#kind of like he can’t see unless he uses his grave’s bust

[petitincendie]

also i really appreciate the fandom has kind of absorbed the idea that pre-reanimation, the creature can hear and maybe feel but not see, like he’s in some sort of limbo

[niyabiblioteca]

nsfw ablpabet: choi yeonjun

A: AFTERCARE

- i feel like yeonjun is the type to go from the most sexy and degrading (if you’re into that) dominant ever to the softest man alive for aftercare. he wouldn’t even take long to get into it because he feels like a minute wasted will make you feel unwanted or used and that’s the last thing he wants. will finish and immediately jump up to clean you up and then cuddle and praise you incessantly afterwards.

B: BODY PART

- yeonjun is definitely a thigh or waist kind of guy to me. i feel like he likes groping your thighs or belly when he gets the chance while fucking the cognitive thought out of you. even when you’re not having sex he can’t keep himself from touching them. he really could die with his head between your thighs and would honestly fuck his hard length between them if given the chance. but of course would get you off right after.

C: CUM

- yeonjun, no matter where his dick actually is during sexy time, will almost always find a way to finish all over your face. he doesn’t even care if it gets in your mouth or not. just seeing your gorgeous face covered in his thick release as you smile adorably back at him is enough to make his knees week. the sight of you looking so happy, blessed even, to receive it even while catching your breath is a sight he could never get tired of. hell, he might bust again just from seeing it.

D: DIRTY SECRET

- yeonjun kinda sorta definitely wants to fuck you in front of an audience. is it a power thing? is it his need to always show out and perform? even he doesn’t know. he just knows that he has thought about spreading you out on the coffee table in the living room and fucking your brains out before the eyes of all his members far too many times than he would ever admit. and it would be even better if his members got as turned on watching as he is imagining it. but alas, unless you bring it up yourself, we will take that to the grave.

E: EXPERIENCE

- yes, i am aware that this may be cliche or whatever, but i definitely think that yeonjun is experienced. i think he’s very well versed in all the ways to make a woman tick in all the right ways and has honed his skills to where he goes into every sexual encounter with unwavering confidence. he’s not shy about it either, i feel. but he’s also not the type to be cocky about it or act as if its a job. he enjoys the experiences just as much as the women seem to and is always happy to properly please.

F: FAVORITE POSITION

- anything that involves intense eye contact. more recently, doggy in front of a mirror. there’s many reasons for this train of thought. number one, those deep seductive fox eyes of his could probably make anyone melt in his hands. you know it, i know it, and in this case, so does he. he loves to see the way your pupils dilate and gloss over every time he pushes into you and especially loves to see your eyes roll back when he brushes against that sensitive spot inside of you. seeing you struggle to hold eye contact is also a huge ego boost as well.

G: GOOFY

- while i don’t think he’s too serious, i don’t think he would be a full blown clown during it. i mean, hes not childish, he understands that it’s sex and sometimes funny things can happen. he has no problem dropping the act to lightly giggle at something that happened, as long as you’re laughing with him too. he doesn’t want to make you embarrassed or uncomfortable because he doesn’t take it that seriously and feels that you shouldn’t either.

H: HAIR

-i think that yeonjun doesn’t really care about how you handle your hair down there. i think he’s definitely big on minding his own business (like a LOT of these people should) and never tries to tell someone what to do with their bodies, even if he is sleeping with them. as for himself, i don’t think he feels that going completely bald is necessary but he does keep it trimmed for maximum comfort on both ends.

I: INTIMACY

-how romantic yeonjun is really depends on the atmosphere and it is so easy for him to adjust. if your intention is to just chase a mind-numbing orgasm that you know he can provide over and over, he’s able to cater to that need and will call you whatever name you please during it. but let’s say you’re feeling down or need some affection, he will definitely become a soft love maker instantly. he wants to make it crystal clear that he loves you and worships your body to make sure that the message gets across.

J: JACK OFF

-i think that yeonjun is the type to rush when it comes to masturbating. while he would usually take his sweet time when ravaging your body like he does so well, he wouldn’t take the same care with himself. he needs to be able to nut and walk out the door, and i feel he has become great at that. i don’t think he needs an ambience or even porn to watch, although he will occasionally. he gives most of his energy when he is intimate with another person.

K: KINK

- yeonjun is totally down for overstimulation (giving and receiving). one one end, he loves to make you shake and quiver after making you cum more times than you even thought you could. nothing gets his blood flowing like seeing your tears build up from the overwhelming sensation (dacryphilia sneak too). but on the other end, if you make him cum with your mouth for instance, but you don’t pull off right away? oh he could combust right then and there. he would probably go so far as to overstimulate himself.

L: LOCATION

-now i personally think that for maximum comfort on both sides, a bedroom is ideal to do anything sexual. but, as i said for him being a bit of an exhibitionist, he wouldn’t be opposed to anywhere public, but not exactly out for everyone to see. so car, fitting room, bathroom, kitchen, and other places people could just walk up and come to.

M: MOTIVATION

- i feel like it isn’t exactly easy to get yeonjun riled up, but he’s not a stone either. sometimes it really depends on the day. some days just you wearing a short skirt will get him as hard as a rock, and other days it might just get an ass grab and a kiss. he doesn’t come off as a brat tamer to me, so i don’t think you acting out will do much either. he’s just a regular guy with regular turn ons.

N: NO

-now because i see yeonjun as a very open-minded person in terms of sex, i don’t think he would have any hard limits. but i will say i don’t think that he would want to be hurt in any way and i feel like he also wouldn’t be too much into pet names (for him). he prefers his name.

O: ORAL

-now i think we as moas can all agree, those lips are poppin. they’re always so soft and plump and moisturized, so he HAS to be good at using em!(my logic is weird but i gotta segue this somehow) i think he knows all the tricks of the trade when it comes to eating pussy. he knows all the techniques of licking and sucking and rubbing and flicking and the whole shabang. he loves going down on you before and after you guys actually fuck. as for receiving, he seems to be the type who doesn’t mind it getting sloppy or messy. in fact, it turns him on even more, and your gags also give him a lil ego boost.

P: PACE

- i personally think that yeonjun enjoys going hard and fast because he wants to get you drooling and cumming as quickly and as much as possible in record time. doesn’t mean he can’t switch it up and go slow or sensual, though. he just feels more comfortable pistoning into you at unforgiving speeds in order to get you making a mess around him.

Q: QUICKIES

-i feel like he would only choose quickies for two reasons: one, because he’s busy as hell and is often booked up but doesn’t want to leave you without any relief at all, and two, because he gets randomly horny in places where you guys can’t exactly take your time, so he decides to be a fuckin jackrabbit about the situation. outside of those two reasons, i don’t see him preferring quickies.

R: RISK

- i hate to keep coming back to the exhibitionist thing, but i just love it so much. unless he realizes that you’re into it too, he will remain 50/50 on doing sexual things in risky places. but if you are into it and let him know, he would probably choose to do risky shit in semi-public places on purpose. he likes to make it into a game: can you be quiet long enough to get us both off and get out of here before anyone notices, or will you ultimately get us banned from wherever the hell we are. and trust me, he’s fine either way.

S: STAMINA

- now one thing about us extroverts, we do not get tired easily. you may find us awake in the wee hours of the morning most of the time. so given that information, i think that he would probably perform without faultering for quite a long time. if he can do so while performing on stage, he can make that translate to the bedroom. as long you’re up for it, he can go all night.

T: TOYS

- i think whether or not yeonjun has toys heavily depends on if he’s in a relationship or not. if not, i doubt he would have one, if any at all. and if he did it would be something simple and mundane like a fleshlight or something. but if he is in a relationship, he would have a drawer designated for toys used between the two of you. i don’t think he would be into bondage so nothing of that nature but definitely some basic vibrators and things like that. i think the most extreme would be a cock ring or nipple clamps or something (the restricting one).

U: UNFAIR

- i think yeonjun can be a little shit when he wants to be. he would do some grimey shit just to get you squirming in your seat occasionally . but then again, just look at him. look at that fucking face. more often than not, he’s not even trying to tease you, it’s just your body working on it’s own. not that he’s complaining of course, it’s all the more fun for him in his book.

V: VOLUME

- yeonjun is a relatively loud person in and out of the bedroom. he knows when to shut up and when he can really let loose. if he’s trying to stay quiet then he would really just breathe heavily and maybe whisper some curses here and there. but if he’s allowed to be as loud as he wants, whew he’s swearing, praising you, degrading you, grunting, and sometimes just little whimpers because he knows how much those turn you on.

W: WILD CARD

-my personal headcannon for yeonjun is that i think he likes to record. not record the actual act of you and him fucking, but just the audio for him to use when he’s away from you and needs some material. your moans and his groans mixed with the heavy breathing and skin slapping and bed creaking all make for a hell of a jerk off session. once he gets permission from you, he would quickly get to work on an illustrious spank bank.

X: X-RAY

- now i’m not gonna be one of those who immediately say they’re fave has a fucking colossal dick because i don’t think he does. not saying it’s small either, but i’m just saying it’s probably average at most. he’s never been insecure about that though, mostly because he prides himself on his “motion of the ocean” and truly hates that whole ideal that big dick equals amazing sex. he is living proof that that is bullshit.

Y: YEARNING

- his sex drive is regular to him but absolutely insane to anyone else. he wakes up, wants to fuck. eats breakfast, wants to fuck. sits in an uber while listening to music, wants to fuck badly. with the way his sex drive is, you’d think he doesn’t get much action at all.

Z: ZZZ

- again, us extroverts don’t get tired easily. he uses that to his advantage when it comes to aftercare. he can do so much for you after the deed that by the time he’s done, you both are sleeping while cuddling together, which he honestly prefers.

————————————————————————

how dare i leave for 2 damn months and come back without a proper fic. anyway, not too much on me please, im a new moa as of a week ago sooo yeah

[save-the-spiral]

Warnings for blood mention, mechanical body horror, gore mention, torture mention, 'glitchy' unrealistic stuttering, calling a violent person 'unstable' (he is not mentally ill, but his crew thinks he is dangerous and unhinged, and he doesn't try to quell these rumors), slightly unreliable narrator?, He's just going through A Lot and coping via torture though it is not graphic here, this is really the beginning of his recovery, to be honest.

Alexander really did not think he would be embarking on a project where he fully considered the sentience and inherent 'humanity' in an Armada soldier, but, well, everything in his life had always been strange.

He finally solved the Khurgas' problem, as unconventional as it was, and continued forward as the tiger commander gave him a final order to turn the tide of battle on the Marleybonian Isle Of Fetch. With his orders, he and his crew advanced towards the beacon glowing from a beached Armada ship.

The new form of Armada units they found was strange- bulky, massive. Taller than any of their crew, easily two people's width as well. They were tougher than any flimsy hunk of metal carrying a musket or halberd the crew had destroyed before.

They hit hard, and that in itself was worrying. Currently alongside him were Bonnie Anne, Sarah Steele, and Gracie Conrad, a new crewmate he actually befriended, an unusual occurance these days when he took on a new person.

So when Sarah fell unconscious at a rough hit to the head from one of the Armada soldiers' weapons, Alexander's heart sank, but he knew it would happen. Currently everyone in his lineup was rather dainty, and he himself was a bit of a glass cannon, even the higher-ups sitting on their asses in the war room could recognize that.

So when the final battle neared, he called Ratbeard up to assist. The man was more solidly built than the rest, and he or Subodai were good picks as a fellow front line fighter while Bonnie Anne sat back to observe the field and Gracie spent the first vital moments constructing traps.

It was almost hilariously easy at first, on the ship. Gracie quickly whispered instructions, to half turn the crank, then destroy the generators, causing a power surge to blast the whole operations to pieces. Alexander cloaked the entire party in shadows, and half turned the mechanism himself.

The Armada soldiers, confused, still following battle protocols, began to destroy the only active thing on the battlefield: the generators.

Alexander was tempted to laugh, but managed to hold off until they began their ambush. He taunted the lifeless machines, mocking them with a leer as he cut them down one by one, relishing in the sound of twisted, screeching metal and the hot pour of slick oil that stained the hands and face and gave his blades a ghoulish tint.

And he would have done the same if they were people. And that alone caused Gracie and Bonnie Anne to look at him questioningly.

The beacon exploded, causing Ratbeard to cheer, hollering into the night, and Gracie appeared satisfied, but her tail wagged slowly and head cocked in thought.

"Captain, could I check for more devices in the ship's interior?" She asked.

Alexander nodded, breathing hard, blood singing still, head pounding. He kicked open the doors into the lower decks, while Gracie checked the captain's cabin.

Alexander didn't know what to look for, mind distant and scanning the room, prepared for it to turn battlefield any second, but he certainly did not expect the brig to have an occupant.

It was a barred room, one of the same make as the one Alexander spent a stint of time in whilst seventeen, about to start this twisted adventure. Inside, however, was no punk kid nor warrior of Mooshu, as was last time.

Alexander was entranced by what he saw, a strange echo of his actions above deck. The clockwork lying inside was large, the same frame as the largest model the crew had newly encountered. That was where the similarities stopped. The clockwork had no weapon, and was sparking and whirring weakly, fingers twitching as it lay limp, thrown against the back wall.

What was there to do but venture inside?

The closer he got after unlocking the cell, the more the entire situation grew unnerving. The clockwork soldier's head was bowed, hat hung low and obscuring. All armor or clothes were gone, leaving only bronze, black, and white planes of machinery, and glimpses of wires that sparked, cut. Several dents and gashes decorated the main torso plate, one arm hanging by a hinge.

When Alexander brushed the hat to the side, his breath hitched.

Surprises were not as common these days. He was a twenty-three year old man, he had been betrayed, played a fool and a puppet, stabbed in the back, and watched some of the most grotesque torture. He had inflicted some of that, eager, panting and sniffing out blood and weaknesses like a sommelier sniffed out fine wines from the way it swished against the glass, legs of the fluid sliding up smoothly, the fragrant booze plunging the senses into something smokey, smelling the barrel it was aged in, picking up hints of wood and fruits and lush flowers. All to drink it, let the intoxicating liquid slide and seep into their tastebuds, sink into their teeth, and swallow it. Much like Alexander would watch blood trail from a wound, the fear induced sweat on the skin making the passage of the fluid all the more simple, sharp iron in the air, the scent stained into their clothes.

He had seen some gruesome scenes. Nothing prepared him for seeing the dark void of chaos beneath a clockwork's mask.

The sharp intake of breath burned when he held it, eyes flitting rapidly to take it in.

Shattered porcelain remnants of its mask remained at the sides near where ones ears would go, but aside from those jagged pieces it was a whole different story. Bronze metal parts, strange and small and intricate, all clicking weakly along. The teeth- exposed now, sculpted and perfectly straight. They looked real and a chill dripped down Alexander's spine like someone cracked an egg at his neck.

The eyes. The eyes. The eyes.

Oh, the eyes.

Alexander was captivated, staring, staring and falling deep into an onyx void with a spark of true intelligence. Machinery sputtered for a moment, before the clockworks head turned just a smidge, mouth now agape, letting words spill.

"I-I-I-I-I." The machine glitched and stuttered, hand twitching once, the wrist twisting. "B-B-B-B-Bir-r-r-r."

Alexander found himself soft, quiet, until he cooed like one would at a baby, a soft "oh-hhh.", One that means nothing but to reassure. "Take you're time." He whispered.

"Ow-Ow-Oww-w-w-l-l." The thing stopped, whirred quickly, and spoke again. "Owl. N-N-" with a soft scrape a new part of its mangled face shifted, a bolt falling loose. "Owl."

Definitely not expected.

For a brief, hysterical moment, he wondered if he was wasted, having a bad drunken dream.

And it struck some kind of cord. Alexander wanted to know why. Why was this beaten to shit clockwork in an Armada brig.

But the machine slumped, stuttering about owls.

So he made the completely rational decision of dragging it out and yelling up to his crew for assistance.

And that in itself was shocking enough to send Bonnie Anne running in a flat sprint, crashing into walls as she went. Alexander never asked for help unless he was about to die or it truly was an impossible task to do alone. She hoped for the latter.

Alexander watched Bonnie Anne rush in, sniper on her shoulder ready to aim for the head. When all she saw was a busted clockwork, she let her weapon fall to her side and scoffed.

"Can't take it to our ship alone." Alexander explained, tone expectant.

"We could find scrap metal much closer to the ship if we really need it, captain."

"No. This isn't that- look at it, Bonnie. It was locked up. Why would the Armada do this to one of their own?"

"I don't know, captain, and frankly, don't know why I should care. It isn't alive."

"Well then, I guess I'll drag this to the ship on my own and get us all caught by any of the Armada between me and the dock." Alexander drawled now, a tone that promised he would follow through.

"Fine." Bonnie Anne barked out, jaws snapping.

With her and Ratbeard's help, they got it on board rather easily, Gracie running off to inform the tigers of their victory.

"To the brig with this hunk of junk, captain?" Ratbeard asked.

Alexander gazed over the war torn Isle Of Fetch, before looking back at the clockwork. "Bring it to my cabin. Tell Gracie she can check in if she's interested, but I'd rather this was my project."

Every crewmate exchanged confused glances, but with their captain turning from eccentric and frivolous into a dangerous, unstable man, they knew not to question a simple request that would hurt no one. Bonnie Anne did roll her eyes though, unable to resist.

And so Alexander found something new to fixate on, finally something that made the echoing, forlorn voices of his parents silent. Something that wasn't blood, or the way a betrayer screams for mercy, and not the crack of bone or crunch of cartilage.

Something quiet.

Gracie stayed in his room as well, silent as a grave, handing him tools and bits and bobs to fix up the broken toy soldier. Bonnie Anne led the crew in his absence, not for the first time.

He spent days intricately carving a plate of ivory, giving it the suggestion of a nose reminiscent of the Armada's plain porcelain masks. He inlayed gold in the outside, blushed it with more gold between the eye sockets and atop that nose. It was delicate, at odds with the sturdy body, the body itself a slightly uneven, less efficient thing, but it seemed proper, given the stutters about birds.

The mask looked like an Owl. It fit perfectly in every sense Alexander’s feverishly working mind could conjure. He worked on the internals last, of course, always one to prioritize the aesthetic over what lies underneath.

That was the sticking point, it seemed. He and Gracie would need more intel on either war golem construction, or the Armada’s own blueprints to figure out how to connect the pieces and give that spark of life Alexander had witnessed, to bring it back to the husk of metal and ensure it would still be rambling about owls, and not simply bash Alexander’s head in with the nearest wrench.

So Alexander left his work table as it was and allowed Bonnie Anne to drag him back into their mission, where they had to help a different branch of the Marleybonian bootlickers to ensure Alexander could finally be given the title of captain, which in itself was only to get proper access to Catbeard in order to get the imprisoned captain’s shred of the map

Plans within plans, however. Alexander let Bonnie Anne remember the big picture, and he let himself be busied by the immediate task, as well as secretly contemplating the mechanisms and delicate machinery that made up what might be a person, might be more than faulty programming. 

He didn’t know what conclusion this would come to, but for the first time since hearing an echo of his lost parents’ voices, it was more than just El Dorado.

It was the strange clockwork soldier, as well.

[theartofbeinganeldar]

The Art of Being an Eldar: Legolas x Reader Chapter 3

Summary: You, a fantasy-loving LARPing human from Earth, got dropped into Middle-Earth with no recollection of the place except for bits and pieces. Lord Fabulous Elvenking has given you three days to find the portal from which you came, with the aide of his son Legolas, who you've taken to calling "Blue-Eyes." If you don't find the portal, you're to be taken back to the palace for a swift execution...

Chapter No.: Chapter 2

Key:

[Y/N]=Your Name [F/N]= Friend's Name [B/N]= Bro's Name [S/N]= Sis's Name [M/N]= Mom's Name [e/c]= eye color [h/c]= hair color [s/c]= skin color

Notes: I actually researched the languages using a website called elfdict,but I don’t know if the orcish is correct...

Warnings: Fluff, angst, graphic depictions of gore and violence (Cuz of orc battles y'know?), more angst, slow burn, some light depression in the first few chapters, some amnesia about Middle-Earth because the Valar say you're not supposed to have foresight, hard-core language, feels, lots and lots of feels, mentions of NSFW content, maybe some eventual NSFW content, LGTBQ+ characters, Thranduil being a jackass at first because he's fabulous, Legolas being a hot edgy prince that nobody can handle, Kili being an innocent bean, Hobbits being smol innocent beans, except for Bilbo 'cause he's been through some tough shit, Bard being dad of the year, Thorin being one dumbass boi, awesome dragons, awesome Nazgul, awesome scenery, awesome stuff in general, Elrond isn't listened to by anybody, confused Aragorn is confused,  Denethor's a bitch as always, brace yourself for creepy as fuck Cream of Wormtongue Grima Wormtongue, Boromir lives, Gandalf. (yes these are all legit warnings don't judge me.)

Pairings/Ships: Legolas x Reader, Legolas x you, Aragorn x Arwen, Faramir x Eowyn, Thranduil x Elvenqueen, Galadriel x Celery Celeborn, Boromir x OC, Thorin x OC, Fili x OC, etc. general LoTR standard shippings plus some of my own cuz I can't stand my boys being lonely

Word Count: I try to keep my chapters short, under 2000 words.

Rating: Teen (14+) for now

Starting at dawn every day, you, Legolas, and the troop of Elves searched repeatedly for the portal. You threw yourself off of the tree countless times. You laid in the spot for hours. At one point, the Elves had even used some kind of sheet made of leaves and their supernatural strength to fling you up like a trampoline to see if the portal was aboveground.

Nothing happened.

As the days wore on, you grew more and more bitter. Every move felt exhausting, and like there was no use: you couldn't get back to your family.

You couldn't live here. There seemed to be no point of your existence anymore.

Somewhere around sunset of the second day, Blue-Eyes noticed your sudden lack of enthusiasm. "May I ask what troubles you?"

You scoffed. "Why do you care? I'll be dead in about forty-eight hours anyway. What I feel doesn't matter."

"I beg to differ," Legolas took a seat beside you; you scooted a couple of inches away. "You are in our world now, so you will go to our gods for judgement when you die."

You frowned. You'd always been kinda an atheist. "The Valar?"

Legolas nodded. "Yes. The Valar. Your feelings before death will determine whether or not you'll be given a good place among them."

You rolled your eyes. "You're kidding, right? They'll judge me for being pissed off and upset 'cause I can't get back to my own world to see my family, then killed just for breathing on Lord Fabulous's precious trees? They can go fuck themselves."

His face was priceless. If you hadn't been so pissed, you might've laughed. "...Lord... Fabulous? And, while I have my doubts about your recent hand gesturing, I do know that what you just said is most likely vulgar. Have respect for the Valar."

You snorted. "First of all, fabulous means somebody who loves dressing in the best and most well-liked outfits of the time, while also being very uppity and acting like they're God's gift to humanity. Second of all, yeah, that is vulgar, and no I will not take it back. Third, how fucking dare you, sir, to tell me to respect some candy-ass bitches up in the sky who'll judge me for having feelings."

Legolas shook his head. "Alright, ass is a word we do have here, as is candy. I can get the gist of that meaning. I cannot force you to have respect for them, especially when they brought you here."

You glared at him. "Yeah, whatever. Just leave me alone."

Blue-Eyes sighed. "As you wish."

You turned away, scrunching up into yourself against the night chill.

On the edge of night...

All shall fade...

With a huff, you curled up where you were and tried to fall asleep.

**

A beautiful copper dragon sat before you on a mound of gold. "Do you think flattery will keep you alive?"

"N-no..." Said the silhouette of a very small person.

"No indeed," Confirmed the dragon. He began to prowl around. "You seem familiar with my name, but I don't remember smelling your kind before. Who are you, and where do you come from, if I may ask?"

The dream flipped.

You stood between two Elves in silver robes, one of which was Blue-Eyes, looking sullen. "Tell me," Said the other Elf, "Where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him."

Legolas's crystal blue eyes glistened with tears, but he held them back. He'd never seemed like one to cry. "He was taken by both shadow and flame. A balrog of Morgoth."

The dream--no, vision-- changed again.

Before you was an old man in blue-gray robes with a long gray beard and pointed hat, smiling kindly up at what looked like a child. You couldn't turn your head to see. "A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins, nor is he ever early. He arrives precisely when he means to."

The visions flashed in your mind quickly now, too fast for you to discern much from them.

"Sauron's forces are massing in the east."

"This is no mere ranger! He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Gondor. You owe him your allegiance."

"Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king."

"I ain't droppin' no eaves, Mister Frodo!"

"I choose a mortal life."

"The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid!"

"He is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, the true King under the Mountain."

"You have the gift of foresight. What did you see?"

"Arwen..."

"What did you see?"

"I saw death. Your death."

"But there is also life. You saw my son."

"You have my sword."

"And my bow."

"And my axe!"

"If this is what the council decides, then Gondor will see it is done."

"Things that were... Things that are... And things that have not yet come to pass."

"Did he offer you a bargain?"

"Yes. I refused."

"A bargain was our only hope..."

"Have you forgotten what happened to Dale?"

"I am fire... I am...Death."

~ominous as fuck time skip~

You woke with a start, the dragon's words still echoing in your head. You knew over half of those names, deep in your mind... Sauron, Morgoth, balrog, Thorin, Frodo, Aragorn, Gandalf... You knew the voices, too. But you couldn't place any of them.

The Elves were already awake (With the sun as usual.), readying their breakfast of weeds.

You frowned. Why should you be concerned with why this place sounds familiar if you weren't going to be here much longer? You got up, and prepared to search for the portal-- you didn't want any breakfast, especially when it was nothing but dandelion fluff and sparkles.

"You are not breaking your fast?" Blue-Eyes asked you, and at first you thought he was using Elvish slang.

"You mean I'm not eating breakfast?"

"If that is how you say it in your world, yes."

You shrugged. "I'll be dead later anyway. What's the point?"

Legolas sighed. "To keep up your strength to find your way back. What if you arrive back on your world in the middle of the wilderness, like you did here? You will have no supplies, and I doubt you know much about foraging."

You huffed. "You know what? Screw off. I don't want anything to eat, and you can fucking deal with that."

He looked up in exasperation, probably praying to his Valar for you to stop being such a nuisance. "You use that word an awful lot."

"What word?"

"Fuck."

Then you almost busted out laughing, because a fancy pretty sparkly Elf, even if he was deadly, saying a modern cuss word was too funny.

He blinked. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

You snorted, crossing your arms. "Do you even know what the definition of that word is?"

"No." You gestured for him to come closer, then whispered the meaning into his ear. He sprang back wildly with wide eyes and a profoundly disgusted expression. "Dear Valar, I will never repeat a word you say again unless I am sure of what it means!" His eyes widened even further. "Wait... You just told the gods to perform impossible sexual acts on themselves! And the day before you told me to..." He stopped short, appalled.

"Yuh-huh. Just now gettin' that, goldie? For shame upon me." A thought struck you. "Wait, do Elves even have sex like humans? Do you even know what I'm talking about?"

He blushed a little. "Find the portal. Quickly." He awkwardly left, sparing you a quick glance like "wtf."

You grinned maliciously, then went back to your search.

By sundown, nothing was found. You stared down at the patch where you'd originally landed, wishing for all the world that you'd been born normal, with maybe a slight love for fantasy. Why? Why had you wished, for all of your life, that you'd been transported elsewhere? Now you were, but... You didn't have your family. Without them, you couldn't function right. You just couldn't imagine never seeing them again.

The Elves were already leaving, except for Blue-Eyes. He stood by your side for a minute, as if you were both staring at a grave. You might as well have been. "Bury me here, will you? Maybe my family will find my body. And kill me as non-messily as possible, please? Like, an arrow to the heart'll do."

Blue-Eyes stiffly patted your back. You went ramrod straight-- you'd always hated touch contact. "I will pray for you." He followed his comrades, who were already a good ways back to the river, spread out through the forest. You half considered running in the opposite direction, but you'd be dead before you even so much as got to the ridge where the first of the big dogs had attacked you.

You sighed, and forced yourself to move forward; you gasped as your ankle slipped into a rut, and you yanked it out, arms spread wide for balance. You gave the ground the dirtiest look you could muster, which quickly faded to stunned silence. You leaned down, and scraped more of the dried leaves away...

Your breath caught in your throat. "Blue-Eyes!"

Legolas was at your side in a moment. "Did you find it?"

"I don't know!" You stood and gestured to what you'd found. An inscription, in a language you couldn't read. "It was buried under the leaves."

"Can you read it?"

"Obviously not, dumbass. Is it Elvish?"

Blue-Eyes knelt, tilting his head slightly to read it. His hand grazed the writing. "It is a form of old Elvish, used in the time of Gondolin. This has been here for a very, very long time." He gave you a look. "Forgive me, I'd thought you'd written it at first." You thought about smacking him upside the head, but with everybody suddenly around you again and ready to attack, you thought better of it. Legolas turned back to the writing.

After an almost unspeakably long amount of time, you got impatient. "What's it say, dammit?!"

Legolas shook his head slowly. "I am sorry. Truly, I am. If we had seen this earlier..."

"What does it say, Legolas?!"

He stood, and looked you in the eyes, sympathetic. "'The way is shut. There is no going back. The way is shut, until next fiery moonlight.'"

Your face lit up. "R-really?! Then that means all we have to do is wait for a full moon, right?! That's usually what it is! Full moon at midnight for stuff like this, in all the books! Do you think Lord Fabulous could extend my sentence--"

"[Y/N]," It was the first time he'd used your name, and it made you freeze. "The night you arrived, the moon was full. But it was also a Firemoon. It means you cannot return to your world until the next Firemoon."

Your hopes slowly fell, but you were determined not to succumb to the panic that was quickly rising. "H-how much longer till the next one?"

Legolas put a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to understand.

"Firemoons only happen once every thousand years, [Y/N]." The words were like being hit by a semi going full speed on the highway-- sudden, fatal, and unbelievable. "You cannot go home."

Everything suddenly seemed far away, like you were seeing this from someone else's perspective. Everything went quiet, at least to you. The world seemed to spin. You dropped to your knees, and you were vaguely aware of Blue-Eyes saying, "I am sorry..."

You didn't know what to do. I can't go home... I can't go home...

I can't go home.

Your breaths came in panicked, short bursts. Even if it killed you, you took off running. Maybe if you ran for long enough, you'd wake up from this nightmare. Then you could pretend you were in some fantasy world with your family this time. You expected to be shot in the back, but you heard Blue-Eyes shout an order in Elvish, and instead, about three or four individual Elves followed you. You don't know how long you ran; tears streamed from your cheeks. Your lungs burned. Your legs felt like Jello. You collapsed at one point, and screamed, though you couldn't hear it. You screamed until your throat was raw. You were vaguely aware of a few Elves nearby, but you ignored them.

All shall...

In all the chaos, it wasn't long before you blacked out.

...Fade...

~emo time skip~

When you woke up, it was midmorning. Birds chirped endlessly on, the happiest goddamned creatures in the world. A couple of Elves talked quietly amongst themselves in hushed voices and in Elvish. You were laying on your back, and somebody had covered you up in a blanket. The smell of something good-- not that anything was, at this point--filled the air. It smelled like cinnamon and walnuts, like Christmas.

With a sigh, you cracked your swollen eyes open. Legolas sat cross-legged beside you, checking his bowstring and polishing the wood. He smiled half-heartedly at you. "You are awake."

Obviously. You didn't say anything. You didn't want to talk. Or think. Legolas sighed, placing his bow across his lap. "We must head for the palace. My father will wonder what is keeping us."

Yeah, gotta kill me as quick as possible... Death is better than this, anyway.

Legolas gave the order, and the Elves started to pack up. You laid monotone and still for the length of it, until Blue-Eyes gave you the signal to get up. Then you walked slowly behind them, every step a chore. You'd barely reached the river, and you were exhausted. And still, that damned song was going through your head...

Home is behind...

The world ahead...

All shall fade...

You knew that your dream last night had been connected to this place, whatever it was. Did that mean this song was, too? You were half tempted to ask Blue-Eyes, but you decided you weren't worthy of talking to any of these fantastical fantasy beings, even if they were going to kill you in t-minus some hours.

The company suddenly halted. Blue-Eyes had a hand raised, and all the Elves's weapons had materialized in their hands. Blue-Eyes was quiet, listening...

An eerie howl cut through the trees, chilling you to your bones. Was that one of those big dogs that carried orcs? A horn followed the howl, and all the Elves strung their bows and readied their weapons. "Gundabad yrch!" Legolas proclaimed-- you were going to assume that yrch meant orcs. He went on to give a bunch of other orders, and the Elves took off running; if it were up to you, you'd've stopped running and let the dogs have you for dinner.

But apparently Legolas seen that, and grabbed your upper arm to drag you along beside him. Damn him... The rest of the Elves were suddenly ignoring Blue-Eyes's orders. Half of them went off into the trees in the direction of the horn and howl, and the other half formed a protective circle around him-- and you, coincidentally.

Blue-Eyes barked an order at them which they ignored, but all of you stopped short when you seen what awaited you on the far bank; the way back to the palace.

Six massive wargs, more wolflike than the ones from before, with orcs a hell of a lot uglier than the ones from before sitting atop their backs, with black bows and jagged, haphazard swords. In the direction the other Elves had gone, there was more howling. Shit. If you cared about your survival right now, you'd've been terrified. But you almost enjoyed the thought of death, if it hadn't been so gruesome.

Blue-Eyes scanned the bank. There were more orcs nearby, on foot, and several more wargs. One of the Elves moved faster than you could see, snatching a sleek gold horn on his hip and blowing hard before Legolas could stop him.

The Elf-- it was the one that'd found your hair dye repulsive the other day-- hardly got a note out before an arrow lodged itself in his throat. The note trailed off into a gurgle as blood sprayed from the wound. Droplets splattered onto you, and you recoiled; you'd never seen death. You'd been to a funeral once or twice, but never this. He fell backward, and the river swiftly carried his body away.

Legolas shouted an order, and the Elves readied themselves for battle. But there wouldn't be one just yet, despite the death of that Elf. The lead orc-- a nasty, pale gray orc with swollen eyes and a protruding mouth, tall and thick, his forehead covered in scars-- stepped off of his warg, which was bigger than the rest.

He came about halfway before stopping. "A truce?" One of the Elves asked-- Common was probably hard to speak for orcs, so they resorted to it to keep from being understood. It made sense.

Legolas didn't take his eyes off of the orc, but shook his head. "That is Bolg, spawn of Azog the Defiler. He would not make any truce with us, nor would any other orc. They are beyond reason, and think only of blood and death." Bolg... Azog... Now you really knew these names... But why?

"Albai," The orc snarled; his voice was deep. "Dorzog ajog lum trov!"

"Emme uva!" Legolas cried. "Sin nor yara ana Aran Thranduil!"

Thranduil... You knew that name. But the fact that they were conversing in orcish and Elvish was astounding. One must've came from the other, and you were just going to assume that it was the orcish that came from Elvish.

Bolg's already disgusting face scrunched up into a frown. "Vol lat diig!" The orc raised an arm; you recognized the movement as a signal to fire. The Elves scrambled around wildly yet gracefully to avoid the arrows, but you barely moved; an arrow got you right in the bare part of your upper arm, and another grazed your ear. Still, you didn't move, praying for one to hit you in the head or heart or something. You hardly felt the pain.

As the battle took place around you, you zoned out. You caught glimpses of a bloodied Elven corpse, or a dismembered orc, and of course, blood was everywhere. The river ran red. You just wished it would end...

A grunt nearby brought you out of your trance.

It was Blue-Eyes, being pinned down by a warg's paw on his chest, another on his left arm. He flipped the dagger in his good hand and stabbed it violently into the warg's shoulder. The beast howled in agony, but only pushed down harder; Legolas's eyes widened as he realized the knife was stuck. The warg snarled, and opened its jaws, savoring the taste of fear before it would bite down...

None of this is his fault. He shouldn't have to die.

The warg had dismissed you as unthreatening. One of the Elves lay dead on the rocks nearby, a longblade in her hand as she stared with unseeing eyes to the sky, mouth agape. You snatched the weapon from her already-stiffening grasp. It was heavy. But it was sharp as hell.

In two leaps, you'd reached the warg, which looked to you in confusion, then recognition, with a growl. You brought the sword down, slicing deep into the creature's face. It wailed in an echo of a voice, and released Legolas, pawing at the wound; Legolas whipped his bow out like an OP follower and shot that dog point blank.

You let go of the hilt, stunned. Blue-Eyes inclined his head. "You have my deepest thanks, [Y/N.]. You saved my life."

You just nodded in shock.

Legolas raced back into the battle, leaving you to your own. Another horn blew, this one like the one the Elf that'd been shot first had blown. A barrage of arrows flew from the trees, felling every orc and warg in seconds. Some grazed you, but none touched any of the surviving Elves.

A she-Elf in a dark green tunic, carrying a longbow, loped out of the woods with her comrades. She was beautiful, with red hair so long it went past her waist. "Legolas!" She cried, and he responded in Elvish; again, you couldn't understand what they were saying, and it was really starting to piss you off.

"[Y/N]," Blue-Eyes called to you, and you belatedly looked up. He and the ginger were approaching you sollemnly. "This is Tauriel, Captain of the Guard. She will take you back to the palace and explain what happened here." Ah... Death at last.

"Tauriel," Legolas turned to her; something shone in his eyes. You recognized his spark, but not hers, but the thought quickly left your head when you registered what he was saying. "Tell my father that they saved my life."

"What?" Tauriel looked impressed, and bowed her head to you. "You have my thanks, mellon."

"Perhaps he will spare them from execution in repayment," Legolas pointed out, and Tauriel made an 'o' face.

She bowed respectfully. "I will make sure of it, my prince."

Wut.

Oh, right. Blue-Eye's dad was Lord Fabulous, king of these Elves. Of course that'd make him a prince. Prince Legolas Gr... Of the Wood... Rea... The thought was like an echo. You couldn't catch it.

Legolas nodded to you, and Tauriel lead you away from the carnage of the river battlefield.

~time skip~

"Saving my son does not grant you my utmost favor," Lord Fabulous glared down at you like you were a nasty piece of gum he'd stepped on in flip-flops. "But it does warrant some form of reward. I am sure you wish for your execution to be cancelled?"

On autopilot, you nodded. You didn't want to die, but you didn't want to live. You just wished you'd never have existed in the first place, that way none of this would've happened.

Lord Fabulous Elvenking snorted, like he was hoping you'd just ask for cake before you were beheaded. "Of course. Take them to their cell."

Tauriel wasn't as rough as Legolas, or even any of the guards had been, but she still held you firmly. "Would you like a change of clothes? I could also arrange for a washbasin to be brought to you."

You just nodded. Couldn't you just dissipate? But, if it'd taken nineteen years for this wish to come true, then it'd take another nineteen years for you to disappear. You were an Elf now, so that should pass in one painful blink of an eye...

"I am sorry that you could not find the portal," Tauriel told you as she locked the door to your cell. "I will have the guards bring you something to eat at once."

You laid down on your cot, curled up, and closed your eyes. You heard the guard come and deliver the food, then leave quietly, but you still didn't move. You didn't move when Tauriel brought you clothes and a bucket of water and rags, you didn't move when Blue-Eyes came to thank you again, you didn't move when a rat came and took your cheese. You just laid there, staring and feeling dead on the inside.

You refused to eat or drink for the next few days. You slept, mostly. When you were awake, you were crying silently. You dreamed of your family. You grieved. Your muscles cramped from sleeping in one position for days. Your stomach felt like it was going to eat you alive. Your mouth was as dry as sandpaper. A hollow ache had settled in the core of your torso, between your heart and lungs; a pulsing orb of sadness, regret, and the wish to disappear. A couple of times, you passed out from hunger while laying down. But you were an Elf, so it'd be hard for you to starve.

You kept count of the days by the cycle of guards exchanging meals. Every tray held different things for different mealtimes: fruits and bread for breakfast, cheese and bread for lunch, and a thick vegetable soup for dinner. About nine days went by before anyone came to check on you, and by that point, you were hysterical on the inside. On the outside, you were catatonic.

And you reeked, because you hadn't had a shower in like, awhile.

After two battles.

So you weren't at your best.

"My guards tell me you refuse to sustain yourself." It was Blue-Eyes. "Do you realize how much of an offense that is to his majesty? He allows you to live, and yet you seek death out deliberately."

You said nothing. Hell, your eyes didn't even move. With a sigh, Blue-Eyes moved to your bedside. "Ah, I see you have also refused to bathe..." You didn't crack a smile. Even on the inside, you hardly felt a twinge of amusement. You felt... Empty.

Legolas surprised you by placing a hand on your cheek. "You miss them, don't you?"

Tears welled in your eyes. Dammit stop making me have feels. Ah, but feels you had, my friend, and you started bawling into your pillow. Legolas shushed you, and petted your head and told you it would be alright. You don't know how long you cried, but at one point, Legolas and Tauriel switched places, even though she clearly didn't want to and sucked at emotional talking.

When it was Legolas's turn again, you'd finally gotten to the nearly-finished state of hyperactive wheezing. "How long were you holding that in, I wonder?" You still didn't answer. He gave you a sympathetic smile. "You saved my life. Let me help you save yours. Get up. You will eat, even if I must force it down your throat, and once you're full, you'll bathe. After, I will take you for a tour of Mirkwood. You'll be living here, now... I suppose it's only right you learn how to navigate your homeland."

Finally, it clicked.

"Wh...What did you say...?" Your voice was hoarse from underuse and crying, but it still worked.

Legolas gave you a concerned look, like that much crying might've damaged your hearing. "I said I will take you for a tour of Mirkwood--"

You sat up; too fast, but you sat up. Your sugar dropped. But you had to know. "Mirkwood... Where is that?"

Legolas frowned. "East of the Misty Mountains, west of Erebor, home to the dwarves and the King Under the Mountain. North of Ithilien, Gondor, and northeast to Lothlorien, Ithilien, and Rohan."

Oh fuck.

"Wh-what is this place called? In general? Collectively? Like, the whole continent?"

Legolas seemed to finally realize that you were crazy. "Middle-Earth."

Oh hell.

"Holy shit..."

"What is it?"

You couldn't remember it clearly. Hell, you could hardly remember it at all. But what you did remember finally made sense. Tolkien's fantasy masterpiece that no one can surpass... The Hobbit... Lord of The Rings... The Fellowship... Smaug, Thorin, Bilbo... Aragorn, Arwen... Thranduil, Legolas, Tauriel... Oh gods, Legolas! "I-I... The books... Oh, gods..."

"Mellon...?"

You promptly fell face-first off the bed before any half-assed explanation could be given to poor Golden Boy.

"[Y/N]?!"

...

Home is behind...

The world ahead...

And there are many paths to tread...

Through shadow, to the edge of night...

Until the stars are all alight...

Mist and shadow...

Cloud and shade...

All shall fade...

All shall...

...Fade...

Tag List: @tesserphantom​ @thedragonghostofmordor​

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader- “The Bionic Woman”

The Joker’s son has a new obsession: his father’s much younger girlfriend. What started as an innocent crush is quickly escalating to a full blown fixation, especially since Alexis decided that if he can’t have Y/N, The King of Gotham shouldn’t either.

“Y/N…” Alexis gently taps your shoulder, smiling as soon as you open your eyes, “… breakfast is here.”

Even if you hear the shower and know he’s already up, you still turn towards The Joker’s side of the bed, stretching.

“Mooorning,” the sleepy Y/N hums. “I’ll jump in the shower too and we’ll be downstairs shortly, alright? You can start without us.”

“I’ll wait,” the 20 year old informs, watching his father’s girlfriend pulling down on her cute tank top before getting out of bed. The matching shorts makes her long legs stand out and he just can’t help it:

“Hey, when are you going to take a shower with me?”

The disapproving stare you give while heading into the bathroom makes the young man lift his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry! Sorry, bad joke. Ummm… but should I still hope though?”

You keep walking, uttering the perfect answer for his insistence:

“I wouldn’t bet any money on it!” you scoff and he laughs, the fake grin disappearing as the door is slammed.

“I got shampoo in my eyes,” J growls because Y/N’s words made him aware she’s there also. “What are you betting on?” he keeps on rinsing all the bubbles clouding his vision.

“Nothing really,” you take off your outfit in a hurry and slide the glass panel, sneaking in the shower by the King of Gotham. “Alexis came to say breakfast is here.”

“Oh goody, I’m kind of hungry,” he wickedly smirks when your fingers massage his hair until there is no more shampoo. “Did he run his mouth again?” The Joker asks and your silence is confirming the suspicion. “Are you going to trade me in for the younger model?” he slaps your butt to get a reaction and you snicker, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Naaaah, I like my old one,” the playful answer pleases him.

“Do ya’?” J glares at your boobs and you continue:

“What am I supposed to do with a kid? I need a real man, babe.”

“You sure do,” Y/N is slowly pushed against the back wall of the shower since he wants to add a bit of extra fun to his morning.

“The food will get cold,” you glide your hands down his wet body completely not giving a damn at this point though: feeling his soft skin and toned muscles makes you be up to whatever he desires.

“A quickie doesn’t take that long,” The Joker winks and leans over for a kiss, dodging your puckered lips in the next second. “Awww, not fast enough Pumpkin,” he teases and as revenge you grope him, knowing it will prompt retaliation. “Wanna play that game, hm?” J’s raspy voice gives you goosebumps as he lowers himself on his knees, satisfied when you let out a scream in anticipation. “Good lord, woman; I didn’t even do anything yet,” he gently sinks his teeth in your inner left thigh, purring louder when you squeal.

“I’m not a kid”, Alexis mumbles on the other side of the door because he’s been listening to the conversation going on in the shower. He softly punches the wood frame and Y/N’s increased moaning triggers him to finally exit the master bedroom at the mansion The Joker owns outside Gotham.

At least Alexis realizes he has to be careful after badly messing up three weeks ago: you are on speaking terms again and that shouldn’t be taken lightly.

It was Friday and J had to stay overnight at one of his clubs to wrap up a profitable deal with a new business partner. You were tired and decided to return to the mansion where out of boredom you had a few whiskey shots before going to sleep since there was nobody else around besides security patrolling the perimeter. Let’s just say they are not the most cheerful bunch…

At some point in the night, you sensed movement next to you and cuddled up to the body, assuming it was The Joker.

“I…I think I’m drunk babe,” your slurry speech made you giggle. “Wanna have fun?” and your hand went inside the boxers, immediately taken out by their owner. “That’s mean,” you admonished when you got squeezed in a tight embrace and felt your face kissed all over. “Such a tease,” you yawned and hugged the stubborn boyfriend. “And apparently a gentleman since you don’t want to take advantage of your tipsy girl,” the conclusion made the other party huff.

It was dark in the room and you wished you could have seen J’s face and how worked up he was by the closeness; you could tell anyway.

“Suffer in silence then,” you pouted and snuggled to his chest, definitely not suspicious about the episode because you had alcohol on board.

Next morning was a fiasco.

Something being abruptly swept from your arms made you open your eyes and saw The Joker dragging Alexis from under the purple sheets.

“What are you doing in my bed, hm?!”

J didn’t look happy and Alexis regained his balance, alarmed he got busted and stood there by the nightstand, intensely gazing at the carpet.  

“What’s happening?” you got on your elbow, slightly dizzy from the hangover.

“Yeah, Alexis; what’s happening?” The Joker sneered and those fierce blue eyes made the young man confess:

“I…I was making sure she’s OK after she had a few drinks. I was nearby just in case…” the weird reason was stipulated and you interrupted.

“Babe, you didn’t sleep here?!” Y/N frowned as she asked her boyfriend.

“No, I was at the club all night; just got back!” The Joker informed and you darted out of bed, ignoring the splitting headache.

“How dare you?!” the slap landed on Alexis’s cheek before you finished the question. “I thought you were your father!”

J’s son didn’t argue because he wasn’t given a chance; the detail that stood out in his mind was the fact that his parent didn’t suspect Y/N of anything, not for a moment.

It was a certainty that The Clown Prince of Crime was a jealous individual. Probably an understatement, yet he didn’t hesitate to suspect his own flesh and blood rather than his woman. Which made Alexis nervous he might get in serious trouble.

“Listen here, you asshole!” you shouted. “I won’t tolerate this crap, do you understand?!”

“I swear I only wanted to make sure you don’t need anything after you had a few drinks…”

“And how do you know I had a few drinks?! I thought I was home alone! Unless you creeped around the house watching me and that’s not cool! And why didn’t you say a word once you came in the bedroom?!”

Damn, you caught on to that! He didn’t think you would have since you were inebriated…

“I’m really sorry… I didn’t mean to be disrespectful…”

The Joker was annoyed but your tirade wasn’t over: based on previous behavior and evidence from past actions, it was clear he had a crush on you. So Y/N had to explain the best way she could:

“I love your father! HIM, not YOU! Frankly Alexis, I have a hard time even liking you these days!”

The 20 year old held in his breath, hurt by the bitter news: he kept on hoping you’ll switch your affection and give up on The Joker, yet his dream wasn’t becoming a reality. Not anytime soon. Maybe you required time to see he was a better, safer option?

The King of Gotham pretended not to be affected by your revelation; why would you mention something trivial as love anyway? It wasn’t part of the plan. The two of you only got together to aggravate Harvey Dent: J can’t stand your dad and you get a kick out of creating trouble. Your rebellion against the former politician doesn’t come out of hate; it randomly happens when he tries to be overprotective and you fight back.

A year and a half ago fighting back meant a date with The Joker that turned into a little bit more under the pretext of irritating Two Face. The truth is J looks great for being 47: he seems younger, kind of ageless due to his unconventional appearance after the Ace Chemicals incident; he’s intelligent, has a dope sense of fashion and to quote your own wisdom “the only one in town that can satisfy a woman.”

Yes, the 30 year old Y/N Dent could have chosen another boyfriend, but she actually stopped seeing other guys since she dated J. And for some strange motive, he stopped seeing other girls on the side too, all under the excuse of antagonizing The Coin Flipper (The Joker’s favorite nickname for your dad).

The supposedly pretend relationship progressed towards something else to the point of him going ballistic if anyone indicated anything about the age difference. Your favorite memory is when J lost it while you were at the hideout on Glisson Avenue. Y/N prepared to accompany The Joker for a gathering involving money laundering and got in the car first, when the unthinkable was implied:

“Oh, is your daughter coming also?” Max sarcastically inquired, believing it was hilarious to bring it up. New York’s gang third in rank doubted his stand-up comedy skills as soon as J’s grave voice snapped:

“My what??!!”

Max couldn’t fix the transgression and apologizing would have done nothing, especially since he got a bullet in his thick skull that halted any sounds before they came out.

“Anybody else that shares the same ideas?!” he addressed the crew and Frost replied for all of them:

“No, sir!”

“Get rid of the body!” J barked and got a kiss the second he was next to you in the back of the car.

“You didn’t have to do that; I really don’t care about a complete jerk’s opinion,” you whispered and J grouchily snarled.

“I do! I have a son; never had a daughter and I don’t want rumors about me sleeping around in my youth! Reputation is everything!” the wacky clarification made you smile.

You rested your head on his shoulder, wondering why you both went through so much trouble just to upset Harvey Dent.

*************

20 minutes went by and the couple still didn’t show up for breakfast. Alexis is rushing back upstairs to remind you and The Joker the food arrived; he’s straining to remain calm after you brushed him off again. It’s frustrating that Y/N doesn’t pay attention to his charms and fancies his father instead of the obvious, more convenient solution.

The door to the master bedroom is cracked and Alexis peeks inside: you are trapped under The Joker on your tummy while he keeps nipping and biting his way down your back.

“You know what would make that old gizzard lose his marbles?” he sucks on your soft skin, leaving a lovely hickey on your right hip.

“Please don’t call my dad a gizzard,” Y/N snorts, amused at the moniker nevertheless.

Your boyfriend ignores the complaint and his over the top proposal comes without any warning:

“If we get married, he would have a heart attack and die. That sounds amazing, doesn’t it?”

You roll on your back, not certain if you heard correctly.

“And if we had a baby, we can basically buy his casket. I mean, that would kill him for sure!” the delighted green haired pest rambles on. “Silver coffin goes best with his skin tone, we could preorder tomorrow. ... … … … Why are you so quiet?”

“Are you… are you asking me to marry you?!...”

“Evidently. Of course I have to underline it’s for exasperating that old fart. Nothing else.”

“Of course…” you sniffle and The Joker buries his face in your neck, waiting.

“So… yes?”

He feels a faint movement and sighs:

“Are you crying?”

“N-no…”

“Liar,” he lifts his head up to look at your teary eyes. “You’re reading too much into this; the sole purpose is to annoy Harvey.”

Alexis is listening at the door, his fists so tight the nails are cutting the flesh. The young man’s ears are ringing and he can’t stand watching his father making out with Y/N, definitely about to have sex again.

And that’s when the diabolical intention takes shape in his brain: if he can’t have Y/N, The Joker shouldn’t either.

*************

1 hour later

J is entering the kitchen, aiming for the coffee first. As he pours the hot liquid in a cup, his son nonchalantly interrogates:

“Where’s Y/N?”

“Skipping breakfast; she’s going to visit Dent and give him some important information,” the elusive description infuriates Alexis because his father is not saying anything about proposing to his girlfriend.

“Why do you always have to win?” he resentfully mutters and J suddenly pays attention to his offspring.

“Huh?!”

“Do you think it’s cool parading around with something that should be mine?!” Alexis yells, shaking from the outrage he can’t control. “I won’t let you have her!! You can’t have her!! She’s mine!!”

The Joker slams the cup on the counter, angrily directing his suspicion towards an envious son:

“What the fuck did you do?!”

************

You barely backed out of the parking lot and drove a few feet when your cell phone rings.

“Hi babe,” you slide the screen, steadily driving on the paved alley.

“Get out of the car!!!” The Joker shrieks and you defend the decision you both agreed upon minutes earlier:

“I’ll return shorty, ok? I’ll tell my dad and…”

“Alexis rigged the car! There’s a bomb inside, it’ll explode soon!! GET OUT!!!”

“Oh my God!” you slam the breaks and flee the vehicle in a hurry, panicked.

As The Joker is running out of the mansion followed by a few henchmen, the loud explosion throws Y/N to the ground; debris fly all over the place and a few hit the collapsed body.

The small group reaches you and they are not sure if you’re still alive: there’s a lot of smoke, rubble and ashes around the unconscious woman.

“Hey Y/N, wake up!” J kneels by your head, attempting to wipe the soot on your cheeks.

“Help me with this!” Frost commands the others and the hood is lifted off your feet, everyone present freezing at the bloody mess concealed under the heavy piece of metal: your left leg is severed from below the knee, bone shards sticking out of the punctured skin.

“I need a doctor!” The Joker shouts and Richard is already dialing the number on his phone. “Somebody call Dent!” he orders and cups your face, worried about the serious condition you’re in. “Y/N, can you hear me?”

No answer and no movement.

The crew doesn’t even pay attention to Alexis, too absorbed wrapping Jonny’s jacket around the amputated leg. He silently watches everything, shocked to assess the aftermath of his actions.

“I didn’t mean to do this…” he pulls on his hair, terrified at the frightening view. “I swear I didn’t mean to…”

“GET HIM OUT OF MY SIGHT!” The Joker finally notices the young man’s presence, returning to his task of trying to wake you up.

Two goons drag him away against his will while he keeps bawling and shouting:

“Dad, I didn’t mean to! Please, I didn’t mean to!!! Daaad!!!!”

***************

5 days afterwards

“I’m here to see Y/N,” J straightens his shoulder in front of Harvey.

“I already told you she’s not doing well enough to receive visitors,” Two Face grinds his teeth and the men standing behind are making sure to block the entrance.

The fact is J wasn’t stopped from coming into the property, but he was denied access to see you for the past two days since you were brought to your father’s villa.

“I want to see my girlfriend!” The Joker reiterates and his own team is prepared to intervene if the boss decides to fight his way in.

“You have such a nerve showing up here again!” Dent brings up what’s been eating him inside and lashes out: “Your son crippled my daughter! Or was it you and blamed another in order to cover your tracks?!”

“I had nothing to do with it!” J defends himself and his threatening demeanor alerts Frost his employer is about to snap. “Alexis doesn’t live with me anymore; he’s on the other side of town, constantly under surveillance. Understand?! So get the hell out of my way!”

“Don’t you have any respect for the state she’s in?!” your parent changes tune. ”Y/N needs to rest!”

The Joker exhales and glances at the second floor where he knows your room is, electing to force his luck.

“Fine, I’ll be back tomorrow! Got it?” his finger goes under Harvey’s nose, then turns around and walks away in front of his goons. “Hold my coat,” J takes off the purple garment and shoves it in Frost’s hands, speeding towards the building.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Harvey screams although he guessed The Clown’s intention: J is climbing the decorative ladder full of roses leading to your bedroom’s balcony and in a few moments he’s on the terrace, stumbling on the long curtains as he steps inside.

The room is converted into a medical ward, a bunch of supplies neatly organized on extra shelves needed for your special care. The Joker takes a sit on the side of the bed, watching the pale Y/N peacefully sleeping. The IV dripping pain medication and a mild sedative into your bloodstream makes a faint beeping sound each time 2 milligrams of liquid is released from the intravenous bag.  

The thin blanket you’re covered with reveals your curves, making it obvious more than half of your left leg is gone.

The Joker pecks your forehead, hoping you’ll wake up before your father will barge in and kick him out.

“Sleepy head,” he takes the hand that’s not hooked to IV in his, gently massaging your fingers. “You have a visitor…” he smirks as soon as your eyes are narrowly opened.

“J…?” you try to concentrate, yet it’s almost impossible to verbalize your thoughts. “You … where…” the incoherence halts the sentence. “ Where were…you?”

“I was at the private clinic,” he justifies his absence. “Then Harvey brought you here; the damned Coin Flipper was a total dick and didn’t let me see you.”

“What did you just call me?!” Dent huffs because the compliment received as he opens the door to your room doesn’t strike his fancy. He wants to yank The Joker away but seeing his daughter starting to cry halts his movement and harsh words he’s about to spill out.

“I…I lost my… my leg…” you slowly blink and attempt to wipe your tears, not having too much coordination due to all the strong medications you’re taking.

J bends over and kisses you, willing to compromise for once.

“It’s alright, Pumpkin. We’ll get you another one, ok?”

You nod a yes and The King of Gotham shifts his head, gazing at his adversary.

“OK?”

Harvey stretches his facial scars in a vexed grimace, temporarily agreeing with The Joker for his daughter’s sake.  

**************

After 4 months

“Ummm, I think I’m ready,” you nervously pull down on your short dress, emerging from the walk-in closet. It feels awkward because this is the first time going out after the incident; you wanted to cancel but J insisted you’re overdue for a date.

“There she is,” your boyfriend snickers and gestures for you to sit in his lap. The titanium prosthetic custom made for you lights up certain pressure points with each move you make, yet the unique design doesn’t necessarily mean a boost in confidence.

“Can we just order some sushi and spend the night home?” you beg and The Joker abruptly declines the suggestion:

“Nope, I already made reservations at our favorite restaurant and then we’ll go to one of my clubs.”

He digs in his suit’s pocket and takes out a small box, urging you to open it:

“For you to use,” he winks and you gulp, opening the extravagant container that reveals… fancy business cards engraved with words that make you laugh:

-- Bionic Woman

-- The Joker’s Fiancée

-- Future Mother Of His Baby

“Lemme clarify,” he points out at the first line. “Bionic Woman because you could literally pass as a superhero with superpowers with this amazing new leg of yours.”

You keep giggling and he continues: “The second one is pretty self-explanatory and the third… we have to work on.”

The happy look on your face gradually dies out.

“You know what the doctors told me,” you sadly smile. “After the complications from my… accident, there’s less than a 15% chance for me to get pregnant.”

“I can work with whatever percentage!” J boasts, not a fan of your mood switch. “I don’t want to brag, I’m a modest person,” he dramatically flares his arms, ”but I’m good at what I do, even if I’ll probably have to get into Pilates or something to up my game; but I bet you 10 million dollars I can make it happen! Unless you’re a chicken and don’t have the guts to bet.”

“Deal,” you hesitantly accept the offer, aware of J’s strategy.

“Oh, almost forgot,” he reaches the coffee table for another present wrapped up next to the laptop. “This is for us.”

You pull apart the shiny paper and burst out laughing again seeing the book presented as a gift: “Miller’s Funeral Home Casket Catalogue”.

“We have to make a decision for the old gizzard’s coffin because he will die for sure when we’ll announce our plans to get married.”

“Please don’t call my dad a gizzard,” you frown. “He’s only 8 years older than you.”

“Like I said: a goddamned old gizzard,” The Joker passes his fingers through his hair, slapping your side so you can get up. “Now that you have business cards to share and a good catalogue with stellar options, I think we should go eat. I’m starving,” he follows you towards the elevator at The Penthouse, fascinated with the prosthetic that is actually a work of art. You are able to wear your stilettos also and J pinches your butt, aroused.

“You know what your best superpower is?”

“No,” you grab his arm to make sure you’re not going to trip on the carpet.

“Annoying your dad! I mean, with our combined efforts, we can at least hope for a stroke before we even give him the final blow with the marriage news.”

You snicker at The Joker’s perfect scheme, wondering why you both go through so much trouble just to upset Harvey Dent.

Also read: MASTERLIST

diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

You can also follow me on Tumblr and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

[ohayohimawari]

Kakashi Asks-Answer

Q: (From @cyabae) Do you think that Kakashi had a gut feeling that Obito was still alive? It seemed to me that he couldn’t get over Obito’s “death” whilst he was able to process his grief over the loss of his other loved ones.

A: This is such a fantastic question. Thank you for presenting me with an opportunity to climb into this ninja’s quirky brain to pave over what I think is one of the biggest holes in canon!

Throughout Naruto’s story-before and after the time skip-Kishimoto doesn’t allow the fans of the series, or Kakashi, to forget Obito. Every time we see my favorite ninja dork at his regular hangout (the memorial stone), it’s like Kishi is telling us, ‘Hey! Pay attention to this!’ Canon provides more questions than answers to this, so I’m going to rely upon my knowledge and interpretation of Kakashi’s character, as well as my imagination to resolve it starting below the cut.

First of all, Kakashi is no idiot.

He knows that he’s talking to dead people that can’t answer him when he visits their graves. He understands that death is final, permanent, having learned that lesson the hard way at a young age. The way he processes grief differs with each loss, however.

We know that Kakashi made it a point to distance himself from his father’s legacy after Sakumo’s death. In the series, I can think of only one instance in which we see Kakashi visiting his father’s grave, and it seems to be out of obligation. Further, when that angry little Kaka-brat is standing at his father’s grave in the rain, he places a flower on Sakumo’s marker while saying he won’t grow up to be like him. Ouch.

When it comes to Sakumo’s death, I think Kakashi spends a lot of time avoiding it. First, because he’s angry, later because he feels guilty (see also: Kakashi’s Legendary Self-Loathing). As long as I’m drawing from my imagination to answer this, I like to think that Kakashi comes to Sakumo’s grave more often after they made peace over a campfire during their brief visit in the afterlife.

It isn’t long after Sakumo’s death that Kakashi loses the closest thing he has to a father figure when his sensei Minato dies. This is another grave that I can’t recall (off the top of my head) Kakashi visiting. I think there are more than a couple of reasons why this is. Because he was a Hokage, Minato’s grave is already well-tended, or perhaps his remains are inaccessible (unless you’re Orochimaru). Another reason is because Kakashi has something better than a grave marker to turn to: the Yondaime’s bust carved into the mountainside that dominates Konoha’s skyline. When Kakashi wonders what kind of guidance his late sensei would offer, he looks up at his likeness. Side note: is it just me, or does that seem to give him a sense of calm? That’s a big headcanon of mine.

There’s something else that Minato left behind, or I should say someone, and that would be the main hero of the whole series. I definitely think that, although Minato’s death is an ending to a part of Kakashi’s life, it opens the door for this knucklehead to reckon with the future during his grieving process. But I have another Kakashi Ask waiting in my inbox about baby Naruto so I’ll wait to go into this when I answer that question.

This brings me to what canon presents as the most traumatic experience Kakashi has had with loss. There are countless flashbacks to the death of Rin Nohara at Kakashi’s hand before we’re given the full explanation for it. I can think of only two times that we see Kakashi visiting Rin’s grave: when he’s tending to it during a break from guarding a pregnant Kushina, and again when Tenzō is spying on Kakashi in the ANBU Black Ops arc. Although we don’t see him visiting Rin often, it’s implied that he does go regularly to her grave. He washes her marker, brings fresh flowers to adorn it, and tells her of the happenings in the Hidden Leaf.

Personally, I think Kakashi goes to Rin’s grave out of a sense of duty and keeps his visits brief out of guilt and pain (just an opinion; please don’t @ me). He can’t escape the physical moment of Rin’s death. It haunts him, frequently. He relives it more than any other experience he’s had in his fictional, angst-filled life. It seems to me that he thinks of his visits to Rin as the least he can do, after his involvement in her death. It’s all that he can do to continue to keep his promise to Obito to look after her. I’m not saying that he doesn’t have fuzzy friendship feelings for Rin, but I can’t imagine those are feelings that he’s able to maintain easily after the circumstances surrounding her death. Truly, I wonder if those visits are out of wanting to atone for his part in her death or to appease the angry spirit that Rin appears as in Kakashi’s nightmares. Probably a little of both.

The grave that is Kakashi’s home away from home is the memorial stone. Out of all the names that are etched on it, there’s only one that keeps him coming back to it. Obito Uchiha.

The million-ryo question is, out of all of the deaths that Kakashi has experienced, why is Obito’s grave the one that he turns to and returns to? Canon doesn’t portray them as the best of friends while they were schoolmates and later, teammates, so…?

This was the first peer that Kakashi lost, and that had to have rocked his little ninja world. Obito sacrificed himself for Kakashi’s sake and that too must’ve been a great big wtf moment for my precious murder baby. Also, there’s the sheer suddenness of the unfortunate boulder incident in Kakashi’s literal blind spot. I mean, wow, those reasons alone could show why Obito’s death would be next to impossible for kid!Kakashi to process.

But kid!Kakashi becomes adult!Kakashi and he’s still hovering by the memorial stone every time he gets a chance. I know that I’ve presented this dork as a creature of habit, but in this case, there’s something more to it. Two somethings, specifically.

First (to be blunt): there’s no body.

Obito Uchiha is presumed dead and for a ninja who has firsthand experience with proven death, that blows the door wide open to the possibility of Kakashi’s teammate surviving that rude boulder.

During the Land Waves arc, we see Team Seven’s leader waking up unconvinced that Zabuza is really dead. This knucklehead has more brains than chakra, and he doesn’t leave things to chance.

So, to Kakashi, presumed dead is way more alive than dead.

This is why he doesn’t just relate the news of the village to Obito like he does when he visits other graves. He asks questions and unloads his conscience there because, in his mind, he might be communicating with someone that could answer him.

But wait! There’s more. The second something is (drumroll): the sharingan.

Sharingan literally means “copy wheel eye,” and it is described as an “eye that reflects the heart.”

Kishimoto seems to enjoy beating his characters with a trauma stick, so canon gives us many (so many) accounts of how tragedy affects the sharingan’s development. However, if it reflects the heart, there are plenty of positive emotions that could affect it that simply weren’t explored in the series.

Another thing that isn’t fully explained in canon is how Kakashi and Obito’s sharingan eyes are connected. We only know that they are connected because the mangekyō awoke at the same time in each of them (this is very important btw), and because of their shared tsukuyomi/ninja dumpster. This is great imagination and fan content fodder because the possibilities of their shared sharingan are near endless.

What follows is my headcanon.

Rather than having a gut feeling that Obito is still alive, I think Kakashi allows for the possibility that his teammate survived. That becomes a probability after he learns more about the sharingan from his subordinate, Itachi and student, Sasuke.

It would be years after Obito’s presumed death that Kakashi would learn that the mangekyō is awakened by witnessing the death of the person that the sharingan-bearer is closest to. As much as I adore Rin’s character, she is not the person that Kakashi feels closest to when he witnesses her death. I believe that Kakashi is closer to Gai, or even Minato when Rin dies.

As Kakashi learns more about the sharingan, the bigger his hunch becomes that Obito survived. I’m sure he’d question how the mangekyō could’ve awoken in the first place if the person that gave it to him was dead.

This borrowed eye is surgically attached to Kakashi’s optic nerve and not his heart. So, if the sharingan is still developing, the heart it was connected to must still be beating.

More speculation, but perhaps Obito can use all of the jutsus that Kakashi has copied. Maybe snippets of Obito’s emotions are processed as information in Kakashi’s brain. It would make sense to me in Narutoverse.

So why didn’t Kakashi tell anyone that he had reason to think that Obito might still be alive?

The experiences that would lead him to think that are subjective. Kakashi is tight-lipped even when someone wants to know his hobbies. I don’t think he’d tell anyone that a mistake was made with one of the etched names on the memorial stone until he had hard proof.

However it played out, or whatever your headcanons about these two may be, the moment they faced each other from opposite sides of the battlefield was heartbreaking.

I think that when Kakashi finally saw him again, he was less surprised that Obito was alive and more surprised that he had become an enemy. *Sob*

XOXO

P.S. I actually touched upon this headcanon in a drabble that I wrote for my latest Tumblr milestone:

The Impossible 

Summary: “No one is more surprised than Kakashi when he returns from apparent death. He confides his extraordinary experience and the new mystery that has come of it at his next visit to Konoha's memorial stone.”

Pairings: Gen, none

Rated: T, no warnings apply

[tepkunset]

X-Force Vol 5 #6

The X-Force Discourse

Shoutout to @fuckyeahbatgirls for motivating me to get off my ass and finally catch up on this series and these posts LOL 🖤

TL;DR Synopsis:

This issue is just a flashback to how Ahab wound up with Constantin and Baby Stryfe (yeah turns out Stryfe is also in baby form, I don’t know why I was too dumb to realize that, I mean of course,) ended up working with the Transia government. He lies to a bunch of mutants brought to him in exchange for the futuristic weapons he provided the military with about Cable and his group being terrorists, and convinces them to fight for him. Additionally, he now has a still houndified Rachel under his control, who he’s been using to take out Clan Chosen back (or forth) in his future. Then finally we return to the present battle, where Baby Stryfe forces Baby Cable to surrender by promising if he doesn’t, X-Force, Clan Chosen and Rachel will all die. So he does, going through the portal and leaving X-Force behind.

Things I like About This Issue:

Shit actually happened that we didn’t already know and mattered, which is a step up from the last one. Congrats on passing the bar so low it might as well be in Subterranea.

But in all seriousness though, this issue does connect some dots that still needed connecting. It’s nice when stories come together.

I now have significant hope that Rachel will be de-hound somehow at some point soon, even if she’s gotta suffer through more bullshit before then. I’m just so glad she wasn’t forgotten. 

Baby Stryfe took off his helmet and I lost my shit over him having good hair LOL. He looks like a cross between Cable and Winter Soldier.

I can actually buy X-Force being taken down by Baby Stryfe’s groupies, given James was taken down by surprise, and two of the three of them are kind of impossible to get near? One guy is made of electricity and the other fire, so... I’m actually not really sure how they’d be defeated. Maybe Domino will actually get the chance to use her guns? Or I suppose Shatterstar could take one for the team and get fried up in order to stab’em? I’d suggest that James could do the same, if not for the fact that Brisson apparently conveniently forgot he has a healing factor on par with Wolverine. I’m not including Cannonball because so far he’s done jack shit in actual fighting, in favour of just flying around in the background or whatever...

Things I Dislike About This Issue:

...Seriously, what exactly was Sam’s plan here, though? I’m trying to understand what is going on. He flies overhead this guy to do... something... and then just gets taken out? What happened to being nigh invulnerable when blastin?

It’s like he’s forgotten during every fight. All he does is fly around and get acting all high and mighty. 🙄

At one point for a second I thought we were actually supposed to sympathize with Baby Stryfe, when he starts talking about how he’s a failure to Apocalypse. I was like pssht yeah next please. But given he then goes onto secretly have all the mutants who won’t fight for him dig their own graves and then kill them, I’d say that solves that. Unless we’re supposed to sympathize with him despite being an evil person to the core? Like, not to say you can’t have sympathetic villains--there are plenty great ones out there--but I’ve never considered Stryfe to be one, personally. But then again I don’t know a whole lot about him (and don’t really care to, TBH?)

While I buy X-Force getting taken down, I’d like to know just how the fuck Ahab and the hounds got captured. Like he himself may be severely busted up but you got Rachel Summers there, bitch. What the fuck are a couple of men with guns in track suits gonna do? Especially given we later see her and another hound take out all of Clan Chosen so like. Which is it?

“I am Commandant ConstantAAUUGGHHHGLGLG” --the sound Constantin would make before Rachel sends him and his men flying.

Or maybe Ahab surrendered because he wanted to trick Constantin? In 02 they say Ahab begged them to spare him, which doesn’t exactly sound like his character. I kind of felt like he was in a worse situation than this for that to happen. So now I have to imagine the whole thing as for some plan. But even if it was a plan, it was an awfully dumb and long-way-around one.

Mostly though, this issue left me wondering again why the fuck could this it and the last one’s snooze fest not have been combined into one single issue. Like I said, this isn’t a TV show trying to pad out runtime, but now it sure feels like it. The last issue easily could have been placed in a page and a half somewhere in this one.

[momestuck]

Epilogues: Meat ch 38-42 [Epilogue 7]

We’re very near the end now. But it can’t be that easy for D---, can it?

chapter 38

Dirk has decided he’s going to take it upon himself to get Dave and Karkat to fuck at last. He’s not going to outright rape them by taking direct control of them through the narration - for the “integrity of their emotional arcs” rather than like, any actual concern for their will as people, of course. Instead he’s going to try to use his narrative power to “persuade” them.

So he pushes Karkat to make a really heartfelt speech about how much Dave means, how when Dave says kind things to him it doesn’t automatically feel fake. And Karkat... doesn’t quite play along. He says he’s glad Dave’s his friend. (Also Dave makes an anime reference).

At this point Dirk goes berserk. He desperately tries to force Dave to take the initiative and top Karkat. As the scene progresses, he gets more and more heavy handed with it.

“I just want you to be happy...” [in exactly the way I prescribe]

Dave fights back against Dirk’s influence, without recognising its origin. (It’s interesting which characters can perceive it, and which can’t). Anyway, Dirk backs off - it doesn’t “count” for him if it’s not of Dave’s own will that he kisses Karkat.

They do in fact kiss. But not before Dave shouts at Dirk’s narration:

DAVE: GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD AND JUST LET ME DO THIS MYSELF!!!

This completely busts up Dirk’s attempt to narrate, and then Dirk decides... to just let the moment pass, without a thorough ‘poetic’ (you wish dude) description.

I’m not going to intercede with a single word further, and I won’t let you, either. I won’t cheapen this beautiful moment with my base editorialization just to satisfy your voyeuristic curiousity. Frankly, I’m offended you’d even expect me to. What they’re getting up to here is nobody’s business but theirs.

Davekat is canon, and that’s really all there is to say on the matter. Let’s give these crazy lovebirds some privacy and move on.

This is a really interesting moment. On one level, insisting on the privacy of fictional characters who exist only insofar as we imagine them is kind of absurd. On the other, letting them have actual privacy and independence is a huge step for Dirk, as a characterisation moment.

Also lol @ ‘davekat is canon' there god. about fucking time

chapter 39

Dirk is narrating himself, for once. He’s getting a spaceship from Jake’s mansion. Parenthetically, we learn that Skaianet - Jake’s company - has been manufacturing military spaceships for the Crocker administration. Guess we’re well on our way to a similar fascist hellhole in the Meat storyline as well, if there was ever doubt.

To think: if Jane had just died in the final battle... (because of course, fascism is driven by the ill will of one single superpowered evil person...)

Going by the narration, Dirk still feels some level of horniness for Jake here, even though Jake is now more or less his lovestruck puppet.

He not-so-gently informs Jake that this is a Dirk-and-Rose only mission, and they’ll never see each other again. Jake says some shit. (Also apparently Dirk intends to leave Jane in charge of the planet for ‘millions of years’.)

Dirk gives Jake a kiss, which he describes in the most nauseatingly self-aggrandising way possible. And then he says goodbye - implying this is, in a sense, some manner of revenge.

DIRK: I’m sorry, Jake.

DIRK: But I’ll never let you break my heart again.

God damn he’s an overdramatic bitch isn’t he.

Chapter 40

Either there’s no epilogue 8, or this is longer than I thought.

Jade gets woken up by Kanaya... and this time it really is Jade, at least going by the text colour. She’s fully aware of everything that alt-Calliope did through her... and immediately declares DIrk must be stopped.

Judging by the lack of editorialising in the narration, this reaction may be All According to Keikaku?

Chapter 41

We get a little insight into Dirk’s motivations. It’s some kind of Singer-style effective-altruism-by-way-of-god-complex:

If my agenda was to try as hard as I could to make sure no one thought I sucked, what the fuck would ever get done? How would I go about taming this world, or shaping reality for the better? And if I didn’t bother pursuing those goals, and thereby tacitly accepting the untold suffering that resulted from my inaction, wouldn’t that make me a bad person? If I try and succeed, I’m a hero, right? And if I try and fail, at least I made things interesting on my way to the grave. There would be a tragic nobility in that. And the way I see it, settling for anything less from my arc would be, frankly, pathetic. 

In this longwinded soliloquy, Dirk acknowledges that, whatever his self-perception, he recognises his role in the story is to be the villain. Supposedly for the greater good. He understands that people will resist, because “the sins of God and man” are not so “pliable” as that. He says that it’s inevitable that “power such as [his]” over other peoples’ would become “the enemy of anyone who noticed”, but suicide simply isn’t a thinkable option for someone as consequential as him.

So he’s setting up for his own dramatic comeuppance, as part of the whole grand design.

What a dick!

Chapter 42

Jade catches Kanaya and Roxy up on what’s really been happening, the control Dirk’s been exerting. Dirk - now confident of his escape - takes this opportunity to free Kanaya from the thoughts he placed in her, that made her so blasé about Rose leaving with Dirk.

Kanaya is incandescent, understandably. But then alt-Calliope ‘wakes up’ in Jade again, suppressing Dirk’s role in the narration, and Dirk meanwhile is on his ship and on his way out already. (Though given Jade has such overwhelming Space powers, you think she’d be able to catch up and stop him pretty trivially!)

alt-Calliope declares she won’t turn them into puppets to send them after Dirk, like he did - that this is the line between them. Dirk laughs, it’s futile, he’s already gone! etc.

(I guess Dirk is going to the Candy universe, unless I totally misunderstood that lol)

Epilogue 7

Well we finally got that Davekat kiss. And a lot of thought about agency of fictional characters.

Dirk, it seems, wishes to remake the universe in the ‘right’ way, without suffering? Perhaps that’s the purpose of his planned SBurb session: to repopulate the universe now depopulated by the black hole with a new set of universes.

Dirk seems to have gotten his ‘win state’ all sorted out - but alt-Calliope still has something in mind, even if they’re obstinately refusing to tell anyone until the time is right.

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

To Smile: Mission of the Deadliest Kind

This is a fluffy 5k word piece. You can read it down below, or on Ao3 here. Thank you @katerinehathshblack for looking this over for me on such short notice.

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

           “Ron!” The shout was accompanied by their dorm door slamming against the wall.

           Ron jerked so suddenly that the essay that he was supposed to be working on—but was actually blank—ended up with a giant hole in it as his quill stabbed the middle.

           Harry rubbed the back of his neck a little sheepishly as the realization that he probably shouldn’t have shouted became clear.

           “What’s wrong?” Ron demanded as he stood up, knocking over his chair and spilling his bag. “Is someone hurt?”

           “No,” Harry shook his head quickly before sitting on top of Dean’s bed. “But I need your help.”

           Ron narrowed his eyes suspiciously, there was something off about the way Harry was going about this. It wasn’t typical.

           “Is it dangerous?”

           Harry nodded sagely, gesturing with his hands in an affirmation.

           “Is it top secret?”

           “Definitely,” whispered Harry, eyes traveling over the empty room. “No one can know. Not even Hermione.”

           That had Ron righting the chair before he collapsed in it dramatically.

           “Am I going to regret this?”

           “Absolutely.”

           Ron didn’t even need to look up to know that his friend was grinning. “Alright, I’m in.” He probably would regret whatever it was, but as long as it got him out of his Transfiguration essay, then he was in.

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

           “I take it back,” Ron declared as they crouched in the shadows of an alcove on the third-floor corridor. “I don’t want to help you.” Dozens of Transfiguration essays would be preferable.

           Harry glared darkly. “You can’t take it back. Once you make an agreement, you are forced to see it out.”

           “Who the bloody hell said that?”

           Harry lifted his nose in the air before shoving Ron in the hip. “I did.” When Ron arched his brows, Harry’s shoulders slumped. “Please. I just don’t know what else to do.”

           Ron pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes to avoid the pleading that he just knew would sway his mind. “Harry, we are stalking him. This isn’t normal.” Nothing about this day was normal. It wasn’t fair that one pleading look from Harry was enough to have them following Malfoy around.

           The statement had Harry wincing as he bit his lip. “We aren’t stalking, it’s just a reconnaissance mission.” He knew that this was going overboard—he understood that—but once the idea had entered his mind, it just wouldn’t leave.

           Ron wasn’t exactly proud of the floundering look of disbelief he just knew was on his face. “Reconnaissance mission? Harry, I think we have two different outlooks here. I understand that you have this startlingly weird obsession with Malfoy, and you are probably madly in love with him to boot—not that you would ever see that.” He grinned widely when Harry let out a squawk of either horror or denial. “But you haven’t even told me why we are following him and hiding in the shadows like a creepier of version of Snape. If I’m going to be brought up in front of the Wizengamot on stalking charges, then I think I should have all of the facts here.”

           When Harry slumped to the floor, covering his face with his hands, Ron worried that something else was going on.

           Harry couldn’t look at Ron, not while his face was burning, and his fingers were clenched so tightly it hurt. “I just want to see him happy, I want to see him smile.”

           Ron wasn’t entirely sure where stalking the git came into play, but the miserable edge to Harry’s tone tugged at his heartstrings.

           Regret was clearly going to be Ron’s friend. “Alright, let’s make the prat smile.”

           It couldn’t be that hard, right?

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

           It all started when Harry realized that despite the dark times and the horror of the war, that love, and happiness was stronger than ever.

           The easy laughter that used to surround the halls and corridors was gone in the beginning of the year, but that was to be expected. It took a little while for Harry to realize that the happiness had shifted. It may not have been as loud and boisterous, but it was still there. The small smiles friends would share, the tighter circles of friendship and the comradery that linked all the houses together was proof of this.

           Subtle happiness was still happiness. It was still enough to help ease the ache inside of Harry’s chest. He wasn’t sure what he would have done without Ron and Hermione to keep his happiness afloat. They were a constant in his life and they meant the world to him.

           As the months passed, the castle tentatively became a healthier atmosphere, and Harry knew that they would all recover. Perhaps not in the same way the school had once been, but it would be enough.

           Despite all of the progress inside of Hogwarts, Harry couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy was the exact opposite of merriment. Sure, the Slytherin had never really been the picture of smiles and joy, but this was different. Harry wasn’t sure if he had ever seen Malfoy smile before; smirks were usually the norm, but not anymore, not since the war.

           In the beginning, a few people had tried to bait Malfoy into arguments or even duels, but it was as if Malfoy was just a body with no cognitive thought. Grey eyes would regard people in an unseeing way that was unnerving. Harry didn’t like it, not at all.

           The concept of depression wasn’t foreign, Harry and several others were counseled in the beginning of the year and put on a potion regiment that wouldn’t get rid of the depression, but it would help. Malfoy had been a part of the meetings and prescribed the potions, but it didn’t seem to be doing a whole lot for the man—at least to Harry. He supposed there could be an internal progress that wasn’t widely shown on the surface.

           It started out as just observation, Harry wanted to see if anything could change Malfoy’s temperament. Perhaps time or his friends would change his aura. Parkinson and Zabini were their usual selves, but that didn’t seem to help Malfoy any. Even surrounded by his friends, the Slytherin was just as vacant as he had been for months. As the year progressed, it was clear that Malfoy just wasn’t going to be happy. It wasn’t as if this was Harry’s business, if Malfoy didn’t want to smile or be happy, then that was his prerogative. But everyone deserved happiness—even broody gorgeous prats that used to drive him mad.  

           The solution to his growing problem of why he cared about Malfoy’s lack of happiness came in the form of a lecture from Hermione.

           “You just have to take hold and seize it, you know?” Hermione informed Harry and Ron as she finished her History of Magic essay. “Look at Merlin, he was told that he wouldn’t amount to much because of his lack of affinity for using a wand. But he changed the world in wandless magic, found new conduits like staffs or croziers, and became one of the strongest wizards ever known.”

           “What does Merlin have to do with helping me in Potions?” Ron complained, half asleep. “Unless he is going to come back from the grave and tell me the different properties to nightshade, then I don’t need him.”

           Hermione rolled her eyes as she threw a balled-up piece of parchment at his head. “You want to be an Auror, don’t you?” She didn’t wait for a reply before continuing. “You’ll need potions to do this. Don’t sit around and wait for failure to happen before you regret what you can already change. Be like Merlin and take it. Be the best Auror you possibly can.” She paused when Ron sat up firmly, determination flaring in his eyes. “Tackle potions like you would any other problem. Seize it, Ron.”

           Harry furrowed his brows as he realized that Hermione was right. If they wanted something, they would have to take it and rise to the challenge.

           Observing Malfoy wouldn’t do anything. If Harry wanted to make Malfoy happy, then he would have to rise to the challenge and make it happen.

           He just hoped it wouldn’t be that big of a challenge.

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

           “Have you tried talking to him?” Ron wondered as they crouched behind a headless statue—well he crouched, Harry’s height had him level with the stupid thing.

           “Ron, would I be here if that worked?” Harry asked in exasperation.

           Ron ignored the ire and wished they could figure out a better way to watch Malfoy than this—his knees couldn’t take much more. “I mean a real conversation, Harry. Not asking about the weather or saying hello.”

           Briefly, Harry thought back to the few attempts he tried at talking to Malfoy, it hadn’t exactly gone well. He had been a flustered mess and Malfoy only needed to lift his brows in response for Harry to get the gist of unvoiced messages. It was strange that Harry was becoming accustomed to the one-sided talks, well if they could truly be one-sided when Malfoy’s brows responded just as well as a sneer could. “Kind of?”

           Ron rolled his eyes before shoving Harry in front of the bust, ignoring the betrayed look his friend sent him. “Try again. Go on, this will add to our data.” He absolutely hated that a sentence like that even left his mouth.

           Harry wanted nothing more than to turn around and give Ron a piece of his mind, but Malfoy looked up from the bench he was reading on. Oh Merlin.

           “Hello,” Harry began, trying to act as if he hadn’t just been shoved. “I see you are reading.” He wanted to smack himself at the stupid observation.

           “Well spotted,” Malfoy drawled, eyes not moving off the pages of a book with no title. “What do you want, Potter?”

           Harry glanced back when Malfoy still didn’t bother looking at him, he couldn’t see Ron from behind the statue, but a freckled hand slid out and gestured him to continue.

           “How are you doing?”

           Ron nearly groaned at how painful it was. Was this how Harry had been around Cho and Ginny too? Because this wasn’t going to cut it.

           “Goodbye Potter,” Malfoy drawled, standing up and walking away with his eyes still trained on his book.

           Harry slumped to the floor, not bothering to sit on the bench. “How did I do?”

           “Not good!” Ron yelled from behind the statue. “But it did help for research purposes.”

           Well, at least there was that.

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

           “So, talking is out of the question.”

           Harry frowned at Ron. “I could always try again.”

           “Please don’t,” begged Ron as he dramatically threw himself down on his bed. “I can’t go through that again.”

           Harry wanted to point out that Ron hadn’t done anything but listen, but he was too distracted by ideas that were fruitless. “What held you back from asking Hermione out sooner?” There was a pause before he cleared his throat and amended his statement. “Not that I want to ask Malfoy out.” Because he didn’t, the mission was only for a smile, a simple smile or a lingering happiness.

           Ron clenched his fingers tightly to stop from throttling his best friend. If Harry thought for a single moment that he was fooling anyone, then Ron was going to give up on humanity in general. “Years worth of self-denial, crippling doubts and a giant empty void where my courage was supposed to be.”

           The brutally honest answer had Harry sitting up tentatively. He wanted to ask if Ron was feeling okay, but his friend was smiling. “That’s not exactly encouraging, you know?”

           Ron arched his brows. “What do you need encouragement for? I thought you didn’t want to ask him out.” Teasing Harry was honestly his only enjoyment in the stupid mission.

           Harry ducked his head, hiding behind the curtains of his own bed. “I hate you, you know that?”

           “I love you too, Harry.”

           Harry sighed softly, thankful that Ron was his best friend.

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

           “Have you thought about giving him a gift?”

           Harry scrunched up his nose in thought. “Like what? What do you get someone who has an entire fortune in their grasp?”

           “Who said a gift has to cost money?” Ron countered as they made their way towards the kitchen for a late-night snack.

           The question held merit. Harry smiled at the house elves when they already had a treacle tart waiting for him. “I could make him something, I suppose.” The thought had him wincing, crafts weren’t something he could do well.

           “Is—is Mister Harry Potter in love?” Bitty, one of Harry’s favorite house elf asked in interest as she piled way more treacle tarts then he could possibly eat on a tray.

           When Harry promptly choked on his bite, Ron laughed so hard he slipped off the stool he had claimed for himself.

           “No, Bitty I’m not—Ron! Stop laughing!” He sighed heavily when Bitty approached Ron hesitantly, clearly worried for his health.

           Ron gripped the edge of the table as he stood up, needing the support. “Yes, he’s desperately in love, but can’t see it for himself.”

           Before Harry could correct the completely insane statement, Bitty nodded her head so rapidly her ears flopped forward. “Small gifts of insight can be used for courting.”

           Courting? Harry shook his head quickly, wishing his throat hadn’t closed. “That’s not—I’m not—this is different.” It was clear by the way Bitty hummed and scratched her head that she had no clue what he was trying to say. Not that Harry exactly knew what he had been aiming to get at either. “I just want to make him happy, that’s all.”

           Bitty smiled widely before clapping her hands together. Her excitement shot a pang of longing as it reminded him of Dobby. “That is admirable. A selfless gift can also lead to courting.”

           Ron snorted loudly, ignoring the heated glare Harry sent him.

           “No courting!” Harry blurted out far louder than intended. Several house-elves stopped what they were doing to send him wary looks.

           “Mister Harry Potter wants to… mate… before courting?”

           Harry covered his face, wishing he could block out the embarrassed heat coming from his face as easily as he could tune out Ron’s roar of laughter.

           “No mating, no courting, no nothing.”

           There was a silence that settled around the room, but Harry didn’t want to break it, not when he was still trying to get his embarrassment under control. This was becoming more trouble than it was worth. It shouldn’t be this hard.

           When Harry looked up he narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the way Ron and Bitty were whispering to each other. Bitty had crawled on top of a neighboring stool and was kicking her feet slowly as she talked with Ron. “What are you two talking about?”

           “Nothing,”

            “Courting gifts.”

           Harry watched them look to each other before they both let out sheepish smiles. “I dislike the both of you.” He made his way towards the exit, not bothering to say goodbye. As the portrait swung shut, he could hear Ron say, “So, tell me more about house elf courting?”

           Bitty’s delighted exclamation rang in his ears, but that didn’t stop Harry from smiling softly.

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

           Malfoy’s confused face had Ron looking back at Harry in exasperation. “What on earth did you get him? I thought we discussed the proper cour—” He ducked when a spoonful of mashed potatoes was aimed at his head.

           “If you say courting, I will hurt you,” Harry threatened, lifting his arsenal of hot dinner once again.

           Ron rolled his eyes as he looked back towards Malfoy. “Is that…” He trailed off when it was clear that he had no idea what Harry had gotten Malfoy.

           “Hermione showed me some knitting spells.”

           Even with the context, Ron wasn’t sure what it was supposed to be. Was it a scarf? An oddly shaped pillow?

           “It’s a shirt. Not nearly as good as the ones he already wears, but it should keep him warm.”

           Ron squinted, hoping that would make the shirt appear more as it was supposed to. The longer he stared, the more Ron wondered if his eyes were failing him—because that was supposed to be a shirt? It was tiny—the shirt would barely fit Bitty let alone Malfoy.

           “Think it will fit him?” Harry asked, not looking up from his dinner.

           “No,” Ron pulled out his bag and grabbed his parchment that held their data. “No, I don’t think so.”

           “I was afraid of that,” Harry sighed regretfully, wishing he had applied the stretchable charms that would help if Malfoy decided to elongate it. “It’s the thought that counts, right?”

           Ron pretended not to hear the question as he scratched ‘gifts’ off their list.

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

           “I thought we decided that gifts weren’t going to work,” Ron pointed out, watching a school owl drop a three Belvederes on the table before Malfoy.

           “Flowers aren’t just a gift, they can be sent for a variety of things.” Harry paused when Malfoy blinked rapidly at the flowers, as if he wasn’t sure what was happening. “Surprisingly enough, flowers appear in numerous courting gifts. I had to dig deep to find some that weren’t mentioned anywhere.”

           Ron bit his lip to stop from laughing out loud. “Harry,” He gasped when the laughter became too much. “There’s a reason Belvederes aren’t in courting gifts. Flowers have a meaning, which is why you will find them intermingled into gifts to begin with.”

           Worry was beginning to make Harry’s throat close. “What does a Belvedere mean?”

           Ron snorted, unable to stop himself. “It means that you just told Malfoy you want to declare war on him.”

           “What?” Harry wasn’t proud of the squawk that left his mouth. “Why is there even a flower meaning for that?” Startling images of Voldemort sending him Belvederes entered his mind and it had Harry shaking his head quickly to dispel anything of the sort.

           Harry covered his face with his hands when Malfoy picked up the flowers and stormed out of the room.

           “I am so bad at this.”

           Ron would have agreed, but he was too busy adding this to their parchment. At this rate, they would never get the prat to smile.

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

           Three attempts later and Ron was pretty sure they were going to drive Malfoy into hiding. Harry had overheard Parkinson mention that she wished the house elves would make scones for dessert, since they were Malfoy’s favorite.

           Bitty had been too enthusiastic and the only dessert that night had been scones. Every flavor imaginable and then some. Ron wasn’t too sure why anyone would want scone flavored condiments.

           “Scones, Ron! Not even a twitch of lips. Sure, he seemed surprised and even ate five chocolate scones, but there wasn’t even a hint of a smile.”

           Ron sighed heavily as they made their way back to the common room. “I’m not even going to ask why you counted how many scones he ate. I really don’t need the headache.” Harry was taking this too far.

           “Just stick to the data,” Harry ordered, hands thrown up in the air in frustration. “We are getting close, I can just feel it.”

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

           They weren’t close at all, and Ron decided that he had made a grave mistake by ever sitting down in Harry’s compartment when they were eleven years old. Clearly, this was his fault for seeing kind green eyes and thinking being friends was a good idea. Past him was an idiot.  

           “What if—” Harry was cut off by Ron as they laid side by side on Harry’s bed, watching the top of the canopy that had been charmed to show the night sky.

           “Bad idea.”

           Harry frowned, taking his eyes off the constellations and peering at Ron. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

           “I don’t need to hear you say it to know that it will end badly.”

           Harry harrumphed and pointedly looked away. He knew that Ron was mostly right, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting a little. It wasn’t his fault that Malfoy was a statue on the surface and completely incapable of smiling.

           “Hey,” Harry’s eyes lit up, finger pointing to a specific constellation. “Isn’t that one—”

           “If you say Draco, I am going to smother you with a pillow and deliver your body to Malfoy. We can see if that will finally make him smile.”

           Well, fuck. Harry decided it would be best for the both of them if he kept quiet for the time being.

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

           When Ron walked into their dorm and found the section where the poster of his favorite quidditch player used to be, covered with a giant mess of parchments and red lines that seemed to connect the papers, he was curious. It wasn’t until he got closer and noticed exactly what was plastered that he became agitated.

           “Harry,” Ron ground out, turning to his friend who was scribbling on yet another spare bit of parchment. “Why is our data up here?”

           “I needed the room, and that seemed like a good spot.”

           Ron breathed through his mouth a few times, trying to calm himself. When it wasn’t much help, he decided to just go with it. “That’s it. Come with me.”

           Harry yelped when Ron grabbed the back of his robes and pulled him out of the dorm and down the stairs. He made gestures towards his friends when they made it to the common room, but the traitors that they were just watched in confusion.

           It wasn’t until they made it towards the third floor that Harry realized where they were going and tried to wrangle himself free. “Ron! What are you doing? We don’t have an observational scouting today.”

           Ron rolled his eyes. “Stalking, Harry. Say it with me—stalking. That’s what we are doing. Sugarcoating it won’t change the meaning.”

           Before Harry could argue against that, he noticed that they had bypassed their usual statue. It took a moment before it was clear just what Ron was doing.

           “Here,” Ron told Malfoy, shoving Harry down on the bench next to him. “I can’t take any more of this and I will lose all sense of reality if I have to go through one more attempt. Keep him, kill him, I don’t care which—just talk it out first.”

           Harry’s mouth had dropped open halfway through Ron’s statement. He watched in disbelief when his best friend of seven years walked away, leaving him in the hands of Malfoy. This was proof that he should have just asked Hermione to help him instead.

           “Are you going to explain why you are stalking me?” Malfoy drawled, glancing up at Harry briefly with another book in his hands.

           “You knew?” Harry blurted before he winced at his own words. “And I wasn’t stalking you!”

           Malfoy arched a brow and Harry wondered if this was his amused brow lifting or his annoyed one. He had gotten better at silent cues, but there is only so many ways one can be judgmental with their brows.

           “Subtlety is not a skill you embody. At first, I believed you were wondering if I was up to something,” Malfoy mumbled, eyes finding the pages of his book. “But then the odd conversations began, the weird gifts, the declaration of war—”

           Harry held up his hands so fast that it startled Malfoy into looking up at him. “I did not declare a war!” Malfoy might think he was a lunatic with a stalking problem, but if he was going to go down, it would be without the belief of a declaration of war.

           When Malfoy lifted both brows, Harry worried what that might mean in ‘silent brooding speak’, so he rushed to explain. “I just tried to find a flower that wasn’t in any courting gifts. I didn’t realize it held a special meaning.”

           A calculating gleam entered grey eyes and Harry was positive if he breathed wrong that Malfoy might not believe him.

           “What’s the point? What is your goal here, Potter?”

           It was sad to Harry that Malfoy thought being nice to someone meant that there was an ulterior motive to it. “I just want to make you smile.” He looked down at his hands when both eyebrows lifted again. Damnit, he should not be missing the one arched brow. This was not normal.

           “Do you mind repeating that with actual words that make sense?”

           Harry winced before squaring his shoulders and looking Malfoy in the eyes. Belatedly, he realized that this was a mistake because up close, those eyes were enchanting. “I just wanted to make you happy. Even if it was just once. A passing moment and that was it. You always seem so down and a little bitter—not that that is a bad thing,” He hurried to explain when Malfoy narrowed his eyes at the implication.

           “You’ve been acting a fool because you want me to smile?”

           When it was put like that and in a tone filled with censure, Harry wondered if he should’ve ever even bothered. “Yes,” whispered Harry, eyes willing Malfoy to understand what he wasn’t even sure of himself.

           “Why do you care?”

           Harry closed his eyes, wishing that Malfoy would be as gullible as Ron. “I don’t know,” he honestly answered. “I’ve been trying to rationalize it myself. Everyone deserves to be happy, and I want that for you too.”

           There was a silence that settled around them, it was stifling, and Harry almost loosened his tie just to give him something to do.

          ��“You are aware that those were horrible attempts, aren’t you?” Malfoy drawled, tone neutral, not giving off any hint to what the Slytherin was thinking.

           “Not all of them.” The urge to defend himself was pretty strong. Sure, a few of his attempts weren’t the best, but it was kind of endearing, right?

           Harry didn’t even have to look up to know that both brows would be raised again, it was just a given.

           “I don’t even know what to do with the wash rag you sent.”

           Okay, that one hurt. Harry looked to Malfoy, trying not to show it. “It’s a shirt. Perhaps a bit on the small side, but it’s a shirt. You don’t have to be rude about it.” Which in hindsight was a silly thing to say. This was Malfoy, rude was a default setting.

           “Potter,” Malfoy sighed heavily. “I’m not intending to be impolite. This is rather sudden, and I am trying to make sense of it.”

           That Harry could understand, he was still having a hard time coming to grips with it all. “Not all of this is my fault.” Harry decided that Ron should take some of the blame as well. “Ron was in charge of some of the ideas too.” This time it was only one arched brow, but it was enough to make Harry nervous. His mind didn’t even filter the words as they tumbled out. “I did stop him when he suggested courting gifts, because that was not a part of the mission.” Oh Merlin. That hadn’t been what he wanted to say.

           “You wanted to court me?”

           Harry snapped his head up in horror. “No! That’s not what I was going for. Not that being courted to you would be bad—oh God, that’s not—I’m not trying to—er—this is a disaster. I’m going to kill Ron for leaving me here. I just—”

           A low chuckle cut Harry off before it turned into a laugh that was so freeing it froze Harry instantly. A small—almost nonexistent smile lifted Malfoy’s lips and Harry gasped at the sight. That’s it. That’s what he wanted.

           Malfoy tilted his head to the side, eyes wide with something shining in them. “You really did just want to see me smile.”

           It wasn’t worded as a question, but Harry nodded anyways, eyes glued to pink lips.

           “Was once enough to satisfy you?” Malfoy whispered, eyes traveling Harry’s face in a way that had him wishing he was fluent in Malfoy’s eyes the same way he now knew the man’s brow language. “That is what you said.”

           “No,” Harry blurted before his mind fully caught up with what he was saying. “I want to see it a thousand times more.” If he wasn’t so far gone already, the statement might have embarrassed Harry.

           Malfoy looked down briefly, cheeks pinking up slightly. The sight had Harry wondering how warm they would be and if the heat would be worth the burn that was already happening to his insides at the mere thought of touching Malfoy.

           “I’m not opposed to that.” Malfoy looked back up, another quirk of his lips causing Harry’s mind to evaporate.  

           As Harry took in everything there was to Malfoy, he realized Ron was right.

             He had fallen for Malfoy along the way and the thought had his own smile forming.

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

           Ron swore that he had only stayed to make sure Malfoy didn’t actually harm Harry, but if he was being honest with himself, he just wanted to see how it would play out.

           When Malfoy smiled—as small and tiny as it was—Ron wanted to point and jump in place. Weeks of hard effort had been spent on this mission. Weeks that he would never get back. Weeks of data, charts and behavior analysis and so much stalking that he had debated about turning himself into the Wizengamot.

           The urge to stay silent only lasted long enough to see Malfoy kiss Harry on the cheek. The loud whoop left his mouth faster than he cared to admit.

           “Ron! Go away,” Harry called out, hiding his face in Malfoy’s shoulder.

           The way Malfoy looked down at Harry’s head, so soft and open had Ron’s own heart melting. Yeah, it was definitely time to leave.

           “Alright, but I am telling everyone I come across about this. I didn’t spend so long on the bloody mission for my hard work to be fruitless.” They were too cute to not have some recognition.

           Before Harry or Malfoy could say something, Ron made sure to turn around and leave quickly.

           “Oi! Parvati! You are never going to believe this.”

[hauntedcloset-blog1]

Grave Mistake || Solo

The act of leaving Owen’s house with the taste of him still fresh on Eddie’s lips was excruciating. He’d gotten what he wanted, for the pang he felt in his heart to be mutual, but he hadn’t earned it. Something sinister had rooted itself in Owen’s brain and turned him into someone else; someone that Eddie had no desire to love or cater to. The brash, egotistical man that had Eddie sporting a school boy crush had vanished before his eyes and he was left to miss him quite desperately. It was time to hail a cab, get to the bottom of this, and hopefully bring Owen back.

He’d only been out in the cold for a few moments but his fingers were already frozen, making dialing numbers a foreign task to the once dexterous appendages. “Fucking Christ.” Eddie mumbled under his breath as he realized that the chill in the air was also sucking the life out of his phone battery. “One fuckin’ percent, huh?” An unfamiliar voice chimed in. “Ain’t that a bitch.”

Eddie spun, startled by the sudden arrival of a stranger. The vision he was met with was translucent; a ghost. The pounding in Eddie’s chest managed to die down though the ability to form words still alluded him. The ghost didn’t seem to mind and took Eddie’s silence as a chance to speak once more. “Can’t rely on technology for anything. Analog or bust, I always say.” 

“Who the fuck are you?” Eddie snapped uncharacteristically. The ghost, rather than taking offense, simply smirked. “Wanna run that by me again, junior? Based on your reaction, I sure as hell ain’t the first ghost you’ve ever seen, so you should know better than to disrespect the dead like that. I may not be uppity like some of my fellow stiffs, but I’ve still got standards.” Eddie studied the specter for a moment; a bearded man somewhere in his 40′s. His gut was noticeable in spite of the fact that the rest of him seemed toned and taken care of. Eddie assumed he must have been a drinker when he was alive; just that kind of vibe.

“Sorry,” What the hell was he sorry for exactly? “I don’t have time to help you finish any, uh, business tonight. I--”

“Now, who the hell asked you for help? You’ve got this backwards, kid. Saw what went down at that bar you were at, followed you to see how it played out. That bartender really deserves a good fist to the jaw, if you ask me.” The ghost mimed a killer right hook before laughing. Despite feeling violated by the news that a stranger had watched his night spiral out of control, Eddie kept his composure. “Alright, I’ve got a hero complex, sue me,” he began, “what do you know that I don’t?”

“You got all night?” The specter asked mirthfully which earned him a glare from Eddie. “Right, guessin’ you’re not in the mood for jokes. That bartender spiked your, uh, friend’s drink with something that gives roofies a run for their money.” Anger wrapped it’s ugly tendrils around Eddie’s heart; of course it him. “Love potion, I believe. I spend a lot of time at that bar and he does this when he gets bored, you know. You two were apparently just too good to pass up.” Eddie’s heart sank at the realization that everything Owen had said had been a lie brought on by a drug that rendered him love struck. Disgust surfaced when he realized that what he said hadn’t been inspired by supernatural means and Owen would likely remember every last embarrassing thing he had said. “That son a bitch.” Eddie was surprised by the meekness of his own voice. “Exactly what I’ve been saying for months.” The ghost replied. “Really could use some straightening out, if you ask me.”

The idea of revenge seemed impossibly sweet to Eddie. He wanted to make the bartender sorry for ever toying with Owen. He had no idea what the aftermath of tonight would be but the idea of tomorrow filled him with unbridled anxiety. “Thanks for the information.” Eddie spoke, mind already a thousand miles away as he tried to piece together a decent revenge plot, something he’d never thought he would have to do. He started his way back to the bar on foot when the ghost appeared directly in front of him. Annoyance etched on Eddie’s face, he took a step back. “Really? I thought you wanted him straightened out or whatever, just let me go.” 

“In your current state? Nah,” the ghost spoke flippantly with a shrug, “I’ve got this one. Don’t get your hands dirty unless you need to, kid. Besides, something tells me I’ve got more experience with this sort of thing. Leave it to me and I can guarantee that prick won’t be spiking anyone’s drinks ever again.” Eddie eyed the ghost skeptically. “Yeah, and what exactly is in it for you?”

“I may call on you for a favor sometime in the future. Closure, you know.”

It was undeniable that Eddie had no idea what he was doing and this seemed like a fair enough deal. “Can I at least know the name of the person I’m gonna be owing?”

“You can call me Oscar.”

The next morning it was all over the local news; bartender at The Empty Glass brutally murdered. No suspects, no leads, nothing. Eddie was terrified and alone. Had he caused this?

[gsremade]

Since you’re open to request could I ask for a lil rhyiona thingy? Maybe something short and sweet? Thanks in advance unless u can’t do it in which case just ignore me lol

They’re standing at the base of an old signal tower, light from Elpis shining down on the flats around them and reflecting off the parts of the metal framework that aren’t rusted to all hell.

“I don’t like heights,” Rhys informs Fiona for what must be about the hundredth time as they both consider the structure in front of them.

He can see her nod in his peripheral. “I know you don’t.”

“Is that why you neglected to tell me until the very last second that the fuse you needed me to replace was at the top of goddamn Barad-dûr?”

“The top of… what?”

Rhys sighs, bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Never mind.”

A cool breeze rolls through, making him shiver. As if it wasn’t already bad enough that Fiona dragged him all the way out here at whatever unholy hour of the night it is right now. He genuinely has no idea how she even convinced him to do this in the first place, considering he has a pile of overdue paperwork collecting dust on his desk and a meeting with a potential investor first thing tomorrow morning.

There’s plenty of other things he could be doing right now. Plenty of other things.

And yet here he is, standing around in the middle of nowhere with his shoulders hiked up around his neck and bouncing on the balls of his feet to try to generate some semblance of warmth like a jackass.

“Sooo.” Fiona bumps her hip pointedly against his. “Are we going up or what?”

Rhys scoffs in her direction, fisting his hands in his sleeves. “Somewhere along the line, I think you started severely overestimating how much I’m willing to risk my life for you.”

“Oh, come on,” she says. “It’s not that tall. You wouldn’t die if you fell. Well, okay, you probably would. But it would be quick and painless!”

He rolls his eyes. “That is sooo not reassuring.”

Huffing impatiently, she stomps around to stand right in front of him and plants her hands on her hips. “Look, I told Sasha I would take care of this before tomorrow because we all know how cranky everybody gets when the radio isn’t working. August opens his stupid mouth way more often and Athena threatens to kill everybody at least twice an hour and Sasha spends so much time trying to pry those two apart that nothing ever gets done. Annoying pop music is the only thing that keeps us all from self destructing.”

Rhys thinks- and not for the first time- that he is very lucky to have his own private office. “If you were going to take care of it, then why am I here?”

“Because,” she starts, and then falters for a moment before continuing, “I… sort of broke it even more and now I don’t know how to fix it.”

He blinks a few times. “Broke… what, exactly?”

“The fuse? I think?” she says, but it sounds more like a question than a statement. “It was stuck in there pretty good so I tried to rip it out, but, well.”

She makes this vague hand gesture that he’s not sure actually conveys anything meaningful, but he thinks he gets the gist.

“I know it’s a lot to ask for,” she continues, “but I could really use your help on this one. Plus we’re kind of already out here and it’s a half hour walk back to base, so.” She steps forward to lay a hand on his arm. “Please.”

Shaking his head and trying to fight back the impending sense of doom twisting his stomach into knots, Rhys motions towards the very unsafe looking ladder on the side of the tower. “After you.”

It’s a long way up, the structure creaking and groaning ominously around them and the metal railing shuddering with every tiny shift of their weight. He half expects the entire thing to come crashing down before they even make it to the maintenance platform, but the structural integrity of the tower remains sound and they get up to where they need to be in one piece.

It’s colder and breezier up here than it was down below, but at least the view is sort of nice in its own barren and desolate way. The flat desert around them is cast in a purpley hue, sporadic gusts of wind kicking up sand clouds all across the landscape. Even the sky looks different, somehow more vast and unending than it had looked from the ground.

The ground that is. Very far away. He can see that once he makes the grave mistake of looking all the way down.

Shit.

He stumbles backwards until his back hits the central beam of the tower to get a safe distance away from the edge. Which might have been way more helpful had the platform they’re standing on right now been made of something solid instead of grated panels, because he can still see just how high in the air they are through the slats. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing his heart to stop pounding and his breathing to slow because dammit, he’s fine, nothing bad is going to happen and everything is fine.

But what if it’s not? What if the supports start collapsing, or what if the rails around the perimeter give way and one of them falls, or what if what if what if-

“Hey,” Fiona says softly as she takes his hands from where they’re clenched into fists at his sides and carefully works her fingers between his. “Hey. Look at me.”

“I don’t like heights,” he tells her again without opening his eyes. “I really, really, really don’t like heights.”

“I know.” She runs her thumb over the back of his knuckles, and her hands are so warm compared to his. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t- I didn’t know this would be-” He can hear her take a breath and blow it back out. “It’s okay, Rhys. You’re okay.”

That’s funny, because they’re, like, hundreds of feet in the air right now, which definitely doesn’t feel okay. But he forces himself to focus on the sensation of her tracing shapes over the back of his hand until he feels less panicky and more just incredibly, nauseatingly anxious. Which, frankly, still sucks, but at least it’s a considerable step down from before.

Once he feels like he’s able to, he cracks open his eyes enough to look down at her. She’s watching him so carefully, so tenderly, green eyes wide and searching as she continues to hold his hands in her own. And then she smiles up at him, a little hesitant, a little crooked, but still full and warm and earnest.

“Better?” she asks.

He’s not sure how to answer that. It still feels the same- the paralyzing fear of being in danger of plummeting to his death at any moment. But it’s also different, somehow. Farther away. Like he’s here with her and everything else is just a step or two behind them, looming right over his shoulder and chattering viciously in his ears but never quite able to catch all the way up.

So. Maybe not better, not in the sense that it’s all magically gone away. Maybe just… easier.

“A little,” he finally decides to say for simplicity’s sake, and then clears his throat a bit awkwardly. “I, uh. Might have to throw up here in a second, but-”

She takes a very generous step away from him at that. “Over the railing, not on me, please and thank you.”

Wow. He guesses he just found the limits of her helpful patience. Brutal. Rhys gives her the flattest look he can muster. “I was kidding.”

Fiona gives him an even flatter look in return, clearly disbelieving. “If any of it gets on me, I swear I’ll push you over the edge.”

He doesn’t doubt it. After he’s actually sure he really isn’t going to puke, he turns to make his way around the platform towards the fuse box. Fiona attempts to explain what she did as he struggles to figure out how in the hell she even jacked it up this badly. The fuse she tried to pull out wasn’t even the one that was busted. He tells her as much but she doesn’t believe him, insisting that she, quote, “Knows a blown fuse when she sees one, goddammit.”

Which she clearly doesn’t, otherwise he wouldn’t be having to fix her mess right now. She doesn’t have a lot more to say once he points that out. But she does shoot lots of dirty looks in his direction as he finishes the job she attempted to start, like it’s his fault that she can’t handle the cold, hard truth.

Once he replaces the correct fuse and fixes the one Fiona messed with, the lights on the tower come back on and everything seems to be functional. Rhys lets out a deep sigh of relief when they finally get back down on the ground where they belong, swearing to himself up and down that if Fiona ever asks him to do anything like this again, he’s changing his name and moving to the Southern Shelf to dig a complex tunnel system in a snowbank so he can live out the rest of his life in relative peace.

He’s so busy fantasizing about his future as a hermit that he doesn’t notice Fiona creeping up behind him until she pokes him in his ribs to get his attention. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he gripes back, spinning around to catch her hand before she can jab him again because dammit, she knows how ticklish he is.

But it doesn’t appear that her intention is to start a tickle fight, because she rolls her eyes and shakes her wrist free of his grip to twine their fingers together instead.

“I didn’t get to say thank you before you were hauling ass down the ladder,” she says, taking a few steps closer. “So, you know. Thank you. I mean it. And I’m sorry for tricking you to get you out here in the first place.”

Sighing, he brings his free hand up to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “You do know if you had just told me, I still would have helped, right?”

“Would you have, though?”

Rhys has to think about it for a second. Like, really think about it. “Okay, yeah, no. Probably not.”

She grins and stands on her toes to press her lips gently against his. He’s not sure if she means it more as an apology or just as an incentive to stop being mad, but either way, it’s surprisingly effective. She lowers herself down to stand flat on her feet again after a minute and he follows her, making her huff out a laugh against his mouth that turns into a sigh when he runs a hand up her side. Her breath catches when he pulls her closer by her hips, and he swallows a groan when she closes her teeth down on his bottom lip. When she starts to pull back, he catches her, pulling her close again and again to give her fleeting kisses until she swats him away with a laugh.

“That was easy,” she tells him as she moves both her arms up to wind them around his neck. “One kiss and I’m already forgiven. I’ll have to remember that for next time.”

“Hey, don’t you dare make me feel cheap,” he pouts as he slides his hands past her coat to run his thumbs along the seams of her vest. “And who said you were forgiven? I’m obviously still furious. Seething with rage, actually.”

She nods. “Right. Of course. Luckily, I know exactly what buttons to push to get back on your good side.”

He raises an eyebrow at her dubiously. “And… what buttons would those be?”

“I don’t want to spoil the surprise,” she says. “But I’ll give you a hint.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“Two words.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You and me.”

“Right.”

“In your bed.”

Rhys makes this big show of mulling it over before gasping dramatically and releasing her to grab her by the shoulders. “Pillow forts?”

Fiona laughs so loud it echoes across the plains, taking him by the hand and not letting go the entire way home.

[hela-of-ren]

Spearmint: Part 2

Guess who’s back? Back again. How ya’ll doin?! I’ve decided that Friday is going to be the day for Spearmint and all your Clyde goodness! So much fluff is on the horizon guys, you’re gonna get cavities. Enjoy!! <3

Tagging: @kyloholic

You had been texting Clyde for the past few days, the two of you trying to settle on a day and time to go out. You could tell he was new to texting, but his use of emojis was adorable.

You giggled at the text he’d just sent you, practically picturing his deep brow furrowing in concentration as his fingers attempted to type on the small keys.

‘I get why these emoji things r so popular. Kinda like em.’

‘I can tell lol’

‘Wut does that mean?’

‘Laugh out loud, it’s a shorter way to say that you find something humorous instead of saying hahaha.’

‘Didn’t think there’d be so many new ways to communicate.’

You snorted and went to type a reply until your phone buzzed with an incoming call. It seemed Clyde was more comfortable talking to you than texting, something you admired in a person. With a smile, you answered.

“Am I already confusing you with my futuristic lingo?” You teased, hearing him let out a gruff chuckle in response.

“Still gettin use to it, never really needed a phone unless it was for family.” You smiled as he continued, “I was wonderin...the county fair is in town and I thought maybe I could take yah tonight...if you weren’t busy, that is!” His nervous rambling making your insides flutter some more.

He was good at that.

“I’d love to, Clyde.” You responded gently. You could practically feel his excitement and relief through the phone.

“G-great! I can pick you up at seven, if you’d like?” You laid back on our bed with a sudden thought.

You’d told Clyde about Lola in detail as the two of you had first starting texting, serving to peak his interest and excitement. Maybe he’d be okay with you picking him up and riding on the Chopper?

“Actually, I was wondering if you wanted me to pick you up on Lola? You’d have to ride behind me because I don’t let anyone drive her, but if that makes you uncomfortable we c-” Before you could finish rambling, Clyde cut in.

“That would be great! I’d love to meet her.” His enthusiasm was contagious.

“Okay! I’ll pick you up at seven, Handsome.” He sputtered a bit before replying.

“See yah then, Y/N.” With that you hung up and closed your eyes for a short nap, after all, you still had six hours before the fair.

You pulled up in front of Clyde’s home, taking in the trailer with appreciation. Your Pa had one that was similar, but a tad bigger. That and the pool you’d installed right behind the trailer for his birthday.

Pa always was a sucker for pools and hot tubs.

Hearing the rumbling of your Chopper, Clyde fixed his dark plaid shirt and tugged the sleeves down over his arms. He hadn’t talked to you about his missing limb yet and he didn’t want to scare you off in disgust. He left his trailer and locked the door before turning to see you.

You straddled Lola in a pair of tight blue jeans with some rips on the knees and thighs, a white crop top hugging your chest, and your signature leather jacket clinging to your arms and shoulders. The moment you removed your helmet and flipped your hair about, Clyde felt his heart skip a beat or two.

You were one of the most beautiful sights he’d ever seen.

You smiled and waved your hand in greeting, watching as he looked at and admired Lola. He reached out his hand in question and you nodded, letting him touch and stroke the flames on the sides as he knelt down.

“She’s a damn nice bike, gotta say I’m a bit jealous.” His deep voice washed over the rumble of the engine. He looked up at you with those deep, brown eyes of his and you had to calm the beating in your chest at the sight.

“Thank you, she’s one of a kind.” He stared at you for a few more seconds with nothing but the rumble of the engine sounding before speaking.

“She definitely is.” Somehow, you doubted he was talking about the bike. You blushed and gestured him onto the bike with a nod of your head, digging out one of the extra helmets you kept for your Pa.

He clasped the helmet onto his head and swung his long legs over Lola until he was seated behind you. His large arms wrapped around your waist in a snug hold as he seated his chin on your shoulder.

“Hang on tight, Handsome.” With that, you took off into the setting sun.

The fair was in full swing when you’d gotten there. Kids running on sugar highs littered the area as their parents struggled to carry any prizes or left overs as they chased after them. Clyde had won you a giant teddy bear by shooting all of the pop up clowns presented before him, proudly naming it Duck Tape to Clyde’s delight.

You’d gone on a few rides, some of which he waved to you from a far. Roller coasters set his stomach on edge. There was, however, one ride you had yet to go on and was vital to any fair experience.

“The Haunted House?” Clyde looked at you in confusion and a little bit of anxiety. You smiled brightly and nodded.

“It’s a classic, Clyde! C’mon, it’ll be fun!” You pouted and Clyde felt himself giving in. He didn’t like scary things, even less things that could pop out at him, but it seemed important to you so he nodded. “Yay!! Let’s go, Handsome; I’ll even hold your hand.” With that you grabbed his right hand and dragged him off.

The two of you had just fit inside the small cart, Clyde taking up the majority of it and forcing you to sit between between his legs and lean back into him. The cart moved slowly through the dark corridors, lights flashing every now and then to reveal skeletons and grave stones.

Sounds of moaning ghosts and screechy violins played over head mixed with rattling chains and whistling winds. You held lightly onto the bar in front of you as Clyde clutched tightly to your waist, clutching more and more with each monster that popped out at you.

You screeched in delight when a light spray of water hit you unexpectedly from the side accompanied by a hanging zombie from above. You giggled in delight until you felt something bury itself into your shoulder. You turned slightly to see Clyde’s face completely immersed into your hair, his arms completely around you and his body shaking.

“Clyde? Clyde, sweetheart?” You whispered in concern, beginning to stroke his arms lightly. He only shook more as another spray of air hit you, a warm, wet feeling beginning to run down your neck. You set your jaw and looked around quickly spotting an emergency exit.

You forced the bar of the cart with all of your might and turned to Clyde as much as you could.

“Clyde, honey, come on. We’re getting out of here.” You felt him immediately lift you up into his arms and sweep out of the cart, barreling for the exit with his head down. He busted open the door with his shoulder with a huff and ran out into the open until he found the side of the building, leaning heavily against it with you still in his arms.

He felt like the walls were closing in on him, every jump scare and shot of air brought him back to his time over seas, to the explosion that took his arm. The spray of water became hails of bullets and the monsters behind every corner had the faces of the enemy.

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t-

“Clyde?” A gentle voice broke through his panic, “Clyde? Sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s over...” He swiftly turned his head to see you still in his arms, looking up at him with all the worry in the world. You could see the beginning of more tears welling up in his eyes, his face scrunching.

You immediately latched your arms around his neck and brought his head into your neck, one hand gently carding through his hair. He pressed himself further into you and wrapped his arms tightly around you, sobbing silently into your neck.

You didn’t know what prompted this, but you felt awful for taking him on the ride in the first place. He clutched you like a child would their favorite toy after a nightmare and for the first time you felt his arm dig in a way that didn’t feel normal. His sleeve had ridden up and exposed the prosthetic you had never noticed, the cold silicone pressing into your hip.

You squeezed your eyes shut as more guilt hit you. Whatever had happened to him likely linked with why he was so scared right now and it was your fault.

“I’m so sorry, Clyde. I should never have forced you to go on the ride, it’s all my fault I-” Before you could finish, he squeezed you tighter and shook his head in your neck.

“No! No, please, please, sweetheart...it ain’t your fault, I just-I can’t...” He could barely get the words out before you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, your hand holding the other side of his face up to your lips. After a few seconds you pulled away, his stunned eyes meeting yours.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” Your hand left his face and came down to lightly grasp his prosthetic arm, bringing it up to your lips for a gentle kiss. His lips parted in pure awe as you kept eye contact with him, his breathing becoming heavier.

You lowered his hand slowly, afraid you’d crossed some sort of boundary when he grasped the side of your face with his good hand and brought you into a fierce kiss, all lips and tongue in a desperate dance.

You whimpered and wrapped your arms back around his neck, hands tangling in his long hair. His good hand stayed on your face as the other wrapped itself tighter about your waist, dipping you slightly to deepen the kiss.

He nibbled gently on your bottom lip and slowly broke away, keeping his forehead connected to yours. He opened his eyes to see yours still closed, his heart beating even faster at the sight of your swollen lips and flushed cheeks. In that moment he couldn’t help himself as he began to litter kisses all over your face, your gentle laughter running through his bones and encasing him in safety.

[royalfoxfics]

Art by Twin Doodles

Ao3

FF.net

In which Chloe sits in time out, Pollen goes for a spin, and foreshadowing is a real pain. 

Chloe sat on the bed facing the wall and fuming.  Adrien had put her there after she had nearly blown a blood vessel glaring at her less than functional Kwami.  Pollen was talking with Plagg and Adrien behind her, while she “cooled down” with a small cup of water Adrien had given her.  

 She glared down at her reflection in the cheap paper cup of tap water.  Since she had been born, everything in her life had been brand new and top of the line.  She had been raised with a silver spoon in her mouth and a roll she was literally born to play.  Now she finally had a chance to go off script, and that chance came in the form of a pre-used piece of junk with no instruction manual.  She knew there was a word or phrase for that sort of thing. Irony?  Poetic Justice?  Pain in the ass, that was it.  

 She grimaced at the soggy cup before draining it down in one gulp, just so she wouldn’t have to see her own miserable face anymore.  She tried not to taste the commoners water as it went down.  At least it was cold.  She crumpled the cup into a damp ball and tossed it at the waist bin across the room, and watched as it fell several feet short and to the left.    

 ‘…Whatever.’

 She shook her head and turned her attention to the hushed conversation behind her.  

 “So you don’t remember anything?” Adrien asked.

 “We remember that we have a grave dislike for being asked foolish questions,” Pollen snapped.  “Our memory is perfect.  It is just a tad… hazy when it comes to anything regarding transformation.”  

 Chloe was glad to hear that Pollen sounded extremely uncomfortable.  The little pest had better feel bad about not knowing how to do its’ job.  If she had a servant that didn’t remember to bow to her when she walked in the room she’d have them fired on the spot.  Unless it was Serge.  Serge didn’t need to bow to anyone as far as she was concerned.

 Plagg groaned behind her. Adrien shushed him and tried again.

 “Look we really don’t have time for all this.  Can you at least remember the words to transform?”

 The silence that followed was not promising.  

 Plagg groaned again and Chloe wanted to smash her head against the wall in front of her, but her poor lovely face had already been disfigured enough.  

 Useless.  Her miraculous was completely useless.  She might as well just throw it at the Akumas for all the good it would do now.  Why did this sort of thing always seem to happen to her?  

 Behind her, Pollen was continuing to argue with Plagg while Adrian tried to keep things from escalating further.

 “Seriously, I can get being a little forgetful at first after two centuries, but you’ve been awake for how long now?” Plagg asked.

 “Well perhaps it would all come back to us more quickly if someone hadn’t spent an entire night bashing us over the head with incomplete historical twaddle!” Pollen yelled back, purposefully turning to look over their shoulder at Chloe as they did so.  

 “Oh give me a break,” Plagg said, rolling his eyes.  

 But Chloe didn’t hear him. Her blood felt like it had just turned to ice.  

 “It’s my fault…”  

 “Did you say something, Chloe?”  Adrien asked, trying to hold back Pollen from attempting to stab Plagg with their rear end.

 “It’s my fault,” she repeated, turning around to look at them.

 They were all taken aback by how guilty and terrified she looked.  

 “I broke my miraculous!”

 Plagg sighed and shook his head.  

 “Kid, Kwamies are made of pure energy.  You couldn’t hurt us with an old-“

 “It’s my fault!” Chloe almost screamed.  “It’s always my fault!  I screwed up my only chance because I freaked out and hurt someone, again!”  

 She clutched the sides of her head and stared at her feet.

 “Chloe, I’m pretty sure you were actually justified this time,” Adrien said, shooting Pollen an angry look.  

 Chloe wasn’t listening. She stood up from the bed and began pacing in front of them and repeating.

 “I broke the Coyami, I broke the Coyami, I broke the Coyami,”  

 “Kwami,” Pollen hesitantly corrected.  

 “Whatever!”  

 Pollen winced as Chloe rounded on them.  

 “The point is I’m a monster. I hurt everybody that I come in contact with, and most of the time I am totally fine with it!”  

 “Chloe, you need to calm dow-“

 “No Adrien!  No!  I said it last night.  I am not a nice person.  I am a horrible monster who should never be given a miraculous!”  She turned away from them and threw her hands in the air.  “I’ve hurt so many people they may as well Crown Me queen of the Akumas!”

 Amidst Chloe’s angry ranting, her miraculous suddenly flashed and Pollen’s eyes lit up.  

 “Wait, that was iiiiiiiiii-“

 Their words became a confused scream as they were suddenly pulled towards Chloe as if sucked in by an invisible vacuum cleaner.  Chloe had her back to them, and when she turned around to see what the noise was about, she saw the tiny creature come screaming straight at her head!  Naturally, she screamed too, but after their fight last night she also had the sense to duck.  It did little good though, as Pollen just barely overshot her before veering sharply to the left and began spiraling towards Chloe’s head as if caught in a whirlpool.  Still screaming the whole way.  

 The screaming only stopped when Pollen disappeared into the miraculous in another flash of magic, and the comb sprouted two long black antennae.  There was one brief second of silence and stillness, and then Chloe’s body jerked up violently.  She practically threw herself into a standing position with her limbs out at her sides, and almost seemed to be hovering above the ground, as if being abducted by a U.F.O.  The center of her face exploded with blinding yellow light, and golden energy began washing over her body as she was jerked this way and that in a clumsy looking spinning dance, as if she were a beautiful puppet on invisible strings, being controlled by a child that thought she was a sock monkey.  

 In the span of only a few seconds, Chloe Bourgeois had disappeared from the room, and in her place stood a beautiful and mysterious stranger.  

 “I think she said the magic words,” Plagg commented.

 “Chloe…” Adrien gasped. “That was amazing!  How did you?  I mean- “

 Adrian ran his hand threw his hair as he looked her up and down.  He had to forcibly remind himself that he was still looking at Chloe. Somehow his mind just didn’t want to associate the two faces.  

 “I can’t believe it.  I mean, I knew you could do it, but…  Wow, you look incredible!  How do you feel?”

 “…Ow…” Chloe squeaked.

 She was holding herself completely still, as if afraid to move a muscle for fear she would suddenly start jerking around again.  She seemed to be holding her breath too, as if afraid even breathing might hurt.  

 “…Are you okay?”

 Chloe’s expression changed from one of fear and pain, to one of someone who was trying very hard to stretch out the last of their patience.  She forced herself to slowly let out the breath she was holding and cautiously breathed in again.  When that seemed to work without causing further injury, she tried speaking in full sentences.

 “No Adrien.  I am not okay,” she said, very slowly.  “My body was just jerked around like a ragdoll, and every bruise feels like it was just rebruised with tiny little lacrosse sticks.”

 She began to very slowly relax her arms.  

 “…Oh.”  Adrien said, frowning at her.  “That’s… weird.”

 “Ehe, the transformation process can be a little ruff the first couple times,” Plagg said, flying around to look the new Chloe over.  

 “It wasn’t for me!” Adrien said.  

 Plagg stopped and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.  

 “Yeah, well…  you were really enthusiastic about it.”  

 Chloe began slowly rolling her shoulders and very carefully moving the rest of her body around to stretch it out.  

 “Okay…  Okay I think…”  She took a deep breath and let her shoulders loosen up.  “I think… I’m okay now.”

 She looked down at herself and saw she was wearing a skintight suit similar to Ladybug’s, though the color and pattern was different.  She shuddered and swayed slightly.  Adrien rushed to her side to steady her.  

 “Are you sure you’re okay?”

 Chloe nodded.  

 “Yeah, it’s just… kind of familiar…”

 She frowned and unconsciously reached up to touch the mask on her face.    Adrien frowned too.

 “…Close your eyes.”

 She did as he asked, and he carefully walked her forward a few feet and turned her slightly,

 “Now open them.”

 She did, and gasped.  He had put her in front of the dirty old mirror she had checked her hair in earlier, only now it looked worthy enough to hang in the Louvre.  

 “Is that… is that me?”

 “The one and only,” Adrien assured her.  “No akumatized wannabe this time.  That’s the real you, Chloe.  Well, I guess you’re not Chloe anymore.  Any ideas on your new name?  I’m thinking something inspiring.  Something powerful.  Waspwoman!  No, too generic… Or how about BuzzKill!  No, you’d never get invited to parties.”

 He continued to talk, but Chloe tuned him out, completely mesmerized by her own reflection.  She was wearing a flattering one-piece gold and black body suit, though its’ design made her look like she was wearing knee high boots, and long black gloves that went up past her elbows.  A broad black stripe ran over her chest, which she was pleased to see accentuated her bust nicely, while a few more smaller lines ran across her stomach and formed two shallow Vs.  Her mask was black, but her eyes were surrounded by gold eyeshadow that almost formed a second mask inside the first.  Strung across her waist was a circular satchel with a gold and black bulls eye design, and two strings with little yellow cones hanging off the top, but no zipper or clasp to open it.  She turned her head and saw that the bee comb still kept most of its original shape, though closer inspection showed that the outer teeth of the comb had curved around her ponytail and formed a nearly complete ring, presumably to help keep it from falling off while she moved around.  Also, it had sprouted two long flexible antennae that didn’t seem to do much aside from complete the look.  Though the look was good.

 She had cosplayed as Ladybug more times than she could count, even been akumatized as her antithesis, but this… this was different.  There was no voice clouding her mind and controlling her emotions. No feeling of sticky adhesive holding the mask to her face, or of spandex rubbing against her skin.  She wasn’t pretending to be anyone else.  She was herself. She put her hand over her mouth as she felt tears beginning to form.  She was free. Free to be whoever she wanted.  The reality of it was both terrifying and wonderful at the same time.  She looked into her own eyes and for the first time she could remember, she saw hope sparkling in them.

 Then her back exploded with pain.

 She gasped and fell forward as she felt the horrific impact push her off balance.  She thought she might have heard Adrien scream her name, but she couldn’t focus on anything else but the awful burning, ripping feeling of something forcing its’ way through her back and nearly burst out of her chest.  The pain was so overwhelming she couldn’t scream or move.  Her breath became caught in her throat, and her whole body seized up. She knew her eyes were open, but the whole world had gone dark…  

 And then it was gone. Her body went completely limp as she hit the wall and crumpled sideways into a corner between it and a filing cabinet. The impact forced some air out of her lungs, and she realized she had stopped breathing.  She tried to breathe in, and the air came back to her in a sudden rush that made her head spin.  Her vision started to return, and she could see Adrien and Plagg rushing over to her.

 “Chloe!”  

 “Kid!”  

 Chloe held up a hand to show that she was conscious as she continued to gasp for breath.  They stopped so as to not crowd her.

 “Are you okay?” Adrien asked.  

 Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she recognized the tingly feeling of an adrenaline rush from her near-death escapes at the hands of an Akuma, but she couldn’t understand why it was happening.

“I’m…  I don’t know anymore,” she said from her place on the floor. “What happened?”

 “I don’t know, one second you were looking at yourself in the mirror, the next you were on the ground,” Adrien said, reaching out a hand to her.  

 She took it and he pulled her to her feet.  She bounced on her heals as she landed, practically buzzing with energy.  Yep, definitely an adrenaline rush.

 “So what happened with you?” Adrien asked, turning the question back on her.  

 Chloe shrugged.

 “I don’t know.  One second I was looking at myself and feeling really great, the next my back just…  I don’t know how to describe it, it just hurt really bad!  Like someone had stabbed me or something.”  

 Adrien turned her around and looked her over.  Chloe looked over her shoulder at her reflection but couldn’t see anything wrong. The back of the suit was completely bare of any mark or sign of injury.  Her butt looked great though.

 “Where did it hurt?” Adrien asked.

 “Right here.”

 Chloe reached back and indicated a spot near her left shoulder blade.  

 “It was like… I don’t know how to describe it.  It was so bad I think I blacked out or something.  It only lasted a second though, and then it just… stopped.  Like completely.  There one second, totally gone the next.”

 “Weird… Plagg do you know what happened?”

 Plagg shook his head, but took a closer look at the place Chloe had indicated.  

 “I never heard of anything like this, but then I’m no expert either.  But hey, if it stopped it stopped.”

 Adrien sighed, and put his hand to his face.  Chloe on the other hand was still riding the adrenaline rush and tapping her foot impatiently.  

 “Whatever,” she said quickly.  “Let’s just hurry up and go help Ladybug already.”  

 Adrien looked at her uncertainly.  

 “I don’t know Chloe, something might be wrong with your miraculous.  Maybe you should sit this one out…”

 Chloe scoffed and waved her hand dismissively.  

 “I’m fine.  I feel better than I have all day!  Now come on, Ladybug’s probably wondering where her partner is.  Or partners now, right?” she added with a mischievous smile.

 Adrien quickly forgot his reluctance and smiled back in anticipation.

 “Alright.  Plagg, Claws Out!”  

 Chloe smiled wider as she watched Adrien go through his transformation.  

 “I guess I should work on my own dance too, huh?” she asked teasingly.  

 Chat Noir brushed past her and twirled his compact staff nonchalantly.  

 “It’ll come naturally to you.”  He opened the door for her and gave her another bow.  “Shall we?”

 Chloe curtsied and stepped out of the office and into the empty courtyard.  Chat Noir followed her out and quickly ran past her, using his extending staff to pole vault onto the roof above.  

 “Race you to the Akuma?” he called down, lazily putting his staff behind his head and resting his arms on it.  

 Chloe smirked. Without thinking she took a running start and leapt up to the second floor.  She landed easily on the railing twenty feet above her, and spun around on the ball of one foot.  Launching herself up and out into the open air, she caught the lip of the roof with her hands and used the momentum to flip herself up onto the roof next to Chat Noir with dignified grace.  

 ...At least that’s what she meant to do.  Instead, she only managed to jump a few feet into the air, came down unexpectedly fast, tripped, and tumbled over herself and crashed into one of the wooden benches.

 Chat Noir leapt down to find her splayed upside down on the bench with her feet in the air, looking confused, but on the whole, unharmed.  

 “Chat?” she asked, not moving to correct her upside down self.  “How do you turn on the super strength?”  

   Author’s notes:  

 Regarding the short length: This chapter and the one following it will be a bit on the shorter side. I spent the last night typing out close to 8,000 words, and over 6,000 were all for one chapter.  That will probably be divided up into two, but please be assured there is still much more of the story to come.  I’m shooting to update every Sunday, so please look forward to them then.  And thank you all again for the comments and reviews!  They really do help me to push forward to keep writing and editing the best I can.  ^^

[oddferalair]

characterization quotes

Robin Support   See, now you're just not thinking logically. We've killed countless people in this war— what's a few more souls on the ledger? Seems like an arbitrary line to me... But all right. You're the tactician! No more unholy summoning sigils. Heck, I always obey orders! Well, except for stupid ones like "don't fight the enemy." If someone tried to tell me that, I'd cut 'em in half and feed them to the crows! Lissa Support If you don't rest up before a battle, you might find yourself resting up in a grave.   That does seem like a problem. War is killing and death, ya know? Keeping people you care about alive means making the other guy dead. Nya ha ha! Just a little touch of Henry's Super Sleepy-Time Magic! ...The nonlethal version. First you don't want any allies or enemies to die, and now BIRDIES are off the table? ...You're a strange one, Lissa. Nya ha ha! Me? Sweet? That's a new one. Besides, you're the one who's always concerned about people dying and stuff. I don't know how you do it, honestly. I couldn't go a week! I'm not much of a mood guy, I'm afraid, unless we're talking gruesome bloodshed... Well, how about this: I did get you a ring! Will that work? 

Frederick Support

I want my dying thought to be about blood! ...Or maybe ichor. H-hey, Frederick! Easy with the bear hugs! These little bones might snap like...Oh, whoa! Are you CRYING?! You really think people notice what I do around here? 'Cause I doubt it. I mean, what kind of things do they say about me now? Nya ha ha! If you lay it on any thicker, I'll be smothered to death! But I'm not training to make myself look good in front of my comrades, you know?   Well, because the more I practice, the more stuff I'm able to do. I like being good at lots of things. Sully Support Absolutely! I'll need a pound of flesh, seven fingernails, and your left kidney. Nya ha ha! I jest. A single hair will do just fine. Yep yep! That's it, all right. I can curse till I'm blue in the face, but if their will's stronger than mine? Pbbt. Aw, you're going to make me blush. I'm nothing special. Miriel Support You have? That's great! I cast hexes all the time, and I've never come up with ONE theory about them. Nya ha ha! Oh, stop it, Miriel! You'll make me blush. Although it's pretty much true. When it comes to hexing folks, I'm the master. Why, this one time at mage camp, I killed 100 people with one curse! Er, I don't remember when. ...Or where exactly. But it totally could have happened. Henry: Well, you know that town we passed through a few days ago? I saw a pregnant lady on the main street with a load of cheese and fruit in her arms. She looked pretty tired and worn out, so I stopped to help her carry her wares.     Right?! Anyway, the more I thought about it, the more I realized pregnancy is dumb. So I'm planning to help the mothers of the world by inventing a special curse. I'm gonna create a hex that conjures new kids right out of thin air! Sumia Support I'm a mage! I just wave my wand and mutter a little incantation... Humina humina humina... Presto! The busted bowls are busted no more! Yeah, it's just a temporary hex, unfortunately. Tomorrow they'll be in pieces again. But at least folks won't have to eat out of their hats tonight. Oh, that spell can certainly be used for evil. All it does is reverse time. See, so if something bad happens to someone and you cast it on them... They have to experience that same tragedy over and over again! Nya ha! Isn't it obvious? You're me, and I'm you! Clever curse, eh? Well, you're about as magic as an old sock, so this was the only way. And while you cast some hexes, I'm going to ride your pegasus all over camp! Woo-hoo! I'm gonna swoop down on people and drop stuff on their heads! Ricken Support Oh? I thought word had gotten around. Yeah, Gangrel was toppled before I got the chance to fight any real battles. A shame, too. It would've been fun to face off against the Shepherds! Then there was Mustafa. He always gave me a bag of peaches whenever I visited. He said I reminded him of his son and that I should consider myself part of his family. Yep. Dead as driftwood, they are. And it was you Shepherds who killed 'em! Their friends and families are probably still crying their eyes out. No! I'd be very sad and angry. And I'd find out who did it, hunt them down, and exact bloody revenge! ...Oh yes. There would be blood. When I was with Plegia, I didn't think much about this kind of thing. Maybe because in that army, I didn't have real friends like I do here. I guess, sure. Honestly, I'm not much good with touchy-feely stuff. You know what I'd rather talk about? The next battle! Maribelle Support Talking to the flower. She says she's very grateful that you spoke to her. Also, she says she'll stay strong as long as you do, too. I'm not feigning anything. I'm just really in touch with the natural world. I can talk to any living thing you want. Trees. Flowers. Maggots. Ooooooh... Maaaggots... Meh, not to me. Everyone kicks the bucket at some point, so why fret? See, now that I can understand. But get this—I've got a special curse ready, see? Been working on it for a while now. If you're mortally wounded, it kills you off before you suffer any pain! Just...poof. Off ya go! It's 'cause I'm not scared, Maribelle. Fighting is actually pretty simple. I just have to kill the other guy before he has a chance to kill me. Panne Support That's not very neighborly, now is it? What difference does one's religion make? I just want to be friends! Ylisse is weak enough as it is. If the exalt were assassinated, I worried they'd lose the war in a week! That would have been a terrible waste of a perfectly fun war. Er, the beast half, I guess. I love animals! I wish I could be one. Even a half one would be okay with me. My parents abandoned me in the woods when I was little. So it was mostly the nice animals there who raised me. I still love their smell. It relaxes me in a totally nostalgic sort of way. So if I went out and killed them all, could we be friends? I'm not that young, and I don't think I'm stupid. But hey, who knows, right? Cordelia Support Oooh, lucky guy. I wish someone would make ME a nice cozy scarf! Ooooooooooooooooooooooooh. Say, what if the wife was dead? Could you give it to him then? That's kind of like making yourself sad on purpose, isn't it? You want help? 'Cause I've got a curse that'll REALLY make you miserab— I asked Lissa for advice, and she told me to take you on a big shopping trip. She said a few hours trying on dresses and armor would fix that broken heart, pronto! I don't really get all this "feelings" stuff, but if you say so. Er, but if you're REALLY grateful, you could join me for a fruit pie... Nya ha! No, it's a scheme to make you fall in love with me. Nowi Support Yep! They're probably quivering in fear under their beds and crying like babies. But no worries! There'll be more victim—er, that is, village kids—at our next camp. Right. You can't actually touch her. My magic is good, but not THAT good! Hey! I spent a lot of time and effort on this, you know! Tharja Support Hee hee! Smiling? This is how I always look. Sorry! Nothing sinister over here. I'm just a hale and hearty mage. Nope! Not me! Although I do own a cloak and a couple daggers. Aw, I don't get into politics. I just want to toss fireballs at bad guys. Hey! Tharja! You forgot to remove the curse! Oh, well. I suppose it'll fizzle out eventually. La la la... Do you need a death curse? Please say you need a death curse. Yeah, dispelling curses is kind of my specialty. Right now, whoever cast that curse must be in one confused pickle! Too bad we can't be there to see it. That would be swell! Oh yeah. I guess so, huh? Although you didn't really need to put a truth curse on me, you know? I don't have anything to hide, and I've never told a lie in my life. Olivia Support You're a crazy lady. Why would I do that? I love doggies! I want to save his life! Right, boy? Who's a good boy? Aren't you glad the crazy lady wants to help us? Yes you are! Hey, that's a medical condition! Show some respect! Oh, will you look at that? It's blood! ...Wonder where it came from? *Lick* ...Oh, hey! It's MY blood! Nya ha! I must have been wounded in battle! Oh man, good times. Oh, I've got a high pain threshold. It's a genetic thing. Nerve damage. I've had a lot worse than this! When I was a kid, my parents put me in this exclusive wizard school. Well, as you can imagine, some of the experiments got a biiit out of hand. Once, I almost set my face on fire! Nya ha! Those were the days... Meh, my parents didn't care what I did as long as I wasn't expelled. Heck, the whole reason they sent me to wizard school was to get rid of me. But hey, no worries! I turned out fine! That's what all my psychiatrists said. But nope! Not true. I'm just a happy guy. Look, crazy lady. I like you. I really do. But you have GOT to let this go. I smile because I'm happy, all right? There's nothing more to it. Olivia? H-hey, Olivia. ...You being crazy again, Olivia? Olivia?! Aw, come on, Olivia! You can't die now! NOOOOO! OLIVIAAAAAA! Come back to me, Olivia! Stay out of the light! STAY OUT OF THE LIIIIIIGHT! Cherche Support Sure have! She's as cute as a button, that one. ...Well, if buttons were cute. We had wyverns in Plegia, you know, and also the occasional fell beast. But we didn't have a single wyvern that was as pretty as Minerva. Yep! I make four-legged friends wherever I go! And even some two-legged ones. I'm also pals with a three-legged bear, but that's a story for another time. Well, when I was young, my best friend in the entire world was a giant wolf. My parents ignored me most of the time, so that wolf became my whole family. Then one day she came to visit me, and some hunters in the village... They shot her full of arrows. Killed her on the spot. But they paid... Oh, how they paid... They paid in BLOOD. Er, but yes. None of my magic could bring my beautiful wolf friend back. So I guess that's why I hang out with you and Minerva. 'Cause it reminds me. I know I'm here a lot, but I always feel safe and happy when I'm with Minerva. Kellam Support I think I get it now. Seems to me you're barking up the wrong tree, tin man. Visibility isn't the problem—you're just lonely! So all we gotta do is find a way to make you stop feeling lonely! It's true. When I was a kid, my only friends were wolves, so they ended up raising me. Thing is...that made it tough for me to learn about basic human warmth and affection... Like just now. I tried to be nice to you and show you that I care and stuff, right? But I got it all wrong and instead made you freak out. Sorry about that... Gaius Support Not many, no. Back in Plegia, we hardly have any cakes or sweets at all. We don't get the plentiful harvests that Ylisseans and Feroxi enjoy. So the dishes we make are kind of basic, you know? Nothing like those, anyhow. Yup. It's hard to make cakes out of turnips, though that doesn't stop people trying! Anyway, the point is, I've never seen so many tasty-looking treats all in one place! Well, thanks for showing me your treasures, Gaius. It's been lots of fun! ...Oh, I almost forgot! I brought something to show you too! Yeah...something like that! They're baked in special ceremonies as offerings to Grima. Never eaten one myself, but as you're the expert, I figured you'd like to try it! Libra Support Like, I dunno...you're a priest, but you wield a weapon and smash people with it, right? I bet it causes you all kinds of anguish to have to splatter the life out of others! Aren't you overthinking things a little? A weapon's just a tool for killing! Wouldn't it be a whole lot easier to just accept that and move on? Who knows—you might wind up like me and start to really savor the joys of slaying! I mean, when you get down to it, aren't you and I both doing the exact same thing? I mean, I guess it's hard for an altruist like yourself to respect an egoist like me, but... They do, huh? Well, I don't believe in the gods, so it doesn't really matter what they think! (in response to Libra calling him out for saving other people) ...

[ourheartscondemnus]

Hi Ninji, I kinda just thought of how Adam and Eve have practical, simple modern clothing in plain colors, whereas Eva has vintage/retro type of attire, with patterns. They blend in as she stands out, careless of being seeing, confident in her immortality and kinda ignorant, whereas they are more careful of their privacy and general safety. I like how their mentalities clash in every way, even just in attire, and if you have a few thoughts on this it's always nice to read what you think !

Sorry, I got to this late, I had some errands to do today!

 First I want to point out this great article:  Q&A: Costume Designer Bina Daigeler on Only Lovers Left AliveVampire Costumes, Dressing Tilda, & More

It has a lot of interesting facts from the costume designer himself and it’s a great read.  Th first part of this article has some great information on the characters clothing and I think it is important to observe each one: 

The film’s central characters, all vampires, have been there and done that —  and their clothes, which have been cobbled together over centuries —  reflect it. Adam (Tom Hiddleston) swoons around his home in Detroit in half-unbuttoned dark shirts and bare feet, slim jeans, and lanky black hair; he’s as unconcerned with the outside world as he is with updating his wardrobe. 

Half a world away, Swinton’s Eve stalks the streets of Tangier in white leather and a shockingly white mane, which is given extra volume with yak hair. At home, her casualwear consists of embroidered Chinese pajamas and a decadent yellow-and-black robe handmade by costume designer Bina Daigeler, who previously worked with both Swinton and Jarmusch on The Limits of Control. Eve delights in life, books, and technology; naturally, she’s got a gleaming-white iPhone that she uses to FaceTime with Adam. Together, they sip blood from elegant little glasses and lounge in centuries-old robes.

Ava, Eva’s troublesome little sister (played by Mia Wasikowska), is the most colorful of them all. A night owl who prefers clubs to cafés, Ava wears girly, vintage-style dresses, patterned tights, and silver Mary Janes to flounce around Adam’s house and cause chaos wherever she goes.

 The fourth vampire in their pack, the “real” Christopher Marlowe (Josh Hurt), appears a little disheveled at first glance. But a closer look reveals his three-piece suits are made from exquisite and very old fabrics, gathered over the centuries since the writer’s mysterious “death” in 1593.

 There’s also a part that mentions the gloves which is also important. 

I know that there are references to the age of their clothes themselves. How did that affect what kind of textiles you used for the designs?

I like to use for them this very basic, natural leather — all of them, there’s something with leather they are wearing, and that they protect themselves also with the gloves. [The leather] is somehow a little bit like a second skin. The only one who is different —  because she is lost — is the character [played by] Mia [Wasikowska].

So focusing on Ava now- 

 Ava is the youngest of the group, and she is a very unique personality in the film. She’s bouncy, ready to party at all times, bratty, stubborn, childish, and depending on how you see her-annoying as hell at times. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a fun character, but the way she easily manipulates and plays Eve, and Eve allows it, while Adam just stares like ‘Fucking really?’ is upsetting to me because Eve is so good natured and Ava loves taking advantage of that to get her way. She knows she can’t with Adam, so she likes to annoy him, piss him off, destroy his life. 

Remember, this is the second time she’s done something horrible to him, and considering she’s less than 400 years old,  How do we know that? When asked, John Hurt said Marlowe is YOUNGER than Adam- Adam is 500-600 depending on the interview, article, etc that you read. Tom always said 500 so I go with that. Eve is 3000 according to Tilda, and John said that Marlowe was  300-450 years old and was uncertain how he turned. I never finished it, but here is some interview notes I took from various interviews- this was only HALF of them.  And everyone agrees, including Jarmusch, that Ava is the youngest. So she’s likely only close to 100-200. We know that because she hurt Adam 87 years prior to the film- it was made in 2012/2013 so that means the incident that he’s still upset over took place in  1925/1926 or so.

So looking at her age, it makes sense that she is the way she is. Part of the film’s story is Adam’s turning point on humanity. He’s basically turned his back on it at the end of the film, returned to his vampire roots, etc. after Ian -his last connection a)betrayed his trust and b)was murdered by Ava-the reckless and blood thirsty child of the group. Seriously, in vampire terms, she’s probably still a baby which is possibly why Eve gives in to her manipulations. 

SO ON CLOTHING-The style of clothing isn’t modern, and yet it’s not ancient pieces thrown together across time. It’s recent enough that it still looks stylish, and still gives her a unique image compared to-well EVERYONE in the film. Even the background people at the club didn’t pop out. You had a few hipsters, a few basic outfits, but nothing POPS. And the one outfit that does pop had a cut scene- The girl from The White Hills outfit. (There was a deleted scene where they pass by and she sees that they have no reflections you can see it here ) BTW her name is Ego Sensation. Just fyi. 

SO anywho- Ava’s clothing is meant to have more personality, to stand out, because of the concept that she is ‘lost’ her being lost is entirely up for debate on the meaning, but I take it as because of her age, she’s still not ready to let go of the lifestyle she’s become accustomed to, to party and explore the world, to live among the living instead of hiding away.

 Another great thing about her is with Adam and Eve-their clothes can be completely androgynous. One of Tilda’s great qualities is she’s built where she can dress as either sex and it WORKS. If Eve and Adam traded outfits, other than awkward sizing it would make no difference in making them both look a certain gender. (Also-headcanon that Eve is genderfluid). Meanwhile, Ava is girly from head to toe. Even her gloves are supposed to look more ‘girly’ than the others. It’s one of the things that makes her character so adorable to look at.

Going back and looking at her age- Ava has no reason to fear people. She didn’t live in a time when vampires were hunted, most likely. I want to believe she was likely still a ‘newborn’ when she first pissed Adam off, but only Jim Jarmusch could tell -and I have no way to ask him or even Mia. Sad. If I could be connected to them to know more I totally would. (I STILL want a book on how all of them were turned/met one another etc. because I NEED IT and tbh I don’t like most of the fanfic for the movie :x ) - Let’s assume she was turned around 1900 (Edith Cushing is that you?) - By then everyone pretty much stopped believing vampires existed. You had books like Carmilla( (1872) and Dracula ( 1897) and in 1922 the movie Nosferatu. By then, it is safe to say Vampires were more myth and legend than a real fear. Going from there, who really believed in any kind of supernatural being existing anymore? And the few things people may have believed, aliens and ghosts, are all just superstitious to those who don’t believe.  

Ava literally was not raised as a vampire in a time where she needed to fear people, unlike Adam and Eve. She just doesn’t have a reason to hide- and if she drains people, it can easily be a murder covered as being someone who is severely mentally ill and thought they were a vampire. But the killer would never be found- unless there was some tie to her or others around her. That’s why Adam and Eve skipped town, Adam broke his rule of not being seen with Ian because Ava wanted to go out-meaning they were the first who’d be mentioned as suspects in his disappearance. 

Adam and Eve meanwhile have lived through a hell of a lot of shit where innocent people were MURDERED for any traits that tied them to witchcraft, being some supernatural creature like a vampire and have seen some shit. People would put stakes through the dead to keep them from rising, they’d bust their jaws, they even made cages over graves to keep the dead underground. There is a real fear of being found out embedded in them, and as Marlowe said, it would cause chaos-and likely lead to their deaths, if they were to tell the world they existed. Eve plays with the idea, but she’s a smart one, she wouldn’t do it knowing it could mean they’d be killed for it. If not used as lab rats. 

Each of their clothing has its own type of personality, Eve’s is very reminiscent of the places she’s been and the cultures she explores, Adams clothing, according to that one pamphlet thing (I can never remember where it is or how to find it) 

and Kit’s is your basic nice suit match but with pieces that are about 400 years old. (I want to know the secret of their clothing staying perfectly intact.) 

But even with all this, Ava’s stands out the most because she doesn’t see any fear or need to fear being out in the open unlike the others. If you look at it in her pov, it makes perfect sense to not have to hide, and lets be honest- the fact that Adam and Eve dress the way they do actually does make them stand out a bit in a crowd because NO ONE dressed like that now-or hardly anyone does anyways. 

Ava’s clothing and their significance is one of my favorite things about the film tbh. And, like you said, she is careless, overconfident, and slightly ignorant. But on another hand, isn’t it smarter to try and blend in with a crowd instead of standing out? I can’t quite remember, but I think 2012/2013 was the area when vintage was suddenly EVERYWHERE and everyone wanted to be vintage-so who stood out more, Adam and Eve, or Ava? 

For some other links you may enjoy: 

A wordpress users views and analysis of Ava’s costumes: https://superqueen.wordpress.com/2014/03/27/may-i-avas-wrist-length-gloves-in-jim-jarmushs-only-lovers-left-alive/

An interview with Jim Jarmusch: https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2014/04/jim-jarmusch-only-lovers-left-alive-interview

[andtheniwrotemarvel]

Salamander (Part 4)

Newt Era HP!Steve/Bucky/Peggy x Reader

Assumed female reader

Word Count: 2566

I kinda want to write the rest of this movie. What do y’all think about that?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5  Part 6      

"I am so sorry about your creatures, Mr. Scamander. I truly am," Miss Goldstein apologized.

Newt didn't say anything as he sat with his head in his hands.

"Sometimes we do things that we think are right," you piped up, "but we have no way of knowing the consequences."

"Can someone please tell me what this Obscurial--Obscurius thing is? Please?" Jacob Kowalski asked politely.

Tina answered him, saying, "There hasn't been one in centuries--"

"I met one in Sudan three months ago," Newt finally spoke. "There used to be more of them but they still exist. Before wizards went underground, when we were still being hunted by muggles, young wizards and witches sometimes tried to suppress their magic to avoid persecution. Instead of learning to harness or to control their powers, they developed what was called an Obscurus."

Tina noticed Jacob's continued confusion and continued, "It's an unstable, uncontrollable dark force that busts out and--and attacks, and then vanishes." She stopped, turning to Newt. "Obscurials can't survive long, can they?"

"There's no documented evidence of any Obscurial surviving past the age of ten. The one I met in Africa was eight when she--" he forced himself to pause-- "she was eight when she died."

"That's terrible," you whispered.

"What are you telling me here? That Senator Shaw was killed by a--by a kid?" Jacob asked.

Newt couldn't verbally answer, but the look on his face confirmed the statement. After a few moments, he took a deep breath and straightened up. "So, (Y/N), it's been too long since we've seen each other. What brings you here?"

"Assignment from the ministry. I've been here a few months now," you answered, trying that this situation was perfectly normal and you were just catching up with your old friend. "It's incredibly boring. Your trial last month, Miss Goldstein, was the most interesting thing that had happened. I'll have you know I was very much in support of your actions."

"Oh, thank you, Miss (L/N). And please, just call me Tina."

"Well, Tina, just call me (Y/N). We've been arrested together, so I think we can be on a first name basis. Same goes for you, Mr. Kowalski."

"Jacob," the man chuckled.

"How are Steve, Peggy, and Bucky?" Newt asked. "I got an invitation to Steve and Peggy's wedding, but I wasn't able to make it. Was it good?"

You couldn't speak for a second, your mind suddenly hit with the full force of all of the emotion and pain of the last few weeks. "I-I--er--well--" you stuttered, eventually going silent again.

"(Y/N)?" Newt said, trying to meet your eyes. He hesitantly placed his hand on yours, and when you still didn't respond, he gently turned your face to look at him. You met his eyes, tears filling yours, not sure that you trusted your voice. "(Y/N), what happened?"

"The wedding never happened," you stated quickly, your voice cracking.

"What? Why?"

"Two days before the wedding, Steve and Bucky disappeared. The only clue we have as to where they went was the mark of Grindelwald in their homes," you sniffed. "Peggy is still beside herself with grief; she's staying with me until we can both figure things out."

"Why would Grindelwald target your friends?" Tina inquired, tears forming in her eyes as well.

"It would make even less sense if you knew Steve and Bucky," Newt told Tina. "Unless Steve changed after we left Hogwarts, he's a tiny stick of a man, and Bucky just watches out for him. I can't imagine that they would matter to Grindelwald."

"Oh, Newt, where have you been these last few years?" you asked quietly. "Do you remember when the Ministry was taking volunteers for human magical experimentation?"

"I-I can't say that I do," he said, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. "I haven't been in the country for a long time."

"Well, all I can say is that Steve signed up, and yes, he's changed a lot since we left Hogwarts. He's...a specimen, I suppose. Since he was a success, he, Bucky, and some aurors have been causing Grindelwald a lot of trouble. Or...had been. I guess it was our own fault that we thought the war would take a break for us."

"No, it's not anyone's fault but Grindelwald's," Newt tried to comfort you as you started to cry, pulling you into an awkward embrace.

"I know it's none of my business, but I know how hard it is to lose your friends," Jacob said. "I served in the army for a couple of years, and it never got easier. The pain fades, but it's always there."

You were about to reply when three pairs of footsteps began to echo down the hallway. Quickly calming yourself, you locked away all of the emotions so that you could properly cry again with Peggy later. When you looked up to see whose footsteps you were hearing, all traces of tears were gone.

Three MACUSA employees in white coats walked up to your cell, first binding you and Newt in shackles before opening your cell. "Mr. Graves will see you now," one of the women said, smiling pleasantly.

As the women led you away from the cell, Newt dared to look back. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Jacob, and I hope you get your bakery," he called.

"Keep fighting, Jacob!" you yelled.

Alone and scared in the cell, Jacob waved forlornly at the two of you.

You, Newt, and Tina were lead to Mr. Graves's office, which was about as dull as the average MACUSA session. Newt was brought to stand directly in front of Graves's desk, while you and Tina stood behind, stuck between the employees.

"You're an interesting man, Mr. Scamander," Graves remarked.

"Mr. Graves--" Tina began, but Graves placed a finger on his lips patronizingly, which stirred your anger up again.

Graves looked at the file on his desk, then said, "You were thrown out of Hogwarts for endangering human life--"

"That was an accident!" Newt exclaimed.

"--with a beast."

"Graves, if you're going to bring that up, why don't you talk to me about that? Mine was the human life that was endangered, after all, and the whole story can't possibly be contained within that tiny file you have there," you pointed out angrily.

"You're not relevant, Miss (L/N)," Graves said offhandedly, which made you angrier. "Scamander, one of your teachers argued strongly against your expulsion. Now, what makes Albus Dumbledore so fond of you?"

"I really couldn't say," Newt shrugged.

"Perhaps he was a wonderful student. Or, maybe, Newt was only expelled because of the idiocy of a cruel, careless man much like yourself?"

"Silence her," Graves ordered. The woman closest to you cast a silencing charm over you as you glared daggers at her. "So setting a pack of dangerous creatures loose here was just another accident, is that right?"

"Why would I do it deliberately?" Newt asked.

"To expose wizardkind. To provoke war between the magical and non-magical worlds."

"Mass slaughter for the greater good, you mean?" You took a sharp breath at Newt's words, though no one could hear you.

"Yes, quite," Graves agreed.

"I'm not one of Grindelwald's fanatics, Mr. Graves," Newt assured him. You let out a sigh of relief that you instantly felt ashamed of. You knew that Newt would never be on the side of Grindelwald, but this war had had a strong effect on you.

For some reason, Graves looked a little more annoyed than before. "I wonder what you can tell me about this, Mr. Scamander?" Dramatically, he raised a black, swirling mass to the table--an Obscurus. Graves was fascinated by it, and as he tried to touch it, it shrank back, swirling faster.

Seemingly instinctively, Newt turned back to look at you, but when he met your confused eyes, he looked to the ground in shame. "It's an Obscurus," he admitted, "but it's not what you think. I managed to separate it from the Sudanese girl as I tried to save her--I wanted to take it home, to study it--" Tina let out a whimper in shock, and Newt turned to face her from his other side. "But it cannot survive outside that  box, it could not hurt anyone, Tina!" He already knew that you understood. He kept it only partially to study it; he really kept it to remind him of that Sudanese girl, to remind him of his own failure to save her.

"So it's useless without the host?" Graves asked, sounding disappointed.

"Useless? Useless?!" Newt exclaimed, outraged. "That is a parasitical magical force that killed a child. What on earth would you use it for?"

Graves realized his mistake and tried to pass it off as Newt's. "You fool nobody, Mr. Scamander," he said. "You brought this Obscurus into the city of New York in the hope of causing mass disruption--breaking the Statute of Secrecy and revealing the magical world--"

"You know that can't hurt anyone, you know that!" Newt shouted. He was beginning to act off of your anger. You hoped that maybe your silenced anger was being leeched to him.

"--you are therefore guilty of a treasonous betrayal of your fellow wizards and are sentenced to death. Miss Goldstein and Miss (L/N), who have aided and abetted you--"

"No, they've done nothing of the kind--"

"--they receive the same punishment." The employees, which you now understood were executioners, stepped forward and placed their wands to the backs of your necks, but still waited for further instruction from Graves. "Just do it immediately. I will inform President Picquery myself."

"(Y/N), Tina--" Newt attempted to say something, but was interrupted by Graves placing his finger to his lips once again and shushing him as if he were a small child. Graves caught the murderous look in your eye and smirked.

The executioners forced you down a hall and toward a stunningly white room. Once inside, you could see that half of it was filled with a glimmering potion that you could only imagine the effects of, with a metal chair floating over it. The door closed behind you, a guard standing watch close by.

"Don't do this--Bernadette--please," Tina pleaded with the executioner leading her.

"It don't hurt," Bernadette told her, smiling.

"You're willing to kill a woman that you know by name?" you muttered, not realizing that the silencing charm around you had broken. Your heart lifted at the sound of your own voice, and you decided to continue. "You're utterly barbaric."

"We're just following orders, Miss (L/N)," your executioner justified, a vacant smile on her face.

Bernadette pushed Tina gently to the edge of the pool, placed her wand to her temple, and extracted some of her memories. Tina immediately calmed down, the same vacant smile resting on her face. Bernadette cast the memories into the potion, which began to play what you assumed were some of her happiest memories.

"Don't that look good? You wanna get in? Huh?" Bernadette prodded Tina, who nodded as if barely listening.

Unable to do anything, you and Newt watched, horrorstruck, as the executioner summoned the chair and Tina willingly sat down in it.

"(Y/N)," Newt whispered to you.

"What?" you responded, looking to meet his eyes.

He leaned in close to you and pressed his lips gently against yours. Although it was unexpected, you welcomed his chaste kiss. That perfect moment seemed to last an eternity, but when the executioners pulled you apart, it was too short.

"I promised myself that if I ever saw you again, I would do that," he explained, his eyes locked on the ground and his face turning red.

"I'm glad that you did," you said, giving a real smile for the first time since Peggy came with the news. "Now, how are we going to get out of this?"

"I've got a plan," he stated, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. His eyes flickered down to his collar, where you saw a little green twig--a bowtruckle--beginning to climb down Newt's blue coat. So as not to draw attention to the bowtruckle, you watched as the chair descended closer and closer to the shimmering potion.

One of Tina's memories caught your eye--she cast a spell at that awful Second Salem woman, Mary Lou Barebone, in order to stop her from beating her son. Maybe if the rest of MACUSA had seen that memory firsthand, they would have been on Tina's side.

Newt's executioner began to make preparations. "Okay, let's get the good stuff out of you," she said, raising her wand to Newt's forehead. Newt took his chance  and hopped. Backward, using his newly freed arms to throw something toward the pool. He quickly turned and punched the guard in the face, knocking him to the floor, where he didn't move.

Before your executioner could do anything, you used your own body to slam her against the wall. Her head hit the wall with a loud crack, and she slumped to the ground.

The bowtruckle had hopped onto Newt's executioner's arm and had just bitten her, distracting her. Using this, Newt grabbed her wand and fired a stunning spell at Bernadette. Bernadette's wand fell into the pool, where the potion swallowed it in tar-like black bubbles.

You finally noticed what Newt had thrown when he had first begun this small rebellion of sorts. Maybe baseball sized when he had first thrown it out, it had now expanded into a strangely beautiful winged reptile that was currently circling over the pool. As it came around, it slammed into Newt's executioner, knocking her to the ground with her colleagues.

The little bowtruckle called to you from the ground, making a small chirping noise. You bent down to get closer to it, and it hopped up to your hands, which were shackled behind your back. You really hoped it would make quick work of getting them off of you, as you were pretty much useless until it did.

Suddenly, Tina came to her senses and screamed, "Mr. Scamander!" She lost no time in standing up on her chair, almost losing her balance along the way. The potion had lost its allure and was now rising up in waves around her.

"Don't panic!" Newt shouted back.

"What do you suggest I do instead?!"

Newt called his reptilian creature with an odd clicking noise, and it began circling the pool once more. "Jump," he commanded.

"Are you crazy?!"

"Jump on him."

"Tina, I promise, he knows what he's doing," you encouraged.

"Tina, listen to me," Newt said. "I'll catch you. Tina!"

The waves around the frightened woman were getting higher, and the longer she stood frozen, the less likely it was that she would make it out of this unscathed.

"I'll catch you. I've got you, Tina...go!"

With a well-timed jump between to waves of Death potion, Tina landed one foot on the creature and used it to spring herself right into Newt's arms. They both stood there for a second, stunned that everything had worked out. Newt was the first to move, raising a hand to recall the creature, which folded into a cocoon.

Just in time, your bonds fell off and the bowtruckle hopped onto your shoulder, nestling a hand in your hair. Newt grabbed your hand, pulled you up, and the three of you ran toward the exit.

"Come on!" Newt called.

Tags: @shamvictoria11 @cookies186 @sweeneytoddler