There’s a curve of a smirk there for a flash of a second before it straightens back out into the smile you saw at first. The rest of your sentence is forgotten. He takes one, two, three steps back.

“You got them all?” The question saves you. Your brother pulls you back to him as you hand him the brown plastic bag. In it? His favorite snacks from the liquor store on the corner (the nearly sold-out, hard-to-come-by ones). 

“Every last one,” Your hands come to his cheeks, turning his face to each side.

You have to reach up now and it strikes you just how much he’s grown even in the past month. You both spend much of your time on the phone with one another. These monthly meetings set-up frequently enough for deliveries and some quick face-to-face time and seldom enough to avoid embarrassment (that’s what he says anyway). 

He brings the chip bag out and holds it up, “You even got these.” 

“Geraldo got them special order just for you.” 

“Tell the old man I said thanks,” He smiles like he’s seven again, spoiled and self-indulgent. “Richard” is still standing behind you and to the side, silent. You can feel his eyes flipping back and forth between the two of you. 

“Of course,” Your hands smooth over his shoulders and brush away imaginary dust. “Mom sends her love and says she’ll try and call you on her lunch in a few hours.” 

“Yeah, I know. I’ll make sure I answer.” 

“Thank you.” You exhale an affectionate sigh. 

Avoidant loner that your brother can be, there’s a reason you both want him here. He’ll be able to do the things you only dreamed of when you were his age. And one day, hopefully, you’ll all be out of this hellhole, onto better things. 

“I gotta go, but thanks for these. Even though you should be saving every penny,” He chides, holding up a finger like his words are somehow a threat. 

“Okay,” You chortle like you wouldn’t give everything up for your brother in a heartbeat. There’s another quick hug before he’s looking back at the man behind you, who is still standing there like some sort of stealth ninja. 

“Like I said man,” He nods and there’s something in his face that changes as he looks at “Richard”, “You gotta earn it.” 

It’s with those parting words that he begins to walk out. You stay stock still for a second before you leap after him, “I wanna hear all about what happened last week with Cara tomorrow on the phone!” 

Your brother, a mile away already on longs legs, shouts something indistinguishable back at you from down the hallway, his figure turning a corner.  

“Who’s Cara?” The voice brings your back to reality. 

You sweep your palms against your jeans and turn back to face the man with a three-piece suit and a watch that probably costs more than 20 years of your salary. Oh God. 

“This girl my brother asked out the other week. I bribed him with some of his favorites so he would tell me what went down.” You shrug your shoulders, not worried about spilling the tea about your brother’s romantic life. 

“Does he know that?” His arms seem to relax a little more and you think you could stare at him all day. 

“Eh,” You say, creeping back towards the open door. Your small crossbody bag is already on you and there’s no reason to sit back down. Richard follows you as you, apparently, both start to make your exit from the office. Nothing about it feels unnatural. “Sometimes you got to persuade instead of demand.” 

“Ha,” There seems to be something you are missing based on the way his mouth curves and his eyes spark, “That’s the truest thing I’ve heard in a long time.” 

“You’re welcome. That’s the only one that comes for free!” Your arms swing back and forth. “Anything else is gonna cost you.” 

The hallways usually feel like a labyrinth here, but you don’t feel lost this time. 

“What forms of payment do you accept?” You pretend to be thinking, but really you’re just glancing between the different features of his face. You’re not sure you’ve ever met someone like him. You’re not sure you ever will again.  

“The bank’s closed right now, actually,” The wariness is back. This guy walks like he’s used to treading on perfectly paved gold streets in his shoes. All you’ve ever known is cracked cement and rusted pipes that burst underground. “But I think it’ll be back up and running soon.” 

He doesn’t falter and there’s no anger or hurt in his expression at the metaphorical rejection. Instead, it looks something like silent patience. Maybe even acceptance. This guy could totally not be interested and you could just be being (too) ambitious. The door to the open courtyard, and your way home, is already before you both. 

“It was nice meeting you Richard,” You say as you begin to take steps forward. Your hands nervously hold the strap across your torso. You take a few more steps before his words turn your head back to him. 

“You can call me Dick,” He says with ease. The tone makes you feel like he’s speaking a language you don’t really understand. His blue eyes seem like they’re on fire; a contradiction, you know. There’s something about him that almost makes you catch your breath. You’ve never been been winded by just looking before. 

“Maybe I’ll see you around.” You offer, hands squeezing your bag strap. 

“I look forward to earning that handshake next time!” He calls out when you’re several feet away. 

I think you’ll earn a lot more than that, you almost say, but refrain. 

Instead, you wave back to him once before making your way out of the courtyard, caught between staring at your shoes and looking ahead to make sure you’re going to right way. You smile and daydream the entire bus ride home. Blue becomes your favorite color. 

[milliedazzledust]

Viens, Embrasse moi (Bucky Barnes imagine)

Request by @husherstan​: One Shot with Bucky Barnes in which he and the reader are spies. Idk if you watched The Man From Uncle - American and Russian spies together to get an intel. They hate each other and have all that sexual tension. Based on the song ,,Les Yeux Noirs" by Pomplamoose (I have no idea what the lyric says) where they dance to prove who is the best.

Words: 4.689 words

A/N: I spent the last couple of days listening to tango, Pomplamoose and the ost of tfatws, I guess I was inspired coz this is super long so be aware. Thank you for that request - I’m really self-conscious about my writing so I’ll hope you’ll it! (ps: the title mean “come and kiss me”)

The mission was simple. Get inside the mansion during a fancy party by some rich man, retrieve valuable informations about Hydra’s whereabouts and get the hell out of there. Steve had decided to pair Bucky and Y/N for this. Two spies with specific skillsets that he knew would get the job done. This is why they had landed in Paris earlier that day.

They had taken a hotel room inside the infamous Le Meurice, courtesy of Tony Stark. He thought it was hilarious to provoke them since he knew they didn’t particularly like each other. That was what everybody thought, except Natasha. She had told Y/N she could see right through their games. The frustration and the tension together were a ticking time bomb that would either lead to one of them dead or both of them in a bed.

They hadn’t talked to each other the whole flight, they were too busy studying the blueprints of the mansion they would infiltrate, rehearsing their role and getting into character to care about annoying one another.   Bucky had ditched the uniform for a white shirt and a black tie. His suit jacket slung over a chair next to the luxurious bathroom where Y/N was getting ready.

“What is taking you so long ?” Bucky complained as he sat on the bed, putting on his cuffs.

He heard the bathroom door opening behind him.

“Gotta look the part if we want to blend in” The woman smirked.

The moment he saw her, he froze. If there was an undeniable truth he would never lie about, it was her haunting beauty. She was breathtaking. She had chosen to wear a provocative dress that night, a dark shade of green falling of her shoulders, putting the tattoo on her back on full display. It was made of silk, so soft Bucky swore he could feel his fingertips aching to run through the material. The high-length skirt sat perfectly on her curves and the Sergeant gulped when his eyes trailed down her leg. The dress was slit to the middle of her thigh. He could almost see the knife strapped around her muscles, hidden just under the satin gown. His gaze finally stopped on her high heels, admiring the whole outfit. She looked feminine yet deadly and had a confident glow, a radiance he could feel across the room. She was captivating.

She sniggered, pleased by his reaction. Like a wolf hunting his prey, she walked up to him without hurry. He was still sitting on the bed, his eyes glued to her body, following her every move. His mouth was dry, no word were enough to describe how mesmerizing he thought she looked. Without breaking their gaze, she started to undo his tie. Making it roll agonizingly slow around his neck, she tossed it on the bed. Bucky felt his heart skip a beat when she opened up the first two buttons of his shirt.  

“That’s better” She whispered, adjusting his collar. He shivered when her fingers grazed his skin and tried to hide it with a cough, but she could see right through him.

“You look …”

“What ?” She coyly cut him, a hint of defiance in her voice. “Sexy ? Ravishing ? Yeah, I know”

She had a glint in her eyes he couldn’t miss. She was enjoying his bewilderment.

“Pick up your jaw off the floor, Barnes. We’ve got work to do”

And with one last cheeky smile, she was on her way out. He shook his head vigorously, swearing under his breath, before grabbing his jacket and following her to their rental car.

Nestled in the woodland, away from the noises of the city, was the mansion. It wall all concrete and tall glass windows. The architecture made it seem a few centuries old and Y/N stopped for a short moment to admire the gigantic house surrounded by trees.

“And here I thought nothing could impress you” Bucky joked as he noticed her interest.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance, letting him lead her to the entrance. Before they could step inside the venue, a man in a grey suit stopped Bucky, putting a hand on his chest to prevent him from coming in. The Sergeant tensed, hoping he hadn’t been recognized. He had told Steve earlier that day that it might be a mistake to send him inside a place filled by Hydra agents. Even with the fresh haircut, somebody that knew the Winter Soldier could have easily recognized him.

“Votre invitation, Monsieur “ (your invite sir)

Bucky didn’t move an inch. He coldly starred back at the man, not understanding a single word of french.

“Il est avec moi” (he’s with me) Y/N quickly answered.

As soon as the man turned to look at her, his whole demeanor changed. With a smirk on his face, he eyes the woman up and down. By the way he licked his lips and he puffed his chest, she could easily guess he liked what he saw. She faintly heard Bucky grunt but ignored it. Seductively, she put a hand on the stranger’s shoulder and brought her face near to his.

“Pour être tout à fait honnête, il n’est pas de très bonne compagnie” (if i’m honest, he’s not very good company) She told him without a trace of an accent.

The man snickered.

“Puis-je demander le nom d’une si belle créature ?” (can I ask the name of such a beautiful creature?)

She smiled, pretending to be pleased to talk to him.

“Eléonore Charbonnier” She introduced herself with a name that wasn’t her own, faking shyness.

“Bienvenue, Madame Charbonnier. C’est un plaisir de vous avoir parmi nous ce soir” (Welcome, Miss Charbonnier. It’s a pleasure to have you tonight) He replied, bringing her hand to his lips before kissing it lightly.

She was playing with her hair, drawing his attention and Bucky didn’t like one bit to just stand there, silent, without a clue of what they were talking about.

“Tout le plaisir est pour moi” (The pleasure is all mine) She attractively responded with a lopsided grin.

She exchanged one last look with the french man and took a step inside. Bucky followed her closely, but not without one last threatening stare toward the stranger.

“That went smoothly” She congratulated herself.

“What ? You flirting with him or him eye-fucking you ?”

She laughed at his irritation.

“Such a potty mouth you have, Sergeant” She joked.

He responded with an unpleasing grunt before offering her his arm as they stepped into what seemed to be a ballroom. The place was enormous with a checkered floor contrasting with the golden walls. Crystal chandeliers spiraled down from the ceiling, illuminating the room while marble pillars surrounded it, carrying a large upstairs balcony. The place was already filled with wealthy people, all potentials investors for Hydra. Bucky glanced around the room, trying to spot the organization’s agents hiding among the guests.

“How are we going to get to the second floor ?” Y/N asked him discreetly.

“We mingle”

She raised an eyebrow.

“That’s your plan ?”

They were aware of the noises and the crowd but even more so of the curious stares in their direction.

“Alright” She shrugged. “Let’s dance”

“No” He quickly replied, which made her smile.

She turned to look at him and playfully tilted her head.

“No as in you can’t dance … or you don’t want to ?” She elatedly riposted.

“Both” He grunted, quickly glancing at anything but her.

He groaned when he saw how amused she was by the situation.

“My, my … and here I thought there was nothing Bucky Barnes couldn’t do”

He took a tentative step toward her, placing his metal hand on the small of her back. They were now inches apart and the attraction between them became a tangible thread in the air before any of them could speak a word.

“Now is not the time to play, doll” He muttered. She didn’t know if it was his tone, his proximity or his hand moving slightly lower, but she felt the premises of desire starting to form in the pit of her stomach.

“Steve should’ve paired me with Sam. At least he’s fun” She provocatively replied.

Her answer had an immediate response. He instantly stepped back, removing his hand from her body. She watched him closely, pleased when he pursed his lips with exasperation.

“You owe me a dance” She added and winked at him.

He gave her a dirty look and she chuckled before looking around the room, trying to think of something to get upstairs without being noticed.

“There’s literally one guard blocking the access” She stated seriously.

“Think you can distract him ?” Bucky asked.

“Consider it done.”

With one last glance, she moved to one of the waiter, grabbing a glass of champagne. Leaving Bucky behind, she took a sip of her beverage, seductively playing with her hair, swaying her hips until she was almost in front of her target. She knew he was already looking at her, she could feel his eyes on her body. Pretending to lose her balance right when he was next to her, she let him catch her in his arms.

“Oh my god ! I’m so sorry !” She apologized.

“Are you alright, Madame ?” He asked her with a thick accent.

“Yes, just a bit dizzy” She answered with an alluring chuckle.

She noticed his hands on her hips, she knew he didn’t let them there to keep her steady. When she looked up at him, she purposely bit her lips and placed a strategic hand on his arm. She saw the man gulp and smiled. It was working.

“You look …” He didn’t finish his sentence but instead put one of his hand way lower than it should have been. If it was anybody else, she would have break every fingers of that hand, but right now, it was exactly the reaction she was hoping for.

She glanced back at Bucky, who was fuming. The guard caught that and tried to turn his head to see what was distracting her, but before he could do that, she kissed him. Slowly, without an ounce of passion and with force she pressed her body against his. Her eyes stayed open, and she watched Bucky taking advantage of the situation by sneaking behind the french man and quickly getting upstairs. Once she was sure he was out of sight, she took a step back. She cleared her throat, smoothing her dress.

“I should go freshen up” She shyly told him, fluttering her lashes.

“There’s a bathroom upstairs” He offered.

She smirked. She knew her plan would work.

“Merci” (thank you) She told him with a fake accent.

She climbed the stairs, pretending to look for something, while the guard resume his position. Bucky was already waiting for her in the hallway, standing against a wall where no one could spot them.

“Did you have to kiss him ?” He inquired, infuriated, as she joined him.

“If I remember correctly, you told me to distract him”

“With your lips ?” He ironically continued.

She chuckled, her fingers fiddling with his jacket. She slowly leaned toward him, her red lips tentatively grazing his cheek.

“Careful, Barnes, one might think you’re jealous” She whispered against his ear.

He rolled his eyes.

“I don’t get jealous, doll”

She smirked, lowering her eyes on his lips.

“You keep telling yourself that”

“I’m just saying …” He kept talking as they walked to their destination. “Stop flirting with every man we come across”

“Is that an order, Sergeant ?” She knew she was on thin ice and she loved every minute of it.

He groaned. He was exasperated and she could see how much it drove him crazy. It had been that way for months now, they were always bickering, ready to bite each others head off.

Walking strategically through the corridor, they knew exactly where they were going. They had studied the place. Behind one of the doors was Hydra secret files on the super soldier serum and their experiment to create more Winter Soldier. The mission was to retrieve those informations to thwart their plan.

They had no trouble finding what they were looking for. From outside, what seemed to be an abandoned storage room was in fact a huge chamber with computer equipments and piles of files. For a second, Y/N thought it was unusual there was no one to guard the place before she silently followed Bucky inside. While he was looking through the papers, she took the flash drive she had hidden in her cleavage and plugged it into a computer. It was a malware designed by Stark to discreetly sneak inside their files, break every firewall and find their secret without leaving a trace.

“Anything interesting ?” She interrogated Bucky while Stark’s program was doing its magic.

He looked up from what he was reading and she visibly saw him gulp and shut the file he had in his hands.

“Nothing that I didn’t know of already”

She eyed him suspiciously.

“Why don’t I believe you ?” She accused him, backing up against a desk.

“Because you're a spy” He answered truthfully. “You don’t trust anyone but yourself”

She hummed.

“And that’s exactly why I know you’re hiding something” She continued, crossing her arms at his reluctancy.

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. She could see his jaw tightening and his fists clenching. For some reason, he was getting angry at her. She tilted her head, curious at his reaction. Without a word, she raised an arm, opening her hand. It was a silent request to give her the file he was reading, which he eventually did.

She started to read and realized it wasn’t about the Winter Soldier initiative but about the Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes and what had happened to him in details after he fell off a train in 1945. She didn’t go through the end of the first page and shut it before handling back to the man in front of her.

“You’re not reading it ?” He questioned.

“No. If you want to talk about it, you will.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t need to know the details of a procedure you’d rather forget”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by her actions. He was expecting her to be more curious and try to prey informations out of him, but instead she just stood there and gave him an honest smile.

“Don’t look so flabbergasted, Barnes. I might be a spy but I’m not cruel”

“It’s just … I wasn’t expecting that”

“Expecting what ?” She asked, turning back to the computer.

“…To be given the choice not to talk about it”

She was shook by the force of his sincerity for a moment, but didn’t comment. It was rare for Bucky to share anything this personal with her. They had work quite a lot together, but it was always teasing and bickering. This was different. She could just guess it by the way he was looking back at her. He cared about her and valued her opinions and judging by his gaze, she had just given him a reason to trust her a little more. He suddenly cleared his throat, somehow embarrassed, and she grinned.

“All done” She declared, showing him the flash drive.

“Good. Let’s get out of here”

Just as he said it, an alarm started to ring inside the room. Both of them tensed, suddenly anxious.

“What is that ?” He groaned.

“They know we’re here”

“Shit”

She hid the flash drive in her cleavage before slowly backing against the wall next to their exit.

“So much for being invisible” She muttered under her breath.

Bucky half opened the door, picking outside to see what they would be up against. Armed men were already scattering the hallway, ready to launch the assault. He quickly closed it back, his expression now a mix between worry and annoyance.

“They’re at least six of them waiting for us” He informed her.

She secretly hoped they would avoid a situation like that but seeing as they had no other choice, she mentally prepared herself to give them hell. Bucky watched her with wide eyes when he saw her tearing her dress in half, making room to move freely.

“What the hell are you doing ?!”

“Mingling” She simply answered, repeating what he had told her earlier, before taking the knife attached to her thigh.

Bucky grabbed the handle and glanced back at Y/N one last time before the fight. They shared a knowing look, both of them reassuring the other with a silent nod. As soon as he opened the door, the gunshot started. The music and the people downstairs were a slight contrast to what was happening, the noises were loud enough to cover the sound of bullets shot across the room.

It wasn’t unfamiliar territory for Y/N or Bucky, they were used to fighting. Doing it together was different though. They had discovered they were a pretty good match on a battlefield. It almost felt like a quick pace tango, a choreography only they knew about. Bucky watched her smirk, and she saw him wink. They were about to give them a taste of their talent.

She let the Sergeant go first, knowing his brute force and especially his vibranium arm would most likely knock some of them out. One of them dodged her partner and went right to her. She blocked every of his punches and flipped the knife she had in her hand, stabbing the man in the gut. She rolled upside down, making him fall on the floor, unconscious. Another one tried to take advantage of the situation and decided to kick her. She twirled around, blocking him before hitting his chest with her heel, knocking him out of breath. From the corner of her eyes, she saw two of them going after Bucky. The agents would have had the time to attack, but all it took was a look between the Avengers and Y/N threw her blade at the Sergeant. He grabbed it mid-air and less than thirty seconds later, the men were on the ground, bleeding to death.

She started to make a movement toward her next target when she felt an arm wrapping around her waist. It all happened too fast. All she felt was the bullet touching her shoulder before her body was pushed against a wall and the men were out cold. Normally, she would have resisted but instinctively, she recognized the musky scent of Bucky’s colognes and the cold sensation of his metal hand against her hip. She realized he had shoved her out of the way when one of their opponents had fired, aiming directly at her.

“Are you alright ?” He whispered, making her shudder.

He was so close she could feel his heart beating. He was towering her, shielding her body with his own. The situation was quite ludicrous. They were surrounded by men they had just taken down but none of them seemed to care. She opened her mouth to demand that he release her, but the words never formed. His chest flushed against hers, he was slowly invading her senses. They were both exhausted by the effort, and his staggered breath was enough to send a fire coursing through her body. She risked a peek at his face and swallowed when she saw his blue eyes darkening with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

“Don’t look at me like that” He spoke with such intensity she shivered.

She licked her dry lips before speaking.

“Like what ?” She teased.

Bending his head, he buried his nose in her neck. She struggled at the proximity, purely a reflex. He answered by pulling her even closer. He looked up at her again, his mouth hovering a few inches from hers. Every nerve ending inside her was screaming for his touch but she didn’t move, simply stared at him. She wasn’t going to kiss him, but there was still a strange satisfaction flowing around them, pleased that they were just as susceptible to the treacherous desire between them. She could see it in his dark crystal-blue eyes, in the thundering beat of his heart and his metal hand, possessively holding her, gently stroking her covered skin.

“You’re bleeding” He said after a while, his gaze falling on her wounded shoulder.

She didn’t even turn to assess the damage and kept her eyes focused on him.

“I’ve had worse” She told him, voice filled with need and desire.

“Y/N…” He warned her.

His human hand crept into her hair. He was inexplicably drawn to her, she was intoxicating. When he traced a path over her cheek with his thumb, she closed her eyes, savoring the moment.

“Fuck” He cursed under his breath.

He kissed her temple, the movement so gentle yet so significantly filled with unsaid feelings. They heard noises, more people coming their way, and just like that their frozen time was up. He took the piece of cloth she had torn apart and wrapped it around her bleeding shoulder quickly before grabbing her hand and leading her toward their escape route.

She followed him without protesting. He led her to a window and both of them jumped. The car wasn’t far and they sprinted to get to it. They could already hear the agents rushing, they had to hurry. Bucky glanced rapidly in Y/N’s direction, making sure she was alright. The blood had started to flow on her arm through her made up bandage of clothing. She simply nodded her head to reassure him. They drove in silence, checking every now and then that no one was following them. Apart from the altercation, the mission was a success. No one had recognized them and they had what they were looking for. Worn out and a bit dizzy from the loss of blood, Y/N let herself relax and yawned. Bucky felt himself breath a little better now that they were out of harm’s way and surprised himself when a smile spread across his face at the sleepy form of his partner.

Later that night, they safely got to their hotel room. Completely tired, Y/N let herself fall on the bed. She watched Bucky from the corner of her eyes heading to the bathroom. He came back with a few items and silently sat next to her. He unfastened the cloth around her arm without looking at her or asking her permission and opened a bottle of alcohol. When he poured it on her injury, she hissed. She tried to push back, a reflex to get away from the pain, but instantly stopped when she felt his cold hand keeping her in place. She glanced down at her shoulder and studied the wound.

“Doesn’t look too bad” She inspected.

“The bullet didn’t do any damage”

“Good” She sighed, falling back on the bed.

She watched him clean it then wrapped it up with gauze. He was methodic, every movements seemed rehearse, like he had done it many times before.

“Thank you, Bucky” She murmured.

She saw the corner of his mouth rising, forming a small grin he was trying to hide. Without a word, he stood up and started to walk around the room. Y/N observed him curiously, wondering what he was doing. She sat back against the headboard of the bed and followed his moves. He stopped next to the door and dimmed the light.

“What are you doing ?” She asked, half amused, half confused.

He held up a finger, silently telling her to wait. He took out his phone and suddenly music filled the room. He discarded his jacket, tossing it in a corner of the room, rolling up his sleeves. That simple action was enough to raise the temperature of her body. He was aware of her hungry gaze on his muscles, following his movement and didn’t miss the way she bit her lips. He slowly walked to the side of the bed, right next to her, raising his metal hand toward her.

“What is this ?” She interrogated him, her voice so small she wasn’t sure he heard.

“You said it yourself, I owe you a dance”

She starred back with doubtful eyes but took his hand nonetheless. He led her to the center of the room and began to slowly sway with her.

“La bohème” She recognized the song.

“You said you loved it”

“Didn’t think you’d remember”

“It might come as a shock, Agent Y/L/N, but I do pay attention” He flirtatiously sniggered.

Her breath caught in her throat when he pulled her closer and sneaked an arm around her waist. Spinning and circles and shuffling his feet to the rhythm, he made her laugh. He surprised himself thinking he wished he could carve that sound into his head and never forget it. They danced together, their body close, and she knew she must have been blushing. It only made his smile grew bigger. He stood looking down at her with a hint of danger in his eyes. There was so much more she saw in him than an experiment and a super soldier, but she would never admit that. For some reason, she wanted to find a flaw in him, something that would level the field between them. Until she realized that with him, all bets were off.

“I’m not sure I like that” She said, hating the note of anxiety in her voice.

“What ? Dancing ?”

“Us not being at each others throat” She sincerely answered. “But I’ll admit, you’re a pretty bad dancer”

She felt the rumble of his chuckle against her body.

“You can still fight me if you’re up for it” He replied, smirking down at her. She smacked his chest and he pretended to be hurt for a second. She rolled her eyes at his antics.

He made her twirl and she felt an adrenaline rush when he drew her close to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck and made a movement to brush her hair away but his hand stopped hers. Instead he carefully laid it on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying about my dancing ?” He smirked as he made her spin once again.

“That you had no sense of rhythm” She joked.

He laughed and dropped his head, studying her.

“I like it” He confessed, an answer to what she had admitted earlier.

A surprising sense of comfort suddenly settled in her stomach at his admission.

“This stays between us, Barnes” She warned him.

“Is that a threat ?” He laughed.

“Exactly” She whispered, laying her head against his chest as they continued to move together, too lost in the music to halt. “One word to Steve and you’ll be on the wrong end of my knife”

She felt his smile when he lowered his head to kiss the naked skin on her uninjured shoulder.

“You have my word, Agent Y/L/N” He winked. “And just so you know, I’m a better dancer than you are”

“No you’re not”

“I guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong”

“Is that your way of asking me out ?” She smugly smiled with a hint of seductiveness in her tone.

“Maybe… is it working ?”

“I still haven’t decided if I want to fight you yet”

He grinned, he couldn’t help himself but felt at ease around the dangerous woman. After a while, they stopped moving. Bucky felt her body relaxing and her weight getting more heavy as she started to fall asleep against him. He buried his nose in her hair, closing his eyes to enjoy their moment out of time. When he was certain the woman was asleep, he carried her to the bed. He made sure she was comfortable enough under the covers, taking extra precaution not to touch her wound. Then he sat next to her, already knowing the moment they would get back, he would go to Steve for advices. She would be mad, most likely with a newfound desire to kill him. They would probably fight, but strangely that perspective only made his smile. He was ready to wrestle if it meant they would both win in the end.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

My Brother

Summary: When Inko is fifteen she is handed a picture of her and a blonde boy. She asks who it is. "Your brother. Your parents gave him up because he was Quirkless." Inko spends the next part of her life looking for her brother, only for her son to pull him into her house one day, announcing he found Uncle Toshinori. 

On AO3

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  When Inko was fifteen, her aunt pulled her to the side and handed her a photo. The photo featured her as a little baby, green hair showing above her head, dressed in a little jumper with a pacifier in her mouth. She’s being held awkwardly by a blond boy with big blue eyes, a big grin across his face.

  “Who’s this?” She asked her aunt, curious.

  “Your brother.” Her aunt told her.

 “What?” Inko asked. She looked at the photo again. “Is… what happened?” She asked her aunt, clutching it in her hand.

  “Your parents waited for his Quirk. He didn’t have one.” Her aunt told her, blunt. Her aunt’s hands were threaded together, clutching each other. “They didn’t like that.”

  “... but they work with Quirkless Discrimination agencies. They donate money to…” Inko began but her mind began clicking, thinking.

  Her father’s slight sneer when talking about Quirkless people when they were home, just the family. Her mother’s muttering about donating money being a pain.

  “... they’re pretending.” She whispered. Her aunt nodded.

  “They are. Its status, it’s trendy. Pretending you aren’t a bigot.” Her aunt shrugged. Inko didn’t want to believe. She gave the photo back anyway when her aunt asked her.

 She had to talk to them.

 -0-

  “YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A BUNCH OF LIARS!” She screamed at her father. “He was my brother-“

  “He was useless to us!” Her father snapped. “Quirkless- worth nothing in the long run. Your useless Quirk at least makes you a viable bride-“

  “GO TO HELL!” She screamed and ran up to her room.

  “Calm down, she’ll understand. He wasn’t worth it.”

  Screw that. She grabbed her cell phone and called her aunt.

  “Auntie, can you bring your truck?”

  “Of course.”

  It didn’t take long for Inko to pack up what she needed. She ignored the knocking of her mother when it happened and she waited.

  Her aunt showed up.

  “Haruka! Why are you here?” She heard from downstairs and came down, carrying a few bags.

  “The rest are upstairs. I refuse to be in a house of hypocrites.” Her parents didn’t like it, yelling she was overreacting.

  Her threat to tell everyone the truth about her brother had them letting her go.

  Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe. She thought so the moment she got in her aunt’s big grey truck, the one she used to deliver things. She looked to the front door where her parents were glaring at her aunt who stood with her arms crossed.

  Her tall aunt, blonde hair hanging down her back, like her brother’s, Inko’s father. She was tall, tough. Inko looked up to her. Ever since she was a little kid and her aunt had thrown her father into a wall when he’d dared hit Inko.

  “You treat your kid right or I’ll hurt you.” She’d threatened.

  Inko blinked, mind going to many incidents in her life where her aunt had stepped in to stop them from hurting Inko. Where her aunt had told her to not listen to her mother who picked at her appearance, where her aunt had snuck her food when her mother forced her into a diet. Where her aunt had given her money and helped her open a bank account her parents had no control over and had fought with her parents who tried to demand she give them the information.  

  Sitting in the truck, she realized that maybe… the fact they would do that, lie like that… that was the final straw.

 -0-

  Living with her aunt was different. Inko found herself smiling more. Her aunt had a sense of humour that encouraged loud laughter. She never made Inko do anything she didn’t want and even let her drop out of some clubs that her parents had made her go to.

  Inko found herself happy for the first time in a long time as she and her aunt tried to find out how to find her brother.

  It was hard though. The files weren’t kept and her parents had given up all custody and signed multiple forms. As well, it had been fourteen years back.

  Then her aunt got sick. Very sick.

  “Cancer,” the doctors told her. “Pancreatic- most likely from all the chemicals she transported over the years.”

  Pancreatic. Even in the 23 century, it was impossible to cure. Medical research in cancer and other such diseases had tapered off when Quirks became a thing. More focus was on that for a good fifty years or so. Then after that more focus was on other sorts of diseases brought around by Quirks or researching how to help people affected by Quirks.

  “I’m not dying until you’re old enough to be an adult.” Her aunt grunted when Inko asked her how she was feeling. “Eighteen kiddo.” She bared her teeth. “Gotta hold on.”

  Inko was eighteen and just finally finished high school when her aunt died. Her aunt had been living at home still, stubborn and refusing to go to hospice.

  Inko came home after a night out after graduating high school to find her dead.

  The funeral was a hard affair, her parents at least respectful enough to not start anything until after when they tried to get her to move back in with them.

  “I was already accepted into university and will be living in the dorms. As well I told them you are not allowed to ever call and change anything about my classes or living arrangements.”

  They were so mad and she got a call from the dorm manager who told her that they’d had several calls from them within a week. Each time demanding she not be allowed to room there or threatening them.

  None worked. Inko ended up cutting off contact with some help from a friend she made in a study group, Midoriya Hisashi. He was so handsome and kind. He also understood her struggles.

  “I grew up in the foster system for a good portion of my life. I got adopted at fourteen and… they weren’t good. Obsessed with the idea of being my parents, burning things I had of my biological parents. They were the sort of abusers who were kind, the ones you don’t realize are hurting you.”

  It was like Inko and her own. She didn’t know their controlling behaviours, their actions were abuse.

  Not until her aunt and her brother.

  Soon after a few heart to hearts, they started dating, something that her roommate Mitsuki loved.

  “He’s freaking handsome, you go girl!”

  When Inko graduated with a degree in culinary arts, Hisashi proposed while heading to law school.

  They got married the summer after. During that time though they discovered that Hisashi’s adopted parents died. Inko made the choice to try and let her own parents back into her life because she saw how much it hurt him.

  “He’s so nice honey-“ Her mother said when they got in, stopping at seeing one of the photos in their apartment. Her and her brother.

  Inko kept an eye on her mother after that, right up to the time she caught the woman trying to take it down.

  “Stop it!”

  “He’s not your brother he’s some      thing-    “ Inko didn’t let her say another word and shoved her out.

  She didn’t talk to them again.

  “Please don’t regret it,” Hisashi told her.

  “I won’t,” Inko told him.

  She continued to look for her brother, her husband helping. But it was hard. Harder, even more, when she became pregnant at age 28, just when Hisashi was finishing law school. They took a break, Inko going on maternity leave from the bakery she was working at.

  She gave birth to a perfect little boy she loved dearly. Hisashi loved him too, even as his work became demanding. Being part of a hero’s legal team was hard after all. Especially a destructive one like the Empire who could cause earthquakes by accident.

  Mitsuki already had a son named Katskii herself and the two hoped their sons would become friends, and it looked like they would though Inko worried. Katsuki was a headstrong little boy who seemed to love bossing others around. He was sometimes mean to Izuku and his meanness was cruel in ways she knew could cause problems.

  Mitsuki at least also saw it. But her own parenting didn’t work well.

  “My parents used to slap me around,” she told Inko blankly. “My dad once held my head underwater for a minute because I pissed him off. I… I try you know? But… where’s the line?”

  “My parents controlled every aspect of my life. They would force me on diest when I was already too thin, would go through my emails and phone. My dad hit me too, but my aunt… she stepped in each time.” Inko told her back. They both knew already, but it was nice to talk about.

  When her son, Izuku, was four though she sat in a doctor’s office and heard the worst discussion of Quirklessness in her life.

  “That test hasn’t been allowed to diagnose Quirklessness for twenty-years!” she shouted at the doctor. “Blood test, now!” The doctor was pissed and refused so she stomped out with her son, making sure each parent in the waiting room knew the doctor was using outdated medical information before rescheduling an appointment with a different doctor.

  Inko was darkly pleased that Dr. Tsubasa ended up being reprimanded and forced to take more classes. There was some issue with his grandson but his parents dealt with that.

  Yet, when the blood tests came back, Izuku was diagnosed as Quirkless.

  “He has no Quirk himself, though we believe any child he has with a Quirked individual will have a much more powerful Quirk than their other parent.” the doctor said. He was nicer at least. Izuku was so fragile, so small about this as they went home. He watched his favourite hero video, Inko watching from the door to the office.

  “...Mama, can I be a hero too?” little Izuku said. Inko felt like breaking down. She didn’t think so. Izuku was so small, so little. And she had never heard about a Quirkless hero. But then she thought of her brother.

  “I don’t know sweetie,” she finally admitted. She walked up to him and knelt down, hugging him. “But… I think you can do your best.” It wasn’t enough and she knew it but she also knew too well the Quirkless statistics.

  That was the first night she told Izuku about her brother. She showed him the picture and explained.

  “I won’t be like my parents,” she promised him. And she wouldn’t. Hisashi promised as well, and the two worked hard to make sure he was happy.

  Inko did eventually go back to work when Izuku was five, hoping and praying her son would be okay.

  She knew he was lying when he came home with ruined clothes and claimed it was all accidents. She knew he was lying when he tried to claim he was okay. But she couldn’t do anything. Not without actual proof.

  She hoped Katsuki was helping her son.

  She had a terrible feeling he wasn’t.

 -0-

  Inko and Hisashi began talking about opening a cafe when Izuku was six. The little boy was all for it, offering ideas and his own thoughts. They were happy. Inko still looked for her brother but she had accepted it might never happen. Izuku dreamed of being a hero. Hisashi was doing well at work.

  And then…

  Empire accidentally destroyed his own agency. Lost control.

  Hisashi didn’t make it.

  The large payout from the agency plus the Hero Public Safety Commission was enough for Inko to not have to work for years if they were careful.

  It didn’t fix a single thing.

  Inko would admit she lost herself for a year, completely unable to think or do anything. She wandered her apartment blankly.

  It took her son hiding a broken wrist from her to snap her out of it. She was horrified and she marched into the school to scream at them. She listed exactly what she knew about anti-Quirkless Discrimination laws, and what she could do to them.

  Izuku stopped being hurt that bad. But emotional abuse from his peers and teachers was harder to figure out.

  Inko began to work on the cafe again, as well as she began helping out at rallies on anti-Quirkist ideas. Inko also made sure Izuku knew he could go to her no matter what, but also tried not to be her parents. She tried not to butt in at any time and let him live his own life.

  As he got older she wondered if she should try more. If her hands-off approach was as bad as her own parent’s actions to her.

  But she was terrified. She didn’t want to be them.

  Inko watched as her son got older, as he got more secretive and worried. She tried to get him into programs but each time she was refused. Or they would let him go but then stop, saying he kept having people come and harass him.

  “Then why is it his fault?” she asked them. They shrugged.

  It was just easier to get rid of him than others. Izuku got very quiet after that and stopped wanting to do extra things.

  She worried and worried and she would look at the photo of her brother. She wondered if the worry she had would be for him as well. If she had grown up with an older brother who was hated, who had to fight to be respected by anyone.

  She was pretty sure she’d be more of a mess.

 She also imagined though, a tall man coming in to help with Izuku. Who would help fight against the school. Who would be with her through the death of Hizashi.

  She often stared at the photograph of her and her brother, wondering what if.

  The cafe she started had a copy of the photograph and any person making any Quirkist comments was thrown out in seconds. She provided a safe space for everyone, and she found that by doing so she got a lot of customers from people who struggled to find a place in society.

  It attracted other attention to, including a man she was fairly certain was an underground hero who came in with a black jumpsuit, getting the darkest coffee. He was a nice enough man though, and Inko found herself enjoying conversations with him. Mostly about cats or his loud friend she wanted to tell him was hitting on him.

  When a loud man came in asking for the ‘regular coffee order’ for the jumpsuit guy she stared him down.

  “Ask him out, we’re all done with his pining.” The man spluttered. “He talks about you nonstop. I don’t know his name, he pays with cash. He has mentioned you though enough I can recognize you on site. Ask him out please.”

  Shuichi, one of the cafe workers snorted. “We’re all done. Please just date him already.” The lizard-like teen continued to work while the blonde spluttered but did leave with the regular coffee and an order for himself.

  A week later both showed up, holding hands.

  “Yay! The pinning is over!” Shuichi said from where he was trying to help Izuku with math, his angry mutters about how the teachers were purposely fudging his grades making Inko plan another trip to the school to threaten them.

  “Yay!” Izuku laughed, the nine-year-old grinning at the nasty look he got. “You don’t scare me. I saw you sneak a cat in here in your scarf.”

  Inko found herself laughing harder than ever that night, and the two- Shouta and Hizashi- became friends of the family.

  As time continued to tick by, even with moments like the one where she made friends with the two she kept worrying. As Izuku got more and more nervous about school, as she saw scars he kept claiming she was mistaken about. As Mitsuki began whispering her worries over her son and how the school seemed to not worry over his anger or his attitude, as they seemed to ignore it.

  She tried to talk to him but didn’t know what to do. She felt lost.

  Then, he was fourteen and came home with a smile on his face and a spark in his eyes. He spoke happily and told her of his plan to start working out soon. She smiled and told him she was proud. It was March, nearing the end of his second year of middle school and she was happy he was happy.

  A week into his spring vacation, he opened the door to the apartment holding the hand of a tall blonde man. She frowned.

  “Izuku?” she asked him before she got a good look at the man. Her eyes widened at seeing that face.

  “Mom… I found uncle Toshinori.”

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Is Shuichi who you think it is? Yes. Originally I was like: this is just an AU where it just so happens All Might is Inko’s brother but then my brain went: okay but- so Spinner is good in this AU as he managed to find a job with Inko and is the older brother figure to Izuku.

Hope you guys liked this! Next part would be a One Shot from All Might's perspective then we actually get the story-story from Izuku's!

[sockablock]

I’ve had a small idea for a little while now, so I’m testing the waters with a first chapter! It’s a bit long, so excuse me there, but hopefully y’all enjoy reading! :3

—

It began with a letter that arrived one morning as Essek sat alone in the kitchen.

The courier himself had seemed just as surprised to be delivering a message to the reclusive Shadowhand, but a cursory glance at the carefully-folded envelope and a less-cursory casting of Detect Magic had signaled no foul play. So Essek took the letter, settled back beside the dining table, and floated over a glass of chilled juice for the reading.

His eyes flicked over the return address, and though it did seem familiar, it did not immediately spark recognition. His first real impression of the message was simply that of crisp, neatly-printed handwriting and the faintest whiff of…hmm. Lavender.

The letter began with a standard greeting.

To Shadowhand Essek Thelyss—

I hope you have been keeping well since we spoke. It has been some time, and I admit it is strange for me also as I realize this is likely the first letter I have sent you since our meeting.

He sipped the juice.

You are a busy man, and I would not intrude on your time if my request is unwelcome or unfeasible. But you see, in the time since we have ended the war and sealed away the Chained Oblivion—

Essek nearly spat out his drink.

He managed, in the proceeding moments, to weakly swallow, and shakily set his glass back onto the table. He cleared his throat once or twice. He gently coughed.

He picked up the envelope he had discarded earlier and quickly, the pieces fit together.

The Firmaments. Eastern district. The neighborhood where once, Den Thelyss had provided a house for a ragtag group of outsiders…

He snatched the letter back into the air.

—and semi-accidentally, though certainly also purposefully toppled the Cerberus Assembly.

Essek had to pause and re-read that sentence. It still didn’t sink in until nearly a minute later. He rubbed his temples, and resumed.

As such, it has befallen on I, and by extension the rest of the Mighty Nein to rebuild some of the arcane infrastructure of the Empire. To be more specific, in our meeting with King Dwendal’s court, a lord accused us of trying to cripple the nation by eliminating a powerful institution of magic and Beauregard volunteered that I would be the best candidate to replace it. One comment led to another, and perhaps it was our past efforts in politicking, or our recent defeat of the Maw of Eternal Darkness—

Essek wondered if he had any alcohol.

—but the court ultimately, shockingly, decided that I should be put in charge of creating and overseeing a new arcane academy for the Dwendalian Empire. And so, at the time in which I am writing you this letter, I have been appointed the Headmaster of a new Soltryce Academy, though I certainly will not be keeping that name.

It is with this in mind that I am writing to you now, my friend. For you see, despite the apparent confidence of my friends and my “superiors,” I do not believe I am capable of running a school on my own. Certainly not implementing the necessary infrastructure to have a school of any repute by the next century as well. And though I have my friends, and some resources, and an idea of where to start, the destruction of the Assembly and the Cobalt Soul’s anti-corruption efforts have left our nation in a sorry state regarding reputable mages. So, my dear friend, as we have worked together in the past, I have quite a large favor to ask.

And as Essek’s eyes continued scanning further down the page, the sinking sensation gripping his stomach was not helped by the decanter of plum wine that floated over to his table.

—

Meanwhile, beneath a shining sun on what seemed like the opposite side of the world, Caleb Widogast, the appointed head of a yet-to-be-named-academy was being berated by one of his closest friends.

Beau at least had possessed the decency to shut the tent flap so the army of woodworkers outside would not hear this.

“—suspicious! Caleb, there’s no way it’ll work. And not just because he’s the Shadowhand of the Bright Queen, also because…because…well…everything!”

“I think if he carried an umbrella during the day—”

“Not what I’m talking about,” Beau said. “I’m talking about literally every other problem that asking Essek to teach will cause, good gods.”

Caleb leaned back on the small wooden crate that was currently serving as his favorite chair. The slightly-larger crate he was using for a desk said “Honigblumen Brewery” on it.

“Well, nobody will be teaching for quite some time yet,” he said, “so we will have plenty of chances to work out the kinks.”

Beau shook her head at him, then took a seat. “I’m so far down disbelief city that I’m not even going to talk about the fact that you just said kinks.”

“I meant—”

She waved a dismissive hand. “I know what you meant, and here’s what I mean. Caleb, as much as I know you like Essek, there’s no way any of this is gonna work. First of all, he’s already got a job as the Shadowhand, and I doubt he’d wanna give up a cushy position like that to come work for a nothing-at-all school in the middle of the Empire.”

“Ja, I know, I know, I’ve thought about that—”

“And did you think about the part where he’s the fucking Shadowhand and you’ve asked him to come to the middle of the Dwendalian Empire to teach a goddamn gen-ed course?!”

Caleb was quiet for a moment. And then he said:

“Actually, I was thinking of asking him to take the more advanced levels—”

Beau reached across the ale crate to flick Caleb in the head. “And you don’t see a problem with that, at all? Caleb, for the gods’ sake, use your stupidly big head to consider the fuckin’ political ramifications of that. If the Empire catches wind of this, they’re gonna hate it, war over or not over. And I don’t even mean that in a ‘there’s gonna be shitty racism’ way, which is something else you’ll probably have to deal with later, I meant that in a ‘think about his last job description way.” And speaking of that, I mean, on Essek’s side, really, are you really expecting him to really settle down and help teach after he’s spent a lifetime—a human lifetime—being a military spymaster? Not to mention the fact that he’s a power-hungry war criminal who betrayed his own nation to get ‘arcane secrets’ or whatever. Seriously, dude, there’s no scenario where this goes well for you or him.”

At Caleb’s expression, Beau’s tone eased just slightly and she added, as a peace offering, “Really, dude.”

Caleb sighed. He scratched at his head.

“I…look. I…I think you’re right, but…there are also good possibilities of having him around. He is knowledgeable, he is skilled, I know his magic firsthand, and he has always been trustworthy—”

“Ha!”

“—for us, Beauregard. I think he is one of our best potential candidates, especially as he is only one of three so far. Just…trust me on this one, alright?”

She studied his face intently. The sheerness of the tent walls let in quite a bit of light, giving both of their eyes a faint, sunny sparkle.

With these two, though, it was more of a manic glint.

“What’s this really about?”

“Was?”

Beau leaned closer. “I said, what’s this really about? I don’t think that’s your only motivation. And if I’m gonna trust you, you’ve gotta be straight with me. I know you’re not an idiot, so I believe you when you say you’ve thought about the risks. What’s made them all worth it? What do you really think, and don’t give me that crap about him being a good teacher. You’ve got good teachers. Two advanced ones anyway, and you said yourself yesterday that the rest can be trained. So what’s up? What’s your real game here?”

Caleb floundered only slightly under the intensity of her stare.

“How long have we known each other now? No, fuck that, I pulled you out of the mouth of a forsaken god. Tell me, dickwad. Come on, it’s me.”

And after a moment, Caleb pinched his nose.

“It’s…it’s… it’s partially selfish. And…”

This, Beau understood. She nodded. “And…?”

“And…well, I…was thinking last night, after dinner, about who I want on this project. Aside from you all. And I realized…thinking about everything we have been through, that…for the most part, especially after our…revelations at sea, Essek is one of the people I want around. Largely because, well…”

He gave another sigh.

“Because I want to see what has become of our Xhorhastian friend. More importantly, I want to see if he has…or…could, ah, change.”

“Change,” she said flatly.

“Ja. I…I think I need to seem him change.”

“Because?”

“Because...” Caleb exhaled. “After everything we have been through, what we have seen, after fighting against the Assembly and watching so many mages crumble, I find myself searching for…assurance. Assurance that not every wizard is bad. Assurance that we even deserve this second change. And…if at all possible, what I most would like is to know that anyone, even the most driven and ambitious, the most ruthless, cutthroat, power—as you said, power-hungry—wizard can be shown that there is another way. That…ultimately, all of us can be redeemed.”

He looked back up, and raised an eyebrow. “I want to make this school a force for change. And I want to make it a place where we change, too. I said once before, and I still believe it is so, that Essek and I have a lot of things in common. It is time to see how much we can be changed.”

Beau did not answer for a drawn-out moment, but neither did she look away.

“I think you’re pretty changed, Caleb. That should be a point in your corner already.”

“That’s true,” and this time his smile was a little brighter, “but that is largely due to our group. I think Essek has gotten some of the Mighty Nein treatment, but probably not enough.”

“So…so is he your pet project now, or something?”

“Ach, no, nothing so…no. It is more of a…the thing is, Beauregard, I do consider him a friend. And we got so caught up with the Angel in Irons cult and then the Assembly that, well…it is just, before all that happened, I did like spending time with him.”

“Me too,” she waved a hand, “he had good wine, and when we got him in the hot-tub, he wasn’t that bad. Still don’t know if he’s worth all this. He’s a war criminal—yeah, I know what you and Jester think, but that’s what I think, and Veth agrees. Seriously, you never know, he could be too far gone, and I don’t want him near this school and project if it’ll put you in danger or risk anything.”

“We are no strangers to danger,” Caleb murmured. “And I…would like to think that with enough effort, nobody could be so far gone.”

Beau sighed. She leaned across the crate again, but this time it was to put an arm on Caleb’s shoulder.

“You’re really fucking stubborn, you know that?”

“Ja, so I have been told.”

“Essek has betrayed people before. His people, before.”

“Yes, but…” Caleb shrugged. “He also will probably be betraying his own nation to join this school.”

“Oh, good,” Beau grunted. “So at least he’s had some practice.”

—

By the time Essek had managed to re-arrange his thoughts into something even mildly resembling order, the letter in his hands was so thoroughly crumpled that all its corners were bent.

He attempted to smooth them back out. When this failed to be satisfactory, he put it back on the kitchen table.

A…teaching position at Caleb’s school. Well not Caleb’s school, but a new Empire Academy that Caleb would oversee. And they needed instructors, as well as mages to help build it, and he thought Essek would be a good fit…

Idly, he wondered if Caleb wanted a teleportation network, as many of the finest institutions had. He wondered if this was something he would have to organize.

Apparently, the Mighty Nein had defeated the Chained Oblivion in some obscure corner of the world, without most of civilization even noticing. But Essek remembered the readings that morning, remembered the clamor and panic in the Cathedral, remembered the theurgists in the Conservatory practically tearing themselves apart to understand what was happening. If their claims were true, and this wasn’t an elaborate prank on the Mighty Nein’s end, a large part of Essek vowed he would draw chalk circles for them forever, if they asked.

But a small part of Essek had the needling thought: why didn’t they tell me it was happening? I could have helped them.

He glanced back at the note.

Well, they were asking for help now, weren’t they? And if nothing else had changed, it was the simple fact that Essek would still do his best to help his friends.

There were just some minor complications to be dealt with.

Namely, what to tell the Bright Queen. And his—

He made a face.

—and his mother.

—

A few days later, Essek stood in front of his bathroom mirror.

It was a beautiful piece, made from polished volcanic glass and set into an ornately-twisted frame of dark metal. It was the perfect gift for someone who regularly floated around Rosohna being called the Shadowhand, but as far as mirrors actually went it left some details lacking.

Still, it served Essek well enough, and he’d never really gotten around to replacing it.

He stared into his dim reflection and slid a hand over his chin.

—

Elsewhere, another wizard stared too, but not into any reflective surface.

Veth’s eyes hadn’t refracted light like that for nearly two years, now. But Caleb could still feel the weight of her gaze boring into his skull as she searched for answers.

Eventually, she sat back.

“Alright. How?”

“Yes, I know it’s—was?”

“How?” she repeated, and steepled her fingers. “How are we gonna do it? He’ll need a disguise, right?”

There was a long pause as Caleb processed this. He managed, “You are…not mad?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m happy, but I trust you, Caleb. You have a reason?”

“Er…yes. I quite do.”

“So…alright, then.” There was a pause, then she added, “I am kind of annoyed you already sent the letter without asking, though.”

“Sorry.”

“I feel like I should ground you.”

“That, er…you can, if that makes you feel better.”

Veth genuinely seemed to consider this. Behind them, through the thin tent-walls of the office, they could hear a delighted child running circles around adults. They were, respectively, Luc Brenatto, having the time of his life shooting the Mighty Nein with wooden darts.

They were rounded off, of course. Yeza had seen to that with great care.

“No,” Veth sighed eventually. “No, that probably sets a bad example. I don’t think a professor can ground the Headmaster.”

“Head Professor, do not forget. I trust you the most out of everyone on this project. Not just because you are my friend, but you are qualified. And you really understand our mission.”

His tone of voice suggested that this was a conversation they had had many times. The way Veth’s face colored just slightly suggested she was still having trouble with the ‘qualified’ part.

Nevertheless, years of trained suspicion broke through the treacle-sweet flattery.

“But you didn’t trust me enough to tell me you were planning to ask Essek to come earlier,” she pointed out. “What did you think I was going to do?”

Caleb winced. “No, Veth, I…scheisse. That was…I was being impulsive that night. I…the idea occurred to me and I did not even hesitate to contact him. I…in retrospect, I should have.”

At least, to his relief, Veth nodded in response. “I get that,” she shrugged. “And like I said before, I am on board. You’re lucky I like you so much, Caleb. I don’t…care for Essek, but if this is what you want, I’ll…deal with having him around.”

“I am sorry again,” he said. “And, er…if it helps, you will also be his boss.”

Veth hadn’t been a goblin for years, but her eyes gleamed.

“Please be nice to him,” Caleb added.

“Nice?” Veth scoffed. “He’s not exactly nice.”

“He was nice to us—”

“Not Yeza.”

At the tortured grimace that passed across Caleb’s face, Veth sighed.

“Look, don’t worry, seriously. I was mostly kidding—I’m kidding! I just…you know that I have complicated feelings about Essek. In a…in a sort of way, I understand what he did. And I know where he’s coming from, I do. Lots of us are...well, we were pretty sketchy too. He really reminds me of the things we’ve done. But…he hasn’t shown nearly as much remorse as I’d like. And some of the things he’s done are—” She risked a glance up into Caleb’s impassive expression, “—I don’t like that he still doesn’t seem to care. But…he is a wizard, and I guess he’s our friend. So…if you can keep him from doing anything, I don’t know, very sketchy, then I’m on board. I trust you.”

Caleb’s expression went soft. He nodded.

“Thank you, Veth. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And I do hope that…well, I hope we can stop him from ‘sketchy’ things. In fact, ah…a small part of me is hoping that eventually, he will want to stop doing sketchy things all by himself.”

“Really?” Veth sounded more than skeptical. “How?”

Caleb shrugged. “The same way you and I did, no?”

—

Now Essek stood before the iron wrought gates that led into the expansive manor grounds of his family home. He could see, high above and a bit back, the five towers that made up the domain of the Umavi of Den Thelyss, long empty after all her children had moved on.

And, Essek recalled with a grimace, after his father had most probably, definitely, died.

It was a lonely castle. A feeling he could commiserate with, even in his smaller manor.

He straightened his collar. He knocked twice.

—

“By getting rich as adventurers.”

“By getting friends.”

—

“It is a surprise to see you here,” said Umavi Deirta Thelyss, Denmother of Den Thelyss and also Essek’s actual mother. “You rarely visit outside formal events and holidays.”

She did not add that Essek had totally missed the last two get-togethers, and thus must have been in a charitable mood. The rare—albeit leftover—tea blend that Essek had brought might have tipped the scale.

“I know, Mother.”

“I worry about you, of course.”

“I know, Mother.”

“And I’m certainly proud of what you’ve accomplished thus far.” At this, she took a sip of the Blooming Grove’s best. “I trust you are finding ways to keep yourself busy even during these times of peace?”

“Of course, Mother. Er…actually, it is partially that subject which I wish to address with you.”

His mother lowered her cup.

“Ah. So this is not purely a social call.”

“Er…no.”

She dabbed at the corner of her mouth, but Essek could have sworn she’d just smiled. Or, he backpedaled, at least tactfully smirked.

“Is this about access to the Beacons again, dear? As I always say, I can try to put in a word, but we have never been the den as involved in religious matters.” She paused, and tilted her head at him. “Is this about Consecution?”

“Er…no.”

“Oh. Well, then? Speak your mind.”

Under the table, Essek twisted at the hem of his sleeve.

“I, ah…well, that is…I’ve received a letter, Mother. An offer of…professorship. From…an Academy.”

This seemed to genuinely surprise the Umavi.

“Professorship? But…why?”

“Someone out there believes in my arcane prowess, apparently.” With the first sentence out of the way, Essek managed to sip his tea. Only a true observer would have noticed it falter slightly in its trajectory.

“Well,” said his Mother, trying to meet his gaze, “what a strange request to make of one already so gainfully employed. As the Bright Queen’s master of…let us call them the more obscure matters of state.”

When Essek did not match her eyes, she continued, “What sort of Academy is this, dear? Surely none in the Marble Tomes would write you in this way, and I find difficulty imagining you taking up permanent residence in Asarius. Which must mean…”

Essek sighed. His mother certainly was a true observer.

“Yes, Mother. It is outside the Dynasty.”

“Worse than that, I am sure.”

“Er…”

There was a sweeping of long robes as his mother leaned. She wasn’t wearing her headdress, but could loom without height, her sheer imposing presence doing the work just fine.

“Essek?”

He sighed again.

“Inside the Empire, Mother.” And because they had gotten this far, and he didn’t have much else to lose, he added, “Run by Widogast. Caleb Widogast, if you remember him, as well as a number of his friends, I gather. It is the…replacement institution currently being built to fill the void—”

“That the Assembly left, yes, I assumed.” She settled back, and a shifting of fabric indicated that she had crossed her arms. “And our dearly departed hero Widogast wants you to teach there?”

“And to assist him in establishing some of its curriculum and facilities, yes.” He tactfully ignored the ‘dearly departed’ bit.

“That would certainly be an odd career move for you, Essek. And surely, foreigner or no, he has spent enough time in our country to be aware of the implications of what he is asking.”

“Surely, Mother.”

“And as we all know, he has had training in Dunamancy these last years. I do hope his teacher had impressed upon him how vitally important it is to keep such training and knowledge a secret.”

For the first time since reading the letter, Essek paused.

In all his…well, excitement was not a word ever ascribed to the Shadowhand, but certainly in his anticipation to consider his offer, it had never actually crossed his mind that he might be asked to teach Dunamancy.

A small but very significant part of him riled.

Across the table, his mother drank some more tea. She was watching her son, who to his credit, had mastered the art of freezing his micro-expressions so swiftly that they could not be read. But without his mantle on, sitting in his mother’s tearoom, his hands were fidgeting up a storm across the table.

He probably hadn’t even noticed. She took another sip.

In a matter of seconds, Essek was back. He shook his head, and reached for a dry cookie.

“I think he is aware of the gravity of the situation. And I trust him to have already, ah…weighed the pros and cons.”

“And have you?” asked Deirta Thelyss, knowing the answer.

Essek bit down.

“I believe I have.”

—

“So…that’s it? We just wait for an answer, now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll say yes?”

“Well, I certainly hope so.”

“How’s he supposed to tell you?” This one was Jester, leaning across a stack of milk crates. “He doesn’t have Sending, I’m pretty sure.”

There was a pause in the air as the Mighty Nein watched Caleb consider, and realize this.

“Oh,” he said eventually. “I, er…I had assumed he did.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Beau said. “How did you think he was going to answer back? You didn’t think Xhorhas had a postal service to Felderwin, did you?”

“I, ah, admit that—”

“Maybe you should check our mailbox in Rosohna,” said Fjord kindly. “He probably just sent it to the Xhorhouse, or something.”

Caleb faltered, and scratched the back of his head. “…scheisse. You don’t think he has been waiting all this time to answer already, has he? I had not even considered—”

“I would not worry about that.”

All of them turned as a voice outside the door drifted in through the thin walls of the tent.

Then the voice added:

“How do I…oh, there is a latch—”

But he did not manage to finish the assessment before Jester ran over, threw the flap open, and tackled Essek bodily in a hug.

—

“In that case, there is only one last thing to say.” The Umavi of Den Thelyss sat back in her seat. A thin trail of steam curled up from her cup.

“I forbid you from going.”

“Thank—you what?”

She steepled her fingers. “I say ‘no,’ Essek. I will not let you chase this Empire wizard across the continent to teach at his school.”

“I…but…that is not…Mother, why?”

The swiftness of his outburst answered the question for both of them.

She studied his gaze.

“Essek, you have a purpose here. You have a bright future, and a reputation, and glowing prospects and I will not let you squander that to go off spilling our nation’s secrets.”

Essek managed to bite his tongue just in time. His mother would not have liked his instinctual answer.

Instead, he choked out the words, “I’ll quit, then. I’ll defect. I want to do this. More than I have ever wanted anything else in my life.”

Later, he would wonder why he said that. Even later, later, he would wonder if that were true.

The oldest and nearly-youngest souls of Den Thelyss stared at each other across the tea table. Their drinks cooled, and somewhere high above, the sun began to rise over the city of Rosohna.

But down here, beneath the blanket of perpetual stars, the only light was from the low, flickering lamps along the wall.

“I would do anything,” one said.

“…is that so?” said the other.

—

He was released after the impact knocked his parasol aside and his skin very quickly, visibly, began to redden. They immediately ushered him into the tent, shouting and laughing and clapping him on the back all the way, though he noticed that despite the friendly reception from Jester, Caduceus, Fjord, and even Yasha, Veth seemed somewhat frozen in her smile, and Beau even less warm.

That was…probably to be expected, actually. He wondered if this might present an issue and was about to open his mouth, say something, until he noticed a figure striding across the tent floor, side-stepping a stack of crates, and taking him by the hand.

Essek met his eyes. It had been some time, since he saw those eyes. Then he blinked.

“By the light, Caleb, you have grown a beard.”

There was a pause, and then Caleb laughed, and that was new too. Essek always forgot how quickly humans could change.

“I had meant to shave it before you arrived,” Caleb admitted. “It is, ah, a product of sleepless nights overseeing the construction of a new school.”

“It’s terrible,” Jester said. “It makes you look old.”

“I can fix this now if needed,” said a voice, followed by the sound of an unsheathing sword.

“Er…maybe…later, bitte?”

And Essek couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “I nearly forgot how boisterous all of you are, all the time. I have…” He turned, faced the Mighty Nein. “My life has not been nearly as interesting without you in it.”

“Well then, welcome back,” Caduceus gave a smile.

And even Veth, despite their…history, stepped forward.

“I said it once before, didn’t I? Welcome to the Mighty Nein, Essek.”

She even stuck out a hand for him to shake.

—

“I want you to report back everything to me. And when the time comes, when your Headmaster is summoned to the castle, I want you to go with him.”

“But…Mother, why?”

Her voice was nothing but gentle as she addressed her son.

“It is well-known that King Bertrand Dwendal has no heirs. And rules over quite a…combative court, with an iron fist.”

She leaned in even closer.

“What would happen to the Empire, do you think, if he was removed from that picture?”

—

And somewhere else, on what felt like the opposite side of the world, Caleb put an arm around Essek’s shoulder, and grinned.

“It is good to see you again, my friend.”

Essek’s lip twitched into what could approximately be called a smile.

“Good to see you as well,” he said.

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight  - Chapter 15: Hiccup

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~4300

Rating: PG-13 (brief language)

Summary: Almost four weeks since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: And we’re back! Since it’s been ages... Previously on Fight or Flight - Hana had learned that Barthelemy and Godfrey were working with Auvernal from Kiara, but Liam didn’t seem motivated to take much action regarding that fact. Leo had gotten money and belongings to Riley, who shared an intimate moment with Drake when she returned to their hotel.

This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

Liam let out a sigh as he changed the channel back to CBC. He needed to be actively watching, probably should be taking notes, in all honesty. This hour of programming consisted of discussion with three of the most connected political pundits in the country. It was the easiest and most reliable way to get a feel for the leanings of both the journalists and the common citizens, and it aired every weekday, so it was far more up to date than waiting for the biweekly polling.

The issue was that the panelists were revelling in the recent turn of events with such glee. It was understandable, he supposed. This was the most exciting political turn of events this country had seen in centuries. It put the mild speculation that he was Bridget’s biological father, a rumor had surfaced around the time of his announcement that Drake and Riley’s child would be heir and had briefly flared again at Bridget’s first public appearance when people had seen that she indeed looked like a child with some East Asian heritage, to shame. This wasn’t just baseless gossip and stirring the pot to increase ratings. This was true turmoil, plain and simple. There was a relative unknown carrying the power of the Crown, the current Queen-regent had been “kidnapped” and not seen in weeks, citizens were protesting daily, and this was all expected to last for months until the Conclave, where all the tension and drama would culminate in a vote among the five major noble houses to name a new monarch. The journalists and talking heads had a seemingly endless feast in front of them. All of it at his expense.

He took another sip of his scotch as he tried to focus on the screen ahead of him. If he could figure out how to gain a majority of the public’s support, then he could apply some pressure to Kiara and Landon prior to the Conclave vote. Not that he was naive enough to think that would be enough to assure that he would regain his title, but at least it would be one more piece of ammunition in his arsenal.

“The protests outside of the Capital aren’t going to be as easily quieted as the ones in Valtoria, Victor,” Francine Giorano stated, leaning forward and gesturing across the table to Victor Blussé. Blussé was the moderate on the panel, while Giorano was a staunch traditionalist. “They have had fears about the role the essentially-American Walkers played in our government for years, and look how right those fears turned out to be.”

“How is any of this the Walkers’ fault, Francine? This can all be traced to Barthelemy Beaumont!”

“The Conventus Nobilis was written into our foundational laws for a reason, Victor,” chimed in Willa Hyllop, the final member of the panel, added to the program in the past year to bring in a more modern, pro-democratic viewpoint.

“Surely you aren’t saying you are on the side of Beaumont, Willa! He represents an even less progressive faction than Liam Rys ever did.”

“I may not agree with everything he stands for, but I will always support measures that place some checks and accountability on our monarchy,” said Hyllop with a shrug. “Besides, the fact that Rys surrounded himself with yes-men and granted titles and appointments on the basis of friendship since he ascended the throne did little to convince me that he was the ‘progressive king’ he swore he was. He was more of the same, just without the aggressive rhetoric of his father.”

“And look how that turned out! Lest we forget, he stood by while Auvernal brought warships to our shore last year,” added Giorano.

Liam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Giorano and Hyllop were never on the same page about anything, and here they were, agreeing that he had been an ineffectual king. He tuned out Blussé’s response, knowing that some lukewarm rebuttal from him was going to do little to bolster his confidence. The fact was simple - his fall from grace was widespread. There were few left who saw him as worthy of the title of king. He had failed, completely and entirely.

 “Liam?” Olivia’s voice cut over the television. 

Liam opened his eyes to find her staring at him from the lounge’s doorway, a frown cutting across her face. He forced a smile as he gestured for her to join him. “Just taking a little break from hearing how incompetent I am.”

Olivia’s green eyes narrowed at his poor attempt at humor, but she strode over to him, joining him on the couch, undoubtedly taking in the blank notepad, the untouched stacks of documents, and the glass of liquor that sat on the table in front of him. “Well, that’s the perception we’re going to have to work to change.”

He tipped his head to rest along the back of the couch, sighing as he did so. “I know, Liv. It just seems so impossible at the moment.”

She didn’t say anything for several excruciating seconds. He rolled his head to the side, taking in her face, concerned eyes boring into him as she slid a hand around her neck, her blood-red nails digging into her skin. “We’ve got months still, Liam. Calling our goal impossible is premature.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right, and I’m all ears if you have any recommendations for where to start.”

“Well, I got confirmation that Landon and Emmeline’s driver is loyal to us, so Ray is going to approach him at the Derby this weekend to see if he might be willing to earn a little extra cash by divulging some secrets. And their new head of kitchen has a brother with significant gambling debts, so that’s another lead worth pursuing.”

“Sounds good, Olivia.”

“Now, as far as next steps for you, I was hoping you might give reporters a few minutes for questions before the derby.”

Liam swallowed, his brain scrambling to come up with a reason, any reason, against her suggestion, when his phone vibrated on the table, the name “Bastien” flashing across the screen.

“Why is he calling you?” Olivia asked. All Liam could do was shrug as he leaned forward, grabbing his phone and swiping to accept the call.

“Bastien?”

“I don’t have long,” he started, not even taking the time for a greeting. “I don’t know if you are in touch with Drake, but if you are, you need to let him know that they need to get out of Athens.”

“What are you-”

“Rashad is negotiating with Greek authorities right now to allow the King’s Guard to be the ones to make the arrest. We are waiting on the tarmac for clearance to fly to Athens.”

“How-”

“He’s requesting Greek surveillance of their hotel until we get there. They need to leave now.”

“Bastien, what-”

“I have to go.” And then, the line was dead.

Liam sat there, numb and frozen, trying to process the slew of information that had just been dumped into his lap by his former head of security. 

“What the hell is going on?” Olivia’s voice drew him out of his daze, prompting him to set down his phone on the couch, digging frantically through the stacks of papers.

“I need my burner.” He heard his voice as if he were an outsider observer. It was thin and shaky, frail and panicked. His hands shook as he felt around the table in front of him, knocking over a pile containing reproductions of the accounts of the last Conclave, dozens of papers spilling onto the floor.

“Liam, what the fuck did he tell you?”

“They know where they are. We have to warn them.” All his frustrations and pain related to Drake and Riley suddenly felt so petty, so ridiculous. The stakes were higher for them, always had been higher for them. They were about to get arrested over wanting to keep custody of their daughter. And while they left him to fend for himself, left Cordonia in a state of political upheaval, he knew that was a price that was wildly unfair.

“Who knows where they are? Rashad?”

“Yes,” said Liam, shoving more and more documents around the table. Where was his burner?

“How does he know?”

“I don’t know! Where the fuck is it?” Liam swiped his arm across the table, books and papers flying, the sound of glass breaking echoing through the room as his scotch tumbled to the ground.

A strong set of fingers with sharp red nails slid around his wrist, holding him still. He took a rough breath as he turned to face Olivia, who was eyeing him as she tugged her own burner out of her pocket, only breaking his gaze to glance down at the screen, tapping three times before holding it to her ear and looking back at Liam.

The few seconds of silence on her end were maddening, but then she was speaking, her voice curt and all business. “Drake, authorities are coming. You gotta go. Now.”

Liam tried to rein in his rapid breathing, tried to calm his heart rate down to something more human. “The King’s Guard is flying into Athens. They are leaving now. Rashad asked for Greek surveillance until-” but Olivia nodded at him, cutting him off.

“I don’t know how. But your hotel is about to be under Greek surveillance until the King’s Guard arrives, so you guys have to get moving. Good luck.” She hung up at that, letting out a massive sigh. “Shit,” she breathed out after a few seconds, her eyes bouncing back and forth before she slammed them shut, clearly planning and preparing.

Liam felt her fingers trembling around his wrist for just a second, but then she let go. She pushed herself off the couch with a flourish. “Find your burner. I’m gonna make some calls, but we need to destroy any evidence that we were in contact with them,” she said, nearly jogging towards the door.

“Olivia…”

She spun around and let out a little breath before walking back towards the couch. Her hand settled on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze as she gave him a nod. “We warned them as soon as we could, but we need to be the ones worried about the big picture right now. And things will only be worse for them if you and I are arrested, right?”

All he could do was nod. She was 100 percent correct.

“Okay, so find your burner. I’ll be back in a little bit, Liam.” And with that, she was off, a woman on a mission, leaving him sitting there, shaking on the couch, just trying to find his footing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Hana shook hands with the final citizen, a woman in her late 40s who had been born and raised in Valtoria.

“Thank you so much, Your Grace,” she said, smiling as she returned the handshake.

“Of course. Just because our country is going through a period of transition doesn’t mean that I am going to ignore the needs of Valtoria’s citizens.”

The woman thanked her again before turning and exiting the formal dining room, the location Hana had chosen for the first Citizen Open Forum she’d scheduled. The large table provided ample seating, but the room was close enough to the main entrance to make it unlikely that anyone could wander into private areas of the estate without being caught by staff. 

Olivia had been irritated when Hana had told her she was opening up the estate to the public. “You are giving Barthelemy’s people free access,” she told her. But Hana knew that she couldn’t just sidestep her duties as a duchess. Not only would that weaken people’s perception of Liam by association, but morally she just couldn’t do that. The country was in such turmoil because of a few members of the nobility trying to wrest power from some other nobles. For her citizens to be left neglected due to the whims of the highly privileged was ethically something she couldn’t allow to happen. So she’d hosted the forum, hearing directly from Valtoria’s residents what she should prioritize to improve their lives, but made sure to instruct her staff to notify her immediately if anyone was caught wandering too far from the dining room or bathroom. It was the best she felt she could do under the circumstances.

However, the last citizen had now vacated the estate, and Hana couldn’t help but let out a contented sigh. It had gone well, she thought. She had clear budgetary priorities to request at the upcoming meeting between the social season’s derby and the stop in Lythikos. Plus, one of the leaders of the protesters in front of the estate had come, and conversation with him had been productive. Obviously, she couldn’t outright tell him that she wished she could be right out there with them, carrying a sign that said “She’s their kid,” but he had given her a knowing smile when she told him she saw no reason to intervene when Cordonia citizens were just exercising a right to free speech. He had all but promised her that the protests would stay peaceful and would not target her for her assumption of the role of Duchess of Valtoria.

As she wandered into the kitchen to make herself some tea, she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. She turned on the tap to fill the kettle with one hand as she moved to answer the call with the other.

“Olivia, how are you?” she asked, watching the kettle fill.

“Do you not answer your phone anymore?”

Hana frowned, pulling the phone away from her ear and swiping the screen. “I don’t have any missed calls, Olivia.”

“Not this phone. I’ve called you no less than ten times.”

She turned off the tap and set the full kettle on the counter, a nagging thread of anxiety and fear worming its way into her heart with that statement. “What’s wrong?”

“Turn on the news.”

Hana spun around, finding the remote laying on the island and turning on the television mounted in the eat-in nook.

“-these exclusively obtained photos show a woman who appears to be the former duchess, Riley Walker, conversing with the former Crown Prince, Leo Rys, at a bar in Athens.”

The screen filled with a low-quality image, clearly zoomed in several times. The lighting was a sort of orange color, and the faces were grainy and fuzzy, but there was Riley, although her hair was clearly dyed a much lighter color. Leo’s face was only seen in profile, not as identifiable, but he was obviously talking to her. The screen changed to a new photo, Leo a bit more recognizable in this one, passing Riley something.

“Oh no,” said Hana, leaning against the counter.

“-clear evidence of collusion between the former Crown Prince and Riley Walker, who has been charged with treason and kidnapping of the monarch,” the anchor droned on, but Olivia’s response drowned out the quiet volume of the television.

“Yeah, that’s an understatement. So what was so pressing that you were ignoring your burner?”

“I had the forum with the citizens, and I thought if I was carrying two cell phones, that might-”

A massive groan from Olivia cut her off. “Whatever. Well, you need to destroy your burner. Now.”

“But what about Riley and-”

“I warned them. Hopefully they are able to get out of Athens, but nothing else we can do there. It’s time to protect ourselves.”

“Olivia, what-”

“I gotta go check on Liam. Destroy the phone, Hana. And don’t call me.”

“Why can’t I-”

“-Liam is definitely going to be questioned since Leo is now known to be involved. We can talk at the derby, but if they start monitoring our phone records, I don’t want to give them any reason to think we are scheming.”

Before Hana could as much as tell Olivia she understood, she heard the line click dead. Taking a few seconds for some calming breaths, she centered herself before she climbed the stairs to her quarters, a pit of dread cementing itself firmly in her stomach with each step. She reached her room and opened the top drawer of her dresser, pulling the burner phone out from underneath her nylons. Sure enough, she had dozens of missed notifications from Olivia, and a couple from Maxwell as well. Well, she knew what those were regarding. No need to deal with them at this point. Instead, she walked over to her dressing table and grabbed her manicure kit.

She wandered down the hallway towards the lounge, taking in the quiet and calm. It was odd; the estate probably had more people in it currently than it had for most of the time Riley and Drake had lived there. Hana didn’t feel compelled to aggressively minimize the staff presence like they had, far more used to having employees around from her upbringing. But staff were expected to be as discreet and silent as possible, to make themselves scarce, particularly in the private quarters. 

No one had ever called Riley quiet. There was a certain vibrancy she brought to any room, and her voice and laughter were always echoing through the halls. And even though Drake wasn’t the most talkative, he certainly would quip, snark, and joke in the privacy of his own home. Of course, once Bridget was born, there was more noise and energy and life than ever before. Now, it was just Hana and the corgis. The estate felt hollow and soulless.

Once in the lounge, Hana shut the door behind her firmly. Anderson glanced up, but quickly draped his head back over Vera, all the dogs curled up on their giant cushion in the corner. Hana knew that the maids had cleaned the lounge yesterday, so she was unlikely to be found there. She sat down in one of the armchairs, and pried the cover off the back of her phone using her cuticle pusher. All the electronic components stared up at her, ready for her to do her worst. But before she could bring herself to kill the only connection she had to her best friend, she flipped the phone over and sent one last message to Riley.

I love you all. Stay safe. I’ll find a way to get in touch when I can.

Letting out a sigh, she turned the phone back over. She spent the next 15 minutes prying off motherboards and any chips and cards she could find, dropping them one by one into her container of acetone nail polish remover. Then, she removed the battery before placing the remaining elements into the fireplace. She would just have to store the battery under her floorboards until she could figure out how to safely dispose of it. 

She started a fire, then curled up on the couch, tugging a quilt over her lap as she watched her only connection to the first person to show her unconditional love melt and warp, eventually turning to ash. Tears started trailing down her cheeks, dripping onto her blouse and the quilt, but she didn’t care. She was devastated - for herself, for her found family, and for her country. At some point, Anderson jumped up to join her, nestling in against her legs.

“I miss them so much,” she said, dropping a hand to the top of his head. “So, so much.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Bridget was wailing in her crib, but Riley didn’t have time to calm her. She needed to pack. Now.

When Drake had called her, she knew something bad was happening. He’d left with their passports this afternoon to take them to a cousin of a friend of someone Drake had met at the restaurant, someone who was supposed to be able to help with fake documents and forgeries. The plan had been to change their names and their country of origin, allowing them to catch a flight to the States without getting stopped at the airport. The final destination once there hadn’t been decided. Drake had wanted to go to Texas, but Leona’s presence scared Riley. She had already sold out their safety for a quick payday once before.

But that debate was a moot point now. So was the uncertainty about this unknown forger on whom they were relying. Drake had called, frantic and alarmed, clearly running and somewhat out of breath as he spoke to her. Telling her Olivia had called to warn them they were about to be arrested. Telling her to pack. Telling her they needed to run.

So Bridget was unceremoniously dumped into her travel crib as Riley tried to shove everything into the duffel bags from Leo. She knew she should leave the impractical things, like the framed photos, but those would incriminate their friends. So they had to come with. Toiletries seemed essential, too. Some of the clothes were going to have to get left behind. Some of the toys as well. She had to be able to carry everything in one trip. She had to get to the car as quickly as possible. 

She knew it had probably been less than five minutes since Drake had called, but it felt like she was moving too slowly, taking way too long. Drake hadn’t given her any sort of time frame. Who knew if Olivia had even given him one. But for all she knew, police were rounding the corner, waiting for her in the hallway, about to burst through the hotel door. So she shoved and crammed and squeezed everything she could into the duffel bags and the diaper bag. Those would go over her shoulders, the crib would collapse and go in one arm, Bridget in the other. That would have to be good enough. 

Once she was sure that the bags were as full as they could be, she pulled Bridget out, placing her on the floor as she scrambled to collapse the crib, fumbling with the locking mechanism for just a few seconds before it folded in on itself, allowing her to tuck it into her elbow. By some mad miracle, Bridget was hanging close by, not trying to crawl away to explore and cause trouble. Maybe she was frightened by the way Riley was acting. Regardless, it was a blessing.

Knowing she was as ready as she was going to be, she loaded everything up and grabbed Bridget, pausing just briefly to juggle their possessions as she opened the door. She didn’t bother closing it behind her, just moved as quickly as she could with her load down the hallway, down the stairs, through the lobby, and around the corner to the street where their car was parked. No one tried to stop her or talk to her, so she took the time to toss everything on the ground and properly latch Bridget into her car seat. Then, she threw everything in the hatchback before climbing into the passenger’s seat and locking the doors behind her. Bridget continued to cry, but there was little Riley could do to comfort her at this point. All that was left to do was wait for Drake.

Drake had told her to meet him in the car, but she didn’t like feeling exposed, sitting where anyone could see her during broad daylight. Add to that the fact that she was in the passenger seat, so she wouldn’t even be able to make a quick getaway if need be. Her piss-poor driving skills were just one more area where she was making their life harder, but there was no way to fix that right now. All she could do was hang tight. She was contemplating what in the car she could use as a weapon if it came down to it when her phone buzzed. She swiped to answer instantly when she saw it was Drake’s number.

“Drake, where are you?”

“Around the corner from the hotel. You in the car?”

“Yeah. How did-” but before she could get her question out, she saw Drake through the driver’s side window. She let out a little yelp of surprise before reaching over and unlocking the door, handing him the keys as soon as he sat down. 

He didn’t even bother to say anything, just started the car and eased off the clutch as he shifted into first gear, pulling out onto the road. Bridget quieted soon after they got moving, but Riley didn’t feel any better as the yelling and screaming subsided. She just stared at Drake, one hand braced on the steering wheel, the other on the gear shift, his neck and shoulders so tense and coiled, he looked ready to burst.

“Where are we going?” she finally chanced asking.

Drake shook his head, never taking his eyes off the road. “I don’t know. Out of Athens.”

“Then why are we making so many turns?”

“Don’t know if we were being watched or followed. Gotta lose anyone who might be tailing us.” His voice was clipped and frayed. He sounded about five seconds away from losing it completely. Riley wanted to hold his hand, to comfort him in some way. But she didn’t want to distract him, both from driving and from the tiny amount of control he had over his emotional response to everything that was unfolding. After all, they weren’t safe yet. So she just nodded and grabbed her phone off her lap.

“I’ll pull up some maps, okay?”

He nodded and let out a rough breath at that. “Thanks, Walker,” he said before flipping on the radio. “Can you try and find us a news station?”

“Drake, I won’t-”

“I’ll translate.”

And so they were off, unsure where or how far they needed to go to be safe. All they could do at this point was keep moving forward.

Perma: @walkerswhiskeygirl​ @octobereighth​ @kimmiedoo5​ @mom2000aggie​

TRR/TRH: @twinkleallnight​ @iaminlovewithtrr​ @mskaneko​ @axwalker​ @jovialyouthmusic​ @marshmallowsandfire​ @kingliam2019​ @sirbeepsalot​ @texaskitten30 @princessleac1​ @ladyangel70​ @debramcg1106​ @masterofbluff​  

Drake/MC:  @no-one-u-know   @iplaydrake​

FoF: @burnsoslow​ @bobasheebaby​

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH5

Aaaand it’s finally time. Surprise! Work has been kicking my butt the past couple weeks, so I’ve been really tired and writing has been slow. But we are still plenty ahead of schedule on this project, so don’t worry your pretty little heads! You’ll still get a chapter every Friday! We’re getting closer to the big shifts. Only a couple more chapters until the real fun begins >:)

------------------------

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Chapter 5: when the party’s over

“Good morning, sweetie.”

“Morning, Mom.” Marinette made her way down the stairs, carrying her boots in one hand. She yawned and stooped to kiss her mother’s cheek.

“How was the concert? Did you all have a good time?” her mom asked.

“I had an amazing time! We got to stand backstage for the whole performance, and you’re not gonna believe it! I fixed Jagged's jacket, and to thank me, he invited me to sing a song with him!” Marinette relayed as she grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl.

“Oh, how exciting!” her mom said. “I always knew you would do something amazing.”

“If Eliott hadn't suggested that I ask for tickets, Jagged would have canceled the show. It was really lucky that I was there,” Marinette said, ripping the peel.

“So, I take it everything is going well at your new school?” Her mom took a seat across from her.

“Yeah. I'm making new friends, and I helped someone with their bully,” Marinette answered around a bite.

“Are you happy?”

Marinette slowed her chewing as she mulled over an answer, and sensing her hesitance, her mom placed a hand over hers.

“I know there are things you don't tell me, but I can tell when you're upset,” she said. “You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. All I care about is that you're happy.”

“It's just that…” She took a deep breath before spilling everything. Following Lila and Adrien, the situation with seats, Lila's threats in the bathroom, Alya's akumatization.

Everything.

Once she started, she couldn't stop. Words tumbled from her mouth in a rapid current until hot tears spilled down her cheeks. Her mother moved to hold her, rubbing her back and kissing her hair.

“When you said you wanted to transfer to this new school to focus on your talents, I had no idea you were leaving behind so much,” her mom said. “You've been carrying all of that weight for so long.”

“I didn't know what else to do,” Marinette whimpered. She sniffled against her mother's shoulder.

“Look at me.” Her mom lifted her chin. “You do so much for other people, and that’s wonderful. But I think it's time that you focus on what makes you happy.”

That was the understatement of the century, but Marinette wasn't going to say as much.

“Your father and I raised you to always help others when you can, but we never wanted it to be at the expense of your own happiness. Sometimes it's okay to do what's best for yourself, and I think that changing schools was a smart decision.” She brushed a tear from Marinette's cheek with her thumb. “I know you're hurting now, and if you ever need anything, Papa and I are always here for you.”

“Thanks, Mama,” Marinette said.

She hugged her mother tightly, her worries washing down her face in thin streaks. For once, she wasn't a superhero with the weight of the world on her shoulders—she was a young girl, abandoned and hurt by the people she once trusted. There wasn’t a clever solution to fix everything. No lucky charm to get her out of a messy situation. It was the hardest lesson she'd ever learned. That sometimes there was no magic to reset everything. Some wounds didn't heal, and some bonds stayed broken.

For the first time since she became Ladybug, Marinette didn't have to carry anyone's burdens but her own. For once, she could just cry.

♪♫♪ When I’m Gone ♪♫♪

“Well, class, by an overwhelming majority, I’m happy to announce Lila as our new class representative!” Mlle. Bustier said.

“Mlle. Bustier, I would like a recount!” Chloe demanded.

“You only had two votes, Chloe. I don’t think a recount is necessary.” She gave her a sympathetic smile.

“What? That’s ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” Chloe folded her arms over her chest.

“Can you blame us?” Alya asked.

“Yeah, Lila is way cooler than you.” Alix shot back, a sentiment echoed by several others.

Chloe slouched in her seat, seething. “Well, at least Sabrina recognizes my natural leadership,” she said, but her bff averted her gaze. “Don’t tell me you voted for her too?”

“Sorry, Chloe.” Sabrina shrank when Chloe gasped in disbelief.

“Are my ears deceiving me? How dare you!” Chloe slammed her fist on the desk as the whole class erupted into laughter.

“Wow, even Sabrina is tired of you,” Nathaniel said.

Chloe’s jaw clenched, cheeks burning angry and hot. Even the shrimpy comic book nerd was laughing at her. What had the world come to?

“I don’t want to cause any trouble, but I did win fair and square, Chloe. I hope you aren’t too mad at me.” Lila curled her shoulders. “The last thing I want to do is make another enemy like I did with Marinette. I just want to do my best to make your lives as easy as possible here.”

“See? Now that’s natural leadership.” Alya smirked.

“You’re all so lame. I wouldn’t want your votes anyway.” Chloe glared at Lila as class resumed and clicked her stylus pen. Lila wasn’t some nobody like Marinette. She was going to be harder to push around. Regardless, if there was something Chloe wanted, she always got it.

♪♫♪ I Don’t Care ♪♫♪

“Congrats on winning class representative,” Alya said at the next class change. “I can go over all of your duties with you this afternoon if you want. Marinette and I used to discuss things over ice cream.”

Lila suppressed an eye roll. The sooner Alya stopped talking about that brat, the better. Things were working out in Lila’s favor already now that she was gone. Pretty soon she’d own this school, and no one would even remember Marinette’s name.

“Actually, I’m recovering from tonsilitis, so my doctor said I’m not allowed to eat any dairy.” Lila touched her throat delicately. “Besides, you and I should pick our own rituals and forget about Marinette.”

“True, I guess.” Alya pursed her lips, and Lila placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I know it’s hard to move on, but honestly, Marinette is nobody,” Lila said. “Though not many people can say they saved an entire village from a stampede, so I guess I shouldn’t be one to judge.”

“Not all of us can be so amazing.” Alya chuckled good-naturedly. “I guess part of me just wishes that Marinette could have gotten to know you and seen how cool you are.”

“Her loss.” Lila shrugged as they entered the locker room.

“Did you see-”

“Is that for real?”

“No way!”

“What’s going on?” Alya asked Adrien and Nino.

“Marinette sang with Jagged Stone last night at his concert here in Paris.” Nino explained, tilting his phone toward them.

“What?” Lila snatched it from him.

“Miraculous, yeah I got this! I gotta confess I feel so strong!”

“She asked him for tickets yesterday on Instagram, and he gave her backstage passes,” Mylène said.

“She looks so happy and confident,” Rose cooed.

“Wouldn’t you be if you got to sing with Jagged Stone on stage?” Alix said.

“I miss her.” Rose slumped, and several classmates followed suit.

“Yeah, me too,” Max echoed.

“Hey, Lila, since you’re such good friends with Jagged Stone, do you think you could get us tickets to his next show?” Kim asked.

Every eye turned to her expectantly, and her annoyance flared. Of course Marinette wouldn’t go quietly. That stupid brat was causing her problems even after she was gone. Lila wasn’t worried though. This situation just needed a little precision…

“Well, I would love to, but celebrities like Jagged really don’t like to give stuff away for free. It’s kind of taboo to even ask. I’m sure Jagged only complied this time because he wanted to save face. He cares about his fans so much, but it’s actually very rude to ask someone for special treatment,” Lila said. “I feel really bad for Jagged being put on the spot like that. She could have ruined his reputation.”

“Wow, I guess I didn’t realize…” Kim rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d hate to put you in that position.”

“I can’t believe Marinette would do such a thing.” Nathaniel glared down at his phone.

“Yeah, way uncool.”

“Everyone, please don’t make a fuss and blame Marinette. She isn’t used to dealing with celebrities. I’m sure she meant no harm.” Lila assured them. “If only she were still here. I have so much I could teach her.”

“We’re so lucky to have you, Lila,” Nino said. He draped an arm across her shoulders.

“Yeah, thanks, Lila!”

“You’re the best.”

Lila smiled as the bell rang, and everyone shuffled off to class. Marinette wasn’t going to get ahead so easily. Everyone was still exactly where Lila wanted them, and she’d make sure it stayed that way.

♪♫♪ Primadonna ♪♫♪

Later that afternoon, the girls gathered in the bathroom to comfort Mireille who was crying over some stupid argument she’d had with her boyfriend, not that Chloe cared. All she wanted was to find dirt on Lila, so she slipped in unnoticed and hid in an empty stall to listen.  

Nothing was right in her school anymore. Lila was stealing away everything she’d worked for, and while everyone was too busy paying attention to her, Chloe barely had anyone to boss around. Something needed to change. Fast. She would have to be smarter if she wanted to dethrone this queen, but she’d have order restored in her kingdom soon enough.

Chloe peeked through the crack in the door as Alya and Lila entered. She was going to find Lila’s weakness, then she was going to take her down.

“What’s going on?” Lila asked.

“Mireille and her boyfriend got into a fight, and she’s pretty upset,” Mylène said in a hushed tone.

“Marinette used to give advice to everyone and help them stay positive.” Rose glanced up at Lila. “Since you’re the new class representative, you can help, right?”

“Well, Mireille isn’t really in our class,” Lila said, but when Mireille let out a loud sob, she scrunched her nose and knelt beside her. “Hey, there’s no sense crying over some boy. I’ve had my heart broken before too, so I know how it feels. Boys are dumb. He’s not worth your tears,” she said. “If he really loved you, he wouldn’t have argued with you, and if he doesn’t love you, then you shouldn’t waste your time crying over him. I think you should move on because there’s no better revenge than finding someone cuter.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right…” Mireille sniffled and ran a hand across her cheek.

“We can get some ice cream later if you want.” Alya offered.

“Thanks, girls.” Mireille smiled. She turned to the mirror to fix her face as the bell rang.

“See you later.” They all waved goodbye, shuffling to their next class and leaving Mireille alone.

Drat. Chloe would have to figure out another way to get to Lila. Everyone had a weakness, and Chloe would find hers if it was the last thing she did. But first she needed to get out of the bathroom stall.

She peeked through the crack in the door, but Mireille was still pouting over her lock screen—a picture of her boyfriend hugging her lovingly. Too preoccupied with her sadness, she didn’t see the little black butterfly land on her charm bracelet.

Chloe gasped as Mireille transformed before her eyes, closing the stall door before she could be noticed. She hated to admit it, but she actually missed Maribrat Dupain-Cheng. At least with her around giving pep talks to every miserable face she came across, akumas had reached an all-time low at their school. Where was Ladybug when she needed her?

♪♫♪ Listen ♪♫♪

“So, you really saved his whole show?” One of Marinette’s new classmates asked as everyone crowded around her.

“I’m sure they would have found another solution but-”

“Oh, don’t be modest!” Eliott cut her off with an eye roll. “She totally saved the whole show.”

“Yeah, Jagged Stone adores her.” Macy added with a giggle.

“I still think it should have been you up there, Macy. You’re a much better singer than I am.” Marinette rubbed the back of her neck.

“You have such a cute voice! We should sing a duet together for our next art project,” Macy said, and several classmates agreed, much to Marinette’s chagrin.

“Alright, class, everyone take your seats,” Mme. Allard instructed as she strolled into the room. To Marinette’s relief, the group surrounding her dispersed. “Today we will be discussing themes in Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing. Now, who can tell me-”

When Marinette’s phone buzzed in her bag, she checked it under her desk. “An akuma alert!”

“What’s that?” Eliott leaned over.

“Is something the matter, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng? M. Chasse?” Mme. Allard paused her lesson and quirked a brow.

“Uh, there’s an akuma loose in the city, ma’am. Shouldn’t we evacuate?” Marinette held up her phone.

Mme. Allard removed her glasses to read the report. “It says here that lockdown orders are only for the area surrounding Notre Dame. We will continue our lesson until it becomes a threat on this side of town,” she said. “Now, put your phone away. They are prohibited during instruction.”

“Yes, Mme. Allard.” Marinette tucked her phone back into her bag and exchanged a nervous look with Tikki. “Actually, Mme. Allard?”

“What is it, Marinette?”

“Can I be excused to the bathroom?”

“You just went before we got here.” Macy gave her a quizzical look.

“Do you have a documented medical condition that requires you to frequent the restroom, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng?” Mme. Allard asked.

A few classmates giggled, and Marinette’s cheeks burned.

“No, ma’am,” she mumbled.

“Then I think you can hold it until the next class change. Now don’t interrupt my lecture again.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She lowered her head, shooting Tikki an apologetic wince.

Her foot tapped the entire lecture, fingers drumming, pen tapping, eyes watching the clock. Part of her hoped the akuma would make its way to their side of town, but she wasn’t so lucky. When the bell rang, Marinette jumped from her chair and stuffed her tablet into her bag.

“Uh, I’m not feeling too well, so I’m gonna go see the nurse,” she said.

“Do you want us to walk with you?” Eliott offered, but she shook her head.

“I, uh, think I might be getting the flu, and I don’t want to infect you guys, so I’ll see you later.” She raced up the hallway.

The third-floor bathroom was empty when Marinette burst through the doors and ducked into a stall—her first stroke of luck all day.

“Your new school is so strict,” Tikki said.

“We can talk about it later. Transform me!”

Dashing across the rooftops, she hurled her yoyo as far as she could. She just hoped Chat Noir managed to show up and keep things at bay. When she made it to the school, she swooped down just in time to deflect an attack before it hit Chat Noir.

“Oh, nice of you to finally drop in,” he said dryly.

“Sorry, kitty, I got held up,” she said. “You okay?”

He relaxed and offered her a wink. “Better now that you’re here. You had me worried.”

“I’ll try not to make a habit of it.” She vowed, readying her yoyo. “In the meantime, I think we could use a little luck to get us out of this mess.”

“Be my guest.” Chat Noir bowed.

Her magnifying glass made quick work of Heartbreaker, and Mireille blinked in confusion as Ladybug purified the akuma.

“What happened?” Mireille asked, dazed.

“You were akumatized.” Chat Noir explained.

“Oh no!” She covered her face. “I got so angry…Now Jean will never take me back!”

Ladybug placed a hand on Mireille’s shoulder with a reassuring smile. “Hey, arguments in relationships happen. I’m sure you both said things you regret, so why don’t you try talking to him now that you’ve both calmed down?” She advised. “I’m sure you can come to an understanding.”

“I will. Thank you, Ladybug.” Mireille smiled. She waved as Ladybug and Chat Noir vaulted off.

“Thanks for your help, m’lady.” Chat Noir kissed her hand.

“Sorry it took me so long, kitty. I’m glad you were able to manage,” she said. “I’ll see you next time.”

“Don’t be late,” he called as she swung off.

Landing back in the bathroom, she leaned against the wall with a sigh. That was too close. She’d have to figure out a better way to escape to fight akumas, but at least she made it in time for this one.

She slipped into her desk in physics quietly and leaned over to Eliott. “What’d I miss?”

“I thought you had the flu?” Eliott recoiled.

“False alarm, just allergies,” she said.

“Oh, we should go to the spa later! The sauna is really good for your sinuses,” Macy whispered.

“Uh, sure.” Marinette nodded, shifting in her seat as they tuned back into the lesson. She relaxed when no one seemed suspicious of her.

Being a superhero just got a lot more complicated.

♪♫♪ Delicate ♪♫♪

“How is your new school?” Adrien asked that afternoon over tea and cookies.

“I’m…adjusting.” Marinette pursed her lips. “How is the old school?”

“Well,” Adrien drawled. “Lila is the new class representative, and she may have convinced people that you almost ruined Jagged’s image.”

“What a brat.” Marinette rolled her eyes. “She’s really class rep?”

“Don’t look at me, I voted for Chloe.” Adrien held up defensive hands.

“Somehow I don’t feel like that’s better.” Marinette leaned against her fist with a smirk.

She fixed her gaze on her cup with a sigh.

“Rose said she misses you.” Adrien offered. “Before Lila convinced her you were clueless about dealing with celebrities.”

“I miss her too,” Marinette said. She traced the rim of her cup with a finger. “I miss everyone, but…”

“I know.” Adrien winced. “For what it’s worth, I thought your performance with Jagged was awesome.”

“It was pretty awesome,” she admitted with a giggle. “And I got you an autograph!”

Adrien pressed his palms together appreciatively as she retrieved a signed poster of Jagged’s face from her desk.

“You rock, Marinette!” he said in his best Jagged impression, then more sincerely added, “I’m glad that you’re doing what’s best for you. If there’s anything I can do to help, just say the word.”

“Thank you, Adrien.” Her cheeks warmed as he held her gaze, her mind clouding into a lovestruck haze. She almost got lost in his gorgeous green eyes, but footsteps pounded up the staircase, breaking her trance.

Marinette jumped as her trapdoor swung open, and a familiar pair of icy blue eyes poked through. It was Chloe Bourgeois, and she was pissed.

[leossmoonn]

hi can i have a stefan x fem reader fluff ig? idk stefan has been living in my mind rent free i miss him so much lol😌

yes 🥰

————

masterlist 

imagine - having your first offical date w stefan! (fem!reader)

note - this wasn't meant to be a blurb in the first place,  but this is like super long. i got kinda carried away.. like 3.2k words...... enjoy :

“Oh, you look so cute!” Caroline squealed. She jumped on her heels in excitement, standing back to look at her work. 

You were going on a date tonight with the very handsome, very mysterious Stefan Salvatore. He had been in town for a few months, and while you knew all about vampires and witches, you never actually had a chance to talk to him one-on-one. There were many occasions where you had to save your best friends, and you had to work with him. From what you gathered by working with him he was kind, smart, funny, and extremely handsome. You were very surprised he asked you out, considering you two never actually spoke to one another. 

He had asked you out after Isabel came into town. Amongst all the crazy, there still seemed time to enjoy a nice date out with a nice boy, so you took the chance. There was really no reason to say no, anyways. 

You had told your best friends about the date, making them very excited and very pushy in helping you. Caroline, who was the head in all of this help, planned your outfit, makeup, and gave you pointers on what to say and how to act. You felt a little annoyed by her, but you knew she meant well. Plus, she really did dress you in something cute.

You looked in the mirror, seeing yourself in a dark-blue dress and a black belt that went around your waist. The dress was spaghetti-strapped, so you had to wear a black jacket over it. The dress ended just right above your knees, and you had black heels to match. Caroline had insisted on you leaving your hair in its natural state so Stefan could see the real you, but you decided to put it up in your favorite hairstyle. Your makeup was natural, all but the red lipstick on your lips that Caroline also insisted on. You couldn’t help but smile, you loved what she did.

“Thank you, Care,” you smiled. You turned back to your friends, seeing Bonnie and Elena’s faces in big smiles. 

“What?” You asked. 

“You just... you’ve never been on a date before. I’m so excited for you!” Elena exclaimed. 

You chuckled, “I’m excited for me, too. After tonight, I won’t be the friend who hasn't been on a date anymore!”

“Well, I haven't been on a date before,” Bonnie said. 

You scoffed, “Uh, yes, you have. You just haven’t had a boyfriend before, which is something I haven’t had, either.”

“Yeah, Elena’s the only one who has had a boyfriend,” Caroline smirked. 

Elena rolled her eyes, “Yeah, and we all saw how that worked out.”

You chuckled a little. A knock on the front door got your attention. 

“Is that him?” Bonnie asked. 

You nodded, suddenly getting nervous. Caroline sensed your nervousness and pulled you into a hug. 

“You will do great! He asked you out without even getting to know you, don’t stress,” she said. 

“Thanks, Care. I gotta go. I can’t keep him waiting,” you sighed and pulled away. 

The girls followed you to the door, making you roll your eyes and try to shoo them away. You opened the door, your anxiety almost immediately disappearing  once you saw Stefan. 

He was wearing jeans, a grey-fitted shirt and a leather jacket. He had a big smile on his face as he looked at you. 

“You look beautiful,” he spoke, looking into your eyes. You looked down at the ground with a shy smile on your face.

“Thank you. You look really, really um, handsome,” you said, bashful. 

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Are you ready to go?” He held his hand out for you to take. 

You lifted your head up, putting your hand out hesitantly and slipping it into his. Tingles ran up from your fingers to your arm as you interlocked hands with his. 

“Have fun!” Elena giggled. 

“Not too much, though!” Caroline exclaimed.

You looked back, rolling your eyes at them. You went out of your house, shutting the door behind you. Stefan walked you to his car, opening the door for you. 

“Wow, and he’s chivalrous,” you teased, stepping into the car. 

“Back in my day, women were treated like princesses. Every man did everything for them,” Stefan said. 

“Wow, sounds like heaven. I mean, despite all the rights we didn’t have,” you snorted. 

Stefan chuckled, “True.”

Stefan got in the driver’s seat, starting the car. 

“So, where are you taking me?” You asked. “My house,” Stefan answered. 

“Oh, I should’ve put on something more... chill,” you chuckled, looking down at your date attire.

“No, no! This is proper date attire, anyways. I’m cooking for us,” Stefan glanced at you, smiling.

“Woah, I feel so special,” you smiled. “I like to cook for the girls I take out,” Stefan said. 

“And do you... take a lot of girls out?” You asked. You started to feel nauseous as you thought of his answer.

“No, honestly. Just whenever I do, I cook,” he shrugged. 

You nodded. “When was the last time you had a girlfriend?” 

“Um, 1964, I think,” he answered. Your eyes widened, “You waited 45 years?”

“Well, it’s not like I waited to find the right one or anything. I was just never very interested in dating or anything,” he answered honestly. 

“What made you change now?” You asked. “Oh, well,” Stefan started. Now it was his turn to be shy. 

“Well, first off, you. I know we’ve never talked a lot, but whenever I would see you, I’ve always would think you were pretty. And, Caroline and Damon wouldn’t stop teasing my about my “very apparent crush”,” he explained. 

“I never noticed it. Then again, most people are oblivious to those types of things,” you chuckled.  “Agreed. But yeah, so, you’re basically my reason.” You smiled, “You know you to make a girl feel special.”

“I try,” Stefan smiled and parked his car the the Salvatore house entrance. Stefan got out, hurrying to open the door for you. 

You giggled, “Thank you.”

Stefan hummed a “you’re welcome”.

You two entered the house. You had been here plenty times before, so it wasn’t a big surprise to you. But the kitchen table was. 

The table had a white cloth on it, candles, silverware on napkins, and a pretty bouquet of flowers on it. You smiled, “This is so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Stefan said, moving past you to the stove. You went over to him, watching him grab a pan and different ingredients. 

“So, what are you making?” You asked. “Ratatouille,” he answered. 

You cocked up a brow. “Like from the movie?”

“Yeah,” Stefan smiled. 

“Cool,” you smiled. 

“Do you mind helping me?” Stefan asked. “Nope. Not at all. I must admit, I like cooking, but I'm really bad,” you chuckled. 

“I bet you’re not that bad,” Stefan said. “We’ll see. So, what do you need me to do?” You asked. 

“Preheat the oven to 375, please,” he directed. 

You nodded and walked over to the oven.

“Now, help me with slicing some vegetables. Which one do you want to slice, eggplant, squash, tomato, or zucchini?” Stefan asked.

“Um, I’ll take the squash,” you said. You went over next to him, taking a knife and placing the eggplant on the cutting board. 

“So, what was life like in the 19th century?” You asked. 

“Hm, peaceful. Fun, relaxing. Of course, there was a war going on, and vampires running through town,” Stefan said.

“Like Katherine?” You asked. Stefan sighed, “Yeah, like Katherine.”

“What about your childhood?” You asked. 

“Um, rough? My mom died when I was little and my dad was always tough on us. We were expected to be men by age 6.”

“Wow, that sounds fun.” Stefan chuckled, “It was. How about you? What was your childhood like?”

“Fun, relaxing, never boring. Well, that was before I met Elena, Caroline, and Bonnie,” you said. 

“What was it like before then?”

“Um.. horrible? I had like, no friends,” you chuckled. “I was the weird, book-carrying girl that no one liked and everyone teased. Bonnie and Elena adopted me soon after I was in one of their classes in middle school. I’ve been best friends with them ever since. Granted, I'm more closer with Bonnie and Elena, Caroline was kind of jealous of me I think, but we all are best friends. I couldn’t imagine my life without them.” Stefan smiled, “That’s sweet. Damon was, and well, still is, my best friend, as much as I hate to admit it. We’ve drifted apart. A lot. Ever since we were vampires we have been.”

“Wow. Well, it's nice to at least have someone like that you can ask for help, always. I'm a single child. But, Caroline and Bonnie are like the two sisters I’ve never had. Elena, of course, has Jeremy,” you said. “Who isn't here, but hey, that’s why she has us.”

“That’s nice. Well, wait, now thinking about it, I do have a best friend, other than Damon,” Stefan said. 

“Ooh, who?”

“Her name’s Lexi,” he said. “If she’s your best friend, where is she?” You asked. 

“In New York. We send emails to each other and whatnot. She’s the one who helps with my bloodlust,” he explained.

“Wow, she sounds really nice,” you smiled. “Yeah, she is. And don’t worry, there is nothing romantic going on there. She just makes me a better person,” he explained. 

“That was my next question. Well, I hope I get to meet her someday. She sounds awesome,” you smiled. 

“I hope so, too. Hey, maybe I’ll email her and have her come over next time. She's actually very interested in you,” he said. 

“Oh, really? She knows about me?” You asked. 

“Well, I mean, she asks me all the time if I'm seeing anyone, and I told her I liked you, and well I told you about her,” Stefan blushed. 

You giggled, “Well, good to know. I'm even more excited to meet her now.”

“Good, good. I’ll tell her that,” he winked. Your face began to feel warm again and you hid your face from his view. 

He had a big smile on his face. He moved over to the stove, turning on the heat and put on a saucepan. 

“What happens now, chief?” You asked, settling your hands on your hips. 

“Well, now we make the sauce. You mind dicing these bell peppers?” He asked, getting one yellow and one red one out of the fridge. 

You nodded, washing your hands and beginning to dice them. 

“Do you want some wine?” Stefan asked, holding a wine bottle.

“Sure,” you smiled. 

“This is the good stuff. We keep all the good liquor in this cabinet. Don’t tell anyone,” Stefan said. 

You nodded, “Lips are sealed.”

Stefan smiled and poured you a glass, setting it next to him. You thanked him, dicing up the bell peppers. Once you were done, you let Stefan take over. He put olive oil in the pan a few minutes before, then put the bell peppers, onion and garlic he was dicing earlier. 

“How did you learn how to cook?” You asked.

“Um, kind of just by watching my mom. I learned more by doing jobs and stuff. You know, I can’t be a lazy vampire the whole time, so I went to culinary school. It was a good hobby for me and soon became a fun, creative, and easy thing for me to do. It distracted me a lot from the bloodlust and family, too,” he explained.

“Culinary school, huh? That’s really cool,” you said. 

Stefan chuckled. “Thanks .”

You hummed in reply. You two talked more about your childhoods, interests, what you want to do after high school. After a few minutes of the vegetables sautéing, you had put the veggies that you had sliced up into a pattern in the pan. Stefan put the pan in the oven, setting the timer. 

“So, what do we do now?” You asked. “Well, we could drink more wine and talk or, we can drink more wine and I can give you a house tour,” he said. 

“Ooh, I want house tour!” You exclaimed. 

“Alright. Follow me, m’lady,” Stefan said, holding his arm out for you.

You giggled, “Don’t mind if I do, kind sir.” You wrapped your arm around his, your hand intertwining with his. Your other hand held the wine glass that he had refilled. 

“So, that’s the kitchen, as you saw. This is the living room, and the Salvatore study is on the other side. You’ve already seen those, though, so let’s go upstairs.”

You nodded, walking with him up the stairs.

“So, over here are a few guest bedrooms. This is Damon’s room,” Stefan said, opening the door a little. You peeked into it, your eyes widening. 

“Wow. Never knew Damon was such an alcoholic,” you snorted, pulling your head back. 

“All vampires are, honestly. We’re basically immortal so, you know, no liver disease or anything for us,” Stefan said. 

“Wow, lucky. I mean, I don’t drink much anyways. I usually just have one beer at every party I go to. I don’t like the taste of cheap beer,” you explained. 

“Wow, I may have just found the perfect woman,” Stefan teased. 

You giggled, “Yeah, my friends think I'm too picky, but you know, if I’m gonna drink, I wanna drink the good stuff.”

“Exactly! See, I understand you, don’t worry,” Stefan smiled. 

You smiled, leaning into him a little as he led the way down the hall. You put your head on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth that he was exhibiting. You liked how you felt while being close to him, too. You felt safe, comforted. At home.

He looked down at you, smiling. “Here are a few more guest rooms, and here is my room,” he said.

“Can we go in?” You asked. 

Stefan nodded, opening the door. You stepped in the room, looking over everything. 

His bed at across the room, against the wall. He had his desk in the middle of the room, a bunch of books on it. He had a couch next to his bed and a few other chairs around the room, too. There was a huge bookshelf with lots of other books and other decorative objects. 

“Wow. your room is huge,” you said. 

“Yep,” Stefan said, standing in the doorway. 

You went over to his bed, taking a seat. Stefan went over and took a seat next to you. 

“This is a... wow,” you said, bouncing on the bed slightly. “This is a comfortable bed. Where did you get this mattress?” 

“Um... I’m not sure,” Stefan chuckled. 

“Ugh, I am jealous,” you smiled. “I wish I could sleep here.”

“Maybe you can if we continue uh, going on dates and stuff,” Stefan said. 

You turned to him, smiling big. “I’d like that.”

Stefan smiled at you, putting his hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb up and down on your cheekbone lightly. Your stomach did flips and your whole body became warm from his touch. You saw him leaning in and you started to get nervous. You had never kissed anyone before. Well, you have, but your first kiss was just a peck. And you had a feeling that this wasn’t gonna be just a peck. 

You leaned in, too, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. Unfortunately, that didn’t work. Stefan’s face got closer and you felt his lips brush on yours with feathery-light pressure. Your body jolted back, your eyes going wide. 

Stefan looked at you, worried. 

“Did I... did I do something wrong?” He asked. 

You started to blush profusely. “No,” you shook your head. “I just um... the feeling really was new and surprising to me.”

Stefan smiled, “Yeah, kisses with the right person are like that.”

“You didn’t even kiss me, though,” you chuckled. 

“Do you want me to?” Stefan asked, looking into your eyes. 

You smiled and nodded slowly, scooting closer to him. Stefan put his hand on your face again. bringing his lips to yours. He kissed you and your whole brain exploded. You saw bright colors as you kissed him back, loving the feeling he gave you. His lips were soft and warm, and were really really good at kissing. They kissed you back slowly, softly. He was going gentle on you, which was something you appreciated immensely. Your hands went up to his neck, wanting him closer.

You pulled away for air, though, your eyes meeting his instantly. You went back to your flustered and shy behavior, looking away from him and biting your lip in excitement. Stefan couldn’t help but smile at how cute you were. 

The oven beeped downstairs, singling that the ratatouille was done. He took your hand, pulling you up. 

“Hungry?” He asked. 

You smiled, “Very.”

You two walked back downstairs. You set two glasses and poured wine in them while Stefan took out the pan. He put the food on two dishes, mixing up a salad and getting some dinner rolls. 

You went over to him, getting your plate and setting it down on the plate by your chair. Stefan brought over the rest of the food, sitting down with you. 

“Dig in,” Stefan smiled. 

You did as he said, groaning at how amazing the food tasted. 

“You are... ugh, amazing. God. What can’t you do?” You asked. 

Stefan smiled. “Um... I can’t bake.”

You scoffed, “Everyone can bake. Sorry, Stefan, you're perfect.”

Stefan smiled, “Nope, that’s you.”

“Oh, yeah?” You smiled. 

“Yeah,” he smiled bigger and nodded.

You blushed profusely again. “I think the wine is catching up to us.”

“Hm, maybe. But you asked,” Stefan smiled. You laughed, “I did.” You two ate and talked a little more about your hobbies. After a third glass of wine, you decided that it was time for you to go. So, Stefan went and drove you home. The drive home was silent, but comfortable. Stefan had asked to put a hand on your thigh, to which you smiled and granted him access to. His touch made you warm and fuzzy inside, which was something you would be able to experience again with him. 

Stefan got to your house, walking you up the the door. 

“I had an amazing time,” you smiled.

“I did, too,” Stefan smiled.

You took his hands in yours, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips. He kissed you back for a few moments before you two pulled away for air. 

“I’ll call you, uh, later,” you said. 

“Alright. I’ll be waiting. Have a good night, Y/n,” Stefan smiled. 

You smiled back at him. “I will. See you tomorrow.” You unlocked your door, going inside your house.

“You, too,” Stefan smiled, watching you close the door with a big smile. 

You shut the door behind you, putting your back to the door, seeing Elena, Caroline, and Bonnie in your living room. 

“So, how was it?” Bonnie asked. 

“I think I’m in love.”

————

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@123cxcv

[paenling]

no ones saying you cant enjoy daniil? people like him as a character but mostly Because he’s an asshole and he’s interesting. the racism and themes of colonization in patho are so blatant

nobody said “by order of Law you are forbidden from enjoying daniil dankovsky in any capacity”, but they did say “if you like daniil dankovsky you are abnormal, problematic, and you should be ashamed of yourself”, so i’d call that an implicit discouragement at the least. not very kind.

regardless, he is a very interesting asshole and we love to make fun of him! but i do not plan to stop seeing his character in an empathetic light when appropriate to do so. we’re all terribly human.

regarding “the racism and themes of colonization in patho”, we’ve gotta have a sit-down for this one because it’s long and difficult. tl;dr here.

i’ve written myself all back and forth and in every direction trying to properly pin down the way i feel about this in a way that is both logically coherent and emotionally honest, but it’s not really working. i debated even responding at all, but i do feel like there are some things worth saying so i’m just going to write a bunch of words, pick a god, and pray it makes some modicum of sense.

the short version: pathologic 2 is a flawed masterwork which i love deeply, but its attempts to be esoteric and challenging have in some ways backfired when it comes to topical discussions such as those surrounding race, which the first game didn’t give its due diligence, and the second game attempted with incomplete success despite its best efforts.

the issue is that when you have a game that is so niche and has these “elevated themes” and draws from all this kind of academic highbrow source material -- the fandom is small, but the fandom consists of people who want to analyze, pathologize, and dissect things as much as possible. so let’s do that.

first: what exactly is racist or colonialist in pathologic? i’m legitimately asking. people at home: by what mechanism does pathologic-the-game inflict racist harm on real people? the fact that the Kin are aesthetically and linguistically inspired by the real-world Buryat people (& adjacent groups) is a potential red flag, but as far as i can tell there’s never any value judgement made about either the fictionalized Kin or the real-world Buryat. the fictional culture is esoteric to the player -- intended to be that way, in fact -- but that’s not an inherently bad thing. it’s a closed practice and they’re minding their business.

does it run the risk of being insensitive with sufficiently aggressive readings? absolutely, but i don’t think that’s racist by itself. they’re just portrayed as a society of human beings (and some magical ones, if you like) that has flaws and incongruences just as the Town does. it’s not idealizing or infantilizing these people, but by no means does it go out of its way to villainize them either. there is no malice in this depiction of the Kin. 

is it the fact that characters within both pathologic 1 & 2 are racist? that the player can choose to say racist things when inhabiting those characters? no, because pathologic-the-game doesn’t endorse those things. they’re throwaway characterization lines for assholes. acknowledging that racism exists does not make a media racist. see more here.

however, i find it’s very important to take a moment and divorce the racial discussions in a game like pathologic 2 from the very specific experiences of irl western (particularly american) racism. it’s understandable for such a large chunk of the english-speaking audience to read it that way; it makes sense, but that doesn’t mean it’s correct. although it acknowledges the relevant history to some extent, on account of being set in 1915, pathologic 2 is not intended to be a commentary about race, and especially not current events, and especially especially not current events in america. it’s therefore unfair, in my opinion, to attempt to diagnose it with any concrete ideology or apply its messages to an american racial paradigm.

it definitely still deals with race, but it always, to me, seemed to come back around the exploitation of race as an ultimately arbitrary division of human beings, and the story always strove to be about human beings far more than it was ever about race. does it approach this topic perfectly? no, but it’s clearly making an effort. should we be aware of where it fails to do right by the topic? yes, definitely, but we should also be charitable in our interpretations of what the writers were actually aiming for, rather than reactionarily deeming them unacceptable and leaving it at that. do we really think the writers for pathologic 2 sat down and said “we’re going to go out of our way to be horrible racists today”? i don’t.

IPL’s writing team is a talented lot, and dybowski as lead writer has the kinds of big ideas that elevate a game to a work of art, particularly because he’s not afraid to get personal. on that front, some discussion is inescapable as pathologic 2 deals in a lot of racial and cultural strife, because it’s clearly something near to the his heart, but as i understand it was never really meant to be a narrative “about” race, at least not exclusively so, and especially not in the same sense as the issue is understood by the average American gamer. society isn't a monolith and the contexts are gonna change massively between different cultures who have had, historically, much different relationships with these concepts.

these themes are “so blatant” in pathologic 2 because clearly, on some level, IPL wanted to start a discussion. I think it’s obvious that they wanted to make the audience uncomfortable with the choices they were faced with and the characters they had to inhabit -- invoke a little ostranenie, as it were, and force an emotional breaking point. in the end the game started a conversation and i think that’s something that was done in earnest, despite its moments of obvious clumsiness. 

regarding colonialism, this is another thing that the game is just Not About. we see the effects and consequences of colonialism demonstrated in the world of pathologic, and it’s something we’re certainly asked to think about from time to time, but the actual plot/narrative of the game is not about overcoming or confronting explicitly colonialist constructs, etc. i personally regard this as a bit of a missed opportunity, but it’s just not what IPL was going for.

instead they have a huge focus, as discussed somewhat in response to this ask, on the broader idea of powerful people trying to create a “utopia” at the mortal cost of those they disempower, which is almost always topical as far as i’m concerned, and also very Russian.

i think there was some interview where it was said that the second game was much more about “a mechanism that transforms human nature” than the costs of utopia, but it’s still a persistent enough theme to be worth talking about both as an abstraction of colonialism as well as in its more-likely intended context through the lens of wealth inequality, environmental destruction & government corruption as universal human issues faced by the marginalized classes. i think both are important and intelligent readings of the text, and both are worth discussion.

both endings of pathologic 2 involve sacrifice in the name of an “ideal world” where it’s impossible to ever be fully satisfied. in the Diurnal Ending, Artemy is tormented over the fate of the Kin and the euthanasia of his dying god and all her miracles, but he needs to have faith that the children he’s protected will grow up better than their parents and create a world where he and his culture will be immortalized in love. in the Nocturnal Ending, he’s horrified because in preserving the miracle-bound legacy of his people as a collective, he’s un-personed himself to the individuals he loves, but he needs to have faith that the uniqueness and magic of the resurrected Earth was precious enough to be worth that sacrifice. neither ending is fair. it’s not fair that he can’t have both, but that’s the idea. because that “utopia” everyone’s been chasing is an idol that distracts from the important work of being a human being and doing your best in a flawed world. 

because pathologic’s themes as a series are so very “Russian turn-of-the-century” and draw a ton of stylistic and topical inspiration from the theatre and literature of that era, i don’t doubt that it’s also inherited some of its inspirational literature’s missteps. however, because the game’s intertextuality is so incredibly dense it’s difficult to construct a super cohesive picture of its actual messaging. a lot of its references and themes will absolutely go over your head if you enter unprepared -- this was true for me, and it ended up taking several passes and a bunch of research to even begin appreciating the breadth of its influences.

(i’d argue this is ultimately a good thing; i would never have gone and picked up Camus or Strugatsky, or even known who Antonin Artaud was at all if i hadn’t gone in with pathologic! my understanding is still woefully incomplete and it’s probably going to take me a lot more effort to get properly fluent in the ideology of the story, but that’s the joy of it, i think. :) i’m very lucky to be able to pursue it in this way.)

anyway yes, pathologic 2 is definitely very flawed in a lot of places, particularly when it tries to tackle race, but i’m happy to see it for better and for worse. the game attempts to discuss several adjacent issues and stumbles as it does so, but insinuating it to be in some way “pro-racist” or “pro-colonialist” or whatever else feels kind of disingenuous to me. they’re clearly trying, however imperfectly, to do something intriguing and meaningful and empathetic with their story.

even all this will probably amount to a very disjointed and incomplete explanation of how pathologic & its messaging makes me feel, but what i want -- as a broader approach, not just for pathologic -- is for people to be willing to interpret things charitably. 

sometimes things are made just to be cruel, and those things should be condemned, but not everything is like that. it’s not only possible but necessary to be able to acknowledge flaws or mistakes and still be kind. persecuting something straight away removes any opportunity to examine it and learn from it, and pathologic happens to be ripe with learning experiences. 

it’s all about being okay with ugliness, working through difficult nuances with grace, and the strength of the human spirit, and it’s a story about love first and foremost, and i guess we sort of need that right now. it gave me some of its love, so i’m giving it some of my patience.