#he just *USED* bell as a tool for war

[collinnmckinley]

Bro i just saw an iNSANE post about adler... like... WHHAT?

[playboysaleen]

Through Ash and Iron (2)

Jinx x Reader x Caitlyn

Summary: Through Ash and Iron plunges you into the heart of Piltover’s gritty streets, where you’ve always felt the weight of your family’s failures. Rejected from the Junior Enforcer Program, your anger burns brighter than ever—until one fateful punch changes everything. The eyes of Piltover’s elite may look down on you, but it’s the wild eyes of Jinx that truly see you. She’s chaos personified, and you’re drawn to the destruction she promises. But that’s not all. Caitlyn Kiramman, a poised enforcer with a soft spot for rebels like you, offers you a chance to rewrite your future—if you can control the rage you can’t seem to escape.Torn between the order Caitlyn represents and the dangerous freedom Jinx offers, you stand at the crossroads of two worlds. As your power grows, so does the tension between these two women. One promises a chance at belonging, while the other ignites a fire you didn’t know you had. But the choices you make will change everything—not just for you, but for both cities teetering on the edge of war. Who will you choose? And how much of yourself will you lose along the way?

Warnings: Violence duh, gay panic(lol), cursing, all that jazz (whatever you seen in Arcane is what you gon see here)This is also a slight AU. (She/her)

Word Count: 5.9k

A/n: Reader is masc cause this was typically just for me to read but i decided to share it with you all so. Enjoy.

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The soft chime of a bell echoed through the modest shop as Caitlyn stepped inside. She adjusted the cuffs of her coat, scanning the space for you. The shop was a humble place—wooden counters, shelves stacked with tools and gadgets, and an air of organized clutter.

A middle-aged woman stood behind the counter, her brows furrowing in suspicion at Caitlyn’s pristine uniform. “Can I help you?” she asked, her tone sharp.

Caitlyn cleared her throat. “I’m looking for your daughter. She—uh—was released from custody yesterday. I wanted to check on her.”

The woman blinked, her suspicion giving way to surprise. “You’re a Kiramman, aren’t you?”

The name seemed to ripple through the shop like a shockwave. A boy, about fifteen with neatly combed hair and sharp, pale features, peeked out from the backroom, his expression caught between awe and curiosity. Caitlyn nodded politely, ignoring the knot forming in her stomach.

“She hasn’t been home,” the woman said with a shrug, her voice carrying an air of dismissal. “Not surprising, really. She’s always been… difficult.”

“Trouble, if we’re being honest,” added a man seated in the corner, presumably your father. He barely looked up from the newspaper he was skimming. “Never fit in, not like our boy here.”

The boy stood straighter at the mention, his demeanor clean and polished—a stark contrast to your rough edges.

Caitlyn’s gaze darted between them, the pieces slowly falling into place. There was something off about the dynamic, something deeper than simple familial tension. The more they talked about you, the more it became apparent that you were the outsider in your own family.

“And she’s nothing like the rest of us,” your mother continued, shaking her head. “Always running off, getting into fights… we’re better off when she’s not here causing trouble.”

Caitlyn’s heart sank, her chest tightening with unease. Her eyes drifted over to a family photo on the wall. The boy’s resemblance to his parents was undeniable. But you… you were missing from the picture entirely.

“Well,” Caitlyn said, forcing a polite smile, “thank you for your time.”

She turned on her heel and left, her thoughts racing as she stepped out into the bright morning light. “She doesn’t even look like them,” she muttered under her breath, her mind spiraling. “Something’s not right. I need help… and fast.”

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When you woke, your head pounded like a drum, and your body ached in ways you hadn’t felt in years. Your hands were bound behind you, ropes digging into your wrists, and the chair beneath you was cold and unsteady. The room smelled like oil and damp metal, the faint hum of machinery in the background.

You groaned, rolling your sore jaw. “What the hell…?”

“Good morning, sunshine,” came a gruff voice.

You lifted your head, blinking away the haze to see a tall woman leaning against the wall. Her broad shoulders were imposing, and her metallic arm gleamed in the dim light.

“Who are you?” you croaked, your voice hoarse.

“Sevika,” she said simply, stepping closer. “And you are?”

You squinted at her, confused and defiant. “Pretty sure you already know the answer to that if you went through the trouble of tying me up.”

Sevika smirked faintly. “I know what you are. A little street rat with a chip on her shoulder. But I’m curious about who you are… before you meet the person who asked for you.”

“Who?” you demanded, your mind racing.

Sevika ignored the question, circling you like a predator toying with its prey. “You don’t look like much,” she mused. “But I’ve heard stories. Fists like hammers, a temper to match. People like you don’t belong in Piltover.”

“And people like you don’t belong outside a junkyard,” you shot back, gritting your teeth.

Sevika chuckled darkly. “Cute. Got any other tricks, or is sarcasm your only weapon?”

“Let me go, and I’ll show you a few,” you snapped.

The banter continued, each of you trading barbs like a pair of prizefighters warming up before a match. The tension in the room thickened until the door creaked open, revealing Clagg. He was fidgety as ever, glancing nervously between you and Sevika.

“She’s coming,” Clagg announced, his tone almost reverent.

“About time,” Sevika muttered. She leaned down close to you, her metallic arm brushing against your cheek. “You’re lucky she wants to meet you. Otherwise, you’d already be in pieces.”

“Charming,” you bit out, then spat at her feet.

Sevika’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and before you could blink, she kicked the chair back. You hit the ground with a jarring thud, the air rushing out of your lungs.

“Watch your mouth, kid,” Sevika growled, her boots echoing as she walked away.

Still tied to the chair, you craned your neck to yell after her. “You think this scares me? I’ve had worse!”

Your voice bounced off the walls, but no response came. Alone again, you gritted your teeth, your frustration mounting. Whoever had gone through the trouble of taking you, they were going to regret it.

The ropes around your wrists burned as you twisted and yanked, desperate to free yourself. Every muscle in your arms screamed in protest, but you pushed through, muttering every profanity and insult you could think of under your breath.  

"Come on, you piece of—" you hissed, jerking harder at the ropes. The chair scraped against the filthy floor as you shifted your weight. "Cowards! You’re all cowards! Can’t even fight me head-on, huh?"  

The sound of a creaking door silenced your outburst. You froze, hearing light, almost playful footsteps approaching.  

Then she appeared.  

The first thing that caught your eye was her hair—a vivid blue, pulled into chaotic pigtails that swayed with every step. She moved with a strange, fluid energy, like she was dancing to a song only she could hear. Her hooded cloak hung loosely around her, barely concealing the mischievous smile spreading across her face.  

Your breath hitched. You couldn’t stop staring at her. It wasn’t just her striking features—the sharp curve of her jawline, the glint of piercings, or the deliberate sway of her stride—but her eyes. They were a haunting, electric purple that seemed to glow even in the dim light. They locked onto yours, sharp and unrelenting, as if she was peeling back every layer of your mind.  

She tilted her head, noticing your stunned expression as if she was taking inventory of your soul. Without a word, she strode forward, her boots clinking lightly against the ground. With surprising strength, she grabbed the back of your chair and lifted it upright, bringing your face level with hers.  

“Not so loud now, are we?” she teased, her voice smooth yet tinged with mockery.  

You swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close she was. Her lips curled into a knowing smirk as she leaned in, inspecting you like you were some kind of rare artifact.  

Her hand reached out, almost delicately, tracing a faint line over the scar that ran through your eyebrow. The sensation made you flinch slightly, but her touch was lighter than you’d expected.  

“What’s this, huh?” she mused, her finger trailing down to where a tattoo peeked out along the side of your neck. Her head tilted again, curious, as she studied the intricate lines and shapes. “A map? A secret code? Or just something to make you look cool?”  

You didn’t respond, your throat dry.  

She grinned wider at your silence. “Funny. You had so much to say earlier. All that yelling, cursing. What happened?” Her voice dropped, playful and sharp. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?”  

Her teasing only made your pulse race. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks as she continued to examine you like you were her newest obsession.  

Finally, she leaned back slightly, resting her hands on her hips. “You’re a fascinating one, I’ll give you that. That punch you threw at that enforcer? Oh, that was beautiful.” She sighed dreamily, spinning on her heel before whipping back around to face you. “I saw you and thought, that one’s got fire. And fire is just what I need.”  

Her words finally broke through your haze. You leaned forward, pushing your face so close to hers that the gap between you was almost nonexistent. Her eyes widened, caught off guard for a brief moment.  

“You’re insane,” you whispered, your voice low and steady.  

Her lips parted slightly, then curled into a devilish grin. “Takes one to know one, sugar.”  

Her grin widened as if your words had only fueled whatever twisted fire burned inside her. Those vivid purple eyes danced with amusement, mischief, and something far more dangerous.  

She leaned in closer, her nose nearly brushing yours, her lips curving into a sly smirk. “Insane?” she repeated, dragging the word out like it was a sweet candy she didn’t want to swallow. “Sugar, you don’t know the half of it. But you? You’re a little spark in this dull, gray world. And I like sparks.”  

Your jaw clenched, but you couldn’t look away. She was intoxicating, the kind of energy you could feel crawling under your skin. Dangerous. Chaotic. Addictive.  

Her gaze flicked down, studying the scar on your eyebrow again as if it told her a story she hadn’t finished reading. “This,” she said, lightly tapping the scar with a manicured finger, “has a tale, doesn’t it? Did you earn it in a fight? Or did someone get the better of you?”  

You jerked your head back, her finger hovering in the air where your face had been. “I don’t need to explain myself to you.”  

“Ooooh,” she cooed, pretending to be wounded, clutching her chest dramatically. “Tough girl, huh? You’re even more fun than I thought.”  

She circled you slowly, her boots scuffing the floor as she moved, inspecting you from every angle. “And these tattoos… I’m dying to know what they mean. Are you some kind of treasure map, or are you just trying to look mysterious?”  

Your lips twitched into a smirk despite yourself. “Maybe both.”  

Her laughter rang out, light and airy, but with that edge that made your skin crawl and your heart race. “I knew I liked you.” She stopped behind you, leaning close to your ear, her breath brushing your neck. “So much potential, all wrapped up in a pretty little package.”  

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you shot back, though your voice betrayed the tiniest hitch.  

“Oh, I don’t need flattery,” she purred, sauntering back around to face you. She crouched down, her chin resting on her hand as she peered up at you with those piercing eyes. “I’ve already got you wrapped around my finger.”  

You barked a laugh, leaning forward as much as the ropes allowed. “You think you’ve got me figured out? Hate to break it to you, but I don’t play by anyone’s rules.”  

Her grin twisted into something darker, more dangerous. “Oh, I’m counting on that.”  

Her gaze locked with yours again, and for a moment, the room seemed to shrink until it was just the two of you. The intensity of her stare was overwhelming, like she was peeling back every layer of you, reading the parts you kept hidden even from yourself.  

You raised an eyebrow. “What are you looking at?”  

Her lips curved into a slow, teasing smile. “Everything.”  

The word hung in the air, and for the first time, you felt truly out of control. It wasn’t fear—it was something far more maddening.  

“You’re full of yourself,” you muttered, breaking eye contact to glare at the floor.  

“And you’re full of surprises,” she shot back, tilting her head. “That’s why I want you, sugar. You don’t even know what you’re capable of yet, do you?”  

You snorted, finally meeting her gaze again. “And you think you do?”  

Her smirk deepened as she stood, towering over you for a moment. She leaned down, her face close enough that you could feel the heat of her breath. “Stick around, and maybe you’ll find out.”  

Before you could respond, she straightened, her manic energy returning as she twirled on her heel. “But don’t worry, sweetheart,” she called over her shoulder, “I’m not done with you yet.”  

She paused at the doorway, turning back with one final, piercing look. “Not by a long shot.”  

And just like that, she was gone, leaving you tied to the chair with your heart pounding and your mind spinning.  

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The edge of Piltover where it bled into the Undercity was a liminal space, caught between the polished steel of progress and the grime of survival. Caitlyn tightened her coat as she approached the meeting spot, her sharp eyes scanning the dimly lit area until she spotted the unmistakable silhouette of Vi.  

Vi was leaning against the railing, arms crossed, her usual air of nonchalance masking the weight she always carried in these spaces. She looked up as Caitlyn approached, her smirk lighting up the otherwise somber surroundings.  

“Well, well, if it isn’t Cupcake herself,” Vi drawled, pushing off the railing and striding forward. “What brings you to the edge of the world? Couldn’t be my charm.”  

Caitlyn rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the faint smile tugging at her lips. “Vi. Always the comedian.”  

“You know me,” Vi said with a wink, gesturing toward a ledge that overlooked the Undercity below. “Come on. Let’s catch up like old times.”  

The two of them sat side by side, the hum of Zaun’s machinery rising faintly in the background. For a moment, there was silence, the kind only two people with shared history could share.  

“So,” Vi started, leaning back on her hands. “What’s got you out here? I know you didn’t come all this way just to see me.”  

Caitlyn hesitated, her fingers brushing the edges of the folded paper in her coat pocket. “I need your help, but… I want to ask you something first.”  

Vi raised an eyebrow. “Shoot.”  

“Did you ever know someone—when you were younger—who didn’t quite fit in on either side of the city?” Caitlyn asked, her voice cautious.  

Vi’s expression shifted, her smirk fading into something more contemplative. “You’re fishing, Cait. But yeah. There was someone.”  

Caitlyn tilted her head, curiosity piqued. “Who?”  

Vi leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she stared out over the Undercity. “Back when Vander was still running things, there was this kid who’d come around sometimes. Silco’s kid.”  

Caitlyn blinked. “Silco had a child?”  

Vi nodded, her gaze distant. “Yeah. He didn’t bring her around much. Vander always told us to play nice with her, though. Said she wasn’t like her old man. And he was right. She was a good kid. Quiet, but tough in her own way. Ekko and I used to call her ‘little spark’ because she’d light up whenever she got into trouble with us.”  

“What happened to her?” Caitlyn asked softly.  

Vi’s jaw tightened, and her voice dropped. “The bridge. You know the story—when everything went to hell, and we lost everything. I always thought she was one of the ones who didn’t make it.”  

Caitlyn frowned, her hand brushing her coat pocket again. “She must’ve been important to you.”  

Vi glanced at her, a sly grin creeping back onto her face. “What’s with all the questions, Cait? You getting attached to someone?”  

Caitlyn straightened, her cheeks heating slightly. “That’s not—”  

Vi chuckled, cutting her off. “Relax, Cupcake. I’m just messing with you. But the way you’re talking, you’ve got a soft spot for whoever this is.”  

Caitlyn huffed, crossing her arms. “I do not.”  

“Sure,” Vi teased, her grin widening. “Now, are you gonna tell me what this is all about, or do I have to guess?”  

Reluctantly, Caitlyn pulled the folded paper from her pocket and handed it to Vi. “This is who I’m talking about.”  

Vi unfolded the paper and stared at the mugshot. Her smirk dropped instantly, replaced by a rare look of genuine shock.  

“What?” Caitlyn asked, alarmed by her reaction. “What is it?”  

Vi’s fingers tightened on the photo as she stared at it, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s her.”  

Caitlyn blinked, confused. “Her?”  

Vi looked up, her eyes meeting Caitlyn’s with a mixture of disbelief and dread. “That’s Silco’s kid. The one I told you about.”  

Caitlyn’s breath caught in her throat. “That’s impossible.”  

“It’s not,” Vi said firmly, her voice steadier now. “I’d recognize her anywhere. She’s older, sure, but it’s her.”  

Caitlyn stared at Vi, the weight of the revelation settling over her like a storm cloud. “If she’s Silco’s child… then she’s in more danger than I thought.”  

Vi nodded grimly, folding the paper carefully before handing it back. “You have no idea, Cait. If Jinx is involved, this isn’t just danger—it’s a ticking time bomb.”  

The two women sat in tense silence, the enormity of what lay ahead pressing down on both of them. 

You remained seated on the ledge(finally untied and freed), your legs dangling over the edge, gazing out at the endless sprawl of the Undercity. The cool air carried the muffled hum of life below, its chaotic rhythm strangely soothing. Jinx's words echoed in your mind, tangled with your own doubts and fears.  

"You're different. You've got a fire they can't put out."  

You clenched your jaw, your fingers tightening around the edge of the ledge. A small part of you hated how much her words resonated. The Undercity, with all its grime and disorder, felt more genuine than anything you’d ever experienced in Piltover. It felt... like home.  

But why?  

Shaking the thought off, you stood, brushing your hands on your pants. The colored neon signs beckoned below, their strange symbols and shapes leading a breadcrumb trail toward what could only be Jinx’s lair. You followed them, the glowing lights guiding your every step through winding passages and corridors that grew stranger the deeper you ventured.  

When you reached the entrance, the sound of laughter and faint music greeted you. The room was an explosion of color and chaos, a living reflection of its owner. But before you could take it all in, something small and solid slammed into your side, nearly knocking you over.  

“Whoa there, kid,” you said, steadying yourself with a smirk.  

The small figure in front of you was a girl, no older than seven or eight. Her oversized helmet tilted awkwardly over her face, obscuring her features. She straightened it, looking up at you with curious eyes. You chuckled, gently pushing the helmet down so it covered her face again.  

“That’s a safety hazard, squirt,” you teased.  

The girl let out a muffled huff, adjusting the helmet again before darting behind your legs as if hiding. You turned, bewildered, just in time to see Jinx leaning casually against a wall, watching the exchange with an amused grin.  

“That’s Isha,” Jinx said, pushing off the wall and sauntering closer. “She doesn’t talk much, but don’t let that fool you. She’s a little firecracker.”  

You crouched down, leveling your gaze with the girl’s. “Isha, huh? You trying to knock me out or what?”  

Isha peeked out from behind her helmet, her big eyes locking with yours. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, without warning, she launched herself forward, wrapping her small arms tightly around your neck.  

You froze, your arms hovering awkwardly before finally settling around her in return. The hug was fierce, filled with an intensity you hadn’t expected from someone so small.  

Jinx stood off to the side, her grin faltering into something softer, something almost vulnerable. She tilted her head, studying the moment.  

“Would you look at that,” Jinx muttered under her breath, her voice quieter than usual. “You’ve got that thing... that spark. The kind that makes people believe in something better, even when the world’s a mess.”  

She leaned against a beam, her purple eyes narrowing slightly as if lost in thought. “I always thought people like you didn’t exist. Or if they did, they’d never make it down here. Guess I was wrong.”  

Isha pulled back slightly, her tiny hands gripping your shirt as she looked up at you with a small smile. You returned it hesitantly, unsure what to do with the sudden warmth spreading through your chest.  

Jinx crossed her arms, a flicker of something complicated crossing her face. “You’re a piece of work. You make people feel things they don’t even know they’re missing.”  

You glanced at her, confused by her tone, but before you could say anything, she clapped her hands, her grin returning in full force.  

“Alright, reunion time’s over!” Jinx said, gesturing grandly toward the chaotic space. “Welcome to the fun house. Let’s see if you can keep up.”  

But even as she walked away, her eyes lingered on you and Isha for just a second longer, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a secret.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 　

Vi and Caitlyn moved quietly through the shadows of the Undercity, the flickering neon lights casting distorted shapes along the walls. The tension between them was palpable, Caitlyn walking briskly with purpose, while Vi lagged slightly behind, her mind clearly elsewhere.

“Alright, Vi,” Caitlyn snapped, stopping abruptly and turning to face her. “Enough of this. Why are you so anxious about this? It’s obvious you know something you’re not telling me. Just spill it already.”

Vi ran a hand through her short hair, letting out a sharp breath. “It’s not that simple, Cupcake.”

“Don’t ‘Cupcake’ me,” Caitlyn shot back, frustration bubbling over. “You practically froze when you saw that picture. And now, every time her name comes up, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. What is it about her? What aren’t you telling me?”

Vi hesitated, her fists clenching at her sides. She leaned against a graffiti-covered wall, her eyes scanning the dark alley as if trying to find the right words in the chaos around them.

“She’s Silco’s kid, Caitlyn,” Vi finally admitted, her voice low and uneven. “And that’s bad enough, yeah? But it’s worse than that. There’s… there’s something about her—something Silco did to her—since she was just a baby.”

Caitlyn’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean? What did he do to her?”

Vi looked away, unable to meet Caitlyn’s eyes. Her voice dropped further, tinged with both anger and sadness. “He gave her Shimmer. Since she was an infant.”

Caitlyn’s mouth opened slightly in disbelief, her mind racing. “Shimmer? That toxin? The stuff that drives people mad? He gave it to his own child?”

Vi nodded grimly. “He called her Spark for a reason. It wasn’t just ‘cause of how she lit up a room with her energy. It was because when she got mad, Cait, there was this… this purple flash in her eyes. It wasn’t natural. And it wasn’t just her eyes—she got strong. Way stronger than any kid her age should’ve been.”

Caitlyn’s hand instinctively moved to her chest, gripping the fabric of her coat as the weight of Vi’s words settled over her. “That’s… inhuman,” she whispered.

“You’re telling me,” Vi said bitterly. “Back when we were all still running around with Vander, she’d hang with us sometimes. Vander told me and Ekko to play nice with her—said she didn’t have a lot of friends.”

Vi let out a shaky breath, her voice cracking slightly. “One time, some goons jumped us. Usual Undercity crap, right? We could’ve handled it, but one of ‘em hit Powder. She lost it. I mean… lost it. It was like a switch flipped. She went from this scrappy, loudmouthed kid to…” Vi paused, swallowing hard. “…something else. She tore into that guy like a rabid animal. Took five of us to pull her off him.”

Caitlyn stared at Vi, the story painting a picture she could hardly comprehend. “How old was she?”

“Maybe eight,” Vi muttered, her eyes distant. “Nine at most.”

Caitlyn couldn’t hide the horror on her face. “And no one did anything? No one tried to help her?”

“Silco didn’t think she needed help,” Vi said bitterly. “He thought it made her special. He was always talkin’ about how she’d be the future of the Undercity. Said she was born to be more than the rest of us.”

Caitlyn stepped closer, her voice firm. “Vi, we need to find her. If she’s still being exposed to Shimmer—or worse, if she gets ahold of it again—she could become…”

“Someone no one can stop,” Vi finished for her, her voice heavy with guilt. She rubbed the back of her neck, avoiding Caitlyn’s eyes. “Look, Cait, I don’t know if she’s beyond saving or not. But if anyone can find her before it’s too late, it’s you.”

Caitlyn’s gaze softened slightly, seeing the weight of the past etched into Vi’s face. “We’ll find her,” she said, her voice steady. “I’ll find her. And if there’s even a chance of pulling her back from whatever Silco did to her, I’ll take it.”

Vi gave her a weak smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Careful, Cupcake. You’re starting to sound like a hero.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smirk on her lips as the two of them continued walking deeper into the Undercity shadows.

─ ⊹ ☆ ⊹ ─

You sat cross-legged in the center of the pillow fort, its patchwork design of fraying fabric and mismatched cushions somehow providing a sense of calm. Isha sat close by, fiddling with another scrap of metal. She handed you a device—a small, intricate thing that looked like a broken clock mixed with some kind of makeshift toy. You turned it over in your hands, your brows furrowed as you tried to make sense of it.

“How does this thing even…” you muttered, shaking it slightly.

Isha tapped your arm and held out her hand. You passed it to her, and she pressed a hidden switch with an exaggerated motion, her small fingers moving with practiced ease. The device clicked open, and she handed it back to you, her expression triumphant.

“Ah,” you said, smirking as you caught on. “Got it now. Thanks, kid.”

Isha nodded, pleased, as you reached for a small set of tools and peered into the inner workings of the device. As you worked, focused on aligning the tiny gears, Jinx stood nearby, leaning against a support beam of the fort. Her purple eyes flickered between you and Isha, her fingers twitching idly at her sides.

For a moment, her gaze softened, as though something about the way you interacted with Isha stirred a memory buried deep within her. A fleeting image of another life—of being that child watching someone patient and kind—flashed in her mind. But the memory was jagged, incomplete, and the voices began to stir.

“She’s like them. She’ll leave you, too.”

“Don’t let her in. You know what happens.”

“Softness gets you killed.”

Her hands clenched into fists as her breathing grew uneven. The taunting chorus in her mind grew louder, mocking her, reminding her of every loss, every betrayal, and every vulnerability she had ever exposed.

Then, one voice—a quieter, unfamiliar one—whispered. “Or maybe… maybe she’s different?”

“No!” Jinx’s outburst was sharp and sudden, her hand slamming against the wall of the fort. Both you and Isha flinched, startled. Isha quickly raised her hands, signing something to you, her movements calm despite the tension.

You glanced at her, brow furrowing. “She says it’s no big deal,” you murmured, translating Isha’s message. But something in you didn’t sit right. You set the device down carefully, rising to your feet.

Jinx’s eyes flickered to you as you approached. Her breathing was uneven, her jaw tight as if bracing herself for whatever she thought you were going to do. But you didn’t say anything. Instead, you stepped close, reached out, and placed your hand gently on her shoulder.

The contact was electric—not in the physical sense, but in the way it seemed to pull her back from the chaotic spiral in her mind. The voices stuttered, silenced as if they’d been struck mute. She stared at your hand, then at your face, her wide eyes filled with confusion.

“Are you good?” you asked softly, your voice steady.

She blinked, her lips parting slightly as though to speak, but no words came. She didn’t pull away, didn’t flinch. For the first time in as long as she could remember, the storm in her mind had quieted.

“The voices…” she said softly, her words almost childlike. Her gaze locked onto yours, searching. “They stopped.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you just left your hand where it was, steady, grounding.

Jinx let out a short laugh, the sound almost bitter as she pulled away. “What are you, a miracle worker now?” she teased, her tone trying to recover its usual sharpness, but it lacked the bite. She crossed her arms, glancing away as though embarrassed. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You smirked faintly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

For a moment, there was a quiet tension between you—an unspoken understanding that neither of you fully grasped but could feel nonetheless.

She finally glanced back at you, her expression softening. “Thanks,” she muttered, her voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “For, uh… whatever you did.”

You raised a brow, leaning slightly against the beam. “Don’t mention it.”

But even as she turned back toward Isha with her usual swagger, there was a different air about her. And in the quiet moments that followed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something in her had shifted—just as something in you had, too.

The tense air of Jinx’s lair was broken by the heavy footfalls of Sevika as she strode in, her expression lined with irritation and determination. She stopped a few paces from where Jinx stood, her arms crossed, her purple eyes locked on a distant point in the room. You sat with Isha, fidgeting with the scrap she had handed you earlier, trying to piece it together while she motioned instructions. Both of you froze when Sevika spoke.

“We need to talk,” she said bluntly, her gravelly voice cutting through the silence.

Jinx glanced at her, her lips curling into a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “About what? Your new hobby?”

Sevika’s jaw tightened. “The rally. You need to be there. They need to see you.”

Jinx snorted, spinning a small, makeshift grenade in her hand. “Need? They don’t need anything. They just want a show.”

“It’s not about a show, Jinx. It’s about showing strength. If you want people to follow you, they need to see you, not some memory of who you used to be.”

Jinx laughed sharply, shaking her head. “They’ll get over it. They always do.”

From your spot, you glanced at Isha, who gave you a meaningful nod toward the door. Her small hands signed: We should go.

You hesitated, glancing between the two women. Jinx’s smirk was faltering, her fingers twitching as she tossed the grenade between her hands. You nodded at Isha, but as Sevika’s frustration grew and Jinx’s refusal hardened, you couldn’t help but linger, watching the scene unfold.

Sevika’s patience finally broke. “Fine,” she snapped, throwing up her hands. “Stay here. Hide in your fort. But don’t expect anyone to keep waiting forever.” With that, she turned and stormed out.

Jinx stared after her, her smirk fading entirely. She muttered something under her breath, then stalked off into the shadows of the lair, leaving you and Isha alone.

─ ⊹ ☆ ⊹ ─

The streets were alive with energy as you walked through the dense crowd, Isha’s small hand clasped tightly in yours. Voices rose in unison, fists pumping into the air as chants echoed off the crumbling walls of the Undercity. The sea of people pressed around you, a strange mix of defiance and desperation in their faces. You couldn’t help but feel out of place and yet… oddly drawn in.

At the center of the chaos, Sevika stood atop a makeshift platform, her mechanical arm gleaming under the dim light as she addressed the crowd with a booming voice.

“They take everything from us!” she roared. “Our homes, our families, our freedom—and they think we’ll just bow down and take it! But we’re stronger than they’ll ever know. We’re the beating heart of this city, and we will not be silenced!”

Her words sent a ripple through the crowd, igniting a fire in their eyes. You stood still, feeling a strange stirring in your chest. Her speech felt like a challenge, a call to action. Around you, people murmured and chanted, their voices swelling with Sevika’s words.

“Where’s Jinx?” someone shouted from the crowd, and the question was quickly echoed.

Your brow furrowed as you looked around, confused. The crowd seemed to be searching, yearning for her. Why are they all so obsessed with her?

Suddenly, Isha tugged her hand free from yours and darted toward the base of the massive, weathered statue that towered over the square.

“Isha!” you called out, pushing through the crowd after her. You caught sight of her climbing up the crumbling base of the statue, her small figure illuminated by the glow of the flare she held high above her head.

The flare’s blue light cut through the darkened sky, a beacon that silenced the crowd for a breathless moment. You felt something deep inside you shift, something raw and instinctive. Slowly, you raised your fist to the sky, the gesture unthinking yet powerful.

The crowd seemed to freeze, their eyes on you, and then one by one, fists rose alongside yours. The chants grew louder, the unity in the air palpable.

Sevika’s eyes snapped to you from her platform, her expression hard to read. For a moment, she looked almost… impressed. She raised her own fist, and the crowd erupted into a deafening roar.

But the unity was short-lived. The roar of engines and the heavy march of enforcers filled the air as they stormed into the square. The crowd erupted into chaos, some scattering in fear, others standing their ground to fight. You were caught in the middle, trying to keep sight of Isha as the chaos unfolded around you.

You spotted her just as a massive enforcer grabbed her, flinging her small body into the stone fountain with a sickening thud. Your breath hitched as you saw her crumple to the ground, unmoving.

A spark ignited in your chest, and for a moment, the world blurred. Your vision tinged with purple, and before you knew it, you were charging toward the enforcer, your movements unnaturally fast.

The enforcer barely had time to react before you were on him, striking with a strength and speed that caught even you by surprise. Blow after blow landed, each one fueled by a fury you couldn’t contain.

A sharp pain exploded in your side as you were suddenly knocked off balance. You hit the ground hard, gasping for breath as you looked up to see Sevika standing over you, her mechanical arm sparking from the spear that had pierced through it. She grimaced but grabbed you by the arm, dragging you away even as you fought against her grip.

“They’ve got Isha!” you screamed, your voice raw with desperation.

“We’ll get her back,” Sevika growled, slamming you into the wall of a nearby alley. Her eyes were fierce, her grip unrelenting. “But we need Jinx. She’s the only one who can get her out of wherever they’re taking her.”

You froze, your breath heaving as her words sank in. Sevika’s gaze softened slightly, but her tone remained firm.

“Get it together,” she snapped. “We don’t have time for this. You want to save her? Then we need Jinx. Now.”

She released you, and for a moment, you stood there trembling, anger and fear coursing through you. But as the chaos raged on, you nodded, steeling yourself for what was to come.

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

Chap 3 getting edited rn :) Thanks for reading! Isha is alive here I DONT CARE

[xoxochb]

⋆·˚ ༘ * ten things I hate about you

warnings: longggg as helll and it would’ve been longer too but I cut half the ending and I’ll put it in the next part so the chapters aren’t years long AND credits to lynn painter the story isn’t mine along with quotes!!!

pairing: percy jackson x fem! reader

series master list

your day started off great today! your cat mr. fitzpervert left a hairball in your slipper, you burnt your ear with the hair straightener and when you walk out of your house you see your long time next door nemesis sitting on the hood of your car

“hey!” you slide your sunglasses up your nose, hightailing in his direction, making sure you’re careful not to ruin your new floral flats “get off my car, you weirdo!”

percy jumped off, holding his hands up in a I’m innocent pose, even though his smirk said differently. regardless of his current demeanor you knew him since kindergarten, he’s never been innocent a day in his life

“what’s in your hand?”

“nothing” he put his hand behind his back “you’re so paranoid”

you walk up to him, squinting your eyes up at his face. though he claims to be innocent his sea green eyes twinkle with mischief. you knew you we’re screwed because mischievous percy always won

you poked him in the chest. “what did you do to my car?”

“I didn’t do anything to your car, per se”

“per se?”

“woah. watch your filthy mouth, y/l/n”

you roll your eyes, which made his mouth slide into a grin before he said, “this has been fun, and I just love your granny shoes, by the way, but I’ve gotta run”

“percy-”

he turned and walked away before you could finish speaking. when he got to his porch he opened the screen door and yelled over his shoulder, “have a great day, y/n!”

that’s not a good sign. that could’ve been legitimate. you and percy had been enemies since forever, in a war over the one available parking spot. percy only won because he was a dirty cheater, thinking it’s funny to reserve the spot by putting miscellaneous objects in the spot to difficult for you to pick up yourself

yesterday however you won. you called the city after he had left his car in the spot for three days, earning him a parking ticket

you checked all four tires before climbing into the car and buckling your seat belt. you heard percy laugh, and when you went to glare at him through your passenger window his front door slams shut

then you saw what was so funny

the parking ticket had now been on your car for all to see, stuck to the windshield with tons of clear packaging tape. you got out of the car and tried to pry it off but it wouldn’t budge

what a tool

💌

when you finally made it to school after scraping your window with a razor blade and doing hard-core deep breathing to reclaim your zen, you entered the building with the bridget jone’s diary soundtrack playing. when your music was playing this loud it was easier to walk through the crowded hallways, ignoring rambunctious teenagers

you headed to the second floor bathroom where you met annabeth every morning. your best friend was an insane over sleeper so every morning she would rush to do her makeup before the first bell rang

“y/n, I love that dress!” annabeth threw you a side glance between cleaning up her eyes, then opening her mascara and swiping the wand over her lashes

you went over to the mirror to straighten out your vintage dress, making sure it’s not in any awkward position. you catch sight of two cheerleaders vaping behind you, giving them a closed-mouth smile

“do you try to dress like the leads in your movies, or is it just a coincidence?” annabeth asked

“don’t say ‘your movies’ like I’m a porn addict or something”

“you know what I mean,” annabeth said as she separated her lashes with a safety pin

you knew exactly what she meant. you watch your mothers beloved rom-coms every night, using her dvd collection you inherited from her after she died. annabeth didn’t know about how close you had been with your mother, although you lived on the same street for many years, you were never really close until sophomore year. she always thought your love for romance movies was due to you being a hopeless romantic

once finished, annabeth put her makeup back in her backpack and grabbed her coffee. “come on”

you take a last glance in the mirror. “wait- I forgot lipstick”

“we don’t have time for lipstick”

“there’s always time for lipstick”

you search your bag until you grab hold of your new favorite shade- retrograde red. “you go ahead, I’ll catch up”

she left and you rubbed the color over your lips- much better. you tucked the lipstick back in your bag and exited the bathroom

when you got to class you sat in the desk between annabeth and drew tanaka

“what’s the answer to number eight?” annabeth was writing fast as she tried to complete her homework. “I forgot about the reading and I have no idea why gatsby’s shirts made daisy cry”

you pulled out your worksheet and allowed her to copy your answers. your eyes shifted over to drew. if surveyed, everyone on the planet would agree that she was beautiful, her whole appearance extremely appealing to the eye, an absolute indisputable fact. however her soul was the complete opposite

you disliked her so very much

on the first day of kindergarten she’d caused a scene when you got a bloody noise, the entire glass gawked at you in disgust. In third grade she told your crush at the time your notebook was filled with love notes about him (which was true but he didn’t need to know that). In fifth grade, after your mom died, drew sat next to you at lunch, displaying the perfect lunch her mother had made. sandwiches were cut into adorable shapes, homemade cookies, brownies with sprinkles; it had been a treasure trove of kiddie culinary masterpieces

to this day everyone thought drew was an angel, but you knew. you knew all the awful things she’s done

you turned your attention to the front of your room where your teacher began collecting last nights homework. you passed your papers forward and began talking about literary things. you took glances around your eyes until they stopped on a boy you went out with a few weeks ago. he gave you a chin nod from his desk, you returned a smile

he was nice but the relationship wasn’t it. this is how most of your relationships went though. you would see a cute guy, daydream about him, think he’s your soulmate, then you got the ick

annabeth always said you were browsing not buying. she ended up being right- as always. this messed up your prom potential. you wanted to go with someone who would make your breath catch and heart flutter, but who was left in the school that you haven’t considered?

technically you had a prom date- you were going with annabeth. the problem was that going to prom with your best friend felt like a fail. you knew you’d have a good time. but prom was about poster/board promposals, matching corsages, speechless awe over the way you like in your dress, and sweet kisses under the cheesy disco ball

andrew mccarthy and molly ringwald pretty in pink sort of shit

My phone buzzed, snapping you from your trance

annabeth: I have BIG tea.

you looked over at her, but she appeared to be listening to the teacher you glanced at her before responding: spill it

annabeth: FYI I got it via text from kate.

you: so it might not be true. Got it.

the bell rang, so you grabbed my stuff and shoved it into my bag. annabeth and you started walking toward your lockers, and she said, “before I tell you, you have to promise you’re not going to get all worked up before you hear everything”

“oh my god, what’s going on?”

you turned down the west hall and before you had the chance to look at her, you saw him walking towards you

jason grace?

“aaaand there’s my tea” annabeth said, but you weren’t listening

jason had lived down the street when you were little. you’d loved him as far back as you could remember. he’d always been next-level amazing, smart, sophisticated- totally dreamy

jaosn came over and wrapped me in a hug, and you let my hands slide around his shoulders. your stomach went wild as you felt his fingers on your back

oh. my. god.

you was dressed for it; he was beautiful. could this moment be more perfect? you made eye contact with annabeth, who was slowly shaking her head, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered

jason was back!

@fratbrochrisgf @maybxlle @lastolympus @lara20aral

[soundwave-radioandbroadcast]

Please, le, FUCKING consider, a bitter Soundwave.

A Soundwave who put his entire spark into the Decepticon cause because he TRULY believed Megatron, with his ideas of a different cybertron, a Cybertron where everyone was an equal, there was no council or senate that dictated how someone acted, what their rank was, where they would work or do, that THEY could make a change and there was hope.

A Soundwave who stood besides Megatron because he was wide eyed and hopeful, because he didn't want to be a gladiator, a servant, a tool, a device, or whatnot for the elite. He wanted to be himself. A transformer who loved music, who saw minicons as his equal and saw the minicons he worked with as his family who he adopted or was adopted by. And so much more.

A Soundwave who was willing to do horrible things if Megatron's ideal Cybertron became a reality.

A Soundwave, that, as the years go by in the war, and the energon, dried and stained on hands, making it nearly impossible some days to see the old paint on them. The screams of prisoners of war echoing in his head, making him spend so many nights awake that he forgot what the hell a recharge cycle was.

A Soundwave who steps and weaves into the sudden new political game he was thrown into among the Decepticons, a Soundwave who keeps his mouth shut because he learned quickly that silence was loyalty and loyalty was gospel among the cons. A Soundwave who, while anxious, hides it well, because he is still grasping at the dream of a better Cybertron that Megatron promises and will die for him....

...A Soundwave who loses more and more minicons as the war goes on, A Soundwave, who when Ravage died, he had to choke back his pained cries as he cradled the dead minicon in his arms. A Soundwave who had to bury Frenzy and Rumble together because one perished in combat and the other was badly wounded he had to mercy kill him just to end his suffering. A Soundwave who grows more and more enrage, as a traitor, Starscream, is allowed to walk freely, ringing alarm bells in his head because this feels like old Cybertron, where the elite got away with bullshit and others suffered.

....A Soundwave that can't even stare at Megatron anymore because all he sees in the Senate, the council, the people who hurt him, the people used him. All he sees is that in Megatron.

...A Soundwave who snaps finally and walks away, grasping on to what he believe the Decepticon cause was originally but can't tell anymore because of how muddled has become due to Megatron's greed for power. A Soundwave who is tried of the war and how it refuses to end. A hellbent Soundwave who uses what he knows to trade for asylum, to trade for information, for safety and more.

A Soundwave who wants to watch everything burn because he is tried of this stupid war and just wants it to end, but is willing to go down swinging and bring everyone down with him.

A bitter Soundwave...

[greeniegirl23]

Isn't It.. Lovely? (Chapter 3#)

One month.

You had one month to make the biggest decision you'd ever make in your life. Part of you wondered why you didn't tell Alastor to have a field day with your Father's corpse, until you remembered that the other part of you still loved and cared for him.

He was still your Dad and once upon a time he was a very good Dad. Your parents were practically a power couple when your Mom was alive, after her death, depression fell on him like a bag of bricks. Leading him to find feeling again in glasses of wine and bottles of hard liquor.

Everyday you pondered on this, wondering if something would finally push you over the edge. If you'd snap and take revenge for yourself.

You didn't like having those thoughts. Yes, the idea of liberty made you feel elated but at the cost of the last family member you had? It was conflicting to say the least.

All that worrying came to a halt once Alastor began to solidify his place in your life.

Every night at 9pm sharp, when you were dressed for bed and your despicable abuser was asleep. Alastor used his powers to turn your radio into your own personal hotline. He was ever so happy to hear from you, happiest when he saw nor heard any traces of harm inflicted on you that day.

He soon found out that you were a curious one and a terrible over-sharer. It was obvious you never really had friends before and if you did, they left you behind long ago. You were as innocent and pure as the driven snow. Always asking questions about him, about Hell, and what it was like back when he was on Earth.

You loved when he told you more about his life. It was like he was reading you your own personal bedtime stories. Tales of speakeasies and the depression, parties that lasted from dusk to dawn, and of course, all of the completely justified crimes he committed before his demise.

As payment for his stories, you told him about your own and caught him up on modern day issues. He seemed especially interested in World War I, disappointed that he died a few years shy of when it started. You told him about your health science classes, your school, and he even became a good study buddy to help you out with your tests.

“Alright darling, last question.” He stated, a drum roll playing in the background. “If your patient performs a forward lunge, which plane of the body are they moving in?”

You chewed on the end of your pencil. “..Coronal?”

A bell dinging made you smile. “Correct! Well done darling, but I'd like for you to work on your confidence when you answer. No one wants a doctor that's unsure of what they're doing.”

“Yeah..I just get so unsure sometimes. I think I'm more scared of being wrong than being right.”

He chuckled. “Do not fret my dear! I've been doing these little pop quizzes with you long enough to know you have a sharp mind. Confidence is a tool that will solidify your place in the career you plan to pursue, so don't be afraid to utilize it more.” His voice was so kind and mentoirish. It felt like he was giving you life lessons almost every time he talked.

On one hand that made you embarrassed. Like these were things you should have already known but you didn't, but you decided to give yourself some grace. Life was different for you than everyone else, so obviously there would be some things you didn't experience to gain knowledge from.

You placed your pencil down and sat cross legged in your chair. Not being the type of person who could sit still, nor do things normally. “Is that how you become a radio host? Because you were super confident?”

There was a pause. “Well, it was something that helped. Being a professional at what I do required more than just believing in myself. Most people think it's easy, but it has its challenges. For example, I used to rehearse my script in the mirror to stop myself from unconsciously going ‘umm’ every 10-30 seconds. It also aided in preventing myself from fumbling my words.”

“That sounds like solid advice.” You smiled. “I should start keeping a journal when you're around and call it ‘Life Lessons As Taught By The Radio Demon.’”

A loud cackling broke out over the radio. “Ah, so the girl does have a sense of humor. A good one at that!” He said proudly. “And here I thought you were all doom and gloom.”

“Hey! I'll have you know staying positive at all times can be very exhausting.” You huffed, placing your hands on your hips in a pouty attitude. “It's really hard to smile when it feels like the world is against you...”

There was a stagnant silence in the air as you turned your head to gaze out the window, watching the rain drizzle from the grey sky. It was your favorite weather, even more so because of the friend it allowed you to find.

Alastor pondered over your words before he took a deep breath. “That leads to a question that I've been meaning to ask you for some time now. It's a rather sensitive one so if you'd prefer not to answer, I would understand.”

Giving the plushie your attention, Alastor's tone turned concerned as he asked. “I can’t help but wonder, Darling, where is your mother..?”

Without missing a beat, you replied. “Oh, my Dad murdered her.”

A sharp microphone screech omitted from the radio. It was safe to say he most definitely was not expecting that..

Not because he can't see your degenerate of a guardian doing something of the sort, he was actually more curious as to how someone as sloppy as your Dad could get away with something like that. No. What got him was even though you were saying words that no child should ever say until they're well into adulthood, you smiled. A soft one, filled with unspeakable pain and a lust for something you could not yet gain.

You could feel him hesitating to ask you some more questions on the topic, so you decided that you could quickly give him your life story. “Whenever anyone asks about it, I always tell them that she passed from cancer but, that's not true..”

Alastor’s signal chirped in curiosity, but he made sure to sound sympathetic. “What happened?..”

You chuckled a bitter melody.

“She was born a diabetic and I was around twelve.. Everyday my Mom took her medicine, the diabetes is actually what led her to becoming a doctor in the first place. Every morning my Dad would make her coffee, as a way of telling her he loved her. I snuck a few sips before only to find out she made it black, when she caught me she told me “Mommy can't have sugar…”

When I turned fourteen, they started arguing. A lot. I can remember hearing them sometimes. Mom threatened to leave him because he was starting to grow a gambling issue and she was tired of taking the brunt of most of the bills. He promised to change and that's when everything started to go downhill.. Weeks went by, she just started getting sicker and sicker seemingly out of nowhere. Still had her morning coffee though. I'd make it for her sometimes and she reminded me “Mommy can't have sugar.” Hardly able to do anything for herself, much less take her medicine. Of course he said he'd do it, he promised me he did when he took me to school..He still made her coffee, before he went to work and after she had been made bed bound..I thought it was a lie, that it wasn't true until I realized that she died that morning with a cup of coffee in her hand..”

A sour laugh left your lips, as you recalled that day you came home from school and found her lying there with blood on the pillow, blood that she had been coughing up for almost a month.

“That bastard was poisoning her with fucking sugar… Everyday he was putting a little bit in her morning coffee and not giving her the insulin she needed. She was a Type 1 diabetic and he did all of it for some fuckin insurance money..” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Before yanking it in frustration and punching your fist through the nearest wall, your face was blank and unmoving for a second not even flinching as you removed your bruised fist from the drywall. “Mama couldn't have sugar..”

Alastor listened as you explained your mother's demise. His distaste for your father grew more and more as he recalled memories of his own childhood. He'd never tell you to your face, but he could see parts of himself in you from his younger years, if lead in the proper manner, you could become quite the promising killer.

He shook his head. Not the best thoughts to be having right now, not while you're on the edge of a mental breakdown.

“I..Would be lying to you if I said I knew what to tell you about such an awful situation..” He stated hesitantly. “But I can say that I am sorry, that you had to deal with something like this so early in life.”

“Don't be sorry, there's nothing to be done about it…She's gone now and I have to get away from him.” You declared, looking at your now bruised hand. “Now you understand why I made that wish. On any day, at any time, for any reason, that man could decide to kill me. To kill his own daughter in cold blood..”

Alastor hummed. “If you know this, then let me help you." He demanded. "I cannot sit idly by forever my dear, these links to your world are only good for short times to prevent other demons from causing other problems. No one understands the severity of this situation more than you. I would love to help you exact revenge on that putrid sack of skin but you must choose before it is too late and I am no longer around..

You sat in silence as Alastor did his best to help you come to a decision. As much as you hated being rushed, you couldn't deny that he was correct. But the decision was hard, harder than you thought it would be considering the fact that you still loved your father and the man he used to be…

All these thoughts ran through your head on a daily basis, everytime they made you wanna curl up and cry. Snatching up the plush doll, you gave it a good squeeze and hid your face in your knees, wishing that your Mom was still around.

The Radio Demon pursed his lips in thought, he wasn't good with others emotions unless he could feed off of the entertainment from it, much less comforting them. There was nothing entertaining about this, about you being sad. He didn't like it for a reason he couldn't explain, perhaps because you were so bubbly in the beginning?

You weren't trying to do anything miraculous, you just wanted to live your life in peace and possibly get justice for your mother. That was something he could understand. He wouldn't mind completely decimating your Dad, truly he wouldn't! It'd be on the house for you, truly you're the most pitiful soul he's come across in a long while.

He supposed he could pull a few quick strings to make you feel better in the moment. To bring back that smile of yours, full of wonder and a desire for life.

As you continued to seek shelter in your knees, you felt a gentle touch caress the top of your head, sharp claws softly scraping your scalp in an attempt to comfort you.

Wait..

WHAT?!

Quickly yet carefully, you snapped your head up to see none other than The Radio Demon crouched down right in front of you. His hand still rested on the crown of the head as you both stared at each other for a moment.

“I'm sorry.. am I dreaming?” You blurted out.

Alastor smiled, laughing in a low tone at your completely gobsmacked expression. “Fortunately for you, the answer is no my dear. As a gentleman, it'd be rude of me not to at least attempt to help a lady in emotional distress.”

You were still dazed and confused about him being here, much less t o u c h i n g you!! “Ida..I-- I didn't know you could-”

“Travel through the radio? It is quite possible but I only do so on rare occasions since it requires a fair bit of my power that cannot be overexerted in one day.”

Standing up to his full height, you realized how tall he was and thanked God that the ceiling was high enough for his antlers not to scrape. Crawling out of your chair, you immediately felt like an ant compared to him, the top of your head barely came to his collarbone.

“Holy crap you're tall." You blurted again. "I mean, I knew that you were tall but, you're really, really tall..”

Smirking with pride, he twirled his cane expertly like the show off you knew and loved. “7”0 exactly my dear, a foot taller than I was when I was a mortal! Though I suppose that was the universes funny way of punishing me for my crimes, I've bumped my forehead on door frames a good 50 times in both life and death!”

As you examined his real life appearance, you couldn't help but laugh. “Yeah well, the heels don't help.” You pointed to his shoes.

He huffed in feigned offense. “They are not heels, darling they are tap dancing shoes and it was quite common for them to have a bit of height back in my day.”

“Okay, Fred Astare.” You snorted as he settled himself on the side of your bed as you marveled at the fact that he was still taller than you even while sitting down. “And here I was preparing to offer you a dance in hopes of lifting your spirits, only for you to insult my tastes in fashion.” He hmphed, crossing his arms and legs while sticking up his pointy nose towards you.

In a daring moment, you sat right next to him crissed crossed, careful not to to touch him while he continued to play offended. “C’mon Al, don't be so huffy. I didn't mean anything by it.”

“ ‘Al’ huh?” He hummed. “Sounds like someone is getting rather familiar.”

“Hey, you call me 'Darling' and 'Dear' so often I think that it's only fair that I call you 'Al' on occasions.”

“I suppose you have a point. Nevertheless, I came here to try and boost your spirits, you seem to be doing better so if you wish to be bratty I can just go back home..” He teased with an evil grin.

“Wait!” You said just a bit too loudly. “Would you like to play a game with me? Ya know, before you go..”

Alastor raised an eyebrow in curiosity as he parted his lips to deny your offer, until you pulled out the big guns and gave him your best puppy girl eyes. A chill went down his spine from your usage of such cheap tactics, remembering his years as a lad and doing the exact same thing when he wanted something desperately from his dear mother.

“Okay! Okay!” He said, placing his hands up in surrender. “I shall subject myself to whatever game this is for one round, as long as you stop making that revolting expression..”

He watched as you smiled with pure enthusiasm. Such a beautiful smile you had, it made him irritated that you didn't do it more, yet proud that he typically was the source of it sprouting in the first place. Crimson eyes followed your movements as you shuffled off the bed to grab a small deck of cards off of your shelf. A part of him hoped you heard the chuckle that left his lips while you struggled to stand on your toes to retrieve this game.

“It's called ‘Uno’ “ You explained, walking back to him with a red box in hand. “It's a pretty simple game and the rules are easy.” Dumping the cards out of the box, the two of you sat parallel with one another.

”However, this simple game has been known to end more friendships than Monopoly and Mario Kart put together. It shall truly test our bond as companions, only the strongest survive it's trials..” You spoke in a dramatic tone while shuffling the cards and placing the proper numbers out for the both of you. Once you were finished, you placed the extra cards in the middle and looked the Radio Demon square in the eye. “Are you ready?”

“Yes yes,” He replied aloofly. “There isn't any possible way this silly game could cause such a staggering amount of broken relationships. I refuse to believe it's that bad.’

You chuckled bitterly. “You beautiful unsuspecting fool.”

---------------------- ( 2 Hours Later) ---------------------

“That's against the rules!” Alastor hissed underneath his breath as you threw out a fat stack of +2 cards.

“No it's not Alastor, you said you wanted to play stacks and this is how it's played.” You muttered.

The first round between you two consisted of showing Alastor the ropes. The confident man he was, he assured you that the game was easy enough for an infant to play and win effortlessly, especially since he won the first round. You then decide to spice things up by teaching him how to play stacks. He claimed that was easy as well and you allowed him to believe this as the next round consisted of him losing, and so did the next round, and the round after that, and the round after that…

Before you knew it, two hours had gone by and Alastor was determined to beat you at least once. It had gotten so intense that he resorted to taking his tail coat off and even putting his hair up, leaving him in his tight red office shirt and hair that framed his face like the scrumdiddlyumptious being that he was. The sight of his bare arms totally didn't have you blushing up a storm behind your cards.

While he was stewing over his next move, you got to confirm a few fan theories and ogled at his appearance.

Respectfully, of course.

But, the game wasn't over yet. Alastor sat across from you, irritated and with at least eleven cards in his hand, while you had three. The air was tense as he scratched his head and finally decided to throw out a small handful of 8’s, bringing his card count down to five.

Your poker face remained unmoving as you calmly threw out a wild card. “Blue.”

A warble of interference omitted from Alastor's person as his eyes scanned his cards carefully. You were actually surprised at how the tables had turned personality wise. In the beginning, it was Alastor who was calm and collected, but every loss slowly chipped away at the pride that fueled his unwavering persona. His usual smile was now looking more forced, making his disdain obvious.

Throwing out a blue card, you threw out two on top, leaving you with one card as you stated that dreadful word. “Uno.”

With a growl, Alastor tossed out a draw +4. “Red.” He stated blandly. A quick glance at the clock let him know he was late for a meeting with Charlie, but formalities be damned because he was going to win this game.

You took your cards quickly and deemed your hand an amazing one. He replied by tossing out a 2 and leaving three cards left. Victory was close and he swore that once he won he would ‘kindly’ rub it in your face.

But, just as you had been doing for these past five rounds, you had an ace up your sleeve. You tossed out the red ‘Skip’ card, costing Alastor a vital turn that could have turned the tables, only to metaphorically slap him in the face by cheering “Uno!” and dropping your final cards in the middle of the messy deck.

He suppressed a scream of irritation as you did your little victory dance, glaring at you both with gaiety and pure spite. He stood up and snapped his coat back on and his hair back down, he pinched your cheek just a little too hard. “That's enough cutting a rug darling, especially for someone that has two left feet such as yourself.”

“Stop trying to cease my dancing, I must wiggle out my joy.”

With a roll of his eyes, he tuned the radio on to his station to prepare to go back home. “Well you can dance until your heart's content, unfortunately I have to return back home to handle some business.”

Immediately your uncoordinated movements stopped, as you frowned. “Oh, right..”

Part of him felt bad. Not that he would tell you outright, but he didn't exactly want to leave you behind either. The thoughts of what your father could do unannounced made him concerned for your safety, but there wasn't anything he could do. Instead, he smiled genuinely and lifted your gaze up with his finger.

“Chin up, dearest. I shall check on you tomorrow as always and don't forget, you still need to make up your mind about what you want from the options presented to you.”

You didn't reply verbally, but you did nod your head sadly which would have to be enough for now. As he prepared to walk off, he was suddenly stopped by a tight embrace from behind. Anyone else who would have ever dared to think of such a thing would have been a splatter on the wall and he was just about to give you a kind yet serious talk about personal space until he felt something wet soaking through his clothes.

“..Thank you.” You mumbled through the fabric. Inhaling his scent as you sniffled and tried to calm down, honestly you were surprised he didn't push you off.

As mentioned before, emotions were not Alastor's think nor was physical affection. However in this moment, with you crying lightly and hugging him as if he were your only hope of survival, he decided that maybe, just this once, he would let it slide.

For his comfort, you didn't allow the hug to last longer than a minute. Once you pulled away you were embarrassed to say the least and prepared for him to possibly scold or never talk to you again. But, to your surprise, he simply pat your head and whispered, “Sleep tight, cher.”and was gone with a blink of your eyes.

To say you were sad was an understatement, but you knew that he'd be back tomorrow like he was everyday. The idea of talking to him tomorrow. To hear his voice in real time, talking to you and to offer comfort because he actually cared made your heart pound in your chest. As much as you didn't want to think this way, you couldn't help it. He seemed so concerned about you, in a way that no one else has until now.

You did your best to still your beating heart as you began to clean up your fun from earlier, only to find your cards were missing. You looked everywhere and still couldn't find them, ultimately you claimed into bed and decided that maybe Alastor snapped them somewhere you'd never find so that he wouldn't have to loose, I mean, play anymore.

Meanwhile…

“Alastor you're late!” Vaggie snapped as he came waltzing down the stairs, following her to where the rest of the group sat waiting.

“I am aware Vagatha, I was busy doing something else.” He replied calmly, only to make the fallen angel more irritated. “Whatever, I hope you brought something because it's your turn for a group activity today..”

“But of course! How could I forget?” He smiled impishly, before pulling out a red box with a familiar word on it. Once with the rest of the residents, Alastor clapped his hands together and pulled out a chalkboard seemingly out of nowhere.

“For today's activity being hosted by yours truly, we shall all be playing a game suited for bonding and the strengthening of relationships,” He beamed, writing out the title of the game in big letters for everyone to see.

“The name of the game is...UNO!"

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

(Thank you for coming back for Chapter 3# of this story! I hope you stick around for the next one because I plan to make it the last. I've been so busy with life and stuff, it's kinda hard to find time or motivation to write, but I do want this to come to a close while still making room for a bit of fun between Al and the Reader.

For those who asked me to make a tag list, I'm not entirely sure how to 😅. Though I will try to figure it out for the next time I write a short story. Don't forget to leave your opinions behind in the comments and thank you for all the love you guys give me, it means a lot 💜

Stay Tuned! :D

Taglist: @twistedvanillacoffee @diffidentphantom @boldlyenchantingfox22

[alistairtheyrin]

the bard of riverbrook farm, pt. i

la belle dame sans merci, frank bernard dicksee

aemond targaryen x lowborn!reader

masterlist | ao3

summary | the people of the riverlands begin to find peace once more as the land recovers from the dance of the dragons. in an unremarkable village, a musician draws the attention of a peculiar stranger

tags | secret identity, soft romance, bard!reader, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, discussions of trauma related to war, gender-neutral pronouns

wordcount | 3k

likes, reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated 💞 please let me know if this is something you'd like to read more of!

Days like this rarely fell on the Riverlands.

Days when the sun shone, the brook that babbled through your village took on a glimmer, and there was an air of ease about. The green of the leaves on the trees seemed richeron a day like this, branches growing heavy with fruit. The cobblers and tool sharpeners who wandered from village to village plying their trade only had to reach their arms overhead to pluck a golden apple to go with their lunch. Sometimes, they’d even pull down a spare apple to pass to a beseeching child, not because the child needed food but because they wanted it.

That was the best thing about days like this, times like this - the children weren’t hungry, not anymore. Only years ago - when you’d been but a child on the cusp of adulthood - these lands had burned. Your people and your fields had been fodder for dragons and great men playing at war. But then the dragons - and the men in armour - vanished. Travelling bards told stories of Good Queen Rhaenyra putting down her brother’s rebellion and striking a triumphant peace with the Dowager Queen Alicent, her late father’s wife. It had taken time for the Riverlands to recover - time when your stomach had felt hollow, and your father would have gladly sold the farm for a crust of mouldy bread - but aid had come when a peace was brokered. Food and seed from the Reach, timber from the North, builders from the Westerlands. It had taken time, but recovery did come, and your baby sister - born in the Year of the Dragon’s Peace - had never known an empty belly like you had.

So your steps were light as you made your way down the stony path from your father’s farm to the village. The evening air was warm and syrupy with the scent of summer blooms, and your lute bumped happily against your back. Up ahead, the village inn - The Fine Fool - was already buzzing with life, as tomorrow was a day of rest for most, and the townsfolk wished to make a merry start. You could hear a constant stream of chatter from the open doors as you approached the inn with its thatched roof and warm, glowing windows. You slipped inside and saw it was crowded already. The farmers and their farmhands had dirt under their nails and flagons in hand, smelling faintly of sweat from a day on the fields. The wives traded news and gossip, some with children underfoot or babes in arms. The innkeeper - a ruddy-cheeked man everyone called Good Beck - was yanking a wheel of presumably stolen cheese out of the hands of a wily boy with a grin on his face. You weaved through the villagers, smiling at all as you went, and a ripple went through the gathered throngs around you.

“The bard!” A man called.

Good Beck looked up at that, “Aft’noon, bard!” He called over the sea of heads to you as you made your way to the little raised stage in the corner. You tilted your head in greeting at him.

“The Bard of Riverbrook Farm!” A woman this time called, and you winced at the name a little. You were no more a bard than a peasant with a pitchfork was a great army general. Just someone born with a halfway decent voice and a mind for melodies, courtesy of your mother. And a lute, of course, courtesy of your father - a gift he’d bought when he’d been courting your mother. You’d picked up the lute when your parents’ evenings had become filled with tending to the baby, and you’d been left in want of something to do. When the villagers complained of the lack of musicians on the Riverroad these days with the terror of war still so close to memory, your father had let slip what a good player you were becoming, playing gentle tunes before the fire in the evening and softening the babe’s worst tempers with a lullaby. Good Beck had been at your door within the sennight, offering fair coin and mead on the house. Honestly, how could you refuse?

It had been a tremendous success so far - Good Beck had music livening his common room, you had extra coin in your pocket to help about the house, and the village was near as cheerful as it had been before, in the halcyon days of your childhood.

You took to your stage, avoiding the gazes of the onlookers as you always did. You always felt nervous when you were cold. You pulled your mother’s loot from your back, took a deep breath to steady yourself and block out the noise, and gently strummed and fiddled with the pegs for a second, finding the lute singing sweetly - just as you’d left it. You hummed as you tuned, feeling your throat warm. Good Beck sent a serving girl over with your first tankard of mead. He was good to you, and the honeyed drink was smooth in your throat.

Once you judged yourself ready, you took in the crowd. Some watched eagerly, and some carried on their conversations. The melody leaping from the strings hushed more voices as you sprang into a lively rendition of The Bear and The Maiden Fair.

Before you were three songs deep, the townspeople were singing along and setting up impromptu dancing sets. The ale was flowing freely tonight, you could tell, and you quickly set out your cap for any coppers the townspeople might throw your way. The sound of music drew in more spectators and revellers, and soon, Good Beck and his serving girl were fighting to keep up with the flow of thirsty patrons at the bar.

During a particularly ribald song, you looked out upon your crowd, and your eye caught on a group of men unfamiliar to you in a darker corner of the room. It was a small village and faces totally unfamiliar were quite unusual, but the berth the villagers were giving the men told you all you needed to know. Their clothing was shabby, their faces sunburnt - they were former army men, the sort who still wandered the Riverlands. Likely Aegon the Usurper’s, but it could be some of Queen Rhaenyra’s Northmen who had no wish to return to their frozen homeland when the fighting was done. Many had sustained injuries to their person, many more to their minds, and had nothing to return to from whence they came. So they wandered, eeking out a living by offering help on the farms or sites of construction whenever needed. It was a hard life, and you felt for them, but the wariness of the townsfolk made sense - such men were known for causing trouble when they had nothing left to lose.

One of them caught your eye, and you looked away in a hurry.

By the time your song was finished, you were huffing and puffing for breath, and the villagers were no better. Dancing sets had turned into barely contained circles of swinging, spinning, and chaos. Everyone was laughing, and the mood was high, but it was also growing desperately warm in here, with many a man or woman wiping sweat from their brow with a yellowed sleeve.

Time to slow it down, you thought, as you watched the patrons join the queue at the bar, desperate to quench their thirst. Good Beck looked flustered behind the bar - pleased but flustered - so it was time to allow him to catch up and rake in the good custom. You sat on your stool for a moment and took a long draw from your tankard of mead. Now was as good a time as any to try something new you’d been working on, one of your first original songs. If it went over well with the townsfolk, that was great, but if not, at least you weren’t killing the good mood but giving them a well-earned chance to recover before they spun into more dancing.

You cleared your throat and drew a breath, striking a chord that rang clear above the chatter.

The river runs red, my dear, can you see it?

High in your tower, the earth is bleeding,

The home burns, the water breaks

Upon the tomb at our love’s wake

Is it too late for us? Your beacon, my fire,

We were just children drunk on sweet desire,

Where did that go? What did we do?

What has become of me and you?

Save your prayers for your Gods, for I want none,

I only want the honeyed words on your tongue,

Fly with me now, stand with me at heaven’s gate,

Only love’s forgiveness can change our fate,

You trailed off in the soft, mournful ballad, for that was as far as you had gotten. There was a small round of appreciative applause around your stage, but most were more concerned about getting their drinks refilled. That didn’t bother you, though. You’d played it aloud now to someone who could offer more feedback than a squalling babe - as sweet as your sister was. It was time for you to take a quick break, and your mind buzzed with the possibilities of what you could add and change as you squeezed through the crowd to go and get some fresh air.

The sun had set outside and the sky was that soft purple it was before it was truly night. You stepped away from the throngs outside the inn and found yourself a quiet patch of wall to lean against and catch your breath. Your breathing slowed, and your heart settled as you took in the inky sky, the lighted windows in the village, the distant trickle of flowing water. On your leg, you tapped out the metre of your ballad and sang softly to yourself, thinking of the next words and the stories that had inspired them.

“I’d never heard that one before,” the accent was unusual for these parts - crisp - and it took you a second to realise the voice was speaking to you.

You looked up and felt your stomach lurch. One of the army men was approaching you in the quiet patch outside the inn you had chosen. His head was shaved to the scalp - probably lice - and his left eye was covered by a battered leather patch. He wore a sword on his belt - not unusual in these parts, but not exactly welcoming either. You didn’t want any trouble, and you certainly didn’t want any unwelcome attention.

“It’s mine,” you explained. It answered the question but didn’t invite more conversation.

“That explains it,” the man said. Your ears hadn’t been deceiving you - his accent was smooth, his tongue precise on the sounds. He wasn’t from here. He wasn’t from anywhere you had ever seen. “You have a talent for playing and for writing, then.”

His features betrayed no emotion, and you wondered if he was as insincere as he sounded or if you were just being paranoid. “You’re too kind,” you said in the absence of a better response.

“What inspired your work?”

The flinty look in his remaining eye was putting you on edge. “Stories,” you said, “from… real bards who have passed through. Their tales are a good inspiration. Otherwise, all my songs would be about harvests and plough horses. Not much going on around here, not much to keep a curious mind occupied.”

“You don’t have books?” He asked.

You scoffed like he’d just asked if you could fly. “What use are books if you were never taught how to read?” You asked. Who was this man, with his refined tongue, thinking that farmers have use for books?

He had the decency to look embarrassed at least, and the softening of his gaze, the flicker of his eye, and the way his cheeks darkened made you feel calmer. He wasn’t angry. Most men would be angry at being talked back to like that - your father had often warned you about it. Not because you tested his patience - he was a good man, a kind one. He just prayed his firstborn’s quick tongue wouldn’t cause more problems than it fixed. 

“That was foolish, I beg your pardon,” the man said, and you were so confused by his humility that you nodded your acquiescence without a second thought. He drew closer and leaned his shoulder into the wall by you. “My earlier question stands, however. What inspired your song?”

You raised an eyebrow. “A tale from a bard - the tale of the Dragon’s Peace,” you said. You swung your lute down by your side to trace your fingers over the strings, like a focal point for the frenetic energy you felt as the man asked his probing questions. “The tale is all over the realm - how Queen Rhaenyra and Queen Alicent came together to stop the war and the shedding of innocent blood. Words saved the day when swords could not - I guess I liked that.”

He raised an eyebrow. There was something deeply morose about him. His features betrayed no warmth - in fact, he was so still it was like he was cold-blooded. “It’s just that you… you sounded like you were singing of something more than just a peace accord.”

Obviously, you thought dryly, but you were still wary enough of this man not to provoke him outright. “A peace like that does not just happen. The two Queens were friends in childhood. I just thought… they could have been more. What if they were - still are - more? It must be a… special friendship to forgive what they have had to forgive each other of.”

His brow creased as his frown deepened. “Is such an unconventional… friendship not a dangerous thing to sing of? To even imply?”

You felt a heat rise in your cheeks. What a fool reason not to speak of it, to hide behind euphemisms and platitudes, you thought. “The only dangerous thing is forbidding certain loves for the form they come in. Love is the one thing, the only thing that ever saves us from ourselves.”

He hummed thoughtfully at that. It struck you as just another thing that was strange about him. Anyone else might have laughed, made fun or cursed you for an ungodly wretch. But he seemed to be thinking of your words with a deep seriousness. “Is it finished?” He asked. You must have looked confused because he clarified, “The song, have you finished it?”

You shook your head. “No. I’m trying to find the words, the tune to express the betrayal but also the loyalty. The joy in spite of the suffering. I’ve only just begun writing my own songs in the past few moons - I think I’ll need to practice it.”

“If I am any judge, I think you have made a good start.” His eye looked almost purple in the dusky light, reflecting the soft hues of the sky.

“And who are you?” You asked, bold all of a sudden. “To judge, that is?”

He gave you a smirk like you’d just told him a slightly amusing joke. “Just a man with an interest in that tale.”

“Because you fought in the war?”

He was quiet for a second, and you wondered if it was because he was considering lashing out or fleeing. “Yes,” he said instead. “I did.”

You nodded. “And now you have… nowhere to go?”

“I have… somewhere,” he said, considering. He looked far away, far into his own mind. It was not an uncommon look on the men who had seen war. “It was just never truly home. And now I don’t know how to return or how to be that person again.”

“You can never go home,” you said. It came out blunter than intended, but it was something you had found to be true. “Not really. Figuratively speaking. I… home to me is before. Before the hunger and the bodies and the fear. That home no longer exists for us; you can’t go back.”

“So what do we do then if we cannot go home?” The moon had emerged and cast shadows on his face. He was beautiful, you realised, with a thud in your chest. With his long nose and carved cheeks and strong jaw cast in sharp relief by the flood of moonlight. You wondered what colour his hair was when it was not shorn. Maybe chestnut, like your father’s plough horse. Or golden, like wheat at harvest.

You wished you had an answer to his question, but you didn’t. “I don’t know,” you said truthfully. “I don’t know.”

He looked a little crestfallen but nodded like he hadn’t foreseen any other answer. “Maybe I should just start anew, then. Build a home, sow a field, fall in love.”

You smiled. It was all any of you could hope for - a chance to start again. It was all any of you dreamed of. “There’s many an empty croft and field around here, since the war. And many a girl who wishes for a handsome husband with a good sword arm.”

He smiled back. It wasn’t like the earlier smirks - icy and guarded - it was warm, liquid. It nearly reached his eye. Nearly. “I’ll think about it,” he said.

You took one last look at his face before you turned. It was high time you were back on stage. No sooner had you turned away than a hand caught your wrist. You looked back. Like a thrice-damned fool, you looked back.

“You need to finish the song,” he told you. His gaze was so sure, so serious you felt that he must know everything about you. Like your every waking moment could be felt through the joining of skin, the index finger he was tracing on the inside of your wrist. “If you cannot go home, you must at least finish the song.”

He raised your hand to his lips and kissed it.

Like he was a knight. Like you were noble. Like the words passing between you carried the bond of castles and gold and histories and dragons.

“I will,” you said, and your voice trembled just a little.

“I truly hope it is not too late for them.” He spoke of the Queens in the song. He spoke of himself. He spoke of you.

“I hope so, too.”

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Drabble-A-Thon 2 Prompt #7

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Prompt: From @zehei, Dabi drops

Contents: Subdrop (suicidal thoughts/tendencies) , hurt/comfort, safeword use, degradation, League won the war. 

"Pathetic. But you know that already." Red eyes looking down at him as Dabi kneels in front of his throne. He isn't in the position to speak anyway. He's nothing but a toy, a tool, worthless for anything but this now that there isn't a war for them to fight anymore. He tries to keep the other's cock deep in his throat, tries to suck and swallow around him the best he can while the other has all five fingers knotted so tightly into his hair that he won't be able to pull away and even breathe unless the other man decides he's allowed. He won't kill him by accident anymore, but he could do it so intentionally, so quickly, Dabi doesn't know if he would even have time to register the betrayal. 

"Worthless." Tomura adds. "Reduced to nothing but a set of holes. What ambition you used to have. Look at what you are now." 

Dabi doesn't want to give in. He wants to hold it together, wants to prove that this, is not less than what he was before. But it is. He was the jewel of Tomura's army. He burned down half of the world for him, took his revenge, nearly died, and still clawed his way back to the land of the living, and now. Now this is all he's good for. He can't offer anything else that the other man actually needs. He is nothing more than a prized pet, well past his prime now that the fighting is over because that was all he built his body to do. Dabi tries to prove that he can still be good for this, but Tomura looks... bored as he moves his mouth. Frustration and helplessness bubble up inside of him and Dabi can't help it. Two little bloody tears slip from the corners of his eyes and run down his cheeks.

But they're signs of the weakness that Tomura has already been prodding at and he scoffs, letting go of his hair and shifting his gaze to the rest of the empty throne room. "It's a wonder that I even bother to keep something as pathetic as you." 

Dabi sobs. Worthless. Useless. Why did he bother to stay alive if this is all he would turn into? He thought, maybe, he could make the love in his chest mean as much to him as his revenge, but he can't pretend now. It's been years, and every time his lover looks away from him, every time he huffs as he's made to take care of his broken body or divert his attention from his work to give it to Dabi, he shows him again and again that it wasn't worth him staying alive. 

Those thoughts ring some kind of distant alarm bell in the back of his mind and Dabi pulls off of his lover's cock. That gets angry red eyes back on him because he definitely wasn't given permission for that. But he doesn't care. He can't hold onto Tomura's love or favor forever anyway, not when he can have anyone he wants in the whole world now. He just has to wait for him to throw him aside. Then he can just make himself a pyre somewhere dark and cold, give this world that has taken everything from him one last spiteful fire that blazes with warmth and light. 

"I didn't give you permission--" 

"Red," The word comes out on a sob, and that sound breaks his voice and breath. His chest is hitching and heaving in the next second, Dabi curling his torso in towards his folded knees, his hands moving to press up against his eyes as the tears burn hot and bitter from his eyes. The sounds are too loud and wracking, echoing all around the empty room. 

"Okay, that's alright, baby." Tomura's voice is so different from the way that it sounded just a second before. So much softer and kinder, sweeter. "Can I hold you, sweetheart?" 

Why would he even want to? Why keep playing at this being a happy ending for the both of them when this is just a prelude to the eternity that he will spend alone? 

But when he can't move, can't find breath to speak, Tomura doesn't disregard him. He slips off of his throne onto the floor with Dabi and pulls him into his lap, holding him tight to his chest. 

Dabi forces himself to find one more word, because he's past 'red' in a place that he can only just make sense of and knows he has to tell his lover, "Black." 

Tomura tenses against him and holds him tighter, hand in his hair and one stroking along his back. "Firefly, you know I never mean the horrible things I say. I want you right here, with me. If you were gone, I would throw it all away and I would break the world to bring you back to my side. Don't leave me, love. Please stay right here with me." He holds him so tight. Holds him like he really is scared Dabi will burn up in his arms and he'll be left here, clawing at his ashes without a mark on his skin because he is perfect now. He won't ever age, won't ever die. He will outlive even his empire. He could have other people, other things to fill his time, he won't miss Dabi when he's gone. 

His temperature creeps higher, the spark sitting under his skin, so ready to just take it all away. 

The arms tighten around him a little more and he hears Tomura's voice tremble when he pleads, "Don't leave me, Dabi. Please, none of this will be worth keeping if you're not with me." 

Dabi sobs harder, louder, his heat venting out between their bodies in a gust of black smoke as he clings to Tomura's skin as the sounds of his anguish keep echoing off of the walls. 

///

When he comes back up, it's days later. It's always days later when his broken psyche tells him to end it all if his emotions slip too far sideways. He's sitting in their palace, in the dining room. He's at the end of the long table, looking out the wall of windows that are flooded with the early morning light, and he has his food in front of him. Tomura is pouring him his coffee. 

Dabi reaches for his hand and stops him. Tomura lets the mug rest against the table and Dabi shifts so that he is holding his hand properly. Neither of them say anything for a long minute. But he has to say something. Has to hold onto this and remember that the way he was feeling before wasn't real. It was heightened emotions, warped through the lens of words that he asked for. 

"Not in the throne room again." Not that kind of play. Not in a room that is a screaming reminder that no matter how close they are, how much they love each other right now, there is a very real possibility, if Dabi's treatments don't work, that Tomura will be sitting in that room alone for decades after it has rotted around him, still eternal and perfect. Miserable and mad from the isolation. 

"Okay, firefly. Do you want to go back to bed?" It's probably been days, but he feels exhausted. He doesn't think he can handle facing the day. 

"Okay." He turns and finally, fully, looks at Tomura. And his chest aches sharply. He loves him so much. He never thought he could have an emotion that burns brighter inside his chest than his desire for revenge. But he loves him. He would have never forgiven himself if he left him in a moment his mind was clouded. "I love you." 

"I love you, firefly." Tomura leans down and Dabi wraps his arms around his neck. Lets his lover pick him up like he's small and fragile, and he still feels so brittle right now. It might be pushing it, but he needs it. 

"Show me?" 

Tomura pulls him close and presses their foreheads together. "Until you know it so innately that even your bones remember." 

He wouldn't ever give this up. Wouldn't ever abandon Tomura. He'll get to a point where that isn't even a question anymore. The world is theirs. All he has to do is heal his mind enough that his body will be able to withstand the treatments, and then eternity will belong to them too.

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[misscammiedawn]

hi misscammie i am super curious, how far can hypnosis change someone if the subject is willing?

Thank you for asking. This is a multi-layered answer and I want to do my best to give the most realistic and thoughtful one possible.

Hypnosis is a state of hyper-suggestibility and though there have been significant studies that prove it alters the brain's ability to perform lateral processing during trance, it is not yet fully understood. (study source)

It should be noted that highly hypnotizable participants indicate a much higher degree of impact during these studies. Brain plasticity is an interesting little study unto itself but the short version is that a number of people, particularly those with conditions that alter the brain's development, tend to be more suggestible than the general public.

What this essentially means is that hypnosis is not magic but it is effective as both a focus and as a framework for legitimate conditioning and that is its own branch of psychology...

Research on habit formation shows that it takes about 2-3 months of consistent repeated behavior to forge a habit with 10 weeks being when a behavior becomes second nature, which is to say that it is an unconscious act. When you don't have to think about something to perform the action that is equivalent to hypnotic compulsion or brainwashing. The only thing that changes is the language used and how you view it.

Which is to say...

What can a human be conditioned to do? How far can a willing participant alter their behavior?

And that is... well, let's just say I cannot pull studies that have that answer because we have ethics committees. I'd be better off checking declassified CIA papers during the Cold War for that and therein lies the line between willing and unwilling, play and application, fantasy and reality.

Hypnosis and conditioning are effective tools for training behaviors, conditioning responses and most importantly creating associations. The brain is very good at creating associations and very bad at breaking them. There is a phrase within hypnosis training that came up in both of our certification courses "the unconscious does not recognize negative instruction" which is essentially why 'don't think about a pink elephant' will always cause a person to think of a pink elephant.

So that's one limitation right there. Hypnosis can help in breaking habits but even in hypnotherapy settings one is more capable of getting someone to stop smoking by creating new associations with the act such as feeling queasy than it is breaking the existing behavior in the habit.

No matter how willing a participant is you will have difficulty brute forcing away things. This comes up in my personality play soapbox a lot and one of the bigger dangers of hypnosis.

So what about creating new behaviors, associations and conditioning?

My assumption is this question is not asking about behavioral conditioning for therapy so I'll just discuss play aspects.

I know people in the community who believe hypnosis can be used to change a person's body chemistry for autonomous weight control, growth, getting a full night of sleep in a few hours and other such physical changes. The big one is breast size control because hypnokinksters are going to hypnokink. There is no evidence that backs this up and any testimony has to be taken with an understanding that the participants may have altered perception.

Quite simply I do not believe the body works that way and have read no studies that indicate it does. My mentor who taught my second hypnosis study had a full class on saying "no you can't" with a focus on weight control, though he mentioned the breast thing by name during the class. He wanted to make ethical practioneers of us and was adamant we would not try to sell any form of hypnosis which was preying on vulnerable people wanting to make changes.

But behavioral change? Whether it hypnosis or classic Pavlovian conditioning? You can make a person bark at the sound of a bell quite easily.

In our teen years we were conditioned to spell a certain word always capitalized. It's been 15 years and we do not even talk to the person who conditioned us but she trained the behavior and it still works. Fairly confident that one could search this blog and see evidence of that.

Altered perception such as waking hallucinations is a matter for the hypnotee and how suggestible they are. The response can be trained but it takes time, patience and a resilience to failure. I do not know if that conditioning helps a hypnotee be able to create visual hallucinations or trains them to provide the desired reply.

Visual modality has never been our wheelhouse, I'm afraid, so when I (more accurately when Dawn) work(s) with visual hallucinations the suggestions are packaged. It's not a simple 'you will see your partner as beautiful when she turns on her Fae glamor' suggestion, it is layering asking the hypnotee to feel emotional replies, suggesting some things like the glow of skin or the way hair moves and how those things will make a hypnotee feel and how their voice will hold focus and attention and be as near to magic as possible.

Then it's less 'you will see this' and more 'these are the things you understand glamor to be and the way that glamor feels and when that glamor is activated you may be reminded of these things and experience them either by emotion, altered perception, focus or simply knowing that you are following a suggestion which implies the magic cast on your mind' kind of thing.

Hypnosis's limits in that regard are about the people participating. The imagination and skill of the hypnotist and the suggestibility and ability to follow along of the hypnotee.

Once again those with a higher susceptibility to hypnosis will have a more vivid impact when it comes to visual hallucinations and it is key to note that on brain imagining dreaming and psychosis happen in the same area. They look remarkably similar on EEG. Studies indicate the same is true for hypnotic hallucination too. Which is essentially recreational dreaming.

As before I simply do not know if this susceptibility can be trained or if it is subject to the brain's neuroplasticity. I should read more.

On our own scale we do not really need to worry. Hypnosis is a form of guided dissociation and our brain does that plenty without guide. Half the reason we enjoy hypnosis so much is we take to it like a duck in water and it can be a positive and recreational way of enjoying this little quirk of ours. So long as one stays with trustworthy hypnotic partners, anyway...

All this is to say, hypnosis can be used for a ton of things. But it takes sustained effort and good faith. Be safe out there.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

My flower ~ Kappa x fem reader

Warning : fluff, flirting, cult leader, reader is female , implied drug use, kiss

Kappa x fem reader

masterlist

Part.2

Info : So it's finally finished and I'm so glad how it turned out I hope he is not to out off character. But as always have fun reading :)

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Modernised America in 1969 modernised and one of the most leading. In all its areas : art, buildings, technology and society. The project that most people didn't know about, the two android beings connected to the real two humans, was unimaginable and yet somehow people knew about it.

It was like an open, guarded secret. But the young woman did not want to deal with that in the late hours of the night. Her thoughts were on how she would somehow survive the shift at the local small tool shop on her own.

She needed the extra money not only because her rent had been raised but also because she was saving up for a bigger TV. Which is why the call from her boss an hour ago came in handy.

Humming on the street corner and arriving she already saw her boss standing there smoking a cigarette. ,,Hey Y/n, good you're finally here, thanks for filling in at short notice," he said with a smile and handed her the keys.

The small flower pendant shimmered slightly before she put it in her pocket. ,,Just lock up when you're done and put the key in the mailbox," he said, giving her one last grateful look before he got into his car a few metres away and drove off, honking. ,,He and his car" she mumbled amusedly and went into the shop where she started to change in the back.

Putting on her colourful top against the red shirt with the little tag with her name on it, she grabbed her keys and put them on the key ring around her neck before looking at herself in the small mirror. With a small smile, she stepped out of the back area, stood behind the cash register and began to wait.

What quickly turned out to be boring, however, she began to go through the shelves and turn on the small radio to have a little entertainment. The war is still not over, she muttered, hoping that the troops on all sides would just stop. It needed peace, world peace, not another war. Grabbing a few boxes of items to sort through, she began to work her way through the Reagle.

She heard the small bell on the doorbell ring as a person came in and closed the door behind them and the bell rang again. ,,Good afternoon, do you need some help?" She asked, looking out of one of the racks. She saw a young man with long black hair, bright blue eyes, a small smile on his lips and a brown and red striped shirt slightly open. Her eyes briefly lingered on the necklace with the large red fine-silvered expensive-looking stone.

Even if the dark bell-bottom trousers and the normal shoes were evidence of something else. Kind of…sexy she thought and decided to continue stocking the shelves, but her eyes never left the stranger. He shook his head slightly in disapproval and mumbled, ,,Maybe my flower in a minute" before he started to look through the shelves for something. Peering slightly through the shelves, she watched the man a little, he seemed somehow to be slightly away, as if he were in thought.

He was humming along to the music on the radio and she couldn't get away from him, there was something inviting about him. She heard and saw him pick out a few things and put them away, muttering something slightly before he walked past her shelf and stopped for a moment.

He didn't even hide the fact that he was looking at her face, which turned to her upper body, where she had left the first two buttons of her unifrom exra open because of the temperature. Before he looked over her lower body and his lips twisted into a smirk. ,,Pretty flower," he murmured, looking at her some more and continuing down the last corridor.

Putting the packets of small screws on the shelf, she went behind the cash register to serve her customers. Her fingers played lightly with her name card and she felt slightly nervous about the approaching guy. ,,Did you find everything?" she asked him and saw him put the small basket of things on the counter.

The things she put down included a hammer, a saw, a Bunsen burner and a knife. ,,Almost everything…tell me, do you have any duct tape here?" He asked and she was about to take the first item when he grabbed her wrist. What are you doing? she asked herself, slightly panicked, but he didn't seem angry, he still seemed engaged.

She felt his fingers lightly run over her skin, seeming to check if she was right for something. As if he was checking if he could just chain her hands. Binding them to himself. ,,S-Sure um this way" she murmured and he released her from his grip with a smirk before following her through the corridors.

Seconds later they arrived at the section with the ropes, tape and cable ties. ,,Thanks love" he mumbled and looked around a bit before grabbing some duct tape and grabbing a rope. He turned to her with a smile and took her wrist again, ,,May I? I need to know if what I'm buying is good," he said and she caught a sweet smell of him that absorbed her completely. Almost without a will, she fell for his flirtatious but nebulous manner and held out her wrist to him.

Before he began to wrap the rope around it, her skin tingled where his fingers touched it and something told her that this was not the first time he had done this. ,,Do you do this often?" she dared to ask and he chuckled before his eyes glanced at her lips for a moment.

Before he licked his and pulled her closer with a gentle tug on the rope. A surprised sound came from her as his hand traced the rope and seemed to memorise her image. ,,Occasionally, but only with people who are, well, special…like you," he murmured softly, smiling at her embarrassed, slightly shamed recognition. Then he brushed a strand of hair from his face and let his fingers brush over her wrist. She felt his fingers move to her cheek. Briefly stroking them and running down her neck over her torso.

She felt him tracing her bra and enjoying it. ,,So pretty," he murmured absentmindedly and seemed to take a step back. Goosebumps spread and she barely noticed she was breathing. ,,The rope… it would be so fucking wonderful on you… believe me, you're special," he said, pulling the rope from one wrist to the other.

She felt the slightly rough material cling to her skin. The image of her naked only covered by the rope under his control was something that excited her more than it should. ,,A pretty image, isn't it? Pulling the rope over your body there are many possibilities" he purred and pulled her even closer.

Before he tilted his head slightly ,,Do you like it?" he asked amusedly and let his fingers wander over the rope again before he saw her hesitant nod. She would be lying if she didn't feel the tingling in her body, the way she couldn't take her eyes off him and wanted more of the feeling. She felt him pull the rope tighter. But the thought of gnawing disappeared under him.

She liked it. She liked that he had her in the palm of his hand. ,,Over your legs, spread them apart. The hips to stop you from moving. The back to hang you up and look at you. Your breasts this limited feeling of excitement...believe me my flower you have to try it" he whispered to her and saw her eyes move from his chain to his lips. Kappa saw her bite her lip for a moment to stifle what seemed to be an excited noise. She was beautiful.

She wanted to overcome the last piece and finally get to him, but it didn't happen that way. The seductive drug. But he seemed to want to finish his game and loosened the rope before taking it with him and she stood in the corridor for a moment, puzzled. Completely torn out of her trance. Before she hurried after him and stood behind the cash register again.

He put the things on the counter and she began to scan them and put them in a bag, just as she was looking at the counter she suddenly heard the clink and saw the unknownq mutter ,,Oops" as he knocked the knife to the floor quite accidentally of course. Bending down for the knife, she carefully grasped the handle and came back up when she was suddenly grabbed by the back of the neck. His hand pulled her closer before she felt his lips on hers.

He kissed her, pulling her even closer and wrapping her in a deep, almost rough kiss as if he couldn't get enough. ,,Thank you, sweetheart, for saving our world," he mumbled and gave her one last kiss before he broke away from her and put something in her hand.

But before she could even say anything he had disappeared from the shop. ,,Fuck," she muttered and looked next to the money, which was not only too little, but also a small card. Scribbled on it was not only a number but also a place. Looking at the clock she saw that there were only a few hours left. Enough time to get everything ready here and then go there. Not knowing that his flowers had already fallen for the leader.

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[idv-sunsxin3]

Click // Dating Headcanons

Note// I also love this boy here - ever since day 1 and before I even got him. It was even funny the fact that he was a 5 star who came home before Sweetheart and Bkornblume and after Balloon Party,,, his lore put me in tears like;;; <//3

___

Click is always that one figure looking and observing the crowd from the background. Even seeing often as the one who records every memory in a sanctuary like the suitcase, through his trusty camera.

He is a quiet ghost, but one with guts of a true man...

He is the one who has no single fear cell on stepping landmines and explosions during a ruthless war... despite his role as the photographer, he doesn't guarantee his life from being taken away by the battlefield.

Yet...

Why was he paralyzed whenever he tries to talk to you..?

Is it because of the way you talk? The way you try to console others when they argue at one another? The way you smile...?

No, it couldn't be... he is always like this even when you get mentioned - as if your name is what keeps a bell ringing on his head.

...There is no point holding back, however. He would be the person who may often be less verbal, yet whenever he speaks, it is always something straightforward. There is no need for explanations.

You can remember the time you first saw him. It was quite unexpected in your opinion - encountering a ghost somewhere inside the suitcase after you got recruited by Vertin...

It doesn't mean it was a bad experience, of course.

"Hi."

You softly say, your eyes not looking away as you admire the sight of the celestial looking figure. Despite his torn and ripped edges of his garment.

"...."

The spirit doesn't respond... Instead, he prepares his camera to angle it towards you before taking a picture. The sound of flashing can be heard from the tool as you couldn't get the chance to react what he just did -

"... Your surprised look is.. pleasant..

please wear it often." The transparent figure finally says something, despite not exactly answering to your greeting.

It sounded strange... but you didn't get weirded out by it somehow. It's probably by how pretty he looks you just couldn't bring yourself judge so soon... You're quite understanding.

Little by little, you sometimes find the silent ghost looking in your direction through the crowds. Even when you both are in a room yet in a decent distance from one another. His eyes are droopy and looking tired, yet always have this gaze of longing when your eyes meet.

He doesn't seem to intent in approaching you at times after the last time he spoke to you, which is when he asked if he can take pictures of you.

Camera shy or not, you didn't seem fazed by his question and allowed him so as if it was just some kind of way to pass the time for him...

He is a ghost. What else can he do besides floating around?

That question made yourself feel sorry for him... even sad that he doesn't get to be... human ever again at such a young age. Yet, you wonder what does he usually feels while in such a current state.

After a few days of knowing him, he is never likely to take pictures as blackmail nor the type to just share pictures of people to others..

So mostly if he wants to, he would just watch you from afar and sometimes sneak some shots whenever you laugh, smile, blabbering about other things that seem to make you happy... All those little things managed to get into his memory to the point that he slowly got to know you from afar.

There are times you catch him organizing portfolios, even admiring his work silently and sometimes giving compliments about his skills in his takes.

The point where you once gave him constructive criticism intrigued him - that he even seems to become a bit inspired and to try to ask you more about your opinions in the takes next time.

He would randomly appear beside you after a small sounds of wood being penetrated can be heard as a warning... you barely got used to it in the first time, but quickly catch on the cues and look forward to his silent visits.

"...I was wondering if you could share some thoughts about this portfolio I made." He once says calmly as he lowers his camera to search the folder from his bag. I'm looking at you for any answers with a hint of curiosity.

When you come back to the suitcase, he just happens to be straight away and floating beside you. Or when you're at the same party setup, he would often be behind you to look after you. Even when you're not around, he doesn't seem to do anything else but put maintenance on his camera, checking out the photos he recently took, and floating around wanderlessly until he can sense you coming back from exploration.

He probably admitted his feelings for you without exactly confessing(?) He just happened to be in a small talk with you. Often being beside or appearing out of thin air whenever you have to depart to a different location.

When it seems like it is the right moment, he would be quick to act and appear beside you to ask for some of your time to speak with him.

"I have to say this before I forget..." He says as he faces you with that same look yet in such a gentle voice, "You're a company I didn't know I would need it the most... Thank you."

It wasn't exactly a real confession in his eyes but more like a simple, honest statement from him. Having this friendship slowly blooming, he doesn't seem to mind keeping it that way, until you asked if you can both be something more than just pookies... He would still be happy nonetheless, even if he doesn't seem to show it.

Throughout the relationship, there is never enough with Click taking pictures of you. He could have made a shrine out of it if he can, yet he doesn't. He honestly doesn't desire for others to see your pictures... they're special for his eyes... His pride and joy. Anything else can be shown to the world, but he won't exchange anything if it means to show those little cameos of yours... it's an unspoken rule for him.

Click's way of affection is definitely far from touch... since he sadly can't do that. But whenever you feel down, he is silently willing to give you quality time and some words of affirmation...

He may not be often good in expressing himself.... but when he cant find the words, his willingness to give you soft whispers, gazing longingly into your eyes, while trying to make his transparent hand seem to trembly hover over yours can tell many things that he wish to express them to you.

[galvanizedfriend]

hii Yokan! i miss you!😭

how are you? how is work?? I hope everything is going well<3

rn there's a little Comic Con in my city, and it really did help my mood!! (even tho I throwed up 6 times and fainted during the morning of the first day due to the heat and lack of iron🥲) 2 days down, 2 more to go 🙏

ANYWAYS! I know you've been going through a writer's block lately, and I read a post that said something about asking/commenting about the fictions to help the "stucked" autor, SO!

I've been re-reading TW III (shocking, I know) and those little hints about married!kc are just 😭😭 my heart melts, really, although... I was never really sure you'd get them married, mostly due to Care's speech to Cami about how Klaus supposedly sees weddings, and because I remember you saying that you weren't planning on giving them an actual marriage, but rather the closest thing next to it. I checked to comments to see other thoughts, and I saw one of you reply saying that you were completely against married!kc at the start, but then you were slowing changing your mind about it...

so, what was it that made you say "fuck it, I'm gonna ring the bells"?? is it because many people asked you to do it, so you are throwing us a bone, or is it something else?? I'm really interest on hearing the process of your change of heart <3

have a good one, friend <3 love you xoxo

I don't know if I am eloquent enough or if my train of thought makes much sense, but I will try 😂

Also grab a chair because this will be a long one. Be careful what you ask me, I do not know how to shut the fuck up 🙃

Objectively, I still think Klaus is not the marrying kind (in canon context, at least). That man has been alive for a thousand years. He's the vampire of vampires, one who sees humans as a lower species. He's used to getting what he wants by conquering and subjugating because he can. Why would he ever submit himself to an inherently human institution that, throughout history, has served as a tool for various types of social, political and religious control? The ceremony itself doesn't mean anything to him. He probably thinks it's ridiculous and performative, not to mention extremely frail. You can just change your mind and get a divorce, or the good old spouse murder, and then what? What's even the point?

(Just to be clear: I'm not personally preaching against weddings and marriages here btw, it's just how I think Klaus might have seen it.)

If you look at it from the sentimental side, Klaus spent almost a thousand years saying that love is a sign of weakness, a character flaw. He carried his siblings, the only people he genuinely cared about, inside coffins because he didn't trust them enough not to leave him, betray him or end up captured and killed by one of his enemies. Now, why would he want to marry someone, thus exposing yet another vulnerability to be exploited?

Having said that 😂

When we first see Klaus in TVD he's trying to surround himself with a whole new OP supernatural species that will have no choice but to stand with him. They will protect him, they will go to war for him, do whatever he asks them to and they will never leave (or that's what he thought, anyway) because they don't have a choice. That is the only way Klaus knows how to trust people: by completely removing their capacity to challenge him. That's how paranoid he is.

But as the story progresses, and especially with The Wolf in particular because it takes their relationship much further than the show, Klaus realizes there is more than one way to earn people's trust. I feel like that's one of the pillars of his relationship with Caroline. He could've just compelled her (in TVD, not TW because she's a witch), but he never did because he wanted more from her than obedience. All of the things he liked about her - her personality, her honesty, her fire, her loyalty - would've been essentially erased or made meaningless if he'd compelled her. Which puts her in direct opposition to how he related to his hybrids, right? He pretends to be fine with people who have no choice but to follow him, but what he really craves is more real than that. He surrounds himself with people who will worship the ground he walks on after some forged "gratitude" for releasing them of their curse, but he is fascinated by how gutsy Caroline is to look him in the eye and tell him the things that no one else will dare to. What he really seeks but doesn't have the courage to admit is that he wants someone who will choose to be with him. And that's the difficult part, because it can't be conquered or taken, it has to be earned.

Klaus comes from a place of paranoia and extreme distrust of everything and everyone around him, especially after Mikael in New Orleans, and he feels very isolated and alone. He tells Stefan about that, right? The loneliness of immortality. When The Wolf starts, in spite of how he and Caroline were having a bit of a thing before it, he's not sure she would want to stay with him. Actually, he thinks the first chance she gets, she's gonna bail. It's why he's mad when he thinks she wants to terminate the pregnancy. It's not about the baby (it's never about the baby), he couldn't care less about the damn baby at that point, it's the fact that he thinks she's trying to get rid of him, as if that pregnancy is the one thing that is holding them together at that point and so if she's no longer pregnant, she doesn't have to be with him. What I'm very inarticulately trying to say is that his initial approach to Caroline being pregnant is the same he had with his hybrids, as if the baby is a version of a sire bond. It's crazy and dysfunctional, yes, but it's how Klaus rationalizes it, how he thinks he gets to keep people around him - either through daggering them or giving them no choice.

Slowly, Klaus internalizes the fact that Caroline is choosing him. She tells him that a few times throughout the story, and even when he's hallucinating her at the beginning of TW4, because that's something that she has said before and that has stuck with him for reason. She could've left him at any point, but she didn't because she wants to be with him. It's a choice that she has made not because he forced her to, but because she's in love with him. She protects him, she fights for him, she walks through hellfire for him because she wants to, not because she must. He has earned her trust and her love and her loyalty. And that is something that is new for Klaus in his one thousand years of life, at least at this magnitude and with this much clarity and certitude.

So I think when I started writing TW3, which was them in their domestic era, it started to feel like something Klaus might actually do. Not just because it obviously does mean something to Caroline and he would basically do anything for her (even though she never asks for it, which in itself is something, because Caroline comes from relationships that made her feel so insecure and unsafe that she would've held on to a ring like a lifeline, but with Klaus she simply does not need hard evidence to feel safe and reassured, she knows how Klaus feels about her, she's very comfortable in their relationship, she knows that what offers her means a lot more than a thousand weddings to other people ever would - even though she does still love a good wedding lol), but because it suddenly makes sense to him. Not the big party, or the tradition of it, or making it official or anything of the sort, but as a way to externalize what he feels. There is a symbolism to it that while not ideal, it might be the closest to thing to expressing just how devoted he is to her and how she is, pure and simple, eternity for him. When that comes from someone who has lived for as long he has, and who has been as cynical as he was for as long as he was, it does mean something, even if nothing else does.

There is a territorial factor to it as well, of course. 😌 He's a very possessive man and so he wants everyone to know Caroline is his, and it's why it first came to him during the thing with Jackson, but it's more than just that. If it was just about that, he wouldn't do it. He is at a point where he no longer has any doubts about how Caroline feels for him (although there will be a little something something on that front at the beginning of TW4, just because they've been apart for so long, but it will be quickly dispelled).

The most sacred thing for Klaus was the vow he took with his siblings when they fled Viking Falls. They stuck together through everything because of that. He knows the value of a vow and a promise. And he wants a version of that with Caroline. It's the first time in his life when he contemplates genuinely offering that to someone other than his family. There are a million ways he could go about it, probably, but he knows asking her to marry him is the one that will be most representative to her, because of the age where she was born and how she grew up, etc.

And so that is why I decided that Klaus was going to buy a ring even though I crossed my heart and hoped to die a million times for years when people asked me about that. 😂 I just think it's the natural course this story has taken. It's long enough that it eventually made sense to me that he might do it.

Does any of that make sense???? I don't know! I just typed my stream of thought and hoped for the best and now I'm afraid to read it again, so apologies if it's just crazy words.

Now if only I can get back to writing and actually get to that part. 🥲 Pray for me 🙏

THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK! 🙃 Here have a pretty married Klaroline gif.

[adanmwere]

spn au thing! I took this from my notes app

Less or more I'm unsure if I can cw this with anything? I don't think anything in it is triggering and if it is I am terribly sorry

destiel as hell and it kind it starts to read like a fanfic.

A spn au but instead of the "world ending" and them saving the day. it ends. dean accepts Micheals offer from day one. Unlike Sam who doesn't accept Lucifer's offer and never does. this creates tension and micheal gets impatient, the war does happen in fact its hell. Armageddon happens, cas is the only hope for sam and bobby. He is powerless though until..He comfirms something he is in fact god. this causes.. Massive tension because why was he doing this? He had a lot to explain but sam nor bobby wasn't gonna listen to a word he said. if he was god why couldn't he stop it? Wasn't god their father? What the fuck (hes a demi god but he is GOD. just a different one not THE THE god.) he is a human now hes useless as he could ever fucking be. he goes into a depression and still has hope that maybe dean is alive or at least his soul. hes unsure though for many reasons snd who wouldn't be? He was partially used as micheals shield. he'd be lucky if he had made it out with all of his fingers and toes. cas hunts everywhere, he cant teleport so this looking turns into a hunt for years. too many to count he experiences the horrors of humanity and realises how truly fucked this planet was. it disgusted him but he was once again powerless. He was also loosing hope because it was months and years he had been looking for dean for hope that maybe he was alive. just when he was about to give up, he finds himself in a bar a small one and notices a man.. Who seems familiar this was only added on to when the name "dean" was called. It echoed through his ears and rang in his head like a bell. there he was, alive and in the flesh; dean fucking Winchester. He had evidently aged a bit more he was before havibg almost a head of grey hairs but he wasnt that old, he was surely older then castiel had come to remember but he was wearing a pair of sunglasses. He didn't seem to remember cas and castiel was wrecked because he had come so far just to be brought back to square fucking one. he was basically a stranger to dean now... dean took off his sunglasses and he was...blind ? God castiel felt sorry for him.

dean was blind. It was evident the whiteness covering his irises, castiel couldnt help but stare and he knew he was getting weird looks they probably thought he was some weirdo. dean would drink down his beer and speak up, asking the man (castiel) if he was having fun looking at him and if he had never seen a blind man. castiel felt embarrassed he apologized, dean shrugged it off not taking offense to it. But cas...he kind of just gave up. Because what was he to do? he left the bar, he felt emptier then usual maybe it was because he lost two of his best friends. one to His ignorance and the other to just being powerless because he nearly killed himself to help the Winchesters. he shouldve been pissed, mad even. Why wasn't he? why wasn't he mad at them? for making him suffer. it had to be a deeper reason to why, right? He leaned against the wall of the alley way as a figure caught his eye and deans voice once again echoed through his ears. Like fine wine made his ears tingle at the rasp in his voice. he called out castiels name. cas was unsure if he was referring to him. someone else must've had that name too, right? Cas noticed deans slight limp and the... cane dean had, god maybe dean was older then he thought. cas looked around nervously not talking because well he was blind. not to be mean or anything... "castiel novak" 'dean' called out. that wasn't even castiels last fucking name. It was his vessels last name. Jimmy novak, poor guy...But that wasn't important, taking a closer look at "dean" he had a uhhh...fake leg?..what were those things called...God that, battle must've taken a tool on him. But how was he even breathing? he was supposed to be dead, that was the plan that was the fucking mission not to kill dean but kill Lucifer and Sam was meant to be his vessel but Adam took that role soon after they figured out that Adam was Winchester blood he was the closest thing to Sam. Micheal was an angel he obviously had to have a vessel. god forbid. castiel began to feel a migraine form, he rubbed his temple. he would never get used to being a human. he missed being who he was. being able to help, defend. do something, He could barely hold a gun properly. what use was he? "stop thinking that way, hun" dean said. the words made his throat sore cas turned almost red. maybe it was because dean was blind. hopefully dean didn't.. mean to talk to castiel like that, right? fuck. (This turning into a fanfic lol HELP.) cas shook his head and groaned out the pain he was feeling. His head was throbbing like it had a heart beat of its own. "There's something, they..wanted me to give..or back yeah. give back" dean uddered as he hastily walked over to cas. pressing his pointer finger and middle finger against castiels temble. rubbing and sliding them down with a slight touch to it a beam of white light emerged the alley way he had been standing in. it gave the night a light. it was like a beam. the same ring that dean heard when castiel first tried to communicate rang through castiels ears... his own voice

[incorrect-murderdrones]

ANDDD WE HAVE A QUOTE MASTERPOST! ALL QUOTES BELONG TOO: @the-island-of-quotes HAVE FUN AND FOLLOW THAT PERSON :D -Mod Kai

N: This is what Victor would look like if he was doctor Seuss.

Uzi: There's a socket in my pocket, maybe this will help me fix my sprocket.

Uzi: It's not a 5, or a 6, or a 10, I have seem to have lost all of those again.

Uzi: And when it comes to wrenches, it seems all of them have disappeared off my fucking work benches.

Uzi: So even though there is a socket in my pocket I can't even use it to fix my fucking sprocket

*Next day*

Uzi: Another tool another day, I dropped some more shit in this fucking engine bay.

Uzi: But it's okay because I bought this car to get from point A to point B.

Uzi: And after one week of ownership I'm kinda hoping this thing gets crushed by a fucking tree.

Uzi: I've wanted to sell this car since week one, but nobody wants to buy it when it has every problem under the sun.

Uzi: This car will just remain broken and collect some dust, and eventually this piece of shit will start collecting rust.

Uzi: But at this point I don't really care! I have the time, nor money or energy to try and repair.

Uzi: I'm just gonna say fuck this, and sell this shit on craigslist to some guy named Chris.

______________________________________________________________

V: I now proudly present, the life and times of earnest Hemingway in aproxamently 3 and a half minutes. GO! Born in Chicago in 1899, son of a physician and a musician, reasonably uneventful childhood, decided to study Journalism. Enlisted with the Red Cross during World War I, got BLOWN up in Milan and spent 6 months in hospital with severe shrapnel wounds in both legs. Fell in love with a nurse, they decided to get married. He came home to prepare, she stayed there and ditched him for an Italian soldier, which initiated a life long pattern of him rejecting women before they had a chance to reject him. Got a job as a foreign correspondent, fell in love with his roommates' sister, married her and moved to Paris. They hung out with Gertrude Stein. They kicked it with Pablo Picasso. He started writing in earnest, no pun intended. Moved to Toronto, had a kid, moved back to Paris, published a couple of books. Cheated on his wife, got divorced, married the other woman. Converted to Catholicism... Cut his head open after pulling on a cord thinking he was flushing a toilet and instead ripped a skylight from the roof and smashed it onto HIS FACE! Moved to Kansas City, had another kid, his dad committed suicide, he shot a lot of bears for some reason. Had a car accident, had another kid, went to Africa to kill some wild animals and got dysentery karma! Published another book, moved to Cuba, SHOT HIMSELF IN THE LEG WHILST AIMING AT A SHARK! Cheated on his wife, got divorced, married the other woman. Published "For Whom the Bell Tolls," sold half a million copies in a couple of months and got nominated for a Pulitzer Prize. Cheated on his wife, got divorced, married the other woman. Became the self appointed leader of a band of village Militia outside of Paris and was subsequently brought up on charges for contravening the Geneva Convention, and GOT AWAY WITH IT LIKE A FUCKING CHAMPION! Got pneumonia, moved back to Cuba and spent most of his spare time on his boat TRACKING NAZI U-BOATS WITH A MACHINE GUN AND A PILE OF HAND GRENADES I AM NOT MAKING THIS SHIT UP! Had a few more car accidents, three more concussions, got CLAWED WHILE PLAYING WITH A LION... Got depressed, drank. Got fat, published a couple more books, went back to Africa to shoot some more wild animals, and barely survived two separate plane crashes in the space of 24 hours, winding up with a fractured skull, internal bleeding, cracked spine, ruptured liver, first degree burns, and a paralyzed sphincter muscle karma! Won a Nobel Prize, had a file opened on him by J. Edgar Hoover, left a bunch of shit in a safe in Cuba and moved to Idaho, paranoid that the feds were following him WHICH THEY WERE BECAUSE HE SPENT MOST OF THE 1940S WORKING FOR THE KGB, AGAIN NOT MAKING THIS SHIT UP! Suffered from hepatitis, nephritis, hypertension, hemochromatosis, anemia and impotence, karma. Got committed, received way too much electroconvulsive therapy and came out all fucked up, started hinting at suicide so immediately got recommitted, received another couple of months worth of electroconvulsive therapy, got released, put both barrels of his favorite 12-gauge shotgun into his mouth and BLEW HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF! WHAT A GUY!

______________________________________________________________

N: Welcome to applebees! What'll it be? Apples or bees? Congrats, you get bees!!!

______________________________________________________________

Doll: Now that I've added the milk to the cereal tell me, is that milk now a beverage, a broth, or a sauce? Answer carefully Khan, you're wife's life depends on it!

______________________________________________________________

Uzi: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true whoever is controlling my Sim I JUST WANNA TALK!!

______________________________________________________________

N: Do you think god stays in heaven because he too fears what he's created? That's a quote from Spy Kids 2 have you ever seen it it's like peak cinema.

______________________________________________________________

Uzi: Who needs sleep when you run on equal parts NyQuil and Methamphetamine?

______________________________________________________________

V: Just remember Uzi people die when they are killed!

______________________________________________________________

V: Ha! You're pointless!

Doll: Thirty nine buried.

*Gunshot*

Doll: Zero found

______________________________________________________________

N: Which one of you was gonna tell me tea tastes different if you put in hot water?

Uzi: Y- you we're putting it in cold water???????

V: N. Answer the question N!

N: Yeah??? I thought for like five years people just put it in hot water to speed up the tea-ification process, didn't realize there was an actual reason.

J: You don't have the patience to microwave water for three minutes??

Doll: Why are you. Putting it in the microwave to boil it?

J: Do you think I have the patience to boil water on the stove?

Doll: It takes less than a minute!

J: Doll is your stove powered by the fucking sun!?

Doll: How long does it take to boil a cup of water on your stove?

J: LIKE SEVEN MINUTES!

Doll: Just stick the mug on top of the stove on medium heat and it boils in two minutes, less if you use a saucepan.

Lizzy: Crying your putting the whole mug on the stove??? On medium heat??? Your stove is enchanted!

Uzi: Every drone in this exoplanet is a fucking idiot.

Cyn: DO NONE OF YOU OWN A FUCKING KETTLE!?!?! REMEMBER TO FOLLOW: @the-island-of-quotes AS THEY OWN THESE QUOTES :D

[raphaelesbian]

Ok ok ok so hear me out! Shush! I'm not crazy! Just....just....just....stop screaming.....LISTEN!!!

So we open with a song I'll call "Hamato vs Foot" which is very "Horse and The Infant" from Epic esque. War drums. Large powerful chorus of ninjas singing about the feud and how much they hate eachother. There is a big battle happening.

"The Hamatos are ending the Foot tonight."

Then we have a break/bridge/whatever that's very "Just A Man" from Epic and "Dear Theodosia" from Hamilton (but much dramatic, less domestic) for when Hamato Yutta finds baby Saki and debates killing him, but decides to take him in instead.

This part will be done with a specific motif that I'm calling "Miwa's Melody". (That's a surprise tool to help us later!)

"This child will not die for my cause. I'll take him home. Raise him as my own. He doesn't have to know who his father really was."

Time skip!!!

I'll call this "Brothers Song". I can't find anything with the right feel, but kinda "Two Player Game" from Be More Chill, but COMPLETELY different sound. (Video games just don't fit here, despite being set in Japan in the 80's and 90's.) For some reason "Two By Two" from Sofia The First is the closest song I can find to MATCH MY VISION!!!

I'm not crazy! Shut up!

Anyways. So the "Brothers Song" would jave either two or three time skips. Depending.Either, Toddler to Tweens to Young Men, or just Tweens to Young Men.

"Brother Song" would be a song aboit Saki and Yoshi being a team and promising to be there for eachother. Very cute. Very happy. Very hopeful. Bonus points for ever "Wizard And I" from Wicked lile wordplay. IE, lines that COMPLETELY change meaning when you know the ending and are suddenly twisting knives! (Think Saki saying something like "I'd follow you to the other side of the world!" although our story isn't showing that pay off.)

We end with two grown men.

Enter Shen.

IDK if I was to give her an intro song or not, but definitely something where Saki and Yoshi are singing over eachother with COMPETING melodies. (Do you see it!? DO YOU UNDERSTAND THE VISION!?!?!?)

Yoshi gets his own love song duet with Shen. Think "I Can Hear The Bells" from Hairspray or "Elephant Love Melody" from Moulin Rouge.

Let's face it. We all know we need a "I will love you until my dying day" like line here and why!

The Saki gets hisbown duet with Shen I'm calling the "Silver Medal Song". Shen is confirming that she loves him, but that Yoshi is her first choice. No amount of convincing from Saki is going to change that. He can't win because the fact Shen choose Yoshi first will never go away. Even if they got together. It would bother him forever and he would never be happy.

"Even if you get the prize. Will if truly make you happy if your medal is still silver?"

Shen leaves stage and we are left with Saki singing a solo I'm calling "Saki's Lament". Think "Pity The Child" from Chess with a touch of "Sally's Song" from Nightmare Before Christmas. "We're never to become. For I am not the one."

Basically it's Saki airing out that he's always felt lile second place to Yoshi. He loves his brother, but he doesn't know why it feels like Yoshi is always the favorite. (We may have a few musical hints at a later song at the end of this one)

End of Act One!

We open Act Two with a fully proper song arpund the previously established "Miwa's Melody". This is more domestic. Almoat unrecognizable. Miwa is born and her parents are blissfully. Even more "Dear Theodosia" and maybe a little "Everything Changes" from Waitress. Maybe a touch of "Thank Goodness" from Wicked.

I'm not sure if we end the song on it, or if Saki waits until the dialog section, but he RUINS the mood. He's not happy.

Maybe it's a few scenes, or this one goes on for a while, but I think the "Yoshi loses his temper" scene gpes here. Maybe an angry reprise of "Brothers Song"

Our next song is when Shen rips Saki aside to rip him a new one.

The cut song "Congratulations" from Hamilton". "Nobody's Side" and "Florence Quits" from Chess. "You want to lose your only friend well keep up you're doing fine!" is SUCH the vibe for this!

Shen tears into Saki for his misbehavior and warns him that he needs to get a grip.

"You'll destroy everything you have and hurt everyone you have to love! Me your friend, Yoshi your brother, and you yourself!"

Bad Sad. Maybe throw in some motifs from "Saki's Lament" Because Shen loves and understands him, even if he's not the man she choose to have romantically.

Then, while Saki is dealing with that Yutta reveals his true heritage.

We start the next song as a reprise of "Saki's Lament" but it morphs into the big bombastic villain descent song. "Shredder's Song" Kind of "No Good Deed" from Wicked. Kind of "Hell To Your Doorstep" from Count Of Monty Cristo. Lind of "Epiphany" from Sweeney Todd.

This is the moment Saki dies from heartbreak and The Shredder is born from that grave.

Now we cut away to what I'm calling the "Cassandra Song" from Shen. She's trying to warn Yoshi that things are about to go south. Yoshi ignores her and leaves part wau through the song, and she's left lamenting that bother men she loves are stupid and probably doomed.

Part "Sally's Song" From Nightmare Before Christmas. "What will become of my dear friend? Where will his actions lead us then?" and a lot "Someone Else's Story" from Chess with a dash of "I Know Him So Well". "Although the feelings run just as deep. The promise she made has grown impossible to keep."

So now. NOW!!! NOW WE HAVE THE CLIMAX!!!

A little diddy I would called "Foot vs Hamato." which is very "Horse and The Infant" from Epic esque. War drums. Large powerful chorus of ninjas singing about the feud and how much they hate eachother. There is a big battle happening.

"The Foot are ending the Hamatos tonight."

Sound familiar? Oh yeah baby!!!! SYMMETRY!!!!!

Only instead of the break wjere Hamato Yutta sang Miwa's Melody.

The Shredders is reprising hia hit new single.

Yoshi runs in to fight him singing another reprise of "Brothers Song". Maybe in a pleading manner, maybe another angry version.

It harmonizes of course.

The chorus is still going strong with "Foot vs Hamato"

Shen adds a layer of "Cassandra Song" as she sets Miwa down to jump in.

Then everything stops when Shen gets hit.

There's a sad reprise of Yoshi and Shen's duet. You KNOW this is where the "I will love you until my dying day" line comes back!

Screams, roof caves in. Shredder finds Miwa.

Shredder sings Hamato Yutta's part from "Hamato vs Foot" as he decides to take Miwa!

"This child will not die for my cause. I'll take her home. Raise her as my own. She doesn't have to know who her father really was."

The one more time skip to see a child Karai interactingnwith Shredder who sings a reprise, not of "Miwa's Melody" again, but "Brothers Song" symbolic of the fact Karai os not only a stand in for her mother, the woman Shredder lost, but also her father, the brother he misses. Also hinting that Shredder will destroyed her and their bond the same way he destroyed Yoshi and their brotherhood.

Alright. Thank you for your attention. You may all chew through the restrains now.

I am!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 this is literally SO COOL OMG. I've read this whole thing through a few times, listening to each of the song examples you gave, and it's just. Augh you've put it together so well?? Like I can just SEE and HEAR it and I would kill someone for it to be real omfg.

Yoshi and Saki having a competing melody song fight over Shen??? I ABSOLUTELY see the vision it's FANTASTIC god it fits so well that would be so funnnn. And I'm just obsessed with the levity, considering this is kind of a turning point in their story. Going from that, to the duets, to Saki's LAMENT. Him always feeling second to Yoshi..... oh man.

Saki coming in to ruin the mood!! Like imagining coming back from intermission, the curtains draw back and it's so light and happy and peaceful, and then Saki's very presence rips that away. \

(CONGRATULATIONS MENTION. fucking love that one, can't believe they cut it)

The idea of Shen's "Cassandra Song" is so cool omg, like. God, imagining her trying so hard to convince Yoshi of the coming storm and him brushing her off, IMMEDIATELY following Shredder's big villain song (which OH MY GOD that would be so cool I'm shaking and biting. Epiphany is one of my fav songs I can just aaaaaaasdhgsdhg imagining his whole like. Breakdown, like I feel like Epiphany is a really good example of the singer so vividly SNAPPING as the song goes on. Just, imagining Saki starting mournful, then ending the song straight up snarling the lines).

The carry through of "Brothers Song," from the bright optimistic montage in the beginning, to the angry reprise when they fight, to a desperate, begging reprise during the climax. Absolute AGONY I love that kind of thing in a musical. A good reprise is AMAZING.

I love the idea of starting with Hamato vs Foot, and Yuuta finding Saki and audibly debating what to do before deciding to take him, and then ENDING with the inverse, and Saki repeating Yuuta's line about not allowing a child to day for your cause and keeping their heritage from them??? hsdkaghksdghsldgk !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! it's about the PARALLELS!!!!

AND THEN ENDING. WITH BROTHERS SONG. WITH SHREDDER AND KARAI. BITING YOU BITING YOU. OH I GOT CHILLS.

[dreamingofyeo]

Mafia Mingi & Jongho x undercover reader oneshot tws: harsh language, suggestive, threat, angst, use of name ‘doll’

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

You delicately circle the rim of your glass with the tip of your finger at the bar, the ice has long since melted. You're not here for a good time. For such 'threats', the two men you're yet to see in the exquisite space aren't exactly punctual.

sending a subtle glance toward the door, you adjust your glasses, clicking the hidden button in the process to view the men's digital profiles again before the action starts. They're possibly the most useful tool for you in your line of work, subtlety and information at your fingertips, the entire database for Arriba is on them.

[ name : 송민기 Song Mingi ] [ 09.08.99 - 24yo - male - 1.83m ] [ member of 'The Black Pirates'. Specialises in pyrotechnics] [ wanted for: arson, assault, breaking and entering, murder ] [ only engage with backup ]

[ name: 최종호 Choi Jongho ]

[ 12.10.00 - 23 - male - 1.76m ]

[ member of 'The Black Pirates'. Specialises in reconnaissance ]

[ Wanted for: assault, breaking and entering ]

Only thing they’re missing is pictures next to them. You scoff inwardly at the level of supposed 'threat' they posed, you'd been sent on far more dangerous missions. all you had to do was your own bit of reconnaissance and report back to your leader. These 'black pirates' as they call themselves have been getting rather ballsy lately, almost half of Arriba's clientele have switched to them, a fact your boss is none to happy about. Your brief for the evening is to simply observe how they present themselves to said clientele, if you find an angle to work, their prospective 'customers' can be turned away. You could care less personally for the little turf war that is playing out, but its better to nip it in the bud than wait for them to decide if they want to wipe out your crew all together.

Just then, the sound of the bell in the entryway rings out behind you. You bring your glass to your lips but swallow nothing. The sound of boots on marble comes closer painfully slowly before coming to a halt, arms leaning on the bar table. He calls the barman over with a short tight whistle.

The man in question turns around, an equally tight smile forced onto his otherwise tense countenance.

"Ah Mr. Song, what can I get you tonight?" he gets out, customer voice on full display, so much so you almost have to suppress a chuckle.

"I'll get a tequila sunrise, and one for this lovely doll here" he says, you can hear the smirk on his lips as he says the words.

Knowing you cannot avoid the interaction, you turn towards him- putting on your best acting skills. The words from his profile screaming at you to get out of the situation.

"Hello, I'm sorry but I already have a drink, don't want to overdo it" you smile coyly at him.

the barman chuckles lightly, "You say that y/n, I'm not even sure why you're here tonight, it doesn't even look like you've touched your glass"

Bastard. You could slit his throat right now.

you only offer a light laugh in return before giving him and your onlooker a plausible story for your lack of drinking. Unfortunately, your alcohol consumption does not seem to be the only thing lacking as the man you're here for raises one eyebrow at you and the barman simply nods. Just great, if they didn't already know your face this Mingi would've definitely caught onto something being amiss by now.

it's then that you realise the lack of his partner and your mind freezes. You never gave the bartender your name.

Jongho specialises in reconnaissance, Mingi specialises in pyrotechniques. Mingi is near rows of alcohol, Jongho is somewhere in the room, waiting for the opportune moment to enact whatever plan they've got going. They know, they must've caught onto Arriba's plan- either that or there's a mole. You need to abort the mission, now.

You can't run. It's not an option, not when you don't know where Jongho is lurking. The possibility of a mole is information so crucial to return it's not worth the risk of being captured or worse, dying. The only plausible option in front of you right now is to play into the tone Mingi used when he first approached you- disgusted as it makes you.

"Yeah that was a lie, my apologies. I thought I'd try something different tonight but its not to my taste, I'll take that drink if its still on offer please sir." you delicately say, lightly placing your hand on his upper arm. You can hold your alcohol, you'll just have to hope he can't.

For a moment he looks taken aback, as if not exactly knowing what to do next. For only a moment, then he nods at the bartender who all but leaps into action making the tequila sunrises. Leading with your story, you decide to push it a bit further.

"Like I say, this is not to my taste, you're more than welcome to finish it." you say, pushing the glass towards him.

He takes it to his lips and takes what's most likely an amount equivalent to a shot straight. Enemy as he might be, you'd have to be blind to not acknowledge how attractive it is, or he is for that matter.

4 drinks later and you excuse yourself to the bathroom. Only to leave it coming face to face with a man. He is so uniquely beautiful you simply freeze in place. You don't even notice the familiarity of his shirt thanks to the alcohol.

He tilts his head knowingly before speaking in a low tone.

"Starstruck?"

this draws a light scoff from you, you're not that far gone.

"Cocky?" you counter. He smirks walking closer to you.

"maybe."

fuck...

"Either way, you don't seem to be complaining." he offers, now very close to you. Who cares. The mission went to shit anyway, why not enjoy yourself a bit.

"What's your name?" you ask lightly, his fingertips pushing a lock of hair behind your ear just as gently.

"You'll have to earn that one I'm afraid doll." He pulls back and tilts his head slightly again.

"what's yours?" he asks like he already knows the answer, you're so far gone from his proximity you can't find it in you to care if he really does or not.

fuck it.

"not a chance" you say lowly before leaning forward and connecting your lips.

He kisses you back almost instantly, fingers threading through your hair, connecting them to the back of your head. Your glasses bump against him, he removes them from your face without a word and goes back to you, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth gently causing you to gasp into his mouth. You feel him smirk against you before pulling away, leaving one last soft peck.

You know damn well your eyes are glassed over with longing right now, he chuckles at the fact before speaking.

"Sorry doll, you're a little too drunk for anything else, I'll see you again." He lifts your knuckles to his mouth and kisses them lightly before turning and walking out into the main room of the bar, turning right towards the exit.

As you collect yourself you realise like a punch to the gut that he still has your glasses. You race after him, only to find the bar now completely empty, not even the bartender is there.

The bartender.

The man's shirt.

The petname the man used.

How unusually badly you handled the alcohol.

The lifelike mask matching the bartender's face you spot laid out perfectly on the bar table next to where you now stand, a note at its side.

'sorry for getting you wasted doll' it reads. You can almost see the smirk on his damn face.

Specialises in reconnaissance indeed.

Choi fucking Jongho.

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

a/n: happy new year! written straight onto the post, will likely edit later. also I've never written a oneshot or anything suggestive before so please bare with me while I try to figure out how to do it well haha. I'm pretty happy with how this turned out though please lmk what you think and if you'd like to be added to the permanent taglist for my work <3

taglist: @jongnado @voicesinmyhead-rc @n3atjok3r246

[luv-kakashi]

One of us is dead

chapter four | chapter six

chapter five - practise exam

Fun facts about Akira: He has very light brown hair and hazel eyes. He looks up to his father a lot and is immensely grateful for everything his mom does to support their family. His father unfortunately passed away when he was young. He has an older brother He's also incredibly passionate about changing the shinobi world so that the future generation doesn't have to go through what he did. He kinda basically looks like Kenya from Erased hehe :) (Edit: Just realised he also looks like sakuta too lmao)

Anyways on with the chapter!

"Why is Shisui back at the academy? Isn't he chunin? Didn't he just serve in the war?"

"I heard that he was the only one from his team that came back?"

"I wonder if Itsuki has come back too."

"Well I heard that Shisui let Itsuki die on the front lines. I'm not surprised considering he's an Uchiha."

It had only been 5 minutes since I took my seat next to Akira, and the entire class managed to stuff the room with talks of a shinobi named Shisui Uchiha.

An Uchiha. We learned about the major shinobi clans in the Kirigakure academy. A clan known for their visual prowess allowing them to visualise chakra, mimic jutsus and induce a deep hypnosis more potent than any normal genjutsu.

In the Byakuya, we were given strict instructions to retreat if we made contact with a shinobi that the Byakuya considered to be 'blacklisted'. The name Shisui Uchiha made frequent appearances in the blacklisted books, his speed and deadly precision were legendary.

"Bakakira, who is this Shisui everyone seems to be so infatuated with?" I asked, poking his sleepy head.

"Oi will you stop that! Shisui was a classmate and a friend who graduated a few years earlier than us. He was promoted to chunin and just served in the war. Now stop bothering me." He whisper-yelled before resting his head in his arms.

"Quiet down class! Today we're having an exam to prepare you for graduation exam." Kisuke sensei said, causing groans to interrupt him. I zoned out from whatever he was saying as Akira leaned towards me.

"This is the 6th 'exam' we've had this week. I swear to Kami if it's another written test, I might just jump off the hokage stone faces and drag Kisuke sensei to the grave with me." Akira whispered to me, causing me to giggle – not so loudly- in front of the entire class.

"You find exams funny, now do you Y/N chan? Well, we'll see if you're laughing when it's your turn to spar." Kisuke sensei retorted, "Stay behind after class."

I sent a not-so sarcastic smile his way as Akira chuckled at me.

Just wait Akira, I'll get you soon.

Kisuke sensei continues with his lesson, explaining the values of taijutsu and the details of the exam.

"It's a taijutsu exam then. FYI everyone here is pretty mediocre apart from the kid at the front who no one talks to, Shisui and yours truly." Akira boasted, pointing his thumb at himself.

"I won't believe it until I see it Bakakira." I said just as the lunch bell rang, "Kisuke sensei talks too long, I'm sure we could have had 3 pairs spar by now."

"You haven't even had the worst of it. I've had him for the past three years." Akira groaned, "I'm heading to the bathroom then the tree, meet me there if you want."

"Okay, I'll see you there."

"Oh, and enjoy your scolding from sensei."

After a ten-minute scolding from sensei about respect and patience, I finally started making my way to the tree; it was mine and Akira's favourite place out of the entire academy.

Jeez, he really talks for too long. No one gives two shits about respect and patience. Well, patience can perhaps get you somewhere in this shinobi world.

But respect is completely unheard of. It gets you nowhere, not when you're just used like a tool, discarded the moment you're no longer needed.

I hadn't even made it half way through the corridor before I slammed into something, more like someone and fell yet again on the cold hard ground.

I think Kami haunts this academy and loves to trip me up for fun. Or maybe I just have a natural affinity for floor.

"I'm sorry." I said, my face turning a bright red.

"Watch where you're going kid." A stoic voice snapped as a pair of onyx eyes glared down at me.

"I said I was sorry, jerk."

"What did you say?" He asked, raising his eyebrow. His eyes flooded with a deep red tone as he continued to stare down at me, looming many feet above my body.

The sharingan

I got up and dusted my legs and stared straight back at him. So, this must be the Shisui Uchiha everyone's talking about. And that must be his sharingan.

"You heard me. Do Uchiha's not know how to accept apologies?" I retorted as I turned my back on him. I started to make my way to the tree where I was supposed to meet Akira, but before I could a certain black-haired, onyx-eyed Uchiha tightly held my wrist, squeezing it hard and turning me to face him.

Start the water works now Y/N, Start them real quick. Can't let him suspect for even a second that I'm also a shinobi and not just a child in the academy.

"You're the one who bumped into me and now you're going to cry. Seriously? You're in the academy, training to become an elite shinobi, yet my grip has you on the verge of tears. The leaf doesn't need a cry-baby to protect them. Grow up or give up." He spat as he shoved my wrist and walked away.

Are all Uchiha rude bastards?

Lunch break sponsored by kirby itadori yuuji!

"Alright, for the first part of the exam, I'm going to pair you up with one of your classmates and I want you to spar.

You know the rules, no weapons, no ninjutsu and avoid the groin. I can't believe I have to reiterate that.

The battle ends when one individual is unable to get back onto their feet. Understood?" sensei asked us as we all nodded in agreement before he looked back down at his clipboard.

"Great, Y/N Uzumaki and Katsumi Aikawa are up first." He said as the girl, Katsumi, and I stepped forward to the sparring spot.

"Are you two ready?" Kisuke sensei asked as we nodded in unison before starting our match, "BEGIN!"

Surely people expect a kunoichi from a shinobi clan to know some sort of taijutsu, so it must be okay for me to defend myself and even hop onto the offensive. They shouldn't suspect anything.

I charged towards Katsumi and we began throwing a barrage of jabs towards each other, all whist blocking the others hits. The longer the match went on, the more gasps filled the air. I noticed the Uchiha stare at the match in front of him, making me smirk right back at him

'Yeah, you watch Uchiha.' I said to myself as I finished off the match with a roundhouse kick, sending the poor girl to the floor.

I pounce on her back and hold two fingers near her neck as my other hand tightly pulls her left arm, pinning her to the floor.

"It looks like Y/N wins, that concludes this first match." Kisuke sensei applauded, as I made my way to Akira.

"Looks like the donkey has skills." Akira scoffed

"Haha you're funny" I said, rolling my eyes at his remark, "I'm not some helpless girl I'll have you know."

"I never said you were, donkey."

"Akira! Stop disrupting my lessons, in fact, you can go next! Your opponent is Shisui, now hurry up and get here!" Kisuke sensei barked, clearly annoyed at our little conversation.

"Well good luck, and do me a favour and knock the Uchiha off his high horse." I whispered

"Since when were you all fiesty about Shisui?"

"Ever since lunch. Stop asking and go fight him." I said, shooing him to the spot, "Good luck Bakakira."

Akira made his way to the spot and charged straight towards Shisui, going in for a kick which was soon blocked by Shisui. The entire class was captivated by the barrage of kicks and punches thrown by Akira, evident by the series of "woahs" and "wows" which followed every move.

But something was off about the match. More like something was off about Shisui.

He dodged and dived each of Akira's attacks lifelessly, swaying side to side with no vitality, refusing to even make contact with Akira. His eyes held the same, still, stoic look as he dodged each punch and kick.

A look I'm all too familiar with. A look that never disappeared from my face when I worked for The Byakuya.

A look that may look apathetic, cocky and inanimate at first, but after penetrating past its defences, you find yourself staring at a bottomless abyss which stares right back at you with one word plastered over its eyes.

Pain

Akira, being the idiot he is, grew increasingly impatient with the flow of the uneventful fight and attempted right hook at Shisui.

"Stop holding back and fight me coward! This isn't like you!" Akira yelled.

The next series of moves happened so quick; it had the entire class, including Kisuke sensei, in awe. Shisui ducked and avoided Akira hook, leaving Akira open. Shisui took this moment to kick straight at Akira's chest causing him to fly straight into our lunch tree.

"And the winner is Shisui. Akira, Shisui, come make the unison sign." Kisuke sensei asked as everyone cheered for him but me.

Akira made his way to Shisui and the two had a stare-down: one with his sharingan blaring the other refusing to blink. Before the stare-down could go any longer, Kisuke sensei interrupted them both.

"Now boys, we don't have all day."

Both boys raised their hands, the entire class expecting them to perform the unison sign but what came after was (to say the least) unexpected.

Akira and Shisui raised their fists, and not a second later, they punched each other right in the face. Noses bleeding, they stumbled back, each clutching their face in shock and pain. For a brief moment, they stood frozen, staring at one another with wide eyes, before Kiuske sensei interrupted.

"Shisui! Akira! What is the meaning of this? I thought the class honour students might be able to stick to the basic shinobi rules! Yet, the both of you can't even make the unison sign!" Kisuke sensei bellowed, "You two used to be so close, I thought that just maybe this would promote some healthy competition between you two."

"Bastard, why did you hold back?" Akira asked, disregarding everything Kisuke sensei just said as he yelled at Shisui.

"Whatever, I'm leaving right now. I have real chunin duties to do, I don't have the time to be playing around with children." Shisui said, before turning his back on the whole class and making his way out of the academy.

"Akira, stay behind. The rest of you are dismissed, now go!" Kisuke sensei said. I mouthed Akira a quick bye and took off with the rest of the class.

Sigh. Was the only thing that came out of the Jonin's mouth as he leaned against his desk, looking at the young shinobi infront of him.

"Well, what was that all about?" He asked.

"Sorry Sensei. I didn't mean to lose my cool, but I'm sure you saw it too." Akira said, his head held between his hands, tugging at his hair in frustration

"I know."

"When he came back, he looked at me as if he didn't even know me. And that's not even the worst part. That isn't Shisui. That's not the brother I promised to protect this village with. His eyes looked so empty; it was like I was staring at nothing."

"This is the harsh reality of being a shinobi. We see and do things in the name of 'justice' but when in reality we just commit crimes to protect those in a mirage we call peace and stability." Sensei said ruffling Akira's hair, "But kid, your generation has the ability to stop these unwanted deaths and violence."

"I can't imagine what he must have seen to make him go from the humble goofy idiot we all knew to this lifeless stranger."

"Akira, you are going to go through many hardships as a shinobi and whatever's happened to Shisui may happen to you or your peers. But don't forget, shinobi are human too. I think Shisui is torn between his loyalty to being a shinobi and just being human, he's trying to lock away the very things that make him 'weak'. Talk to him, let him vent his emotions."

"Thank you, sensei. I'll bring back our Shisui." Akira smiled; determination painted across his face. He was sure to bring his brother back into the light.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- Looks like Y/N has some moves of her own! Just what could have possibly happened to Shisui for him to become so unrecognisable to Akira?

Sorry if Shisui seems OOC, there is an explanation! Stay tuned to find out in the next chapter! I have just finished editing Chapters 9-11 and they are long but I'm so excited for you, dearest reader, to read them!

Loving you always, Suri 🎀