#here’s how the shadow resurgence can still happen

[khrysalisposting]

do u ever hear a song so toe-curlingly good you just HAVE to make a fringe-ass AU for an npc no one cares about because of it.

this is the song (i have never watched the series but FUCK)

something about the strings are just so straight-up evil bro.

anyway AU where arc 5 has nothing to do with any second earthborn but rather a certain Marleybonian ex-governor that wanted us to literally DIE in Wallaru hating us so so much for ruining his power/status/Novus colonization efforts that he goes to the extremes and finds whatever shadow creatures he can to make a deal to give him enough power to hunt down and brutally kill the wizard, no matter the cost (even if it’s his own life). because why is he shadow. WHY IS HE SHADOW. this has been eating at me for months

[saellefanwork]

𝐄𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐬

Kamado Tanjiro x DemonSlayer!F!Reader x (Past) Rengoku Kyojuro

Reminder: This Demon Slayer fic is rated Explicit (adults only) for canon-typical violence and, disturbing and explicit sexual content

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Chapter 2: The Shadow of the Mentor

Tanjiro and you don't cross paths again for several weeks, until Tengen plans an infiltration mission in the Red Light District.

Author Note: The timeline here is different from the canon story (characters are older, it's implied that Tanjiro has been Kyojuro's tsuguko for a while before his death). That's why Yoshiwara's team composition is also different. Since this is not a fic focusing on the Demon Slayer story, but rather on the relationship between the characters, I skipped the fight scenes. So there won't be any epic battles here, unlike in my other fic "The Tears of Time".

TAGS applying to this chapter: Red Light District Arc, Grief, Sad, Angst, Depression, some Healing though?, Near Death Experience, Ghost, No sex here, only Feels, hints of Tanjiro/Kyojuro's Platonic Love

Several weeks passed without Tanjiro visiting you. Missions kept pouring in relentlessly, and it seemed that the hierarchy, perhaps aware of the changes in your relationship, no longer assigned the two of you on expeditions together. The solitude the young man experienced, punctuated by moments spent with his friends, provided him a degree of perspective on the situation. Despite regularly inquiring about your well-being from the girls at the Butterfly Estate (although they didn't always give him answers), he remained convinced that he had made the right choice.

However, this conviction did little to quell the emptiness he felt without you by his side. While he hoped to reconnect with you in the future, he couldn't envision how to do so without falling into the same patterns as before. After what had happened, perhaps you no longer desired his presence, not even as a friend.

One day, Tengen summoned Tanjiro and Inosuke at the Butterfly Manor. The three of them were tasked with investigating the mysterious disappearances of prostitutes within Tokyo's infamous red-light district. The Sound Pillar had previously dispatched his wives on an infiltration mission in brothels there some time ago, but they had returned with no significant findings. But it seemed the demon living there was active again, as there was an unprecedented resurgence of crimes, prompting the Corps to take action once more.

"We need an additional member, preferably a girl," Tengen declared, his strong arms crossed. "Let's get Aoi," he commanded, pointing toward the main wing of the building, where the butterfly girls were working.

Tanjiro furrowed his brows. He had been raised with manners and harbored deep respect for his superiors, especially his new mentor, who had taken over his training following the Flame Pillar's tragic demise. However, it contradicted his very nature to ignore the call to protect those who couldn't fight.

"Let's leave Aoi alone; she is already making significant contributions to the Kisatsutai," Tanjiro argued. "Can't we request another female Slayer for this mission?"

"They're a scarce commodity. My wives are on another operation, and Zenitsu's late puberty facial hair would make for a terrible courtesan. Your and Inosuke's looks, on the other hand, can still deceive some with some makeup and disguise. Unless you have a better alternative, be prepared to enlist your sister for the task," he concluded.

Tanjiro was about to protest when a voice interrupted him.

"I'm coming with you."

The young man's heart skipped a beat as he turned around, spotting your silhouette in the shadow of the building. You stood there in your Slayer outfit, your katana secured at your waist. His chest tightened, and without thinking, he whispered your name. Despite the circumstances of your separation, he had missed you dearly.

You stepped toward them, fully revealing yourself in the daylight. You had lost weight since your last encounter, and dark circles had formed under your eyes. Your usually well-groomed hair was unkempt, and your uniform appeared somewhat shabby. Tanjiro looked at you with concern, but he summoned the strength to smile gently and offer a greeting, which you acknowledged with a nod.

You couldn't help but notice that he had once again cut his hair short, just like when he had first joined the Corps; you guiltily wondered it was a result of what had transpired during the last night you shared.

"Hmm..." Tengen eyed your tenses expressions alternately with a skeptical expression. "Weren't you supposed to be prohibited from heading on missions together, following Kocho's request?"

"If I volunteer, then it's fine," you replied curtly.

"Well, that settles one issue," Tengen shrugged, displaying little concern for your love drama. "We'll keep Nezuko as a backup. We’ve wasted enough time already; let's go!"

"Wait, Uzui-san!" Tanjiro turned to you. "Are you sure about this? It could be the work of an Upper Moon. I'd rather... have you stay safe here," he admitted.

You were hurt that he considered Nezuko an option for this mission and not you. Despite being in a fragile mental state, you were still a competent Slayer.

"It's precisely because it might involve an Upper Moon that I want to come with you," you declared firmly.

I want to be there to protect you if possible, especially now that I'm stronger than I've been since... the incident on the train. And if you were to die, I want to die alongside you, you mentally added, but you kept your thoughts to yourself, aware that he wouldn't agree with your mindset.

Tanjiro was not a telepath, but your scent and determined expression spoke volumes. He knew he couldn't convince you to stay behind, yet he still felt uneasy about the idea of you joining them. It was evident that you hadn't had a good meal or rest in weeks. His master grabbed him by the collar of his haori and turned him toward their departure.

"Listen to your woman if you want to succeed in life. Her opinion matters the most, second only to the God of Festivities. Stop wasting our time and let's move!"

"Your woman is a pain in the ass," Tengen complained just two days later. "She's exhausted but refuses to sleep. She's like a zombie and is inefficient in her research."

"This mission is tough, and she's doing her best. Plus, I told you it wasn't a good idea in her state, Uzui-san," Tanjiro sighed, not wanting to argue further about the topic. "And please, stop referring to her as 'my woman.' She's... just a dear friend. You know very well that she is Rengoku-san's fiancée."

"Hmm, whatever you say, your heart's melody doesn't sing the same tune when you see her. Besides, Rengoku is dead," Tengen remarked casually.

Listening to his words, one might mistakenly assume that Uzui didn't hold much regard for the departed Pillar, but Tanjiro knew better. The two men had been close friends; the shinobi had simply grown accustomed to burying his loved ones and moving forward.

"That still doesn't change the fact that she's not my woman," Tanjiro responded sourly. He carefully smoothed the folds of his kimono and checked his reflection in a mirror, ensuring that the makeup you had applied earlier remained intact. With night descending upon them, everyone had to return to their investigations separately. "I'll head back to my brothel. I think I've found a lead... I'll reach out to you when I get more intel."

The echoes of roaring flames and crumbling buildings gradually faded into nothingness, as Tanjiro teetered on the brink of life and death, poisoned by Upper Moon Six. His vision plunged into an abyss of darkness. Within this eerie realm, an icy stillness prevailed. Tanjiro wandered aimlessly, guided by an indistinct longing for something he couldn't define – perhaps a way out of this frightening place. He could discern your scent. Maybe you were close to his body.

He longed to return to you so badly...

"Kamado!" a voice called out from behind him.

Surprised, Tanjiro's gaze shifted to the silhouette of his former mentor standing only a few steps away. Kyojuro's arms were folded, a gentle smile graced his face, and his fiery eyes were locked onto his tsuguko.

His white and red haori was draped elegantly over his shoulders, waving slowly behind him, and the golden buttons of his Slayer gakuran gleaming softly. At his side, he carried his trusty katana with the flame-shaped tsuba that Tanjiro had inherited. The Hashira looked exactly as he did in life, radiating strength and vitality. His very presence dispelled the surrounding darkness, providing a reassuring warmth, much like before.

"Rengoku-san, Aniki!" Tanjiro exclaimed, tears immediately welling up in his eyes.

He stepped toward his mentor, overwhelmed with the desire to embrace him before stopping himself, remembering the gravity of his current situation.

"Aniki... I'm sorry. I failed. I slew an Upper Moon with Uzui-san and the others, but I couldn't protect the people of the entertainment district... a lot of people have died. And as for your fiancée, she's alive... However, I couldn't fulfill my promise to take care of her. I did all that I could, but... I just can't fill the void you left..." Tears now flowed freely down Tanjiro's cheeks, and he futilely wiped them away with the sleeve of his uniform.

The Flame Pillar placed a reassuring hand on his tsuguko's shoulder.

"Kamado, my boy, you were magnificent. You fought valiantly, and I commend you. You pushed your limits to the absolute extreme and emerged victorious. Thanks to you and your friends, these demons won't harm anyone else and will face retribution in hell. As for my former fiancée... I know the current situation is difficult for both of you, but she truly loves you, believe me. Hold on to hope. The two of you will find your way through this."

"You're mistaken, Aniki. She has eyes only for you; she doesn't like me that way. I fear I've only made things worse for her by trying to grow closer to her. I... I'm so sorry... I feel ashamed. To think that you had discerned my feelings for her when you were still with us, and instead of resenting me, you entrusted her to me... and yet, I failed..." Tanjiro's voice trembled as he sobbed, his tears mingling with hiccups.

He held Kyojuro in such high regard, idolizing him as much as he envied and begrudged him for occupying such a significant place in their lives, especially in yours, only to leave behind an equally immense void... The idea of letting him down was unbearable.

Kyojuro's spectral form embraced him gently. Though insubstantial, his warmth immediately enveloped and consoled his protege.

"Kamado... have more faith in yourself. She loves you. She chose me because circumstances made her realize her feelings for me before the ones she harbored for you, and I was deeply honored that such an extraordinary woman wanted me. But I'm certain she already loved you when I first met her. Don't try to take my place. You're an exceptional young man. Hold your head high and set your heart ablaze, especially in the face of adversity. She will return to you."

Tanjiro managed to suppress his tears and stared at his mentor, who was so kind and encouraging. His smile and reassuring gaze had the power to reignite even the most dimmed flames within one's soul. Despite the passage of time, this man would eternally remain a role model for the younger Slayer, someone he would forever admire and regret. He vowed to himself that he would heed his master's words and attempt to regain his self-confidence, honoring him in the afterlife.

"I'll do my best, Aniki," Tanjiro promised with a feeble smile. "At least, if I survive... I think I'm dying..."

"You're alive. Nezuko neutralized the poison, and you'll wake up shortly. Take care of yourself and our beloved, Tanjiro. The three of us will meet again in our next life."

The Hashira pressed his forehead against his subordinate's then straightened up, affectionately ruffling his burgundy hair with a broad smile. His silhouette vanished as mysteriously as it had appeared, but the warmth he emanated lingered long after his departure.

Tanjiro gradually regained consciousness. He was alive, albeit severely wounded, amidst the debris of Yoshiwara. The rest of his team was surrounding him, bent over him with worried expressions. He was so grateful that nobody had died... But perhaps his greatest reward was your presence close to him.

You wept profusely, cradling him in your arms.

"Tanjiro! I thought you were gone... I was so terrified." You hiccupped loudly, unable to stifle your sobs.

"Thanks Gods, Nezuko managed to burn the poison with her Blood Art. But you're still seriously injured... focus on your wounds to stop the bleeding, okay? The Kakushi will arrive soon. Hang in there and stay with me, Tanjiro. Promise me?"

He stared at you for a few moments, taken aback by your pleas and your tears. They weren’t for your fiancé, but for him. He turned his face slightly, nestling his cheek into your warm hand.

"Always," he whispered, closing his eyelids with a faint smile.

You were expecting (dark) smut, you got bittersweet relationship development instead. Maybe in next chapter ;)?

Tell me if you want to be tagged for next and last update of this story!

@gyusimp @kimiwotabenakatta-blog

Next chapter: "Closure" (will be released in two days maximum)

[undyingmedium]

What is Anika's most powerful ability? How did she gain it? Are there side effects?

Predictably, her strongest abilities come from her symbiosis with the Deep One. Other than her slowly turning into a sort of mix between living and undead, there are no side effects. I can't choose the strongest one between these two, so here you have them both:

~ Living Vessel: Entity's Resurgence This reaction of hers allows the Deep One to take control over her when her HP drop to 0. She's still partially conscious and he may allow her to take decisions and act together with him, or he may take full control and keep fighting in her place as he better sees fit to defeat enemies and protect his warlock. As long as she stays alive, any game is approved and played by both of them. When that happens, the Deep One's form dissolves and is absorbed by Anika's body; she starts hovering the ground, her hair leaks shadow and her eyes blacken, just like his. It lasts for one minute. Bonus: Have a depiction of it, during a fight in the basement of one of the hideouts of the cults where they held extremely nasty monsters and failed experiments~ You can glimpse at the rest of the party too in the background. It was a very difficult situation and we all risked lots! Find the sketches and other curiosities by clicking here, on my artblog!

~ Breath weapon Being so much in contact with an undead ghost like the Deep One started having collateral effects on Anika's body, and between the ones she considers positive, she learnt how to use the equivalent of a breath weapon. She can spit negative energy in an area to damage multiple enemies~ It's not as spectacular as the Living Vessel, but it's just as scary and ominous when she can scream freezing shadows at her enemies and make them wilt on the spot.

[elliebean714]

Okay, platonic yandere Evan is not something I considered before, but I kind of like the sound of it. Could we maybe have more of that? With Evan and Michael. Maybe this time you could make something with Evan haunting Golden Freddy. Like, he missed Michael for so long and now Michael is here again and Evan will keep him safe

Yeah I was thinking about this too, I think this is a really cool idea! Classie isnt here sorry. Also sorry this took so long I've had my exams and writers block lmao. This happens during the first game specifically. I dunno how much of this is canon or out of order but 'ere ya go. I know there is a night 6 and 7 but I decided to just to the main 5. Once again, thx markiplier for playing fnaf whilst I wrote this.

Yandere-Ish!GoldenFreddy!Evan Afton x Michael Afton (Platonic)

Angst

Pt1 Pt2

Since the accident Evan hadn't seen Michael in years, he missed him greatly, every time someone entered the restaurant, Evan felt a resurgence of hope rush through him, hope that quickly died down as he realised Michael still hadn't returned to him. Evan feared he would never see Michael again.

He often spent his time alone, a phantom in the shadows, a silent observer. The other spirits were all very angry, but Evan still envied them. They all had a physical form, they could communicate with one another, they weren't alone.

Night 1

The security guards always came and went, never staying for more than a week. So when a new security guard showed up for their first shift no-one batted an eye, they'd kill him then wait for a new one. This one was different though, they all recognised him, but only Evan knew him for who really he was.

Michael was listening to the previous guards message, he had stayed longer than any other before the unfortunate circumstance of his death. Evan felt his non-existent eyes begin to well with non-existent tears of joy as he finally saw his brother after years of longing.

Evan tried to make contact with Michael, but having no physical form ment his communication was limited to small flickers, the first thing Evan told him was

It's me

Night 2

Once Michael got settled in and picked up the phone, Bonnie quickly left the stage, on the move towards Michael. Evan began to panic, scared of losing Michael when he just got him back. His fear turned to courage as he shut the door on Bonnie's face.

Michael stared in shock at the door that closed on its own. He hesitantly turned on the light by the door, flinching as he sees the haunting silhouette of the animatronic rabbit. He feels the guilt within him rising, he knows they mean him no harm, they're just scared, and vengeful towards his father, they just can't tell the difference.

Evan can feel the sorrow within Michael, he knew his brother so well. Even though he had nothing to feel guilty over, Evan had already forgiven him, Michael still felt like it was his responsibility to atone for their father's sins.

Night 3

As worried as he was for Michael's safety, Evan was ecstatic that he kept coming back each night. He knew it was selfish, but he simply didn't care. He finally had his big brother back, and he would fight to keep him.

This was going to be the most intense night yet. This is when Freddy began hunting his prey. Evan and Michael would have to work together in order to protect him, Evan knew he was in danger, but he was secretly excited to spend this time with Michael.

Evan fought off Freddy and Chica when necessary, lessening Michael's workload significantly. Michael was greatful, but curious as to who his mysterious helper was, but he wouldn't question it, he knew how rare it was to have an ally in a place like this, that wasn't just a prerecorded message.

Night 4

The previous night guard was dead. Evan already knew, but seeing the shock and horror on Michael's face made him feel bad. Evan would never hurt Michael, nor would he let anyone else, he just had to protect him tonight, and every other night.

Evan continued to fend off Freddy and Chica, but they were getting more and more angry, more and more powerful, they were draining his energy. With each time they tried to attack Evan became weaker.

Evan knew he wouldn't have enough energy to keep going so he returned to Michael, hoping to gain enough energy to defend him from direct threats.

Once the six am alarm blared, Michael practically ran out of the restaurant, not even stopping to thank Evan for his help. But Evan understood, he must be so confused and scared. He could only hope and prey that Michael came back tomorrow night.

Night 5

Michael returned for another night, having barely any time to prepare before the animatronics became active. Evan jumped into action, keeping Freddy and chica at bay.

Now that Evan knew his limits, he knew when to fall back to Michael and regain his energy. As much as Evan liked protecting Michael now that he had the ability too, it felt very nice to know Michael could defend himself, and Evan.

They kept on fighting the animatronics until 5:57, when the power went out. Michael was paralysed, Evan knew what happened to the guards if the power ran out, and he would never allow that to happen to Michael.

5:58, loud, slow thumps could be heard getting closer to Michael, stopping just outside his door. Evan prepared himself for a fight. A classical tune began playing, small lights flash, showing the animatronic waiting in the shadows.

5:59, the tune and lights stopped and the boys were thrusted into darkness once again. The silence was deafening, occasionally being interrupted by more thumping. Michael prepared for the worst.

6:00, the alarms rang. Michael ran out as fast as he could, Evan followed close behind, gaining speed as he neared the exit. He was so excited to finally be free, to leave with Michael. Michael quickly left the restaurant, once Evan tried to leave with him, an invisible force prohibited him. He tried again but once again was unable to.

"Michael!" He called out, "Michael! Help me! I'm stuck!" Evan pleaded but Michael kept running. "Please don't leave me alone again." He whimpered before falling to the ground again, "Please, Michael, help me." He cried, like he always did. Just give up and cry.

Video Games And Characters You Can Request

Requests Always Open 💕

~Elliebean714

♤♡◇♧☆♧◇♡♤♡◇♧☆♧◇♡

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Stronger Together

"Dreamer!"

Lena's alarm sears across Nia's senses. She registers the danger at the corner of her eye-- a Brevakk ripping off his sleeves to expose the keratinized spurs protruding from his arms. One sweep of his arm and she'll be dead, skewered in a spray of thick quills sharp enough to penetrate her suit and lacerate any organ they could reach. But she's locked in battle with a K'hund attacking from the front, so all she can do is brace for the inevitable impact.

Suddenly, Nia's view of the Brevakk is eclipsed by the shadow of Lena's back.

"NO!"

The force of the thorns' impact knocks Lena fron her feet, slamming into Nia and causing them both to go down with a cry. Lena's gauntlet fires once, stunning the Brevakk with a glancing blow. Nia throws her own arm out towards her opponent in a desperate bid to gain some ground. The blast of dream energy sends him flying, and when Nia doesn't notice that he doesn't rise again. Her attention is locked on Lena, and the half dozen quills that have found a home in her chest.

"Lena, Lena, oh my god." Nia's hands shake as she climbs out from under Lena and kneels beside her on the pavement. "No, no, no..."

Lena's eyes are glassy and dazed. She looks down at the horns, reaching drunkenly towards them only for Nia to pull her hands away.

"Why did you do that?"

Nia's suit wouldn't have helped much, but it was better than Lena's blouse-- a silly silken thing now ripped and torn, digging into the edges of the wounds around the quills. Lena had no protection beside her gauntlet, and still she had jumped between them.

"N-nia..." Lena's voice crackles in her throat. She coughs, and blood spatters across her chin, staining her berry-red lips a color far more sinister.

Nia's heart lurches with panic. Her head whips up in search of Kara, but Supergirl isn't here. She's on the other side of the city with J'onn, fighting further unrest there. Her eyes lock on another figure, black leather instead of blue.

"ALEX!!"

Nia's shriek cuts through the din, and Sentinel's head whips towards her. In an instant, the pistol in her hand shifts into a warhammer, and Alex slams it down on her opponent, all thoughts of mitigating casualties forgotten. She skids to her knees beside Nia, nearly elbowing her out of the way to crouch over Lena.

"Lena? Jesus... Lena! Can you hear me? Look at me, look at me--"

Lena's eyes track to Alex, and Nia chokes on a sob when she sees the fear in them. But Alex only calms.

"Good, you're okay," Alex tells her, stroking Lena's hair once with a gentle hand. "You're going to be okay."

With her free hand, Alex fumbles for the watch on Lena's wrist, flipping open its face and silently pressing the symbol embossed there. She doesn't take her eyes off Lena for a moment, and when the signal is active Alex slides her palm into Lena's, which curls tightly around hers.

"H-hurts--"

Lena's breath begins to quicken, and the corners of her eyes pinch with the onset of pain. The shock is quickly wearing off, leaving nothing to dull the pain. Alex nods, giving Lena's hand a squeeze.

"I know, but it's going to be okay," she promises. "We're going to get you somewhere safe--"

Supergirl touches down at the moment, pavement cracking beneath the force of her panic. "Lena!!"

Kara kneels opposite her sister, taking in the damage with wide eyes. She grips Lena's free hand tightly, even as she looks to Alex for instructions.

"Hospital," Alex says simply, urgency clipping her tone. "Now."

Kara nods, and gently maneuvers Lena into her arms. Lena cries out, the sound sharp in Nia's ears. When Nia blinks, tears dampen the fabric of her mask.

"I'm sorry," Kara murmurs, pressing her nose to the side of Lena's head. "I'm sorry."

"K-kar--" Lena gasps for breath, coughing up more blood. Her back now visible, Nia sees that one of the thorns has penetrated so deeply that it tents the back of Lena's shirt.

"It's okay," Kara echoes the well-meaning lie of her sister. "I've got you."

In a burst of wind, Kara takes off, and Nia sits dazed in her wake. It's long moments before she registers Alex's insistent hands tugging her up.

"It was supposed to be me," Nia intones, flat with shock. "She--"

"I know," Alex cuts her off, not unkindly. She tugs Nia to her feet then shoves her into a run. "But we need to go. Now!"

Together, they make their retreat, leaving the alley and the unconscious aliens behind just as the distant wail of approaching sirens cuts through the air.

---

Nia wastes no time in stripping off her costume and changing back into her civvies. But before she can reach the exit, Alex cuts her off. "You can't go to the hospital."

Surprise jolts through Nia, before its quickly replaced with anger. "Are you insane?"

"Nia--"

"I can't just wait here-- she-- those barbs were meant for me, Alex! She's hurt because of me. I can't not be there!"

"Kara just called."

Time seems to freeze. Nia feels ice pool in her veins as a lump climbs to her throat and lodges there. "No..."

Alex rushes to reassure her. "No! That's not-- no, Lena's still in surgery. But-- the police are there."

Nia's relief that Lena is alive cuts short with confusion. "What? Why?"

"They're there to take Lena into custody."

"They can't do that!"

"She's aided and abetted known vigilantes," Alex explains. "With everything that's been happening lately--"

"It's not right!"

"Lena will be fine. Truly. Kara is going to CatCo to get Andrea to make the arrest as public as possible. Between that and the Luthor reputation, my guess is that they'll question her about our identities and then let her go."

"That's-- that's--" Nia struggles to find words through her growing rage. The helplessness of the past few months, the rising anti-alien sentiments, the crackdown on Supergirl on her friends... it all comes to a head, and Nia can barely breathe.

Alex reaches for Nia's hand. "If you go now, you'll only risk exposing yourself. Lena wouldn't want that."

Nia sucks in a breath, but it comes in a sob. The next thing she knows, Alex's arms are around her and she's crying into her shoulder, huge lurching sobs that feel like the world is quaking around her.

"It's okay," Alex promises.

"It's my fault," Nia gasps. "It's all my fault..."

"Lena's going to be okay."

---

Nia may not be able to go to the hospital, but she can't stay in the Tower either. In the end she goes to CatCo, ready to throw her weight behind Kara's pitch to fry the police in the press. Luckily, Andrea doesn't need the convincing.

"I want both of you on this," their boss delivers with a coolness sharpened to a razors edge by the glint of rage in her eyes. "William too. I want you to dig up anything you can find about the arresting officers. Any whisper of corruption within the NCPD that you might have been sitting on, now is your time to air it. CatCo won't stand for this."

Nia and Kara both nod solemnly before retreating to their desks. But instead of diverting to her own desk, Kara follows Nia to hers.

"How are you holding up?"

The gentle question threatens a resurgence of tears. Nia looks away, only for her eyes to catch on the photo of her and Lena on her desk, taken at one of their sister nights the year before. Nia can't remember the last time they've hung out, just the two of them.

Blinking furiously, Nia flips the picture down and opens up her laptop. "Fine."

"It's okay to not be fine..."

"Do you want to know if I'm angry that my friend is alone in the hospital because of me? Fine! I'm angry!"

Kara's features soften. "Nia..."

"It's my fault she's there in the first place!" Nia hisses. The lump returns to her throat, and her eyes burn with unshed tears. "She just, just... she just jumped between us! I should've--"

"Hey." Kara calms her with a hand on her shoulder. Nia sucks in a breath, then another, trying to steady herself. Finally, Kara's features pinch into a bemused smile. "You know Lena... There's no line she won't cross, for the people she cares about."

Instead of comforting her, Kara's words only makes Nia grit her teeth. She turns back to the computer. They better be willing to do the same for her.

"Let's get to work."

----

The first article runs the following morning, skewering the police department for rampant anti-alien abuses while highlighting Lena's charity and outreach. While it's not quite enough to banish the police presence from the hospital, it does get a single visitor in to see Lena. Nia expects Kara to take it, but to her surprise Kara simply nods her towards the door.

"Go," Kara says softly. "Give her our love."

Nia doesn't stop to ask twice. She's ushered into Lena's hospital room by a kindly looking nurse, glaring at the officer posted outside the door on her way in. The second her eyes land on Lena, rage swells in her chest at the side of the handcuffs tethering Lena to the bed.

"Is that really necessary?" she demands, balling her hands into fists. "Where is she going to go?"

"Nia..." Lena's soft voice from the bed interrupts her before she can gather much steam. "It's okay."

Nia huffs, eyeing the way the officer slowly moves his hand from his sidearm when Nia turns back to the room. But then all she can see is Lena, hair limp and torso bulky with bandages under her hospital gown.

"It's not okay," Nia says, sitting in the chair thats been placed next to Lena's bed.

"It's just a misunderstanding," Lena insists, her gaze sliding towards the door. The door itself remains open, denying them any sense of privacy. But Lena doesn't seem to mind when her gaze returns to Nia. "You okay?"

Nia chokes on her own tongue. "Am I--? Lena, you're in the hospital..."

"And I'm okay." Lifting her cuffed wrist, Lena silently reaches for Nia's hand, which Nia offers without hesitation. "Promise."

All of a sudden, the tears come back, pressing against her eyelids as she squeezes her eyes shut. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry--"

"It's okay," Lena assures her. "I'm okay."

"You shouldn't have--"

"Been there in the alley? When that guy tried to mug me?" Lena asks pointedly. Clearly, she's already established her cover story. "You're right, I should have known better." She pitches her voice loud enough to carry to the door. "I'm just lucky Sentinel and Dreamer were there to help me."

They wait a moment to listen for a response, but when none comes, they devolve into a fit of giggles.

"Ow," Lena grimaces with a cough. "No laughing for a while."

Nia tightens her grip on Lena's hand. "I... Lena, I'm so sorry--"

"I'd do it again," Lena returns, softly this time. Her words are for Nia alone. "That's what friends do."

---

Alex turns out to be right. As soon as Lena is well enough to leave the hospital, she's taken to the precinct for interrogation, but between CatCo's articles stirring up enough local support that a crowd forms around the precinct to protest the arrest, and the kind of lawyers a Luthor can acquire even after abandoning the family legacy, Lena is released without charge in a matter of hours.

Nia stays at the Tower hoping to see her, but Lena doesn't come.

"She's guessed she's probably being watched," Alex tells her. "She'll being laying low for a while til the heat dies down. All the better, honestly. It'll give her time to heal."

Nia swallows thickly. "Where is she?"

"Home. Kara's with her, but I'm sure she'd love to see you."

Nia approaches Lena's condo without much of a plan. She's armed with snacks and movies, but she knows that having Kara there won't give Nia the time with Lena she needs. She misses Lena, all more the more since she realized how long it had been since they'd just been... friends. More than allies, more than teammates, just... friends.

It feels like Maeve all over again.

But she swallows her nerves and takes the elevator up. Kara opens the door just as Nia lifts her hand to knock.

"Hey," Kara says quietly. She steps aside to let Nia in, and though she can hear the tv from the next room, they linger in the foyer.

"Is everything okay?" Kara asks.

Nia nods. "Yeah. Um. I just--"

She doesn't have an explanation either. Nia stares at her feet, until Kara breaks the silence.

"Look, I have a favor to ask..."

"Yeah?"

"Would you mind staying with Lena for a few hours?"

When Nia looks up, she finds Kara scrubbing the back of her head with one hand, looking sheepish.

"Yeah," she continues, "I've been kind of... hovering? And I think it's getting on her nerves a little. So I figured I could get some stuff done at CatCo--"

"Yes," Nia blurts. "Yes, of course. I'll stay."

Kara grins. "Thanks. She's in the living room now, if you want to..."

"Right. Yeah, I've got this. Go."

Kara thanks her with another smile that makes her whole face shine. "Call if you need anything."

She slips out the door with a wink, and locks it behind her. Nia walks to the living room on wooden legs, and finds Lena laying on the couch against a pile of pillows, propping her up to take the pressure off her wounds.

She looks up when Nia enters, and though her eyes are tired, her features crease into a smile. "Hey..."

"Hey."

Lena struggles to sit up, prompting Nia to close the distance swiftly. "No, no, no, stay comfy."

Relenting with a sigh, Lena groans. "Not like I have much choice these days."

"It'll get better."

Silence follows. Nia stands awkwardly, hands gripping her bag of candy tightly until Lena regards it with curiosity.

"What's all this?"

Nia starts. "Oh. Uhm... I thought-- well, I was wondering..." She trails off, shoulders slumping. "It's been a while since we've had sister's night."

When Lena doesn't answer, Nia risks a glance up to find Lena blinking in astonishment, before her features soften to warmth. She smiles.

"Well, there's no time like the present."

Lena lifts her arms, making playful grabby motions with her hands.

"What'd you bring me?"

----

Hours later, Kara returns home to find Nia seated on the couch with Lena's legs across her lap. It's as close to cuddling as Lena can get, with her injuries, and the way Nia's hands are spread over Lena's shins tells Kara that the contacr was very much needed.

Lena sleeps peacefully, the tv low in the background. Nia looks up at Kara from the shadows, the light reflecting in the tear tracks painted on her cheeks. Without a word, Kara slips in next to Nia, working her way under Lena's ankles to wrap one arm around the younger girl's shoulders.

Nia hugs her back, shaking quietly with the effort to keep her crying silent.

"It's okay," Kara whispers. Nia nods against her. So long as they were all together, they could get through anything.

"We're going to be okay."

[possiblyimbiassed]

Series 4 - Sherlock’s adaptation of John’s blog?

A.K.A. John’s blog is a gold mine for Sherlock’s EMP!

[This is an updated version of a meta I posted some time ago, but there was some technical problems with the post so I’m not sure many people could read it. Also, now that John’s blog is no longer available on the original website, the links needed to be transferred to the Wayback Machine (X). Anyway, here comes a new, slightly altered, attempt:]

I was reading John’s blog post The Empty Hearse (X) when I spotted this:

I was out having dinner with my girlfriend when he sauntered back into my world. He was dressed as a waiter. BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WOULD BE FUNNY. He genuinely thought it would be funny to surprise me. I think he was more surprised when I nutted him. But let’s not dwell on that because again, as the saying goes, life goes on.

Now, doesn’t this sound just a little bit too familiar? Some points in the blog post that especially stand out to me are these, that show up in an exaggerated version in S4 (my bolding):

John: “I think he was more surprised when I nutted him”. Later on, in the morgue scene of TLD, John beats and kicks Sherlock so severely that he’s hospitalized.

John: “He genuinely thought it would be funny to surprise me”. John in TLD (talking to Lestrade after having beaten up Sherlock): “We always saw it coming. But it was fun”.

John: “But let’s not dwell on that because again, as the saying goes, life goes on”. In TLD they do not dwell on that; in fact, the next time John sees Sherlock it’s like the beating in the morgue never happened; Sherlock seems to have somehow harmed himself…

And there’s more:

Only, of course, he comes back into my life which means I find myself being attacked, kidnapped and stuck in a bonfire. We still don’t know why that happened. It had nothing to do with the terrorist plot. It was terrifying though. One of the scariest moments of my life. Trapped. Unable to move. I could hardly breathe. And all I could hear were children! Singing and laughing like they were in a horror movie. Not knowing that I was trapped in the bonfire. And then someone set it alight and that was me gone. Just about. Sherlock and my girlfriend turned up in the nick of time and saved me. It was probably Sherlock himself. Set it all up just so he could save my life so I’d forgive him about what he did. Nah, I know it wasn’t really.

John describes how he felt like he was in a horror movie. In TFP we all feel like we’re in not just one horror movie, but a whole bunch of them!

John is “stuck in a bonfire”, but Sherlock (and - supposedly - Mary) saves him. In TFP John is trapped in a well, but Sherlock saves him.

John: “It was probably Sherlock himself. Set it all up just so he could save my life so I’d forgive him about what he did”. Ghost!Mary in TLD: “Basically he trashed himself on drugs so that you’d help him … so that you’d have something to do, something doctory.” In TLD the roles are reversed, but it’s basically the same idea, isn’t it?

We know from TAB that Sherlock was reading up on John’s blog – something he has probably been doing at least since John’s description of ASiP, even if he might not have payed much attention to it at first. But in TAB Mary asks out loud if Sherlock has been reading John’s blog:

And Sherlock confirms it:

On The Empty Hearse blog post (X) Sherlock even comments: “I see you haven’t spent the last two years working on your writing technique”. So Sherlock has definitely read this post.

To me it seems quite likely that the blog is the ‘John stuff’ Sherlock bases his Mind Palace scenarios on in S4; Sherlock has read and re-read John’s words on his blog after his own return, to try and figure out what John is thinking and feeling. Then he re-hashes these ideas in different scenarios to see what the results might be.

The Empty Hearse post could also be read metaphorically, as in John being terrified by the onslaught of emotions when Sherlock ‘saunters back into his world’ and all the conflicting feelings regarding Sherlock resurge in John’s mind. He can hardly breathe, and his heart is on fire…

But once you’ve started this kind of comparison it’s hard to stop; John’s blog is a gold mine! :) Here’s another one from The Hollow Client (X) where Sherlock’s wild imagination is demonstrated:

As we stared at the suit, Sherlock quickly formulated a number of solutions. Alan had been winding Jack up to the point where Jack genuinely believed he was invisible. Jack had wrapped himself in a complex set of mirrors so that it appeared as if he was invisible. Or had been wrapped up in the mirrors by Alan. He briefly considered invisible paint. Perhaps Jack and Alan were highly-advanced scientists (they weren’t, they were media students). We’d been drugged on the way in and taken to an exact replica of 221B Baker Street where a camera was projecting the suit into the chair. I did stop him at that point and ask who’d have done that. He shrugged and suggested ninjas. Then he continued… the suit was a hologram, Jack had never existed, Jack was dressed up in the same fabric as the chair…

So, we’ve had a lot of mirrors in S3 and S4, haven’t we? On one hand, there are literal mirrors visible in a great deal of the scenes. On the other hand there are other characters mirroring Sherlock and John to such an extent that the protagonists sometimes become ‘invisible’ and the mirror characters take over the show. A complex set of mirrors indeed. There are so many mirrors, in fact, that I won’t even bother to seek them out; even if you only watch a small part of the episodes, you can hardly miss them. 

And I strongly suspect that in S4 Sherlock’s been drugged and brought to his own imaginary version of 221B:

And the ninjas, who were, according to Sherlock, the causing agents of the suit deception? Well, here’s Wikipedia’s definition of a ninja (X):

A ninja (忍者, Japanese pronunciation: [ɲiꜜɲdʑa]) or shinobi (忍び, [ɕinobi]) was a covert agent or mercenary in feudal Japan. The functions of a ninja included espionage, deception, and surprise attacks.

Ninja figured prominently in legend and folklore, where they were associated with legendary abilities such as invisibility, walking on water and control over natural elements.

The archetypical ninjas seem to have been climbing buildings with ropes (X):

Sounds like anyone we’ve heard of? ;-)

And in TST we also have Charlie Wellsborough, this guy who made himself invisible by dressing up in the same fabric as a car seat:

This dressing up as furniture is not an entirely new idea, by the way. Here are pictures of Robert Downey Junior disguised as a chair in 221B in Guy Ritchie’s adaptation “Sherlock Holmes - a Game of Shadows”, 2011: 

I don’t know, but Sherlock seems to adapt almost every crazy idea that John has documented on the blog to play out scenarios on his Mind Theatre in S4. In fact, it seems to me that just the way BBC Sherlock is an adaptation of Conan Doyle’s stories about Sherlock Holmes, written by his alter ego John Watson, the most surrealistic parts of this show - HLV, TAB and the whole of S4 - is the detective’s own adaptation of John’s blog posts about Sherlock. And there also seems to be lots of references to the many other Holmes adaptations... 

Any thoughts?

@lukessense @sarahthecoat @gosherlocked @raggedyblue @ebaeschnbliah @sagestreet @tjlcisthenewsexy

[makeste]

in which Deku is a horcrux.

okay, so! here’s another post on this, because I feel like nobody is talking about it?? and like hey, I get it, because there was A Lot!! going on in this chapter! but you guys. like yeah, Tomura’s hair is pretty; and yeah, AFO kept Nana’s severed hand around for shits and giggles maybe; and yeah, Ujiko attempted to murder and abduct the child!Aizawa and then whined to Present Mic about having to settle for Shirakumo instead (which!!!!! YEAH, THAT’S. ....); and all of that is Some Shit!!

but also, guys. can we talk about how Deku has a fucking psychic link to AFO, though.

like hey, remember this?

the timing of which coincided with this?

yeah. and now we have this!!

coinciding with this!

so yeah. let’s break this all down really quick.

okay so here’s the theory in a nutshell.

1. AFO steals a power-stockpiling quirk from some hapless nobody, probably around 200 years ago. he doesn’t know it’s a power-stockpiling quirk, though. he thinks it’s a strength quirk. hence why he’s surprised to discover that it doesn’t seem to be working after he takes it! since quirks are still relatively new at this time, there’s a lot that people still don’t understand about them, and so he doesn’t realize he’s actually dealing with what Monoma would call a “blank.”

so what AFO thought was a strength quirk turned out to be useless for him, because he only copied the bare-bones essence of the quirk and not the accumulated power. disappointing, but not the end of the world. except that he’s about to go and make it a whole lot worse for himself.

2. so he decides to give this “useless” quirk to his quirkless younger brother as a means of getting him to submit! except that this backfires. because of this curious fact about OFA/AFO:

  basically, the accumulated power of OFA can’t be taken by force (as Monoma discovered). but it can be transferred if the holder gives it to someone willingly. which, oh hey guess what, AFO actually did.

oop.

3. so basically, AFO had this power-stockpiling quirk sitting inside of him, stockpiling his power, until he willingly gave it up to his younger brother, and by doing so transferred a part of his own power into his brother as well. and these two powers which he transferred -- All for One, and the power-stocker -- combined to form what we think of as “One for All.” a quirk which stockpiles power and can be transferred from person to person (just as AFO can transfer quirks to other people at will).

4. and last but not least, we now know that’s not all that gets transferred from person to person.

so yeah. (: catch my meaning now?

so basically OFA is and has always been a duplicate of AFO. but unlike the quirk Tomura now bears, this version of AFO was transferred unintentionally. the results, however, are more or less the same! Deku now bears a piece of AFO’s soul inside of him much like Tomura now appears to. this is the only explanation that I can see for why he’s able to sense the awakening of Tomura 2.0 AFO’S Revenge as it’s happening, even though he’s miles away. the part of AFO that resides in him is still linked to the original quirk. just like AFO is linked to Tomura. because yeah lol I’m pretty sure he is you guys.

(: (: (:

so what are the implications of this? well for starters, it looks to me like Deku, AFO, and Tomura all have some connection to each other’s minds. the extent of this is still unknown, so like this doesn’t necessarily mean Deku is going to start making random appearances in Tomura’s mental landscape a la Kylo Ren, or vice versa. or that AFO can spy on the good guys by peering into Deku’s mind. but there is definitely some kind of psychic bond there which is going to be important, mark my words. hell, it already is becoming important; Deku being aware of Tomura’s resurgence is going to have a huge ripple effect on the events of the upcoming chapters. particularly if he, Shouto, and Katsuki end up leaving their assigned posts and running off to help Aizawa, Endeavor, and the rest. there are tons of potential plot implications for this moving forward.

then there’s also the as-yet-unknown depths of the link that’s now present between AFO and Tomura. I’m of the opinion that this is a part of AFO’s soul that’s now residing within Tomura, just as pieces of the Vestiges’ souls are currently chilling out within Deku. I don’t think AFO would have willingly given his power to Tomura unless he had some way of ensuring that he himself would live on in some way. AFO is the antithesis of everything All Might and Deku and OFA represent; if OFA symbolizes selflessness and sacrifice and many souls working together toward a common goal, then AFO represents egoism and greed and the sacrificing of many to benefit only one. OFA is give; AFO is take. AFO has no regard for others. he cares only about himself.

so for AFO to take a page from OFA’s book and decide to pass on his strength to another strikes me as a very uncharacteristic decision on his part. sure, he still gets his revenge, but what’s the point if he’s not around to see it? is he even capable of that kind of thinking? of understanding the concept of living on through someone else? and then there’s the fact that he started raising Tomura as his successor years before he suffered his injury at the hands of All Might. so was he planning this even back then? if so, one has to think there was more to it than him simply giving up his quirk in order to allow Tomura to succeed where he never could. I just don’t feel like it’s the kind of thing he would ever do unless he would somehow be able to bask in that moment himself when it finally came. he just doesn’t do things unless they benefit him directly. I don’t feel like the mere knowledge that Tomura would carry on his mission while he rots away in a jail cell would be enough. not for him; not for someone whose entire character is built around selfishness and greed and an unbridled thirst to make everything his.

but if he gets to somehow live on as part of Tomura, though. through his quirk. if it really is like a horcrux, where that piece of his soul has the capability to continue living on even if the original is destroyed. now, that. that would change everything. because that means he can still be the one in control. he can pull Tomura’s strings from within the shadows of his mind. he can see for himself the look on All Might’s face when he’s killed by the grandson of the woman he thought of as his own mother. he can continue to live on, to rule over everything, to be the lord of evil. so yeah. again, I feel like this is the only thing that would actually make sense, given the kind of person that he is.

anyways, so! lots to think about. and lots of questions remaining to be answered! is AFO aware of the connection he has with All Might’s successor as well as his own? (if so, that’s a huge and very dangerous powder keg which could potentially go off at any moment.) will Tomura, who much like Zuko in a:tla is now caught between two conflicting legacies -- that of the monstrous man who raised him, and that of his grandmother’s blood which runs through him -- prove to be less of a willing puppet than AFO anticipated? particularly if this implied new connection with Deku -- someone who is the complete opposite of AFO in many ways and whose influence would be so starkly unlike any other that Tomura has had in his life since his family died -- ends up panning out in ways AFO did not foresee? and of course, the biggest question of all, “is this theory really true to begin with, or is this all just a giant reach based on inconclusive evidence which we don’t fully understand yet?”

and maybe! lol. but like I said, whatever the actual truth ends up being, I didn’t see much discussion going on about the implications of this strange “he’s coming!” moment. and gosh darn it, I want to know more about this, and I want to know now.

[magalidragon]

Romantic one-liners

“However many years we have left, I want to spend them all with you.”

Can it be some fluffy angst? 🥺😁

Sooo when I saw this quote I IMMEDIATELY thought of leap of faith universe. 🥺🤭 This is angsty fluff/fluffy angst in the only way I know how....with a happy ending! Enjoy! (?)

(Oh this has a TW for cancer)

Romantic One Liner Prompts

When his mother died, he'd been too young to be in hospital rooms with her for longer than a few moments at a time, the doctors afraid that he'd be bringing in all the germs and general dirtiness that followed around a preteen boy. It had been relatively quick; she fell off her horse and broke her neck and after a few days on a ventilator, his uncle made the sad decision to turn it off, with the knowledge that her organs would go on to help others. It was what Lyanna would have wanted.

All he remembered was entering the room a couple of times, the last time kissing her forehead, whispering he loved her and would miss her, and then being ushered out by his Uncle Benjen. The woman lying there with all the machines and tubes was not his mother, so it was easier for him to process. He'd kissed her goodbye when he had been on the way to school, surrounded by her earthy scent from spending her waking hours with horses in the stable, and the faintest sweetness of winter roses.

Any other time in the hospital as a patient, he had blocked it out, because he hated it so much, but there was one thing he oculd never get rid of when he walked through the doors nad it was that antiseptic coldness. It gave him a headache, forced him back to those days saying goodbye to his mother, to his uncle Ned after his heart attack, and then when he'd been there after his accident, his discharge from the military already stamped the moment he'd coded on the trauma room table Beyond the Wall.

Now, he was not here as a patient or as a visitor, but as a supportive partner. That antiseptic smell was still there, the room cold and sterile, and he maintained his composure, because he had to be strong. He couldn't afford to succumb to his own fears about why they were there or his spiraling thoughts of doom and gloom.

The papery gown crinkled under his light touch, his hand running up and down her cold arm, comforting her as best as he could. He didn't say "it will be fine" because they didn't know if it would be fine. He studied her blank expression, her lavender eyes sunken, dull shadows under them. It had been a long time since he'd seen those shadows.

They'd only been married a year, he thought, glancing at his silver wedding band. He leaned on the edge of the exam table, his arm wrapping around her shoulder, bringing her head to his shoulder. She rested it there, eyelids fluttering closed, her tiny body sagging against his, exhausted.

"What if it's back?" she whispered.

"Then it is back and we deal with it."

She nodded, turning her face into his chest, her hand clutching his shirt. He covered it with his, lifting to kiss her knuckles. "You didn't go through it the first time with me," she murmured. Her eyes clenched shut, tears trickling down her cheeks, wetting his hand when he tilted her chin up so he could gaze down a ther. She sniffed. "I was so sick, Jon. I thought the cure would kill me."

He cocked his head, knowing that all to well form his own accident recovery. "You have me now," he said. They'd talked about this, breifly, when she'd been having the headaches again, when he found her on the floor of their bedroom, sick to her stomach, too dizzy to stand, the pain blinding. She'd called her doctor immediately, scheduled an appointment.

They were waiting on rush lab results now, to determine if she would go down the hallway to get a brain scan. He brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, tucking the long strands back over her shoulder. It had grown out since he'd met her, tumbling beautiful over her shoulders, like a silver waterfall.

The motion had her tears falling faster, but she remained silent. "I don't want to shave my head again," she mumbled. "It's stupid, but...I don't want to have to do that again."

"Dany we don't know yet if..." If it's back, he didn't say, the words stuck in his throat. He took a deep breath and moved his arms from her, placing them on her cheeks, her face tilted to his. He wasn't very good with words, he hoped he could explain this to her. "I love you, Daenerys, and I have loved you since the moment you walked into my life and jumped out of a plane with me." He dragged his thumbs over her cheekbones, her forehead furrowed. The motion drew his attention briefly to the thin silver scar that he could see in a part in her hair, from the first surgery she had.

He took a deep breath, his heart hammering into his ribs, swallowing down that fear that he'd almost lost her, but he didn't, because he had her now. And he would have her forever too, she wans't going anywhere. "Dany whatever those results show, I am here with you, forever. For a thousand years and more, like we promised each other before the heart tree and however many years we have left, I want to spend them all with you."

She hiccupped, her hands wrapping around his wrists, smile wavering. "I love you too. So much...but it's a lot..."

"You're my wife," he breathed. He grinned. "My dragon, my partner, and whatever happens I'm here. I'm with you Dany."

She nodded quickly, eyes closing again as he brushed feather kisses over her cheeks, kissing away the tears. Her arms snaked around him, holding tight, and she released a long, shaky breath, mumbling, "I am so lucky I found you."

Me too, he thought, eyes screwed shut, squeezing her close. He had made his peace with the idea that if it was back, he was going to be there for her in everything. It would be better, he thought, because he was here for her. Last time she had been alone. Sure, she had her brothers-- one of whom was an esteemed doctor himself-- along with Missandei, but this was different.

They remained in each other's arms for a long time, until the door opened, her oncologist entering, Dr. Mel a tower of crimson hair and odd robe-like dress with her medical coat. "Good afternoon," she drawled, her accent unique and entracing. She turned her blue eyes to them, smiling serenely. "Daenerys, how lovely, you have found your promised prince."

Dany laughed, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm. "Um, yes, I suppose I have."

"Lovely. I reviewed your blood tests and I am pleased to tell you upon first look I do not see indicators of a cancer resurgence, however I will do a CT scan to confirm. That being said, there was an anomaly in your bloodwork." Mel smiled again, unblinking, her head cocked. "One I suspect you will be pleased with."

Pleased? Jon barely registered that, because all he heard was Dany's relieved sob, her hand clutching his, her other going to cover her mouth. "Oh! Oh thank you Mel! There's nothing?" She frowned, realizing there was more. "Wait...what...pleased? I don't understand."

Jon didn't either, an arm around her shoulder now, his hand so tight in hers he wondered which one might break the other's first. "Whatever it is," he began, but didn't finished, because Mel spoke over him.

"You're pregnant."

His heart stopped beating, before it lurched into his throat, strangling any sound he might have made. In his arms, Dany cried out, shocked, her hands over her mouth. She dropped them after a second, whispering, incredulous: "Pregnant?"

"Hmm, indeed. I suspect your migraines were the result of fluctuating hormones, the dizziness and the nausea were morning sickness that perhaps carried out throughout the day." She squinted. "Are you still jumping out of planes? That might also have something to do with it, you're dehydrated again."

"But I..." she stuttered, while he was also at a loss for words. She pressed her palm over her belly, breathing. "I wasn't supposed to be able to...after the chemo and...and the radiation..."

"This is a miracle from the Lord of Light," Mel cooed.

Jon thought it more a miracle from his Old Gods, but as Dany believed in neither the Fire God of Mel or the Old Gods of his forest, he said nothing. He wasn't sure how he felt, the knowledge that they were having a baby...he met her gaze, the joy within her formerly sad eyes. "A baby," he whispered.

"A baby," she laughed, beginning to sob, arms clutching him. "I didn't think it was possible!"

"I'll give you both a moment," Mel said, turning and leaving them, door closing quietly behind her.

In his arms, Dany cried, relief and exhaustion and happiness at once. He scrubbed his palm over his face, dropping it to her back, rubbing lightly. She pulled back and lifted up her gown, peering at her flat stomach. "Hello in there," she called, lightly touching her fingertips to her hipbone. "It's Mummy and Papa."

He lightly pressed his hand over hers, touching her belly, and smiled, unable to stop. It was frozen to his face, the dopey grin. "It still stands," he said, a moment later, after they had quietly reflected, fingers joined over her stomach.

"What?"

"However long in this life we have, whether it's just a year or for a thousand of them, I want to spen dit with you." He brushed his lips over her brow, embracin gher, amending it slightly. "With you both."

Dany nodded, touching her fingertips to his cheek. "Me too." She laughed, glancing down at her tote bag. After a second, she climbed from the bed and went to it, pulling out her battered notebook. She flicked to her list, which was all checked off and removed the pen, making a notation at the bottom.

When she left with Mel to go get a CT scan, just to double check, he took a quick look at the note she'd made.

Have a baby dragon.

He picked up the pen and made a simple edit, before folding the book back up and returning it to her tote.

Have Hatch baby dragon dragons.

[septembersghost]

I saw someone say that brian should've appeared to dexter in S5 after rita's murder, and it got me thinking about how I can see the draw of that concept and yet...actually disagree. rita's murder is so profoundly horrifying that dexter goes into shock. harry is silent. he doesn't appear to dex at all until he snaps and kills that guy in the bathroom, which is a response born of rage and such blinding grief that he doesn't know how to process it. he's running away (there's big foreshadowing for the original ending here, much as I disagreed with that decision at the time, the puzzle pieces of it were established), he's decided everyone is better off without him, this bloodshed is his fault and can never be rectified, and he's grappling with the fact that he loved her and never fully realized or expressed what that was. there is no vengeance for rita. trinity's already dead, and even then, in those last moments, he had the upper hand. he knew he won. there's nothing dex can do about it. it's already over. brian appearing would be rather useless because there's nowhere to channel that anger and despair. his inner representation of harry convinces him to turn around. dex says, "I thought you'd left me," because there's an internal schism. harry asserts, "they're not better off without you. you're not better off without them. you need to go back." the kids are still there. rita's funeral is happening. the point there - the purpose of the entirety of S5, really - is dex confronting his humanity, responsibility, the stages of that grief, the capacity he does have to care. saying "I love you" out loud. letting another person see him, and helping one another as they struggle through the dark.

and then here comes loss, repeating itself. rita's death, lumen's departure (which feels like a rejection, though I don't believe it's meant to be one), and the moment dexter begins to make another true connection, even a friendship, someone who understands and sees him, but found a different path and offers a shifted perspective to him, it is yet again brutally taken away. brother sam encourages him to show forgiveness and he does consider it honestly. he can't understand the level of monstrousness that would cause nick to murder the man who saved him, believed in him. he asks why. he tells him to turn himself in. it's when nick laughs in his face - so similar to trinity laughing on his table - that dexter snaps. "there's no light in you. there's no light in me." the chasm of that loss and meaninglessness is what calls brian out of the shadows. it's not that brother sam meant more than rita so much as it is cumulative, and altered circumstances. he had to deal with the human fallout for her sake. with brother sam, there's revenge to take and that rage boils over.

I haven't seen Nebraska in ten years and probably ought to save or refine these thoughts until after I watch it again, but there's a very clear line of purpose, internal confrontation, overcoming, and eventual sense of clarity that happens for him because of that resurgence of wrath and sorrow - brother sam is the chiral object to brian (that "brother" title is not incidental). he's someone who saw the blood on his hands, recognized its ruin, and turned from it to become something else. he acknowledges dexter's darkness, but believes in his potential light. brian encouraged him towards the red, unfettered violence. he wanted his dark passenger unleashed. dexter manifesting him, unchaining that piece of himself, and then purposely overcoming him is a powerful moment of self-recognition for him. that line I love - there must, by definition, be light somewhere. waiting to be found - can only dawn for him after treading into the murky depths and choosing to emerge on the other side. and that's always the battle he's fighting. is there a way to be human and feeling when you know you're a monster, when you were raised and molded into the belief that's indelible? can one's humanity survive that enormity of loss and that choice and culpability of violent destruction? can you grow your capacity for love and connection no matter how far down into the fathoms you've gone? how much does he desire and crave and even hope for a tether to more? is there reason to seek it?

michael said once years ago, "The really sad thing about Dexter, I mean, the TRAGIC thing is, it’s not really his indulgence in his compulsion that gets him into trouble. It’s his entertaining of the idea that he could have a human life. The more he does that, the more he affects and infects the people around him, and it’s heartbreaking.”

there's a quote I was discussing with a friend yesterday (who a while back brilliantly noted that dexter, at its core, is a frankenstein story, harry as the maker, dex as the result): "This is also the message of classic horror: if the monster learns appropriate restraint, it becomes an angel." the line is tenuous between the two. after all, there are many angels in the seraphim, including the angel of death.

that continual push and pull - the tides, rolling in and crashing out and on very rare occasion going still (a moment sailors call slack tide...it's a moment frozen in time, when all is calm and peaceful. the only downside to it is that it passes too quickly) - is the core of the story and that journey he's inexorably on. S5/6 get criticized a lot (imho unfairly at times, because his dynamics and growth still matter immensely within them), but I think they work really well in trying to explore that.

[baodurs]

signed the saw

mind blind. button x kent, 1.8k words. inspired by this ask about the ROs helping button manage a panic attack (so, cw for depiction of a panic attack/extreme anxiety). sabrina wiseman is unsurprised to find that undercover work is stressful.

The ceiling is dotted at long intervals by waning light bulbs, whose dim halos have a way of blurring the hall’s few distinctive features. Sabrina’s eyes have trouble focusing, anyway. There is grey, and there is brown, and there is the black shape of Kent’s shoulder half a stride ahead, leading her around the next corner.

This stretch of hallway was the biggest obstacle when planning the mission. Relatively deserted, with little chance of interruption, but it was at least a few minutes’ trek between point A and point B, and they needed every second.

Right now, they happen to be perfectly on schedule, and Sabrina is grateful for the dead air. She just needs a moment to collect herself, to align her breathing with Kent’s brisk pace down the hallway. One breath for every four steps, following his lead, and she’ll be back to herself by the time they round the next corner—which is coming up now, she realizes, as Kent takes an abrupt left. That’s okay. One more breath, and she’ll be fine.

She steps through the doorway, which she hadn’t noticed Kent opening, and forces herself back to alertness. The room is small. It’s as sparse and poorly lit as the hallway, with no visible evidence of the files that Kim had emphasized were mission critical. Swallowing another spike of panic, Sabrina opens her mouth, but Kent is faster.

“This isn’t the room,” he tells her.

“Okay.” She presses into the wall at her back and takes another breath. “So why are we stopping?”

The tremor in her voice is answer enough, and Kent is kind enough not to acknowledge it as he turns to close the door. “We can do our job in five minutes, if we have to. We can’t do it if you’re not at your best.”

If it were anyone else, she’d bristle at the suggestion and stride back into the hallway at double the pace. But Kent weights practicality at least as heavily as his concern. From his mouth, the words are simple fact: neither of them can afford her distraction, but they’re a good enough team to manage a detour.

Kent meets her eyes briefly, a small smile teasing the corner of his mouth that she can see. She barely registers it before his focus snaps back to the doorway.

His diverted attention is appeasement enough for Sabrina’s pride, and she lets herself sink. Not to the floor, just the few inches it takes for her neck to fall back between her shoulders, cradling the crown of her head against the wall. Her hands, clasped behind her crumpled back, feel cold and sickly on its lukewarm surface. Her eyes are pointed at the ceiling, but they scan aimlessly without seeing. She screws them shut and waits.

This place needs a makeover, says Nick, who had for several minutes been indistinguishable from the thousand other nervous hums in the back of her mind. How many ceiling tiles do you think aren’t stained? Twenty bucks says it’s five or less.

If there were any windows, she knows he would ask her about the weather instead. But his impression of the space is only as good as her own hazy, stuttering glances, and though he tries, there is little among the blank walls and shadows to latch onto. Still, she opens her eyes and looks up.

He must feel her unease resurging as she takes in the room once again, because his next words come in a rush of thought faster than he could ever speak them aloud: Wait, no, I can already tell that won’t help. Don’t humor me, okay? If I’m not helping, I’ll be quiet.

Nick is, of course, physically incapable of producing any noise in his current state, so he does technically keep that promise. But in the past week, Sabrina has come to understand what it means when someone calls her mind “loud.” Her own anxiety is familiar to her, slowly building and fuzzing the edges of her perception, but Nick’s mind has never felt so foreign. It is deafening in its wrongness, its intrusion. He is terrified.

It doesn’t matter whether he voices it; Nick is worried someone will find his sister having a panic attack somewhere they’d kill her for trespassing, and she would be lucky to die on the ugly floor of that boring hallway because it would mean she at least made it out of this room, whose shadows are growing thicker and more tangible until they seem to press against her throat. Her body falters under the weight of two consciousnesses as their respective panics converge. The wall at her back is painful with its rigidness, its press against her spine, its wrinkled and uneven paint.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Sabrina is struck by a sick inevitability. Of course she couldn’t do this, after Nick warned her, after she insisted. Of course her worst mistake would be to play at field agent, and of course she would bring her brother and Kent down with her. If she could think or breathe, she might wonder if Nick felt vindicated by her failure.

“Sabrina?”

Kent’s voice is closer than it should be. She feels him at her right side, between her and the door he’s supposed to be watching.

A hand comes down on her shoulder, gentle as the voice that follows. “Sabrina, look at me.”

She shakes her head, but the scrape of her scalp against the wall is unbearable. She winces and lurches forward. The shaking motion grows tighter, jerking her chin to either side in frantic protest. I can’t open my eyes right now because any visual input will be the straw to break the camel’s brain, and then I’ll really be inconsolable and we’ll either die here, or worse, make it out as failures, is what she wants to tell him, but the words won’t form even in her mind. She screws her eyes shut tighter and finally halts the motion of her chin, holding it angled away from him. Please please please understand.

“Should I not…” He trails off, removing his hand—but it doesn’t go far. When he clears his throat and tries again, she can still feel it just barely hovering above her shoulder. “Is it okay to touch you? Yes or no.”

Sabrina tries to hum her assent, but the flat “hmm” that leaves her nose communicates little. Instead, her left hand escapes from behind her back and reaches for Kent’s wrist. She presses his hand once, firmly, back to her shoulder, where it offers a comforting squeeze, so brief she nearly misses it, before sliding to her forearm. His free hand follows suit, and he pulls her forward off the wall. She only catches herself when her head meets his shoulder.

The darkness as his body shields her eyes is a relief, and the first thought she has in its clarity is to wonder how much of her weight he would bear, if she stopped holding herself upright. Her arms, folded across her stomach, form an awkward barrier between them—one already crossed by the steadying hand he has placed lightly at each elbow, the tilt of her face towards his neck. Leaning against him, with his nose at her ear, she feels the rhythm of his breath, deep and deliberate. It takes a few moments for her own body to match it. After three full breaths shared between them, her mind quiets enough for Nick to resurface.

Okay, Button? His relief is tangible, though she’s not sure how much of it is her own.

She nods—a motion that, in the crook of Kent’s neck, feels embarrassingly like a nuzzle—then answers aloud. “Fine now.”

Mumbled weakly as they were against Kent’s shirt, the words must have been barely audible. Still, his nose dips to her cheek as he nods in acknowledgment, and he takes one step back. Sabrina’s arms slide out of his loose grip to hang at her sides. Studiously avoiding his gaze, she can’t tell what he’s looking at as she turns towards the door.

Kent doesn’t move. She waits, scanning for shadows, before calling softly over her shoulder. “Time to go?”

“If you’re ready,” he says evenly. “We can afford two more minutes, I would guess. It hasn’t been long.”

She hums noncommittally, and Kent steps beside her. Their arms don’t touch, but the space between them is so slight that she would barely have to move if she wanted them to.

Nick?

Don’t you dare, he warns, managing to sound both cheerful and stern. If you try to apologize for what just happened, I’ll start singing the Ghostbusters theme again, and I won’t stop until you’ve thwacked yourself on the head a few times for me.

Apologizing is one thing, Nick, she says. Self-flagellation is a bit harsh.

I agree! So don’t apologize, and I won’t enforce it.

Nick can’t hide a thing from her anymore, and though she knows his lighter mood is genuine, it’s clear how shaken he is. Does he always get that worried, when she has an attack? These circumstances were admittedly exceptional, but how much of that helplessness was her own?

I’m just glad Kent was here, says Nick, nudging those questions into some hidden corner of her mind. He’s all right.

Yes, he is. He’s looking at her, too. She won’t return his gaze, but she feels it on her and thinks he must be gauging whether she’s really recovered. But there is no tension, no intent in the small space between them. Kent is just… looking. Trusting her to watch the door. Thinking something that she’s sure she could never even begin to guess.

“I’m ready,” she tells him, and grabs his hand—knowing that he won’t outwardly react (it’s Kent), but still not looking, just in case. With one tug on his arm, she leads him forward and poises her free hand over the doorknob, waiting on his confirmation.

“Good,” comes his always inscrutable voice in reply. “Let’s go.”

Kent takes the lead again when they return to the hallway, and Sabrina slackens her grip on his hand, slowing her pace just enough that she’ll drop it as he pulls ahead. When his arm stretches uncomfortably behind him, he doesn’t slow down. Instead, he pulls on her hand, with just enough strength that she has to scramble to avoid tripping over her feet. The momentum carries her back to his side.

“Let’s go,” he repeats. His tone is neutral, but he squeezes her hand once as she matches his pace.

A light bulb flickers above them, scattering the shadows. For a moment, the hallway is as indistinct and menacing as when she’d retreated into that room. Kent’s hand is in hers, though, and he doesn’t miss a step. His outline is clear even in the waning light.

They round the next corner.

[kyemeruthie]

Too little, too late?

It has been some months since I last posted here. A lot of things happened. Went back home to teach after studying for a year, organized a month-long training, volunteered for campaigns until the final days before our elections yesterday.

Last night I cannot sleep. I'm trying to sing Rosas in my mind, praying for a miracle. I've always prayed for a victory against the son of the dictator, even with the littlest of margins. However, we may be confirming what surveys have been telling us all along. My heart is pounding while I try to sleep. I've been fidgeting, feeling hungry and woozy at the same time. I tried reading but Marie Lu's Legend also deals with a plague and a torturous Republic. So I closed my eyes but here I am wide awake, typing words that seeks refuge and meaning.

I outlined the lessons I'd be recording and teaching for the next few weeks. Hoping I'd find yet another resolve to speak and resist; but also knowing that our state universities as bastions of academic freedom and expression are on the verge of losing it to a possible resurgence of the dictator's son. It is scary.

I wanted to cry, to let the tears flow; but even then, it won't. I'm holding onto the hope that our people's movement would translate into resistance, even at the slimmest numbers. I have not checked Twitter and closed messaging apps with my friends since 11pm last night. There remains a quiet hum in the streets, telling us that the days would continue.

Have our efforts been too little, too late? We did our best, to my mind. But maybe, the very disinformation I am studying has found fertile ground among many Pinoys. They remained disenfranchised and unheard, and so maybe, that message of unity have resonated, that promise of gold or even the aspiration of living a bit better took hold.

Time and again, we cannot blame such fervor. There's never that "bobo" vote. Our choices reflect our values and aspirations. The majority vote may be different from ours, but still this is the beauty and damnation of democracy: that we speak from the overflow of our hearts. Indeed, we cannot discount the fact that fraudulent activities and further disenfranchisement of voter rights have occurred. We must make every effort to demand accountability from these kinds of actions.

May be rambling here. Sleep evades me still. Later on, we must carry on; with greater resistance and charge even with fear beckoning us from behind. We must continue to teach in the face of historical revisionism; to deliberate and demand for critical debates instead of relying on propaganda speeches and evasive statements.

There are many stories that I've held onto amid these trying times. Frodo was ready to give up towards the end of The Two Towers, but Sam beckon us towards hope:

"I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness, and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end, because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines, it'll shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something. Even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something... That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo...and it's worth fighting for."

More recently, in my daily devotions, the Word of God asks us to hold on. The people of Israel found an honest and virtuous judge with Deborah. And last night, I found some grounding from Jesus' unfailing promise: that He delivers. Fear can be overwhelming, even the mighty David trembled; but God tells us to trust his power and deliverance. In the same thread, we must always thank God for leaders who deliver. He has overcome the world for His, and I trust His sovereignty in all these trying times.

[dramaticviolincrescendo]

A Fitting Finale: Bringing Ian Full-Circle

Is everyone sick of my essays yet? Excellent. Here’s another anyway!

I’ve been trying to put my finger on what it is about Ian’s story in s11 that I love so much. It’s clear that he’s struggling on a number of levels, and he’s certainly spent the first third of the season under so much stress that it’s impacted his moods and marriage. In 11x04, we began to see hints of the tension breaking, and it made me realize that there’s a common trend in Ian’s behavior throughout the series coming to a head in his final act. It’s part of what has him so passionately advocating for Mickey to get a legal job, communicating their need to hammer out the specifics of what their marriage means, and upset at his own employment status.

From start to finish, Ian has been driven by two important motivators: love and fear.

Ian’s deep sense of love and compassion for others is well documented. We know that he will do anything for his family. I’ve mentioned before that Ian is at his best when he’s with them and his worst when he’s not. They’re his support system, and he’s a key part of theirs. They look after each other and rely on one another when the chips are down. They’re all grown up now, Liam being the exception, but those bonds are strong. They’ve matured and branched out to include Mickey, Tami, Franny, and Freddie. Ian’s heart belongs to his family, and he’s given as much of himself as he can to the people he’s been with over the years in whatever capacity they’ve needed him to.

Ian has also always been a fearful character, though not in the manner we typically visualize. He’s strong and motivated, ambitious and sensible, clever and insightful. When he decides that he wants something, he goes for it, from a South Side thug hovering in his orbit to pursuing the highest military accolades despite his small beginnings. Over and over again, we’ve seen him leap into serious and often strange situations in order to achieve his ends or something for the people he cares about. This man stole a water heater from a dead person’s house with his brother and tried to help his best friend hide a body. Certainly, he doesn’t fit the traditional stereotype. He’s not a coward.

But Ian is terrified—of everything:

·        Not amounting to anything

·        Not being worthy of love

·        Being the center of attention

·        Fading into the background and being forgotten

·        Not being able to help other people or those he loves

·        Not having a path

·        Not being in control of himself

·        Not being enough

He’s never said it. He’s never discussed these issues, except perhaps not having control. That isn’t who he is. That’s never been his way. Maybe we should add fear of communicating too, or fear of being seen as weak.

In s1, Ian makes a lot of brave choices. He comes out to three people, two of them family members, knowing how that is viewed in their neighborhood. When Mickey is after him, Ian takes the battle to his doorstep. He turns his back on an arguably easier life in a nice, middle-class neighborhood and a home with a father who would provide for him to live in the constant struggle to which he has grown accustomed. On the surface, he’s one put together kid. But then there’s Kash. There’s this man who preys on him, a middle child so responsible (and so male) that no one thinks he’d fall into any sort of trap—and Ian is desperate to keep him. He fights Lip over it and so painfully tries to make him understand his perspective, that he’s spending money he should probably be using for things he needs to buy Kash music and baseball tickets, to make him like what Ian does so that they can build their so-called relationship. That Kash is married with kids is unimportant to him; that he’s exploiting Ian’s fear of loneliness and not finding love outside his siblings, unthinkable. We know it. Lip sees it, powerless as he feels to do anything about it. Ian can’t. To date, he never will. He’s blinded by a culture that doesn’t believe such things can happen to males, and until Mickey comes along as a viable outlet for his affections and source of the ones he needs, he’s too afraid to be cautious.

Throughout s2 and s3, Ian makes difficult decisions. They’re not always smart, but it takes great strength to commit to the choices he makes: allowing Monica into his life, voicing even an ounce of his feelings to Mickey, pursuing West Point, and running away. All of them, however, are driven by love and fear alike. He’s vulnerable and needs his mother, the one who slaps Frank for shoving him and listens when he feels alone. She assuages his fears by telling him what he needs to hear: that he can do and be anything. We know there’s a danger in that, especially when she takes him to enlist when he’s nowhere near old enough, but it’s still validating for him. It feeds that need for attention but not too much attention, for understanding but not coddling, for love that originates from someone who isn’t his siblings. We see similar trends emerge: fear of losing Mickey on multiple occasions, fear that he’ll forever be in Lip’s shadow when he receives a letter of recommendation instead of Ian, and fear of never having Mickey’s full affections spiraling into fear of facing his own emotions in the aftermath of the wedding. We’ve seen that Ian runs from what he can’t process. He runs from what he can’t handle. He runs when he’s scared, especially of himself.

It continues repeatedly throughout the series. In s4, Ian is afraid of going backwards and once again losing his position in Mickey’s life. In s5, he’s afraid of being a burden on everyone around him, changing them, and losing control of his own mind. In s6, he’s afraid that this is it: his path and his goals have come to nothing, and he’s doomed to fall into the shadows where no one will ever see or love him. In s7, that fear of himself re-emerges when a patient is hurt on his watch and he has to come to terms with the fact that being better doesn’t mean he’s “cured.” In s8, he’s afraid of the void where Monica and Mickey used to be, and it sends him spiraling into a deeper one he doesn’t fear until it’s too late. In s9, he fears a lack of guidance, an indecisiveness born of having been able to rely on his hallucinations to tell him what to do. His path is gone, and he has no options. And that’s terrifying. Then Mickey is there, and he can put some of his fears to rest until they resurge with the idea of marriage in s10. All of a sudden, he’s back where he was in s5, fearing himself but also what he’ll do to someone he loves.

In s11, we’re seeing an Ian far more like he was in earlier seasons: rigidly devoted to having a plan, knowing what’s coming next, and ticking off certain boxes on the list of things you’re “supposed to do” as a married adult male. He’s spent a lot of this season seeking value in his employment and position in their marriage, and the stress has been dragging him down—quickly.

And it’s no wonder: he has every reason to be scared right now.

The thing about prison is that it is what’s known as a total institution. It is removed from society and, as such, operates under its own social beliefs, values, and norms. Like the military, another total institution, prison involves an initial period of sloughing off roles and identities from the greater society and subsequently being resocialized into a new role set. Upon release, a person undergoes the same process in reverse, and there’s an adjustment period to reintegrate into normal society. We can see that process begin when Ian gets in the car with Lip and shudders a bit, unsettled at the prospect of being outside these walls for the first time in months—going home far earlier than anticipated. For many people, it’s a difficult transformation, especially once they realize the full extent of how your life changes as an ex-convict in the U.S.

Ian doesn’t really get to adjust. From s8 to the start of s11, he undergoes a whirlwind of emotion and change. He literally loses touch with reality, starts a cult, commits a felony, is on the run from law enforcement, allows himself to be captured with one final display, goes to jail, remains unmedicated until he’s bailed out, panics at what his movement became, feels alone in the house as everyone deals with their own business and leaves him to his own devices, seeks guidance from above only to realize it wasn’t what he thought it was, can’t find answers, has warring factions telling him how to plead in court, ostensibly takes a plea deal that requires some amount of time behind bars, goes to prison, finds the love of his life there waiting for him, has to let his sister go, is released without Mickey, gets repeatedly screwed over by a corrupt PO, gets engaged, breaks up (sort of), gets engaged again, sees his wedding venue burned down, gets married, and hurtles straight into a pandemic. That’s… That’s a lot. Being a newlywed in a pandemic is a lot without all the rest of it, but this is what Ian is dealing with going into s11, and he hasn’t had the benefit of a stable readjustment and reintegration period.

He’s drowning.

He’s scared.

He has every reason to be. Marriage is scary, especially if you are so young and so in love with the person you’re marrying. Employment is scary, especially for them, because it could mean the difference between paying the utilities and running out of water. Change in general is scary, especially when it hasn’t done you any favors before.

Add all that to what Ian’s behavior has indicated that he’s been afraid of since the start, and you have a recipe for disaster.

To a great extent, that’s what I think his arc is all about this season: learning how to live again. It’s about not being so afraid of himself that he desperately grasps for any stereotypical structure for married life that he can. It’s about regaining the confidence that has always left him clawing his way to the top instead of letting life beat him down. It’s about finding the happy medium where he and Mickey aren’t doing anything illegal but aren’t stuck in a valueless spiral, scrambling and struggling to pay the bills like when they were kids.

It’s about learning not to be so afraid anymore, and I think that’s a beautiful goodbye for a beautiful character.

[self-proclaimed-chaotic-good]

Sparks Flew | Quentin Beck x Reader (Oneshot)

Prompt: Magic

Fandom: MCU

Words: 1778

A/N: Thinking of so many fics for this movie, but I didn’t know where to start. An AU if there had been someone there who knew what they were doing and the rest of the movie could have been Peter helping people with petty crime while hiding the Spiderman costume from MJ. Not much of a Quentin Beck x Reader, but I might continue this for another prompt.

-

A man who looked vaguely familiar stood between Fury and Hill in the strangest outfit you’ve ever seen. Green scale-like, skin tight uniform, topped with a red flowy cape. His brown hair was gelled back and his facial hair trimmed, blue eyes scanning the holographic map before flickering over to you and Peter.

You looked over to the young hero, merely a high school student that had already been through a lot. He was frowning, his forehead creasing from levels of anxiety. You squeezed his shoulder and offered a comforting smile.

“Why hasn’t there been any sightings of portals appearing or sudden resurgence of foreign or abnormal levels of energy?” you asked Maria.

Maria exchanged a look with Fury before pressing a button on the console. “The footage that we were able to retrieve only shows the creatures appearing in different parts of the world. We were not able to get any clear readings of any energy surges in those locations, but we’re still looking into it,” she said, showing the shaky civilian videos, “Mr. Beck here is familiar with these creatures and was able to stop them before they did any more damage.”

“How fortuitous,” you commented, eyeing said man, “And what are these creatures, exactly? Where are they coming from?”

“To put it simply, I come from another universe, another earth very similar to yours. It was destroyed by these monstrous elementals. I was one of the fighters deployed to combat them…,” he paused, his head lowering for dramatic effect before looking back up at you, “I was the only survivor. I’m not going to let another earth get destroyed like mines. Not if I can help it.”

“Right,” you said, shrugging off his heroic speech, “So how did you get to our universe, then?”

He shrugged. “Just a quick gadget I had to whip up. One time use only, sadly. I had to use what was available to me.”

“And how were you able to track these creatures to this particular universe?” you continued on with your not so subtle interrogation.

You noticed Maria and Fury glancing at each other every now and again. You would need to question them as well. Fury was one of if not the most paranoid person in this universe. There are too many holes in this Beck’s story to not be suspicious about him.

Mr. Beck smiled, but there was a twitch at his brow as if annoyed by your questions. Good. He stood up straighter. “They have a signature energy that I was able to trace back to your world. WIth that, we can predict where their next location will be,” he said, raising an eyebrow, challenging you to ask any more questions.

You simply hummed, turning to Peter. “Peter?” you asked softly.

He blinked, tearing his eyes away from the hologram. “Yeah?”

“You don’t have to worry too much about this,” you assured him, “We’ll call you if we need back up. You go and enjoy your trip.”

“What would I do without you, Sparky?” Peter said, his shoulder visibly relaxing.

You groaned at the nickname that still haunted you beyond Tony’s grave. “I’m letting you get away with that just this once, okay, kid?”

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Okay, so, um, nice to meet you, Mr. Beck, sir, and nice seeing you again, Fury and Hill and- “ You gave him a warning look “- (Y/n). I’m just gonna… go back.”

“I’ll keep you updated,” you said, waving him off.

He hurriedly left the hideout and you smiled fondly at him. After you met him through Tony, he became like a younger brother to you and you knew how much he has gone through. You even heard from Aunt May that his ‘Peter Tingle’ hadn’t been working lately, which may be why he hadn’t been suspicious of the newcomer yet. You’d hate to see his first vacation in years to be ruined by the pressure to save the world on his own. Or, the supposed threat to your world.

You turned and saw Mr. Beck watching you. He offered you a friendly smile, and you forced one in return before making your way towards Fury and Maria, gesturing to talk to them privately.

“Keep an eye on him, Nick,” you told Fury.

He nodded, then froze. He had made that same mistake years ago during his first encounter with Nick Fury. You were testing him. “Excuse me?” he said.

“Where are they?” you whispered, referring to the real Fury and Maria.

“Busy,” he said in the same hushed tone.

“But my warning still stands,” you said, “I don’t fully trust this Beck.”

They both nodded, promising to keep you in the loop and to avoid contacting Peter as much.

On your way to your own accommodations, you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced at the nearest window and saw Mr. Beck’s reflection. He was wearing casual clothes this time, finally out of that ridiculous costume, in a light blue button shirt and khaki pants.

“Mister Beck,” you greeted with a nod.

“Please, call me Quentin,” he said with that same friendly smile. “Getting some shut eye before the mission starts?”

“That’s the plan. Out at a late night stroll?”

“Something like that. So how do you know Peter? You two seem close.” Quentin fell into step with you, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Met through Tony,” you said.

“Tony, as in Tony Stark?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in feigned surprise.

You nodded, raking through your brain to try and recall where you had seen Quentin Beck. From his reaction to Tony’s name, you knew it had something to do with him.

“Must be rough on the kid to lose someone like Tony Stark,” he continued. You gave him a side glance, sensing that he wanted to keep you talking. You used that to your advantage, helping you jog your memory.

“Yeah, which is why I want him to be a normal high school student and not spend his energy on something that could be dealt with without him.”

“And what do you do, exactly? I don’t mean it offensively,” he said, raising his hands up, “I’m genuinely curious. It’s not like I was able to go through profiles of all of SHIELD’s associates.”

“I’m… good with technology,” you said, and it was true, “You seem to be good at it, too.”

He shrugged. “Just enough to get by,” he said.

“But making a teleporter to another universe with limited resources is pretty impressive.” Lets inflate his ego a bit, see how much he needs until he pops.

He chuckled bashfully. “Well, I was an engineer of a sorts before… everything happened.”

“Yeah? So were you the Tony Stark of your universe?”

Quentin’s face twitched at the mention of Tony again. He looked ahead, eyes distant. “I was bigger,” he said, “A visionary. Giving credit where credit is due and took my fellow scientists seriously.”

There it is. He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly before turning back to you with another friendly smile. You remembered now. He was part of one of Tony’s research teams. He had many good ideas, but there were qualities that he lacked that only Tony could pull off. Now, to catch him red handed.

“So, better than Tony,” you said, making his smile widened.

Talk about a complex. A shame, too. He had the brains and the looks. If he had been close with Tony, he would have been one of the guys that Tony tried to introduce you to. And you would have said yes.

As he opened his mouth, you began to feel rumbling below your feet. You stepped back, looking at Quentin. He snapped his head around, scanning for the source.

“Haven’t caught this on your scans?” you asked.

“They weren’t supposed to be here yet,” he said, holding an arm out, as if to protect you from the unseen threat, but still a good three feet away.

He waved his hand as his costume appeared in time for a fire elemental to appear from the ground in the middle of the wide clearing on your left. It growled, sending debris with its radius. You narrowed your eyes as you sensed the buzzing in the air. It wasn’t the regular frequency of the surrounding electrical sources, it was moving.

“Stand back,” Quentin said as he stepped forward. He raised his hands out, green beams of energy shooting from his palms and hitting the creature.

You quickly observed the situation before running to get a good angle. Once Quentin and the creature were in perfect range, you thrust your hands out and sent a surge of electricity, hitting them both. Quentin collapsed to the ground as the image of the fire elemental creature faded, followed by drones raining down around them.

Your shadow casted over Quentin as he glared up at you, or at least, as much as he could while he rode out the electricity through his system. You smirked, crouching down beside him.

“What… did… you… do,” he managed to get out between spasms.

You shrugged. “Magic? Certainly not a projection from flying drones.” You pressed a palm onto his legs, the remaining electrical energy from the fallen drones gathering around you and forming ropes around them.

“What are you going to do to me?” he grunted.

“Once I speak to Fury and Maria, we’ll sort something out. It’s a shame to waste a mind like yours. For now, we’re going to keep a close eye on you.”

Two men in black suits walked over and picked Quentin up with ease. You followed them towards the heavily tinted car parked at the curb where the fake Fury and Maria were waiting. Quentin struggled as they shoved him into the backseat before turning to the others to clear up the area. You stooped down as the driver’s seat window rolled down.

“You work fast. No wonder Fury told us to call you,” Talos said.

“Call me if anything else comes up,” you said, tapping the car roof.

“Not gonna visit me?” Quentin asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe, depending on your behavior. Might even treat you with something if you’ve been a good boy. Night, guys.”

They nodded, Talos rolling the window up again. As you walked back to your hotel, Talos and Soren shifted back to their natural form. They both exhaled before turning back to Quentin. His eyes widened as he stared at them.

“What the fu-”

“Great, now what are we going to tell Fury?” Soren asked.

“Nothing. For now,” Talos said, starting the engine and driving back to the hideout.

[gastricpierrot]

Lio can’t say he’s that much surprised to hear pebbles hitting against his window. 

He sits up, slipping away from his warm cocoon of sheets, shivering slightly when his bare feet meet the cobbled floor. It's dark; the candles have just been extinguished not long ago. But the moon is full tonight, and he sees his way around just fine. 

He stops before the glass plane, waiting for the consistent clatter of pebbles to stop before pushing it open and breathing in the dewy night air. He leans out, and at first glance sees no one on the lawn below him. He squints and pays just a little more attention to the shadows, the artfully trimmed bushes. 

And sure enough, he spots it, the tell-tale lock of spiked blue hair that always gives Galo’s location away. Lio smiles, nonetheless endeared by how hard he still tries. 

“Galo, what are you doing?” he calls out, and for a moment receives no response. So he adds, “if it’s nothing important then I’ll be going back inside.”

Galo finally sticks his head out from behind the bush. “No, wait!” 

Lio, having no intention to follow through with his words to begin with, rests his elbows on the windowsill, balances his chin on his palm, and makes himself comfortable. “I am waiting, love.”

“Just give me a sec!” Galo says, then proceeds to disappear again. Lio really doesn’t mind waiting one bit despite what comes out of his mouth, doesn’t mind having this chance to simply bask in this rare moment of undisturbed peace. Right here and now, only the moon watches. 

Galo soon reappears, this time fully stepping out of the bushes and striding his way towards Lio. He holds a bundle of flowers in one hand, the more delicate ones already bending a little haphazardly over his fingers. 

“Really,” Lio leans lower out when he’s close enough, tucking his hair behind his ear so it wouldn’t get in the way of looking at him properly. “What are you doing, Galo?”

“Isn’t it obvious enough?” Galo grins as he holds up his fistful of flowers. “I’m trying to court you!”

Lio studies the makeshift bouquet, notices there seems to be a running theme of yellow and blue. Some, he very well knows couldn’t have been from the palace gardens. Did this idiot really go out of his way to bring them in from somewhere else and hide them until it’s time? Judging by how they look, he probably did. 

“Hmm. And?” 

Lio can never get used to it, this resurgence of a playfulness he’s long buried that only happens to the pleasant comfort he gains from Galo’s companionship. It warms his chest, brings a special sort of joy he’s rarely ever felt before. 

“Would you care to let me court you?” Under the soft moonlight, Galo’s eyes glimmers with the same sense of familiar mischief. 

“With just a handful of wilted flowers?” Lio feels himself smile a little wider. “Is another prince really worth only that much to you, Galo Thymos?” 

“Oh, Lio, Lio,” Galo tuts and waggles a finger at him. “Don’t you realize this is all but bait to lure you out of your chambers?” 

“And you think that’d work just because I like flowers?” Lio quietly gauges the distance to the ground below. 

“You like hugs too so I’ll give you a big one if you come down?” Galo offers, and immediately yelps when Lio leaps out of his window following nothing but a sudden, curt warning. Fortunately, he backs away enough space for Lio to cushion his fall with a roll. 

Lio then casually gets on his feet, brushing off dirt from his clothes as if he didn’t just clear a two-story drop without even a bruise. He turns to see Galo gaping at him still in a bit of shock, and tilts his head slightly to the side. 

“You sold me with the hug,” is all he says. 

“Liooo!!!!” Galo’s whine is entirely too loud in the silence, and Lio quickly shushes him with a laugh. Galo doesn’t need to be prompted twice, tugging Lio into his arms to pour out a torrent of words of relief the moment he’s within reach. 

And through it all, Lio’s heart does multiple little flips in his chest. 

“It’s all fine, Galo, calm down,” he soothes, though already half expecting some guards on patrol to have already heard the commotion and are now rushing over. While Lio’s relationship with Galo isn’t exactly a secret within the castle walls, it’d still be annoying to have to listen to potential lectures about sneaking out undetected at night. Lio is definitely not in the mood to be told what to do at the moment.

“What if you hurt yourself doing that!!!” Galo insists, and Lio knows there’s really nothing else he can say to calm him at this point. He switches his approach. 

“I didn’t, Galo, don’t worry,” he assures as he gently pushes away, reaching for Galo’s hand with the flowers behind him. “But enough of that, didn’t you want to show these to me?” 

The distraction works. Galo perks up, reminded that he does indeed want to show them to him. He shifts, giving Lio a better look at the flowers he’d personally picked. Lio could tell from this up close that they’ve been picked without the careful, trained skills of a gardener, and they definitely have not been arranged by someone experienced. But he does feel Galo’s sincerity from it, can practically imagine the adorable pout on his face as he pondered over which flower Lio would like most. 

Lio plucks out a vibrant little daisy from the bunch, and slips it above Galo’s ear. “Cute.”

He laughs again when Galo splutters at that. Lio will always be awed by how joy always comes so easily when they’re together. 

“Come on, let’s go somewhere with a little more privacy,” Lio urges next with a small tug on Galo’s wrist. Galo doesn’t argue, letting Lio drag him along to navigate the shadows over the castle paths. They slip through walkways, even manage to cross the courtyard undetected by a badly timed night patrol of castle guards. 

They arrive at the rose garden slightly out of breath, Lio’s heart pounding from both excitement and their sprint through the open courtyard. He notices, with unadulterated delight, that the daisy is still tucked into Galo’s hair when he turns to him to exchange a triumphant grin. It's something so silly, so insignificant—and yet. 

Being here at night, sitting on the grass in their night clothes and surrounded by rose bushes at full bloom—it's a vision of a romance Lio could’ve never imagined to have. There’s something magical about it, something exhilarating about being somewhere they’re not supposed to be at a time they’re not supposed to meet. The air is sweet with the light fragrance of roses. Their hands, with their fingers intertwined, are warm and comfortable. 

Their kiss is unavoidable; the anticipation for it has been hovering over them like a cloud from the very start. Lio can never get used to the pleasant buzz that spreads through his being the moment their lips meet, the sheer giddiness from that sends his head spinning and takes his breath away. 

It’s all still so new to him, being in love like this. 

[write-like-you-mean-it]

A Hunter’s Prey: Fights and Fire

A day has passed since I saw Killua and Illumi left. Zeno hadn’t let me do anything but train. I hadn’t even seen the sunlight as the training ground was only lit by many dim flames. A few had gone out due to the length of time spent training. 

“You must read the attack of the person before they actually attacked,” said Zeno as he stood in position. He’d been attacking me with Nen for hours. I could feel they were weak compared to his power. “Try to see the attack by focusing Nen into your eyes.” 

I wiped some of the sweat off my face. I was doing well enough to dodge any of the attacks. Let alone trying to see them coming. I could only feel three seconds before the attacks hit. I took a deep breath and focused some of my energy into my eyes. I could see some faint wisps of white illuminating from Zeno’s body. 

“I-is that aura?” I panted while gaining my posture once again. 

“Yes, young one. Now try to stop my hand. Push the aura to the spot that I will hit.” His arm attacked. He gave no warning to where he would be attacking. In an instant, I had to guess where he would attack. Given where I saw the most Nen, he would attack with his right hand. I held up my arms in a cross form and sent all my Nen into them. If I was wrong, I could be seriously hurt. 

Zeno’s Nen hit like a train; however, I guessed correctly. I flew back into the wall while shifting my Nen to my back. I had to protect myself. I could feel the crunch of the wall as I hit. I didn’t remember closing my eyes, but I opened them to find myself in a small crater in the wall. After all this time, this was the first real Nen ability that had hit me. Everything else was me protecting myself from Zeno’s normal punches. 

“Great job,” said the elderly man as he watched me climb out of the wall. “You actually defended yourself.”

“Thanks,” I said before collapsing on my knees. 

“Maybe we did go a little too far.”

“No. I feel fine.” I forced my run-down body to stand. Every inch of muscle and bone was screaming for me to stop. But I can’t stop. I can’t have myself so open to attacks. I can’t live at this mansion my whole life. 

Zeno walked a far distance away. “You said you were a transmuter right? I want you to attack me with your Nen. You won’t hurt me. Picture what you think is a strong force and attack me.”

A strong force? What could be something that is strong to attack. My face fell to look at my shaking hands. What forces could I use? It was then, I caught the flicker of a flame above me.  The flame danced around the room while casting a shadow in my general direction. I realized that the best attack might be one that was fluid while also being deadly. 

I forced my Nen into my hands and produced a small flame. It was tiny for the amount of Nen I had to give it. The more Nen I gave to my attack, the more vulnerable I felt. Suddenly, I pushed the fire from my hand. I still had it attached to me but the main point held the most Nen.

The fire hit Zeno with a force stronger than I thought would happen. Zeno, as he said, deflected the attack quickly. “Interesting that you would choose to use fire.”

I could feel the Nen force fading from my body. I had used up a lot of aura within the last twenty-four hours.  I doubled over with my hands on my knees to try and gain some balance in my self and gain some breath support.  “I-I felt like fire was a terrifying force.”

“It is,” nodded Zeno as he walked towards me. “There’s many more things to teach you, but you need rest for today. As long as you know a defensive move and an offensive move, you will be able to practice them both. Illumi only taught you the basics.”

“I only needed the basics if Illumi is here,” I said while coming back to a standing position. “If he’s here then he said he’d protect me.”

Zeno’s eyes narrowed. “Illumi won’t always be there.” He stares intensely at me as if I had done something wrong. “I think Illumi has some explaining to do when he gets home. You need to learn how to be a Zoldyck if you are to carry the name onto next generations.”

“You mean children?” I ask a little surprised. “W-we haven’t really discussed any of that yet.”

“Of course you haven’t. Illumi would only tell you things that he wants to tell you. Now go and get some rest. You can always come get me for training if I am here.” Zeno starts walking towards the door with his hands behind his back. “Also, tell Illumi that we need to have a chat when he returns.” 

“I will. Thank you, Zeno,” I said with a small smile. 

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

One shower, meal, and nap later, I finally feel rested and like myself. I was continuing to read my second book on Nen when I could feel power resurging deep within the house. Something was happening and a gut feeling told me that it had something to do with Illumi. I put down my book and walked outside the room. 

I followed the feeling of strong Nen until there was a door that seemed too strong to be opened by me. It was a steel door with a thick lock. However, I could feel the power and bloodlust still from the outside. There must be someone in there with a desire to kill. 

I couldn’t move the door so I decided to wait. Waiting had become so ingrained in my thought process that it became a part of my life. I was always waiting on Illumi like a little puppy dog waiting for its master. Machi would pity me. 

The door swung open with a resounding squeak. It was Illumi coming up from stairs that lead deep into the mansion. A far crevasse that seemed bleak and bare. “What are you doing here?” said Illumi. His voice held a hint of vile and excitement. I felt terrified to even be near him. 

“I was looking for you,” I said as confidently as I could muster. I knew my mind lied to me about how confident I sounded. “I heard something and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

The malicious look within his eyes slightly softened. I don’t think he was expecting me to say that. “Let’s go back. We have a mission that’s going to take awhile. I’ll explain on the ride there.”

“We-?” My voice was tentative and shy. Was Illumi really going to take me on a mission? Illumi had already reached the turning point in the hallway when I finally realized that I should’ve been following him much sooner. 

“Yes, this one is going to be exceptionally long and I need you to come with me.” Illumi’s stride didn’t cease. I arrived back in the room and Illumi was already packing a bag for me. “You need to get everything that you’d need incase we do not return.” 

“What do you mean?” I ask while taking the bag from Illumi. “I need an explanation or I am not going.”

Illumi stopped grabbing some of the items he thought I would need and turned towards me. His eyes had the same malice and excitement as before. A terrifying mixture for an already terrifying man. “You will do what I say. Remember, you are still mine. I might give you freedoms but you’re still mine.”

My breath caught in my throat. My mind was transported back to the cell from a month ago. While I was not chained, I could still feel them wrapped so tightly around my wrists that they chaffed. My wrists still scarred from the chains dragging across the worn skin every day. “I-I know,” I said. My hand clamped tightly to the sore spot. “But can you please answer me. I need to know.”

“I’ll explain everything while we’re on the ship. Trust me, this is the best thing to happen to us. All of us and it’s my job to get him back.” 

I didn’t dare ask anymore questions. Illumi was a menace when he wasn’t in this state. This mission must be worth a lot if he wasn’t even going to return home for a long time. I packed up a  few more things before going to the airship.

 Illumi’s bloodlust was still present even after take-off. I watched as the Zoldyck mansion became smaller through the window. Would this be the life of a Zoldyck? Going from one mission to the next until we die? All of it seemed too much to handle. 

I gave Illumi some space to calm down while I picked up the book on Nen once again. My heart ached for more training that could’ve been accomplished if I had stayed. I might never get the same training again. 

The sky was turning a deep black before Illumi had seemed to return to his normal self or as much of his normal self that he could. He sat across from me at the table that I chose. I couldn’t tell if he decided to sit next to me because I seemed distant or that he wanted to actually be near me. In fact, I couldn’t tell anything anymore. I thought we were making progress but I guess we weren’t. 

“Father told me you practiced with grandpa,” Illumi said after a long, uncomfortable pause. 

“I did,” I said while turning the page. 

Another pause loomed through the air. “Did you learn something?”

“You’re asking me questions?” I ask. I tilt the book down so I could look at him. A few tears escaped my eyes. I only noticed the tears once they clouded my vision while reading. 

“Yes. We can trade question for question.” Illumi ignored my response. He might’ve thought they were happy tears at the prospect of being allowed to do something I so desperately longed for. Instead, they were the tears of the days spent in the pit. I had almost forgotten the fear due to time. He wouldn’t understand that.

I put the book down while marking my page. “Okay, questions.” I wiped a few of my tears away. I hated that the response to fear is sadness. Tears show a weakness that I’m not ready to give. “Yes, I learned something new with Zeno. Where are we going?”

“To follow Killua. What did you learn?”

“Things you refused to teach me with Nen. Why are we following Killua?”

“Because he has control over the most powerful thing in existence. What did you learn?”

“Transmutation techniques. Is that the sister you never told me that you had?”

“I don’t have a sister.”

“Then who is she?”

“It’s my question,” Illumi said. “Are you afraid of me?”

“Yes. Who is she?”

“Alluka. The second youngest sibling. Why?”

“Because you chained me up,” I said. I could feel myself becoming hotter with anger. My voice rose slightly with each question. “And I’m not property. Yes, you took me but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“But you’re my wife.”

“You never asked me. You assumed I would go along until there was no other option. I was stuck with this role. You forced me into this role. Plus I’m not your wife. If anything, I am only a girlfriend. We would have to make this official.”

“Would you want to make this official?”

“It’s my question,” I say. Heat rose within my body. I could even feel my own bloodlust within the expanse of the surrounding area. “If she’s a Zoldyck then why did you keep her from me?”

Even though I was getting angier, Illumi stayed as calm as ever. He might’ve been even more calm than I’ve seen him in awhile. “I didn’t tell you about him because he was not important. Now he is. How many kids would you like to have?”

Illumi’s question threw me off. It was so out of left field that it made me stutter. “What?”

“How many kids do you want?”

“I don’t want to talk about kids right now,” I said. 

“But you have to answer. I’ve answered all your questions and you’ve rarely answered any of mine.”

“Then you know how it feels.”

Illumi paused for a moment. I could tell his mind was thinking once again. “I was thinking three or four.”

“Why are you still talking about kids?”

“Hisoka said that I should try to be a little honest with you. We have a big mission and I want to have something to look forward to after we have Killua under our control once again.”

I scrunched up my face and sighed. “Can we discuss this more tomorrow? I’m feeling tired from today’s events. I want to go to bed.”

“That’s fine,” he said as if it didn’t phase him. “Would you like me to join you?”

I stood up from the seat to go to the bed part of the airship. I couldn’t tell if his comment was meant for sleeping or for sex. I didn’t want him to join for either. “No.” My voice was quiet. I felt conflicted on whether I truly didn’t want him to join me to sleep; however, he didn’t touch me or allow me to touch him after sex. He slept on one part and I on the other. I didn’;t have much protest before because I wanted to sleep. Tonight was different. I wanted him to hold me and apologize but I knew he wouldn’t. That is why I said no. 

Illumi didn’t follow me as I got my restless night of sleep in the air. This mission was going to be hard on both of us. I could feel it in my soul.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Full Masterlist

[lobanri]

untitled asscreed & one piece crossover

Desmond Miles dies using the Eye in an attempt to save the world form the Sun. When he awakens it’s to a completely different world, filled with pirates and marines and powers that seem magical. The marines find him, and he awakens when a pirate crew decides to attack the marines and ends up finding him and freeing him. At least he’s lucky enough that Edward Kenway was a pirate, even if one very different to the crew he’s now a part of.

this goes in a couple different ways, too.

first idea was that the OP world is Earth after the Calamity, so DFs are what happens when the Pieces of Eden get assimilated into fruits- thus they affect Desmond by making him have the whole ‘golden circuitry’ thing whenever he touches a DF user and can potentially… temporarily use their abilities? Steal them? Idfk, ok. Something alongside those lines. Whatever. Or maybe he can get parts of the Piece of Eden they came from originally? And like, Mythical Zoans are Apples or pieces of the Eye and they affect him more, Logias can be Apples or the Scepter or the Belt, Paramecias are the Shroud or the Scepter, etc. So now he has to go touch enough DF users to have a whole Piece, and they’re tattoo like, gradually appearing on his torso until he has the whole Piece and they can leave his skin and appear in his hands, bc i apparently thought it was cool? i mean, i wasn’t wrong, it sounds dope.

so there was that, and the idea that genetic memories can result in a pseudo-reincarnation, so their memories make some renown Assassins make a resurgence. i thought about making it like they only half-remember them and get the full blast when Desmond- key that he is- comes back. 

i made a plan for this, y’all. i had a list. it’s mostly ‘cause i’m kinda crazy, but jeez. looking back i was way too willing to actually write this out. sadly i probably won’t.

1-      desmond dies and lays forgotten in the grand temple. marines/pirates find him and decide to kidnap him bc he has golden circuitry under his skin and his arm looks a bit weird and who the fuck knows. then the withebeards find him and save him. he becomes friends with most of them but gets along w/ace pretty well (weird childhood buddies!)

2-     thatch dies via teach, ace sets out to get revenge and desmond goes ‘what the hell, why not’ and goes with him. during the trip, he starts getting weird dreams about the other assassins (originally this was just ezio but i think it’d be better if he’d get snatches of what each of them is doing, based on how close to them he was physically) but sees hallucinations about Edward instead and tires not to let it affect him. ace is busy w/revenge, but can tell smth is off. they arrive at an island in which desmond sees a wanted poster of himself next to one of another man in a with hood called ‘the assassin’. he has the same scar. cliffhanger. (this could be either ezio or altair, but it just proves that he’s not the only one from the Brotherhood here)

3-     we change pov to ace, who is watching his new friend/brother become increasingly frantic about this ‘assassin’ and tells him some about his family to try to distract him from the dreams he keeps getting and the things he sees. ace keeps getting more worried about his hallucinations bc they can’t find any doctor to do anything about it and kureha left the island- then someone in sakura island tells him that the strawhats have ‘the doctor’s apprentice’  so now ace is trying to both hunt teach and find someone to heal desmond so we see him having a moral debate about what’s more important to him- his revenge or his family’s lives.

4-     we see a mysterious scene w/ ezio in which he talks to someone- nico robin- and we reach the conclusion that he wants to join crocodile for some reason??? which is that he wants to get info and money but when he sees what’s going on he plans on murdering croco. the strawhats end up interrupting him anyway so when he sees robin sneak into the ship he goes ‘eh, well, whatever’ and goes with her in a weird parallel arc that mirrors desmond’s decision to go with ace, except that desmond goes because he’s more of a passive person but was worried about ace and ezio goes because he’s an active person who wants to know why; why is he here? why can he remember? why is he not dead? why does he keep thinking about some strange man he sees in his dreams sometimes? he decides his new “dream” is to get justice for everyone- remake the brotherhood- when he learns about the crew’s stories.  

5-     we come back to the disaster duo, who are now each other’s other half in being a complete and total mess. desmond is still hallucinating Edward and his search for ‘the assassin’ finally gets him a place: alabasta. they arrive just as the strawhats are in the middle of defeating everyone, so ace decides to butt in and desmond just doesn’t want to see his friend get eviscerated so he helps out in the shadows. desmond is quiet and kinda unassuming the whole time that ace is talking to the strawhats so they don’t really notice him much or anything. this makes it much better for when robin shows up, introduces herself and then ezio steps out and does the same (strawhats: ‘what!? another one!??’) and then asks “and who is that gentleman, if I may ask?” to which desmond steps out. “desmond miles. I’m the key. glad to finally meet you properly, prophet.” cliffhanger.

6-    look the first part of this is various ppl just going

then some weird explaining and desmond finally getting someone to look at his head when ace remembers that “oh yeah btw my friend’s been having vivid hallucinations for a couple of months/weeks. is that normal or…? because he keeps telling me not to worry about it and that it’s been happening for a couple of months but im pretty sure I should be worried about it” and chopper trying not to have an attack then and there while the strawhats that have braincells just look horrified .

7-     so moving on from explanations arc- now we reach…uh. ace and desmond separating but promising to check in with each other every day, because I think that’d be a neat way to cut between scenes- they’re all retellings of what hijinks went down that they’re giving each other, and occasionally they comment on some detail and it gives you a break for bickering from all the drama. they buy snails ig.

  this is also when i ran out of plot, but! i do have like, two pages of notes about what some of the others are up to, so i’m gonna add that at some point later. 

(if anyone sees this [which i doubt, but you never know] and wants to use it, feel free! just @ me!)