#i've arrested fools before and i will do it again

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 85 (Searching for Rafa Bonilla)

cw: mentions underage trafficking, drug smuggling

Conrad looked for Rafa Bonilla between his regular cases at the precinct, following clues and booking suspects to keep his captain satisfied. A few months into his search he finally located one of Rafa's known associates, according to police reports.

He called Heather, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Hey, you've reached Heather's phone. It's either the middle of the night or I'm with a patient, so leave a message and I'll call you back."

"Hey, it's me. I was hoping to talk to you, but I've got to work a little late tonight. I'll make it up to you. I'm sorry. I love you."

He drove outside Brindleton Bay to greet the man who thought he had everyone fooled with his chess mentorship program. It would be less than thirty minutes before his students - mostly children - started showing up for their scheduled lesson in the park, so Conrad knew he had to work fast. He shuddered as he got closer to him, and not just because it was freezing outside.

"Jimmy Stefano," he said, dropping his voice an octave to sound serious.

"Not lately," mused the man with a laugh. "Who's asking?" He turned to face the voice who knew his old identity. "You? They said you were a cop now. No surprise they never let you work our cases."

Conrad knew they had no time for small talk and he whipped out his cuffs. "You're under arrest for aiding and abetting a known fugitive."

"You can't be serious! Who?"

"Rafael Bonilla."

Jimmy's face went white, but he stopped resisting. As Conrad cuffed him, he asked, "Are you taking me in to help San Myshuno PD, or did she call you?"

Conrad scoffed. "She who?"

Jimmy laughed. "She told both of us sweet nothings, old friend. You were just dumb enough to believe them."

"Shut up and get in the cruiser."

Back at the station, Jimmy looked around the interrogation room in his orange jumpsuit once Conrad booked him. "Aren't you going to need the cameras on to record your attempt at my confession?"

"I want you to speak freely, Stefano. Tell me everything you know."

Jimmy eyed him suspiciously. "You're not working with San Myshuno PD at all, are you."

"I didn't stage an elaborate arrest just to scare you. I still plan to file a report after you and I catch up. Just talk."

"She really did get to you. Are you trying to let her ruin your life again?"

"Where the hell is Rafa?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in two years, when the last job we did together went bad. I assumed his sister told him to run since the charges he's facing are so serious."

"She doesn't know where he is."

"I'm sure she told you that. Did she tell you she was done with Los Tigres, too?"

Conrad flinched, and Jimmy raised an eyebrow.

"I'm happy with my chess students, but I can't get out now. When you walked, I should've joined you, but I didn't have your father's connections at the police station to keep me out of jail."

"I wasn't even there that night, but you gave them my name."

"Yeah, I did, because you walked before you even got started. Los Tigres only let you live because you became a cop and they didn't need the heat. I don't know what she told you, but if you think Ximena's turned over a new leaf and is done smuggling for the cartel, you're an idiot. She just uses new aliases these days."

Conrad breathed in through his nose. "If I turn the cameras on, will you avoid mentioning our history while you tell me what Ximena's still doing with the cartel?"

"What's in it for me, Sargent?"

"If it comes to it and you're telling the truth, I only want Ximena. As long as Los Tigres doesn't get caught up in anything at the Brindleton docks, I've got no reason to open up a window to the past. You should think about moving on, too. Turn that chess mentorship program into more than just a front."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Some of us are lifers, you know."

Conrad hit record while Jimmy told him everything he knew about Ximena's past - how she escaped being trafficked in her teens by offering to run drugs for Los Tigres de Selva, working her way up to running an entire operation moving drugs from Selvadorada to San Myshuno, through Britechester, and back again. Her associates called her The Chameleon because of how often she changed her hair.

She'd been arrested but never did hard time, with those who worked under her often taking the fall, instead - like Jimmy Stefano. Twice. Ximena kept herself just clean enough to avoid prison, and dragged her brother into the same life. "Rafa and I used to pose as Simlandian military to run product for his sister, but he never got caught for that," Jimmy said.

"When was the last time you worked for her?"

"Four months ago."

Conrad led him through several questions, showing copies of Ximena's old police reports. When they'd finished, he released Jimmy Stefano. It didn't satisfy him to send a known smuggler back to the streets, but he'd gained some incriminating evidence against Ximena, at the very least. He was beginning to think he might need it, eventually.

He headed home in darkness, and his mind raced with possibilities. Could Ximena's activities have led directly to her brother's disappearance? Who were her enemies these days?

He tried to call her, against his better judgment, but she didn't pick up her phone. He hung up before the voicemail kicked in.

When he walked in the door, he found six-year-old Ash on the floor, working on a castle diorama for extra credit at school. He knelt down to help him without even changing out of his work clothes. "Can you help me with the small pieces? Mommy won't let me use better scissors, but my kid scissors barely cut anything!"

He grinned. Grateful for the distraction, Conrad pulled out an instruction booklet tucked under the edge of the box. "Of course. What did you need me to cut?"

"Just these windows," he said. "They're too small. And can you measure to make sure my towers are big enough? I want the biggest towers of the whole class! Like the Spire Tower!"

"Tallest towers, can do. Hey, did you want to use this lump of clay for anything?" (Finally, the clay comes out at a sensible moment!!)

"Yeah! Moat mud! And we could use real water!"

"Your mom won't be very happy if we make real mud in the house, buddy."

Heather walked into the room then, kneeling down next to them to play with Gord. "Please don't make real mud. Why don't you use the clay to mould a base for the castle?"

"Good idea, Mommy! Can we have pancakes for dinner tomorrow night? I've been thinking about pancakes all day!"

"I can make you pancakes for dinner, but your mom and I won't be here to eat them with you," said Conrad. "Tomorrow night, I'm taking your mom on a date."

"What's a date?"

"It's when people who like each other hang out," Heather said.

Ash's eyes grew wide. "Is there kissing?"

Conrad grinned. "There might be. What do you know about kissing?"

He paused. "Nothing, I guess. Scotti Holiday says it's like eating faces, but why would people who like each other eat their faces?"

Heather laughed. "Don't worry, Conrad's not going to eat my face. Are you almost finished with your diorama for the night? It's getting late and you should get to bed soon."

"Just a little while longer, Mommy. Please! I'm not tired and I'm almost done!"

When he and Conrad had finished, they displayed the excellent diorama on a kitchen countertop until Ash could take it to school in the morning. Before he went to bed, Conrad went upstairs to check on his sleeping baby girl.

Intuitive to his human's growing stress level, no matter how well he hid it from everyone else, Gord followed him. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

[whorediaries-09]

can i use you up?

pairing- sirius black x auror!reader warning(s) - angst. a/n- a different take on my style of writing.

little train series masterlist.

sirius wanted nothing more but to punch the wall beside him. his feet were atrociously restless and he felt something within him that he'd never felt before. he was sure his knuckles would turn white with the grip he had on the newspaper.

in a span of a few years, he'd escaped the treacherous hold of his nightmares, been accepted into a place he could happily-safely call home. he'd escaped the prison- the hell hole that bound him down, depriving him of the ever sweet freedom. he had found people he could keep close and call home.

little did he know his home was really only just the town where he'd be arrested.

he didn't know he'd be barricaded to his ghosts, tied together with his pasts and prison. he didn't know he'd been bound by shrieking dementors that'd reminded him of his memories he'd so carefully concealed within the corners of his mind.

and with each passing day, when his trial is put off, he feels his hope blur and the fire of rebellion seeded within the crevices of his heart die.

he feels his last bit of sanity fade.

*-

sirius doesn't get any visitors. he never expected any the moment he'd been thrown away into the cell. so when the dementors rattle down on the cell, he grumbles, turning and tossing onto the stone floor.

'sirius!' moody's loud voice bellows. sirius recognizes it, he's learnt to memorize it and hate it so very well.

'what is it alastor!' he screams back. he fills the rage fill him up again. he likes it when he's left alone - when he's not treated like an animal in a zoo. he feels revolting, it scars him into the very depth of his skin.

'the ministry has decided to look into your case once again.' alastor says. his fake eye moves erratically. sirius has learnt to not let the joy affect him. the dementors don't scare him, no. the memories do. so with lifeless eyes, a true contradiction to the gaze of sirius black, he stares at him.

'i thought the ministry was far too fed with injustice? did their big fat brains come back to senses again? or is today april fool's alastor?' he spits.

'black, mind it. i might change my mind.' he piercingly glares at him. he chooses to stay silent and not give him a reaction upon his statement.

'who's taking on my case?' he asks, silently. he's quietened down. he doesn't want the emotions to overrule his logics.

'i am.' a new voice replies. sirius stares for the source of the voice, suddenly interested.

you appear from the shrouded darkness. staring ahead into his piercing gaze, you stand determined on the floor. as formality you offer him your name. he shakes his head, gazing at your form up and down. you shiver under his cold gaze.

'what interests you in my case, young lady?' he asks. to establish your seriousness, you stare right through his cold gaze.

'the injustice.' you whisper. he stares at you before his face breaks into a mocking smile which turns into a harsh, cruel laughter. his head heats up with rage he's never felt before.

'injustice?' he spits. 'i've to believe suddenly all you have gotten your senses back and you should hold a trial for someone who was arrested without proper evidence?' he waits for you to say something. he notices a shift in your body language as you relax your shoulders and shift your eyes on the ground before staring into his again.

'i don't care if you believe me or not. what i can promise you is that i'll give you your freedom.' you say, so serenely. for a moment, he feels a pang of jealousy at your calm state. but it quickly dissipates when the rage controls him over again.

'is that so? what lovely words! why should i believe that you don't think i'm the killer? what confirmation do i get, young lady?'

'that's a fair point you've got there mr. black. but i believe you because...well there's no way you could've been the cold blooded killer. i can only promise you and give you the surety of my words. if you insist, i can make the unbreakable vow with you.'

'you can't do that,' grunted moody, 'it'll trigger the dementors.'

'fine. if he wants, i can make the vow on the day of the trial.' alastor grunts.

'no.'

'yes,' you emphasize. 'do you want me to make the vow? will you believe me then?' sirius stares at you. he tries to decipher through the curtain of your blank stare.

'yes.' he says, his voice quiet and seemingly calm. within him, however, he breaks. he hears the hurricane with his name on it, coming nearer and nearer. the blood rushes to his ears, and he buries the heat within himself.

so, he does his best to lay to rest all of the feelings that have been in his heart. but in his mind, they sink into a swamp.

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original idea posted by - @lilwnet

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

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[comicglitterr0909]

Confused. Vanessa Shelly/Afton x Fem!Reader

Vanessa Shelly/Afton x reader who is really bad with emotions. Reader basically had not the best life, and wasn't allowed to show emotions growing up, and so when reader starts catching feelings for Vanessa, you don't know what it is so they are really confused and awkward around Vanessa, also Mike kinda just doesn't exist in this lmao :D

Even though the pizzeria might not have been my first choice, it's really not that bad. Or maybe I'm just trying to convince myself of that…oh well. I close my car door, careful not to do it too hard, the door would probably fall off. I really needed this job, I have maybe 100 dollars to my name. Sighing I use the key that Mr Raglan gave me, I try to unlock it one way, it doesn't unlock.

“Shit..” I mutter to myself, I turn the key a different way, flip it around, I try everything and it just isn't unlocking. I stand there for like 30 minutes fumbling with this stupid fucking key, and just my luck. A cop car pulls up, oh cool they can probably help me, wait oh shit, they are gonna think im trying to break in. I worriedly look at the cop car and wave, the windows are tinted and it's dark out so I can't see who's in there. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, I try to use the key again, glancing back at the female cop who just got out of her car. She looks nice… she can help, wait, all cops look nice, that's their tactic. 

“Hey. What are you doing?” The officer says as I quickly turn around, I can feel my heart start beating faster, I'm usually fine around cops though, whatever it's just nerves. “Officer! Hi um I'm the security guard here, the key I was given isn’t working. I've been trying for like 30 minutes haha…” That was convincing and definitely not suspicious. Shit. She raises her eyebrow, looking me up and down, and glancing at the lock behind me. “You're really lucky that the owner said there was a new security guard, or I'd probably arrest you. Here let me try.” She says with a smile, I hand her the key without saying anything. Woah my stomach feels weird, am I sick or something?? It feels like my stomach has like… horses running around in it. Weird description but whatever…taking a step back I watch as she unlocks it on the first try. 

That's awkward. “How did you do that?? I swear I... I tried for like 30 minutes…” She turns around and gives me back the key, looking me up and down again, god what happens to me? It feels like I'm going to throw up every time she does that. What is happening to me?? “It’s fine, keys can be difficult sometimes.” She smiles at me, fuck I feel like a fool all I can do is just stand there looking at her, I think im having a stroke. No wait, a heart attack, that more likely feels like my heart is eating itself. “Um, thank you Officer.” Why did I say that so weird, god she must think i'm drunk or something.

“Please, my names Vanessa, Vanessa Shelly.” She holds out her hand for me to shake, AND I STARE AT HER HAND FOR LIKE 3 SECONDS BEFORE AWKWARDLY SHAKING HER HAND OH MY GOD. I'm freaking out, is it hot? No, it's cold, why am I sweating?? “Right, uh, y/n, y/n y/ln. It's really nice to meet you.” It's really nice to meet you? Did I really have to put the really, whatever i can't go back in time. “You too, mind if I stick around for a bit?” YES, wait yes what the fuck is happening why do I feel this way? “Yeah no problem.” I say like a fool, I don't usually overthink things like this. Or do I? Have I just not noticed? Huh, whatever. 

The night goes on, and my heart doesn't slow down, the odd feelings in my stomach continue as she talks to me, and asks me a couple questions. It feels like the night goes way too fast, and I find myself upset when it turns to 6am. Driving home all I can think about her, why? I think I just really want to be friends with her, probably, that's all it is. I get home and lay down on my bed staring at the ceiling, maybe this job won't be as bad as I thought it would be. 

The next day Vanessa doesn’t show up, maybe she never will. I also find out how creepy the pizzeria is and even though my life is practically in danger, I just keep wishing that I’d get to see her again, but just as friends though. Just friends. 

I pull into the parking lot of the pizzeria. Walking up in my goofy looking security vest, I sigh. Yesterday I was actually able to unlock the lock, after 10 minutes…but at least I got it. Ugh, time to try to unlock this for half of my shift. And just like I said, it's been 5 minutes and I still can’t get it. “Does it…go the other way or..” I mutter to myself, before I see headlights shining at me. SHES HERE. Oh god I feel like I shoulda put more effort into myself today, does my hair look okay. I zone out thinking about every possible thing that I could ever overthink, before finally getting snapped out of it by her. “Hey, need help with the lock again?” She says teasingly, grinning at me. Woah, my heart just went to the moon and back okay that's normal. “Uh yeah haha, still can’t seem to get it right.” She takes the key from me and just like before, unlocks it with ease, before handing the key back to me. “I'm gonna hang out again today, hope you don’t mind.” “Hah no, I don’t care, I enjoy the company.” Finally I said something without sounding like a 5 year old. 

We both walk into the pizzeria, without saying anything, as we are walking her hand brushes against mine, there it is again, that fuzzy feeling that only happens with her. Maybe I should google my symptoms. “So how's your day been?” She asks me, with a smile. “Oh, pretty good, better now that you're here haha.” I pause, DID I JUST SAY THAT, holy shit oh god what? What was I thinking?? “That's funny, I was going to say the same thing.” She says with a wink, before continuing to walk down the hall. Everything in my head was screaming at me, I had to remember that walking is something that you do if you wanna follow someone. So I started walking again, maybe I should ask her? She's a cop, she might know what's wrong with me.

We go over to the showtime area. “Hey, have you seen them perform yet?” “They perform?” “Yeah watch.” Vanessa presses the showtime button, and the animatronics jump into a song. I watch them with intent, probably the first thing I've thought about that wasn't Vanessa in 3 days. We both walk over to a booth and sit down, just watching and listening to them do their thing. “So this is cool isn’t it?” She asks, looking at me, I look over at her. That feeling again, I swear I'm having a stroke. “Y/N?” Yup this is a stroke why can’t I answer her? “Y-yeah, right, um yeah this is super cool.” I say looking down at the table, smiling and looking back at her. “Are you okay?” Vanessa asks me, looking genuinely worried.

I gulp and look at her nervously. “Um, not really? I don't know.” “You don't know? What do you mean what's going on?’’ She stands up and squats down in front of me, looking up at me. She takes my hands and holds them. I swear my heart just stops at that point. “Hey, talk to me, what's going on?” “Do you um” I clear my throat. “Do you ever get this weird feeling? Lately my heart has been beating faster than normally, and I'm really nervous and anxious and my stomach feels like it's being twisted up.” She looks at me, with those doe eyes of hers, with genuine care and worry. “And the weirdest part of it all, is it only happens around…well…you.” And with that, the worry on her face disappears into a softer one. She laughs and looks back up at me with a smirk. “Y/N have you ever had a crush before?” “A crush? What's that have to do with this, I’ve never had one before but I’ve heard- oh” And it finally clicks, all those movies i’ve seen are like this, a crush, I have a crush on her. Oh shit. I just admitted to her that I have a crush on her. As she watches me come to realization, I feel my face heat up. “Don’t start stressing yourself out, y/n, I like you too.” She says grinning and looking at me sympathetically. I’m still processing all of it, so I don’t really say anything for 10 seconds. “That's good, I um I like you too…a lot.” “Yup, I realized that.” She teasingly smirks at me. “So are we dating now?” I ask genuinely as she laughs again, standing up. “Wow, you really haven’t ever done this before huh? It’s cute, and yeah, we are dating, cmon.” Vanessa holds her hand out for me to take, and finally, it feels right. No more confusion, it feels right, being with her. I’m finally happy. With her :)

[donutsupremacy]

Victory

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Summary

"A new face had been spotted around the Fortress of Meropide, earning themselves a name by challenging others to a duel, and it was a surprise to see them winning fights left and right. They even challenged you! What a joke! And of course you were going to put them back in their place! After all, only a fool would challenge the duke's [S/O]."

Warnings/Spoilers

Written during 4.6

Gender neutral reader

Reader has a Pyro vision and wields a catalyst

Reader isn't the traveller

Traveller's existence is irrelevant/ not mentioned

Post-Archon Quest Fontaine

Physical fighting (Boxing with elements)

Reader is basically Pyro Wriothesley

Lots and lots of 3rd grader trash talking

Flirting, lots and lots of cringy flirting

Fluff and gotta sprinkle in some tiny bit of angst

TW: Scars (If you're uncomfortable with them)

A/N: Good to be alive again :D (Had an idea to write Albedo fic for his birthday, ended up getting swarmed with homework for the past few months, so after this I'll work on Albedo fic)

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Your romance begins here

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"Is this really worth it?"

"Oh, absolutely." You replied without a single hint of hesitation in your voice when Rousimoff, the Pankration Ring host, questioned.

You eyed the man standing on the opposite side of the ring, his biceps flexing and his Electro vision danging by his belt. This nobody challenged you, and you weren't a coward to put your reputation on the line. Especially with your recent win streak.

Rousimoff scoffed, patting your back, but the amusement and excitement in his eyes was obvious. There hasn't been a more exciting fight since the last time you entered the ring.

"Aren't you supposed to be on arrest or something?" Rousimoff questioned, a doubtful expression on his face.

You let out a 'pfft!', waving your hand dismissively. Sure, you were technically banned from any form of fighting because you may or may not have attacked an inmate who was spreading rumours about you, but they were asking for it! "Arrest, shm-errest. Wrio will understand! Besides... I've got nothing better to do." You retort.

"Just don't make a mess on the ring, alright? Last guy left a huge hole on the floor and the duke gave me an earful for it." Rousimoff sighs, rubbing his temples. It took a while to get that dent fixed, and you were pretty well known to make a mess without realizing.

"Hey, c'mon now." You nudged his shoulders. "You and everyone else get a good show, I get to kick someone to the curb. Fair trade, no?" You laughter sounds, attracting your opponents attention, whose cocky grin met yours.

"All ready?" The host asked, nodding his head to a group of your fellow inmates, some cheering on for you while the other half was rooting for your opponent to break your victory streak.

You stood up from your seat, rolling your shoulders and cracking your fist, your Pyro vision shining as you felt adrenaline pumping through your veins. Lately, you only had enough time to spar with some friends for about a few minutes, this was the first time you were about to have a full-on brawl with some random newbie after months of no action.

This was going to be fun.

. . . . . . . . .

The smell of sweet tea hung in the air as Wriothesley examined the mechanical gauntlets, flexing his fingers and moving his hand slightly to check on the movement limitations. A young man stood in front of his desk, anxious and slightly hunched over, waiting for his client's input.

"Great, seems like everything's back in order." Wriothesley spoke, nodding in approval as he donned his usual grin. "You have my gratitude."

The young man lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding in, slouching slightly to relax for a few seconds before standing up. With a polite bow, the young man quickly left the office, giving Wriothesley some privacy.

The Cryo vision wielder sat back down behind his desk, putting away the gauntlets as he picked up the cup of tea, blowing it to cool the liquid down slightly.

The Fortress of Meropide seemed to be more chaotic than usual as of late, especially when that new inmate got registered. Supposedly charged for multiple cases of assault, it was no surprise that he was the root of trouble, causing numerous disturbance to the other inmates.

As much as he'd like to interfere to keep the peace and balance within the fortress, it was supposedly a 'fair fight' since the inmate was given full consent, which meant that it was technically more of a duel.

Plus— Wriothesley needed some relaxation, after the whole ordeal with the prophecy and the catastrophe that nearly ended Fontaine. He was glad that now he had some time for himself.

"Some peace and quiet..." Wriothesley mumbled in relief, lifting the cup to his lips that quirked into a smile. It was time to relax.

"Your grace!"

The sound of the door slamming below his office startles Wriothesley, flinching as a few drops of tea spilled onto his desk. He groans quietly, putting the cup back down as the sound of footsteps climbed the stair case. "And... not a moment too soon."

"Your grace! It's about your [S/O]!" The guard exclaimed as soon as they reached the top of the stairs, one hand on the railing with the other on the hip and slightly hunched over, panting and out of breath from running.

His brows perked in surprise, did you get in trouble again? You were supposed to be on 'probation', too! You really didn't know when to rest, huh?

"What happened to them being supervised?" Wriothesley questioned, arms crossed and a disappointed frown on his face.

The guard gave a sheepish laugh. "...The guard looking after them left for lunch..."

Wriothesley sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course this would happen, you always get your way in the most ridiculous ways possible... Last time you were under 'strict supervision', you manage to sneak away from the guard in charge of looking after you by diving into the waters surrounding his office and disappearing to Archons knows where.

But then again... you make things interesting. Maybe that's why he loves you. Maybe a little too much, with how he was barely strict with you...

"Alright... what did they do this time?"

[Meanwhile...]

"That all you got?"

"Dodge this!"

You snort, swerving your head to the right, narrowly avoiding another hit. "How's that for a dodge, buddy?" You teased.

Your body feels a little numb, from the adrenaline or from enduring hits and the electricity lingering on your skin, you weren't sure. Neither did you really care. This was fun!

You lifted up your arm to block another punch, narrowly deflecting it— ember and sparks flying across the ring, grazing against the flesh of your face.

"All this commotion's going to arouse Wriothesley's attention..." Rousimoff mutters, the sound of your fellow inmates cheering loudly nearly filled the fortress. If it weren't your presence garnering attention, it would be the loud audience that attracted other passersby.

Small explosions created by Pyro and Electro continued to sound throughout the ring each time your fists met your opponent's blocks, your grunts mixed with his. The sounds were loud enough to mask Wriothesley's boots clicking against the floor, approaching the ring.

His brows furrowed and his lips tugged into a disapproving frown when he saw you, bruised and battered with sweat dripping from your forehead. How long has this 'duel' been going on? You look like you were about to collapse, yet, the adrenaline was making you tough it out.

He knew you were a tough fighter, he's seen how passionate you could get in a fight, even if it was just training— but you were still a human who had limits, limits you keep forgetting about just for the thrill of a fight.

"Alright, time to shut down the show, everyone." Wriothesley's voice was loud and firm, laced with his usual strong authority. Yet, his eyes were trained on you, slight concern hidden beneath his stoic demeanour.

Hearing Wriothesley's voice, the cheering quickly died down. You, too, heard your lover's voice, your eyes widening in surprise as you spotted the dark haired man standing by the Pankration ring. Uh oh, you're in deep trouble.

Seeing you distracted by Wriothesley's presence, your opponent took the opportunity, attempting to aim for the side of your face.

"Woah!" You managed to barely grab his wrist, just a hair's width away from contact. Electro meeting Pyro, you could feel your skin getting burned and shocked at the same time. You felt the adrenaline stop pumping, all of a sudden— you felt acutely aware of the stinging pain in your body.

In just a split second, your vision started to glow brightly, the fire surrounding your arms flaring up as the electricity rapidly surged from your opponent.

An explosion echoed throughout the fortress, causing the ground to rumble from the impact, you felt a large gust of wind shove you and everyone else nearby backwards. Your back met the wall behind you, skull slamming against the metal plates followed by a slight crack— and your vision cuts.

"...."

. . . . . . . . .

"[Name]... damn... reckless..."

"[Name]... come on..."

"[Name]!"

"Aaah!" You let out a yelp, flailing in your bed as you felt the aftershock from the explosion and the all too familiar feeling of a strong blast shoving you. Your head stings, a lot, and you had the urge to throw up.

"Woah! Relax!" Wriothesley exclaimed, hands gripping your shoulder, but not too firmly in fear of injuring you further. "That shockwave really did a number on you, huh?"

He gently laid you back down onto the soft mattress of your bed, you sighed, noticing your head and most of your body wrapped in bandages. Your skin littered with burn marks, some were minor and would heal easily, there were about a few major ones that might leave a scar or two accompanying your old ones.

"No kidding." Wriothesley sighed, voice filled with disappointment as he shook his head, worry hidden underneath. "What did I say about getting into fights?" The Cryo vision wielder spoke, now his voice laced with his usual authority, albeit a little softer only for you.

"Ohh... ohhhh, I'm... not in a good shape..." You managed to croak out, your arm resting on your chest while the other hung in the air slightly, you were so drained that you can barely raise your arms.

At least your heart's still beating, you're thankful that you've somehow managed to survive such a powerful Overload.

You barely wheezed out a laugh, giving your beloved a cheeky smile. "Wasn't a fight— It was a duel~" You quipped.

Wriothesley rolled his eyes, the corner of his lips curved into an amused grin. Of course you'd still try to crack a joke after narrowly dodging death.

"You're lucky we had Sigewinnie nearby at the time." The male scoffed, lightly poking your cheek.

"Give my thanks to that little angel." You hummed, relaxing in your bed, a satisfied smile on your face at lightening the mood and getting patched up by a reliable doctor.

Since your bed was pretty big (Benefits of being the duke's S/O!), you scooted aside slightly and adjusying your position, letting the duke sit on the bed. He was careful not to bump you with his hip, he knew that you were just trying to downplay the situation so you wouldn't get a scolding from him... which wouldn't work anyways.

"So... want me to have 10 guards look after you when you've recovered?" Wriothesley scoffed, carefully lifting your head and guiding you to rest on his lap. You let out a sigh of content, his fingers carressing your cheek, thumb tracing circles on the flesh.

A quiet and strained laugh leaves your slightly sore throat. "Wrio, c'mon... I just wanted to have fun..." You sighed. "...Sorry, alright?... I didn't mean to deviate from your orders like this, but... well, hard to resist. It's like how you can't go a single day without tea~"

"Don't bring my tea into this, [Name]." He chuckles, patting your head. "Then, I'll just have to be the one keeping an eye on you from now on."

Huffing, you gave the male a pout. "It wasn't that bad." You tried to protest, the idea of being under supervision 24/7 was already annoying enough, but your lover being the one to look after you isn't as fun as others may think— especially when he gets overprotective without realizing. You love him, yes... it's just sometimes, it seems like he forgets that you still have capabilities.

"Dove, you're covered in bandages and bedridden... I don't want this to happen again." Wriothesley sighs, rubbing his temples. His brow furrowed, it was easy to pick up the clear disdain in your voice, knowing you still wanted some semblance of freedom and have the ability to stay independent.

He leans down towards you, lips grazing on your forehead. "...I promise I won't coddle you so much this time... just see this as... us hanging out— but much more frequently where I can keep an eye on you and make sure you don't end up in the infirmary again, alright?"

You chuckled, muscles loosening at the gentle kiss... Okay, maybe getting coddled once in a while wasn't so bad.

"...Same thing~" You chirped, tilting your head slightly and connecting his lips with yours. "But okie doki, deal."

"Deal." Wriothesley hums as he pulled his lips away, giving you an affectionate grin. One hand continues to carress your cheek, the other brushing against the fresh bandages on your arm.

Your skin tingles from the warmth of his fingertips through the bandage, arms twitching slightly as you attempted to lift them.

Though, you clearly still needed to rest a little longer before you can fully move your body again. For now... you'll just lay here, resting on Wriothesley's lap.

And to boast about how you definitely won that duel against that rambunctious inmate. Victory is yours~

[pascaloverx]

To Begin Again

PART ONE — FINAL CHAPTER

Summary: You're a new teacher at a large and influential school. It's a risky step for you, as you've been running from your ex for almost two years. But when Dumbledore asks you to take on a class at the renowned Hogwarts, you can't refuse. However, your life as a newly arrived teacher won't be easy. Especially when the other teachers don't seem eager to make friends. Or rather, two teachers in particular: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Author's Note: Welcome, dear readers. Please leave your comments if you enjoy fanfiction. This fanfic takes place almost in the real world (with the addition of werewolves) and is not a wizarding fanfic. There will be some differences and changes in things from the Harry Potter story or other fanfics in the HP universe, but I promise to do my best writing this fanfic. So dear readers, I’ll be splitting this fanfic into two parts; the first part will end in this chapter, and then there will be a time jump before the second part begins. I hope you’ll continue following the story!

SEVENTEEN PART TWO

Slowly, you made your way to meet your father. He had been arrested shortly after it was proven that he was the mastermind behind the crimes committed at Hogwarts in the past month. Honestly, you wanted nothing more than to kill him with your bare hands. But there would be no justice for his victims if you did. On the same day you went to visit your father in prison, his victims were being buried. That fact made you even angrier with him. Harry cried for a long time, watching his parents and sister be laid to rest. The boy’s grief couldn’t be fully eased, as the bodies of his family were too burned for a proper funeral. Sirius and Lupin made sure Harry felt loved by those around him. Hermione and Ron did their best to comfort him. Draco, however, refused to attend his mother's funeral. He said he wanted to remember her as beautiful and smiling. You understood that this was his choice, but you advised him to say goodbye. He assured you that he would visit her grave when he was ready.

“What do I owe the displeasure of your visit, ungrateful daughter? If you've come here to tell your old father that you hate him deeply, keep your words; I have no remorse for the things I've done.” Grindelwald says as you arrive in front of his cell. A filthy, cold, and dark cell. The kind of place he must be hating to be in. You smile with satisfaction at seeing him looking so miserable.

"I didn’t come here to please you in any way, murderous father. In fact, I came to tell you firsthand that your plans, all of them, have fallen apart. The great Gellert Grindelwald, failed even in the smallest details of his filthy scheme to take Hogwarts for himself. And I feel it’s my duty as your daughter to inform you of that." You say, slowly approaching the bars of your father’s cell. A wicked smile spreads across your face as you watch him grow uncomfortable. He always hated failure, and now...

"I'll start by telling you that all of your accomplices are in prison. Except, of course, for Snape, who had the decency to hand over all the evidence of the crimes you and your gang committed. His end was death, but the rest of the idiots who followed you are locked up. Lucius was in London, so he's imprisoned elsewhere. Bellatrix and Pettigrew tried to flee the country, and they're being held in a different place as well. But soon, the four of you will reunite in Azkaban—a reunion that will apparently last quite a long time, perhaps for the rest of your life. Which is nowhere near the price you owe for what you did to my students, their families, and the only man who ever loved you, even though you were an arrogant fool." In this last part, your hands shake the bars of the cell as your voice rises. Your gaze turns almost animalistic, as if the rage and resentment for your father's actions are consuming you, which only makes him laugh. The bastard thinks he can still laugh after everything he's done.

“He loved the fantasy of me. The poor fool was bound to a Grindewald who is no longer what I am. I had to give up everything precious to me years ago because of you, you little wretch. I should have been the headmaster of Hogwarts, the most influential person in London. I would have turned Hogwarts into a damned empire. But twenty-five years ago, Dumbledore decided to take a break from our relationship because he thought it was wrong, which led me to have vengeful sex with your mother. I was inexperienced at the time, so I got her pregnant. Just one time with that insufferable woman was enough to destroy everything I wanted to build. I had to take responsibility for you, which distracted me from becoming the man with enough influence to one day be the headmaster of that school. And when I finally find my way back to reclaim what I lost, you—your little whore—destroy everything once again.” Your father is unrecognizable, finally revealing his true nature. The depth of his contempt for you is overwhelming, and though it leaves you uncomfortable, it shouldn't be a surprise. After all, he allowed harm to come to you in the name of this chaotic plan he called his path to power. His words, dripping with hatred, only confirm what you had always feared—that to him, you were nothing more than a pawn, another obstacle in his twisted ambitions.Now, standing before him, the weight of his betrayal and cruelty sinks in even deeper.

"You want to blame everyone around you for your mistakes, except yourself. What a great man you are, my beloved father. But I don't care about your hateful words. I just came to let you know that everything you've done has failed." Your voice echoes off the walls of the cell, firm and laced with controlled bitterness.

"The boys, the children you orphaned, will be well taken care of. Narcissa left the custody of her son to me, which is surprising, but I will fix the mess you've made." You see a flicker of irritation cross his face, but you don't give him a chance to interrupt. "As for Harry, he's in the care of Lupin and Sirius. Sirius has been legally appointed as his guardian, something the Potters had settled in their will before they died. He has the family you tried to destroy." When you mention Dumbledore, your father takes a deep breath, as if bracing for the pain in your words.

"And as for Dumbledore," you pause, looking at him with a mixture of disgust and triumph, "he intends to keep his position at Hogwarts. He didn’t want to visit you. He sent a message saying you are his greatest regret." The words seem to cut deeper than you expected. For the first time, your father remains silent, his face twisted in a blend of anger and humiliation.

"If you're done trying to gloat, you can leave and live your little fairy tale ending," your father sneers, his tone dripping with disdain. "But I should inform you, Regulus Black hasn’t been mentioned among those facing the consequences that we 'criminals' are to endure. And with him untouched, you can rest assured that my plans will continue to echo." His voice takes on a menacing tone that sends a chill down your spine. You notice his eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction, and a chilling, almost predatory smile spreads across his face. Slowly, he retreats into the shadows of his cell, his figure blending into the darkness. His final words hang in the cold air like a lingering curse, leaving you shaken as the confrontation comes to a haunting end.

As you step out of the prison, the weight of your father’s final threat clings to you, a dark cloud following your every thought. If Regulus truly is involved in your father's twisted plans, there’s no guarantee of safety—for you or for the boys. This realization only solidifies your decision to leave, knowing it’s the best course of action to protect them and yourself.

You take a taxi straight to Hogwarts, your mind heavy with thoughts of the goodbyes you must say and the uncertain road ahead. There’s an odd mix of sadness and relief as you approach the school for what you know will be the last time. Draco, who has surprisingly embraced the idea of leaving with you, should be just about done packing by now. His sudden enthusiasm for the departure makes sense, given everything he’s endured: his father’s imprisonment, his mother’s tragic death. He’s ready for a change, for a fresh start—just like you. As you arrive, you can’t help but feel the finality of it all. Soon, you’ll leave this place behind.

"Don’t you plan to say goodbye?" Lupin asks as he approaches you, almost running. He has a faint smile on his face, trying to stay strong after everything that has happened. His body bears numerous injuries, slowly recovering from the motorcycle accident he endured the night everything changed—the night Harry's parents died and the rest of you were kidnapped.

"I didn’t know you were here. I figured you’d be resting after the funeral. I know this must be a tiring time for you," you say as you walk toward your future former room. Lupin follows, trying to keep up with your hurried steps. The truth is, you’re trying to avoid confronting Remus, fearing he might blame you as Sirius did.

"You’ve been avoiding me for a while, but I hope you don’t think you can leave without saying goodbye. We have a connection, for God’s sake, I can feel you’re suffering. I don’t understand why you won’t come to me to talk. I can help you…” Lupin stops in front of you, making you halt. Looking into his eyes, which are welling up with tears, you can sense his hurt. This werewolf bond is a curse.

"No one can help me, dear. I’m the daughter of a cruel monster who brought disaster into many lives, including yours. I don’t want you to force yourself not to hate me because you’re a good person. You can and should feel anger towards me, towards my father, even towards my future generations if you want." You say, trying to numb your emotions so Lupin doesn’t feel the need to pity you.

"Your relatives are not you; their actions shouldn’t fall on you. What Sirius did or said wasn’t right. He was under pressure, acted impulsively. I’m not making excuses for him. You should be angry for being insulted for being someone’s child. And I’m sorry about Draco. Sirius has been different since Lily and James died. I think what keeps him sane is Harry." Lupin says, moving closer to you, holding your hands and looking into your eyes.

"I'm leaving, Lupin. There’s nothing I can say or do that will erase the pain caused by my father. I can’t look at half the faces I see here, or hear what they say about me and the murders," you confess. After a brief pause, you start to cry, recalling the memories of those who have passed.

"I see their faces every night. Lily and James burning in front of me. I see the face of their daughter, a beautiful baby. I remember Narcissa, asking me to take care of her son. All of this surrounds me. As long as I stay here, in this same place, what happened to all of us will haunt me." You're crying, your voice choked with pain and suffering. You didn't want to reveal your emotions so openly, but you couldn't control yourself. Lupin hugs you, providing a comforting sensation that fills your heart. You cry on Lupin's shoulders as he holds you tightly.

"I don’t care about that, I hope you know," Lupin says softly. "You hold a very special place in my heart, Y/N. I never thought I could feel the way you make me feel. I know I love Sirius and Harry deeply, just as I loved Lily and James. But you… ever since I made you like me, I feel as though you're a part of me." His voice breaks slightly, revealing the depth of his emotions. "Knowing you're hurting, that you're carrying this burden, it destroys me." As his arms release you, Lupin gently cups your face in his hands, and you know exactly what he means. This connection between the two of you, however painful, has entwined your hearts in a way that feels as if they beat as one—however cliché that might sound. Before you realize it, your lips meet his. It's the last kiss between two unfortunate werewolves, whose lives have been filled with more tragedy than joy. The kiss is tender, careful, and full of unspoken affection. The sweetness of Lupin's lips lingers, and for a fleeting moment, you find solace. As your lips part, your foreheads touch, and for this one final time, a fragile peace settles in your heart.

"I’ll miss you. So please, take care of yourself. Take care of Harry and Black too. You all deserve a fresh start," you say softly, pressing a kiss to Lupin’s cheek. This is your farewell. Without giving him the chance to respond, you step away, distancing yourself from the weight of his gaze. With hurried steps, you head toward your room, knowing that there’s little time left before you and Draco must leave. You still need to gather your things and check if he’s ready. Your flight leaves in a few hours, and you both need to move quickly. Your mother has already agreed to host you both until you find a place to settle down in the United States. Officially, Draco is now a part of your family.

"Your arrival was sudden, and your departure will be just as stealthy. It suits you well..." Sirius mutters from behind you as you finish gathering your bags. When you turn to face him, he’s leaning against the doorframe of your room, his arms crossed and eyes dark with an emotion you can’t quite place. Your gaze hardens, nearly lethal, but you take a deep breath, closing your eyes momentarily to avoid doing something reckless. The last things he said to you and Draco were nothing short of horrendous, and the weight of those words still lingers heavily in the air.

"Even so, I am not fortunate enough to come and go without the displeasure of your company," you say, your voice sharp as you lift the last of your bags. "Do not mistake the open door as an invitation to step in here with your dark thoughts and twisted feelings. From you, Mr. Black, I want the greatest distance possible. Since the very beginning, you've treated me as if I meant nothing. And if you're here to hurl more insults, go to hell. I have no time to be the person you throw all your frustrations at." You push the last of your belongings outside your room, joining the rest of your things in preparation for your departure. Sirius remains standing in the doorway, though he refrains from physically blocking your way. There's a strange tension in the air, his presence thick with unspoken words, but you’ve already made up your mind—there’s no space for him in the life you’re about to embark on.

"I heard that Narcissa left you a small fortune in exchange for taking care of her son. I just wanted to confirm that you are the kind of person so easily manipulated and dazzled. I wonder if you also sold yourself to your father. Perhaps you took part in his plans, which would justify Narcissa leaving her cub with you. So tell me, how much were you paid to let my friends burn alive, or to pretend to be a victim while torturing me and my godson?" As soon as Sirius finishes speaking, your hand lands on his face. A slap he had been deserving since the last time he spoke harshly to you.

"I won't ask how you dare to accuse me of something so vile, because it's obvious what's happening here. You're looking for people to blame for the mistakes made by a small group of evil individuals. You want to blame me because that's what you've been doing since the beginning of all this. If you want to believe I'm involved, then believe whatever you want. But when you realize you're wasting your time and sanity pointing fingers at everyone around you, remember that your godson needs you. Harry needs a sane man looking after him, so get yourself together. And be glad I'm leaving, because one more moment in your presence and I'd be joining my father in prison." You speak, too irritated but trying not to lower yourself. Your eyes meet Sirius' gaze, and he looks worn out. Up close, you notice his dark circles, a slight scent of alcohol, and his unshaven face. He's neglecting himself.

"I'm very glad you're leaving. Very glad, indeed. Our lives will be much better without you and that little blonde villain around here. And don't worry about Harry; he's far from being any of your concern," Sirius says, stepping closer until he's right in front of you. The smell of alcohol becomes stronger as the distance between you narrows. For a moment, you both just stare at each other in silence. Then, suddenly, Sirius kisses you. The kiss is rough, almost aggressive. It's impatient too. In reality, the kiss between you is an absolute mess.

"We shouldn't be doing this. You hate me now, remember?" you say, pulling your lips away from his. You know you shouldn't have kissed him, but it's as if Black is intoxicating. Fortunately for both of you, being in different countries will help you detox from him.

"I hate you immensely. Be sure of that while you’re running away, trying to erase us from your memory," Sirius says with a hint of disdain, stepping back from you. Before you can say anything, he’s already gone, retreating into his room and locking the door behind him. A coward.

As you carry your two suitcases through nearly all of Hogwarts to the taxi's trunk, you mentally say goodbye to the corridors of the place that has been like home for a while. When you're done, you head to the students' dormitories to find Draco. It's time to leave, finally.

"Well, I don't know about your financial conditions, Weasley, but I think you should accept this small act of solidarity. It's not every day someone gives a limited edition Gucci shoe to their tormentor, so accept it with gratitude. Unfortunately for you, Hermione, I'll only leave you a Prada that I received from my father when my first tooth fell out. I think it will serve you well, but if it doesn’t, sell it. It will give you a nice little nest egg. As for you, Potter, I'll leave you this cash. It's not much, but if you ever find yourself in need and decide to visit Miss Y/L/N in the United States, I know you'll need money for the tickets. If possible, take Lupin with you; I couldn't stand hearing my cousin complain for even another second." Malfoy distributes farewell gifts like an early Santa Claus. He has a smug smile on his face while the other kids look somewhat offended. It seems Draco has also gifted his friends—Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy—with sophisticated clothes matching the ones he's wearing now.

"Shouldn't it be us giving you a farewell gift?" Harry asks, looking confused.

"We're not giving any presents to Malfoy, so you can forget about it," Weasley says loudly, already getting exasperated, while Hermione tries to calm him by placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him a disapproving look.

"I think we should show gratitude for Malfoy's kindness, even if it's unnecessary and lacks any apparent explanation," Hermione says, looking at Malfoy with an understanding expression but with a forced smile.

"You're so annoying, I won't miss this kind of conversation in the future. But you don’t need to worry about being grateful. These gifts are actually me getting rid of some things that didn’t fit in my luggage. Except for Harry’s, of course. But that's because when we were imprisoned, he told me he was afraid his life would change completely. Since I noticed Black is losing his mind, I thought if he ever wanted to be close to Miss Y/L/N to take a break from you, he’d need some money," Draco explains, somewhat irritated by the interrogation from the children. Before you can go to the dormitory to get Draco, you see Harry approach Malfoy and hug him. Not a false or distant hug, but a real, tight one.

"Thank you, Malfoy. The gifts were thoughtful, and we’ve been rude. But I want to make it clear that I do have money," Harry says while hugging Draco, who soon pulls away, looking seriously at Potter.

"Malfoy, we need to go. Say your goodbyes," you say, surprising all the children. Draco grabs his bags and hands them to you. You then murmur that he should put the bags in the taxi at the entrance of Hogwarts. Draco turns to his former enemies and says a brief farewell. Draco then insists that his friends help with the luggage, and they immediately assist him. In the dormitory, only you, Harry, Hermione, and Ron remain. Hermione and Ron seem uncomfortable with your presence, likely blaming you as well. But Harry smiles at you, genuinely. He comes over and hugs you.

"Professor, I don't want to blame you. But I'm grateful that you saved me from that place where we were trapped. I'll keep your secret, too," Harry murmurs, still hugging you.

"I'm sorry, Harry; for everything. You deserved more than this." You say, gently stroking Harry's head with your fingers.

"You deserved it too, professor." The sadness in Harry's voice touches you deeply. You hope that he can have a good life despite all the trauma he's experienced. There's nothing more you can say at the moment to comfort him. So, as you and Harry part ways from the embrace, you set off toward a new life and a fresh opportunity.

END OF THE FIRST PART

Preview of the Second Part of the Fanfic

Four years later, you are arriving home with groceries, preparing to make Draco's favorite lasagna; he should be coming home soon. He just got his driver's license. As you approach your house, you spot a brown-haired boy with glasses, not believing that it could be who you think it is.

"Harry Potter, what the hell are you doing here?" you exclaim. Despite what you say, you're not angry, but rather pleasantly surprised. You quickly go over to hug Harry. He immediately embraces you, trying to help you keep from dropping the grocery bags.

"Extreme times call for extreme measures. That and bringing you personally the invitation to your wedding," Harry says, his voice sounding deeper. He's grown up so quickly. But you're concerned about the tone of his voice.

"Why are we in extreme times, and who is getting married? I hope it’s not you. If you want, you can stay with us. You don't have to get married; in fact, I encourage you to run away from any marriage," you say, reassuring him that he can find a home and refuge if needed. For heaven's sake, what have Lupin and Black been letting this boy do? Now that he's so close to you, you notice that he seems tired and thinner.

"Sirius was arrested, and I didn't want to disturb Lupin. In fact, Lupin is the one getting married. And it won’t be to Sirius; he's marrying his new girlfriend, Nymphadora Tonks. Lupin asked me to mail the invitation, but since my godfather got into trouble, I thought I’d come in person. It was quite a trip, and I’ll tell you all about it on the way back to Hogwarts. What do you think?" Harry looks at you with a pleading expression, as if he’s feeling lost without you. You’re left confused by the many pieces of information.

"Step-mom, you won’t believe what happened. Professor Lewis dared to give me a bad grade on that video we made dancing to 'Wannabe.' He said it wasn’t artistic enough," Draco says, still not noticing Harry. "What the hell are you doing here, Potter?" Malfoy exclaims, surprised to see Harry for the first time in four years. Harry looks a bit uneasy, while Draco appears angry.

"Hey, Malfoy. I know you're angry with me. Your last message made that pretty clear, but this is bigger than both of us. I need you and Miss Y/L/N to go back to Hogwarts," Harry says, almost sounding guilty about something, which makes you wonder if he and Draco have some unresolved emotional issues going on.

"I don't know what you think you're doing here, but leave. We're not going with you, not even to the corner. Stepmother, I'll wait for you inside," Draco says, all pompous, as if he's too proud to show how glad he is to see Potter. Malfoy goes into the house, and you look at Potter with a lot of compassion.

"Dear, let's go inside. I'll make lasagna. Fortunately, Draco and I will be on vacation for the next few weeks. I'll help you with Sirius and try to give you a chance to improve your situation with Malfoy. Now, let's go in," you say, seeing Harry beam with happiness at your words. It seems that after four years, it's time to return to Hogwarts.

[vechter]

was reading ur post about how even tho dick is super loyal to bruce there’s a line and bruce knows not to cross it, what do you think the line is for dick? like what could dick do that would make bruce stop talking to him? genuine thoughts those two are insane…

hmm. like i said- i don't think even the two of them know what it is. but there is some vague place where dick feels like he needs to be responsible for sort of keeping bruce in check. like, if you take the very first confrontation in war games after firefly shooting dick in nightwing (1996) #99:

and when bruce tells him that it's just him and dick again and starts off on a spiel about crime-fighting and the people who partake in it, dick leaves! he arrests tarantula, tries to turn himself in and when that doesn't pan out, he leaves his nightwing suit under jason's memorial and goes off to join the mob.

how much of this is dictated by his own failures (like let's be real, man was Going Through It) and how much of it is because another robin is dead? particularly after all that effort and energy into being a safety net for tim? how much does dick blame himself for not doing the same for steph? in dick's eyes, he failed himself AND he failed bruce.

i will admit, though, that this storyline varies slightly in nightwing (1996) and batman (1940). in batman (1940) #634, he watches bruce drink bourbon and gets a recounting of everything that has happened so far. alfred makes jokes that it's the three of them again, just like old times. and dick ends it with "he still gives me hope". so... idk.

in knightsend, dick thinks bruce has killed someone and goes Off. panels below from robin (1993) #8:

but surprise! it was just bruce faking the man's death so he could fool shiva. so, there's no real wrong that has been committed and everything goes back to status quo.

i won't even bother with nightwing (2011) #30 because somehow, dc forgot that they ended that run with this and the infamous "i'm not your boy" panel:

but i love to consider the implications of this. bruce asking dick to let his friends and family mourn him is crossing the line. it's a shitty choice, not really much of a choice at all, actually; bruce tells dick that dick is the only one who can do this and there are lives and identities on the line. of course, dick has no option but to say yes. he has already been unmasked and compromised the rest of the bats. there is no good option here.

also, i've said this before- i don't fuck with batman beyond much because a) idk terry and i can't be bothered to know him and b) i've only read volume 3 (2010-2011) but it's one of the best ways to answer your question, anon!

basically, jokes captures alfred and bruce and dick go to rescue him. but dick and bruce haven't worked together in a while so bruce forgets to consider movement when you have a partner in the field. dick gets shot like 1000 times, bruce does the minimum to stop his bleeding, calls an ambulance for him and goes off after the joker. he doesn't visit dick in the hospital or apologize because he feels guilty but sends him a suit via alfred saying it's waiting for whenever dick wants it. dick loses an eye. i summarize this poorly so please read batman beyond (2010) #4.

but, dick ends up coming back to help terry who reached out to him after getting annoyed with bruce's MO of hiding relevant information etc. and after they complete the mission:

OUCH. panels above from batman beyond (2010) #6.

so like i said, dick will always come back for the kids even if they exist in a world where dick cannot forgive bruce. this ended up being too hodgepodge of an answer so i apologize for that but i hope this helps!

edit: omg anon i just re-read what you asked and realized how i completely switched around bruce and dick aaaa sorry!!!

[undermine-the-instinct]

Crush or Chance?

● Bard!reader masterlist ● Next part.... ●Warnings: None ● Wc: 5.9K

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times and shame on the both of us. So what be said for a fourth time?

(Or in other words, Kaveh met you long before you knew him.)

If he's being a little honest, Kaveh has a bit of a crush on you. 

Or maybe it's something more like a bittersweet admiration, the same way you'd look at phoenix and think, this will end in flames.

The more he worked, the more clients he contracted the more dissatisfied he became. Functionality over art, structure over beauty, efficiency over soul. He felt like life was being drained out of him. And after a while, he started thinking; Why should I? What was the point? However great he was in the eyes of others, no matter what praises they heap onto him, he is but one person. What could he do on his own?

And how arrogant of him to hope to even try! What has he ever truly done? Even his Magnum opus; A palace that doesn't even belong to him and has buried him in a lifelong debt. He was never really ever going to amount to much.

 It was during one of these depressing bouts of his that he met you.

Bars are cesspools, collecting tears and drunken spurs, but also joy. Like his polar opposite you lit up the room, and he couldn't help but feel drawn. Your voice resounded throughout the space, and it stirred something deep in his heart. He felt like he had just found the answer to a puzzle he was grilling over for so long, and seemingly, for no reason at all. He was alive! He was in a bar! Shouldn't he be joining in on the merry?

And so he danced the night away. He sang and greeted old friends and he paid for all his drinks that night. It wasn't until the place was closing that he thought about the bard that stirred his heart and feet into action. But by then you were long gone. If it's meant to be I'll find them again, he thought, and began the trek home.

He didn’t get to meet you that night. He found you again though another day, dancing in the center of a crowd that had surrounded you. There was a man playing a fiddle, while another played on a flute. You were barefoot, a scarf around your waist trailing behind you in a ribbon of silk, a smile on your face. You weren't afraid to get too close to the crowd, you snapped fingers and captured a delighted stranger in your scarf, taking a child by the hand and twirling them around and around.

Mentioning art is the quickest way to end a conversation, is something that is generally known in Sumeru. But there was no conversation to be had here, there was only music and laughter, for the simple joy of being able to move. He felt like a bystander watching a moving painting.

Shouts sounded behind him, and as one the crowd turned back to see. Matra were approaching with scowls, a collective thunderstorm to usher the people on and disperse the crowd.

“Hey! You folks! You're under arrest for public misconduct and unsanctioned musical performance!”

“Uh, no we’re not!” with a last bow to the crowd, and a trilling sound from the flutist, you and your companions ran in opposite directions, gone like magpies in the wind. One second you're there and then you're gone. 

Kaveh wants to know what your name is. Who are you? 

“Oh, that pest? Just some runt from all the way in Monstadt,” a client frowns, deep and fissured.

“One of those traveling sorts, so let's hope that they pack up and get moving soon.”

“Have they been especially troublesome?” He scoffs at this and looks at Kaveh with wide disbelieving eyes.

“‘Especially trouble?’ Like you wouldn’t believe! You and I both know how the Akademiya hates those artsy types, and then this person shows up and decides to make a whole mockery of that. And for what? Out of spite? How childish.”

“I might have seen them around actually, at a few bars I've visited with some colleagues,” Kaveh supplies, refilling the man’s drink.

“They didn’t look like the sort to cause much trouble.” He’s a liar. As a matter of fact, that smile you wore back then spoke nothing but mystique and mischief. 

“Those Monstadt types always like to cause trouble. They had one revolution and think themselves all martyrs and rebels. Trust me, I’m older than you and I know. Remember that one girl who graduated from the Akademiya in two years? I even offered to sponsor that girl and look where she is now; working as a librarian in that grass field of all places,” he scowled.

“What a waste of talent. I’ve had enough of them, so let's hope this one hops over to Fontaine or something, they'd be welcomed over there I bet. Now, didn't we come here for something? The plans for my building, you got them?”

“Of course sir, right here…” This isn't the first time he's heard something like this, especially amongst his oldest clients. It's a shared sentiment, and it feels like something bitter and vindictive. He knocks back his own glass.

Kaveh doesn't know who you are, but he wonders; if you ever went to Fontaine, would his mother like you?

The next time he sees you is in a public garden. And he's late, he was supposed to be at a meeting with another client at least forty five minutes ago, but rushing along, the way you were just standing there caught his eye.

He can hardly see you above all the rolled blueprints and stuffed folders he's carrying, he forgot his bag and it was too late to go back and get it, but he could tilt his head back and get a clearer look at your form in the grass.

Standing in the shade and dappled sunlight of a great tree, barefoot and…posing. He followed your gaze to a book you had lying open in the grass, and saw a few poses and stands he half recognized, all hand drawn with notes in the margins.

You paid no mind to the odd looks or stares you were getting, the way that people gave you a wide berth of space, how some shook their heads and scurried their children on, the way that others would stop and stare before shaking themselves out of their reverie. Kaveh wasn’t part of either group, but he was still…watching you.

He must have been more obvious than most because you lifted your head just as you were stretching, tilting your head in question like a bird, an automatic smile on your face. Quizzical but warm. He tilted his head back at you, like the idiot he was, and your smile broke out wider. 

“Good morning to you too, stranger! What are you up to this fine morning?”

Him? You were speaking with him? He lifted up the filled blueprints he had in his arms, obscuring his face more. “Off to work. And, um, how about you?”

“Stretching! Or at least, pretending to.” You twirled a bit into your next position, so that you had your back to him now.

“You're not doing a very good job pretending.”

“Oh? Am I being too obvious?” There was mirth in your voice, amusement.

“You're doing an arabesque in a demi-plie, I think it's obvious.” You stumbled a little and whirled so fast to look at him that he wondered for a second if you could get whiplash. He was holding too many blueprints he could imagine it was hard to see anything other than his bob of his hair and his brows.

“...You know what an Arabesque is?” He shrugged carefully.

”My mother lives in Fontaine, and they are fond of performances there. I know a few terms.” He saw your expression fall a bit through the peeps of his papers, but you brightened up before he could say anything more.

“That's still more than most people I've talked to. What else do you know?”

Kaveh could see you, eager and open to a stranger like himself. He recalled the way the crowd clapped along with you when you were dancing in the street. The way you sang, loud and unabashed, like a thunderbird whose only job it was was to wake the world, to a prophecy now foretold. But he couldn’t tell the future, and he thought neither could you.

How naively brazen you are. How unapologetically bold. How lovely.

“...Aren't you afraid?”

“What?” Your face shuttered off into confusion but he went on.

“Sumeru isn't the most ideal place for musicians and artists. I’m sure you've felt the general attitude and atmosphere, so, what are you doing? Aren't you scared of the repercussions?”

“Repercussions?”

“The sages have the matra set on you. That's not a rumor-it's fact. Aren't you scared of what else they could do to you?’’

“Well yeah, of course I am? But what else am I supposed to do, change the way I live?” His eyes widen, while you scoff, kicking up your feet.

“I’ve said it before and I'll say it again, they’re frightened of us.”

“Frightened? Frightened of what?” What could the sages, the governing force and face of Sumeru, have to fear from the populace?

“Frightened of what we can do? What has humanity done when pushed against the corner, or forced inside the cave? What have we done when the night falls and the rain pours?” You spread out your arms and tilt your head towards the sky.

“We sing! We gather together to tell stories over our work, we dance around the fire, we paint the tales of our passages onto the cavern walls, all things we have done before the written word. Even then, when we learned to write and record our stories, we created fables and tall tales to tell one another.”

“After humans discovered how to read and write, civilization did start to advance, at a before unprecedented rate.,” He admits.

“Art is what pushed civilizations to prosperity. It continues to.  The only reason The Akademiya doesn't acknowledge this is because they don't see nor recognize everything as a form of art.”

“Isn’t that a bit naive though?” He shuffles the load in his arms.

“That sounds like romanticism to me.”

“It is. And what's wrong with that?” You shrug.

"Tell me, who embroiders those elegant robes they all wear? Who tills and plants their outdoor gardens? Who builds their offices and homes and buildings? Who cooks their food or carves their furniture? Art is intrinsic to humanity. It is inevitable, irrefutable. Are they trying to deny that?" You scowled.

"Do they not find these things lovely, and necessary? Do they think themselves above the divine craft of creation? Do theyhink themselves as Gods?" You scowled harder, but then sighed, letting your breath out in a single push.

"Hm. But, that's not the question you asked me, right?"

“....No.” Then you thought, tilted your head up to the sky and huffed out a laugh.

“Well, actually, yes I am. But what else can I do, change the way I live?...No. I’m going to continue as I've always have, and if that’s something that makes me a target, then that’s just what comes with the territory of being a star.” You grinned, bright.

“....There are rumors that the Akademyia will deploy the General Mahamatra to subdue you if you make any sort of big fuss.”

“Well, what kind of star doesn't have a scandal or two under their belt?” You grinned again, but wobbly at the corners, and take a good look at all the papers he's carrying.

‘I…hope I'm not keeping you up? You seemed to be in a bit of a hurry before–” He gasped, cutting you off.

"Oh Archons, yes! Damn it, I'm going to be so late!!” He got completely sidetracked!! He gave you a nod that he hoped you saw and ran off to his appointment. Hopefully the client was still there.

Life is art, and art is intrinsic to life, basically, right? If that's the way someone like you sees the world, maybe he can adopt that mindset.

And hopefully he'd find you again, and greet you properly this time, no matter what rumors you were embroiled in. He’ll leave it up to fate this time as well.  it's already led him to you twice before.

You're so pretty. Kaveh has a bit of a crush on you already.

He woke up to a dark familiar room, and a dull throbbing in his head.

This was familiar, and normal. He wasn't kidnapped, or anything. He must have gone drinking again, and stumbled his way back home. The question was how he got inside. He’s pretty sure that he lost his keys several days ago and hasn't yet found the time to go get a new pair made. So the question stands…

Actually, the question can wait. His mouth feels like it's full of dust and cotton, and he needs water. That's his first priority.

His feet are bare and the floor cool as he pads his way over to the kitchen, trying to rub the heaviness out of his eyes. 

When he reaches the kitchen he stops, and rubs at them again because what are you doing sitting at the kitchen island talking to his jerk of a roommate?

“Oh, you're up.” You stand and walk over to him, reaching out like he needs steadying.

“What are you doing here?”

“We went out drinking and I carried you home, remember?”

“Oh, I remember of course, I wasn't talking to you though dear, I was talking to the man standing there like a mother ready to catch her kid sneaking back inside.”

“Because that's exactly what you did.” The bastard had a steaming cup up to his face, not even bothering to look at him. “How did you get in without your keys?”

“We used the key under the mat. I lost my keys, so how else?”

“I had taken the key and hidden it somewhere else.”

“What? Why would you hide the key?!”

“Because then you'd lose that one too, obviously.”

“Tch. Wait, then how did…” You laugh and shuffle a little, culprit.

“Yeah, sorry, this is my fault. I really wanted to get Kaveh into his bed so I kinda…picked the lock? It’s not broken or anything but still…” You lower your head in apology.

“I wasn’t willing to be patient, I’m sorry.”

“Yes, I'm sure you were in a hurry.” Al haitham sighs in reply and Kaveh bristles.

“What was that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. What do you think I meant?”

“I think you know exactly what you were insinuating.”

“Then why don't you spell it out for me?” He finally looked at him, tri-colored eyes gleaming oddly in the light. He looked…Apprehensive? No, that was just irritation, as usual.

Kaveh clicks his tongue in annoyance and turns back to you.

“See? What did I tell you about this guy? You don't need to apologize to this jerk, alright? You’re perfectly fine.”

“Oh? Talking behind my back now are you.”

Kaveh scoffs, heat curling in his chest. Or maybe just the leftover alcohol.  “It's nothing you wouldn't outright say yourself, so no need to ponder what I’ve said directly. I only spoke the truth, which is even sadder if you ask me.”

“Okay, stop it, that's enough,” You step between the two of them, frowning.

“There is no need for this petty back and forth. It’s late and we should all be in bed already. In fact,” You turn to him, “You were sleeping when I left you, do you need something?”

“...Were you two talking?”

“Just…greeting each other. He came in not too long after we did.”

Another cup sits on the table, softly steaming and obviously yours. It hasn't been long, but you’ve been here for more than a few minutes at least.

You scratch the back of your head with a sheepish grin. “Maybe I should have waited, then I wouldn’t have needed to break in.”

“No harm no foul.” Kaveh’s mouth gapes open when Alhaitham waves you off.

“‘No harm no foul?’ Have you lost your mind?! Are you sick?!”

“I'm perfectly fine you fool,” He sighs through his nose.

“I just expect as much behavior from any of your companions. Nothing was harmed in the end so its fine, I’ll just have the locks changed tomorrow.” He drinks from the cup, and looks up at him.

“I hope you know I’m not paying for your own set of keys.”

“What?! Why not–”

“Kaveh,” You interject. “Are you alright? You were dead asleep when I set you down.”

He groans, rubbing his forehead.

“About that, Thanks for carrying me all the way back here. I was the one who invited you out but you ended up taking care of me.”

“Well, you let me pick the place so I guess it's even between us. Did you get thirsty or something?”

He nods. “Then go lay back down, I'll bring it to you.”

“What? I can't have you serve me under my roof.”

Alhaitham snorts. “‘Your roof?’ Technically its–”

“Ah ah ah!” You cut him off with a raise of your voice and a sharp look, Kaveh grins from behind your shoulder. Alhaitham’s eyes widen by your audacity, and by the archons are you lovely. You turn back to him.

“It's fine. You're the one who needs to rest so let me help you out. Go lay down.”

“Well. if you insist.” He turns and starts the trek back to the room, and the house is quiet enough that he can hear your lowered voices as he walks off. He can't help but feel that you sent him away so that you could say something, or finish talking with Alhaitham. But why would you?

He has a hand on the knob, shutting his door when the thought strikes him, Why is Alhaitham even up at this hour? Sure, sometimes he'd get back late from his scribe duties or whatever, but that was rare. And it's not like he went drinking out late that often (as if he had people to go with him).

And beyond that, why was he talking with you? Of course you were amazing and charming in your own right but people like the both of you don't mesh very well, and with your reputation, it was best to avoid him. As The Scribe, he was technically a Matra, after all.

Oh fuck he’s a matra.

He's just about to go swing the door open to dash to your rescue when it swings open of its own accord, and there you were with a glass of water, wide eyed to see him there.

He grabs your shoulders and tries to turn you to steer you back, but damn it you’re strong. You don’t budge.

“Uh, buddy? Are you alright? What's going on?”

“You have to get out of here, like right now.”

“What, why? Can we calm down for a second?” 

“Nonono, you can’t, you have to go now–” He tries to grab you and pick you up around the waist, but you spin around behind him, grab him by his collar and drag him inside the room.

“I’m being serious!” You shut the door, a laugh under your breath.

“I’m sure you are, so explain yourself first.”

“My roommate, he’s the Grand Scribe.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So he’s technically a Matra. And I wouldn’t put it behind him to do something so you need to… like, go, before he reports you or something! One word and the matra would come swarming in here like flies to honey.”

“But he won’t.”

“Darling listen–”

“But he won’t. Not only have I already done my community service, paid my fines, did my time and stayed out of trouble, he actually wanted to thank me.”

What? “Thank you for what?”

“For getting you inside quietly. He just came back from work he said, and didn’t want to deal with any of your drunken shenanigans. So he said it's alright that I picked the lock.”

“He told you it's alright?”

“Yeah, as long as I use the extra key next time.”

“What?!” He threw his hands up in the air.

“He told you where the secret key is?”

“Yep. And he said that he's gonna give me a copy of the new one.” You pop the ‘p’.

“And sorry, the stipulation that I can use it is that I’m not allowed to let you know where it is.” He sucks his teeth and they laugh, reaching out to tug the sleeve of his shirt.

“Sorry love. But come now, take off those scarves so you can lay down, alright? It's late.” And something goes warm and gooey when you use that soft tone of voice, so Kaveh does exactly that, and takes the glass from you with a grateful look when you hand it to him.

“Does your head hurt?” 

“Just a little. Not as bad as it usually does.”

“See? That's why you drink water before you pregame.”

“Well now I know for the next time.” He takes a big gulp and hands the rest of the glass to you, waving it away when you try to put it back in his hands.

“Oh, fine.” You finish it yourself then, and Kaveh falls back into the sheets, heavy lidded once more.

“How come you’re not drunk or stumbling, hm? It’s not fair.”

“Oh, I am drunk,” you giggle, “I just know how to hide it really well.”

“It's not fair.”

“That’s because I'm from Monstadt dear, my blood has at least a 10% alcohol content.” Kaveh sighs and covers his eyes, drinking in the quiet. You’re sitting next to him, humming softly under your breath, a brush away from fully singing.

“Hey, why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call me those pet names. Like honey or dear or love. Why do you do that?” He looks and catches the tail end of your shrug.

“Because you're my friend. You’re like, the only real friend I've made in this entire damn nation, so I gotta be a little sweet with you, yeah?"

“Sweet with me?” He turns so he's facing you.

“Yeah! You make syrup with honey and not salt, right?” You smile, gold flashing at your throat in the low lamp light.

This close he can see the warm flush that the alcohol has given you, the way you give your smiles even more easily than you normally do, eyes soft and direct.

If he’s being a little honest, Kaveh has a bit of a crush on you. There's no other way to put it. He's so excited to see you, whenever he can, whenever you can, and he wants to see you now more than ever. He wishes you didn’t have to hide so often because he wants to be seen out in public with you, not sneaking like teenagers to some seedy bar, where people are too drunk or too downtrodden to care who comes in.

You…like those kinds of places though, odd as you are. You order a drink, and as soon as you down it you're tuning up an instrument and springing into song. By the third song the whole bar or tavern is joining in, and tears are replaced with smiles, at least for that night.

“Will you stay the night?”

You laugh, again. “And where would I sleep, silly?”  

“Right here. Right next to me.”

“Oh, I could never.”

“But you could.”

“I could. But I won't.” You move to get off the bed and Kaveh shoots up, grabbing onto your sleeve.

“Then you can have the bed. Just, stay here. For now. Until morning.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, and his heart while you're at it, while he waits for your answer. Maybe it's because of the way he implores you, or this quiet moment of the night, but you sigh and he knows you’ve given in.

“The bed is big enough for the both of us. Scoot over.” He does as he's told and hopes his face isn't giving his excitement away. He slides under the covers while you slip off your outer layers, and soon enough he can feel you slither beneath the sheets next to him.

“You want to keep the lamp on?”

“No, turn it off.”

“Alright.” The room floods in darkness, and you settle back down.

He’s had a couple sleepovers before. Although, the majority of these were before his father’s…incident, while he was still a very young boy. The others were during his Akademiya days, and were most often just him and his colleagues passing out after days of working on a project non-stop.

So this was new. He’s perfectly aware of his and your bodies; every shift, every position, the way your breathing sounds. He wonders how he’s gonna fall asleep like this.

“Kaveh?”

“Yes?”

“Are you up?”

“Yeah. How else could I answer you?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” You giggle. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did love.”

“Another question, silly.”

“Of course.” You wriggle a bit till you're laying on your stomach, face towards him.

“Why didn't you come to the anniversary performance? The one with me and Miss Nilou?” He winces, and turns to face you too.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you come?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was work?” He sighs.

“Really. I had to meet some bigshot client and I tried but I couldn’t reschedule.

“I really wanted to go.”

“...Yeah, I wanted you to go too.” The guilt twists and churns inside him, and he sits up in bed.

“I'm sorry, truly. Tell me when the next one is and I'll be there, I promise. I’ll even miss an appointment if I have to.”

The silence reigns heavy, you don't speak. He's about to repeat his words, swear on them, when you answer him. 

“Cyno came and interrogated Zubayr and his son. He then had the members takes a few days leave of absence so that he could interrogate us each. So, Zubayr decided that I shouldn't have any more performances, for the time being. The whole thing with Cyno put the theater on blast, so no more future performances.” Your voice is somber and dull, like a worn knife, disappointment sour.

“And no more public performances either, huh?” 

“Not for a while. Cyno is keeping a closer eye out on me. The only reason I could go out with you today was because he had to go out on an excursion, and I know how to avoid the lower Matra.’ You sigh and roll over onto your back.

“So maybe its better if you didn’t come. You would have been targeted too if you were seen with me.”

“...Well, you might not be able to perform publicly, but The Akademiya has no say in what goes on in private property.”

“So?”

“If you…ever want to sing or dance or anything really, you can come find me. This place was given to Alhaitham and I to be refurbished as living quarters, or you can even find me at the Architects Guild, since that building isn’t government owned.”

“Kaveh,” and now it's your turn to sit up. “I can’t put you in danger like that.”

“I won't be in danger.”

“You know, better than I probably do, that the Akademiya don't like outliers. I’m an outlier. If they come to know that you’re friends with me, what do you think will happen to you?”

“It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong. Not really.”

“I’ve undermined them and they really don’t like that. It's hard enough for you, the light of the Kshahrewar, to get clients and make ends meet. I don't want to make things any harder.”

“Things are already hard and I'm doing fine enough, so you don't need to worry about me. The worst I’ll have to deal with is a couple of rumors, and those are everywhere in Sumeru.

"If my reputation is as good as people proclaim I can survive a few rumors.. Furthermore,” He cuts you off as you open your mouth to speak.

“I know how hard it is for you to be here. I know you feel like you have something to prove but that doesn't mean I don't want to make things easier for you, even at my own slight expense. You can't change my mind, love, so don’t try.” Silence returns to the room in a wave, while you two stay poised, tense. Kaveh doesn’t know if you can see him in the darkness; he stares into the room until the dark takes over his vision, blinding him until he blinks it back again. 

“I used to be a knight you know,” You speak.” Back home in Monstadt, I was a part of the Knights of Favonius.”

“Oh, wow, that’s amazing.”

“I quit,” You continue without fanfare.

“I started to hate my life, and hate myself. I was young too, and I was in a relationship that was falling apart and my whole life felt like it was ending.” You laugh.

“Goes to show how naive I was then. But I quit, and I left, and I just decided to do the things that made me happy, and went along with my morals. I never wanted to feel so miserable and hopeless ever again. Those feelings still sometimes come back, but what I do then is go to where the people were, and sing, make them smile and laugh.

“I don't have that option in Sumeru. I mean I do but, it's never been a choice I’ve ever been actively punished for, before. I'm going to keep doing it of course. I’ll be damned if I ever let a government silence me, but…

“But it still hurts a little, you know?” He reaches out and drags you closer till you're resting in his arms. You've hugged one another before, but this time he wraps his arms fully around you till your brow rests on his collarbone, his cheek against your hair.

“Well, my offer is open for you anytime, at least. I’m sorry my home hasn’t been exactly welcoming to you.”

“Mhm.”

“It must have been hard for you. I’m sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize,” You breathe, reaching to hold him back.

“You've been perfectly wonderful. I don't know what I would have done without you.”

“Well, we are both fellow artists on the brink of homelessness, so we ought to stick together.”

“If your roommate ever kicks you out you can stay with me. And if I'm ever kicked out we can roam the streets together.” He chuckles, and he's sure you can feel it where you're pressed to him.

“Well, I can play an instrument, so maybe we can be traveling bards. We can go to Fontaine and meet my mother.”

“Oh, that would be a shock, I bet. I met a girl in Liyue once who plays that Fontaine rock music. I could send her back something. Is your mother a nice lady?”

His chest twinges, remembering tears,  heavy silences and dull eyes, The memory of sunshine.

“She's a rather shy woman, and she’s just gotten over some adversary. She's perfectly lovely.”

“What does she look like?"

“Well, I suppose you can look at me and figure it out,” He shrugs. “I've been told I look remarkably like her.”

“Oh, so she's beautiful then.” He starts, and he feels a flush crawl over his face, warm and slow.

“Oh, you sweet talker, you.” You tilt your face up and he's sure you have that sweet smile on your face, that cat's curl.

“I speak only the truth, my dear, I swear it. Anywho, how else am I supposed to keep you by my side, if not with my wily words?”

“Perhaps your fiery temperament? Your musical skill? Your graceful figure? Your sweet kisses?” And you reach up and kiss him, taking the bait.

And yes, you’ve done this before as well, nothing further, but Kaveh’s heart never fails to race. Your mouth is skilled in more than just song, and your tongue is sinfully soft.

You definitely feel the heat of his face when you pull away and rub your cheek against his.

“You’re absolutely precious Kaveh.”

‘Oh, don't patronize me,” He grumbles, and pulls you in even tighter, shoulder to hip aligned, legs entangled. “We have to sleep now. It’s late enough.”

“Why should we?” You flirt. You brush your mouth against his once more and snuggle yourself closer. 

“”I'm afraid your kiss has sent my blood racing. It will be hard enough to go to sleep now.”

“Hm. Well, why don’t you sing then? Maybe something calming, a lullaby your mother would sing to you before bed.”

“Hm…I spoil you too much already.”

“But you'll do it, right?” He chuckles when you bonk your head against his. But you settle down, and it's not long till your voice comes hither, soft and lilting. It's hardly more than a tune under your breath, a hum in your throat, but it is soothing, and soon enough he’s actually asleep.

When he wakes up in the morning, the dull throb lessened but persistent in his head, you are not in his bed, or his home. There's only a single note, a badly drawn winking rabbit, but he smiles and pockets it, getting ready for another day. He’ll run into you again soon enough. And if not, then he’ll simply find you.

There seems to be a commotion a few streets away, from what he could hear. Kaveh sighs, harsh and loud, and pushes himself off the wall that he's been leaning against. He came out for some fresh air, and the promise of some spectacle does not entice him. He starts making the trek back to the Architects guild.

Pounding footsteps slap the ground behind him, and he turns just in time for a figure to dash into him. He barely shakes off his shock before he reaches out to half catch the person, but the weight drags him down and he falls too.

“What the hell…? Archons, are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry for being in the way.” And its the way you turn your head to check behind you that gives him a clear look at your face, familIar and shocking. He barely has the sense of mind to reply back, struck like hammer against a molten steel.

He…hadn’t been looking for you, to be honest. It’s been three times already, that you’ve met but never properly seen nor greeted each other, and he had hoped another opportunity would just…come. Fall into his lap, luck be damned. 

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times and shame on the both of us.

So what could be said for a fourth time?

“....the General Mahamatra.”

“The what now?” the General Mahamatra? He heard the rumors, but he never thought that you would prove yourself trouble enough for the sages to deploy him. Against you?

You must have done something reckless, like dancing in the streets again. Or singing in the taverns or just being too you. You were lovely, but sumeru likes its lovely things in glass cases, not prancing in bars or dashing down alleyways.

You speak quickly, and the words just register in his brain before he hears the commotion in the plaza, nearer now, the wince on your face and the way you jolt, ready to flee. He makes a decision.

He grabs at the hand fate and has dealt him, and pulls you further inside the commercial alleyways, knowing exactly where he wants to take you and nothing of what he wants to say to you.

But he can start with this. “ I have heard of you! I’ve been wanting to meet you!” He grins, bright like a star.

“I’m Kaveh. You are?

Taglist

@jjkclub, @jaguarthecat, @swivy123, @seajellyx, @ash-in-lavender, @pepithe3rd, @uchihaeirin .

[defensivelee]

Alien Alien: Day 3 of Whumptober

The prompts I've chosen today are 'set up for failure' and 'wrongfully arrested.' What could I do with these prompts but write for Marlborough? I think you can tell that I was very inspired by TFC to write this scene...

CW: public humiliation, objectification.

“Visions only show you the surface, my lords. They are never clear.”

That was Sunderland speaking now. If it were not his voice that Marlborough could recognize, the spikes of his tail were easy enough to spot, for they moved one by one, so quickly that they sounded like the descending keys on a harpsichord.

“Why look only to the future?” There was that Dutch android, Bentinck. There was a voice Marlborough could never forget. “Will you rely on it to solve everything that is put in front of you? Look at the truth in the present.”

“They’ve served us well in the past,” Carmarthen’s voice hissed back. “This is the way of the Bocca della Verita, my lords.”

“There is some sense in what Lord Portland says,” Sunderland said. “It doesn’t mean that we shed our old ways. New truths in the present may lead to better predictions of the future.”

You would say that, wouldn’t you, my lord? Marlborough had to stifle a laugh. He stood above them all, glittering under the red sun’s light, his head bowed and his arms crossed over his chest. It tired him so, for he had to hold up the golden cuffs on his wrist as well, but he was so perfectly still that the chains in between them did not even rattle.

For a moment he opened one eye to gaze upon the scene before him through the veil he wore. There was Sunderland, of course, lounging on the table with a lashing tail before the Privy Council like a pleased, fed cat. Even with his mane and tendrils obscuring his mouth he looked like he was smiling, staring right at the agitated Stephen Blackhead through his glowing pink eyes. He was huge, too, nearly the size of the late King James, Marlborough noted with a slight shudder.

Below him, under the table, lay Godolphin with his head resting on his tail. On occasion he would glance up at Marlborough, but he looked as unassuming as any tendril-tooth could, with his dull eyes and slanted horns. Beside him was the accused Bishop of Rochester, his ears flicked down warily.

Bentinck was the only one who sat plainly on a chair, and it was he who looked up at Marlborough with that empty, plastic gaze of his. Marlborough closed his eyes again, but it was too late.

“Lord...Marlborough is listening,” he said, the illustrious title on a human clearly paining him to speak. “Did we really need him here?”

“Nonsense, he’s a good view while we work,” Godolphin said at last. “Besides, he’s a mere human. There has never been anything that forbids them from being here. Look at him, Blackhead, isn’t he beautiful?”

At this Marlborough’s face flushed. The lashing of a tail stopped; it must have been Blackhead, for he answered, “Why, yes, but—”

“It was a yes or no question,” Sunderland said pleasantly.

“No, then.”

“Liar.”

“I, for one, am inclined to agree,” Bentinck said. “But what does that matter?”

“What does the word of an android matter?” Godolphin muttered.

“Very well, then, does anyone want to look?” Sunderland asked, cutting them both off. “Are any visions tugging at the edges of your minds?”

“Of course not,” Bentinck scoffed.

“Nothing new.”

“Same as yesterday for me.”

“Queen Mary might have given us something...”

“You are the strongest seer after the Queen, my lord,” Godolphin said. “What have you seen?”

“I told you it would not be clear,” Sunderland said.

Damnit, just look! Marlborough took a deep breath. It was hot up here; he could feel the hair resting upon his shoulders clinging to him with sweat. The gold was no help, either. He knew the moment that he moved again he would feel it burning more acutely on his skin, and slipping it off every night was an agony.

He cursed his home planet of Forte Solaria now— fools if they thought they were any match for these creatures, if they thought they had any right to call themselves the alien-slayers. And worse, fool himself, for believing in all of it.

But if he could not kill a single one that would have been pleased to make him their dinner, then he could join them, make them know power like they never had before. His reward? This disgrace! If only the King knew of how his own species were treated on Forte Solaria; how Marlborough would have liked to see his face upon hearing it.

He heard talons tapping against the floor, getting closer to him, but he did not dare open his eyes. Not until he felt the warm breath of a tendril-tooth upon him did he look up.

It was Sunderland. He leaned in, lifting himself up on his hind legs to examine Marlborough.

“Are we hungry, my lords?” he asked.

“Not particularly,” Godolphin said. “Will you just look? Will they turn out to be forgeries?” He flicked his tail dismissively. “And don’t touch the King’s art.”

“I’ll gain nothing from my own future,” Sunderland said. “I must look into his.” He lifted a single claw up to Marlborough’s throat. “Have you ever wondered where you would be tomorrow?”

Marlborough nodded once, swallowing.

“Ah. Well, for better or for worse, you’re still here.”

[smowkie]

i finished my bingo card from @ficreadingchallenge! i've already requested a new card, because this was great fun, and it made me read things i otherwise wouldn't have. thank you for hosting this event 💗🥰

list of fics under the cut

1. de-aging/kid

Thunder Song by almaasi

Garashir, DS9, 10,776 w, rated gen

summary:

After crash-landing on a stormy L-Class planet, Garak and Bashir begin to de-age rapidly. Now a scrawny pre-augment Julian must take shelter with six-year-old Elim, a tentatively murderous but desperately lonely boy. Julian can barely speak – and without functioning translators, Elim’s words are useless. But what they can do… is sing.

2. gift giving

Thinking of You by stateofintegrity

Garashir, DS9, 788 w, rated teen

summary:

Garak receives tangible proof that Julian is always thinking of him.

3. bodyswap

when I looked to myself I was somebody else by mythicalqueen

Kiradax, DS9, 5,829 w, rated gen

summary:

She turned towards the noise, her eyes widening in shock when she saw her own body sitting up on a biobed. She looked for a reflective surface, her mouth falling slightly open when she found one. Or rather, Kira’s mouth. She reached up and touched her nose to confirm what she was seeing. “Julian, I'm not entirely sure what's going on, but I'm Jadzia.” Julian raised his eyebrows and Kira turned towards them. Confusion took over her features, followed by disbelief and then realization. She rolled her eyes. “So that's why it feels like there are seven other people in my head. There are.”

4. hurt/comfort

Cold and Comfort by GenuineSnoof

Barisi, SVU, 9,717 w, rated teen

summary:

Sequel to "The Horrible Past, all the Fish and The Deal". Rafael gets locked in a dark garage by accident for hours.

5. rec'd by a friend (@rieraclaelin)

in the burning light we see by elysiumwaits

Adoribull, DA, 1,009 w, rated teen

summary:

It's not only the snows of Emprise du Lion that have chilled Dorian to the bone.

6. under the influence

A Certain Vulnerability by AreYouReady

Lwaxana/Odo/Quark, DS9, 1,181, rated teen

summary:

Quark makes Lwaxana a Margarita. Odo makes an arrest.

7. road trip

Just Ourselves - and Immortality by archea2

Wincest, SPN, 4,119 w, rated teen

summary:

Turns out soon is Sam on a bridge, and that rare species of hug that lasts enough Mississipis to flood all of Wisconsin and Dean’s heart into the bargain. And it’s only the beginning, the wind promises, ruffling Sam’s hair over the back of his neck and Dean’s fingers. (Written as pre-Wincest, but can easily be read as Gencest.)

8. mythical creature AU

Draconids by anonymous

Garashir, DS9, 1,569 w, rated gen

9. new (to you) pairing

And A Time To Learn by rommunisms

Jake/Nog, DS9, 2,566 w, rated gen

summary:

Set after 1x11 "The Nagus". Jake has been teaching Nog to read; Nog wants to return the favour.

10. daring rescue

Odo's Hero by imnotokaywiththerunning

Quodo, DS9, 1,337 w, rated gen

summary:

In a change of circumstance, Odo relies on Quark to get him out of trouble. It goes about as well as Odo expects.

11. historical AU

The Solicitor and the Chauffeur by Robin Hood (kjack89)

Barisi, SVU, 7,080 w, rated teen

summary:

“Not a footman either,” Sonny told him, lifting the soup tureen and bringing it to the table. “I’m the new chauffeur.” “Are you indeed,” Rafael murmured as he carefully ladled soup into his bowl. “Then Carisi it is, though I should love to know your given name anyway.” Something about the way he said it — or maybe just the way he looked up at Sonny, his green eyes mischievous — made Sonny blush, and he hurried to return the tureen to its spot, less he accidentally drop it and make even bigger a fool of himself. “Oh, uh, it’s Dominick, m’lord, but everyone calls me Sonny.” “Sonny,” Rafael repeated, sounding amused once again. “Of course you would be.” Sonny frowned slightly but before he could ask what exactly he meant by that, Rafael continued, “And you needn’t call me ‘my lord’, I haven’t a peerage yet.” “Yet, my—I mean, uh, sir?” For some reason, the question caused Rafael’s smile to disappear. “Yes,” he said stiffly, stirring his soup with his spoon. “Truth be told, I’m engaged to be married to Lady Calhoun.”

12. domestic/curtain fic

the way you sound in the morning by CrimsonPetrichor

Winterfalcon, MCU, 828 w, rated gen

summary:

Bucky is on his second cup of coffee and three chapters into The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy when Sam finally stirs beside him. -- A slow morning with Sam and Bucky.

13. free space

14. happy ending

From the Dust by katiemariie

Garashir, DS9, 9,384 w, rated mature

summary:

When Sisko returns to linear existence, he tasks Julian with a special mission that takes him to Cardassia and Elim Garak.

15. angst

still by brewrosemilk

Buddie, 911, 9,368 w, rated teen

summary:

For the first time, Buck longs for a bullet wound to treat. Dirt to dig at. A door to break through. Something. There’s nothing. “Your guess was correct, Diaz,” the bomb technician tells them, as he gestures to the orange circle. “You’re standing on a large sensor plate, wired to a detonator. It’s incredibly important that you don’t move. Don’t shift. When you put your weight down, it was like cocking a gun - you take your weight off, this thing is powerful enough to take the entire house with it." Inspired by Castle, S05E22: Still

16. lyrics title - listen to the song too!

Where Everybody Knows Your Name by shinealightonme

Jake Sisko & Quark, DS9, 7,329 w, rated gen

summary:

Probably the best way to prove that Jake doesn't need everyone hovering over him is not to go into business with Quark. But at least Quark isn't going to make him talk about his feelings.

17. podfic

Are you... scared? by allandrogynouscreatures read by SweetPollyOliver

Quodo, DS9, ~3 min, rated gen

summary:

While Quark and Odo are arguing in Odo's office, the station's power goes out.

18. unfinished/in progress

Fairy Tales in Deep Space by airandangels

Garashir, DS9, 21,555 w, rated gen

summary:

An interesting anthropological experiment: tell Elim Garak human fairy-tales, and see what he thinks the morals are.

19. holiday fic

A Game of Secrets by AstroGold

Garashir, DS9, 4,764 w, rated teen

summary:

It's a universal truth: Secret Santa gifts can get really elaborate. For Star Trek Secret Santa 2019

20. gen fic

Soldiers Were Children Once by sixbeforelunch

Quark, DS9, 1,297 w, rated teen

summary:

Quark understands these Federation types better than most Ferengi. This hasn't gotten him a moon yet, but maybe someday it will make him enough for a large asteroid. Set during the Dominion War, no specific spoilers.

21. fic with no comments yet

Practice by Dirge

Odo & Quark, DS9, 309 w, rated gen

summary:

"Ah. You broke into my desk drawer again."

22. rarepair

Monuments to Self-Loathing: A Par'Mach Comedy by katiemariie

Worf/Quark, DS9, 14,142 w, rated teen

summary:

Set somewhere in season four, Worf struggles to adjust to life on the station, choosing to spend his off hours alone in his quarters. When Sisko gives him a gift that obliges him to remain in public, Worf opts to hang out at the bar where he becomes a better father, rescues the innocent townsfolk, and strikes up a relationship with one person on DS9 he somehow doesn't hate talking to: Quark.

23. fic written by someone who follows you

More Simple Than Plain by LadyDrace @ladydrace

Garashir, DS9, 2,887 w, rated teen

It's the "crashed on a planet" trope, with additional "aliens made them do it". Except no one does it, and the aliens are something in the air. In any case, Garak goes feral, and it's cuter than anyone expected.

24. secret identity

Tech Support by kenshincha

Stony, MCU, 9,018 w, rated gen

summary:

A series of stories where Steve mistakes Tony for tech support and Tony goes along with it.

25. didn't know they were dating

Nice by Writer_Lethogica

Winterfalcon, MCU, 3,069 w, rated teen

summary:

Based on the fanart piece "nice" by villanette, Bucky has a mostly uneventful night at the Wilson household as he waits for Sam to come home from a mission. EXCERPT: “You need sleep,” Bucky said. Because while Sam took the mantle of Captain America, Bucky took the title of Captain Obvious. Sam snorted. Nice. Sam’s head fell onto Bucky’s shoulder lightly. “Really? I was thinking about just hanging out down here all night. Maybe throw a party,” mumbled Sam into Bucky’s skin. “Go up. I’ll meet you up there,” murmured Bucky, glancing over at his open prosthesis.

[jarael]

❝ i would say i don't know what's wrong with you but i actually do and that's the problem. ❞

Oviine’s return to Ishgard was getting complicated. She had expected that, because her father had taken her and run off when she was small and before he transitioned, no one would recognize her. As luck would have it, her old wet nurse recognized her. "I'd know those hazel eyes anywhere," she'd declared.

The thing with being a member of one of the great houses was that you lacked the ability to move in stealth. Now Oviine had to quickly come up with an excuse as to why she was here. The astrologians--Ishgard's own, not that riffraff from Sharlayan, of course--needed her to continue her studies. She had been careful to leave her rosaries and anything that might flag her as a heretic with Ysayle and her followers. No one could find out that Oviine was scouting for recruits, as well as trying to find out more about this "Warrior of Light" that had come to her hometown.

Unfortunately, her former wet nurse still worked for House Dzemael, and Oviine’s cousin Grinnaux had caught wind of her return. Now Oviine stood with a letter in his writing, saying to meet with him. Surely you remember where the manor is, it read.

Oviine arrived shortly after Grinnaux had, dressed in a warm, ankle length wool dress. He was in the shiny white armor of the Heavens Ward. "Grinnaux!" She gave him a warm, toothy smile. "My, you've grown even taller than I've expected. Uncle must be--"

"Why are you here?"

"...you didn't hear? The astrologers find me to be a worthy--"

"You're shit at lying." His lavender eyes studied her, judged her harshly.

Oviine exhaled softly. "I assure you, whatever you think it is--" And pray, do not think it's anything to do with Ysayle. I can't bear the thought of putting her in danger, even by association.

"You're cavorting with that foreigner and her entourage, aren't you?"

...what? "Grinnaux, I haven't even met her yet. All I know is that she's a Viera with black and green hair and substantial...endowments."

Oviine was confused. Grinnaux had always dreamed of being a knight. She remembered how they played Knights and Dragons as children. But now he was spewing nonsense and paranoia. Surely, Thordan wouldn't suffer this...

"I'm so sorry, Oviine," Grinnaux began, "but I'm afraid I must bring you to my brothers for questioning."

"For what purpose? Our laws state--"

"We must see to it that you are not a threat to Ishgard."

"I'm a part of this city, as much as you are!"

"You've been gone for 25 years! You're as much a foreigner as the Warrior of Light." For a second, his face softened. He was once again the rowdy little boy that had been her favorite cousin. "You're foreign to me."

Oviine fought back tears, her fists balled. "I would say 'I don't know what's wrong with you', but I do. And that's the problem. You're so deep into your role of Knight of the Heavens Ward that you'd turn your back on family, just to appease the Archbishop and your brothers."

"You forgot that we serve the Fury first."

"But Halone does not smite when it is not just in Her eyes." It made sense to her now. "You've brought me here to arrest me, haven't you?"

"I admit it. An easy ploy, too. You trust too easily."

"Then arrest me, and show His Worship and your brothers how you lied to you cousin to look like a good little Halonic man."

Grinnaux was trapped now. If he erred on the side of caution, and was right, one heretic might fall--but so would his house's reputation. But if he was wrong, then Oviine was clever enough with words to turn many in their family against him, along with many in Ishgard. He'd look a fool. If she was with the Warrior of Light, a woman that had killed false gods, she was still a threat to Ishgard. That was his role in the Heavens Ward, correct? To safeguard the faithful and the Archbishop, right?

He looked up, and realized that Oviine had run out of patience for him and left. He kicked the snow, almost slipping on ice underneath.

It was time, he decided, to take his crusade to the Warrior of Light herself.

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

We return once more to the Meddling Mar au, in which Jak’s childhood self and the Explorer uncle messed with the time map and got back to Haven after only 5 years had passed. Now we move from the end of Jak 2 to the beginning of Jak 3

Jak didn’t struggle when they came to arrest him.

He didn't fight back when he was handcuffed and dragged into an air train, even though he could have slaughtered every one of them in a second.

He didn't even protest. He was in shock.

Everything he'd been through, everything this city had subjected him to, and now they were throwing him away.

He'd been taken from whatever poor fools brought him into this world, kept under Samos’s thumb as their weapon in training. Handed over to Errol to be tortured into their perfect monster. Sent into battle before he was even physically mature. And now that Kor was dead and the Precursor Stone was beyond their reach, Jak had outlived his usefulness. Even Samos seemed to think so, keeping silent during the sham trial.

Of course, Jak had also wondered if that was retribution for his defiance of the old man.

How long he stood in the hold, glazed over and shell-shocked, he couldn't guess. What finally broke him free of his trance was a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. Discreetly, Jak shifted his stance to give him a better look. That couldn't have been who he thought he'd seen!

In the very back of the hold, near the hatch to the cockpit, two crates full of emergency supplies were kept locked to the floor. Most air trains had them -- one in case of a water landing, one in case of crashes. A small, round face peeped out from behind the crates, locked eyes with Jak, and ducked down again.

It took every ounce of Jak’s self-control to keep from stiffening.

Mar?!

[[MORE]]

What could have possessed him to stow away?!

Wherever they were going, Jak hoped there would be a place for Mar to escape-

The ramp lowered, and Jak's heart sank.

The sun was rising over a dusty expanse of nothing. This was dry desert, with barely a hint of life outside the perversely vibrant cactus dotting the horizon. Already heat shimmered between uneven towers of rock, like a portal between sweeping dunes and hard scrublands. Jak stared into this gateway to hell and understood then why they'd pulled him from his hammock in the middle of the night. This wasn't actually a banishment. This was an execution.

Ashelin shot him a worried look as he was dragged from the ship into the rising heat, but she said nothing. Jak locked eyes with her, ignoring Count Veger's smug reading of his "sentence".

Please- he tried his hardest to convey without a sound, Don't let him do this.

"This is a death sentence and you know it," Ashelin spat, "At least have the guts to admit to that."

"Your protests were overruled!" Veger looked far too smug. "This dark eco filled...thing is far too dangerous to run free."

He flapped a hand at the guards holding Jak.

"Drop the cargo!"

"Overruled by who?!" Daxter demanded, interrupting what promised to be an overly verbose protest from Pecker. "We want a recount!"

The count turned with a sneer. "Oh? I see you wish to join him?"

Predictably, Pecker immediately backpedaled. Jak tuned out his patronizing suggestion to "drink lots of water" -- did the birdbrain see any water around here?! -- and made urgent eye contact with Daxter.

"Go back to the city, Dax," he said sharply.

Don't die out here with me. I've gotten you into enough trouble. Don't leave Mar alone.

Ashelin wouldn't meet his eyes as she released the handcuffs.

"I'm sorry," she said half-heartedly, "The council is far too powerful. There's nothing I-"

She looked away, clearly embarrassed by her own meager apology.

"I know," Jak answered dully.

Can't overrule an entire city if they all want me dead.

He blinked and looked down as something was pressed into his hand. It was a beacon of some kind, already activated and flashing. What was-?

She's...trying to help me?

"You just stay alive," Ashelin said brusquely, "That's an order. Someone will find you, I promise."

She took a step back, then reluctantly turned back to the shuttle.

"Oh, and don't worry about the poor little Heir you've been dragging around," Veger purred, looking down his short nose at Jak.

"Freed from your deplorable influence, he'll be able to meet his full potential under my tutelage."

Jak tensed.

That's what this was about.

It wasn’t about him!

Well, it was. The other him.

Veger was after Mar.

Mar wouldn't be safe in the city if he went back.

Jak’s eyes flicked from Veger to Ashelin to Mar, and then to Daxter. He saw understanding in his best friend's eyes. Daxter understood the risks too. The ottsel was going to have to be ready to fight the instant they made it back to Haven.

Keeping his hands low, and his movements small, Jak spelled out take the kid to Sig. Stay safe.

The ramp began to rise up as the engines roared to life, and Jak pulled his scarf up to block the plumes of dust raised by the turbines. He heard a cry, then several more shouts; surprise, indignation, or anger, he couldn't tell. A small hand slipped into his own, and then he was being pulled towards the rock turrets.

"Don't look back!" Daxter's voice rang shrilly in his ear as a familiar weight landed on Jak’s shoulder. "Junior jumped out before I could stop him! Run! Run before Velcro turns that ship around!"

"This is madness!" The unwelcome voice of Pecker grated on Jak’s ears. "What are you doing?!"

Relief was overpowered by anger in that moment. That stupid kid! If he'd just kept his head down and stayed hidden, he and Daxter could've had a chance to escape! Now all four of them were going to die if they didn't find water and shelter!

Jak darted through the space between the rocks -- the one he'd thought of as the gateway to hell -- and pulled Mar to the side with him.

Mirages shimmered across an expanse of rocky soil and cactus plants-

"Ay! I told you not to touch that, my love! Look at your finger-"

Jak blinked, and the memory dissipated like smoke. Where had he heard that before? There weren't plants like this in Haven. And while there were plenty of thorny growths in Sandover, the phrasing didn't sound like anyone Jak had known.

Beside him, Mar held up a hand, fingers splayed, and squinted at it as if trying to read it. He tilted his head, then frowned and dropped his hand.

"Can't see the lighthouse," he said with a dejected look.

"Lighthouse? What lighthouse?" Daxter asked.

The little boy shrugged expressively. "Don't know. I know there's a lighthouse in the Wasteland that's supposed to save travelers, but I don’t know where it is."

Well, a lighthouse meant a lighthouse keeper, and that meant shelter. It was better than wandering aimlessly under an unforgiving sun until their legs gave out, anyway.

The boys picked their way between haphazard piles of red rock and scrubby bushes, seeking shade. Now and then, Daxter stopped to try to scrape dew off the leaves, but it was barely enough to wet their tongues.

All the while, the hum of the air train grew louder.

They needed to hide.

Jak scanned the rocks with gritted teeth, silently praying that one would have a cave or recess. There wasn't enough dark eco in his body to transform: if he had to make a hole in the rocks, he'd have to do it under his regular power. But not here. They were too close to the air train.

"Pecker," he said sharply, "Fly up."

"And let them -- raaawk! -- spot me? No thank you!" the moncaw snapped.

Jak picked up the bird hybrid and bodily tossed him into the air.

"Fly. Up." He glared at him. "Look for shelter, or anything that looks like people live there. If the air train is far enough away, we'll run for the next rock tower."

Daxter frowned. "We won't be able to do that for long," he warned. "Remember how tired we got just crossing the magma gorge back in Sandover? I got a feeling this heat is gonna really take it out of us."

Already sweat rolled down their necks, taking precious moisture from their bodies. Jak slipped his goggles down around his neck and unwrapped his scarf. Every fiber of his body told him that he was going to regret this decision, but what choice did he have? When the full length of the cloth had been shaken out -- some two feet in all -- he draped it unceremoniously over Mar's head.

"Cover up. That's about the only shade you're going to get out here."

Mar wound the scarf around his neck and face twice, but the excess still fluttered down over his chest. Just as well. That was more of him to be slightly shielded from the sun. Mar wrinkled his nose and gagged behind the scarf.

"Smells gross," he complained.

Jak ignored him and set about tying his hair up into a makeshift knot on top of his skull. If he could keep it off his neck, his body might be able to cool off a little more efficiently, but he couldn’t guarantee it. When finished, he set his goggles back in place and scanned the horizon with them.

We're on our own, now.

[harurio]

guardian ep4

i just started new meds and am overcome with the need to be horizontal at all times so we're gonna watch some more guardiannnn @oneiro-nautical please lmk if the tagging gets annoying tho lol

and right away shen wei, who has clearly never done anything wrong in his life, is getting arrested. look at him. that man's never even rolled through a stop sign

'your confidence and composure reminds me of someone i know' do lao chu and shen wei have a past? i'm interested now

so is this face remover like. flaying these women? is it magic? how gory is this about to get? (edit: okay it's fine)

lmao see i thought shen wei was just really gentle and solemn, like a lan xichen type of person, but here he is bothering chief zhao smirking up a storm. maybe he's truly just a little shit. love him

look at them walking like they're attached at the hip!

look how much space this man is choosing to ignore in favor of letting his arm brush against zhao yunlan's sometimes. shen wei baby i see you

i like how the running gag so far has been situation occurs, shen wei is somehow involved, situation escalates to levels that would injure or kill a human being, shen wei is neither injured nor killed, and zhao yunlan arrives just in time to say are you okay? and shen wei just says im fine :) and you can hear chief zhao go HUH. in his head. progressively louder each time

idk if there is an equivalent of a bedside manner for interviewing suspects but zhao yunlan's is........ not great lol

poor guo changcheng. ma'am do you realize you're flirting with a whole baby

OHHHH so he's stealing the faces and she's putting them on! i see

zhu hong is gorgeous!!!

'don't you know you could get TETANUS' ohhh zhao yunlan your tough act isn't fooling nobody!! you care about him!!!!

awww ik xiao guo is a nepo baby but i'm glad he's starting to find his place on the team (edit: team quit bullying him dear god)

see this is so interesting. before watching this i thought zhao yunlan was a kind of wwx character, really lighthearted, fiercely chaotic good, and he's both those things but he's got an edge on him too. he's not afraid to be mean for the sake of efficiency. whereas i thought shen wei was very lwj, very solemn and hard to read, but he's so damn gentle and he's got such speaking eyes he really reminds me of lan xichen. so far at least

awww chu shuzhi shielded damn cat from the blast. he's just a big ol teddy bear isn't he

i love dramatic conversations held in normal tones of voice between two people facing away from each other standing at least eight feet apart in the great outdoors

ancient!yunlan NAMED HIM??? and (if i've been spoiled correctly) shen wei kept that name for ten thousand years waiting to see him again? just in case that name sparked even the ghost of a memory of their connection? STOP

AUGH

at least this episode didn't bring me perilously close to tears. though i did feel bad for that kid with the dead girlfriend and the revenge molotov. he was annoying but he had a good heart i think. it's sleepy time for me now

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 15 -- Gary(s)

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober 2023, Day 15 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

Cloning/Selfcest with Gary x Gary

Please give this one a chance, it really may surprise you 👀. That's all I'm gonna say.

Here is the link to my  Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: Selfcest, semi-public sex, clones, forbidden love, undressing, kissing, light dom/sub dynamics, anal fingering, gay sex, hand job, anal creampie, aftercare.

Words: 3k

--

“Seven.” Gary 12 whispered from his shaded alcove, his grip tight enough on the wall beside him that it turned his knuckles white, made the veins across his hands ache. “Seven, it’s me. Please, turn around.” 

“I know it’s you.” His voice was flat as he kept his body turned away, facing out towards the atrium, towards the crowd of look-alikes in matching blue jumpsuits below.

“Seven, please, I just wanna talk.”  

“I can’t, Twelve. You know that.” 

Twelve’s teeth gritted together painfully, and a heat began to sear his eyes as his counterpart kept his back to him, as his voice never lost its apathetic quality, only gained a pinch of malice. 

“Why? Because of what One said?” 

“Obviously.”  The vault guard hissed, turning his head to Twelve only for a moment, before properly resuming his statuesque posture facing towards the crowd below. 

“What does it matter? We knew it was wrong before, knew he’d never have allowed–” 

“Enough, Twelve.” Gary Seven finally broke, lashing his rigid form around to face his partner as he spoke with a quiet cruelty. “Either join the rest of the crowd below for the evening address, or go back to your room.”

“I’ll happily go back there, if you would just come with me.” Twelve spoke up, holding his ground against his hardened adversary, his body equally solid, even as his voice softened and waivered between words. “We need to talk about this. A-about us. I've put this off as long as I can, but--” 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Seven couldn’t look him in the eye, his gaze planted at his partner’s chest as he lied through his teeth. 

“I-if you believe that… Then you’re a bigger fool than all the others down there.” Twelve could see the way Seven clenched his jaw, prepared to refute him. 

“Look at them, Seven. Brainless One worshippers. Like he’s any better than any of us. We’re the same. And more than that–”

“Keep your voice down, Twelve, if someone heard you, I…” 

“More than that,” He continued, taking a step closer so he could lower his voice, so he could almost brush his chest against his partner’s. “We’re human, Seven. What we had? We need this. Don't let it become a memory.” 

“I…” Seven’s nostrils flared as he released a sigh. 

I’ve got him. Twelve’s lips very nearly curled into an optimistic grin at the realization, as he saw an uninvited hint of sadness shining in his partner’s eyes. 

A regret at leaving things the way he had. Leaving everything unsaid, unfinished. 

“...I don’t want to have to arrest you.” 

And then it was gone, and that hard voice, those set brows and lifeless eyes returned, and Twelve’s breath caught in his throat from the pain of it.

He couldn’t move, even as Seven began to turn away from him again, to go back to his post. 

“I won’t care if you do.” Twelve whispered, pursuing him. “At least then… I’d get to see you. Even from behind a cell. Even if you don’t feel this way anymore, I… I can’t pretend like it– what we had– didn’t happen. I’m not… Not like you that way, Seven.” 

It was a long moment of silence before anything happened. So long, that Gary One had stepped out onto the balcony and began his address to the field of copies below. The sound of his voice was tiresome, a hum of monotonous echoes that droned through the steel walls, never quite meeting Twelve’s ears. Finally though, Seven turned around to face him, and even more, he stepped far enough into the alcove that no one could see. No one but Twelve, as he-- in turn-- was backed into the darkness. 

“I can never forget…” 

The guard’s hand was softer than it had any right to be, as he brushed the pads of his fingers over Twelve’s cheek. 

“Like you said, we’re the same.” Both hands were there now, gently holding either side of Twelve’s face, as they peered into each other’s matching eyes. “And like you…”

Seven’s voice faded, and only his gaze remained, only his hands upon his partner’s face, only that small, insignificant space between their bodies that cried to be filled. 

 “Shit, I need this.” 

Suddenly, firm hands fell to his shoulders and pushed Twelve back further into the dark storage alcove, and their mirrored lips crashed together with an aggressive passion. Twelve’s hands flew to Seven’s waist in response, hauling their forms closer, until they might meld back together where they’d begun. Where they belonged. 

“One controls everything.” Seven growled into his partner, his own hands roaming Twelve’s body hungrily, as though he didn’t know every nook and cranny by memory, as though he was discovering their bodies for the first time. “Our jobs, our energy, our food, water…”

Twelve let out a whine as his partner scraped his teeth over his bottom lip. 

“He can’t take this from us. Can’t control this.” 

Twelve could only frantically nod his agreement, his fingers holding onto his partner’s waist in a death grip as Seven’s own grasping hands set upon Twelve’s vault suit zipper, swiftly tugging it downwards and exposing his chest to the cool, stale air. 

His breath hissed between his lips as Twelve sucked in a gasp at the feeling, flushing at the way he felt his nipples harden in response to the drastic change in temperature. 

“Seven–” Twelve whined out, as quietly as he could manage. 

“I know, love.” With a series of quick, rough movements, Seven had his partner’s arms out of his sleeves, and was hauling the suit down to his hip bones. “Just try and keep quiet for me.” 

With that, Seven’s touch became more gentle, as he slowly turned his partner away from him, and Twelve instinctively braced his hands against the cool, steel wall in front of him. Seven’s breath was hot against his neck, making the little hairs there stand on end as he began to trail heated kisses down the line of his bare spine. The vaultie’s back arched at the feeling, and he had to bite into his lip to follow his partner’s direction. 

Quiet. Right. More important now than ever before…

Suddenly, Twelve was distinctly aware of the massive crowd of copies just down below, the guards that would be patrolling on their level, and above that… 

One can’t see us from his vantage point, I made sure of that ahead of time…

Still though, the thought brought him no solace as he felt goosebumps crawl up his spine. And then Seven’s hands were on him, distracting his troubled mind from all that wasn’t him. Seven’s touch was becoming rough again, needy, and Twelve felt his heartbeat pick up in his chest as his partner’s hand trailed down his torso to his naval. 

He sucked in a breath, waiting for the steady touch to reach his quickly hardening cock, but then… it stopped. Right below his belly button, Seven’s hand ceased, and merely tugged backwards, pulling Twelve’s body into a further bent-over position against the wall. 

He felt his erection throb in anticipation from where it stood stiff between his legs, and spread his feet further apart to invite his partner in. 

A pleased hum sounded from the man behind him, and next Twelve knew, one hand was smoothing over his ass and slowly sliding in between to tease at the puckered entrance he found there. 

Twelve let his head fall back, and despite himself, a pleasured little groan left his throat without permission. 

“Shh, you have to keep quiet, love. If you want this–”

“I do.” Twelve couldn’t help but interrupt, thrusting his hips backwards and into the feel of his partner’s prodding fingers. 

“If you want this,” The hand on his stomach vanished, and reappeared on the back of his neck, whispering a threat that made Twelve’s cock leak into his vault suit. “You have to listen to me. And be very, very quiet. Do you understand me, Twelve?” 

“Yes–” He tried, and Seven’s grip tightened. 

Instead of finishing his verbal confirmation, the clone nodded, and the pressure on his neck released. 

“Good.” Seven whispered, his voice low and rough with building arousal. 

A particularly explorative prod of his fingers had Twelve gripping the wall in front of him with white knuckles, and a sudden thought sparked in his mind with the pain of it.  

“W-wait, Seven. We don’t have any–”

“Shh, you think that I didn’t think of that, pet?” Seven’s hand stroked soothingly over his ass, and then the touch, and his partner’s presence behind him, vanished altogether. “We’re in a supply closet.” 

A zipper sounded behind him, and then an adjusting of fabric. 

“One that I happen to know quite well, in fact.” 

Then a cap being undone, and the sound of skin rubbing on skin. 

Twelve’s cock felt like an atomic core, hot and ready to explode with the right kind of motivation, his belly like a furnace, his legs shaking with wanton expectancy. 

“Don’t you trust me?” Seven’s presence returned behind him, and Twelve couldn’t help but lean back towards him. 

“Always, Seven.” He whispered, and in his mind's eye, saw that familiar smile upon his partner’s face in response. 

It was instant, the feeling of racking pleasure sending strikes of lighting through his body, as Seven’s deliciously slick fingers met his skin. One hand returned to its place between his ass cheeks, massaging the oil into him in undulating movements until the steady press of two fingers began their intrusion of him. The other hand went directly to Twelve’s cock now, pulling it from his suit's confines and smoothing the oil down the length of his shaft in languid strokes.

Twelve could swear he tasted blood on his tongue, as he tried, very nearly in vain, to keep his pleasured sounds at bay. 

The spread of Seven’s fingers in him had his stomach muscles clenching, his brows furrowing in pleasure as he felt his entrance widen to accommodate his partner-- hell, to welcome him. 

Welcome him back. 

Twelve felt the start of tears prick his eyes at the thought of it, at more than just the overwhelming feeling of Seven opening him up.

He hadn’t lost his partner. One hadn’t taken Seven away from him, like Twelve had feared. Like he always feared. Even in the beginning; the confusing feelings, the curious touches, the coy smiles… No one knew how far it was going to come, least of all Twelve, and he remembered being scared shitless, even as his heart swelled with a newfound affection, with love for the first time.

And now? Now, he couldn’t imagine his life any other way.

Without Seven, what was there in this frigid, steel prison? 

Only stagnant tedium, a lulling absence of life, of mind, of feeling. 

This… what he had with Seven, it was a startling antithesis to such a dismal existence. 

“Fuck, I missed you.” Seven put Twelve’s thoughts to words at the feeling of him wrapping warmly around his pulsing fingers. “I can’t wait…”

“Don’t, then.” Twelve practically pleaded. “Seven… I want you.” 

“Just a moment more.” The guard growled out, clearly as unenthusiastic about the idea of holding back as Twelve was. 

Though he hated to wait, there was definite gratitude radiating through him as Seven pressed his digits in to the knuckle, and began thrusting them in earnest. The soft pads of his fingers scraped against Twelve’s insides, the oil easing the way and creating a delicious friction that had him panting against the metal wall he was braced against. His breath fogged the cold surface with each push into him, with each scissoring spread of his partner’s digits, and Twelve nearly bit through his tongue with the effort of holding in his moans. 

“That’s it…” Seven breathed into his ear. His stroking had slowed over Twelve’s cock, but still, he felt hard as steel as his partner’s hand pulled away. Seven’s fingers eased out of him at the same moment, forcing out an unstifled gasp with the sudden empty feeling. 

It was time. 

Twelve’s legs were shaking. 

Both of Seven’s hands set upon his partner in a new place, spreading his ass cheeks and acting as a pathway for his own aching cock to enter. The pressure increased, as the leaking tip of Seven’s member rested against his entrance teasingly, spreading more of the oil there before, slowly, he began to press inside. 

The feeling of relief was instant, overwhelming, and Twelve would’ve surely collapsed to the cold ground, if not for one of Seven’s hands reaching to grasp at his stomach, keeping him in place as his cock surged forward, and then came to a halt within him. Seven’s hips were pressed firmly to Twelve’s ass, holding there, fully sheathed, as they both panted through their shared pleasure. 

“Alright?” 

Twelve nodded to him vigorously, and for emphasis, placed one of his hands over Seven’s where it rested upon his stomach. 

“Good.”

The word was punctuated with a shallow thrust of his partner’s hips against him, before he truly began to ease out, leaving only the tip nestled inside. Seven held there a moment, until he felt Twelve clench his walls wantonly around him, urging him to continue, and then, steadily, he plunged forward again. 

Twelve couldn’t help the groan that left him, especially when Seven’s free hand delved back between his thighs to take his cock in hand. His partner stroked him in time with his languid thrusts, sending bursts of searing bliss all throughout his body from the warmth, the delicious stretch, the friction. Already, Seven could feel the way his partner’s walls gripped him periodically, the way Twelve’s cock throbbed and wept pre-cum onto the polished floor between his legs as his pace grew more hastened. 

“S-say this isn’t the end.” Twelve’s weak voice cut through the charged, forced silence, and Seven paused his movements.

“What?” 

“Tell me, please, that after this, things won’t go back.” Twelve’s voice shook, his head hanging low between his hunched shoulders as he pleaded with his partner. “We won’t be just… other Garies to each other, l-like we were pretending to be after One’s speech.” 

“No, Twelve.” 

Warmth spread through him as Seven pressed himself inside fully, his hand on his hip coming up to caress Twelve’s chest in an all-encompassing embrace. A kiss pressed to one shoulder before suddenly, Seven pulled away. 

Twelve’s breath left him as his partner did, his eyes wide at the sudden shift of feeling, of absence,  and then he was turning, following Seven’s guiding hands as they turned him so they were facing one another. Once there, Seven eased him to lean back against the wall, taking one of Twelve’s legs in hand and hiking it up to brace over his elbow, spreading him. The other hand went down to grip his cock, as Seven nudged the reddened tip to Twelve’s entrance once more, before plunging back inside.

Twelve felt himself mold to his partner’s familiar shape instantly, releasing another gasp as Seven delved deeper than before in their new position.

“It’s never going to be like that again. You… were right. One is a tyrant, and he…”

A grunt interrupted him as Seven picked up his movements, thrusting more wildly than before as his fury surged through his body, becoming noticeable in his intense eyes as they stayed locked to Twelve’s. 

“I don’t care what it takes.” He punctuated each word with another buck of his hips, filling Twelve to bursting on every rapid stroke. He could feel the pressure in his own cock building to unbearable new heights as he gripped Seven’s shoulders until his fingernails were bound to leave scarlet marks in their wake. 

“Even if it topples the whole vault, if it takes all-out war between us, you have my word, Twelve, that I’ll never allow us to become strangers again.” 

Twelve was fighting to hold back his whines as his partner jostled him, as his cock was rubbed between their heaving torsos until it finally couldn’t hold back, and Twelve burst out his release onto his stomach. 

Seven's hand pressed to his mouth instantly, muffling the sounds that did manage to escape his throat, as he continued his onslaught. He was close though, Twelve could see it in his expression, that desperation, that intensity, that passion that One had almost managed to sever him from forever. 

But the Overseer never could win out, when it came to Seven and Twelve. It was truer now than ever before. 

“Never. Again.” Seven thrust forward a final time, stilling then, as he spilled his seed deep inside his partner. His hips pulsed with every burst, and Twelve held on tightly to his shoulders as Seven rode out his climax with his body snug against him. 

He ended, panting into the crook of Twelve’s shoulder as he stroked over the back of his neck soothingly. Finally, that pent-up rage, the frustration, the culmination of fear and stress and anger all seemed to drain out of their bodies, leaving them light and tingly with the newfound deliverance at each other’s hands. 

Quietly, Seven listened to the commotion down in the atrium, his ears searching for any sign that they might’ve been heard, might’ve been caught. 

When he deemed it safe, Seven finally made to pull back, and Twelve’s firm grip on him eased. He nearly collapsed to the ground without his partner's support, but managed to stay upright against the wall as Seven reached for a rag stored in a cubby beside them. 

With tender hands, he cleaned them both of spend and pulled their respective vault suits back into place. 

Twelve was still flushed, his hair disheveled slightly, and Seven had sweat dripping from his forehead, but otherwise, they were both back to their nondescript selves. 

“He can’t separate us.” Seven whispered finally before they could leave the alcove and return to their ruse, their illusion of unfamiliarity. His voice was dark, determined, and sharp as a razor as his eyes stayed locked to Twelve's. “And if he tries to… I’ll kill him.” 

[little-peril-stories]

Whumptober 2023, Day 8: "I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier."

Whumptober 2023 Masterlist

Read at your own risk! They're only snippets of a larger story, with no resolution that will be posted online anytime soon; they are being posted out of order; and the characters don't have names. Enjoy!

Contents: angst, death, murder, arrest, vicious rumours/false accusations

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Word count: 1250 || Approx reading time: 5 mins

"I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier."

Teaser: And to be safe, she needed to be free—far from the man who’d taken her away because he believed he could, that his royal blood made him all-powerful, that he deserved to have his fists curled tightly around anything or anyone he pleased. He’ll never let go, she’d said. He’ll never give up.

"I'll never be a hero who all the citizens adore / But if I hide to save my life, what has my life been for?"

The scholar watched her go.

He watched her vanish, watched her wide eyes shimmer with tears as she made her escape.

Met her gaze when, for the most agonizingly beautiful instant, she looked back.

And then was gone.

“I’ll distract him,” he promised. Breath stuttering in his chest, he wrapped his arms around her and wondered if she could feel how his heart thundered against her shivering form.

“Come with me,” she whispered. “Please. But we have to go. Now.”

We have to go. Away from here, away from the castle, away from the place that had turned her visit from a holiday into hell.

He wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to say yes, to let her cling to him—and to let himself cling back—for all of eternity, to let centuries pass them by in perfect harmony and happiness. He wanted to. He wanted her.

“I don’t want to go without you,” she said, squeezing more tightly.

He needed her.

He needed her safe.

And to be safe, she needed to be free—far from the man who’d taken her away because he believed he could, that his royal blood made him all-powerful, that he deserved to have his fists curled tightly around anything or anyone he pleased. He’ll never let go, she’d said. He’ll never give up.

That she had escaped his grasp on her own was a miracle.

If he finds me again, he’ll never let me leave.

So the scholar pulled away, clasping her hands as their bodies peeled apart, loath to put any cruel, miserable distance between them, yet knowing he had no choice. He made his promise again. “I’ll distract him.”

Of course, she knew; she must have; she knew him inside and out; she knew his very soul. He was no soldier, no fighter. “What—what are you going to do?” Her fingers tightened, still tangled in his. “They think you’re the one who—”

“I know.”

“They think you killed me.”

“I know.”

She shook her head, those fragile bird’s-wing bones trembling against his. “Please don’t—You can’t—”

“I’ll just distract him long enough for you to run,” he said. Tugged his hand free. Brushed a lock of hair from her dirt-streaked cheek, relishing the silken smoothness of her skin for what was sure to be the very last time. “Then I’ll—I’ll run. I’ll find you.”

Empty words, a hollow promise, a vow of nothing.

“But they think you did it,” she said again, echoing the rumours, the warnings that had been circling him for days, the words that would haunt his memory for the rest of his life. “They’ll arrest you. They’ll kill—”

“They won’t.” He did not know if that was true. “I can’t let him hurt you again. I won’t.” Overcome with too many thoughts, too many fears, too many jabs of paralyzing terror that would conquer him if he allowed it, he drew her close again. One final embrace.

Against him, she shuddered.

“I will find you,” he whispered, despising himself for the lie. He wrapped his coat around her to hide her stained and ripped dress, almost unrecognizable from its former loveliness. Why hadn’t he thought to give it before? “Now. Run. Please.”

“Don’t get hurt,” she said. There were tears on her cheeks. Why? He wished she wouldn’t weep for him. He was a liar and a coward, a fool who’d spent an entire lifetime quailing at conflict and lying to himself. To the end, he knew, those things were what he would remain, even as he did this, this preposterous thing, this stupid but courageous but illogical but selfless thing.

Nothing but a coward.

I love you, he was supposed to say, sealed with a kiss that contained everything that swelled inside him but which he could not put into words. Instead, he said, “Run.”

The scholar watched her go.

***

He was no fighter, but he was a magicwielder, and he was in love with a girl who everyone else believed was dead—who, they believed, he had murdered in cold blood.

He could not protect his reputation, but he could protect her.

He saw the looks, the gazes that turned from confusion to suspicion to astonishment. As recognition flashed across their faces.

I’ll distract him.

But the soldier—who was supposed to see him and, bound by duty, arrest him for his supposed crimes—kept walking, even as those he commanded realized that a wanted man was in their midst.

The commander would find her. He was looking for her, and she could not outrun him. He would find her and bring her back to the prince, and they would lock her away, shut her up in the dark. A girl of leaves and sea air and sunlight, and the prince and his commander would keep her until she wilted and died.

He would use her, she’d choked against his shoulder. She had something they wanted, something she’d kept hidden from everyone, something they’d discovered and were unwilling to relinquish.

No. The scholar wouldn’t allow it. If she wanted to hide, she must have had her reasons.

If he let the prince take her away and hurt her some more…

He wouldn’t forgive himself.

Never.

He raised his hands, magic crackling at his fingertips, and he froze the commander in his tracks. Although he saw the man begin to shake and his eyes to bulge in confusion, other images overtook his senses: her gleaming tears, her torn dress, her bruised wrists.

Her teasing, pealing laugh, the ethereal whisper of her hair against his fingers, the musical sweep of her bare feet through fragrant, luscious grass.

He unleashed his magic and watched the soldier stiffen, as if his bones would crack and shatter. He halted. He fell.

“Commander!”

Shouts from far away.

“Commander?”

And then—

“It’s—it’s him! There!”

He was discovered now for the act he was committing, but the scholar knew he could not run. He was weak. A coward. A liar.

Words flowed over him, words he knew he should heed, but he had to stop the commander from getting up again, had to keep the attention on him, had to make sure she got away.

“Commander!”

“Don’t move!”

“He’s magicwielding!”

“Someone stop him!”

“Sir!”

“Stand down!”

“Commander!”

“He’s not breathing!”

“Get him!”

“He’s dead!”

The scholar released his hold, sudden dread coursing through his blood.

Dead?

No.

No.

He hadn’t wanted to—

I’ll distract him. Run. Please.

A diversion, an opportunity.

That was all he—

“I said, he’s dead!”

How?

The scholar stared down at his hands, hands that had never before wielded power strong enough to do what he had just done.

A crowd pressed in around him—too many, too many. Someone knocked him to the ground, and as his glasses went flying and the world turned to a soft watercolour blur, he was awash in shattering pain and biting terror.

“You killed him!” someone roared. “You killed the commander!”

“N—no.” It couldn’t be true. But they’d said. He hadn’t. But they’d screamed it out. He’s dead, he’s dead. But he was a coward, and he was weak. You killed him. But he couldn’t have. “I didn’t—”

“He’s dead, you murdering bastard!”

I wasn’t trying to—

Noise rose around him, furious and panicked, coalescing into one thick wall of sound. Words and words and words and screams and words and bellows, so many voices, too many, too much. Nonsensical. Foreign. Commander. Magic. Him. The girl. Dead. Dead.

Under arrest.

Murderer.

Dead.

Doomed.

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[thebreakfastgenie]

science blues and civilian affairs both intrigue me!

science blues

I included Science Blues to try to shame myself into finishing it because I wrote like 90% of it on vacation like... five or six years ago and then I got busy and just never wrote the ending. It's about Kirk getting wasted at a gay bar on shore leave because he's pining over Spock, and then getting arrested for public urination (I knew he was getting arrested and I was like okay it happens while he's looking for a bathroom and went with the simplest crime) and Spock and Bones have to locate him and bail him out.

FEATURES: an alien drag show Kirk is not really paying attention to, Starfleet themed signature cocktails, and a flirty bartender OC I adore. I actually put so much thought into this Earth-themed space gay bar. It's called the A&H for Alexander and Hephastion who Gene Roddenberry literally compared Kirk and Spock to. Snippets:

“So tell me, Tiberius,” he said conversationally. “Who is he?” Jim sputtered; nearly choked on his drink. “Who?” he asked, unconvincingly.  “Whoever’s stolen your heart.” “What makes you think…” Jim began, knowing he was fooling no one.  “Good-looking guy like you, sitting all by yourself all night?” Carmel laughed. “Guys like that are always lonely or lovesick. And you’re a little too good-looking to be lonely.” Jim sighed. It was the mark of a good captain to know when to concede defeat. He took a sip of his drink.  “So who is he?” Jim dodged the question with a larger than average swig of his Command Gold. “Oh, honey,” Carmel looked as if a distressing possibility were just occurring to him. “Is he straight?” Jim snorted before he could stop himself.  “Not straight, then,” Carmel mused. “Is he taken?” Jim turned his glass in one hand, watching the contents dance in a golden whirlpool.  “Single, then,” Carmel mused. “You’re going to make me guess, aren’t you? That’s alright, it’s so much more fun this way.” Jim declined to respond.  “A professional issue, maybe.” Carmel narrowed his eyes. “That’s it, isn’t it? He’s a fellow officer. Or… your captain?” Jim drained the rest of his drink.  “Got anything in science blue?” 

“You-- Is he-- Oh my god,” he finally managed, “You’re trying to do a Vulcan.” Jim choked on his drink.  “I am not,” he protested, coughing blue liquid onto his shirt, “trying to do a Vulcan. I’m…” he sighed heavily. “I’m trying to get a Vulcan to take long walks on the beach and tell me about himself and hold my hand and…” “You’re trying to date a Vulcan,” Carmel corrected.  “Have you ever dated a Vulcan?” Jim asked.  “Not, personally, no. I’ve heard a few stories, from friends-of-friends, but never any details. Vulcans really don’t like to kiss and tell.”

civilian affairs

lol so I posted the full "draft" of civilian affairs on here... in The Chosen People, Frank talks to a major from civilian affairs on the phone and they get along really well and then the major 100% definitely thinks Frank is hitting on him and 100% definitely is interested. like that's literally just what the joke is and I wonder if it went over some heads back in the day. anyway I was like what if he did call him again though. and I got a burst of inspiration very late one night and wrote the part that's been posted here. I love it but I have not been in the right state of mind to continue it.

Frank is going to meet the civilian affairs major in Tokyo for a drink that is definitely a date/hookup but Frank is in several layers of denial about it right up to the point that clothes start coming off. I'm not sure exactly how far it gets but I have a vague idea. I don't know quite how explicit it will be, because the point is Frank's various mental hoops, not porn, but probably more explicit than any fic I've posted before. I think it's going to end with Frank coming back to camp and Hawkeye being like "...why are you happy?" basically Frank be fighting demons and all the time the demons be bisexuality. Frank's voice is so fun to write.

[piecesofeden11]

WIP Wednesday

Things are starting to heat up in the next chapter of Like Puppets on a Broken String. This chapter is still being heavily edited so some of it might change, but please enjoy this snippet <3

Danger! Something is wrong here! Something is off! The Force feels dull and heavy and ...

It hit him like a blaster bolt to the chest.

"You're Sidious! You're the Sith Lord!"

His saber was in his hand in a blink, the blue blade humming aggressively as Anakin held it up between him and the Chancellor.

Sith Lord! He's been under our nose the whole time! He's been playing us, playing me all these years!

He snarled, anger mixing with fear and hurt and confusion. Palpatine - Sidious - on the other hand remained perfectly calm, a smirk on his lips, arms held loosely behind his back, staring down the length of the glowing blade.

"I was wondering when you would catch on, son. Took a little longer than I expected but than again."

He tsked, shaking his head in a mockery of regret.

"You have had distracting voices in your ear for too many years. That must end now if you are to reach your full potential. Which you must, of course, if you wish to save your beloved Master! As well as the mother of your unborn child! I can grant you that power, Anakin. I can teach you all you need to know to keep them from sharing your dear mother's fate!"

Palpatine - Sidious - paused, extended his arms in a gesture of surrender and grinned.

"Unless you want to strike me down now!"

"I will arrest you! Bring you before the Jedi Council and the Republic Court where you will be brought to justice!"

"You could do that, yes, but then Obi-Wan and Padmé, and her child, *will* die and you will be forced to watch, helpless, powerless. Weakened by the rigid code of the Jedi!"

He's lying! He's a Sith Lord! He's lying! Manipulating you!

"Quiet! You will face justice! Your war has cost too many lives already!"

But what if he isn't?! What if this knowledge he promises truly is the only way to save them?!

"You know I am right, Anakin! Only the Dark Side is powerful enough to cheat death! You couldn't save your mother, boy, will you fail Obi-Wan, too?"

Arrest him! Bring him in! He needs to be stopped! DO IT!

His hand, still holding the saber aloft, began to shake, conviction bleeding out of him at a rapid pace while his mind struggled to keep it in. At last, with a sharp, anguished cry, Anakin killed the blade and dropped his hand. His shoulders slumped, defeated.

Coward! Coward! COWARD! You FOOL!

"I want ..."

He stuttered, mouth dry and mind heavy, unable to even look Palpatine in the eyes.

"I want to learn how to save them!"

"Good! I've waited a long time for this! At last, your true training can begin! Come along, boy! We have much to discuss!"

In his head, all the voices of reason in his life, Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, Padmé, even the Jedi Council, were screaming at him, begging him to come to his senses. Anakin ignored them all and followed Palpatine - Darth Sidious, towards an unknown future.

I'm sorry, Obi-Wan! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! But I'm doing this for you! I'm doing this save you!